#what actually will fix me most likely is having a Real Halloween Costume Plan. because I don't at the moment and it's chewing me to bits

[chiropteracupola]

I need a silly new hat RIGHT now a new silly hat will FIX me

[moonbeambucky]

Hey Neighbor (Part 8)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader Word Count: 4650 Warnings: fluff, light angst

Summary: You had a plan and then life came along with one of its own. With your future almost derailed you worked hard to get yourself back on track and finally everything seemed to be going right… that is, until your new neighbor moved in.

A/N: A huge thank you to my wonderful beta Sam @buckyofthemyscira​​​​​ Feedback is always appreciated!

PART 7 | HEY NEIGHBOR MASTERLIST

Walking out through the automatic doors of Metro-General you were hit with a gust of wind so strong you had to adjust the scarf you had wrapped around your neck to make the fabric feel cozier. In your pocket you feel your phone having a near seizure as it vibrates, alerting you of all the messages you received during the day coming in all at once thanks to the lack of service on the eighth floor.

That’s where you spend most of your time, in the social work department sitting in a small cubicle with yellow fluorescent lighting hanging above and a drafty window that whistles as the wind blows. So far most of your work has been shadowing Elena as she is called down for consultations. When asked, you’ve given appropriate suggestions on what services would best suit the patients but you aren’t yet familiar with enough of them.

It was slow today, which was surprising for a Saturday she mentioned, so most of your time was spent researching the organizations within your reach and learning about the different services they provide. Staring at a screen all day made your eyes nearly close a few times but you survived. On your way home you read through all the messages received. 

Ever since your celebratory get together everyone became friendlier with each other and started a group chat, declaring that on weekends you should all meet up and go to different bars.

Not everyone could always make it. Sam was usually working much to Wanda’s dismay, and another time Natasha was preparing for a large trial and needed every minute to work on her case. Bucky would show up about half the time, and you never asked why he couldn’t make it, assuming he had plans to hook up with someone whenever he wasn’t with you guys.

He still had women over on most nights. They weren’t as loud as before but you could hear them, panting his name like a sensual prayer as you scurried across your apartment to the bathroom. If he wasn’t finished by the time you were back in bed you put on your trusty headphones and hoped to fall back asleep.

When you finally exited the subway you replied back to the texts declining tonight’s invitation. You were honestly ready for a nap and even if you took one you doubt it would give you enough energy to stay up later.

A slew of sad faces sent by Steve made you feel a little guilty. He really wanted you to come out with him, especially since he started socializing again but you really needed this night off.

You: I promise I will do my absolute best to come out next weekend

Wanda: You better! Oh and we still have to talk costumes!

Halloween weekend was soon approaching and you knew you couldn’t miss that no matter how tired you were but tonight you were ready to crash.

Your heels were kicked off immediately, makeup barely wiped away as you changed into pumpkin pajama bottoms. Unhooking your bra felt heavenly and you tossed it aside, having it land somewhere in the vicinity of your living room. You slipped on a tank top and threw a comfy sweatshirt over that before plopping onto your bed and under the covers.

With your head on the pillow you stared at the phone cradled in your hand, holding it on the adjacent pillow. You weren’t actually trying to pay attention to the show you put on, just wanting something to fill the void of silence and within a few minutes you were asleep.

It was pitch black when your eyes opened. You searched for your phone on your bed, hands skimming across the mattress but you couldn’t find it. The smarter thing to do would be to turn on the lamp on your nightstand which you finally did. Your phone had fallen to the floor and upon picking it up you saw the time. It wasn’t that late, only nine-something. You could still go out and meet up with everyone but you chose not to. You were still kind of tired and now very hungry. Too lazy to make something you ordered pizza.

Hocus Pocus played in the background as you waited for your food; and finally looking at yourself in the bathroom mirror you fixed your half-assed attempt at makeup removal from before. Feeling more energized you straightened up your tossed clothes while absentmindedly singing along.

“I put a spell on you and now you’re gone, gone, gone so long. I put a spell on you and it was strong, so strong, so strong, so strong.”

You bounced around your apartment continuing to sing while tidying up. You were so excited for the prospect of pizza you practically ran to your door when there was a knock, opening it without looking through the peephole.

Instead of the pizza there was Bucky, arms crossed with a beaming smile. “Hey neighbor.”

You were surprised to see him, wondering why he would be knocking at your door and not out like you thought he would be. He also declined meeting up with everyone tonight so you assumed he had plans of his own.

“H-hey, what’re you doing here Bucky?”

His arms fell to his sides. “Oh nothing, just wanted to say thank you.”

Your face scrunched with confusion, trying to think of what reason he might need to thank you but just then Bucky answered the question you hadn’t asked.

“For the show. I put a spell on yooooou,” he mimicked, swirling his arms across his chest performatively.

“Oh no, you heard me!?”

You hid your face in your hands as Bucky chuckled, “Thin walls, remember?”

Peeking through your fingers you saw the genuine smile stretched across Bucky’s face. He may have been teasing but he wasn’t laughing at you. Thankfully he hadn’t heard anything worse, because if there was a real Disney marathon on he might have been the one putting on his headphones to block out the high notes you strained to reach in “Let It Go.”

“Yes, yes, I remember,” you smirk back at him. “So, you headed out?”

His head shook before he answered. “No, staying in tonight. I was up all night composing; it threw my whole day off.”

“Oh yeah, how’s that goi– ” The loud buzzing of your doorbell made you jump. That was the pizza. “Hang on a sec.”

You stepped back into your apartment to press the bell for the front door, telling Bucky he might as well step inside as you went to get your wallet.

“Are you hungry? I got pizza from Antonio’s. Have you tried them before?”

He thought about it and shook his head.

“Well sit down then and we can cross it off our list.” You smiled, turning around as you heard the muffled ding of the elevator from down the hall and waited at your front door for the delivery.

Bucky didn’t plan on spending his evening with you but he certainly didn’t mind the sudden change. He excused himself to go back to his apartment and turn off his lights. While there he cancelled plans with a girl named Rachel who would have been over sometime after midnight. She was cute but he really wasn’t feeling anything and truthfully between the lack of sleep he doesn’t have the energy to entertain her.

When Bucky came back you had the pizza set up on the table beside some plates and napkins. “Not sure what you wanted to drink,” you stated, opening your fridge and letting him choose what he wanted.

Together you settled down on your couch, with Bucky holding onto the beer as you raced up again to grab a coaster. He chuckled to himself as you bounced back beside him, taking a sip of the soda that you splashed with a little rum.

“See, it’s like I went out tonight,” you chuckled, raising your glass.

As Hocus Pocus ended you let him flip through the channels to find something to watch. There was an abundance of Halloween movies on and Bucky gasped when he found the perfect one.

“You’ve seen Psycho, right?” He smiled when you nodded. “Okay, but you haven’t seen it with me so you’re really in for a treat.”

Bucky sat up straighter, excited for the start of one of his favorite movies. It took less than ten seconds for him to start breaking things down to you, and not in a pretentious way you’ve been accustomed to by men before. Though you didn’t know Bucky for that long you could immediately see a change in him. His eyes lit up, filled with wonder as he began to describe the score.

“Right away we’re hit with unnerving music playing over the opening title sequence, with the text literally being dissected. It’s audiovisual foreshadowing in its most beautiful form. It really sets the tone for the film.”

All throughout the film Bucky would interject facts that you loved to hear, especially since every word was laced with passion.

“Have you noticed something?”

“I’m not sure what I’m supposed to be noticing,” you said, smiling at him while grabbing another slice.

“The score. It’s all strings. It’s beautiful. You know piano might be my favorite to play but strings…” he sighed happily, “Those are my favorite to compose.”

As the movie continued you couldn’t help but glance over at Bucky, watching the way he would sometimes shut his eyes and listen to the score alone, his mouth tugging his lips into a content smile as he appreciated the music.

When the infamous shower scene came on Bucky tapped your arm, practically scrambling to talk about the score again.

“Herrmann designed the score in a way where the shrill notes of the strings represent the blade stabbing Marion even though you don’t see it. That’s the power of music.”

Bucky turned to the screen to watch the score play out over the scene and when it was over he suddenly remembered he was with you in your apartment and not back in college where his rants on music analysis were welcome.

“I’m so sorry Y/N, you probably just wanted to watch the movie and I’m ruining it because I can’t shut my damn mouth.” Fingers ran through his long hair as Bucky let out a stressful sigh.

“No, Bucky it’s okay really. I liked learning about that, it’s not something I ever really thought of before.” Your smile washed away his worries and Bucky thanked you for letting him ramble on.

When the movie ended you and Bucky continued to lounge on your couch, finding another one to watch. Feeling a chill run down your back you grabbed the fuzzy blanket and draped it across yourself, extending the material to Bucky in case he was also cold. With the comfort of the blanket and pizza filling your sated stomachs, neither you or Bucky realized you had ended your evening by falling asleep.

You awake with a groan, reaching your hand up to your neck as it stretches uncomfortably. Blinking your eyes a few times you noticed you weren’t in bed and your couch didn’t feel normal. Sitting up and stretching you finally cocked your head and realized why; you weren’t sleeping on a cushion.

Bucky was asleep on your couch in a half sitting up, half laying down, one-hundred percent uncomfortable position. It wasn’t unusual to have a man sleeping on your couch as Steve had crashed there in the past, and occasionally you had fallen asleep on him but Bucky was not Steve. Yet somehow it didn’t seem as awkward as it should have been. Maybe it was the way Bucky bared his musical heart last night but you felt like you understood him on a new level.

Quietly you got up from the couch, gently placing cups and dishes in the sink making sure they didn’t make a sound. You threw away whatever garbage was lying around, setting the pizza box aside and then finally made your way to the bathroom. You forgot to lock the door and hoped he wouldn’t wake up. Sleeping on Bucky was one thing but you’re not ready for him to burst through the door as you’re peeing.

“Shit. Did I fall asleep here?” Bucky rasped as he woke up not long after.

“Yeah it’s alright. How’s your neck?” you asked just as his face scrunched together while stretching.

“Not the best.” Bucky looked around, seeing your bed covers thrown in the same position he recalled from the night before. “D-did you sleep here too? I mean on the couch, I know this is your place,” he chuckled somewhat nervously.

“Yeah, sorry if your arm’s a little numb. I think I slept on it.” You grimaced as he shook the pins and needles feeling away.

“I feel terrible imposing like this. Let me make it up to you. Breakfast at my place? I make the best omelettes. Five stars, I promise.”

His head tilted down to reveal big, blue eyes that begged for forgiveness. You couldn’t say no if you tried.

“Sounds good Bucky.”

You agreed to come over in a half hour as Bucky wanted to take a shower to really wake himself up first. As the warm water sprayed against his aching muscles he frowned, wondering why he was upset at the momentary loss of your scent surrounding him. This was… weird and Bucky decided not to give it further thought, figuring it comes with the territory of having new friends.

Sunday’s were the only day you had for yourself; no work, no internship, just a full day you could spend however you wanted. Breakfast with Bucky was worth spending some of that time on. Not only were his omelettes as delicious as he said they would be but you really enjoyed his company, even after spending most of the night together.

“Steve you look amazing!”

You beamed as he walked into your apartment, twirling around slowly so you could get a good look at his Robin Hood costume. He set his bow down on your table, asking to help adjust the straps of his quiver containing his plastic arrows.

“So you think you’ll find your Maid Marian tonight?” you smirked, adjusting the hood attached to his green tunic.

Steve chuckled under his breath, ignoring you and quickly changing the topic. “You look heavenly,” he said teasingly.

You raised your palm, belting out an angelic sound as you looked up towards the large silver halo hanging above your head. For your Halloween costume you were going as an angel, wearing a long pleated white dress adorned with a sequined straps and feathery white wings that stuck out a few inches past your shoulders.

“My feet are going to kill me,” you stated, slipping into a pair of glittery platform pumps you haven’t worn since attending your friend Nakia’s wedding last year. “But it’ll be worth it.”

Wanda was dressing up as a devil, probably perfecting her scarlet lips as you speak. She was going to meet up directly at the bar along with Sam who would be coming straight from work. Clint and Natasha would be traveling with you and Steve, and Bucky… well he didn’t exactly RSVP for tonight’s hang out. He said he would try to be there and you hoped he would. It’s been a while since the whole group was together and you missed the fun of that dynamic.

A knock on your door had you clacking your heels against the wood floor as you stride across the room. Steve cocks his head at the immediate burst of laughter he heard.

“S-Steve...”

You’re barely able to get his name out as you walk further into your apartment, face tight with laughter and then he sees it... Clint’s costume. Steve’s head tips backwards immediately with laughter as his hand goes to his chest, unable to contain the sight in front of him.

Clint was dressed, or rather undressed as Princess Leia in her prisoner outfit. A green bra adorned with golden accents stretched across his pale chest and the skirt was cut high on his legs, revealing they had not seen the sun in years, or maybe ever. He wore cowboy boots to complete his look, twirling the gold chain that hung from the choker around his neck, grinning widely at Steve who could not catch his breath.

Natasha strode in behind him as the sexiest Han Solo you’ve ever seen in a simple white shirt and black vest, knee high boots over slim blue pants. They looked amazing together but Clint obviously won between the two.

Locking up you looked over towards Bucky’s door, debating for a moment to knock and see if he would come out. You hadn’t heard much noise through the wall so you let it go and headed towards the elevators with everyone.

“Wanda! What the fuck?!”

You stared at your best friend wearing a costume that was not what you had planned.

“Didn’t you get my text?” She tucked a freshly colored strand of hair behind her ears, a deep cherry red that make the white hat bearing the red nursing cross symbol of her costume stand out even more.

You shrugged off your bag to grab your phone and check, muttering under your breath how mad you would be at yourself if you missed her text.

“Wait, stop.” Wanda halted your actions as you held your phone. “I didn’t text you. I’m so sorry Y/N. I didn’t want you to be mad at me but I really wanted to go as a nurse.”

“Wan, I wouldn’t have been mad.”

“It’s just that Sam is coming from work and I thought it would be cute… to match him.” She tried to hide the blush that dusted her cheeks.

You teased her a bit more, asking if she and Sam are gonna actually do something other than flirt with each other.

“Well, maybe tonight we can change that.” She smiled, with a hopeful twinkle in her eye.

“I hope so. Sam would be a total ass if he didn’t make a move, just sayin’”

“Speaking of asses, Clint’s is hanging out!” She pointed towards him laughing, “I cannot believe he wore that!”

The night was fun as you danced and drank with the girls. Sam arrived later than you expected but Wanda lit up like a Christmas tree. He wore blue scrubs (a fresh pair thankfully as he began to describe a trauma that came in earlier) and he was equally surprised to see her costume.

“If you came in lookin’ like that we would have had to put a lot of people on life support!”

Wanda and Sam went to get a drink together leaving you and Natasha alone to dance. Clint was sitting in a booth and you scanned the room for Steve who you thought was with him.

“Oh my god!”

You turned Natasha around, to point at Steve in the corner talking to a beautiful Daenerys Targaryen. You had seen a few of them tonight already, some wearing the blue and gold dress from Qarth and another as Daenerys if she were a White Walker, but this one caught your eye.

She was shorter than Steve but stood tall holding her shoulders back. There was something regal about her and not just because she was dressed as the Mother of Dragons determined to finally set sail to Westeros. You couldn’t hear their conversation but you could tell that Steve was hooked on every word, captivated by the way she spoke, watching him look to the floor with embarrassment after she flashed her smile at him.

A woman with short blonde hair dressed as Cersei Lannister came up to them, handing Daenerys, who was obviously her friend, a drink. Steve politely introduced himself, though it was clear he only had eyes for his Khaleesi.

“What’re we looking at?”

The hot breath of a voice tickled your bare shoulders and you turned ever so slightly to find Bucky’s face right beside you.

“You made it!” you exclaimed, wrapping your arms around Bucky for a hug and he was careful of your wings as he returned the gesture.

“Hey neighbor, or uh neighbors,” he laughed at himself greeting Natasha. “Why are you staring at Steve?”

“‘Cause I think he’s actually flirting with someone for the first time in over a year!”

Bucky smiled as he saw how happy you were for Steve. You had a big heart and it was one of the reasons Bucky really liked you– your friendship, he corrected his inner thoughts.

Natasha walked back to sit beside Clint leaving you and Bucky together. You finally take a look at his costume; a black leather jacket and white t-shirt, cuffed jeans and high top Converse sneakers. His hair was slicked back and pulled into a bun, not the right length to really style as Danny Zuko but everything else made it obvious.

You followed him as he went to the bar to get a drink and got yourself another. He raised his voice over the loud music, “So how many people have asked if it hurt when you fell from Heaven?”

“Surprisingly not too many. But someone did grab my hand and said they were ‘touched by an angel.’”

Bucky scowled. “Who grabbed you?” He started looking around the bar, flaring his nostrils as he scanned the room, as if he would magically be able to tell.

You placed a hand on his shoulder to calm him. “It’s okay, Steve and Clint took care of it. I think Clint scared the guy more to be honest.”

A smile cracked on Bucky’s face again. “He’s pretty brave. You wouldn’t catch me in that.”

“No you look like more of a Luke to me, like literally you kind of look like a young Mark Hamill.” You smiled as Bucky laughed, protesting your claim. “No it’s true. If your hair was shorter I could totally see you pull off an awesome Luke Skywalker.”

“Cut my hair? Hmm, I don’t think so.” He shook his head quickly.

The two of you went to the table with Natasha and Clint and the four of you were soon joined by Steve, whose eyes might as well have been in the shape of hearts by the expression he couldn’t shake.

“What’s her name?” Clint cooed, leaning his elbows on the table and resting his hands under his chin.

A deep smile spread across Steve’s face as he slouched into the chair, his body becoming jelly at the sound of her name leaving his lips. “Peggy. Peggy Carter. Agent Carter actually.”

Peggy was a British Intelligence Agent who worked at the Consulate in New York. Steve looked over her contact information on his phone and even though she was a few feet away from him he couldn’t wait to see her again. He had taken enough of her time away from her friends, Carol, the Cersei who he just met, and the group they were supposed to have joined though Steve and Peggy’s extended conversation kept her occupied.

“Those might as well be Cupid’s arrows huh, Robin Hood!” you teased.

Natasha smirked, “Speaking of Cupid…” She directed everyone’s attention to Sam and Wanda having a full on makeout session in the middle of the dance floor.

Clint roared loudly at them which they may not have heard over the music, but either way it didn’t seem like anything would stop their lips from separating, even the need for air. At least Sam was a doctor, he’ll know what to do.

Everyone seemed to break up into groups. Sam and Wanda were still inseparable, Clint was with Natasha posing for pictures, Steve met up with Peggy again and you couldn’t be mad about that, which left you and Bucky alone.

It was nice to catch up with him again. Between developing programs for The September Foundation and interning at the hospital and Bucky working to meet a deadline you hadn’t seen much of each other in the last week.

“Must be fun though,” he commented, while discussing your new duties at Stark Industries.

“Maybe it would be if I wasn’t so intimidated,” you half-joked, laughing before you took a sip of your drink. “I’m surrounded by– ”

“Buuuccckkkkyyyyy!”

The familiar sound of a woman whining his name interrupted you. A creepy tingle ran down your spine as you remembered where you’ve heard that exact whine before– through the walls.

A redhead wearing hardly anything runs up to Bucky and clearly they have been well acquainted before. She ignores your presence completely as she wraps her arms around him for a hug, pulling him away from you. In doing so you missed the uncomfortable look on Bucky’s face.

“Dot. I didn’t know you would be here.”

“Same. If you told me we coulda matched Buck. I’d be the Sandy to your Danny.” She lifted her chest, pushing her breasts out even more than they already were.

“And what are you supposed to be?” Bucky wondered out loud, looking up and down at the lingerie she was wearing.

Dot scoffed. “I’m the witch from Hocus Pocus.”

Bucky sort of saw it; the purple lace up corset and sheer skirt, cut specifically to show more skin, with the lacy green robe. Her red curls were sort of shaped into Winifred Sanderson’s similar hairstyle but Dot specifically let a few tresses fall beside her face.

“I put a spell on you and now you’re mine!”

She sang every note off key and Bucky tried to stop his face from looking like he was going to throw up. It was nothing like the way you sounded that night you were singing carefree in your apartment. Bucky turned around to plead with you and help him get rid of this girl but you were nowhere to be found.

With Bucky’s attention clearly taken you decided to get another drink and there you ran into Bruce. You knew him from work as one of Tony Stark’s top scientists. You had run into during the R&D meetings you attended with Maria but tonight he looked great as Doc Brown from Back to the Future.

“Some of us science bros wanted to dress up accordingly,” he chuckled softly, pointing out his friends dressed as other famous fictional scientists, Dr. Frankenstein and a mashup of Dr. Jekyll & Mr. Hyde.

“That’s amazing!” you laughed, beaming a wide smile that caught Bucky’s attention from across the bar.

You looked really happy while talking to that guy and Bucky didn’t want to interrupt. Just like Steve, he knew you hadn’t given yourself much time in the past to meet someone so if this was your night to get lucky he didn’t want to take that away from you, even if he would much prefer to continue hanging out. Dot grinded against him and Bucky let her, leaving shortly after as she made some bad comment about “riding his broom.”

After speaking with Bruce you caught up with everyone who seemed ready to go home.

“Where’s Bucky?” you asked, looking around for him.

“I think he left with some girl,” Sam said, half paying attention, giggling as Wanda wiped some of her lipstick off of him.

“Oh,” you said, deflated.

Walking out of the bar you draped your jacket across your shoulders and protruding wings, wondering why you felt so hurt that Bucky hadn’t said goodbye. It was rude but you don’t know what you expected.

Before you even knew Bucky you knew this is what he was like, sleeping with half of New York so you shouldn’t be surprised. Yet when you got home, just before getting into bed you stared silently at the wall you shared, feeling a single tear slip down your cheek.

PART 9

[musedblues]

Send My Love

summary: Eugene misses home. You miss him. But there's a lot neither of you can say.

a/n: Here's an angsty bit of nonsense I word vomited out of the blue for no reason at all- besides the fact I love Eugene. Plus I sort of owe this to @joemazzmatazz​ for hooking me up with The Pacific and for also just being the angel that she is!

w/c: 5k

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

He couldn't burden you with his darkness. He couldn't tell you that he hadn't caught a wink of sleep in three nights straight. He dared not tell you whose blood was on his hands, if he even managed to figure out who it'd belonged to. Or how he'd become fearful of lingering silence. His chest would fill with lead as seconds crept by in the twilight and even the blowing of the wind pricked his ears as he waited for the next big bang. He couldn't even tell you he missed you. Because all the other throat constricting truths were tangled in that one simple fact. He missed the warmth of your bed. The smile on your face on a breezy Sunday drive. He missed never knowing what he was missing out on, before.

I love you. Now that, he could say. Actually, he said it all the time. He said it when he admired his only worn photo of you near candle light. He said it when he thought of you, as all his friends and enemies cries pierced so loudly it deafened him.

I love you. He thought, hours after sending you another letter, as he dug his nails into the dirt of a foreign land. He thought only of how dearly he loved you because even the mud he crawled through wasn't enough to ground him. Not when the dirt clouded his already blurred vision.

///

"I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I-"

You let the new letter fall against your writing desk as your eyes scanned the page. It was chock full of those same three words without punctuation. His writing was sloppy, almost careless. But he'd taken the time to scribe the sentence in repetition, so you knew his heart was in the right place.

But the word's meaning didn't leave a long enough effect on your heart before worry swallowed you whole. He loved you, and you knew it. But a whole page full of the declaration felt tragic. Like a warning. Not at all what it should have felt like.

You bit your lip as you pulled your own stationery in some kind of sudden hurry. The quicker I write this the better. You though. But the thought caught you off guard. You'd never thought it before.

"Dear Gene,"

No sooner than your pen hit the paper did a knock come across your bedroom door.

"Come finish dinner before your father and I have to leave to beat the snow." Your mother softly demanded, and you stood without haste. But your eyes lingered on Eugene's letter as you turned to leave.

"The mail was from Eugene, wasn't it?" Your mother grinned, stabbing her fork into a lump of mystery meat she insisted on coming over and cooking for you. The exchanges between yourself and Eugene had dwindled significantly over the while he'd been away. And quite the while it had been indeed. So when a letter finally did arrive between the collection of cobwebs in your mailbox, it was like Christmas day. Better.

"Uh-huh." You agreed, biting into some asparagus and hoping to high heavens that your voice sounded even and calm. The new letter was so sweet. So why did it leave you with such a heavy heart?

"How's Gene, then?" Your father boomed.

"He's good." You decided, keeping your gaze fixed on your dinner plate. Sure enough, your father spun into the most frightening updates of the state of your country's men. You pretended to listen, white noise flooding your ears and stealing your focus. The sinking feeling in your gut took up too much space for any more food.

Your sister changed the subject to some school girl fantasy. The boy she fancied had yet to leave the comforts of his family home. But he would likely be up and away like the rest of em' soon enough. So was it really a change of subject at all?

///

"Gene?" You called. His silhouette was shaped by a sunlit door frame. When he stepped into the room all the way, the floorboards didn't creak. But your heart did. He lifted a silent arm toward you, but you couldn't let him any closer.

"This isn't real. Don't break my heart in another world, Gene."

You shot awake from the dream with the realization that you hadn't finished writing a response to Eugene's latest letter. You couldn't be stopped from padding toward your writing desk in the black ink night.

You scribbed a hurried response that assured your lover you loved him just as much as all the times he said so on paper. You tried to keep it short, but as you kept jotting down your feelings, you couldn't stop. You took up three pages confessing how scared you were. How lonely and worried and dazed you'd become. If anyone should know your heart's murmurs, it was your Gene. So you sealed your words in an envelope and sent your lengthy letter through priority mail the next day.

///

You couldn't be sure if your letter got to where it was meant to go. Six long dreary months passed since you'd seen anything besides bills in your mailbox. The winter's snow had been melted by a warm spring. Trees blossomed and flowers too. So why were you wilting? Because you hadn't received one single bit of mail from Eugene since his page-long declaration of his love for you.

The repetitive letter laid exactly where you left it on your writing desk, something your eyes glanced over at least once a day. It had become a fixture of your scenery, and you were glad for the reminder.

Maybe Eugene knew he wouldn't be sending more letters. Maybe he filled up every blank space in his last with love, for all the times he feared he'd miss out saying so in the future.

Some days you let ideas like those get the better of you. Friends of friends would be united with their war-torn lovers. A girl dropped her grocery basket in the produce aisle to sprint into her long lost man's embrace. Another would brush past you at work to tackle her husband to the ground with all the kisses she'd saved up. You would pretend to smile for them and curse at yourself for feeling so selfishly bitter. Their love came home. And in a way, yours did too, in so many written words. You had to remind yourself that Eugene's last letter was better than nothing at all.

But soon, nothing at all was your everything. No letters, no calls, no news from anyone you'd hope would have some. Nothing. You kept Eugene's side of the bed neatly tucked in, and his clothes on his side of the closet. You ran out of shirts that smelled of him, after cuddling them all too close. Their charm might have washed off in the laundry, but they were still Eugene's.

///

You worked through the summer and went out with your friends on the weekends, if you could. When another lonely autumn started to approach, the steadily dissipating hope you'd been grasping hold of, had been lost. You'd passed the stage where everything made you sad; like frequenting Eugene's favorite shops in the city, and catching glimpses of his favorite cars on the road. You'd turn the radio down when songs he liked came on air. You'd noticed his favorite trees outside your cozy home, but wouldn't let yourself admire how they'd grown.

One afternoon you noticed the letter on your desk for the first time in a while. It'd become a part of your background, something your eyes were so used to it was almost like the letter wasn't even there. But one day, you sat down to do some mind numbing paper work; and glanced over to realize half of Eugenes scribbles had started fading from the sun that crept past your curtains day in and out.

You took the sun bleached letter into your grasp and let your eyes fall across the page. His words might have started to disappear but you didn't have to squint to know what he'd written. The patterns of each sloppily scrawled line had been burned into your brain for good, by now. But you couldn't let it go on fading. It was all you had left. So with a heavy sigh, you pulled out the box where you'd kept all the other letters, and stuck it in the very bottom of the pile. That way, if you'd ever venture to read through some of Eugene's outdated updates, the last one you received would hopefully keep some semblance of it's original form. And if the words were even harder to make out by the time you came upon them again, you'd know exactly what was missing from the washed out letter.

///

Your friends stopped asking if you were alright, because they knew you'd only answer like you always did, by pretending you were. Secretly hoping that forcing a smile on your face would make it stick till it became real, or at least natural, again. But you hadn't felt that fizzle in your chest for a long time, the one that bubbled up in the theater during a funny film, or a thrilling plot twist. You hadn't even felt a tinge of jealousy when your coworkers went on trips to spend time with their lovers distant relatives.

By Halloween, you barely felt anything at all.

Your sister begged you to come along for a night-long hallows eve celebration. You didn't know what kind of night she planned on having, but you simply weren't up for pretending to have any kind of fun. And you really didn't want to be pulled through a house of horrors or tossed a handful of sweets to tied you over till the next scary thing popped out. You'd spent too many nights scared of what might happen next. You wanted to stay in and practice your new routine of praying for a better tomorrow.

But nothing could stop the neighborhood children from knocking on your door, asking for candy. And you'd be a real monster if you didn't have any to offer. So you filled a big bowl with chocolates and spent the night marveling over kid's homemade costumes.

You spent a while chatting with little werewolves and ghouls, musing with their parents about the weather. You handed out candy as the sun went down and put a record on in between. Your home felt lonely as ever but the bustling streets were an odd comfort.

When a fireman, and a lion knocked on your door for a treat, a princess was leaving a trail of flower petals on your porch, dedicated to her role. You chuckled and watched her twirl into the crowded street, shouting about the excellent quality of the candies you were handing out. Children of all ages were floating down the block, and your neighbors were giving out sweets too, on their aptly cobweb-covered porches. For a moment you wished every day could be so full. You wished the streets were always jam packed with smiling faces. You wished the knocks on your door were always so frequent.

Among the sea of costumed kids, and parents with cameras, one figure slowly parted through the rest, making their way toward you. It was akin to an eerie vision. A sick joke. You'd had dreams like this, that never came true...

You stilled as the kids on your porch reached into your candy dish, and more came up the steps for their share. But your gaze was fixed to the person in the road.

Could it be? A lone soldier was drifting closer and closer, a familiar swath of auburn hair tousled in the warm night air. This was no costume. Suddenly, children's laughter was muddled, and the record inside your door sounded miles away. This wasn't another one of your dreams, for once- even though time seemed to slow down while your heart beat a mile a minute.

Eugene was here. Eugene was home. He was looking right at you, and when he realized you noticed him, his face relaxed into something softer, sweeter than a smile.

You dropped the dish of sweets in the doorway because you were only capable of running now. You pushed through the group of children scrambling to collect your mess of candy and bolted down the petal covered porch steps.

Eugene stopped walking through the crowd in order to brace for impact. He scooped you up in a long-awaited embrace, nearly stumbling over from the momentum you'd gained.

"Hey watch it!" Some kid cried, ringing the bell on the front of his bicycle. The crowd of comers and goers had to redirect their swarm that you'd rushed into the middle of. But you were in no state to offer up apologies for disrupting the bustle. All you knew was the feeling of Eugene's strong arms around you. That's where you belonged. You wrapped yourself around him, like if you didn't cling on for all it was worth, that he would evaporate into a fever dream you'd had once before. But then he spoke up, reminding you this was all really real.

"I missed you." Eugene's warm voice was muffled in your hair. And he meant it. He always had, of course. But now that he was back, he didn't have to miss you anymore. So he could finally say it. And it wasn't until then, that you realized he'd never said it before. You realized why, too.

You couldn't hold back your tears as you wrapped your arms tighter around his neck. If you could have focused on anything besides the reappearance of your long lost love, you would have been able to register the neighbor's chatter and the children's ongoing griping for you to get out of the middle of the road. But you just kept on crying.

So Eugene kept one arm around your middle, and pulled the pair of you steadily toward the porch steps, apologizing to the candy snatching children he maneuvered around.

By the time he shut the pair of you inside your home, the record had stopped playing and the neighborhood's collective buzz was reduced to white noise.

Eugene pulled you to the floor and held on to you all the same. He couldn't tell you he was too relieved too cry along with you. He couldn't ever find the proper words for a moment like now. So he just savored the way you adhered to him; as he held you close in the living room of your home that's carpet felt like clouds beneath him.

Your cries slowly morphed into whimpers as he smoothed back your hair and hummed in your ear. It was amazing, the way Gene sent you reeling and calmed you down all at once.

"I'm sorry." Embarrassed that you couldn't stop crying, you buried your face in Eugene's shoulder. Only then did he dare to release his comforting grasp on you.

He tugged you to face him, wiped your tears away and peppered your cheeks with soft kisses. The way he always used to do, when you were angry or exhausted. You lifted a hand to his face and relaxed into his frame in a way you'd longed to do for ages.

"It's alright. I'm just glad to know you missed me so much." Eugene admitted through a sweet chuckle as you pulled back to gaze into his eyes that were even more striking than you'd managed to remember.

"Why didn't you tell me you were comin' home?" You asked, not unhappy in the least, just curious when you recalled all this time you'd gone without hearing from him.

He couldn't tell you why he'd gone so long without sending you something. He couldn't tell you that time seemed to tick, and when it stalled, the words he could have conjured just for you were stolen away when those rare moments of respite were, too.

But he could tell you that when he was finally sent on his way, the train he'd boarded with anxious glee- broke down in the middle of no place at all. He combated another couple days of waiting to get home with the peaceful knowledge that he was headed in that direction without a doubt.

"Well, welcome back." You smiled, sitting up with your knees on either side of his legs, pulling his shoulders closer toward you for a kiss. You felt Eugene melt in your clutch as his strong arms coiled around your waist. This was just like before. But better. You could get used to this.

///

He was everything you missed. He was patient smiles as you fretted over what to wear. He was the last to ask for help with anything, but you were the first he asked, when defeated. He was around every corner with big strong arms already outstretched, eager to pull you in for a bit of reassurance, or just because he simply longed to hold you close.

And as the weather turned cold and you got used to his being home, readjusted to the way his presence brought you warm peace; you had a few other things to get used to, as well.

He still waited for the perfect time to crack jokes, when he knew they'd make you laugh hardest. They made your family laugh too. And when all the champagne bubbles and chuckles fizzed out near the end of a big dinner, so did something in Eugene's gaze. He didn't go missing his spark or the warmth that radiated from his forest toned eyes. But you noticed the shift before everyone else seemed too. You watched his focus break away before he got up from the dinner table without a word and slipped down the hall.

Your sister's boyfriend would halt mid tall tale and act as if he couldn't wait to go on telling his story without Eugene near to listen. You had to rest your hand on top of the schoolboys, when he made as if he was going to shoot up away from the table and down the hall to talk your man's ear off. The boy would cast you a curious glare, and you would shake your head as your father made a show of kicking conversation in an all new direction. Then you all sat and waited, hard as it was.

You wanted to run after Eugene too, but you knew he needed the space.You knew, when he'd found whatever he went off looking for, he'd always come back in time to help clean up with a soft smile that reminded you why you'd fallen so hard for him way back when.

So you learned to leave him be. You learned it was normal to find he'd wake up before you, now, and linger in the kitchen with a cup of tea. He'd let the drink go untouched and grow cold till you found him nodding off at the table, and offer to make him another.

When you went on walks, you watched him drift toward the nearest patch of quiet until you'd finished catching up with the women you bought fresh flowers from. When you'd finally manage to float in his direction again, he'd hold his arm out for you to take; and then greet you with some cheesy line that left you blushing, despite all your years of becoming accustomed to his sweet talk.

So you'd let Eugene go quiet. Because you knew sooner or later, he'd pull you into his lap or close to his side, where you'd spend the rest of the day dreaming of the many more you had left to waste away together.

Of course, though, some days you couldn't let him go by sulking in the sunroom one minute longer. Your heart would crack down to the wire, each hour you passed by the door to peek in on him-  slumped a little lower in his favorite old chair.

And when the day started turning to night and all that time passed without a peep reminded you too much of the quiet that crept in when he wasn't around at all- you swayed into the sunroom on a mission.

You found Eugene how you'd left him early in the afternoon, flipping the yellowed page of a book you knew he'd read a thousand times before.

"Why don't we call it a night, then?" You wondered softly, leaning against the chair and letting your hand fall to Eugene's mess of hair. His locks were mused by wrestling for a wink of sleep the night before, and his fingers today, as he fought to stay awake through his parents surprise morning visit.

He glanced up at you now, letting the book in his lap flutter to close. You knew just the method to settle his duo of restless exhaustion. So with tender encouragement, you got him up from the chair and scurried to run a bath.

His smile flickered back to life in the dim light of the washroom. The softly coloured walls and the scents of the soaps you'd always found worthy of splurging on, all combined into some kind of small luxury. You filled the tub with bubbles, and unbuttoned your man's shirt while the sky went dark.

When you ushered him to settle in the bath, you kneeled at the edge and asked Eugene if he was happy; like your efforts were a tried and true formula set to melt away every trouble. He responded by splashing a bit of warm water your way with a grin that faded, like he was exhausted by the effort to remember how to smile.

"Would be happier if I had a little company..." He swept his eyes across the vast expanses of the bath as if it were the sea that had kept you apart for too long before.

So then you joined him without discussion. He watched you ease before him, your form disappearing below the steam and bubbles. His gaze was dazzling, albeit foggy, but entirely fixated on you. His brow furrowed when you brought a hand to his face, like he'd never been treated so kindly in all his days. As you studied his expression Eugene hung his head with a deep slow breath, solidifying his unsettled nature. His long, water warmed fingers trailed up your wrist, pulling your hand between both of his to hold.

"I should have written more."

"You wrote plenty." You assured, firmly, softly. Shifting closer, trying to catch his eye.

"But I could'a done more. I went so long without-"  He looked at you just in time, before you managed to hide the flash of sadness that crossed your eyes.

"What you must have thought..." Eugene suddenly realized in a shudder, reaching up to wipe drops of water that he'd splashed to your cheeks.

"It doesn't matter what I thought." You spoke decidedly. "You're home, now." You watched Eugene watch you, the crease in his brow deeper from being so permanently furrowed, his lips curled into a small frown, still. And when you nodded, to guarantee you were simply glad to have him back in your arms again, he still wasn't settled. Eugene's eyes searched yours as his frown grew.

"You... you thought I died, didn't you?" He asked.

It wasn't so much a change of topic as it was a direct acknowledgment of the matter you'd both been dancing far around since long before his leaving. It was always a concern, always a worry. Always something morphing into an ugly, mangled, all consuming thought you'd never let come out from the very back of your mind. And as you try to hide the way Eugene's question made your heart plummet, and as you consider what to tell him without lying or adding to the sadness filling his gaze; you failed to say anything at all.

Eugene decided your silence was plenty loud enough of an answer.

And then his troubled gaze started turning to the look that flooded his expression you'd come to recognize. The look he'd get before leaving families to wonder where he'd gone at the end of dinner.

So to save for the way your silence deafened the room, and the way you still couldn't say anything, you pulled Eugene to your chest. You threaded your fingers through his mused hair and held him close, because your "doesn't matter, you're home now speech" hadn't worked this time around and it was the only one you knew how to give without breaking up.

Then, Eugene's cold breath fanned across your collarbone as he started stammering through a speech. All about how he could have done more and how he'd so carelessly broken the promise he made to take care of you even while he was away. How he'd failed you and how he hadn't done nearly enough for you, and how he'd never be able to make it right...

"I'm sorry for makin' you think I was dead but, for a while... well  I might as well have been.  But damn it you don't need to hear that kind of thing. I could have done more then and I could be doing more even now but-"

"Gene stop." You gripped his shoulders, pushing him away from your hold until your eyes met. His expression was still curious and grim, but it slowly morphed into something even more somber as your eye's pierced into his.

Eugene broke your stare to hang his head. When he started to cry, you clamored closer and wrapped around him all the same. You held him close as ever and assured he'd done enough. Assured he had nothing to be sorry for. Assured you loved him and were glad to have someone to worry so feicrly over. You held him close while he held you too.

///

And you stuck just as close after the water turned cold and you'd slipped into your night clothes, together. You held Eugene right against you as you both pretended to sleep.

When he drifted from under the covers as the sun rose, you let him clatter about the kitchen for a beat before you followed close behind. Then you both sat at the table with cups of tea and let the silence set in. Eugene's knee brushed against yours every time he snapped back from staring at one page of the newspaper for too long. You bumped your elbow into his side every time you rose your cup of tea for a sip.

And then, as often as you could get away with- without offending too many of your neighbor ladies who stopped for a chat, you let Eugene pull you along when he floated away. He'd never said much, then. But he made tiny promises to do better, for you. You'd tell him he'd already done enough, and sat with him till the quiet seemed less suffocating.

Then, one day, you checked the mail to find Eugene had left a brand new letter. It was written in careful scrawl, echoing the promises he'd always repeated, when he wasn't too burdened to say so out loud. And though it was still missing so much of everything he'd never be able to say, it was full of thanks for you. He wrote how he'd never even want to try and claw through the darkness that seemed to swallow him whole, if it wasn't for you. For your dumb jokes and your pretty hair, and the effort you made to show him how much you cared. He wrote that every little thing about you, were the only things that got him through minutes he couldn't kick the habit of counting as they passed by.

You had to slip into the darkest room of your shared flat to cry where he couldn't hear. But these tears were less bitter, much more sweet than before.

Eugene wrote more letters, when he skipped out on parties you attended. He wrote about how he wished he could have gathered up the guts to have gone along with you. He wrote how grateful he was to know you'd come home to him at the end of the night. He wrote to you when he couldn't sleep, about how sorry he was for keeping you up with worry, all the same.

Your mailbox was usually full of bills, but you weren't surprised to keep finding odd envelops from Eugene. You collected the notes in the same box you'd stored his others away in, and watched Eugene sit up a little straighter each day he'd managed to get some of those heavy thoughts off his chest, in so many words.

Between letters, his laughter came back. His conversations lasted longer. And he'd stick around to join in the chatter at the end of big dinners.

Of course, there were still nights his tears mixed with the bathwater and his cries seemed to echo from places you'd never know. You'd never ask, not directly. You'd just make a warm drink and sit with him in the silence that told you all you needed to know. He'd never tell you. Not even when his thoughts spilled over onto papers he'd leave for you to find. He'd just hold your hand a little tighter under the dinner table until your father was done rambling about his own time fighting.

For fleeting moments, you wondered what Eugene had been through. But you reigned in your imagination as soon as it threatened to keep you up at night. And you made sure to sing along to songs on the radio- even the ones you didn't like very well, theatrically enough to get Eugene to smile, and turn his blank gaze from the empty fields you drove past.

You realized the thoughts that kept him awake till dawn might always. You realized there wasn't much you could do. Sometimes, you wrote letters back, and left notes under his pillow, when sharing silence wasn't enough to ease his frown. But more often than not, you'd started to spend nights together that reminded you of the day's before everything changed. You'd take each morning in stride, next to Eugene.

You got back to some kind of normal. The war was over. Eugene was back in your arms and in your world. He was your world. And no matter how far away he seemed to drift some days, Eugene was finally home.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

[skelebonecentral]

Hothouse Rose chapter 6

Gotta get that last Fell boy into shape!

(words under cut) And remember, the pictures for the Lust boys are all six up on my main undertale blog.

Whip stared at his brother.

“AND TELL ME AGAIN WHY YOU’RE IN MY ROOM, GLARING LIKE I MELTED YOUR WHOLE SHOP?”

“cause ya ain’t actin’ like part of the family anymore and I wanna know why.” Spice was leaning back against Whip’s door, blocking all exit. “ever since baby doll came, you’ve been sulkin’ and hidin’ from’em and I don’t appreciate it. I know ya ain’t a coward, so what is it?”

Whip’s skull began to color in anger, standing to his full height, “BECAUSE THAT HUMAN IS NOT GOING TO LAST. I’VE SEEN THE HUMANS AROUND HERE, AND NONE OF THEM WOULD ACCEPT US IF THEY KNEW THE FULL EXTENT OF WHO AND WHAT WE ARE. THEIR URGES ARE TAMPED DOWN WITH IRON RODS AND CLOSED OFF EXCEPT FOR THE MOST TABOO AND PRIVATE MOMENTS. OR IN OPEN DISPLAYS IN THE SEEDY UNDERBELLY OF THEIR WORLD AND THOSE WHO PARTICIPATE OFTEN END UP DEAD.”

“I know that.” Spice was unmoved by this aggressive display. He was not afraid of his baby brother. “I’ve done my research on what gettin’ my shop going up here would entail, an’ it wasn’t pretty. but bro, just cause it’s private for them don’t mean they ain’t capable of openin’ up. just gotta work harder for it.”

Whip’s hands were gripped into fists, and even though he was looking down, Spice noticed his gaze was on the floor next to him, not on himself, “AND WHAT HAPPENS WHEN ONE OF THOSE FRIVOLOUS OTHERS FALLS FOR THEM? OR GETS THE INTEREST FOR A ROMP, HM? WHAT THEN?”

“apparently that already happened today. Boa. Baby doll got embarrassed but they’re still pals.”

Whip flinched hearing that, his glare getting more intense, “SO YOU’RE SAYING THEY AREN’T GOING TO TURN ON US? THAT I’M BEING RIDICULOUS?”

“no, I’m sayin’ you don’t need to try an’ protect yourself so hard.” Spice sighed and rubbed a hand down his face, “bro, you usually aren’t closed off like this with people you don’t trust. You’re good at making them think you like’em so they slip up. why are ya actin’ like a frightened cat? All puffed up and angry?”

Whip’s sockets were filling with red magic, “BECAUSE AT LEAST IF I KEEP THEM AWAY IT WON’T HURT HAVING TO LEAVE.”

“there’s the issue,” Spice walked over to where Whip was shaking in place, quickly putting his arms around him, “ya do like ‘em, then?”

“YES.” The answer was wet and miserable, “THEY’RE EVERYTHING PAPYRUS SAID, AND EVEN WITH SUGAR BEING CAUTIOUS, I CAN’T FIND A REASON NOT TO. SANS…” Whip slowly collapsed to his knees and held Spice tight, “I’ve…I’ve never been so close to someone who actually met my standards. They’re kind, and they care about our alternates, and they’re smart, and funny and beautiful and…Sans, I’m so scared to let myself go because we’re going to lose them.”

Spice rubbed his back gently, “I know, bro. but that’s why we gotta try an’ enjoy it, right? when we’re back in that shithole, we gotta have memories to get us through. Cause what good is it pushin’ away good things just cause they won’t last? Just means you spend more time bein’ sad than ya had ta.”

“I don’t know if my soul can take it, though,” Whip whined, hiding his sockets against Spice’s shoulder. “You know how lonesome it was at home and finding someone like y/n here…it’s not fair. It’s not fair that I found an angel and have to give them up.”

“y’know I understand that, probably better than most,” Spice gave his back a pat, making him let loose so he could sit down, “bro, I get it, but like I said, enjoy it while we can. cause once it’s gone, we ain’t gettin’ another chance.”

Whip sat next to him on the bed and leaned over, head on his shoulder, “You’re right, as usual, brother. I just…I’m used to causing pain, not feeling it. It’s difficult to manage.”

“yeah. but you can do it. I know ya can. cause I’ll be right with ya the whole time.”

After a while, just the slow hum of Whip’s computer and the breeze outside, Whip asked, “What did it feel like when you got to hold them, Sans?”

“real nice,” Spice purred a bit, “their whole body is soft, bro. hair, skin, hands, all pillows. Ehehe, they’d be mad if I said that to’em, though. they’re workin’ with their buddies and pap to get in shape. Spend half an hour outside every afternoon with’em in their leggings and sport top. Nice ta watch.”

Whip nodded, “And do they mind flirtations too much?”

“they’re gettin’ better about it, but you still have ta be careful how far ya go. don’t get all out explicit, but suggestive is fine. They actually shot one back at Sugar yesterday, even if it was kinda weak.”

“Good.” He took a deep breath and sighed as he let it out, “I’m going to try to amend my mistake of avoiding them, but it’ll take some time. Please keep me from making an ass of myself anymore.”

“I’ll try, but I dunno much about donkeys,” Spice quipped, only to get pushed onto the bed as Whip got up in irritation. “ehehehe, sorry, bro, but you walked inta that one.”

“I DID AND I HATE IT.”

--

You were in the kitchen, eating breakfast after waking up late on a rare Friday holiday when Whip walked in. Normally, he’d instantly walk back out looking frustrated, but today he stayed.

It was weird, and you watched as he walked to the fridge, got a bottle of a chocolate protein drink, and sat down near you.

“HUMAN, I….HMGH,” he started, picking at the wrapper on the outside of his drink till he could get the lit loose, “Y/N. I’VE BEEN…COLD TO YOU, TO SAY THE LEAST.”

“Yes.” Where is he going with this?

“I THOUGHT…WELL, I SHOULD EXPLAIN WHY. OR AT LEAST APOLOGIZE FOR IT.” He grimaced while he searched for the words, “I SIMPLY WAS AFRAID OF GETTING HURT WHEN OR IF WE SHOULD EVER PART WAYS. BECAUSE I HONESTLY…I’VE WANTED TO MEET SOMEONE LIKE YOU FOR A VERY LONG TIME AND IT MADE ME FEEL PANICKED. LIKE…FINALLY GETTING TO MEET YOUR FAVORITE CELEBRITY BUT AS YOU NEAR THE STAGE DOOR YOU BOLT. YOU’RE AFRAID THE REALITY WON’T LIVE UP TO THE DREAM AND IF IT DOES THEN YOU FEAR THE PAIN OF THE MEETING BEING OVER.”

That was not what you expected as his reasoning. Pride, specist thoughts, a general dislike of new people, something like that, but not…this. “I do understand your reference, but I’m still kind of shocked you’re even talking to me at all right now.”

“I UNDERSTAND.” He sighed, taking a long drink from his bottle. “I JUST WANTED TO…WELL, TO TRY AND FIX THINGS. I HAD TO ADMIT WHAT I WAS THINKING TO MY BROTHER AND THAT FINALLY GOT ME THINKING ABOUT…HOW UNFAIR IT WAS TO BE ANGRY WITH YOU FOR BEING YOURSELF. I HAD NO RIGHT, AND IT’S KIND OF STUPID NOW THAT I PUT IT IN WORDS. GOOD GRIEF.”

“How about,” you hold out your hand, smiling, “we start over? Hi, my name is Y/n. I’m Sans and Papyrus’ datemate and I’d like to stay in the house for the foreseeable future.”

He looked at your hand, then his shoulders relaxed and his sharp smile turned soft, “MY NAME IS WHIP, IT’S A PLEASURE TO MEET YOU AT LAST.” He shook your hand, “I’D BE HAPPY TO HAVE SOMEONE SO BELOVED BY MY COUSINS STAY WITH US.”

A pool of warmth dropped into your chest at the relief you knew was a mutual experience. You no longer had an enemy in your home, and the comfortable silence as you both enjoyed your respective sustenance was very rewarding.

--

“Sugar, please,” Charm rubbed his sockets, “I’m trying to plan a fun night out for us all, and your pessimism is ruining it.”

“no, I’m seriously worried. Have you not felt the energy change? Somebody’s doing something and it’s none of us.”

“I felt it and I know exactly what happened, but I’m not telling you because it’s none of your business.” Charm kept clicking from one page to another, looking at options.

“what?”

“You heard me. You do realize there is a loving trio in this house, yes? That it’s not just us and the others from similar universes?” Charm swiveled his chair and looked fully at his brother, “Sans, sometimes your anxiety makes you act like a prick.”

Sugar winced, deflating. “oh. yeah. guess I overstepped again.”

“Yes, you did.” Charm pushed his chair over and poked Sugar in the chest, “but I will remind you again. I love you. I want what is best for everyone here. And I am not some babybones who is naïve about the complexities of relationships. It’s just things are tilted differently here, and yes, that was hard to get used to, but it can be done. And besides,” He smiled, “We’re all going out for Halloween. I need to make sure we go somewhere fun since it’s Y/n’s favorite holiday and Papyrus’ birthday.”

Sugar sighed, “okay. okay, maybe you’re right. and sansy’s been trying to get me to lighten up too, so…” He sat on the floor before laying out like a star, “if sweet-pea can trust them enough to cuddle again, I guess I can try to, too.”

“Bully for you!” Charm smiled, going back to his computer. “And Sweet-pea will be here at the house with our candy bowl, so he will get a costume as well.”

“he’s actually going to greet the trick or treaters?”

“Yes! He’s been doing very well since he started opening up more.” Charm double clicked something and absently scanned the text that popped up, “He’s started sitting on the deck with us while we do our yoga and Sansy is seeing if he can set up video chat conferences with a therapist for him. Apparently, humans get this kind of anxiety too. It’s called agoraphobia.”

Sugar nodded, kind of surprised. Sweet-pea was going outside? Willingly? That was definitely a good thing, no arguing that, and…well, he was getting tired of being jumpy about the human all the time, if he was being honest.

--

You were a little shy about it, but Boa and Sweet-pea were both bustling around you in Sweet-pea’s room. They were re-taking your measurements to make sure they were accurate for your costume. You hadn’t had a good idea for a costume, but Papyrus had proposed it being a surprise that they chose for you. Sweet-pea had volunteered to make the design, and you’d been excited to see what he’d do. So far, he’d made you a nightgown that made you feel very ethereal any time you wore it, but he’d been too busy with commissions and orders to do anything else till now.

“I take a break every October,” he told you, sketching away, “it lets me have down time to recover and do whatever things I’d like otherwise.”

Boa was very fast with the measuring tape, barely touching it to your body as you stood in a shirt and shorts.

You felt the goosebumps going over your scalp as they worked, just like at the doctor’s office, and felt that strange far away feeling that went with them.

“Pumpkin,” Boa spoke, standing with his tape, “have you ever been fitted properly for your foundations?” He seemed puzzled as he looked you over. “I just want to make sure you’re as comfortable as you can be. Bad support can cause back pain, you know.”

You hadn’t known. “No, I haven’t. What would you have to do?”

Sweet-pea looked up, “just measure around your chest do some more close measurements of your pelvis area. It doesn’t take long. Last time he fitted someone it only took him two and a half minutes. But…uh… you will have to undress. Dunno if you’re up to that or not.”

Boa blushed, but nodded, looking away. “It’s up to you. You’re going to look ravishing either way, but it’s just been bugging me since we went shopping that first day. You deserve to be comfortable…”

It took a moment, as you thought it out. Two and a half minutes, hm? And you trusted them both, at least as much as you trusted the classmates you’d changed in the bathrooms with at choir competitions in high school. Quite a bit more, now that you’re thinking about it, “I think we can do it. It would be nice to know for my next shopping trip.”

Both of them perked up, and you steeled yourself as you undressed down to nothing. Boa’s eye lights shone bright and wide, and you saw the glow start at his throat, but he shook his head and smiled, “I’ll be quick. Thank you for letting me help you!”

True to his word, Boa went fast, around your chest, from your collar to your nipple, and around the area under your breasts. “That’s that, thirty-four triple d, Sweet-pea.”

“thought so.” The younger brother wrote it down somewhere on his sketch pad, but he was still going, “I know someone who would kill for that size for her bleach cosplays.”

You tilted your head and he smiled, “Somebody I know at home. She’s almost as bad as Alphys about anime, but likes JUMP stuff more.”

“Ah, okay.” You were focusing on anything other than Boa being between your legs with his tape, going quickly over your thighs, around your butt, and gently pressing the end of the tape to your core and going up a ways before snapping back and listing off his findings. “Well, that was fast.”

“three minutes. A little slower, but we’ve never measured a human before.”

Boa nodded and handed you your things, “We have everything we need to make you the best costume and find the best things on our shopping trips now.” There was blush on his cheekbones, and his smile was very soft, making your own cheeks heat more.

“Thank you for being fast with it. I’m not exactly used to being naked in front of other people.” You hurry to get your clothes back on, even as you hear something in an almost electronic voice. “Huh?”

Boa blushed, “Um, sorry. I slipped into Wingdings for a moment. I ah…I was saying we were lucky to get a glimpse at such a rare treasure as your body.”

Sweet-pea snorted and giggled, “that’s what he said literally, but wingdings is a monster language, so you don’t get any of the cute undertones and intents that went with it in English. you do look nice, though.”

“You boys are going to be the death of me. I’m going to die of flattery,” You had scrunched up your face from how hot it got, and huffed as you pulled your shirt back on, “and then Papy and Sans will be widowers.”

“You’d have to marry them for that,” Boa smirked a bit.

“smartaleck” you stuck your tongue out at him and walked to the door, “You’re both lucky I love you.”

“we love you, too, y/n.” Sweet-pea poked Boa, who just waved at you.

You shake your head and leave.

As soon as the door shut, Boa’s whole skull exploded in color and he jerked his scarf off as the jewel below burst into brilliant light. “Oh my stars, I’m going to keel over! Humans smell so different and it’s GOOD and they’re so amazing already and then just! Naked right in front of me! ack!”

Sweet-pea chuckled, blushing a bit, “they were lovely. And those hips….gosh, I know kids aren’t the end all be all up here but they look like they could carry so well…”

“I know!” Boa groaned, rubbing the heels of his hands into his closed sockets, “How does Papyrus just have them as his datemate and not keep them in the bedroom all day?”

“He’s just not turned like us, bro,” Sweet-pea sighed, “but I’m glad they’re at least happy with each other. You could smell him on them as soon as the layers came off.”

Boa finally seemed to calm down as the glow in his gem dimmed, “That was reassuring. Now we’re sure they’re not hurting themselves with repression or anything.”

“pretty sure it’s only us that need that regular release for health,” Sweet-pea mumbled. “humans don’t get heats, much less be in one all the time.”

“That still is amazing to me. And there’s so many of them even so! But then again, they are mammals that care for their young a long time. it’s only natural most of their offspring live.”

Sweet-pea laughed, “you should never have dropped out of zoology, bro. you’d have been a great professor.”

“I’ll be a better guardsman slash radio host!” Boa shot back, getting up. “Now, as soon as you have the design ready, bring it to me. We’re going to make the others drop their jaws to the floor.”

“and all in a human-friendly fashion. Gonna be fun,” Sweet-pea waved his brother off, and got down to work. He was going to make the rest of the world see exactly what Y/n was to their household.

--

Whip was uncomfortable. Not because he didn’t participate in the pillow cuddling normally, because he had before the human had come. No, it was because said human had chosen to sit beside him in the pile. He was still jumpy around them, even if he knew they were on much better terms after his apology.

It didn’t help that Spice was on their other side and snoring so loud he could hardly hear.

“MAY I PLEASE WAKE HIM UP TO STOP THAT RACKET?”

“No, Whip, don’t wake him. He’s actually not trying to fluster me when he’s sleeping,” says the human, looking fondly at Spice. Well, they did have a point. “Here, let me try shifting him a bit.”

Interested, he watched as you gently shifted Spice’s head back, and his brother’s raucous snores quieted to gentle, soft vibrations.

“HOW DID YOU DO THAT?”

“Snoring in humans is caused by some weird blockages in the throat. I figured, if he’s snoring because of his ecto always being on, maybe doing what helps a human would help him.” You continue to intrigue him in the most unexpected ways.

--

Boa had been almost giddy in his sexy nurse costume when he handed you a bundle on Halloween at noon, “Here, Pumpkin, it’s your costume. Go put it on, hurry!”

Sweet-pea was behind him, a very normal looking scarecrow costume decorating his form, beaming in pride, “if you need help, just holler.”

Curious, you went to back into your room (you’d been leaving it to ask about just this) and opened the bundle. A beautiful Grecian dress, creamy white with golden clasps, lay in a cloud of feathers with a set of very soft, cottony underwear. The ease with which those went on surprised you, and the lifting of the weight of your chest from your back made your eyes widen. “Oh.” Boa had been incredibly accurate in that the wrong underthings could make you hurt.

The dress slipped on, as did a pair of delicate sheer white hose, and some golden sandals. The feathers, you realize, are wings that loop onto the clasps on your shoulders and attach to the golden rope around your waist. You actually get them on yourself, and when you pick up the little harp and halo that were hidden underneath, you grin. “An angel, huh?”

Everything fit like a glove, comfortable but flattering as you exited and came down the stairs. Charm saw you first and gasped, “Oh! Sweetheart, that’s gorgeous, but here, come with me.” He had that sneaky look when he was going to try and goad you or Sans and Papyrus into doing something romantic, but instead of taking you to them, he took you to a room under the stairs that you’d never bothered to investigate. It was like a dressing room in a theater, with lights and make up and wigs of all kinds.

“Welcome to my studio! On of the things I learned from my bestie underground is that half of an outfit is made by your make-up. Let me take you from a ten to an eleven.” He sat you down and gently removed the golden circlet of your halo, setting it down on the vanity. “Now, monster make-up is a lot different than human in that it doesn’t take five hours to do! So, I’m going to turn you around, and in thirty minutes you’ll be the belle of the Halloween ball.”

You only had a brief glimpse of your reflection (thankfully) before the chair was turned and Charm got to work. Smooth, cool creams were dabbed onto your face by his clearly practiced hands, having taken of his gloves to do this. It was kind of hard to keep from laughing, as he’d already made himself up and was wearing a rainbow afro and a red nose on top of his pure white face, blue eye circles, and big red mouth decorations. He was a very colorful clown, and the first clown you’d ever been happy to see.

Charm had his tongue stuck out while he worked, and you just couldn’t help yourself. You reached up and poked it with your finger. “Boop.”

He squinted his sockets and made a short noise that sounded like laughter, then gently told you off, “Don’t boop the beautician, sweet thing. It’s not polite.”

“But you’re my bestie first,” you point out, and his smile grows.

“I know.” He brushes his teeth against your forehead gently, “Now let me work my magic, quite literally.”

You giggle quietly, and he hums, using a puff to place powder over the creams.

He then goes around you and gently begins coming through your hair, adding some things to it as well, “When this is done, sweetie, it’s going to just be you with some polish. You’re always this lovely to us, it’ll just be enough magic to let others and you see what we see every day.”

“Are you sure?” Yes, you’d been pleased with the little bit of change you’d seen in your clothes since starting your daily yoga, but you still felt…gross.

“Oh, I’d put my soul on it.” He squeezed your shoulder gently before returning to his work on your hair, “Papyrus and Sans think you hung the moon, Y/n. And I’d put money on Boa thinking the same. Sweet-pea trusts you more than he’s trusted anyone outside the family, ever. Whip even let his pride go and started to get to know you. That means something.”

“And you and Sugar? Spice?”

“Oh Y/n, I can’t even put into words what you mean to me.” His voice was so soft and full of love, you couldn’t even imagine what his expression was, “and my brother is slowly letting go of his fears. He’ll understand your magnificence when he does. “ A snort of wry laughter, “And Spice would have you be his own private teddy bear if it was up to him.”

You giggle thinking about that. Since he’d gotten over your mutual miscommunication, Spice had been the ultimate cuddlebug when he felt he could be. Which was most of the time. Not that you minded, he was warm, and the thick ecto he always wore was soft and comfy. Plus, you liked his voice. It was different than the others, like Whip’s in that it was gravelly, but smoother underneath, carrying a sweetness you liked.

“Let me paint your nails, and then we’ll be done.” Charm squatted in front of you and took a bottle of what looked like clear nail polish out. He thought for a moment, then nodded, a zap of pink magic infusing the bottle and turning the polish inside gold. “That should be the right color. A touch of Midas, hm?” He beamed at his reference, and you nodded.

You used the time to talk about a movie you saw once, of people trying to gain an item related to King Midas, and Charm suggested you find it online and the family could watch it next weekend. After all, after your group returned from the Halloween carnival, you all would be watching Halloween themed cartoons and family movies (because Papyrus, Sweet-pea, and Boa preferred not to watch horror films) while eating whatever candy remained after the trick-or-treaters.

Looking at your fingernails, not only were they shimmering as if they were covered in liquid gold, but they were perfectly shaped and the cuticles that were normally rough were smoothed down. “Wow! How did you do that with just polish?”

“It’s the magic in the polish.” Charm finished your toes and returned the brush to the bottle, “The polish is just there to change color according to my intent. I needed it gold, and I wanted your nails to be healthy and beautiful, so the magic did the rest. Even after we take the polish off, you’ll still keep the healthy nails underneath. Also, it’s instant dry, too.”

He looked you over one last time and nodded, “Alright, are you ready?”

When you said yes, he placed the halo back on your head and turned you around. You almost burst into tears right there. Your hair was laying around your face in elegant waves, framing it perfectly and without frizz for the first time in your life. And your face, it was exactly what Charm had said. It was you, but your skin was evenly colored instead of blotchy, the texture was smooth and uniform, every pore was clean and tiny. Your eyelashes and brows were present instead of faded out like they usually were, and all signs of the flaky dermatitis that had plagued you since your teenage years was gone from them.

“I’m…..Charm, you did…” you just looked over at him, the water dripping out of your eyes without you even blinking to free it. “It’s wonderful.”

“Just a little MTT Beauty Butter and the intent to clean and heal. The rest is all how your body naturally wants to be. It loves you, just as we do, and wants you to be happy and healthy. It just needed a little boost, now and again, is all.” He helps you to your feet, taking a nearby box of tissues and using them to gently dry your tears. “Now you can see yourself as the angel we know you are.”

You just hug him, far beyond words.

He strokes your head gently, waiting for you to recover before saying, “Now, we should get to the living room to meet up with the others and head for the carnival.”

You felt like you were walking on air as he led you out of the make up room and down the hall to the living room.

The banter had started already, “SANS, WHY DO YOU INSIST ON LAZINESS? IT’S OUR FIRST HALLOWEEN WITH Y/N IN THE HOUSE AND YOU JUST….THAT?!”

Entering, you saw Papyrus dressed as Superman, cape and spandex in red, blue, and yellow, and Sans was wearing a black, cat-ear headband taped to his skull, with black whiskers drawn on his cheekbones sloppily, all with his normal clothes.

Sugar, as a sexy witch, is standing with his broom in a corner, laughing behind his hand next to pirate-captain Spice, long coat sweeping his brown boots and black hat sporting a big maroon feather. Whip was dressed as a classic Devil, though he’d exchanged the red onesie for a bright red business suit. Boa and Sweet-pea were on the couch, chatting.

Charm cleared his throat and that got everyone’s attention, and you were feeling quite small as they all looked at you.

Whip’s eye lights went out, and you noticed a bright glow in the left leg of his pants. Oh no…oh no you’d made him uncomfortable. “I-I didn’t pick this out but…I’m sorry.”

Spice came over, taking your hands in his (where did he find all those rings?), “don’t apologize, baby doll. You’re beautiful. Sweet-pea an’ Boa done good. you too, charm, cause I know baby doll don’t do make-up like that.”

“Bu-but-“

“no buts,” Sans shortcutted next to you and beamed, “you look perfect. We’re going to be the envy of everybody. Though, as an angel, you probably don’t like that, do you?” He winked and you smiled. You couldn’t help yourself if Sans was making jokes.

Papyrus strode over and knelt in front of you, making everyone step aside for him, “AS A SUPERHERO, I WILL WORK VERY HARD TO DO GOOD, SO THAT I MAY GET VISITS FROM THIS UNEARTHLY VISION OF LOVELINESS AGAIN!” He was sparkling -literally-, cheeks flushed orange, as he looked up at you.

“Papyrus, you can see me anytime.”

“I KNOW, BUT YOU LOOK EXACTLY LIKE A MESSENGER FROM HEAVEN RIGHT NOW! THE PICTURE OF THE DELTARUNE’S PREDICTED SAVIOR!” He frowned and got up, “THOUGH, THAT ACTUALLY TURNED OUT TO BE FRISK, SO YOU’RE THEIR COUSIN. BUT STILL!”

Sugar flounced over in the short skirt and tights that were wrapped around his bones, “ooh, our little y/n has graduated from pretty to gorgeous.”

Charm rolled his eye lights, but Boa and Sweet-pea rushed over before he could fire back at his brother.

“Oh, Y/n, it’s absolutely perfect. I was worried about the top of the dress but it’s laying fabulously,” Boa cooed, proud of his work.

“you look just like I thought you would,” Sweet-pea gave a small laugh, “though, turns out real life is better than imagination in this case. Thanks, charm, for finishing off the look.”

“Oh it was my pleasure, believe me,” Charm actually honked his nose, revealing it to be a prop horn, “I might be a clown tonight, but I am a chivalrous guard first and helping our dear Y/n shine their brightest is the least I could do.”

You were blushing so hard, but Papyrus gently scooped you out of the crowd, “NOW LET’S GET GOING TO THE CARNIVAL. I WANT EVERYONE TO ADMIRE OUR ANGEL BEFORE THEY GET TOO FLUSTERED AND MUSS THEIR MAKE-UP!”

There was a murmur of agreement, and as you left the house, you waved goodbye to Sweet-pea, who was beaming as he closed the door.

[hwas-housewife]

Spooky Stargazing

childhood best friend!Chan x Reader (gender neutral)

Words: 1.5K words

Summary: Holidays just aren’t your thing. So Chan decides to skip out on parties to make your Halloween a little better.

Warnings: none

A/N: so holidays just feel more lonely as I get older and I thought of this while working on Halloween. Happy Halloween to those who celebrate, and I hope this gives comfort to those of you who feel a little alone this year.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ You laid back down in bed, a sigh escaping your lips.

Another Halloween and nothing to do. You spent your day perusing through the festive movies, occasionally settling on one and becoming tired of it by the halfway point. You’d then open up social media to look at everyone else dressing up in revealing outfits that barely pass as costumes. 

Costumes weren’t really your thing.

Well, Halloween in general really wasn’t your thing.

It’s not that you had anything against it, the holiday itself was rather cute. It’s just that Halloween hasn’t felt the same since you were young. You suppose that the magic of holidays just wore off once you became older.

So your face was stuck in a bit of a pout as you sighed yet again, looking for something to take your mind off your negative feelings.

Alcohol was always an option, but you weren’t much of a party type either. You could always ask you friends to hang out, however most of them already had plans for the night and none of which included entertaining you.

You decided upon rewatching a Halloween movie until you got bored once again. You panned through your options until you decided on one you’ve seen many times: the nightmare before Christmas. Maybe the Christmas elements would make you feel a bit better.

You tucked yourself further into your covers as you clicked play. The opening tune began to play as you grabbed a stuffed animal to cuddle into while watching. 

Only fifteen minutes in to the movie and you found yourself fighting off sleep despite the fact that it wasn’t even 10 pm yet. Your eyes went between closing for a few minutes back to watching the movie. That was until your phone buzzed in your hand.

You supposed it was probably just a notification for a game or one of your many shopping apps. But to your surprise, the name of your best friend flashed upon the screen. 

Why Chan was texting you when he should be out partying was a mystery to you.

You pushed yourself up into a sitting position on your bed while the movie continued to play in the background.

Chan: hey :)

You sent back a simple question mark, needing no further explanation as to why you were confused. 

Chan: Vernon decided to hit some parties without me. Wasn’t feeling it this year.

This came as a surprise to you seen as how two days ago he was telling you all about his fantastic costume idea. 

“A sexy panda?” you looked down to Chan incredulously. His head laid in your lap as he nodded fervently.

“Yes! I wear a panda head and then black pants and shoes,” he shot up in excitement.

“And what about the shirt?”

“That’s what makes it sexy, no shirt,” his arms moved eagerly as he smiled bright.

You shook your head in disbelief at him, “I’m not sold. You can’t just wear no shirt and claim that it’s now sexy, Chan. That’s not how it works.”

“But Vernon and Seungkwan told me it’s a great idea,” Chan whined out, a little quieter than before.

“And that’s because you chose to be friends with two idiots who want to see how stupid you would look in that costume,” you gave him a pointed look, quirking your brow in the process.

You blinked as your phone screen lit up with another text from Chan. 

Chan: you doing anything?

You smiled down at your phone, telling him you were bored out of your mind, and you need to be rescued ASAP. A few minutes later and Chan was on his way to pick you up and save you from your boredom.

When he sent you another text saying he was here, you were just finishing brushing your hair. You grabbed the last few of your things before throwing on some shoes and locking the door on your way out.

You impatiently waited for the elevator to hit your floor and make its way down to the lobby of your apartment complex. When the elevator finally dinged for the first floor, you fast-walked out of the building and beelined for your best friend’s car. 

A smile graced your face as you opened the door of his gray car, sitting down in the familiar passenger seat.

“Glad to see you’re not black out drunk yet,” you looked over at Chan as he sat in the driver’s seat.

He was dressed in something far from a Halloween costume, with sweats and a sweatshirt covering his body and his glasses framing his face. Mock hurt crossed his face as he moved some of his light brown hair (dyed, thanks to Soonyoung convincing him it was a good idea and you having to salvage the mess that was beginning to unfold).

“That was only freshman year of college, and you know it was because someone spiked the punch. It wasn’t my fault,” he began pulling out of the parking lot and driving to a random location.

“I’m sure it was that. Definitely not just your low tolerance and demand to make everything a competition,” your sarcastic words bounced off him like they always did.

“Shush. I thought picking you up would be fun, not an opportunity for you to bully me,” he glanced at you between words.

“Bullying you is a regular occurrence, you should be used to it after knowing me for years Lee Chan,” the teasing manner ever present in your words, “now where are you taking me? Or is it some undisclosed second location where you’re finally going to murder me on this Hallow’s eve?”

“Bold to assume I would leave an evidence trail so obvious if I were to do so. But no, we’re going out of town for a few hours. Figured there’d be less people there.”

“Now you’re trying to hard to sound like you’re planning on ending me. What’s the real plan for tonight?”

“I figured we could go stargazing. Tonight’s a full moon after all and I know you don’t really get to do this kind of thing very often,” he sincerely responded for the first time tonight.

A warm feeling circled in your stomach as you felt touched that he would think to do something like this for you. Sure, you’ve been friends for years. However you most often spend time cuddling and watching movies or playing too many video games with him and the rest of the boys. 

“That sounds rather nice actually. I’m looking forward to it,” you responded back just as sincere as he did to you.

The rest of the car ride was filled with the story of Vernon getting ready at his and Chan’s apartment--apparently he decided to go as a sexy hippie (not a huge surprise to you, his wardrobe fits that costume more than you would like to admit).

When Chan finally pulled off the side of the road and stopped the car, the two of you were quite literally in the middle of nowhere. Both ways the road went, you couldn’t see city lights. When you stepped out of the car, your eyes panned upwards at the night sky.

A gasp escaped your lips as you admired the tons of stars that you had trouble seeing in the city.

Your eyes remained fixated on the sky as Chan reached into the back of his car to grab a couple of blankets.

“Let’s go lay somewhere farther off the side of the road, you’ll be able to see them even better laying down,” Chan smiled across the car at you.

You nodded and proceeded to follow him, his phone flashlight being the only light source for miles. Once you and Chan laid the blankets down and were gazing back upon the sky, you let out a sigh. But for the first time today, a sigh of content.

Chan and you took turns pointing out constellations you both knew, and pondered over what other ones looked like if you didn’t recognize the collection of stars. Neither of you would claim to be experts, but the activity was fun nonetheless.

You kept your eyesight casted upwards as the two of you would drift in and out of conversation comfortably. You finally turned towards Chan, slight surprise filled your expression when your eyes locked with Chan’s, already fixed on you.

“Thank you Chan. For all of this,” you gestured to the blanket and the sky, “you don’t know how much I needed this.”

He merely smiled back at you and shook his head.

“Holidays aren’t really your thing. The least I could do is make sure my best friend has just a good of a time as I do.”

“As ravishing as you would look in that sexy panda costume, I’m happy you chose me over those parties you wanted to go to,” you smiled over at him.

“I would look good as a sexy panda, wouldn’t I?” he let out a slight laugh at your compliment.

You moved closer until your head rested on his shoulder and your arm wrapped around his torso. His arm naturally wrapped itself around your waist.

“I love you,” you muttered into his shoulder as you looked back up at the stars.

“Happy Halloween,” he left a brief kiss in your hair, staring up into the sky with you, “I love you too.”

[bae-roman]

The Halloween headcanons we have all been waiting for ...

* I may have totally forgotten about these, so sorry for the wait!

*I was planning on fixing it up and formatting it real cute but then y’all probably wouldn’t have gotten it until next year.

*This is Roman’s face the entire night he’s carving pumpkins with his children.

Bunny totally has to do some last-minute costume shopping after one of the twins completely ruined their costume 2 days before Halloween. 

The poor kid is dead set on having a very specific costume this year, and he’s just as stubborn as his father so Bunny, bless her, called every store that could possibly carry the costume. Lucky for her, there's one left at a store literally 2 hours away but Bunny is very dedicated to her children having amazing holidays and her son was so upset when his costume got ruined, so she decides to make the drive and get it.

But, she also promised the kids that they could carve the pumpkins they got the other day and now her only option is to make Roman do it with them

The thing with Roman is ... well it's not that he hates Halloween, he just doesn't particularly love the idea of his 5 kids ages 12 and under getting all hyped up and excited while dealing with pumpkin guts - he's way too OCD for that which is why Bunny usually does it while he's at work, but since Bunny has to leave before he gets home from work, he's stuck in charge and was most definitely not prepared for the chaos that ensued. 

Now, Roman already thinks quite highly of his wife alright, but after that? He thinks the woman is some kind of magic possessing saint.

When Bunny walks in the door, she is stunned to see the shape of her house. 

There are pumpkin guts everywhere from, what Bunny later found out, a “pumpkin fight” where the kids all decided it would be a great idea to run around and whip as much pulp at each other as possible while dad was changing the baby’s diaper

A lamp, or what used to be a lamp, has been knocked onto the floor, shattered into hundreds of little pieces 

the decorative couch cushions are strewn all around, having been thrown in various directions all across the floor

The kids are covered in mess ... and this is just all she sees as she takes her first steps inside. 

Now don’t get me wrong, Roman is very much the authoritarian of the two and is absolutely the type of parent who can give their kids a look so stern that they all drop what they’re doing and behave in an instant.... for the most part. However, his kids have also learned how to get away with shit and his weaknesses.

They all know that his attention is compromised whenever he’s alone with all of them and Bunny is like not on the property lol. This is especially true when Romans watching the baby because she is always so clingy and fussy, and only really likes being in Romans arms.

 Roman tends to panic around his kids as babies. I think it’s because they can’t actually tell him what’s wrong or if something is even wrong at all so he just panics and thinks they're in crisis even when they’re just being brats.

His other children all notice this and totally use it to their advantage.

Anyways, so Bunny comes home and she literally walks in on one of her children wearing a pumpkin, evidently stuck, on his head...with his father unsuccessfully attempting to pull it off..

Before she can interject or anyone notices she's home, the stuck child's eldest brother instructs him to "hit his head on the wall to break it" which the boy does without a second thought.

Bunny is just about to break into her whole mom “What the HELL are you doing” mode, but it actually worked and shockingly the kid isn't hurt, yet when they see her everyone kinda just freezes, even the baby.

To top it all off, all but one of the pumpkins have been destroyed in one way or another, except for the one her husband carved as a joke.

She doesn't even see it until after all the kids have been cleaned and put to bed and she joins Roman downstairs to clean up the urgent things like pumpkin guts and food spills and leaving the rest for the maid tomorrow.

When she finally sees it, she slaps his chest lightly and laughs. Bunny still carves a simple ghost on the back though, and that's the side they show on the porch.

Fast forward to Halloween:

Costumes go as follows:

Like every other year, Nadia dresses up as a princess. This year, she’s Rapunzel.

Their eldest son is Iron man (RIP)

The older twin goes as a “me with no head” and the younger one is a pirate.

Bunny is a witch with their infant daughter as the cutest little black cat.

And when asked what he’s going to be for Halloween, Roman pics up a stray crown from the decoration box, puts it on and says “Rapunzel’s dad”, a big difference from last year as Cinderella’s dad.

The big drama of the evening is that Nadia wants to go trick-or-treating with her friends, not with her baby siblings and parents.

Bunny gets it and doesn't see too much of an issue with them going as long as Nadia shares her location with her, doesn’t go into anyone’s house and she and her friends stay in a group at all times. Roman, on the other hand, is not down for that at all so they “compromise” with Roman following in his car, “or she can stay home”.

Before everyone goes out for the night, Bunny posts a family pic with the caption “Wanted to have a cute costume theme this year, but they all said no.”

She posts a picture every year, and every year the amount she has to bribe them before they agree increases. 

The “decapitated” twin runs around the house all day scaring his siblings…. and his mom….. and even Roman at one point but then gets the death glare and stops.

Trick or treating goes well then all the kids come back, watch a movie as a family until the little ones fall asleep and their older kids retire to their rooms.

After everyone's all settled for the night, Bunny surprises Roman with a costume change, this one much more scandalous, I’m thinking something like this

They have a tradition where every year after the kids go to bed, she dresses up as a sluttier version of what she went as earlier. This year she’s just in lingerie and a witches hat. This quickly changes to just the witches hat.

[skznct127treacting]

My Stalker - Bang Chan (1/4)

October. A time for endulging in whimsicals fancies of corporate candies, horror movies, spooks that are camp and creeps that are chilling and for your small town - the Halloween carnival. The carnival had been a tradition for as long as you could remember, coming for the weeks leading up to Hallowe’en, with the main attraction being a haunted house - the likes of which had won numerous TV awards for being one of the scariest attractions in the country, with it being particularly popular amongst your age pool - adolescents and young adults.

You, yourself had never been. Perhaps it just wasn’t something of interest to you, or perhaps you were, like all your friends said - scared. What was there to be scared of? Well a lot. There’s a clown room for one, a maze room with a masked chainsaw man chasing you, a serial killers basement… need I go on? 

Regardless. This year. The year of 2019, was slightly different. Because one of the scare actors had caught your attention. Bang Chan. He had started the year late, but had somehow managed to weasel his way into your classes course. He was reserved and quiet, kept to himself mostly. He sat at the front of the class and was always early, he didn’t volunteer much but got 100% on almost any test he took. When people tried to engage with him he would laugh and be sarcastic and cynical and look at them with such intensity that you could swear he was burning a hole right through their skull - it was a look of superiority and confidence. Most people didn’t see that though, they just took his jokes at face value, but there was something cutting about them, something with an aura of uncomfortable truth to them.

He favoured dark clothes, sportswear mainly, he had an athletic build and was constantly slouching, making him appear shorter than he actually was. 

The first week you didn’t talk to him much, not having a reason to, but then the most peculiar thing happened. A week after he arrived you broke one of your pencils in your bag, it must have been crushed by your lunch, or your water bottle, or the endless notepads and folders you carry. Regardless, you put it on your desk intending to bin it after class but forgot to pick it up. 

The next day however, after class ended Chan pulled you to the side just as you were leaving, as you felt his heavy hand on your shoulder and turned to see he had your pencil - perfectly fixed and glued together, so meticulously that you couldn’t even trace the cracks.

“You should be more careful Y/N,” He teased, in his charming but acidic way as you stood there confused and unable to process why he had done this for you.

“Is this my pencil from yesterday?” You asked rolling it between your fingers, surely he had just bought another one or given you a spare. Which was equally weird, but hey it was a more logical explanation.

“What? No?! I fixed it for you Y/N,” he said - drawing out your name again as though enjoying the way it tasted. “I’ve seen you use that one a lot, it’s a pretty cool pencil with the sparkles and rainbows. It’s cute.”

Now your face had been peppered with a pink blush, the strange compliment leading your wave of confusion to be overlapped with that of fluster. 

“I’m Chan by the way,” He said loudly as though intending for you to hear his name. To remember it. You already knew his name of course, having been curious about him for some time. Your friends had done the whole social media stalk and found his facebook page filled with pictures of nights out with his friends, photos at the beach, his dog, his soccer activities. Your friends Josie and Eve were already in relationships though, and having seen the slight gleam in your eye when looking at his pictures - well, they both tried to push you into speaking to him. 

“Oh well nice to meet you. I saw you moved halfway through September, that must have been tough for you. How are you settling?” You asked putting the pencil in your pocket staring up at him only to look away, as though his bright glare was like that of the sun.

“It’s been alright so far, I’ve managed to catch up with classes,” He shrugged moving restlessly from side to side. “Well some of them…”

“I thought you were doing really well all things considering you seem to be getting full marks.” You smiled at him, and for the first time you saw his smile, as he beamed back at you. It was the type of smile that lit up his face and made him appear less intimidating, it was at this exact moment that you felt your heartbeat jump.

“Yes well from speaking to people everybody says your the best at this module, which isn’t surprising, I mean the only times I’ve seen you outside class you’re always in the library studying,” He said still with that charismatic smile, his movements becoming more animated, it was like as though for the first time you were meeting the real him. Of course this second outburst of compliments only deepened your rouge cheeks to scarlett.

“I mean I know some of it but-”

“Well if I ever get stuck I know who to come to for tutoring. Besides your in my debt now,” He smirked looking down at the pocket you had put your pencil in. “Well I’ll see you round Y/N~”

And as he set off the oddest thought crossed your mind… how did he know your name? I mean you had found his out through him telling it to other people when he introduced himself but he had never witnessed no such interaction on your part. He didn’t even sit near you. And what was with the pencil? Who does that?? Why??? Why does he need help? Why did he arrive late to school? All the while your head felt light, dizzy with the interaction, you had never acknowledged his looks and charm for yourself before, you had never felt like this before, nobody had taken such notice of you before. All the while Chan’s footsteps paced the hallways growing lighter, his smile widening, for he knew all the answers to your questions. 

That had been the first interaction, and after you had told Josie and Eve they brushed off the whole pencil thing as creepy, along with him, he was a creep, and they took back every good word they had ever said about him. The three of you were out that day, rummaging through shops for a decent Hallowe’en costume, it may only be the start of term but everybody’s mind was on the Monsters Bash on the 31st October which your school was running, it was to be an outside ball on the sports field with marquees and fairy lights and bunting, cheap alcohol would be provided along with Hallowe’en candy and students were already planning where they would pre drink and where the after parties would be and the buzz was only intensifying as the event neared.

“Slutty witch, slutty nurse, slutty cat, slutty clown… huh slutty scooby doo,” Josie rattled as she sorted through the outfits on the railings. She was a tall girl with a lithe build, long brown hair, pale skin and with an effortless beauty that you envied, she could make anything look stunning. Even a slutty scooby doo costume. 

“Imagine how many people are going to go as the Joker this year,” Eve said, rolling her eyes as she stood on the opposite side of Josie, she was the shortest of the three of you with dyed red hair that was constantly in some type of complicated braid, with her sweater sleeves always pulled over her hands and her shoes always a worn out pair of black converse. 

“I know! I’ve already had to persuade Jack that we’re are not going as Harley and the Joker, I upset him, and now we’re not doing a couple costume anymore.” Josie pouted.

“Same!! Me and Daniel couldn’t agree, I’ve told him for the millionth year that I’m not dressing up as Sally and Jack. It’s just so unoriginal.” Eve shot back with equal passion.

You stood there unable to contribute to such talk of relationships as your mind swirled to thoughts of Chan, what would he dress as this year? Would he even attend the Bash, did he even have anybody to go with? Like sure he had friends, but he didn’t have friends that he could go with. The thought of inviting him crossed your mind, but that was wayyy too ahead of yourself, but perhaps, if you talked to him more and got closer maybe you could go together. Maybe for once you wouldn’t be the 5th wheel in your friendship group.

“What are you going to go as Y/N?” Josie said pushing all the clothes on the railing to one side in dismay as you left the shop.

“Hm I’m not sure yet,” You said pausing your train of thought on Chan.

“Well I got an idea looking at that scooby doo costume.. how cute would it be if we went as the Hex Girls from that show, we can have our own couple costumes,” Eve piped up as Josie shook her head.

“No way! Who's going to get that reference?” Josie replied.

“Erm.. the intellectuals!” Eve laughed. “And if we don’t win best costume, I’ll literally sue the school.”

“So you’d be Luna, I’d be Thorn and Y/N can be Dusk?” Josie said, slightly coming round to the idea.

“Oh my god it’ll be soooo cute!” Eve gushed as you just nodded your head. 

So that was that on October 31st 2019 you and your 3 friends were going to the Monsters Bash as a 90s goth girl group from Scooby Doo, if that didn’t win round Chan.. what would??

Well after that shopping trip at the weekend Monday rolled around. It was the first day that you’d see Chan again since your class together on Thursday and you had spent the whole weekend playing out scenarios in your head like a bad fanfic. When you arrived to class you were surprised to see he hadn’t arrived yet which was verrry unusual for him so you sat in your usual seat towards the back and began to unpack your stuff. Too focused on this activity you had barely noticed somebody come and pull a seat next to you as you looked up to see Chan.

It may be because you had gotten a crush on him but damn he was looking way more handsome than you  thought he was. His dark eyes glanced at you as his dark brown hair, had been dyed a sludgy green over the weekend which was the first thing you complimented him for, it framed his face differently to his blonde hair, made him seem even more mysterious and alluring, his cheekbones more defined, his jaw sharper, his hair cut shorter slightly as you noticed several ear piercings down his ears. 

“Good morning Y/N,” he said cheerfully, although you could see how tired he was from the shadows under his eyes and a sheepish paleness to him.

“How was your weekend?” You asked, only thinking now that maybe it was a bit forward that he had just sat next to you today, with it being the only day he had been late, but those thoughts were pushed out with concerns for him and thoughts of his looks and your curiosity and- and- and-

“It was decent. I had a lot of practice to do though. I somehow managed to get a job at the ghost house and we’ve been doing rehearsals all weekend,” He said slamming his notebooks onto the table next to yours. You noticed him pull out a little red notebook by accident which he quickly shoved to the bottom of his bag which he kicked to the ground and under the desk. “What about you?”

“Oh that’s so cool. I’ve never been to the ghost house myself but I love the carnival. Well we went costume shopping for the bash but didn’t find anything, but we decided what we wanted to be though,” You said, subconsciously smiling at him.

“Whose we?” He asked raising his eyebrows.

“Oh just my friends Josie and Eve, they’re in different classes to me,” 

“And you’re going as….?”

“We are going as the Hex Girls if you know who that is, I’m going to be Dusk, you know blonde hair, green dress.. The drummer..” 

“That’ll be really cute,” He nodded as you felt that dizzy feeling again from his compliments, you were about to reply but with that class had begun.

[todorokiaimee]

An Interview with The Todoroki’s

A Blues In The Night After Story | Art by @raikiriart​

INTERVIEWER: Our readers want to know everything about your relationship and to be honest, I’m quite curious myself. Let’s start at the beginning. How did you two meet?

SHOTO: We met at our favorite coffee shop. I would always see her by herself reading a book and one day I finally got the courage to talk to her. Honestly, it was a bit of a disaster.

AIMEE: He almost killed me twice before he ever asked me out.

SHOTO: That’s a bit dramatic, Love. (An adorable blush flashes across his face)

AIMEE: He tired to one-up my snide comment with one of his own which resulted in me choking on my coffee. Then later I caught him off guard and he almost barbequed me with his fire. (She giggled while giving her husband’s hand a tight squeeze.) I had never seen such an adorable side of this usually stoic man. And the next day he asked me out on a date and the rest is history as they say.

INTERVIEWER: I see, then I have a question for you Mr. Todoroki. What would you have done if Aimee had decided not to go out on a date with you? Or worse, was currently dating someone else?

SHOTO: Hm, that would be obviously regrettable. I can’t think of spending my life with anyone else but Aimee. If she just turned me down, I would probably ask her again at a later time, try my best to win her over. If she was with another man, I would have no choice than to wait patiently in the wings until it dissolved.

AIMEE: Aw, you’d wait for me, cher? 

SHOTO: Without question.

INTERVIEWER: What’s it like being married to a top Pro Hero?

AIMEE: It’s a little weird, to be honest. I feel so incredibly safe. Between my husband, his friends, and my father-in-law, I know my daughter and I are very well looked after. But it’s a double-edged sword. We do attract attention, sometimes unwanted attention, but that’s part of the package. I was already used to the stares from being a minority here in Japan but it’s just intensified since I started dating Shoto. 

INTERVIEWER: Do you feel accepted by the Todoroki family, Aimee?

AIMEE: Of course! I couldn’t ask for better in-laws. Even King of the Grumps Enji. Although nowadays, we call him Pop-Pop which I find insanely adorable. I really feel like part of the family. They are my family since my mother passed when I was young and my father is serving his sentence in America. 

INTERVIEWER: Do you think your mother would have approved of Shoto?

AIMEE: Absolutely. He’s exactly the kind of man my mother would have wanted for me. I do think she would be surprised that I ended up with a Pro-Hero through. And let’s be real, I could do a lot worse. (She laughs, giving her husband a playful nudge.)

INTERVIEWER: Forgive me if this a difficult subject, but have you been in contact with your father since his sentencing and deportation?

AIMEE: I have. I can’t condone the things my father has done, but I understand why he did them. Grief can make a person do crazy unthinkable things. I give him a call once a month and send him letters with pictures of his granddaughter. He’s still my father after all. 

SHOTO: He’s still family. He’s remorseful and doing his time. We don’t want to keep him from Kiseki but we’re also not bringing her to a prison. So we send pictures, and she���ll talk to him on the phone. She doesn’t quite understand his situation at this age, but we’re doing our best as a family.

INTERVIEWER: How do your students feel about your marriage to a Pro Hero?

AIMEE: Well, not to brag but the kids get super excited when they find out they’re assigned to my class. They love it when Shoto stops by. A lot wonder why I still teach with my husband’s income but I would miss and worry about my students too much. I love my work. 

INTERVIEWER: How do you two handle the bridge between your two cultures? 

SHOTO: Aimee has lived in Japan since she was a preteen so she was pretty familiar with mine by the time we met. However, I had to give myself a crash course in hers. I think my biggest faux pas was touching her hair without permission. 

AIMEE: I keep telling him that he gets a free pass because he’s my husband. 

SHOTO: Even so. (He chuckled giving his wife a knowing smile.)

INTERVIEWER: How do you deal with unwanted attention as an interracial couple and family?

AIMEE: It’s never easy. My instinct is to tell the haters off but only makes the situation worse. Plus we’re trying to set a good example for our daughter. 

SHOTO: I often have long conversations with Pro Hero Rock Lock. He’s also in a happy interracial marriage with 10 years of experience over us. He stresses that as long as your family is safe, you should let the comments roll off your back. That being said, I’m not above intimidation if it saves my wife and daughter’s feelings. 

INTERVIEWER: Speaking of your daughter, you’ve chosen such a unique name for her. Is there a story behind that?

AIMEE: Well when we decided to have a baby, I struggled to get pregnant. My doctor diagnosed me with primary ovarian insufficiency or premature ovarian failure. It’s a scary way of saying I have lazy ovaries that don’t produce eggs as often as they should. We were told my chances of getting pregnant were slim. But after a year of fertility treatments, I was finally pregnant. Our miracle baby. So we named her Kiseki, the Japanese word for miracle. And we also gave her the middle name Anette, after my late mother even though it's not a Japanese practice.

SHOTO: Our little one is too special for only one given name.

INTERVIEWER: Wow, that must have been difficult for you.

AIMEE: Oh I was devastated when I found out. I felt like less of a woman. Here is this one thing that women are just supposed to do, are expected to do in many cultures and I couldn’t. My body was betraying me.

SHOTO: I felt so utterly useless to her as well. It broke my heart to see her in that state every month. Not being able to fix it and save the day nearly killed me. However, we pressed on. Starting a family was too important to us to give up. Actually, giving Aimee her hormone shots had become sort of a bonding experience. 

AIMEE: We used to have little dates where he would meet me at school during my planning period to give me my shot which was time-sensitive. We would look forward to it.

SHOTO: And of course, we enjoyed the other process of making our little princess. 

AIMEE: Cher! (They giggle with blushes on their faces.)

INTERVIEWER: Who does Kiseki take after the most?

SHOTO: She is her mother’s daughter for sure. So kind and curious. She also has a lot of her sass and smart mouth, but somehow it never meant to be that way. She’s just telling her unfiltered version of the truth. 

AIMEE: Oh, you should tell the Halloween costume story! (She giggles.)

SHOTO: (He chuckles.) Kiseki wanted to go as Endeavor for Halloween this year. Before I ordered it for her, I asked her again to be sure. “Are you sure you want to go as Pop-Pop? Not a princess or maybe even Daddy?” She just shook her head and said matter of factly, “No I want Pop-Pop. Your costume is boring, Daddy.”  

AIMEE: (She laughs.) That’s my girl! Telling it like it is. But to be honest, Enji’s costume does have actual fire.

SHOTO: Maybe one day she’ll appreciate her father’s minimalist style. (He chuckles.)

INTERVIEWER: Do you have any clue what her quirk might be?

AIMEE: Well her quirk hasn’t manifested yet but judging by her appearance, she’ll probably have a variation of one or both of her father’s quirks. She has white hair and blue eyes, so it’s possible she could have both fire and ice quirks.

SHOTO: She could also have a variation of yours, my love. As far as we know, your quirk isn’t tied to appearance. So I suppose to answer your question, your guess is as good as ours. We’ll love her just the same quirk or no quirk.

INTERVIEWER: What kind of father is Shoto?

AIMEE: He is such a doting, overprotective father. While I was pregnant, I wasn’t allowed to lift so much as a finger. Given our history struggling to get pregnant, he was so worried about every little thing during my pregnancy. It would have been cute if it didn’t drive me crazy. (She laughs.)

SHOTO: Pardon me for worrying about my wife’s and child’s well being. (He smirks.)

AIMEE: You would have thought I was suddenly made of glass. (She giggles.) But I couldn’t ask for a better baby daddy. Our little girl wants for nothing and there's nothing he wouldn’t do for her. If she asks politely, it’s done. She’s a total daddy’s girl too. Unfortunately, that often makes me bad cop and him good cop.

SHOTO: (A light blush forms on his face.) I can be firm too sometimes.

AIMEE: Sure, cher. Sometimes. (She smirks.)

INTERVIEWER: Do you think you’ll try for more children?

AIMEE: We’re open to the idea, I think. Right, mon cher?

SHOTO: We certainly wouldn’t say no to another child. I think Kiseki would be a wonderful big sister. I know my father would love another chance at a grandson.

INTERVIEWER: What’s your favorite thing about each other?

SHOTO: Her eyes. They’re so expressive. She can bend me to her will with a single look.

AIMEE: His voice. My husband’s a man of few words but he always knows just what to say. Plus I’m a sucker for his deep baritone.

INTERVIEWER: Many of our reader see you two as “couple goals.” For our last question, do you have any relationship advice?

SHOTO: Never stop trying to win your partner over. Don’t let the romance and intimacy die after you’ve been committed to each other.

AIMEE: I totally agree. It’s the little things that matter most. Cooking a meal for your partner, taking the time to write them a little love note on a post-it. The little things that say I love and appreciate you, go a long way. And of course communication. Every relationship needs good communication to thrive. 

SHOTO: Yes, you must acknowledge the good and talk through the bad. Enjoy the journey and cherish your loved ones. I know I do.

MASTERLIST

[mycatshuman]

I Put A Spell On You

All Hallows Eve

Pairings: eventual prinxiety, logicality, Remile

Warnings: talk of bad break up and bad ex, please let me know if I missed any.

Thank you so so much to @civilsounds17 and @icequeenoriginal if it weren't for you two fabulous people, this probably wouldn't exist outside of Google docks. Thank you. 💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💜💜💜💜💜💜

Please forgive me for not having the read more. The mobile thing isn't working for me and I have no way to a desktop version.

Masterlist

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Salem, Massachusetts, 2019

An older woman in black steps through the aisles of desks as her students listen to her tale. "And so, the Sanderson brothers were hanged by the Salem town folk. And now, there are those who say that on Halloween night, two black cats still guard the old Sanderson house. Warning off any who might make the witches come back from the dead." The teacher threw a handful of plastic spiders at a student in front of Roman Prince. The student shrieked before the class dissolved into giggles.

Roman scoffed. "Give me a break."

The teacher raised an eyebrow. "Do we have a skeptic in our midst?" She asked

Roman rolled his eyes. "Halloween is nothing but a holiday invented by the candy companies to earn more money. It's all a conspiracy."

Now normally, Roman would be all for Halloween, but due to a recent event that had him crying to sleep most nights, he was all too grumpy and hurt to properly get excited for the spooky holiday.

"It just so happens that Halloween is based on the ancient feast known as All Hallow's Eve. It's said to be the one night a year where the spirits of the dead can return to Earth," a young teen, wearing a soft cream-colored sweater corrected. Emile Picani. Roman groaned. He loved his friend. He did! And he really appreciated his friend trying to cheer him up with some knowledge on one of his favorite holidays, but at this moment he really couldn't deal with it. He was just too down in the dumps. He really shouldn't let it affect him. He should be happy and bright, but he just couldn't find it in himself.  

"Whatever."

The bell rang and teenagers filed out of the classroom. Emile grabbed his things and then waited for Roman to gather his stuff before they both left the classroom to meet up with Patton.

They found their cheery friend outside waiting for them underneath one of the tall trees outside of the high school. The two friends watched as an orange leaf floated down and landed in Patton's curly auburn hair. Roman let a small smile spread across his face at the sight of his friend with a leaf in his hair. The two friends walked up to stand by Patton as he finished a conversation with someone in his cooking class. Once he was done and the other person left, Patton turned to his friends with a smile.

"Hey, guys! How was Miss Dennison's class?" The bubbly teen pushed up his circular glasses and pulled his grey cardigan tighter around himself to offer some protection against the crisp fall air.

Emile shot a glance towards Roman, his warm brown eyes twinkling with concern. "Well, she told the story about the Sanderson Brothers. So that was nice." He left out the part about Roman's "outburst", unsure if whether or not he should mention it. The three set off towards their neighborhood. Their feet crunching on random leaves as they walked down the sidewalk.

Roman sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. He suddenly felt incredibly guilty. He dropped his arm and shoved his hands in the pockets of his letterman jacket. "Hey, Emile," he called softly, his friend in question turned his attention to him. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be so grumpy."

Emile gave his friend an empathic smile. "It's okay, Roman. I know you're feeling a little down."

The elephant in the room made Patton grimace. The knowledge of his friend hurting made unpleasant emotions storm his mind.

He forced a smile on his face. "So, what are we doing for Halloween tonight?" He asked, trying to change the subject.

Roman bit his lip. "I don't think I want to do anything tonight."

"What?!?!" Both Emile and Patton exclaimed, shock evident on their faces, Halloween was one of their friend’s favorite holidays.

Roman shrugged and looked away as they walked along the sidewalk. Young children in costumes ran by excitedly on their hunt for candy in the late daylight. "I just want to get my homework done before the weekend."

Emile and Patton shared a look as they followed after Roman. "But you love Halloween. You always have the best costumes."

"You always spend months planning and working on your costumes. So why....?"

Roman's shoulders hunched up by his ears and he pulled on his jacket sleeves. "Well, I just wanted to be mature, you know." Roman picked at the red and gold stripes of his jacket. He forced down the lump in his throat. "I-I mean, Matt didn't like that I was so immature. He was tired of the singing and dancing and childish movies. That's why he left so I just thought that I should probably grow up if I ever wanted to actually be able to be romanced." He forced his line of sight on a distant tree to avoid the sympathetic looks from his friends.

Emile bit his lip as he tried to come to a decision on how to approach this conversation. Meanwhile, Patton was fuming. He half wanted to strangle Roman's ex. How dare he make his best friend feel this way?!?! It made him so mad and upset. He let out a silent huff of breath. After taking a deep breath to slowly calm down, he took a few moments to think up a plan. Then he rushed forward to catch up with his friend and walk beside Roman. "Hey! I have an idea!" Roman raised an eyebrow as he shot a glance towards Patton, Emile sharing a similar expression.

"What is it?" Emile asked.

Patton began to physically vibrate as he held in a squeal, building up the excitement. "Come on Patton? Share with the class." Roman chuckled, thankful for the distraction.

"We should go to the Sanderson House!" He burst out energetically. His friends raised an eyebrow in sync.

"Why?"

"The kitties! What if they're there!!" He squealed. Roman snorted.

"But you're allergic," Emile said.

"No one can stop me."

Roman scoffed. "You wouldn't go alone, there could be spiders."

Patton shivered, the cool autumn air not being the cause but certainly not helping him. "Mm. While the idea of the creepy-crawly death dealers is scary, I still want to see if the cats are there."

Roman rolled his eyes. "I highly doubt that the 'brothers turned cats' are there, Patton."

"It's scientifically impossible," Emile added once he caught up. "But, it does sound very appealing."

"You too, Emile?" Roman asked.

Emile grinned. "Hey, cats are worth everything."

Roman rolled his eyes. "Alright, yeah, let’s go to the Sanderson house tonight. Sounds fun. Sounds dangerous. Let's go!" He exclaimed as they finally entered their neighborhood. "When are we going?"

Patton shrugged and pulled out a bag of trail mix and began munching on his snack. "Sometime tonight. I guess." He munched on his food thoughtfully for a few moments, deciding the best way to approach the subject he was about to bring up. "So, are you going to dress up?"

Roman bit his lip. "I guess I could throw something together real quick if you wanted me to."

Patton nodded and Emile let out a soft breath. "I'm going as a Dad."

Roman nodded. "Interesting. Why?"

Patton shrugged. "I don't know, just sounded like a good excuse to use a bunch of puns."

Emile nodded. "Sounds nice. I'm going as a therapist." He fixed his glasses smiling brightly.

"These are things you guys actually want to be, why dress up like them?" Roman asked.

His friends shrugged. "Well, we want to see if it actually makes us happy."

Roman nodded absently. His thoughts trailing off towards what he could possibly do for a costume in just a few hours. Soon enough they came to his house. He waved goodbye to his friends and rushed inside and up the stairs to his bedroom as fast as possible before bursting through his door and dropping his backpack on the floor. He shut his door and leaned back against it, resting his head as he let out a deep sigh. He took a glance around and felt his heart twist painfully.

Roman used to like his room. There were Disney posters everywhere. And there were musical posters and playbills pinned to every surface. There were stuffed animals on the bed, a sewing machine on the desk, complete with a box of fabric sitting underneath. That's how his room looked when he first got together with Matt. And that's how it looked through their whole relationship. Unfortunately, it was the same room they had their breakup fight in. All Roman had asked was if they could watch Moana. Then Matt exploded, calling him immature and childish because of all the things he did and enjoyed. Then he left. And Roman was left alone in his room that was too childish for his first boyfriend. After a few hours of crying Roman had ripped the posters and playbills off the walls and shoved them on a shelf in his closet. He shoved the stuffed animals, sewing machine, and fabrics behind his clothes in the closet.

He hardly opened his closest anymore. He grabbed most of his clothes from his dresser. He didn't like his room anymore. It was so bare. So, boring. He didn't like being in his room anymore. He glanced towards the closed doors on the opposite side of his room and bit his lip. He suddenly remembered what he had been working on before his boyfriend had come in to break up with him. He inched over to the doors and braced himself to open them. He whipped open the doors and found all of his favorite things sitting neglected in boxes.

He kneeled down and dragged out one of the boxes and began shifting around and then his hands closed around a piece of white fabric. He pulled it out and felt a tingle in his fingers as he spread out the mostly finished costume and felt his lips twitch slightly. He set the costume on the floor before pulling out the rest of what he needed. He suddenly felt a little more excited about tonight. It would be nice to get out of the house. Sort of like an adventure.

Roman smiled as he set to work finishing his costume. He had the eerie feeling that this was an adventure that was going to change his life. For better or worse, he had no idea what it would be. He just hoped it would be for the better.

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Taglist: @spxced-oxt @superwholocked-for-life @mirror2thespirit @aroundofapplesauce @lyditist

If you wish to be added or taken off, please let me know.

[atinykidult]

His Stupidly Tall Self - Kim Mingyu

[fluff full-length] - 2247 words

[summary] - highschool!au, his pov, song inspiration I Don’t Care by Ed Sheeran/Justin Bieber (doesn’t really connect to the story, but the key and beat suits its pace), featuring some of SVT, super fluffy

[author’s note] I’m trying a playful style - I hope you like it! Also, I typed “look” intending this to be under 500 words... so, uh, yeah. That happened. Also, I know the reader is assumed to be short — tbh, as a short girl, it was my default. Super sorry, my tall friends! I love you and hope you still can enjoy this? The reader’s height isn’t that prominent.

[thanks for reading! your support means the world to me, always!]

Look.

Being the tallest boy in class had its perks; Mingyu wouldn’t argue with that. In fact, his height was how he first talked to Y/N. Shorter than him, his crush had asked him for help reaching a basket of supplies on a too-tall shelf.

He’d remembered feeling awed, wondering if this was some alternate universe where everything was cliche and perfect and just right. 

Even two years after that first contact, he could vividly recall the flush that had run through his entire top half when you’d met his eyes. Smiled. And told him that you appreciated him.

Yes, you’d said it jokingly.

Yes, it wasn’t that deep.

But Mingyu had nurtured that exchange like a gardener fussing over their, well, garden. (So he wasn’t that great with metaphors.)

But he was great with pine trees...

Or, rather... You know...

Pining.

Yipee.

Back to his height.

Although it certainly brought him some perks, it generally caused him more pain than help. Physical pain, in that he spent too many trips down the stairs a little faster than intended... with a little less foot-to-step contact than desired, too. (Sometimes this would happen when he planned to travel up rather than down, too. Thinking about that, his ribs throbbed in sympathy.)

And emotional pain, too.

Exhibit A: When he let his friends — a terrible, thirteen man group which eternally abused Mingyu with jokes about his height and personality in general (really, Mingyu didn’t know why he kept sitting with them for lunch) — choose his Freshman-year Halloween outfit. A giraffe. Really.

Exhibit B: When Mingyu had magically been paired up with you during Sophomore year for an English assignment... Only for you to hesitantly ask him if you could request to change partners, because there was this new kid, and your mom was friends with the parents, and you had the same interests... Of course, Mingyu agreed, falling in love with you slightly more. (The stupid, lovable compassion! he later moaned as he vented to Jeonghan.) And at a larger distance. (Okay, so height wasn’t really in the equation here, except for the fact that you were the same height as your partner, which really hurt his heart when you performed a reenactment of Titanic’s pose and he knew, knew he would be a better Jack).

(So he needed to vent about it, years later. Problem?)

Exhibit C: When against all odds, Mingyu and you ended up at the same table for some school function where there happened to be a dance floor. He’d found enough courage to ask you to dance the last slow jam with him, and nearly screeched when you easily agreed. As he led you to the floor, he decided that he would have lived a full life as long as he didn’t step on your toes during the four minutes — he’d die kiss-less and dateless, true... but he’d die fulfilled.

He didn’t step on your toes, and he felt like this could, just maybe, if he was lucky, just possibly could turn romantic (Ed Sheeran worked miracles) —

Then you burst out giggling.

“It’s just!” You heaved a breath. “It’s just that!” Mingyu’s eyes nearly fell out of their sockets as you gripped his forearms for support. “You’re so tall — I feel like I’m dancing with your bowtie more than you!”

Well.

He had felt like crying.

His twelve abusers had found the entire event hilarious, but Mingyu most certainly disagreed.

The next time he ran into you, you’d casually caught his wrist as he began to walk away from what had been a stilted, though perfectly lovely, exchange. (He’d moved past the teasing and near-crying, heading back to school with his best foot forward. [Neither foot was the best foot, but that was beside the point.])

“Hey, Mingyu,” you had said, somewhat redundantly because your hand on his wrist said plenty. 

Mingyu was nearly sweating (read: sweating buckets) and feeling very impressed by your hand-eye coordination (read: Mingyu’s arms were too long and ever-changing for him to romantically slam you against a wall, casually catch your hair in his fingers, or anything actually useful for his life, such as, in this case, catching his wrist and staring up at him with thoughtful eyes).

Yeah. His blood pressure was in a rough place.

“Are you listening?” you’d asked.

“Uh,” was all he could say, eyes dropping to your lips as though he could look back into the last few minutes to understand your speech. “I am so, so sorry.”

“Exactly.” At this moment, he doubted his entire existence. What did that mean? Was it sass? Anger? Disgust? Rejection? “That is exactly what I’m telling you: I am very sorry for not being a kind person when we danced. I thought you’d find my shortness funny — but Seungkwan told me how it really made you feel.”

Sincerity!!! it dawned on him.

“I didn’t mean to laugh at you. In fact, I think your height is very attractive.”

His voice was hoarse the next day from screaming into his pillow.

Emotional and physical pain all in one (yipee!) thanks to his height.

“I’m confessing to her today,” Mingyu told his reflection. “Today. Before three. I’m doing it. For real.”

He ran his hand over his carefully selected shirt, looking for wrinkles, and reassessed his appearance for the thousandth time.

Senior year.

Exhibit D wouldn’t get to happen (really, though, he’d passed Z long, long ago).

At lunch, his now smaller group was all support and gentle teasing. Now one of the hyungs, Mingyu received much less abuse. (He repeated that with enthusiasm whenever Vernon or Seungkwan, or both, stumbled into the spotlight instead.)

“Just... be romantic,” Vernon suggested.

“What does that even mean?” scoffed Seungkwan. He sat up straighter, mimicking their self-important History teacher. “Go for genuine. All the girls like how you’re a human puppy. Exploit that.”

“Maybe have flowers?” offered Chan.

“We’re at school, our dear maknae.” Seungkwan squinted at the rest of his table, disappointment dripping in his tone. “We don’t want ‘Gyu suspended before he can confess. You’d think I’m the only reasonable one.”

Minghao raised an eyebrow at that, although he wisely kept quiet.

The silence stretched out until Vernon piped up again.

“Be poetic, hyung. You aren’t bad at speaking unless you’re nervous. So, just... Don’t be nervous and pour out your feels, y’know?”

Seungkwan beamed at Vernon.

“Finally someone else contributes useful advice.”

You’re kind.

You’re beautiful.

I’ve loved you since you asked me to get a basket down for you.

All too generic, and even creepy.

You, a highly attractive person, called me attractive, which really means the world to me.

You can do it all — laugh recklessly and fix any damage right after.

I think you actually complimented my giraffe costume way back? It’s blurry, but I think that happened. As a gangly freshman, that meant a ton.

Mingyu banged his head on his desk, only to realize he was sitting in math class and... now everyone was looking at him. He loved that. Totally.

No! No! No! he was screeching internally.

“The brain’s just struggling a little bit,” he was saying externally. “You know how with laptops, how you just slam it shut and it usually works after that? Just...”

From in front of him, you had turned around to watch him, looking at him dare-he-say... fondly?

“Um,” he choked. He looked away from your lips, curved upwards, and met the teacher’s amused but tired eyes. “Sorry. Reboot complete. Loading... and good. I’m back.”

Hearing you laugh, he melted into his seat with a wide, satisfied grin.

Embarrassment aside, he’d do that all over again if you’d watch him like that again.

Then a note slid onto his desk.

Are you saying you’re as smart as a computer? ;)

His brain needed to shut down and restart after staring at your handwritten wink face.

NOOO! he furiously scribbled back. I’m just I I would never imagine to be so intelligent.

As he waited for your response, if he would get one, he winced at his wording. That alone was judge-worthy.

Don’t sell yourself short. Sell yourself worth your full, lovely height!!! xD

You’re someone who makes me feel like I’m worth something, he writes in tiny letters — a draft and guide for himself to use very, very soon. You’re the type of person I’d want with me, stranded on an island. You’d say something funny, then meaningful, then sweet, then magic us off the island because you’re amazing like that. I take that back, because I don’t want to expect the impossible from you as your boyfriend. I’d want you with me, and I hope you’d want me with you, too.

When I’m with you, I don’t care that I’m 187 cm of hopeless energy. All I care about is making you smile because I’m already smiling. Although, I take that back, too, because whenever we’re near each other, my friends have told me that we both smile a lot.

So I change this to, when I’m with you, I know we make each other happy. And I want you to be mine. And I would die if you’d let me be yours. I want to just do life with you — the ordinary, domestic things, the cute dates, the casual ones, the couple’s outfits, the whatever you picture as us being us (just... in love).

So, Y/N Y/L/N, be mine?

By the time he asked you to wait for him after school, he had already internalized a neater version of what was essentially his love letter to you.

As he snuck up behind you, covered your eyes and cheesily asked, “Guess who?” he’d been mentally reciting the first sentence of the second paragraph.

While you rattled off a list of idols and turned around to beam at him, his mind echoed unhelpfully, You’re beautiful, you’re beautiful, you’re beautiful.

“So what’s up?” you asked.

He inhaled deeply and dove in.

“You’re someone who I —”

WAY OFF, KIM MINGYU, he thought, mentally hearing Seungkwan tsk sadly.

You’re beautiful.

I don’t care if the height difference is weird and makes slow dancing awkward. I can get a bowtie with my face on it, if it helps.

I want you to be mine.

He took another deep breath, thankful that you hadn’t tried to speak. (In fact, your heart was racing as you watched him chew on his lip and cast glances at you like a driver might steal glances at the sunset on a commute home.)

Mingyu let the flood out:

“I want you to don’t care if you’re beautiful, mine!!!”

As he blurted the last word, Mingyu decided that he truly, really, unequivocally wanted to die. Right then and there, satisfied or not, kiss-less or not.

Just... let it be immediate.

Humiliation followed his stupidly tall self everywhere, so why not let it rest with him in the grave?

Just end it all.

“Hey, I’m getting worried about your health over here,” he distantly heard you laugh. Laughs weren’t elegant things, but he swore that if he could see it, it would be all his favorite colors mixed in a perfect arrangement.

“Can you at least open your eyes?”

Your voice was soft this time, and he complied. (He hadn’t realized he’d squeezed them shut to begin with.)

“I like you, too,” you murmured.

His stomach? Electrocuted.

His eyes? Eternally lost in yours like a cat in a newly found box.

His heart? Approximately the same heat as one of those 200,000 K stars.

His cheeks? Gently covered by a certain pair of hands.

“Can you please look at me?”

Mingyu realized that he’d been vacantly staring over your head.

“Yeah — uh, sure.”

He felt a tingle run through him when he found you nearly chest to chest with him, your hands slowly leading his face closer to yours.

“Mingyu, I’m going to kiss you, because I like you very, very much, too. And because you’re someone who makes me feel like I’m worth something, too.” Mingyu’s heart soared as you said this, eyes staring into his, blush on your cheeks. “But I’ll need you to lean down for me.”

As he complied, eyes drifting closed, he realized three things:

A. Without his height, he wouldn’t have this perfect, oh so perfect, view of your face — even the slightest change in either of your heights would be an indescribable loss.

B. Sure, he was gangly and uncoordinated, but he still got the beautiful girl who liked him as much as he liked her.

As he pulled away from the soft brush of lips, straightening and checking his pockets, he blurted C out loud.

“You found my rough draft, didn’t you?”

The brightest, most carefree grin spread over your features, and Mingyu felt himself fall deeper in love as you nodded like it weren’t a big deal.

Balanced on your toes, you slung your arms around his like you were about to slow dance. He smiled softly; you smiled right back at him.

“When I picture us just being us, but in love... I picture this,” you told him.

Then another playful grin spread over your features. “And by ‘this,’ I mean all 187 cm of you being a cutie.” Mingyu felt his cheeks heat up, but you weren’t finished. “Also, as I’m now yours, it’s good to finally know the exact height! It’ll help with the couple’s outfits!”

[ajw720]

We are at the height of “promo” season, OK? Movie premiere in just a few days, small role but straight, dramatic, and he dies a hero’s death in a war movie targeted to an older generation who could be a new audience for him. Certainly more conservative. This will be his first blockbuster, and will sell big in overseas markets where he could have a future potential big impact. D has international appeal, with Glee on Netflix in new markets, it is blowing up again, as is Klaine. The fix is on

Ask 2 for Halloweenies—no real humans do this many costumes, OF COURSE this is work. Social media 101. What gets the most reblogs? Holidays, costumes, kids, pets, weddings, vacations, you get the idea, right? Things regular folks relate to, but on a bigger, grander scale, since they are like us, but also NOT like us, they are rich celebs living the lux life we can only dream about and emulate ona smaller scale, spending our money on products and in places they endorse, which gets MORE reblog

Ask 3 of halloweenie—Running his fake social media is really the only thing “she” has ever done even reasonably well, if the goal was to create a totally fake persona that serves as a protective shield he can hide his true self, and his real life, behind. Well, that was the plan originally, anyway, until things got out of hand. Her need for attention is unbounded, like most unreality stars, their egomania fuels that entire stupid industry. But there’s an audience, rabid, stupid, loyal, for it

Ask 4 of halloweenie—the idea here, as always, is quantity over quality. When casting someone, one of the things they look at is popularity, As in their “presence” on social media, and that equates to numbers for the money men less than to details. Deny it if you want, but D is making straight male headway with music (LMDC) and Broadway, he is aging out of teen popdom, although the “Klainessaince” is real, and he has his first blockbuster role, even if it is small, it is memorable.

Final Halloweenie-it’s just showbiz as usual, but with bigger stakes right now for D, with real headway being made, he can’t afford to let up now, to snag that one movie role he needs to go next level. So we get the hard sell. Even his “talk” with C, sorry to say, could just be seen as a reaction to the renewed interest in Klaine, from the new Netflix audiences (but also an extension of Glee contracts, imo.) Nothing has changed. About the Hedwig story, and the photo-so M drinks Diet Coke? ;)

****************************************************************************

I totally understand your point, but Halloween has always been a bad, headache inducing M/iarren holiday with her excessive need for attention taking the stage front and center pushing everything else to the background.  And her need for attention, as you said, as it is perfect “ is unbounded, like most unreality stars, their egomania fuels that entire stupid industry” and I think her need for attention overwhelms and overshadows everything else, including D’s career. 

If they wanted likes and attention, perhaps they shouldn’t have done 3 couples customes for under $300 (i doubt even that much) and upped the level from Party City to actually buying quality costumes worthy of a celeb and his fake plus one. I have done a better job with some of mine and I don’t have near the same budget. Add, I still say if they want to sell straight, the need to abandon and quickly the m/iarren ship because it sinks further and faster every day.  D has never looked less straight in my opinion because he doesn’t even try. Even his trying (friday night at Universal) was campy and over the top.

I get that with the movie it is status quo. The br/oadway role honestly has nothing to do with whether he is straight or not and it remains to be seen what his role is in Hwood. 

To me, and his SM post last night confirms it, the entire Halloween exercise if feeding her ego and praising her, after all she did MAKE 10 costumes, i.e. go online and buy them and use a glue gun for some added accessories and giving her attention.  What they fail to realize is D can post 100 things about her and still only the same 10 people will care, she isn’t famous, she isn’t interesting, she is talented, she doesn’t even rise to Reality Show level, and frankly she is a bit trashy and brings him down.  As he goes into the blockbuster phase, if he has to have a fake plus one, she should be worthy of him and someone with ambition. I vote no, but anything is better than the current situation.

On CC, no way that is for promo, if that were the case they would have marketed their relationship from the beginning when it really mattered.  I honestly think that was them rebelling, which in parallel with all the nonsense lately, they have actually been doing quite frequently.

[funkymbtifiction]

Okay, a question that's been bugging me: I'm not the greatest at putting 2 and 2 together, so how does one go about figuring out if they use traits of different cognitive functions, from going from page (books) to recognizing it in real life?

Good question. How do you take abstract knowledge and apply it in life?

You gather evidence to prove your functions.

I knew I was an ENFP the day I looked at how I write stories. I dive in without a plan, just a notion of what I want from the end; I revise as I go along when bigger and better ideas come to me, and I feel uncomfortable with any kind of “too-rigid” planning. It actually inhibits my ability to generate ideas through the act of writing itself. My drafts tend to go through many different revisions, with characters and scenes appearing, disappearing, turning up somewhere else but with their context, ending scene, or the emotional tone totally changing from one rewrite to the next. That’s just how my Ne rolls.

And... that is how I live my life. I wing everything, going purely off my instincts. I make loose plans and revise them on the fly if something better leaps into my mind. I feel a sense of dread when anything is too “fixed” in my future, and have been known to back out of things at the last minute because they no longer appealed to me after waiting for them for so long. The Ne infatuation had time to fade. I sometimes regret my impulsivity because a different idea comes along and attracts me later, and it’s too late to change it. (Example: I should never decide on or purchase my Halloween costume in March. Before Halloween, I will consider 80 different ideas and be sad I already have a costume.) I flit between interests and as soon as there’s no mystery left to them, nothing to “find out,” I drop them like a hot potato and go in search of the next thing.

It’s not enough to just grasp cognition on an abstract level. You have to start paying attention to your daily thought patterns. The decisions you make. Why things make you anxious or feel relief. (Anxious for me: commitment with a strict timeline, a rapidly approaching deadline, something with no creative flexibility for me. Feel relief: flexible plans, no set parameters, doing things on my own time with the freedom to produce something totally different than I planned.)

That’s why I encourage people to keep diaries. If you can keep track of your decisions and why you make them, your first instinct when given new information, your daily behaviors, etc., good for you! But most people cannot, and need to see things in writing before they can see the over-reaching pattern of their thought process and behaviors. N’s tend to notice, once they put it in writing, how many of their intuitive leaps and assumptions have no real evidence behind them -- where did that thought, feeling, instinct, profession, judgment come from? What evidence is there to support it? Keeping a diary for a month will show you who made you mad, and maybe why. It will track where you failed and botched things, and you can often link those to lower functions.

I could tell you harrowing stories of my inferior Si fails, like forgetting what my own car looks like in a parking lot (which one did I drive today?!), changing the details of something minor within 2 seconds of hearing it, in translating it to another person down the table (that was humiliating), etc.

Start keeping track. You’ll see a whole new side of yourself. ;)

- ENFP Mod