#though i could probably think up one of those too!@

[jarofstyles]

What about bf!harry gets hard in public and hes basically using you as a human shield and pulling you into his lap while subtly grinding into you🫣

This is a very fratrry thing to do once they get together tbh

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Warnings- exhibitionism, don’t do stuff like this in public plz, filthy talk

——-

“You don’t know what this fuckin’ dress does to me.” With lips mouthing at her neck, she had to take a deep breath as his handsy palms ran over her stomach and tugged her closer to him. The conversations continued around them but as usual, he only had eyes for her. The obsession becoming unglued as his breath left chills on her skin.

“I think I have some idea. It’s against my ass.” She muttered lowly, taking a sip of some sort of lemon drop concoction which- ugh. Whoever was bartending at this party really shouldn’t give up their day job. “You’re like a feral dog sometimes. Just running around grinding your dick into me.” Her voice was kept down but it was hard not to push back into the slow rocking. The guise was he was moving with the music, but those jeans did nothing to shield her from the feeling of the thick length against her ass.

“So try n’tame me then.” He would really like that. The man had been nearly begging her to go to his room but she’d promised her friends she wouldn’t disappear too quickly. Harry was demanding of her time since they’d gotten together, clingy and slightly annoying but she liked to make him work for it a little bit. For a man who had been slutting it around with whoever he wanted- his words, not hers though it did seem like something she’d said- it felt really nice to know she he liked her that much.

“You’d like it too much.” She sighed, tightening her grip on the red solo cup as teeth nipped over her throat. He was borderline obnoxious with the PDA, but Harry really had no sense of shame when it came to that. Her fingers made the cup crinkle, a betrayal from a longtime friend as it exposed just how much it actually got to her. “Can you behave? For one night?”

“Mmmm… nope.” He sighed against her skin. “M’gonna be annoying and hope you stop caring what other people want so you can come upstairs like you really want to do.” Thankfully he kept his voice down as his hand rubbed over her tummy, exhaling a sigh. “I can’t wait until I get you alone and I get t’bury myself in that tight little cunt. Nice n’snug for me, and I’ll make sure you can feel it in this cute belly.”

Harry knew he had a hold on her that she didn’t let a lot of people see, feeling her neck heat up against his lips as she said his voice in a low warning that she mean absolutely none of. “Harry. Stop it. People are around.”

“And that does nothing but get you to soak those panties. Is it the nasty little thong today? The one you left for me t’wrap around my dick when you went home for the weekend?” He hummed. “Got them nice and sticky. T’be honest, if you’d let me I’d take you over into the corner, nudge your dress up and fuck you just like this.” He kept his hands where they were but his cock rubbed over her ass, giving him some friction. She could feel it throb against her, the lump in her throat thick as he continued to talk. His filthy mouth never did know where or when to quit.

“If you’d let me I’d have you walkin’ upstairs with my load down your thighs. Or your cum all over my fingers. I’d give you anything you’d let me have, honestly. And if you think I can’t tell you’re clenching those incredible thighs together, that I don’t know you’re slick between them and probably makin’ a fucking sloppy messy on your skin, you should think again. I know how much you love when I touch you. Like to growl at me like a little kitten but your body can’t hide from me.”

Y/N couldn’t deny it even if she wanted to. Clenching her jaw she fought the flush working its way over her chest, heat flooding her body as he finally moved a hand from her stomach to turn her face so he could catch her lips.

The lack of shyness from the man had him kissing her deep, unashamed of the wolf whistles and groans from his friends as he kissed her like he owned her mouth. She was reminded of it as his tongue brushed against hers and his thick fingers held her chin in place so he could kiss her how he wanted. He did- god, he really fucking did.

“Get a room!”

Harry broke the kiss with a wicked grin. “Don’t mind if we do.”

[deadboyswalking]

Right after Zoro and Sanji get engaged, only hours from the proposal, they have an interesting late-night conversation.

"Gonna have to be a long engagement, Curly."

"And why's that?" Sanji asks sleepily from his comfortable position lying on Zoro's chest, "Having second thoughts already?"

"No!" Zoro replies, a bit too sharply before softening, "It'll just be a while until we can get back to the East Blue."

Sanji is silent for a long moment.

"Do you still have... family there?" he asks.

"No, but you do," Zoro says quietly, "You'd be sad if your old man weren't there."

Oh. Sanji hasn't even had a chance to think about Zeff yet, but Zoro has. Though Sanji was the one to propose, Zoro has clearly been thinking about this for a while. Zoro knows how important Zeff is to Sanji, how much Sanji loves The Baratie and the chefs there, and he's already planning for them to go back home for their wedding.

It's so different from Whole Cake Island, an unfamiliar and extravagant place where Sanji had been surrounded by detested blood relations, enemies, and strangers while he awaited political marriage to a sweet girl he barely knew. But Zoro knows Sanji and knows what he really wants, even if Sanji would never make a fuss and bring it up himself.

Sanji has never felt this loved.

"Yeah, the geezer would probably kill me if I got married and didn't invite him," Sanji finally says, his voice thick with emotion, "And The Baratie is the only place I'd trust to make my wedding feast."

"We could invite my sensei," Zoro adds, "And Johnny and Yosaku, if those two idiots haven't gotten themselves killed. I think they settled down in Nami's village."

"What about Mihawk?" Sanji asks.

"If I haven't defeated him yet, sure," Zoro grumbles, "He likes fancy restaurants and he'd probably get along with my sensei. Perona too since she'd haunt me forever if I left her out. What about Ivankov?"

Sanji grimaces, mostly for show.

"I'll invite Iva, but I don't think he'll show up. He's way too busy with his kingdom and the Revolutionary Army to go all the way to the East Blue just for our wedding."

Zoro hums in thought.

"I think you're wrong about that. Who else?"

Needless to say, by the time they finally fall asleep their tentative guest list has over 500 names on it. Even if Zoro and Sanji aren't quite as sociable as their captain (who they'll definitely have to restrain from inviting everyone he's ever met to their wedding), all of the Straw Hat Pirates have made many friends on their journey and will make more by the time they get back to the East Blue.

Sanji's last thought before drifting off in the arms of the man he loves is wondering how much advance notice he should give Zeff before his beloved restaurant is swarmed by all of the friends that the lonely little boy he saved grew up to have.

[sudzymactavish]

I don't know if you dislike people ranting to you, so delete if it annoys you. But why are so many straight women writing the most messed up type of fanfics you've ever seen and thinking it's okay😭. Like there's so many women on here who always write x reader fanfics as with female reader described like 90 pounds, 4 feet tall and extremely weak and easily manipulated, who's partnered with a huge muscular male character who is 3x her size. Reader is always extremely small and weak and innocent minded and almost childlike in the way that she's written. And the writers describe the male character as having "one hand big enough to wrap around your whole waist" and stuff like that and then make the male character that throws reader around and beats her and sexually abuses her and stuff like that. It's so gross.

And then there will be like 900 likes on the post and all these straight women saying how much they loved it and it was so sexy when the reader got abused and assaulted and asking the author to make more. Like wtf!! I must have blocked over 200 blogs by now that are all just like this. There's so many women writing incest and pedo stuff too. Yesterday I saw a Leon Kennedy x daughter reader nsfw and I was just thinking how gross it is and how just looking at this stuff kinda ruins my childhood characters because I loved those games and now they're making my favorites do the most messed up shit. I'm not saying that male readers don't do it, but like 95% of the time it's women that are ones glorifying r-pe and abuse like it's something sexy, when it's not. Just nasty. And stop writing y/n to be coded like a child and stop making her a small helpless baby that gets treated violently by the character and letting people read it like it's something sexy. It's not sexy to be r-ped. Just stop. Please.

THIS IS SO REAL.

Everytime I see a feminine reader getting 🍇ed it makes me sick. And the reading being like a skeleton? Ew...

So let's write something about fem!reader being BIGGER than the men. 141 + a few other charaters.

John Price

That man would be begging for you. Pet names like "queen" and "ma'am" are heard around the base and at home referring you you. He's in love with you, as you almost swallow him in each hug and cuddle. He loves it.

John "Soap" Mactavish

Even if you are bigger than him, he still protects you. A glare and an occasional cuss-out in Scottish to anybody who thinks they can steal his bonnie. And if someone dares to make fun of your size...? They'll have a scar to remember.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

He would make sure you're comfortable. Being a big woman could cause maybe your feet to hurt, or pain in your neck from trying to not bump your head on the ceilings. He'd always have some chocolate and a movie set up, just for the two of you.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

I don't think he'd really mind size. He loves when you pick him up though, even if he can't admit it. The way your hands wrap around him as he's embraced in your figure... oh yea, he's in love with his big girl.

Graves

Oh he'd be a menace. He'd say weird stuff like "she's a tree and I wanna climb her." But once he actually started getting feelings for you, all the weird comments stopped. Opening doors for you, doing paper work for you was suddenly happening all the time.

Makarov

He'll admit, he was a bit threatened. He expected his new secretary (after he killed the other one) to be, well, small. So he could keep his power. He wanted to return you, or maybe just kill you, but when he actually met you? You were in charge after that.

König

He'd be surprised at first. Someone who's finally bigger than him would probably have him shocked. When he got used to you, he totally fell in love. Head over heels. He'd take you out to dinner, buy you jewelry. You loved his presents, but in his eyes you were his precious diamond.

Shoutout to all the big girls, WE LOVE YOU ‼️‼️❤️❤️

Also anon, would you like an emoji?

[writing-for-life]

The Mortifying Ordeal of Being Known

Or: Does Morpheus really have commitment issues?

[Bear with me, I’ll get to this panel 🤣]

I’ve read many times that Morpheus supposedly has commitment issues, and it always has me scratching my head a bit…

I personally rather think he is desperate to commit. He so badly craves a serious relationship that he is prone to rush into it and build it on wonky foundations, but he has certainly no commitment issues as we would commonly understand them.

Is it in his nature though to be truly seen and understood when he is [a] Dream? And can dreams ever last? These are the much more interesting questions in my view. Let’s have a look at the romantic relationships we know of…

Killalla: Walked out on him. That wasn’t his lack of commitment. If anything, he came on a bit strong while she was still assessing her feelings for him.

Alianora: He fully committed to her despite basically being bullied into it by Desire. And they were happy for “a goodly while”. For those in doubt: “Goodly” doesn’t mean “a bit”. It means “great, large, long.” And the fact that Alianora couldn’t go back to her own plane because she had stayed in the Dreaming too long corroborates that they were together for a long time. Probably longer than any human relationship ever lasts, because I doubt “a long time” means “a couple of years” for someone who is 12 billion years old.

And now I’ll sandwich the relationship we hardly know anything about between some random (?) panels to also make a point why I think it might sit here in the timeline…

Titania: Who knows. Sounded like an affair, and as if they both had no intention of committing. He was clearly very fond of her though, and I can never shake the feeling that we should look a bit deeper into AMND and find the parallels between Auberon, Titania (not hard, and they are pretty much pictured as estranged) and Bottom. There are many ways to get confused with a jackass, you know? 🤣 Plus, Bottom is the one who gets to play Pyramus in “Pyramus and Thisbe”. That’s the ultimate blueprint for “Romeo and Juliet”: Ill-fated love of catastrophic proportions, people are dead by the end of it. That’s why I often wondered if the affair with Titania was actually pre-Nada, and the inspiration for Shakespeare wasn’t random (it wasn’t random for The Tempest either). I mean, it wasn’t random anyway because it was a parting gift, but I also don’t think it was entirely random with regard to their relationship. Wild head-canon of course, but maybe not that wild (he also says that Wendel’s Mound was already a theatre before humans walked the earth, so there’s that)? And even if he wasn’t committed (we quite frankly don’t know if he intended to but she didn’t or couldn’t), she and the Fae meant enough to him to give them a play as a parting gift.

Nada: Killed herself after one night, but that wasn’t down to lack of commitment on his part. Again: If anything, he came on far too strong, wanted to be with her and was far too pushy about it.

Calliope: We don’t know how long they were together before they had Orpheus. Could have been a while, could have been only a shortish time. But even if we assumed they had him fairly quickly—they were still together when Orpheus, who was mortal, got married to Eurydice, so even if he got married young, we’re still talking something in the realm of +/- 20 years, and that’s the absolute low-ball-estimate. And while they had started to drift apart (considering what we know from Calliope), they were still on good terms and had no intention of splitting up until the whole Orpheus drama caused a rift they couldn’t mend. Again: That’s not someone who has commitment issues. It’s a relationship breaking down over hurt, stubbornness and grief.

Thessaly: Again, she was the one who left him and caused his dramatic interlude in the rain. Were they ill suited? Yes. Did she feel neglected and went into a strop over it? Yes. Did he not get that she felt neglected? Also yes, but that’s not lack of commitment. That’s his not getting that people aren’t mind readers (must be hard if you’re probably one yourself 🤣) and, by and large, need assurances of love. He doesn’t get that these women don’t understand they have his love; he can’t grasp that line of thinking because it is all so clear to him when he loves someone: They have him, what’s the issue? Is that a not so great way of (not) communicating when you’re having a relationship to someone? Absolutely. Is it a commitment issue though? Absolutely not.

I think Morpheus doesn’t really have commitment issues in romantic relationships—wouldn’t that almost be antithetical to his nature? Rules and responsibilities. Yeah, about that one…

What I do think is that he struggles with the mortifying ordeal of being (not) known by his lovers. Because how could he? He is Dream. That is his problem. Dreams cannot be fully known or understood. He is very eloquent but at the same time a very… confusing communicator. I don’t want to say “bad”, because I feel that’s not getting to the bottom of it. Again, it is the nature of dreams to be confusing and strange, open to (mis)interpretation, hard to grasp and understand. And they also stop being dreams once they become real. All of that is true and hence makes relationships both hard for him and those involved. Is he truly not willing to commit though?

I still find that hard to believe…

[scoonsalicious]

9.2 Major

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: Lily McIntyre, trainer for new SHIELD recruits at the Avengers Tower, has been in love with her best friend, Bucky Barnes, from the moment she met him. She's been content with her role of the #1 girl in Bucky's life, even if it means she has to sabotage a romantic relationship or two. It'll be worth it when he realizes that they're meant for each other, right? There's just one small problem: Lily McIntire never expected Bucky Barnes to fall for You.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, mentions of past cheating.

Word Count: 2.3k

Previously On...: Bucky and Lily had a conversation. Now Lily knows you and Bucky are dating.

A/N: Sorry this is late; I had to clean out my office after hours today. It was... an experience, to say the least :/

If you ever feel so inclined to support my work, hop on over to buy me a coffee; it's much appreciated! <3

NOTE! The tag list is a fickle bitch, so I'm not really going to be dealing with it anymore. If you want to be notified when new story parts drop, please follow @scoonsaliciousupdates

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

“I think you’re a fucking idiot,” your best friend, Hannah Santiago, said to you as you sat in the coffee shop across the street from The WarZone. She had been furious with you when you hadn’t answered her texts all weekend, so you promised her a lunch date to catch her up on your last few days in the company of one Bucky Barnes.

She did not appear to be taking it very well.

“Why?” you asked, mildly insulted. “He’s amazing, Han. I think you’ll really like him when you get to know him.”

Hannah rolled her eyes at you. “Oh, I’m sure he’s a peach,” she agreed with just a hint of sarcasm. “Though I’d probably feel better about it if you got to know him, too, before shacking up with him for days on end!”

“It’s NRE,” you told her, as if that perfectly explained the intense connection you felt you shared with Bucky. “That New Relationship Energy.”

“Oh my god,” Hannah groaned. “Get off of TikTok. You’re too fucking old for that shit.” A mother at the next table over with an infant in a stroller gave her a disapproving look and audibly tsked at her, but Hannah just responded with a glare.

“It’s great for marketing,” you grumbled.

“Look,” Hannah conceded with a sigh, “I’m sure this guy is wonderful, really. But (Y/N), sweetie, you haven’t had a serious relationship since you and Connor split.” You opened your mouth to protest, despite knowing she was right, but Hannah silenced you with a look. “I’m not saying I don’t want you to get back out there; lord knows it's past time– I just want you to be smart about it and not rush into anything headfirst with someone you barely know.”

Logically, of course, you knew Hannah was right. “He suggested we should put a pause on having sex so we can focus on getting to know each other better,” you offered. 

Hannah raised a well-manicured eyebrow. “Okay, that’s interesting,” she said. “Especially if it was as good as you said it was.”

You dropped your chin into your hand as you rested your elbow against the table and sighed dreamily. “Hannah, it’s like nothing I’ve ever experienced. I swear, I don’t even know if I can call anything Connor ever gave me an actual orgasm after then things Bucky’s done to my body.”

The mother at the next table muttered something about “inappropriate talk” under her breath, but loud enough that you both could hear her. 

“Last time I checked,” Hannah said pointedly at you, though projecting her voice so that you knew it was actually for the other woman’s benefit, “‘inappropriate’ speech is still free speech. So sue me, please.”

You rolled your eyes good naturedly. As a First Amendment litigator, Hannah took Freedom of Speech extremely seriously. “Han,” you warned. “Let it go. This isn’t a courtroom.”

“Fine,” your friend said, ignoring the mother as she stood up and walked away with her stroller. “I’m just worried about you,” she said. “The last time you jumped headfirst into a relationship without really knowing the guy, you ended up married for nine years.”

You hated that she was right– you did have a track record of impulsive relationship decisions. “I appreciate you looking out for me,” you offered, reaching out to squeeze Hannah’s hand across the table. 

“So, do you really see this turning into a long term thing?” Hannah asked, genuinely curious. “Because I’ll support you if you do; I’ll just tell you I told you so if it all falls apart at your feet.”

“I think I do,” you told her, choosing to ignore her jab about rubbing failure in your face. “I know it’s early, but… I’m happy when I’m with him. There’s just the one issue with his–” You paused, not quite sure you wanted to divulge the Lily-sized elephant in your relationship with Bucky just yet.

“One issue with what?” Hannah asked. “And you better not say ‘nothing,’ otherwise I will use my cross examination skills against you,” she threatened. 

Having no desire to subject yourself to that, you relented. “It’s just… he’s got this female best friend–”

“Oh, hell no!” Hannah said, loudly enough to attract the attention of most of the other coffee shop patrons. “Nope, we are not doing this, (Y/N). I will not stand by and watch you go through that all over again.”

Truthfully, this was the reaction you had been expecting. “I’m not the same person I was back then, Han,” you protested. “Bucky’s not Connor, and Lily’s not Danielle.”

You understood your friend’s anger on your behalf. When Connor had promised you there was nothing between him and his childhood best friend, Danielle, you’d naively believed him, despite the gnawing sensation in your gut that told you something wasn’t right with their relationship. It was years before the instinct grew enough to convince you to look at his phone and you had found thousands of text messages between the two of them. You’d promptly thrown up.

His reaction had been textbook. At first, he tried to gaslight you– you didn’t see what you thought you saw; you were taking innocent conversations out of context (though, you weren’t sure how much context the exchanging of nudes really needed). Then, he tried to shift the blame on you– you were never around, always away on deployment or assignments. You emasculated him by getting promoted again and again, until you outranked him, and how was he supposed to live with that? Finally, he love bombed you, showering you with compliments and praise, begging you to forgive him, making promises you knew he would never keep, telling you he’d do anything to get you to stay.

Except for cutting off all contact with Danielle, apparently. He was willing to do anything, anything at all to regain your trust… just not the one thing you’d actually asked of him.

In the end, the divorce had been relatively straight forward. You weren’t stupid. You’d made sure to take screenshots of all of the text conversations between him and his mistress in case he deleted them. You’d even recorded the conversation you had with him when you confronted him, and he’d actually admitted to it. 

There were a lot of things you had disliked about the United States Army, but their stance on cheating hadn’t been one of them. Connor had ended up demoted, and you were able to maintain all of your financial assets without having to shell out anything for spousal support, despite the fact that you had out-earned him by more than double. 

As for Danielle? Well, you became an expert at giving her the cold shoulder and pretending like she didn’t exist.

“You never thought Connor would end up like Connor, either,” Hannah told you pointedly. “And yet.”

You sighed. Your friend had a point, you knew she did, but you just couldn’t imagine Bucky doing that to you. 

“Look, I’m not trying to shit in your cornflakes,” Hannah said. “I love you and I’m worried about you. I don’t want to see you rush into something and make the same mistakes again. That’s all.”

“I know, I know,” you agreed. And you really did. Hannah had been your biggest source of support when your marriage had gone to hell. She’d set you up with your attorney, let you stay with her while your housing situation got sorted, and had been your shoulder to cry on all the nights you had too much to drink and swore you were going to die alone. 

“Look, I promise to not jump into anything crazy,” you assured her. “I’ve learned my lesson.”

*

After saying your goodbyes to Hannah so she could return to her firm, you headed back over to The WarZone, hoping to get yourself absorbed in some work so you could get your mind off of Hannah’s worries before they became your worries, too. Natasha should be arriving shortly for her standing Tuesday appointment, and you were hoping to chat with her for a few minutes once she was done. 

The bell above the entry door rang cheerfully as you pushed your way inside, but the atmosphere in the lobby felt unnaturally heavy. You looked up from your phone to see Rand leaning against the reception desk with his arms crossed, glaring at someone across the room, and Zadie trying to pretend to look busy at her computer.

You followed Rand’s gaze and locked eyes with Bucky. His giant frame was spread out across one of the lounge chairs, and he seemed to have been watching Rand with a puzzled sort of wariness. When he turned to look at you, though, a blinding smile broke across his face that made your knees feel weak.

“Hey, sugar,” he greeted, standing up and making his way toward you. 

You moved to meet him halfway. “Hiya, Sarge,” you said, putting your arms around his neck and standing on your toes to kiss him hello. “I missed you.” 

“Oh yeah?” he asked, a teasing glint in his eye as his hands settled on your hips. “I just saw you yesterday.”

“Lotta lonely hours between then and now, Bucky,” you told him evocatively, toying your fingers through the hairs at the nape of his neck.

The loud sound of a clearing throat brought your attention back to Rand, who was looking at you in disbelief. “Really?” he asked.

“Oh, sorry–” you said, purposefully ignoring Rand’s meaning. “Where are my manners? Bucky, this is my office assistant, Zadie–” Zadie waved enthusiastically from her perch behind the reception desk, “-- and my Midtown location manager, Rand. Guys,” you said, taking an excited breath, “this is Bucky.”

“It’s so nice to meet you, Bucky,” Zadie said enthusiastically, and you knew the orchid and note he had sent you on Saturday had definitely won her over to his side. “Major’s told us so much about you.”

“Yeah,” added Rand through gritted teeth, “we’ve heard an awful lot about you, Mr. Barnes.” You shot him a look, silently pleading for him to be nice, or at least remove himself before he said something offensive.

“It’s nice to meet you both, as well,” Bucky said, ever the gentleman. He made to move, and you highly suspected he was going to try to shake hands with them. While you had no doubt Zadie would be friendly, you wouldn’t put it past Rand to just be a dick for the hell of it, so you wrapped your arms around Bucky’s midsection and drew yourself toward him, keeping him in place.

“So,” you began, hoping to distract him from your manager’s open hostility, “to what do I owe the pleasure? Because it is a pleasure to see you, especially when unexpected.”

Bucky smiled and moved a hand to brush a lock of hair away from your face. “Nat mentioned she was coming down for her weekly visit,” he said. “She invited me to come join her; thought I’d like to check out the place for myself.” He leaned in to whisper conspiratorially: “And if I just so happened to run into this pretty girl I’ve had my eye on, well, that would be a bonus.”

His words made your insides dance, leaving you feeling like a giddy teenager. “You’ll have to let me know if she shows up, Sarge,” you teased. “I’ll try to put a good word in for you.”

“You’d do that for me? Thanks, doll,” he grinned.

“Of course, handsome. Where is Nat, anyway?” you asked. The redhead hadn’t been in the lobby when you came in.

“She had to take a phone call. Avengers stuff,” Bucky offered with a shrug. “She shouldn’t be too long.”

As if on cue, the main door opened and Natasha breezed into the lobby. She caught sight of you and Bucky with your arms around one another immediately and threw a knowing smirk your way. “Sorry ‘bout that,” she said. She turned to Bucky and rolled her eyes. “Fury had some questions about the last mission that apparently couldn’t be saved for an email.”

“Fucking bureaucracy,” he muttered. 

“Tell me about it.” Nat’s frown quickly transformed into delighted glee as she rubbed her hands together. “Alright, Barnes. You ready to fuck some shit up?”

“Oh,” chirped Zadie. “I’m sorry, Ms. Romanoff; we didn’t have you down for a doubles’ room. Just your usual single.”

“Zadie, just move them to a VIP room,” you told your office assistant. You turned to Nat. “That should be more than big enough for the both of you.”

“They’re also significantly extra in price,” Rand interjected. 

“Waive the fee,” you said. 

“Sugar,” Bucky said, looking down at you, “that’s not necessary; we can pay the difference.”

“I’m not going to make my boy– er, um… my friends pay for an upgrade I offered them that they didn’t ask for. For fucks’ sake, Rand.” You hoped no one noticed your slipup, but the way Bucky was grinning down at you and squeezing your hip let you know it hadn’t gotten past him at all. 

“No problem, Major,” Zadie said. “Room 5c is available and all ready to go.”

“I’m sure you’re busy being the big boss, doll,” Bucky said as you moved to escort him and Nat to the elevators. You’d be having a chat with Rand later. “But any chance you could join us? I’d really like my first time to be with you.”

“Oh my god,” gagged Natasha. “You’re pathetic, Barnes. Seriously. That was bad.”

“So bad,” you agreed with a laugh, “but it worked.” You grinned at the both of them. “Yeah, of course I’ll help you pop your rage room cherry.”

<- Previous Part / Next Part ->

[brainrot-of-a-thot]

One-shot of Tsubakino helping reader get ready to confess to Umemiya!! Like they help reader with makeup, hair, getting dressed, etc. And have a wholesome conversation where reader is like "why are you helping me don't u love Umemiya too/aren't I your competiton?" But Tsubaki just assuring them that isn't the case and whatnot!! Then reader confesses to Umemiya but he takes it the wrong way and think it's like family type love at first ope but eventually he'll understand when reader explains again though maybe a bit angrily at the end? Up to you!! Also sorry this got so lengthy omg if it's too much feel free to ignore!! I just wanted some platonic tsubakixreader fluff leading up to love interest umemiyaxreader

take it from another love-struck fool [hajime u.]

tsubaki gives you some much appreciated advice and the nudge you needed to finally truly confess to umemiya — if only it could penetrate his thick, family-oriented skull.

a/n: eeeee tsubaki my looove (platonic). I just wanna go shopping and have sleepovers with tsubaki and talk about boys while we do our makeup ;w;

c/w: afab!reader, fluff, not-so-unrequited love, language, clueless!ume, love confessions, very minor angst with fluffy ending, tsubaki is the bestest friend uwu, tsubaki nation pls rise!!

the first time you confessed to umemiya, it was an absolute disaster — but it wasn’t because he flat-out rejected you or anything.

after all, there was no possibility he could of rejected you — not when he didn’t even understand the depth of your confession.

when you’d finally plucked up the courage to say those three, incredibly difficult words, umemiya had simply blinked then beamed at you before exclaiming, “I love you, too! you’re my little sis!”

it wasn’t a rejection, but it stung just like one; and that was how you found yourself on the plush comforter of tsubaki’s bed days later, eyes achy but thankfully dry, spilling your heart out to him.

“a-and he just— he called me his little sister! it’s like it just — flew over his head, or something!” you huffed, trying desperately to bite back the fresh tears that threatened to gather in your eyes. tsubaki had already lined your eyes expertly with liner, and you were loathe to waste his meticulous work. tsubaki was rummaging through his vanity drawer, pulling out a myriad of items; some of them you didn’t really recognize, but you could deduce that they were used for hair styling.

“it probably did go over his head, doll.” tsubaki assented with a hum, hovering his fingers over the splay of styling wands atop his vanity.

you weren’t entirely sure why tsubaki had offered to do your hair and makeup — you knew it was a hobby he enjoyed, knew that he loved doing it for you, especially; heavens knows he’s done it many times in the past.

but all of those times were just for fun… this occasion was on a different level than the ones before it.

tsubaki was offering comfort and encouragement on levels that you couldn’t even begin to comprehend; he was so gentle when speaking to you and so careful when he applied your makeup — he sounded so genuine when he told you to keep your head up, as if he truly wanted to see you achieve your goal of successfully confessing to umemiya.

as if he wanted to see umemiya return your feelings.

you watched tsubaki with careful eyes as he finally grabbed the tool he was looking for — well, tools. he turned to face you and held up the two long styling wands with a smile.

“curled or straight?” tsubaki asked, and for a moment, you had trouble discerning what he meant — but then it caught up with you, and all you could do was blubber out, “whatever you think is best.”

tsubaki pouted and laid one of the wands back on the vanity.

“I think curls will frame your face a lot better,” tsubaki yipped. he pulled the comfy chair out from underneath the vanity and patted the bottom of it. “now come, sit.”

you robotically obeyed his gentle command and sat in front of the mirror. you scrutinized the layer of makeup tsubaki had applied to your face. it wasn’t anything super flashy, but everything he’d done enhanced each of your features in the best way possible. he truly was incredible at this. tsubaki hummed as he plugged the iron into the wall and set it to the side to heat up. his fingers were gentle when he ran them through your hair, massaging your scalp nicely.

“your hair is so pretty.” tsubaki cooed, that gentle smile on his painted lips. you smiled back through the mirror. guilt was still gnawing at your chest — you couldn’t help the way your skin crawled unpleasantly.

tsubaki loved umemiya — that much was obvious. he’d never tried to hide it, not even from umemiya himself. when you’d started to develop a crush on umemiya yourself, you’d felt so incredibly guilty for it.

you had sworn to keep it from tsubaki; but he was incredibly perceptive, and had pegged your crush on umemiya almost immediately. you truly expected him to feel sour or threatened by it, but he was so genuine when he beamed at you and offered encouragement.

everything tsubaki did seemed far too genuine to be an act… but you couldn’t help but feel a guilty nibble of doubt.

“hey, tsu…” you ventured gently, lacing your fingers nervously in your lap. tsubaki hummed in acknowledgment but kept his focus on your hair as he separated it into smaller sections.

“I… I really appreciate you doing this… but — why are you doing it?”

tsubaki’s hands stilled in your hair and his eyes shot to yours. you couldn’t quite decipher the look in them, but it didn’t appear to be angry; but you swore you could detect the faintest trace of hurt. but tsubaki blinked and it was gone, and his lips broke out into a soft smile.

“you’re meaning to ask why I don’t see you as a rival, yes? or why I’m perfectly okay with you being in love with umemiya, and even helping you out with getting him?”

your eyes widened fractionally and that guilt in your chest turned into a rabid beast. you broke eye contact with tsubaki and stared down at your hands. your throat felt too tight to speak, so you simply nodded.

“that’s simple, love.” tsubaki huffed with a small laugh. steam was rising from the iron now, and tsubaki plucked it up with expert fingers. he began to wrap a small section of your hair around the metal bar. “it’s because I want you both to be happy.”

you glanced back up. tsubaki still had that small, soft, genuine smile on his face as he worked your hair around the iron.

“I’ve been in love with umemiya for a long time,” tsubaki continued. “but I know he’d never return those feelings. and genuinely, I don’t need him to. I’m happy with the way things are between us.”

your heart constricted painfully at tsubaki’s words. you were just the same as him; hopelessly in love with umemiya. but the thought of umemiya never returning your feelings that way… it caused so much pain that it made you physically ill.

it must have shown on your face because tsubaki burst into a mini-fit of laughter.

“I’m sure it’s difficult to understand,” tsubaki affirmed, now finished with the left side of your head and moving on to the right side. “but it’s true. as long as I can love him, and see him happy, then I’m happy. after all, isn’t that all we want for the people we love? to see them happy and being true to themselves?”

you were struck silent. it made sense, it did; but you still couldn’t understand how tsubaki could stand the thought of seeing you with umemiya in the way he wanted to be — how he could remain happy seeing the one he loves loving someone else.

“I know you aren’t ever going to be able to fully understand it, and you’re always going to feel guilty in the back of your head. but that’s because you’re a good person.” tsubaki murmured, softly, running his fingers through the bouncy curls thrown over your shoulder. they looked amazing.

“but I want you to know that I want to see you happy, too. and I know that umemiya would make you as happy as you make him. and nothing would make me happier than seeing that.”

tsubaki meant it. you could feel just how truly and deeply he meant it. you’d promised yourself you wouldn’t cry and mess up his work, but…

“hey, no tears!” tsubaki barked playfully. “you don’t want mascara running down your face when you meet him, do you? speaking of which,” tsubaki had curled the last section of your hair and threw it over your shoulder. he placed the curling iron back on the vanity and used his hands to gently fluff your hair. “you’re all done! now,”

tsubaki waltzed to your side and reached down to cup one large hand over your wrist. you looked up at him and he beamed down at you.

“let’s go get your man.”

it had taken a bit of convincing, but tsubaki had successfully managed to get you into a flower-patterned, light yellow sundress and planted you in front of pothos thirty minutes after finishing your look.

you could see umemiya sitting alone at the back booth, a gentle smile on his face as he gazed out of the window beside him. your heart was fluttering in your chest and you swore your stomach was trying to claw at itself.

“be assertive,” tsubaki had insisted before he left. “word it in a way that leaves no doubt towards how you mean it. that’s what it’ll take to get through his thick skull.”

be assertive? how on earth were you supposed to do that?

you shook away your doubt and took a deep, stabilizing breath. you blew it out from between painted lips and reached forward to grip the knob, then opened the door as casually as you could.

pothos was empty save for kotoha behind the counter — she noticed you immediately and shot you a thumbs up, causing you to blush profusely. at least it was only kotoha here; you weren’t sure if you would be able to confess to umemiya if someone like hiragi or sakura were there.

umemiya, thankfully, hadn’t noticed you yet; but he was quick to do so when you had made it half-way to the booth. surprise painted his features for a second before they melted into a beaming smile.

“hey!” he greeted when you made it to the booth and slid into the seat across from him. your stomach was officially doing somersaults in your body, and you had a hard time maintaining eye contact with him. “tsubaki asked me to come here, so I thought he’d be here, but… I mean, don’t get me wrong! it’s super nice to see you here, but is tsubaki okay?”

you swallowed and willed your cheeks to cool down.

“uhm, yes, tsubaki’s fine—”

“oh, that’s good to hear! so, why isn’t he here? or is he just running late?”

a twinge of irritation rocked your unsettled, nervous gut. this was already incredibly nerve wracking, and if umemiya didn’t stop chattering, you’d lose any semblance of confidence you still had.

“actually, uh, tsubaki asked you here to meet me.”

umemiya’s blue eyes took on a shade of surprise and confusion, and fuck, why were they so pretty? this was starting to become very difficult. oh, no, what if you choked up?

“you… wanted to meet me? why didn’t you just ask me yourself?”

because all of my systems are nervous and I have the biggest crush on you, you thought bitterly, but forced yourself to remain physically calm.

“I, uhm… I wanted to t-talk to you.” you stuttered out, looking down at the table. shit, your throat was getting tight. you needed to hurry and get it out before you shut down or clammed up.

“oh, well, is everything okay—”

“please just stay quiet for a bit,” you rushed out, and distantly, you knew your wording was a bit rude, but you couldn’t have umemiya interrupting you during this. if he did, you’d most certainly choke.

you sucked in a shaky breath and kept your eyes downcast as you started, hesitantly, “the other day… I, uh, I t-told you that I loved you but… I don’t think you understood what I meant.” your eyes were feeling very warm; almost as warm as your cheeks. damn it, you couldn’t stop now.

“I guess maybe I’m to blame for that.” be assertive. “I didn’t word it the right way. umemiya, I… uhm… I’m—”

be assertive.

gathering up every ounce of courage you could scrounge, you lifted your head and met his eyes head on — blue clashed with your own, and umemiya’s face was attentive, and maybe even eager; you felt a bit more confident from that.

“I’m in love with you, umemiya.”

the silence that followed felt like it stretched on for centuries — umemiya stared at you, and you stared back. it was as if everything else had melted away, and your body was vibrating with multiple sensations that you couldn’t even put a name to. nerves, anxiety, dizziness, oh god, why wasn’t he saying anything? was this just some big mistake? what if he didn’t even respond back, or worse, what if he rejected you—

light, warm, bubbly laughter — umemiya was laughing. your heart dropped in your chest and tears pricked at your eyes; you didn’t want to cry, but you couldn’t help the way this reaction hurt. it hadn’t even been one you’d considered a possibility. all you could do was stare at the man as his laughter faded slowly into small chuckles. your entire body was burning, you needed to get away—

“you know, I’m really glad you decided to confess here.” umemiya said, halting your brain and knocking you into a state of confusion. his pretty eyes met yours, and they looked so soft — warm, like a cloudless summer sky.

“I truly can’t think of a better place for a first date. that is, if you’re up for turning this into an impromptu first date?”

at first, you couldn’t quite digest umemiya’s words. a… date?

a date.

a date?!

you nearly choked on your own spit; your heart had abandoned its journey to your stomach in favor of leaping into your throat. umemiya was staring at you, softly and patiently, eyes clouded with something that you couldn’t recognize.

“a… date?” you echoed back, and umemiya nodded.

“a date.” umemiya confirmed before leaning back in his seat. “I mean, I know it’s not how I would have done it — if it were up to me I would shown up at your door with flowers and asked you myself, but… this could work too. if you want it to.”

you couldn’t breathe — you were happy, you were nervous, you were full of disbelief; was umemiya being serious?

his eyes said yes. you swallowed thickly and smiled shyly before nodding. umemiya brightened significantly and gestured to kotoha.

“how about something special, kotoha? it’s our first date so bring us something yummy!”

truthfully, you couldn’t bring yourself to feel any pity for the trouble umemiya was suddenly stacking onto poor kotoha. you were too lost in your own world, happy and warm and fuzzy. you were officially on a date with umemiya — sure, it happened pretty fast and you were about ninety percent confident this was some fever dream you’d conjured up, and you weren’t actually inside pothos but rather outside of it still watching umemiya —

but, if you pinched yourself and still found yourself in this booth, you’d call tsubaki later to thank her.

I’m not completely sure how I feel about this one babes. I swear I redrafted it at least three times. I just hope it’s good enough urghh

[demonsword586]

Hades pp headcanons! (Only the nobles)

I am...SO FREAKING SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG! I AM IN MY FINALS MONTH AND I HAD SO MUCH TO DO AND I'M STILL NOT FINISHED!!! I am still writting but it's going slow since I don't have much time. In any case,I will be free in 2 weeks so this series should pick up the pace. Anyway here is more penis.

Barbatos

- Judging just from that bulge.... It's big,his balls I mean. The dick I presume is rather normal.

- 17 cm, 14 cm when soft.

- With how much time this man spends naked,you think he would have a tiny bit of tan. All over his body,his dick too since this man forgets what clothes are for when he sees the sun. But nope! He uses sunscreen with 120+ protection. You probably can't even see anything when he's around. The sunshine illuminates right off of him,making him as sunny as his personality.

- His dick is a bit on the leaner side. It's nice and slim like a rose stem. Suprisingly,he's circumsized! His tip is also a very gentle shade of rosy pink.

-It is a very beautiful penis,fit for a man like him and he's proud of it too! Unfortunatelly when you have a king as envious as Leviathan,it may be the best to keep it hidden when he's around. Barbatos had to learn this the hard way...

- Anyway the only thing that makes his pp a bit...unperfect,is the giant ballsack under it. A very pretty pp with big,squishy balls. Very squishable,but please don't play with them for too long. He's a bit of a tease so whatever you do to him,he will do it twice as pleasureable to you.

- Also,has a few small cuts on his inner thighs and butt. He likes to sunbathe around roses he grows and he's not the type of gardener to cut the thorns off. So he has to suffer the consequinces. But he's not too bothered by the little sting of those flowers when they bloom so beautifully and can still be fierce.

-But if you're sunbathing with him,he will be very careful to not let the thorns get you. He places you on top of him and holds you against his bare body. After all,you are the most perfect of all the flowers in the garden and he can't risk his rose to get pricked by thorns.

Glasyal La Bolas

- He stinks.

- This man is literary putting his pp into corpses. That thing smells and not the nice Beel smell but a smell of expired meat.

-He showers after...um....doing his thing,but this specific stench is quite hard to get rid off. In shame,he had to ask Orias for the strongest shampoo he knows off and 100% alcohol disinfectant from Paradise Lost. His king knows everything that happens in Hell,because of a certain invisible spy. You can imagine what horrors await him if his king found him walking around with a dirty willy.

- It's very cold too. No one knows how he does it but his body is naturally cold. Almost as if he's a corpse himself....meaning his pp can be quite refreshing in hot summer days!👍

- Now if you two are planning to have sex,berate him to take a shower. Even if he already did,make him do another one. I don't know about you,but I don't trust this man or his cock.

- Speaking of cock,we should talk about it. He is....large. Very large. He could have a shlong fight with Mammon if that ever happened. He is a centimeter behind Mammon though....still that thing is a beast.

-Some who got a glimpse of it said it is the stuff of nightmares. Not because of the size but the shape.

- He's thick,long and has a very unique tip. His tip is a bit spikier than most but only enough that it's noticable and very much pleasureable when he makes love with you. It's like his tip it designed by God to reach just the right spot in your insides. Not only that but his shaft naturally leans up when he's hard. It's like a pillar of monstrosity....If only you didn't know what he used that amazing dick for.

- But as amazing as it is,you need a lot of preperation to take him. It takes awhile for you to actually start to feel good and...he's not a very patient man. A night with him is like flipping a coin. You can either end up in heaven or in a hospital. Marbas as another big-pp owner always scolds him when you need to be healed up.

-Glasyal is not a monster though. He feels bad when you suffer because of his lust,though he will never admmit it straight. He does apoligise to you but not only with his words. He will put that evil mouth of his to good use and please his dying darling.~

Foras

- Shiny~

- He's...average in lenght. Nothing special,just a nice 15 cm pp.

-The color however!! Mm,tasty-looking. The shaft is a pretty,milky color with a pinkish hue. And the tip is just like his horns. A beautiful crystalic rainbow. It's a bit firmer than the rest of his cock. It also shines like a crystal when light hits it.

-He once skinny dipped in the sun with Barbatos and accidentally became the focus of gossip in Hades for a few weeks.

-It was a very sunny day and as soon as his pants fell to the floor,his member feeling the fresh air...Barbatos and a few by-standing devils got blinded by his penis. The sunlight shined right on his cock or more precicelly at his tip and blinded the eyes of many innocent devils.

-From that day onward he was rumored to have stolen a chip of the sun and now decorates his cock with it.

-The rumors ended up reaching his beloved king's ears...Let's just say Foras got a thorough examination by his idol while also threatened to be castrated by the envious king. Still the best day of his life.

-But do not worry about his shiny pp when you two are being intimate. He now always makes sure his foreskin is covering the tip. He will only show it once you two are in private without any natural light being close to it.

-Has a mole on his pubic area. Just a bit higher than where his member stands and on the left side.

- His cum...is of low quality.

-Mostly because it's invisible. You won't know when he's finished unless you check on his face. His face is very honest when it comes to pleasure.

- But yes,his seed is invisible. You can taste it in your mouth but can't see it. (If you randomly slip on nothing,it's his fault.)

- No hair. This man is as smooth as a baby's ass. Only because he thinks it would be rude of him to stand in his majesty Leviathan's presence while knowing there is pubic hair growing inside his pants. What if his king one day orders him to strip and be of service?! Oh...and for you too.

Orias

-....I fear him and his penis.

- He has a body of a young adult so...you can see why I am not sure if this is right of me to do...

(I will do Orias if people want but I am scared this could get....controversial.)

[hangup119]

FEELS LIKE A THRILLER! ᯓᡣ𐭩

12. #NOTACANNIBAL written chapter | 2.8k words

“WHAT, YOU DON’T feed your plants?”

Seunghan tilts his head. “... Why should I?” 

“Then what the hell kind of owner are you, dude?” you accuse, adjusting the strap of your bag as the two of you head towards the car parking lot. “Who doesn’t feed their plants?”

Seunghan pauses, eyebrows furrowing, before a smile breaks out on his face and then he’s throwing his head back to laugh. He opens the door of the passenger seat for you, saying, “You mean, like, feeding them fertilizer? Wait, how often do you feed them anyway?” 

“Everyday.” 

Seunghan looks concerned. “Um, I don’t think that’s right…” 

You shrug, hopping into the car. “My plant seems to love it, though. It has never looked this alive! That obviously means I’m doing something right, right?”

He blinks when the door finally shuts, wondering how that even works. What kind of plant do you even have in the first place to require fertilizer every single day? He thought it’d be just some room plant, something low-maintenance, but maybe you’re actually a secret plant-connoisseur since you’ve been keeping it alive all this time? Hell, for all he knows, you’re probably developing your own venus flytrap that could digest a whole-ass elephant or something… a part of some secret society with mad scientists obsessed with plants and Seunghan’s just none the wiser…

He promptly starts the vehicle, dismissing such thoughts. He really needs to stop watching those crazy Sci-Fi movies with Sohee every Wednesday. 

When the car finally gets out of school property, Seunghan takes one quick glance at you. “So,” he starts, hands admittedly a bit clammy as he steers the wheel and stops at a red light. “Anywhere you’d like to go? I was thinking maybe we should get some food, or something. We should have really planned this out, huh?” 

A notification ping suddenly rings out after he finishes; an awfully familiar sound at that. 

“Do not open your goddamn phone to play Pokemon Go right now, Seunghan,” you warn, and he immediately deflates at how easily you’ve read him. Then, you smile sweetly, “But, yeah, we can go get something to eat first!” 

He laughs anyway, swerving towards downtown. “Alright. Also, I wasn’t even going to open Pokemon Go. Just saying.” 

“Yeah, okay, and I’m definitely not going to jump out into oncoming traffic right now.” 

“Please don’t.” 

After spending some time eating at a nearby cafe Eunseok has been asking to go together with the guys, the two of you manage to get through a whole hour without glancing at each of your phones, too focused on the other to truly care whether or not there are pokemons in the area. During that whole hour of you casually attempting to flirt with Seunghan in your own little way, you find that perhaps he’s not as obsessed with the mobile game as much as you believed him to be—which is good, even though you do find it a little bit cute, but at least he’s not addicted or something. 

Seunghan pulls out his phone after you’ve stepped out of the establishment. “Holy shit? There’s a Piplup just a block away!”

“Seriously?” you squawk. 

“Yeah!” he excitedly responds, only to end up getting smacked on the arm. “Oh, not what you meant. Okay.” 

You give him a fixed stare. He returns it.

“Can we please catch it?” Seunghan pleads, forming his hands into a prayer. 

You falter, attempting to look at anywhere but his face. Hot nerds are a curse, you think miserably.

“Please, Y/N? It’s Piplup!” he continues, finally taking your hands in his. You flush, believing that he can just go ahead and go catch the damn pokemon himself but instead chooses to spend more time begging you to go with him in order to catch it together. Right. Because you’re on a date. And Seunghan isn't an asshole. Right. Guy who had a girlfriend for four years over here. Someone already cooked before you. 

“Okay, fine,” you finally surrender, mentally cursing yourself for going down such a rabbit hole. Who cares about his ex-girlfriend? She was the past, and you’re the present (hopefully)! “But just Piplup!” 

Seunghan laughs, crossing the road with you. “I promise I won’t make this a Pokemon Go date.”

He’s still holding your hand. Like a real couple. You have to mention it.

“You better not,” you say instead, squeezing his hand in return. 

After acquiring the stupid Piplup loitering by a fire hydrant next to a pissing dog, Seunghan leads you back to his car to spend a couple more minutes marveling at the 25th Piplup on his screen, before starting the ignition to make your way towards the arcade. There he finally pockets his phone and drags you towards the nearest racing game, where you both duke it out in a Fast & Furious racing game, with you ultimately ending up as the winner after two rounds. Of course, you made sure to rub it in Seunghan’s face for a good three minutes, before he’s dragging you towards the claw machines like every arcade date out there. 

Amidst the presence of screaming children and tired parents chasing after them, Seunghan holds your hand as if it was second nature, the sight of his back a constant reminder that he’s not willing to lose you among the crowd and the dirty, soda and gum-flavored floor. 

You wonder if this is what it would have felt like had you been his girlfriend in high school. Sitting next to each other in class while trying to ignore your friends’ teasing remarks, partnering up for school projects, doing community service together, or buying snacks right after school and heading to the arcade. Then he’d walk you home, or depending when he got his license maybe drive you, and you’d ask him to text you back when he gets back home. The little things that make up being highschool sweethearts, or whatever the hell he experienced with his ex-girlfriend before they broke up. 

Fine, you’re jealous. You’ve always been jealous. But who doesn’t? You’ve always liked Seunghan—everyone knows that—and you’re aware that the missed opportunities you could’ve had with him over the last four years are a result of your own cowardice and lack of assertion, but what gives? After four years, you can finally have him? Just like that?

They say that a man who yearns is a man who earns, but now that he’s right next to you, on a literal date with you—why can’t you take it? 

Because you cling too much to the past. Do you still like him as much as you did before? 

You’ve always believed that liking someone for so long is a stupid thing, especially someone who wasn’t even available in the first place. Why cling to someone who can’t look at you the way you want them to? And yet you held out for hope anyway, clinging to the possibility that maybe someday Seunghan can look at you like how he did his ex all those years. That perhaps you had a chance with the boy who was one day partnered up with you and your friends for that one project in AP World History, and unknowingly becoming the object of your affections for the next three years and still into college. 

“Just focus on my awesome skills,” Seunghan exclaims, rolling up the sleeves of his flannel as he steps closer to the machine. “I’m gonna get you that Pikachu.” 

You roll your eyes. “Of course you choose the machine with the pokemons.” 

“This is who I am,” he simply responds after inserting the token, moving around the joystick to situate the claw exactly to where he wanted it to go. “And what I am is a Pokemon fan.” 

“You do know that these things are a scam, right?” you ask, stepping right next to him. 

Seunghan curses when the plushie falls out of the claw’s grasp. “It works out, sometimes. You just gotta have hope, you know?” 

You spare him a thoughtful look. Funny how he says that. 

He goes for three more rounds to no avail, the Pikachu plushie never budging from its place next to the Charmander. Seunghan feels as if they’re mocking him from within the glass, and he feels embarrassed, but he promised (in his head, at least) to get you that Pikachu no matter what. And he won’t go home until he does. 

What he doesn’t expect is for you to push him out of the way. “Move, you’re just wasting money,” you say, inserting a token into the slot as he tries to regain his senses. “I will get you that Pikachu.”

Seunghan stammers, moving closer to you as you maneuver the claw to align with the lone Pikachu in the corner, before confidently pressing on the button. “There’s no way that’s gonna work,” he says, eyeing the descending claw. “It’s too far.”

“Just watch,” you simper. 

Much to Seunghan’s surprise, the Pikachu plushie makes it all the way to the exit without a hitch. “What?” he exclaims in shock, watching as you crouch down to take the plushie from the machine, dust it off, and proceed to hand it to him with twinkling eyes. 

“Ta-da!” you exclaim, pushing it towards him. 

Seunghan snaps out of his reverie, handing it back to you. “Why are you giving it to me? I’m supposed to be giving it to you.” 

The side-eye you give him is almost scathing. “What, like the girl can’t give the guy a gift?” 

Seunghan flushes. “That’s not what I meant!” 

But you’re already laughing, inserting another token into the slot while he’s just helplessly holding onto the Pikachu plushie you won’t take. "Sure, you fake-progressive."

"I am very progressive."

He observes as you focus in on the Squirtle next to an Eevee, before changing your mind and going for the upside-down Bulbasaur. Within seconds, you manage to get it again. 

“What’s your secret?” he wonders, taking the plush when you hand it to him as you’re already inserting another token to get the Eevee. “Why are you so good at this? Who’s controlling you? Are you even real?” 

You don’t catch the Eevee this time. You’ve also run out of tokens. 

“Nevermind,” Seunghan says with a smile too wide for your liking. 

You remember back in tenth grade when you were complaining to Sunoo about the upcoming project for history because you simply didn’t want to do it when you had a Chemistry test to study for. Miraculously, you ended up getting grouped with some of your friends and another kid, Hong Seunghan. You thought he was cute, sure, but nothing else after that. He was just some kid who had a huge friend group consisting of six other guys, which somehow included your childhood friend Anton, and the only times you’ve thought about him was when he and his friends walked too slowly in the hallways for your liking. 

But then a day before the submission day of the project, you had forgotten to fulfill your part after getting too caught up with your other classes. Knowing Sunoo would never  forgive you for tanking his grade, you ended up panicking throughout lunch trying to research and paste together a comprehensible summary of your research, hoping that if the group wasn’t getting an A then you would at least get a B. After getting your sources printed out in the library, the only thing left to do was find whoever had the physical presentation, which had been Jaehyun, but then he told you he left it to someone else’s care. Just great, really. You’ll only have a few minutes in class to assemble it, but surely you’d manage, right? 

Wrong. Your frustrations finally caught up to you, and you felt like a ticking time bomb with your unpasted sources and incomplete project. Sunoo was gonna hate you for not even being able to finish something so simple, and you’d be letting down your whole group. Nothing was going right, and you were gonna fail. 

But just as you were about to burst into tears from the stress and resorting to fess up to Sunoo, Seunghan came jogging to you five minutes before lunch ended with the physical presentation in hand. He started apologizing for hogging it, but quickly paused once he noticed tears streaming down your cheeks at the relief of seeing that all was not lost. As you frantically wiped away your tears, he had awkwardly taken the printed sources from your hands and began pasting them into the decorated cardboard, aligning them with wherever they needed to be all the while attempting to comfort you. 

Thinking back on it now, it was a very embarrassing situation. None of that would have happened if you had simply stopped procrastinating and actually did your work, but you hated the prompt your group was given, which lowered your motivation as well. Stupid, but you were just a stupid fifteen-year-old, too. 

Yet you would never forget that very understanding group mate of yours. Seunghan didn’t have to comfort you while he did all the work of gluing and cropping the pages for you, but he did it anyway because he noticed your shaking hands. He could have told you off, said a sarcastic remark about your mishap, but he never did. He did the work and walked with you to class, even offering to buy you a drink from the vending machine to calm you down all with a smile on his face. It doesn’t take a genius to know that what he did was very kind and very attractive, so naturally you ended up forming  a crush on him. 

What you didn’t know was that it would take almost four years for you to make a proper move, albeit indirectly. But it’s the little things that matter. 

“I guess this is it,” Seunghan says after pocketing his keys, walking with you towards your dorm building’s entrance. “I had fun today, Y/N. But I guess I should thank Anton for this, huh? I mean, he was the one who made it possible,” he clasps his hands into a prayer and looks up at the night sky, “whoever made Anton drunk that night, thank you.” 

If only Seunghan didn’t smile at you that day, then you wouldn’t be this hopeless in front of him. 

You snort. “We’re not even of age to drink.” 

“You really think there wouldn’t be any alcohol at Gigi’s party?”

“Fair point,” you shrug, the both of you pausing by the entrance. You turn to him, a gentle smile on your face. “Thanks for the drive, Seunghan. Please take care of Pikachu and Bulbasaur, but since you’re a major Pokemon nerd I’m sure that isn’t an issue for you.” 

Seunghan chuckles, rubbing his nape. “You know me so well.” 

“I wish I knew more,” you joked. “All those years in high school and we’ve only had full conversations three times.” 

He falters. “Ah, yeah… What a waste, huh?” 

“Goodnight, Seunghan,” you say, quickly turning around to erase the image of him looking so awkwardly in front of you. Why’d you have to mention that on the first date? God, you must be some grade-A idiot or something because— 

“Y/N, wait.” 

You pause, trying to ignore the way Seunghan tried to grab your wrist K-Drama style only to end up missing it completely. He fumbles at first at his mistake, attempting to hide the heat quickly rising on his cheeks. “Even if Anton didn’t set us up,” he starts, slowly, trying to find your gaze, “I’d have still wanted to go on this date with you. You’re really fun to talk to, and to hang out with… and you’re also really good at claw machines.”

You smack his arm, and he cracks up a smile again. “Idiot, that’s all you have to say?” 

“It’s true, though! Those things are a scam!” he reasons, before clearing his throat. “But seriously, do you wanna go on another date next time? I really had fun with you. I promise I won’t try catching pokemons at the randomest times ever again, and I’ll try to get you that Eevee plushie next time. And you said that I’m a good driver, so maybe we can catch a drive-in movie or something… what do you think?” 

Hopefully you don’t notice how fast Seunghan’s heart is beating right now, but that’s probably only because yours is beating just as fast. 

You shove him away gently, and he sends you a smile as he waits for your response. “Well?” he goads, but he immediately fails to hide the surprise in his face when you hold up your phone screen in front of him. 

“We can drive around and catch some pokemons next time,” you say, before turning around and walking away. “Bye!” 

And Seunghan watches just until you’ve entered the building, before tripping on the way to his car. 

previous | masterlist | next

SUMMARY. pining after hong seunghan has always felt like an unachievable reality; however, just a few months into your first year of college, it seems that the gods have finally listened to your prayers when news breaks out that your long-time crush is single once again.

AUTHOR'S NOTES. idiots to lovers core

TAGLIST. @shoberi @miyawwn @starwonb1n @hwadejectedyoung @revehosh @alwayswook @rksbae @emohoon @nujeskz @ilovejungwonandhaechan @meowbini @nakam00t @siuewnb @cake1box @dearmarklee @kyusqult @snowyseungs @ffixtionista a @odxrilove e @hisrkive @saeist @lilysflower1 @seunghancore @eternallyhyucks @syzavxy @calumsfringe @yipyipmorals @user7520 @tojis-luver

[astrowaffles]

#bornthisway

General Audiences | Crack/Fluff | JNT bonding

“HINATA!” Atsumu yelled over Lady Gaga. “RESCUE YER BOYFRIEND!”

Hinata, though he clearly understood who Atsumu was referring to, immediately refused to take another step forward. “WE’RE NOT DATING!”

“OH, BE SO FER REAL RIGHT NOW-“

“HE’S GOING TO DIE!” Yaku screeched. Hinata swivelled just in time to see Kageyama almost get knocked unconscious by a wayward stilt.

“Don’t say that, he’ll start attacking things,” Sakusa huffed. “And by things I mean innocent performers.”

“Since when were ya the voice of reason?” Atsumu asked, slightly unnerved.

“You have known me since we were sixteen years old, Atsumu, I don’t see how you’ve only just realised-“

“Oh god, someone save Kageyama,” Aran interjected, watching the athlete be whirled between the performers.

“We just told Hinata to,” Yaku argued. “MOVE IT, GINGER!”

“Woah,” Aran said, hands up in surrender. “Now I’m not passin’ judgement or anythin’, but one could say, Yaku, that yer hair is a bit-“

“Not now, Aran,” said Yaku dismissively, cupping his hands around his mouth. “HINATA, SAVE HIM!”

“Who knew getting a grown man to cross the road was this hard,” Sakusa commented.

OR: JNT do pride!

“My Ma had a sayin’,” Atsumu observed, fanning himself with a rainbow flag. “’They’re about as welcome as a rattlesnake at a line dance’. It’s the same with those idiots.” He gestured vaguely towards Hinata and Hoshiumi, who were watching the stilt performers and asking them irritating and slightly invasive questions like ‘how tall are your stilts?’ and ‘could you fit me under that skirt if I really, really needed to hide from the cops?’

“She’s never said any such thing,” Aran scolded. “Ya got that from a list of cowboy sayin’s on Tumblr.”

Atsumu gasped. “I would never!”

“Ya sent me the list.”

“False accusations,” Atsumu sniffed, and gave up on trying to gain a draft from the flag. “It’s just so hot yer hallucinatin’.”

Aran pointedly sipped from his water bottle and tipped his eyes upwards to his wide-brimmed hat. “Ya think I can’t handle a little heat?”

Atsumu, who had only just taken the time to don SPF at Sakusa’s insistence, chose not to comment.

Sakusa himself, dressed head to toe in protective gear and sunscreen, stood slightly menacingly in a shaded corner of the street. He held an umbrella over his head, presumably in case the roof of the shop he was sheltering under suddenly disappeared without a trace and left him at the mercy of the UV rays. Beside him, Yaku offered him a sip of water, which Sakusa refused with a face of disgust. Yaku shrugged, chugged the last from his paper cup, and sat on the ground to wait for Hinata and Hoshiumi to come back. Sakusa moved away in case the floor germs spread.

Atsumu waved at them cheerily. “Should we join ‘em?”

“Sure,” Aran agreed, already moving for the solace of the shade. It was by no means the hottest day he’d experienced, but the energy it took to wrangle just a single teammate was enough to compensate for another several hundred degrees.

“When are the others coming?” Yaku asked when they got close enough, having evidently given up on making small talk with Sakusa. “It’s getting too warm to stay out here and wait.”

“Aw, don’t ya wanna see the floats go past?” Atsumu protested. “That’s my favourite part.”

“That’s not happenin’ fer another hour,” Aran reminded him. “The others’ll be here by then.”

“Oh, on the next train, then?” Yaku guessed.

“Yup. Well, Bokuto will be here fer that because he’s bringin’ Akaashi, and Akaashi only comes on the train,” Atsumu nodded, quickly scrolling through his messages.

“Kageyama was supposed to already be here,” Yaku tutted, following Atsumu’s lead and examining the team groupchat. “Think he got caught up in something?”

“Probably. Ushi’s not here because he’s in France, Suna’s with Osamu-“

“Komori’s on his way,” Sakusa interrupted. “He’s bringing bug spray.”

“So that’s everyone.” Yaku stood and dusted himself off. “Oh, there’s Kageyama.”

On the opposite side of the street, Kageyama stood looking completely lost. He clearly didn’t feel confident enough to cross in case he walked into one of the performers, who were doing their best to edge away from Hoshiumi and his accomplice. As they couldn’t fully escape without moving too fast (or running), and therefore ruining the performance, they could only lead the duo further down the road and into Kageyama’s path. Kageyama, terrified of anything he didn’t understand – like snakes, or Fanta – was frozen and unable to either reach the group waiting for him under the shop awnings or join Hoshiumi and Hinata’s adventure. In fact, he actually just looked likely to be swept away among swathes of fabric and stilts.

“HINATA!” Atsumu yelled over Lady Gaga, who was booming from a speaker held by the lead performer. “RESCUE YER BOYFRIEND!”

Hinata, though he clearly understood who Atsumu was referring to, immediately refused to take another step forward. “WE’RE NOT DATING!”

“OH, BE SO FER REAL RIGHT NOW-“

“HE’S GOING TO DIE!” Yaku screeched. Panicked, Hinata swivelled just in time to see Kageyama almost get knocked unconscious by a wayward stilt as the performers tried frantically to both retain their grace and get as far away from Hoshiumi as physically possible.

“Don’t say that, he’ll start attacking things,” Sakusa huffed. “And by things I mean innocent performers.”

“Since when were ya the voice of reason?” Atsumu asked, slightly unnerved. “I don’t like it. Stop it.”

“You have known me since we were sixteen years old, Atsumu, I don’t see how you’ve only just realised-“

“Oh my god, someone save Kageyama,” Aran interjected, watching the athlete be whirled between the performers like a bowl between the chopsticks of a street magician.

“We just told Hinata to,” Yaku argued, and lobbed his paper cup towards Hinata as best he could. “MOVE IT, GINGER!”

“Woah,” Aran said, hands up in surrender. “Now I’m not passin’ judgement or anythin’, but one could say, Yaku, that yer hair is a bit-“

“Not now, Aran,” said Yaku dismissively, and cupped his hands around his mouth. “HINATA, SAVE HIM!”

Hinata, who had been sulking in the middle of the road for the past few minutes, finally decided his point was made and began to make his way towards the performers. This only made things worse, however, as the performers began to panic that a second Hoshiumi was now coming to harass them with questions about how to avoid the police, and what the toughest wood was (for the purpose of making innocent-looking-yet-deadly swords). In their haste to get away, they began moving faster, making Kageyama spin so quickly his eyes were almost visibly swirling.

“Who knew getting a grown man to cross the road was this hard,” Sakusa commented, though he was just as invested as everyone else.

When Hinata eventually managed to get a hand on Kageyama’s arm and drag him, practically kicking and screaming, away from the whirling colours, almost the entire group broke out into cheers. Sakusa refrained, sniffing snobbishly at the (definitely homosexual) reunion hug.

“I hope someone tells ‘em,” Aran noted, watching Kageyama pick Hinata up and spin him around aggressively. “I hope a drag queen stops ‘em and congratulates ‘em on their marriage.”

“Why marriage?” Yaku asked.

“Well, they’re not just datin’, are they?” Aran pointed out. “They’ve been married since high school, in my opinion.”

Atsumu nodded sagely, and opened his mouth to add something, but instead a different voice said-

“Who’s married?”

“Komori!” Yaku welcomed. “Finally! Tell these morons they’re engaged.”

“Kiyo, Atsumu, you’re engaged,” Komori said solemnly.

Even Lady Gaga couldn’t salvage the awkward looks that followed, as Sakusa and Atsumu edged slowly apart and Aran bit his lip to avoid a grin.

“We meant the star-crossed lovers over there,” Yaku clarified, as Hinata grabbed Kageyama’s hands and started dragging him across the road.

“Oh, my bad,” said Komori cheerfully, without a shred of remorse. “Those two, too.”

By the time everyone had managed to regroup, Bokuto having been rescued from the sperm bank people (or was it the other way round?) and Akaashi having been rescued from the train station, there seemed hardly any point in trying to remove Hoshiumi from his riveting conversation with a stray kitten.

“I vote we leave him there,” Komori said, as the kitten left a long, red scratch across Hoshiumi’s face.

“Aw, but then he’ll miss the parade!” Bokuto pointed out.

“He’s a grown man, he’s perfectly capable of findin’ the parade by himself,” Atsumu shrugged.

“But why bother gathering here if we’re not going together?” Hinata countered.

Sakusa side-eyed him. “We’re all third wheeling you two anyway, it’s not exactly a bros trip.”

“Never say the words ‘bros trip’ again,” Komori admonished. “I’ll take away your bug spray.”

Sakusa hugged the small can close to his chest in defiance and turned his pleading eyes on Aran. “You have sense. You’ll leave that demon here, won’t you?”

“Well…” Aran hesitated. “We did all come here together…”

“Besides, what if he gets lost?” Bokuto agreed.

“Only you could get lost here, Koutarou,” Akaashi sighed. “All the streets lead back to each other, it’s not like he can end up on the other side of town. Unless he really tried…”

“I think we should take him,” said Kageyama, unexpectedly.

“For some reason, I didn’t think you’d want to,” Atsumu observed.

“If we take him, nothing bad will happen because it will all happen to him,” Kageyama reasoned.

“We’re taking him,” Aran said immediately, to a chorus of nods.

“HOSHIUMI!” Yaku yelled, because apparently he was the foghorn of the group today. “We’re leaving.”

Hoshiumi stood up, still holding the stray kitten. “Okay. Can I keep Jeremy?”

Jeremy hissed and struggled.

“No,” Yaku told him. “Pick something else.”

Hoshiumi obediently linked arms with Kageyama. “I’ll take this guy, then.”

Kageyama scowled. “I don’t want to be taken.”

“Yeah,” Hinata agreed, sporting a matching scowl. “Pick something else, Hoshiumi.”

Hoshiumi shrugged. “No.”

“Don’t bother trying to convince him,” someone called from another table. Surprised, they turned to see Iwaizumi, subtly decked out in pride converse and a pin badge, as well as Oikawa (pride flag cape & rainbow crocs) and two men they hadn’t seen before, one with startling pink hair.

“Iwa!” Oikawa hissed. “You promised not to talk to them!”

“I couldn’t watch any longer,” Iwaizumi said apologetically. “I just couldn’t bear it. Someone’ll get killed if they keep provoking Hoshiumi like that.”

“Ever the sensible one,” the man with pink hair sighed, though he didn’t seem upset.

“Couldn’t stop him from parenting if we tried,” the other agreed, and drained the last of his drink. “Still, he did promise it was our day…”

“Exactly!” Oikawa exclaimed, pointing triumphantly. “Even Mattsun says so!”

“It is our day,” Iwaizumi argued. “I just don’t want any deaths on the team-“

“Blah, blah, anyone would think you wanted to win the Olympics,” Oikawa interrupted. “Makki and Mattsun have come a long way for us, you know, at least spend time with them.”

Hinata, ever lacking in social skills, chose this moment to wave enthusiastically at Oikawa. “Tooru!!” he greeted. “I didn’t expect to see you here!”

“You didn’t expect to see me at pride?” Oikawa snarked, but he stood to hug Shoyo with a grin. “Iwa, I’ve decided. We’re joining these guys.”

“What about us?!” ‘Mattsun’ complained, helping Oikawa to disentangle their chairs and drag them over to join the bigger table. “We don’t even know them.”

“Volleyballers, this is Makki and Mattsun,” Oikawa introduced quickly. “Makki and Mattsun, this is the Japanese volleyball team. You know them already.”

“They’re Hanamaki and Matsukawa,” Iwaizumi elaborated, pointing at each in turn. “Sorry for the intrusion.” He made no effort to dissuade Oikawa from inserting himself into the group, knowing full well there was no stopping Oikawa. Ever.

Another group walked by the window, blasting Super Bass. Oikawa immediately began chanting the words; Sakusa, who had removed his mask to sip tentatively at his drink, started to mouth along too.  Iwaizumi, looking very close to killing himself, said, “Let’s move on, shall we?”

-

The parade began happily enough. After Bokuto managed to grasp the concept of drag queens, he immediately became their biggest fan, screaming and cheering whenever one went past. Akaashi simply kept a hold of his hand so he didn’t run out into the road and trample anyone, and smiled agreeably whenever Bokuto pointed something out to him.

“Simp,” Atsumu muttered under his breath; Sakusa looked at him questioningly, but Atsumu just flashed him a grin and offered to top up his friend’s SPF.

Oikawa, meanwhile, had tugged Iwaizumi, Hanamaki, and Matsukawa into a circle to dance. Hanamaki appeared to be doing his best, but Iwaizumi and Matsukawa were just observing - Mattsun was multitasking by recording, snickering, and daring Makki to do stupider and stupider moves. Oikawa looked like he was about to start breakdancing, as Iwaizumi covered his eyes and tried very hard to become invisible.

Hinata and Kageyama had somehow found a row of vendors and covered themselves in pride flags, from pin badges to face paint to literal flags stuck in their buttonholes, pockets and collars. Kageyama was finding it especially hard to move as he was encrusted with rainbows, but seemed content to stand still and watch Hinata, who was constantly being offered people’s numbers. Kageyama gave a satisfied nod every time Hinata turned one down, and every moment of hesitation deepened his scowl by another millimetre.

Yaku looked ready to pass out from heat on the sidewalk, leaning heavily on Komori, whose eyebrows seemed to enjoy Dolly Parton immensely. Aran had been sent on a mission to find more water.

“You’re going to be 60% water by the time you’ve finished,” Hoshiumi commented.

“All humans are anything from 45-75% water,” Bokuto recited, and beamed proudly. “Isn’t it amazing that I still remember that from university?”

“It’s so amazing,” said Akaashi, before anyone else could react. “You’re so smart.”

“Thanks, Keiji! Never as smart as you!”

Atsumu gagged.

“Homophobia,” Oikawa accused, seeing him. “Two people being innocently gay, and you’re gagging?”

“Oh, please,” said Atsumu. “Me? Homophobic? Me?”

“Yeah, he’s gay too!” Hinata agreed.

“Bi, thank you so much,” Atsumu corrected.

Oikawa gasped. “A woman kisser!”

“You’re a woman kisser, moron,” Iwaizumi said.

“Only in theory!”

“Just say you don’t like women,” Atsumu advised. “Less embarrassing than admitting it’s them that don’t like you.”

“Everyone likes women,” Hinata disagreed.

“I meant romantically.”

“Oh.” Hinata shrugged. “Well, I like women in all senses, anyway.”

“That’s not the point, Shoyo, because women like you back.”

Kageyama made a discontented noise. “I wish they didn’t,” he muttered.

“What?” asked Hinata. “Did you say something?”

“No.”

“He did,” Atsumu teased. “He said that-“

Kageyama threw a flag at him. “Stop!”

“Chill, dude, I didn’t even hear you,” Atsumu assured him.

“I did,” said Komori idly. “Do I get a free flag too?”

“No!”

“Guys, shut up,” said Yaku. He’d finally collapsed onto the pavement. “You need to hear my last will and testament.”

“You’re not dying,” Iwaizumi dismissed, but he knelt down and felt Yaku’s pulse. “Oh. Well, you’re probably not dying, but maybe we should-“

“Hospital?” Yaku asked.

“Hospital,” Iwaizumi agreed.

-

-

--

“…So who gets his money?”

“Bad timing, Koutarou.”

A03 | Exclusives | Tip Me | Commissions

[therainscene]

hey again! i just saw the new henry and holly pics and... well...as i commented on one post of them:

i wonder if this could be nancy's storyline even moreso than mike's? looking after holly AND mike, who is preoccupied with will as well? also, has anyone considered that vecna may just be an inside-the-UD avatar for henry, who stills exists in the real world as a human (in the form we see above?) why would he only be living in the UD as this odd spidery man? we only saw him being sent there in one memory fragment, and his transformation into the monster was also him as vecna describing things to nancy IN HER MIND. so if vecna can appear in people's minds, maybe he is only a mind-version of henry, who still exists as a real dude roaming free.

oh god i can imagine rewatching the whole series and seeing a man cropping up in the background of everything looking just like henry in those new pics! with the hat etc. he looks older there too, so it matches the timelines

Always lovely to see you, scrunchie <3

These new leaks [pics under the cut, spoilers for S5] certainly raise a lot of interesting questions, though I'm not entirely sure what to make of them right now.

We don't know for sure that this is Holly -- they've recast her if so -- but loose blonde pigtails are her signature hairstyle and the girly dungarees would fit S5's costuming theme of S1 callbacks, so Holly's definitely a strong candidate for this character.

And even ignoring other, less solid leaks that suggest Vecna might be targeting her next season (the alleged "The Vanishing of [BLANK] Wheeler" episode title; Ted's actor mentioning that his character is going to come through for Holly) -- I do think there are already hints in the canon that there's some sort of connection between Henry and Holly.

Hint #1: I've often seen folks use this moment with Holly and the lights as evidence that Will could have powers:

The lamps light up far too quickly for Will to have realistically affected them via the wave-your-hands-in-the-golden-aura method Nancy discovered in S4, and the circular motion of the lights parallels a training exercise from the lab.

...But if this was Will, then how did he know Holly was there? He knew when Joyce was there because she spoke to him, but Holly doesn't talk. And why would he want to get the attentions of a toddler anyway when there are two adults in the house?

It makes sense that powers were being used here... but who says it was Will using them?

Hint #2: According to the source, this latest leak was snapped at the Creel house, which is next door to a playground. We've never seen Henry at the playground. But we have seen his sister, with her little blonde pigtails, playing there.

Something I've always found interesting about this shot of Alice is that as she stands up in horror at the sight of the mutilated rabbit, the camera tilts up so that she's brilliantly washed out by the sun:

Light is an important symbol in Stranger Things, so I never really knew what to make of this... but now I've seen these leaks I think it's veeeerrrry interesting that Alice and Holly have both been associated with light and childish innocence and rabbits via a single shot.

So that's Holly. As for Henry...

I think your theory is really interesting -- my first thought on seeing these leaks was that Henry probably looks human because he's appearing to this girl in a vision, but I definitely think it's worth exploring other possibilities, because there's something weird going on with regards to Henry's banishment to Dimension X -- how did he end up in there looking so intact when we saw El completely disintegrate him into ash?

It's giving time shenanigans, in my opinion. These leaks are certainly giving time vibes too -- why is Henry dressed like he's from the 50s while speaking to a girl who looks like she's from the 80s?

So, the Wheelers and their S5 arcs--

@conflictofthemind has an excellent theory about how whatever happens to Holly is likely to precipitate an arc in which the Wheeler family come together and overcome their conformist ways once and for all; and @pinkeoni has a scathing take-down of the idea S5 is going to rehash S1's family-and-friends-coming-together-to-rescue-a-missing-child concept. Both are good takes worth reading, I think.

Personally, I'm not sure what the hell is going on with this apparent connection between Holly and Henry -- but I do think the parallels between the Wheelers and the Creels as family units are the thing to focus on here, and I suspect time travel is probably going to be a big part of what ties it all together.

And, well. There's only one character other than Henry who is associated with interdimensional time shenanigans--

--the light--

--and calling Wheelers out on their harmful conformity.

[vulpixisananimal]

"Can you see it from there!!"

(You were all taking a break from walking, it had been a very long day, but! With a bit of luck! You could sleep somewhere that wasn't in a tent! That's why Siffrin, wait, not Siffrin, was up in a tree, having climbed it before anyone even asked.)

"Patience, 'Bella" (Nille replied. She had been comparably fine with the travels.)

"O-oh, right."

(Oh Mirabelle, you should really be used to this by now. You had traveled for what, a whole year before this? You should be used to the long walks and dusty roads.)

(Mal Du Pays jumped off the branch they were hanging from and hopped to the ground with a huff. It tapped its eyes with its fingers and nodded. "I saw it.")

"W-well, if that's the case then we should get going!" (You say, excited. Finally, a nice bed!)

"Hmmmmm, how far away is it though?" (Nille asks.)

(There's a delay before Mal replies, it sighs. It makes two fists and pulls them apart, then makes an x with its arms. "It's far, we should rest.")

"O-oh. . ." (You say, disapointed, b-but, that was ok! One more night out here would be fine!) "You'll be ok with that?"

(It looked at you, nodded, then walked off.)

"pleasant. . ." (Nille said sarcastically, then sighed.) "No, I shouldn't say that."

"I-it's fine, w-we'll get used to it." (You had to admit, Siffrins mental health situation was. . . Complicated. Their memory only got worse, and Mal wasn't exactly easy to work with. Although, it was a small miracle everyone knew sign language already. Either from House of Change classes, defender lessons, looking out for neighbors, or just by Being Odile.)

(You'll get used to it. You and Nille head back to where everyone was resting up to relay the news.)

(Boniface was looking for cool rocks, Odile had found a place to sit in the shade and read, and Ramos and Isabeau where chatting about something. Mal had already disappeared, probably into the woods to be alone.)

"We'll make it there tomorrow, it looks like!" (You say, finding a place to put down your pack.) "S-sorry."

"No need to apolagize, Mira!" (Isabeau says, cheerfuly.) "There's no problem with one more night in the woods!"

"Bugs, Isa, that's the problem." (Ramos replies, crossing their arms) "It's bugs."

(Isabeau grinned.) "What, is it bugging y-"

"BAD!"

"HAHA!!"

(You giggle. Ramos was. . . Interesting. Still not sure what to make of them. No time to worry about that now, though. Time to get ready for a long night. Oh and you were REALLY looking forward to a nice bed too.)

(You perk your head up. What was that?)

"You ok, 'Bell?" (Bonnie asks, they had a pile of rocks in their arms.)

"Huh?" (You turn to them.) "O-oh! Yes just, did you hear anything just now?

"Wha?" (Bonnie squinted at you.) "Bird? You mean the birds?"

"N-no! Like, someone? I think?"

"Nuh uh." (They shook their head.) "It wasn't those two?" (Bonnie gestured to Ramos and Isabeau.)

"N-no! It wasn't them either!"

"Hehe, was it an imaginary friend?"

"No!!!" (You huff. Bonnie finally relents, going to help Nille set up a fire pit for dinner. You go back to setting up your own tent.)

(. . . There it was again. You ignore it.)

(. . .)

(Aaaaaand again?)

(. . . . . . . . . .)

(Ok that's it. You stand up, and start walking to the woods.) "I-I'll be right back!"

"Don't get lost!" (Isa calls back.)

(R-right. . .)

(You couldn't quite place that sound. It sounded like. . . A cry for help, a wail, and someone saying hello all at once. It was weird. You carefuly walked through the wood, trying not to get your dress caught on branches and such.)

(It was getting so dark, the canopy above you got thicker and thicker, blotting out the evening sky. It was amazing, honestly, seeing how the world itself was changed by nothing but trees.)

(The sounds got louder.)

"Hellloooooo?" (You call out. No response.)

(Could someone be in trouble? Or hurt??? Maybe they've been trapped in these woods for weeks! O-or, or maybe it was that stranger again! What was it's name. . ?)

(You walk a little bit more, stopping at a tree for a moment. What a thick forest. You're so glad there was a road, it would be so much slower trying to go through this thicket. Maybe if you stay here for a minute you can find-)

(What's that smell?)

(You sniff the air, there was a weird smell. Wait, was it mint??? No, no it wasn't mint, it was so overwhelming all of a sudden! Why so fast!! It's-)

(Your heart skips a beat. You look up.)

(Sugar!)

(You jump away from the sadness as it crashes down on where you were standing. You draw your sword, thank Change you didn't leave it behind!! Oh no, what do you do!! C-c'mon Mirabelle!! You've fought a lot of sadness' before!! J-just, just take a second and. . .)

"HELP!!! SADNESS!!!" (You yell. Please hurry, friends!!)

(The sadness looks at you, as if it's staring into your soul, before screaming.)

(You wince at the sound, but grip your sword! You strike, yelling as you lash out at the sadness with your weapon. The strike leaves a gash, but nothing more.)

(The sadness tilts its head at you, and screams again, bringing a claw down on you. You block it with your sword.)

"A-ANYONE!!!!"

(You hear someone reply, but it was too far away. Just, j-just a little bit more, Mira! You throw up a hand! Artsy Silent Burst!!!)

(It glances off the sadness, barely doing anything.)

(The sadness growls angrilly, before clapping its hands together and screaming. You wince again, what the Change was that?!? You ready yourself again and-)

(Just then, a blur of white sprints past you, it was Mal!! It brandished its dagger and sliced and stabbed at the sadness again and again and again!!)

(Only for each blow to be deflected. Mal du Pays jumped back, for the first time you see it shocked.)

"I-It. . . It didn't do anything?!?" (You craft your spell to make your friend stronger!) "Is anyone else-"

"HERE!! I'M HERE!!!" (Running past you before you could stop them, Ramos dashed at the Sadness with their tonfas and struck out. This time it actually connected! it didn't do much but it connected!!)

"Careful!!" (You run up to Ramos.) "where's everyone else!!"

"Catching up!" (Ramos clenched and unclenched their hand.) "I hit it's weakness and still did blinding nothing."

"It's real strong, be careful!!"

(Mal was circling around the Sadness, it attacked with a fist and dagger, this time making contact with the sadness, it screamed.)

(It looked at Mal, it had hatred in it's eyes.)

(Mal Du Pays was frozen in time.)

"NO!!!!"

"W-WHAT THE?!?!?"

(Your heart dropped. No, no no no no. That's, that's not possible!! You beat the king!! You unfroze the country! You fixed everything!! But you never learned how to unfreeze people!!! You, you couldn't fix this!!!)

"That's, that's, that's-" (Ramos looked petrified seeing Mals frozen stare. R-right, they where probably frozen too back before you beat the King.)

(Wait!! You did have something!! You clap your hands.) "T-this'll stop you being frozen, b-but. . ."

". . ." (Ramos looked between you and the sadness, that confidence they came into the battle with quickly fading.) "I-I, I might have an idea."

"Is it a good one?"

"N-no way, but. Oh crab it!!" (Ramos gritted their teeth and charged forward, with a yell they struck the sadness on the head with their rock/scissors sign.)

(There's a moment where both stop. You smell a little bit of mint- mind craft?!?)

(Ramos had refrained from developing their mind craft, the most they ever did was Odile asking to see some of it. They knew it left a bad taste in Siffrin's mouth, so. . .)

"OW OW OW OW OW OW-" (Ramos collapses back, clutching their head, as the sadness wails clutching it's own head in turn.)

"MIRABELLE!! RAMOS!!" (That was Isabeau! You turn, he, Nille, Bonnie, and a bit further behind, Odile, where running up to join in. Isa gasped seeing Mal.) "WH- WHAT HAPPENED?!?!?"

W-woah!!" (Nille brandished her hammer, standing between you and the sadness.)

"GET OUTTA HERE!! STUPID!! GRABBING SADNESS!!!" (Bonnie stood next to their sister, yelling all kind of things at the strong sadness.)

"C-careful!! It froze Mal in time!!" (You yell, getting up.) "I-if we beat it then maybe we'll, w-we-"

(The sadness. . . Ran away?)

"Uh. . ."

"What???"

"Gems. . ."

"YEAH!!! KEEP RUNNING!!!"

(You breathe in, and out.)

(Mirabelle is now level 47. . . And learned the skill "Lovely Moving Cure!")

(Ramos is now level 21.)

(You feel dizzy, and sick, Oh Change what just happened!?!? Y-you, Change, oh you- YOU NEED TO UNFREEZE MAL!!!)

"M-mira!!" (Isabeau was already by your frozen friend as you got over there.) "C-can you, fix? It?"

"I-I, I think I can! If, if I just, do this. . ." (You take a breath, and hold out your hands. Please unfreeze please unfreeze please unfreeze. . .)

(Your friend gasps and collapses to their knees, they're coughing and shaking.)

"Oh thank Change that worked!!" (You kneel down next to them, Isabeau joining you.) "A-are you alright?!? Do you need a heal?!??"

"W-where. . ." (They shook their head. Not Mal?) "Uh, what, where, am I? What. . ."

"Easy, easy. Who's around right now?" (Isabeau asked softly.)

(They look up at you, then at Isabeau, then back at the ground.) "Uh, Siffrin, i-it's just me, what, uh. . ."

"I-I, I got attacked by a sadness a-and, and screamed for help and Mal came from nowhere to help but, b-but got frozen in time and I was, I-If, if you. . ." (You're hyperventilating. If you, if you hadn't figured out how to unfreeze them, then, then, t-then--)

"Relax, 'Bella." (Nille came over and knelt down next to you.) "Take a breath, you saved the day again, held your own too against that thing!"

"I-I, I guess so. . ." (You breathe in, and out. Just like Sif does. You were already calming down.)

"What was that sadness?" (Odile sat down by a tree, clearly winded from running here.) "It looked similar to sadness near the house of change, rather than. . ."

(Ramos looked away.)

"Maaaaybe it's lost?" (Said Sif, he leaned back onto Isabeau.) "Or it's a fan."

"Some fanclub." (Isabeau sighed, gently patting Siffrins head.) "It's still around though, isn't it?"

"It smelled really bad." (Bonnie adds.) "Stinking of sugar, toooo much sugar."

"You? Saying it's too much sugar?" (Nille jokes.) "Can't be possible."

"HEY!!!"

(You all laugh. Even if it was scary, you all get a chance to laugh. What a great family you have.)

". . . I, hate to be the one to say it," (Odile stands up.) "We cannot sleep here tonight."

"Good point."

"Agreed."

"I-if we hurry, we should make it before it gets dark."

"Fingers crossed. . ."

(It was going to be a long walk.)

[splatarsenal]

spn au thing! I took this from my notes app

Less or more I'm unsure if I can cw this with anything? I don't think anything in it is triggering and if it is I am terribly sorry

destiel as hell and it kind it starts to read like a fanfic.

A spn au but instead of the "world ending" and them saving the day. it ends. dean accepts Micheals offer from day one. Unlike Sam who doesn't accept Lucifer's offer and never does. this creates tension and micheal gets impatient, the war does happen in fact its hell. Armageddon happens, cas is the only hope for sam and bobby. He is powerless though until..He comfirms something he is in fact god. this causes.. Massive tension because why was he doing this? He had a lot to explain but sam nor bobby wasn't gonna listen to a word he said. if he was god why couldn't he stop it? Wasn't god their father? What the fuck (hes a demi god but he is GOD. just a different one not THE THE god.) he is a human now hes useless as he could ever fucking be. he goes into a depression and still has hope that maybe dean is alive or at least his soul. hes unsure though for many reasons snd who wouldn't be? He was partially used as micheals shield. he'd be lucky if he had made it out with all of his fingers and toes. cas hunts everywhere, he cant teleport so this looking turns into a hunt for years. too many to count he experiences the horrors of humanity and realises how truly fucked this planet was. it disgusted him but he was once again powerless. He was also loosing hope because it was months and years he had been looking for dean for hope that maybe he was alive. just when he was about to give up, he finds himself in a bar a small one and notices a man.. Who seems familiar this was only added on to when the name "dean" was called. It echoed through his ears and rang in his head like a bell. there he was, alive and in the flesh; dean fucking Winchester. He had evidently aged a bit more he was before havibg almost a head of grey hairs but he wasnt that old, he was surely older then castiel had come to remember but he was wearing a pair of sunglasses. He didn't seem to remember cas and castiel was wrecked because he had come so far just to be brought back to square fucking one. he was basically a stranger to dean now... dean took off his sunglasses and he was...blind ? God castiel felt sorry for him.

dean was blind. It was evident the whiteness covering his irises, castiel couldnt help but stare and he knew he was getting weird looks they probably thought he was some weirdo. dean would drink down his beer and speak up, asking the man (castiel) if he was having fun looking at him and if he had never seen a blind man. castiel felt embarrassed he apologized, dean shrugged it off not taking offense to it. But cas...he kind of just gave up. Because what was he to do? he left the bar, he felt emptier then usual maybe it was because he lost two of his best friends. one to His ignorance and the other to just being powerless because he nearly killed himself to help the Winchesters. he shouldve been pissed, mad even. Why wasn't he? why wasn't he mad at them? for making him suffer. it had to be a deeper reason to why, right? He leaned against the wall of the alley way as a figure caught his eye and deans voice once again echoed through his ears. Like fine wine made his ears tingle at the rasp in his voice. he called out castiels name. cas was unsure if he was referring to him. someone else must've had that name too, right? Cas noticed deans slight limp and the... cane dean had, god maybe dean was older then he thought. cas looked around nervously not talking because well he was blind. not to be mean or anything... "castiel novak" 'dean' called out. that wasn't even castiels last fucking name. It was his vessels last name. Jimmy novak, poor guy...But that wasn't important, taking a closer look at "dean" he had a uhhh...fake leg?..what were those things called...God that, battle must've taken a tool on him. But how was he even breathing? he was supposed to be dead, that was the plan that was the fucking mission not to kill dean but kill Lucifer and Sam was meant to be his vessel but Adam took that role soon after they figured out that Adam was Winchester blood he was the closest thing to Sam. Micheal was an angel he obviously had to have a vessel. god forbid. castiel began to feel a migraine form, he rubbed his temple. he would never get used to being a human. he missed being who he was. being able to help, defend. do something, He could barely hold a gun properly. what use was he? "stop thinking that way, hun" dean said. the words made his throat sore cas turned almost red. maybe it was because dean was blind. hopefully dean didn't.. mean to talk to castiel like that, right? fuck. (This turning into a fanfic lol HELP.) cas shook his head and groaned out the pain he was feeling. His head was throbbing like it had a heart beat of its own. "There's something, they..wanted me to give..or back yeah. give back" dean uddered as he hastily walked over to cas. pressing his pointer finger and middle finger against castiels temble. rubbing and sliding them down with a slight touch to it a beam of white light emerged the alley way he had been standing in. it gave the night a light. it was like a beam. the same ring that dean heard when castiel first tried to communicate rang through castiels ears... his own voice

[chriss-slut]

Pls pls write a one shot abt this. https://vm.tiktok.com/ZGeVwJ6f4/

Begging

Significant Other

~ Chris Sturniolo x fem!reader ~

Synopsis: basically, inspired on this tiktok.

Warnings: none, just fluff and making out <3

A/N: It's a little short and i don't think it ended well but i tried :) and thank u for the requestt!!

Me and Chris date for about 6/7 months now. We're really affectionate with each other, and when i say really, i mean really. PDA is literally our thing, always holding hands, always glued to each other or even kissing while we're inside or outside. We really don't care about what other people think and if we could, we probably would even hook up in public, yeah...

Anyways... I'm now at the triplets house, I've been here for a week now, and we're kinda having a party. Almost all of the triplets' friends are here. Some of them in the livingroom part chatting and others in the kitchen, eating and chatting as well.

I'm with Chris sitting on the couch, well, I'm sitting on his lap to be more specific.

Everyone is chatting among them while me and Chris are just listening to them. Chris speaks too but not as much as the others. i keep silent cuz i don't know about what they're talking. I've been looking at Chris this whole time. Even though I'm on his lap, we didn't cuddle much today and yesterday so I'm needy for love.

"What's up, babe?" Chris whispers at me as he catches me staring at him, while his friends are talking in the background.

I shake my head quickly, getting out of transe "Uh.. nothing! Sorry!" I say, trying to brush it off, and i look at the group of people talking.

Chris frowns at me, not buying it. "No. You've been staring at me for too long. What's happening?"

I sigh, Chris knows me too well. "Alriight... i miss you, that's just it!"

"Miss me? I'm literally under you!" Chris speaks softly, chuckling softly.

"Not like thaat! I miss being with you, cuddling with you, kissing you... those kind of stuff!" i whisper at him.

Chris smirks at me and leans in to kiss my neck softly "Why didn't you tell me earlier? I could've gave you what you wanted!" he speaks softly against my neck.

I shiver softly "I dunno... I didn't want to bother you, I guess." I whisper softly, my hand massaging his scalp.

"You'll never bother me if you want love..." He mumbles softly against my neck. Chris starts nibbling and sucking on my sweet spot in my neck, making me moan lowly and shift my position in his lap, so I'm hugging him completely.

Chris smirks again and run his kisses up to my face, kissing my cheeks, nose and lips. When he gets to my mouth, i can't help but deepen the kiss.

Chris returns the deep kiss and we start making out in the middle of a huge group of people, his hands now cupping my ass and my arms around his neck.

All of the voices in the background fade and the only thing we can hear is our muffled soft moans and the sloppy noises of our tongues and lips against each other.

After a while, our session is cut off by a voice.

"Chris!!! Stop almost eating Y/N and get your ass here!" Nick yells for the - god knows how many - time from the kitchen.

Chris pulls away from me and growls annoyed. "What?!?" He yells at Nick.

"Chris, I've been calling for you for 10 minutes! Are you deaf??" Nick yells back.

Chris rolls his eyes "And are you blind? Can't you see I'm busy??"

Nick rolls his eyes as well "You're busy making out? Did you know you can do it at any time of the day without being in the middle of a party??"

Chris sighs "Jesus Christ..." He taps my ass, indicating for me to get off him.

I stand up and sit on the spot we were as Chris stands up as well and goes over the kitchen.

I take a deep breath and wipe my mouth, cleaning the saliva that was around my lips. I stay zoned out, thinking about our make out.

"Hey, baby, I'm back!" I get cut off my transe hearing Chris speaking to me while standing right in front of me. i look up at him and smile. I move to the side, giving him space for him to sit down next to me.

"What did Nick want?" I speak softly, leaning against Chris.

Chris wraps an arm around my waist, pulling me to his chest. "Just a random annoying shit... Don't worry about it, I'm here now" he says sweetly at me, smiling.

i smile back at him "okay, then..." i lean to peck his lips "i love you, you know that?"

"i love you too, baby" i speaks softly, leaning to kiss me again, this time, more intensively.

I hope you liked it!! Pls tell me what you think in the comments, i'd appreciate it :) xoxo <3

[dearweirdme]

I was just curious about you and other followers and supporters of Taekook, how we’ve all felt about their relationship the further in we’ve gotten from the beginning of their enlistment. To put into context: despite Paris and T*ennie and everything, 2023 really did come close to convincing me 100% of Taekook, though most days I still tried to retain a healthy sense of skepticism about them.

These days though, we haven’t seen them in a while, so now I feel probably closer to 60-70% that they are SOMETHING more than friends. Like I almost ask myself each day, could they really be that? Isn’t that a little impossible? And if they are… can they manage to make it through this difficult period of extended separation? What would they even be like when they come out of the military?

It’s not like I’m having doubts, but it does just seem too good to be true the further away we get from seeing them in the present time.

I wonder if you or your other followers are feeling this way…

Hi anon!

My feelings and ideas about them haven’t changed. My expectations about seeing them together or hearing about them together during enlistment were very low even before they left last december. To me this is a period of time in which we will most likely get nothing to base our understanding of the current state of their relationship on. My state of mind going through this period is basically that I believe they were probably together before they enlisted, I am aware of the possibility of them not making it through this, but I have high hopes that they will. I think a possible breakup will be noticeable when BTS reunites.. and in the meantime all we can do is base our thoughts on whatever we might get to see.

I’ve seen comments about them having broken up because Tae hasn’t posted Jk yet and on them having not seen each other yet. To me those things mean nothing. Would it surprise me if Tae posted Jk at one point.. no, but at the same time I’m never expecting him to. Even last year, though it was a great Tkk year, we probably saw them together way less than they actually were. Just like all members probably saw each other more than we were aware of. They choose when to post about each other, they do not only post about each other when they actually meet. People will call me an idiot for this probably, but Jk doesn’t seem to want to be seen at the moment.. and I think all members would probably be aware of how the others want to be present in fandom right now.

It’s a hard time for those who like to have reassurances every now and then. Selfdoubt is a thing and it very often occurs when looking back at things. It does not surprise me that Tkk fandom has become a bit.. quiet lately. It is something we have to deal with though, because I truly think we won’t get much realtime Tkk for another year. Personally I’m not bothered much, because I always deal well with not knowing everything. I did not become a Tkkr without looking into things extensively first, and my ideas about everything I’ve seen have not changed. To me all the Tkkry from the past is still as valid as it was before enlistment.

I always kinda wonder about the ‘good to be true’ aspect I see sometimes (and I’m not wanting to be critical here, I just truly wonder), because to me that seems like people think Tae and Jk are this magical fairytale come to life. If we are correct about them I do feel we are seeing something unique, but to me it does not carry much of the magical fairytale. I think what we have spotted is the very cruel treatment of two boys/men in love. Sure, they are rich and famous and handsome and their love ia of the greatest kind, but a lot of the things we have spotted is actually signs of closeting, of two sensitive boys having to hide their feelings. While I do get the romantic side of seeing Tae and Jk together (obviously I do 🥰🥰🥰), I have at times thought that maybe if I were wrong about them it wouldn’t be a bad thing.. because that would mean that they didn’t go through some of the hard stuff I think they went through.

[daechwitatamic]

Vice;Grip || chapter 4 || chs

(banner by @itaeewon)

Vice;Grip (masterpost) NSFW - minors DNI Genre: angst smut fluff, fuckbuddies!au Summary: Make it not hurt, you could have asked him. Or, at least, make it hurt in a way I choose.  A/N: infinite thank you's to @sailoryooons and @eoieopda for beta-ing!!

//

Warnings: Frequent depictions of depression, depressive episodes, panic attacks, and substance abuse (alcohol, weed, and pills referenced). PLEASE know that these characters’ relationships with drugs and alcohol are not healthy and should not be emulated. If these topics are triggering to you, please consider sitting this one out.

Section Specific Warnings: language, recreational drinking, depiction of a panic attack, there is a quick moment where you can infer that reader thinks vernon might be actively su*cidal but that is not the case and this is not outright stated, nip stim, dirty talk, piv sex, reader has a high fever but no specific illness is mentioned, a (verbal) fight with some yelling

wc: 6700

Playlist: you can call me in the middle of the night / you can leave before i wake up in the morning / and it could feel so wrong / but i'll still hold on

5 months ago

Five texts went unanswered.

I’m sorry.

I was so fucked up, I wasn’t saying what I meant.

Call me so I can explain.

I’m really sorry.

Please, Vernon.

Each time, they delivered, but no response came. You thought you might feel better if he told you to go away. The silence felt too open, like nothing was settled. Like maybe you just hadn’t said the right thing yet. Like maybe you could - or should - keep trying.

Four weeks passed; you tried not to let it drown you, tried to tread above the rising water of the situation. You swam through guilt, your own anger, guilt again. The knowledge of what had upset him nibbled at your toes like fish you couldn’t see in the murky depths. You tried to pretend it wasn’t there, that it was only seaweed underfoot.

You tried to reason with yourself; you hadn’t done anything that bad. He’d been upset because you’d implied he’d get bored of you someday - even though of course he would - and he thought… you didn’t know, he thought that was an attack on his character?

(You knew that wasn’t why he was mad.)

Or, because you’d implied that he would leave, when you were the one who’d gone silent before? That was valid, you thought. You had been the one to make him chase, when your grey days swallowed you up.

(You knew that wasn’t the whole truth, either.)

You kicked at the fish, kept swimming on.

Three times, you found yourself on the brink of coming clean to Chan. The first time, it had almost escaped from your mouth, prompted by nothing but your own need to hear someone absolve you; you wanted to tell Chan I think I hurt him, so he could say, it doesn’t sound like it’s your fault.

Chan didn’t lie to you, though, even when you wanted him to. He wouldn’t tell you it wasn’t your fault, because it was. So, you tucked the words back in, zipped them up safely.

The next time, he’d asked - “You still… with that guy?” He’d made a vague hand motion that must have meant still seeing, or still sleeping with.

I messed it up again.

I think I liked him too much.

“It’s been like a month,” you said lightly, like it was no big deal. “We’ve been busy.”

His sideways look was scalding. Chan didn’t lie to you; Chan was used to you lying to him, knew all the signs.

He let it go anyway.

Maybe he knew those signs, too. Maybe he knew without you telling him that you’d let the bunny rabbit instincts win - that you’d hid, scared, the second your fragile, broken brain told you to.

The third time, you almost told him all of it, even that it was Vernon. Chan was having dinner at your apartment, helping you clean up after, when his phone buzzed on the table.

“Hey, hyung,” he’d answered, tilting his head to grip the phone between his ear and his shoulder as he ran water in the sink and started rinsing the plates. “Yeah, I’m in. I don’t know, probably in like twenty minutes? Fifteen if I make all the green lights.”

You listened absently as you picked up the rest of the table - napkins in the trash, utensils tight in one hand, now-empty wine glasses in the other.

“Oh,” Chan said, surprised. “Vernon, too? Nice. Should I stop for beer since there’ll be more of us?”

You dropped a wine glass. Chan helped you sweep, and then you ran the vacuum cleaner. Still, you kept finding errant pieces of glass for days. You carried them carefully to the garbage.

It felt fitting, that hearing his name had caused this.

Twice, you called and left voicemails.

Two days after the argument, you’d called on your lunch break. It had rang six times and then his voicemail picked up.

“Vernon… listen, I know I pissed you off. I’d really like the chance to explain myself when I’m not… you know. I didn’t say it how I meant it. Text me. Or call me, whichever.”

After the four weeks crept by and the rest of your texts went unanswered as well, you tried again.

It took almost a whole bottle of wine by yourself to work up the courage, and you hoped he wouldn’t hear the slur in your voice when you told him, “I don’t know why I’m even calling. It’s been a month. I hate that this is just… unresolved. I hate making people mad. I want to know that you know I’m sorry. I want to know that… well. I just… wish we were talking again. I don’t… I don’t know why I’m calling.”

You sat at the stool by your easel for the first time in years, tested your balance, tucked one foot underneath the way you used to. Your hands shook a little as you mixed a purple so dark it was probably actually just black. You covered the canvas, the color of nine at night in the summertime, and stared at it, watching it dry.

When you could, you switched brushes, used a rounder texture to form something that might pass as clouds along the mottled sky. Then, you painted a full moon; it cracked like an egg.

You liked this, you followed the idea, paintbrush hurrying to chase the inspiration, whites and yellows coloring in whatever it was that might leak from the moon like marrow.

The bottom half of the canvas became a moving, living ocean; the blues were eight at night in the summertime but they looked good together with the hour after. You finished with the moon’s reflective path, a jagged yellow streak that dipped and bobbed through the waves.

You walked to the bathroom and washed your brushes, leaving them somewhere to dry where the cat couldn’t mess with them. Then you went back to the canvas, staring at it from a few feet away, your hands on your hips.

You’d done it - you’d painted something you didn’t want to burn.

One painting, one tiny step back towards the life you’d lost - that you’d let yourself lose, that you’d definitively pushed away.

4 months ago

It rained for three days. You lit lamps during the day, suddenly craved soups even though it was the height of spring and the weather had been consistently warm for weeks. The rain just called for it.

It called for you to sleep, too, luring you into bed with a steady patter against the windows. You slept early, and deeply, the cat curled up near your head. The rain beat against the windows like a metronome, helped your heart rate steady, helped your thoughts slow and settle.

You slept deeply, the sounds of the rain pulling you under, and when you were startled awake a few hours in, it was with no concept of where or who you were.

Your phone was still vibrating, jarring; you scrambled to grab it from the nightstand and the cat scrambled out of the room.

Your mom, you thought wildly. Or Chan.

What else could it be, but an emergency? No one else called at three in the morning. Someone used to, but only on the weekend, and that person hadn’t answered you in over a month.

“H’lo?” you mumbled, eyes too blurry to see the screen. You closed them, pressed the phone tighter to your ear to hear better.

No one spoke, but you could hear breathing - ragged and unsteady.

“Hello?” you repeated, more clearly, starting to wake up a bit, starting to worry. You rubbed at your eyes, then pulled the phone away so you could see the name on the screen.

Of course it was him.

“Vernon?” you asked, like you didn’t believe the word on the screen, but you were met with only silence - even his breathing went quiet for a second, like hearing his name had caused him to hold it. Like he suddenly wasn’t sure he wanted you to know he was there.

You said his name again, like a question, and it sounded like maybe he tried to speak but the noise - choked and quick - faded quickly. Your heart started to race, and certainty settled into your bones: something was wrong.

“Hey,” you said, a little sharply, like maybe he needed to snap out of it. “Are you okay?”

Finally, a word. “Dunno,” he managed, his voice thick.

“I’m coming there,” you said, already throwing the blankets off your legs and staggering to your closet to pull at some sweatpants. “Don’t leave, okay?”

“No,” he protested, but the way he gasped the breath after it cemented what you already knew - he needed you.

Or, he needed someone, and you were someone, and you would have to do.

“I’m on my way. Stay there, okay? Wait for me.” You were hopping on one foot as you said this, pulling clothes and shoes on, frantically reaching around in the dark for things like deodorant and car keys.

When he didn’t answer, you stopped moving, stopped trying to find your things. When you spoke again, your voice came out softer, a gentle plea instead of sharp instruction. “Hansol,” you said, quiet. “Wait for me. Okay?”

He ended the call without promising.

You stayed tucked into the building’s doorframe until you saw the Uber pull up; the rain was coming down in sheets, and you had to run to the car, splashing through still water until you could slide into the backseat. Your feet were soaked.

You spent the first five minutes of the ride wiping rain out of your eyes and trying to wring out the ends of your sleeves; the fabric clung to your hands, wet and cold. Outside the car, the rain water ran down the windows and the windshield wipers ran on the fastest setting.

im on my way, okay?

[ ]

vernon you’re scaring me

When the car pulled to a stop, you jumped out as soon as it was safe, bolting through the rain a second time and letting yourself into the building with the code you knew by heart. You took the stairs two at a time, heart flying. You were at once both scared to death of what you’d find when you got there, and refusing to put the specific fear to words, refusing to consider that it could be an option.

“Where are you?” you called, as soon as you got his door open. The apartment was mostly unlit, but for the light above the sink, and a dim light from the direction of his bedroom. “Vernon?”

You were met with silence and you almost choked on your heart as it climbed up your throat. You slipped off your shoes and made your way inside, heading for his bedroom.

You almost threw up with relief when you found him sitting on the edge of his bed, his head in his hands. The light you saw came from his bathroom - the door was closed almost completely, but light spilled out through the crack.

“What’s wrong, what’s happening?” you asked, inching closer. His hands were clenched into fists and bent back at an angle, veins raised along his tensed forearms. His breath went in raspy and came out in huffs, too quick to be productive.

You were pretty sure you knew what this was. You knelt in front of him, ran your hands over his tensed-up arms once, and then nudged under his chin gently with your forefinger, urging him to lift up and look at you.

He let you, his eyes faraway.

“Panic attack?” you guessed quietly. He nodded once, trying to tuck his chin back down, to look away and hide from the shame of this moment being witnessed - being recognized.

“If I put on my breathing app, will you do it?” you asked.

The sound he made was almost like a laugh. “I’ll try,” he muttered.

You opened your phone and set the app up, placing it on the bed beside him, the light from the screen tinting him pink. You heard the familiar, soothing voice begin to recite the directions, and you rocked back on your heels.

“I’m going to your kitchen real quick,” you told him, putting your hands on his knees to push yourself to standing. “Don’t go anywhere. I’ll do the breathing with you in a sec.”

You shivered once as you stood with his fridge open; you’d been in his kitchen plenty of times, but never really perused on your own. Your gaze moved over beer and energy drinks, finally landing on juice. You slapped the bottle on the counter and rummaged in the closest cabinets until you found a glass.

Returning to his bedroom, you could hear your breathing app intoning hold… two… three… four… exhale slowly… two… three… four. It was hard to tell if Vernon was following - his head was still tucked, but his hands clenched and unclenched, like he was trying to return circulation after they’d fallen asleep.

You waited patiently until the breathing cycle ended, then nudged the glass into his hand. When he took it, you sat gently next to him, watching silently until he drank some.

“Where are you at?” you asked, and then started to explain what you meant.

Vernon interrupted; he’d understood the first time.

He usually did.

“Better,” he said, then added, “Not, like, better. But, better. Still buzzing.”

You knew the feeling - you tended to get buzzing in your legs first, then hands, and then it would crawl up your arms and into your chest if you didn’t shake it. When the attack receded, you usually felt it leave your chest first and then work its way slowly back down your arms.

“What usually helps?” you asked. “Is the breathing cycle better, or grounding?”

“Grounding, probably,” he said.

“Start by drinking some juice,” you instructed. “Then, can you tell me five things you see?”

“It’s dark,” he grumbled, but he brought the glass to his lips as requested. You rolled your eyes at his sass and walked over to turn on the lamp he kept on his desk. It cast the room in yellow, all the raindrops on the window suddenly catching the light.

“Now do it,” you said, coming back to sit by him again.

You heard him take a breath. He was better already - hands unclenched now, breathing still a bit quick but not raspy or gasped. “It feels silly to do out loud.”

“I’ll do it, too,” you said. “I see your laptop, your lamp, your cell phone, your dresser, and your very old and embarrassing Blink-182 poster. Literally, Vernon, is it 2003?”

He laughed, closing his eyes. “I can’t believe you’re roasting me right now,” he said, voice still a little thin and breathy.

“Five things you see,” you reminded him firmly.

He huffed in mild irritation. “Hamper,” he recited, finally. “Shoes. Empty Red Bull can.”

You laughed.

“Cologne bottle,” he finished, then looked up at you. “Girl who came out at three in the morning, in the rain, after a month of not speaking, because she was worried about me.”

You spluttered. “I was not.”

He knocked his shoulder into yours playfully. “I have it in writing.”

You let out an indignant breath. “I should have let you suffer alone,” you muttered.

“I’m glad you didn’t,” he admitted, then dutifully drank some more juice.

“Okay,” you said, remembering what you were doing. “Four things you can hear.”

He sighed. “Bossy girl,” he listed, and you whacked at his knee. “Rain. Aircon. Traffic outside.”

You finished the exercise together.

“Now how is it?” you asked, reaching to take his empty glass.

He flexed his hands in front of him. “Buzzing’s down to my hands,” he reported. “Think I’m past the worst.”

“How do you feel, otherwise?”

He grimaced. “Exhausted, honestly.”

You looked at the clock - it was after 4:30 in the morning, almost time for sunrise to begin.

“You should try and sleep more,” you said, starting to rise.

“Stay?” he asked, and you thought you heard a note of, well, panic in it. Like he was scared to be alone again.

Something inside you screamed and beat its fists against your insides, furious and terrified as it felt you melt into goo at his request. Something inside you knew that you were walking into a building on fire. But there was no way you’d stay outside, not now, not if he was in there.

“Of course,” you said, as if it was obvious, as if you stayed over all the time - as if this weren’t, in fact, a first.

He seemed to take in your appearance for the first time, the still-drying patches on your clothes, the goosebumps on your damp skin. “You’re cold,” he said, frowning, like you should have led with that as soon as you came in, handled your needs first.

“I’m okay,” you denied, but he rolled his eyes and leaned over the other side of his bed, coming up with a rumpled black hoodie.

“I promise it’s clean,” he said, a little sheepishly, and you pulled off your damp tshirt and tugged the hoodie over your head, instantly warmer and surrounded by his smell. He left for the bathroom, and when you heard the sink run and the telltale buzzing from his electric toothbrush, you got up and turned his lamp back off. When he emerged, you were under the blankets, huddled warm and cozy inside his hoodie.

When he climbed into bed, you draped yourself over him, a leg over his legs, an arm over his torso, your face pressing against his t-shirt. He wrapped his arms around your shoulders, pulling you in, and you lay in silence for a while, listening to the rain, awash in relief that he was okay - that you two were okay, that he’d let you back in even after you’d fucked it up.

Just as you were starting to drift a little, you felt his chest move under you, and he said, quietly, “I’m sorry for making you come out in the storm. In the middle of the night, too.”

“Don’t,” you said, shaking your head but not lifting it up to look at him. Your words carried out into the dark of the room. “You can call me. You can call me when you need me. I don’t care if it’s late. I don’t care if it’s… a hurricane, or whatever.”

It was too honest. It was too close to the truth. You shivered in the dark again, and you felt him hold you tighter for a second, as if to chase the chill away.

He let the moment go, didn’t chase it down and shine a light on it. But you know he heard you - you think, probably, he heard the whole thing, all the parts you didn’t say.

You waited in silence again, let the moment go, let the rain wash this away, too. Then, you ventured, “I’m sorry for what I said to you, last month. Really.”

You felt him nod above you. “I know. It’s… it’s okay.”

Is it? you wondered. But you didn’t push it - because you were scared that his forgiveness was fragile and might shatter if pressed, because you’d already admitted something you weren’t sure you’d meant to tonight, because saying anything seemed wrong while you were between his arms with the rain serenading you both from outside.

You drifted off; you woke up with his hands on your skin beneath his hoodie. You sighed, eyes still closed, as he refamiliarized himself with your body. You breathed in deeply when his fingers brushed up your stomach and found your breasts, teased over your nipples so lightly that it almost tickled, made you shudder in place.

You felt his lips at the nape of your neck, and that made you shiver, too. He pressed kisses along the tops of your shoulder as he teased one peak and then the other, finally giving in to your tiny, needy noises and rolling both buds between firm fingers. You moaned, long, feeling it pulled from deep within you until he let go, soothing over the spots with warm palms.

“Missed that sound,” he murmured against your back, and you pressed back against him desperately, suddenly sure that if he wasn’t inside you this instant you would completely lose it. You reached backwards, grabbing at his hips, trying to pull him closer.

“Need you,” you whined, hating it but knowing it was true anyway, the need larger than the embarrassment. You could feel him pressing against your ass, too many layers between you, and you shifted against him, hoping to spur him into action.

He hummed, pleased, and slid a clever hand back down over your stomach and past the waistbands of your sweats and panties, groaning low in his throat when he found arousal pooling between your legs. He barely bothered to work you open, likely feeling the same desperation you were after the time apart. You felt him shimmy out of his shorts, then his hands back on your skin as he peeled away your bottoms as well.

You kicked them off of your ankles and inhaled as you felt him slide along your slit, teasing at your entrance. He kept one hand up your hoodie, pressed against your chest to hold you tight against him, as he pushed into your heat one inch at a time. You heard yourself make a sound you couldn’t name, somewhere close to a whine, as you felt each bit of him rub against your walls as they struggled to adjust.

“Fuck,” he breathed, mouth close to your neck. “Tighter than I remember.”

He bottomed out and stilled, that one hand still holding you tight against his body. You closed your eyes and felt the moment: his heart beating against your back, your own pulse thundering through your limbs, your pussy pulsing around him as it adjusted and fluttered, his breath warm and steady on your skin, his hands soothing and grounding as they held you tight, the rain still falling steadily outside. You stayed still, eyes closed, as he caressed your hips, your lower belly, your thighs, as he pressed chaste and feather-light kisses along your shoulder.

Finally, he shifted, fucking into you in small movements, barely withdrawing at all before tilting his hips to push back in. You rocked back against him, silently begging for more.

He pulled out almost completely, and then slid back in; the sound you let out bordered on a sob, your nerves alight and sizzling as he began repeating the motion, each stroke slow and long, unhurried, burying himself as completely as he could. You floated like this, completely enveloped by him, still wearing his hoodie, as he took his time with you, until you couldn’t bear it anymore.

“More, Vernon,” you begged, “please.”

“As you wish,” he teased, and used his knee to move yours, bending your leg and hooking it up around his to open you up more, to give himself more room as he set a quicker, steady pace. Relieved, you matched his strokes, half-tempted to roll over so you could kiss him, but not wanting to lose even a second of the delicious feeling of him stretching you, of the friction that made your eyes want to roll back and your toes curl up.

It took you completely by surprise when he began pistoning into you, holding you in place by your waist, and a gasp flew from your mouth, morphing into a series of moans and cries as his hips battered at yours. Even more so when he grabbed at your thigh and tugged, rolling you onto your back and readjusting himself over you, slipping right back in as you wrapped your legs around him and tried to pull him closer.

His pace slowed only marginally as he grabbed at your hands and raised them above your head. Bent close over you, you finally got what you’d wanted the whole time - his lips finally found yours and you kissed hungrily as he fucked you deep. Above your head, you felt your fingers curl against his, lacing together. You squeezed his fingers tight when you came, his name slipping from your lips as your legs shook and your world went white. Vernon came with a cry, eyes squeezed shut and teeth clenched as he emptied himself in your still-pulsing heat, and then collapsed next to you, both of you panting.

“Shower?” he asked, when he’d caught his breath.

You tilted your phone so you could see the time. “I should probably just go home,” you admitted. “I have work.” This realization hit you - you’d gotten maybe four and a half hours of sleep, and not even all at once. Thank god it was Friday and you only had one day to struggle through.

He nodded, understanding. After you dressed, he wandered after you like a shadow. “You around tomorrow night?” he asked, and you could hear the effort to sound off-handed.

“Yeah,” you said, eyes flicking to his for a second. “Yeah, I’ll be around.”

When your ride pulled up and you stepped outside, you shielded your eyes from how bright everything was in the early morning light after days of gloom and clouds. Around you, everything glistened and sparkled, still wet from the days of incessant rain, as if everything you could see had been washed clean.

3 months ago

hi :]

what’s wrong with your face?

are you insulting my smiley?

again i ask you: is it 2003?

im gonna ignore that. come over?

can’t, sorry. i’m sick

whats wrong with u?

should i start listing?

ha ha. girl stuff?

vernon!!!!

lmao i mean if its not that i figured youd just tell me whats wrong

i have a fever, you ass

It was true - you’d carried your comforter from your bed to your couch that morning and had barely moved since. The cat was on top of your legs and you didn’t have the strength or energy to move him. Through the day, your fever had risen; you hadn’t helped things by refusing to get up, which meant you were probably dehydrated. As Vernon texted you, you took mental inventory of how badly everything on your body hurt - your limbs, your hips, everything ached. The pain in your head was sharp and bloody, and you felt like you were sweltering even though your feet were ice cold.

You felt too miserable to even watch a show; instead, you looked around your living room absently. You were pretty sure you were seeing colors off to the side, hazy swatches of red and blue.

Well, you thought dryly, that’s not good.

Then, your hallucinations took form, because the couch was dipping under you and someone was placing a cool hand against your head. You closed your eyes, leaning into the touch just because the coolness felt nice.

“You need to drink something,” someone told you.

“I had the lemonade,” you said.

There was a pause. “I don’t… think there’s lemonade here. Hey - wake up and look at me.”

You blinked, and looked towards the voice. The world’s most beautiful man looked down at you, frowning.

“Wow,” you heard yourself. “You’re so handsome. What are you here for?”

He laughed. “I’m here to take care of you,” he said. “I’m bringing you water, okay?”

You frowned. “I don’t want water. My throat hurts. I want juice.”

There was another pause, and then the voice came again, from further away. “I’ll bring you juice, but you need to drink water now.”

Then he was back, snapping in front of your face. “Hey, look at me again. This is serious. Have you taken any medicine? I don’t want to give you double of something and overdose you.”

“I don’t think I’ve left the couch today,” you told him honestly.

“Okay,” he said, and you didn’t remember him moving or leaving but he was somehow pressing pills into your hand, waiting for you to place them on your tongue before handing you a plastic cup full of water.

“Drink all of it,” he instructed.

“You’re too pretty to be so bossy,” you grumbled around the mouthful of pills.

He waited until you drained the cup. “I’m going to go to the store,” he told you. “Can you think of anything else you need besides juice?”

You didn’t remember if you answered him, or even him leaving. You think you slept. When you woke, someone was rummaging around your kitchen.

“Chan?” you called, blearily.

Instead, Vernon poked his head around the corner of your kitchen, a grocery store bag hanging off his arm.

“Hey,” he said. “How do you feel?”

You blinked at him. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but what the fuck are you doing here?”

His smile widened. “Your fever must be down a little. You need anything? You still want juice?”

You just stared at him, bewildered. He finished putting away a few more things and then came back out to you, pressing a hand to your forehead.

“Definitely lower,” he said. “Do you have an actual thermometer? I couldn’t find it.”

“Yeah,” you said, still confused. “In my bathroom. Vernon, seriously, what’s going on?”

“Come on,” he said. “You should shower and put on clean pajamas and then maybe try to eat some of the soup I got.”

You shook your head. “I don’t think I can shower,” you admitted. “I don’t think I can stand up that long.”

He held out his hand. “I’ve got you. Just a quick rinse.”

He helped you off the couch and into the bathroom, where you sat on the closed toilet while he started the water and got it running warm, but not hot. You kept silent as he helped you undress, as he held your hand while you gingerly stepped over the bathtub’s lip, your legs aching.

“You okay?” he checked, once you were behind the shower curtain.

“Mhm.”

“Okay. I’m going in your room to get you clean clothes to put on.”

“Hurry.”

“I’m right outside. If you feel weird, just call me.”

You did okay, though, washing up and turning the water off on your own, reaching for the towel you kept on a hook. He came in when he heard the water change, and helped you dry off, his hands firm and his gaze gentle. Then he led you back to your bed, guiding you under the blankets.

“Do you think you could eat some soup?” he asked. “I bet you didn’t eat all day.”

You scrunched your nose. “You don’t have to cook for me.”

He shrugged. “It’s pre-made. I’ll heat some up.”

You tried to eat as much of the soup as you could, and then floated absently as Vernon cleaned up.

“Hey,” you said, struggling to sit up. “I don’t think I fed the cat tonight.”

“Tell me what to do,” he said, pushing on your shoulder to keep you from climbing out of bed.

“You can’t just- he’s particular - there’s a process -”

“Tell me the process, then,” Vernon said firmly.

Later, after he’d turned out all the lights, he came to the side of the bed and checked your temperature again - this time with your actual thermometer.

“I’m waking you up in three hours to take another fever-reducer,” he warned you, walking to set the thermometer down on your dresser.

“Okay,” you said, too tired to argue. You were already half-asleep as it was - you had no idea what time it was.

You barely registered it when he climbed into the bed next to you, just rolled over and buried your face in his chest, one arm reaching around his middle, already back under.

His alarm startled you both. You felt him pull away - you were sleeping in the same position, neither of you had moved - and then the alarm fell quiet.

“Medicine,” he said, starting to extract himself. You whined; you were comfy, and warm, and didn’t want him to leave.

“Don’t,” you whined. “Don’t leave.”

He laughed a little, a quiet huff of amusement. “I’m just going to the kitchen. Then I’ll be back.”

He watched you take another round of pills and drink half the water, leaving the glass on your nightstand. Then, as promised, he got right back in bed.

When you woke again, your bed was empty. And, impossibly, you felt both relief and disappointment. Then, from the living room, you heard a clatter and then a curse.

“Vernon?” you called.

Your bedroom door cracked open. Like a flash of lightning, the cat streaked into the room and under the bed.

“Sorry,” Vernon said from the doorway. “He was pissed that I wouldn’t let him in there with you. I wanted you to sleep. He was mutinying.”

You smiled despite yourself. “You didn’t go home?”

“Wanted to see how you were before I left,” he said. “You sound better. You look better, too - I mean, you looked really off yesterday. It was kind of scary.”

“I think I’m okay,” you said. “Okay enough that I can keep my fever down by myself. I shouldn’t have let it get that high yesterday, I should have stayed on top of it.”

He looked at you for a long time. Then, he clapped his hand against your doorframe, as if he’d made a decision. “Okay. I’ll go home, I guess. Just… let me know if it gets bad, okay? And eat something. I bought stuff for you yesterday - it’s all in the kitchen.”

“Thanks for doing that,” you said, a little sheepishly.

“It was nothing,” he promised.

After he left, you stayed in the bed, rolling onto your side so you could smell the blankets where he’d slept. It helped you feel safer, like you weren’t actually alone.

It occurred to you that you’d spent the night together twice in a row, now. The rules were breaking - the rules were changing.

Your head pounded, and so did your heart. Nothing had ever been this frightening in your life, you thought.

2 months ago

Vernon saw you as sunshine - not like it was your demeanor, because that wasn’t true. More like - something he needed without realizing he needed it, something he realized he needed only in its absence. Something that made things better and brighter, something that could sometimes be too bright. Something that made the grey days feel greyer in a can you understand happiness if you never feel sadness kind of way.

He tipped your head back to kiss you, caught your bottom lip between his teeth, rolled his hips into yours, watched your hands clench into fists in his sheets.

He forgot himself a little; or maybe he just gave in to something he’d been holding back for months - maybe even a year. Something cracked, marrow slipped out of him, sluiced into the rocky ocean below.

After, he held you close, whispered, “Don’t go home. Stay. Jagi, stay here.”

And, he had to give you credit - you were at least honest. You at least told him your truth, in your own way.

“I can’t,” you said, and he knew you, knew how you meant it. He didn’t argue or call you back when you dressed, when you left again, just how you’d done things almost every time over the last two years.

He couldn’t do this anymore. He couldn’t want you, maybe even love you, and only have parts of you. It was too hard, it wasn’t fair. Two years, and he had nothing to show for it. Maybe he’d find someone, if he wasn’t spinning his wheels with you.

He saw you like sunshine. Something that was missed when it was gone. Something that couldn’t be forced to stay, something that didn’t come when it was called.

1 month ago

You could tell that something was different. You’d been around Vernon plenty when he was low - this was different.

“You’re being weird tonight,” you observed.

His eyes cut sideways at you. He’d never looked at you like that - this was another clue. Then his face went flat again.

“I’m not,” he said, and you frowned.

“You are,” you insisted. “What’s going on? What’s the problem?”

“There’s no problem,” he said, tone hollow.

“I’m not playing this game with you, Vernon!” you said, temper flaring. “If there’s a problem, you’re going to have to use your words and tell me.”

“I said there’s no problem,” he repeated, cool and even. Something inside you snapped tight, painful. You could feel it all coming to a boil right before your eyes - the way the boundaries had been shifting, the way he’d called you jagi, the way he’d looked when you’d walked away. It terrified you, made you want to show your claws, and it was infuriating that he was icing you out when you were ready to draw blood.

“Vernon!” you cried. “I cannot deal with this little apathy game anymore! I need you to engage here. I need you to care about something, and not just give me this expressionless, emotionless -”

“Care about something?” he thundered, wheeling on you. It startled you into silence. “That’s bullshit. Because I have been caring about you way more than I should, for ages now, and look what fucking good it’s done for me.”

Stunned, you blinked at him. Your heart pounded painfully, and your thoughts felt staticky and unclear. You needed to get away from him; you needed to process this in silence.

Finally, you spoke, your voice coming out tiny. “I’m going home.”

Vernon rolled his eyes, slapped his hand down to grab at his phone. “I’ll take you.”

You shook your head. “I don’t want you to.”

He ignored this, picking up his keys. “I said I’ll take you. It’s fine.”

You shouldn’t have followed him to the car. You shouldn’t have assumed he’d be mad for a few weeks and then get over it again, just like you two had done more than once now.

He drove you in silence, his face coming in fragmented pieces as he passed under streetlights. You were watching him, silently, when he finally spoke again.

“I don’t want to do this anymore,” he said, still perfectly even.

Tears sprang to your eyes before you’d even processed the sentence, something inside you reacting before your brain really knew what you were reacting to.

“What?” you asked. “Why?”

You knew why.

He just kept driving.

“Pull over,” you demanded, suddenly furious, suddenly terrified, suddenly realizing you were losing him, right now, in real time.

He ignored you, didn’t even glance over at you.

“Vernon, I want to talk about this, pull over!” you cried, leaning forward in your seat, the seat belt tightening on your shoulder. “Pull over!”

Eventually, he listened, flicking on his turn signal and slowing as the car bumped off the pavement and onto the dirt shoulder.

“What?” he asked flatly, finally turning to face you.

“I asked why,” you said, heat laced through your voice.

He shook his head. “I’ve wasted two years with you -”

“Wasted?” you echoed, feeling the word like a punch to the gut. You felt like you couldn’t inhale.

“Well?” he asked, as if to say, well, wasn’t it?

“Fuck you, Vernon,” you spat.

“Fuck me is right!” he yelled, loud in the enclosed space of the sedan. “What are we doing? Just fucking, for eternity?”

You blinked at him. “You never asked me for anything else!”

“I tried,” he growled.

“Like hell you tried!”

“I did,” he asserted. “You ran, scared, every time.”

“Of course I was scared,” you snapped, because you couldn’t deny that one for a second. Your voice comes out choked. “I was right to be scared, and you know it!”

“Why?” he asked, the question falling between you, a landmine.

“Because,” you said seriously, the first tear finally falling. “This only ends one way.”

His jaw clenched, and he looked away from you, out the windshield again. Then, he clicked on his turn signal again, shifted the car back into drive, and pulled back onto the highway.

“Yeah,” he said flatly, as the car met even pavement again. “You’re making sure of that, aren’t you?”

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thank you so much for reading! one chapter left to go!

[herearedragons]

The Hanged Man (chapter 1)

Read on AO3

Notes: This fic relies on some plot points from the short story "The Reaping". If you want the full context for the fic without having to read the short story (which I do recommend, btw), see the AO3 notes or scroll to the bottom of this post.

Edér had imagined his own death way too many times.

There was the war, for one. He'd try not to think about it much, but sometimes things would happen and leave him wondering if that would be him, too.

Stabbing. Slashing. Arrows. Bolts. Broken necks, burned bodies. Slow deaths from wounds gone bad.

And besides your usual pick of deaths, there was Eothas.

Edér knew for a fact he wasn't the only one thinking about it. Lots of soldiers back then were going to sleep every night wondering if they'd just be... smitten out of existence, before they ever woke up.

Close your eyes, and the next thing you see is your god, and he goes well, Edér, you chose the wrong side, so welcome to being dead. No rebirth for you, either. Right into the void with you.

Not the most fun thought to fall asleep with.

Lately, though, it had all been the same thing. The rough, heavy noose around his neck, hands tied behind his back; the creaking of old barren branches above his head, and all of Gilded Vale staring up at him.

The funny thing was, now that he was there for real, it almost felt fake. The rope against his skin; the barrel that would soon be kicked out from under his feet; the silent grey crowd; there was a weird flatness to it all. It was all wrong, just a little off from how it appeared in his recurring dreams.

His dreams didn’t account for the rain, either. 

It was just a light drizzle, but Edér had been standing under it for a while, in the same shirt and trousers he fell asleep in the night before, and by now he was soaked and chilled to the bone.

Part of him was starting to wish they’d just get it over with.

And to think that he almost got out. He should have left as soon as the bell tolled three times yesterday, instead of putting it off until next morning.

Maybe he could have tagged along with that Watcher and the twitchy elf that had been staying at the Black Hound. They were strange folks, sure, but neither of them looked too sturdy; they could have used a protector on the road.

He almost asked to come along with them. Even now, Edér wasn't sure why he didn't.

Same reason why he’d waited this long to leave, probably.

A few feet away from his improvised gallows, Urgeat the magistrate was droning on and on about the "inestimable" Lord Raedric, his care for Gilded Vale, and his love for his wife.

His wife.

When his door got kicked in first thing in the morning, guards swarming in to drag him out of bed, Edér thought it was about Eothas. He figured maybe it was also about the rebels, or because someone saw him talking to that Watcher, and that was somehow also a crime now.

He didn't think they'd say that he murdered a woman.

Lord Raedric's wife. He still didn't know all the details of it - nobody bothered to tell him, since they were all thinking he did it - but what he gathered was that she turned up dead somewhere in the village, and it was close enough to his house to make them think he was involved.

Urgeat was just getting to that part in his speech, now.

Edér had never even seen her up close.

"...spreading dissent and worship of a dead god are, of course, far from the only crimes committed by this man. When words of deception no longer satisfied his foul goals, he turned to murder, and took the life or our beloved Lady Ygrid - "

"Didn't do it."

Even from this distance, Edér could see a sour grimace form on the magistrate's face as soon as he was interrupted.

"Silence, murderer," Urgeat said.

Edér shrugged; the noose shifted uncomfortably on his shoulders.

"Just setting the facts straight," he said. "Didn't do it. Ain't ever laid a finger on her. Sure, I’ve got blood on my hands, but last I checked they were all soldiers."

Not all of those soldiers were Readcerans.

Standing on that barrel gave him a great view of the crumbling shell of the temple behind the villagers' backs - and, standing just beyond it, the house that once belonged to Osgod Rask.

They did find the corpses, eventually. Some settlers moved in, took Raedric up on his offer of land; smelled something foul in the cellar, opened it, and saw what became of the two men in the years that had passed since Edér left them there.

Those settlers didn't stay.

"So you would like us to believe," Urgeat said dryly. "However, lies will not get you out of this noose. I would advise that you save your breath."

Edér couldn't hold back a snort of laughter; not that he was trying that hard.

"Right! 'Cause I have so much breathing left to do still."

Was it his imagination, or did he hear a giggle somewhere in the crowd?

Nobody liked the magistrate. Fact was, were it him in the noose instead of Edér, they'd all be clapping and cheering.

Nobody was cheering for his hanging, at least. He’d like to believe there were some people in the square doubting that he actually did it.

The problem was that it didn’t matter.

Three tolls of the bell spelled death. Before the lady’s body turned up, it meant death for a lot of people, and probably exile for just as many; by the time Raedric was done “appeasing the gods”, Gilded Vale would have been a ghost town.

But now… Now the lord’s wife was dead, and they had one person to blame for it. And, while they were at it, they could blame him for everything else, too.

Maybe there were some folks left in Gilded Vale who didn’t want to see him hang, but they would take it if it meant that he would be the last.

Something drew his eyes back to the empty Rask house.

Daeg's ma, Lifa, had this look on her face when the bodies were found. Whenever Edér was around, she'd get that same look again, like somehow she knew. 

Edér didn't regret what he did. Daeg raised a weapon against a woman and her child, which in Edér's book meant he got what was coming to him - but it didn't mean Lifa deserved to die without ever finding out what happened to her son.

Gods know he’d give a lot to find out what happened to Woden.

"Tell you what, Urgeat," Edér said. "You're gonna hang me, at least hang me for something I did."

He took a breath, preparing to confess to everything that happened with Elafa and her child and the two guards that night - and then the words never came out.

There was a figure walking through the ruins of the old temple.

"Well?" Urgeat inquired impatiently. "If you wish to add to the list of your crimes, I will not stop you, but, by the Wheel, make it quick."

The stranger was wearing a heavy black cloak with an unusually large, baggy hood. Edér couldn't see their face, but they were moving, quickly and purposefully, towards the gathering.

"I take it you have changed your mind," Urgeat said. "Very well. Let us continue - "

"Stop!"

The cloaked stranger had crossed the temple, and stopped at the foot of the tree. She was the one speaking; by the sound of it, she was a woman.

Urgeat let out a heavy, drawn-out sigh.

"Miss,” he said, "Perhaps you failed to notice that we are in the middle of an official proceeding. Whatever business you have, I am sure it can wait a minute longer."

"It cannot," she said. "By the duc's authority, I demand that you stop this execution right now."

"By the duc's - excuse me, who are you?"

In response, she simply reached up and pulled back her strange, heavy hood.

A murmur rolled through the crowd.

She was Ondra-touched. Blue skin the color of a clear sky; black eyes with no whites, two glowing dots for pupils; glowing white hair, a crescent moon-shaped growth on her forehead, and two curving horns, glowing also.

That last part explained the weird shape of her hood.

Edér had never seen this kind of godlike before, but he had heard of them.

During the war, word was that there was one of them in his division. Edér had never met the guy himself, but heard that he could fly, and that any wounds he received would heal right up. Whether the rumors about his blessings were true or not, it was impossible to say now; a few weeks in, the godlike took the brunt of a spell from a Readceran priest and died.

"Agent Selene Moonborn of Dunryd Row," said the Ondra-touched woman. "You may address me as Agent Moonborn, or Selene. Do you need to see my credentials?"

Moonborn... She sure was.

Wait - Dunryd Row?

"I would greatly appreciate that," Urgeat said, but his tone was no longer as snide as it was a moment ago. In fact, Edér was pretty sure that he heard a tinge of fear in his voice.

No wonder. If this was an actual Dunryd cipher, something serious was going on.

Selene approached the magistrate, her cloak swaying silently, and held something out to him. The drizzling rain didn't seem to bother her much.

While Urgeat was inspecting the item she handed him, she looked up over his shoulder. Her eyes met Edér's for a moment, and almost immediately moved on, taking in the rest of the hanging tree.

Was he just a part of the scenery to her, dead already?

"...Very well," Urgeat said, finally. "Welcome to Gilded Vale, Agent Moonborn. As you can see, you find us at an unfortunate hour; we have just lost our lord’s heir, and now our lady as well. Fortunately, her murderer has already been apprehended, and we are in the process of bringing him to justice."

Selene's eyes returned to the magistrate standing before her.

"That man?"

"Edér Teylecg. A troublesome individual. Eothasian." 

Urgeat spat out that last word like it was a curse.

"I see," Selene said. "Unfortunately, you can't execute him."

What?

"...What?"

That was probably the first and last time he and Urgeat had ever agreed on something.

"The murder of a thayn, or a thayn's immediate family, falls under the duc's jurisdiction," Selene explained matter-of-factly. "In the absence of a representative of the duc's authority, the local authorities may investigate and persecute the crime; however, with a Dunryd Row investigator present, that is no longer the case. In other words, you can't execute this man until I have conducted a thorough investigation and determined that he is guilty; in fact, if you do hang him right now, it will be considered a crime and I will have to arrest you."

Something mesmerizing was happening. The longer she spoke, the more Urgeat seemed to shrink away from her; at no point did she raise her voice, but there was an underlying pressure to the calm, even cadence of her speech that seemed to have a nearly violent effect on the magistrate.

Even with a noose around his neck, Edér found that entertaining to watch. Judging by what he was seeing in the crowd, he wasn't the only one. Though, the villagers weren't exactly on the agent's side, either; many of them were smirking, but just as many were eyeing her with suspicion.

Urgeat made one last feeble attempt to resist:

"Lord Raedric - "

"I would be very grateful if you could arrange an audience with the lord for me," Selene said. "Tell him that a Dunryd Row agent arrived to investigate the murder of his wife, and would like to hear his testimony. I would like to see the body, as well."

There was a long moment of silence.

"I will relay your message to His Lordship," Urgeat said, finally.

Then, the magistrate turned around. His face was even more grey and dead-looking than it usually was.

"You heard the agent," he said to the surrounding guards. "Take him down."

If Selene's appearance earned a murmur from the crowd, the sound they were making now was more like the distant rumble of thunder.

Something was happening that had never happened before, and now every mind in Gilded Vale was feverishly working on the same question: what does this mean for me?

Every mind except for Edér's, that is. He was a little busy trying to come to terms with standing on solid ground again.

Still cold, still with his hands tied, still accused of a murder he didn't commit - but, somehow, alive.

The same guard that took the noose off his neck walked him up to where Selene and the magistrate were talking.

The crowd around them was beginning to disperse. Urgeat never gave an explicit dismissal, but the guards had stepped away from the tree and started giving the rest of the villagers move-along-now looks.

Most folks got the hint, and those who didn't got pulled along by those who did.

Selene glanced at Edér again as he approached; this time her gaze lingered. It felt as though she was assessing something about him.

Eventually she nodded to herself, seemingly having reached a conclusion, and said to the guard standing beside him:

“Untie him, please.”

The man just shuffled in place awkwardly and looked at Urgeat.

"I don’t know if this is wise," the magistrate said. "He may become violent."

Only if you keep talking, Edér thought; usually this kind of thought would come right out of his mouth, but not this time.

He wasn't in a hurry to go back to the tree just yet.

"If he does, I'll protect you," Selene said. 

Her voice and expression were dead serious, but she was definitely taking the piss at Urgeat here.

Edér decided that he liked her.

The guard unsheathed his sword and began to saw at the rope at Edér's wrists; meanwhile, Selene turned to him and began speaking.

"Edér Teylecg, by the duc's authority, I am placing you under arrest. No harm will come to you unless you attempt to resist or flee, or your guilt is proven."

The rope fell off.

"Noted," Edèr said.

It was as if she didn't hear.

"Is there a jail in Gilded Vale?" Selene asked, turning to Urgeat again.

The magistrate smiled thinly:

"There are the lord's dungeons."

"Understood," she said. "House arrest it is, then. Please inform the vilagers that they are not to visit the suspect while the investigation is ongoing."

And, just like that, Edèr’s fate was decided.

*

The walk back to his house was silent.

Edér was leading the way, the agent following behind. He could barely hear her steps; a couple times, he even got the urge to turn around and check that she was still there.

He didn't. Wouldn’t want to do anything that she could interpret as "trying to flee or resist"; Edèr had a funny feeling that, despite not having any visible weapons and being a head shorter than him, Selene had her ways of making him regret that.

His mind was still all over the place, trying to work out what his current reality looked like.

He didn't die. He was walking the path back to his house, which, about half an hour ago, he was never going to do again.

There was a Dunryd Row cipher walking behind him. She somehow knew about the murder that happened just this morning; she couldn't have come all the way from Defiance Bay, could she?

Where did she come from?

Why did she stop the hanging?

It was fun watching her have a go at Urgeat, but, now that the magistrate was gone and Edér was alone with her, he did very much want to know what she was planning to do with him.

Now that he thought about it, he didn’t really know what a cipher could do.

There were plenty of folks who came to Gilded Vale saying they were one, and claimed all sorts of powers: some said they could see the future, some that they could read minds and souls. Most of them turned out to be a fraud, and at least a few of them ended up on the tree.

Nothing he could remember about them gave him a frame of reference for what a real Dunryd Row cipher was capable of.

Killing him, probably. Whatever else they taught their agents, Edér was pretty sure they had that part covered.

He was still thinking about that when his house came into view.

Suddenly, Selene's voice sounded behind his back: 

"Stop."

He stopped.

"Is that your house?" she asked.

"...Yeah."

"Do you live alone?"

"I do."

"There's someone inside."

…Well, that wasn't right.

"It's just one person," Selene said after a moment. "We can approach. Stay behind me."

Before Edér could ask how she could tell, she walked past him and headed straight for the door.

The only option left was to follow her.

Up close, Edér could hear it too: something was happening inside. There was a heavy scraping noise, like something was being dragged across the floor.

The door gave no resistance when Selene pushed it open; the bolt got broken earlier that morning.

She stepped inside.

The room was a mess. There were drawers open; his clothes were in a heap on the bed; the tools that were supposed to hang on the walls were laid out on the big dining table.

The scraping noise was coming from the far end of the house, where a man was trying to drag a chest out of the corner.

The chest was heavy. Edér knew that, because that's where his Saint's War armor was; his sword and shield, too.

There wasn't much left in the house worth keeping under lock and key, but his armor and weapons were two of the things he did think could be stolen.

Turns out, he was right to worry.

"Excuse us," Selene said.

The man stopped struggling with the chest and froze.

"...Who's that?"

The shadows made it hard to recognize him, but, as soon as Edér heard the voice, he knew.

"Algar, you sheepfucker! Couldn't wait 'til I was dead?"

At the sound of his voice, the man jumped and straightened up at once, turning around to look at them, white as a sheet.

Sure enough, they were looking at Algar Bramweg: reedy, thin-haired and watery-eyed. Came back from the war with burns on his face and left arm, but he came back. 

He was a meek guy, but Edér used to think he was alright. Until that moment, that is.

"Edér!" Algar nearly squeaked. "Wh-what are you doing here? Aren't you - "

"Hanging on a tree?" Edér asked grimly. "Matter of fact, I was. They let me down so I could see who was in here, stealing my stuff."

"Well, I - I thought you wouldn't be needing it anymore!" Algar glanced around with the look of a cornered animal in his eyes. "...I'll put it back. I'll put it all back. I - what happened? Who is this?"

With that last question, he gestured wildly at Selene, who was just standing there the entire exchange.

"Agent Selene Moonborn, Dunryd Row," she said. "I take it you weren't in the square when I arrived. All you need to know for now is that the hanging has been postponed, and this building is now off limits. Please return everything you may have taken from here; it could be evidence."

Algar looked completely lost, now.

"...Evidence?"

"In the investigation of Lady Ygrid's murder," Selene clarified. "Like I said, this is all you need to know right now. If you're confused, ask one of your friends who were present for the hanging; I don't have time to repeat the details."

Algar looked over at him.

Edér shrugged:

"I'd do as she says, if I were you."

When Algar was done emptying his pockets, it turned out that he had picked up a couple of smaller tools, Edér’s entire whiteleaf stash, a handful of copper pands - and the book of prayers that survived year after year of purges in spite of Raedric’s efforts, safely hidden on top of one of the ceiling beams.

That last one puzzled him.

Algar didn’t just take the book - he was looking for it. There was no way for him to stumble upon it on accident.

“Alright,” Edér said, “The coins and the whiteleaf, I get. Tools, too. But what did you need that for?”

Algar didn’t quite meet his eyes when he answered:

“Well, so many of those got burned or thrown away, I figured - the right folks would pay a fortune for one that’s still intact.”

So he was going to sell it. Made sense; more sense than Algar secretly being a devout Eothasian, anyhow.

Once Algar had left, Selene shut the door behind him. She regarded the broken bolt for a moment, then said:

"This will have to be fixed."

It wasn't clear whether she was talking to herself or to him.

Then, she turned around and addressed him directly:

“Please, take a seat.”

It was damn weird to be invited to sit down in his own house. Felt like an insult more than anything else; Edér had half a mind to say something about it, but thought better of it.

He pulled a chair out from the dining table and sat down.

As soon as he did, he regretted it. His body realized that he was no longer on his feet, and took it as an invitation to crash; immediately, his limbs felt heavy, and his head began to spin.

The entire morning was now catching up to him. Waking up to guards in his house; being dragged to the square; standing in the rain, counting the seconds left until his last breath.

How long had he been awake for? An hour? Felt like two entire days, at this point.

Black bones of Eothas, he’d almost - 

No, wasn’t the time for that. He’d think about that later, or maybe never.

He kind of liked that second option better.

His hands were shaking just a little; probably because he was still really cold.

Edér looked up at the agent.

“Mind if I start the fire?”

“...Oh.” It was as if she’d just realized the same thing he did. “Not at all. If you want to change your clothes, I’ll wait by the door.”

Well, that was nice of her.

He took her up on that offer.

Once he’d gotten a fire going in the firepit and changed into the clothes Algar so kindly left out for him on the bed, it was much easier to believe that he was, in fact, still alive.

Algar was going to take his whiteleaf, but he’d left the pipe right where it was. Figures; he had his own.

“You smoke, agent?” Edér asked, just as she stepped back into the room.

“I don’t, but you can go ahead.”

And so they sat down at the table, the fire in the middle of the room casting their shadows onto the far wall, the smoke from his pipe rising like a sheer curtain between them.

He was at home, now, and a little more certain that he could handle whatever Selene was about to throw at him.

“Suppose I should thank you,” Edér said. “If it weren't for you showing up when you did, would have been one more corpse on that tree - and Algar would’ve been smoking my whiteleaf just about now.”

For the first time since she walked out into the square, he saw Selene’s expression become something other than a distant, observing look.

Her eyes narrowed just a little, her pupils twinkling like twin stars in the night sky; she didn’t really smile, but her face softened in a way that made him think that maybe it was her way of smiling.

“It was a close call,” she said. “I’m glad I could stop them from hanging an innocent.”

Whatever Edér expected her to say, that was not it.

He didn't think he'd feel that much relief at hearing her say it, either. Of course he didn't murder the lady; he knew that. Half of Gilded Vale probably knew that too, but none of them would ever say it out loud if they wanted to stay safe.

But how did Selene know?

"...You figure that out with your cipher powers?"

The only other option he could think of was that she killed the lady, and Edér really hoped it wasn’t that.

“Good guess,” Selene said.

Her eyes drifted away from him for a moment, like she was considering something, or hesitating.

Finally, she said:

"I'll get straight to the point: I wasn't sent here to investigate the murder of Lady Ygrid. As far as I know, no one outside of Gilded Vale even knows that she’s dead.”

It took him a moment to process what she was saying.

“...Wait, so… what’s all this for?”

Selene sighed. Something was gone from her voice and her posture now - that invisible pressure she used against Urgeat. It was as if an act had been dropped.

“I came to Gilded Vale on Dunryd Row business that had nothing to do with Lady Ygrid. I happened to arrive just as an execution was happening. I read the mind of the man about to be hanged and knew that he didn’t commit the crime he was being accused of, so… I intervened in the only way I could think of.”

…By lying to Urgeat.

Wait.

She read his mind?

So that was true about ciphers, then.

Oh gods. How much did she see? Did she know about - no, she couldn’t. She wouldn’t have helped him, had she known.

Was she listening right now?

“I’m not reading your mind right now,” Selene said.

Edér couldn’t help but laugh nervously:

“You’re not really helping your own case here. How’d you know I just thought that?”

She shrugged:

“It’s the first thought people have when they realize I can do this.”

Oh.

“...Well, alright, that’s fair.”

“Sometimes, I can’t help but overhear the thoughts of others,” Selene said. “Usually, those thoughts are surface-level and charged with intense emotion. Feelings of pain or anger, for example. In your case, you were thinking pretty loudly that you didn’t do it.”

Well, now he had to ask.

“...Was I… thinking about anything else?”

Selene met his eyes, unblinking.

“You were cold. And you wanted the magistrate to shut up.”

“...That sounds about right.”

She didn’t hear about the bodies in the cellar. He must have had some unbelievable luck.

Better not waste it.

“From now on, I’ll always let you know when I’m listening to your thoughts,” Selene said. “I’m saying this because I would like us to be allies.”

She leaned forward, cutting through the protective curtain of whiteleaf smoke and bringing her face just a little closer to his. The glowing markings on her cheeks, a dot and an upturned crescent moon under each eye, stood out starkly against her skin.

“I want you to help me find the real murderer of Lady Ygrid.”

This answered the question of what she wanted from him, at least.

"Why do you think I can help?" Edér asked. "If you really read my mind, you saw that I don’t know anything."

"About the murder, maybe, but you know Gilded Vale," Selene said. "I could use the help of a local. And, for better or worse, you're the only one in town I trust right now - seeing as you're the only one who wasn't almost an accomplice in another murder today."

"...Wait, what?"

She gave him an amused look.

"I'm talking about your murder, Edér. What do you think that hanging was?"

Well, that was a charged question, wasn't it.

He glanced over at the Eothasian book of prayers, still resting on the far end of the table. Was there even a point in trying to hide it again?

"Some folks 'round here would call it justice," he said, finally. 

Selene followed his gaze to the book, gave a little nod and withdrew, putting some more distance between them again.

"I wish I could say it's not the same in Defiance Bay, but I'd be lying," she said. "Where you have Raedric, we have the Dozens. They don't have nearly as much power, and that's the best thing I can say about them."

"Seems you don't like them much."

"I don't. Like your magistrate, they like to point fingers, and make my work - finding the truth - harder."

She paused for a moment, then asked:

"You fought in the war, didn't you?"

"I did," Edér said. "On the right side, mind you. Got any doubts, you can read my mind about it."

Selene shook her head.

"I believe you. I just wanted to say - that’s another reason you’re a good ally to have. You did the right thing, even if it meant standing up to your god; that takes more than bravery."

Edér nearly choked on the puff he just took from his pipe.

Gods damn. Would he ever figure out what she was about? Every time it felt like he was starting to get a beat on the conversation, she'd hit him with something else.

"Now here’s something you don't hear a lot these days," he said.

Now Selene smiled, but there wasn't an ounce of joy in it.

"I dedicated my life to digging up things others desperately want forgotten," she said. "Maybe I haven't gone to war against Ondra, but I can't imagine she's too happy with me, either. You had to go even further; I think that calls for respect, not persecution."

Edér stared at her for a moment.

"I've got to ask," he said, finally. "Are all of you Dunryd folks like this, or is it just you?"

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know. You're getting real involved in something you've got no stakes in. Sharing all kinds of opinions. Round here, that's how you end up on the tree; trust me, I know."

Something in her expression shifted; it became cold and pointed, and, for a moment, Edér was sure that he fucked up.

"I don't like seeing people be disposed of," Selene said. 

And then that chilling look was gone.

"...Besides, solving crimes is what I do. I wasn't ordered to investigate this one, but I don't think my superiors would mind, as long as I completed my original mission as well."

Edér decided that it was probably safe to start breathing again.

"You're goddamn weird, agent," he said. "I don't know what exactly I can do, but - I think I wanna help you."

Again, that smiling-without-smiling look.

"I'm glad," Selene said.

"Well... What's our move, then?"

She regarded him for a moment.

"Take a minute to recover. Clean up, eat something," she said. "Then, we'll go see the crime scene."

Notes (spoilers for The Reaping):

In The Reaping, Edér and his ex Elafa end up killing two of Raedric's soldiers, who were threatening Elafa and her Hollowborn child. Edér hides their bodies in an abandoned house; Elafa leaves the town with her child the same night.