#I used to bully short people but now I'm SHORT.

[smutinlove]

Jason todd with a size kink is so yummy. like wdym your 6'4 ass wants to ram into my 5'2 ass.

[corkinavoid]

DPxDC Alt Rock to the Rescue

[Inspired by this art]

"...Alright, I might have an idea," John Constantine, who was seemingly busy texting someone for the past ten - or twenty, no one really counted - minutes, puts his phone away and snaps his head up.

The room falls silent. Superman blinks in surprise, Diana frowns slightly, and Batman's mouth is pressed into a thin, stubborn line. Flash recovers first.

"You have an idea?" He huffs a short, disbelieving laugh, "No offense, but I'm not sure a magic trick can help us against, you know, an alien fleet." He gestures to one of the screens on the wall, where said fleet is approaching Earth on live.

The rest of the Leaguers present don't exactly agree with him, at least not verbally, but the mood in the room shifts from tense, anxious alarm to an almost palpable annoyance. To be honest, no one was even sure why or how John Constantine of all people ended up in the meeting. It's not like JLD could actually help with an ongoing, massive invasion that was about to happen in less than three- Correction, less than two and a half hours. Besides, it's John Constantine. The man that never shows up unless outright bullied into submission.

The magician winces briefly and starts rummaging through his pockets under the weight of everyone's attention.

"I said I might," he amends gruffly, getting a cigarette out of one of his pockets and sticking it in his mouth but not lighting it. Seems like it wasn't what he was looking for, though, because after that, the man keeps going through the various places on his coat, patting himself down. "I know someone who can deal with it. Granted, I already owe him a great deal, but he won't say no," he pauses and grimaces, "At least I hope he won't."

"I do not think it would be wise to call upon gods in our situation," Diana tries carefully, but John pays her little mind.

"Or demons," Green Arrow adds, crossing his arms on his chest, "I'm not selling my soul to get rid of some rocket ships or whatever they are."

Now, that makes the magician bark a laugh. Or, maybe it's the piece of lime green paper - a sticky note, actually - that he finally finds in the depths of his pockets.

"Oh, your soul's gonna stay where it is."

"Constantine-" Batman starts, but John cuts him off instantly.

"Mine will stay wherever it is as well," he reassures the man, "It's not that kind of entity." And with that, he promptly sets the green note on fire - green fire - and uses it as a lighter for his cigarette.

The next moment after the note is reduced to ash, there's a shift in the air in front of him, and, before any of the heroes have a split second to react, there are two people floating in the middle of the room, backs pressed to each other.

Two teenagers, to be exact. A girl and a boy, both of them so pale that their skin looks gray, and both dressed in grunge, like they just came from a rock concert. Yet, that's where the 'normal' parts of their looks end - the boy's hair is so white it looks blinding, and moves in the air slowly, undeterred by gravity, and the girl's hair is neon blue, her ponytail flickering up like a flaming torch.

The boy nearly topples over as the girl leans her back on him harder and kicks her feet up slightly. The movement is awkward, like both of them were taken by surprise by the sudden relocation, and maybe the guess about the rock concert was not so far from reality; there are drumsticks in the boy's hands, and the girl is holding an electric guitar in her hands.

"The fuck?.." The boy asks no one in particular, as the girl makes an annoyed groan and straightens up, still floating in the air. Her guitar makes an aborted sound. Meanwhile, the boy's eyes land on Constantine, and his whole face scrunches in disgust, "John, for the love of Ancients, I was in the middle of something."

The girl takes a look around while her friend is busy expressing his annoyance and elbows him in the side, "Oi, look, it's the whole Comic Con in the flesh here."

Green Arrow sputters. Flash makes a wordless but very offended sound. The floating boy looks around, taking stock of faces in the room, and the disgust on his face morphs into exasperation.

He turns back to Constantine, "Really? I thought I told you I want no part in your furry parade."

"Alien invasion," the magician decidedly doesn't address any of that, instead pointing his finger to the screen behind him. "Thought you ought to know," he adds, a bit of sarcasm bleeding into his tone.

"Ooh, is it my turn to be your world saving buddy, Phantom?" The girl perks up, turning around and draping herself over the boy's shoulders with a giddy laugh. Her guitar shifts to hang in the air on her side all by itself.

The boy - Phantom - rolls his eyes. Bright green, glowing eyes that definitely don't belong to a human being.

"If I had a nickel every time I had to save the world, I'd probably be able to buy myself my own guitar," he grumbles and looks back to Constantine. "Do I, like, have to? Right now? You know, I don't get paid for this bullshit, and the studio we rented for rehearsal has an hourly rate, so if we can postpone this for about an hour and a half, that'd be real nice."

"The fleet is only two hours away from Earth," Batman supplies suddenly, and, when both floating kids turn to look at him, adds, "I can pay for your next rehearsal. Or a few of them." Evidently, Phantom's comment about nickels struck a nerve. Or, maybe, the man just likes throwing money at any teenager he encounters. Who knows.

The boy blinks, taken aback by the proposition. But the girl grins, sharp and wicked, and shoves her drummer - if the drumsticks are to tell - in the side again.

"Hey, free studio. Better than the last time."

That snaps Phantom out of his stupor, and he groans, "Don't remind me." With a weary sigh, he runs a hand through his hair and leans back in the air, almost like reclining on it. "Okay, fine, sure. Do you want them, like, away from Earth- um, this is Earth, right?" He turns to Superman, surprisingly, looking for confirmation, and the man nods, thrown off guard. The boy nods back and continues, "Or you want them blasted into oblivion, or what?"

"Whatever suits your mood, kid," John waves his hand at the screen as if making a welcoming gesture, "But all the aliens gotta go."

Unexpectedly, that makes the girl's grin even wider, and she reaches for her guitar, floating around Phantom and looking him in the face. The look she gives him speaks of mischief, and the boy seems to understand what she's implying before she as much as opens her mouth.

"Ember, no," he pounts a drumstick at her.

"Ember, yes," she wiggles her eyebrows, "Come on, your wail is boring as fuck as it is, why not spice it up?"

"I'm not wailing," Phantom scrunches his nose, "My throat will hurt for weeks."

Ember runs her fingers over the strings of her guitar, and it makes a comparatively quiet, vibrating sound. A few cords shoot out of the bottom of her instrument, like ones used to plug an electric guitar to an amp. She raises her eyebrows, still looking at Phantom, a silent conversation between them.

Then, the boy huffs and rolls his eyes, twirling a drumstick in his fingers.

"Fine."

The cords fly at him like snakes, aiming at his neck. None of the Leaguers watching the encounter get to say even a word as the metal pins insert themselves into the boy's neck, acting like some twisted kind of collar. Phantom doesn't even flinch.

Ember's guitar, on the other hand, reacts to the connection quite violently: it makes a high-pitched sound all on its own and then changes color from black and blue to white and green, with lightning bolts instead of flames for design. The girl's ponytail flares up higher as she softly murmurs in delight.

Then, she turns to the people around them and smirks, "Which way is the evil alien fleet?"

Flash wordlessly points his finger to the right and up. The girl nods in satisfaction, turning in the air so her guitar is facing that way.

"You might want to cover your ears," Phantom advises, a sly smile on his face and a glimmer of anticipation to his eyes. John Constantine follows that direction immediately, and, taking his move as the best course of action, the other heroes follow as well. Except Batman, who only narrows his eyes and looks at both teens in the air apprehensively. Phantom shrugs, "Or don't, I don't hold any responsibility for your shattered eardrums."

"Pick up where we left off, then," Ember tells him, and the boy blinks:

"Wait, I thought you'd just-"

[For some wholesome experience, put your headphones in and listen to 'KULT' by Jisaiah, grandson, and Steve Aoki]

But the girl has already started a tune, nodding her head to the rhythm of it and slowly picking up the pace. Phantom huffs, but doesn't protest any further, floating up as much as the cords allow him and spinning a drumstick in his hand.

"Maybe I should join a cult

At least they'll tell me it's not my fault

That the world's a fucking circus

That my life feels fucking worthless," he spits the words out with a sneer, slowly rotating in the air until he is hanging upside down. His eyes are closed, and his voice becomes more and more staticky with every new sound. The volume of Ember's guitar gets up, higher and higher, until the walls and the floor of the room around them start to vibrate.

Then, Ember's voice joins Phantom's, and the boy brings his drumsticks down on thin air, mimicking the moves. Only, even with the actual drums not there, the air around him ripples like they are, and they all can hear the beat.

"Maybe I should join a cult

At least they'll tell me it's not my fault

When it all comes crashing down

We'll see who's laughing," both kids pause, just for a beat, and Ember uses that split second to spin the volume knob to the max before strumming her guitar in one wide, sharp move.

"NOW!"

The sound wave is not only palpable, it's visible. A wave of toxic green ripples through the air, knocking everyone present - sans the two kids in the air - to the ground, and goes beyond. The screens on the walls flicker and turn off, sending sparks in the air, and the comms give off loud, screeching noises, and-

The following silence feels almost deafening.

Batman, unsurprisingly, is the first one to stand back on his feet and see a few of the screens come back online.

Just in time to see that same green wave of... sound? energy? power?.. decimate the entire fleet like a wet cloth over a chalkboard. One moment, the spaceships were there, and the next they are gone, wiped out of existence.

Ember laughs, leaning back and almost doing a backflip in the air.

"That was nice, dipshit!" She shoves Phantom in the shoulder, and the boy snorts, plucking the cords out of his skin and grinning.

"Yeah," he agrees with a smile, not even looking at the screens around, "Maybe we should try rehearsing in space next time. Sing to the stars and all that crap."

"Sing to the stars?" Ember raises her eyebrows mockingly as the rest of the heroes scramble to their feet, bemoaning their ringing ears. "Na-ah," she clicks her tongue and turns to Batman, "You still up for paying for our studio?"

The man just grunts in a semblance of affirmation.

"Sweet," the girl grins and offers Phantom a hand for a high five, which he returns instantly. "Cheers to the world being saved once again!"

The boy just rolls his eyes and turns to Constantine, "Next time, be a dear and text me before summoning, or I'm going to sell your soul to Morpheus, and who knows what he'll do with you."

John Constantine grimaces. "I did," he offers grudgingly.

But both unearthly teenagers are already gone without a trace.

[Edit: I want everyone to know there's ART now!!!]

[Edit 2: There's more art!!!]

[lieslab]

When there's monsters on your ceiling, I'll keep you safe

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎ ꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

Pairing: og8 x gn reader

Summary: Your first live stream without the guys and management turns into a disaster.

Genre: 9th member AU

Word Count: 2.6k

Trigger warning: Mentions of suicide, dieting culture, skipping meals, and bullying.

Depression and eating disorder resources

A/N: I'm really on a roll with requests. Remember to be nice to idols (unless they're twats) Requestee, you really hit the mark with this one

_ _ _

“You think so?” You laughed at one of the comments someone sent through the Instagram live stream you hosted. “I was thinking the same exact thing, it’d be hilarious.”

You were used to doing live streams when needed. Every so often, your schedule announced you were up to bat. Today, management was lenient with you. Your first official solo stream took place in one of the empty JYP meeting rooms. 

You slipped the company phone in the camera holder before pressing the button to start the live. Today, you didn’t have a specific plan. You had beads, a roll of leather lace, and a dream. Once you started, you couldn’t stop. 

For the past half hour, you’d been making friendship bracelets for the guys. With the help of fans, you were determining what colors to make each person’s bracelet. Not only did it feel like a chance to relax, but you enjoyed speaking to the fans one-on-one without your manager silently trying to get you to avoid a topic in the background. 

“So what do you think of Minho’s bracelet?” You held it up to the camera and placed your palm behind it. Pushing it closer to the camera, you held it steady so fans could see. “What do we think?” 

You pulled back after a few seconds, reading a few live stream comments off your phone. You clicked on your own stream and muted the phone to read responses. A smile appeared as you responded to a few comments. 

“Okay, so now I have to make Han’s, obviously. What do we think?” You glanced back up at the camera. “I was thinking about maybe orange, or red? What about both? It reminds me of his song, Volcano.” 

You went back to the comments. “You should make it red and green for Volcano and Alien.” You pulled back and laughed. “I mean, it’s a good idea, but those two colors together remind me of Christmas. I can do red and orange!” 

Seeing that most comments agreed, you reached out for the string to start to measure how much you needed. You were about to cut it when the comment came through. The moment you read it, your heart fell to your chest. 

‘Hey, here’s an idea. How about you leave all the guys alone and leave the group? You’re the weakest member and ruin everything.’ 

You knew you should have sat there and ignored it, but you couldn’t. Anger swelled up and you blinked rapidly, trying to force it down. “Leave the group, huh? Maybe I should. It’s people like you that make idols give up on all their dreams and kill themselves due to all the pressure.” 

You shouldn’t have said the words, but they came out like a free-flowing spout. What does it mean to be an idol? Really. What does it mean? 

It means giving up bodily autonomy to a company. Skipping meals is expected when the scale’s numbers start to go up. When an interview catches you at an unflattering angle, expect a lecture and a new diet spreadsheet. 

Going through dances over and over and over again. Sweating until you’re breathless and assume you’re going to topple over at any moment. Shaking knees and unsteady steps as you try to push yourself up to find the strength to do it all over again. 

Spend hours learning formations and completing sound checks, trying not to give in and read the hate online. When you’re an idol, everything is placed beneath a microscope. Your flaws, your short-comings, your inability to act the right way, or say the correct thing. It’s all televised for the masses to see. 

And god, are they hungry. The razor-sharp teeth of fan-folk on twitter. The faceless comments and nameless profiles that equip themselves with emojis. They beg for new content, but it’s never enough. Treat their favorites with respect, but if they can get away with bashing another group to bring their favorites up, they’ll do it. 

The dark side of the k-pop industry has always been there. They never try to hide it. The collapsing at concerts. The hidden injuries. Companies bowing down to fan requests, even when the idol’s livelihood is at stake and they’ll do it, too. Because in the heart of the idol world, money is the only god being worshipped and there is no bigger god than greed. 

Comments shot your way, trying to understand what happened. Not everyone caught the comment you did, but they heard the words. They caught your empty-eyed gaze into the screen. A brief glimpse into the actual reality. Maybe you really weren’t okay. 

Maybe you were tired of putting on the mask and playing pretend. Some say to get over it. It’s what you signed up for. You deserve it. Get over it. Toughen up and ignore the haters. Not everyone has a shield of armor protecting them. Not everyone is equipped to handle the hate trains and the protest trucks. The black oceans, the scorns and scoffs, the hashtags praying on your downfall. The flop era. 

Maybe you were tired and said the wrong thing or maybe you were tired of living it all. A pretty and perfect illusion that crumbled before the eyes of the fans. Everyone knew it, but nobody had the guts to say it. 

The companies surely didn’t. Trying to stay neutral, they’d ignore it all. Ignore the fans surrounding the hotels and screaming the names of the favorites at the top of their lungs, wrecking the idols’ sleep schedules, and souring the taste of regular guest’s hotel stays. 

Ignore the purple bags and exhaustion sticking to idols that follow them like ghosts. Give them chicken and rice diets. Drink more water. Cut more calories. Restrict more. Look at yourself and be ashamed.

Ignore the hate trucks. Blame the idols and don’t hold the fans accountable. Sacrifice them to the wolves and know that your company’s reputation will bounce back, but not always the ongoing mental struggle of the idol. 

How many times did you cry because you missed your family? The sibling you couldn’t watch grow up. The stretching crow’s feet in the corner of your mother’s eyes. The deepening wrinkles on your father’s face. A kitchen chair sat waiting for you in your childhood home, longing for your warmth, but you rarely showed up anymore. 

The industry breaks you and reshapes you. Physically. Mentally. Emotionally. You’re dragged through the mud all the time. Dreams are supposed to be hard, but why are some of them so self-destructive? How do you really go about becoming a k-pop idol the right way?

You still remember the shock as you combed your hair one time and found your hair falling out in an alarming amount of strands. Too much stress. Not enough food. Not enough sleep. 

Sometimes your members, they weren’t just your members, but souls tortured just the same as yours. You saw it in the way Chan rambled on bubble, so desperately trying to fix internal fan wars that were never his fault. Always blaming himself, trying to do better. The weight of a fandom was never supposed to fall onto the weight of one man. 

You saw it when Felix drank water and began to heavily restrict before an upcoming photoshoot because he wanted to look perfect. You were forced to confront it after his stomach growled a third time. Hunger lingered in his eyes when he looked your way while you ate your dinner. 

Devastation seeped out of a few members at certain events. They never seemed to get the recognition they deserved. It wasn’t their fault. It was never their fault. It’d never be their fault. 

You blinked rapidly as the tears began to fall. “I’m sorry, I’ve gotta go.” Fan comments rolled in, but you reached forward and hit the end live-stream button. 

Tomorrow, a lecture waited for you with management, but for now, you just wanted to mourn. 

~ ~ ~ 

“Oh…” Felix’s voice trailed off. He sat staring at the blank screen with a frown. Your live was going great until you shut down towards the end. You said nothing, but you also said everything all at once after that last comment. 

Beside him, Han, Minho, and Hyunjin sat just as stunned. They were enjoying your live stream, looking forward to the bracelets they’d be getting afterwards. As one of the younger members of the group, you were cherished a lot. 

“We need to go find them,” Minho pushed himself from the dance practice floor. “Does anyone know which conference room they’re in?” 

Heads shook and Han pushed himself up to follow him. “Let’s go look. Can someone grab the rest of the guys? I think they went out for lunch, but they should be back at any moment. I think we’re really needed right now.” 

“I’ve got it. If you find them first, call me and let me know.” Hyunjin reached the door first and disappeared. 

Felix rushed after Han and Minho. “This is really bad. I didn’t know they felt this way. Should we be worried?” 

“I think we all feel this way sometimes, but we’ve never said it out loud,” Minho mumbled. 

“Hey, I found them!” 

Across the way, the remaining four members looked just as worried. A unit of eight, Changbin led the charge towards the end of the hall. Hyunjin picked up the end and placed a hand on a staggering Jeongin’s shoulder. 

“We should have noticed this sooner,” he uttered softly. 

“How were we supposed to know, Innie? They always keep to themselves. They’re very good at trying to ignore the things bothering them.” 

“I feel like an awful person for not noticing.” 

“It’s okay, we’re going to fix it together.” 

~ ~ ~ 

In the conference room, your head sat in your hands. The colorful beads and leather string sitting around didn’t bring you the joy that it once had. Instead, you silently cried into your hands. 

All you wanted was one nice live without a troll. Instead, you gave them exactly what they wanted. They wanted your tears and your anger. It fueled them for whatever reason.

You didn’t look up when the door burst open. You tensed up, waiting for a member of management to yell at you, but it never came. Instead, multiple footsteps headed your way. A gentle hand fell upon your shoulder and Changbin softly called your name. 

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” you mumbled. 

“Well, that’s just too damn bad,” Seungmin said. His arms crossed over his chest. “I left my biscottis behind and we all gathered here.” 

Minho shot him a glare, but it didn’t bother him. Chan gave him a follow-up warning look and sighed. “Listen, we just wanna make sure you’re alright. The way you ended that live, it was-” 

“Horrible? Unprofessional and irresponsible?” 

“I was going to say bold, but incredibly true. You spoke about the things some idols stay far away from.” 

“I’m tired!” You pulled your hands away from your face. Tears lined your bloodshot eyes. “It’s always something and I’m trying my fucking best! I’m trying to be a good person and a perfect idol and it’s not happening! I can’t do it! I-I-” You sucked in a shaky breath and a whimper fell out. 

You tried so hard to keep it together, but when Felix appeared and squirmed closer to wrap his arms around you, you cracked. Your head buried into his chest as sobs fell from you. 

How much of your life had you given up being judged in the name of your dreams? There would always be people who hated your guts for one reason or another. You’d always have people that disliked you, but in the k-pop world? People would do anything to bring down the idols they hated. 

Spreading rumors, sending hate trucks, and stirring the pot. Taunting, teasing, and straight up bullying. Stalking, harassment, and belittling. It was always something. 

You couldn’t breathe without doing it wrong. Every time you touch a member for too long, you’re being childish and clingy. When you don't say much during a video, you’re dubbed a stuck-up snob. Too close to the opposite gender of another group? You’re probably dating them.

There is never and will never be any winning in the industry until people change. Companies have to stop dragging their feet. It only stops when the industry calls out bullshit as they see fit. Taking the steps for legal action. Knowing an idol is a privilege, not a right. 

Han wiggled his way to the other side of you, squeezing between Changbin and Felix, letting a hand fall to your head. Another hand and then another. As you cried, they all grieved. Tears sprouted from all of them because they all knew. When one of them hurts, they all hurt, and your reasoning? It all sat within them during their down time.

The industry had been built off of breaking people and trying to build them back better. People are not that durable. When you break someone’s soul, there is no going back. Idols learn to hate their imperfections. Change them. Shape them. 

Slave away in the mirror to develop a perfect routine, so no pores are visible. Some trade away their real personalities, not because they want to, but because companies want to market them a certain way. 

Everything is pre-planned to the extreme. Compete against your favorite friends in the charts because they belong to different companies. Slaughter the competition. Sell more albums. Do the embarrassing requests on fan calls. Have no boundaries because the company said so and unless you want to be blacklisted, do it, or fall victim to the endless abyss of wannabe idols that didn’t make the cut.  

“Ah, this is embarrassing,” Jeongin mumbled after a while. “I’m not supposed to be crying in front of everyone. All these hyungs and I’m- 

“Suck it up,” you mumbled, trying to pull back from Felix’s shirt. “Now you know how I feel.” 

“You have pretty cute tears,” Changbin observed. 

“Hey! Don’t cheat on me! You can’t call them pret-” 

“Shut up, wifey.”

Seungmin’s face scrunched in disgust and Han rolled his eyes. Chan glanced down at you and gently squeezed your shoulder. “Are you feeling a little better?” 

You nodded, reached up, and wiped your eyes. “Thank you for letting me cry. I’m sorry that I-” 

Minho’s hand went over your mouth. “Do not ever apologize for struggling with real emotions.” 

Your nose wrinkled and you pulled away. “Ew. How am I supposed to know where your hand has been? That’s so-” 

“Probably around Jisu-” 

“AH!” Jeongin’s hands went over his face and he shook his head. “Stop! Stop! I don’t want to hear it! Enough!” 

“You’re so cute, Innie. Come here! I wanna pinch your cheeks.” Hyunjin walked around you and hurried to Jeongin. Felix cheered for him as Jeongin began to hurry around the other side of the table. 

“Don’t touch me!” 

“I wanna touch my wife!” Changbin hurried after Hyunjin. 

“Oh! Oh! Oh!” Felix grinned and rushed afterwards. “Changbinnie, I wanna touch your muscles!” 

“That’s my cat.” 

“Hey, wait!” Han rushed after Minho. 

“That’s my first-born.” 

“Yeah and I wanna kick the elder’s ass,” Seungmin grumbled, following Chan. He spun around to glance at you. “Are you coming? Don’t you want to throat punch me like usual or something?” 

“How’d you know?” 

“You say it’s always a good day to throat punch me.”

“Sometimes it is.” 

“It’s every day.” 

“Well, stop being a pain in my ass and it won't happen anymore.” 

“You cunt.” 

“Jackass.” 

He huffed and hurried after Chan. You grabbed your phone and hurried up to follow him. In the k-pop world, it was riddled with a lot of issues, but when moments like this naturally happened… 

It was hard to stay upset for long, knowing that the industry brought the eight of these idiots right into your heart; you had a feeling they’d stay there for a long, long time. 

| ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ |

Taglist: @lia-linny @seungnishi @stellasays45 @emilyywhyy @rockstarkkami @flightlessackerman @inlovewithstraykids @velvetmoonlght @chrizrizz @ari-hwanggg

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Ko-fi

[pomefioredove]

a-yo there, Claudette! how ya' doin'? could I ask a request with the overblot gang like this: they are flirting with reader, in some case is more boldly, another is smoothly or a 'smart'/well thought out flirt, (because i'm SURE that leona and vil don't flirt the same, or blue and idia, for example). reader blushes a lot and looks away. after a second of silence, reader flirts back just as smoothly, slyly or boldly. how do the 7 primors react? 💗💗

thanks in advance! take care<3

oooh- yes, of course!! I had fun with this. it also occurs to me how bad most of them would be at flirting...

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ the boys do a flirt

type of post: headcanons characters: riddle, leona, azul, jamil, vil, idia, malleus additional info: romantic, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu

anyone here familiar with Victorian courting rules?

well, Riddle is

he is alllll about etiquette

literally "no hand holding before marriage"

the boldest he gets is with... flowers

for what he can't say or do outright, he can convey in floriography

daisies for loyalty, pink camellia for longing...

if he's feeling bold, he may add a lavender sprig or two

now, imagine his surprise when you send him a red orchid...

his face blushes the same color as the flower and he gets all giggly

going around Heartslabyul, saying he's got to send you a red rose back

...as if anyone knows what that means

(everyone in his dorm thinks you're both crazy)

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Leona is the god of avoidance

he would rather crawl on his hands and knees through sewage than be honest with himself about his feelings

so, what does he do when he knows he's falling for you?

bullies you

like, lovingly

it's just easy for him to banter and push you around

he will call you short no matter what your height is, let himself into your room to sleep on your bed and make direct eye contact with you while he knocks your things off your desk

like... petty cat behavior

he was not anticipating you to reciprocate

man, you have a mouth on you

the things you say... color him impressed

honestly, he likes you even more than before

...which now makes avoiding his feelings impossible... crap

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

unfortunately I think Azul's best attempt at flirting is staring at you across a crowded room

he's a flatterer by default, but, like, he actually likes you

he knows how to get someone into a contract, but not how to ask you out on a date

funny, right?

well, not for him

it takes all of his courage just to say you look nice

Sevens, what is wrong with him?

you make him feel like an utter fool... so, of course, he has to compensate

now, when he's around you, he becomes smarter, more interesting, and about three times as pretentious

to impress you. obviously

then you match his energy and he's right back to square one

who knew he could get so easily flustered?

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Jamil doesn't "flirt"

...at least, that's what he tells himself

before you, he'd simply never had a reason to. now...

how hard can it be, right?

and, well, he's not half-bad at it

Jamil knows how to keep his cool, and flattery is his second language

and he gets a chance to show off a little...

perfect, right?

well...

he can never seem to surprise you

every hint he tries, every subtle compliment and little smirk, you have something equally as crafty

...not what he had in mind, but, hey

the psychological warfare makes flirting much more interesting

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Vil is, perhaps, the only person here who actually knows what he's doing

not that he's used to flirting

he just... knows how to talk to people

he's always quite subtle about it

forward advances are tasteless, if you'd ask him

he tends to flirt in subtle, but meaningful ways

that is, he makes his intentions known through touch

nothing aggressive, of course

a gentle squeeze of your shoulder, a brush of his hand against yours, an arm around your waist...

just enough to fluster you (which he so enjoys doing)

imagine his surprise, then, when you start touching him back

wordlessly holding his hand, sitting close enough to him to feel your shoulder against his...

he'll admit, he admires your boldness

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

the only "you" that Idia is flirting with is a chat bot he programmed to talk like you

I mean WHAT who said that

he DEFINITELY does not have that. haha... that'd be like, super creepy...

on that note, he also definitely DOES NOT obsessively study your words and mannerisms to better understand you

...well...

listen, he just doesn't know how to approach you!

you're so... you! and he's so... him

so, he'd much rather watch your every move and fantasize about being able to actually... talk to you...

he is, understandably, terrified when you approach him

...even more so when you seem to know about him and all his interests...

???

...you know what? he's not even going to think about it

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Malleus can be a little... old-fashioned

and by that I mean Briar Valley old-fashioned

he was taught how to court by Lilia, of all people, so you know whatever he's doing is...

...strange

and he's somewhat aware of it, too

he just thinks it'd be even stranger for him to flirt with you like...

well... you get it

everyone else

he is, however, pleasantly surprised when you seem to know what he's doing

you've been reading up on Briar Valley customs, and recognized his courting rituals pretty much right away

...not that you're going to tell him that

reciprocating his flirtations is more fun when he doesn't see it coming

he makes that one surprised face every time

like this -> o_o

[mishellii]

♢ᴘᴇᴛ ɴᴀᴍᴇꜱ ʜᴇᴀᴅᴄᴀɴᴏɴꜱ♢

naruto, sasuke, shikamaru, kiba, shino, neji, iruka & kakashi

a/n: sooo,, i SHOUld be working on my uni essays and on the bf!neji texts BUT this had been sitting in my notes app for a while so i decided to post it ;D (the neji texts will come soon i promise). some are longer, some are shorter for which i apologise,,,,,, please ignore typos, i can't spell & enjoy MWUAH

likes & reblogs appreciated <3

warnings: some NSFW parts! MINORS DO NOT INTERACT! :) also not proofread as usual

masterlist

♢ɴᴀʀᴜᴛᴏ ᴜᴢᴜᴍᴀᴋɪ♢

✿oh my baby boy

❀first off: angel. 100%.

✿because u are his angel u feel me

❀he can't go a day without telling u

✿then also just the basic baby

❀but mostly when he wants something from u or he's apologising for dumb stuff he's done

✿puppy eyes and all

❀and also during sexy time

✿it's his most used name for u there

✿fight me on this

❀big on his own self made nicknames for u

✿for instance: u fell down the stairs once?

❀"hey, stairs, how you doin'"

✿and just silly ones like: boo, pookie, apple of my eye

❀he's weird like that c'mon we been knew

♢ꜱᴀꜱᴜᴋᴇ ᴜᴄʜɪʜᴀ♢

✿now this guy is a wild card

❀he'd prefer ur name through & through

✿but he'd slip in a casual babe sometimes which makes ur knees weak obviously

❀because he barely ever calls u that

✿if ur married he'd only call you his wife

❀doesn't even let you answer questions on your own sometimes just so he can hit them with

❀"well, MY WIFE, thinks you suck ass, so.."

✿during sex he can be quiet mean 

❀I DONT THINK in the derogatory way but more in a teasing way

✿"c'mon, sweetheart, look at me."

❀when ur just about to black out??

✿but like i said 

❀not big on pet names but he'll use them more often if he knows u enjoy it <3

♢ꜱʜɪᴋᴀᴍᴀʀᴜ ɴᴀʀᴀ♢

✿pretty

❀just pretty bro.

✿not ALL THE TIME, especially not in public as i don't think he's big on PDA

❀but in the comfort of ur own 4 walls? definitely

✿now don't HATE ME for this but,,,

❀woman. and brat.

✿but only in petty situations, like when ur scolding his lazy ass and he hits u with a "go easy on me, woman, i just woke up."

❀or u've been going on his nerves while he's working

✿,,i'm busy, brat.''

❀in bed tho???

✿love or doll

❀i'm almost CERTAIN.

✿like,, can u imagine?? in his dumb fucking charming voice ???

❀PFFF i'm on my knees 

♢ᴋɪʙᴀ ɪɴᴜᴢᴜᴋᴀ♢

✿now this fucker

❀teasing names through & through

✿ur shorter than him? 

❀"hey, shortie, need help?"

✿ur taller than him?

❀"hey, giant, how's the weather up there?"

✿he's a DICK ok (affectionately ofc)

❀but he can be sweet too i promise

✿he's having fun with calling u bunny during sex or simply baby 

❀also ???? "okay, boss." when he's been annoying u all day and u finally snap at him?

✿he's a menace with nicknames i'm telling u

♢ꜱʜɪɴᴏ ᴀʙᴜʀᴀᴍᴇ♢

✿you probably guessed it and bully me if you'd like but,,,

❀bug or lovebug

✿come oooon he loves his bugs AND he loves you?? it fits PERFECTLY

❀not one to do it infront of other people either but in your private space he just wouldn't stop calling you one of these

✿i also see him using the regular honey but the abbreviation so hun because it's short and sweet and he doesn't like those long ass names

❀apologies if ur name is long LMAO mine is too tho

✿takes the hun into the bedroom but prefers a gentle love while having sex

❀shino's not a sweet talker in my mind, but the pet names make up for it FOSHOU

✿ALSO big brain idea i just had:

❀i think shino can't fully express his emotions verbally so before going on missions he definitely writes u letters and that's where he's blooming

✿''u keep me going everyday, sunshine.''

❀and it doesn't even matter if you have a bubbly personality or not

✿UGH lovesick fr

♢ɴᴇᴊɪ ʜʏᴜɢᴀ♢

❀this pretty princess doesn't even know ur name when ur alone with him 

✿ESPECIALLY when ur texting

❀sweetheart, love & darling

✿he'd make u fall in love over again whenever he calls u one of those i'm just saying

❀because he's always so sincere when he's talking to u it drives me crazy just thinking about it 

✿during sexy time too, he would NEVER

❀& i will die on this hill 

✿NEVER use any degrading names for u

❀ur his baby don't make him do that

✿even when ur fighting, he'd always address u in such a kind way i'm actually going insane

❀"have you had dinner yet, dear?"

✿ sedate me pls

♢ɪʀᴜᴋᴀ ᴜᴍɪɴᴏ♢

✿AAA this guy

❀soo,, like father like son,,, angel

✿u can't change my mind

❀being the kind hearted person he is, it just fits u can't tell me off

✿but i will also say he'd use some funny ones in private because we all know he's just a silly lil guy deep inside

❀i'm thinking toots & peach

✿especially when greeting u !! like ''ey, toots, how's it going?''

❀during sex he will be quiet awkward at the start of ur relationship, settling in angel as he's most familiar with it at first

✿but after some time he'd pull a babydoll or gorgeous on u

❀i mean,,, i'd cry but idk about y'all

✿oVERALL he loves using pet names and wouldn't be opossed to u calling him some sweet ones as well <3

❀call him handsome and he'll go through the roof

♢ᴋᴀᴋᴀꜱʜɪ ʜᴀᴛᴀᴋᴇ♢

✿AHEM

❀so this man,,

✿at the start of ur relationship he's such a shy lil bean so he'll only use your first name

❀but once he's been with you long enough he gets so so comfortable

✿starts of with the regular baby because u are his baby aight.

❀his most frequently used one too i'd say

✿but then he'd go like 

❀"hey, beautiful." "y'alright, sweetheart?"

✿and idk about u but i'd faint

❀HE KNOWS ABOUT HIS AFFECT ON U TOO

✿uses it against u during sex SO OFTEN

❀grunting a "there y'go, darling." into your ear with a sly smirk on his lips 

✿i'm (s)creaming

❀but he's a very private person so don't expect too much of that in public !!

✿a side from a "yes, ma'am" when u tell him not to die on a mission <3

a/n: i hope this doesn't SUCK ahemm,,, and i'll see you beans next time bye bye x

devider by @enchanthings

[reunionatdawn]

Why I think you should be able to romance Yosuke in the P4 Remake

Canonically speaking, Yosuke is pretty much Junpei 2.0. The straight bro best friend to the MC who is obsessed with getting a girlfriend. However, there was a romance route for him that was cut from the game, probably late into development. This would have no doubt recontextualized his entire character arc.

"Comphet," short for compulsory heterosexuality, is a term used to describe the societal assumption that everyone is naturally heterosexual. This concept suggests that people may feel pressured to form heterosexual relationships due to cultural norms and societal pressures, rather than genuine attraction. My opinion is that Yosuke's original character arc was supposed to be an exploration of this idea, due to how much support there was for it in the narrative. And here’s why I think they should add this idea back in for the remake, which looks to be on the horizon.

In P4, everyone's shadow was connected to their sexuality or gender role. Chie was a tomboy who was jealous of Yukiko's femininity. Yukiko was a "Yamato Nadeshiko" who was sick of being fetishized as the ideal girl, which in Japanese culture, is often overly meek. Kanji was bullied because of his feminine hobbies and adopted a hypermasculine thuggish persona. Rise felt disillusioned with her oversexualized idol persona and the performative aspects of show business. And Naoto dealt with internalized misogyny which manifested in her adopting a male persona.

Yosuke: And what's this about checking out this world for Saki-senpai's sake? Hah! I know the real reason you came snooping... You just came because you thought it sounded like a good time! What else is there to do in this shithole? A world inside the TV—now that's exciting! You didn't have a single other reason for coming here, did you!?

Yosuke was the odd one out, as his shadow mainly involved his repressed resentment at living out in the countryside and being very lonely. His shadow also had the least humiliating baggage to expose. He had feelings for Saki. But his shadow self's "dark secret" was that he was more excited about exploring the TV world than genuinely investigating her death. Shadow Yosuke accuses Yosuke of not being as sweet on Saki as he appeared to be. However, this idea didn't really go anywhere.

When the Magician card is reversed in a Tarot reading, it can suggest manipulation. In a relationship context, it means that someone may be presenting a false image or facade in order to manipulate the perceptions of others. And that idea certainly fit Yosuke. He pretended to be carefree. But what if he was also pretending to be heterosexual? What if the "horny straight bro" was just a mask? Is there any evidence of this? Actually, I think there was.

Shadow Yukiko: Tonight, Princess Yukiko has a big surprise—I'm gonna go score myself a hot stud! Welcome to "Not a Dream, Not a Hoax"—Princess Yukiko's hunt for her Prince Charming! And I came prepared: I've got my lacy unmentionables on, stacked from top to bottom! I'm out to catch a whole harem, and the best of the lot is gonna be all mine!

The Shadows in P4 are partly comprised of the suppressed thoughts and emotions of the actual person. There was a part of Yukiko's subconscious that felt like she needed a "Prince Charming" to save her. But the shadows who showed up on the Midnight Channel were also formed from the desires of what the general public wanted to see. Yukiko herself didn't really want to score with a harem of hot studs. It was the male students at Yasogami High who truly wanted to see that happen.

Yosuke was very nonchalant about failing the "Amagi Challenge". He took it in stride, almost as a badge of honor. And I found it very interesting how he showed absolutely NO reaction whatsoever to what Shadow Yukiko said. Nothing. If it were any other boy at school, I'm sure he would have had something to say about the most popular girl talking about how badly she wanted to lose her virginity to a bunch of hot studs. But Yosuke acted like he couldn't have cared less. He just said that the stuff she was saying sounded weird and that was it.

Yosuke: I haven't changed addresses since before we moved to Inaba. I mean, I might get a text from someone…It's hard to call, y'know? If I called people just to tell them my number changed, they'd get annoyed. And some of them never planned to text me anyway… Oh but hey, don't look at me like I don't have any friends!

According to Saki, "Hana-chan" didn't hang out with the other guys much. But in Rank 3 of his Social Link, it seemed like he desperately wanted to have closer relationships with male friends. And that may have been the true reason he happily took on the Amagi Challenge when he was a new transfer student. He probably just wanted to fit in with the other boys.

Yosuke: Haha…I never thought I'd be talking about serious stuff like this. Before I moved here, it was all small talk…Stupid, trivial things. I thought that was fine. It's only with you guys that I talk seriously like this. I dunno why, but I feel like I don't have to lie… Especially with you. You've already seen the worst of me and all. But well…thinking about it now, if someone had to see that, I'm glad it was you. It's a bit late now, but… Thanks for going in with me that time. Yosuke is smiling sheepishly…

By Rank 4, Yosuke acts very different around Yu than he does around the rest of the Investigation Team. He never acts this serious or sincere around anyone else. The other members of the group also open up emotionally to Yu. But Yosuke especially acts like a totally different character. He takes off his mask around Yu and only Yu. He's probably the first friend—especially a male friend—that he ever had where he could just be himself instead of adopting a false persona to fit in.

Yosuke: I can't get my mind off certain things whenever I have a spare moment… (option 1) Yu: Certain things? Yosuke: Uh, you know…stuff. I mean, well… Argh! Let's not get into it! Why do I get the feeling this is going to turn into a depressing conversation!?

During an evening conversation that occurs around Golden Week, Yosuke hints at some unresolved baggage related to his Shadow.

(option 2) Yu: Like Saki-senpai? Yosuke: Oh, come on... Of all the things you could bring up, you pick that one? I mean, that's part of it, but... I dunno, how do I put it? Argh! Let's not get into it! I don't wanna have this conversation!

Saki was part of it, but not the only thing. And he was blushing, too. The implication was probably that he was developing feelings for someone other than her and he might have been feeling a bit guilty for that. Or at least, that was my own personal interpretation.

Yosuke: Y'know, Chie and Yukiko seem different lately. They're a lot closer. Oh yeah, I was just curious, but are you...Ehh, never mind. If we keep chatting, we're gonna be late.

But there is evidence for that interpretation. After Golden Week is over and the group is headed back to school, Yosuke attempts to ask Yu if he is interested in Chie or Yukiko. The fact that he was so hesitant about asking made it stand out a bit to me. He probably had feelings for someone within their friend group.

Yosuke: Oh, I almost forgot. It's kinda off-subject, but as long as you're on the line, mind if I ask something? It's something I've been meaning to ask for a while. So…what do you think about Yukiko and Chie? I mean, let's not mince words: Which one's your type?

Before the stakeout for Kanji, he finally asks Yu which girl is his type.

Yosuke: Huh? Seriously? So that's the kinda girl you go for, huh...? She is a great girl, though. Plenty of fun to be around, too.

If Yu answers that he's interested in Chie, Yosuke acts a bit surprised. Not in an insulting way. He just assumed it would be Yukiko because all the guys in school were crazy about her.

Yosuke: Ohhh, I had a feeling you'd say that. She's actually pretty interesting. I never knew she was like that. My image of her has changed completely, but I like her way better now. Hey, but don't worry. This is just between you and me. Okay, see you tomorrow.

If Yu says that he is interested in Yukiko, Yosuke says he suspected as much. He doesn't say anything about her looks or anything. Interestingly, he just says that his image of her has changed, but he likes Yukiko more now after seeing her true self. Almost as if he didn’t have a very great impression of her before.

Yosuke: That being said…Yukiko, can I have your cell number? Chie: Hey…Was this your plan all along? Yosuke: Uh, no? I got everybody's phone number except for hers. And the Y section of my address book needs some filling out.

During the stakeout, he asked Yukiko for her phone number. So, the player would probably assume that Yosuke wanted to go out with Yukiko. That is what Chie assumed, after all. But I think that was a red herring.

Chie: Hey, how do you think the others are doing? Yosuke: Beats me. For all we know, he's hitting on Yukiko as we speak. Chie: Yeaaaah, no. He's not like you. Yukiko doesn't seem to be interested in that stuff anyway. Wait—are you saying he's interested in her? Yosuke: Huh!? Uh…I…wouldn't know…We don't really talk about that kinda stuff…Hahahaha. Chie: Now I'm even more suspicious! You know something, don't you? Yosuke: I-I seriously don't know! It's not like we've been hanging out that long, haha…

But Yosuke actually seemed less interested in Yukiko herself and more interested in the possibility that Yu might be interested in her. Even if Yu tells him that he's not interested, Yosuke probably didn't believe him. So, it’s possible that he wanted to become closer friends with Yukiko so that he could know right away if she and Yu started dating.

Shadow Kanji: I think that you three…would make wonderful boyfriends. Yosuke: S-Stop it! Y-You got it all wrong!

Kanji's arc introduces the idea of homosexuality into the story. And Yosuke got worked up over Kanji's shadow FAR more than he did with Yukiko's. When he called Yu after Kanji's Midnight Channel program aired, he was "too flustered to get his point across". And Yosuke felt the need to deny Kanji's Shadow almost as much as Kanji himself did.

Shadow Kanji: Accept me for who I am! Yosuke: Wh-Whoa! I really don't swing that way!

It gave me the impression that themes of Kanji's dungeon were just as relevant to Yosuke's character arc as they were to Kanji's. Perhaps even more so in some ways.

Kanji: I, uh…I don't really get it myself. Girls are so loud and obnoxious, so, y'know…I really don't like dealing with 'em. Guys are a lot more laid-back. S-So, uh, I started thinking…What if I'm the type who never gets interested in girls…? And I couldn't accept that, so I kept spinning around and around in my head… Yosuke: Well, I can understand the part about feeling more relaxed around dudes.

Homosexuality is a societal taboo. It is often something that people suppress and do not accept within themselves. It is actually the perfect subject to explore for a game about the shadow self. I don't think Kanji was gay. But I do think that Yosuke was originally supposed to be. And a lot of what Shadow Kanji said hit a little too close to home for him.

Chie: Well, the night's kinda fun. We cook our own meals with mess kits and sleep in tents. Yukiko: The four of us are in the same group. Yosuke: The same group, huh…? Does that mean we sleep together at night, too!? Chie: You wish! Guys and girls sleep in different tents! I'm warning ya…If you leave your tent at night, you'll be expelled on the spot.

When Yosuke found out that they were all in the same group, he actually stood up out of his chair. You're meant to think he reacted this way because he was thinking about sharing a tent with girls. Typical straight teenage boy. But I'm sure he knew they weren't sleeping with the girls on a school trip. His reaction probably had nothing to do with the girls. He probably got worked up about sleeping in the same tent as someone he had been developing feelings for.

Yosuke: This is as good a time as any, so…I-I want you to be honest with us. Kanji: Uh…okay? Yosuke: A-Are you really…you know…? Kanji: Am I really what…? Yosuke: What I mean is, uh…Are we gonna be safe with you? Kanji: Wha—!? Wh-Wh-What the hell's that supposed to mean? I-I already told you guys I'm not like that!

According to Jung, psychological projection is a major aspect of the shadow. When individuals project, they unconsciously attribute qualities that belong to their own shadow onto others. This allows them to avoid confronting these aspects within themselves. If they had stuck with that original idea, I don’t this scene would have been so controversial and offensive to people. By taking Yosuke's same-sex attraction out of the narrative, the game felt a lot more juvenile as a result. Yosuke's homophobia could have been used to explore his shadow self. But instead, it was just used to take cheap shots at Kanji for no reason other than comedy.

Yosuke: W-Well then why are you all hot and bothered about it!? That's just more suspicious!

The irony of this line certainly wasn't lost on me. And I don't think the writers were so lacking in self-awareness that they didn't realize how Yosuke was the one getting all hot and bothered by anything related to homosexuality after Kanji's dungeon. I think it was supposed to raise some suspicions in the player about Yosuke's sexual orientation.

Yosuke: And c'mon, you guys gotta admit I chose some good suits. Those girls might be childish on the inside, but I bet they're gonna turn into some fine-looking women before too long! Don't you think so, Yu?

If Yosuke was always intended to be written as a straight guy or even a bisexual guy, this part would come across as misogynistic and kinda creepy. Even Stupei wouldn't buy swimsuits for his female friends. But if Yosuke was actually meant to be a gay boy, this is more of a sad attempt at imitating a straight boy to appear "normal". And if that were the case, his behavior with girls is a lot more forgivable.

Yosuke: So…? You keep the goods under the futon? (option 1) Yu: Huh? Yosuke: C'mon…No need to play dumb. Don't worry. I'll still be your friend even if you're into the freaky stuff. Yosuke looks like he's having fun.

Yosuke wasn't truly interested in Yu's dirty magazines. He was only interested to learn more about what kind of girls he was into. I know they added a scene in Golden where Teddie finds Yosuke's porn stash and he shows it to his parents. It's played straight as pure comic relief. "Haha, Yosuke never stops thinking about girls". But in his Rank 5 SL, this felt like it was meant to be a more serious topic.

(option 2) Yu: Of course. Yosuke: Hahaha! Why are you acting so dignified about it? Alright, I'll check 'em out when you go take a piss or something. I'll expose your embarrassing tastes!! Yosuke looks like he's having fun.

The "embarrassing tastes" comment was interesting.

(option 3) Yu: What, don't you? Yosuke: Haha! Like I'd hide mine in such an obvious spot! One time, my mom found it and read the title out loud to the whole family… Yosuke is reflecting on his past…

It actually sounds like Yosuke was the one with "embarrassing tastes". If his mom felt the need to shame him in front of the family like that, it leads you to wonder what he was looking at exactly. Sure, it could have been some typical straight boy stuff. But what if it was a men’s magazine or something? Depending on how traditional his family was, he could have received disapproval for that.

Yosuke: So, you ever invited a girl in here? (option 1) Yu: I haven't. Yosuke: Haha, maybe you're more of a man's man than I thought. Yosuke seems happy…

Yosuke seems happy if Yu is not planning to bring a girl over.

(option 2) Yu: I will soon. Yosuke: Seriously!? That mean you're working on someone!? Yosuke is keyed up…

And he gets keyed up if he is.

(option 3) Yu: I have. Yosuke: Seriously!? Who'd you… I'll stop there. I think it's better I don't know. Yosuke is smiling wryly…

He probably assumed it was Yukiko and he didn't wanna know any more details than that. Again, due to comphet, most people would probably assume that he was just jealous because he wanted to date her himself.

Yosuke: Because she likes him…? M-Man, kids sure are mature these days…Well, my first love was in first grade, too! I've always been ahead of my time. But, well…I don't really need that in my life right now. It's just not the time…I have something I need to do before that can happen…

But he actually didn't. His true feelings are quite different than his public persona where he's obsessed with getting a girlfriend. Especially in Golden, like with the motorcycle scene. Yosuke said he was ahead of his time. And I think he was. His character arc seemed to be about being closeted and coming to terms with it. But that was a trickier subject during the time period which the game first came out.

Rise: And the bustline… Yosuke: Huh? Rise: Mine aren't that big. Yosuke: Oh yeah, I see what you mean now… I-I mean…What am I saying!? U-Um, I'm sorry…!

Similar to Yukiko's Shadow, Yosuke had no real interest in the sexual aspects of Rise's Shadow. The Midnight Channel zoomed in to emphasize her chest and waist area, which was due to the general public's interest in her sex appeal. Yosuke told Yu he could tell it was Rise by the hairstyle. However, in front of the others, he said he knew it was her because of her figure. It's a minor detail, but it suggests that his reaction was completely performative. He didn't even recognize her figure in person that well anyways.

Chie: Let's hurry and rescue her! Yosuke! You better not slack off, hoping she'll "bare it all" if we take our sweet time! Yosuke: I-I wouldn't pull a stunt like that! Yukiko: …… Yosuke: Wh-What's with the silent treatment!? I won't do that, I swear! Believe me, I know! We'll rescue Rise before the fog sets in!

The female members of the team assume that Yosuke would want to take as long as possible to save Rise so he could see her strip.

Shadow Rise: Eee, how embarrassing! Is this too hot for TV!? Well, if a thing is worth doing, it's worth doing all the way! I'm gonna bare it all for you! Heehee! Stay tuned! Yosuke: I-Is she serious about baring it all!? Is it me, or are these shows getting crazier and crazier!? Yosuke sounds excited. Yu: We're in no rush. Yosuke: Huh? But if we don't recue her, isn't Risette gonna...s-strip...? *gulp* Dude, we can't let her go through with that!

However, if Yu actually suggests that they take their time, Yosuke doesn't even get why. He doesn't want to see her strip and never even jokes about it, like Junpei no doubt would have.

Snooty student: So it's Kazumi now that Saki's dead!? Don't even bother, she has a boyfriend. Didn't you get it!? Saki didn't like you! We heard so from her! She may have acted that way, but… They started to badmouth Saki-senpai… Yu: Shut up! Yosuke: Yu… Snooty student: Wha—Who are you!? You shut up! Yosuke: You're the ones who should shut up!! What do you know about Saki-senpai!? She didn't do things half-assed like you! She looked lazy, but she worked hard! She talked bad, but she was good inside! So she hated me? I knew that! She's not here anymore! I'm left behind! …Just leave me alone.

In Rank 6, Yosuke didn't become angry when he listened to the girls gossiping about Saki. He only lost his temper when they insulted Yu.

Yu: You were just upset. Yosuke: N-No, I was just… Yosuke is smiling pathetically… Yosuke: Damn…Another pathetic display from Yosuke, huh? Thanks, though. Hearing you say that stuff to them…It made me happy.

Saying "You were just upset" in Rank 7 is a flag that unlocks the option to hug Yosuke in Rank 8. And the Rank 8 hug was probably a potential romance flag, just like when Rise was crying, and the game warns you that this is an important moment and there's no going back. The fact that these flags were still left in the game suggests the romance route was taken out relatively late in development.

Yukiko: The people at the inn keep asking me questions every day, like "What kind of guy is he?" and "Is he handsome?" *chuckle* I'm sorry I got you involved. Yosuke: …… Oh, uh, I'm going to go take a little walk. Yukiko: Huh? No, it’s not what you think!

When Yukiko is at Rank 6, this is the dungeon dialogue between them. There was definitely a love triangle going on between Yu, Yukiko, and Yosuke. Yosuke was clearly jealous.

Kanji and Teddie were conveniently removed from the equation. But Yosuke was a King's Game option. Kanji wanted Naoto to enter the beauty pageant to prove to himself that he was into girls. And Yosuke signed up all the girls. Was he also trying to prove himself straight?

Yu: What kind of girl do you like? Yosuke: W-well, for me, um... I guess a girl that's kind and sorta fragile, you know? Someone I'd want to protect...

Yosuke actually had a hard time with this question. He gets one on those blank scribbly symbols over his head. He was actually describing a Yamato Nadeshiko, which is the idealized woman in Japanese culture. A very safe and generic answer for someone who is "totes into girls" but has no specific type. Kanji's answer to this question was more detailed because he had a specific girl he liked in mind.

Male class rep: Okay…your turn. Who would you want to date? Yu: Yosuke. Yosuke: Okay, we get it! You're good at role-playing! Now quit it! You're creeping me out… Kanji: There are many forms of love…Didn't you tell me something like that? Yosuke: No! Not at all! Well, I admit, I'm pretty dependable…and decent lookin', right?

If Yu sits on girl side, Kanji is also an option. However, Yosuke is the one who gets hot and bothered by homosexuality. At least in public. Privately, he apparently told Kanji off-screen that he had nothing against other forms of love.

Yosuke: Your turn. What type of girls do you like? Yu: A kind girl. Yosuke: Ooh, me too! You get this urge to care for and protect them...

If Yu sits on the boy side, Yosuke is the one who will be forced to sit on the girl side. And he will single out Yu with his question, to learn what type of girl he likes. He can respond that he likes a girl like Chie, a girl like Yukiko, or a kind girl. Yosuke is very happy if Yu says he likes someone he has the urge to care for and protect.

Yu: Any of us you like, Yosuke? Yosuke: Well, you guys are all wonderful... But I think you'd be the most reliable. I-I mean—You idiot! Don't make me play along!

Yosuke would choose Yu to date because he's "reliable". It begs the question. Did he want a kind girl to care for and protect? Or did he truly want to be the kind fragile girl being cared for and protected by a reliable guy?

Yosuke: …I found this. It's a Print Club sticker I took with Saki-senpai… When I first got here, she insisted on taking it… Back then…somewhere inside me, I thought I was above this place… A lot of people saw me as the enemy because Junes was going to ruin the shopping district. But…when I met her, she told me, "Parents are parents. You're you…" Even if she didn't really mean it…it made me happy. Because of her…I started to think maybe this town wasn't all that bad. But then… Yu: She dumped you? Yosuke: No… that didn't matter. As long as she was still alive…

Yosuke was still mourning Saki's loss in Rank 8. But his relationship with her was not particularly close. They were coworkers for less than a year and he knew she didn't even like him. However, she accepted him. That's why he latched onto her. He probably thought he liked her romantically. Maybe he even wanted to like her, since he was so lonely. But I think as he spent time with Yu, he slowly realized that he never really did. But he did have those feelings for Yu.

Yosuke: Yu…I get it now. I wanted to forget about Saki-senpai. How she's not here anymore. I wanted to forget that…I was living a boring life in the middle of nowhere. When the murders started, I got excited…I thought there was finally a point to me being in Inaba…I thought I could forget Senpai was gone…and the fact that I was such a loser…I jumped at the murders and never once thought about what I was doing… I… didn't even take the first step…

I believe Yosuke liked Saki as a person, but he wasn't in love with her or anything. She was a crutch to help him forget his loneliness. And when she died, he latched onto the excitement and mystery of TV world as a distraction. And he felt very guilty over that.

Yosuke: But I think I'm awake now… I need to get over the fact that Saki-senpai isn't coming back… That when this case ends… I'll have nowhere to run… And I won't have changed… …… …You made me realize that. It seems you were able to act as Yosuke's crutch… You feel a bond between you and Yosuke.

The reason Yosuke was crying was probably not because of his deep grief over losing Saki. It was likely because he had found a new emotional crutch. And he was a lot closer to Yu than he was to Saki and even more afraid of losing him. He was afraid of what would happen when the case was over, Yu went back home, and he was all alone again.

(option 1) Yu hugs him Yosuke: You dumbass…That's for girls…

Yukiko's character arc was about moving away from stereotypical femininity and the whole ideal of Yamato Nadeshiko. She became more independent and assertive. But I think Yosuke's character arc was probably meant to mirror hers in many ways. He wanted to be the "girl" in a relationship, but he learned to view that desire as something shameful and he was unable to acknowledge it within himself.

(option 2) Yu pats his head Yosuke: Haha... Quit treating me like a kid...

Amusingly, the kanji for nadeshiko (撫子) also literally means "child being petted".

Yu: Be a man. Stand up straight. Yosuke: Haha… You're right. I wonder what'd be going through my mind if I was man's man like you. Yosuke is smiling weakly…

Yosuke was not a man's man like Yu. He had an obnoxious dudebro persona he adopted in a social setting, but it was not his true self.

Yosuke: This town I hated so much? Now, I love it. There's still nothing here, but I have family and friends...and you. The important things are never far off...They're all around you. Yosuke seems a bit embarrassed... Yosuke: I always wanted to be "special." I thought my life'd finally have meaning if I was "special" to someone. That's why I was really excited when I got my Persona. But I really didn't need it…It's not what you have or what you can do…Just being born, living your life…Before you know it, you're already special to someone. Yu: You're right. Yosuke: Yeah…Like you…You're special to me, you know?

Comphet can cause people to pursue romantic relationships even when they are not sexually attracted to the person. They often don't feel like someone of the same sex is even an option. I don't think Saki was truly "special" to Yosuke. But he wanted to be special to someone else so badly, and he thought that a girl was his only option. So, he latched onto the first girl to show him a tiny bit of acceptance.

Yosuke: There's something I wanted to tell you. Somewhere deep down… I didn't trust you. No, it's more like…I was jealous of you. I thought you were like me. Coming from the city to the countryside, I thought you'd be bored out of your mind here. But as soon as you got here, you called your Persona…Became our leader, gathered people…You're a hero. I like you for that, and I'm proud of you…But I guess I was jealous at the same time. Yu: I didn't know. Yosuke: I didn't know it either…When I called you "special," I thought some more about it. I think out of everyone, I wanted to be acknowledged by you the most…

Yosuke had an unused confession where he would tell Yu that he liked him. And based on the Japanese wording, there's almost no chance it was meant in a platonic way. It's how people express romantic liking. He was jealous of how Yu was special. But I don't think it's because Yosuke wanted to be the hero, the way Junpei did. Yosuke wanted to be special to Yu. But he didn't feel like he was good enough because Yu was more objectively cool and special. He wanted to be an equal partner.

Yosuke: So… I want you to hit me! Give me a good one. Knock out all this crap inside me. I want to be equal to you. I want us to stand shoulder-to-shoulder. So c'mon… Will hitting Yosuke make you and him equal…?

In Rank 10, the game asks whether fighting will make them equal. I couldn't help but laugh. No, I didn’t think it would. It made no sense to me whatsoever.

Yosuke: Phew…The sky's so high up. Is Saki-senpai watching us…? Is she smiling at us? Senpai…I'm going to live. Without lying to myself, without deceiving myself… Days like today, days like before when I did nothing… They're all important days… They're all days you didn't live to see… I'm going to live them here.

As the culmination of his character arc, Yosuke said he would not deceive himself anymore. I was left wondering... When did that happen exactly? I could understand if this dialogue happened after Yosuke confessed his feelings for Yu and finally came out of the closet. Whether Yu reciprocated or not, it would have been an amazing conclusion to his arc and made him a much more interesting character. But sadly, it never happened.

I have no idea why they needed to have a fistfight for Yosuke's Persona to evolve. I think that when the romance confession part of the SL was taken out, the "dude brawl" scene was probably added in its place. They needed some emotionally cathartic moment, but didn’t really know what. I know this wasn’t the intention, but it almost felt like the game was telling me I had to beat the gay out of Yosuke. I didn’t like that.

The question now is: will Atlus change this Social Link in the inevitable remake? I think there’s a good chance they will. The P3 remake removed the transphobic scene. In Catherine, they added a route where Vincent embraced his bisexuality. And Yosuke’s over-the-top homophobia just wouldn’t fly nowadays without some kind of character development.

[sanguineterrain]

hello! are requests open? 😅 i’d like to request for a drabble with a newlywed jason and yn if so!

sure thing! short and sweet <3 jason todd x gn!reader. newlywed fluff.

****

"Okay, toaster from Wade and Logan. Keep or give away?"

"Who the fuck are Wade and Logan?" Jason asks, upside down on the couch. His tie and suit jacket are gone, two buttons on his shirt undone.

"Dunno. I think Roy invited them."

Jason sighs. "Give away. Why did people give us so many toasters?"

You both look at the four toaster boxes in front of you.

"Maybe it's the fashionable thing to have toasters in every room," you say.

You put the fifth toaster in the pile. You didn't even have a toaster on the registry.

"We should give them their toasters back when they get married," Jason says.

"That would be extremely funny, and I'm always ready to commit to the bit."

"I know. 'S why I married you."

That makes you giddy. You look at the ring on your left hand.

"Dude, I can't believe you actually married me," you say.

"I can't believe you're calling me 'dude.' Did I marry a frat boy?"

You grin at Jason. "I love you, man."

"Ridiculous. Gimme my ring back."

"Nope!" You slide to the floor and sit criss-crossed in front of Jason. He folds his arms. You kiss him, mouths slotting oddly due to him being upside down.

You pull away. "No take-backsies."

"Curses!" Jason shakes his fist. "Beaten by the take-backsies rule once again."

You shrug. "I guess you're stuck with me for the foreseeable future."

"Guess so."

He rolls onto his side, so he's lying on the couch properly. He leans in for another kiss. You wrap your arms around his neck and kiss with all your might. Jason tugs you up onto the couch so you're atop him. You sit up on your knees, straddling his stomach. You take his left hand.

"Dude, you look really hot in this wedding ring," you say.

"Not as hot as you, babe."

"Way hotter," you say and suck his neck. Jason holds you steady with a hand on the small of your back.

"Tryin' t'maul me? Thank God pictures are done." He doesn't push you away, not even a little.

"Marriage turns me on, broski. I love a man who'll enter a legal contract with me."

"You're a freak," Jason says. "I love you."

You sit up and grin. "I love you too, J.T. Morgan."

He pulls a face. "That's worse than broski."

"Is it, though?"

"It's actually the worst thing I've ever been called," Jason says, deadpan. "My first day as your husband and I'm already being bullied."

"I was bullying you way before you became my husband, J-dog."

"Now you're just saying anything."

"Fine." You lean in so close that your perception warps, and Jason's face looks like it's in a fish-eye camera. "How 'bout I call you pretty boy?"

"Hm." He shifts the way he does when he's getting flustered. "I'll allow it."

"Sweet boy? Angel? Honey bunches? Handsome? Love of my life?"

He clears his throat. "Any of those will do fine, yeah."

You grin and kiss his cheek, watching as Jason pulls that soft, shy smile. The same smile he gave you when you said "I do." You'll never forget it.

You snuggle into his chest. Jason wraps his arms around you, throwing a leg over yours.

"What about the gifts?" he asks.

You shrug. "They can wait. Right now, I'm spending quality time with my husband."

His arms tighten around you. "Now that's a name I'll definitely never get tired of being called."

[cannellee]

TOKYO REVENGERS OMEGAVERSE ★

୨୧ yandere! alpha! kazutora x omega! reader

synopsis: kazutora is utterly obssessed with you and turns yandere once you start hanging out with other people. but what happens when he goes too far...?

cw : bullying, manipulation, controlling/possessive behaviour, r@pe attempt (not kazutora), assault, angst to comfort?

note : I'm so so sorry for not posting for nearly 2ish months🙏 here's a little something that was sitting in my drafts for a while now, hope you'll like it! I'll try to get back to posting stuff before the end of the year!!

note 2 : I recently read a lot of fics with omega drop inside and I wanted to give it a try!! I'm so unhappy with how the end turned out, but I can't think of anything else to write soo... + it's so rushed, pls don't hate me🙏

MY MASTERLIST: ★

just imagine bully!kazutora, who decides to attend school regularly just to see his favourite omega every day!

he develops this weird obsession for you and can't stop himself from thinking about you 24/7. at first he's talking to you in the most casual way he can, asking you about school homework, what food you had for lunch...

you don't find him repulsive at all despite the rumours : he isn't violent and overwhelming despite his affiliation to a gang. so you engage in small conversations with him, almost finding yourself in a secluded space with just the two of you more often than you can remember. but kazutora has been nothing but a nice alpha with you! so you let your guard down.

his mean behaviour didn't start until the summer break. you discovered yourself and gained confidence, going out more and discussing with more people than you used to.

when kazutora was one of the rare people occupying your already tiny social circle, he now was one friend among so many. of course he had that special place in your heart, but how could he know ? regardless, it wasn't enough for kazutora.

he felt a burning jealousy consuming him wholeheartedly whenever you gave that new friend of yours more attention than him.

you used to be so shy and awkward, timidly walking up to him in hopes he'll talk to you. now kazutora has to witness his omega act like a social butterfly, smiling and hugging others like it's no big deal.

he's fuming. he doesn't want the thousand girls fanning over him and he couldn't care less about the people gathering around him to try and befriend him.

no, kazutora fell for you first and wants nothing more than your precious bubbly self for him to see only. what do you mean you have to cut short your daily walks home because some nobody invited you to the library ?

kazutora lives that as a betrayal and can't even fathom the idea of you slowly slipping away from him. he just had to do something. he felt sick to his stomach just thinking about you with someone else, about some alpha making moves even though he didn't even get the chance to properly kiss you or hold your hand.

but kazutora is smart. kazutora is charismatic. kazutora is an alpha with a sweet and charming smile. his bad reputation flew over people's heads whenever he flashed them his signature smile followed by his sugar-coated words.

you didn't think much about it when some people started avoiding you, interacting with you less and less. those were the ones you only made small talks with once in a while.

some started to throw you weird looks, whispering after you passed in front of them to join your locker. you frowned a bit, but no harm was done so you shrugged it off.

it was all too progressive to be a coincidence. first the rumours, then the physical bothering and finally, people outward causing you abuse.

it was scary and off-putting how everyone seemed to have turned their back on you, bullying you like you never laughed together just a month ago.

you pondered and questioned yourself, absolutely clueless about the unfair treatment. you now came to school with an unbearable pit to your stomach, scared as to what other students would come up with today.

while some deliberately left your side and bothered you for a couple of days, they soon got bored and simply proceeded to ignore you. but there was this particular friend group, which seemed adamant to keep persecuting you under any circumstances.

a few betas and alphas, everyday pushing you to the edge, cornering you in the empty locker room and tormenting you or literally destroying your belonging when you had your back turned.

it was all too much. everyone just disappeared from your life and you were left with a growing fear and apprehension. your usual vanilla scent was reduced to ashes, barely present, meanwhile you kept your mouth shut most of the time, sometimes even going days without talking to anyone at all.

it took a toll on your mental health, your instincts not fit for such a lonely life. you were made to be cajoled and appreciated, to enjoy life and make your loved ones happy.

you didn't have anyone anymore. you tried a few times to catch your closest friends in the hallway whenever you saw them pass before you, but none of them spared you a glance, hurriedly mumbling apologies before looking around them with fear in their eyes.

nothing made sense anymore. not even kazutora, who you thought was a genuine friend, helped you. he still attended school with an impressive diligence, you caught him sometimes talking to your bullies whenever the six of them ate together during lunch.

you had taken the habit to spend your lunchtime at the back of the school, far from everyone. you enjoyed those moment sof peace, even being able to keep an eye on them from where you were. you coul easily spot them without you being visible.

kazutora towered over them like a self-proclaimed leader, while they all listened to him with respect. kazutora was far stronger than them and could simply order them around the way he'd like.

you often wondered why he would take part in such a horrible thing, tormenting you as if you actually deserved it. what surprised you was how he seemed to never actually commit those said acts himself, making you even question if he was behind it all.

still, you kept your distance from him. your own feeling of betrayal hanging heavy in your mind at kazutora's indifference towards you.

                                    · · ୨୧ · ·

you fell on your butt after a particularly mean push to your shoulder. you looked up, wide-eyed and scared, the sound of laughter entering your ears as you watched their smirk deepen.

you hung out later than usual at the library, studying until it was all but dark outside. you carefully packed your stuff without any worries, not expecting anyone at this hour.

but to your luck, the same exact people were there, waiting for you like a pack of starved hyenas. you pushed past them, hoping that would keep them from bothering you any further, their sadistic urges already satisfied.

their pheromones felt especially menacing tonight, you didn't know if it was your mind playing tricks, feeling more vulnerable than ever now that you were all on your own and exhausted.

your instincts exhorted you to flee from here when they grabbed your shoulder to make you turn around. you couldn't dare look up, their sickening laughs doing enough to make you beyond scared.

they trashed you around, taking pleasure in your lack of power, your optimistic self easily defeated by the days spent in fear and anxiety. you instinctively reacted to their scents, your limbs automatically shaking, mind cloudy, trying its best to protect itself.

you could only cry pitifully when one of them threw you, forcing you to make contact with the floor once again. and when his eyes lingered over your figure in a predatory gaze, a smirk streching his lips and his tongue passing over it, you felt your blood run cold.

you searched for any ounce of humanity in his friends' eyes, hoping they'll realise that they were going too far and eventually call out the alpha. finding none, you felt yourself slipping awat by the second, your senses way too overly stimulated by their treatment.

you cried harder, his hands feeling like knives digging into your flesh, a ruthless attempt at stripping you away from what little dignity you had left.

he sat on top of you, his weight forcing a few coughs out of you, unable to breathe properly. he continued his assault comfortably, his friends cheering him on with no regard to how your whole world went crashing down in this exact moment, all your strenght abandoning you, unable to fight anymore.

your mind went blank, trying so hard to process what had just happened to you when you felt one of his friend pull him off of you. mumbling something about kazutora and telling the alpha that they scared you enough.

he reluctantly agreed with an angry growl and a condescending slap to your cheek, knowing kazutora was far too scary to go further with his omega. he mockingly barked at you to be grateful, but you couldn't hear him, nor could you move.

you simply laid there, a pool of tears clouding your vision, tiny and pathetic cries leaving your soar throat. you couldn't protect yourself from the unshakable feeling of terror and helplessness and nobody was there to give you support.

you really were all on your own.

                                    · · ୨୧ · ·

you woke up in the softness of your nest, memories blurry and confused, yet all your senses vividly alert. the blankets and pillows were in a mess, mascara smeared across your cheeks, your high-school uniform still on and furiously torn apart, and the smell of blood floating in the air.

after dragging yourself back to your home, you had used all your remaining strenght and could no longer move. yesterday was your last straw and all you could do was lay on your side, head pounding from all the crying and feeling like a lifeless doll.

you felt like a stranger in your own body, unable to shake off the overwhelming fear. you couldn't find any source of solace, your nest wasn't even yours anymore, it felt foreign. you didn't feel safe anywhere.

you slowly let your thoughts consume you.

you couldn't do it, you weren't brave enough, strong enough. you had been able to handle it for the first few months but you felt yourself fall deeper into this nightmare and your were afraid you would never be able to get out of it.

kazutora didn't think much about your absence at school today, he was visibly disappointed to not be able to see his favourite omega, but didn't pry too much.

after a day turned into two, then three and then almost twoweeks now, he grew more and more concerned. he was agitated, pissed off by the situation, skipping classes the second he didn't see you there. he tried calling you multiple times a day, left you a hundred of messages and despite the strangeness of his sudden concern for you, he had expected you'd answer them, or at least read them. but you didn't.

he was left in the dark and was surprised at himself to have let you flee his eyes for this much time, almost instinctively sensing the abnormal urgency in your absenteeism. he had consulted those meaningless people he used to isolate you, kazutora was such a threat on his own that he was sure they couldn't have possibly lied straight to his face. or is it that they've took it too far ? kazutora knew he had warned them about it, scaring you was fine, tormenting you was fine, anything beyong that was like asking for death.

he found himself at you doorstep the same exact day, a plastic bag full of various medicines just in case. he knocked, waited, but heard nothing. he tried smelling you through the cracks, your heat scent usually so strong it literally slips from under. but he sensed nothing, comfirming you had no academically right reason to not attend school for such a long period of time.

he called your name, screamed it in desperation, banged on your door to try and stir up some movement from inside, but everything was dreadfully calm.

a million thoughts went through kazutora's mind when he broke into your home. he breathed in your familiar scent, the same one that instantly made him feel all sorts of things the way no other omega ever did. he took a minute to observe his surroundings, smiling at how cute and friendly you had decorated your place. despite the unusual darkness, it was indeed very charming. kazutora thought it suited you very well.

when he kept going further into the hallway, a strange feeling flooded his body. despite his excitement to finally see your face after two weeks, he somehow felt anxious. he didn't know what to expect. had you finally crumbled under the pressure of having no one by your side ? did kazutora break you enough that you'd seek comfort near anyone who would offer you a helping hand, even if that person was him ?

oh how did he want to have you all for himself once again, to have you back in his arms, talking to him with your shy eyes, teeth biting your lips in nervousness and too intimidated to even think about leaving his side.

what sight awaited him inside your room? will you welcome him, tears of relief and happiness flooding your eyes upon seeing someone care about you? after all this time of fighting alone, fending for yourself like a frail lamb when your whole purpose was to rely on others ?

kazutora couldn't wait to become your saviour, to chase away those annoying people who had dared mess with you, even if it was all his fault. you just would have to give him one word, one proof of affection and he'll immediately be on his way to teach them a lesson.

he opened your door, feeling entitled to do so without even asking. he frenetically searched for you, nose instantly trying to pick up your sweet scent. you were curled up between a pile of blankets, frame shaking and your fists desperately clutching the fabric.

he frowned slightly, yet still unaware of the alarming state you were in and approached you slowly. he smiled when he took notice of the teddy bear he had gifted you a few months prior, his chest warming up with pride upon seeing how hard it was pressed against your chest.

he gently called your name, nudging you just a little bit to get you to open your eyes. not wanting to scare you, he made himself as small as possible, voice barely above a whisper and movements as slow as he could.

but you couldn't move an inch and kazutora soon realised that your whole body was burning up, and not from a heat. he checked your forehead, watched how your breathing was weak despite being shaky and finally took in the terrifyingly rotten smell of your scent, nothing like he had expected upon entering your room.

although delusional, his instincts couldn't ignore and misinterpret the distressed pheromones your whole body emitted. reacting immediately to them, he softly caressed your face, removed you from inside the covers and took your worn out body in his arms.

he tried stimulating you by saying your name as kindly as possible, his own body burning up from the stress and creeping guilt slowly consuming him after linking everything together. was that the consequences of his actions? he looked at your face, torn with pain and fear, noticing with horror the purple bruise on your wrist and the equally awful red marks on your neck and arms, some even bleeding.

he showered you with his own pheromones, using nature's ways to force you into a calmer state.

what has he done? was it all his fault? he should've known you weren't this brave and should've known you'd need him sooner. he should've taken the hint and go to you instead of observing you slowly falling apart and delaying the moment when he'd finally come at your rescue.

he watched as you slowly but surely came back to him, eyes blinking up at him, unable to comprehend what was going on. you were all dopey and insanely fragile, your mental state on the verge of a cliff, threatening to fall if you were to be feeling any bit of discomfort.

                                    · · ୨୧ · ·

surpringly enough, you had warmed up to kazutora faster than he had expected. when anxiety plagued you with its torments, he was the one you instinctively reached out to, his scent carrying a sense of comfort and safety.

it was unfair how he could prevent your mind from torturing you any further when he was the primary culprit. you weren't even able to get a full night of rest because of it, and now you were accorded sleep because he decided it was best for you.

he literally drugged you with his pheromones during the period you were more than vulnerable, unable to take care of yourself. breathing in kazutora's scent whenever you felt down and distressed, had you assimilating it with something close to a safe place.

when you first woke up in his embrace after falling asleep to the sound of his apologies, you tore yourself away from his arms. you trying to move with what little strength you could muster forced his own eyes open, his hand, too quick to not be a reflex, caught your waist, keeping you against his chest.

"let go of me," you whispered after trying to pry yourself away from him, gripping his forearm, desperately wishing to make him move.

"y/n..."

"I said let go of me kazutora. why are you even here ?" cutting him off, you looked at him angrily, tears threatening to fall from your eyes.

the pained stare he was met with was enough to make him regret all his actions. sheer betrayal was written all over your face and the scent which once brought you comfort, now only made you uncomfortable. he was too close. his hands tangled with your waist and wrists... you were scared of what they could do to you. he was holding you too tightly. he was afraid you would disappear.

"kazutora, you're hurting me. just what exactly do you want and how did you get in ?" he quickly let go of you, muttering a few awkward apologies.

"...how did you get those bruises ?" he asked after a long silence, partially pleased you weren't ordering him to leave anymore and relieved you didn't push the topic of his intrusion any further.

"keep playing dumb and I might actually get really angry" you had pushed yourself up, refusing kazutora's help and was now sitting, glaring at him.

"please y/n, I assure you I don't know anything. I wouldn't have let anyone hurt you like this..." you chuckled half-heartedly, looking at kazutora's pleading eyes with contempt in yours. you could tell he was taken aback with how things were turning out with how he grabbed your arm softly, as if begging you to please believe him.

"ask your friends, I'm sure they'd love to tell you all the details about what they did."

and with that, you turned your back on him, tired of talking to him who acted like nothing was his fault, as if he hadn't played a huge role in how people treated you.

you were too tired to curse at him and yell for him to get out of your sight, you fell asleep in almost a few minutes this day, not caring if kazutora had anything to tell you or if he was even still there, invading your nest and taking up all the space like he was used to when it came to you.

                                    · · ୨୧ · ·

upon your confession, kazutora was seeing red, rage fully consuming his body and abandoning him to a state of pure instincts.

he stayed still, observing your steady breathing and the mess he had caused because of his jealousy, hands shaking at the sight of your injured body.

he made sure one last time that you were covered with his pheromones, which, no matter how much you hated them, helped you calm down a bit and have a good night rest like you needed.

he got up, barricaded your door that was slightly broken and left you alone in your apartment, ready to pay a visit to those people he had used to get what he wanted.

you've always been fragile, your nature shaping you to be more delicate than him, but never had he ever seen you this weak and defeated. although he had his response in your current state, he promised himself he would redeem himself, vowing to protect you just like he should've.

and it all starts now, by getting rid of the ones who thought they could go as far as laying a hand on you.

when he came back, he let out a relieved sigh seeing you hadn't move. he threw his now slightly red t-shirt on the floor and went back to your side, pleased with what he did and happy there were a few less threats for you out there.

he kissed your naked shoulder and fell asleep, inhaling your sweet scent he craved so much and swore nothing bad would ever happen again.

kazutora would make sure of it...

[raytoelicker]

xvii. wut i liek abt u (written work)

Your phone blared, raucous sounds treading through the halls of airy tiles. For fuck’s sake, you are horrendously late for that 1:1 Meeting you were supposed to arrive five fucking minutes ago.

Reason for your current horrible tardiness, whatsoever?

Scaramouche.

You have no fucking idea why or how you once thought that it'd be all fucking sunshines and rainbows when the notion of being friends with him was presented to you like it was rain to drought. Perhaps, it was by the fact that you've seen him in such odious light for so long that the idea of even seeing him in anything but such gives you..hope?

Was it hope you felt—or relief that you could be somewhat of a semblance resembling that of a friend to him?

Well, whatever you felt three or fuck days ago doesn't matter the fuck now. Because, that Asshole obviously made the conscious and obnoxious decision to.. what? You ask?

Tie your goddamn shoe laces to one of the chairs. Which led you to stumble, face-first, into the scrumptious fucking floor.

Why.

You're so serious, why. At this point, this isn't even innocent rivalry anymore; this is just pure bullying.

(You disregard the numerous occurrences wherein you hung his earphones over the fan, sending it in a spiral as it did its job. Also that one time you tried sweeping him off the feet—not figuratively, shut the fuck up—with a broom, only to backfire and send the both of you to cleaning duty on lunch for three days.)

‘Either way, I'll make sure to put a good motherfucking word on that asshole’s name. Treat him like god, or something. Hell, even Keqing would be surprised. The others better be fucking ready for my goddamn praise for fuck’s sake—’

Okay, deep breaths. One, two, three, four—

“Mom, why is she breathing like that?”

Fucking hell.

–

“So,” Keqing curiously raises her brows, keen eyes flitting to the clock then to you with suspicion, “it's not like you to be late. Nearly 30 minutes at that, as well.”

A placating and apologetic smile rose to your lips, hoping to unease the seething aura that straightened equilibrium is radiating, ‘cause holy shit, I can literally feel how annoyed she is and she looks fucking normal, “I’m sorry. I didn't mean it, truly. It's just that.. you-know-who held me up.”

She blinks, said ‘seething aura’ ebbing away once the secret identity of ‘you-know-who’ dawns on her, and she snickers, “seriously? him again? for someone as brilliant as you, you sure have your short-comings with getting along with some certain people, huh?”

You shrink back in your seat, squirming in displeasure, “don't even mention it.”

An amused smile. Then, she reaches for the chair and pulls it back; all the while bringing the laptop closer, “well, I'm sure we can talk about your problems later. Please assist me on this. It's quite a struggle, if I must admit.

‘Thank fuck she didn't press on,’ you thought, squinting at the bold letters of the headline.

–

It's a good ol’ two hour study session about how The Great Depression fucked the entirety of US because of Donald Trump’s great predecessor; Herbert Fucking Hoover.

It was a great lesson, really. All about stuff like, “why we should always know the importance of having a budget”—which you should definitely lecture Hu tao about; because she sure loves spending money on those coffin keychains that's on sale this month.

Currently, the library is entrancingly washed in that afternoon light as rays of sunlight peeked through the gaps of curtains and painted those beneath it a golden color of stripes and spots. Said library in Teyvat High equated to the library in Sumeru Academy, which is an incredible achievement in itself considering that Sumeru is quite widely known for its adept scholars.

“Mhm, I'll be there soon,” Keqing hummed, stacking her papers as she shifted to maneuver the phone properly between her ear and shoulder, “probably around.. 5:00PM, Is that okay?”

A few more, “yeah,” “okay, okay,” and she hangs up.

An apologetic huff left her lips, “sorry to cut this off, [Name]. Ganyu really needs help with her research paper. Something about.. economics, was it?”

You smiled, “it's fine. I need to go to the café anyway, I have a shift in 30 minutes.”

“Great!” She perked, “I'll get going then.”

“Make sure to tell Ganyu to read newspapers. It'll help!”

Keqing and Ganyu. The proficient duo in the campus; some speculate they're dating, but really, they're just great friends. You wouldn't be surprised if they started dating though. Ms. Ningguang would definitely approve of their relationship.

Sighing, you checked the time before starting to arrange the horrible amount of papers scattered, and god, I still have that maths assignment due on Saturday—which is—fuck! tomorrow? fucking tomorrow!? God, I'm gonna kill myself, I shouldn't have eaten lunch today and finished it at that time instead—

“Wow, you really do mumble.”

You flinched, head haphazardly turning to the source of noise and, what the fuck, is that Childe?

“What are you doing here, Mister..” you subtly squinted, digging through your Long Ass memory collection of titles you memorized out of boredom, “Tartaglia, eleventh of the Role Model Council.”

He rolled his eyes, making a hand slash face gesture of, ‘don't call me by that name, it sounds stupid,’ before pulling out a chair from one of the tables (one wherein Keqing just sat; you narrowed your eyes), “sit down, let's have a talk, shall we?”

Then, as the words flows out of his mouth, a sneaky—akin to that of a fucking fox—grin creeps over to his face, painting the planes of his face into a sharp, eerie image. And, what the fuck. A buzz courses through you; a fucking sign of bad omen.

Tick fucking tock.

‘What the fuck is about to happen to me.’

–

“O..kay, you're telling me,” you exasperatedly pinched your nose, “you want me to go on another date in exchange for another hang-out with the Asshole.”

The Ginger Freak—a title you dubbed to him fifteen minutes ago—beams, illusory cherry flowers blooming at the sides of his bright face, “absolutely! You won't mind coffee, right?”

You mustered up the most blank and deadpanned look you could manage; hopefully radiating waves of hopelessness and what-the-fuck-ness.

He doesn't understand. He doesn't understand how earth-shattering it was for you to bow to the shittiest Asshole in school and lick his boots.

Re: the hang-out was an enormous smack-in-the-ass for your dignity that it stood on equal footing to giving a damn feet-job of your fucking cousin or whatever. It also unlocked a few epiphanies that constantly buzzed in the outer corners of your mind as you studied.

Though, the biggest fat fucking elephant standing in the damn room right now (as wide as the fucking shelves which goes over 15 meters, by the way) is the question that you decide to voice out loud: “Do you actually like me, or are you just setting me and the—..me and Scaramouche up?”

The Ginger Freak tensed, shoulders subtly squaring as the corner of his lips twitched. If you hadn't paid attention, you would've missed it.

A pregnant air settled over the atmosphere, sending chills on your back as you flashed him your customary customer-service smile, “well?”

Another imperceptible twitch in the muscles of his biceps. Then, a ‘damn, you caught me!’ huff.

“Ugh, busted,” he pouted, the sight childish.

An amused snicker, “acting all sly like that differs from the hearsay I've heard from you, you know.”

“‘s that so?”

“Uh huh,” you nodded, raising a brow, “now spill, hurry up.”

The table rattled as he frantically stood up, inadvertently making noise and therefore attracting fucking noise, and holy shit, you're going to duct-fucking-tape this Ginger’s mout—,“another hang-out! Please!”

You blinked, appeasement slowly washing over your face, “okay?”

Another blink, this time, it comes from bright ocean eyes, “yes!”

“Okay, first, sit down,” amusement tugged at the end of your lips; he really did look like a golden retriever, “okay, good. Now, listen to me: why do you want us two to hang out so badly? I mean, it's really coming off.. weird, you know?”

“Is that what it's coming off as?” He inquired innocently, with the tilt and whatnot, “I assure you it's not like that. I'm just worried for him, you know? Pooks is usually left alone in his home, so he often comes over to mine or Furina’s. But nowadays, we've both been busy and the others can't exactly…”

“Give the space he needs?” You finished, ignoring the pet name he casually referred to the biggest Asshole on earth.

“Yep,” he cheerfully snaps his fingers, popping off the ‘p’.

“So, in other words, you want me to be his caretaker.”

“Not like that..”

“Don't give me that look—it sounds exactly like it.”

His cheeriness is as quick to fade as it appeared and he deflates like a balloon, an apologetic pout crawling over his features, “I'm sorry, I shouldn't have burdened you with this.”

…Cute. Gah! Wait, no!

Then, in a fit of Cuteness Crisis, you clumsily sputter out, “No! it's fine, I can totally hang out with the Asshole anytime he wants to! Or.. if you want to—wait, what the fuck am I sayin—”

And before you could even spiral about the careless slip, the table stupidly fucking rattles again, this time; with more noise and more annoyed ‘hushes’ resonating in the air as Childe, the Motherfucking Cute Dickhead, hushedly squeals in a boyishness you find endearing, “great! so great. oh my god, that's so awesome, dude! seriously, thank you!”

There's practically sparkles swimming in the gleams of those lit-up eyes and, fffuuuccckkk, he's so cute and hot, I'm going to fucking scream. Hopefully by the universe above, the infuriating heat that's burning the fat of your cheeks isn't as visible as you think they fucking are because that's really fucking embarrassing.

A fleeting three-minutes passed of shared laughs and giggles, before Childe concerningly pauses.

Keyword: concerningly because the Ginger Freak never pauses like Satan, himself, slurped the soul out of his body for fucking breakfast.

It's only a 3-second warning before a nuclear hits you in the fucking face, all the while shouting, ‘fucking bull’s eye, motherfucker!’ because—

“Wait, are you doing this because you like, like Scaramouche? Serious mode, this time.”

It's also a 3-second moment of stoically staring at him. Point dead in the fucking eye, because, what the fuck did he just say. No, scratch that. What he says next is probably even worse.

“Ah, wait, no. It's okay, I get it. The last hang-out was a date, right?” he smugly winks at the mention of the D-word, probably for another teaspoon of stress to boiling crimson.

And, god. How many insufferable accusations of you having a silly little crush over him will it take before you fucking explode? Because, right now, exactly in this goddamn moment is this one shitty hell of an accusation that is so close to crossing over the gateway to hell.

Deep breaths, one.. two.. three.. “Childe.”

“Hm?”

“Serious mode, as well—please stop convincing yourself that I like him. I truly really,” you grit out a smile, strained and so clipped, “really don't like him.”

A smirk, undeterred despite your seething frame, “well, serious mode too, then. I suggest at least befriending him, ya know? Even though he's an asshole most of the ti—okay fine, he is an asshole, entirely, jeez.. don't look at me like that..”

He sheepishly rubs the back of his neck, a genuine and fond smile tilting the slightest corner of his lips, “but you know, he's still kinda precious to me. If you get what I mean. I know I should've asked someone.. more compatible, but right now, what you two have... is like, more than just being compatible or close. It's something deeper and rare. And frankly, it’s the kind of connection most people spend their whole lives hoping to find, if you know what I mean?”

‘What you two have... is like, more than just being compatible or close. It's something deeper and rare. And frankly, it’s the kind of connection most people spend their whole lives hoping to find.’

Another of that fond, genuine smile as he leans back in his chair, the sound creaking, “we seriously thought that you were just some ordinary rival he’d piss off in a day and then ignore, back then, ya know? It was weird seeing him talk about you a week later when you told to..”

‘What you two have... is like, more than just being compatible or close. It's something deeper and rare. And frankly, it’s the kind of connection most people spend their whole lives hoping to find.’

“Ya know, what you said to him, and I quote, “I'll send your dismembered body to hell and back if you don't leave me the fuck alone. And he never really did leave you alone, did he?”

‘What you two have... is like, more than just being compatible or close. It's something deeper and rare. And frankly, it’s the kind of connection most people spend their whole lives hoping to find.’

Seriously, what the fuck is that supposed to mean!?

Disgust—or is it really?—burns the back of your throat, and an unusual wave of warmth slithers all the way from your neck to your throat. And, holy motherfuck, what is happening to me. The warmth that coursed through was not a blush. It definitely leaned more towards the side of embarrassment, shame and humiliation. Yeah, that's what it was. Nothing more, nothing less, stat.

An internal slap in the face was all it took to snap back to confusion swimming in the glimmer of ocean gaze and a vexatious smile that is probably about to part and ask, “are you okay?”

Yes, you are fucking peachy. Not okay, but fucking peachy.

It doesn't come, though—because the second his lips parted, the annoying fuckass ringtone you've grown accustomed to shrieks in the fucking library, out of all places, and it dawns on you then that you completely forgot to mute Phone Calls.

The two of you turn to the noise; one flinching and swerving head left to right to gawk at other patrons who're clearly pissed off by the numerous times they caused unnecessary noise, whereas the other.. the other is fucking dead.

One look at your phone and the bright, “insufferable asshole whom i shall not dare interact.”

Also, the little note on your fuckass alarm which helpfully wrote, “clean up the damn tables in case of piss” kindly reminded you that the shift you spoke of was merely.. an hour ago? or, was it forty-minutes ago? In other words, you're late. Again.

You scramble to snatch the phone from your bag, quickly pressing the ‘decline’ button before asking the Ginger Freak to help organize the fucking clutter on the table–which he hectically agrees to, and he effortlessly swoops it all, stacking them as the papers caused repetitive little ‘thump’ against laminated wood.

Ugh. Ginger Freak with freaky long arms.

All it takes is one glance, and ‘the 99+ notifications’ manages to catch your eye first. Then, the, “do you want to fucking die where the fuck are you I know you're out there somewhere” message from you-know-who comes second.

A dull ache from your temple.

Shoving back the Token of Bad Luck (phone) in your bag, you hastily took the stack of papers, offering a small smile of gratitude, “uh, I didn't get to say this, but erm—you don't have to come to the date. Just tell me about it beforehand. And, admittedly, I also.. want to befriend the Asshole, so.. you're just doing me a favour here, and I appreciate it.”

Favour. In the name of Scaramouche. God, who would've thought?

The Ginger Freak lit up like someone had shined a flashlight through his nostrils, before smugly replying with a wink for dramatic flair, “well, I'm still going on that date. I’d like to get to know someone as fine as you are.”

“Right,” you stood up with a sound in-between a chuckle and a snort, already heading towards the exit, “whatever you say, I'll see you then?”

He grins mischievously, “yeah, see ya, babe.”

Lazy sunlight stuttered through gaps of trees that lined the start of the entrance road, rendering the pavement of constant light and dark shapes. It truly painted a pretty picture, which reminded you that winter is fucking coming and so is the quiz bee and examination.

Speaking of the quiz bee, the Mathematics Department hasn't decided on any pairs yet, and you kind of wonder when the choosing of the pairings will be. A niggling and annoying goblin nags at your nerves; prancing around and constantly mentioning a certain grape-haired asshole.

The familiar Scaramouche-Induced-Migraine that swelled behind your eyes was another massive fuck you! from the universe.

A subtle twitch in the neurons of your brain as you reeled back all the way to Childe’s words; words being: ‘what you two have... is like, more than just being compatible or close. It's something deeper and rare. And frankly, it’s the kind of connection most people spend their whole lives hoping to find.’

What the fuck is that supposed to mean!? And, hey, listen. Your mind absolutely blanked the fuck out at the mention of you two being more than rivals, because. Come on, these types of things? Playing ‘pulling pigtails’ with the asshole you've never directly interacted at all before you two were sent on the same hellscape? Doing the relentless jabs at each other thinking it was all friendly (friendly, my feet)? That's casual rivals. Seriously.

Are you in-denial? Certainly the fuck not. In textbook terms, something more than rivals is most likely to be acquaintances, friends—hell, even lovers (yuck).

Acquaintances is out of the fucking list, because you do know the fucker and are begrudgingly close with the asshole. So is friends because—a friend requires mutual care, and you do not give two fucks, two shits if the asshole had his dick cut off during circumcision and is in grief about it.

And—lovers? Yeah, no, might as well shoot yourself.

A noise of breath left your nose; brows furrowing and whatnot, a bubbling frustration emerging from the pit of your stomach. Feelings are a pain-in-the-ass, that's for sure. And so, you shoved the noxious notions far up your ass, and locked the fucking door.

Soon enough, the sign that read, “Rosis Café” all worn and weary entered your line of sight. You snuck a glance through the arched windows; and there in his mighty benevolence, the Asshole’s flashing a motherfucking pretty smile to the elderly. It's quite horrible how poorly stifled the old lady’s resistance to his “charm”, really.

You snorted, already treading up the cramped staircase. The bells jingled, the warmed-colored light seeped through an ajar of the door until it fully opened with a creak; and there, you met eyes with pale purple, blinking and blinking.

A cursory thought of Scaramouche, the asshole, potentially being possessed by an angel flashed through your mind, before the idea immediately gets dunked.

The bells jingled, gaze broken, as the door quietly shut. Few patrons you knew well greeted you with enthusiasm and light jest, and you persisted to ignore the little asshole’s gaze drilling to your frame all the while responding to said enthusiasm and light jest with reciprocity, until you reached the corridors, and then, the staff room.

The worn-out lock clicked, and a resigned sigh left your lips; body already slumping to the small bench as your bag slipped through your shoulders, dropping with a thump. And this. This is why being late fucking sucks.

Snapping away from your thoughts, you scurried to change out of your clothes, reaching for the work clothes. Then, out of the blue, a thrilling thought dawned on you; you could play the speakers now. Lightly grinning, you quickly changed, before making way to the shabby laptop tucked all the way in the corner.

Your grandmother had planned initially to buy a new one, but since the model of said shabby laptop could handle bluetooth and the necessities to handle a speaker, she shrugged the idea off. Begrudgingly, that is. She really wanted a new laptop.

(Cue your perfect idea for a Beloved Christmas Gift. Your leather wallet honestly feels really loaded with all the coins you saved up since nearly a week ago.)

The screen brightened to life, and you made swift work to connecting with the speakers and opening the playlist you had sent; albeit a bit slow, but boo fucking hoo, it's all you have and you can't really complain.

Not long, the speakers immediately made a noise; something akin to a radio glitching. Then, the familiar cadence of a male’s voice slithered through, and instantly, your mood sparked at the recognition.

Jeff buckley. Dream of you and I. An underrated classic, often overshadowed by his “Grace” album; which said album also managed to win a spot in the Rolling Stones list. It was an amazing time of music, your grandmother quoted. Either way, your personal favourite from Jeff Buckley had to be this song, and it's truly been a while since you've listened to it.

A smile tugged at your lips, nostalgic and all the sappy soft shit, then you stood up; reaching for the doorknob as it made a ‘click’ sound once again. Mild cinnamon and caffeine curled through the air, scent so thick that the taste of it lingered on the taste buds of your tongue like bees.

As you passed the corridor, a flick of a tongue resonated.

“Look who finally came. You're an hour late, by the way.”

Not for the first time, your eye twitched, “shut up, I got held up.”

A long, thoughtful look, before he strides over to you, immediately closing the distance and warmth rushes through your cheeks—then, a flick of the wrist and a sharp pain bloomed on the vast space of your forehead, “that's for being late, and for calling The Ginger Grinch hot.”

Your hand found itself hovering over the pain, as if it would offer consolation, “he is hot!”

Another tedious, agonizing look, “hot, my ass. That guy jerks off to sonadow.”

Oh. How morbid. Doesn't change the fact that the guy is hot, though. So, really, what the hell is his point?

Notable silence lingered, before another click of a tongue ushered you to the counter, all the while rubbing at the pain in hopes of easing the sharpness of it. Damn that asshole. You hope he crashes his Porsche sometime soon.

Ere long, the speakers played, “Easy lover by Philip Bailey”. And you hummed along the lines of the tune, sentimental and utterly oblivious of ivy fuckeyes looming over your form.

–

It's 6:00PM when the dark hours of nighttime seeps through the windows, and you take it as your cue to bring light to the entryway of the café. It's also 6:00PM when the last of the bustling customers walk out of the building with a satisfied glee to their face.

“You have dinner?” He mindedly asks, attention already drifting as he pops the portafilter to the holder. The sound of beep, beep chorusing in the empty café.

“Nope.” As usual. What's new, really.

Rolling his eyes, he flaccidly leans back into the counter sideways, both eyes now set on you, “of course. What do you want, onigiri or sushi?”

The fuck does he mean “of course”? Does he want to get kicked in the crotch, or something? And, no fucking way are you letting him buy you food again. You owe him nothing.

You sent him a glance, hopefully full of virulence and deadpan, “shut up, I can take care of myself just fine. Besides, I already went and grabbed food.. on the way here.”

“You do know that's called a fucking snack, right? Not dinner?”

“I still ate,” you retort, subtly pointing with your brow at the cheesecake category, “and it was.. barely five hours ago, I'll be fine.”

A grunt, an extremely irritated one, “that's called lunch, you fucking idiot.”

“Still—”

“No, shut up,” he clicks off the portafilter, swirling the cup as he effortlessly does a small heart on the Latte, “you're eating fuckass onigiri.”

Eyeing him, a frown twisted your face, utterly confused because why the fuck does he keep buying me food, “ugh, how much do I pay you?”

“Zero.''

“Shut your trap, how much?”

“I said, zero. Take it, or shove it up your ass. I don't care.”

“You're so crass,” you say, eyeing him as he throws the onigiri.

He flashes you a pseudo smile, “it's my charm. Now sit pretty, and eat there. It's our break, you damn fruitcake.”

Oh. Yeah, break. You haven't even noticed.

Circling around the counter, you pulled out a chair at one of the tables, and you sat on it like a Turk. For brief minutes, nothing was exchanged between the two of you, and god, numerous of obnoxious ideas in starting the conversation with—hey, you asshole, why'd you tie my shoes to the chair earlier—or—i told keqing i was late because of you, by the way— or—you shithole, what happened to you when i called you sweetheart—or—did you know childe thinks we're much more than just rivals—swam through your head, but all of them instantly melted at the fury that rose to your nerves at the thought of telling the former to the Asshole.

Fucking hell, you thought as you bit into the rice situated on your palms, why the fuck is it so awkward? why is he not talking. do I have to talk? I don't want to, though. Makes me look.. fucking needy, or whatever. Ugh, I still have to ask him to hang-out, but it's fucking night-time already. Should I just kill myself—

“Stop mumbling, you freak,” he snorts, the sound harsh and sharp.

At his remark, you discreetly diverted your gaze at the Asshole, who's currently perched in making fucking coffees or whatever, and absentmindedly wondered if someone shat on his breakfast. Probably seems to be the case though, considering how uptight he is right now.

‘Heh. Reminds me a lot of when he first arrived here. When was that? A month ago? Two months? God.’

“Fucking stingy asshole, yet he gives so many fucking onigiris like I'm some charity nutcase,” you inaudibly muttered with a frown, eyes roaming until all you could see was the damn tiled floor, “what the hell is up with him?”

–

The Fawkward Break passes by uneventfully. No words were exchanged, because being a Certified Pussy Conversationalist is a propensity you feel proud of having. And so, you continue your remaining shift in the staff room, because everyone is out in restaurants with proper foods and meals. And. Well. Take one guess and one look at what kind of an establishment you work at.

Mindlessly, you scrolled through the playlist, hopelessly torn between choosing, “(I Just) died in your arms,” or “What’s love got to do with it?”

Both are admittedly good to their bourne. And that's precisely why you're having a hard time. You pull at your bottom lip, squinting and squinting at the album covers, nitpicking all the colors within it as if that fucking helps.

Eventually, you tentatively decide on the former, and the male singer’s voice stretches as he sings out. Humming a satisfied noise, your feet leads you to the counter, only to find absolutely no customers in sight and for fuck’s sake, you're alone with him. Awesome shit.

The universe really does fucking hate you.

‘Oh I, I just died in your arms tonight It must've been something you said I just died in your arms tonight.’

“Did you know that dying is often used as like, a fucking euphemism for orgasm?”

A slow blink and frigid movement, startled by the sudden chance of conversation, “...um, uh, yeah? I mean, he was having sex with his girlfriend in this song, after all.”

You actually don't remember. Was it his girlfriend? or wife? Gulping, you swiftly passed by him, hoping by gods that he did not notice the quickening in your pace as you unceremoniously (or at least you tried) flopped on a beanbag.

His lips pursed into a thoughtful line, “there was.. a controversial theory circling around this guy, you know? Like some shit about him fucking a school girl, or whatever.”

What. You've never even heard about that, “what?”

“Yeah, fuckmunch,” a snicker, “a lot of the lyrics implies a shit ton of metaphors that involve children in it. And the dumbfucks in the 1980s thought that, “oh! fucking pedo that singer is!””

There's enthusiasm that's so distinguishable in the way the lilt of his voice rises just a tiny tad bit, and a fucking dangerous thought—that has completely nothing to do with how fucking cute the motherfucker’s voice is—crosses the roads of Dignity and Pride. Which is a whole level of fucking bad, and your brain fucking squeaks in motherfucking internal alert.

“Which is fuckin’ hilarious, by the way. But moving on, a lot of the lyrics actually suggested or implied him being guilty of having sex with a kid. Like, listen here–”

Listen to what? The fucking blarings in your brain, or the kicking of your rapid heartbeat beating the fuck out of your poor ribcage? Both of the options makes you wanna kill yourself. So, really, listen to what?

Scaramouche continues with boastful fervor–an actual! fucking! sincere! smile! on his! fucking! face!–and you burn toe-to-head, “and, then–a bunch of fuckassers decided that–[Name]? Are you fucking listening to me, or are you—are you imagining ten ways to fuck this portafilter to shitty Sunday, or something? Stop staring at me like I grew a dick from my mouth and say something, dipshit.”

Upon the second he uttered those words, dread quickly ran over you like a big fat ass truck, chasing away the fluttery bullshit haunting your ass prior, “shut up. That doesn't even make sense. Wouldn't that just mean you're doing a burgeoning blow job?”

“Burgeoning—are you fucking serious,” Absolutely, you want to say, but he, on the other hand, doesn't seem to be serious, considering the Asshole looks near constipated trying to stifle the amusement between his lips. Your heart slightly skips amidst its dying pace.

Sighing in a ‘done with your shit’ way, you narrowed your eyes suspiciously, “I will never get why you find dick jokes funny.”

Then, unbothered by the change of topic, he raises a brow, “yet you make one just as easily and effortlessly. ‘Sides the whole thing is just a damn spongy tissue, anyway. It's not like it's something so vile or vicious.”

“Yeah, sure,” you rolled your eyes, averting your gaze away from the shit-eating Asshole, “but once that thing gets near me, I'm cutting it off, and feeding it to the cats.”

A scoff, “Speaking of cats, remember the cat I stole from here a month and a half ago?”

Oh, right.

Shifting from your seat, a hum of curiosity and an affirmative invitation for him to talk left your lips.

“I have a name for her now. Went to get her to the vet a week ago, and she doesn't have any fucking diseases sucking her ass.

Your lips formed an appease ‘o’ and an inaudible, “that's nice” and he mischievously continued, leaning into the outer counter, laid-back and all that, “I'm naming her Missile Launcher Three Thousand One o’one.”

Missile Launcher Three Thousand One o’.. what?

“What did you just say?”

“Missile Launcher 3000-101; and her nickname? Missy.”

“What.. what is that name. Like, seriously,” you ghastly levelled the Asshole with the most disgruntled expression you could muster, “what is wrong with you.”

“Fuck off, you don't get to bash the name. You didn't even listen to my wonderful fucking rant about the Pedo Cutting Crew Theory.”

“...I'm sleepy, okay? Exams are coming,” it's not exactly wrong, but it's not entirely the reason why you've been drifting on and off.

A roll of his eyes, unconvinced, which—okay, reasonable, when have you ever let an excuse like that deter your focus? You indignantly huff, brows furrowing and determined to make your point, “hey, it is true! Maybe, it could be because your conspiracy theory is just so boring that it makes me yawn, you know?”

“Haah? It's not even my theory and I just wanted to—fucking, I don't know, share? Tch, fuck off. Whatever.”

A snort, “and for wh—”

Oh. Wait, is that why..

You deliberately shove down the fluttery pressure building in the guts of your chest.

“What true and profound conversational extraordinaire you are, huh?”

“..As if you're any better, choke on piss, fruitcake.”

You mildly scoff, this time leaning more towards the side of amusement, “at least I don't name my cat after literal bombs or jets. Who the hell names their cat like that?”

“Someone who can rub their two brain cells together, and you know who that fucking is?” He swiftly points a finger to himself, “me, of course, unlike your flimsy ass.”

Resisting the urge to shove a middle finger up his face, you rolled your eyes, leering all the while, “so cocky. No one would ever guess that a hotshot like you are would be so damn crass. I should ask for an autograph sometime, and maybe sell it to your future fans so I can get an extra 10 dollars and some shit.”

Scaramouche simply smirked smugly, “well this hotshot over here has great music taste.”

“What—”

“I'm changing the playlist, by the way. Guide me tomorrow on how to use the old ass laptop,” he flashed a smug look (eerily familiar except this one is tainted with all its vainglory), as he glanced to the right, precisely at the direction of the door, “80s songs in cafés are way too overrated anyway.”

Your eye shakily twitched at the remark, the Good Ol’ Scaramouche-Induced-Migraine sinking its teeth into the hypothalamus of your brain.

What the fuck is that supposed to fucking mean? Fucking overrated? In cafés? Is he calling your music taste.. bland? boring!?

Is he fucking serious?

You furiously rose up from your seat, mouth ajar to fucking argue because there's no fucking way is he calling your music taste bland when 80s songs are quite literally the Music of all time and—

“Welcome!”

Then, as if on fucking cue—a dazzling mother and her two kids enter the café with giddy smiles; excitement and the joy of childish wonder ebbing through the little skips of feet. The Asshole gracefully stood behind the counter, an easygoing pseudo-grin plastered on the shitty asshole’s doll-like face.

And, here you are in the scene; fists clenched, eyes bloodshot—with how fast the curious shine within the eyes of the children instantly drained out from their petite bodies the second they met your eyes—probably, body in a fighting stance, hair disheveled, expression bloody and borderline murderous, and a mind ready to gobble a whole fucking person.

“Mommy! A scary monster!”

“O-oh, I'm so sorry! Hush, dear!”

Fucking hell.

───────────────────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆───────────────────

|| previous episode - next episode. ||

───〃★tunes of your heartbeat masterlist

synopsis: in which your fate somehow gets entangled into a messy jumble between punk music in cozy cafés, intense rivalry, cherished yakults, parallelograms and quantum physics, competitions in contests and rainy days. or in other words; the universe seems to fucking hate your guts for whatever reason and decided to curse your love life with your awful crass emo twink-a-fuck rival. the question is; did the curse work?

taglist (50/50): @toekissers , @raineyun @localscarasimp , @potteraep , @shutingstar , @feiherp , @scaraenthusiast1 @dazqa , @wraithisd3adinside , @x-hihihi-x , @court-jester-stuff , @automaticpatroltragedy , @lalalaloveallmydays , @trulyylee , @jayzioxx , @featuredtofu @kazemiya @help-whatdoimakemyusername , @skyoverkill1 @phoenix-eclipses , @anqelkoz , @miyakomari @saechiro @franaby , @swivi , @vixialuvs , @heusalettle @kunikissr @yomishen @mywillt0live , @baldrapunzel @jiminscarmex @sushitushi, @liuaneee , @shynsgore , @mechanicalbeat1 , @marivaudages , @okukura , @azzumei @lucid1tty @iloveescara @usagiarchive @kyouzki @theunhingedmf @kangyeonie @mi2ukiss @bubblebellaz @eternallykira-143 @lumiicch

• featured song - kiss me now by pierce the veil

• notes - WOO NEW PTV SONG IM GOING TO KILL MYSELF

authors' notes - i was reading jane eyre (a classic book) while writing this and you know what? my brain is so damn fried because wdym you can fit so many fucking sentences in a fucking preposition or conjunction (i think u can tell where my motivation sparked in this chapter LMAO inconsistent, i know, but who gaf this is fanfiction).

p.s - next update might take a while because writing is a bitch that loves its victims and i unfortunately am one of those victims

(ask to be added or removed)

[solarmorrigan]

I'm late, I'm sorry, but here's the full fic from this WIP post yesterday!

[CW: bullying, references to canon racism and violence, mentions of recreational drug use]

-

Steve makes it to the bathroom down the hall from the shop classroom—the one that’s far from the cafeteria and always empty during lunch, where people really only come to smoke, anyway—before he completely loses his shit.

“Son of a bitch!” He’s almost screaming as he hauls off and punches the wall of one of the bathroom stalls, putting every ounce of anger and frustration and humiliation into it, hitting it so hard that the whole construction rattles.

“Motherfucker,” he hisses, shaking his hand out, because it had hurt, and then he winds up to do it again, to make it hurt more, because at least he’s in control of that much, at least it’s anything but what he’s feeling right now.

“That’s a good way to break your hand, y’know,” a voice comes from the doorway, startling Steve into pivoting and aiming his fist at whoever is coming after him now.

He stops short when he sees nobody but Eddie goddamn Munson standing there, cringing into a startled flinch to protect his head as Steve nearly swings at him.

“Jesus shit,” Steve barks, dropping his fist and stepping back, shaky with adrenaline. “You walk like a fucking ghost, Munson.”

Munson peeks out of his defensive crouch before straightening up and sending a meaningful glance at the stall wall. “Somehow, I don’t think you would’ve heard me even if I was making all the noise in the world.”

Steve shrugs, his shoulders staying up near his ears in a defensive slouch. He can feel something dropping out of his hair and down the side of his face, and he feels the humiliation all over again as he tries to swipe it away.

“What do you want?” he asks, beyond caring if he sounds rude; he thinks he’s entitled, considering.

This time, Munson shrugs, a rolling, casual thing that belies the sharp look in his eyes. “Came to see if you were okay, I guess.”

Steve snorts. Is he okay?

Like, in the grand scheme of things, the answer is a really shaky “maybe.” But lately? It’s more of a resounding “no, not fucking really.”

Aside from everything else – aside from the nightmares, aside from the headaches, aside from the fact he’d had to drop basketball after his concussion, aside from having no real friends or allies at school now that he and Nancy aren’t together – aside from all that, there’s Billy fucking Hargrove.

Hargrove, who had taken all of a month to start pushing Steve’s buttons again. Who had taken less than a few days after that to realize that Steve wasn’t going to push back.

And then he’d started looking for the boundary line, pushing and pushing, shoulder-checking Steve in the hall, tripping him in the single class they share, knocking shit out of his hands, shoving him when his back is turned, all the while spitting names and insults, until it had culminated into today’s fiasco: dumping a carton of chocolate milk over the top of Steve’s head in the middle of the cafeteria with a deeply unconvincing “oops.”

It had gone dead silent, every eye in the room on Steve’s red face and Hargrove’s triumphant grin, while Steve had only been able to stand there, shaking with startled rage as milk had sluiced out of his hair and seeped into his collar and down the back of his shirt, knowing that he couldn’t retaliate.

He couldn’t.

He’d marched out of the cafeteria, shame and anger growing as voices had bloomed up behind him, already gossiping and speculating.

So, no, actually, he’s not really okay.

But instead of saying any of this to Munson, he just scoffs and turns away, looking towards the sinks.

“Wouldn’t have expected you to care,” he says, injecting as much lazy indifference into his voice as he can, trying to armor up the way he used to. “The number of speeches you’ve given about how much me and my group suck, I’d have figured you’d be the first to say I deserved it.”

Munson doesn’t say anything for a moment, and Steve doesn’t look back to see if the barb landed. He doesn’t really care, he just wants the guy to go away so Steve can finish his meltdown and clean up in peace.

“Not your group anymore, though,” Munson finally says.

Steve shrugs, pulling a wad of paper towels from the dispenser; might as well move on to cleanup if Munson isn’t going to fuck off. He guesses his little breakdown can wait until he gets home.

“Hasn’t been for over a year, now, right?” Munson goes on. Steve says nothing, using a dry paper towel to try to blot up the mess. “And whatever you were like then, you’re… less like that now. Like, anyone paying attention can see you’re kinda trying something new this year.”

Steve ignores the way that makes something catch in his throat. “Thanks for the endorsement,” he drawls. “I’ll put it on my college apps: Not as much of an asshole as I used to be.”

“It’s a start,” Munson says, and Steve glances up in time to see him shrug in the mirror.

“I guess,” Steve mutters.

“And, uh – hey, I grabbed your stuff,” Munson says, holding up the binder and notebooks that Steve’s attention had glossed over until now. “Some of it’s kinda… milky, sorry.”

Steve blinks. “Uh. Thank you,” he says, stunned for a moment into sincerity.

Munson shrugs again, putting Steve’s stuff up on the narrow shelf on the wall that no one ever uses to hold things because it’s probably never been cleaned. Not like Steve’s stuff is clean now, anyway.

Steve turns back to the sink, wetting a few of the paper towels and waiting to see if Munson is going to leave now.

“What I can’t figure out–” nope, apparently he’s staying, “–is why you’re in here punching the wall, instead of out there, punching Hargrove.”

At least that makes more sense; he’s here out of curiosity, not concern.

“I mean, most people would’ve hit him for that,” Munson goes on. “I would’ve.”

But Steve’s already shaking his head before Munson’s finished speaking. “Not worth it,” he says firmly.

“What, afraid of a little suspension?” Munson asks, almost teasing. “Pretty sure the school would let their golden boy off with a slap on the wrist.”

“Not anybody’s golden boy anymore,” Steve snaps, scrubbing a wet paper towel through his hair in a vain attempt to get some of the rapidly-drying milk out. “I dropped basketball, remember? Didn’t even go in for swimming this year.”

“Oh, yeah,” Munson says, like he’d genuinely forgotten. “Sorry, not really into the whole… sports scene. Like, at all.”

Steve shrugs. “Whatever. Not important. I don’t give a shit about being suspended. I don’t even care if he hits me back. Not like I need another knock to the head at this point, but – whatever.” Steve shakes his head. “It’s just that he could– there are other things he could do.”

In the mirror, Munson’s eyebrows go up. “What, does he have blackmail on you or some shit?”

Steve raises his brows right back. “If he did, do you really think I’d tell you?”

Munson tips his head to the side. “Yeah, okay, fair enough.”

“Anyway, he doesn’t have blackmail, he has… leverage, I guess.” Steve lets out a harsh sigh and gives up on his hair for now, wetting a paper towel to try to get some of the milk off his face and neck, instead.

“…are you allowed to tell me what that is?” Munson asks after a moment.

And for a moment, Steve thinks about it. The only people in school who really know are Nancy and Jonathan, and he’s asked them to follow his lead in just – not talking about it. He hasn’t told anybody any version of what happened in the Byers’ house, or why Billy seems to have made him his personal stress ball. But who the hell would Munson tell? All his nerdy friends in his game club?

(No, no, that’s not fair. Steve doesn’t even know those people, and he’s trying not to be that guy anymore. He doesn’t have to be nice, but he shouldn’t be unkind.)

(The point stands, though – who would Munson even tell?)

“Do you know why Hargrove beat my face in back in November?” Steve finally asks, avoiding Munson’s eyes in the mirror by focusing very hard on getting the tacky milk off his hairline.

“Well, I’ve heard most of the rumors by now, I think. Heard Hargrove’s version of events, as has pretty much everyone, I’m sure. Haven’t heard yours, though,” Munson says, his voice tilting up in interest. “I just figured it was because he hated you.”

Steve lets out a humorless laugh. “Yeah, well, you’re not wrong. But also…” He pauses for a moment, collecting his thoughts. “There are these kids I babysit. Sort of.”

“Sort of?” Munson presses.

“Well, most of the time it feels like they’re just ordering me around like a bunch of entitled shitheads. But I make sure they get where they’re going without, like, disappearing, and that they don’t have so much unsupervised time that they manage to get themselves killed,” Steve admits.

“Uh huh,” Munson says; he sounds… a little confused, but not disbelieving. “And you ended up with this gig, how?”

“It’s Nancy’s little brother, and his little nerd friends,” Steve says (he’s allowed to call them nerds because he knows them, and it’s true. And besides, it’s affectionate).

“Aaand you’re still doing it now? Even though you and Wheeler aren’t…”

Steve shrugs. “They grew on me. But that’s– that’s not the point. One of the kids is, uh. Hargrove’s stepsister. And the night me and Hargrove got into it, I guess she wasn’t supposed to be out.”

“Ah,” Munson says.

“Yeah.” Steve sighs, giving up on the milk as a bad job; he probably should’ve run off to the gym showers instead of a shitty bathroom. He turns and leans back against the sink, crossing his arms over his chest and staring at the floor near Munson’s scuffed sneakers. “So he came looking for her.”

“So… Not that I’m advocating handing over children to pieces of shit like him, but – like, wouldn’t it have been the technically correct thing to do, to send her home with what is legally a family member?” Munson asks.

Steve passes a hand over his face. “She was terrified,” he says quietly, feeling a little like he’s betraying Max’s trust by saying it out loud, by saying it to a stranger. “She was terrified of what he would do if he found her there, where she wasn’t supposed to be. Terrified of what he would do to one of the other kids if he caught them together, since he’d specifically warned her to stay away from him.”

“What’s wrong with this other kid?” Munson asks, brows furrowed.

“Nothing,” Steve bites out. “He’s smart, and he’s brave, and he’s, like, slightly less of an asshole than some of the others, but what Hargrove cared about is that he’s black.”

“You’re fucking kidding me,” Munson snaps, and Steve’s hackles raise, ready to defend his kid all over again if he has to, but before he can get anything else out, Munson goes on. “We already knew he was a racist piece of shit, but – a fucking kid?”

Steve subsides. “Yeah. A fucking kid. So I told them all to stay inside and I went out to try to head him off. Or at least keep him out of the house. Which, obviously, I failed at.” He lets out a derisive little laugh, aimed solely at himself. “He knocked me on my ass, knocked the wind out of me, got past me– and by the time I was able to get up, he was already– he was inside, and he had that kid by the collar, up against the wall– one of my fucking kids–” Steve breaks off, the same rage and terror from that night choking up in his throat again. After the day he’s had, his emotions are all too close to the surface, too near to bubbling out, and he rubs at his nose, trying to stave off the angry, exhausted tears he can feel pricking at the corners of his eyes. “So I decked him.”

“Good!” Munson exclaims, and for a moment Steve actually manages a real smile.

“Yeah,” he says. “Then he hit me back, which, like, obviously. I was expecting him to, but– I mean, I might’ve actually won that fight if the fucker hadn’t hit me in the head with a plate.”

The expression that crosses Munson’s face is almost comically shocked. “What?”

“Yeah,” Steve says again, running a hand over his jaw, thumbing almost unconsciously at the still-fading scar where the porcelain had sliced him open. “I’m a little fuzzy on shit after that. Like, I remember being on the floor, and him kneeling over me, and hitting me, and hitting me, and then– I dunno, nothing.”

Distantly, Steve realizes that the expression on Munson’s face has turned from ‘comically shocked’ to ‘mildly horrified,’ but he’s a little too lost in the blurry memory of that night to do much about it.

“Holy shit, how are you not dead?” Munson blurts out.

He looks like he immediately regrets asking, but Steve finds he’s actually grateful for the question. He’s glad to move the conversation along.

“Max.” He smirks over at Eddie. “Hargrove’s stepsister. I guess she, uh– threatened him with a baseball bat? Saved my ass.”

That’s a deep over-simplification, but Steve can’t think of a way to explain the presence of heavy sedatives in the Byers’ house, and, anyway, she had threatened him with a baseball bat. The kids had all taken great joy in reenacting the way Max had nearly neutered Hargrove with the nailbat, actually; it’s almost like Steve had been there (and conscious).

“Holy shit,” Munson says, and whichever part he’s referring to, Steve is inclined to agree.

“Yep. So I was out fucking cold at the time, but the kids all insist that she got him to agree to leave her and her friends alone, but…” Steve shakes his head. “Hargrove is a fucking psychopath. I don’t trust him to keep that promise. So, at least if he’s focused on me, he might leave her alone. But if I hit back…”

“You think he’ll retaliate by going after one of your kids,” Munson says, only a hint of teasing in his words at the end.

“I know he will,” Steve says; Hargrove had implied as much more than once. He crosses his arms back over his chest. “And they are my kids.”

Munson throws his hands up, as if in surrender, but he’s definitely smiling now.

“I’m serious,” Steve insists, close to smiling himself. “They think I’m stuck with them, but they’re the ones stuck with me.”

“Lucky them,” Munson says, and– what?

“What?” Steve asks.

“Look, you’re either a better actor than, like, everyone in the drama club, or you at least seriously believe what you told me, which is more than I can say for Hargrove and whatever shit he came up with about the two of you getting into it over… what, his car was better than yours? He’s better at laundry ball? I don’t fucking remember, and it doesn’t really matter, because it was clearly and pathetically fabricated,” Munson says with an authoritative nod. “You, at the very least, really give a shit about those kids. So, yeah. Lucky them.”

“Well,” Steve scrambles for a moment, trying to cover the way he actually feels like he might start fucking blushing, “if I’d known all I had to do to change your mind about me was tell you about a fight I lost, I’d have done it ages ago.”

And now Munson’s back to smirking at him. “Seeking my esteem that badly, Harrington?”

“What? No. I mean – not– not specifically yours, it’s just… like, there’s not really an easy or fast way to make up for being kind of a dick for the last… while.” Steve runs his hand through his hair, stopping with a grimace when he remembers the drying milk. “You just have to keep not being a dick and hope people give you a chance. So, like, compared to that, convincing you was easy.”

“And all you had to do was get a severe concussion first,” Munson drawls.

Steve rolls his eyes. “I didn’t say it was severe.”

“You got hit with a plate,” Munson deadpans, and Steve can’t quite help the resulting flinch, at which Munson almost immediately softens. “Sorry.”

Steve shakes his head. “It’s fine.”

Mouth screwed to the side, Munson eyes Steve for a moment, glancing over his shirt and up to his face before gesturing at him. “You want some help with that?”

Steve blinks at him. “What?”

“Your whole… hair situation. You could bend ov– like, you could lean over the sink and I could, uh. Try to rinse it for you. Or whatever,” Munson offers, awkward but apparently sincere.

It sounds like a stupid as hell way to try to rinse his hair. The sinks are small, and not exactly high off the ground; Steve would have better luck just going to the locker room and showering it all out. His soap is there, too, and an extra shirt.

On the other hand, Steve really doesn’t feel like leaving the bathroom yet. He’s pretty sure lunch is going to end soon, and encountering everyone during passing period sounds like a nightmare. In here, with Munson, it’s quiet. It feels almost safe.

“Yeah, sure,” Steve finally says, and Munson looks nearly shocked that he’s accepted.

Credit to him, though: he doesn’t back out. He just slides his jacket off, tosses it up over the wall of one of the bathroom stalls, rolls up his sleeves, and gestures for Steve to lean over the sink.

“Hot or cold?” he asks, going for the taps.

“Hot,” Steve answers immediately; he doesn’t need any other cold liquid on his head today.

“Hm.”

“What?”

“Nothing,” Munson says airily, turning on the water. “You just kinda strike me as a cold shower guy. Like, up at dawn, go for a run, take a cold shower – all that weird jock shit.”

It isn’t intended to mock, Steve realizes as Munson tests the water temperature—the school pipes take forever to heat up—but to tease. It’s a joke, and Steve is invited in on it. And anyway, it’s… actually kind of close to the mark, so Steve doesn’t say anything at all for a moment as he puts his head as close to the faucet as he can get it and Munson places one cupped hand over the back of his neck and uses the other to scoop water over Steve’s hair.

“Cold water is better for your hair. Not that you’d know anything about that.” Steve finally says, hoping that his own teasing tone carries even with the way he has to raise his voice to be heard over the running water.

Luckily, Munson sounds amused when he answers. “Oh! Shots fucking fired. I see how it is!” Even as he’s pretending at being offended, his fingers stay gentle against Steve’s scalp as he tries to scrub out the dried mess, and Steve fights very, very hard not to shudder.

He can’t remember when the last time someone touched him with gentle intent was. Maybe he’d gotten a hug from Dustin last week?

Shit, that’s fucking pathetic.

He tries even harder not to lean into the touch, into the surprisingly kind hands on the back of his neck and on his scalp, tries hard not to act like some kind of touch-starved weirdo and make Munson regret offering to help.

The irony of the fact that Steve is trying not to act like a freak in front of Eddie Munson is not lost on him.

After another couple of minutes of Munson manipulating Steve’s head this way and that, doing his best to be thorough, he lets Steve go entirely and shuts the water off.

“That’s probably as good as I’m gonna be able to get it,” he says, pushing another handful of paper towels at Steve as he stands up.

“Better than I could’ve done here,” Steve says with a shrug, rubbing the paper towels over his hair and grimacing as he can feel it frizzing in about a hundred different directions.

When he finishes, he turns to look in the mirror, watching in real time as it droops over his forehead and tickles at his wet shirt collar. Munson stands next to him, watching without judgement, but with what feels like an inappropriate amount of fascination.

“Well, I’m not going to lie to you,” Munson says at last, “you look a little like a sad, wet dog.”

Steve’s eyes snap to Munson with a glare. “Gee, thanks.”

“Some people are into that!” Munson insists, holding his hands up placatingly. “That droopy aesthetic, with the big, brown puppy eyes. Someone might just wanna scoop you up and take you home to take care of you. It’s a thing.”

Do you want to? – the question comes immediately and unbidden to Steve’s head, and he quickly shakes it away. They might be on amiable terms right now, teasing each other a little, but he isn’t sure that wouldn’t be a bridge too far.

(He isn’t even sure it is teasing. For a moment, he’d had the genuine urge to ask.)

“Anyway, I think most of the mess is out of your hair, but I’m pretty sure your shirt is toast,” Munson goes on, gesturing to the brown stain around the collar, over one shoulder, and probably down the back.

If he’d been wearing a darker color today, it might’ve been alright, but of course today he’d chosen light blue. Steve sighs, plucking at the front of the shirt. If he can’t salvage it, he might as well ditch it; it’s getting uncomfortably stiff and tacky with the dried milk, and he’d honestly rather stick it out in his undershirt for as long as it takes him to get to the locker room than walk around with evidence of Hargrove’s little stunt all over him.

He untucks the shirt and yanks it over his head, no need to be careful of his hair, emerging from the depths of it to find Munson staring at him in a stunned sort of silence.

“What?” Steve asks. “If it’s wrecked, anyway, I might as well get rid of it. I’ve got a spare shirt in my gym locker I can go grab.”

Munson blinks at him, almost like he’s trying to clear his head. “Or!” he practically shouts – possibly louder than he meant to, since he continues more quietly, “Or, you could just ditch for the rest of the day. I mean, you have any particularly interesting classes after lunch you feel the need to attend?”

“Not really,” Steve admits with a huff of a laugh. “But leaving after that feels a little like– letting Hargrove win. Like I’m retreating or some shit.”

“Nah, don’t think of it like that.” Munson tosses an arm over Steve shoulders, waving his other in front of both of them, like he’s trying to show Steve a grand vision and they aren’t both just staring at the ugly tile on the bathroom wall. “Think of it as cutting class and getting free weed from Hawkins High’s most esteemed dealer.”

Steve turns to look at Munson, staring at him more closely than he’s ever had reason to, and realizing there are tiny freckles on his face. “What, seriously?”

“Sure.” Munson shrugs. “Lemme smoke you out, Harrington. Seems like a good way to let your stress go for a bit – though I am just a little biased.”

“Why?” Steve asks; he doesn’t understand the sudden turn this day has taken, the sudden and bizarre kindness offered that he doesn’t even know what he’s done to deserve.

Munson’s eyes slide away from Steve, though his arm notably stays draped over his shoulders. “Been where you are. It’s not great. And, I mean, if it had happened last year, then, admittedly, I probably wouldn’t have given as much of a shit. Jock on jock violence, whatever. But you,” he glances back at Steve, “you’re genuinely trying to be, like, a good person. And I don’t think you should be punished for that. I think, in fact, that you could probably use a friend.”

“I…” The words stick in Steve’s throat, because what the hell can he even say to that? On anyone else, Steve would have assumed an ulterior motive, but Munson had infused it with so much awkward sincerity that Steve can’t help but realize it’s probably the nicest thing anyone’s said or offered to do for him in… he’s not even sure how long.

His silence must stretch on a little too long, though, because the hopeful light in Munson’s eyes fades a bit, and he begins to slide his arm off of Steve’s shoulder. “Or, y’know, you can tell me to fuck off, because I’m, like, way overstepping some boundaries, and–”

“We should go to my place,” Steve blurts, while grabbing Munson’s wrist for some insane reason.

“What?” Munson blinks over at him, (understandably) startled.

“My place. We should go there to smoke. If you still want to.” Steve could cringe for how stilted the whole thing is coming out. “I want to be able to take a real shower.”

Munson stares at him for a moment longer before laying a hand over his heart with a gasp, suddenly leaning heavily into Steve’s side and forcing Steve to wrap an arm around his waist so they don’t both lose their balance.

“I see how it is!” Munson gasps dramatically. “My sink shower just wasn’t good enough!”

Steve holds in a laugh. “Your sink shower was… fine. But I’ve got milk dried in other uncomfortable places, so unless you want to wash my back for me, too, we should go back to mine.”

Munson’s gaze snaps back to Steve, something a little odd in it, and – oh. Oh, that hadn’t sounded quite like Steve had meant it. It had sounded a little like an offer of the kind you don’t go around making to just anybody.

Steve braces himself, waiting for the reaction (he doubts if Munson would get any kind of physical, but there will probably be an awkward pulling away and sudden remembering of something he has to do literally anywhere else that afternoon), but all Munson does is break into a sly smile and say, “I could, but I’d have to charge you extra.”

Steve can’t help it: he laughs, giving Munson a good-natured shove, who finally releases Steve but doesn’t stumble more than a couple of steps away.

“Meet you at my place?” Steve offers, balling up his shirt and dropping it on top of his notebooks as he grabs them from the shelf. “Half an hour?”

“Wouldn’t miss it.” Munson gives him a corny little salute before grabbing his jacket from over the stall wall and preceding Steve to the bathroom door.

“Munson,” Steve finds himself calling out, just as the other boy’s hand closes around the door handle; Munson glances back and Steve fights the urge to look away. “Uh. Thanks. For, like… yeah. Thanks.”

Whatever meaning Munson takes out of Steve’s absolutely eloquent verbal vomit of gratitude, it makes him smile. “No need for thanks, man,” he says. “I’m honestly a little surprised to say it, but the pleasure was definitely mine.”

And then he disappears out the door, leaving Steve in the bathroom wondering how the hell his day had taken this turn, and just what destination it’s leading him to.

And thinking that he’s honestly a little excited to find out.

[formulaonecrumbs]

ok, so this is my first time requesting ever so... if you could write something about younger brother lando (around 8 yo) being made fun of at school and older sisster reader comforting him (i'm talking about your older sister au ) if you don't write it it's completely fine just wanna say i really love you wrok 💗

you’re too cool for them

Lando Norris x older sister!reader

summary: lando comes home upset after being made fun of at school. reader finds him and comforts him in the way only an older sister can.

warnings: bullying mention, protective older sister energy

A/N: AHHH im glad i could be ur first request ever :) hope it lives up to wiat u expected. thank u sm, baby. i was going to make this much longer but i’ve been writing for like 4 maybe 5 hours straight WHOOPS. again thank u for the request, happy reading and i love u ❤️

༻ ❤︎︎ ༺

home film #11 (out of a gazillion)- found in a cardboard box labelled ‘memories’

(recorded: norris family home, bristol)

timestamp: 3:03 pm 11-15-2007

the clip starts mid-focus, camera pointed at the hallway, picking up footsteps—quick ones, heavy ones—and then the slam of the front door. lando rushes in, head down, backpack nearly falling off his shoulders. it’s raining outside, his socks are slightly damp, and he doesn’t even say hi.

the camera shakes as someone picks it up—adam’s voice murmurs something about “what’s got into him?” before the screen cuts to the living room.

you’re already there, curled up on the couch with a snack and a book, still in your school uniform. you barely look up until lando stomps through, dropping his bag with a thud.

“lando?” you ask.

he doesn’t answer. he just mumbles something under his breath and disappears into the hallway.

cut.

the next shot is more still. you’re holding the camcorder now, awkwardly pointing it at yourself like you’re not sure if you’re allowed to use it. the angle shifts wildly before settling just outside your bedroom.

you knock once, gently. “hey.”

no response.

“i know you’re in there.”

a sniffle.

your voice much softer now, “bean? can i come in?”

a beat. then, a quiet little “yeah.”

the video cuts again, and when it comes back, you’ve set the camera on your desk. it’s angled slightly crooked, catching you and lando sitting on your bed. he’s curled up, knees to his chest, eyes red and puffy.

“they said my teeth are weird.. that the gap is ugly,” he says quietly. “and that my voice is squeaky. and that i’m too short.”

you blink, something in your face hardening—not at him, but at the thought of whoever said it (murder is wrong murdering is wrong murder is wrong murder is wrong). “that’s stupid.”

lando shrugs, trying to act like he doesn’t care. “it’s true though.”

you shake your head. “your voice is fine. everyone’s voice is squeaky at eight. and your teeth are just your baby teeth. they’re perfect as is, sweet like dads. and being short doesn’t matter.”

“easy for you to say.”

you nudge his knee gently. “hey. i get picked on too sometimes. for different stuff. people are mean when they’re bored.”

lando doesn’t reply. just looks down again, and you reach over, pulling his hoodie hood up over his head.

“you’re cool,” you say firmly. “you’re funny, and you’re smart. you’re literally my favorite person.”

he peeks up at you.

“really?”

“yes, really. don’t tell the others.” you smile. “now do you want me to punch them or what?”

lando giggles for the first time.

“maybe.”

you wrap an arm around his shoulders, pulling him into a sideways hug. “just ignore them, alright? or tell me. i’ll handle it.”

he leans into you, sniffling again, but this time a little softer.

the video fades out just as you toss him one of your stuffed animals and say, “you’re cooler than all of them. trust me.”

fade to black.

THE END :>

[mrs-elsie-barnes]

Let The Rain Fall | Bucky Barnes x Autistic!Reader | Short Series - Part 4 of 4 - 2.5k

Bucky isn't the only person looking to talk to you after you rescue the jet. But you're feeling far from heroic. But Bucky's seen you struggle before, and he's going to help you again too.

Warnings: description of a meltdown, angst, workplace bullying, negative introspection, but also fluff, Bucky being the softest and the sweetest, and...a kiss!

A/N: thank you to everyone who has read along, I'm so glad I finally shared this fic with you all and I hope you enjoyed it :)

<- Part 3

Masterlist | Let the Rain Fall Masterlist | Bucky Barnes

The compound was calm again, the debris from the attack was being cleaned up by Stark’s crew and everyone was back to their day jobs as if nothing happened. But Bucky couldn’t move, couldn’t go back to the gym or paperwork, and just forget what he’d seen. 

“She was just standing there, Steve, controlling the jet, she saved them all - I- what happened? What is she?” 

Steve didn’t look up from the report he was reading, “I told you, she has her own skills.”

“What skills?” Bucky paced back across the room and in front of Steve’s eyeline. 

“Can you sit down? You’re making me dizzy.” Steve shuffled up slightly to accommodate Bucky on the sofa as well. “Stop. Pacing.”

“Tell me.”

“I don’t know, her envelope is sealed. You’ve managed to get more out of her than any of us combined. So, I’m sure she’ll tell you in her own time.” He looked up at Bucky pointedly before returning to his report. 

"You know, don't you?"

Steve ran a hand down his face and then back up, ruffling his normally neat hair.

"I do, if I tell you, will you promise to leave her alone?"

"Honestly? I won't lie to you... But I still need to know."

"To save you getting in trouble, opening people's files, I'll tell you what you've already seen. But then you have to leave her alone. I can't fight HR about you again."

Bucky sat down finally, watching the side of Steve's face.

"Telekenisis, that's what I heard when she joined." Steve went back to his paperwork, feeling the pressure of Bucky's stare before, turning to him. "Three years at Xavier's before graduating, she worked there for a while, then college, then here. To my knowledge she's only used her powers during emergencies, no field work, never requested it and always turned down our offers. She just likes being here, doing a normal job, and Stark likes having -" Steve paused, unsure of the word to use, "people with powers, on site, none combatant, just in case."

"She came out in the field with us though? Why?"

Steve laughed, pointedly looking Bucky up and down before slapping his friend on the shoulder.

"Why indeed. Now, keep it to yourself, don't go gettin' yourself in to trouble."

Despite Steve’s insistence that you were left alone, his orders didn’t trickle down to the other swat and tactical teams in the compound. 

For the rest of the week you found team leaders, colleagues and even a few other agencies dropping into your inbox and asking you to help. 

After a few days with no responses the Team B chief tactical officer even turned up at your door, banging on the wood and demanding to speak to you. 

“Come on Agent, you know you’d be valuable in the field -” she’d paused, waiting for you to answer. But your words were gone, your mind foggy, incapable of anything but sitting quietly and staring out of the windows.

You could see some trees waving in the distance and focused on the way the top branches danced together. The view wasn't as nice as the one from Bucky's apartment and you tried to tell yourself that's what you were missing, the view, and not the man himself who would surely distance himself from you after this ridiculous display.

Fresh tears poured as your sub-conscious continued to berate you internally.

“Don’t you think it’s selfish to keep your talent to yourself? Think how many people you could save!” 

You gave the Officer nothing, staying silent, the clouds slowly filled in behind the trees, drifting, drifting, your nails biting into your palms, shoulders bumping the chair as you rocked to and fro in time with the trees.

“Alright, think of how many people will die because you’re too fucking selfish and lazy to help them - have it your way, stay here behind a desk, let your fellow agents injure themselves needlessly doing work you should be doing.” 

With that the Team B Tactical Officer stormed off back down the corridor, and you burst into tears. 

“It’s not selfish,” you whispered to yourself, squeezing the blanket tighter around your shoulders, “it’s not selfish, I can’t, I can’t, I can’t.”

Your corridor was quiet, as it always was. No sign if you were in or not apart from the muddy boots left outside of your door. Bucky heaved in a breath, preparing for you to send him away. He knocked and waited. 

Nothing. 

He knocked again. 

Nothing. 

“Look, I know you’re in there.”

“Go.” 

Your voice sounded broken, tired. 

"Just wanted to let you know we caught that guy, so…everything's safe for you to come out now."

"Okay."

“Are you okay?” 

“Fine.” 

Bucky sighed, “please just let me in, we don’t have to talk, just let me make sure you’re okay and then I’ll go.” 

The handle turned and the door cracked open almost imperceptibly. Bucky pushed it further, quickly stepping in and closing it behind him. You were very particular about your space, so he made sure to leave his coat and shoes by the door before slowly making his way to your living room. 

Like your office, your apartment was cosy and comfortable. He found you curled into an armchair by the window, your furniture the same Stark issued items that were in his own living space. But you’d made everything your own with cushions and throws, blankets neatly folded on every arm and a huge, plush rug demarcating the space. You looked small in the chair, a huge fluffy hoody pulled down over your knees, the hood up so you were just a pair of sad eyes, watching him from your personal den. 

“Hey, Doll.” Bucky gave you a weak smile, perching on the coffee table in front of you. It was littered with books and half full mugs of cold tea, multiple packets of your favourite biscuits, crumbs and ring marks where you’d run out of coasters. It wasn’t like you at all. 

He looked back at your doe eyes, red from crying, staring unblinking at a spot above his shoulder. If it was anyone else he’d think you were staring at his arm, but he knew better than that, you’d never stared at him like that, you weren’t even looking at him now. “Do you need to talk about anything?” He offered. 

Your eyes didn’t move from their fixed spot, but you shook your head from one side to the other, slowly. 

Bucky furrowed his brow in confusion. He’d never seen you like this. Since getting to know him he’d found you chatty and buoyant, excited to share things with him and even if you never looked at him for very long, you certainly didn’t stare vacantly through him. He always knew you were listening, despite your tendency to fiddle and fidget, because you asked him about things later, recalled the most minute details of his day, and it struck him how much he already missed talking to you. 

“Can I get anything for you?” You continued to stare, shrinking into yourself, but silent tears began to track down your cheeks. “I’m going to run you a bath, okay, and light some candles.”

Bucky sat on the edge of the tub, scrolling through playlists until he found one that seemed calming. He liked to use music to make himself feel better, relying on tunes from his childhood mostly, and while he wasn’t sure what you’d like he figured something upbeat and instrumental was probably a safe bet. 

When the bath was mostly full, bubbles spilling over the side and candles lit on the shelf, he went to collect you, expecting you to be in your robe or a towel. But you were still there, staring. 

He sat again and reached out, “your bath’s ready, Doll, do you want me to help get you in it?” 

“They could’ve died.” Your voice was a whisper, almost silent. 

“What?” 

“They could’ve died, if I did it wrong. I took a risk. I could’ve killed everyone. I shouldn’t. I promised.” Tears continued to flow and judging from the pinched line between your eyes you were beginning to get dehydrated.

He bent forward and scooped you into his arms, tucking you into his chest while he allowed your tears to pour out in sobs. Your whole body shook as he held you, rocking side to side and hushing gently in your ear. 

"I don't like doing it, I never controlled it right and it's too much pressure, Bucky, I just can't. Every time is like this - this - weight and-" you sighed, inhaling a shuddering breath, "it's just a lot of responsibility and I don't want it. I didn't ask for it, I just want to be me, in my office, with my paperwork, where I can't hurt anyone."

“No one was hurt, no one was hurt because you helped.” He soothed, “let’s get you in the bath, clean up your cheeks-” he pulled back, rubbing his vibranium thumb under the tears shimmering down your face, “you must be tired, you worked so hard.” 

“It wasn’t enough, I nearly dropped it.” 

“You did a wonderful job.” 

“It wasn’t good enough.” You replied, hotly, stumbling away from his embrace. 

“No one was hurt, you saved the pilot and the ground crew. What more could you have done?” 

“I could have put him down in a safer place, found the attacker, got to the airstrip faster, I could’ve been better. I should’ve been better. If I trained, if I was on a proper team…” You stalked to the bathroom, rubbing at your tear stained face. “This is- this is why I can't be an agent. I can't do this every time something happens, I can't feel this guilt that I should've done better and yet -” you sobbed, “they come here and, they tell me I'm selfish. Maybe they're right. But I can't put myself through this every. Single. Time. I didn't ask for this. I didn't want it. I just wanted to be useful.”

“Doll,” Bucky's voice cracked. Is that really what you thought? That you had to be useful to be worth anything? “You don't have to do anything you don't want to. I just want to help, no one has to be useful to be worthy you know and -"

“Thank you for the bath.” You mumbled, cutting him off and shutting the door with a slam. 

Bucky stared at the door and listened to the sound of you climbing into the bath. He’d been ready to help, he’d wanted to help. But he knew this was for the best and he was two strides towards the door, jacket in hand, when he stopped. 

You been angry when you finally went into the bathroom, but before then it wasn't anger. You’d been sad and withdrawn and he thought back to the lonely evenings he’d spent staring out of the windows after his first therapy sessions. The way everyone had left him alone to his thoughts and it had somehow been so much worse. How he'd turned his own anger in on himself, berating himself for what he should've done.

He paused, putting his jacket back and surveying the now dark room. Light, that’s what you needed, the soft light from your many table lamps. He lit a candle on the coffee table and fluffed up the pillows from your nest of an armchair. 

Taking a risk, he peered into your bedroom and, spotting your pyjamas on the bed, spread them out neatly along with a dressing gown and some soft socks. 

You’d be hot after your bath so he made sure there was a bottle of sparkling water in the fridge, and plenty of cocoa in the jar, in case you wanted something hot. 

Then he waited, trying not to listen to the soft sound of water moving over your body or the way you started to hum along with the song.

"You take as long as you need, okay? I'll be right here when you get out. If you need to talk, if you need to just sit. I'll be right here."

There was quiet, the water still, and then your voice floated out, "thank you…I'm sorry."

"Never had to be sorry to me, Doll, beaten myself up enough times to know you're feeling worse right now. I just want you to remember one thing okay?"

"Okay?"

"You're enough exactly as you are right now."

The water moved again, "thank you." You sighed the words on an outbreath and Bucky heard the faint plash of tears again.

He walked away, as much as he wanted to push the door open and wrap his arms around you, this wasn't the time. So he settled onto the sofa, ready to wait.

You had emerged from your bath to the sight of Bucky passed out on your sofa, a book half open in his lap.

The pyjamas he’d left for you on your bed were so comfortable and for a minute you’d bathed in their scent as deeply as you had your bath. But then you were craving something else, something more grounding than floating away in your thoughts again and suddenly all you could think about was Bucky.

You’d been so rude, slamming the door on him, and part of you dreaded seeing him again and facing up to your behaviour. So finding him asleep in your living room was certainly not what you expected. 

“Oh, hey Doll, sorry, must’ve passed out. You alright?” He blinked awake, pushing himself up again and you watched the way his long shirt  rumpled around his waist, exposing the slightest slither of skin before it was hidden again. 

“I’m really sorry,” you mumbled, “you’ve been so kind and -” 

“I told you, nothing to apologise for,” he gave you a sleepy, lopsided smile and patted the cushion beside him, “come and get comfy, you want a snack?” 

You stared at him and watched the smile fall from his face. 

“I’ve overstayed my welcome, sorry.” 

He stood to go and your thoughts whirled, panicking, he can’t go, you needed him here, stay, stay, stay. Why wasn’t your mouth working? Stay! But nothing came out, you just carried on staring until - 

Your voice was broken, but your body wasn’t, and instead of asking him to stay you went careening into him, wrapping your arms around his waist and pressing your cheek to the worn material of his Henley. He smelt so good, warm and safe and your thoughts went quiet, your heart stopped racing. You sighed. 

Bucky looked down at you, one arm finding its way around your waist, the other cupping the back of your neck.

You looked up and his lips met yours, gentle, loving, understanding. He tasted of cinnamon and chocolate, his lips perfectly soft against your own.His hands flexed, holding you tighter, pressing into you and drawing you closer against his body.

“Stay,” your voice was swallowed by his kisses and he hummed his agreement, holding you tighter against him. You pulled away, resting your forehead against his. “It’s best -” you twirled his dog tags in your fingers, “if you’re really clear so I understand.” 

“I’ll stay as long as you’ll have me,” he smiled before finding your lips again. 

[tammyu-2]

Something new and fresh guys✨️

CRK BLACK SAPPHIRE WITH A S/O THAT IS ALSO A SHADOW MILK COOKIE MINION

So yeeeee strap in cause we all are doing learning curves tonight.

Intended as a x female! But no use of pronoun? Swearing, new to this Fandom, not proofread

I'm excitedddd

He is the type to be super cheesy about how you two met. Soooooo once shadow milk cookie had corrupted you He knew from the beginning that you were the star to his show. He had fallen head over heals with you and had always made it known. Even while you two dated.

He bragged on and on about how amazing you were to be with him and how much he loved that you were his. He would market you as a model and a co-host to some of his broadcasts and shows.

So you working with him only made it 100x better. He would put on some music for you two to dance to whenever Master Shadow Milk Cookie had been busy. You two would cackle at the ruined lives his gossip cause people.

If SMC was too hard on you he would take all the blame without even knowing what you did. You could be convicted for murder and this man will somehow get you out of it. He keeps your reputation high without you having to even TRY.

"WHY YOU NO GOOD FOR NOTHING STUPID THING!"

"Master Shadow Milk Cookie it was all me!"

"SO IT WAS YOU WHO DECIDED TO LET THAT STUPID BLIND PEICE OF CRAP HEALER OUT OF HIS DOOMED CAGE SIMPLY BECAUSE HE PROMISED 15 COINS!?"

"Why the fuck- I mean yes it was all me. It was a truth of dare from the viewers I will make it up to you."

However once you two were alone...

"15 COINS!?"

"I WANTED A GIANT SWIRLY RAINBOW LOLY POP OKAY!? I WAS 15 SHORT!"

"YOU LET PURE VANILLA GO!"

"IT was worht it. Look how pretty it is oooooooo"

"Oh my deciet..."

You two deffo do tap dancing together. Change my mind.

You two enjoy bullying Candy Apple Cookie because it's so easy to poke fun at the girl. Although you are fully in on every scheme against her she still loves you alot. You two play dress up before you co-host another one of your famous boyfriends shows.

All in all he loves that he sees you everyday and not have to sacrifice his stardom for it. He feels like he has everything a wonder celebrity such as himself needs.

Hope that was good I realise that the cookierun kingdom Fandom is starving right now so I'm feeding you guys hcs

Anyhow, toodles see you guys tmr night for some more posting!!! And catching up on everything...

~Tammy<3

[slimepuparibaba]

Pip-pip | Squeak-squeak

Caleb x MC / Reader

A different take on the origin of the nickname that Caleb uses so much.

Tags: Light angst, fluffy, childhood friends

Contains: Bullying (kids are mean), signs of Caleb being overprotective (bro would change the meaning of words for you)

A/N: me and my sister are the only ones who have the pip-pip squeak-squeak call and response headcanon and we need more people to share it because it WORKS AND ITS CUTE AND—

Back at the shelter, little 001 now had a name for herself. But the boys at the shelter weren't kind to her. They called her a runt, a weakling. They picked on her a lot.

A pipsqueak was what they called her.

She was easy to mess with. They could kick her around, shove her, and she would cry tears. How fun, the little boys thought. And soon, the little girls would join too.

Little 001 was a pipsqueak. Tiny, frail, and scared.

But then a boy a little older than her came to her aid. He seemed angry, angrier than anyone else.

Barked at them to back off, said that he would protect her, that anyone who messed with her messed with him.

"I'm a pipsqueak," she cried to him. "I'm tiny and short and they all make fun of me."

But the little boy shook his head, wiping away her tears.

"Did you know that in aviation, a pip-squeak was a navigation system?" Unaware, she listened carefully. The boy continued, "it's true! So, if you're my pip-squeak, then you're my navigation system."

"But they said I'm small," she cried. "And that I don't mean anything."

"Without you, how would I be able to land?" he asked. "I need my pip-squeak more than anything. You're super important to me."

The boy knew that wasn't what the meaning behind the pipsqueak insult was. He knew that those in the shelter were using it to make fun of her. But he didn't care.

If he could change the colors of this world, if he could warp it to make it a paradise for her... then he would. All to stop her crying, he would do anything. He would change the definitions of words, he would rewrite entire books.

Anything.

"So from now on, when someone calls you a pipsqueak, you say that you're my pip-squeak, okay?" he requested. "And as my pip-squeak, if I call out 'pip-pip', you respond 'squeak-squeak' so that I can find you."

"Squeak-squeak?"

"Mhm. Just like that. Pip-pip?"

"...squeak-squeak!"

"Exactly!"

The word pipsqueak was warped that day. He molded it from a playground insult into something completely new. And despite how many times she had forgotten details... that little nickname was the one thing she never forgot.

She always liked being called pip-squeak. And though she may have forgotten the initial reason, she never forgot her fondness to it.

Even now, as adults... if you listen carefully, you can hear a man calling out lovingly to someone.

"Pip-pip?"

And in return, she will always chirp happily...

"Squeak-squeak!"

[coupsctrl]

Hate Me, Hold Me

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

PAIRING(S):

Enemy!Seungcheol x Afab!Reader,

GENRE:

angst, fluff, enemies to lovers

WARNING(S): swearing, small mention of alcohol & cigarettes, small amount of fighting

TAGS:

@alien0n3arth

You and Seungcheol have been enemies ever since you were kids. He always bullies you, enjoying the bickering and teasing. But little did you know, he secretly was in love with you.

Right now you're at a party, against your will. Your bestfriend, Karina, forced you to come along. She's the popular type, and you're always confused on why the two of you are friends, since you're the polar opposite. Since she's popular & good friends with everyone, you would think she's stuck up and rude. But she's quite the opposite. You two have been friends since 3rd grade, when she asked if she could use your crayons. She's your favourite person in the world, and you two share one thing in common....hating Choi Seungcheol.

The house the party is held at is huge. Huge is actually an understatement, with it being 4 stories long. It has a very modern style to it, and you almost feel guilty even touching anything in it, scared it'll break.

You're currently standing near the large pool, pop music played by the DJ, as everyone socializes around you. As you look around, you notice three girls standing near you, clearly gossiping. It's Yuna, Sana and Giselle. They have been your bullies ever since you stepped foot into school, you would think they would've given up after the first year..nope. Just as you're accidentally staring at the three girls, Yuna notices you. I guess you would name her the "leader" of the three, the other two always trailing behind. Kinda like a Regina George situation. She smirks, making her way up to you as the others follow behind. Yuna crosses her arms, standing tall infront of you.

"Y/N....nice to see you here." she says, eyeing me up and down.

You're feeling more & more uncomfortable by the minute, wanting to just run away, but you feel their eyes on you as they wait for your response.

"Hi.." is all you manage to get out. Your short, scared response makes the three girls laugh.

"Hm....too scared to talk to us now, huh?" Yuna continues, smirking.

You sigh, this is not how you wanted the night to go. You look around, noticing some people have stopped talking and are now paying attention to the scene going on. You just think to yourself, "Why does this always happen to me...?".

"I'm not." you manage to get out, shivering a bit as the wind gusts through.

Yuna looks behind her, smirking at Giselle & Sana before looking back at you. Her face even more mischievous than before. "The water looks warm right? We were gonna get in, but we just wanna know for sure."

You tilt your head, your brows furrowing slightly as you're confused by her question. "Uh...kinda..?"

Yuna smiles, moving closer. "Why don't you find out for us?"

"Wha-" is all you can get out before her strong hands push you backwards, into the cold pool water. You can hear slight gasps from underwater, as well as laughs from what sounds like the three bullies.

Suddenly your vision goes black, you cant hear anything anymore, the chaotic environment that just occurred seconds ago is faded.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Open your eyes, Y/N." Seungcheol says, cradling your body with a hint of desperation in his voice. "Come on, open your eyes."

His voice turned a bit panicky as he tries to wake you, he gently pats your cheeks trying to get you to open your eyes. He places a finger under your nose to see if you were still breathing. Thank god you were. He swiftly picks you up, walking over to the lounge chairs near the large pool and placing you down on one.

He wasn't giving up, clearly. By the look in his eyes, it looks like he would do anything to get you up again. After a few minutes, you finally get up, coughing water. Seungcheol's eyes widened, immediately trying to soothe you. "Woah, woah. Easy, breathe."

You're heavy breathing, trying to figure out where you are. Once your vision isn't blurry anymore, you can get a clear glimpse of Seungcheol's face. Surprise takes you over, why is he here? Why is he holding you in his arms? Why is he also wet & drenched in water? All of these thoughts run through your head as the moonlight hits your face just right. The only word you can get out is, "S-Seungcheol?"

You can see him smile a bit, being entranced by your beauty under the stars. "You're awake."

"W-what are you-" you start but he interrupts.

"Don't talk yet. Focus on taking slow & deep breaths." He says, his voice stern and steady. He grabs a towel from one of the nearby chairs and starts to gently dry your hair, his usual cold demeanor softening as he tries to comfort you.

"Can you sit up?" He asks softly, handing you the towel to hold.

You nod, still confused by the events but sit up slowly. He speaks up. "Are you feeling okay? You scared the hell out of me."

You nod, swallowing as you finally seem to have caught your breath. "I'm fine. What happened?"

Seungcheol's expression softened a bit once he saw how disoriented you were. He grabs the towel from your hands and wrapped it over your shoulders before sitting on the edge of the chair. "You were pushed into the pool. I had to pull you out of the water."

You nod, trying to remember the events of the night. "Who pushed me?" you ask.

Cheol's jaw clenched in anger as he spoke. "The same bitches who always bully you. They thought it'd be funny to push you, I swear to god they're gonna pay for this."

You sit there, confused. "But, you also bully me.."

His expression softened a bit, instinctively clenching his fist. He released a small huff. "I tease you. But I wouldn't take it to that extent. They could've fucking killed you for god's sake."

You sigh. Feeling an odd sense of contentment as he speaks, but you drop your gaze to the water in front of you. Seungcheol seems to notice how upset you seemed, letting out a sigh himself. "Hey," he started, his voice softer than usual. "look at me for a second."

You look up at him as your eyes lock with each other. His expression filled with concern and...something else? He placed his hand on your shoulder, softly speaking. "I know i'm always picking on you, but...I never wanted this." He paused for a moment, looking down shyly. "I never wanna see you get hurt like that, you understand?"

You can't bring any words to speak, still in shock of how your enemy since you were born is saying this to you. A surprised expression is on your face, but it's clear you're too tired to react more. He notices your expression, letting out a huff as he slips his hand off of your shoulder. Cheol stands up, looking down at you with a stern voice. "I should bring you home, you look exhausted."

He looks down at you, waiting for a response. When you don't say anything, he grabs the towel around your shoulders and wraps it around your body. "Can you stand on your own or do you need me to carry you?" he asks.

You look up at him, still struck by shock to speak and he chuckles deeply. He raises his eyebrow, watching your expression. "I'm going to take that as a 'carry me'." He then leans down and gently picks you up in his arms like you weigh nothing.

As he's walking, Cheol's eyes are focused ahead of him, but you're just staring at him. Discretely trying to get a better look at him, because you've never seen him this close up before. You notice how his eyebrows are slightly furrowed together, like he's thinking about something. His hair is wet and slightly tousled, his clothing sticking to his skin. As he's carrying you easily, he glances down at you before quickly averting his gaze.

"What are you staring at?" he asks, his voice gruff.

"You." you quietly say, your hands on his shoulders.

Seungcheol feels his cheeks heat up at your bluntness, but he tries to dismiss it with a chuckle. He suddenly feels like he can't speak, so he just stays silent, focused on getting you home and safe.

Once he arrives at his car, he helps you into the passenger seat before walking to the drivers side. The ride to your house was silent, Cheol's hands gripping the wheel tightly. His mind was somewhere else. Finally after what felt like forever, he pulled up to your house and parked in the driveway. He turns to look at you, clearing his throat. "We're here."

You nod, feeling a hint of embarrassment as you look out the window. Seungcheol glances at your house and back to you, noticing your appearance. The towel is still tightly wrapped around your body, your hair is still slightly wet & he can see a glimpse of pink on your cheeks. "Can you walk in on your own?" he asks softly, not taking his eyes off of you.

"Yea, I'm fine. Thank you Seungcheol." you quietly say, looking at him.

His eyes scan your face for a moment before he nods. "Alright. But make sure to change out of your clothes & into something more dry. You don't want to catch a cold."

You nod, looking at his features for one last time, mumbling one last "Thanks" before opening his car door and exiting. As you're walking to your front door, you feel a sudden urge to turn back. But you don't. You feel too embarrassed too. But you're full of questions. Why did he save you? Why was he so nice? And why did you...not hate it?

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It's been a few weeks since the party, and you've been trying to ignore Seungcheol ever since it. You don't know why, but it feels like you need to. You think that he just "saved" you out of pity, and that he didn't actually care. And that hurts.

"Please tell me you're coming." Karina says as she sits at her vanity, applying a peach coloured blush on her cheeks.

You're sitting on her bed, her home being like a second home to you. "I can't go to another party Rina, look what happened at the last one." you say, petting her small cat, Leo.

She sighs, turning her chair to face you. "I know. But Y/N, It was one time. And if the girls go up to you again I swear I'll be by your side tonight. Promise."

"It's not that easy." You say.

"Why? What's stopping you?" She asks with a concerned expression.

You sigh, knowing its no use to keep hiding this from her, your best friend. "Its.....Seungcheol."

She tilts her head, confused. "Seungcheol? What'd he do? I swear to god did he say someth-"

"No," you cut her off "he...he actually saved me."

"What? What do you mean "saved you"?" Karina asks, looking puzzled.

You sigh. "That night, at the party. When the whole thing happened, he saved me. He got me out of the pool and helped me. Then he drove me back home and...he was being nice to me, Rina."

Karina's jaw drops as she stands up, sitting beside you on her bed. "You're saying....Choi Seungcheol, your enemy for years, saved you from practically drowning....and you DIDN'T TELL ME?!"

You have to bite back a laugh, looking at her. "I know. And i've been kinda...avoiding him ever since."

Karina smiles as you speak. You thought she would question you, like "Why have you been avoiding him?!" & "What is wrong with you?!?". But all she does is smile, and you furrow your brows.

"What?" You ask.

"Oh you're so going to this party." She says with the brightest smile you've ever seen, making you even more confused.

"Karina wha-"

"No objections." She cuts you off "This is the perfect moment Y/N! Enemies to lovers, have you heard of it? He saved you because he likes you! And he's going to the party tonight, so you know what that means."

"You're out of your mind." You scoff, shaking your head.

"Nope. I'm just smart. Now sit down, I'm getting you ready."

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That's where you started. And here you are now, sitting in the passenger seat with Karina in the drivers seat outside of the party. "I don't want to do this Rina.." you whine, looking at her with pleading eyes.

She shakes her head, smiling as if this is the most amusing thing she's ever witnessed. "Cmon Y/N, you'll regret it if you don't go. At least see what will happen, you never know."

You groan, which makes her laugh. "Fine."

"Yes!!! Let's go!" Karina squeals, opening her car door.

As you two make your way out of the car and into the party, you feel a sense of worry overfill you. What if Karina was right and Seungcheol was actually here tonight? What would you do? All of these thoughts run through your mind as you feel Karina's hand drag you into the party. This is gonna be a long night.

The second you both step foot into the party, you're overwhelmed by the amount of noise filling the room & your ears. The smell of alcohol, high schoolers odor and cigarette smoke fills your nose immediately. Music is playing in the background, making you feel like you cant even hear yourself think. Karina drags you to the living room, where all of her other friends are sitting on the couch. She introduces you to them, but you are only barely paying attention. You're solely focused that Seungcheol is somewhere in this party, and are terrified to see him.

As if the gods above knew you were thinking about Seungcheol, he appears. And lord help you, because he looks good. He just walked in with some of his friends, but you're only focused on him. He's wearing a basic grey top, tucked into his jeans, that fit a little too well. And his hair falls perfectly, some pieces in front of his ears. He's engrossed in a conversation with a friend, but god, you never noticed how handsome he was. How hot he was.

As you're staring, Karina pulls you out of your daze and pulls your wrist again. This time to the kitchen. As you both make your way in it, she opens the fridge, grabbing a pop for herself.

"Want one?" she asks, turning her head to you.

You shake your head "No thanks."

She smirks, shutting the fridge and walking to lean on the counter. "What's wrong? You've been silent ever since we came here."

You sigh, glancing around to make sure no ones in ear shot before talking. "I saw Seungcheol."

She smiles. "Okay, how did he look?"

Its almost like she knows your answer, like she knows how struck you still are by looking at him and is teasing you. But you settle for a short response. "Good."

Karina laughs, taking a sip of her pop. "Just good Y/N? Not like, hot or sexy?"

You immediately feel embarrassed, shaking your head. "Ew Rina! He's my enemy, obviously I don't think of him like that!"

She just keeps smiling, amused by your flustered state. "Oh cmon, it's obvious. Just admit he's hot."

"Karina I will no-"

Just as you're about to finish, Seungcheol walks into the kitchen, alone. He seems to notice the two of you, smiling a bit towards you before walking to the fridge. You glance over at Karina, silently giving her a look that's saying "If you say anything I'll kill you." and all she does is nod & smile. As Seungcheol is about to walk out, he pauses his steps and turns to face you. "Hey Y/N?"

You almost jump by his soft voice, looking at him. "Yeah?"

He takes a step closer, holding two soda's, one presumably for his friend. "You doing okay? After the other night?"

You feel a lump in your throat, nodding almost immediately as you manage to get out, "Yeah, thanks."

He just does a quick nod, before walking out of the room completely. Karina immediately squeals, grabbing your arm. "Y/N! I'm telling you right now he's in love with you."

You almost choke.....on air as she says that. Choi Seungcheol, in love, with YOU? It's actually impossible. You just shake your head. "Karina. Are we forgetting he teased me everyday since 4th grade? He is not in love with me"

She just shakes her head. "Yeah, teases. He teases you because he likes you! Cmon Y/N, I know I don't like him, but it's kinda sweet. Enemies to lovers, I already told you about this!"

You scoff. "You're crazy, Rina. I'll prove you wrong."

As you two finish bickering, the party continues. Everyone is spread into their own stations and friend groups, as you and Karina make your way into the main part of the house again. As you walk, you notice Yuna, Giselle & Sana talking to each other. You immediately stop walking, sighing and staring at them. Karina notices and looks where you're looking, immediately stiffening aswell. You hear her mutter a "Jesus.." before grabbing your arm and walking away.

But before you can get far, you hear a voice, a very annoying one. "Y/N!"

The two of you turn, Karina rolling her eyes as you both see the three girls walk closer. A smirk drawn on all of their faces as they stop in front of you two. "Nice seeing you here." Yuna says, crossing her arms as her eyes are focused on you.

Karina sighs, trying to stand in front of me. "What are you guys doing here?" she asks in a stern voice.

The three girls laugh, Yuna speaking up again. "I wasn't talking to you."

Karina seems like she wont back down, moving a bit more in front of you. "Well she doesn't want to talk to you, so leave."

Giselle steps up, looking annoyed. "Who are you to tell us to leave? Move out of the way."

You decide to speak up to Karina, your voice a bit quieter. "Karina, it's fine."

She turns to face you, her expression concerned as she tilts her head. You don't give her a chance to respond, moving so you're not behind her anymore. "Why do you guys keep talking to me?"

Sana speaks up. "Quit being such a baby Y/N, we're just catching up."

"I didn't know this was a costume party." Yuna added, her eyes raking over you. "Or is that how you always dress?"

Your jaw clenches, but you decide to stay silent to not escalate the situation further.

"Aren't you tired of embarrassing yourself?" Giselle chimed in, tilting her head in mock pity. You open your mouth to finally say something, but a familiar voice cuts through the noise behind you.

"That's enough."

All 5 of you turned your heads, the 3 bullies confidence faltering for a moment as they watch Seungcheol step forward. His gaze was hard and intense, locked onto Yuna as if she was something he needed to get rid of.

"Didn't realize this party came with entertainment." Yuna adds, trying to laugh it off.

Seungcheol doesn't even blink. "Funny, I was thinking the same. Except I don't remember asking for a circus act tonight."

The silence that followed was heavy, Yuna shifting uncomfortably, as the other two girls suddenly find their drinks very interesting. Seungcheol looks at you, his presence immediately shifting from harsh to comforting.

"You good?" he asked, his voice soft.

You just barely nod, in a loss for words.

"Then let's go." He says as he took your hand, guiding you away like you're the only thing that mattered in the room. He leads you into a secluded guest room, shutting the door as the music & noise fades into the background. It's now just the two of you in the room, and you suddenly feeling even more embarrassed than before.

Seungcheol crossed the room slowly, his hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans. "They always do that to you?"

You nod. "It's whatever, I'm used to it."

His jaw tightens as he frowns. "You shouldn't have to be."

A beat of silence passed between the two of you. The room felt smaller now. Warmer.

You swallowed hard. "Why did you step in? You hate me."

"I don't hate you." he said, a bit too quickly. His eyes met yours. "I've never hated you."

You let out a small, humorless laugh. "Could've fooled me. You've spent years acting like I don't exist. Or like I'm just someone to compete with."

He stepped closer. "That's because I didn't know how else to act around you." His voice was quieter now, softer.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

He looked at you for a long moment, then sighed. "It means I've liked you. For a long time. And I didn't know how to handle it. So I messed it up. Over and over."

Your breath caught into your throat. Suddenly speechless. You stared at him, the weight of his words crashing over you like a wave. "You...like me?"

He stepped even closer, looking down at you. "I'm pretty sure I'm in love with you."

Your heart stuttered, locking eyes with him. You didn't answer right away. You couldn't. Because the way he was looking at you, like you're something so fragile and precious, like he would break if you turned away, made it hard to breathe.

Seungcheol took a step back, noticing your silence. "I'm sorry...I shouldn't have-"

"Seungcheol." you cut him off.

He froze. You took that as an opportunity to reach out, grabbing his hand before he could retreat further.

And then, you kissed him.

The kiss was soft. His hands finding your waist, pulling you closer like he'd been waiting for his whole life to do it. He kissed you back like he meant it. And maybe deep down, you both were waiting for this moment to prove you weren't really enemies after all.

When you both finally pulled apart, you were both breathless. He rested his forehead against yours. "About time." he whispered, with the biggest smile on his face.

You smiled back, your heart still racing. "So...still think we're enemies?"

[official-linguistics-post]

I really like your blog and think 95% of your posts are v fun and nice to see! But you get really aggressive sometimes and I don't personally understand where you're coming from?

I'm assuming this is because things like 'chat is a new pronoun' and 'emojis are basically hieroglyphics' make sense to me? It seems like just basic human language evolving. Is y'all not a pronoun, then?

(this is entirely not meant in a disrespectful way though I absolutely see how it could be taken like that, it's just a bit strange to get a super antagonistic posts popping up on my timeline cause I followed a gimmick blog)

Anyway! The happy posts are v nice and fun to me but I'm also just some rando and am not expecting you to change, but if you do respond to this mostly I'm just asking: why you gotta be mean?

you're not gonna like this answer! it's gonna come off as mean!

in cases where my temper gets short, it's because i've been dealing with persistent bad-faith interpretation of attempts to use my own expertise. and, in fact, you're doing it now with that second paragraph. i have repeatedly explained why those statements are inaccurate and yet people keep popping up to say (devoid of evidence) that the misinformation makes sense to them and i should just shut up.

i genuinely try not to be antagonistic! i'm not out here bullying random people for lack of knowledge, and i approach genuine questions in good faith! but i have a doctorate in linguistics and it's absurd to think i'll let misinformation about my field go unaddressed when i'm functionally doing scicomm here.

gimmick blogging and responsible public education are not mutually exclusive.