#''i bet it would be comforting to look up the differences between panic/anxiety attacks and heart attacks'' <- FUCKING CLUELESS

[demo-ness]

scared again

[softykooky]

sanctuary: six

summary: leaving your father was easy. leaving them? well...that’s a different kind of strength. 7.9k words.

genre: mafia au, fluff, major angst

pairing: ot7 x reader

warnings:  toxic and dysfunctional familial relationships, mentions of domestic abuse (physical and verbal), swearing, ptsd & trauma, poor mental health, mentions of anxiety & panic attacks, reader goes to therapy, hurt, argument/yelling, the boys are mean...

author’s note: i made you guys wait long enough hehe :) hope you like it, please let me know what you think! and please take notice of the warnings!! they are there for a reason <3

♡ series masterpost ♡

Your nightmares have gotten better...somewhat. Better in the sense that you don’t let them carry over as much to the next day. Better in the sense that now, there are seven smiling faces that greet you every morning to help the fear dissolve. But they still relent as strong as ever, and make you toss and turn every single night with no pity. 

They’ve gotten more frequent since that meeting with your father. More vivid. Some nights, your nightmares are so bad that you just end up migrating over to Taehyung’s room right next to you and sleeping on the edge of the bed (though you just end up wrapped around each other in the morning). Taehyung never bats an eye. Only opens the side of his thick duvet for you to crawl into and flicks on a lamp because he knows you don’t like the dark after a nightmare. 

Tonight is no different. From the other side of the wall, Taehyung can hear your pained whimpers and mumbles that he can barely make out. Your sheets rustle as your body protests the vivid dream, and he can’t help but to bolt out of his comfortable position to check up on you. You’re still deep in restless sleep when he opens the door and approaches your bed. 

“Y/N, sweetheart, please wake up”, he soothes, caressing the side of your face with one hand. “It’s just a dream.”

The yellowing bruise on your cheek has begun to fade, but it still makes their blood boil every time they catch sight of it. Seeing it right now makes Taehyung want to burn the entire city down and your father along with it. But he is here for you. And Taehyung (and the other six) cannot be anything but soft towards you. 

“Baby, wake up”, he says again, louder this time and it makes you begin to stir out of sleep. You quiet at the contact of his skin but your eyes remain closed and that fitful frown is still on your face. Taehyung doesn’t know that his mere presence brings you comfort. Even when you’re not conscious. 

He takes the authority to nestle under the covers next to you and it’s as if your body just naturally gravitates to his, tucking yourself into his arms like a linking puzzle piece. It’s a selfish reason, and Taehyung doesn’t want to tell anyone, though he has a feeling the guys already know and also share his belief. But he secretly treasures the moments that he gets with you, even if it is for a heartbreaking reason such as nightmares. 

He loves the feeling of your body next to his, and the blankets that get just a little too overheated because the both of you are human furnaces. He loves the gentle thud of your heartbeat on those nights that he holds you closer than normal, when you shake like a leaf through your dreams and he is your tether to the ground. 

And to think, just a while ago he was yelling at you from the other side of the wall, complaining about your loud crying. He wants to go back in time and kick himself. Taehyung’s scared. He’s never really cared for someone like this before. 

You are already safely stowed away in his wide chest when a shadow walks by the room. Taehyung is not surprised when Yoongi creaks the bedroom door open, and not surprised when he sees Jimin in tow. 

“We heard her all the way from upstairs.” Yoongi mutters through a yawn. Jimin just sighs and looks at your sleeping figure with concern and longing. The two men shuffle into the room and as Jimin lifts up the blanket to flank your other side, Yoongi sets himself at the foot of the bed. Not that any of them lacked space, of course. The boys made sure your room was properly equipped with a large California king. 

“It’s been getting worse. I don’t know what to do. I want to help her, but I-” 

Taehyung finds himself getting choked up through his words. They all feel the same way. It’s just that there’s been too many nights where he’s had to hold your broken pieces together while you scream out the ghosts of what has happened to you. If it’s too much to bear for the seven of them, looking from the outside, they can’t imagine how it must feel for you. 

Jimin reaches over, your body nestled between the two of them, and inserts his hand inside Taehyung’s, caressing the thumb back and forth of his skin. 

“I guess all we can do is be here on the nights that are difficult.” Yoongi tilts his head so that he’s looking at you, still drifting off in your dream with a pained expression on your face.

“She’ll get through this. She’s strong.” 

The words that Yoongi whispers into the night air of your bedroom are hopeful. Uncharacteristic for a man like him, but when it comes to you, optimism is the only choice. He’ll allow himself to have hope if it’s for you. 

The four of you fall back into shallow sleep, and time passes by differently when it’s night time and your bones cry for rest. They fall in and out of consciousness for a minute or a couple hours, none of them are sure. All they can focus on is their worry, and you continue to battle through your war of bad dreams. Jimin and Taehyung awaken again when you begin to stir.

You quiver like you’re cold, even when you’re sandwiched in between two warm bodies and they both snuggle in to hold you even closer. But you remain lost to your nightmare and begin to cry tears that drip down and dampen the fabric of Taehyung’s pajama shirt. He knows you’ll apologize profusely for that in the morning, but he couldn’t give less of a damn about his shirt. The feeling of you crying in his arms makes him feel like an utter failure. 

Jimin wipes away the wet trail that the tear left behind on your skin, and wants to cry himself. He doesn’t know how to take your pain away, and wants to scream because sleep is the only time where you can truly rest and the universe deprives you of even that. 

“I’m so sorry, princess. We’re here.” He whispers to your unhearing ears. “We’ll be here.”

When your cries begin to get loud and your muttering becomes pained, the door is softly opened again. This time, it reveals a wide-awake Jungkook and a not so awake Hoseok. Yoongi rolls his eyes but can’t help the fond smile that paints his lips. 

“Jungkook, I told you to stop staying up so late playing video games.” he whisper-scolds, and Jungkook looks sheepish in the lowlight of your bedroom. They’re not surprised by his late night antics by any means, and they’re also not surprised that he abandoned them to check up on you. They all know Jungkook has an unreasonably tender spot for you. 

“Is it her dreams again?”, Hoseok says, pure worry leaking out of every word and staring at your impossibly small self in Taehyung’s hold. There’s no annoyedness in his tone. They’re all just deathly concerned about you. 

Pushing Hoseok inside the room and quietly closing the door behind him, Jungkook situates himself on the loveseat next to the bed, while Hoseok just plops on the plush rug, snatching a throw pillow and tucking it under his head. Jimin sweeps a stray hair away that had fallen into your face. 

Though they’re all trying to close their eyes and sleep, they all know that tonight will be a restless one. If you are not peacefully sleeping, they won’t be able to either. And it seems that that statement applies to all of them, when not even 10 minutes pass until Namjoon and Seokjin make their way to your bedroom, for the same reason as the other five. They wordlessly set out pillows and blankets on the floor beside your bed, nestling into each other for warmth and hoping that you can feel their sincerity even in sleep. And if anyone could see them now: big, bad mafia bosses cuddling together to help you through a night of bad dreams, Bangtan would force them to sign non-disclosure agreements. For you though, they could do this for hundreds of nights. 

When all seven are there, you miraculously slumber peacefully through the night. For the first time since Taehyung crept into your room, you are resting comfortably, quiet and undisturbed. And when you start snoring, Taehyung wants to cry with sheer relief. It was as if your subconscious vied for the presence of all the boys, and now that you have it, they finally allow themselves to drift off as well. 

The last thing you expected when you woke up this morning was to be dripping in sweat and much too aware of the extra three bodies on the bed with you. Ones you don’t remember going to sleep with last night. You have no recollection, just remembered that you went to sleep alone and now the seven men you’ve grown far too fond of were in the room with you, still snoozing the day away. 

At the foot of your bed, Yoongi stretches his limbs and groans when the sunlight peaks through the curtains into his eyes. He squints away the sleep and smiles dopily at you from under a blanket. Hopefully he doesn’t notice the way you practically melt at just his gaze. 

“Morning, sweetheart.” His throaty morning voice makes you blush two shades of red. 

“Good morning”, you whisper back, not wanting to wake any of them up. They just look so adorable and so completely exhausted. Yoongi bets that all of them would rather forfeit their positions as mafia bosses before telling you it’s because they stayed up all night worrying about you. “Um…”, you murmur, eyes darting around the room, “why are you all in here?” 

Yoongi doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t want to admit how whipped they actually are for you. 

“You were...having bad nightmares. So we wanted to come make sure you were okay.” 

Your eyes widen at Yoongi’s confession, and it reminds you of when Namjoon had done the same for you all those nights ago. It makes your heart ache and bloom at the same time because well..no one’s really cared enough to do something like this for you. Something so simple yet significant. You blink away the mistiness in your eyes, looking around the room once again. 

Three of them are on your bed. The rest are distributed across the floor and Jungkook’s slung uncomfortably on a chair. When you look back at Yoongi, it seems like he already knows all the thoughts running through your head. He already knows the words you want to say, but don’t know how to articulate. 

“We’ll do this every night if we have to, Y/N. For as long as it takes.” 

You leap from your spot under the blankets to wrap Yoongi in a bear hug, burying your face in his shoulder as he buries his in your hair. Though you are overheated from the cuddling and still dazed from sleep, you hold him with as much sincerity as you can muster. You have a feeling he can tell when he holds you back just as warmly. 

The movement makes Jimin and Taehyung wake in unison and as they rub the fatigue from their eyes and land on the sight of you perfectly swathed in Yoongi’s arms, the two of them think it’s a sight they could get used to waking up to. They wonder if you feel the same way. 

“Thank you.” Your words are airy and light in his ear, but Yoongi knows their true weight. He doesn’t say anything. Just plants a soft kiss on the side of your temple and relishes in the scent of your shampoo. 

When he stares past your shoulders, he meets the gaze of Jimin and Taehyung, who are fondly peering at the two of you. Years of being with each other, they’ve learned to communicate certain things without having to say anything. And right now, in the gentle morning light, the realization is beginning to seep in. 

Perhaps the way they care about you is more what they had expected. 

Living with the seven of them is an adjustment. Getting accustomed to a rhythm and routine in a house that’s the headquarters of an underground powerhouse is easier said than done. You were constantly surrounded with uncertainty and tiptoeing danger but you had never felt unsafe. They were there. And as long as you had them, this house was sanctuary. 

You’re not in any immediate danger. Your father had basically agreed to leave you alone for the foreseeable future and the media had begun to calm down. However, when the tides have settled, the boys are able to see you up close and personal and at all the ugly scares you’ve tried to hide from everyone. They’re able to see what those years of trauma has done to you. 

Whenever someone’s voice booms too loudly across the mansion, yelling orders at subordinates or for any other reason, you start to quiver like a leaf in the wind. When one of them reaches towards you too quickly, for simple things like a wave or to hold your hand, you can’t help but to flinch in anticipation. And you try to hide it, but it’s impossible not to notice. 

They notice everything. 

They always do, when it comes to you. 

With every mannerism and survival instinct that has been involuntarily drilled into your subconscious, they all grow angrier that you’ve been subjected to this pain. Hoseok has had to talk Namjoon down from sending their entire fleet to dismantle the ambassador a couple too many times as they continue to learn how deep the trauma with your father truly runs.

“Y/N…”, Jin hesitantly mutters, fiddling with the food on his plate nervously, “have you ever thought about...going to therapy?” 

You freeze in between a chew and swallow, eyes staring into his with an innocent deer-in-the-headlights expression. You look like you might have a panic attack, and Jin is quick to cut the tension. 

“N-not that we’re forcing you to do it, my love. It’s only a suggestion. It’s just that..maybe it would be good for you. To talk about things and get professional help.” By the way he says it, and the way the other boys are staring at you expectantly, you realize this is something they’ve probably been discussing for a while now. And though it’s heartwarming to know that they care about your health, the idea of going to therapy is deathly daunting. 

“I don’t know, guys…” You twist your hands in your lap, a nervous habit to show your discomfort and they all instantly regret bringing this up at all. You keep your gaze glued downwards. You’re afraid that if you look up, you’ll just see disappointment from the ones that you’ve grown to care about so much. You don’t think you could handle it. 

“Could you look at us, Y/N?” Namjoon’s voice is soothing and there is no single trace of anger or frustration. You slowly tilt your head upwards and meet his eyes. 

“At the end of the day, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. If you don’t want therapy, then fuck therapy, princess.” 

Namjoon feels gratification when his statement makes you smile, and his heart suspiciously flutters in his chest. 

“But we just want the best for you. We all want you to heal because…”, Namjoon looks around and makes eye contact with the rest of the boys, whom he knows share his same feelings. 

“You’re so important to us.” 

You’ve known this. You know that they care about you even when your mind forces you to doubt that anyone does. But when you hear it like this, so raw and unfiltered with sincerity leaking in every letter, it ignites something that you haven’t felt in a long time. 

Hope. 

You take a glance next to you at Jungkook, whose warm smile makes your lungs feel like molten honey. At Yoongi, who looks back at you with gentle eyes. At Hoseok, who is impossibly soft with you. At them all. It makes you realize something:

You don’t want to go to therapy. It’s scary and you’re not really sure if you want to talk about your father or your family or anything that happened before you met Bangtan. But you have people who care about you now. And if you didn’t want to do this for yourself, then, well... you would do it for them. 

“You don’t have to decide now, but-”

“I’ll do it.” Your voice slices through Taehyung’s words. “I’ll go to therapy.”

“Are you sure, Y/N?”, Hoseok questions. Though he wants you to very badly, he wants you to do it on your own terms. And though your statement is strong, he can see the doubt and uncertainty swimming in your irises. 

“No, not really.” you whisper, and they practically deflate so you are quick to remedy their dejection. 

“But...I know that I want to get better. I know it’s going to be hard, but I want to get better.” You take a deep breath.

“For you. All of you.” 

The room falls silent, and the noise of clinking cutlery against porcelain plates stills. They could only look at you and wonder what country they have saved in their past lifetime to deserve to stumble upon someone like you. Someone so wonderful, and so damaged but so determined to heal. For them. For all of them. 

Jungkook scoops your hand in his, and when you look in his eyes, you are stunned to see that there are unshed tears pooling at his waterline. He looks at you and there’s something in his gaze that you can’t place. Something lovely that makes you feel like all this hurt has been worth it. Jungkook looks at you like there is something worth looking at. 

“We love…” From your other side, Jimin starts speaking, but cuts himself off halfway through and suspiciously glances around the table, meeting the gaze of the six other boys who already know how he wants to finish that sentence. But he doesn’t. 

“W-We love that you want to do that for us”, he coughs, and you return it with a smile. 

Did a part of you want him to say something different? Something deeper? You’re not sure, but the tinge of disappointment in your stomach that follows his words is a sign. 

Could you allow yourself to think that someone could actually genuinely like you past platonicity? Much less seven powerful men? After years of your father telling you the complete opposite, accompanying each scathing word with a bruise, it’s difficult to believe anything different. 

Therapy was, in a word, completely exhausting. It was tiring dancing around the subject of your father’s abuse, your mother’s neglect, Soyeon’s blatant denial and just the complete package of being the eldest daughter to Ambassador Yoo. When they all had scheduled you for 4 sessions a week, you immediately wanted to decline and opt for one. But their eyes had all looked so hopeful. So excited for you to get professional help, and there was no possible way you could have turned them down. 

Progress is frustratingly slow, though. Some days you just want to quit.

 You plop unceremoniously on the large plush sofa, grabbing the nearest throw pillow and cradling it to your chest. The boys are all in the other room, but are now fully aware of your presence after you slammed the front door and huffed your way to the comforting couch. They can practically feel the rays of stress emanating from you. 

“Y/N? Baby? What’s wrong?” Jimin is the one that first approaches, and the rest stare on with concern leaking out of every pore. And when you reply with a sniffle and hiccup, their hearts all collectively break. 

You feel a dip in the couch and crane your neck to lock your teary eyes with Jimin’s, whose brows are deeply furrowed. You involuntarily launch into his arms, tucking your face into his neck, and inhaling his cologne that always manages to calm you down. You hear them all shuffle around you. 

“It’s just..”, your voice pitifully cracks, “hard.” From your position, they are thankful you cannot see the heartbreak in their expression. It’s so hard for them to see you as anything but happy. 

“I don’t know if I can do it”, you breathe out, feeling a new wave of tears begin to rise. You want to cry even more at the thought that they would be more disappointed in you. .

But there is a warmth from your other side, and you don’t know who it belongs to as it sits next to you. 

“I’m so proud of you, Y/N”, Namjoon whispers oh-so-softly. They are such simple words. Arguably mundane and ordinary. Then why does it knock the wind right out of your chest? Why does it light up your dark tunnel? He’s proud of you. They all are. Even when you are an emotional mess with low mental energy, Namjoon is sitting next to you and telling you that he’s proud. 

You erupt into heart wrenching sobs that won’t seem to stop no matter what you do. It’s the kind of cry that feels like a weight has been lifted off your chest. A cry that comes straight from your core and it sounds painful but truthfully, it’s just relieving. You know that all of them are worried out of their minds. You can feel it in the way Jimin shakily holds you as tight as he can, as if you are delicate chipped porcelain in his arms. 

But this is how you rebuild. With the seven of them by your side. You tell Namjoon to cancel your future therapy sessions the next day. Your psychologist was far short of revolutionary, and when they all asked you why, you admit that it’s not the therapy that’s helping you get better. 

It was just them. Being around them. Talking to them. 

It was Seokjin carding his hands through your hair and rubbing out the tension that always inevitably develops in your temples. It was Namjoon letting you lounge quietly in his office as he goes through paperwork, enjoying your presence as much as you enjoy his. It was Yoongi and Hoseok rambling to you about their adventures on the field (leaving out the gory details, of course. They wanted to keep you innocent and soft). It was Taehyung sneakily replacing your pink peonies as soon as the first petal began to wilt, even after the infinite amount of times you told him it was unnecessary. It was Jungkook and Jimin making excuses to spend the afternoon snuggled up on your bed when you all knew it was simply because they wanted to hold you. 

It was all of them tiptoeing around affection, craftily sneaking in spare kisses and touches on the skin. Holding you a little longer than necessary, a little more tenderly. Intertwining your hands under the dinner table, or when their subordinates weren’t looking. 

You notice the way they blush more often, if you let your touch linger for too long, or if you brush past them and make skin contact. You notice how pet names are easier to spill from their lips; ones like: my love, honey, sweetheart, baby...and you can’t help but to completely indulge in the way it is addressed only for you.  Little ways to subliminally tell you that perhaps you meant more to them than they were ready to admit. And you would be lying if you said your feelings for the seven of them were completely platonic. You would be lying if you said love wasn’t on the brain. 

Perhaps you are the missing piece to a puzzle they hadn’t realized was unfinished. 

“Hyung...I think I love her.” Jungkook is unsurprisingly the first one to voice it. The six others don’t even bat an eye. 

“No, Jungkook. I know you love her”, Hoseok whispers back in the tense silence of their meeting room. You are fast asleep on the floor above, but their hearts call out to you through the short distance. 

“I am too. We all are.” It is a truth they’ve known for a while. Sooner than they’re proud to admit. 

“I guess now all we have to do is figure out how to tell her.” 

They did want to. Tell you, that is. They wanted to shout it from the rooftops and make it known to the world that you are the angel that has snatched their hearts without even realizing it herself. If it hadn’t been for the disaster that suddenly struck their mafia, the boys would have already bared their souls to you. But timing was never kind. 

Bangtan were not known to be gullible. Not known to be easily fooled. So when Taehyung ran into their meeting room, red-faced and clenching his fists so hard they turned white, the Judas in their gang had come as a scathing surprise. 

One of their inner circle. Someone they had poured their trust and faith into, who had learned the system of their syndicate, had been a mole the entire time. Of course, they had disposed of him quickly, but the damage had already been done to their business. Allies and affiliates were backing away from collaboration in fear that Bangtan had been breached by law enforcement. Shipments were going missing more frequently, and even the lower hierarchies of their gang were beginning to become doubtful. To say the least, the seven of them were under debilitating stress and frustration. 

Nowadays, things were different than before. You were mostly kept in the dark about their business but you knew that something had happened. Something to make them so wound up, and it worried you to no end. It’s impossible not to notice how tense the house had become. 

Taehyung no longer stops by your room late at night, and in the early hours of the morning, you can still hear the frustrated clacking of his keyboard from next door. Not that you needed him to help you through your nightmares, but...you’ve gotten used to his comforting presence next to you.

Jungkook doesn’t seek you out for random conversations, and Namjoon just completely disappears in his office most days, not sparing you a single glance when he does manage to show his face outside. He locks the door now. You take it as a strong message that you are no longer welcome, and it upsets you, but you understand they are going through a rough patch. Your job is to be the least bothersome person you could possibly be. 

But Yoongi just flat out ignores you now, and you know Hoseok pretends to care about whatever topic of conversation you bring up. You can see right through his empty affirmations and nods. The kitchen is completely void of Jin, and there are no more clanging pots and pans when you try to cook for yourself. And Jimin is just like the rest of them: absent and indifferent to your presence. 

You know that it’s not you. The problem on their plate is bigger than you, but it still feels like you are a walking, breathing burden. You know that it’s not you, but your mind tells you they don’t want you here anymore. They’re sick of you. 

Two weeks pass by, and they’re still so cold even after all your attempts at trying to be calming comfort in their chaotic lives.  They still talk to you, but it’s strictly refrained to small talk that feels obligatory and like they have better things to do than spend time with you. They’re so busy that you often find yourself hanging out alone in the garden or making light conversation with the maids, or gang rookies that hang around the mansion. 

And it hurts to admit, but they don’t notice when you begin to regress to your old behavior. They don’t notice when you begin to flinch at anything that moves too quickly again, or the way you begin spacing out more than usual when you delve too far into your thoughts. They don’t notice when your nightmares start worsening again, too busy in their pooling stress to hear you toss and turn late at night and emerge from your bedroom with red, sunken eyes in the morning. You are relapsing into the learned behavior from your father, and you are terrified to admit it to yourself. But after a particularly bad day of anxiety and panic attacks, you put your fear aside to talk to the boys again about going back to therapy. It was virtually pointless, but you won’t let the seven of them take the brunt of your mental health when they had so much going on already. 

You timidly make your way down to the lower level of the mansion, slow footsteps leading you to their meeting room, where they’re all engrossed in their work and you can feel the tension choking the air. None of them notice your presence at first, until you cough to get their attention. They all snap their heads up and stare.

“Hey, could I um..talk to you guys for a couple minutes?”

 You feel like a specimen under a microscope. You used to be so comfortable talking to them. Now it just feels unnatural. 

“Can it wait, Y/N? We’ve just lost another shipment, and it’s a big one”, Yoongi grumbles from his seat, rifling through a tall stack of papers with a permanent crease in his brows. 

“Okay, then when can we-” 

“We’re just really busy right now.” 

Jungkook doesn’t mean for his voice to be so loud. He probably didn’t even pay attention to it, but it makes you flinch and stumble backwards. Makes you melt more into the girl you used to be. The one who stayed quiet out of survival, diminishing under the authority of a loud voice with cruel intentions. You know he doesn’t mean to do it. But you can’t help but see the face of your father again, and those long-healed scars seem to re-flicker with pain. 

Still, these were your boys. So you push on. 

A deep breath. “I was just thinking that maybe I could go back to-”

“Y/N, please. We don’t even have enough time to breathe. I’m sure whatever you need can be addressed later.”

The room falls into silence. Their message is loud and clear. And though it's painful to hear, it’s your own fault for exaggerating your place in their lives. He was right, it could be addressed later...you were just being a bother. 

“Right. Sorry.” Your halfhearted mutter falls deaf on their ears. They haven’t spared you a single ounce of attention, eyes still glued onto their work. You swallow down the heavy feeling in your throat and force the tears away. Why does your chest feel like someone’s twisted up your heart? 

You’re always so sensitive, Y/N. Such a crybaby. You can’t even take care of yourself. 

The tread upstairs back to your bedroom feels like an arduous journey as you try to hold yourself together and pretend like their actions hadn’t hurt you. But they weren’t responsible for your trauma. Your problems. You couldn’t blame them for not making it a priority, when their empire was threatened. 

They don’t hear you that night when you hold a goose-feather pillow to your chest and sob out the fear of being unwanted again. They don’t show up at your bedroom door when you wake yourself up from crying through a nightmare. 

You’ll figure it out yourself, with or without a therapist and with or without depending on them. From now on, you decide to make yourself invisible, focusing all your energy on dragging yourself out of the dark place you’re stuck in once again. So if you have to suffer in silence for their sake, so that they don’t have another insignificant loose end to worry about, you’ll do it. It’s the least you can do.

But you’d come to learn that those words are easier said than done. 

“Miss Y/N?” There is a light knock at your door, and the soft voice of the maid barely penetrates through the thick wood. You remember her name was Jun. The noise goes through in one ear and out of the other, and you can’t even find it in yourself to reply. 

“You haven’t left your room in two days. I was just...making sure you’re okay.”

Her statement shocks you out of your dazed stupor, and you hadn’t even realized the amount of time you spent staring into space, limp on your mattress.

 It was getting harder. To just function and drag yourself out of your bedroom so you didn’t, and two days unknowingly passed. But to you, they only felt like hours. Time passes by differently when you’re blindly navigating through trauma. 

It’s hard to sit up and slowly tread to the door, and your bones ache after not moving for so long. When you open it, guilt pools in your stomach to see her worried expression. Though you can guess why she looks so concerned. You’re a complete disaster. 

“Oh, honey…”, she sighs, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, “here. Let’s get you into some fresh clothes.” 

You mindlessly let her help you out of your days old T-shirt and sweats, mindlessly let her guide you into the shower and turn on the water, mindlessly let her rub shampoo into your scalp. You don’t even have the energy to open your mouth and tell her the water’s too cold. You’re still stuck inside your own thoughts, and you can only hear your father’s voice in your ear as he repeatedly affirms how worthless you are. Useless Y/N, that’s what he would say. Good-for-nothing Y/N. 

You’ve somehow gotten it into your head that the reason why they’ve been so absent with you is because they don’t know to tell you they want you to leave. After all, staying in the Bangtan mansion was only supposed to be a temporary solution. Maybe this is how they kick you out. 

When Jun wraps you in a fluffy towel and drags you out from underneath the showerhead, you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. Your cheeks are sunken, and the dark circles under your eyes look almost painful. And somewhere along with that reflection is the image of your father. His angry face, glaring at you and screaming why you let yourself get like this. 

“Jun, have they…are they still busy?” Her eyes widen at the first words she’s heard from you, but there is sad sympathy on her face in a split second and you’ve already gotten your answer before she can say anything. 

“Yes, dear. The bosses are very occupied. But they can always make time for you, hm? They care about you a lot, you know.” Jun’s statement makes you frown, but you don’t retort. Maybe you used to think that they cared, but now it just felt like their kindness was out of obligation. They felt guilty for sending you back to your father. Or perhaps they used to care for you. But now...you weren’t so sure. 

When she manages to get you downstairs, in the kitchen, and set you in front of a bowl of soup, the boys are nowhere to be found. Jun tells you they’re out doing business and you tell yourself you’re not hurt that they hadn’t even noticed your absence for the past two days. 

They’re just roped up in other things, that’s all. 

After your shower and meal, Jun insisted that you take a stroll around the garden, and specifically instructed you to check out the new peony bush she had just planted. She mentioned it was per request of the seven bosses, but you had a hard time believing any of them would be concerned with something like that during this time. They hadn’t even made the time to talk to you. 

You hadn’t realized how much you needed to be outside and breathe in fresh air until you stepped out into the grassy space. Even though the solitude was getting to be too much, you were experiencing a newfound peace that you wanted to keep for as long as possible. Jun was right, and the peony bush was absolutely gorgeous. You actually feel like an alive and functioning human being. It was surprising that you were so dependent on the boys that without them, falling apart was inevitable. But now you were coherent and not so drowned in your toxic mentality (you’ll have to thank Jun profusely later), and you feel determined to talk to them again.  About going back to therapy, no matter how useless it felt back then, and try to get on your own two feet. Now that you had seen and felt how serious it was, you wouldn’t be so complicit if they tried to silence you. 

From over the tall hedges, the sounds of wheels rolling on gravel could be heard before the tense slams of car doors. The sound of Jungkook and Namjoon’s low muttering falls on your ears and though it sparks excitement inside you, you’re also fearful of what they might say. You don’t think you can handle another swift rejection like last time. Their indecipherable conversation ceases when you hear the entrance doors close, and seal them inside while you are still out here in your own world. 

The white peony that’s cupped in your hand feels so fragile and soft that you don’t want to touch it anymore. It makes you think of them. Of how delicate it feels recently and how you’re so deathly afraid of them changing their minds one day and kicking you out with nowhere to go. Maybe you’ll just wander around again. There’s a distant cousin in the states also, but you’d have to figure out how to get out of the country without alerting your father. You shake yourself out of your intrusive thoughts. 

No way your boys would do that to you.

Right?

The way back from the garden to the house is brief, but your anxiety about talking to them lengthens the trips and the feet feel like miles. You are wrapped up in your thoughts the entire way, and when you make your way into the house, you almost don’t notice the angry voices that are bouncing off the walls. It sounds like Taehyung is yelling, and the sound curdles your stomach. You hate it when people yell. It just reminds you of your father. 

You follow the commotion to the kitchen, extra cautious and apprehensive. The sheer volume of their reprimanding seems to shake the house and your hands begin to quiver as you get closer. Peeking out from behind a wall, their backs are to you but you can see the face of a sheepish boy who hangs his head, gaze glued to the floor as the seven men continue to berate him. You recognize him as one of the newer members that was initiated a couple weeks ago; you’ve talked to him a couple times and he was never anything but courteous. He looks like he’s about to cry and it makes your heart ache.

Your attention pans back to the seven out of shock. The only time you’ve seen them this angry was at the meeting with your father, so you can only imagine what that young boy has done to land himself in this position. 

“I told you a fucking million times too many, Lee. I told you to check in with the shipments as soon as they arrived in Myeongdong. So imagine my fucking surprise when I get a call notifying me that they’re all missing. Stolen.” Namjoon’s voice cuts straight through the room. His fists are clenched and even from the back, you can tell the expression on his face is one of scalding fury. 

A shipment? They’re this infuriated over a shipment?

“I-I’m sorry, Boss. Please, I...please forgive me. I know it’s no excuse but I’m new here, a-and I swear this will not happen again.” He shrinks into himself and you quietly whimper in sympathy. 

Yoongi humorlessly chuckles. “You swear? The only valuable thing you have to swear on is your life. And even that’s not worth much.” 

It’s moments like these that you forget how cruel and ruthless they can be. They’ve always been so soft and gentle with you before, you forget they are mafia bosses overseeing an entire empire. That they’ve gotten here for a reason. You forget that people fear them. But you remember now. 

Lee stays silent and still refuses to look up, but you can see the way his knees shake uncontrollably. He is one person standing up against 7 huffing bulls, so angry they can’t see straight so if you - tiny and meek you - has to be the one to come to his defense, so be it. 

Because you’ve been that person going head to head with a bull. You see yourself, terrified and regretful, in Lee. And you’ll be damned if you have to watch and not do anything about it. Your heart beats thunderously in your chest but you push past the fear. 

Their heads all snap up in surprise when you march into the kitchen and stand in between them and the boy, who looks even more painfully young up close and sporting that deer-in-the-headlights expression. You lock gazes with each of them, swallowing your nerves before speaking. 

“Is it really that big of a deal to yell at him like this? Look at him”, you gesture to the cowering person behind you, “don’t you think he’s had enough?” Your voice is still soft, and such a contrast to their angry ones. But it seems like your gentle tone just makes them even angrier, and snaps them out of their initial shock.  

“A big deal? He cost us thousands in shipments! I’d say that’s a pretty big fucking deal to me, Y/N.” Jungkook bursts out, exasperatedly running his hands through his hair and looking at you with an angry frown. You flinch at his volume. The stress on their shoulders is more apparent than ever.  

“Why are you defending him, Y/N? You don’t even know who he is”, Jimin spits, growing even more irritated. There’s a hint of jealousy in his words and it’s so subtle that you don’t even notice it. 

“I know that he doesn’t deserve to be yelled at like this for a little mistake. One that I’m sure he is regretful of making.” It suddenly feels daunting when you realize that you’re going up against all of them, and now, they’re all staring at you with the same anger that was meant for the one that messed up their shipments. 

“And what if that mistake is a sign that he’s traitorous? Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised. Seems like that’s a trend going around here.” From behind you, Lee is quick to open his mouth and begin to protest, but you interrupt and speak strongly. It seems this disciplining session has morphed into a full blown argument between you and them. 

“It was one person. I get that it’s shitty, and I’m sorry it happened. I understand that you have to be on watch now and extra cautious. I do.” You sigh, a pleading look in your eyes but they remain stone cold.

“But one person did that. Are you going to treat everyone like they betrayed you? Are you going to treat me like I betrayed you?”

“I don’t know Y/N, you were so quick to defend him. Maybe you did. I wouldn't put it past you.” 

Taehyung’s words run through you like a hot knife to butter. You almost stagger back at the shock. You’re no stranger to hurtful words but when they are coming out of his mouth, it hurts tenfold. How could they think you would betray them? 

They promised to trust you, didn’t they? They promise they’d believe you after they failed to the first time. Now it just feels like you’re that spoiled little rich girl again in their eyes, standing in front of them and pleading your innocence. 

“W-what? No, I-”

“You know nothing about our world, Y/N. You can’t possibly understand.” Jin’s silver voice is colder than you’re ever heard it. 

“I know that, but could you just please-”

“As a matter of fact, this is a mafia business matter”, Yoongi shoots, poisoned words designed to hurt. 

“I’m not sure why you’re here at all, Y/N. Just leave.” 

Gone is the strong persona that you had put up to protect this young boy. Gone is the confident woman who thought she had the will to stand up for herself, much less someone else. You can only keep your eyes glued to Yoongi, and hope that he doesn’t see your heart crumbling right in front of him. How had he aimed mindlessly at your insecurities, and shot a bullseye into the biggest one?

Maybe you did, Y/N. I wouldn’t put it past you.

Blame it on the blurriness through your tears or the sheer shock running through your veins, but you can’t find one smidgen of regret or guilt in his expression. On any of their faces. Just anger and annoyance, aimed directly at you. And suddenly the spacious mansion feels all too suffocating. 

You know nothing about our world Y/N.

The words you plan to say die on the tip of your tongue, as quickly as they came. There is nothing that comes out and in the aching silence of it all, the way you maintain eye contact with each of them speaks volumes. Yet they are blind to the way you are ripping at the seams, and oblivious to the turmoil they are putting you through. The coldness of their gaze and words shoot through your core, like a blade of ice piercing through your heart. 

I’m not sure why you’re here at all. 

Just leave. 

In short, right at this moment, they look like strangers. Strangers who know what scares you, what foods you don’t like, your favorite flowers, your favorite color. Strangers who have seen your heart, welcomed it, and who were now crushing it in front of you. 

What a fool you were to think that they could reciprocate your feelings. 

What a fool you were to think that they wanted you as much as you wanted them. 

Your pained chuckle is a discordant sound in the tense quiet. Their stares burn on your skin and though you are trying so hard to now show how utterly broken you feel, you wonder if they even notice. when you look back into the eyes of the boy directly in front of you, he is still so angry and red you find it hard to believe anything but your alleged cold, hard truth:

The seven boys you have fallen in love with utterly despise you. Perhaps they always have. 

“Yeah”, you whisper brokenly. “Maybe I will.” 

taglist: @pinkyhim​, @deolly​, @loveyoongles​, @drunkzseok​, @hope122598​, @uwunamjoon​, @nomimits7​, @bubblebunnylia​, @aquaalanah​, @juliie-ocha, @daydreambrliever​, @btsbabby​, @blank-et-noir, @myheartstaysinkorea, @rosiethefairy​, @tiredjedi, @lovemyself-persona​, @jeoncookie-bts​, @annoyingpessimist​, @beach-bitch-bitch-beach​, @fangirling-all-the-way-tbh, @btstxtgenre​, @taesugaar​, @hxsxxk-180294​, @bubbletae7​, @uglyratlmao​, @hopetookmysoul​, @supertweetycherry​, @missseoulite​, @barbikatherine​, @jamesfrickingbuchananbarnes​, @sunsetsnsirens-blog​, @vanilla-smash​, @lmaosani​, @onionhaseyeo​, @i-dumb-bitch​, @euphxriajoon​, @justpeachyjoon​, @dabbingangels​, @h5naaa​, @parkmaeri, @softescapism​, @bena-baby​, @myjiminmychimchim , @moments-of-melancholy​, @krystle1990​, @chatsgotmytongue​, @vi-hoshi​, @unlikelylittlemiss​, @rosey-roseau, @thestrugglesofateenagedirtbag​, @kookiebbyxx​,

[x-fern-weh-x]

What Happened to You?

Author's Note: cut me some slack if this sucks, this is my first fanfiction... anyways, please enjoy!

----------

Jordie Rietveld honestly and wholeheartedly thought that his brother was dead.

The Queen’s Lady plague had knocked them both to a deep, unrecoverable sickness, and they were both drifting in and out of consciousness.

But he’d been awake when they took his brother’s dead body away.

He’d shielded himself from the bodymen’s eyes, the cart full of corpses repulsive enough to provide him the strength to hide around the corner, watching tentatively with bloodshot eyes as one of them slung Kaz’s body over his shoulder, tossing him into the pile without care.

After that, there had been many times when he’d wanted to give up. There’s no one waiting for you in this world. Why should you even try? Why shouldn’t you lie here until you die?

But every time these thoughts almost overcame him, he thought of Kaz’s smiling face, sitting on the bridge with a mug of hot chocolate in his hands. Would he want you to die?

So Jordie kept fighting.

However, he hadn’t ever expected to see his brother again. Kaz Rietveld was dead, there was no question about that.

----------

The streets of Ketterdam brought back memories. In a sea of bad, the good ones were like a golden strand sewn into the torn fabric of Jordie’s mind, precious but thin and few. This is why he had never returned before.

The first thing he tried to do was to get a job, which was hard to do in this city overrun by the poor and the criminals. The most commonly spoken about seemed to be a man called ‘Dirtyhands,’ lethal for his young age, and the leader of the gang called the Dregs.

Jordie quickly managed to find work at a restaurant that needed someone to clean their grimy ovens and their cutlery for a meager wage of two kruge an hour. It was a sick way to spend his life, moving from town to town, working until he decided to try his luck somewhere different, all the way until he found his way back here, to Ketterdam.

He didn’t know what came over him the day he agreed to go gambling at the Crow Club one night. It might have been his severe lack of any recreation in his life, it might have been fate.

Jordie took his few payments with him, only enough to place a few bets. But it didn’t take long for someone to sniff out a fake coin, and soon he was being escorted up a steep flight of stairs by two guards, then he was shoved into a dark office.

A man sat across the room from him, his gloved hands resting atop an intricate cane, a crow’s head at the crown. He couldn’t be older than eighteen, but he had a kind of dangerousness about him that showed Jordie not to provoke him. Dirtyhands. Jordie felt like he’d seen him somewhere, but there was no way to know where. Jordie wasn’t sure if he wanted to know where.

At his right side stood a small Suli girl, about the same age, a long, dark braid flowing down her back like a waterfall. She was glaring at him with just as much intensity.

“Were you aware that you were using counterfeit coins?” The man asked, and his voice surprised Jordie. It was like sandpaper, a low scratchiness to it, just like his. Had he been hit by a bout of the plague, too? It was a silly notion. At that age, he’d have been around ten or eleven when the plague came around. No kid could have beat that without some mark, PTSD in the worst cases.

“No, I was not,” Jordie said, afraid. “But I don’t understand why you’d bring me in here instead of just throwing me out.”

“This is an expensive counterfeit,” the Suli girl spoke for the first time, “only those rich enough could make something look and feel so much like the real thing.”

“So we need you to tell us. Where did you get these?” the man stood up, tapping his finger slowly on the crow’s head of his cane, a slow, gentle reminder of the weapon that lay in his grasp.

“I’m not sure, sir. My employer—Korotkov Tarasovich—paid me with these. My work isn’t important either. I clean for them.”

“A Ravkan man.” the man noted, and Jordie nodded. “And what is your name?”

“Jordan Rietveld.”

With those two words, the man’s cold, serious demeanor was simply stripped away.

He stumbled, falling against a wall, and the Suli girl immediately ran to him. He was completely unfocused, and it felt like he simply wasn’t present in the room. He was gasping for air, mouthing words that Jordie couldn’t distinguish from across the room.

The girl was clearly trying to comfort him, but, strangely, not touching him. Physical contact is what anyone would need to ground them from a panic attack like this.

And that’s when Jordie heard it.

“Kaz. Kaz, I’m right here.” The girl. She’d called him Kaz.

Logical thinking, Jordie. Kaz is a relatively common name.

But that didn’t explain the strange feeling that he’d known the criminal or the fact that said criminal was now having what seemed to be an anxiety attack at the mention of Jordie’s name.

Kaz. His innocent little brother, who he’d last seen almost nine years ago. Who he thought was dead.

After the initial shock, questions clouded his head. How was he alive? Had he ever come looking for Jordie? Why did he use a cane? What had made him… like this?

The girl spun towards Jordie. “What did you do to him?” She demanded. “Are you Grisha? A Heartrender?” She pulled out a couple of knives from what seemed like nowhere, and soon she had one pushed up against his throat.

“What is his name?” Jordie asked her.

“Excuse me?” she snarled, pushing the other knife into Jordie’s gut, holding him from behind.

“Dirtyhands. What is his name?”

She hesitated before saying, “Kaz. His name is Kaz Brekker.”

Brekker. Not Rietveld, Brekker. Maybe this was all a strange, strange coincidence.

That’s when Kaz spoke, his voice thick with rasp, but this time, Jordie could hear a hint of a little boy, vulnerable and innocent, scared of what the dangerous streets of Ketterdam had to offer.

“No, Inej.” His breath was shaky, but he was standing, leaning heavily on his cane. “Remember when I first met you? When you asked me if my name was real? What did I say?”

The girl looked shocked. “Real enough,” she recounted. She looked between Jordie and Kaz, and Jordie could see the puzzle pieces connecting in her head. “Rietveld… The R tattoo… on your arm…”

The reality hit Jordie like a gunshot. This was his brother standing in front of him, scarred and solemn, he looked like the type of man that tried to swindle unsuspecting young hopefuls, someone that would do anything for money. The kind of man that had swindled him, nine long years ago. “Kaz…” He whispered, letting the name escape his lips again after a long, long time. “What happened to you?”

[disgruntledspacedad]

in defense of Din’s subdued reaction to losing the kid...

gif by @quantam-widow

I know we were all thinking it. We got a 2 second reaction shot to the destruction of the Razor Crest (may she forever rest in peace), but then, Grogu gets taken, and... nothing?

What the fuck, Din? we all protest. That’s your baby on that ship! Don’t you care? Scream, curse, kick a rock, cry, make a fist, something!!

I will acknowledge that so far, the show has been excellent with giving us emotional payoff, am I right? I mean, just today we got Din laughing, twice. Twice in a row. I honestly never thought we’d see that. There have been so many excellent, precious soft!Din moments this season, and they all feel deliciously earned.

So, from a meta POV, I guess I’m saying that I have faith in the writers to get it right, and in Pedro to deliver. Duh.

In universe, though, I think it’s fair to point out the obvious - that Din is a pretty reserved guy. He’s much more of a thinker than a feeler. He’s used to keeping things bottled up, and I would even argue that his life often depends on his ability to dissociate from his emotions. Din’s entire journey so far has been about how one little baby yodito shakes his worldview to its very foundations. He’s getting there, but it’s a slow process. 

And also, consider this - we haven’t seen Din alone yet, not since Grogu was taken. For a guy who lives a guarded life literally encased in fucking armor, any display of emotion is going to be carefully protected until he’s in private.

But anyway, Din is detached, rational, a little emotionally constipated, and definitely comfortable in a stressful situation. A true ISTP if you ask me (yeah, I know you didn’t, but whatever). Often, it seems that these cool headed, logical types who have never ruffled a feather over anything in their lives are the least adept at handling genuine fear. In other words, when panic does strike, it strikes them hard. 

And guys, Din was definitely panicking during this episode. 

He’s clearly unsettled from the jump - that outburst of “dank farrik!” in the cockpit sells it, and his distress only becomes more obvious from there. Talking out loud, trying to convince himself that the best thing for Grogu is for him to be trained as a Jedi. Reminding himself of the creed. His overt caution as they approach the seeing stone. His impatience, “Are you seeing anything??”

Then there’s the effects of long term stress. Sure, a bounty hunter in the outer rim doesn’t exactly live an easy life, but Din is definitely used to the drama being on his terms. Compare Din’s body language in the opening scene of season one to when Boba confronts him in chapter fourteen. You can just feel the anxiety, the weariness, the frustration. Din has been on the run for months now, constantly looking over his shoulder, sleeping with one eye open. Notice how he even startles at Fennec’s voice? Season one Din would never have given that much away, regardless of the situation. Long term stress has clearly taken a toll on him.

So we have unsettled, stressed out Din in an emotionally charged situation. He’s exhausted, he’s scared, he’s desperate. This scenario is a recipe for even the most level-headed of adrenaline junkies to loose their cool, and that’s exactly what happens to Din. He panics, and he makes some pretty big fuckups because of it. Leaving Grogu unprotected, twice. Trying three different times to break through that “force field,” even when he knew he couldn’t. Dropping that jetpack and then just forgetting about it (I know we were all screaming about that one, or at least, I was).

So, fear is a positive feedback loop. Those neurotransmitters that do us good in a bad situation - raising heart rate, narrowing focus, shunting blood to the muscles - can also be detrimental if we get too high of a dose - tachypnea and tachycardia, inability to think critically and see the big picture, lack of blood and oxygen to the brain. Epinephrine, in particular, even inhibits the laying down of new memory pathways. In other words, stress leads to poor performance, and poor performance leads to more stress, which leads to... you get the idea.

Then, in the middle of all this chaos, they fucking blast the Razor Crest.

More epinephrine, more cortisol, more stress. 

By the end of it all, Din is a fucking shitstorm of stress hormones and pent up emotions. Notice how he seems to be on autopilot in the immediate aftermath, robotically scanning the ashes of the Crest for anything that might be left intact. Notice how empty his voice is when he says, “the child is gone.” This is a dead man walking. Din has nothing left. His whole life has just gone up in smoke, and he can do nothing about it. 

Guys, Din is holding onto his sanity by a fucking thread in this scene. “The child is gone,” he says, like he’s reminding himself, grounding himself in his shitty reality. He’s stunned. 

And helpless. There’s literally nothing he can do for Grogu. He has no ship, no credits, no resources, nothing to bargain with, nothing to offer. Din literally cannot allow himself the luxury of feelings right now. He’s just got to focus on surviving this very shitty day.

Then, Boba Fett upholds his end of the deal, and suddenly, Din has something to hold onto. An ally, a badass friend, some hope. I don’t think Boba shows Din that chain code in order to verify his claim on the armor - he’s already wearing it, for godssake. I think Boba shows him the code in order to catch Din’s attention - hey friend, I know you’re hurting, but I’m a man of my word. When I make a vow, I keep it. Let’s regroup and go find your kid.

And Din would totally latch onto that. A fighting chance? Din fucking leaps at it. There’s a job to do. A kid to save. All of those stress hormones are going to keep on stewing, because Din has never really come down from his adrenaline high. 

It’s like this in real life, too. There isn’t time to be afraid. There isn’t time to be sad, or second-guess, or say, oh how terrible, or wonder what if it doesn’t work? There’s just you and the job, and if you are the only thing standing between life and death, you will put everything else aside and do what you have to do, for as long as you have to do it.

And that’s where Din is at this moment. He’s running on the fumes of his adrenaline, all tempered focus, all strategy and no bullshit.

Emotional shock, my therapist buddy calls it. Apparently, it’s normal. Expected, even.

But guys, the fallout of this kind of crazy ass adrenaline high is insanely intense. I’m talking collapse to the floor, legs won't hold you, trembling, crying so hard you sling snot, shuddering breaths, stare dead-eyed and spent at the ceiling because you’re just too wiped out to even sleep kind of intense. 

And then, after the breakdown comes the angst. The detailed thinking. The oh god, what if this had happened, or, should I have done that instead? It seems like every emotion that gets put on the back burner in the moment comes back to bite you with twofold intensity when all is said and done. 

In other words, Din is definitely going to feels some things .A lot of very intense things. A reckoning is coming, my dudes. Trust me. It’s just not quite here yet.

That being said, here’s what I can expect from Din going forward:

Just like he’s is slow to acknowledge his growing parental feelings for Grogu, I think Din’s going to be slow at processing his grief at Grogu’s loss. In the next episode, he’s got plenty to distract him - getting together his hit team to take back the kid and coordinating an attack on the empire. 

However, I do think we’ll get a slow moment with Din, probably sometime at the beginning of next week’s episode if the pattern holds. I doubt it’s the full-blown breakdown that we’re all needing, but I’m willing to bet money that we’ll see Din grappling with the fact that his kid is gone. I also think that badass beskar murder machine Din from chapter three will resurface. Stress and desperation make us do irrational things, and anger is one of the stages of grief that Din will inevitably have to work through (I think he’s flickering between denial and bargaining for now).

But then, after Din gets Grogu back? I think that’s we’ll have our big, dearly earned emotional payoff. 

For one thing, Din won’t be able to deny his feelings anymore. He wants to keep this kid, it’s so very obvious. Losing him just forces it all to the forefront. 

And then the relief/joy/regret/guilt that Din is going to feel once he’s got Grogu back? Not to mention the physical exhaustion? All of the fear/terror/angst/grief that he ignored in favor of just going pedal to the metal, guns blazing, get the kid or die trying? That shit’s going to crash into him with all the subtly of a fucking tsunami. I guarantee you, we’re going to get some sort of confession, or adoption vow, or face revel, or other sort of profound softness from Dad!Din in the falling action of this season (At least, I hope we get it at the end this season but I wouldn’t put it past them to kick it into the premier of season three, just for pacing reasons, but then again, I obviously have trust issues).

Personally, I would love to see Din grappling with the long-term fallout of losing Grogu - night terrors, guilt, paranoia, etc. That’s probably the stuff of fanfiction - mandalorians don't have nightmares on screen, surely - but still, some lingering effects Grogu’s kidnapping would be realistic, and I would absolutely live for it.

[gameofdrarry]

Wizards Hearts Recs: Soulmates

Wizards Hearts was a four-month-long Drarry reading fest. Players were given a playing deck of 52 tropes, and were asked to find 52 different fics to read and comment on to fill their decks. To prevent the same few fics from being read, fics were restricted to only being used for the game three times before being considered ineligible for further points. The tropes and submissions list can be found here.

Check out the masterlist of fics for this trope below the cut!

📜 survival is a talent by ShanaStoryteller Rated:  Teen and Up Words:  367490 Tags: Soulmate AU, Indian Harry Potter, Black Hermione Granger, canon? i don't know her, Slow Build, Lucius Malfoy is a bad person but a good father, Parselmouth Harry Potter, Smart Draco Malfoy, I'm offended that's a tag OF COURSE he's smart, sometimes bad things happen, but this fic isn't out to hurt you, Secret Relationship, Slytherins and Gryffindors being reluctant friends, Plotty, suprising lack of focus on soulmates for a soulmate au Summary:  In the middle of their second year, Draco and Harry discover they're soulmates and do their best to keep it a secret from everyone. Their best isn't perfect. ~ “Are you trying to get killed, Potter?” Malfoy drawls, stalking forward. Quick as a serpent himself, he reaches out and grabs the snake just below the head. It thrashes in his grip, but is no longer able to bite anyone. “This is a poisonous snake, and I doubt anyone brought a bezoar with them.” Harry glares. He opens his mouth, and feels the beginning the snake’s language pass his lips, and this isn’t what he wants, what’s the point of insulting Malfoy if he can’t understand him – Malfoy’s eyes widen. He slaps his hand over Harry’s mouth, “Potter, what the hell–” ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Vortex by xanthippe74 Rated:  Teen and Up Words:  20625 Tags: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, POV Draco Malfoy, Down and Out Draco Malfoy, Azkaban, Knockturn Alley, Redemption, Poverty, Angst with a Happy Ending, Auror Harry Potter, brief mention of past suicide attempt, brief mention of past self-harm, Past medical abuse (over-prescription of Calming Draught), Non-graphic off-screen injury Summary:  “Don’t worry, my dearest one,” Draco’s mother told him when he confided his worries to her. When he was old enough to feel the pangs of adolescent longing, but still too young to sense the storm gathering around them. “Magic will overcome any distance or obstacles to bring two soulmates together when the time is right. Circumstances will arise that steer them in the right direction; strange coincidences will make their paths cross again and again. Then the most wondrous moment arrives, when you both realize that your soulmate, your perfect match, stands before you, and from that day forward your hearts will be one.” Ten years after that conversation, the idea of perfectly-matched soulmates feels more like a curse than a blessing to Draco. Who would want a soulmate who was a schoolyard bully, a Death Eater, and a convicted felon? Certainly not Harry Potter. And Draco is determined to take this secret to the grave. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Tie My Heart to Yours by Craftybadger1234 Rated:  Mature Words:  36661 Tags: Rape/Non-conHogwarts Eighth Year, Potions, Red String of Fate, Soulmates, Depression, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Child Abuse, Angst, Getting to Know Each Other, Mild Sexual Content, Mildly Dubious Consent, Fluff, Bisexual Draco Malfoy, Happy Ending Summary:  For fun, Slughorn has the eighth year students brew a potion to reveal their Red Strings of Fate. Harry doesn't know what to think about being tied to Draco. Or how to make a relationship work between them. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Highly (in)Compatible by daisymondays Rated:  Teen and Up Words:  36828 Tags: Soulmates, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Romance, Draco Malfoy in the Muggle World, Post-Hogwarts, Denial of Feelings, anxiety mention, References to Depression, Panic Attacks, Forced Dating, Enthusiastic Consent, POV Draco Malfoy, Humor, Magical Theory, Soulmate Theory, HP: EWE, Getting Together, Getting to Know Each Other, Forced Proximity Summary:  Draco’s been shagging The Prat Who Lived on and off for a few months when his soul mark starts to change. Draco’s had to accept a lot of adjustments to his life, but accepting that Harry Potter could be his soulmate is one step too far. It can’t be true? Can it? ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 A Tale of Woo by Veritas03 Rated:  Mature Words:  25330 Tags: N/A Summary:  Harry’s a bit of a mess, despite a successful Quidditch career. Draco’s not too much of a mess, but believes his life is as good as it’s likely to get. Both want something more. Fate is going to help them out with that. ❤️ Read on AO3

�� With You, Always by acupforslytherin Rated:  Mature Words:  14542 Tags: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Hogwarts Era, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Non-Explicit Sex, Dreams, Lullabies, Minor Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, hearing, TasteofSmut 2020 Summary:  All his life, Harry repeatedly hears one same calming tune in his dreams. No one seems to recognize the mysterious song, until one day, Harry catches Malfoy humming it when he thinks he's alone. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Not By Duty Are We Bound by Dreaming_of_a_Bright_Sky Rated:  Teen and Up Words:  17176 Tags: Graphic Depictions of ViolenceAU, Soul Bond, Hurt/Comfort Summary:  Draco Malfoy has saved Harry's life so many times that it's joked about (and even bet upon) by the Aurors Harry works with. When Harry finds out how and why, it forces him to see a reality that he'd been blinding himself too. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 All Our New Years by Frayach Rated:  Mature Words:  2525 Tags: New Year's Eve, Soulmates, Minor Character Death Summary:  It takes too many New Year's Eves without each other but eventually they get it right. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Changing Tides by carpemermaid Rated:  Explicit Words:  109687 Tags: Bisexual Harry Potter, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Slow Burn, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Dumbledore's Army, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Auror Harry Potter, Auror Partners, Auror Draco Malfoy, Minor Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Patronus, Gardens & Gardening, Cultural References, POV Draco Malfoy, Hogwarts Fifth Year, POV Alternating, POV Harry Potter, Wandless Magic, Coming of Age, Mutual Pining, War AU, Romance, Falling In Love, Humor, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Healing, Post-War, Ministry of Magic, Minor Luna Lovegood/Ginny Weasley, Soulmates, Community: hd_erised, Sexual Fantasy, Wet Dream, Snogging, Frottage, Blow Jobs, Anal Fingering, Masturbation, Mutual Masturbation, Non-Penetrative Sex, Emotional Sex, Hand Jobs, Professor Harry Potter, Person of Color Harry Potter Summary:  Draco has spent half of his life spouting the things his father has taught him without much thought about how he feels about what he says. When he unexpectedly comes face to face with the Dark Lord, he grapples with the harsh realities of the world and struggles with his changing views on life. Instead of doing what’s expected of him fifth year, he joins Dumbledore’s Army and learns how to defend himself, how to make his own choices, and how he can be something greater than his father’s example as he grows into his own man rather than his father’s shadow. The choices he makes change both his and Harry’s fates, intertwining their paths until they converge. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Everything a Word Can Mean by OTPshipper98 Rated:  Teen and Up Words:  2355 Tags: Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Sectumsempra Scars, Pre-Hogwarts, Hogwarts Era, Post-Hogwarts, Foot Massage, Nicknames, Cuddles, Happy Ending, Drunken Confessions, Getting Together Summary:  In a world where magical people are born with the nickname their soulmate will call them by tattooed on their skin... what does it mean that the word on Harry's chest is the thing he hates to be called the most? ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Danse Russe by Frayach Rated:  Explicit Words:  140119 Tags: Novella, Soulmates, Angst, HP: EWE, Explicit Sexual Content, World Travel, not a wip Summary:  True Love. Soul Mates. They're just words until put to the test. Harry and Draco have a bond that was forged in the hell of the post-war years and pulled them both back from an abyss of nihilism and self-destruction. Nothing can break it, or so they believed. But True Love can demand sacrifices too great to bear and deeds too terrible to justify. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 A breath worth of life by Explicit Rated:  Explicit Words:  39791 Tags: H/D Hurt!Fest 2020, Soulmates, Terminal Illnesses, Death, Preparing for Death, Minor Character Death, Grief/Mourning, breaking up, Loneliness, Depression, Self-Hatred, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Suicidal Thoughts, Heavy Drinking, Therapy, Grief counselling, Vomit, Hospitals, Cruise, Pirates, Treasure hunts, parenting, blended families - Freeform, It Takes a Village to Raise a Child, Magic Theory, Healer Hermione Granger, Cursebreaker Draco Malfoy, Auror Harry Potter, Accidental Bonding, love is the most powerful magic, Breathplay, Domesticity, Weddings, proposal, vactioning, hermione deserves all the awards, Kópakonan saves the day, Italians do it better, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Draco is father of the year, Ron is father of the year, Harry is not even in the competition, PoC Harry, POC Hermione, Long-Haired Draco Malfoy, long-haired Harry Potter, Short-haired Draco, Short-haired Harry, questionable medical ethics get handwaved here for the sake of fun, close encounters with ponies puffins sheep and other assorted fauna, Trans Luna Lovegood, Casual Sex Summary:  ‘...that moment when everything clicks into place, when the circumstances are right, your magic aligns, and you touch your soulmate. You'll know then, Draco, my darling.’ His mother used to look at his father with such devotion then. ‘It will feel like breathing fresh air for the first time, you'll know you'd been living on borrowed time until then but no more. There is an entire lifetime in that one breath.’ Finding your soulmate is the one way a wix can hope to live past thirty, but if he can’t have that with Astoria, Draco is ready to check out, let his magic eat him up and be done. Harry, on the other hand, isn’t about to leave any stone unturned or path unbeaten until he finds the one person meant for him before that fated birthday rolls around. After every failed attempt he grows more and more convinced that whatever Voldemort did to him might have made him unlovable, but he will go down fighting if he has to. Hermione still thinks the whole thing is cancer but what does she know? ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Today, Forever by PalenDrome (nerdherderette), PotterArt Rated:  Explicit Words:  60958 Tags: Explicit Sexual Content, Explicit Language, Voyeurism, Frottage, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Rimming, Anal Sex, Auror Harry Potter, Veela Draco Malfoy, Winged Draco Malfoy, Veela Mates, Bonding, Soulmates, Enemies to Lovers, Mutual Pining, Angst with a Happy Ending, Draco Malfoy/OMC (brief), Past Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Case Fic, Minor Violence, Minor Character Death, Magical Theory, Magical Biology, Muggle and Wizarding Technology, Digital Art, Embedded Images, Harry/Draco Big Bang 2018, Community: harrydracobang Summary:  As if his recent divorce and sleepless nights weren’t bad enough, a rash of escalating crimes against purebloods forces Harry and his team of Aurors to protect the riskiest target in all of Wizarding Britain. Of course, Draco Malfoy would still be ridiculously infuriating and impossibly gorgeous. As well as a Veela. Who happens to be Harry’s mate. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Dragon Heartstrings by JET_Playin Rated:  Explicit Words:  23825 Tags: Soulmates, Red String of Fate, Explicit Sexual Content, HP: EWE, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Angst, Fluff, Romance, Implied Relationships, Top Harry, Bottom Draco, Falling In Love, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Tall!Harry, Misunderstandings, Oblivious Harry, Oblivious Draco Malfoy, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending Summary:  Draco has seen the strings for almost as long as he can remember, but they don't mean anything. Anything at all.... ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Love and Paranoia by sunnyeclipses Rated:  Explicit Words:  48547 Tags: Post-Hogwarts, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Drug Abuse, Drug Addiction, Addiction recovery, Near Death Experiences, Overdosing, Relapsing, Drinking, Partying, Drunkenness, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, wall punching, Concern Over Someone Else's Weight, Soulmates, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Caretaking, Pining, Falling In Love, Slow Burn, Explicit Sexual Content, Self-Esteem Issues, Auror Harry Potter, Down and Out Draco Malfoy, Domestic, Minor Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Minor Ginny Weasley/Blaise Zabini, Minor Theodore Nott/Pansy Parkinson, Minor Neville Longbottom/Luna Lovegood, Hurtful Comments About Drug Use, Brief suicide ideation, Christmas, Pets, Sharing a Bed, Weddings, supportive friends, Forced Proximity, classic literature, H/D Erised 2020 Summary:  When Harry finds out his soulmate is none other than Draco Malfoy, he genuinely expects his life to go to shit. It doesn't help that Draco is an addict, coasting on reality-altering highs to feel something happy, something pure just once more before the comedown. What Harry doesn't expect is to care so much that it tears him apart at the seams. A story about love, drugs, and getting better. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Every Me and Every You by bixgirl1 Rated:  Explicit Words:  69300 Tags: Forced Proximity, bed sharing, Legilimency, Veritaserum, Snark, Magical Theory, Tropes (please read author's note!), EWE, Falling In Love, Frotting, Mutual Masturbation, Rimming, magical sex, Really just all the sex, Gift Fic, UST, RST, Soulmates Summary:  Harry liked his life just fine, thankyouverymuch — so it was bad enough when a sly fairy cursed him to leap into alternate realities. But seeing Malfoy in all of them? Definitely way too much. And worse yet: needing the bastard's help to figure out how to get out of of it. It was a disaster waiting to happen, really. Well... probably. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 you've got the antidote for me by Kandakicksass Rated:  Mature Words:  20730 Tags: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Soul Bond, Red String of Fate, Heavy Angst, Terminal Illnesses, Major Illness, Angst with a Happy Ending Summary:  When Harry Potter unintentionally severs their soulbond before it can fully form, Draco Malfoy resigns himself to a slow death and decides not to burden Harry with a soulmate he's made it very clear he doesn't want. He's never been selfless before, but for Harry, he can try. ❤️ Read on AO3

[winter-soldier-vibes]

I didn’t have the right words to say (Steve Rogers x depressed reader)

I didn’t have the right words to say

Steve Rogers x reader

Summary: reader is Steve Rogers’ girlfriend and suffers from depression. She never said anything out of fear and not knowing how to, but when Steve goes away she turns to unhealthy methods of coping that she found years ago.

Word count 3558

Warnings: self harm, depression, Steve taking care of you

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You always assured your boyfriend Steve that you’d be fine on your own when he left for missions. That he should be more worried about himself than he should be about leaving you. He was the one going into the fight, after all.

What you didn’t tell him is you were fighting your own fight day after day. Against yourself. 

As much as you loved Steve, it was nice when he would leave so you didn’t have to pretend anymore. It was the summer and it had become so sweltering hot. It was a pain to wear long sleeves and a smile all the time.

You were fighting a losing battle with your depression. You had been for over half of your life. It would come in waves, but it wasn’t between when it was good and when it was bad, it was between when it was bad and when it got worse.

The way that you dealt with it all was through hurting yourself. You had been to so many doctors and shrinks, but no matter what you tried you always reverted back to this. See, what people didn’t tend to understand is why a person would want to hurt themselves. Most people think it’s for attention or to numb their pain. But they didn’t realize it could accomplish so many needs.

It calmed your anxiety or anger, it toned down the racing thoughts that overtook your mind, but it could also jolt you out of your numbness. You could do it to punish yourself because you thought it was what you deserved. Sometimes it was to fulfill the itch that came with the addiction. Truth be told, you did it for many reasons. And it was too complicated to try and find an equal fix for each reason. Why would you when relief was a few strokes away?

You were lost in your life that was full of mistakes. And there was nothing you could do about it. You were struggling to survive, but you never asked for help. You just smiled and turned the other way.

You tried your best not to do it when Steve was around. Lately he had been sent on more missions, and would often come back so drained that he would sleep like a rock. You hid it pretty well too. With the help of some makeup you could get away with ¾ length sleeves and capris. You tried to keep it localized in places you didn’t have to worry about hiding, like your stomach. And lucky for you, both you and Steve were still a little shy around being intimate.

You knew he was going to find out at some point, and ideally you’d tell him before he realized by accident. The timing was just never right. He was either out the door, exhausted, or just relieved to be around you. You couldn’t squeeze it into a conversation, keep him awake when he was tired, or ruin a perfectly good moment. You couldn’t find the words to say to make it make sense to him. You wanted to be able to lean on him, because your head really was quite lonely. But your mind told you it was better this way. He wouldn’t understand. You were better off alone.

You felt like you had all the pieces to the puzzle. You had a great life, one of the most understanding people who ever lived, and stable conditions. You didn’t think you could ask for anything more. Your ability to feel emotions just had a wider scale than everyone else. Everyone seemed to have an emotional dial of 1-10. You seemed to have one that was more 1-50. And you didn’t know how to deal with or fix it.

So you kept your mouth shut, just trying to survive

You had a feeling Steve had begun to catch onto something. He seemed more reluctant to leave for days at a time, and sometimes he would look at you in a way that told you he wanted to say something but then decided against it. 

You sent him off, promising you’d be okay without him and shutting the door. Once it was closed you dropped the smile you had been wearing and trudged into your living area. You sat on the couch and hung your head, clasping your hands together and resting your elbows on your knees. You closed your eyes and tried to keep your breathing level. A panic attack was the last thing you needed right now. 

When you were alone, you didn’t have to keep up the mask you plastered on like second nature. It was nice to let your guard down for a few days at a time. But it also meant that you were alone with your thoughts, with very little distraction to keep them at bay.

When you were younger you at least had reasons to be down all the time. Feeling different from everyone else, being excluded, being hurt by the people around you...all good reasons to have low self worth. It made sense then. But it didn’t make sense anymore. Your life was stable, you had never been more at peace with your situation in your life

So why was having peace with yourself so goddamn hard?

You sighed, trying to stop the thoughts before the dam broke and you were swept away in the rush of emotion. You knew you would spend most of the next few days in your room trying to sleep away the pain. And it would usually work. And if it didn’t, you knew what you could do to help yourself along.

You barely got out of bed for the next few days, only rising to relieve yourself every now and then. You would alternate between actual sleep, staring at the ceiling, and scrolling through your phone looking for a distraction from your thoughts. After a few days though, they began to get out of hand. 

You expected things to get to the point of wanting to hurt yourself, but tht didn’t mean that you welcomed the thought. It wasn’t a comforting thing to you. As much as it helped, you hated that you were doing this to yourself again and again. You wanted to stop but you weren’t ready to give up the relief just yet.

You sighed and made your way to the bathroom. You didn’t bother locking it since you were alone. Steve wasn’t meant to be home for another few days.

You retrieved the blades from your secret space and sat on the closed toilet seat. You pulled off your shirt and looked down in disgust at the different marks scattered across your skin. People told you they were like battle scars .It made you laugh sometimes. You can never win when you’re fighting yourself. There’s a part of you that always loses.

You toyed with the blade between your fingers for a few moments. You didn’t have a time limit here, so you let your mind do what it wanted until you couldn’t take it anymore. It was so rare that you actually let your toxic thoughts loose and let them flood your mind. It was always painful, but when you did the situation always ended with you feeling a little lighter. Like the countdown to the explosion had just been extended a little longer.

You closed your eyes and immediately the thoughts started to trickle in.

Fuck up

No one likes you

You can’t even like yourself

I bet everyone hates you more than you do

Tears made their way quickly into your eyes and ran down your cheeks, hot and angry. You were always angry with yourself, and there wasn’t much you could do about it aside from ignoring it or letting it dominate you. There wasn’t an in-between. The thoughts started running in fast, like a faucet that had turned from a trickle into full power. You braced yourself but you never quite could be prepared for what your mind had to say.

Steve’s just being nice, it’s who he is

If he really knew who you were, he’d bolt for sure

No one could love you

No use in fighting anymore

Maybe you’d be better off dead

No one would care anyways.

Do I even care?

You forced your eyes open and clutched the blade a little tighter. You brought it to your stomach and added a few new marks to the others. The first few were shallow, hesitant. It had been about a week since you did something like this. Taking a few steady deep breaths, you dragged the blade over some new skin, pressing a little more firmly. This brought a stinging sensation, but it was one you had begun to crave. You saw the blood start to trickle down your stomach. Craving more, you moved to make another slash. This went on until you were comfortably numb and your stomach was red. You sat back and closed your eyes, basking in the peace.

You heard a door close. “Y/n? I’m back.”

Your eyes flew open. No, no way was he home. How is that even possible? You looked down at yourself.

Oh shit.

How were you supposed to hide this? You didn’t know how to wrap your stomach on your own and you were out of bandages. Normally you would just wait for the bleeding to stop, but that was going to take too long. Your eyes trailed around the room before landing on the shower.

The shower…

You turned on the water and stepped in, not caring to wait until it warmed up. The water stung your fresh wounds and some of the older ones that weren’t quite healed yet, but you swallowed a groan of pain, worried that he would hear.

You heard footsteps followed by a knock. “You in their y/n?”

You tried to keep your voice level and tried not to speak too quickly. “Yeah, just taking a quick shower. I’ll be right out babe.”

Outside the door, he smiled to himself and went to put on some more comfortable clothes. The mission had gone better than expected, and he was happy that he was home a few days earlier. Something seemed to be bothering you, and he didn’t like the feeling he got in his stomach any time he left you alone.

Inside the shower, you were trying not to panic. The blood was turning the water at your feet a pink color, and you needed to think quickly. The shirt you had worn in here was white, and it would definitely be obvious if the blood started seeping through. Somehow you needed to get a new shirt before he was able to hug you, and the chances of that happening were very slim.

You covered your face and resisted the tears pricking your eyes. How could you have been so stupid?

Realizing you had been in here for what was probably longer than normal, you turned off the water and grabbed your dark towel. You dried yourself off to see that the bleeding had mostly stopped except for a few of them. You thought you’d be okay if you moved quickly.

Putting on your shirt and hiding the evidence, you flushed the toilet and walked out into your bedroom, not expecting Steve to be right there. He smiled at you and stood up, walking over to you. “Hey there,” he said, wrapping his arms around you. “I missed you.”

You tensed up immediately, trying not to whine or whimper at the sudden pressure to the fresh cuts. Steve picked up on you tensing up and pulled back, worry crossing over his face. “What’s wrong? Did I do something?”

You shook your head. “No, no. It’s nothing.” you said, putting your mask back on. “I missed you too Steve.”

You hugged him again before turning around and moving to the closet. You looked down at your stomach and sure enough, blood had started spotting through.

“Fuck,” you whispered to yourself.

Steve heard you and moved over to you. He tried to turn you around but you kept your back to him. “What’s going on y/n?”

You shook your head, trying not to panic as you looked for a dark shirt. “Nothing’s happening Steve,” you said.

He tried to hug you from behind but the sudden contact made you whimper and curse, causing Steve to grow even more concerned. He tried to walk around in front of you to face you. “Are you hurt?”  You turned away from him again, blood becoming even more apparent on the front of your shirt. 

You went to close yourself back in the bathroom, but Steve grabbed your arm and turned you around enough to see the blood soaking through your shirt. Alarm bells started going off in his head. “Oh my God...y/n…” He looked back at you, noticing how you wouldn’t look back at him. “What happened darling?”

You shrugged him off, walking back to the bathroom again. “It’s nothing -”

“Y/n, you’re covered in blood! Don’t tell me that’s nothing.” he took a deep breath. “Did someone hurt you?”

You snapped your eyes back at him before shaking your head. “No - no one hurt me.” you said.

He stepped closer. “Then why are you bleeding?” he asked. 

You shook your head and kept your eyes downcast until he lifted your chin so you had to meet his eyes. He noticed the tears, but more importantly, the sheer panic flooding your eyes. He took a deep breath before asking “Did - did you do this to yourself?”

Your silence was indication enough to Steve. He closed the space between the two of you and hugged you gently, not wanting to hurt you like he did before. You cried into his chest for a while, and once you had calmed down enough, Steve asked, “Can I see?”

You shook your head vigorously, and Steve said, “Please. I only want to help, and I just need to know how bad they are.” He kissed the top of your forehead. “I’m not here to judge you,y/n.” he pulled back and brushed back some of your hair. “I’m here to love you.”

You took some deep breaths and you were going to pull up your shirt, but you couldn’t. You were too ashamed. Steve brought his hands to the hem of your shirt, and then he pulled it up over your head. You heard him gasp before he said “Oh y/n…”

You looked into his eyes to see that there were tears in his eyes too. He saw the new ones, along with the old ones and the ones that were faded. There had to have been hundreds. Steve’s expression held anguish and pain. How did he not know?

He shook his head slightly and looked up to your eyes. “Why?”

You crossed your arms, feeling extremely exposed. “So many reasons…” you said quietly, looking away.

Steve hated seeing you in so much pain. Physically and emotionally. He said, “Come on, let me help you take care of those.”

He held out his hand and you hesitantly took it, and he led you back into the bathroom. He motioned for you to sit on the counter, and you did. He went back into another part of the house, and came back with a first aid kit. One he probably kept in his bag and had more medical supplies than you had ever provided yourself with.

He grabbed a towel and wet it under the sink faucet before bringing it over to you, but paused when you tensed as he held it over your stomach. He looked at you and gave you a small smile. “It’s okay y/n. I’m not going to hurt you.”

He grabbed your hand and gave it a gentle squeeze, and you nodded,  silently giving him permission to continue. He began cleaning the drying blood off of you, and you tried not to wince too much. After he was finished, he put down the cloth and grabbed the antibiotic ointment from the kit. Another thing you never bothered to use on yourself. You usually just let fate decide whether or not you would get an infection.

He went to apply it and you grabbed his arm, keeping your eyes downcast. He shifted his weight, looking at you. “What’s wrong?”

“Why are you being so nice to me?” you asked, still unable to look at him.

He sighed before asking, “Why aren't you?”

You looked him in the eyes, trying to not to break down. “Being nice to myself doesn’t help me.” you shrugged your shoulders. “This does.”

He sighed, trying to hide the anger that he harbored towards himself at that moment. He cleared his throat, asking “How long have you been doing this for?”

You shook your head and gave a small shrug. “Long before I met you. Since I was a teenager.”

He took a deep breath, and you saw his face paling. He felt terrible knowing you had been in so much pain for so long. What could have caused you to do such a thing to yourself? He knew that self harm existed and some of the reasons why people would, but he never noticed any of the symptoms. How could he be so ignorant?

Snapping back to the current situation, he still had the cream in his hand, and your arm was still gripping his. “May I?”

You hesitated for a moment before nodding your head and letting go, allowing him to continue. He dabbed your wounds gently, before turning back to the kit and grabbing gauze and wrap. He placed the gauze on the deeper cuts before wrapping your stomach. It was so much easier when someone else was doing it and you had more than two hands. He taped it down before tossing the remainder to the side and leaning back against the wall in front of you, crossing his arms. 

The two of you stayed in the silence, neither of you knowing what to say. You are still embarrassed and ashamed that he had found out, and he for not noticing. He also just wanted to be sensitive and say the right thing. He didn’t want to make you feel any worse than you were feeling currently.

“Really, why are you doing this to yourself?”

You shrugged and crossed your arms. “Seriously, I’ve tried to stop. So many times. It’s just…” you took a breath. “There are so many possible reasons why I do it. And I just got so exhausted trying to find an alternative for each one of them. I’ve talked to people, I’ve tried all the different things they suggest.” You shook your head. “This is the only thing that always works.”

His face softened. “But sweetheart, you’re hurting yourself. You can’t…” he took a breath. “I know it helps you but what happens if -” his voice cracked and he tried to compose himself. “I wouldn’t know what to do if you accidentally went too far.”

You let out a dry laugh. “Don’t take this the wrong way babe, but I’ve been doing this for years and I’ve been fine so far. I think I know what I’m doing, so -”

He stepped forward and held you by your shoulders. “You’re not fine, darling. You don’t do this to yourself if you’re okay.”

The two of you stay in silence for a little longer. “Is there anything I can do to help you?” he asked

You shook your head. “I don’t know. If I did I would have told you a long time ago.”

“Why didn’t you tell me about this?”

You sighed. “I did what I thought was right. I’ve accepted that I’m broken, and I stopped trying to fix it a long time ago. I know this isn’t a way to live, but…” you shrugged. “There’s nothing more to do. I can’t fix myself.”

He wrapped his arms around you again. “It’s going to be okay y/n” he said.

You shook your head. “I want to believe you, I really do. But that’s just empty words, and empty promise that I stopped believing in long ago. It just never stops.”

He tightened his arms around you. You started crying again. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do anymore Steve.”

“I know sweetheart. I know.” He rubbed a hand up and down your saking body. “I can’t tell you that I can make it go away, but I’m gonna be here with you through everything.”

You looked up at him. “You’re not leaving?” you asked

He smiled at you. “I’m not going anywhere y/n. I’m staying right here.”

He pulled you close again. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you Steve. There’s just so much to say and I couldn’t find the right words.”

“I’m listening y/n,” he said. “I’m listening.”

[jiamour]

love letters

pairing: ravenclaw!renjun x hufflepuff!reader

genre: fluff

word count: 4.7k

summary:  in which renjun has the phattest crush but he’s too shy to say anything despite being their tutor so his friend convinces him to write anonymous love letters to get his feelings out

alternatively: renjun’s a cutie and you hate arithmancy

a/n: i wrote this two years ago so its not great and its bullet point again, also the pronouns in this are they/them i think?? this is the softest i’ve ever written renjun im sorry he’s not a bad bitch in this 

“GUESS WHAT,” you yelled as you walked into the hufflepuff common room knowing your friends would be there, “I FUCKING FAILED!”

cheers broke out

applause was given

you bowed

“thank you, thank you.”

“i told you not to take arithmancy,” your best friend jaemin’s voice spoke from one of the worn down couches, “why would you choose to do math when you’re a wizard?”

“i wanted a challenge jaemin.”

“bet you regret that type of thinking now idiot.”

“you’re a hufflepuff, you’re supposed to be nice,” you whined walking over to him and plopping by his side on the couch

“i’m just teasing hun,” he said, placing a hand on your shoulder in comfort “how bad did you do?”

“on the last assignment i got a dreadful.”

jaemin went to laugh but it caught in his throat when he saw how upset you looked

“i think she just gave me pity points for writing my name neatly”

“you were always good at that,” jaemin nodded thoughtfully and you elbowed his side with a glare

“if only there was a calligraphy class here for you” jaemin continued on completely ignoring your attack

“don’t act like i’m not beating you in every other class”

“well then don’t act like i was the one stupid enough to ‘predict the future with numbers’ what kind of shit? isn’t that was the crystal balls are for”

“you’re really bad at comforting me” you giggled at his stupid words

“then why are you laughing”

“i’m not”

you were

“i guess i’ll just have to tickle you to cheer you up then,” he said with a shrug, “i mean since there’s no other way”

“don’t you dare”

“don’t you fucking dare jaemin”

but it was too late

jaemin hands went straight to your sides

you toppled backwards in laughter squirming to get out of his tickling hold

“st- stop” you chocked out through tears and giggles

“only if you’re feeling better” he said “if i see a single trace of a frown when i stop you best be prepared”

“i’m better” you tried to say but it came out in a sputter with loud laughs in between

jaemin pulled away slowly and you caught your breath before sitting up

“never do that again”

“but yn”

“never”

━━ *✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ* *✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*

“you’re smart right?” jaemin asked hand on his hip looking down at the kid sitting in front of him

“i mean i guess?” the kid awkwardly answered not completely understanding what was going on

“good then i need you to tutor my friend”

“umm what?” the boy raised his eyebrow and looked at jaemin completely lost

“my friend needs help in arithmancy, like serious, serious help, and you claim to be smart, so it only makes sense that you would tutor them” jaemin explained his nonsensical logic and the boy just agreed in shock too confused to know what else to do

“okay good, so when are you free-“ jaemin thought for a second “what’s your name again?”

“renjun”

“okay so when are you free renjun?”

renjun began to ramble “i um i don’t have many plans most of the time so i guess-“

“perfect” jaemin clapped his hands together not letting renjun finish “meet them in the library tomorrow at 7”

“i-okay” jaemin took that as the end of the conversation giving a soft smile before turning to go find you

“wait what’s their name?” renjun called his words coming out all at different volumes “who am i tutoring”

“yn” jaemin turned a little to face renjun “do you know them?”

fuck

this could not be happening

renjun was going to die

his face was already burning thinking about it

noticing renjun’s expression jaemin just laughed

“i’ll take that as a yes”

━━ *✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ* *✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*

“GUESS WHO’S THE BESTEST FRIEND EVER”

you gasped “is hyuck here?”

“what? no? you asshole it’s me”

“oof don’t flatter yourself that much” you mumbled waving him off

“i guess you don’t need the tutor i got you then”

“OH MY GOD JAEMIN REALLY?! YOU'RE THE BESTEST FRIEND EVER”

you jumped up and hugged him squeezing both of his arms into his sides

“i knew you’d come around” he said in a cocky demeanor “how could you not? i mean look at this face”

“and you ruined it” you spoke breathily and sat back down where you were before

“who’s my tutor anyways?”

“renjun”

your whole body went stiff

“guess you know him then” jaemin shrugged

“fuck you jaemin”

“hey where’s your hufflepuff manners you should be thanking me”

you probably should have

but you weren’t

because out of all the people in the school for jaemin to pick from

he chose fucking huang renjun

the ravenclaw cutie from astronomy who always lent you his ink when you ran out

the genius who always mastered the spells in minutes no matter how complex

now you were going to look stupid in front of him

you really didn’t want to look stupid in front of him

anyone else would be fine

just not him

━━ *✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ* *✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*

it was 7 and jaemin had instructed you to wait outside the library for renjun

it was really really awkward

anxiety filled your stomach and mind

7:01

he was late that was fine, only one minute, it’s whatever

7:04

he probably just got lost of the funky moving staircases

yeah

that’s it

7:08

you shifted on you feet

uncomfortable

people were watching you get stood up

for a tutoring session

god your life couldn’t be anymore of a mess

7:15

panic set in

you closed your eyes taking a deep breath before preparing yourself to leave

and probably go smack jaemin upside the head for doing this to you

that was until you were hit by the library door

you let out a loud groan

done with everything

but when you looked at who had hit you

renjun was standing there

holding his books to his chest looking discouraged

“hey?” you said a little confused that he hadn’t noticed he hit you with a fucking door

“oh” his eyes grew wide when he saw you “yn you were here the whole time?”

your hand when straight to your face

you were really fucking stupid

making a fool of yourself already

didn't even check inside the library

“were you inside?” you asked quietly knowing the answer anyways

“yeah i thought you weren’t coming”

“i’m so sorry, jaemin gives really bad instructions”

“yeah?”

“yeah.”

there was silence

this was awkward

“so umm” renjun started “should we go study?”

“that does seem like the best idea”

“okay”

you followed him into the library in awkward, awkward silence

you sat at the same table you assumed he was at before because it was littered with arithmancy books

“so what do you think you have most trouble with” he asked looking down at a book and flipping through the pages so he could have something to do

“um- all of it”

yay humiliation

he laughed

and you died

“why are you laughing? i’m serious”

he face instantly fell he cleared his throat looking at you shyly

“that can’t be true” he spoke soft trying not to offend you assuming he was already on thin ice

“oh it is hun”

“then i guess we have a lot of work to do”

━━ *✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ* *✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*

“ugh i hate arithmancy it’s literally the worst”

“it’s my favorite subject”

you coughed

“i mean i love arithmancy it’s the best yay” you said weakly adding small jazz hands at the end

“you don’t have to lie” he laughed writing as he spoke “the numbers just remind me of home”

you hummed quietly

“so you’re muggle born?” you ask glaring down at the complicated numbers in front of you

“yeah” renjun sighed “you don’t have a problem with that right?”

you were slightly offended

okay very offended

you looked at him in angry disbelief your mouth open in the shape of an o “do i look like a pretentious twat to you?”

“well...”

“don’t answer that”

he laughed

he had a nice laugh

“how far did you make it into the equation” he curiously leaned over the table to look at your work

“i have the first three numbers” you groaned spotting his already half full page

“and 2 of them are wrong” he brought his quill over and circled the numbers

you laid your head in your hands

this sucked

you felt dumb

you didn’t want to be here

“hey no yn don’t give up okay” he said softly, lightly trying to move your arms away from your face

you just let out a frustrated hum

“i’m never going to get this”

“not with that attitude you won’t”

you moved your hands away from your face to glare at him but he only smiled

he did that purposely didn’t he

fucking ravenclaws

he began to scoot his chair from the opposite side of the table to right beside you, grabbing the quill off of the paper

“here let me help we’ll figure this out together okay?”

you looked at him as he began to write with wide eyes

“okay.”

━━ *✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ* *✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*

“did you understand today’s assignment?” renjun asked you

you gave him a look raising an eyebrow knowing he already knew the answer

“okay no need for that sass” he huffed “you could’ve just said no”

“you don’t deserve a no for a stupid question like that”

you began taking your books and parchment out of your bag

“i’m ready to begin this torture”

“hey i’m not that bad”

━━ *✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ* *✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*

“okay but chenle is totally into jisung did you see the way he was all over him at lunch and whenever jisung walks into the room chenle’s feet turn straight towards him and he ignores everyone else that love psych 101” you said to renjun half way through your 6th study session which had more or less deteriorated into a gossip session

“oh okay ms.sherlock holmes” renjun had an impressed smile

“who the fuck is sherlock holmes?”

renjun waved his hand at you

“ugh wizards”

━━ *✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ* *✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*

the more you got to know renjun the more references that you didn’t understand at all came

it was to say the least frustrating

but his eyes always lit up when he spoke about muggle books or movies so you just let it slide

“tell me more about this spider-man guy” you said one day your head resting on your hand and you gazed at him expectantly

“okay so he was like this super smart teenager but he got bit by a radioactive spider which changed-“ renjun stopped mid sentence glaring at you slightly “you’re trying to distract me aren’t you?”

you raised your hands in the air defensively “what no-“

“oh my god you are! i’m so easy to trick how dare you,” he rambled “we’re getting back to work”

this was met by a groan

━━ *✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ* *✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*

“this is a bad idea jeno”

“you say that every time”

“that’s because all of your ideas suck”

━━ *✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ* *✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*

owls flew through the dining hall dropping down in front of students around you, delivering mail

your owl was one of the last

he had always been quite slow

jaemin was riffling through a package of salt water taffy his grandparents had sent him when your owl finally arrived

he was carrying the usual newspaper and weekly letter from your parents

you thanked your owl petting his head softly

he nuzzled into your palm before flying off again

when you moved the newspaper out of the way of your food you were surprised to see another letter under it

the envelope was completely blank except for your name

you lifted it up glancing at it curiously

“who is that from?” jaemin said chewing a pink taffy in his mouth

“i-um i don’t know?”

“do you have a secret boyfriend that you aren’t telling me about?”

jaemin was an idiot

you rolled your eyes at him and began opening the envelope cautiously hoping it wasn’t a prank

there was a single folded parchment inside

when you saw what it said your cheeks heated up and a small smile grew on your face

“wait, oh my god! you do have a secret boyfriend!” he exclaimed loudly getting annoyed glares from the people around you

he reached out trying to grab the paper out of your hands and read it but you pulled it out of arms reach, folding it and sticking your tongue out at him

you opened the letter under the table glancing to read it over once again

“i’m too shy to say this in person but i think you’re really cute. i hope you’re eating and sleeping well.” there was a tiny heart drawn beside that “have a great day!!”

━━ *✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ* *✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*

“did you start your number chart?”

“i spent all night working on it” you told him rubbing your eyes

he gave you a disapproving look

“yn if you don’t sleep then you can’t concentrate and if you can’t concentrate then you can’t listen and if you can’t listen then you fail”

“well wasn’t that an enlightening roller coaster of words”

he huffed

you leaned over resting on him as you gave him an awkward side hug “you know i’m joking”

he nodded

wow your heart was beating way too fast right now

“i just wanted to work on it so i could impress-“ you. i wanted to impress you “the professor”

“i know yn but just take care of yourself okay” he was blushing now which you thought was cute

very very cute

you pulled away from him with a large smile taking your work out of your bag to show to him

“wait this actually really good” he said in happy surprise “yn you’re getting better”

“well yeah i have a good tutor”

he nudged you slightly

“shut up” renjun lightheartedly laughed

━━ *✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ* *✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*

this time jaemin was ready

he was going to read one of the letters from your secret boyfriend

there was no stopping him

well you stopped him the last 4 times

but this time

there was no stopping him

when your owl flew towards you he quickly grabbed your mail before you could and began to open the letter tossing your newspaper at you

“HEY” you yelled ready to jump the table to stop jaemin but it was too late

“i want to make a fragile human connection in the vast and unfeeling infinity of chaotic universe with you,” jaemin read the letter out loud proceeding to scrunch his face up when he finished

“what the fuck was that? is that what you and your secret boyfriend talk about? science shit?” he tossed the letter to you which you grabbed quickly and smiled at the tiny stars they had drawn along the page

“i think it’s cute” you spoke softly, adoration in your tone

“i can’t believe my best friend is a nerd”

━━ *✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ* *✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*

“I DID IT” you said loudly as soon as you saw renjun in the library only to be shushed by at least 10 students at once

“you did! i’m so proud of you” his voice was a lot quieter probably trying to not get everyone to hate him

you sat down in the chair beside him which he already had pulled out and placed your essay down in front of him

“i mean it’s only an acceptable but it’s good for me y’know” you rambled on shyly his eyes shone bright at your accomplishments

“it’s great yn” he encouraged “we should um”

he looked away from you awkwardly

“hmm?”

“we should uh go to hogsmeade this weekend to celebrate?” renjun couldn’t look you in the eyes and he felt as if he was going to combust “i mean only if you want to if you don’t that’s fine too no pressure”

“you’re rambling” you giggled

“sorry i-“

“i’d love to go to hogsmeade with you”

his shoulders relaxed and he finally looked at you  smiling with his eyes

your heart was blessed that day

━━ *✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ* *✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*

“i can’t believe you have a date”

“shut up it’s not date”

“it totally is”

━━ *✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ* *✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*

it was quite cold the day you and renjun had planned to go to hogsmeade

okay really cold

and there was renjun standing outside leaning against a wall with his ravenclaw scarf pulled up just past the tip of his nose, hands in his coat pocket, shivering

you were late

and running through the halls

you yelled sorry’s as you pushed past slow moving students hoping you hadn’t kept renjun waiting long

you saw him standing in the cold somehow the small boy was looking even tinier than usual

“renjun” you yelled out waving a hand in the air so he could see you even though you were the only one around

his head lifted up from his scarf and you noticed his smile as he stopped leaning and walked towards you

“you haven’t been waiting long have you?”

“no don’t worry yn i just got here”

that was a lie

you could tell by the red tint on his cheek and the tip of his nose and also the occasional shiver

“liar” you said reaching towards his cheek to place your hands on them to see how cold they were “you’re freezing injunnie”

you couldn’t tell if he was blushing or if he had just gotten colder

“your hands are just warm” he protested moving your hands away from face and back in between the both of you

you both stood there for a second your hands in his until he realized what he was doing

he took a large step back

to your disappointment

“we should-um let’s get going?” he mumbled into his scarf

which by the way was very cute

“lets”

━━ *✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ* *✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*

renjun’s hands were waving around and he explained stories from the muggle world

and it seemed as though other wizards at tables beside yours had been listening as well

“okay so then get this,” renjun said dramatically and loudly “the sent him to england to be executed but he was abducted by pirates and brought back home”

the girl at the table to the right of you gasped

renjun shrunk back in his chair embarrassed realizing others were listening his hands quickly were placed down on the table

“don’t be shy” you encouraged him placing one of your hands on his “you get really excited when you talk and it makes people want to listen”

“oh” he looked down at your hands and then back up at you

“when he got back home there was a funeral for his kind of girlfriend but like not really cause he told her he didn’t love her...”

━━ *✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ* *✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*

“today was nice”

“yeah it was”

“we should do it again some time”

━━ *✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ* *✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*

you opened the envelope the owl had brought you

“i hope these letters brighten your day even a little because you’re beautiful when you smile and when you don’t, you’re beautiful all the time..”

━━ *✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ* *✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*

“i can’t do it i’m going to fail” you whined while trying to make a particularly hard chart, beginning to scribble down the page

renjun quickly snatched your quill out of your hands and placed it down beside him

“you’re getting better yn, you’re not going to fail” his hands moved to your shoulders as he tried to motivate you looking you straight in the eyes

“but this is so hard injunnie,” you reaching for your quill back but he took his hands off your shoulders and moved it farther away

“you’re not getting it back until you say something positive”

“i don’t have anything positive to say, i’m going to fail and my parents are going to disown me and i’ll have to live in a shack”

renjun laughed at how ridiculous you sounded

he pointed to a line of work on your paper “what do you do after that?”

you muttered an answer lacking any confidence

“that’s right yn” he clapped shocking you

“wait really!?”

“yeah really see you’re going to pass” he was hyping you up and it was working

“i’m going to pass!”

“you can do this!”

“i’m going to get an outstanding!”

“yes you are!”

“i’m going to do better than you!”

“you see now you’re going too far”

━━ *✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ* *✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*

mail day is what you looked forward to every week filled with joy at the thought of receiving a letter from the anonymous person

as soon as it arrived you basically ripped it open startling jaemin

leaving a long tear in the letter but it was still easy to see

“your determination is admirable”

your heart swelled when you read the words, carefully folding it and placing it back in the envelope to make sure it didn’t get hurt

━━ *✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ* *✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*

“what the fuck man step up your game”

“i thought it was good?”

“you told her that her determination was admirable what kind of weird ass flirting is that”

“okay okay fine now that you say it out loud...”

━━ *✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ* *✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*

full of anticipation for what today’s letter would say your leg bounced up and down

your owl dropped the letters in front of you and you opened it slowly learning from your mistake last time

“are you pikachu? because you’re shockingly beautiful” is all it said inside

what the fuck is a pikachu?

━━ *✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ* *✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*

“hey renjun”

“yeah?”

“do you know what a pikachu is?”

he chocked on air, coughing into his arm

“what? why- why um do you need to know?”

“i got a letter yesterday and it had the word but i couldn’t figure out what it was so i assumed it was a muggle thing, it is a muggle thing right?”

“yeah, a pikachu is a pokémon”

“wow very helpful thank you”

he laughed embarrassed “i forgot you didn’t know about any of that, pokémon are like tiny cartoon monsters”

oh so they were comparing you to a monster

yay

that made you feel so great

“pikachu is an electric type”

“oh” you mumbled sadly

renjun automatically noticed your mood drop and quickly tried to stumble to fix it “i um- i mean he’s- um- pikachu is one of the cute ones?”

you could tell he was trying to cheer you up so you smiled at him

“thank you renjun”

━━ *✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ* *✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*

you kept the letters by your bed there were about 15 now the recent ones reading

“you must be magical, because I've fallen under your spell.” (obviously you were magic they were magic too)

“are you the moon? because even when it’s dark you still seem to shine” (most letters had been space related which you found really cute)

“you must be in honeydukes, cause wow, you're really sweet” (okay this one was nice)

the most recent one “you’re an 11/0 because your beauty is undefined” would have been nice if it didn’t remind you of how awful numbers were

getting letters everyday really had made your life more interesting

━━ *✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ* *✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*

“i wonder who’s writing these, do you know who’s writing these jaemin?”

“why would i know who your secret boyfriend is?”

“because you know everything”

“i know it’s such a burden sometimes”

━━ *✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ* *✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*

“are you even going to tell them it’s you?”

“i think i would probably die”

“there’s worse ways to go”

━━ *✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ* *✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*

with every session your grades were getting higher and the closer to owl’s it became

you sat with renjun in your usual spot in the library for one of your last tutoring sessions

this should have made you happy but it didn’t

you wanted more time with renjun

but the only way you knew how to talk to him was through studying and the occasion celebratory trips whenever your grade rose

“did you get number 7 on page 378?”

you watched his mouth move but you couldn’t process what he was saying too lost in your thoughts

“yn are you even paying attention?”

“most definitely”

“you liar”

you sighed

“i’m just going to miss you that’s it- miss this”

“yeah me too”

━━ *✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ* *✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*

“are you a Snitch? because you're the finest catch here.” today’s letter read with a tiny broom and golden snitch drawn messily in the corner

you smiled

━━ *✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ* *✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*

“you have to tell them man”

“i can’t it’ll be so embarrassing”

“come on, no it won’t they like them”

“you have no proof”

“i see them smile every time they open one”

“well what if they don’t like me”

“like that’s even possible don’t you guys meet up like everyday”

“it’s not everyday and it’s for tutoring”

“is that why i’ve seen you on a date”

“i’ve told you a million times it wasn’t a date”

“but you wanted it to be”

“well yeah”

“then tell them, it will work out and if it doesn’t you can dye my hair pink”

“but you’d look good with pink hair?”

“oh why thank you”

━━ *✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ* *✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*

it was the day before your arithmancy owl

you were panicked

because of renjun’s help you had been receiving straight e’s

you were both immensely proud

you paced back and forth in the hufflepuff common room frantic students panicking around you

you needed a walk

you opened the door to the common room

and there was renjun looking like he was about to knock a piece of paper in his hands

“hi?” you said slightly confused but very happy to see him nonetheless

“oh yn hi i was-“ he seemed very awkward in front of you his hand fidgeting slightly and his leg bouncing you assumed it was just nerves for exams “i was just coming to see you”

“i was going for a walk do you want to join?”

he nodded

“so are you ready for your owl’s?” you asked trying to make conversation as you walked

and also clear up the tense atmosphere that renjun was creating

“i think i’ll do well i’ve been studying a lot recently at dinner and in between classes but i’m still worried y’know”

“yeah i get it, i’m worried because i could actually fail” you laughed

“hey i thought we talked about this” his voice was finally light and joking

it was comfortable again

“i know my goal is still to beat you and mark my words it will happen”

“i’m sure it will” he agreed without even a hint of sarcasm

“finally i get the recognition for the genius i am”

he laughed fiddling with he paper in his fingers

“what’s that you have?” you asked gesturing to the paper and he froze going stiff

“it’s um-“ he stuttered out “its um nothing”

you stopped in front of him clearly not buying it

“okay it’s not nothing” he lifted up the letter as if he was making a decision and then held it out to you looking away

“just don’t hate me okay?”

this confused you

why would you ever hate him?

you cautiously took the paper from his hands giving him a curious look and opened it slowly while he looked at the ground

“are you using the confundas charm or are you just naturally mind blowing?”

no way

this couldn’t be happening

you knew you were dumb but not this dumb

of course he was the one writing the letters

holy shit renjun was writing the letters

“renjun i-“ you started and he looked at you shyly preparing for rejection

“i can’t believe you wasted your final note on that”

wait what?” his eyes widened as he took the paper back looking at it “but jeno helped me write it”

“didn’t you say jeno was an idiot?”

“well yeah, i guess his other idea wouldn’t work either”

you quirked an eyebrow

“what other idea?”

he pulled a second piece of paper out of his pocket and handed it to you

you laughed a little as you opened this one

“will you go out with me?” it read

your smile grew at least 100x it’s size

“i dunno this one seems like a pretty good idea to me”

“really?”

“really.”

“i guess that means i don’t get to try idea three”

you giggled “what’s idea three?”

“this,” he leaned in to kiss you gently

he had meant for it to be just a peck but as soon as he moved away you tugged on his robes pulling him in again

“i think that one was my favorite idea” you said as your forehead rested against his

“mine too.” he breathed softly

“was that jeno’s idea as well?”

“no that one was completely mine”

━━ *✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ* *✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ* 

[hells-angel]

Mystery Kisser

Fandom: Supernatural

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Word count: 1805

Warning/s: anxiety attack

Summary: searching for the mystery kisser after one blackout in the bunker. 

You had always been afraid of the dark, ever since you were a kid the thought of being alone in the dark makes you feel suffocated, never knowing what’s around you. 

as a hunter, your fear had interfered with your hunting more than you can count but the thought of killing monsters and saving a life fuels your adrenaline and overcome your fear.

at night, to be able to sleep you would sleep with the bedside lamp open or just randomly open your phone's flashlight. your fear was of course known by the other occupants of the house.

Sam would leave lights on the hallways in case you get up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom. Cass got you some stuffed toys to help you in tough times. Jack helped you redecorate your room to make it more warm and comfortable to sleep in, while Dean installed a light inside Baby in case you travel during the night for a hunt.

eventually, you overcome your fear thanks to their help, to the point that you can now travel at night, given that you're with someone. the only thing left to overcome was being alone in the dark. everything was perfect, no panic or anxiety attack for as long as you can remember. that is until you were alone in the library, reading a random book about monsters when suddenly the light died down, engulfing your whole sight with darkness. 

“What the hell!?”

with shaking hands you scrambled around your seat, looking for your phone on the table, quickly tapping on the flashlight icon. the little light providing you with a little sense of comfort. 

your loud heart thudding on your chest pounded on your ears. you wanted to move and ran somewhere but you were frozen on your spot, not able to move with your shaky legs. the thought of walking in the dark, not knowing what could jump on you sends all reasoning on the drain.

you felt you stop breathing when you heard a noise behind you. 

“wh--who--whose there?” you meekly threatened, more surprised that you manage to let it out. 

when you were greeted by silence, you let out a slow, deep and shaky breath, clutching your phone in your hand as your brain starts playing in your mind of what could happen in the dark.

you quickly turned around when you heard footsteps behind you, but when you move the phone from one side to another, there was nowhere there. plunging you deeper into your fear. 

by now, you can feel the hot tears streaming down your cheeks as you try to catch your breath as much as you can, followed by uncontrollable sobbing.

with shaky legs, you were sure to collapse but then you felt someone grab your shoulder, jolting you in surprise, sending your phone flying away as you began to thrust an attempt to push whoever it was but the hold on you tightens as you were now wheezing, feeling like you were drowning. 

“It’s okay, I got you” you heard the mystery person say calming you a little bit but the wheezing didn’t stop as you were a sobbing mess. 

seeing you weren’t calming down, and the other person has no idea what to do. he did the only thing he knows. 

you felt someone's lips on you, the shock sending your heart thudding for a different reason. his lips were soft and gentle as if he was afraid one more push and you’ll break, the hands wrapped around your waist and the other cupping your cheek send a feeling of protection. 

there were fireworks, you definitely felt it, sparks you read countless times in books and now you knew what exactly it felt. 

“what?” You whispered when the other person pulled away but there was no response. 

a sense of drowning overcome you once again when you felt the other person disappear, his touch lingering on the skin he touches you. but just then, the lights came back finding yourself alone in the library, your phone on the floor, flashlight still on.

at first, you thought it wasn’t real but you knew that spark and fireworks were definitely real. »»--⍟--««

“say it again,” you asked Sam for the fifth time, this time you closed your eyes as you try to recollect the feeling of your mystery kisser that night.

“ It’s okay...ah I got you?”  Sam stiffly said, as if he was reading a script, his hand awkwardly on your waist the other on your cheeks. 

“say it with more feelings, as you mean it” you spoke, furrowing your eyebrows at Sam who towers above you. that night, your mind was clouded and foggy, you can’t remember his tone but you knew can hear his words repeating on your head over and over. 

Sam chuckled, pulling his hand away from you before stuffing them on his side. “what’s this really about Y/n?” he asked, making you sigh in disappointment, but a big part of you relive that it was not Sam at all.  

“well, the other day....” then you began to explain to Sam what happened, the two of you seat in front of each other, both of you enjoying the warm coffee and breakfast he made since he wakes up super early.

“that's interesting,” Sam said with a laugh “but I know for a fact it’s not me”   “I already know it's not you, you're too big” you rolled your eyes at him. but just then, Dean came waltzing on the kitchen on his signature robe, a beaming smile on his face.  

“I bet it’s the first time you heard a girl say that to you” Dean teased, wiggling his eyebrows at his younger brother who gave his famous bitch face to Dean. 

“Dean, perfect timing” you exclaimed, ignoring the coming bickering between them. 

Dean raised an eyebrow at you as he pours himself a cup of coffee, making it a sign to continue, you focus all your attention on him. a super huge part of you hoping it was him. 

“Where were you the other day? when there was a blackout?” you asked

“ahh, I was with Cas for a supply run, why?” Dean mumbled, a slight disappointment filing up your heart, while Sam gave a suspicious look to his brother like he knew something you didn’t. 

“really? then that just leaves Jack but I doubt Jack would do that to me” you frowned, not knowing what to say if it was ever Jack. but you doubt that it was the kid at all. 

with newfound information, you finish your breakfast and decided to leave to continue your investigation of the mystery kisser. 

“But I’ll ask to be sure, if it’s not Jack then we have to bless this bunker because I won’t stay in here knowing there's a wandering ghost” 

»»--⍟--««

talking with Jack, it didn’t take a genius to know it wasn’t him, you already doubt it was him but you just needed to confirm it with your own ears. walking back to the kitchen, your mind kept playing detective on you. 

if it isn’t Sam, Dean or Jack then that leaves Cas, but according to Dean, he and Cas were on a supply run so whoever the mystery kisser is it might not be one of your housemates. 

“guys I think there's a ghost on the bunker, we really should ask Cas to check for an evil spirit on here” you exclaimed, already tuning to the kitchen, only to be greeted by Cas in front of you.

“there's a protective barrier on this place so I assure you there’s no evil spirit” Cas explained in his monotone voice, causing you to chuckled at the innocent angel. 

“I know Cas, it’s just something weird happened” you laugh, walking around him to go to the cupboards. 

“Y/n we hunt monsters for a living, I don’t think a ghost living in a bunker can spook us” Sam commented, still seating to where you left him

“hey, this is supposed to be our hideout, I don’t want a ghost wandering around” you laughed once again. 

you stop in your tracks as you opened the cupboards one after the other, finding it empty. 

“Hey, Dean?” you called, turning around to face Dean who was stuffing himself with bacon. 

“what?” 

you raise an eyebrow at him, glancing at the once empty cupboards once again before turning to Dean. 

“you said you and Cas went supply run the other day, but why is this place almost empty?” you asked, causing Dean to choke midway on his eating, Sam quickly passing him a glass of water. 

Meanwhile, Cas tilted his head at you, a curious and confuse look on his face. 

“I wasn’t with Dean the other day” he mumbled 

“I think you have an amnesia dude” Dean quickly replied, after recovering at his choking a while ago.

“I’m not,” Cas said turning to Dean with a confused look “why are you making that face at me?” 

Dean’s face drop in frustration at his friend's lack of understanding. sensing the atmosphere and already putting the two and two together, Sam stood up and pushed the angel out the kitchen.

“came on Cas, let’s give them some space” Sam urged 

“space? like some air?” you heard the angel say before their voices disappear into the distance. 

meanwhile, an air of awkwardness was left between you and Dean, he tried his best to avoid eye contact with you. 

“so it was you?” you smirk, feeling great relief that it was Dean. 

“ what’s the point of lying, yes it was me” he admitted, still looking everywhere except you.

slowly, you took a step towards him, hands on your back but eyes never leaving his. 

“was it just your way of calming me down? because if it is, then you suck at it, big time” you laugh, Dean's eyes snapping quickly at yours. 

“what?! no! you have no idea how much I wanted to kiss you, not just that night but every single day ever since you walk in our life, I have been holding myself back ever since” he angrily explained, stepping towards you until you two were standing in front of each other.

finally, he looked down at you, eyes boring into yours, this was what he was afraid of, once he stares at that innocent and kind eyes his afraid he wouldn’t be able to take it away. 

“then don’t hold back” you mumbled and that was all it took for him to lean down and pressed his lips on yours. the fireworks and the sparks intensifying every second. 

“We got to make up for the lost time” Dean mumbled after he pulled away, resting his forehead in yours. 

“We sure do”

[howtosingit]

if ur ok with it can u break down the tarlos huggggg in the lst ep after tk tells evy1 abt his addiction? bc that gd huggggggg i wanna no every thing u think abt it i live for ur love for tarlos theyre just so so cuteeeee

IF I’M OKAY WITH IT?! Anon, I feel like I have been waiting my entire life for this ask. I could literally talk about this hug for the rest of my existence. I would talk about this hug every second of every day if I could and never get tired or bored. This hug has owned my entire heart from the moment that it happened and I can never get enough of it. Brace yourself for this essay, and remember that you asked for it...

Okay, so before I get to the actual hug, I want to talk for a minute about why I love it so much and also how fantastic the scene is that comes before it. I’ll try to keep both of those brief (LOL). If you want to skip to the hug breakdown, I’ll give the sections titles. 

Why I Love This Hug

So, why do I love this hug so much? Honestly, because I never in a million years thought we’d get something like it, and it was a big turning point for me.

I have not been quiet about how disappointing I think season 1 was. Too much Owen being Owen, too much Iris plot (which never interested me for even a single moment, unfortunately), not enough of the other characters - specifically the characters of color - and definitely not enough Tarlos.

Following episode 3, the show established a really frustrating pattern with Tarlos: they either never interacted with one another, or there was a moment of them at the end of an episode where they were in the same place physically but never spoke directly to one another. Frustration doesn’t even begin to describe the Tarlos talking drought between episodes 3 and 10 - and honestly? It’s bad writing. To focus on a ship for 3 episodes, giving them a lot of different nuances and conflict, and then do absolutely nothing with it? Stupid. So, going into the finale, my expectations were low. At that point, I was literally tuning in just to catch a glimpse of Carlos, with the expectation that that was all I would get. I really didn’t think I was going to watch the show after season 1. 

When the finale started with a Tarlos scene, I was honestly very surprised. But, then, of course, it was a “break up” scene, and I was like... well. So much for that. See, I fully expected, based on the trend throughout the later half of the season, that that would be the only Tarlos scene we would get, and that that is how they would end season 1. 

But when that camera cut to Carlos Reyes walking through the station door looking like a modern-day motherf*cking Prince Charming? I cried. I’m not ashamed to admit that. And then WHEN WE GOT THE HUG?! I can honestly still feel my heart pounding in my chest.

The finale didn’t fix everything for me; they still barely talk in their final two scenes. It’s not all perfect. But this hug, this small moment? THAT. IS. PERFECTION. (And I’m gonna go on and on about why in just a minute!)

Framing the Hug

I just want to take another moment here to chat about the entire fire station scene with TK and the team/Carlos because there’s a lot that informs why this hug is so freaking incredible. It has everything to do with the directing choices that were made - and boy were they good ones!

We all probably remember how the scene starts: extreme close-ups on TK as he sits waiting for the crew to come back. He’s anxious and possibly having a mild panic attack, and the camera is used to create that moment. Certain shots are out of focus, the shots that are focused are zoomed in to his mouth/hands/eyes, the sound is distorted, his breathing is isolated. It’s all super effective. 

So the observations that I make about this brief moment are: TK is stationary, the camera is basically attacking him. And TK is alone. Pretend for a moment that the camera is a character. The camera won’t leave him alone. No one is there to help him. His anxiety grows. 

(Even when the team joins him, the camera stays pretty close to him, except for one moment where it backs off but then approaches again. It continues to invade his personal space and his personal moments with his friends and his dad.)

Now, compare that to how the scene ends: TK walks away from the camera, the camera doesn’t follow him. It gives him space. His interaction with Carlos happens in the distance. If the camera is a character, TK defeated that character. He leaves it there, it no longer threatens him. I just really like that visual storytelling; that through the 4 minute scene, TK not only faces his demons, speaks his truth, and conquers his anxiety but he beats the camera and goes off to hug Carlos untethered. (He even bounces towards him, but we’ll get to that in a minute.) That doesn’t really have anything to do with the hug specifically, but I thought it was interesting anyway.

The other comparison that I want to make is a simple one, but it’s another reason why I love the hug: TK initiates it. He doesn’t initiate the group hug with his team (he actually almost says “we don’t have to do that” when Mateo moves towards him), though he obviously enjoys it. Owen initiates their hug, flinging himself at his son, and TK obviously appreciates it.

But the Carlos hug? TK approaches him, TK raises his arm to wrap around Carlos’s neck.

Okay, now to finally answer the original ask...

LET’S HUG IT OUT: THE BREAKDOWN THAT WAS ASKED FOR

First, can I just say from his first appearance to the end of this scene, Carlos is there for 20 seconds total and I am about to write a whole-ass essay about those 20 seconds?! I’m literal trash.

Okay, so Carlos appears looking like a fucking snack. He’s changed since the bus accident, looking like someone’s hot date, and I think we know whose... Owen is basically like “well this is unexpected” and honestly, same sir. TK is adorable and noncommittal, but clearly not surprised to see Carlos there. We’ve missed a moment between them since TK was sent to the hospital and Carlos called him impressive, that’s for sure. 

So when TK starts to walk towards him, the camera refocuses on Carlos and we see this adorable freaking look on his face that clearly says “how did it go?” or “all went well?” or something to that effect. I think Carlos knew what TK was doing at the station and he knew that it was a big deal for him, and I love that even before they are next to each other, he’s checking in to see how it went. He’s invested in TK’s well-being - as always - and he’s there to support him, both physically and emotionally. I COULD SCREAM.

In response to Carlos’s silent questioning, TK throws his head back and sighs. Like I said before, he seems to bounce towards Carlos, his body is pretty loose - his arms are swinging back and forth. This is a guy who just took a load off, and he’s relieved about having done so. The smile that Carlos gives him in answer says that he’s relieved too - that it went so well, that TK seems lighter. He might even be relieved that TK is being so much more open with him, clearly showing him his emotions. Their body language for this entire moment is very open, neither of them seem closed off. It truly does feel like, for the first time, they are meeting each other on equal footing, with all of their cards on the table before them. It’s such a different moment for them, certainly different than their body language during the boba date earlier in the episode.

I would be an absolute idiot if I did not pause and remark here how INCREDIBLY IMPORTANT IT IS that TK is the one that approaches Carlos. I’m not the first person to notice and say this, but Carlos “I hate being the one doing the chasing” Reyes stops just inside the door. He lets TK walk towards him. It’s such an interesting, nonverbal conversation between them. In this action, Carlos is saying “I’m here, but I’m still not going to force anything. You said you wanted space, so I’m giving it to you.” Sure, he comes to the station - but I would pay good money to bet that TK invited him there following some kind of conversation about what he was doing there - but he stays at the door. He’s cautious, but open. He wants something more with TK, but he’s not going to throw himself into it just to get hurt again. So, he waits. AND TK COMES TO HIM. TK leaves his own space and enters his. TK takes the final step. TK closes the gap. TK makes the big move, and they’re finally both right in front of each other, on the same wavelength. The find that solid ground from which they’ll build their relationship together. ISN’T IT JUST BEAUTIFUL?!

Seriously, kudos to Bradley Buecker for directing this episode with multiple levels of storytelling at play. It’s really great stuff.

OKAY, there’s a little Owen and Michelle moment, but then the camera finds Tarlos again. 

TK is standing in front of Carlos, they’re completely fixated on one another, their body language is just so fucking casual and comfortable I cannot stand it. See, the other hugs were all pretty intense: the team piles on top of TK, burying him, and Owen practically throws himself at TK, it’s a fairly hard hug for a man with an injured shoulder. But this hug? NOPE.

It’s so soft. It’s so gentle. TK raises his arm like he just can’t not wrap it around Carlos’s neck, like it’s the only way to be as close as possible to him and being as close as possible to him is all he wants in that moment.

What I really love about this hug is that it feels like two people who hug not because the moment is demanding it, not because they’re reuniting after a long time apart, not because they’re in a heightened state of emotion. 

These two hug like it’s just what they do, what they always want to be doing, like they don’t know how not to do it. The whole thing reads like “Hi, I’m TK and my arms belong around Carlos” and “Hi, I’m Carlos, and my arms belong around TK, what else would I be doing with them?” (It’s also the vibe I get from the club scene where they wrap their arms around each other.)

IT’S INTIMACY, Y’ALL.

Look, to be a Tarlos fan, I think you have to be willing to look at the relationship on two different levels, right? One is what they verbalize to each other, which is admittedly very little (season 2, come through). The other is the story that they tell through their body language. These two have seemingly always been on the same page physically. It just comes naturally to them, from the minute they first dance to their obviously very pleasing sex scene to the way they flirt in the bar to the club to Carlos at TK’s bedside. 

Their chemistry is made clear through how they physically relate to each other, and never is that more clear than in this hug that LITERALLY LASTS 2 SECONDS BUT CONTAINS MULTITUDES.

Okay, back to it... so TK strolls towards Carlos, Carlos waits for him - they symbolism is making me scream - TK raises his arm, it’s all super casual...

And then he just kind of literally falls into Carlos’s body, and Carlos basically just catches him. HOW BEAUTIFUL IS THAT.

They don’t even speak but because they’ve had a nonverbal conversation with just those looks that I talked about, there’s just this understanding that TK needs to just collapse a little bit and he never for one second doubts that Carlos will hold him up. THAT’S JUST WHAT THEY DO.

OKAY OKAY OKAY now we’re going to break this down from head to toe.

Like, the way that their heads just rest against each other, TK pressing close - I can almost imagine that he breathes in the scent of Carlos’s shampoo, his nose is pressed right there in his curls. AND JUST IMAGINE HIS SMILE, I BET IT’S BLINDING.

I love that their heads kind of curve around each other kind of, perfectly Yin and Yang - like, from above they would totally look like that symbol.

MY FAVORITE PART OF THE ENTIRE THING: CARLOS FREAKING REYES NUZZLING INTO TYLER KENNEDY STRAND’S NECK, LIKE HE JUST SHOVES HIS FACE RIGHT IN THERE

THE NECK KISS MADE ME SCREAM SO FUCKING LOUD THE FIRST TIME I SAW IT I COULD NOT HANDLE IT

First, it’s our first kiss since episode 2. 

Second, THE INTIMACY OF PRESSING A KISS TO SOMEONE’S NECK - LIKE THAT IS SUCH A SOFT PART OF YOUR BODY, THERE ARE TENDONS THERE, YOU CAN FEEL SOMEONE’S PULSE THERE - LIKE OH MY GOD

Nothing screams “I want to know every part of this man on a deep, committed level” than a fucking neck kiss, and Carlos Reyes just... he fucking does it. 

Okay but he really does bury his whole face in there like he wants to keep it there forever, I have truly never seen something so soft in my entire life. 

I’m so in love with them I could puke.

But like, that’s why this moment means so much to me, because I really do think that it’s a solidifying moment for both of them. 

For TK, it’s a “It’s okay if I stumble or fall because this man will catch me or help me up” thing

For Carlos, it’s “he wants me, he wants this, he’s taking literal steps towards this thing between us, and he encourages me to sink into him, he wants me to do that, he really wants this”

Like, fuck. 

Moving down... we gotta appreciate Carlos being mindful of TK’s shoulder, unlike literally everyone else who has hugged him. Like, he doesn’t even go anywhere near those stitches because there’s no fucking way he’s going to watch TK bleed out for the third time, nope.

And the way that Carlos just slides his arms around TK’s waist, pressing his palms into his lower back?! 

I think there’s a whole like, thing, where when a person’s hands are flat and open they’re like, open and vulnerable. So there’s just something about the way that Carlos presses both of his open palms against TK’s back that feels so open and vulnerable and honest to me.

Also, the way that he literally covers as much of TK’s back with his hands as possible? He doesn’t place his hands on top of one another, he stacks them along TK’s spine - he completely covers the entirety of his lower back. That’s a really vulnerable part of the human body, and Carlos instinctively protects it. AND TK LET’S HIM.

Okay, finally, down to their feet: TK really does collapse against Carlos, throwing himself on top of him and trusting that Carlos will keep him upright. All of his weight shifts to that forward momentum, he even goes up on the toes of his right foot. Carlos plants his feet, and as TK sways into him, he wraps him in his arms and gently centers them so that they don’t tip over to the ground.

He literally re-balances them. The two of them together find a balance with one another during this TWO-SECOND HUG. They shift, they steady themselves, they sink into one another.

It’s literally symbolic of them both being completely, 100%, without question, ready for the next phase of their relationship together.

They keep each other standing, and that’s fucking true love, y’all.

I honestly cannot wait for season 2. This hug and the final scene on the hood of Carlos’s car - with TK again making the move to embrace their relationship by physically reaching into Carlos’s space for his hand and dragging it into his own space, firmly opening the door to his heart to let him inside, while also settling Carlos’s hand between his own to let him know that he’s willing to protect him and his heart too - makes me believe that we are in for some truly wonderful romance with these boys. 

My heart will not stop screaming about it.

[isabellitah]

Hi! Could I request a fic of the reader (number eight/Eightie) focused on her relationship with Diego?? She is so cute and I bet she would be the only one to ever see his soft side

🤍 DIEGO x SIBLING

Title : personal psychopath

Pairing : none but this focuses on Diego’s relationship with Eightie

Warning : uhh anxiety attack and cuss words and this is long i got kinda carried away oop

Request : Hi! Could I request a fic of the reader (number eight/Eightie) focused on her relationship with Diego?? She is so cute and I bet she would be the only one to ever see his soft side

Note : Hiiii 🤍 this took a different turn from where I was going but- I hope it’s to your liking 🤍

you, Eightie, are known as the positive ray of sunshine in the Umbrella Academy

that is a fact known all across the world

some news outlets have even dubbed you the ‘Princess of the Umbrella Academy’ whenever you were mentioned

some considered you the ‘Sweetheart of Her Generation’

the bubbly ray of sunshine that giggled her way into everyone’s hearts

anyway-

you always greeted everyone with a smile and your giggles always uplifted the spirits of those who felt down

and according to Klaus, sometimes some of the meaner souls leave him alone when you’re around because your happiness is just so infectious that they’re entranced by it

so imagine how Diego- your protective older brother number two- felt when he saw you break down

For the first time in all your lives, Diego was frozen in shock and uncertainty around you. He didn’t think it was possible for someone so happy to actually feel fear. And to think- you bottled everything up just because you felt guilty anytime someone tried to help you. They should’ve- fuck they should’ve known!

It was late at night and you were both just relaxing in his room- something you both do whenever Diego can’t sleep. On his bed, with your back facing the wall, your head on his chest with an arm wrapped around him, both legs relaxed beside his and your other arm just comfortably between your bodies when you felt it.

A slight twitch on your hand.

You felt your face start to heat up.

Every single insecurity and fear you buried started resurfacing.

You knew what this meant.

You had to get to a secluded safe place - away from Diego - so you excused yourself to go the toilet, hopped over him and ran off- not even closing the door behind you. Diego shrugged it off thinking you just really needed to use the restroom.

Five minutes had passed and Diego felt himself start to worry. He didn’t hear anyone breaking into the house, nor did he hear you scream or anything but he had this gut feeling to check in on you. And so he did. Nearing the bathroom you usually used, he pressed his ear against the door and heard rapid, shallow breaths mixed with sniffled cries.

Diego twisted the door knob only to find it locked, “Eightie...?” Diego started panicking when your breaths became faster and kicked the door down. What he saw shocked him.

You were sitting on the floor cross-legged with your eyes hurriedly trying to wipe the tears from your face- to the point where it looked like it hurt from the amount of pressure you were using.

He was frozen- he didn’t know what to do next. He can’t leave you here to find someone to help- you looked like you needed someone now and yet at the same time you looked like you wanted to be left alone. But Diego didn’t. He didn’t leave you alone. He didn’t feel like it’d be right. You’re always there for him so it’s his turn to be here for you.

By the time he chose his course of action, both of your hands were now on your lap while your usually bright eyes were now dull and staring blankly at the tiled floors in front of you. Diego carefully sat down on the floor beside you so as to not shock you and hovered his hand over your shaking one.

Your hand twitched before you slowly turned it palm side up. Taking this as his cue, Diego intertwined your hands together and that seemed to help as your tears started to slow themselves down. But it wasn’t enough- your breathing still wasn’t stabilized.

“I- w-what can I d-do to he-help?” Diego’s words started stumbling out of his mouth and he hated how weak he sounded but, fuck, this was Eightie. He didn’t need to hide his insecurities from you. He felt your hand tighten around his slightly. Of course you were trying to comfort him when you were the one who needed it more. You knew his stutter only appeared whenever he felt overwhelmed with emotion. You took a sharp breath in and he immediately started listening in closely, “t-talk to m-me.” Diego hated how weak you sounded- how it sounded like you had to force those words from your mouth.

He took a deep breath in and started to talk with the first thing that popped into his head, “okay... Okay, right uhh there’s nothing- wow I can’t th- I’m not being help- wait! I got it! I uh- I got some new knives! Yeah, that’s exciting, right? I mean for me it is and you always mentioned that they interested you with how shiny they can be and- yeah- you like my knives- well actually you don’t like them because they can hurt people but- but you’re interested in them, right? And th-they are interesting. They’re different sizes and sometimes different colours...” while racking his brain on how to continue the one-sided conversation, he continuously said anything that appears in his thoughts first, “I uh- I got different sets in black, and they’re umm they’re different. And new. And uhh I don’t- uhh- I don’t think this is helping.” Diego genuinely looked confused and slightly frazzled as he tried to talk to you as requested. Unknowingly for him, during his speech, your breathing started stabilizing and you stopped crying and you smiled at his efforts. You knew your brother wasn’t a talker- he preferred showing his love through his actions, hence his protectiveness. And now his love for you shows in how he decided to stay by your side and try to comfort you even when he’s, quite obviously, out of his comfort zone.

To slightly ease his worries, you smiled up at him and softly thanked him. Having felt you move a bit, Diego stopped rambling and looked at you and his panicked features softened at the sight of your smile. But there was tinge of sadness in his eyes, and in yours - he noticed.

“You don’t need to be happy all the time, Eightie... you can be you here,” he placed an arm over your shoulder to hug you, “we accept you however you are... Like you always say, we’re your family and we love you, okay?”

You nodded tearily and returned his hug, “thank you...” you sniffled, burying your head in the crook of his neck.

“Any of us are here for you in case you ever need someone, okay? Just tell us and we’d drop whatever we’re doing.”

You frowned at what he said, “but I don’t want you guys to drop anything for me.”

Diego looked at the ajar door ahead of him while stroking your hair with the hand around your shoulder, “Family first, Eightie. You matter- you’re mental health matters more than my knives, okay? You’re that important.”

You wanted to smile at his knives comment but couldn’t bring yourself to so instead you just nodded.

“If you don’t mind me asking, Eightie... what happe-”

“Ooh what’s happening here?”

“Klaus... really?”

“Whaaaat? I saw light peeking from here so I decided, hey, if they wanted privacy, they would’ve shut the door. And then I recalled that this is technically Eightie’s bathroom! Why wo-”

“Klaus.”

“Sorry sorry- hey, are you crying?” When his sister turned to look at him, Klaus saw the tell tale signs of crying and immediately crouched in front of you and held out his arms for you.

Not wanting to let go of Diego, you stretched your free arm towards him as an invitation to join the hug and he took it- much to Diego’s utter disappointment. Nonetheless, he wrapped his free arm around Klaus who, after the hug, made himself comfortable between you two.

“So... what happened?”

“I uh- had a panic attack,”

“Again?”

“Again?!” Diego was shocked to say the least.

Klaus saw this along with the confusion on his face, looked at you for reassurance, and when you nodded, he looked back at Diego and told him, “I found her staring at nothing at the space in front of her in the living room one day. She was fidgeting with her hands- and she didn’t even notice a thing. She didn’t hear me even when I was basically screaming her name. We were the only ones home aside from mom and Pogo- but they were on the other side of the house. Anyway, she didn’t move an inch- she was lost in her thoughts ‘til I waved a hand in front of her. Big mistake- she jumped and looked at me scared before nearly choking on her own breath. I helped her regain her breath of course then we started talking and yeah.” It was odd seinf Klaus so sober and serious but wait... “Wait- just staring- no crying or hy-”

Klaus cut him off with an obviously over dramaticized groan, “anxiety comes in different forms for everyone, Diego.” for extra Klaus effect, he rolled his eyes in an exaggerated manner accompanied by a dramatic sigh.

Smiling at your third older brother’s antics, you looked ahead of you and added, “Yeah... that and I can usually manage my attacks in public.”

You felt Klaus’ stare on you and knew what he was about to ask, “I thought I told you to come to me when the signs start showing up, Eithtie,”

“I thought you were asleep,”

Klaus sighed knowing that you had a point, “no matter. So long as you’re not alone- and that you know that. Right?”

You nodded, slowly feeling your eyes get heavy, “Yeah... Right...”

Klaus chuckled and nudged Diego who got out of his trance and stood up with Diego following suit. Diego picked you up bridal style and brought you to your room. After tucking you in, you mumbled a good night and an I love you for them both before drifting off to sleep.

Klaus smiled softly before kissing your forehead and mumbling a good night before stepping out of your room. Diego did the same and once outside, Klaus told him he can only ask one question and that’s it.

Thinking hard on it, Diego asked, “Why didn’t you tell me or the others- does Ben know? Does Fi-“

“Okay stop right there, Muchacho. That’s nearly three. I said one. And to answer your first question, it’s not my story to tell- and as far as i know, no, they don’t. Though I suspect that Five either knows or has his suspicions because of the random treats he leaves on her lap.”

With that said, Klaus turned on his heel and left to go sleep in his room, bidding Diego a good night.

After bidding Klaus a good night, Diego set off to go to his room. Once entering his room, he immediately laid down on his bed and started searching on his phone, He started researching anything and everyhing he can read that night about anxiety for hours on end in order to better understand what you’re going through better. Surprisingly, he found some similarities on regarding his stuttering. He wanted to know everything- to be prepared for it next time. He wanted to be able to help you in any way he can. Soon, he falls asleep without even knowing it.

When Diego next opens his eyes, it’s morning and the birds are chirping. And he can smell Five’s bitter beverage from all the way here.

Arriving at the kitchens, he notices your absence and comes to the conclusion that you’re still asleep. No one questions it as you do have your moments- but this time only he and Klaus, and maybe Five, know the real reason why.

Diego takes a deep breath and called for everyonek attention. The moment eveyone turned to look at him, he told them of what happened laat night, much to klaus’ dismay.

While everyone was processing the information, you bounded into the kitchens with your usual bright and happy smile. Hugging Klaus then Diego as a thank you for last night or earlier that morning- you felt your smile slipping from your face into a frown as you froze upon looking at everyone else’s facial expression. You just knew that they knew. And you also knoww how... Klaus would never... But maybe it was for the best that Diego told the others. You calmed yourself down by taking a deep breath in, pausing, then breathing out. You repeated this cycle about three times before relaxing completely.

Diego turned and swiftly but carefully pulled you onto his lap. You wrapped your arms around his neck and rested your head against his chest while he wrapped his arms your waist- occasionally rubbing your back comfortingly.

To ease the remaining tension, Klaus spoke, “so... he’s like Eightie’s own personal psychopath huh?”

It worked. Everyone’s head turned to face him so fast, he’s surprised y’all didn’t get whiplash.

“Klaus, what the fuck?”

“What? He swoops in and isn’t afraid to kill people but he’s all nice and soft to her- like those romantic, well not romantic in their case, psychopath book type of things the Handler sent Fivey over there. Speaking of- who knew the Handler had a crush on Fivey- eugh.”

“Shut up.” Five and Allison’s response clashed, “he saves people, Klaus.”

Turning to Five he smiled at him, “hey, I’m just saying,” then turning to face to Allison, “yeah but like- he kills them too. Not psyco shaming you or anything Diego. Don’t worry- we accept you into this family- psychopathic tendencies and all.”

“Tha-no Kla-“

Rolling his eyes, Diego chose to stay quiet in favor of hugging you closer to him then kissing the top of your head as you quietly smiled at Ben across the table as he made faces to cheer you up.

Five responded, “he’s high Allison- there’s no point. Just stop.”

“Thank you, Fivey.”

“Stop calling me that.”

“Thats no-thats not why he can-“

“Shoosh shoo-” Klaus was cut off by your adorable giggle.

You didn’t even notice that everyone was now smiling towards you; you were too focused on Ben who continued making funny faces at you. Diego kissed the top of your head which resulted in you smiling up at him with a gummy smile before leaning onto him and turning back to Ben who then told you to start eating your breakfast. You pouted and whined for a bit before complying and eating your pancakes with orange juice. Everyone continued with their breakfast with thoughts of how to help you cope with your anxiety- or on how to ease your fears. You were their little Eightie after all- they wanted you safe, yes- but most importantly, they wanted you to be happy. Truly happy.

[shinycorvidae]

How Vic and Hiro Ended Up Sharing a Brain Tapeworm

(cowritten with @smilepal)

Part 6 of 6: In Which We Piss Off Our Pseudo-Father Figures

"Please proceed to insert the jack below the ear, although not too deep"

"... auxiliary neurosockets..."

"If I hit a vein by mistake..."

"...end up like Deshawn...fucking try me..."

"I think I have it."

"V! We're at viks, just..."

"... cannot...need...rest"

"Misty!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(I got stuck writing this for two weeks and I want to get to the rest of the story SO HERE HAVE SOME BULLET POINTS ✌️)

Vik taking V from Hiro's arms. He moves right into surgery and leaves a blood soaked Hiro to pace and listen to Delamain tell Vik that she’s going to die. Misty tries to convince him to go wash off the blood he’s covered in. Like hell is he leaving till Vs stable. She instead sits him down within eyesight of V and wraps up his torn palm. It’s cyberware, the best she can do is stop the leaking.

Hiro uses his anti-anxiety medication for the first time since he was a teenager. He doesn’t have time for panic attacks, he needs to be sharp, he’s got multiple people to protect.

Vik finally manages to stabilize V. He forces Hiro out of the clinic, V will be fine tonight, he needs to go home.

Hiro goes home to an empty, silent apartment. Watches V’s blood wash down the shower drain.

He doesn't sleep that night.

Hiro returns the next morning with three coffees. He’s not optimistic enough to bring one for Takemura or V.

Not that he’d bring one for the corpo anyway.

Vik is tired. There are dark circles under his eyes and he's slumped over on his stool staring into the distance. Hiro’s gut sinks, and he reflexively checks that V’s still breathing.

That’s Vik’s bad news face.

Hiro hands Vik the coffee and they sit in silence for a while. Watching V breathe.

Vik puts down his coffee and sighs.

“Do you want the good or the bad first?”

“Just tell me Vik”

“She’s stable. I removed the bullet from her head and she’ll recover fully from the wound. She’ll have a nasty scar and nothing else.”

“...but?”

“It’s hard to explain kid.”

“Vik.”

“The item V and Jackie were sent to filch? It’s a biochip, a Relic. Arasakas “upload a dead person” magic trick. But this one’s different, a prototype. Somehow it got slotted into Vs head.”

“What? Why would she do that? That...that makes no sense. Vic’s an idiot sometimes but...she wouldn’t do that.”

“Might not have been a willing choice kid. Might have been a desperate action. Maybe she was just reckless. I don’t know. Doesn’t change the end result. There’s a biochip in her head and I can’t get it out without killing her.”

“What? You can’t just unslot it?”

“When Deshawn shot her, she was dead. Just for a minute, maybe less. Then the nanites in the chip booted up and brought her back. That Relic is the only reason she’s breathing on that bed right now.”

“Fuck. Fuck, she...never mind, keep going Vik. Tell me all of it.”

“There’s only bad news left Hiro.”

“Keep going. Please.”

“...alright. That reboot, the bullet to the head? It activated the construct on the biochip. The virtual psyche of the person written on that chip. Johnny Silverhand.”

“...the rocker?”

“The terrorist more like. He’s...he’s overwriting V. He’s-It’s going to scoop out everything that makes her V and replace it with Silverhand. She has a couple weeks before there's nothing of her left, maybe a month at best.”

“How do we fix it?”

“There’s...-kid there’s nothing I can fix. I can slow it down a little with some medication, keep her a little more comfortable. But I-I can't fix this.”

The floor drops out from under him. No. Not now. She lived, she survived a bullet to the fucking head. A little piece of tech isn’t going to-

Fuck. FUck. Not another one, please not both of them, he cant-

And V. V who hates any loss of control, who’s so sure of who she is. Getting erased...he can’t think of a worst fear for her. A worse torture.

He leans against the counter heavily, the only thing supporting his weight. He can’t even look at her. He failed her. HE failed them both.

Vik's hand falls on his back. He can barely feel it. Barely hear him talk.

“I tried kid. I worked through every possible solution. Nothing works. The closest I got was splitting the engram but its not going to-”

Hiro will take anything. Any deal, any bargain to keep her here.

“Split it. How would you split it.”

Vik just looks at him. Keeps his mouth shut for a beat.

“Hiro-”

“NO! Vik, I refuse to- we won't lose her. We can’t, I can’t-. You aren't going to hold anything back from me, I swear-”

“Fine! Fine. If you split the engram, you might, MIGHT alleviate the load on Vic’s brain enough that she can fight off the engram, partially. Enough so she keeps control. It's a slim chance. More likely it will just buy her time, a couple months, and doom the second host to the same fate. And it might just outright kill her and the second host. I'm not going to take someone off the street and subject them to that. And I don't know anyone who'd do it willingly.”

“...I will. Use me. I’ll be the second host.”

“No.”

Viktor’s no is immediate. He's both horrified and shocked that Hiro would even offer. He watched him fight to survive as a teenager. To see him gamble his life on the slight chance to save Vic...

He won’t. He practically raised the kid, he’s not going to kill him on his own operating table.

Hiro gets right in his face, desperate and angry.

“We have a chance Vik! You're just too scared to take it!”

“It’s a fool’s chance! At best you buy her a couple months-”

“You said there's a chance it’d cure her completely.”

“A tiny one! It'd be like betting on a five year old in a one-on-one with Razor Hughes. Its suicide.”

“If V’s that five year old I’m taking that god damned bet.”

Vik just stares at him. He’s completely serious. He knew Jackie's death was affecting him, but he hadn't realized he'd lost his mind.

“Hiro-”

“I am BEGGING you Vik. I will get on my knees if that makes a difference, PLEASE. If you have an ounce of respect for me you'll do this, its my body, my fucking choice”

Hiro ups the ante at the sliver of weakness of resignation in Vik's face. He’s terrified and it’s making him desperate, making him mad.

“If you don't I will never forgive you, I fucking swear. You will never see my face again. You can’t not give me this chance to save her,-”

Vik's face goes hard. Stony. If the kid is going to guilt him with that, fine. He's an adult and obviously he doesn't care anymore. Let him risk his own damn life.

And. Hiro’s desperate enough, Vik KNOWS, he just knows that Hiro won't give up. He’ll find a different ripperdoc, one willing to do it. And they’ll fuck it up. No one willing to do that would be good at their job. He has to do it. Or put Hiro at even greater risk.

A little part of Vik hates Hiro for it. For backing him into this awful corner. For forcing him to be complicit in Hiro's death. In V’s.

“Alright. Alright. Go change into one of the scrubs, the sooner we do this, the better. For you and for V”

“Thank you-”

“DO NOT thank me for this Hiro. Do not. I don’t want to do this. It’s wrong and I’m pretty sure V would-”

“V lost the right to an opinion when she slotted this thing in her fucking skull in the first place.”

Vik performs the surgery. They both live. He makes sure Hiro is comfortable and asleep before opening up the scans of their brains. Of the Relic, still nestled in Vs head untouched. His stomach drops.

His prediction was mostly right. V isn't cured. Hiro bought her a couple more months, maybe 2 or 3. He's only delayed her death. Stretched out how long it will take Silverhand to devour her. Hiro has connected himself to her and the Relic but in a stroke of luck not her death. The relic isn't trying to scoop him out, but it will put stress on his synapses. He’ll have migraines, nausea, even possible seizures at the end of V’s life but when her final thread of self snaps, the bridge between their brains will collapse. He may be left with some permanent effects but he’ll live. Thank god he’ll live. He mourns for V but selfishly, awfully he's so grateful Hiro lived and will live. He will never say it out loud but he'd sacrifice V, a good friend, if it meant Hiro could live.

Hiro wakes up the next day. He refuses to believe Vik's final diagnosis. He’s bought V time, they’ll find some way to fix this.

He spends the week at Vik's, recovering and waiting for her to wake up. He tries to help around the clinic, but his relationship with Vik has been severely strained. Any conversation is awkward and stilted.

V wakes occasionally, short periods of not full awareness. Murmuring words, clenching her fists, eyes barely opening.

The first time she does it, Hiro's sitting right next to her bed, fiddling with the dismantled pieces of a shotgun to keep busy. He happens to look to his left. He’s shocked by the sight of V’s yellow brown eyes, staring at him lazy and warm.

“Hiro...”

“Hey V. Go back to sleep. It's too soon for you to be waking up.”

“K. G’night.”

A surge of deep want goes through Hiro as he pushes Vs hair back. He wants her.

Ohhhhh fuuuuuck he wants her. Not just as a friend. Or a roommate. Or a want for her to be safe. Oh no. oh nooooooo.

Apparently he’s not gay??? At least not completely. MAybe it's just men AND V. like an exception? Fuck this is bad. This is bad AND weird.

But he definitely wants V in his bed. He wants to know what her nails feel like on his back, her teeth on his lip. The playful look in her warm eyes as she drags her hand down his chest-

NOPE. NO. He’s not doing this right now. V is sick, V is DYING, he’s not- nope we aren't thinking about that.

It takes a couple hours for his ears to stop being bright red.

V wakes up late on the 6th day, Vik is sitting right there. Waiting for her to wake up.

V takes the news quietly. She's tired and obviously weak but her voice only wavers a little. She only begs Vik for a solution once, when she learns she’ll lose everything she is. She doesn't tear up or panic but examines every option she has. Looking for a way out. She can break down when she’s alone. Vik looks like he’s struggling with this enough. He doesn’t need to see her pain and fear too.

Hiro watches the whole thing from across the clinic. In a dark enough corner that V wouldn't immediately notice him. He watches her push down her feelings. Comforting Vik about her own fate for fucks sake.

He shouldn’t be here. Now that she’s lucid she probably hates him for not coming with them. He shouldn't creepily watch her be vulnerable without her consent. But he can't manage to drag himself away either.

Vik shakily wipes his face and delivers the final blow

"Hiro bought you sometime so you have a couple months instead of weeks. But you’re still dying V-"

"Wait Hiro? What did he do? Where is he?"

Fuck. Well now he really can't just sulk in the corner anymore. He comes out, walking up to her bed silently. He has no clue what to say to her.

V doesn't leave him drowning for long. She gives him a small smile, tired and pained but happy to see him anyway.

"It only took me dying to get you to learn to be sneaky, huh?"

A small choked laugh, suspiciously wet, escapes him. Only she would pull a laugh out of him right now, the brat.

Misty helps Hiro move her to a wheel chair so he can bring her home. Vik explains the meds to him too. He can tell her later. When she's not fast asleep in a wheelchair.

She's snoring and her hair is stuck around the handle. She's an idiot. She’s adorable.

Fuck.

[missingartist]

The Witcher’s Mate Chapter 19

The portal snapped closed behind them sending the trio spewing over the hard granite floor. Dust and grit curled up into billowing clouds sending the three into a fit of coughs and splutters. Jaskier poked his head up between a pair of legs and one hand that frantically twitched at the side of his neck.

‘Whose ever knee that is, while that is very pleasant, I am not sure Geralt would appreciate either of you doing that.’ Jaskier bit out, worming his way out from the bodies.

‘I forgot how low the floor was in here’ a muffled groan forced its way out front somewhere beneath the flailing limbs, a white-haired head popped up gazing around the battered room.

Vesemir had his blade raised and thrust in one of the bodies face before he even recognised the blossoming young woman and her annoying bard. Typically, the Witchers stronghold was only occupied during the most barren winter months, when work was made difficult from the weather. Most creatures limited their attack in the colder weather, drowners trapped by thick ice, wreaths. Kilmore and ghoul attack slowed to the point there was very little money, and it made more sense to hole up in the warmth of the great hall with food and ale sharing stories of the beasts and women they had met in the months of isolation on the path. But for Vesemir the appeal of riding another two months was unappealing, and there was much to be done at Kaer Morhen, the place had fallen into disrepair and could stand to have two months patch up before the others arrived. So, the flash of light and the three sprawling bodies was unexpected.

Cross-eyed, the bard stared down the blade of the Witcher, who grunted down in annoyance.

‘Vesemir long time no see, how are you? You old….Witcher.’ Jaskier smile nervously up at the gruff man.

‘Vesemir!’ Ciri greeted, standing up and pulling the bewildered former kitchen maiden with her.

‘Ciri! My girl, you’ve grown’ he pulled the slim girl into a bear-like hug lifting her off the grown entirely. ‘And who is this?’ Vesemir puffed out, catching a glimpse at the cowering girl edge herself toward the bookcases.

‘This is Adva…student of Triss, currently first of Yennefer’s hit list, suspected mermaid and Geralt’s soul mate, like actually soul mate.’

Blinking across at the older man, terror surged beneath the brunette skin. The gaze was heavy and piercing as the man all but dropped Ciri to her feet to look the mermaid up and down. Anxiety was back, and she felt like she had back in Brightwater under the scrutiny of Cersi, Tradi or the Vivian. It made her realise how bare she felt in the flimsy clothing Ciri lent her.

‘We need help…figuring out the mermaid and soulmate part.’

Ciri pulled back from her former teacher and smiled at the nervous girl, who eyes now focused solely on her ragged boots.

‘Well… I think we are going to need more chairs in the library. Anyone you annoy Yennefer enough to get on her hit list is always welcome here.’ Vesemir greeted, pulling Adva and Ciri toward the library.

‘Tell me everything. Bard bring three more chairs from the celler.’

‘Brilliant just brilliant’ Jaskier sighed as he made his way through the vast stronghold.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Geralt could not close his eyes; every time he did, he saw Adva being huddled into the portal in the strong embrace of Jaskier. Her retreating figure was etched into his mind for the past three days. The tightness of Ciri blouse over her breast and stomach, the lacing at the top of the shirt could not fasten so in an attempt to make them fit she had pulled the sleeve down into a peasant blouse, exposing her neck and that spot in which he buried his head in it during their night together, the pure scent that intoxicated him. Her hips had strained against the tightness of the dress, Adva hips the more shapely then his young ward, soft and supple, his hands still burnt in remembrance of how his hand buried into her ample hips as he ground into her feeling the wetness against me.

Scrunching his eye shut, he was forced to relieve that look on her face, the sadness and misery. He wanted to talk to her explain, but as soon as he advances towards, she flinched and retreated behind Jaskier. A furious range formed inside him, Jaskier, the man he had to save so man times who stuck his nose in one to many times, he had dragged her off for him, his little flower, his love, his siren, HIS MATE. Blood dripped from his hands as eight half-moons cut pieced his golden skin, the warm liquid dripped over his fingers and splattered noiselessly against the dirt way he lay. He could not bring himself to care or even feel the mild pain; he felt nothing, just the burning desire to regain Adva, to have her in his arms and wearing his mark as soon as possible. Without her, near him, he felt weak, near collapsed when she had abandoned him, but at the same time field with rage, he laid waste to the Garden, burnt the roses and reduced the fountained to a pile of stones. Before climbing on the back of Roach and riding day and night though forest, bogs and towns to reach his Witchers home, stopping only long enough for the horses to rest and Yennefer to reapply the paste to the runes on his skin. The fever still gripped him, the balm now lasted only a few hours, but he refused to let them stop for the briefest moment to reapply the substance. Instead, he had to feed the need to be close to her; so he rode on closer and closer to Kaer Morhen. As soon as they passed the town of Bastion, he could smell that scent on the wind, apples, and the sea. It calmed and excited him; a pang of anxiety took hold of him. It was something that he never felt before, a panic that gnawed at him for the inside out. He needed to get to her, to explain, to talk and to comfort.

Being told she was not human and possibly a mermaid in the span of a few hours was a shock. Geralt blink and he saw her distress flash against his eyelids, the tears. It broke him, and he wanted to comfort his mate, but it was Jaskier who swooped in. A silent growl shook his chest as he dug his fingers deeper into his palms, the blood flowing more freely, oozed onto the mud. At the minute, he couldn’t care less about any of them, Jaskier, Triss, Yennefer even Ciri could all go to hell, he could carry Adva away to live in a cave for all he cared as long as he had her. Geralt never thought he was a possessive man, but by the gods, he wanted to have every inch of her and give himself completely over to her. The overwhelming feeling pounded against his temples, and the sharp ache cut through his head as he was brought out of his musing by the harsh whispers behind him.

‘You have never loved him. You just love the idea of someone being there. You treated him more like a lapdog than a lover.’ Triss snapped.

She poked at the fire angrily as glared at the Yennefer, who in her usual fashion wore a plunging neckline that dipped down to her navel, it was tight and revealing and not a travelling dress, but it not sure practicality was what Yen was going for.

‘Don’t you think I deserved someone.’ Yennefer half whispered; half yelled.

‘Of course, I do. But you were horrid to her. You know what she reminded me a lot of you when you first came to Arteuza. Lost and scared searching for a place. She even had her own Tisssisa in Tradi and Cersi, a bully who prodded and poked, filling you head with the position. But you managed you had the power and support to getaway. She did not. Have some sympathy.’ Triss glared into the crackling fire.

‘I sacrificed my motherhood for that. You have no idea what I have surrendered.’ Triss growled.

‘You sacrificed nothing. You gave it away.’ Triss countered, giving her a pointed look. ‘You wanted power and don’t try and kid yourself. I love you like a sister, but sometimes you can be so obtuse.’

Yennefer was becoming increasingly hostile as the days went on, switching from lost little girl to savage man-eating banshee. Every jab and goading comment ground down on the Witcher who pensively look deep into the horizon but Triss knew Geralt; his body was rigid and tense, he didn’t eat or sleep just stare into the fire or huddle up with his back to them for the few brief hours he let the horse rest. And there was only so much more he would be able to stand before he snapped, and she fears that Yennefer would be on the receiving end of that or worse it would get Geralt off in an unbound rage, and he would do something that he would forever regret.

‘You seriously believe Geralt belong to her.’ Yennefer stood and pace in front of the fire, casting a frantic shadow against the trees.

‘That your problem, you think Geralt belong to someone. Adva genuinely cares for him. And she did not cast him out over his doing the right thing. That right he told me…honestly, you have no idea how spoilt and nasty you sounded.’

‘Well, to me, she couldn’t get away from him fast enough.’ Yennefer smirked at her; it was her character smirk, the one she used when she was right.

‘That because she thinks Geralt prefer you over her, and she doesn't want to be blasted through the floor again.’ Triss ranted, in a hoarse tone. ‘You draped your self over him, what was she to think.’

‘If she were truly his mate, don’t you think she couldn’t be apart from him. Even if I were draped all over him, do you think he has really changed? He’d have a different woman in his bed every night; she would be pandering after him. Trust me; I spared her the hurt. I bet she had already moved on to Jaskier…’

‘Enough’ Geralt roared, bolting up in bed. ‘Don’t you two have anything else you can talk about.’ He snapped and stood.

Two of the two women, he loomed menacingly over them, his body stood to his full height as he glared at them with dark eyes. His sword was clutched tightly in his hand, glistening murderously in the moonlight. Trails of sweat mixed with the blue rune and melted down his skin, it was hard to see any of his bronzed skin beneath the mess of sweat and paint. The fever seemed to take hold on his with a vengeance, his breath was coming in heavy pants, as he looked at both the woman.

‘Geralt…we didn’t…’

‘She wouldn’t do that….not with Jaskier, she needs me’ Geralt gritted out. Triss took a step back, the frantic look in his eyes scared her.

‘Please…. she could barely look at you when they left. Could not help but notice she seemed really attached to Jaskier, they have the whole of Kaer Morhen to themselves…lots of room for screaming. I bet she is currently in one of those lush four posters spread open and Jaskier buried deep into her pussy.’

Yennefer laughed. The sound tinkled against the trees and into the night air, it was the only sound that would be heard apart from the occasional crackle of the fire and a distant owl hooting. Triss honestly could not comprehend what was happening in Yennefer head, if she really understood what was happening if she truly believed that Geralt wouldn’t actually hurt her. That he could do serious harm to her with his blade or signs. Part of her wanted that, it ashamed her to say, but Yennefer had been taking every opportunity to push the Witcher to his breaking point, she took great pleasure in it. Yennefer was hurt, and that made her deadly. Still, Geralt wasn’t his normal passive self, who let her push and ordered him about, he wasn’t that lonely puppy craving attention and companion anymore, he had love, or would have true love soon with someone that was wholly different for the mage, someone who was his and his alone.

What happened next surprised Yennefer but not wholly Triss. Aard, the telekinesis push erupted for Geralt’s hands, sending them flying backwards. The purple eyes mage hurtled backwards, through the fire and hit a nearby bolder with a sicken crake. Triss was lucky that the full force of the blast was direct at the other mage, she only caught the edge of the blast sending her stumbling into a pile of leaves and rotting vegetation was cushioned her fall. In horror, she watched as the Geralt leapt over the fire, sword raised, and he swung. She couldn’t bare to watch, screwing her eyes she waited. The sounds a metal hitting stone echoed in the clearing. Then a deadly silence. Peaking out from behind her corkscrew curls, the blade was inches from her face her violet eyes staring wide at the sliver of sharped silver.

The silver-haired Witcher growled and grunted like a rogue animal, terrified and panicked. ‘Never…never would she bed with another…. She is MINE!’ he roared.

‘HOW DARE YOU ATTACK ME! AFTER ALL, I HAVE DONE FOR YOU!’ Yennefer howled sending out a wave of fire out, knocking her attacker off her.  

Groaning in pain, he rolled out the way of another blast before twirling to his feet, with all the grace of a dancer. The sword hummed as he twirled the heavy blade, the wind screamed as it cut through it. Yennefer raised her hand before her as Geralt stood, budging muscle strained against his armour, eyes fierce and deadly. Plenty of times Yennefer had seen the fierce warrior beat down floes with nothing but his trusty sword but never had she been on the receiving end. Magic would be useless, and Geralt could inflict significant damage if he didn’t kill her.

‘Geralt…Stop! I am sure Yennefer was just being Yennefer. Adva is just confused right now. Finding out your part mermaid and a soulmate to a Witcher in the same day as behind attacked by a crazy Mage is hard to get your head around. You two are soul mates, meant to be. She just needs time to understand and get her head around it all. I am sure she is holed up in one of the rooms waiting for you, alone.’ Triss cried as she jumped in front of them. ‘You need to calm down…please. For Adva.’ Triss called, softly

The three stood tensely for a moment, both women's eyes on him as he glanced between the two. Panting hard his eyes bleed black, hands tightening on the hilt of his blade.

Snort pushed itself through his nose as a ‘Fuck’ howled passed his lip as he threw down his sword. Spearing one last glance at the mages, he disappeared into the forest.

‘That little bitch has done something to him. Geralt would never…’ Yennefer huffed, brushing the dust of her dress.

‘When are you going to accept you have lost.’ Triss rolled her eyes as she picked up the silver blade, sliding it back into his bindle on Roach, before sitting back down near the fire and waiting for his return. ‘Rest up; we will be riding on as soon as he gets back. We need to get to Kaer Morhen as soon as possible.’

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This originally wasn't gong to be a chapter but I felt like it needed to. Someone messaged me on tumblr about why Geralt didn't chase after her through a portal, from what I remember from the books and games Geralt hated portals and only uses them when absolutely necessary so I thought it was very Geralty plus those two need a little time apart. And there will be plenty of time for Geralt to chase after her *drools* can you imagine being chased by jealous Geralt. What did you think? I wasn't sure about the fight but Yennefer was being very annoying. Plus things Geralt and Adva life is hotting up and they have a lot to pick through so it gonna be interesting. And Vesemir! The love I have for that man! Please leave a comment!

@fandom-lover-4  @sageandberries-png @wastingmypotential @luxyash @whitespring21 @ayamenimthiriel @crazynocturnalkiki @wonderlandfandomkingdom @shesthelastjedi @broco8 @introvertedmouse @threepupsinapuddle @pastelblogsposts

[mimzy-writing-online]

I hope this question isn't too stupid, but you're one of my favorite writing blogs so I'll give it a shot. I want to write a FanFic based on the 1971 version of Willy Wonka. I wanted the story to tell Violet Beauregarde's story, the one that turns into a blueberry. However, I have SOME questions as I'm fairly new to FanFic. 1). Am I better off focusing on each kid's perspective, going back and forth? Or is it good to narrow my focus one one character? 2). Can I give them a character arch, li

(2/3) like Violet's really mean in school but she becomes kind after her experience at the factory. Is that too cliche or predictable? 3). Why does she try waddling away after her blueberry transformation and the Oompa Loompas are singing/dancing around her? They're trying to help her, and I don't really get why she'd do something like that. 4). What are tips to better understand the characters I want to flesh out? I guess it circles back to the last question, understanding their psyche. Yikes

(3/3)  Yikes! Super sorry this ask is long. And I'm even more sorry if my questions were lame or you've covered them before. :P. I can overthink at times, ESPECIALLY when it comes to my writing. I'm such a perfectionist storyteller, it's not even funny. I hope my questions aren't bothering you. You're one of my favorite writing blogs, so I figured I could come to you. I apologize in advance for wasting your time. You DO NOT have to reply at all if you don't want to. :P Thanks, have a great week

First and foremost: this is not a stupid question, you are not wasting my time at all. This is actually a rare treat for my blog because I don’t get many asks that don’t involve blindness, though I usually know better how to answer those than I do other questions. So, here we go:

Are you better off focusing on each kid’s perspective, going back and forth? Or is it better to narrow your focus onto one character?

The general rule of writing is to simplify. If two background characters serve a similar purpose, just combine the characters, for example. Slimming down extra scenes that don’t contribute to plot or character development.

However, that advice is meant for people publishing novels, working within an overflowing industry, dependant on sales and royalties. They have to meet whatever industry standards are, like word count or POV types. They have to find someone willing to take them on as a client because they love that book.

Fanfiction is not bound by such nonsense. Fanfiction is a beautifully lawless land where capitalism cannot influence it. What defines what you do with fanfiction is if you enjoy reading it, and if you have the steam to continue a long project.

Some people easily write 200,000k fics within a matter of weeks or months (or in my case, just once, two years). Some people work best with short fics. Both (and everything in between) are wonderful.

So, how much steam do you have for this project? How long do you think you can carry it and still finish it? Because that defines how big you should plan to make this project. If you don’t think you can write a long fic, then maybe just stick to one character.

A compromise between the two is to focus primarily on one character, and examine the other characters more briefly. This could be done in just a single POV chapter, or a handful. This could be done with the characters connecting and seeing the side character through your main character’s eyes, seeing how they’ve changed.

There’s no wrong answer. This fic is for your enjoyment primarily. No matter what you write, it will appeal to at least a few people, if not crowds. But your fun comes first, both literally and figuratively. Write for you, write to explore the story for yourself.

Can you give them a character arc like Violet’s where she becomes kinder after her experiences in the factory? Is that too cliche or predictable?

I wouldn’t call it predictable, because I’d expect everyone to go into completely different directions because they were all such unique and individual people before they entered the factory, and they were foiled by their own quirks.

Violet was mean and fake, she was demanding. I don’t know how much I want to speculate on the plotline you have going for her, how you’ll develop her to make her want to be more kind.

But I would love to speculate on the others.

Agustus Gloop? 

I feel like his experience in the chocolate river and almost drowning would make it hard to enjoy chocolate ever again. I think it would be a long time before he had any sweets. Also, because of his weight, I imagine there’s got to be some body-image issues hiding under the surface. I’d also put money on him being bullied, and him acting out against the students who bully him and because of his size he is more intimidating, but that doesn’t stop people from saying things behind his back.

I imagine the chocolate thing is a form of self-comfort. Maybe he turns to other foods to over-eat with to cope. Maybe eventually he figures out that this isn’t helping him. Does he try to replace unhealthy foods with healthier ones? (idk, I have a personal turn off on getting into the concept of dieting, so I’m not going to dig in much there).

I’d like to see him learn to love himself, develop some body neutrality, that his body doesn’t define who he is or what his worth is. That he becomes okay with who he is as he grows up. People who are happy and comfortable with themselves are generally nicer and easier going than people who aren’t. Maybe with some self-love, he’ll be kinder to others.

Veruca Salt?

Okay, I have a confession. My brain thought of her when discussing Violet. I haven’t seen either of the films in years.

Well, let’s thank Wikipedia everyone, the greatest gift of the internet.

Veruca does come across as a spoiled brat. Her parents shower her in material objects, which might mean something. I have a close friend who hates people buying things for him or giving him gifts that cost money. This has to do with a parent buying him things out of guilt after episodes of emotional abuse. I asked him a while back what he wanted for his birthday (I meant baked goods, I bake or cook special meals as birthday gifts for my friends. A has asked for chocolate chip cookies for three birthdays in a row now. Several friends ask for cookies for Christmas). Anyway, my friend had a panic attack and couldn’t respond until an hour later.

Maybe there’s something to that.

What does she think about money as she grows up? Does her love language continue to be gifts? I think it might one day be quality time. Maybe it is now. It’s common for rich parents to be absent and barely spend time with their kids because of work and extravagant social lives that sort of money gives them access to, meaning they barely have time in the day to spend with their kids. Maybe gifts are the only way she can make sure her parents still care, the only way she can get their attention? 

Mike Teavee?

Apparently in the movie credits his last name is spelled Teevee. But I’m obsessed with tea (and this is the point where I remember my tea and wonder if I’ve let it go cold because I got too focused. Nope, it’s still there). So it’s Teavee here.

Wikipedia describes him as a young boy who only watches TV, nothing but TV. He’s especially interested in cowboys and Western films. He comes across as a know-it-all. He’s easily annoyed but gets along with others.

Anyone have a guess at where I’m going with this?

Mike is neurodivergent. I mean, that’s my new headcanon. I lean towards ADHD because that’s what I project, but like everything else, his interpretation is in the eye of the beholder. Every viewer sees something different in him.

Some common ADHD (and autism) experiences beyond having a specific interest is how others react to your special interest. You get used to people getting bored when you talk about your interest for the thousandth time, but it’s still important to you, but not to someone whose opinion matters to you. RSD is probably common.

Wikipedia says he’s described as lazy in the books? Common ADHD “symptom,” or rather something that outside viewers label as laziness. Really, he just doesn’t have the motivation to do any of those other things.

And Charlie?

Did anyone think I wouldn’t have any thoughts on Charlie, our hero and protagonist?

Oh no, I have thoughts. Charlie goes to great lengths to set his family up comfortably, he becomes generous with his money. He also knows nothing about running a factory. I’m hoping Willy Wonka gives him some help there. But I bet adult Charlie is a stressed-out workaholic who tries to do everything and thinks he has something to prove, that he’s not just some random lucky child, that he can do this. Charlie totally gets a work-related anxiety disorder.

Those are my thoughts. I still think giving them Violet’s arc isn’t cliche or predictable, but rather completely different from what you think would happen to all those kids.

I mean, maybe a few of them are still little jerks in their adult lives. There’s no one road to grow up on, even if you’re four strangers who shared a similar traumatic experience.

Why does she try waddling away after her blueberry transformation and the Oompa Loompas are singing/dancing around her? They're trying to help her, and I don't really get why she'd do something like that.

They strange looking short men she’s literally never talked to, never seen or heard of before today, who’s already taken away two children by this point, all while singing a song about what terrible children they were.

And she’s scared because her body is doing something strange and scary and awful. She’s scared. She doesn’t know what to do. What will happen if these strange men take her away? She doesn’t know what happened to the other kids.

And they’re not really communicating they want to help, just singing cheerfully about how awful children are.

What are tips to better understand the characters I want to flesh out? I guess it circles back to the last question, understanding their psyche.

A lot of it is just watching real-life people and wondering why they are the way they are. Listening to their reasoning and what they tell you about who they are and where they come from.

I know people who grew up like Agustus with using over-eating as a way to self-comfort, and the bullying they experienced. I know that if a kid was physically bigger than his bullies, maybe he’d fight them to make them stop and leave him alone. People who go through that journey of learning that their body doesn’t define who they are, accepting it because it is theirs and it takes care of them.

(Which reminds me of a post I like that pops around here and there, that positive body image should be about more than how “sexy” your curves make you look. A person shouldn’t have to be sexy to be treated like a person. A person shouldn’t have to be sexy at all if they don’t want to, especially not all the time, and especially not a child. And there are a lot of obese children in the world who don’t have any positive body image messages designed for them)

I learned what my friend’s love languages are and why they have them and what they mean. Which is why I have that theory for Veruca.

Mike is just self-projection and listening to other neurodivergent people when they describe their life experiences or listening to their theories when they say a character is neurodivergent too.

I won’t lie, my theory on Charlie is based entirely on the Avatar: the Last Airbender fandom’s common head-canon that Zuko becomes a workaholic after he becomes Firelord. There might be some canon material in the comics that supports that, but I’ve never seen it. I think Zuko and Charlie have a similar vibe and that those three years Zuko struggled, and Charlie’s entire life before the factory make them both feel like they need to be perfect and do everything right to prove they deserve the job they’re given and that their backgrounds don’t define their worth.

Thank you so much for your ask anon!

And again, you are not a bother. I enjoyed digging into this movie I’d never thought in depth about until tonight. And you’re not alone, lots of writers are overthinkers and perfectionists. You are in good company. Our writing and fanfiction community welcomes and loves you <3

And thank you for your kind words! I’m so happy that you love my blog so much <3 It made my day to read that

Take care anon, and good luck in your writing :)

[suppressedanxiety]

Oh you /TWO!/ You had BETTER clear this up with anxiety RIGHT NOW.

@ncanspeak said: YEAH LOGAN, YOU’VE BROKEN THE POOR BABY!!!

Anonymous said: Roman, PLEASE be running off to tell Anxiety that his box was invisible and soundproof to Patton PLEASE

Anonymous said: Well, I think they managed to break Anxiety :/

Anonymous said: I dont know if at this point his panic attack will be a good thing because Logan might ask for help because feeling or if it’ll be a bad thing where Roman exploits his weakness

@hotchocolatehugs said: ALRIGHT LOGAN YOU’D BETTER GO SPEAK TO VIRGIL, BEFORE YOU CAUSE HIM ANY MORE TRAUMA!

@10moonymhrivertam said: Guys please be careful with Virgil I think he’s about to go catatonic…just be gentle and maybe don’t deride his function so much? THOMAS PLEASE FUCK SOMETHING UP SOONER RATHER THAN LATER

@skeletonsloverockcandy said: Lo and Ro please make sure Anxiety’s ok, please reassure him about what happened, poor boy is likely having a panic attack.

Anonymous said: How could they! Now they’ll either find the aftermath a shell of an ALREADY broken man or find him in the middle of his crisis! Shame on both you boys!

Anonymous said: Roman, Logan, you better be ready to comfort a tiny Anxiety! I don’t care if you don’t like him or if it doesn’t mean anything in the end but you both caused this so you gotta do the damage control. (I love this story so much! I am so invested in this!)

Anonymous said: I’m all for the Virgil angst that is coming from Logan’s “mistake” >:] He is going to cry? Please make Virgil cry and I’ll give my soul to you

By the time they arrived, Anxiety looked as though he had already gone through several different stages of grief, his eyes red and puffy and his knuckles bruised. Even the bed was a mess of discarded blankets, halfway off its frame. Now, though, the anxious seemed settled firmly on anger.

“Oh, look who’s here.” He spat as he paced back and forth in front of them, more scathing than they’d heard in a while. Roman winced, and Logan opened his mouth, but Anxiety wasn’t about to let them get a word in edgewise. “Off laughing at the great joke you pulled? Convincing me you were going to let me go after a measly week, ha! Were you placing bets on how long it would take me to realize that Patton was in on it the whole time?” 

“Anxiety-”

“I don’t want to hear anything you have to say! You lied to my face.” Anxiety snarled at Logan, lip curling up to bare his teeth in a gesture that would have made Roman reach for his sword normally. Like this, it just made him feel a strange sort of pity.  

“I did not lie.” Logan said, and lowered the walls of the box. For the first time, the small side didn’t even flinch at being surrounded, something unhinged and desperate in his glare. 

“You did. You did! The jig is up, I watched- I saw Patton come in here. I-” His voice cracked, and he bit his bottom lip so hard that it began to bleed before continuing. “He looked right at me and didn’t look even a little surprised. He brought an entire meal in for me, like… like I’m a prized show animal or something.”

The tiny side flung an arm out to gesture to the plate sitting on the desk nearby, and even that small movement seemed to exhaust him. He leaned heavily against the glass, and now that he wasn’t in motion, Roman could see the way his whole body was shaking. 

“I did not lie then, and I’m not lying now.” Logan said, holding a hand up when Anxiety opened his mouth. “Please at least allow me to explain before you reject my words.” 

Anxiety quieted, though it seemed less because of Logan’s request and more because he simply didn’t have the energy to yell any more.

“Patton did not react because he did not see you when he entered the room. The box I have designed is meant to conceal you from any prying eyes. If someone enters my room without my permission or knowledge, it is camouflaged and muted, meaning there is almost no way for a side to know you are there. This was a feature I added with the Duke in mind, but it applies to Patton as well. We still have not informed him of your situation.” 

@the-opal-essence said: Oh no! That’s worse. That is so much worse! Is Virgil going to say anything in front of Roman and Logan about him now believing Patton is in on the experiment? Will they correct him or let him hold onto this belief for the sake of the experiment? It might make him less likely to try and escape if he feels no one is on his side.

Anonymous said: No no no, virgil, he didn’t see you, he’s worried about he, he doesn’t know what’s happening virgil. Please don’t look at Patton in a bad light. He really does care. He’s just super distracted and out of it for some reason.

@skeletonsloverockcandy said: Virgil I think Logan did something to the box and Patton simply didn’t see you, he is the logical side after all, he would’ve ensured a back up plan. So I don’t think Patton knows, I think he was just worried about you and Logan and that’s why he came in the room. I mean, it’s not like Patton to just ignore someone, if he’d known you were there he would have acknowledged you at least.

@pansy-chic27213 said: Virgil, Logan soundproofed the box. Patton couldn’t hear you, and he was trying to be a good friend and bring you some dinner (because Logan said he’s been bring your meals to you, to prevent Patton from getting suspicious). I also think that Patton couldn’t see the box. If that’s true, he was completely unaware you were there, but it also means that he cares about you and is NOT complicit in your entrapment. We just gotta figure out a way to make him see the box. Does the box have a roof?

@flameingdarkness said: Hey there Virgil, you need to breathe, okay? In for 4, hold for 7, out for 8. As many tries as you need and as many times as you need. I know this looks bad, but lets not jump to conclusions, alright? Besides that, we’re all here for you! You have allies. We want to help you in any and every way we can! Remember, no matter what happens, you are not alone in this.

Virgil’s ears rang as he turned the explanation over and over in his mind, poking a thousand little holes in it. He couldn’t believe him, couldn’t trust them, either of them, to be honest. 

But he wanted to. He wanted to so badly, bad enough that his throat closed up and his eyes began to water painfully. He turned away from them, running that dreaded moment through his mind for the thousandth time. 

Patton hadn’t even looked at him. His eyes had passed right over him, as though- as though he wasn’t even there. As though he was invisible.  

The fragile hope in his chest grew despite his best efforts to smother it. He could never have imagined Patton being so cruel, after all. He was in charge of everything Thomas aspired to be, guiding him towards the right thing to do. Him being stuck like this against his will, defenseless and vulnerable- that couldn’t be right. 

Could it? 

Logan cleared his throat, making his head snap up slightly, suddenly aware of the lack of barriers between him and the other Sides. “I can only provide the facts. What you choose to believe is up to you, Anxiety.” 

“Speaking of, the facts right now are that Pat is waiting for us alone.” Roman said, elbowing Logan. “After being late for breakfast because of Anxiety, I think the least we can do is show up to dinner early.”

Logan nodded, and slid the plate Patton had left closer to Virgil in one smooth motion. He backed up a few steps belatedly, and then watched as those near-invisible walls closed up over him again, hiding him away. 

He hated how he almost felt safer behind them.

[spookyceph]

Comfort Zone Pt. 2, a Shigaraki & Toga Fic

Sorry it’s not exciting, but here’s the rest. For anyone who hasn’t read the beginning, find Part 1 here or on my Ao3 account. 

Rating: T and up

Words: 1,936

Warnings: Swearing, blood, canon-typical disturbing thoughts and imagery

Several seconds slipped past and he thought his first apology had gone to waste. Then, a messy bun peeked back out past the edge of the window. Just enough face to let one wide, gold eye peer at him followed. Tomura’s nerves demanded he say something, anything, but his better instincts told him to keep quiet and still. Patience paid off; the girl emerged halfway, gaze now curiously flitting all over him.

“Are leaders of villain gangs supposed to apologize?” she said.

Scanning each of her facial features, Tomura detected no hint of being fucked with. On the contrary—she practically hung out of the sill in anticipation of an answer. He scowled behind Father and picked at a scab on the side of his neck.

“I don’t know. Or care. What’s the point of being a villain if I’m just going to follow the same shitty rules under a different label?’

Toga’s attention landed on his busy fingers. Her metallic eyes glazed over and a blush flared in her cheeks. Ah, right. Her quirk involved drinking blood and right now his skin down to his collarbones was tacky with it. Did it call to her like destruction did to him? With an effort he made sure not to show, Tomura relocated his fingers from picking away at his neck to tapping on the metal mesh underneath him. Toga’s gaze, however, remained glued in place.

“Did I wake you up?” he said, hoping that breaking the silence would do the same for whatever spell she was under.

Success. She blinked, refocusing on Father. “Hm? Oh, no. I came out here to—yeah, that’s right!” Flashing a dainty set of fangs in a delighted grin, she disappeared inside once more. Tomura caught the faint clatters and thumps from boxes being rummaged through before Toga returned. She swung her legs out first, the rest of her body shimmying out after. Even in her excitement she moved silently, not getting so much as a squeak from the fire escape when her small frame settled onto it. Tomura analyzed each movement, noting the angles of her joints, how she distributed weight, the order she moved her limbs. He could be stealthy when he tried, but Toga flowed naturally, without thought. No doubt her victims never saw her coming unless she wanted them to.

“Ta-da!” She held up the reason that had brought her outside for his inspection.

Tomura tilted his head. “A bird feeder?”

“Yup! I know it’s against city ordinance, but…villainy, right?” She offered another toothy smile. Giggling, she hung the little ceramic dish of seeds from the edge of the platform above. Her cheeks glowed pink again as she gave it a gentle push with a finger, setting it to swinging.

“I love the little birdies. They’re so soft and warm and cute.” She wiped away a trickle of drool from the corner of her smile on the sleeve of her sweater. Tomura wondered just how many knives she hid under the bulky fabric.

“Can you turn into one?” He knew what her files from the National Quirk Database said, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t have manifested new abilities that went unreported.

She shook her head, eyes on the feeder but dreamy, looking inward rather than out. “I wish. Life would be so easy then. I could fly anywhere, see anyone without being chased or told what to do.”

“If that’s what you want, why come here?” Not that he wanted her to leave, not anymore, but Tomura needed to understand. If this whole League of Villains thing was going to move beyond being just a stupidly named front he needed more than throwaway NPCs. He had to grasp what made each member of his party tick, what they were after, in order to make the most of their skills. And, when the time came, he needed to be sure whether he could rely on them to see a mission through.

Think of this another way. As a show of trust.

Beneath Father’s waxy grip Tomura’s face had to be even pinker than Toga’s. Eventually, the emotional charge would deplete from the memory. He just wished there were some way to speed up the process.

“It is easier,” Toga answered him. The daydreaming fog had cleared from her eyes. They settled on him, bright, gold, intense, like tiny twin suns. “I can’t do the things I like alone. I don’t want to be alone anymore. Everyone treats me like I’m strange or stupid—or both. Why? Because I stopped following the same old scripts as them? Because I don’t drag my feet through the same boring steps?”

Probably more because she killed people to suck their blood, but Tomura kept quiet. It amounted to the same reactions from society, he supposed.

“Well, I can’t be what they want. I won’t!” She huffed and hunkered down next to him, hugging her knees and glaring at the brick wall across the way. “I’m too full of life to pretend to be like them. I have too much love to let it go to waste. You and Mr. Stainy showed me that.”

Tomura’s spine straightened. He stared at her in disbelief. “What?”

A sharp, almost sly smile slid across Toga’s face. “I know you don’t like hearing about Stainy…but you’re more alike in some ways than you want to admit.” She giggled even though his hands twitched with momentary thoughts of murder. “Don’t look so grumpy—you know it’s true, otherwise you wouldn’t be so annoyed. Anyway, the League got a lot of stuff right that my poor Stainy missed.”

That soothed the sting. “Such as?”

Her hand flapped back and forth in the space between them. “This! Mr. Stainy thought he could change things all on his own. I mean, he did, a little bit, but only around the city. You think they’re talking about him out in Osaka? Hokkaido? Ha! Nevermind outside Japan.” One by one, she ticked off points on her fingers. “He doesn’t have anyone to bust him out of Tartarus. No one’s going to carry on his work except random fanboys. The public only cares that he looks cool and really has no idea what he stood for, so they’re not really changed by what he did. As far as the world is concerned, his fifteen minutes is over.” With a mournful sigh, she picked at a loose thread along her sweater’s hem. “My poor, silly Stainy. It takes more than belief to pull off a revolution.”

Tomura mulled her observations over, rubbing at the patches of dried blood crusted over his collarbones. Sensei had been right once again; the League was born from his suggestion that Tomura start gathering followers. Railing against hero society wouldn’t get results. He had to seek out those whose skin itched with the same murderous rage, crawled with the same hatred. Banding together, attacking as one, that was their only chance—and where most villains failed.

Stain may have turned up what was left of his nose at working with the League, but he’d wound up laying the groundwork of a recruitment drive for them at least. The clouds of resentment thinned enough for Tomura to finally see Kurogiri’s wisdom on that point as well as not driving Toga or Dabi away. Maybe he’d even admit it to the nagging old ink blot. The phantom of a smile possessed his mouth, faintly pulling at the corners.

“Why do you cover up with this thing?”

Surfacing from his thoughts, Tomura’s breath caught in his throat. Toga had reached out when his guard had fallen, only centimeters from giving Father an inquisitive poke. He twisted away, grabbing her wrist with his first two fingers and thumb.

“Don’t.” Taking a deep breath to shift his pulse down a few gears, he eased his grip somewhat. “My sensei gave them to me so I’d always remember my purpose. So the feelings that keep me striving toward it don’t fade.”

Tilting her head, the long look Toga gave him held more appraisal and speculation than any love-crazy teen girl supposedly had a right to. When she gently tugged her hand back, Tomura let her without a fight. He had to tamp down the impulse to let his own settle at his neck under her scrutiny.

“Sorry. I won’t touch them if it’s important,” she said at last. Her usual persona fell back into place as she wrinkled her nose. “It’s a shame, though. I bet you’re really pretty under there—especially with those red eyes of yours. They match your scratches. Not my type maybe, but that doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate these things.”

This girl had developed a serious knack for dropping opinions like anvils on his head. Through his shock, though, Tomura had the urge to ask if she was sure. How could she tell? Would anyone else think so? In the momentary lapse of rational thought he even considered removing Father to let her have a proper assessment. Midoriya Izuku had already seen it, after all. Dabi had touched it, for fuck’s sake. But no…making mistakes didn’t give him a free pass to keep blundering ahead. He needed to get a grip. Until he fully trusted these lunatics Giran had showing up on his doorstep he wouldn’t reveal himself again. Only once they’d proved their worth.

“The last thing I need is for some hero to think I’m ‘pretty’,” he muttered.

Grin stretched ear to ear, Toga cupped her ruddy cheeks in her hands. “You never know. You could conquer the world by making it fall in love with you, one person at a time.”

Scoffing, Tomura folded his arms across his chest to keep from clawing his neck in a panic. She couldn’t have seen him and Dabi downstairs. And it wasn’t like her quirk would let her smell anxiety or endorphins or whatever the fuck, right? Right?

“Welp, I better get to the rest of my to-do list. I still got lots of stuff to arrange.” Standing, Toga straightened and dusted off her skirt before beaming down at him like a psychotic cherub. “Don’t be a stranger, Tomura-kun! Knock on my door or window whenever you want to chat or hang out.”

“Hang…out?” The words were almost too alien to manage.

“Sure! After all, we’re friends now. ‘Night!” She wriggled back through the window, closing it and the subject before he could stammer another word out.

Tomura found himself lost in the middle of a no man’s land on the borders of irritated, alarmed, and completely blindsided. “Friends.” He scratched below his eye, between Father’s stiff fingers. “Just like that, huh?”

He was supposed to be their leader, not friend. Supposed to, but then again…villainy. Breaking the mold. Sensei had told him he could do as he pleased.

After double checking Toga’s window remained closed, the blinds down, Tomura carefully removed Father so he could scratch with impunity. He paused a few seconds in, deliberating. Reaching into his pocket, he fished out Dabi’s little gift. He turned the small jar around and around, over and over, while his mind did the same with the night’s events. Well over half an hour later, his hands stilled. Slowly, he unscrewed the lid. The salve was cool against his fingers and face in a way entirely different from wearing Father. Different…but not bad. Not exactly.

He had almost no experience coexisting with others. Even less about leading them, interacting, building the foundations of a lasting arrangement.

Slipping the jar back into his pants pocket, however, Tomura thought he might like to try.

[hvlfwygod]

shiver | griffin, ben, gabriele, len, patrick

summary: it’s an unusually cold night in New Athens trigger warning: anxiety/panic attack mention, blood

The temperature had dropped lower than expected, and Griffin wished he’d brought his sweatshirt. His exposed arms were covered in goosebumps, and the slight breeze that rustled grass and leaves compelled him to cross them, trying to coax warmth back in.

“Are you cold?” Len asked from their spot beside him and snugly wrapped in a cardigan.

Griffin eyed the clothing enviously. “I just don’t want to make another shirt. I have so many.” His words seemed to carry a flair, like he was bragging. Maybe he wouldn’t have cared another night (it was true he hadn’t paid for an outfit in five years, and that, to him, was noteworthy) but it felt like a particularly cruel jab now, with Len this glum.

If the comment bothered them, though, they didn’t show it. “We can go back now if you want, I feel like I’m just complaining in circles.”

“You’re allowed to complain in circles, though,” Griffin replied with a tiny shrug. Another breeze cut through the uselessly thin t-shirt he was wearing; he valiantly ignored it. “Would you let me complain in circles?”

Len shrugged in return. “Yeah. I know. It’s just frustrating. I know that people have had, like, years and years to train but I feel like I should be picking up on something by now.”

Griffin couldn’t understand why this mattered so much, but he supposed he had a failsafe if he couldn’t hold his own in battle, so he kept this opinion to himself. “I think we all suck at first.” He winced. “Not that you suck. Sorry. Just that...”

“No, I get it. I’m much better at learning like, languages and memorizing words. I need more time.” Len said. “Stage combat was always my weak spot,” they added, chuckling in a resigned way that made Griffin think he was doing a poor job at comforting them.

He shivered again. “Yeah. But I don’t believe that you’re doing as bad as you think you are.”

Len smiled a little. “You’re so cold, dude, let’s go back.”

“I’m fine!”

“You’re literally shaking. It’s late anyway.”

“I don’t care. Here,” Griffin pointed to the spot of orange glowing up ahead. “Lets go sit by the fire. I promise I won’t freeze to death.”

“Okaaaaaaay,” Len said, but the were clearly cheered that Griffin didn’t want to end their night just yet.

When they asked if he was willing to take a midnight stroll through camp, he’d been surprised. He never thought he’d be one of the people they’d turn to when they were feeling down. Maybe everyone else was already asleep, sure, but he chose to believe Len picked him specifically.

Already at the campfire sat a pale, skinny man, staring blankly into the crackling flames. Len, upon seeing him, became serious all over again, as quiet and stiff as when they first started walking. Griffin, upon seeing him, jolted; he had been trying to find a funny video he saw hours earlier and hadn’t looked up from his phone until they were in the circle of benches.

The man’s eyes lifted from the fire and he frowned at their collective expressions. He looked familiar, but Griffin couldn’t recall a name. “Sorry, did I scare you?”

“No,” Len answered, at the same time that Griffin said “do you work at the cafe?”

He looked between the two of them for a moment, then nodded. “I do, yeah. I can get out of here if you guys want to be alone.”

Len sat down at the closest seat to them, which happened to be the furthest from the man. Griffin frowned. “I mean... If you want. You live in... town?”

Another small nod. “Yeah. I just liked to um... come here, sometimes.” Another quick glance to Len, and Griffin followed suit. They looked supremely uncomfortable. “But it’s late,” he continued, “so...” He unfolded himself and got to his feet— Griffin wasn’t sure why, but he was expecting someone shorter to emerge from sitting.

"See you around,” Griffin offered by way of goodbye. The man just nodded for a third time, and walked off. Once he was gone, Griffin sat down, exhaling loudly. “That was weird. Do you know him?”

“Not really,” Len said. Already, tension was melting off their shoulders. “My siblings have pointed him out to me, though. They don’t like him. I’m not sure why but from how they talk it’s not good.”

“Yikes.” Griffin stared into the nighttime as if he could still see the man’s retreat. “I bet you could take him, though.”

Len snorted. “You think so?” They smiled at Griffin and he felt himself relaxing again, too. He put a palm flat against Len’s back, between their shoulder blades and moved his hand in little circles, trying to comfort them like his dad might have. The heat from the fire spread over them both.

“Forget him. And forget all that stuff about combat. Tell me about your... hm, your favorite playwright. Living playwright.”

Len scooted a little closer to him, their smile spreading. “Just one?”

                                                 —————

He barely remembered the walk through town, through the woods, through camp, ending at the fire. Which was concerning.

Everything beforehand was still clear, at least, though it got fuzzy around the time he’d been lacing up his shoes. He’d had, gods, a lot of whiskey, repeatedly refilling the glass before reaching the bottom so he never finished his first cup. A simple enough explanation for the gaps in his memory, but no less concerning. Ben never drank that much anymore.

His entire torso was a hopelessly tangled knot of nerves. A rumbling panic followed him like a shadow no matter where he stepped. It loomed on the horizon, pleasantly and casually informing him that he couldn’t outpace it forever. I know, Ben grumbled to— he needed to stop personifying his anxiety, he was talking to himself.

He wondered if Jacob would still be awake when he got back, still sitting in the same place he’d been when Ben announced that he was taking his walk. He wondered if, when he came back inside, Jacob would sense the drifting, uncertain manner of speech, the slight quiver in Ben’s limbs, that always preceded panic attacks. He wondered if Jacob would feel vindicated, then immediately scolded himself for the uncharitable thought.

A whisper of noise caught Ben’s attention (and brought his heart straight up into his throat) but when he swung his gaze around he saw nothing but grass swaying in the breeze. He shivered. “Gods,” he said to no one. “Fuck. Calm down, Bentley.” 

Ben hated to admit it, but he knew Jacob was probably right to essentially bully him into therapy. He hated it. He hated every single morning his roommate cheerily asked if he’d made that appointment yet— which was every morning, and had been for weeks. He hated that it was starting to wear him down.

Damn him, Ben thought bitterly. He regretted explaining a single thing about his childhood, now that it led to this. Jacob had the common decency to not treat him like a porcelain doll— Ben might have moved out if that was the case— but this wasn’t much better.

The worst part was that he couldn’t even tell on Jacob because everyone would agree with him. No, the worst part was that he agreed with Jacob.

But what was he going to tell a therapist? I know exactly what the problem is, the ghost of the person I killed follows me around and I’m starting to lose it.

Alternatively: I’m hallucinating everything, so on top of being a murderer, I’ve already lost it.

He shivered again, and picked up his pace. The trees started to clear, giving way to the edge of New Athens.

Ben could very nearly hear the voices of several friends tell him there was plenty more reasons to go, but he shoved them away. He didn’t want to think about it, because then he would start to think about letting them down. It felt different this time. But everything led back to Colin and it would never stop. His life preceding that afternoon and all the years after circled back to him, over and over. How could he explain why he couldn’t make this useless appointment to Jacob without Colin bubbling up through the floorboards?

A familiar, sharp guilt sprang out from the tangle of nerves. His heart felt impossibly heavy as it thudded too fast in his chest. He felt alone and exposed under the dark sky, no more trees left to conceal him.

Stark, irrational fear greeted him along with the bare sidewalks. He saw people in the distance like hazy, dreamt-up visions, streetlights dangling in the darkness, surreal and unreachable. Please don’t happen right now.

He’d had way too much whiskey. And he was sure, he was certain, he wouldn’t make it home before a revenant found him, dragged him back to shadow. Please, please don’t happen right now.

Shaking, Ben hurried home.

                                                —————

It was uncanny. Gabriele exited the bar— feeling a sudden need for chilly, fresh air— just as a person passed the building. They were rushing, and clearly nervous. It felt like a cue. For a fleeting, disorienting moment, he thought he was seeing a ghost. But... no, this person was far too alive, and Gabriele was almost embarrassed to have made the mistake. Their hands were hidden in their pockets, face tucked down, moving just shy of a jog. It seemed that whoever they were, they were hoping to pass by unseen.

Shame, then, that the sight compelled Gabriele so urgently to follow. His goddess was watching, arched over him, staring down with the endless voids of her eyes. It might be nothing but curiosity on Nut’s part, or a simple observation she wanted him to see. He waited for the figure to get further down the street before he started to walk behind them.

She was saying something, but he didn’t quiet catch it. The ancient tongue did not click in his brain, not when he was so focused on keeping the stranger in sight and looking as cool as ever while doing it. The breeze bustled him along, unseasonably chilly.

His cue quickly seemed to change. Maybe she’d lost interest, or maybe this stranger was just meant to be the first step of many. He could sense his goddess like she was walking with him, a scatter of footfalls echoing in his mind.

Sure enough, the stranger turned left, and Gabriele felt a tug on his elbow, guiding him to the right. He obliged, leaving the stranger behind. Whatever they were running from, he wished them well.

What followed was a half-empty street. Gabriele frowned as he slowed his gait. Many of the homes had lights shining, still; when he passed beneath a window, he heard a quiet croon of music. This street was populated. But the feeling that came to him was incomplete. No, monco— only the Italian served. Incompiuta, maybe, or... interrupted, sospeso.

Gabriele stopped moving altogether. His goddess was whispering again and he strained to hear it. It sounded like her voice was falling directly from the sky, pattering off the sidewalk like large drops of rain. More of the same: guasto, frammentare, jagged and bloody stitches.

Worry moved him now more than curiosity. He found a bench and sat, tucking his legs underneath him. The wood was cool, and he shivered. Taking a deep breath, Gabriele looked up to the sky. Show me. She did. 

Gabriele watched the stars until they came down to him. Endless eyes gave him sight, and he stood, walked, until he reached the banks of a river he did not know. She knew it well, though, and urged him to step in.

Gabriele made it as far as his knees before he heard the chatter. A current begged him to swim home, no... away from home. The water gathered around him, soaking his clothes through.

He was shivering, back on the shore, and something was bleeding. He couldn’t sense what, but he was afraid to move lest he come undone. Something was probing in the back of his mind, hand grasping at air. He felt his coming up to meet it, fingertips just, just missing. His goddess found his palm, placed something soft there. The softness went over his head, cocooned him, and he curled up on his bed. But he knew whatever waited on the other side of the veil could rip him back into inky nothingness at any moment.

The bed became earth, became a lake of scarlet spilling from a body that was and was not his, became an airless void that looked to him like the sky empty of its stars, became a name, a name, a hand grasping through the dirt, through the water. Bones and flesh rebelling against the call, unfolding and unfolding and unfolding. A bird fluttered its wings impossibly, and his heart moved in time. 

Gabriele found himself again, folded over, his hands pressed to his stomach. He trembled, cold. “Co... Cosa dovrei fare?” he asked aloud because he didn’t trust himself to form the thought coherently.

The taste of the river coated his tongue. He felt himself on a boat, rowing. He saw the stitches, bursting and wrong, all wrong, and him, picking them apart.

To this day, Gabriele did not completely comprehend the messages his goddess sent. But he understood a warning when he saw one. He understood a mission when he heard one. “Ho capito, dea. Grazie.”

                                                 —————

They wound up moving to the porch of the Dionysus cabin and Griffin finally stopped acting tough and made himself a new shirt. It looked like the flannel that someone had been wearing in a video Griffin showed Len earlier.

“That’s so cool,” they sighed, pinching the fabric. “I’ll never get used to the fact you can just, do that.”

He shrugged, but Len could see the little smile even in the dark. “Thanks.”

Music was playing from Len’s headphones, which was split between the two of them. Conversation came in small bursts at this point, Ricky Montgomery filling the comfortable silences in between. Griffin was leaning into his hands, eyes closed. Len by contrast was still replaying the frustrating afternoon they’d had. Archery practice had gone... fine. Jesse had even complimented their form, but to Len the words had felt empty. A consolation, something nice to say because everything else was critical.

Their hands still hurt, the memory of cramps in their fingers from hours before. Sighing, they cracked their knuckles.

“Hey.” Griffin’s pointer finger pressed into Len’s shoulder. “Are you on a hamster wheel in your brain right now?”

Len scoffed, their eyes weirdly stinging. They begged themself not to cry right now and their tear ducts blessedly listened. “Yes.”

“I promise you’re making it a bigger deal than it needs to be.”

“I knoooow,” they groaned, putting their head in their hands. “I know, I know. I just... I dunno. I feel like I’m running out of time.” It was Griffin’s turn to scoff, but before he could argue them, Len continued. “Not like, in life. I just... I wanna go to college sooner rather than later. And I’m, I guess, afraid to go back out there and not be ready to hold my own.”

Griffin’s mouth pushed to one side while he thought about this. “Well... You did it before, right?”

“Not really,” Len mumbled. “I never really had a problem until I did, you know? And then I came right here. I was being stalked by this really creepy monster. And I didn’t even get rid of it! Oh, shoot,” they lowered their voice, “we have to be quiet because my sister is asleep. Anyway, I was pretty much useless. Do you know Brett?”

“No.”

“He’s cute. Um... I mean.” Len blushed. “He’s a child of Nike. He’s from Georgia, too. He like, by pure luck, was in town when this was happening. He saw what was going on and rescued me.”

“What? That’s so cool! Sorry.” Griffin nearly whispered. “That’s so cool.”

“Yeah...” Len sighed again. “He was sooo good. He made it look super easy. I just, I feel like I haven’t retained anything since getting here. If I walked out of here tomorrow I’d be a sitting duck.”

“I can teach you a few things if you want,” a voice behind them said.

Headphones flew as Len whipped around and Griffin jumped nearly out of his skin. Patrick waved from his spot in the doorway to Len’s cabin. His shirt was on backwards, and he was lighting a cigarette.

Len was not one to harbor negative emotions about other people. They forgave their middle school bully the first day of freshman year, and couldn’t even bring themself to hate the seniors who ruined the set pieces for 42nd Street. Patrick was no different: Len did not dislike him, but they definitely didn’t trust him. And seeing him here at this time of night felt wrong.

“Um...” they started. Griffin’s hands were fumbling to pause the music. “That’s okay. I’m already getting lessons from Jesse.” They realized belatedly that Patrick was related to Jesse, which— wow, that made no sense.

There was no sound save for the sizzle of Patrick pulling on his cigarette. He breathed out the smoke slowly, his eyes sharp with annoyance at Len’s response. The image made him look like a poor imitation of a very annoyed dragon, Len thought to themself.

“I’m not an archer,” he replied eventually.

“So...”

He took another drag before continuing. “So, pick something else you want to know. There’s more to life than whatever Jesse’s showing you. And if you’re not retaining it, maybe he’s a bad teacher. I could give you the basics for a spear, easy.”

They tried their best to stay stoic, but now Len was annoyed, too. “No thanks. If I want to learn that I already have Tai to show me.” 

Patrick’s face morphed instantly into a scowl. Len felt a terrible satisfaction. Was this petty on their part? Yes. They’d never even discussed training with Tai, but Len wanted Patrick to go and thought this was the best way to make him leave.

He didn’t. Patrick just rolled his eyes and kept smoking. “I see he’s gotten to you, too.”

Griffin crossed his arms over his chest. “Hey man, can you leave us alone?”

Patrick held up the cigarette. “The lady of the house says I have to smoke outside. If you have a problem, take it up with her.”

For some reason, knowing that their sister was up way later than she said she’d be, all over this guy, made Len actually angry. They weren’t sure what to do with their hands, so they copied Griffin, crossing their arms and glaring at the man. He stared back at them, and they huffed. “Why do you even smoke at all?”

Len felt a little invisible line keep their gazes locked on each other, like they were staring down a tunnel and Patrick was at the end of it. They didn’t look away.

Patrick paused. Len expected a comeback, or at least another eye roll, but instead the man leaned closer, frowning as if he hadn’t heard them. “What?”

Len’s nostrils flared. They hadn’t broken eye contact yet, an impressive feat for the child of Dionysus. “Do you think you look cool? Because you don’t. Those things just make you die faster.”

Patrick still looked lost. “Um... What are you saying?” He angled his head toward Griffin but still didn’t move his eyes away. “Did any of that make sense to you?”

Len flushed. How could someone be this condescending? It would never make any sense to them. “Don’t answer him, Griffin.” (Griffin, good boy, didn’t answer Patrick.) “Just forget it, don’t make my sister stay up late, she has work tomorrow.” They turned back around before he could respond, picking up their phone and pretending to search for something.

“What the fu... Oh my god. Whatever.” There was some mumbling behind Len’s back, the scrape of Patrick stomping out his cigarette, and eventually the click of the door as he went back inside.

After a moment of silence, Griffin snorted. “Dude,” he said, breaking down into laughter. “What the hell is going on? Why do we keep running into weirdos tonight?”

Len released a breath and let the anger go, then shook their head. “I have no idea.” The spell of a bad mood broke, and they started giggling, too. “Maybe we should call it a night before we catch a third strange and unusual demigod.”

That only made Griffin laugh harder. He put a hand over his mouth to muffle the sound. “Gods. Yeah, yeah, I should sleep.” He wiped a tear from his face, then slid out of his flannel. “Here, you earned this.”

“Griff—”

“I mean it. I have way too many clothes.”

“You’re gonna be cold!”

“I’m literally two minutes from my cabin. Take it. The longer you take the longer I’m exposed to the elements”

Len felt like they might cry again. “Ugh, fine, gimme.” They snatched it from his hand. “Go home.”

Griffin stood up. “I had a very nice night, Len. Um, thanks. And I hope I helped?”

“You did,” they assured him, standing as well. They were kind of glad that they’d decided, on a whim, to text him first.

“Cool.” They both paused, then went in for a hug at the same time. “I’ll see you at Gender Bender Club.”

Len laughed. “Yes. Can’t wait.”

They stayed out for a while longer after Griffin left, their headphones back in, clutching his gift to their chest. Again, they couldn’t quiet their mind. But instead of the afternoon replaying, now it was the look of utter confusion on Patrick’s face. The way he’d stared back at them for so long, like he’d been stuck in place.

(Had he blinked? Had they? A small shiver travelled up their spine.)

Len shook their head. They weren’t putting energy into worrying about him. As the song faded out, Len stood up and turned to go inside. It really had gotten cold tonight, which was good news for them. They were going to throw open all their windows to let the chilly air inside, and sleep in Griffin’s flannel.