#it’s this whole thing like the books and the shows like nothing has any fucking meaninggg

[sunderwight]

SV fic where Luo Bingge discovers that Shen Jiu had a long-lost half-brother or something, and subsequently decides that he's going to infiltrate the minor sect which this "Shen Yuan" belongs to in order to get close to him and then indulge in revenge fantasy 2.0 when it inevitably turns out that Shen Yuan is like Shen Jiu (i.e. a horrible abusive scum teacher).

So Bingge uses some magical object or technique or other, makes himself look like a scrawny 12-14 year old, then puts himself in Shen Yuan's path in hopes of convincing the man to take him on as a disciple. The idea being that after Shen Yuan abuses him, Bingge will be justified in reenacting his Shen Qingqiu Revenge Arc again and maybe finally feeling some closure about the whole thing.

Yes, this is a very deranged plan. No, no one is going to tell the emperor of the three realms that. Bingge also wants it to be clear that this has nothing whatsoever to do with his recent escapade in an alternate universe, except that he was inspired to find Shen Jiu's relative as a consequence of that. But he's absolutely sure that this guy is going to turn out just as rotten as his brother, given the opportunity. That is definitely the only reason he is doing this!

Flash forward about four years. Bingge's retainers are begging on their knees for him to actually come back and do some administrative work. The harem is running itself at this point and they're all very terrified of the situation with Liu Mingyan and Sha Hualing (i.e. ruling with lesbian iron fists) and whatever the heck Ning Yingying is up to (no one is certain but it's something). The outer provinces are rebelling. Mobei Jun's somehow found another weird human surnamed Shang to cavort with, except this one is basically running admin for the entire northern kingdom now and no one's even sure if they're fucking or if it's some kind of mind control situation or what.

Bingge is annoyed. He doesn't have a good explanation for why a bunch of demon lords would be showing up on the doorstep of Tiny Cultivation Sect to beg him for anything. They're going to spoil his cover! And they're interrupting his schedule! It's already four o'clock and he hasn't started on Shizun's dinner yet! Shoo! Get lost!

Anyway, eventually some of his demon followers get desperate and dramatically kidnap him. Shen Yuan is horrified and grieved when it seems that his precious disciple, so like white lotus Luo Binghe from the novel, has been captured by demons. He tries to track the assailants down, but they've covered their tracks too well. In the end, there's only one path left to him to pursue: taking this matter to the protagonist!

Yes, the protagonist! Because the thing is, Shen Yuan noticed the similarities between his disciple and the book character he so admired. Not only that, but he did manage to glimpse Bingge one time from afar. It wasn't anywhere near to a real interaction, but it was enough for him to notice the strong resemblance between the protagonist and the mistreated little lamb who showed up at his doorstep. A resemblance for which there can only be one explanation:

Shen Yuan's disciple is one of Binghe's kids!

Yes, he had it figured out since fairly early on. Not only was there a resemblance, and not only were their dispositions quite similar, but also the boy showed a lot of signs of some demonic heritage. Shen Yuan was just working up to broaching the subject, partly because he had been trying to avoid any direct or even indirect interactions with the emperor, and partly because he... became somewhat reluctant to part ways with his student. Sue him! He got attached! And anyway, he knew how missing child plots usually went. There was probably someone in the harem who was out for his disciple's blood, and it wouldn't be safe to send him back into that mess until he was strong enough to look after himself.

But as is inevitable, the plot seems to have reclaimed Shen Yuan's student all on its own.

He just... needs to make sure that it isn't a tragic outcome. It seems it falls on him to make the emperor aware of his son's survival, and subsequent peril, and help launch a rescue!

Which also means approaching Luo Binghe in person, which he knows is very risky indeed, due to his connection to the infamous Shen Qingqiu! He'd been avoiding the protagonist at all costs for that exact reason.

But if it's his only hope of rescuing his disciple, he will simply have to take the risk, and hope that enough time has passed that Luo Binghe doesn't read too much into a shared surname and a passing resemblance. Or that restoring the emperor's long-lost son to him will be worth seem lenience for the crime of being connected to Shen Qingqiu. Maybe if he's lucky, he will even be allowed to continue visiting his disciple! (Ha, yeah right! More likely, Luo Binghe's going to take his head for hiding his own kid from him for so long!)

Anyway, cue Luo Bingge running around swapping between his Emperor and Disciple forms, dramatically trying to orchestrate a situation where he can fake the emperor's death and go back to the sect with Shizun as his disciple, or something, only for it all to blow up in his face because Shen Yuan keeps flinging himself between Bingge and potentially fatal threats that could plausibly kill him???

[skyahri]

How They Found Out |Naruto Boys X Reader| HC

Characters: Sasuke Uchiha, Naruto Uzumaki, Shikamaru Nara, Kakashi Hatake

Summary: How your relationship ended up being revealed.

Warnings: Naruto's is short af because he's an open book. Deal with it. NSFW themes. Mentions of sex and being caught. Part Two

- - - - -

Sasuke Uchiha

You'd been together for about a year at this point. In the beginning, you'd agreed to keep it hush-hush until you'd figured things out.

Before you knew it, it'd been more than six months since your first date, and it was still secret. You enjoyed the privacy of it, but didn't enjoy hiding things from your friends.

So you decided to stop actively keeping it a secret and instead allow things to come out naturally.

But that was six months ago and still no one knew.

Sasuke hated PDA and no one had asked either of you about relationship stuff, so it was still quiet.

That is until today.

You two were victims of Narutos' lack of boundaries and awareness.

It was late at night, about 11pm, you were in Sasuke's apartment.

He was drilling into you, his hands holding down your legs and mouth connected to your neck.

You were too busy enjoying the all encompassing feeling of him fucking you, and he was too busy ravaging you to hear Naruto enter the front door.

Suddenly, the bedroom door swings open. Narutos face very quickly goes from his usual happy-go-lucky to a horrified, dramatic look.

Sasuke is quick to cover you with the sheets before he yells at Naruto to get the Hell out.

Naruto is already way ahead of him, bolting straight out the front door and to God knows where.

After that, it wasn't long before the whole village knew. Honestly, once Gai found out, there was no one who didn't know.

Naruto Uzumaki

Find out? Ha! There is no finding out because he immediately told anyone and everyone the second you agreed to a date.

If he did somehow manage to keep it quiet, it really wouldn't be long until it got out.

Hes just so... excited to be with you.

He likes showing you off like a prize. He likes going on dates and holding your hand and loudly proclaiming that you're his.

You don't mind, of course.

Shikamaru Nara

You two lay around together most days. A while back, you shared a kiss, and it very VERY slowly escalated from there.

It was almost six months before you actually had sex.

Mostly because he'd somehow rationalized kissing was "just something you guys did" and didn't require any extra thought.

The sex was amazing. Slow and passionate, just like you'd expect from the lazy Nara.

And so things continued on like that. A relationship had formed, but it was never something either of you talked about.

You liked his parents and they liked you. You'd help his mom with dinner some nights and played Shogi with Shikaku. They didn't question your relationship either.

Things stayed on the down low for almost eighteen months before someone finally brought up something regarding his romantic life.

"So, Shikamaru, who was your first kiss?" Choji asked one night in the bath house.

The question caught him off guard since he wasn't usually included in these types of conversations. (They mostly assumed he wasn't interested in women, or something like that.)

"Hm? Oh, Y/N."

Cue the silence. Then total chaos.

"What?? When was this?" Kiba asked.

"I don't know... sometime around the solstice last year."

That sparked a lot of questions from his friends, only some of which he'd answered.

The guys relayed all the information to the girls the next day, where they then went and hounded you for answers.

Despite all of your friends knowing about your relationship, nothing changed between you and Shikamaru.

You just stayed... whatever it is you were.

Kakashi Hatake

Gai, Kurenai, and Iruka all had their suspicions about you two but had nothing to back it up. It's been years at this point, yet they still come up empty-handed.

That is, until Kakashi’s students decided they were interested in his love life, and began to poke around.

It's after the war; Naruto, Sakura, and Sasuke are fully grown adults, but something is just so tempting about reverting to their youthful days of trying to spy on their sensei.

Kakashi is all for it, partially because he's glad his students are getting along again, and partially because he's grown tired of keeping secrets.

This is something he discusses with you, and as he predicted, you're completely on board.

You gradually make yourself seen with Kakashi over the next week- leaving the Hokage tower with him, getting dinner with him, and even allowing him to walk you to his apartment.

The kids watch all of this happen, but there's no evidence that actually proves anything, just like Gai sensei had told them in the beginning.

So they continue to stalk you two around the village. They're better at it than when they were little, but it's still pretty easy to spot them.

At the end of the week, when you're sure all three of them are watching, Kakashi kisses you in front of your front door.

You watch as they all zip away, surely off to meet up or possibly report back to your friends.

You and Kakashi can only laugh.

[shoeistars]

— NO PHOTOS ! pt. 2

༺ feat. reo, barou, rin, sae, shidou

༺ outline. where the boys keep their slutty polas of you <3

༺ w. pro!players, 18+ content, minors dni, photos/polas, fem!reader, read at your own discretion as I don’t do individual tagging for element of surprise <3

༺ pt. 1 (isagi, bachira, chigiri, kunigami, nagi)

— REO ! car dash

When Reo got his hands on his first hypercar, his main priority was keeping the thing clean. No trash, no eating inside of the vehicle, you weren’t even allowed to do your makeup when you’re playing your role of passenger princess. He just wanted to keep the interior spotless, despite the fact that he could buy as many overpriced vehicles as he fucking desired

So, when you hopped into the car one day and noticed the pola of you that he had resting against the dash of his brand new Bugatti, you were stunned. He hadn’t even put a goddamn air freshener on the rearview yet

Whenever you got around to questioning him, all he did was shrug, a smug grin on his face as he drove you to your nail appointment. After all, he got bored when he was sitting in traffic. The picture of you, perched on his California king with the prettiest bra and panty set hugging your body juuust right was worth bending a few rules over

— BAROU ! wallet

The polaroid itself was your idea in the first place. He didn’t really understand what the hell the hype was about, but he’d bend over backwards to see that pretty smile you’d give him when you got your way. Whenever he saw the photo, however, his perspective was changed immediately

You’d been hiked up onto a bathroom sink, always getting way too horny for your own good at events where attendance mattered. He’d sneak you away when you’d start touching on him and whispering dirty shit in his ear, never able to say no to his queen

Thus the birth of the pola nestled in his wallet, right beside his bank card. The view of his thick dick stretching your tightness out was too good to pass up, milky ring of cream wrapped around his base and spilling out of your hole. He just had to have it with him at all times

— RIN ! under his pillow

Pushing the pussy whipped loser boy agenda for Rin because you’re most definitely his first love, the first girl he’s ever touched, fingered, fucked. Having popped his cherry, he can’t help but be completely enamored by you. The mere thought of you gets him hard and he hates that factor to his core

Which plays into why exactly he has a nasty polaroid of you tucked under his navy-clad pillow, right where he rests his head to sleep for the night. It’s safe there, it’s within easy reach for him to fuck his fist to when you’re too far away, which is too often for his own liking thanks to away games

The photo itself is his treasure, a simple one where you’re on your bruised knees, showing him what exactly a facial is. Although he loves you most barefaced, he can’t even lie and deny that your face dripping wet and sticky with his seed isn’t the hottest thing he’s ever laid his eyes on

— SAE ! checkbook

Weird place, sure, but there is nothing normal about Sae as a whole. In his eyes, there are three prizes in the world: wins, money, and you. The polaroid fits perfectly right where he has it

There’s nothing more rewarding to him than whipping out his checkbook to buy something big, just to be greeted with your cunt on full display, the photo clipped front and center onto the leather book cover

It’s a real looker of a photo too, his thumb spreading your glossy folds to show off the stream of his cum dripping out of your hole, coating your asshole in thick nut. All he can ever think about is how you whimpered when he licked it up after snapping the shot

— SHIDOU ! pola wall

The consequences of dating a shameless, unhinged individual consists of your nudes being shown off any and every possible chance presented to him. He’s sick, sometimes unreasonable, but you’re too goddamn pretty for him to just hide away

Hence why he’s got a nice slab of white wall in his bedroom, fully dedicated to you. He calls it romantic, of course. All sorts of polas are taped up as decoration, different positions and scenarios

Maybe it’s awkward for guests that just so happen to step into his bedroom for whatever reason, but you like being shown off, don’t you? He figured a slut like you would wanna be put on display, considering you’re just like him

[stevieschrodinger]

Link to Part Two

Part One

Eddie stares down at the plastic doodad. It proudly declares the word ‘pregnant’ on the little screen, cheerily oblivious to the fact that it's just ruined Eddie’s whole fucking life. It’s a word as well, the actual fucking word, ‘pregnant’ shown oh so confidently on the little screen. Eddie’s done a test before, one time when he had a scare as a teenager, that had been the sort that showed one line or two.

One lines for not, two for...are. Two would have looked like prison bars, which would have been ironic given being saddled with a pup is probably pretty equivalent to 25 to life.

Anyway. Eddie shakes it. Looks again. Throws the fucking thing in the bin.

Well fuck.

Eddie contemplates, very very briefly, getting rid of it. His mind and body recoil from that thought the same way it would from, like, rotted tuna. Or someone else's puke. Or like...salad.

Eddie’s Omega’s got a lot of needs and no Alpha willing to fill them. Eddie gets by, fobbing his Omega off with with a couple of short term friends with benefits arrangements and the odd one night stand. Mostly his Omega can’t tell the difference between having an Alpha and having any Alpha, so he makes do. It scratches the itch.

Unfortunately, that means this pup could have been fathered by any one of three dudes, and Eddie doesn’t have a fucking clue which of them it would be. Eddie would really rather not it be Alpha A, Alpha B is a piece of work with a big dick, and what's behind door number three would be potentially catastrophic.

Anyway. Eddie makes a decision at two am in his apartment bathroom, and it starts with two text messages, an email, and a phone call.

“Thanks for doing this so on the spur man,” Eddie tells his landlord as he hands over the keys. Ex landlord. It was only a room in a shared place. Had to share the bathroom on this floor with two other dudes, but, meh. It had been perfect for what Eddie needed, and more importantly, within Eddie’s budget.

His whole life is sitting in the back of his van, barely filling a third of the back. Which is ideal really, made clearing out quick and easy and Eddie’s uncertain about weather or not he should be doing any heavy lifting right now.

He makes three stop offs before he leaves for good, shifting the very last of his product at discount prices. He mournfully throws in his last two boxes of cigs with the last deal; going cold turkey is going to be the opposite of fun, but Eddie’s in it to win it, and he’s going to try his best as of right now.

Wayne already has the door open when Eddie hops out of his van, beer in hand, eyebrow raised, “heya old man.”

When Wayne sees Eddie dragging bags out, he lifts the brim of his cap, puts it back again, and heads inside. Eddie sees him move a couple of things out of Eddie’s old room, and although it’s empty and the bed is stripped to nothing, it’s untouched, “how long you back for?” Wayne asks him, offering a beer.

Eddie looks at the offered bottle, dripping condensation, and very pointedly doesn’t take it “so, about that.”

There’s a long drawn out moment, and Eddie’s sees the realization dawn, “oh Ed.”

“You like kids!”

Wayne sighs, pulls Eddie into a hug, “I just hope they sleep better’n you did. Don’t think I can go through that again.”

Eddie snorts a laugh into Wayne’s shoulder, all relieved. He hadn't doubted for a second that Wayne would back his play, Wayne's always been unshakably team Eddie, but to hear it said in no uncertain terms is still a huge weight lifted.

Eddie’s got a slightest curve of a bump, small enough that it’s not nearly noticeable yet, especially with Eddie’s usual wardrobe. To go along with his bump, he’s got a scan booked at the Omega Health place, an insatiable craving for garlic mushrooms, and a job.

An actual honest job. Alright, a temp job, because he’s pregnant and no one in their right mind is going to hire a pregnant Omega for a full time permanent gig. So he is, conveniently enough, covering maternity leave for a beta girl at the record store. But that doesn’t matter right now, the moons aligned, and Eddie jumped at the opportunity. He’s going to have a secure pay check for the next seven or so months, and right this second, that’s what counts.

He can’t drink. He can’t smoke. He can’t do drugs and he’s most certainly not going to party. Eddie does the next best thing he can think of; he goes to the library. This is his reward now, his fun, his safe space; he’s going to reward himself with a good book. A good free book.

Turns out registering himself for a library card is a ten minute thing, and then he’s done, bit of plastic in hand, he wonders the shelves looking for the fantasy section. He rounds the corner into the main room only to find a dude reading and signing along to a bunch of little kids. He has the book propped up on a thing to keep his hands free and the pages open so the kids can see.

He’s encouraging them to sign along with a bunch of the words.

He has good hair...like, really good hair. There’s something familiar about the guy that Eddie can't place...until he does.

Holy fucking shit. That’s King Steve.

And he’s in a library...wearing fucking gold rimmed spectacles and a sweater vest.

And he’s hot. He’s still hot. He laughs at something and leans forward to help a toddler with the placement of her chubby little fingers and Eddie’s ovaries fucking explode.

He walks away. For self preservation he walks away. He forgets what he just saw because there was no way it was real. He’s been going through a dry spell, hasn’t got laid since he moved back to Hawkins and now he’s seeing mirages of his high school crush, that’s all.

That’s all it can be.

Until Eddie goes to the fancy scanner machine to check out his little pile of four paperback fantasy books and a deep Alpha voice is asking if he needs anything and he’s, like, right there. And he smells of library and Alpha and whatever nice thing he washes his fucking sweater vests in.

Jesus.

“No,” Eddie squeaks, “I’m okay.”

“Eddie?” Steve frowns at him, tilting his read and looking over the top of his glasses in a way that should be fucking criminal, “Eddie Munson right? I thought you moved away?”

“I have. Did. I mean, I did do that. Previously. Back now. Clearly.” Shut up shut up shut up and Steve can probably smell his embarrassment because he’s standing closely enough to clearly scent Eddie and Steve’s senses must be absolutely pinpoint because his eyes drop to Eddie’s stomach, then spring up to his neck. He frowns, like, the tiniest bit.

Eddie’s pregnant, and unmated, and Steve’s clocked that in about four seconds flat which, great. Humiliation complete.

But Steve’s face clears as quick as it had clouded, the whole thing passing so fast Eddie’s now not even sure he saw it, “so it’d been cool to catch up, you wanna wait a minute, I’m just about to have lunch?”

“Errr…I mean. I wouldn't want to impose or anything-”

“Steve!” And holy shit, if Steve is the ghost of Christmas past or some shit, the second ghost just rocked up in the form of Robin fucking Buckley of all people. Eddie doesn't even understand why they’re even friends, Steve was a topnotch jock and a total fucking dickwad, and Buckley was a band nerd.

This makes less sense than Steve’s sweater vest.

“Yeah, come on Eddie, lets go sit outside,” Eddie gets tugged along in their wake, somehow, and ends up sitting on a bench outside in the sun.

Robin had a bag of take out in her hand which she gives to Steve, and he takes out a carton of something that instantly makes Eddie’s mouth water, Eddie looks back up in time to catch Steve widening his eyes at Robin, tilting his head off to the side sharply in silent gesture for her to fuck off over there. She signs something, real quick. Steve nods.

Eddie doesn’t know a single lick of sign language, but he's pretty sure that even if he did, what happened was so fast he would have missed it anyway, “so, Eddie, great to see you, but I, shit, pretty sure I’ve left the...stove on.”

Eddie frowns at the take out and back to Robin but before he can point out what a steaming pile of bullshit that is, she’s already power walking off and shouting, “byyyyeeeeeeeeeeeee.”

“I, ah, got garlic mushrooms and broccoli and some stirfry-”

It’s too late for Eddie. He’s done. Stick a fork in him. He has no idea what’s happening here but he zones in on the garlic mushroom part of that like a heat seeking missile. A secondary part of his brain is screaming loudly that the Alpha has provided, the Alpha wants to share his food with Eddie. Alpha Alpha Alpha.

Eddie takes the container and the bamboo spork thing Steve hands him, “sorry, I never get chopsticks, no fucking clue how to use them.”

“I can show you,” Eddie says, without thinking it through or registering the implication or stopping to swallow, which means he just spoke with his mouth full of food.

“I’d like that,” Steve tells him, “when can I take you out for dinner?”

Which, Eddie’s brain does stall out there. Because. Well. Lots of things. But he was pretty certain Steve had clocked his specific circumstances earlier, but now he’s not so sure, “I’m pupped,” his mouth supplies without his permission, so he shoves a whole thing of broccoli in there to try and stop it happening again.

Steve hums, eating his beef thing very neatly, “no bite though,” he points out, and Eddie makes an agreeable noise, “maybe we can fix that,” Eddie nearly chokes.

[drdemonprince]

I often think of this "queerness is a thing you do (beyond consuming media or buying shit)" thing you talk a lot about, and I sympathize a lot with people struggling w/ this as a queer from a small town with nothing resembling of what people online call "queer community" because there are no queer centric spaces, no bars, no saunas, no theater groups, no anything unless you drive to get to it. But a while ago I realized I was paying too much attention to this and not enough to the fact that despite of where I live... most of my irl friends are queer. Like, the pre packaged "queer experience" centered in consuming thing is so pervasive you can feel you're not "being queer enough" when everybody you talk to irl is bi and/or trans, which is wild.

And if I'm allowed to be a hater for a second: this is so stupid for many reasons, but one of them being that I know queer ppl who got well-paid jobs and moved to a big city and have become the most boring bitches the world has ever seen. Yes, they have the chance to go to drag shows, but they also have "live laugh love" on their living room, a very aesthetic instagram, and stopped being politically involved in any way because they don't have many pressing needs anymore. Access to the consumerist version of "queer" can imo make you actually less queer if you're not careful (if we frame queerness as disruption, that is).

YO YES this is such a good response, thank you. Also people need to realize that we only have gay bars, saunas, book clubs, whatever the fuck because people BUILT THEM. Nobody is gonna rescue us from our isolation. We must build our way out. And when we create accessible, affordable or free community options we are doing a whole lot more to help ourselves and other wayward queer people than any gay bar owner in 2024 is ever gonna do.

[fungusgnat444]

Random König headcanons

SFW and NSFW also (don’t worry if you just want SFW everything is labeled), mentions of anxiety/poor self worth, autistic coded König, nerd könig, angst if you squint, mentions of size difference, mentions of a gun kink(nothing too fucked up I promise), könig wears a buttplug lol, Slight breeding kink, mentions of creampie, assumed unprotected sex (wrap it up tho fr), König being a lil freak in general honestly, kinda sub König in some parts but also some dom, afab femme reader, descriptions of anatomy(mostly him but a little about reader too),reader works with könig, I think that’s it

Real name: Jacob Schröder

Age:26 (born September 30th because I said so)

home town: Badgastein (it’s so pretty and snowy☺️)

appearance: 6”10, deep auburn curly hair, very pale with freckles, large, aquailine nose, super thick eyelashes and eyebrows, blue/green eyes (like mostly blue but with a little green)

SFW

Although he love physical touch his favourite love language is quality time and I can not be convinced otherwise. At first you thought it was a little creepy how he would just silently sit with you basically doing nothing but he genuinely likes just spending time with you. Sees you alone in the mess hall? Even if he’s already eaten he’ll just sit and watch you eat in silence. Reading a book? He’ll sit you in his lap and read over your shoulder (secretly thinks most of the books you read are garbage but he doesn’t really care). He honestly just likes that you’re there, you don’t even have to do anything lol. Likes physical affection too but in a more subtle way usually. Sometimes cuddling and making out or whatever overwhelms him and makes him feel claustrophobic. Most of the time he just likes holding your hand or having his hand resting on your thigh or playing with your hair while you have your head in his lap. Loves it when you play with his hair too, usually puts him to sleep.

speaking of which this man can and will sleep anywhere. On days he’s not working he’ll probably have to have at least one nap or he’ll get all grumpy. As much as you feel bad for him when he’s tired you have to admit he always looks so cute. All puffy eyed and pouty. Often forces you to nap with him even if you tell him you’re not tired. If you just wait for him to fall asleep and try to leave he’s immediately awake and holding you so tight you almost feel like you’ll pass out. He could sleep through an air raid but if you try to leave he’s on high alert. Also I fear because he’s broken his nose so many times, this man’s snoring will make your house shake.

I can’t explain why but I feel like he’s a massive nerd. Like has a protective glass case filled with warhammer 40k figurines, probably spent his entire live savings on a pc, camps out at stores when a new game is getting released, rants at you about the Halo lore type of nerd. also he’s definitely forced you to watch Star Trek and hates that the next generation is your favourites. Is definitely a dungeon master So if you show even the slightest interest in dnd our boy is stuttering, blushing, trying to get you to join his dnd group. Bitte schatz, I came up with a whole new campaign just for you🥺 you’ll like it I swear.

Although it might be a little toxic I definitely think he can be overly protective/possessive of you. Honestly you kind of like it but you know he only acts this way because he’s insecure. Making you sit in his lap when he has friends over so they know not to look at you to much, making you wear his jacket if you get too much attention in public and glaring at any man who walks past. You always know he’s feeling jealous when his pupils are like pin pricks and he’s breathing like a bull with his fists clenched. He’s gotten into fights a few times so you usually have to calm him down. He’s always super embarrassed and apologetic after. Buying you some expensive pretty thing so you don’t hate him. Even if you don’t care or kinda like it he always feels guilty. He feels guilty a lot in general with you. That such a pretty sweet girl is stuck with him. As such he doesn’t take compliments very well. Usually clenching his jaw and furrowing his thick brows while he mutters something passive aggressive to himself, “Scheiß lügner…”. Although if you keep saying the compliment and giving him attention he’ll eventually start believing you. Blushing and struggling to look at you.

Probably takes him quite a while to feel comfortable showing you his full face or even telling you his real name. Even once you’ve already seen it sometimes he still hides his face on days he’s feeling particularly insecure. Once before you’d seen his face you asked one of his friends, horangi, about it. He said they’d known each other almost a decade and he’d only seen his face a few times, most of which were accidental. König had a pretty miserable time as a teenager. He only really bulked out when he was about 17, right before he joined the military. Believe it or not he was pretty scrawny for most of his life. Once he said he used to be built like a lamppost. Before the military he was generally quite quiet and timid. He still is almost always very quiet. This in combination with his more nerdy interests and the fact that talking to a pretty girl for too long gave him a nosebleed made him a pretty easy target for bullies. He was always shy about his appearance but in the early days of his military career his self esteem plummeted when he got a face full of shrapnel during a mission. Luckily they got him to a medic fast but there’s only so much they could do. He hates the scars. Hates the attention. You’re the only person who’s ever made him feel better about it. Kissing every scar, cooing at him while he cries into your chest after another shitty day. Tell him you’re proud of him and how handsome he is. Even if he doesn’t believe it, he at least feels better knowing you believe it at least.

NSFW

He has barely any experience but he fucks with such desperation that it never ceases to make your legs shake. Loves folding you into whatever position he wants and just spearing you like a fish in a barrel, unable to move or escape. Can get a little too rough sometimes when he’s lost in the moment but the moment he sees any form of discomfort from you he whispering soft apologies in your ear and slowing his pace till he’s balls deep just gently grinding against you while he kisses away your tears. As much as he loves treating you like a rag doll. Deep down all he wants is to satisfy you. Sometimes he won’t even fuck you he’ll just eat you out for a few hours like he’s digging for gold. Love tasting you more than anything else. Especially when you’re overstimulated and clutching his empty head between your soft thighs like you’re trying to crush him.

this man is hung like a god. It’s almost too big. Every time it’s a struggle for you to take it all. The struggle only makes it hotter for him. Loves it when you look up at him all teary eyed, pouting because you’re disappointed you can’t fit anymore in. He loves making a mess of you and he’s so fucking good at it. But he’s just as much a mess for you too. Whimpering and panting like a dog with your hands around his neck. Begging you to let him fill you up with yet another load.

I feel like he probably has a few kinks that are a little obscure. Like he loves eating you out through a pair of tights, hearing them rip loudly in his tight grip right before he impales you. Wearing a buttplug while he’s fucking you makes his brain turn to sawdust. Sloppily plunging into you in doggy and drooling on your sweaty back from above. Letting you ride him, telling him he’s not allowed to move while you hold the barrel of one of his handguns against his forehead or stuffed in his mouth (it’s unloaded of course, he’s not actually insane). If you surprise him by pulling the trigger, that little clicking noise will have him gasping shakily and his eyes rolling back. The noises he makes are absolutely whorish. So desperate and loud and involuntary.

he loves aftercare both giving and receiving. After sex he’s just as fragile as you are. Usually shaking and panting for a good while as he peppers you in thousands of kisses. Loves having a bath with you after. You laying on his chest while he washes your hair for you. Always asks you if he did a good job. He’s like a puppy after he’ll do anything you ask.

German translations: “bitte schatz” please sweetheart. “Scheiß Lügner” fucking liar

[chiocchi]

If you don't mind answering, why do you ship Tom Riddle and Harry Potter? Besides the whole issue that they are enemies, and the age difference, both characters are heterosexual. It's canonical fact. If it's the dynamic you like... Have you thought about Tomione's ship? They have a lot of potential together. And in the right direction, they would be a couple that could make it in the books.

JDKLJKLFJSDLKFJA This kinda feels like people knocking on your door and trying to get you to believe in their religion. It's pretty funny.

I don't know why are you calling issues to a part of the pairing's appeal lkajdsjfs (And Hermione is Harry's age and they are on the same side too?). And not sure about that canonical fact. Harry can be read as bisexual quite easily and Voldemort|Tom... idk he seems more obsessed with power, immortality, and Harry. But even if that's the case, I don't see why it should matter. We're in fandom after all.

I don't know if I'll be able to convey why I like this ship so much. For starters, I'm really into the unique connection they share. There was a piece of Voldemort's soul inside Harry's; they had a mental link; a whole language they're the only ones to speak (for the most part); Voldemort chose him and marked him; and there's even a prophecy that linked them together. There aren't two people more connected than them. They're soulmates, and the fact that Voldemort didn't intend it and Harry hates it adds another layer of complexity.

But not only that, they're like a broken reflection of each other, which I find fascinating. In his second year, Harry was worried about the similarities between them. Both half-bloods, orphans, raised by Muggles, they both considered Hogwarts their first real home. I feel like they would have really understood each other in other circumstances. They would have been friends. Because one of their key differences is that Harry found friends and adults that loved him while Tom was probably bullied and, y'know, the whole Dumbledore thing.

Not to mention that Harry would die for everyone whereas Tom would kill everyone. They're insane in their own way. I love their similarities and differences, but more than anything else, I love when they're together. The fanfics and fanarts are awesome.

And the whole thing of being enemies feels quite gay sometimes klafjdlskfja. Harry can't help but think Tom is handsome and, despite everything Voldemort did, Harry wanted to give him one last chance to show remorse. I have no doubt Harry is crazy enough to actually forgive him.

I've thought about Tomione and I've come to the conclusion that I don't like it. pinktom has a really good post about it and I agree with it. Besides, Hermione liked Ron and had something with Krum, and they're nothing like Tom. Just because she's heterosexual doesn't mean she's attracted to any man, y'know? klajdlfkdjs I don't think they would have been a couple in the books, no matter the direction. If it's the dynamic you like, have you thought about Tomarry? More believable, more intense, and a wider range of wholesomeness to fucked up in the fics. It's really interesting. Unless you don't like men being together? Hmm? Suspicious (just kidding. To each their own. So no need to go to other people's asks to try to change their minds :kek:).

Also Harry is my favorite character and he's not replaceable. I kinda don't care about any other character tbh. Thank you for coming to my Ted talk.

[ghostlychief]

Pockets of Peace

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x Reader (goes by code name ‘Swan’)

Summary: More often than not, you find yourself in the presence of Simon Riley, aka “Ghost.” You find that your blooming friendship with the aloof Lieutenant provides you with a blanket of comfort, offering you a place of solace within his company. It’s no different when you’re injured during your next mission.

Warnings: mentions of bullet wound, blood, nothing too graphic; fluff; hurt/comfort

Wc: 3.3k+

A/n: This is purely an indulgent fic, as I’ve become obsessed with the mw2 character ghost lmao. If you stumble across it, i hope you enjoy!! I really had a fun time writing this, so i hope you have as much enjoyment while reading. <3 (sorry for any typos or grammar mistakes, i’ve read this over and over and bound to miss a few)

ALSO: I’ve deemed Peace by Taylor swift this couples’ song so have a listen when you’re reading 🫶🏻

Part 2 found here: Weighted Blanket

--

When you first joined task force 141, it took you some time to feel fully part of the team and comfortable. You were more on the quiet side, and chose your friends carefully; comes with the line of work, you figure. What you didn’t expect was to become closest to the man that goes by the name of “Ghost.” He was tall, quiet, and the only thing you could see of his face were his eyes, but for some odd reason, you two clicked. You frequently got paired up during missions, working well along side one another. You guys got the job done swiftly and with little difficulty and your skill sets complimented each other as well. While Ghost used brute force and took the enemy straight on, you used your size to hide and take down the enemy by surprise, from a far distance. You were the best sniper on the team.

You and Ghost completed mission after mission with flying colors, only the occasional scratch or two indicated you were ever in combat. Did he still intimidate the hell out of you? Well, of course. His intimidation and brooding atmosphere only made you want to be friends with him more.

Your acquaintanceship with Ghost started to bloom 6 months after you joined the team. After one particularly long and exhausting mission, you and Ghost ended up drinking a 12 pack in his room. It became a regular occurrence after that, with you quickly realizing that winding down with Ghost was the best way to recover from a mission. The conversation always started off with work talk but after a couple of beers, the conversation would steer towards other topics. During these nights, Ghost became more talkative, slowly opening up to you, and you the same. One evening, after Ghost had a couple beers in him, he gave you a nickname, “Little Swan.” That was the first time he ever made your heart race.

During these late-night chats, you learned that he likes his coffee sweet with flavored creamer, but he likes his tea black. You also learned that he only wears black socks and has a whole drawer filled with skull balaclavas. One night, you may or may not have stolen one after he passed out. It was all worth it though when you showed up to the team meeting the next morning sporting it.

As you entered the meeting room the next morning for the debrief, you came up to stand beside Ghost, who had his back turned toward you. The other members in the room raised their eyebrows but tried to hide their shock, as to not to give away Ghost’s surprise.

Smiling, you bumped shoulders with Ghost and said, “Damn, I really pull off your look, huh?” You grinned up at him, eyes bright, then turned back to the table to see all the other team members with their mouths slightly agape. Ghost glanced over at you, and his eyes widened slightly before going back to normal. He shook his head, “Fucking hell,” but not without you noticing the amusing glint in his eyes.

One morning you were eating breakfast in the dining hall, looking down at your book, when someone sat across from you. Usually, you ate alone, so it was a surprise to see Ghost sitting opposite of you with a steaming mug of coffee and a banana. You just smiled at him and went back to reading, and he ate his breakfast. No words were said, but every morning after that, you and the Lieutenant ate breakfast together. There was the occasional banter, but most times, you both enjoyed the quiet morning in each other’s company.

When you weren’t on a mission, you spent your time training and hanging out with the other team members on the base.

You typically trained with Soap, whether it be shooting or hand-to-hand combat. One day while you were on the mats sparing with Soap, he suddenly stopped, smirked at you and said, “I think you’ve got yourself an admirer, Swan.” With your brows furrowed, you looked up to see none other than Ghost leaning against the wall, arms crossed, watching you and Soap train.

You grinned and waved at him, and much to Soap’s surprise, Ghost waved back. Turning back to Soap, you shrugged and said, “He’s been helping me with my form.” Needless to say, you won the next round, and you didn’t need Ghost to remove his balaclava to know that he was smiling.

--

You and Ghost were experts at your jobs, that’s how you’re on task force 141 in the first place. That doesn’t mean every mission goes smoothly- as you soon found out on your next one.

You and Ghost finally reached the safe house. The only downside was that it was in the middle of nowhere and at the base of a snowy mountain, which did not help your worrying thoughts of making it through the night. Ghost unlocked the door and you both did a quick scan of the place to make sure it was all clear. Once you guys cleared the space, you groaned and plopped down onto the couch, finally finding respite for your injured leg. Although the mission was a success, you guys got banged up pretty bad, nothing fatal, but just worse enough for you to immediately collapse on the couch. Ghost seemed to be faring much better than you, he didn’t get shot after all.

You don’t want to glance down at your thigh, because you know you will be met with a mess of a wound and blood. So much blood. It’s a wonder how you managed to escape and make the trek to the safe house.

You have Ghost to thank for that; he covered your ass and helped you along the way. You guys had spent the last few hours switching between a walk and jog to get to the safe house, and away from enemy lines.

The first time you guys slowed to a walk, Ghost wrapped your arm around his neck to support most of your weight. However, this turned out to make it harder to walk because of the height difference between the two of you. He was a mountain of a man, and as much as you appreciated his attempt to help, it would have been quicker if you just limped along. “I’m going to need you to make it to the safe house, Swan. I can’t have you dying on my watch.”

“Copy that, Lt.” You grimaced, now feeling the full effects of being shot in the thigh. Just your fucking luck, you think.

“Riley, call me Riley.”

That was new. You never referred to him as anything other than Ghost or Lieutenant. Despite the immense amount of pain you’re in, you can’t miss the feeling of small sparks igniting in your tummy.    

Now seated on the couch and breathing heavily, you watch as Ghost removes most of his tactical gear, the skull mask included. Although, you conclude that he probably has at least two concealed weapons somewhere on his body. You try not to think to much about where they could be placed.

You finally bite the bullet and look down at your leg. “Fuck me.”

“How’s it looking?” You glance up to see Ghost towering over you. His hands are on his hips as he assesses your leg, but the fabric of your pants is making it hard to properly see the damage, even though your cargo pants are torn and bloodied where the bullet made contact with your body.

“Well, seeing that a bullet teared through the side of my thigh, my leg has seen better days.”

Ghost lets out a low chuckle, which you think you must have imagined. You must have lost too much blood; did he just laugh? That was also new. You’ve been on this task force for a little over two years, and despite what everyone would call you and Ghost’s acquaintanceship, borderline friendship, you’ve never heard the man chuckle, at least not at something you said. This mission is breaching all new kinds of territories for you both.

“Right. We need to get it cleaned, stitched and bandaged before it gets infected.” Ghost had already set down his pack by the fire place, so he goes back over there to retrieve the first aid kit.

“You’re not expecting me to take my pants off, are you?” Your question comes out breathy, the pain in your leg getting worse and you let out a low groan when you shift.

You think you hear a scoff fall from Ghost’s lips. “I can either cut your pants, so you’re left with only one pant leg, or, you can remove them and salvage what’s left.” When you hesitate to answer, he adds, “Don’t worry Swan, it’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”

Now it’s your turn to scoff. Typical man answer.

You cross your arms and think about your choices, well, lack of choices. Ghost is still turned from you, which allows the warmness that bloomed on your cheeks to reside. Now all that’s left is a scowl on your pretty face. Whether you’re scowling because of the effect Ghost’s words had on you, or the sucky situation you’re in, you don’t know.

Quite frankly, you don’t want to know. You can’t let yourself spiral into the abyss that harbors feelings for a certain 6’4 man; feelings that live at the bottom, just waiting to be unleashed. What you have going between the two of you is good, fine. Your quiet routine is the perfect balance between colleagues and friends, you can’t fuck it up now.

He turns around and makes his way over to you, his heavy boots rattle the floor and his tall stature intimidates you. You find that the small sparks start to ignite again and you hate yourself for it.

Damn you, Riley.

“So, what’s the verdict?” He’s back to looming over you, and you can’t tell if he’s doing it on purpose or not. His hands are back on his hips, as he awaits your answer.

Arms still crossed over your chest, you huff out, “Looks like I’m taking my pants off, Riley. Don’t enjoy it too much.”

He slightly shakes his head, but you can’t tell if he’s smiling or not because of the skull balaclava covering half his face. A part of you, buried deep down in that abyss, hopes that he is. But you’re only privy to his eyes. Which you’ve come to find hold all the weight of his emotions. You sometimes can’t help but get lost in them, trying to figure out all of the mysteries Ghost holds within him.

He turns around to give you some privacy, and takes off his jacket. You’re quick to remove your pants, wincing when the fabric brushes over your wound.

“You can turn around now.” Your quiet voice fills the room, and Ghost turns around slowly, and his jacket is clasped in his left hand. His eyes roam from your feet to your face, and you can’t help the warmth that spreads through you. He’s probably just assessing you to figure out how badly you’re actually hurt, but your heart can’t tell the difference, and it beats erratically in your chest.

You’ve haphazardly put your pants over your lower half, trying to cover yourself up, but it barely covers you. Ghost can still make out the top of your legs and the beginning of your underwear.

How embarrassing. The first time he see’s me in my underwear is in a grungy safehouse and I’m covered in dirt and blood.

He doesn’t say anything, and stretches his left hand out, his jacket swings towards you. You look up at him, brows furrowed and your mouth forms a slight pout. You don’t even have to ask before he’s muttering, “To cover up, your pants aren’t doing a great job and I’m sure you’re already cold.”

He locks eyes with you and you take the jacket from him, and your fingers briefly graze his, sparks getting brighter and brighter.

“Thank you, Riley.” He’s crouched down in front of you now, and you smile at him. You situate the jacket so it’s covering you up more, but leave the bullet wound uncovered so he can take care of it.

He looks massive even though he’s crouched on the floor in front of you. You’re still not taller than him even though you’re perched up on the couch. Your hands slightly twitch as you fight the urge to run them along his massive shoulders that are at the perfect height and distance for you to do so.

He takes his gloves off, and gets to work. When his hands first make contact with your skin, you slightly flinch. He glances up at you, and you smile sheepishly at him. “Cold hands.”

He lets out a grunt of understanding and gets back to cleaning the wound. Luckily the bullet wasn’t lodged in your skin so he didn’t have to go fishing for it, which would have hurt like a bitch.

You let out a hiss when the antiseptic touches your flesh, it stings so fucking bad and you’re trying not to cry. The last thing you want to do is cry in front of him, with no pants on.

Even though your leg is sizzling from the antiseptic, Ghost’s hands are gentle. One is holding your thigh, lightly grasping the inner part, as the other softly wipes the wound and blood surrounding it. You watch him as he continues and in no time, the wound is clean.

“You’re doing great little Swan, but here comes the hard part.”

You sigh and brace yourself for the stitching. You find yourself not caring if you cry anymore, you just want this to be over with. You’re cold, hungry and in pain and figure, there are worse things than to cry in front of him.

You don’t understand how someone with such big hands is so nimble and gentle, but Ghost sews you up quickly. There are tears in your waterline, on the precipice of trailing down your cheeks. One or two tears may have fallen, but you can’t recall because of the searing pain that courses through your outer thigh. The only evidence is the wetness that now coats your cheeks. If Ghost noticed, he didn’t say anything, which you’re grateful for.

He gives your leg a small pat, signaling that he’s done, then grabs the bandage. He wraps you up, and voices that you’re all set.

“Fuck, that was painful.” You sigh and rest your head back against the couch, forgetting that you’re pant-less, Ghost’s jacket doing wonders to keep your legs warm and cover your lower region.

Ghost stands, but before he walks away, you reach out a hand and lightly touch is wrist. Your small voice fills the room again, “Thank you, Riley.” The sincerity from you evident in your tired eyes.

Once again, his eyes lock on yours and he gives you a small nod, before heading to the bathroom to wash up. You take this as his way of giving you privacy to put your pants back on, which you do carefully, trying not to upset your wound.

Once you’re dressed you lay back on the couch. You close your eyes, his jacket draped over you. You remind yourself to return it to him, he must feel cold in his short sleeve shirt. I’m just going to close my eyes for a minute.

*~*~*~*

The next thing you feel are your shoulders shaking. Then screaming. Who’s screaming? The shaking and screaming don’t stop and you feel yourself start to cry, worried about what’s going on.

“Y/n? Y/n, wake up!”

Huh?

You jolt awake, and only then do you realize it was you screaming bloody murder, and Ghost was shaking your shoulders to wake you from your night terror.

When you sat up, the blanket that was on top of you fell halfway off the couch. Wait, blanket? Since when did I have a blanket over me?

You’re breathing heavy and place your head in your hands, trying to hide the tears streaming down your face. Ghost is beside you, crouched on the floor and his hand rubs your back. Up down, up down. The feeling relaxes you momentarily, but you still feel on edge, your nightmare still prevalent in your mind.

“I’m sorry, did I wake you?” Your voice croaks, and you wearily glance at Ghost, who’s eyes are already on you. One might say they hold concern in them.

“You did, but don’t worry about it, seriously. I just want to make sure you’re ok.” His hand continues to stroke your back, and he reaches his other to softly push back the hairs that cover your face, tucking the strands behind your ear.

You groan, and wipe your eyes, feeling embarrassed yet again. You’re still trembling from your dream, not able to shake the feeling. The nightmares only started a few months ago but they don’t come every night. They’re sporadic, which makes them feel scarier because you never know when you’re going to be hit with one.

Ghost lets you calm down, your breathing is back to normal now, but you’re still sniffling and avoiding his eye.

He stands up, and before you can voice out another apology, he softly says, “Come here.” And before you can fully process what he said, you feel his warm hands grasp you under your armpits and he lifts you up, pulling you against him. He shifts his hand so its resting under your thigh and signals with his other to wrap your legs around his waist. You lay your arms around his neck and rest your head on his shoulder. Much to your chagrin, you’re still sniffling like a fool, and you let out a sigh. His embrace pulls you down like an anchor and you no longer feel like you’re treading through a flood of murky water. It calms and clears, and feels alleviating.

“You’re breaking my heart, little Swan.” Your only reply is tightening your arms around his neck.

He carries you to the bedroom, where he must have been before you woke him and lays you down in the spot where he was previously. You only know because it’s still warm and smells like him.

He climbs in after you and lays on his side to face you. You still look distressed, but much better than before.

It’s only when you drift your eyes up to his that you notice his mask is off. You notice a small cut near his eye. Reaching your hand out, you cup his face and your thumb glides back and forth over the cut. “You should have told me you got this.”

You feel the bed shift when he shrugs, “Didn’t want you to worry.” His deep voice pierces through you, poking the embers that rest at the bottom of your stomach.

Typical. “I always worry about you.” Your eyes flit to his as you confess this.

“Not as much as I worry about you.”

You bring your hand down to glide over his shoulder, then his down his bicep, then forearm. When you reach his hand, he intertwines your hand with his. His large hand almost completely swallows yours.

He pulls you closer to him, now there’s little to no space between you.

“It’s not a competition, Riley.”

“Simon, call me Simon.” He cups your face, then closes the distance between you and captures your lips with his.

--

[bonefall]

Mapleshade Discourse O'Clock

It's that time again!!! SO I just kinda want to jot down all of my various thoughts about it as a story and just generally weigh in about Mapleshade.

I like the idea of Mapleshade more than the actual Mapleshade that is used throughout the books.

She has a really good gimmick-- to haunt Applekin though the generations. I don't like how they turn her into a generic "cat satan" for Tigerclaw's Fury and keep making her appear as a vain lackey demon.

I like her characterization in Mapleshade's Vengeance the most, of all her appearances.

But, I don't think my reading of the character depicted in MV is what the author intended.

See, I like MV as a story with no hero. The only blameless characters are the kittens who drowned and Perchpaw, while everyone else is some flavor of selfish, cruel, or vengeful. Everyone thinks they're in the right, but no one truly wins in the end.

Nothing about it was noble. Every tragedy that happened was utterly avoidable. In the end, everyone bears some responsibility for the pain and suffering that happened the day those children drowned.

BUT I'm pretty certain that the intended reading was that Mapleshade would be the one clearly in the wrong the whole time, as she justifies her own actions like a villain does.

Especially knowing how poorly the writers thought of similar female characters like Squilf and Leafp lying about the three, or Nightcloud being jealous her crummy husband is acting strange around another woman.

I feel justified in assuming that when Mapleshade is not happy she's being cheated on, or when she refuses to correct Frecklewish's record knowing it's unsafe if her kits are revealed as half clan, the writer really does think you're not supposed to take her side.

Because women should just not have emotions about being cheated on or something, and lying is unspeakably bad even if the truth puts you and your children in danger.

But. Y'know. We can all use the braincell for a moment and see that this is fucking stupid

SO when the book goes on to have Mapleshade ignore all the warnings about the swollen river, show both ThunderClan and RiverClan being obscenely cruel to her, and then walk across that bridge while insisting in her head that the deaths weren't her fault, I think the implication is obvious AND SHITTY.

Ergo I reject it completely. I can see what the book wants to say, and I think it says something trashy.

In spite of how badly the writer wants it to be Mapleshade's fault the kittens died, I say it was the asshole who threw a bunch of kittens out into the rain for being mixed race, actually.

Oakstar had the power here. Ravenwing had some power as well, but he makes it clear it wasn't his suggestion to throw the babies out into the woods.

And when it comes to Bridge Discourse, it was at least the afternoon, raining heavily, and Mapleshade was trying to get to RiverClan Camp. A straight shot across the stepping stones.

I think it is ridiculous to imagine an extremely emotional parent managing three very scared children, attempting to get out of the rain and dangerous wilderness before nightfall, would be rational enough to realize a large detour would be safer.

MAYBE the distance from ThunderClan Camp to the Bridge is equal to the distance to the Stones. But the distance between the bridge and RIVERCLAN Camp is longer.

I hope this goes without saying; but Frecklewish didn't deserve the Dark Forest.

Even in Banana World logic where she was sitting on the bank watching those kids doggy-paddle. Do not fucking jump in to save drowning people if you are not trained to do that.

I'm dead serious, this is the first thing you learn in any kind of water safety course. They WILL panic, you WILL get dragged down, you WILL become another liability someone else has to save instead of helping your initial target.

And that isn't even mentioning this being a flooded river. That's POOL safety.

In spite of how I think Mapleshade was right to lie, I do think Frecklewish being that upset and angry was understandable.

You're entitled to your feelings, but not how you treat people. She still attacked Mapleshade and called the kittens a slur.

That's what makes her interesting, though.

I don't think she deserves the Dark Forest, but Frecklewish's anger is an interesting trait. I don't like how a lot of defensive interpretations of her character end up downplaying how she acted at the exile

why does a woman being rightfully angry suddenly strike people as "unsympathetic." Girls can also say things in fury they don't fully mean. OR girls can rationalize their unjustified, ballistic response post-hoc out of pride.

Idk let girls be mad. Admit they were wrong without deserving HELL. I don't like the woobification impulse.

It's not really a hot take anymore I think, but Frecklewish is definitely only in the DF because the writing team judges women characters more harshly. Oakstar threw babies out in the rain in fury, and Ravenwing didn't stop it. But somehow only Frecklewish, a normal warrior, gets DF'd.

But what really rattles around in my head about the whole story is the way that the in-universe culture is able to suddenly value ethics like peace, forgiveness, and tolerance when MAPLESHADE is ready to throw those things out, but BEFORE then, it's well established that Clan culture is violent, vengeful, and intolerant.

One of our earliest scenes is Rainfall snarling at Mapleshade that he loves the way Birchface and Flowerpaw drowned. He's threatening that he'll kill even more ThunderClan warriors.

Over in ThunderClan, everyone is itching for revenge against Appledusk for those deaths, even though it seems to have been an accident. Oakstar even hates RiverClan well into sequel books for this.

But then later on, everyone acts Shocked Pikachu that Mapleshade actually went and GOT revenge.

And like, let's be real. This is a battle culture. Yes, by OUR standards Revenge Is Bad.

But in these books, so full of war and clan conflict...?

What I'm saying is that I wish the books let Mapleshade be a little more "controversial" in-universe. Like some cats actually frame the story very differently, and you can learn a lot about a person by who they think the hero is.

And how RiverClan responds to the drowned kids bugs me a lot tbh

We just established over in ThunderClan that there are people who think the babies were born filthy for being HalfClan.

We know everyone there stood by and watched as Oakstar threw them out into the rain-- only Ravenwing even seemed uncomfortable.

AND we know very well that in a few generations, TigerClan will rise. Which openly executed a HalfClan cat and wanted to kill 2 apprentices.

We KNOW the bigotry in Clan culture is deadly and unfair.

But then they go over to RiverClan and Darkstar is sad these three kids are dead? And RC is furious with Mapleshade for that?

Again, YES, you and me with OUR morals know that this bigotry is insane and spiteful. What I'm getting at is that IN-UNIVERSE half clan kittens and their parents face extreme discrimination. Even within this book.

It's odd to me that Darkstar refuses to let Mapleshade bury their bodies, sends her away for the death of the kids while saying it's "not the season for losing warriors" to Appledusk, and it's meant to come across as delusional that Maple thinks her babies were buried dishonorably

I wish more women in WC got so pissed off at the absolute injustice of it all that they went on a girl rampage. Perhaps it's my own taste, but I like it a lot more when the villain isn't entirely wrong and there's several angles you can read the story from. If she didn't do what she did, she would have been the only one who saw any consequences for anything that happened.

Anyway in conclusion uhhh idk murder is wrong. But Mapleshade's allowed to do it because she's a silly billy. Her greatest crime was not killing Oakstar also

[adickaboutspoons]

Honestly, I don't think we as a fandom talk enough about how this:

is a moment of HUGE character growth.

I think people tend to miss that, because Stede is bitchy, that he doesn't really draw boundaries for himself, and ESPECIALLY not with Ed. Ed puts him on the spot and keeps pressing him for a solution to the Spanish persuit (knowing damn well the whole time that he's got a solution already)? Stede just marvels at the brilliance of the plan Ed didn't bother to share with anyone, and never calls him out on what a dick move that was. Ed tells him that exchanging books on the raid is stupid (it's not. Stede only has a limited amount of shelf-space in the library) and knocks his books to the floor? Stede again says nothing. Ed joins the French in humiliating "Thornrose" and accuses Stede of being jealous of the attention he's getting when Stede has tried multiple times to warn him about how fickle the adulation of these people can be? Stede sulks on the deck about "not being any good at these things" and when Ed shows up, humiliated, doesn't utter a single "I told you so" and, indeed, immediately goes on Ed's defense. Ed is a dick the entire treasure hike? Stede keeps trying to cheer him up by showing him cool bugs and complimenting the tenderness of the snake, and playing (flirting) with him. Ed confesses to intending to kill Stede? Stede not only agrees to forgive and forget, he focuses exclusively on helping his friend through his obvious emotional crisis. So when Stede actually stands up for himself? Draws a line in the sand and says "These are the things you are doing that I do not agree with. You didn't do them until this jackass showed up. Ergo, I don't like the things you do when you are around HIM." That's a big fucking deal. It's a little clumsily expressed, but give the man a break; he's new to this, and, as much as I'm sure he wishes Ed would just stop, he doesn't ask that of him. Instead, he just explains why he's upset and removes himself from the proceedings. He's FINALLY expressing his emotions clearly, explicitly and directly (the way so many people in fandom always say they want him to)! And I just think that deserves a little credit and celebration. Even if it makes Ed sad to be told he's acting like a dick, when he is, indeed, acting like a dick.

[ramblingoak]

Care Package

Papa Emeritus IV x GN Reader ~ You take care of Copia after he gets sick at the end of the tour

Warnings: Copia being dramatic while sick, fluff, sfw, 1k words, not proofread forgive me

“I’m dying.”

Here we go.  It was a good thing your back was turned because Copia would pitch a fit if he saw you rolling your eyes.  You sighed and continued to pick up all of the used tissues that were littering the floor.  When he let out a pitiful sigh you groaned, turning your head to glare at him.

“Copia, you’re fine.”

“No, no this is it.  I can feel it.”  You bit your lip to stifle the laugh that wanted to bubble out.  Copia was endlessly dramatic whenever he was under the weather.  “It’s near.”

“What’s near?”

“Death.”

“Oh Lucifer, you’re not going to die from a cold.”  He started to respond but was immediately interrupted by a series of violent sneezes, the whole bed shaking from the force of them.  You turned back to the dirty tissues, shoving them into a trash bag while he recovered.  The sound of him blowing his nose filled the room and right when you were turning to check on him again a wet, balled up tissue hit you right in the face.  “Son of a fuck!  Copia!”

“Eh?”  His adorably confused look stopped you from leaping onto the bed and strangling him, but just barely.  The sight of his red, watery eyes made your irritation disappear.  His face was flushed from the fever and sweaty locks of hair had fallen across his forehead.  When Copia realized you were staring at him he groaned and threw his arm over his face.  “You shouldn’t see me like this.”

“Like what?”  You dropped the trash bag and grabbed another box of tissues, slowly walking around the bed to sit by his hip.  He whined when you tugged on his arm so you could see his face.  “Hey, like what?”

“Pathetic.”  You cooed at him, reaching out to brush his hair back.  He sighed when you placed your cool hand on his forehead.  “Weak and old.  Hideous.” 

“Well, this is all true bu–”

“Dolcezza!”  Copia’s voice broke while he whined and he was overcome with a fit of coughing.  You helped turn him so he was coughing away from you, rubbing his back as they came to an end.  “Ugh, why are you here?”

“Someone has to take care of you.”

“You’re going to get sick too.”  He rolled back over on his back with a groan.  “I don’t want you to catch this.”

“I’ll just have to risk it.”  You smoothed his hair out again, giving him a soft smile when he met your eyes.  “I want to take care of you, Copia.”

“Fine, fine.  Twist my arm.”  He managed a weak smile and you resisted the urge to lean down and kiss him.  “Thank you, amore.”

“You’re welcome, Papa.”  You reached towards his night stand and grabbed the damp cloth you had set there earlier.  Copia let out a relieved sigh when you wiped the sweat off his face.  “Now, I’m going to clean you up a bit and then you’ll need to eat something before you take any more medicine.”

“I couldn’t possib–”

“It's homemade chicken noodle soup.”

You laughed when he grabbed your hand, his eyes lighting up at your words.

“Did Secondo make it?”

“Yes, your brothers gave me a care package for you.”  Copia sniffled a bit and you let him pretend it was from his cold.  You got up to grab the laundry basket Terzo had given you and brought it over to the bed, setting it at Copia’s feet so you could show him everything inside.  “Your ghouls also added a few things.”

“Anything good?”

“Primo gave me a salve I’m supposed to rub on your chest.”  You shook her head at him when he waggled his eyebrows.  Even when feverish he couldn’t help himself.  “And Terzo added a book and these penis shaped hard candies for your throat.”

“Where does he find this stuff?”  Copia made grabby hands for the candies and you tossed them over.  He opened the bag quickly, popping one into his mouth and smiling around it.  “These aren’t bad though, what book is it?” 

“The Hobbit.”  His eyes immediately started watering and you frowned.  “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, nothing.  He used to read that to me when we were kids.”  Copia cleared his throat and smiled.  “What did the ghouls send?”

“Um, Phantom knit you a sweater but he ran out of yarn so it’s missing a sleeve.”  You held up the bright blue monstrosity that the quintessence ghoul had proudly shoved into your hands that morning.  “Other than that you got some eucalyptus candles and tea, a few crossword puzzle books and Aurora is letting you borrow her box set of all the Halloween movies.”

Copia’s face lit up at the last item, both he and the ghoulette had bonded over an intense love for slasher movies.  You laid the sweater over his chest and handed him the dvd’s then busied yourself putting the basket away and setting the candles around the room while you both pretended he wasn’t crying.  After he blew his nose a few times you wandered back over, the book from Terzo in your hands.  Copia yawned and settled back into his pillows while you fussed over him, helping him get comfortable.

“Will you read to me, amore?”  You wanted to get him to eat some soup first, but rest would be good for him as well.  As carefully as possible you got up on the bed and sat next to him, smiling when he scooted closer and rested his head against your thigh.  “Just until I fall asleep.”

“Whatever you need, Copia.  I’ll be right here.”  His breath was already evening out, his body going limp as you ran your fingers through his hair.  You quietly opened the book in your lap, taking a few seconds to watch him before you started to read.  “In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit…” 

If you'd like to be added/removed from the tag list (or if I accidentally left your name off) of this fic or any of my others please leave a comment or send me a dm! Thank you! Also if you'd prefer to only be tagged in my reader insert stuff that's ok! Feel free to let me know!

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[jeonqkooks]

our beloved summer | jjk (07)

You made a vow to hate Jeon Jungkook ever since he packed up and left you without a single explanation, but when he shows up at your door after years of radio silence, it turns out that maybe your resolve isn’t as strong as you thought.

pairing: producer!jungkook x songwriter!reader genre/warnings: exes au, fluff, angst, eventual smut, swearing, mentions of oc's mother because we know girlie is hella traumatized, mentions of drinking, mentions of an almost physical fight, abandonment issues, jk forgets to practice safe driving for 2 seconds, and uhmmm kissing 🤫, anddd that cliffhanger? 👀 rating: 18+ (minors dni) word count: 10.8k note (1): this is the longest it has taken me to update obs and i do feel pretty guilty about that. but it's finally here now and this is one of the chapters that i'm the most nervous about posting. massive thanks to @daechwitatamic and @/wintaerbaer (edited 2024: crossed out but not removed bc even tho she plagiarized obs afterward, she did beta this for me so i guess i still gotta give her that lmfao) for beta-ing this for me or else i would've screamed cried thrown up and scrapped the whole thing, and to @jeonwiixard for being a wonderful cheerleader as i was writing this, and to everyone in my beloved obs discord server for always being so sweet and kind and putting a smile on my smile every day since the server was created. also to my sunshine ☀︎ for introducing me to the song mentioned below bc HELLO is it not just one of the most obs coded songs ever. love you all my babies <3

series masterpost / playlist ; moodboards ; taglist join our OBS discord server ✨

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

Somewhere in the multiverse There's a me and you that works We never fuck it up We're out there still in love Somewhere in the multiverse Maybe that's enough

multiverse - Maya Manuele ft. PEMRBOKE

Sometimes, whenever you look up at the moon at night, you wonder if Jungkook is doing the same thing.

Even when you fall out of love with someone, it still hurts. It hurts because you once loved them so much it felt like the sky would collapse if you couldn’t be with them. It hurts because the love wasn’t taken from you, but rather it started slipping away on its own, more and more each day until you realize you’re holding onto nothing when there once was everything.

You can’t say that you’re too familiar with that kind of hurt though. You’ve never fallen out of love before.

You don’t think Jungkook is too familiar with it either, at least not when he left you.

You wonder if he thinks about you from time to time and gets sad. You think he does, because you know that he loved you. Something ended for him too. The memories that you shared were his memories too.

You hope that it’s painful for him whenever thoughts of you cross his mind, because that would mean that he cares. That a part of him still cares.

And if he still cares, then he might come back.

Despite the front that you try to parade around, there is a part of you that will always leave your heart vacant for him, regardless of whether or not he would return. It’s a scary thought, one that you would rather avoid at all costs, one that says there will be no one that you love more than you loved Jungkook. Maybe there can’t be another person that you will love at all.

You can come back quietly, like the wind slipping through the crack I leave in the window at night; or you can announce your return resoundingly like a sudden downpour quenching the summer heat. I don’t care. I kept your side of the bed empty and warm, waiting for you to come back. Hoping that you would come home.

[08:47] Yoongi: sure you don’t want me to drive you there? [08:48] Yoongi: i can pick you up in 30 [08:52] You: positive 🤧 i told you i already booked the train. it’s only 4 hours away [08:53] You: i’ll survive, yoongs [08:55] Yoongi: did you not watch Train To Busan? [08:56] You: ? [08:57] Yoongi: what if there’s a zombie apocalypse [09:00] You: yoongi if there’s a zombie apocalypse, how is your CONVERTIBLE supposed to keep me safe [09:01] Yoongi: i’ll put the roof up [09:02] You: stop talking [09:02] You: please stop talking. [09:03] Yoongi: 😡😡😡 [09:03] You: 😇 [09:03] You: gotta get dressed now though. i’ll see u when i get back? :) [09:05] Yoongi: fine [09:06] Yoongi: safe travels. text me when you get there :)

You plop onto your bed with a sigh, glancing at the bag that’s already packed and sitting near your wardrobe, lonely. You stay like that for a while, contemplating whether or not you should bail at the very last minute.

It was not on your bingo card that you’d be here, agonizing over your ex-boyfriend’s brother’s wedding. Nope. Absolutely no one saw it coming.

For fuck’s sake, why would they invite you to a wedding? A celebration of love? It feels like you’re being forced onto a prank show, just waiting for someone to jump out and scream in your face.

You learned that the wedding was for close friends and family only, so it would be a relatively small event, which makes it even more confusing why you were also asked to join. Maybe the world is changing too rapidly and you’re just a little old-fashioned for it, but you really don’t understand why your ex-boyfriend’s family would want you there.

Taehyung and Jimin were invited too; they’re Jungkook’s best friends after all. They’re practically an extension of the family, Jungkook’s brothers by choice. But Taehyung doesn’t come back from his work trip until the day of the wedding, and Jimin… Well, he just doesn’t want to go to a Busan wedding in the middle of winter.

So why are you even going?

You could’ve declined. Said you couldn’t attend because the invitation came in so late. Made up a work trip or a family emergency. There’s a plethora of excuses you could’ve used.

Or you could’ve simply said no. That would’ve been perfectly fine too. No one would even need to ask why.

But maybe it was because his mother had customized the invite with her own handwriting in the back. You would’ve missed it if you hadn’t spent hours meticulously studying the card like someone was going to quiz you. It wasn’t anything special - just We hope to see you there - but you think you’d feel really bad to decline after she’d made the extra effort to ask you to come.

When you told Yoongi that you would be attending Jungkook’s brother’s wedding, he didn’t seem upset. Still cool as a cucumber. Although if he was bothered by the announcement, you don’t think he would’ve let it show. It did take him a minute to take it in, but then he just pecked your cheek and asked if you could bring a plus-one. You both knew that you wouldn’t even if that was an option.

Pushing your body off the bed, you drag yourself to the bathroom to splash some water on your face. Then sunscreen. Then change into the clothes you’d already picked out last night. Your train doesn’t leave for another hour and fifteen minutes, but you want to be there at least twenty minutes early just in case. This is one of your only good habits.

You rub your eyes when you finally haul yourself outside, thinking you must still be dreaming because what is Jungkook’s car doing here?

You blink a few times, expecting the vehicle to disappear in a puff of white smoke.

Spoiler alert: It doesn’t.

The car is in front of you, but the man is nowhere to be found.

You stand there dumbfoundedly, contemplating whether you should wait it out for a little bit to see if he’s actually here. He comes running up to you a couple minutes later, holding two paper cups in his hands, one of them a chai latte. A memory you’d buried long ago comes rushing to the surface. It’s too early for you to be feeling.

“Hi,” he says, his warm breath coming out in a huff of smoke in the crisp morning air.

“Hi?” you mutter dumbly when he trades the bag in your hand for the drink. There’s a moment where you’re genuinely baffled, wondering if this is a memory reel playing right before your eyes. This is your Jungkook, wearing that same old smile whenever he used to come bounding up your dorm building so you could walk to the library together, where he would hang out with you during your shift if he didn’t have classes. “What are you doing here?”

You don’t remember telling him what time your train was, so he’d probably badgered it out of Taehyung or Jimin somehow.

“I thought I could drive us there,” he says. “I texted you about it.”

Well, that explains it. You don’t bother with his dozens of messages anymore. “Oh, uhm, I already booked the train.”

This doesn’t seem to faze him at all. “Free cancellation up to 15 minutes before departure.” Jungkook grins, clearly eager despite your obvious reluctance. It’s too early for this, whatever the hell this is.

When you told him that you had RSVP’d yes to the invitation, he was surprised that you even knew about the wedding. He even seemed nervous that day.

“What if I’d already left?” you ask.

He blinks, then stammers like a confused child. It’s cute, and you have to mentally slap yourself over the head for even thinking that.

“Then I’d go after you.”

How? you scoff internally. Unrealistic.

Regardless, not even an hour ago, you were declining Yoongi’s offer to drive you there. Now, you’re standing here, in front of your ex-boyfriend, contemplating whether or not you should go with him.

“Let’s go,” he says after a minute. “We don’t wanna be stuck in traffic.”

“I haven’t said yes.” Yet. “It’s a 4-hour drive.”

You don’t have to clarify what you mean. He understands it.

You both just stare at each other for a moment, the tension suddenly thickening with every passing second. Four hours on the road. Four hours alone in a car with Jungkook. That’s about two hundred minutes more than you think you can handle.

It’s like he can see right through you. “Don’t think about it,” he says, voice dropping lower. “It’s just a weekend. Everything will still be here for you to think about when we get back.”

In your head, it translates to: All of our shit will still be here when we get back. You can keep being mad at me then.

You hope that’s not true. You hope that when you get back, the things that keep you up at night will simply cease to exist. That in the two days you’ll be gone, a genie will materialize and solve all your problems for you.

Either way, it’s probably for the best that you aren’t mean to him this weekend. You’re stuck with him for the next 48 hours or so; it’ll only stress you out even more if you channel all of your energy into tormenting him. Besides, you’re already the ex girlfriend who has no place alongside his family. You don’t want to be the dark cloud raining on everyone’s parade too.

Maybe you’d already made up your mind when you let him take the bag from you.

For the first half of the drive, you were unconscious.

It’s a useless superpower that you have, the ability to fall asleep anywhere - literally anywhere, including in the passenger seat of your ex-boyfriend’s car while he escorts you to his hometown. Melatonin gummies manufacturers hate you.

You could’ve slept the whole drive, but around the second hour mark, you were startled awake when your body jostled forward, straining against your seatbelt uncomfortably. There was an arm trying to hold you back, despite the seatbelt having done its job well.

“Fuck,” Jungkook curses before he turns toward you, worry written all over his face. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, are you okay?”

You blink, still half asleep. “I’m okay,” you say. The minivan that Jungkook almost rear-ended continues on its merry way, carrying what seems to be a family of five. “What happened?”

He sighs, his outstretched arm retreating back to his side. “I got a bit distracted, that’s all.”

You take in your surroundings then. There’s barely any other cars in sight, no tacky billboard that sticks out like a sore thumb to catch your attention. There’s just the freeway, stretching on empty for all you can see.

“By what?” you ask.

“Nothing,” he says. “Go back to sleep. I’ll wake you when we get there.”

See, you have the superpower of falling asleep anywhere and everywhere, but once you’ve been woken up, it’s not as easy to fall back asleep.

That, and the fact that you’re hungry as shit.

You open your mouth, about to say no, about to offer to drive the rest of the way if Jungkook is tired, but your stomach doesn’t let you get a word out. It growls, filling the space of the car, making you want to chuck yourself out the fucking window and run all the way back to the city. This wouldn’t have happened had you taken the train, because if you had, there would’ve been food services and no one would be subject to hearing your stomach sing like it’s chewing out a small puppy in there. Life is nothing but an endless pit of embarrassment and despair.

Your arms hold themselves tighter around your frame, practically squeezing into your abdomen as you will it to please, please, please be quiet. Jungkook stares at you, and you can tell by the teeny tiny quirk of his lips that he’s trying to bite back a smile. He’s relaxed, but there’s still something hesitant on his face. It takes him a minute before he finally throws the question out.

“Do you want to go to that guksu place that we used-” that we used to go to, “you know the place. The one that’s right off the freeway?”

The sun is out today. The sky unfolds endlessly just outside the window, coloring blue everything your eyes land on. There are strips of clouds scattered here and there, like delicate strokes of white paint on an azure canvas. Even the winter cold has to soften.You bite into your cheek. Don’t think, that’s what he had told you.

Not much about this quaint restaurant has changed. The quirky decorations are still where they used to be, the windows still the same unique stained glass that you never came across anywhere else. You remember the elderly woman who runs the place, even if she doesn’t have a single clue who you are. The golden retriever you used to fawn over every time you stopped by, sits quietly by the door and watches the cars pass by, his fur now graying as weariness begins to settle into those old bones.

You would’ve been displeased if the place had changed, because, well, you don’t like change. But then again, this familiarity is dangerous. It tricks you into thinking that everything is still the same, even you and him. Deludes you into believing that you’re still in love and that he’ll walk out of here holding your hand.

Regardless, the first spoonful has you biting back a smile.

“How is it?” Jungkook asks.

It makes you feel all warm inside, and then a little sad, nostalgic.

“Tastes just the same,” you tell him simply.

“Hmm.”

He lets you satisfy your hunger in peace. It’s the least he can do anyway.

There’s a wall near the back of the restaurant, where people could hang polaroids of themselves and cute handwritten notes. You think if you dig through the hundreds of photos scattered across the space, you might be able to find you and Jungkook there, if you two haven’t already been thrown out long ago to make room for new memories.

He pays for your food after you’re both finished, despite some protesting on your side. As you leave, you’re busy thinking that if you could have a moment to marvel at that far-back wall of memories, if you could find a photo of you and him there, you would probably sneak it into your coat pocket.

It’d be another thing to add to your pile of Jungkook memorabilia - the old clothes in the back of your closet, the stack of dusty polaroids at the bottom of your drawer. You wonder if he keeps anything of yours, maybe an old t-shirt that you forgot to take back. It’s probably unlikely, but a girl can hope.

You miss the way Jungkook glances back, thinking the exact same thing.

You survive the rest of the drive with more ease, probably because of the food. You spend most of the remaining 2 hours leaning against the window, humming to the radio, closing your eyes but not really sleeping. You even forget to be nervous about what is to come.

That is, until the car pulls up to the venue.

It’s absolutely gorgeous, and a lot bigger than you imagined - a modern beach house overlooking the waters. It’s not as extravagant as one would expect to see when they come to a wedding, but considering the small crowd in attendance, this is more than enough. You see people rush in and out of the place even from far away - planners, caterers, the bridesmaids and groomsmen, probably.

You feel a bit comforted just watching this. His family seems to be doing a lot better than before. It’s nice to know.

You barely make it out of the car before someone calls your name, and pulls you into a hug that knocks the wind out of you. Although, when you catch the scent of her hair, you instantly know who it is.

Parents usually have a scent that’s distinct to only their kids, a scent so cozy and homely that no perfume can ever mask. You can only describe your mom’s scent with a feeling, specifically the feeling of your chest tightening, tingling with a bittersweetness that you never found elsewhere. 

Strangely enough, Jungkook’s mother has always made you feel the opposite. She makes you feel relieved to be in her embrace, like she accepts you for who you are even if all you are to her, at the end of the day, is a stranger.

You hug her back awkwardly, hesitantly, in front of Jungkook’s dad, his brother Junghyun, and a girl you don’t know. You assume that she’s the bride-to-be, the main character whom this weekend revolves around. Sooji, you remember that was the name on the wedding invitation.

You get choked up suddenly, eyes turning glassy though you quickly blink it away. You’re not sure if you’ve had someone be so happy to see you. Bypassers might even think that you just found the cure for cancer.

For a second there, you wonder if your mere presence has ever made your mother this overjoyed.

You look at Jungkook for help, silently asking him to rescue you. Who else are you supposed to turn to if not him?

He understands that look. “Okay, mom,” he says, entangling her arms from you with ease, “Y/N’s tired from the drive. Let’s let her rest, yeah? I’ll show her the room.”

She ignores her son. “Honey,” she says, brushing your hair away from your face so she could see you better. “Thank you for coming.” She used to insist that you call her “mom”, or at least by her first name because “Mrs. Jeon” was too formal for someone she considered family.

You now have to opt for the latter, because “mom” isn’t an option for you anymore.

“Thank you for inviting me, Mrs. Jeon,” you tell her with a smile. You’re not really sure what else to say, but it makes you a little sad just calling her that.

She opens her mouth before closing it again, seemingly about to jokingly scold you for the formality before she recognizes the bittersweet look in your eyes. She just smiles at you then. There’s not much to be done about it.

You don’t know if anyone else sees how the moment is weighed down. Probably not. Maybe it’s just you and her who share this sentiment.

Jungkook doesn’t wait for his mom anymore. Sons, typical. He wedges himself between the two of you like a bulldozer and leads you inside the house. 

Even though all you have is an overnight bag, Jungkook carries it for you all the way up to your room, which is only down the hall from his. Then he disappears pretty quickly afterward, saying something about his best man duties and putting out fires. He seems apologetic as he tells you this, but it’s not like you’re expecting him to babysit you all weekend.

You bore yourself to death in your room for a while, before you remember you have to text Yoongi to let him know you got here safely. Though, you stop short of telling him that it was Jungkook who drove you here. It’s trivial enough, right? You don’t want Yoongi to feel bad over nothing. You do, however, inform Taehyung and Jimin when you text them about it, to which Jimin only responds with a preemptively disapproving ‘Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.’

When you get too stir-crazy, you wander outside, hoping to explore the beach before it gets dark and colder. You try to stay out of everyone’s way, because a good guest is a quiet guest. You seem to be doing a good job. No one notices you, not even Jungkook’s mom but that’s because she’s the person you actively want to avoid the most. You don’t know what you’d even say to her if she gets you alone.

Everything is hectic, as one can probably imagine when it comes to wedding preparations. You haven’t had anyone close to you get married yet, so it’s safe to say that you’re pretty much clueless about all of this. You wonder what it’ll be like when your big day comes around, if you even ever get married. You haven’t thought about it in a long time. Why would you? You don’t really have a reason to think about this. It’s much easier to picture Taehyung’s or Jimin’s wedding day than your own.

Your opinion on having kids still remains the same, and you were never one of those girls who daydreamed about having a big and extravagant wedding, but it’s not such a bad idea to ponder about. You still think marriage is a scary thing - it’s one of the biggest commitments a person could ever make - but you’re not entirely opposed to getting married. 

Why are you even mulling over this? Your time might never even come.

When you round the corner to get the steps that would lead you down to the beach, you run into Sooji and a woman holding a thick binder - must be a wedding planner. You give Jungkook’s future sister-in-law an awkward smile in greeting, which she returns much more gracefully before she tells the woman that she’ll be with her in a minute.

So now you’re stuck here, about to make small talk with a person you have never met before, and will likely never see again. Great. 

“Hi,” you say, extending a hand. “I haven’t had the chance to introduce myself. I’m Y/N.”

“I’m Sooji,” she replies warmly as she shakes your hand, and you have to stop yourself from being a little weirdo and thinking about how silky her hair looks up close. “You’re Jungkook’s… friend, right?”

You purse your lips before nodding with a chuckle. The pause tells you that she knows, and you wouldn’t be surprised if she’s uncomfortable having you here. 

“I’m sorry if this is weird. You probably don’t want a complete stranger at your wedding.”

Sooji shakes her head instantly, waving her hands around to dismiss your apology. “Please, it’s totally fine. Junghyun’s mom talked to me about it before we sent out the invites. I wouldn’t have agreed if I was really bothered. Don’t worry about it, seriously.”

“Why did you agree?” you ask, trying to sound as polite as possible. “You don’t know who I am.”

“I guess I was curious.” She shrugs, before laughing lightly as she says, “I used to think you weren’t real.”

“Huh?”

“She talks about you constantly. Never in front of Jungkook, of course. But she’s really fond of you, and you probably already know that doesn’t happen very often. She really does see you like a daughter. She made you sound too good to be true.”

You’re not sure how to respond to that. His mom still thinks about you, still talks about you after all this time. You’re just his ex-girlfriend, but she considers you her family. You don’t know what to do with this information nor the way it pinches your heart.

“I-” You purse your lips, fumbling with the responses in your head. You settle on a light laugh, because Sooji can probably tell that you’re struggling with the words too. “I have to be honest. I don’t know what to say to that.”

“You don’t have to say anything. I just thought you should know that you’re still very much loved here.” She gives you a kind smile, and it looks like she wants to tell you something else but decides against it in the end. Sooji’s eyes land somewhere behind you before she points in that general direction. “I have to go take care of an issue with the flowers, but look, Jungkook is here. Why don’t you ask him to show you around?”

And then she’s already off. Overall, what a… strange interaction.

You turn around to see Jungkook standing near one of the entrances to the house. As you watch him talk to someone - a bridesmaid, you assume, or just one of the other guests - you try not to think about the fact that there’s a stirring sensation in your stomach, and that it only intensifies when she throws her head back in a pretty laugh, a perfectly manicured hand landing on his arm like he’s the most charming person she’s ever met. 

You don’t give it a name, don’t label it green in color even though you’re blue and he’s golden sunshine. You don’t acknowledge that it’s a feeling, because doing so would make it real and there are certain truths that you’d rather delude yourself into thinking are lies.

When Jungkook’s eyes catch yours and he cuts off the woman mid-sentence with a curt excuse me, you don’t acknowledge that feeling either, but it’s warm and it blooms in your chest as he makes his way to you. It’s something victorious, something that tickles your ribs.

He comes to you like you’re a destination he’s been waiting all his life to reach, and you certainly, adamantly don’t acknowledge the spectacularly dizzying feeling that swallows you whole when he places a gentle hand on your arm, his voice soft as he says, “There you are. I was looking for you.”

The familiarity, it’s catastrophic.

“I was just walking around,” you tell him. “There’s not a lot to do here. I was bored.”

“You have me,” he says. Probably not in that way, but you’d like to think that’s how he means it. “I don’t have any more fires to put out. What do you want to do now?”

You glance over your surroundings, still set on your original plans. You wanted to go alone, but you suppose you can let him accompany you. You check the time on your phone before asking, “Can we go down to the beach? I wanna see if we can catch the sunset.”

You used to do this whenever you came here to visit - walk along the beach, hand in hand, sunlight in your hair and the cool breeze holding you tight in the afterglow.

The keyword here is “used to”. Now, you have to stuff your hands in your pockets just so you don’t reach for him every time you shiver.

It’s late enough in the afternoon for you to see the moon faintly shine against a blue and orange backdrop. Sun and moon, together in the same frame. It feels symbolic somehow. You’re not really sure.

“The moon looks like an egg,” Jungkook observes astutely, taking casual strides next to you. It makes you burst into easy laughter, which makes him laugh with you too. You stop walking when you reach what you think is a good spot to watch the sky. 

“Let’s sit here for a bit,” you say. It’s not the greatest idea - sitting idly by would only make you colder - but you just want to stop and look at the sunset. Once you’re seated in the sand, you respond to his moon remark, “That’s true, y’know. NASA said so.”

“Yeah,” he says, settling down beside you, “you made me read that.”

You’d forgotten about it, and you didn’t think that he’d remember. It’s freezing cold and the moon looks like an egg, but you’re not thinking, and you feel safe. Nothing can hurt you here, or at least that’s what you’d like to tell yourself.

You wrap your arms around yourself to keep from shivering, but you still shiver anyways.

“Are you cold?” he asks.

“A little,” you admit. “I should’ve worn a thicker sweater. But it’s o-”

He doesn’t let you finish the sentence, just smoothly takes off his jacket to put it around your shoulders.

You put your hands atop his to stop him. When you touch him, there’s an electric tingle that almost makes you flinch. He feels warm, still resembling a human furnace. 

“No, you don’t have t-”

“Take the jacket, Y/N,” he says. “It’s just a jacket.”

The jacket smells like him. It only makes you want to crawl further into the warmth.

He seems more self-assured here, that’s what you notice. More like the version of himself that he used to be. Confident, sometimes borderline cocky. Annoying but oddly endearing, you came to love that about him.

His relaxed demeanor is understandable. You’re merely a visitor here, while this is his homeground. 

“I’m curious about something,” he says after a while.

“Okay.”

“What’s the deal with Wednesdays?” he asks. 

“You know how they say bad things come in threes?” You purse your lips, thinking it over, feeling something bitter in your mouth as you recall the events that led to this. “My parents got divorced on a Wednesday. I moved out of mom’s house on a Wednesday. And…” You hold your knees close to your chest as you hesitate to utter this last part, “we broke up on a Wednesday.”

You see the exact moment Jungkook mentally slaps himself, paling a couple shades as he tongues his cheek, not expecting his question to inadvertently lead back to this. It wasn’t your intention to guilt trip him. It was true that he dumped you on a Wednesday, but you don’t want the mood to turn sour, to have to mull over this again. Like he said, it will still be there for you to worry about when you get back. You’re not looking forward to returning to a shitshow, but what you’d hate even more is to tarnish the memories of this place just because you can’t keep from being vindictive for not even a weekend.

“I was born on a Wednesday too, so I guess bad things come in fours sometimes,” you continue, chuckling to yourself humorlessly.

A frown appears on his face almost instantaneously. “What is that supposed to mean?”

You shrug. Jungkook turns his body toward you, which makes you spare him a glance before you return your gaze to the horizon. His face is so serious that it’s almost funny. “Y/N,” he presses. “Why would you say that?”

“C’mon, it’s a joke. I was just being self-deprecating. Lighten up.”

“Why are you talking like that?”

“Like what? Contrary to popular belief, I don’t walk around with a thundercloud over my head all the time,” you laugh lightly. “I figured if there was a day to be nice to you, it should be today. And tomorrow, I guess.”

“This is you being nice?”

Funny how just a few weeks ago, you were fighting with him and calling him a hypocrite. Now, you’re sitting together, watching the sun set, trying not to be mean to him.

“I’m not picking a fight with you,” you say. “This is nice enough.”

“It’s not even my wedding.”

“Okay.” You glance at him again, letting words flow without a single thought. “I’ll be even nicer to you on your wedding day then.”

You don’t know where that even came from, but something aches the very second the words leave your mouth. The thought of him getting married one day makes you just nauseous, even though you always knew that it was a possibility. It might even be inevitable.

You clear your throat, waving the sullen feeling away. Your body shivers then, even after the added warmth of his jacket. Maybe you’re not shivering because of the cold anymore.

He doesn’t say anything, but you can feel his eyes linger on the side of your face. The both of you keep tiptoeing around an elephant that follows you wherever you go. 

You hug your knees close to your chest, watching the blue sky melt into the golden horizon, splattered with ribbons of cotton candy clouds.

You want to scooch closer to him and have him wrap his arm around your shoulders. This isn’t the spot where you used to draw your names in the sand, enveloped in a giant heart like two lovesick kids, but wouldn’t it be nice to imagine that it is?

“I was always really happy here,” you mumble to yourself.

You were, truly. This city was your pocket of hope, your piece of peace.

Being here brings back so many memories.

It’s the same feeling you get every time you pass by somewhere you used to live. The nostalgia of walking down the same road you used to walk every day until your shoes wore out. The familiarity of your surroundings. The bittersweetness of looking into a past you cannot hold anymore, of remembering the person you were at a certain period in your life, of knowing the things you do now that you didn’t back then.

You long for things you cannot change.

Nostalgia only grows stronger with time, you can always count on that.

He hums in agreement, before admitting quietly, “I miss you.” One pulls, the other pushes. The water wavers, like it’s touched by his words, simple but earnest. You’re touched too, somewhere in your heart, where you know you should be writing someone else’s name now.

Should?

“You’re pushing it,” you say softly.

“I know.”

You look at him. Maybe it’s because you’re back in the city that holds only good memories of you two. Maybe you’re hypnotized by the way the pink and purple hues kiss his side profile, making him feel like a fever dream and not someone you loved. Maybe it’s the cold, making you yearn for any source of warmth. But instead of returning his sentiment, you say, “It’ll pass.”

He meets your eyes. There’s something pleading in his gaze. All things pass eventually. Time moves forward, people move on. Bad things will pass sooner or later. Your worst heartbreak, your most arduous trials, your saddest moments, they will all pass.

And good things… good things will have to pass too, whether you like it or not.

Your fingers twitch from where they’re still holding onto your body. You itch to reach for his hand. You don’t tell him what he wants to hear, even though here’s a part of you that wants to say it back. In a better world, you would be telling him I love you too, instead of having to suppress an I miss you too.

“All things have to pass eventually. This will too.”

[20:05] Taebear 🐻: we could go to that bar near the gallery. Y/N likes the cocktails there [20:06] Mimi 🐥: kay kay [20:06] Mimi 🐥: soooooo next friday? [20:09] Mimi 🐥: why is y/n reading our messages. shouldn’t she be at dinner [20:09] You: i approve of the bar choice [20:11] You: if you didn’t want me reading your messages, you shouldn’t have sent them to the gc [20:11] You: and if you must know, i’m skipping dinner. i’m avoiding Jungkook’s mom [20:12] Mimi 🐥: understandable. i figured you would do that [20:13] Mimi 🐥: how’s it going? are we regretting going yet? i told you to just stay home and we could binge watch the office together [20:15] You: and EYE told you that you could be a good friend and go to this wedding with me but nooooo baby doesn’t like the cold [20:16] You: you could’ve visited your parents while you’re here you know. two birds with one stone [20:18] Mimi 🐥: babes my parents stayed with me for a whole month last month. i reached my quota for family face time  [20:19] You: son and friend of the year 👏 [20:20] Mimi 🐥: 😎😎😎😘

[20:22] Taebear 🐻: hey [20:23] You: uh oh. am i in trouble? why is this not in the gc? [20:25] Taebear 🐻: lol shut up [20:26] Taebear 🐻: you okay? [20:28] You: feels like that could’ve been a perfectly good question to ask in the gc [20:29] Taebear 🐻: because it’s a serious question and we both know Jimin can’t be serious for one minute to save his life [20:32] You: why does it have to be a serious question? 🤪 [20:32] Taebear 🐻: 😕 [20:33] You: stop pouting. i’m fine [20:35] Taebear 🐻: are you? [20:36] You: i am! you don’t have to go all mama bear on me [20:39] Taebear 🐻: ha ha ha. you’re so funny [20:40] Taebear 🐻: want me to call you? [20:42] You: i said i’m fiiiiiine 🙄 [20:43] You: but also no because i told everyone i was tired and i’m pretending to be asleep in my room right now [20:43] Taebear 🐻: okay [20:43] Taebear 🐻: did you eat something at least? [20:44] You: i have a cup ramen in my room [20:45] Taebear 🐻: okay [20:46] Taebear 🐻: how was today? did JK make you wanna strangle him? [20:48] You: okay Kim Taehyung at least act like you have some faith in your friend lol [20:50] You: but mmmmmm it was ok. he was mostly behaving himself [20:51] Taebear 🐻: mostly? [20:54] You: we were down at the beach and he just told me he missed me out of the blue [20:55] You: Mimi is asking why no one is replying to him  [20:57] Taebear 🐻: i can see that [20:58] Taebear 🐻: what did you tell JK? [21:01] You: i quoted fleabag to him [21:09] Taebear 🐻: i had to google that [21:10] Taebear 🐻: i still don’t know what that means [21:11] You: i know you don’t lol. you’re adorable [21:11] You: i’ll tell you when i get back.  [21:13] You: ok bye i have to sleep early or i’ll look like ass in the morning [21:14] Taebear 🐻: oh. okay [21:15] Taebear 🐻: sleep tight. remember not to gorge yourself on booze tomorrow [21:17] You: thanks for the reminder. love you mom 🙄💕 [21:17] Taebear 🐻: :) [21:20] Taebear 🐻: you won’t look like ass btw

You clocked out right after you told Taehyung that you would. It wasn’t a peaceful sleep though. The anxiety simmering in your belly woke you up a few times throughout the night. You don’t even know why you were anxious. It’s not like you were the one who was about to walk down the aisle.

When morning finally came and you managed to untangle yourself from the surprising comfort of your familiar bed, you practically dragged your feet for the subsequent two hours, trying to get ready. As if that would actually slow down the passage of time.

You had to compartmentalize the things you needed to do in a mental checklist. Makeup. Hair. Dress. Stare at yourself in the mirror for half an hour and internally freak out while waiting for Jungkook to come get you from your room.

Now you’re sitting in the wedding hall, watching people filter into the room. It’s not even a lot of people, but you’re still overwhelmed regardless.

You feel so exposed, even though he’s the only one looking at you in this room of strangers. He’s been looking at you like that ever since he first saw you this morning, in a dress that you got just days before the wedding. You still don’t know if it’s entirely appropriate for your ex-boyfriend’s brother’s wedding - maybe a bit revealing - but it was the only one you could find on such short notice.

When you tried on the dress for Taehyung and Jimin a few days ago, Taehyung said you looked beautiful. Jimin said you looked decent, “six point five out of ten,” which translated to “pretty nice” in Jimin-lingo. That would’ve been enough if you were going to any other wedding, not one where Jungkook would also be attending.

You had wanted him to see you and regret ever leaving you.

It was a silly thought, just a tad adolescent.

You had wanted him to see you in your dress and be consumed with thoughts of you until he couldn’t even see straight. To be the only thing on his mind, you didn’t think it was a lot to ask for.

That was before he told you not to think about it and you’d been convinced to just go with the flow just for two days. It was before he actually did see you earlier today in your dress - a simple midnight blue satin cowl neck with a slit in the thigh - but you were the one rendered helpless and speechless. He had stared at you for a minute when he came to walk you down from your room, then he’d said, all breathless even though both of you were just standing there, “You’re beautiful.”

You’re beautiful, not You look beautiful.

You don’t know why, but you appreciated it.

It made your cheeks burn underneath your artificial rosy blush. Stupid, you thought to yourself when you two made your way to the main hall. Stupid for letting yourself get dizzy because of a single compliment from him.

You’re seated with his parents, which makes sense because you don’t know anybody here except for them. Well, maybe you know one of his cousins whose kid you and Jungkook used to babysit whenever their family was in the city, but you doubt that he even remembers you anymore.

When the ceremony begins, your heart instantly feels like it’s about to drop to the pit of your stomach.

You can’t lie to yourself. It stings.

It stings just sitting here next to his parents like a daughter-in-law, like a member of their family, watching his brother solidify his happy ending.

It stings that Jungkook is standing up there, looking as handsome as ever, but his eyes aren’t on the couple. They keep flickering to you no matter how much you try to pretend that they don’t.

It stings that even though you don’t think about marriage often - or maybe you just don’t allow yourself to - you can’t deny that the thought does cross your mind from time to time. Any time that you’d wander the corridors inside your head, you’d pass the doors that you keep unopened on purpose but there’s always that one door marked with a bright red X that you can never sidestep.

You watch Junghyun and Sooji with their teary smiles and shaky hands, shaky but happy. There’s a sudden clarity that this could’ve been you and him in another life. Forever is a lie, but you would’ve perjured yourself a thousand times for him. I do - you would’ve meant it.

You imagine yourself in Sooji’s place, and Jungkook, standing right on the other side, holding both your hands in his. A beautiful and radiant bride terrified of the altar. A dashing groom with a smile that could rival the sun and shoulders weighing heavier than he lets on.

It would’ve looked clumsy, but it could’ve been right.

You wonder if he’s wondering the same thing. Maybe he is. You hope he is.

When the ceremony ends with a kiss shared between the newlyweds, you wipe away the tears that well up in your eyes. The people around you do the same thing, but they’re doing it for the right reason, out of genuine joy for the happy couple. You don’t think you can say the same for yourself.

Some of the bridesmaids fawn over him. It’s reasonable, you suppose. One tends to do that in the presence of Jeon Jungkook.

You watch as they come up to him one by one to ask him to dance, watch as he politely declines until they’re all stalking away with similar pouts on their faces. You watch him until his eyes lock on you, sitting at a table near the back, nursing a glass of champagne.

He weaves himself with ease through the people making their way to the dance floor. When he’s in front of you, he holds out a hand.

“Dance with me?” he asks, his doe eyes working overtime to lure you in with their sparkles, though you’d rather stay here where you can easily go unnoticed until the night ends. “One song?”

“I don’t know how,” you say, even as you’re taking his hand and standing up.

“I showed you how, remember?”

“That was a long time ago.”

He squeezes you reassuringly. “Just follow my lead,” he says, walking the both of you to the floor. “C’mon.”

Once the music starts, your heels stomp on his feet at least three times before you start finding the beat to move along to. Muscle memory, or whatever, is bullshit. You remember absolutely nothing of what he showed you.

You’re grateful that the song is slow, because it makes it easier for you to follow the beat with your two left feet. He takes one of your hands in his, the other settling on the small of your back, guiding you to move in a steady rhythm.

You feel his mother’s eyes on the two of you, because she must be somewhere nearby, watching you like a hawk. You feel his gaze on your face while you keep yours on the knot of his tie, just trying to keep your composure and to not step on his feet with your heels.

The blur of white that you catch from the periphery of your vision makes you turn your head. Sooji and Junghyun are close by, swaying together slowly to the soft music, both of them glowing with happiness. She must sense your eyes on her, because she lifts her gaze up to meet yours. She smiles at the sight of you and Jungkook, and you smile back, because you don’t know how else to respond to that.

You don’t say it, but you do think it. Your fingers tighten around his hand ever so slightly.

Could that have been us?

If the answer is yes, then it would hurt.

If the answer is no, then it would hurt.

The point of your story is that it’s painful however you choose to look at it. There’s no other way to frame it. It’s just painful, because you’re never going to get any of it back.

You bite your lip, then turn away from the happy couple but you still don’t look at Jungkook. You look at your hand in his, and that’s when you see it.

“How’d you get that?” you ask, gently tracing the inch of slightly raised skin on his knuckles. You never noticed the scar until now.

“It was four years ago, I think? After Taehyung and I almost got into a fight, I went outside and… punched a wall,” he says, wincing as he recalls the memory.

His answer takes you aback. “You and Taehyung got into a fight?”

“Almost,” he corrects. “It was a long time ago. Didn’t they tell you?”

“No, they didn’t say anything. What happened?”

“Nothing happened.”

“If it was really nothing, you wouldn’t have punched a wall.” You frown. It makes you miss a few beats, but the song isn’t what’s important now, even if Jungkook is still trying to steer you back into the dance. “Taehyung isn’t violent. You aren’t violent.”

“I’m serious,” he says finally. “It’s nothing. We were just drunk and stupid.”

You know there must be more to it, that something must have happened or been said to trigger such a reaction from both of them. But you also know that you won’t probably get anything out of Jungkook if he doesn’t want to tell you.

You give up, for now. “Fine. If you say so.”  You’ll just have to weasel it out of Jimin later.

The song comes to an end, before another one comes on. If Jungkook remembers that he only asked for one song, maybe he’s counting his blessings that you’re still here and dancing with him, because he doesn’t mention it.

For some reason, you pull your hand away from his, only to slide up his shoulder to lock both of your hands behind his neck. He seems surprised, but he does the same around your waist.

Jungkook’s gaze flickers to your lips briefly, then back to your eyes again. You find yourself doing the same and wonder what he tastes like after all the time you’ve been apart. Is he still as sweet as you remember? You used to tease that it was because of the excessive sugar he put in everything, but you knew it was really just him. The few inches between you are so inviting that it’s practically tempting you to close the gap. You could, easily in fact. Blame it on one too many glasses of champagne later if you want.

He looks younger like this, like the boy you loved, starry eyes and dimpled smile. His shoulders are always the most comfortable resting place, the crook of his neck your long lost home. This is nice, you think, to see him again even though it feels like a fever dream. Memories of your first date, your first kiss, come to life before your eyes so realistically that you could almost touch them.

Loved? That sounds funny to you.

The people you used to be, souls wrapped in innocence, when the world was nothing but the arms of the person you loved. You reach out, and the memories quickly fade from view. The only trace they leave behind is a speck of gold on your fingertips, a memento of charming naiveté for you to tuck neatly away in the corner of your mind, but also a reminder that ah, they only exist in the locket of your heart now. Because he has changed, and you think you must have too. Life, as they say, goes on.

“We made it. Kind of. That’s crazy,” you find yourself saying.

“Did we?”

“You don’t think so?” you chuckle. “We’re in a group chat with the Kim Seokjin who spams it with bad jokes on a daily basis. I’d call that a win.”

That makes him laugh. “If you put it like that, yeah, maybe. Sure.”

Other people might be fooled, but it doesn’t sound at all convincing to you. The light doesn’t really reach his eyes. You bite the inside of your cheek, thinking of how to translate the sudden poignant turn of the moment.

“It isn’t everything you hoped it’d be?” you ask.

His shoulders rise then fall quickly in a second-long shrug. “I thought it would make me feel more… fulfilled. But it doesn’t. Not really.”

The way he says it and the way he’s looking at you makes your heart dive. You understand what he means. You’re good at what you do, and you don’t need reassurance from anyone to recognize that. But sometimes, it doesn’t feel like it’s enough. Doesn’t feel like it’s real, like it’s validated.

When you landed your first big project, even before Yoongi, you were so proud of yourself. You were bursting with excitement but you weren’t happy, and you knew what the reason was. Something was missing that couldn’t be filled, not even with all your friends’ hundreds of messages of encouragement. 

It’s beyond stupid, this feeling like your wins amount to nothing at all just because of one person. You wanted him there to celebrate every achievement with you and he wasn’t, and the milestones seemed incomplete without the presence of him. It doesn’t feel like you’ve accomplished anything because this always used to be a dream you thought you’d make come true together.

“It’s lonely,” he concludes.

It sounds like he feels the same way, like he wanted you to be there too.

He suddenly holds you tighter than you think he needs to, like he’s afraid to let go of you. You imagine that he doesn’t want to let go of you, and it makes you feel better for a second. But it doesn’t change the fact that he still did in the end. And he will have to when this ends.

What was the point of this? Why did he bring this upon yourselves when he seems to be as hurt as you are? All of this time, all of these years, lost to what? You could’ve been happy together but instead, you were both lost and miserable.

When the music stops - you lost count of how many songs it’s been - you pull away from him. He looks disappointed, maybe even a little hurt for some reason.

“I’m gonna get some air,” you say, already turning away from him.

“Y/N-”

“I need some air.” Then you’re weaving through the dancing couples despite Jungkook calling your name. How did he manage it? How did he not look back when you called out for him?

You hastily grab your coat on the way out. It’s not going to keep you warm, but that’s not something you’re even remotely concerned with.

It’s everywhere, you feel it down to your bones.

The wind wraps itself tightly around you, intertwining in your hair, slipping through the cracks of your fingers, caressing your face in a chilling touch. You greet the cold like a long lost sister, shivering violently with nostalgia. It was there for you more than your own flesh and blood.

Is that why you like the sea at night? Because it reminds you of mom?

It’s dark out here, barely anything is visible except for a lighthouse sending out light in the quiet of the night. You can’t see much, but you can certainly hear it. You’re not sure if the music is coming from inside the venue, or if it’s still ringing in your ears. It’s probably the latter; you’re too far away to be able to catch the music anyway. But regardless, the tune is quickly drowned out by the sea.

The waves crash violently against the shore like it’s out for blood. There’s a magnetic pull, as if it’s calling out for you. You want to go to it, to reach out and feel the cold outside of your body for once, but you stay there despite your legs itching to stand up and run straight ahead. Into the water and down under.

You could lie down and close your eyes for a moment. The sound of the water, as sharp and brutal as it is, nurtures a part of you somehow.

You just want to be alone. You don’t want to talk to Taehyung, or Jimin, or even Yoongi.

Oh.

Yoongi.

It’s a terrible feeling, knowing that you’re going to hurt Yoongi. Knowing that you’re going to kill this even before it has a chance to truly begin.

Truth be told, you can’t envision a future with Yoongi. There isn’t anything wrong with him, because he’s not the problem here. Yoongi is fun, he’s considerate, he keeps things light on purpose for you, until you’re ready to initiate something more serious. He’s good for you, even Taehyung thinks so.

But you can’t love Yoongi, not in the way that he wants you to. Not more than you love Jungkook.

There you go. Ruining things again.

Did you ruin Jungkook? Is that what happened?

The layers on you are no match for the sea at night. The wind hisses relentlessly, biting at any part of your skin that’s exposed.

It takes you back to that night. Almost everything does, actually.

Maybe that’s why you never even stopped to consider starting anything with anyone, because it always ends. If there’s a beginning, then there will be an inevitable ending. Love isn’t made to last and you aren’t meant to carry love with you. You’ve been abandoned twice. If it happens a third time, it’s a pattern, and then your hypothesis will only be proven. That the problem here is you.

You’d be lying if you said you haven’t wondered when it’ll finally be Taehyung’s turn to leave. He eventually will, right? That one’s gonna hurt.

Then, you’re startled when someone calls your name.

“What’s wrong?” Jungkook asks. The wind and the waves masked the sound of his footsteps walking up to you. When you turn around to face him, his eyes grow worried, almost panicked. “Why are you crying?”

You breathe out irritatedly before you hastily wipe at your cheeks. You didn’t even realize that you’d been crying. “Nothing’s wrong. I’m fine,” you say, though you both know it’s a lie. “I’m just tired. I’m going up to my room.”

He catches your wrist in a firm grip when you try to walk away. You wish he’d just leave you alone, but you knew he wouldn’t drop it just like that.

“I said I’m fine,” you insist.

“You were crying,” he says. “Did I do something wrong?”

He didn’t, at least not tonight.

God, you really don’t want to do this right now.

“Jungkook,” you warn. “Let go of me.”

You try to free yourself from his grip, hoping that he’ll get the hint and back off for now. Instead, he pulls you into his chest, where you struggle to escape from his hold until you realize your efforts are futile. He takes the wind’s place, wound tightly around you, so tightly that it’s nearly impossible for you to move.

You hiss out his name, but he doesn’t budge. 

“Jungkook, can you just- Fuck!”

Damn him.

You realize he’s not giving up, which in turn makes you give up struggling, hoping that if you let this be a moment, then it’ll be something that can pass.

You’re just standing there, letting him hold you, letting yourself be held by the person who broke you in the first place. This feels exactly like where you’re supposed to be - in his arms, with your face hidden in the crook of his neck, his gentle fingers stroking your hair. There’s not a lot that you could do but lean into that feeling the same way you lean into him. One foot in the sand, one foot in the past. A hand on the doorknob of time, wondering if you should look back or look forward.

You want to be alone, but that never used to apply with him.

The wind stills, the sea calms. You remain unmoving too, locked in his embrace. You feel the faint rhythm of his heart, beating faster than you think it should. If you could, you would bottle this moment up and live there forever.

I miss you, you think.

I miss you.

I miss you.

I miss you.

Then your arms are around him too. It only makes him hold you tighter, and all you can think about is how much you miss him, how painful it is to miss him, how you feel like you’re being pulled apart at the seams from the weight of missing him. 

Fuck.

Can you pretend that the last few years never happened? Is there a higher power that would allow you to go back to the night before that wretched Wednesday, when everything was still perfect? Hundreds of days of your life, can you pretend that it was just one long nightmare? When you wake up, you’ll be back in his humble apartment, tangled up together in his bed. Warm sunlight, your silken youth, and him. It was all you ever needed.

Again with the devastating familiarity. The city, the beach. His mother’s warmth that always made you reminisce about your own mother’s coldness. How Jungkook used to find you in moments like this and just stayed by your side until the dejection passed. He understood that he could never understand it the way you did.

You hear yourself sniffle, then you feel him press a kiss into your hair. Home is comforting.

Oh, you never want to leave.

You don’t want to leave, and that’s terrifying.

You allow yourself to stay there for one more second - one endless second - so you could commit to memory what it’s like to be with him. Back and forth. It’s always so easy to fall into him.

Jungkook releases you when he feels you loosen after a while, and you reluctantly meet his eyes as he tilts your head to face him.  His fingers cradling your jaw, how warm and delicate they feel on your skin.

You swallow thickly, your mind going blank. He’s the only person you see, the only one that matters. His eyes flicker south, and even then you don’t make any move to run away, despite his loose grip on your waist telling you that you can if you want to.

You told him that it would pass, and maybe for him, it will. For him, it’s the city and the moment, making him feel like he’s caught up in a page that he’s turned over a long time ago. He was fine with leaving, and he’s been fine without you. It will pass for him, as much as it hurts you to admit it.

But not for you. For you, there’s only him. There’s nobody else but him. It’s always been him, no matter how hard you try to tell yourself that there will be another person you can love as much as you love Jungkook. You might only be a page, perhaps even a chapter, in the story of his life, but he’s your entire book. He’s volume after volume after volume, until he takes up the whole shelf and leaves no room for anything else, not even for yourself.

And now here he is - at the biggest turn in your career.

He’s a bad blood cell you can’t ever get rid of.

You’ll never be able to truly let go of him. How could you? When you truly love someone, those feelings will carry on forever. They’ll always have a piece of your heart despite an ending. When you look back on a certain period in your life, you’ll think to yourself, You’ll always be a part of me. I loved you then.

But Jungkook is a force of nature. He has your whole heart.

Years and years from now, when you look back on your life, you know you’ll see him everywhere. Even when you’re old and gray, and when faces all just blur together in a mosaic of broken memories and long lost youth, you know you’ll still remember him - the person you loved, the one whom you let slip through your fingers. The great love of your life when you were young.

Sometimes, you regret that day. You can’t help feeling like it was your fault too. Maybe you should’ve tried harder to keep him. You should’ve fought harder, should’ve held onto him instead of standing there and watching him leave.

He lit the match, and you let the house burn. It takes two to tango, two to break a heart.

You’re quick to let people leave. Oh, how you wish it could be that easy to let them go too.

It isn’t until your eyes mimic the flicker of his gaze that he leans in. You meet him halfway. For the first time in years, you feel like you could breathe, truly breathe. It’s achingly slow, like neither of you can believe that this is happening. 

You sigh against his mouth when his tongue brushes your bottom lip, slips past the seal to devour you. It feels like a perfect dream. You could stay in this bubble with him forever, pretend that you’re the only two people who exist in the world and there’s nothing else, no one else, waiting for you in a city that seems so far away right now. The thought of him never left you, not even for a second. He’s always been with you everywhere you go, no matter what you do, always in the back of your mind.

He tastes like your youth, like remembrance. He kisses you like he’s still yours when deep down you know that you’re still his. The hand on your jaw is gentle but firm, and it makes you repeat a thought, I miss you.

Then a feeling, I love you.

Not then. Now.

I love you now.

I love you even when I shouldn’t. Even when it hurts. Even when you leave me. Even when you don’t love me more than I love you. If there comes a day where you love somebody else, I will still love you then. There will never be another person for me but you. My first and only love.

When he pulls away, you think it’s too quick, even though your lungs are grateful for the breath that you instantly inhale. You stare at his lips like you’re in a daze, mesmerized, wanting to chase them again. You don’t even know how you have it in yourself to utter these next words, but you hear your own voice saying them anyway.

You’re holding onto him now. Doesn’t that count?

“Let’s…” Your fingers tighten on the collar of his dress shirt. “Let’s go up to your room.”

note (2): so... what do we think?? will they?? won't they?? 😵 stay tuned for obs7.5 which will be dropping 29.09.2023! also i'm gonna pause obs muse asks for a little bit! 😬

all rights reserved © jeonqkooks. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted september 24, 2023]

[keepittoyourshelf]

Since the algorithm on my various socials thinks I actually want to see a ton of people simping over Rhys and ACOTAR, let’s get down to the bones of why that algorithm is fucked beyond all comprehension, shall we?

I’ve never hidden the fact that I’m pro-Tamlin, not in the sense that I approve of what he did, but from the place that I believe he’s worthy of forgiveness in the same way any of the men that SJM otherwise glorifies in her work is worthy of it for any of their transgressions.

I shouldn’t have to do a paint by numbers thing here to make this obvious, but based on the actual text written by SJM in her own words, Tamlin has objectively done nothing better or worse than Rhysand has.

The big complaint is his temper, of course, and pro-Rhysies love to bullshit about how the red flags were all over book 1 and SJM is such a master at foreshadowing.

He locked Feyre in a house against her will to protect her, when she clearly didn’t want to be caged. How is that any worse than Rhysand…drugging her and making her give him lap dances, in order to protect her, when she clearly didn’t want to be dancing naked in front of strangers?

Go on. I’ll wait for your rationalization.

Rhysand’s whole shtick was that he’s only playing the villain to keep Velaris (and only Velaris) safe…those fucks in the Hewn City can eat a bag of dicks, right? But tell me again how Tamlin is the really bad one for enforcing a tithe because it’s unfair to those who can’t afford it (fair point). But Rhysand chooses to save the one city in his court that has zero problems. Let’s let those that might already be suffering from poverty get kidnapped and tortured by a psychopath. That’s probably better than a tithe, right?

And let’s not forget how Tamlin mocked Feyre and Rhys at the High Lords meeting. While funny, it was in poor taste. At least Rhysand didn’t publicly mock Tamlin. He had the decency to do it privately when he went out of his way to go to a deeply troubled man’s house and, in the midst of an obvious mental health crisis, not only had the gall to ask for resources from a man that has no resources because his own wife fucking destroyed them out of spite, but proceeds to rub in his triumph over a man that has nothing left. Nothing to see there, right?

Even if you could ignore all of that (and you’d have to be willfully fucking thick to do so, which a lot of these people are), I shall leave you with Tamlin’s role as a spy for Hybern. That’s obviously supposed to be a real shock because TaMliN BaD at this point, so why would anyone believe him? It’s not like he had a really good explanation like Rhys gave when he murdered literal children and innocents just to ensure Amarantha didn’t know how noble he actually was. Right? RIGHT?! And it’s not like anyone would have a harder time believing someone who had played evil and done actually evil things for the “greater good” (a collectivist dog whistle if there ever was one) for fifty fucking years over the dude that suddenly goes bad after being a progressive and respected high lord for the same period of time? I mean, it’s not like we’re dealing with severe mental anguish and trauma here. That’s crazy talk.

Shadow Daddy does no wrong. Even when he does. Because reasons.

Those idiots on TikTok making stupid videos showing their bf’s being all shocked and I KNEW IT when Tamlin “turns” can chew glass along with all those dipshits selling mugs that say “Tamlin’s Tears” on Etsy right next to merch glorifying a man that literally gaslit his soulmate into believing that forced drunken naked lap dances were actually a good thing, when you think about it.

SJM isn’t a master of foreshadowing. She’s a sloppy writer of moderately entertaining fiction that has a kink for glorifying severely unhealthy behaviors without the benefit of a trigger warning.

Fuck off if you think that’s all okay and think that anyone that says Tamlin isn’t any worse comparatively is the crazy one. Projection is a real disorder. Look it up. Right after you order your 543rd Rhysand candle.

[inkskinned]

im gonna start a fight; and, at the same time, i need you to take this in the most good-faith way possible, but:

videos that involve body-checking and intentionally (and uncritically) show a mealplan of an unhealthy number of calories are just a revamped version of pro-ana food diaries.

and yeah, i know there's arguments. i address some of them under the cut. but at the end of the day, we're just coming back to romanticizing mental illness; we've just found a better platform for it.

this is already something we've done. we knew it was wrong and tried to stop it. and tbh. it just wasn't enough.

there are people who argue "well, what if you have an eating disorder, you can't help it if you don't eat!" except that as someone with an ED; we are not infants. we know what we're doing. part of having an ED is that you are like, maybe too self-aware. even if we can't help our own food choices, we don't need to fucking romanticize the disorder - something we've been warning you about since 2013. there are hours of setup, filming, and editing that go into these videos. they do not happen to fall into place randomly. there is a reason they are pieced together to be beautiful, bright, inspiring.

there's this woman who pretty much only posts daily plans under a normal amount of calories, and everyone defends her saying but it's better than nothing! and i'm like. except she opens those with images of her showing off her body and provides no context in the video or caption that suggests that she believes what she's doing is unhealthy. she has hundreds of thousands of followers on a platform designed for young kids and teens. i refuse to believe that by accident her content just happens to be cheery advice on "healthy" versions of starving.

for any other symptom of mental illness, we would be incredibly enraged by this kind of placid acceptance of a "tips and tricks" fast-start guide. imagine if people posted pink & pretty videos saying "best places to cut yourself" as if it was a fucking storytime. we, as a society, are so fucking fatphobic that we would rather accept blatantly harmful displays of self harm than admit that we are obsessed with a hyper-thin body type.

i am not suggesting someone never talks about their disorder. i talk about mine. actually, it's a plot point in my book.

here's the difference: i recognize it's a fucking mental illness. i am very careful to never mention a specific weight, eating pattern, or calorie plan. i always make sure to position it as something that ruined my fucking life. i do not put cheery music in the background and hearts and sparkles over my worst moments. i do not film it in bright light. i do not start each passage with an image of a thin body followed by "here's how to look like her."

eating disorders should not be framed as aspirational. and the problem is that society worships the "after" image, so long as you don't get too sick. there is a reason so many people who quit being "influencers" will later admit - i wasn't eating well that whole time; an obsession with food was completely destroying my life.

we let any uncredited, uncertified person write the most backwards, fucked up shit about how to get the body you desire! because the underlying, secret belief is: well, at least they're thin! and the real thing that fucking gets me each time - they make fucking money off of it. their irresponsibility and societal harm literally pays off for them.

"why do you care so much." "don't like it don't look." "so what if people experiment with new ways of thinking of food?"

thank you for asking. we're about to get extremely personal. it's because when i was 18 i discovered "thinspiration"/"thinspo." and it absolutely influenced, shaped, and codified my pre-existing eating disorder. i went from having some troubling habits and traits to being incredibly unwell within what felt like a matter of days. there were actual pages designed to train me on how to have an ED correctly. it was all so suddenly easy. i was sick; and the nature of the illness meant - i wanted to be sicker.

it takes an average of 7 years for a person to fully recover. i know this personally - even now, 10 years from the worst of it, i still fucking struggle. i am so much happier now and i eat what i want and i literally don't think about food at all (19 year old me would shudder) and yet - i still fucking know the calories of plain toast with butter.

an eating disorder is one of the deadliest types of mental illness. over 1 in 4 people with an ED will attempt suicide.

and i'm sorry. i just do not see the exchange rate of "high rate of engagement" versus "the value of a human life."

[lullabesstie]

Found this comment on Reddit. Couldn’t explain it better than this.

“It’s clear from Mist and Fury that the original ships were: Feysand, Nessian, Elucien, and Mor/Azriel. Like it’s so obvious the way she wrote Mor and Azriel; Mor even seems vaguely interested/torn about Az. Looking at interviews, SJM even talks about Elucien as a couple (eg where would they like to travel together, etc).

Flash forward to ACOWAR. For whatever reason (lack of chemistry with Az, wanting more diversity) SJM has Mor say that she prefers women. This time the Az-pining-for-Mor is more desperate/feels like a zero chance of being requited. SJM also introduces Az as a potential love interest for Elain because she loves throwing a wrench. Just because Elucien are mates doesn’t mean they’ll have it easy; SJM’s whole thing is angst. She had to throw in a love triangle to make it uncertain. This is the first couple where mate status is confirmed upon meeting.

But there’s a problem now. If Az and Mor are no longer endgame, who will they end up with? is it not suspicious that the two new characters introduced in SF (Gwyn and Emerie) just HAPPEN to be potentially be good partners for Az and Mor? Like it’s not a coincidence that Emerie looks at Mor and blushes, remarking how pretty she is. It’s not a coincidence that Az and Gwyn have so many interactions in the text. It’s not a coincidence that a “random side character” shows up in a bonus chapter.

When SJM created Gwyn and Emerie, it wasn’t just to give Nesta friends. These characters clearly didn’t exist when she wrote MAF. SJM wanted new characters that would solve her retcon of ending Az/Mor. She wanted to solve the Mor/Az retcon so bad that she created a NEW RETCON of Az going to Sangravah. Like why bother to add that detail if it’s not important.

Also: poor Lucien. His endgame heroine was supposed to be Nesta until SJM realized they would be terrible together and that Nessian had better chemistry. So she gives Elucien the mating bond. Like is she really going to fuck Lucien over TWICE? She loves him as a character and has put him through the wringer. Yes, I agree that SJM can change her mind and maybe is open to mate rejection, but Lucien has already switched love interests from Nesta to Elain! Who else is he going to switch to, considering that Jurian and Vassa are “at each other’s throats?”

Finally, please think about the number of books left. Ignoring novellas (which are probably gonna be fluffy ones like ACOFAS where nothing happens), there are two main books left. Two couples.

Option A:

• ⁠Gwynriel (Valkyrie growth, Illyrian rebellion, exploring Ramiel, Gwyn’s autumn heritage and maybe lightsinger?? powers)

• ⁠Elucien (Helion secret baby, defeating Koschei, freeing Vassa, fixing spring court)

Option B

• ⁠Elriel (mate rejection storyline, potentially some stuff above)

• ⁠?????

Literally WHO is the second book in this equation? Lucien and Vassa?? We barely know Vassa and there’s barely any connection to Night Court. And Lucien’s book is going to be depressing as fuck dealing with mate rejection; does anyone want to read two heavy books of rejection? Jurian and Vassa: again, we barely know them! At least with Tower of Dawn, Chaol had been a main character for a long time with POV. SJM will not do a full-length Emerie/Mor book as much as I would love for one. She’s very cognizant of criticism re: Mor bi rep in the past; she doesn’t want to open a can of worms and be accused of writing bad sapphic rep. If anything, I can see a fluffy Emerie/Mor novella with little angst (or them getting together in the background of other books).

So from a meta structural level, I don’t understand who the second couple will be if Elriel is endgame. Lucien/Vassa is the most plausible answer, but 1) we barely know Vassa, 2) she’s human and Lucien is immortal. So are we going to toss her into the Cauldron to make her immortal? Serious question, and 3) I don’t want TWO books about mate rejection, it’s depressing as hell. I can see one but not two.

But with Gwynriel and Elucien, you have enormous fan and audience interest in ALL FOUR CHARACTERS. They’re directly tied to Night Court and SJM so far has no intention of staying away from the core group.”

[estrellami-1]

If I Should Stay

Part 1 | . . . | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12

Just then Eddie walks in, raising his brows at the veritable mountain of food Steve and Eleven are putting together. “What’s all this?”

Steve smiles warmly at him. “Hey, Eds,” he says, which is certainly an experience. He’s spoken roughly twice with the guy—in his memory—but Steve’s three chapters—nay, three books ahead. Eddie is Frodo, about to embark on his first journey, and Steve is Bilbo, or even Gandalf: someone who’s done this all before, whose eyes carry the weight of worlds.

Speaking of, Steve’s eyes dim slightly the longer Eddie takes to answer, so he waves his fingers at Steve, trying to ignore the swoop in his stomach when Steve’s smile brightens again. “So… what’s this?”

“Dinner,” Eleven answers. “We are making sandwiches.”

Eddie nods, because sure. Why not. “Okay.”

“How’s the song coming?” Steve asks, and the swoop returns, because not only is Steve asking, but he’s asking about Metallica, and Eddie’s gay, metal little heart can’t take it.

“Holy shit,” he breathes out, grinning. “It’s so good, oh my god. I mean, it’s gonna take a bit to learn, but it’s gonna be the most metal solo I’ve ever done.”

Steve’s smile dims again. Probably because he’s remembering what happened last time, i.e., Eddie’s death. Eddie pushes down the queasy feeling.

“Eddie,” Eleven says.

“Yeah?”

She turns to face him. Her eyes are more serious than any twelve-year-old’s eyes have any right to be. “You will be okay,” she says. Then, apropos of nothing, “And I can move things with my mind.”

Eddie blinks at that. Apparently his face is doing something, because Steve chimes in. “She can.”

“I can show you,” she volunteers.

“Anything but the utensils,” Steve says in a distracted voice, like this isn’t the first time he’s had this conversation. Eddie wants to laugh hysterically, or maybe cry. Smoking a joint seems like the best third option, except all his stuff is at home. Fuck.

Then she does, lifts a whole cutting board—complete with tomatoes— and moves it over to him. He resists the impulse to snatch a piece and eat it. He doesn’t even like tomatoes, what the fuck, brain.

Steve’s watching with an amused little smile, like he can somehow read Eddie’s mind. That legitimately wouldn’t be the weirdest thing to happen today, so Eddie does his best to stop thinking about it, because he doesn’t think he can deal with more than one real-life superpower right now.

“I need that back, El,” Steve murmurs, and she grins at him before zipping it back over, stopping it just before it hits his face. He nods, brows raised, impressed. “Nice control. Put it down and go wipe your nose, please.”

She does, Steve watching her as she goes, fond little grin on his face. “She’s a good kid.”

“She can move things with her mind.”

“Yeah. Honestly, that’s one of the easier things to get used to. Y’know one of the craziest things, to me?”

“Do I want to know?” Eddie asks hesitantly.

Steve just grins at him. “Jonathan Byers has this baseball bat that he sticks a bunch of nails in.”

Eddie blinks at him. “What the actual fuck.”

Steve nods. “I took it, sometime back during the first year. Actually,” he thinks about it, “what month are we in?”

“Um. October.”

Steve winces. “Great. October…”

“Um. Twenty-fourth.”

Steve hums and thinks. “In about… less than a week, actually, I think—I don’t really know, the concussion messed up my days—oh, hey!” He suddenly says excitedly, then raises his voice. “Rob!”

Robin pops her head in a moment later. “What’s up?”

He grins at her. “No concussions!”

She stares. Slowly, a grin spreads across her face. “Holy shit!” She says. “No concussions!”

“No memory loss!”

“No hearing loss!”

“No eyesight problems!”

She freezes. “Steve. You were having vision issues?”

“Um. Not anymore?”

She groans. “Since when?”

“Um…” he thinks, tilting his head toward the ceiling. “Billy, I think. At least that’s the first time I really noticed it.”

She sighs. “I’m going to murder you.”

“Are not.”

“In cold blood.”

“Are not.”

“Nancy’ll help.”

Steve considers this. “She might. She’d be good at it.”

They both pause for a moment, then Robin turns to leave. “I’m gonna go make sure Jon doesn’t give you a concussion this time.”

“Have him make the nail bat, too!” Steve calls as she leaves.

“What,” Eddie says desperately, “the fuck.”

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