#e only shows up as a tiny doodle

[socially-awkward-chocobo]

Three more are out!! Now just three (maybe four or five, depending on my mood) left.

(Kido-Kano-Seto)

(Ayano-Momo-Mary)

[boricuasirena25]

loser, nerdy 2000s ellie x popular, bimbo, mean girl fem!reader headcanons

authors note : just wanted to say thank uu sm for the support i’ve seen on my last post abt nerdy ellie, i fr posted it without thinking and i can tell a lot of yall like it! im taking requests for her so lmk what uu want. :)

cw : some nsfw (some of the things i put in the nsfw might be like pg13 but i still put them there anyways idk 😭), lotta jokes abt boobies, ellie’s PAINFULLY nerdy like oh my goodness. takes place in the late 2000s to be oddly specific.

— SFW

• she has fantasies of you and her in the medieval times, you being the glamorous princess and her being your daring, knight in shinning armor. she literally draws it in her sketchbook, pages filled with doodles of you in corsets or big and gorgeous low cut gowns, her holding up a sword towards your “boyfriend” adrian, who in her medieval universe is “lord adrian of valebrume”, a totally made-up kingdom name that sounds dark and full of lies. she made sure it rhymed with gloom, doom, and consume—because duh, he’s the villain.

• and her favorite medieval scenarios? saving you. you’re chained in a tower. a dragon’s outside. adrian is there, trying to “rescue” you but being a fool. ellie shows up on horseback, sword drawn, cloak flapping dramatically. she slays the dragon, pushes adrian off a cliff, and drops to one knee like: “my lady. i have come for you.” you run into her arms, kiss her hard, and whisper, “you’re all I ever wanted, sir williams…”

• she can solve a rubik’s cube in under a minute. but she will not do it in front of people because she’s been bullied enough. only her stuffed triceratops knows how smart she really is.

• she’s so soft for you it’s pathetic. you could insult her in front of the entire class and she’d still smile and go “you’re so funny…” like a kicked puppy. you could say “shut up, ellie” and she’d respond with “yes ma’am” and a full-body shiver.

• 100% draws on her converse “E + (your initial)” with a heart inside of it.

• she’s, OF COURSE, obsessed with dinosaurs. she’ll say corny pick up lines like “i think if i was a dinosaur, i’d be a simp-o-saurus. because… y’know… for you. i’m simpin’ real hard.” and then she’d probably smack herself in the head after like “what the f*ck was i thinking…”.

• even though she’s HEAVILY bullied (specifically for being a lesbian who’s obsessed with you) shes blessed enough to constantly third wheel with dina and jesse.

• quite literally owns a rubber “i heart boobies” bracelet that she insists is for breast cancer awareness, but really she just thinks boobs are awesome and it’s the only time she’s allowed to say it out loud.

• she’s knows how to skate and does it quite frequently as a source of transportation (until joel gives her his rusted up, old, monster truck that ellie isn’t allowed to get till she passes spanish).

• death note is her favorite manga. she bought the first volume from a crusty used bookstore with joel, and it unlocked something feral inside her. the intensity? the drama? the moral conflict? she ate it up. once accidentally moaned when reading a panel of misa sitting on light’s lap. would never admit that.

• she owns a fake death note she made and writes adrian’s name in it “adrian luis davis – punched in the nuts by a ghost and then falls in a porta-potty in front of the whole school. dies of embarrassment.” then she drew a tiny doodle of him slipping on a banana peel. and if another boy makes you laugh? she flips open her ‘death note’, glares over her glasses, and mutters “he’s done for.”.

• she’d be a marching band lesbian idc, she’d play percussion and have the most wrinkled up band uniform ever. and she literally never wears the hat right. it’s always tilted or falling off her head. one time it flew off during a performance and she had to kick it off the field. she was mad until she looked over and saw you laughing at her in the stands.

• still plays the guitar, (she does in every universe), and she practices every single day. after school, while watching invader zim. she zones out completely when she’s playing. it’s the only time her brain shuts up—unless she’s thinking about your boobs. then it’s just chaos. one night she was home alone and played “the only exception” by paramore after smoking weed and cried because it reminded her of you.

• she didn’t tell anyone. just laid on the floor of her living room like a snow angel in her spider-man boxers whimpering.

• she owns a jennifer’s body DVD and keeps it hidden under her bed. watches it on mute when joel isn’t home. she has the kiss scene with needy memorized (she sometimes even rewatches it and imagines it as u and her).

• she owns a chunky PS3 and plays GTA IV when she’s had a bad day, or is just like super angry as her own therapy. she’ll storm into her room, throw her backpack down, and boots up her fat, fingerprint-covered PS3. the fan’s loud, the controller’s kinda sticky from soda, and the GTA IV disc is always already in. she plays like a menace—steals a car, blasts the liberty rock radio station, and causes chaos in liberty city.

• but if she’s super mad?! like adrian calling her out in front of the whole class once again?! his arms around your waist while you just sit there?! she types cheat codes into her cracked notebook and gives niko bellic rocket launchers and infinite health. she’s full on blowing up traffic jams, launching grenades into alleyways, and driving into the water just for the hell of it.

• when joel checks on her like, “you alright, kiddo?” she just grunts “yeah,” while casually tossing molotovs at cop cars with dead eyes. but she plays minecraft when she’s just chilling. she builds the ugliest dirt houses with torches everywhere and lives like a little swamp gremlin. has one big chest labeled “STUFF” and refuses to organize it. she wears full iron armor and still falls in lava. blames lag.

• OBSESSED WITH SPIDER-MAN. she literally has spider-man bedsheets and posters in her room; one above her bed, one crooked on the celling holding on by a thread (when her fan is on too long it almost blows off), and one behind her door.

• when she writes about you in her journal she puts “my MJ <3”. she even draws it. little comic panels where she’s spidey saving MJ (you) from some made-up villain that originates from adrian. ellie gives herself abs and a six-pack. no shame.

• she also owns a knock off spider-man costume. it’s from walmart and a little too tight, with faded colors and one busted web-shooter strap. she wears it with her dirty converse and grey sweatpants and thinks she’s the coolest thing ever. wears it to the store when joel isn’t paying attention. she once got it stuck in the dryer and cried.

• only wears boxers. various different pairs that r always peaking out of her sweatpants, cargos, or jeans. her favorite pair? her prized possession? a pair of faded-ass spider-man boxers. they’re red and blue with tiny spidey logos all over. she’s had them since middle school and refuses to let them go—even though they’re worn thin, have a little hole on the thigh, and the elastic’s basically screaming for mercy.

• she calls them her “lucky boxers” and lowkey wears them on days she knows she might see you. she also owns black boxers with little green dinosaurs on them and classic plaid ones that r oversized and practically fall off her hips. the waistband’s always showing. always. at this point, it’s part of the fit. she doesn’t even care if they get bunched under her jeans—just tugs at them in the hallway like “gotta air it out.”

• if she’s nervous around you, she adjusts her boxers way too much and acts like it’s not because she’s turned on.

• and for some reason, this loser is like freakishly good at soccer? beastly good. jaw-dropping good. weirdly good. but then again it’s probably because she’s a lesbian. she’s fast, aggressive, strategic—she plays forward like she isn’t afraid to slide tackle some 6’0 dude to the ground. she gets called for fouls all the time because she plays like she’s ready to fight. her coach yells at her all the time; “williams! dial it down!”, “williams, it’s not that deep—GET OFF HER!”.

• she wears the same cleats from middle school. they’re black, duct-taped, and smell like her garage. her shin guards are always crooked, and her socks never match.

• she once tried to hit you up by calling you mamacita with the worst accent you’ve ever heard. thought it was smooth. just for you to hit her with the dirtiest look ever. let’s just say she never said that out loud again.

• her all time favorite soda is dr pepper. she drinks it a little too much… her bedroom is a crime scene of empty cans. they’re stacked into little pyramids on her windowsill, crammed into her backpack, one might even be under her pillow. joel once tripped over a can pyramid and she screamed like he destroyed a sacred monument. BUT she swears it “makes her smarter.” she’ll sip it during math tests like it’s brain juice. “it’s got 23 flavors, joel. i’m running on 23 IQ boosts right now.”.

• literally owns a faded, crusty dr pepper graphic tee. it’s oversized and has holes in the collar, but she thinks it’s high fashion. it was $3 at goodwill and she treats it like a designer item. if she’s wearing it under her flannel, it’s a special day. she also 100% has a dr pepper can tab on a necklace chain. she popped it off her “lucky can” and wears it under her shirt. when you find it one day and asks about it, ellie stutters, “it’s—it’s like, uh, for good luck. and stuff…”

• dina notices ellie in class going through her sketchbook, finds one page where your name is written next to a sketch of you in a princess outfit. next to it? ellie’s self-insert knight version—sword drawn, hearts floating around them. dina looks up slowly and goes, “ellie… have you spoken to her yet?”

• “she said ‘thanks’ when I let her borrow a pencil. we’re basically married.”

— NSFW

• she gets turned on by the stupidest things about you. the way you chew gum, the way you fix your hair, the sound of your laugh, the way you tie your shoes, the way you stretch in class and your shirt rides up a little. she’ll cross her legs in AP biology like “be cool. don’t squirm. don’t look at her boobs again.” just to take another quick glance down.

• ellie found out what a strap was from the L word. she saw shane pull it out of a drawer once and nearly passed out. didn’t even know what it was called at first—just googled “lesbian harness thing from l word” on ask jeeves. then, when scrolling online she saw this neon green strap-on with a ugly, cheap, fake leather, hideous colored harness—and for some reason, she bought it. i mean the harness was only $29.99, dildo $14.99 and with a shipping of $8 dollars, it’s not like she could afford those $90 ones. now it’s growing dust under her bed.

• her cute, hideous glasses always slide off her nose when she catches you near her in a mini skirt (or she pushes them up to get a better look at my tits) and because of this, she can quite literally draw your tits from pure memory. no reference. no glances. just pure gay brain storage. she knows the exact curve, how they rest when you’re sitting vs standing, how they look in that one white top with the scoop neckline that makes her borderline pass out.

• but even though she knows them like the back of her hand, she still sneaks glances when she thinks you’re not looking. sometimes you’re bent over the locker room bathroom mirror, adjusting your necklace or putting on lip gloss, and she’s across the room—pretending to tie her converse back on but she’s staring dead at your tits in the mirror reflection like she’s about to start drooling.

• and she’s memorized every single bra you own. color, fabric, lace pattern, where it cuts on your back, how the straps sit on your shoulders, whether the padding lifts your tits or not. she knows which ones you wear when you want to feel cute and which ones are for laundry day.

• when she’s high? forget about it. she starts rambling about the “artistic gravity” of your tits, how the curve reminds her of renaissance sculptures, and how she wants to sculpt them from memory using clay she found behind the garage. dina and jesse once walked in on this monologue and left in silence.

• she doesn’t even smoke that often—maybe once every couple weeks if someone else has it. but every time she does? she turns into a flushed, squirmy, glassy-eyed mess who gets insanely horny within ten minutes. like clockwork. doesn’t matter if it’s a chill high or a head high—ellie’s already halfway down bad the moment it hits her bloodstream.

• one time she smoked weed in dina’s garage with her and jesse. the three of them snuck out to her garage—lights off, old couch, lava lamp glowing. they pass it around like total amateurs, coughing and giggling and pretending to be cool. ten minutes in, ellie is absolutely done for.

• her knees are pulled up to her chest, hoodie sleeves over her hands, eyes half-lidded, cheeks flushed bright pink. she’s quiet, too quiet, until dina looks over and goes: “ellie… you good?” and ellie just mumbles, “mhm… i’m chillin’…” while clearly not chillin’.

• she’s thinking about you in a miniskirt. she’s thinking about your glossed-up lips. she’s thinking about your thighs on either side of her head. jesse’s rambling about alien conspiracies meanwhile ellie’s gripping the edge of the blanket, vibrating with how badly she needs to excuse herself. she finally blurts out “i’m gonna go… uh… bathroom. real quick.”

• she bolts toward the house, slamming the bathroom door shut. she barely locks it before her hand’s down her boxers—moaning softly into her arm, her mind spiraling with nothing but you. how pretty you are, how good you smell, how soft your thighs would feel wrapped around her flushed face.

• and her sketchbook is a problem. deep in her sketchbook, the parts she refuses to let anyone else see, are filthy. you sitting on her face, moaning. you spread open with your fingers, juice dripping down your thighs, her name scratched onto your skin. you with hickeys on your chest, teary eyes, flushed cheeks, and the exact position your mouth makes when you’re cumming.

• she’s drawn close-ups of your tits in her sketchbook more times than she can count. like full-studies. the shading, the softness, how the nipples perk when you’re cold. she knows which way they tilt when you’re laying on your side. she draws them squished under her hands. she draws them from memory and gets mad when it’s not perfect.

• and some of her sketches are drawn from scenarios she wishes happened. you sitting in her lap in just your mini skirt with your hand around her neck, you pulling her by the collar into bed with a kiss, you in the school bathroom kissing her against a stall door.

• in which ellie draws herself completely cornered against the stall door. her cheeks are flushed bright red, glasses fogged up, and her lips are shiny from your lip gloss—because you kissed it off her. in the corner of the page, ellie scribbled: “she wore juicy perfume. i could smell it all over me after.”

• remember ellie’s medieval fantasies? well let’s just say they’re not all innocent… a specific one is where she drew you pressed to the castle wall, dress lifted, bent over. ellie’s behind you, armor still on, her gauntlet clamped around your mouth while she takes you with a thick medieval strap—drawn with detailed curve and shimmer of neon green (yes, she draws the neon green strap even in fantasy).

• you’re moaning through her hand, crown slipping, legs shaking while your heels dig into the stone. she adds notes like: “told her to be quiet. she couldn’t.”, “her moans echoed through the halls.”

[amethystarachnid]

Thankyou so much for writing my request CHAOS & CONFETTI... I still can't believe it... I'm crying rn!!😭 That was very cute & lovely including the title! (exactly what I wanted) I hope it wasn't boring or bothersome for you to write it 😟

Can you please write a part 2 for it? Tony & y/n settle into their marriage and fight over something one day and somehow Bucky becomes the mediator and does his best to to solve it for them and again somehow becomes the third wheel when they make up🤣 and in the end y/n announces to all the avengers that she's pregnant with twins? (Ofcourse you can write it only if you want to and only if you have time. No rush no pressure!☺️) Sending loads of loveeeee!❤️

CHAOS & CONFETTI - Part 2

⤷ ANTHONY “TONY” E. STARK

ᯓ★ Pairing: Anthony “Tony” E. Stark x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: tiny but of fluff, lots of angst, fluff is back

ᯓ★ Word count: 6.1k

ᯓ★ Summary: what the ask said

ᯓ★ TW(s): emotional arguments, silent treatment / emotional distancing, crying / emotional breakdowns, jealousy, hints of emotional neglect (you asked for angst and I angst delivered)

ᯓ★ Part 1

ᯓ★ Blind Trope Game - thank you for 800 followers!

ᯓ★ Love is in the air - Valentine's Day special game

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Holiday Special

ᯓ★ MARVEL Multiverse - choose an AU, pair it with your favorite character and make a request!

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

A few weeks after the honeymoon, married life settles into something that doesn’t feel entirely real yet. Not because it’s bad—it’s not—but because it still catches you both off guard sometimes. The way Tony says “wife” like he’s still tasting it. The way you write “Stark” on forms without thinking. The way the world didn’t suddenly shift because you got married, but it did anyway, in small ways.

You come home from grocery shopping and Tony has labeled every snack in the pantry with sticky notes that say “do not touch,” “I will know,” and “back off—married privilege.”

You label them all back with “mine now,” and he acts betrayed for an hour until you kiss his neck and steal his chips anyway.

There are moments that are ridiculously sweet. Like the morning he wakes up before you—an actual miracle—and makes pancakes. Bad ones. Flat and uneven. But he stacks them on a plate and draws a little heart in syrup and proudly presents them like they’re gourmet.

You eat every bite. He beams. You both pretend not to notice the batter on the ceiling.

Then there are the less glamorous parts.

You argue. Not loud or dramatic, but sharp. Over dishes. Over Tony leaving tools in the kitchen. Over you forgetting to mute your alarm for the third time in a row. Over stupid things, things that mean nothing but feel like everything in the moment.

One night you yell at him because he forgot to tell you a team meeting got rescheduled, and you showed up alone to an empty conference room. He shrugs, says it slipped his mind. You snap. He snaps. Then you’re both in silence, backs to each other in bed, angry without really knowing why.

In the morning, he leaves a note on the bathroom mirror.

Still learning. Sorry. I love you. (Also, don’t forget that meeting at 10.)

You text him I love you too and buy his favorite coffee on the way home.

The thing is, marriage doesn’t fix things. It doesn’t make people perfect. But it does make you want to try harder.

Tony tries. He tries more than you expected. He writes reminders on his hand. He asks how your day was and actually listens. He puts his work down to join you for dinner. Sometimes you catch him just staring at your ring when you’re talking, like he still can’t believe it’s real.

You start leaving notes in his lab. Sometimes sweet. Sometimes silly. Sometimes just drawings of hearts or random doodles. He collects them. Tapes them to a wall. Calls it the “reason-to-not-blow-up-the-world corner.”

He still sneaks into bed at 3 a.m. sometimes, reeking of oil and caffeine. You grumble and pull him in anyway.

There are new routines. Movie nights on Fridays with popcorn and bad sci-fi. Sunday mornings spent half-awake, tangled in blankets, trading kisses and soft jokes. Grocery trips where Tony insists on buying ten boxes of cereal and argues with a six-year-old in the snack aisle over the last box of fruit snacks.

There are also interruptions. Missions that drag one of you away for days. Press interviews. Training. Real-life things. But even then, the first thing you both do when you're back is reach for each other. Like magnets. Like instinct.

You start getting used to the small things. The toothbrush you now share a drawer with. The way Tony always leaves one sock on the floor no matter how many times you ask him not to. The way he holds your hand in elevators, even if it's just you two.

One night, during a rare lull in chaos, you both end up on the rooftop. You’re in sweats. He’s in an old hoodie. There’s leftover takeout between you and city lights stretched far beyond.

“You ever think about how this is it?” he asks suddenly.

“What do you mean?”

“This. Us. Life now.”

You nod. “A lot.”

He leans back on his elbows, looking up at the sky. “I used to think being with someone meant sacrificing stuff. Freedom, time, your... I don’t know. Identity.”

You glance at him. “Do you feel like you gave something up?”

“No,” he says immediately. “That’s the weird part. I feel like I got more. Like everything I was doing before was... incomplete.”

You smile, quiet. “Same.”

He looks at you. “You make it feel less like a life I built to protect myself from the world, and more like a life I actually want to live in.”

“That’s the sappiest thing you’ve ever said.”

“I’ve got more if you want ‘em.”

You lean into his side. “Save it. I want to pace myself.”

He wraps an arm around you, and for a while, you sit like that—watching the lights, holding onto each other, married not just in name but in the thousand quiet decisions that add up to love.

There’s still a long way to go. Still mornings where you argue over coffee filters. Still nights where one of you is too tired to talk. Still habits to unlearn, and new ones to build.

But there are also morning kisses. Shared playlists. Stupid inside jokes. A life you’re choosing every single day.

You never expected it to be perfect.

But it’s yours.

And it’s more than enough.

---

It starts small. Like it always does.

You don’t even remember what the first thing was. Something dumb. Something about him skipping a meeting he said he’d go to. Or maybe it was you canceling dinner with him because a mission got extended. You’re both tired, busy, stretched thinner than usual, and the words don’t come out right.

Tony makes a joke—sarcastic, sharp. You don’t laugh. You respond with something clipped. He rolls his eyes. You cross your arms. There’s a pause, one of those quiet ones where you could both still back down. Could still walk it back.

But you don’t.

“You said you’d be there,” you say, biting the inside of your cheek to keep your voice even.

Tony doesn’t look up from the tablet he’s halfheartedly pretending to read. “Yeah, well, things happen. Get over it.”

That does it.

You step forward, arms folded. “Excuse me?”

“I said get over it,” he says without looking at you. “God, do we need to turn every little thing into a debate now?”

You stare at him, stunned. “Every little thing? So me caring that you bailed on something important is just a littlething?”

He finally looks up, and his expression already has that defensive tilt you know too well. “It’s not like I was out partying. I was working. On our stuff. For us. Sorry if I don’t have time to play dress-up for a PR shoot.”

Your jaw clenches. “It wasn’t just PR. It was a joint appearance. You said you’d be there. I sat there for two hours answering questions we both were supposed to handle.”

He shrugs. Shrugs.

That shrug hits harder than if he’d screamed.

“I’m not perfect,” he says, voice low and flat. “You knew that when you married me.”

“Oh, don’t you dare pull that.”

He stands, finally. “Then what do you want from me? To grovel? To admit I suck? Fine. I suck. Happy now?”

You blink hard, trying not to let the sting behind your eyes show. “No. I’m not happy. That’s the point.”

Silence falls like a brick wall between you.

And for the first time since the wedding, neither of you reaches for the other.

Tony exhales, dragging a hand through his hair. “I need to go cool off.”

You don’t stop him. Just stand there as he leaves the room, barefoot, angry, shoulders stiff. You don’t know where he goes. You don’t follow. You’re not sure if you should.

It’s hours later when he comes back. You’re in bed already. The lights are off. You hear him pause in the doorway. Hear him move around the room slowly, like he’s trying not to disturb you.

You face the wall. You don’t say a word.

Neither does he.

He gets into bed carefully, the mattress dipping slightly. You feel the space between your bodies like it’s a canyon. Normally, he’d curl around you, kiss the back of your shoulder, mumble something ridiculous or soft or sweet.

Tonight, he doesn’t.

He turns off the last lamp, and the room is dark.

You lie there, eyes wide open, heart aching.

Married life isn’t always easy. You knew that. You just didn’t think the silence would hurt more than the words did.

---

The next morning, the silence follows you both like a shadow.

Tony is already out of bed when you wake up. No note. No coffee waiting. Not even the sarcastic “Morning, sunshine” he throws your way on the worst days. You lie there for a minute, eyes fixed on the ceiling, wondering if last night really happened or if your brain’s just playing reruns of something worse.

But no, it happened. All of it. Every word, every sharp tone, every slammed door.

You shower slowly, drag your feet through the motions, and throw on clothes without thinking. There’s a brunch with the team—something Natasha insisted on after the last chaotic mission. “No business talk, no suits, just food,” she’d said. “You two lovebirds better show up or I’m hunting you down.”

You almost cancel. You almost text her some excuse, blame it on exhaustion, fake a headache. But Tony’s going. You know that much. And the thought of him being there without you, laughing and joking like nothing’s wrong, leaves a pit in your stomach.

So you go.

The restaurant is one of those rooftop ones downtown, with string lights and too many plants and a view of the skyline that’s almost aggressively pretty. The team is already gathered around a long table when you arrive—Natasha, Steve, Sam, Wanda, Bruce, and... Bucky. Because of course he’s there.

You spot Tony instantly. He’s at the far end of the table, sunglasses on even though they’re sitting in the shade. He’s talking to Bruce about something that looks tech-related. He doesn’t glance your way.

You sit down between Wanda and Sam. They both greet you with easy smiles, but they fade quickly when they catch your expression.

“You okay?” Wanda asks under her breath.

You nod. “Just tired.”

It’s not a lie, but it’s not the truth either.

Conversation flows around you, but you only catch bits and pieces. Bruce is explaining some AI thing. Natasha’s teasing Sam about a video she found of him singing karaoke. Steve is trying and failing to understand brunch menus.

Tony laughs at something Steve says. It’s small, just a soft sound, but it slices right through you.

He hasn’t laughed with you since before the fight.

Across the table, Bucky watches you. Not in a judging way, not smug. Just quiet. Perceptive. Like he’s putting puzzle pieces together one blink at a time.

You reach for your mimosa and drink it like it might dull the ache in your chest.

Halfway through the meal, Tony stands up to grab another coffee from the bar. You look up without meaning to. He doesn’t look back. His shoulders are tense. He runs a hand through his hair while waiting for the drink, and for a second, you wonder if he slept at all.

“You two okay?” Bucky asks, finally, voice low but not unkind.

You blink at him. “What?”

“You and Stark,” he says, nodding toward Tony. “You haven’t looked at each other once. It’s weird.”

“We’re fine,” you say automatically.

He doesn’t press. Just gives you that look—level, understanding, with just enough skepticism to make you feel transparent.

“Sometimes people fight,” he says, tearing a piece of toast. “Doesn’t mean it’s over. Just means you give a damn.”

You open your mouth, but nothing comes out.

Bucky shrugs. “But what do I know? I’m still single and sleeping next to a knife.”

Later, as everyone gets up to leave and people start peeling off in groups, Tony walks right past you on the way to the elevator. He says something to Steve, cracks a joke to Sam, even claps Bucky on the shoulder.

He doesn’t say a word to you.

He doesn't look at you.

You don’t stop him.

The silence stretches.

And every step you take away from him feels heavier than the last.

You hold it together just long enough to make it to the elevator.

Everyone else filters out onto the sidewalk, scattered in small clumps, laughing and waving each other off. Tony disappears around the corner with Bruce and Steve, still chatting like nothing happened. Like you hadn’t spent the whole brunch pretending you weren’t hurting.

The moment the elevator doors close and you’re alone, it hits.

You press the back of your hand to your mouth and squeeze your eyes shut, but it’s too late. The tears come fast—hot and sudden. The kind that don’t ask permission. Your shoulders shake with the force of trying to keep it quiet, but you end up letting out a soft, broken sound you barely recognize as your own.

The metal box is still moving. Too slow. Or maybe too fast. You don’t even know anymore. You just want to be somewhere private. Somewhere you can fall apart without the weight of pretending you're fine.

You don’t hear the footsteps until the doors start to close and a hand jams between them.

Bucky.

He steps inside, silent as always, and doesn’t say anything at first. Just glances at you, then away again. Then back.

You quickly wipe your face and turn toward the wall, mortified. “Please don’t.”

He doesn’t move. Just lets the elevator ride continue. You expect him to say something sarcastic or to walk out the second it dings.

But he doesn’t. He stands next to you, quiet but present, and somehow that makes the tears come harder.

“I’m fine,” you say, voice cracked and barely there.

He glances down at your reflection in the mirrored paneling. “You’re not.”

You shake your head, trying to find words that don’t sound pathetic. “We had a fight.”

“I figured.”

“He’s ignoring me.”

“Yeah.”

You sniff and press your palms to your eyes. “I thought marriage would mean... I don’t know. That we’d at least talk things out.”

Bucky shrugs, leaning against the rail. “He’s scared.”

You turn your head, still blinking through tears. “Of what? Me?”

“Of screwing it up,” he says, not unkindly. “You matter more than anyone else has. That kind of pressure makes people—especially people like Stark—stupid.”

You give a weak, humorless laugh. “So I should just wait for him to be less stupid?”

“No. He should pull his head out of his ass,” Bucky says. Then, after a beat: “But I can help.”

You look at him, surprised. “You want to help me fix my marriage?”

He shrugs like it’s not that weird. “Better than watching you both mope around pretending you’re fine. It’s exhausting.”

You snort through your tears. “You’re surprisingly soft for a guy with a metal arm and five expressions.”

He raises an eyebrow. “I have six expressions. Don’t disrespect me.”

The elevator dings and opens on your floor, but you don’t move yet.

Bucky finally steps forward and presses the door hold. “Seriously. I’ll talk to him. Or trick him into being somewhere you are. You can talk. Or yell. Or throw things. I’ll bring snacks.”

You laugh despite yourself. “Why are you being nice to me?”

He smirks just a little. “Because you’re the only one who ever shares their fries. And because, believe it or not, I like you. You make him better.”

You nod, trying to gather yourself. “Okay. Just... maybe don’t tell him I cried in the elevator.”

He holds up a hand. “Scout’s honor.”

“You were never a scout.”

“Still counts.”

You smile, still shaky, but real this time. “Thanks, Bucky.”

He tips his head slightly. “Go drink some water. And maybe don’t text him while you’re still crying.”

“Too late.”

“Of course.”

As he finally lets the elevator doors close, he says, almost too casually, “I’ll handle Stark.”

And somehow, you believe him.

---

When you get home, everything feels too quiet.

The lights in the hallway are dimmed, soft and warm like nothing’s wrong. But something is wrong, and it clings to you like humidity, thick and pressing. You slip off your shoes, drop your bag by the door, and listen for sounds—music, movement, Tony.

You hear him in the kitchen. Silverware clinking. A fridge door closing. Then footsteps. Heavy, purposeful.

You steel yourself.

When he rounds the corner, his eyes are on you immediately. And there’s something off about his expression. Not tired. Not even guilty. He looks annoyed. But not the kind of annoyed that comes from running late or a frustrating meeting. It’s sharp. Focused. Personal.

You blink, caught off guard. “What?”

He leans against the doorframe, arms crossed. “So. You and Barnes.”

You freeze. “Excuse me?”

He gestures vaguely, his voice low and bitter. “Saw the footage. Security in the elevator. You two looked cozy.”

You feel the breath catch in your chest. “Are you serious right now?”

“I’m just asking how long the two of you have been playing emotional support while I’m out here getting the silent treatment.”

Your hands curl into fists. “He found me crying, Tony. After you spent the whole brunch ignoring me like I didn’t exist.”

He scoffs. “And you just—what—poured your heart out to the brooding soldier? Let him comfort you while I—what? Deserve to feel like crap alone?”

“You made me feel like crap alone!” you snap. “You didn’t even look at me! You couldn’t say one word to your wife all morning!”

He pushes off the wall, voice rising. “Because I was mad, okay? And I didn’t want to make it worse. I figured space was safer than saying something I’d regret!”

“Well, guess what?” you shout back. “You don’t get to give me the cold shoulder and then get jealous when someone else actually notices I’m falling apart!”

Tony’s jaw flexes. “So what, now you’re running to Barnes every time we hit a rough patch? That’s how we’re doing this?”

“I didn’t run to anyone!” Your voice cracks, too loud now, echoing in the hallway. “I didn’t want anyone to see me like that! But he was there, and he was kind, and I couldn’t keep it together anymore!”

Silence falls, but it’s not a peaceful one.

It’s thick, angry, fragile.

Tony shakes his head slowly, like he’s trying to rein it in, but his next words land like glass shattering. “Maybe you should’ve stayed with him. Sounds like he knows how to handle you better.”

Your heart stutters.

You step back like he’s slapped you.

Tony’s face falls instantly, regret hitting him too late. “Wait. I didn’t—”

“No,” you say, voice suddenly cold. “You did.”

You don’t wait for him to explain. You turn and walk down the hallway, quick, breath shallow. He follows.

“Wait, come on. Don’t—don’t walk away. I didn’t mean it like that. I was pissed, I wasn’t thinking—”

“I know you weren’t thinking,” you throw over your shoulder. “That’s the problem.”

You open the door to the guest room. It smells like dust and unused sheets. You walk in anyway.

Tony stops in the doorway, looking heartbroken. “You’re not seriously—”

“I’m not sleeping next to you tonight,” you say, not meeting his eyes. “I can’t.”

He exhales like the wind’s been knocked out of him. “Y/n, please.”

You turn your back to him and pull the door shut behind you.

It clicks softly, final.

You sit on the edge of the bed in the dark, chest tight, tears threatening again. You don’t cry this time. Just stare at your wedding ring, thumb brushing over the band, wondering how the hell things got so messy so fast.

On the other side of the door, you think you hear him say your name.

You don’t answer.

---

The next morning, the guest room is cold.

You wake up wrapped in too many blankets, but it doesn’t help the emptiness you feel. You stare at the ceiling for a long time before getting up. No sounds come from the rest of the apartment. No footsteps. No coffee brewing. No sarcastic Tony humming show tunes while making a mess in the kitchen. Just silence.

You don’t know if he slept at all.

You splash cold water on your face, trying to clear the fog. You’re not even sure what emotion is strongest anymore—hurt, guilt, anger, exhaustion. It’s all too much, too heavy, and sitting right on top of it is something else. Something that’s been bothering you for a while now.

You sit down on the edge of the bed again, hand resting over your stomach without even thinking about it.

The last few weeks have been… off.

You’ve been tired, more irritable than usual. Little things have made you cry, even before the fight. Tony spilling juice on your favorite hoodie had you tearing up for ten minutes. Commercials have made you emotional. Your mood’s been swinging so wildly that even you started avoiding yourself.

And then there’s the nausea. Not full-blown sickness, but little waves of it—in the morning, after coffee, when you get too hungry. You told yourself it was stress. Too many missions, too many wedding thank-you notes, too much adrenaline and crashing emotions afterward.

But now…

Now, sitting in the quiet with last night’s fight still fresh in your chest, you feel something else underneath it all.

A suspicion.

A possibility.

You don’t tell anyone. Not yet. Not even yourself, not out loud. Because if you say it, it becomes real. And you’re not ready for that—not when you and Tony aren’t even speaking.

You pull on a hoodie, quietly exit the room, and pass the master bedroom door. You hesitate. There’s no sound from inside. You keep walking.

Bucky texts you around noon.

[Bucky]: You alive? Or should I send a search team?

You stare at it for a second before replying.

[You]: Alive. Barely.

[Bucky]: Need air? Or coffee? Or a baseball bat? I’m flexible.

You smile faintly despite yourself.

[You]: Coffee. No bats. Not yet.

He meets you outside a café near the tower. He’s wearing a black hoodie and sunglasses like he’s dodging press, but the moment he sees you, he lowers them slightly, checking your face like he’s looking for bruises. You sit across from him at one of the little outdoor tables, wrapping your hands around the cup he already ordered for you.

You take a sip, then a breath.

“I slept in the guest room.”

Bucky nods slowly. “He looked like hell this morning.”

“Good,” you mutter, then sigh. “No. Not good. I feel awful.”

“You shouldn’t.”

“I said some things. So did he. And then he accused me of running to you and basically implied I’d be better off—” You shake your head. “It doesn’t matter.”

“He’s an idiot,” Bucky says. “But he’s your idiot. And he knows he screwed up.”

You nod, staring into your coffee. “I just don’t know if talking right now will help or make it worse.”

“Then give it time,” he says. “Not too much. But enough for you both to remember you’re on the same team.”

You’re quiet for a while. Then you glance at him. “Bucky… have I seemed… weird to you lately?”

His brow furrows. “Weird how?”

“I don’t know. Mood swings. Crying over nothing. Getting mad at Tony faster than usual. Nauseous for no reason…”

He tilts his head. “Sounds like stress.”

You nod again but don’t speak. Your hand drifts back to your stomach.

Bucky catches the movement but doesn’t comment on it. Just sits back and folds his arms.

“You think there’s more going on,” he says.

You glance away. “I don’t know yet.”

“If you ever want backup figuring it out, you know I’ve got your back, right?”

You smile at him, grateful. “Yeah. I know.”

He looks around, like he’s making sure no one’s listening, then leans in a little. “Also, not to brag, but I’m really good at punching Tony in the shoulder until he listens. Just say the word.”

You laugh, and for a moment, the knot in your chest loosens.

But even as you sip your coffee and make small talk, a quiet question presses at the back of your mind.

What if you’re pregnant?

And even more terrifying: What will that mean for you and Tony if you are—especially now?

---

You spend two more days dancing around the silence in your apartment.

Tony’s careful now—he doesn't snap, doesn't push, but he also doesn’t try to talk about it. He leaves coffee in the kitchen with a sticky note that just says “for you” and your initials scrawled like an afterthought. He sets your favorite snacks out on the counter when he knows you’ll be in the common area. He exists quietly, like he’s trying not to scare the peace away.

You miss him.

But you’re still hurt.

And underneath it all, that unspoken maybe grows louder in your mind. You’ve ordered a test, shoved it in the back of a drawer, and stared at it like it might explode. You haven’t touched it yet.

You want things right with Tony before you add that to the storm.

So when Bucky texts you the morning of the third day, you know something’s up.

[Bucky]: I need help in the lab. Come now.

[You]: You don’t go in the lab.

[Bucky]: Just come. Wear shoes. Don’t ask questions.

You almost don’t go. But something tells you not to ignore him. And when you step into the lab, you immediately know he’s up to something.

It’s empty. Too empty.

Then you hear footsteps behind you—and turn to find Tony standing by the door, looking like he’s been shoved into the moment by force. His hair is messy. He’s in sweats. And he looks about as surprised as you.

“Did Bucky lure you here, too?” he asks, rubbing the back of his neck.

You nod slowly. “Yeah.”

There’s a long, strange pause.

Neither of you speaks. Neither moves.

Then Bucky’s voice crackles over the lab intercom. “I’m locking the door.”

“What—Bucky—” Tony rushes to the panel, but the door hisses and locks. “This isn’t funny!”

“You’re not leaving until you fix your crap,” Bucky says casually. “Talk. Cry. Kiss. Whatever. I’ll be back in an hour. Maybe.”

The intercom cuts off.

You stare at Tony.

He sighs and leans on the nearest counter. “I deserve that.”

“Yeah, you do.”

Another pause.

Tony exhales hard. “Look… I screwed up. I know I did. And I was jealous, which is stupid, because it’s Bucky, and you’re my wife. But I felt like I already lost you.”

“You ignored me for a whole day. You made me feel invisible.”

“I know,” he says, his voice dropping. “I didn’t know how to undo it without making it worse. I didn’t want to come to you with the same damn ego that started the fight.”

You nod slowly. “I get that. I was angry too. Still kind of am.”

He gives a weak smile. “Yeah. That tracks.”

“But,” you say, stepping closer, “I didn’t stop loving you.”

His face shifts, softer. “Not even when I said the dumbest thing I’ve said since calling Thor ‘sparkles’?”

You choke out a laugh. “Not even then.”

He reaches for your hands, and you let him take them.

“I’m sorry,” he says, looking you straight in the eye. “For the fight. For shutting down. For accusing you. For forgetting I’m not in this alone anymore.”

You nod. “I’m sorry too. For shutting you out. For letting someone else comfort me before giving you a chance to try.”

“You were hurting. I wasn’t there. That’s on me.”

You pull him closer, resting your forehead against his. “I missed you.”

He closes his eyes. “God, I missed you too.”

You stay like that for a moment, quiet and still.

Then he pulls you into a kiss—slow, apologetic, real.

When you break apart, the lab door suddenly hisses and slides open. Bucky is standing there with a protein bar in his mouth, sunglasses on, arms folded like he planned the whole thing down to the second.

Tony squints at him. “You watched the whole thing, didn’t you?”

Bucky takes a bite and chews. “You’re welcome.”

“Creep,” Tony mutters, but he’s smiling now, that tired, lopsided one that means he’s at peace again.

You laugh. “He really did lock us in here.”

“I told you,” Bucky says, smirking. “Six expressions. One of them’s ‘matchmaker.’”

From then on, Bucky becomes your permanent third wheel.

He doesn’t leave your side for a week—not even subtly. He shows up at your door every morning under the pretense of “needing breakfast,” even though he doesn’t eat half of what’s on the table. He shows up when you go out with Tony for lunch, sliding into the booth before either of you can stop him. He walks with you through the park while you and Tony try to have a soft moment.

Tony threatens to change the tower’s security codes just to ditch him.

“You’re the one who said I’m family now,” Bucky reminds him smugly. “Family shows up.”

“Family leaves eventually,” Tony says, exasperated, while Bucky slouches on your couch, chewing popcorn loudly.

But secretly, you’re glad he’s there. Even Tony is. Because Bucky’s presence lightens the mood. Gives you both someone to joke with when things still feel a little raw. And he becomes the buffer when either of you starts to overthink.

A few nights later, after Bucky finally leaves—after you pretend not to see Tony slide the deadbolt behind him—you sit on the edge of the bed again. Tony watches from the doorway.

“You okay?” he asks, voice gentle now.

You nod. “Just… been thinking.”

He steps closer. “About what?”

You hesitate, fingers brushing your stomach. You haven’t taken the test yet. Haven’t even told Tony you suspect. You open your mouth to say something—but the words get stuck.

So instead, you smile faintly and say, “About how weird it is that I missed having Bucky around when he’s not even gone ten minutes.”

Tony groans and flops onto the bed face-first. “This is my life now, huh?”

You lie down beside him, hand resting lightly on his back.

Yeah, you think. This is your life now.

And maybe it’s about to get even more complicated.

---

You stare at the white stick in your hand, perched on the closed toilet seat like it’s holding all the answers in the world. Five minutes. That’s all it takes. Five minutes that feel like an hour.

You wait.

The silence in the bathroom is sharp. You think maybe you hear Tony in the other room talking to FRIDAY about a new project, his voice distant, unaware. He has no idea what you’re doing in here. You told him you were organizing laundry.

When the timer on your phone goes off, you glance down.

Negative.

Your heart clenches—not in relief, not quite in disappointment either. Just… confusion. You stare at the result for a while longer before tossing it in the trash and sitting back against the counter, arms around your knees.

It doesn’t feel right.

Your gut still twists when you wake up in the morning. Your mood is still unpredictable. You still cried last night watching an ad about puppies. Something’s going on. You feel it. But one test says otherwise.

So you book a doctor’s appointment the next day. Quietly. No fanfare, no questions, no Tony.

You slip out after breakfast while Bucky is raiding your fridge again and Tony’s too busy complaining about it to notice you sneaking your bag over your shoulder. You leave a note—simple and vague.

“Running an errand. Be back for dinner. Love you.”

The appointment is quick but tense. Blood work. A gentle smile from the doctor. She asks questions and you answer them all honestly, even though your mind races.

And then, you wait again.

This time, it’s the nurse who comes back in holding a folder. She gives you that look—the one that says something important is about to land in your lap whether you’re ready or not.

“Congratulations,” she says softly. “You’re pregnant.”

Your breath catches.

You blink at her, stunned. “But I— the test I took—”

She smiles. “It happens more often than you’d think. Especially early on. But you are definitely pregnant.”

Your mind swirls. Tony. The fight. The silence. The makeup. Everything. You don’t even realize you’re gripping the armrests of the chair.

“Oh,” you say, barely able to keep your voice steady. “Okay. That’s… a lot.”

“There’s more.”

You sit up straighter. “More?”

She hands you the ultrasound printout. Two little dots. Two little flickers. She taps gently, smiling.

“Twins.”

You feel the world slow down. You don’t even have words. Just two tiny spots on a black-and-white printout and the thundering of your own heartbeat.

You’re pregnant.

With twins.

By the time you get home, your head is still spinning.

There’s a dinner already happening in the Tower’s common area. Someone decided the team needed “quality bonding,” which in practice means takeout containers, mismatched drinks, and Thor cheerfully passing around flagons of who-knows-what. Steve is in his polite-and-suffering mode. Natasha is watching it all with an amused smirk. Bruce is already halfway through a bottle of wine he probably didn’t intend to finish.

Bucky is there too, and he notices you walk in first. He watches your face carefully. You’re trying to play it cool, but he can tell something’s shifted. His eyes narrow like he’s about to say something—but you shake your head subtly and take a seat beside Tony instead.

Tony leans in and murmurs, “Where were you?”

You kiss his cheek. “I’ll tell you in a second.”

He leans back, squinting. “That sounded ominous.”

You just smile.

You let the dinner carry on for a few more minutes. Someone makes a joke. Thor is dramatically retelling a battle with an alien slug that apparently involved three goats and a frying pan. There’s laughter. It feels warm, chaotic, familiar.

And then you clear your throat.

Everyone looks over.

You set your drink down, heart thudding. “I, uh… I have an announcement.”

Tony straightens a little beside you. “Okay, now I’m nervous.”

You look around the table. “I wanted to tell Tony first, but then this dinner happened, and it kind of feels right to say it with all of you here. Since you’re family.”

Bucky’s eyes widen just slightly. He knows. Somehow, he already knows.

You take a breath.

“I went to the doctor today,” you say, watching Tony’s brows furrow. “Because I’ve been feeling a little… off.”

Tony turns fully toward you now, eyes sharp with worry. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

You squeeze his hand. “Because I wanted to be sure before I scared either of us.”

You reach into your pocket and pull out the ultrasound printout, placing it gently in front of him.

Tony stares.

Natasha leans forward. Steve’s eyes widen. Bruce sets his glass down slowly. Thor is grinning like an idiot.

Tony looks back up at you, speechless.

“You’re serious?” he says, voice rough.

You nod, smiling now. “We’re having a baby.”

There’s a pause.

You tap the paper again. “Two babies.”

The table explodes.

Bruce chokes on his drink. Natasha actually gasps. Steve makes a sound like someone just punched him in the joy. Thor lets out a victorious HA! and claps Tony so hard on the back he nearly faceplants into the table.

“TWINS,” Thor declares. “A BOUNTIFUL BLESSING. YOU MUST NAME ONE OF THEM AFTER ME.”

“No,” Tony coughs, stunned, still staring at the photo. “Absolutely not.”

Natasha grabs the ultrasound and holds it up to the light. “Oh my god. You’re gonna be a dad. A dad, Tony. Like, diaper duty and car seats and ‘where’s the pacifier’ dad.”

Bucky leans across the table, grinning. “You’re so screwed.”

Tony finally looks back at you. “Twins?”

You nod, beaming.

He exhales hard and pulls you into the most careful, reverent hug you’ve ever felt from him.

And then, true to form, he pulls back just far enough to mutter, “Okay, but you’re not allowed to hang out alone with Barnes anymore. You are clearly too fertile.”

You slap his shoulder. “Tony!”

Bucky leans back smugly. “Told you I was good luck.”

Tony groans, face buried in your neck.

And even with all the teasing, the laughter, the chaos—you’ve never felt more sure of anything in your life.

You’re going to have twins.

You’re building a family.

And you’re not doing it alone.

[2-cute-4-school]

𝙉𝘾𝙏 𝘿𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙢 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣 : 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙞𝙧 𝙪𝙨𝙪𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙮 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙘𝙧𝙪𝙨𝙝 𝙜𝙚𝙩𝙨 𝙨𝙤𝙛𝙩 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙢

 @proseeuhn~aaah its okay if it takes a while! i honestly dont mind! my requests was… how would the dreamies react to their friend/crush who is usually unintentionally quite distant and intimidating being with soft with them and grabbing their hand out of nowhere to just play with it? if that makes sense?? like the friend/crush gets all soft and grabs the dreamies hand and plays with it djskks thank you in advance! ~ Thank you so much for your request (๑>◡<๑) , it was such a fun and original idea, i really enjoyed coming up with scenarios for this (requests are still open btw)

Mark Lee

so mark may be just a tiny huge bit scared of you sometimes

but that’s mostly because babie doesn’t want to make a fool of himself in front of you  🥺

cuz your rbf gives him THE chills sometimes

you’re the definition of a ‘bruh’ person but somehow that’s a huge charm in mark’s eyes he’s royally whipped been there done that

and the one(1) way mark can fully relax and be in his element is when he’s playing the guitar i’d die to see/hear him

and even after he’s done you’re just ✨ vibing ✨ together in silence

until you suddenly reach out and grasp his hand in yours and bring it close to your face

mark.exe has unexpectedly crashed (((( ;°Д°))))

“woah your fingertips are so calloused from playing”

mark needs a cooler PRONTO (⁽⁽ ⁰ ⁾⁾ Д ⁽⁽ ⁰ ⁾⁾)

he’s OVERHEATING FOR REAL and hyperaware of your warm breath fawning over his fingertips

and then you intertwine your hands and bring them into your lap as you brush your thumb against the exposed skin on his hand that you’re able to reach with a small smile on your lips (ﾟ ωﾟ//）

and mark is SHOOK with your casual display of affection and softness

he can’t help but stare at the soft curl of your lips, the light twinkle in your eyes, the fingers that grip his own so firmly yet so endearingly ♡‿♡

“you’re so beautiful” it just slips out 

0.0 pause, delete existence, rewind major PANIC

but to his immense surprise a faded hue of red paints your cheeks and ears (๑•́‧̫•̀๑)

“thanks, you’ll get there too eventually “ 

（ノT＿T)ノ ＾┻━┻  way to ruin a moment

but he does forgive you when he feels the index finger of your other hand trace a faint heart on the back of his hand (*>ω<*)

and mark would spend a lifetime playing his guitar if it meant he’d get to witness this unexpected but very welcomed side of you

Huang Renjun

renjun probably watches you like a hawk 

your distant demeanor sometimes baffles him poor baby

but he likes you too much to give up so easily whipped man ٩(♡ε♡ )۶

and he does everything he can to *subtly* hint about his tiny huge crush but without making you uncomfortable renjun best boi we been knew

but you don’t seem to get the gist AT ALL (>皿<)

and renjun is getting more and more concerned on your lack of affection towards him 

so babie gets lowkey sad (oꆤ︵ꆤo) not allowed in this household

until one blessed time you’re peeking over his shoulder as he inspects one of his unworldly amazing drawings

*GASP* “JUN THAT’S SO BEAUTIFUL”

you hurriedly take a seat beside him and grab one of his hands in yours as you gush over his artwork

“HOW EVEN, THIS IS JUST…JUST- I HAVE NO WORDS, MY JUN IS THE BEST ARTIST IN THIS filthy WORLD!!!11!!!1!” ლ(^o^ლ)

renjun’s brain and face is overheating

‘we…we’re holding ha-hands??!? and they called me best artist- wait ‘MY jun’??!?!!??!?!?’ （◎0◎）

and while he’s already shutting down, you decide enough isn’t enough and give  him THE FINAL BLOW

you run your fingers gently over the back of his right hand and you suddenly lean your head on his shoulder as your soft voice registers in his overworked brain

“your birthmark is so pretty, renjun, so unique” (♥ω♥*)

*please bring cold water, towels, a fan, the entire fridge, renjun is burning alive he hot that’s why* 

but renjun makes THE ULTIMATE POWER MOVE and brings your intertwined hands up to lay a *smooch* on your hand  🥺

get a room pls 

Lee Jeno

the members once said they also found jeno intimidating and cold before getting to know him 

so he’s certain that you only need to open up a lil

that’s why no matter how distant and icy you  act towards him 

he never NEVER gives up

just shoots you one of his ^‿^ smiles and carries on

and unconsciously, you start to soften up around him

and there a very specific moment when he started to realize that

you were helping him cut up some fruits and as he was about to grab another apple, you grabbed his hand, intently inspecting it

jeno having a heated internal debate : ‘chill man, don’t give them a reason to catch you off guard’  (ó﹏ò｡)

“well i gotta admit lee jeno” 

“huh?” insert that cute confused sound he makes

“i’m really awestruck by you”

jeno puffing his chest internally : ‘well it’s damn time you noticed me senpai’ (๑˃̵ᴗ˂̵)و

“you’ve really got the ugliest tan i’ve ever seen”

‘ASDFKAWDKSAIKAKJW- *passes out* ‘ X.X

jeno just snatches his hand away and grumbles about fruits and bicycles

he’s sulky the entire day but not because you hurt his ego no 

and as much as you love teasing jeno, your growing soft spot for him is acting up and your melted heart just *mush*

so you kick renjun off the couch in order to sit beside jeno renjun tries to protest but you shoot him *that look* and he retreats with his tail between his legs ミ●﹏☉ミ

jeno tries to keep up his deeply hurt act dramatic much

until he feels shy fingers brushing his as if hesitating, before they curl around his firmly

‘ASDFKAWDKSAIKAKJW- *passes out* ‘ x2 because the softness in his heart is just too much for him

later on it becomes a habit neither of you complains

Lee Donghyuck

it’s the 4th time in the past 2 hours

and yes, donghyuck has been keeping count for scientific purposes obv

nvm, it’s the 5th time your hand brushed against his 

and hyuck is  ✨  ABOUT TO LOSE HIS MARBLES  ✨

the demons on his shoulders are arguing by now 

‘this is an attempt to subtly hold your hand dumbass’ (－‸ლ)

‘no it’s not, they would never touch anyone, remember when they threatened to chop chop that guy’s balls for touching them?’

‘it’s not the same thing, you’d let the opportunity if holding your crush’s hand pass by like this?’

‘sure go ahead, and then watch y/n dip it in acid’   ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

donghyuck shuddered at the thought

what he doesn’t know is that sure, while sticking a random guy’s hand up his ass for touching you is a ‘been there done that’ for you

hyuck isn’t just a random guy

you’d choke on an asparagus before admitting it, but he has grown on you

sure, he’s still an annoying brat sometimes 

but he’s so much more than that, he understood you in ways other couldn’t, he was patient with you and did his best to comfort and show you he cares in his own way  (｡♡ˇд ˇ♡｡）

and you grew to care for him too

maybe a bit more than a friend should   ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

“hey hyuck!! my hand is cold, warm it up for me”

you acted on impulse before you could chicken out and before hyuck could answer and slipped your hand in his

demon on left shoulder : ‘ha told ya pay up BEACH’

“you only love me for my warmth” said donghyuck totally not blushing and fangirling on the inside

“pffft i don’t love you, i like tolerate you and just shut up human radiator” said y/n totally not swinging their hands back and forward like kids in love 

Na Jaemin

this man= W H I P P E D

y/n makes an edible omlet? jaemin : this is real taste, 5 star michelin right here!!  stream gods menu cowards

y/n squishes hyuck like a bug for waking them up? jaemin : yes babe whoop go off cutie!!! (•̀o•́)ง

y/n breathes? jaemin : PERFECTION!!!11!!!1!!1!!

so you went from ‘(•ิ_•ิ)? what is this person saying??’

to ‘ (｡•́︿•̀｡)why isn’t he saying anything’ whenever he omits cheering you 

but in a subtle way

you can’t have him catching on

so one day you’re sitting at the kitchen table and he’s feeding you pieces of fruit you whine about being able to feed yourself but nana knows you’re secretly enjoying it

when you suddenly snatch his other hand and one of renjun’s pencils left around and you  🥺 him

unfair if you ask him, how is he supposed to say no so he doesn’t

and you start doodling on his hand o(^◇^)o

he tries to peek at what you’re doing but you squeal softly and move to cover your drawing 

“nana! wait until i’m done!!!’ (｀0´)

he *melts* at your cute reactions and resorts to watching your face expressions fondly as he occasionally prods your lips with fruit

“done!!!”

you move away to let him see the cute dolphin you drew on the back of his hand and he gushes about the cuteness of your drawing

but then you shyly start fiddling with his fingers as you explain

“you know how a dolphin helped poseidon find his love? this will make sure you’ll always find me” (๑•́‧̫•̀๑)

jaemin, softly smiling in understanding, curls his own fingers over yours and brings them up to his chest 

“you don’t have to worry about that”

Zhong Chenle

chenle doesn’t seem a very affectionate person either

so he’s not really worried about your lack of affection social distancing

what he is worried about is that you’re also distant on an emotional level

because what if he misreads you?

what if you misunderstand him because of the lack of communication?

what if he isn’t there for you the one time you need him?

this baby just wants you to know he cares (◕⌓◕;)

but at the same time he doesn’t want to act in a different way around you read as doesn’t want to make a fool of himself in front of his crush

also you’re quite close

as friends for now (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧

and as he does with all his close friends : he brings you to his home in china!!!!

and this boi has the surprise of his life when you obviously make an effort to open up to his family ໒( ͡ᵔ ▾ ͡ᵔ )७

you smile and chat a lot with his mom and chenle also gets to talk a lot with you since he has to translate so who’s the real winner here

and you know that variety show(?) where chenle dances with his grandpa in the park? you go there too (∗´꒳`)

and while you’re both waiting on the side…

you!!!!grab!!!!his!!!!HAND!!!! and pull him towards the dance floor!!

chenle : Σ(゜ロ゜;) then looks at you being all : o(^◇^) and chenle turns to : (●♡∀♡)  whipped culture everyone

he barely even breathes until you settle for a comfortable dance pattern, one of your hands on his shoulder, one of his laying gingerly on your waist respectfully cuz he is a manners man 

but most importantly : hands clasped together at the side!!!!!!

and these minutes in which you just dance together without a worry, chenle gets to live his long forgotten childhood dreams 🥺  you know how in cinderella it’s the dance that starts everything? yeah that

chenle marks this date in his calendar and makes it a national day 

Park Jisung

lyin’ is a sin so we don’t do that in dis household

jisung is highly intimidated by you (⌣_⌣”)

as in he likes likes you but he doesn’t dare act on his feelings in any way

so renjun and haechan took it upon themselves to play cupid a horrible decision really

and it seems that their attempts at dr. love only ended up in disasters

locked you together in a rollercoaster together? jisung threw up on both your laps (✦థ ｪ థ)ﾉ

ice skating together? jisung stumbled into you, knocking you over so you left the ring with a bruised chin and sore knees and jisung : (シ_ _)シ

arcade hangout? your competitive self almost made jisung cry you not only ignored him but also kicked his ass in every. single. game

so no one had any expectations when they arranged a horror movie night and invited you to sit beside jisung ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

you were awfully quiet since the start of the movie which wasn’t necessarily unusual but ya know 

but the atmosphere was getting tenser and tenser and you just knew some kind of jumpscare was coming

and survival comes first!!!! so you clutch onto the nearest thing

jisung’s hand ding dong correct!!!!

and you also bury your face in his shoulder subtly (っ⇀⑃↼)っ

you, shitting your pants : not a word to the others

jisung, also shitting his pants : not one

but uh even though jisung is awkward and everything, he isn’t complaining!!

he finds comfort in your death grip and you’re also his crush so DOUBLE WIN!!!  !(•̀ᴗ•́)و ̑̑

ofc the others notice but they don’t say a word because ✨ you’re cute ✨ so they leave the teasing for later thought you escaped? not a chance beach

and to make it all even more embarrassingly cute, you fall asleep like that

and you wake up the next morning tucked in jisung’s side with a sore neck, clammy hands and 200 notifs on your phone with pictures of you and jisung sleeping from every  possible angle (๑˃̵ᴗ˂̵)

and with a soon-to-be boyfriend too

[velvetcoves]

some V3 relationship HCs :) (boys)

(f/n)= first name <3

-mod velv

K1-B0 (KIIBO)

★ I LOVE HIM-

★ anyway

★ Kiibo has a basic understanding of human nature, but there are things that he just.. doesn’t get

★ like.. why do you have so many cups?? don’t you need only a couple?

★ and yes, he supposes that rock shines, but why do you need it?

★ you’ll have to explain to him some of your nature, and most humans as well. he’s very interested in learning as much as he can :)

★ after he gets some of it, (which took a while), he’ll start collecting little things that remind him of you. like a crow

★ your reactions mean everything to him

★ if you have any games that require timing, i have one word for you.

★ Kiibo.

★ he can literally pass any levels you’re stuck on

★ did i mention he heats up?

★ even though he’s.. made of metal, he’s surprisingly very comfortable! however, there are times where some parts of him dig into you uncomfortably, but there are solutions :)

★ like sweaters!! and blankets

★ speaking of, i feel like Kiibo would have a love-hate relationship with winter

★ on one hand, he gets to see you in the snow, help you make a snowman, and keep you warm during the cold nights

★ but.. his body gets stuck more often.

★ and the metal gets cold quickly, and he doesn’t want you cold :(

★ but you just remind him of the sweaters and you’ve got a happy robot :)

KOREKIYO SHINGUJI

★ whenever you two go out, he always has to be touching you in someway

★ it’s never something big, and most times you don’t even notice him until later

★ more often than not, his hand finds its way to your back

★ it’s now a habit of his, to kind of lead you with that

★ if his hand isn’t at your back, i feel like it would be somewhere on your arm. like a linked arm, or he’s holding your hand so he doesn’t lose you in a crowd.

★ ok but his h a i r?

★ can i be a simp for hair

★ he definitely would let you, and only you play with his hair. like braiding it, brushing, etc.

★ i feel like he would rarely call you by your actual name, because he uses so. many. pet names.

★ “angel, could you grab that for me?”

★ “dearest, come here for a second.”

★ stuff like that smh oh to be called dearest by Kiyo

★ he’d tease you sometimes as well

★ if you’re shorter than him, he’d definitely hold things above his head so you couldn’t grab them. and if you’re taller than him, then oh boy. he’d hide stuff from you. not important things, but stuff you’d need only in that specific moment.

★ he also really likes to play with your fingers lol it helps him concentrate

★ ok but just imagine.. Kiyo in the middle of a conversation, you’re not really paying attention as you’re screwing around on your phone. suddenly, Kiyo’s soft fingers interlace between yours, giving your hand a squeeze before he begins to play with your index finger as he continues to talk. tracing the shape of it into his mind. almost like he wanted to make a copy of you.

★ he could never try to replicate you, though. you’re so perfect to him.

RANTARO AMAMI

★ TEASE KING. STEP ASIDE KOKICHI

★ Rantaro is definitely that dude that if you’re wearing a hat, he’ll pull it down over your eyes or he’ll just straight up steal it.

★ play with his hair plEASE-

★ his hair is soft, threads through your fingers rather easily, and smells like lime

★ y’all are that couple that has one’s head in their lap as they read or somethin, playing with the other’s hair.

★ he is also that dude that comes up behind you, covering your eyes with his hands as he whispers, “guess who?~”

★ Rantaro actually has pretty small hands, and they’re actually cold most of the time.

★ beware of him and his goddamn hands smh

★ he will definitely stick his hands under your shirt for “warmth” as he so says. you know that he just wants to see your reactions

★ he’s actually god at eyeliner, so if you need to wear some, he’s your guy. hey, the dude has sisters.

★ speaking of, his sisters absolutely ADORE you. usually when you go over to his house they just.. immediately snatch you for 99% of the time and Rantaro is just “😀”

★ he leaves you little doodles everywhere. like he’ll bring you a book you asked for, and like on the 120th page there’s a crow with heels and it's the funniest thing you’ve seen all day

★ he starts laughing when you bring it up, and eventually you both are just laughing so hard at it you can't breathe

★ he has so much fun when he’s with you. he can never repay you

SHUICHI SAIHARA

★ steal his hat steal his hat steal his-

★ Shuichi is flustered rather easily when it comes to you, so use that information to your advantage hehe

★ expect lots of cuddles from him, especially those back hugs. like the ones where he’ll come up behind you and wrap his arms around you, leaning his head on top of yours if you're shorter, or against your back if you’re taller.

★ he’ll let out a small sigh of content as he nuzzles into your form, trying to keep his face hidden.

★ he finds your voice so soothing, especially when you read to him? like watch this:

★ you two are working on one of his cases together. your job is reading out his notes from the scene, your voice a low murmur as he works away. you haven’t noticed that he’s just.. stopped writing, staring at his pen as he begins to play with it. scratchy handwriting is what his eyes rake over, an adoring smile plastered to his face as he just listens. eventually you notice he’s stopped. “..Shuichi?” your soft voice asks, and he jolts a bit, grasped from his daydream. “a-ah.. sorry (f/n).. continue?”

★ more often than not it's your murmurs that causes the sleep deprivation to slap him in the face and just be knocked tf out.

★ helping him with cases is one of your favorite things?? like Shuichi you’re so smart give yourself some credit?????

★ every morning he greets you with a small smile. even though he’s still really tired, he makes an effort for you :)

★ i love funky detective man smh

GONTA GOKUHARA

★ b,, baby man,,

★ if you’re terrified of bugs, he’ll try to keep his little friends away from you, he doesn’t want to scare you at all :(

★ if you don’t mind bugs/you like them, he’ll be overjoyed!!

★ he probably has a bug named after you

★ more often than not, you’ll find them in your room or on your things. usually they’re really gorgeous, he says they remind you of him that day :)

★ he tries to switch up the bugs you find each day, so it’s always a little surprise when you enter your own room

★ ask him to carry you

★ he wants to carry you.

★ pl e a se

★ Gonta is also really warm, and his hands are HUGE

★ expect so many head pats from him. he loves how small you are compared to him

★ boops from Gonta? boops from Gonta.

★ this man straight up craves your cuddles.

★ because of his body temperature and scent of pine, it’s not hard at all to fall asleep in his embrace

★ i feel like he wakes up rather early, so he gets the pleasure of watching you sleep

★ not in a creepy way! he thinks you look so.. peaceful. angelic, is more of the word.

★ he absolutely LOVES seeing you in his clothes. just the way the cloth envelopes your tiny frame, you with your adorable smile and sweater paws?

★ god he loves you sm

RYOMA HOSHI

★ when you two first got into a relationship, he rarely touched you.

★ he literally had no idea what to do

★ he lived all of his life on eggshells, scared of every coming day

★ and then you, his ray of sunshine, just came to him?

★ he’s just so lost

★ however, you knew what to do.

★ you basically taught him that no, you’re not going to disappear from his life at any given moment. you promise.

★ it took some convincing, but you got there.

★ anyway, he doesn’t show too much PDA, but he’s taken up the habit of grasping your sleeve when you two walk together

★ given the fact that you’re likely taller than him, this boy l o v e s your hugs.

★ the way you just envelope him in your loving embrace.. he feels like he doesn’t deserve it.

★ he might tell you so, but you quickly shut him up with a kiss or something :)

★ spooning spooning spooning-

★ he’s usually little spoon, but he’ll be big spoon if you want :)

★ Ryoma really likes being held by you. he feels like time stops, like all that matters is you in that moment.

★ he just feels so safe when he’s around you. he’s gotta get used to it

★ one time when you both went on a date, you accidentally found the main base of the stray cats in your town

★ they LOVED him and now you go there frequently to visit the cats

★ ya’ll definitely have a cat from there too smh you’re so cute

KOKICHI OUMA

★ at the earliest stages of your relationship, i have two words for you.

★ good luck.

★ you are not safe from Kokichi.

★ you are targeted by him.

★ anyway, i definitely feel like he would be so clingy with you.

★ he doesn’t care that you’re in public, he will latch onto you and be a nuisance.

★ holding onto your sleeve, holding your hand, latching onto your leg so you have to drag him around, full on trying to tackle you, etc.

★ p i g g y b a c k r i d e s

★ if you don’t want him to completely annoy you, just hoist him up onto your back for a ride

★ he LOVES it

★ i also feel like he wouldn’t really know what he’s doing at first.. you make him feel so many things, emotions that he thought were buried a long time ago. it’s a bit too much for him

★ patience is key with Kokichi. please just wait for him. he’ll catch up when he’s ready.

★ but when he does? and when you’ve convinced him you’re not leaving anytime soon?

★ you have the most caring and lovable man right at your side.

★ he’s.. so soft with you.

★ Kokichi absolutely adores being held by you. probably the most out of the V3 crew. he feels so secure, so sure of your relationship in those moments. he sleeps best when you’re around, which he desperately needs due the insomnia that plagues him most nights.

★ quiet cuddles are such a treasure to you. he’s usually silent during your cuddle sessions, his head either in the crook of your neck or buried in your chest, inhaling your scent so he can imprint it to his mind. it makes you more in love with him.

★ also DICE adores you-

KAITO MOMOTA

★ he is,, the biggest simp for you,,,

★ literally every single day, Kaito looks at you with the biggest grin on his face because every time he looks at you, he notices a new thing that makes him love you even more.

★ stargazing da te s✨

★ ^ these dates often end up with him going on a rant about the constellations and their movements, star types, etc. and you love him for it

★ his coat is so warm?? you wonder how he wears it 24/7

★ he absolutely LOVES it when you tackle hug him. he doesn’t even care if he was in the middle of a conversation, just feeling the sudden embrace of his s/o makes him melt.

★ those tackle hugs usually end up in him turning around and scooping you up, spinning you around before planting you back down and giving you a sweet kiss

★ PDA? he loves it

★ he NEVER would do anything that makes you uncomfortable though.

★ your PDA mostly consists of hand holding, hugs, all that soft stuff :)

★ he would definitely have to do a double take if you ever wore his jacket.

★ “hey (f/n)? where-“ and he’d just s t a r e at you, his face going ablaze in red

★ he’s like that Tamaki gif

★ yeah that one ^

★ more often than not, you get piggyback rides from him

★ the gentle rock of his body as he walks, his overall warmth, his scent of lavender.. it’s perfect to lull you asleep.

★ he wouldn’t have it any other way :)

[hansolmates]

jeongguk; a royal exchange (02)

feat. the rom-com college!jeongguk x princess!reader au no one asked for

she’s the man!au where the princess impersonates her brother yoongi in order to finish his degree on time while yoongi is thrusted into princely duties. jeongguk is in the mess purely through room arrangement.

notes: p.2 is a straight up roll of pure crack and fluff. lil sexy for like .2 seconds. super self indulgent and inspired by the princess diaries. princess is stressed the whole time and we live to see her suffer

w.c: 7.1k 

01, 02

“I’m sure this is probably the hundredth time you’ve heard since you’ve landed, but welcome to Illyria! The palace welcomes you to your new home away from home.” 

“Ho-ly,” Jeongguk slaps a hand in front of Taehyung’s offending tongue, in case swearing is forbidden on royal territory. Wouldn’t want their scholarships taken away over Taehyung’s potty mouth. 

“Excuse me, Mr. Hoseok, sir?” an exchange student from a university in New Zealand (yet Korean-born, ironically) pipes up, “why does the infrastructure of the building look like that?” 

The student is referring to the ravines of gold metal that stream the walls of the palace. While the architecture is classic, the sheen of the metal definitely gives it an air of regality. 

“Good question, Namjoon. The castle is wired and designed after our main export, Illyrium. The element was discovered in the early 1850s in what is now the ruins of Oros,” Hoseok quips brightly, patting the stone affectionately. “It has a conductivity percentage of 106% percent, more than silver. It is also quite durable.” 

Namjoon’s deep laugh echoes throughout the pavilion, “I was just asking because it makes the castle so beautiful. Thank you.” 

Jeongguk takes the time to snap more pictures of the castle, switching between his Sony and his phone. He zooms in on a low balcony overlooking the terrace they landed from. A figure rolls into his shot, stumbling barefoot with a ruby silk robe swishing between steps. You’re tired, sleep-laden as you clutch a snow white mug between your two hands, leaning your elbows against the metal bearing. You’re staring at nothing and everything, glazed over your backyard that seems to stretch on for eons. 

“You’re right,” Jeongguk marvels at your visage between his lens, “absolutely beautiful.” 

“Can I please get a better assignment, Jimin?” 

“Your highness,” Jimin frowns, following after you, “you love teaching the exchange students, what has changed?” 

“Exactly, Jimin,” you sigh, stopping in the middle of the hallway. Jimin’s nose nearly bumps into yours, “nothing has changed. I teach students every quarter, the same subjects every time. It’s not to say that I don’t love teaching,” you exhale, blowing into Jimin’s honeycomb bangs, “but can’t I have a more challenging assignment? Conversing with dignitaries, renovating the town square, I’ll even do culinary!” 

Your poor secretary squeaks, pushing up his rose gold iPad to carve some distance between you two. “You-you know those jobs aren’t suitable for a Princess,” Jimin cuts himself off once he sees your eyes soften in defeat, “b-but! I’ll see if Hoseok would be willing to take on another class? And maybe we could arrange a presentation to the King in regards to your proposals?” 

“Right,” you smile sadly, folding your arms and stretching the tight blazer your mother forced you in, “as if another Google Slideshow will impress him.” 

Jimin squeezes your shoulder, as if he could tell you all the things he could never say through body language. “Showtime’s in two minutes, your highness.” 

You nod, making haste to the large double doors that lead to the main living room. Normally, the scholarship program’s presentation is done in the throne room, a big show of bravado and an ego booster to your family. However, this particular class is entirely post-grad and under ten students, so you figure they were placed in a more intimate area for the sake of comfort. 

Jimin pulls a lint roller out of nowhere, careful to catch every bit of dust that dares meet your presence. You tug uncomfortably at your collar, and give the signal to the door bearer. You fight the urge to flinch at the usual bombastic announcement. 

“Introducing, the Princess of Illyria!” 

The students and staff are bowing when you enter, and you send a look to Yoongi, who only offers you a lazy smirk. It’s a look you’ve feared since childhood, an explicit tell that he knows something you don’t. Nevertheless, you tack on a smile, standing in front of the ten students who are still dutifully lowered. You have to hand it to them, the undergrads would already be turning heads to get a peek at the princess. 

“You may rise,” you voice floats. As mother always said, your voice must replicate a dandelion seed, bouncing in the wind. 

The student directly in front of you elevates, a pair of doe eyes taking his sweet time to appreciate the view. 

Jeon Jeongguk gives you a lazy smirk, mirroring your brother’s. The smile evaporates from your face, taking in the handsome man that you lived with for two months over two years ago. His eyes have certainly not lost their spark, but his hair is trimmed and showing off his forehead. A Sony camera wraps around his neck, held tightly by a strong pair of hands. He’s even dressed brightly, wearing a navy blazer over a plain white tee and a pair of dark jeans. Something twinges in your heart when you see that a familiar pair of black combat boots remain. 

Jeongguk is the first to break eye contact, deciding to at least pretend to care about Hoseok’s presentation on the flatscreen. An overplayed video about Illyria’s history drones on, while Hoseok and Jimin are exchanging schedules in between. You’re sure that Jimin is passing on your word about choosing not to teach this quarter, and now it’s personal. 

This urges the students to take seats on the couches, while staff floats around with various pastries and refreshments. 

Your family takes their respective seats, and you fight the urge to pinch Yoongi as you hiss, “You knew about this?” 

“Surprise,” Yoongi sing-songs, munching on a linzer cookie. “I handpicked all the students.”

“Couldn’t give your sister a heads up?” you snap hotly, making sure no one was looking as you pop a whole cream puff in your mouth. 

“Sorry,” Yoongi leans over the shell of your ear, “Your hot ex-roommate is here, just wanted to let you know before you eat the dessert table.” 

You mouth a fuck you, taking a stab at him under the table with your heeled foot. 

After Yoongi’s not-so-subtle reveal of each other’s identities in a crowded Chinese restaurant two years ago, you’ve since cut off all contact with Jeon Jeongguk as you resumed your life as Princess of Illyria. Simultaneously shocked, but not surprised due to the obvious hints of suspicion, Jeongguk had forgiven your lie and allowed you to leave in good spirits. You remember leaving him at the front door of your dorm, hugging you warmly and bidding you safe travels. 

It confused you, because it would've been easier to leave if Jeongguk had gotten angry at the complete breach of trust and kicked you out. 

Hoseok is now presenting a slideshow of the intended schedule and itinerary for all students. You’re now glaring at the back of Jeongguk’s head, trying your damn hardest not to shove three brownies in your mouth in the presence of guests. Your tiny dessert spoon picks pathetically at the measly crumbs, and Jimin is urging you to smile from his position opposite you. 

“And as always, our lovely princess will be conducting our class on Modern Illyrian Anthropology and will be organizing your field studies!” Hoseok practically shouts across the room, where you’re sitting wide-eyed with your family. You feel Yoongi reach over to dab the crumbs off your lips, enjoying your suffering. 

You shoot a look at Jimin who was supposed to take care of things, and he gives you a pained expression that reads don’t fire me.  

With a tight-lipped smile and feigning ignorance to Jeongguk’s interest in you teaching, you reply to the expectant students, “It’s always a pleasure to teach, I promise to not bore you with Illyrian history, that’s Hoseok’s job.” 

“Hey!” he scrunches his nose, then turns to the students who are hiding their giggles, “Better get on her good side if you want a nice field assignment.” he warns good-naturedly, giving you a mock glare. 

You suppose giving Jeongguk a field assignment far, far away from the castle. 

After the long-winded presentation and a handful of brochures, the royal family is escorted out to retire for the day. As the youngest in the family you're the last one to leave.

Out the doorway you hear Taehyung utter, "That's her? What a babe!" 

As to not arouse suspicion, it takes longer than anticipated to get a private moment with Jeongguk. No one but Taehyung and Jimin know of your circumstances, and it is to remain that way due to the fact that you and Yoongi committed fraud, royal or not. 

Jeongguk is a quiet student, surprisingly. Choosing a seat by the window, he spends most of your classes doodling and looking out the pavilion. As stimulating as Namjoon and Irene’s questions are, you’re a little disheartened at the fact that Jeongguk has made little effort to talk to you, even if it’s as impersonal as classwork or office hours. 

Today Hoseok’s teaching, and that gives you ample time to work out where you want to assign the students for field study. You’ve shaken off Jimin for now, and you’re currently roaming the halls with your phone, checking off your schedule. 

Called the Museum of Modern Illyrian Art for Namjoon … check. 

Sent staff to the villa in prep for the kiddies’ weekend getaway … check. 

Sent e-vites and physicals to the Genovian royals … next.

Find a quiet corner to stress cry before 2:30—

A hand flies out of nowhere, grabbing your waist roughly and throwing you in a small room. The hand clasped over your mouth swallows your scream as the door shuts tight. 

The captor turns on the singular lightbulb, grinning at you like a madman. “Hey Princess—what the fuck!” 

You grimace, putting down your switchblade that was dangerously close to Jungkook’s jugular. “What the hell, Jeongguk! I could’ve killed you!” 

“Dang, princesses are something else nowadays. Where on your body are you hiding knives?” Jeongguk marvels as if he wasn’t ten seconds away from being dead!Guk, patting down your lavender pantsuit in a way that’s highly inappropriate. “What are you, Ty Lee?” 

“Self-defense secret,” and under your breath you add, “and Mai’s the one who hides knives. Ty Lee’s the acrobat.” 

The grin easily returns to the tall boy’s face, burnt eyes shining against the naked bulb. This is the most emotion you’ve got out of him since classes started, and it’s doing nothing to ease the butterflies in your stomach. “So, come here often?” 

“To the storage closet?” you snort, “not particularly.” 

“And where’s a place I can go that you do come often?” 

“My office hours,” you deadpan, “in which you haven’t visited, by the way. As a friend and as a teacher, I’m insulted.” 

A low whine erupts from his throat, and he leans against the shelves, long arms spread across the three-ply toilet paper. “But your little secretary’s always there. It’s awkward when we’re not alone. I don't know if I should act like a friend or a student. Speaking of, where is he?” 

“Ah, Jimin’s getting Starbucks.” 

“Lit, can you tell him to pick me up a pink drink?” 

“No,” but you send a text to Jimin anyway. “Shouldn’t you be in class?” 

“I’m supposed to be coming back from the bathroom,” he air-quotes, “AKA, running around the palace until I can corner you.” 

You sigh, fiddling with the hem of your blazer. 

“Are you annoyed at me?” and for a second, Jungkook’s eyes betray a hint of vulnerability. “Am I being too forward? Or do you not want to catch up? I don’t know, I figured you’d be excited to see me but you’ve just been so busy.” 

“Jeongguk,” you put a hand on his shoulder, ceasing the rambling. He opens his mouth to add more, but you squeeze his bicep. “I’m not annoyed at you. I’m annoyed at the situation. I’ve missed you,” you offer him a shy smile, and he returns a small, hopeful one in return, “but you’re right, it’s been really busy with the usual duties and I’ve been a little on edge with keeping things together without letting any secrets out.” 

You’re also confused as to why you’re still harboring feelings for him, but that’s another secret you keep to yourself. 

“Well, your duty is doo-dy.”  Jungkook huffs, but is placated by your confession. “Don’t worry Princess, I’ll think of something.” 

A knock startles the both of you, and Jeongguk squeaks, brandishing a plunger in defense. With a dainty finger, you push the plumbing tool back to the ground, as the knockings did not stop. 

“Ohmygod—am I going to be beheaded for kidnapping the Princess?” Jeongguk panics and checks his phone, realizing his bathroom break turned into a straight up game of hooky. “Do you guys still behead? I mean if you’re pulling out knives from who knows where—” 

“Guk, relax,” recognizing it immediately as a code between you and your brother, you swing the supply closet open. 

Yoongi looks between the two of you, gauging the situation. When he notices that no, you two did not just romp between the 3-ply and were in fact only talking, he huffs. “Losers,” he mutters under his breath, hiding a grin as he leaves you two to splutter. 

It’s already well over twenty minutes past your class time, but Taehyung just wouldn’t shut up. 

You can’t blame him, he’s thrilled that you managed to snag him a field study with your personal couture designer. He’s lit up like a good boy on Christmas eve, getting his present early. He’s gushing about how excited he is to use authentic Swarovski crystals and rub noses with the fancy fabrics. 

“I’ll make you the perfect dress for the upcoming gala, Your Highness.” Taehyung’s vibrating in a manner you never imagined on a human before.

“Thank you,” you reply awkwardly, “I’m sorry, but what gala are you referring to?” 

He shrugs, “I’m sure there’s a gala you have to go to sometime. I’ve just always wanted to say that, makes me feel special.” 

“Tae,” Jeongguk is sitting on your desk, heels bumping into the mahogany. With a stiff jerk of his head, Tae’s lips morph into an ‘O’ and he finally gets the hint, bowing to you and scurrying off. 

“Y’know, his fashion’s kind of eccentric.” he nods over to the excessive fur lining on Taehyung’s slippers, “I’d make sure your designer keeps a close eye on him.” 

“And what do I owe the pleasure of your presence,” you click, “twenty minutes after class?” 

Jeongguk has the audacity to roll his eyes, rolling his head back to crack out the stiffness. “The chamber choir, really?” he exhales, dropping the itinerary you spent the better half of your nights preparing. 

You raise your eyebrows, “What? It pertains to your major.” 

“For the past six years all I've done is eat, sleep, and breathe music,” he says, and you’re suddenly reminded that you had a glimpse of that version of Jeongguk two years ago. A slave to the music, as much as he loved the subject, it sometimes felt like a tether that weaved far too deeply under his skin. “Can’t my field assignment be something different? More eclectic?” 

“Do you have anything in mind?” 

“In fact, I do.” Jeongguk lolls his head to the side, chestnut bangs falling softly. “For my field study, I want to shadow the Princess’ duties.” 

You slam your hands down, standing up so you’re nearly nose-to-nose with the young man. “Are you crazy? Do you want Yoongi and I to get caught?” 

“Listen, I’ve thought about it all throughout class—”

“—what? You didn’t listen to my lecture?—”

“—and today in class you mentioned that you graduated with a Master’s in Public Affairs, because in fact I always listen to you,” Jeongguk presses a finger to your lips when you try to cut him off, “and lo and behold, one of my minors was in public affairs! What better way to get more experience in the business when I have the master right in front of me?” 

“I don’t know, Guk,” you try, mulling through all the possible situations and horrors that could occur because of it. 

“Princess, we’re killing two birds with one stone!” Jeongguk pleads, giving you the puppy eyes, “not only do I get a far better field study assignment, but it’s far better because I get to spend more time with you!” 

You hate how absolutely weak you’ve become under his gaze. In the span of less than three weeks, Jeon Jeongguk has re-entered your life like he never left. He wanted to spend time with you. The selfish part of your brain says you wish the same. Who are you to deny such a simple desire? 

“Fine,” you spit out, putting up a front and pretending to be annoyed, “but you better not get all huffy around Jimin.” 

He shrugs, throwing his bag over his shoulder. “Worth it.” 

“You’re different,” Jeongguk states bluntly, actively ignoring the way Jimin tries to push between you two. Jeongguk continues to press into your shoulder as you weave through the gardens. You’re picking flowers for a specific theme arrangement and pattern. A diplomat from Spain is coming and he is bringing her young daughter. You've heard that she’s recently taken in interest in constructing flower crowns. 

“Well, two years can do that to a person,” you reply airily, dropping a tiger lily in the wicker basket Jeongguk insisted on carrying. 

Having Jeongguk follow you around like a duckling is fun, to be frank. Jimin is no longer hyper-focused on you, forcing him to spread his attention between you and your overly-attentive  student. Jeongguk can’t attend every single one of your events because some of the information’s sensitive, but when he does it makes your job feel less of a job and more like a fun group project. 

Like when you and Jeongguk would stumble in the farmer’s market every Sunday morning, hungover but aching to fill your bellies. You two were walking zombies, forcing yourselves out of bed to feed yourselves. But it was always fun because you were together, whenever it was Jeongguk’s turn to pay, you’d sneak in more KitKats for yourself. Whenever it was your turn, Jeongguk would smuggle more cartons of banana milk. 

“No, no. It’s not that,” your friend admonishes instantly, “your personality’s still the same, even though it was Yoongi-fied. Your heart hasn’t changed,” you turn your head sharply towards a field of carnations, concealing your flush. “I mean, you’re more confident.” 

“In other words,” Jimin pipes, looking up from his iPad, “an air of regality.” 

You scoff, putting a hand on your hip and looking expectantly at the two boys. “You’ve changed too, Guk,” you reason, shaking your head. “Old Jeongguk wouldn’t be wearing white dress shirts and shoving princesses in closets.” 

“You shoved the princess in a closet—!” Jimin starts, having half a mind to cancel the field study all together.

“Well, Old Jeongguk didn’t have a chance to really get to know you,” Jeongguk twirls a baby’s breath between his fingers, tucking it in-between your ear. “That’s New Jeongguk’s job.” 

“So, you’re the Princess’ head of security,” Jeongguk tilts his head to look up at the slightly taller man, his visage covered by a pair of shades. The bodyguard is never really present, only when citizens enter the castle or you’re out of town. “You know you’re inside, right?” 

The man only slightly inclines his head to acknowledge Jeongguk’s prodding. Hmph, he looks like a talker. 

“If you’re her head of security,” Jeongguk leans closer, trying to avoid any further attention to his conversation, “do you know where she hides her knives? Because sometimes she wears those tight pencil skirts and I can’t help but wonder—”

“That’s classified.” 

“Alright, where do you hide your knives—”

“Also classified.” 

“Jeongguk,” you relent, sliding your footrest next to your throne, “leave Seokjin alone and come here, please.” 

You can’t blame him. It’s always been a pastime of yours to ruffle Seokjin’s feathers, but you must admit that meeting with citizens is a long and frankly, boring process. The routine is fairly simple, the citizen bows and offers something for the table, and in return you lend your ear and offer assistance if possible. 

“For your table, Your Highness,” the next citizen bows, carrying a foil-lined tray filled with fresh baked bread. 

“Smells delicious, Bertrand.” you beam, ripping open the tin to snatch a hot slice off the top. Rosemary and thyme are egg washed atop the brown bread, and you proffer a piece to Jeongguk, as you could imagine the poor guy is as antsy as ever. “And may I introduce you to my student, Jeon Jeongguk? He’s studying my diplomacy for his field study.” 

Bertrand tips his head, “Lucky you, she’s a true leader.” 

Jeongguk nods shyly, nibbling on the crust. “Truly an honor.” 

Jeongguk offers to bring the gift to the table with the other offerings across the room, and you nod, conversing lightly with Bertrand. His worries are simple enough, he feels pressured by a catering request from an Illyrian Duke, and wishes to serve a party fit for a royal. In resolution, you offer to send a palace chocolatier and chef to help with the preparations. Jeongguk returns to his seat next to yours just as Bertrand leaves. He pulls up his iPad, feigning notes that he should be writing while observing you. 

The next citizen hobbles over, holding a large ivory wicker basket covered by a beige tarp. “For your table, Your Highness,” they bow, “I hope you like omelets.” 

If you weren’t on the throne with an audience of one-hundred, you’d be delivering a very confused expression, coupled with panic. “May I?” you inquire, forcing a smile as you lift open the tarp.

In the basket there are two small jars of marmalade, and one huge chicken sitting fat and proud that its skin overflows between the gaps of the wicker. Its head twitches in your direction, barely turning because its neck is hugely bulbous with excess weight. Its beady little eyes mock you. It smells fear. 

“Her name’s Dixie,” the citizen supplied helpfully. 

“Holy shit,” Jeongguk whispers next to you, but not soft enough for it to not echo in the throne room, “Dixie, you are a thick chick.” 

“Jeongguk!” you exclaim, which causes the whole room to reverb at your shrill cry. 

Of course the chicken has to freak out, flapping its wings and freeing itself from the confines of its package. The animal dives for you, and you press yourself as much as you can against the throne. Jeongguk knows no bounds, throwing himself in front of you to catch the large bird. Feathers weave unto his umber tresses as the bird meets gravity, Jeongguk unable to calm down Dixie. 

 It’s more or less a wild goose chase (chicken chase?) after that, Jeongguk follows Dixie down the platform and around the throne room. The citizens and staff are clutching their stomachs in laughter, endeared by the young man following the chicken. Jimin is laughing and slapping Seokjin’s shoulder, his face breaking in an unabashed smile. 

And you can’t help but laugh along with them, trying to smother your giggles by covering your face with a silk fan. You peek over the thin fabric to see Jeongguk looking especially concentrated on his mission. It wasn’t like the chicken was going to escape the throne room because the doors are closed, but surely it will be a workout as Dixie’s a trooper and isn’t going down without a fight. 

“Don’t worry Princess, I got this!” Jeongguk’s voice reassures you from the far edge of the throne room. He’s taken a break, but the glint in his eyes show he’s committed to catching Dixie as she scuttles in circles.

He flashes you a breathtaking smile, all gums and pearly whites as he runs a hand through his wavy locks. Your smile falls slightly, and you clutch your fan tighter at the realization. Oh, you are besotted. 

“Hoseok’s had me on my back about teaching a full class before your weekend getaway but I’ve long decided,” you lift your chin haughtily in a way only princesses do, jutting out your lip in confirmation, “that you should enjoy the time you have here. Summer’s almost over. You all should get a headstart on your packing so you can get to the beach early.” 

Your class erupts into hoots and hollers, the Powerpoint presentation about the minerals of Illyria long abandoned. Two months have already passed, and in a couple weeks they’ll be saying their goodbyes. A twinge of sadness hits you as you relish in your students’ happy smiles. As each semester passes, each group leaves something behind you’ll never forget. This summer, as much as you taught them, you’ve learned a lot from them as well.

Students are already starting to pack up, but Namjoon’s butt is firmly planted in his seat, raising his hand. “Sorry, I have a question.” 

You smile goodnaturedly, already used to his usual spiel. “I can email you the Powerpoint and we can go over whatever you want on Monday.” 

“Ah, no. I was wondering if you were coming with us,” Namjoon mutters sheepishly. 

You’re surprised, even moreso when Irene and Yerin insist that you should go. “Yes, you have to go!” Yerin bounces in her seat.

“Oh,” you blush, “I can’t. I don’t normally go on these things, wouldn’t it be weird to have your teacher at your party?” 

“Hell no!” Yerin gasps shamelessly. It’s one thing you liked about this class, after class is over, they always managed to make you feel normal. Maybe it’s the closeness in age and education, but they remind you so often that you’re still young. After all, they weren’t Illyrian, and while outside of class they put on the whole shebang for you, it didn’t take long for them to get comfortable around you. “We can show you what real college life is like! We can roast barbeque on the beach and tell scary stories!” 

Taehyung snorts, already halfway out the door, “I’m sure the Princess doesn’t wanna see you shitfaced in the ocean.” 

You placate Yerin with a small smile, “I have to work after this, but I’ll see what I can do.” 

Namjoon walks up to your desk as the rest of the students file out. He runs the spine of his journal along your desk, “Prince Yoongi and Hoseok will be there too, if it makes you feel any better. Hope you can come.” 

The room is soon vacated, leaving you and your Star Student alone. 

“‘I’ll see what I can do’, really?” Jeongguk rolls his eyes, plopping himself atop your desk. Your eyes snap to the way the dark denim cords around his thighs, and you make a deal of slamming your laptop shut. “C’mon, of course you wanna come. I’m not taking no for an answer.” 

“Not really,” you admit. “I used to really like spending the weekend at the villa. I loved getting to know each class and know what it feels like to be like you guys,” you downplay yourself, stuffing books and electronics in your briefcase. “But ever since we roomed together two years ago, I can’t bring myself to go anymore. It’s not the same when you’ve actually had a taste of it.”

Jeongguk’s eyes soften at your confession. You could feel that he wasn’t prepared for your honesty, and you don’t blame him. He swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing. “I leave in two weeks, you know.” 

“I know.” 

“Can you at least try to come, for me?” 

You lift your head up to reach his eyes, looking equal parts nervous and vulnerable. You’re suddenly thrusted back to two years ago, cornered in your dorm room where Jeongguk was upset at the thought of hurting him, lying to him. You didn’t want to hurt him, or yourself. 

But as Jeongguk’s large hand reaches across the desk to your smaller one, you don’t think to pull away. 

“Your Highness!” Jimin interrupts the two of you, and Jeongguk snatches his hand back with a glare. Jimin ignores him, looking breathless as he leans against the door of your classroom. “Your 3 o’clock is ready. We have to hurry if we want to get through the crowd.” 

With one last look, Jeongguk excuses himself, brushing past Jimin with a gruff “Bye, Princess.” 

“Today’s not your day to meet with citizens,” Yoongi mumbles next to you, looking disapprovingly at the way you wait for the next citizen to approach you. 

Seokjin holds the crowd off as you converse with your brother, who looks ready to leave to the villa. He’s dressed in a plain white t-shirt, foam slides and baggy slacks. If it wasn’t for the family crest proudly presented on his right breast pocket, he could easily be mistaken as the average citizen. “Mother insisted,” you reply shortly, growing more irritated by the second. 

“Really?” his brows disappear under his bangs, “because from the way she said it, you were looking for work.” 

Caught, you turn away from his watchful gaze. “I have a problem, okay?” you say stiffly, “I needed a distraction.” 

“Alright,” Yoongi shrugs, leaning close to your ear to murmur, “where’s the dead body?” 

You slap his arm, “Yoongi! I didn’t kill anybody!” 

“At this rate, it looks like you’re wasting yourself away.” Yoongi replies bluntly, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “C’mon, Loverboy was all pouty in my room not too long ago. Don’t disappoint him.” 

With that, Yoongi turns on his heel and walks off. Citizens bow at him like dominos as he exits, your break definitively over. 

Whatever is blooming between you and Jeongguk, is and never will be fair to the both of you. In your eyes Jeongguk isn’t the type to settle, not relationship-wise, but life-wise. He wanted to grow and cultivate his art, and taste freedom every step of the journey.

You weren’t freedom or growth, and you could only hope he realizes that before you become too selfish. 

“Your Highness?” you break out of your reverie when a young woman your age looks at you shyly, “My name is Wendy. I didn’t get anything for the table but, I got you a caramel macchiato.” 

She brandishes a venti iced caramel macchiato, condensation dripping from her fingers. Your face lights up, accepting the caffeinated drink. “I really needed this!” you perk up immediately, taking a sip and letting the cool flavor soothe your tastebuds. “Thank you, Wendy. What is it that you request?” 

“Advice,” she admits, a blush creeping from her neck. She looks down at her work boots, caked in grime. “I’m an engineer who works in manufacturing Illryian technology.”

“We are eternally grateful for your service to this country,” you reply evenly. Engineers are highly revered in your country, as your economy is dependent on their brilliant minds. 

“But I have fallen in love with a man who is under my station, and wishes to find work elsewhere,” she bites her lip, her eyes growing glassy. “I haven’t told him my feelings yet, however I’m also worried for my family who finds men like him to be unworthy of an engineer like myself.” 

“Ah, bound by duty and expectation.” you reply grimly, “a rock and a hard place, huh?” 

“Yes, forgive me for my crassness. I felt as if you would understand my predicament.” 

Putting your drink down, you reach for her hand. Oil and dirt cake her fingers, and she attempts to pull away as to not soil you, but you hold on tighter. “Tell him how you feel, Wendy.” you whisper, a conversation so intimate it’s only proper it be for her ears and her ears only. “Whether he leaves or not after you tell him is his decision. However, I assure you it will hurt far more if you don’t give yourself a chance.” 

Her voice cracks, “But what if it doesn’t work out?” 

You start to feel a little teary at her candor, and you run a thumb over her palm. “Then you’re one heartbreak closer to happiness. Nevertheless, you are a strong, intelligent, beautiful woman. Don’t let your fears reject that.” 

Wendy finds the strength to squeeze your hand, and you belatedly realize that if this piece of advice was personified, it’d be slapping the shit out of you. 

“You came!” 

Hopped up on bitter caffeine and potential regrets, you stand in the living room well past midnight, party in full swing. Jimin trails behind you sans iPad, feeling lighter in a pair of trunks and a black tank. A playlist of Namjoon’s organizing is blasting from the surround sound, coupled with the flatscreen television projecting an intense lap of MarioKart. Irene and Taehyung are shoulder to shoulder, concentrating on getting that Mushroom Cup. The sliding doors that lead from your villa to the beach are cracked open, wide enough to hear the conversations the other students are exchanging. 

It was always nice to have your villa occupied like this. Less empty, more familial. 

Yerin is the first to greet you, throwing her arms around you and smelling like seasalt and vodka. She’s drenching your clothes, clad in a yellow polka-dot one-piece. “This weekend’s gonna be killer,” she whispers in your ear, causing the hairs on your neck to rise. For a petite thing, she really wastes no time cutting to the chase. 

You detach yourself, holding up a bag of pastries. “Snagged some munchies for your inevitable drunk crash,” you smirk, placing the container on the kitchen island. 

Yerin gapes, red tinted lips mouthing an ‘o’ at your language. “You’ve been hidin’ out on us, haven’t you Princess?” Yerin then brushes past you, ready to get her fingers on the confections. You’re over her shoulder, pointing out both Illrian delicacies and pastries she’s familiar with. 

After Irene snags the Mushroom Cup they’re joining you at the island, lips coated in powdered sugar and jam. The girls laugh when some powdered sugar gets into Taehyung’s hair, Irene patting him a little too hard on his bangs. 

“You’re here!” 

You whip around to see Jeongguk sliding the glass doors hurriedly, bare feet slapping across the tiled floor to reach you. He’s dripping wet, ocean water rivering around his body. Your eyes can’t help but follow the flow of the cool liquid, finding purchase between the planes of his chest and honeyed abs, glowing from the heat. 

Three years of your life were spent studying preparation and execution for war or nuclear threat. Unfortunately, at this very moment you feel way more prepared for war than Jeon Jeongguk standing in your villa, looking like that. 

Instead of the usual pleasantries, you hold up a leather wallet. “You left this in the classroom,” you chide. 

It’s a baldfaced lie. Somehow, Jeongguk’s wallet had conveniently ended up in your office between reams of paper. The bastard himself has the audacity to feign surprise, coral lips gaping in relief. “Wow, Princess. Totally not a ploy to get you to come here.” 

“Right.” 

“Give it here, I’ll drop it off in my room.” 

“Wait, wait!” you hold up both your hands, centimeters away from Jeongguk’s pecs. You’re nearly eye level with them, and you force yourself to look up at his smug face. “You’re dripping wet on the tile! Your feet still have sand you heathen! Do not get our carpets dirty!” you hold the wallet to your chest protectively, “where’s your room?” 

He tilts his head adorably, droplets flecking from his slicked back mane. “Third door on the right.” he doesn’t dare to argue with your sudden passion to keep your villa clean. 

You nod, “go enjoy the water. I’ll be right out.” You don’t give him a chance to reply, kicking off your sandals as you reach the cosier part of the villa. Soft carpet meets your toes as you pad off to the guest bedrooms. 

Jeongguk managed to snag the corner room, albeit smaller, it’s a single with a full mattress. You see his Superdry backpack open on the floor, its bottom worn with the white lining peeking through. Despite only arriving in the afternoon, his fresh scent is palpable. You drop the wallet on his desk, and you notice that his laptop’s still on. 

The Macbook Pro glows confidently, his screensaver revealing a photograph of you on your balcony. 

“Snooping around, Princess?” 

You whip around, seeing Jeongguk appear fully clothed, running a towel over his hair. He is no longer dripping water or sand, but he still smelled like salt and fire. He nonchalantly closes the door behind him, taking a seat at the foot of his bed. 

“You know it’s illegal to take unsolicited pictures of royalty, right?” 

“And who should I answer to, hm? The Princess?” he teases, face blooming from the fluffy white towel. 

You’re not upset about the picture, he knows that. But there you sit, slumped over his desk, looking forlornly at his picture of you. 

“I’ve locked the door,” Jeongguk pipes up, looking at you worriedly. “Yoongi mentioned that the room’s are soundproof. He said you looked upset today. Tell me what’s on your mind.” 

The room feels smaller, swallowing you whole. You’re tired from today’s events, both emotionally and physically. Jeongguk is having nothing of it, reaching between the two of you to pull the arms of the desk chair, wheeling you between his thighs. 

“Jeongguk,” you start, “why weren’t you mad at me when you were right? Right about me hiding something from you.” 

His brows furrow, “You made a sacrifice and protected your brother. Why would I be mad at that?” he says honestly, “sure, I was upset at first. Who wouldn’t be? But you did it out of love.” 

You smile wanly, knowing that there wasn’t going to be a chance that he’d be upset at you. It was out of your devices. “I wanted you to be mad,” you admit, wringing your fingers between your skirt, “it would’ve made it easier to leave.” 

“It would’ve, wouldn’t it?” he replies, his voice cotton soft. “After you left, Yoongi wouldn’t let me talk to you on the phone. Said you needed time. But I got him to tell me stories about you, stories that made me realize that I missed getting to know you.” 

It’s then you feel the weight of today express itself onto your cheeks, the wetness dampening your skin. You feel his thumb brush away the tears. 

“Tell me,” Jeongguk requests softly, “tell me what you really feel.” 

You let your head collapse in his hands, relishing the warmth and comfort it brings. “I feel hurt. And confined.” 

“More,” Jeongguk bids, his other hand squeezing your thigh, “let it out, Princess.” 

You are a strong, intelligent, beautiful woman. Don’t let your fears reject that.

“I miss acting like fools at the grocery store, falling on top of each other half-asleep.” Everything tumbles out shamelessly, like a waterfall. “I hate how frustrated I am when you call me Princess, because while it is my title, it turns me on in the most devastating way when you say it.” you drop your head in the crook of his neck, embarrassed to see his reaction. “I want to laugh with you, hold you, I want you, so badly. But I want you to be happy, to make music and art, and travel the world to find your muse,” you shake your head, pushing yourself away from him. “I feel so stuck here, I can’t hold you back when you’re free and—”

“That’s enough bullshit,” and he’s kissing you, a clashing of teeth that has you sensitive and reeling. His hands grasp your cheeks, and you’re stumbling in your chair as the wheels make moves on their own. You squeak against his lips before you’re wheeled back to the bed. Hot hands pull you forward to teeter your body onto the bed, keeping you in place. 

The man in question breaks apart, but close enough that his lips brush against yours when he speaks, “I’ve never kissed a princess before,” Jeongguk says wryly, cupping your cheek, “but if you make one more gripe about freedom and your stupid self-righteousness and I’ll stop.” 

A pure, unprepared whine escapes your lips, shame be damned. 

“You’re my muse,” he plants a kiss on your forehead, “I bothered Yoongi for weeks, working tooth and nail for that scholarship,” a kiss on both your nose, “you’re what it means to feel free.” 

And that’s all it takes for you to surge forward, toppling over him until he’s pushed against the headboard. Capturing your lips with his, you catch droplets of saltwater and a flavor that’s so distinctly Jeongguk, feeling high off the taste. 

Your skirt rides to your waist, your underwear damp from the ocean and arousal. You straddle him, feeling so unbounded and free as Jeongguk lets you do what you’ve both wanted to do. With a roll of your hips Jeongguk grunts, forehead pressed to yours. “Princess,” he rasps, meeting your thrusts, “we have until Christmas to do this, no need to rush.” 

Wait, Christmas? 

Jeongguk grins, kissing away your surprise. For now, you’ll ignore the burn between your thighs. “Before we left today, Yoongi and I asked the King, your father, if he would consider extending my scholarship for a full semester. I mentioned that Yoongi and I had some unfinished projects from undergrad,” he pecks your lips, “and he’s going to help me produce a full album for my final thesis.” 

“That’s amazing!” you cheer, pulling him into a hug. “I’m so proud of the two of you!”  

“Mhm,” he nuzzles your neck, pressing featherlight kisses to your skin, “can’t produce anything without my muse around, so I’d say Illyria is the perfect location.” 

Your fingers thread into his damp locks, and you feel your heart swell with happiness. Here, under the gaze of the beautiful boy who wanted to offer you his heart and his world, you felt free. 

extra.

It takes the strength of both your hands to pull Jeongguk in the storage closet, but it isn’t like he’s putting up a fight anyhow. 

“Come here often?” you drawl, leaning forward to press a kiss to his cheek. 

“Impressive,” he chuckles, “usually it takes you an hour to shake Jimin off ya. It’s only been thirty-five minutes.” 

“I just wanted to show you something funny,” you pull up your Instagram, and play the featured video. While it was posted weeks ago, it started to pick up traction after Yoongi liked the post this morning. Jeongguk is dashing around the palace, sweating bullets and cooing “c’mon Dixie!” to the sprinting chicken in the throne room. 

“You’re viral!” you giggle, “you put Illyria on the social media map!” 

Under the lowlights, it’s still easy to see Jeongguk’s skin has gone placid. “If I ever hit it big, that shit better not haunt me,” he groans into your neck.  

“Please,” you roll your eyes, “every famous person has a backstory. Aubrey Graham had Degrassi and the Yodeling Wal-Mart boy–”

“Are you really gonna compare your boyfriend to the Yodeling Wal-Mart kid? Tell me what you really came here for,” And like a teenager, Jeongguk reels it back in, winding his hands around your waist. He gives you bedroom eyes like it's a session of Seven Minutes in Heaven, “so, we’re gonna make out or what?” 

[secondhand-trash]

A Night in Heaven

A/N: I have no idea why I thought that using my own doodling and handwriting in the banner is a good idea but, um, adds some texture to it I guess?

(Much thanks to @leeswritingworld for making the masterlist for this collab! Go read the masterpost before you carry on so you would know what is happening^^)

Word count: 3022

Warning: nsfw below cut

Taking the box in your hand, you tilted your head at how it weighted barely anything considering the size of the card box it came in. Carefully sliding the cutter into the seal at the edges, you sighed when you opened it to see bubble wraps stuffed to the brim. 

You groaned as you hold onto the box for support and stab the blade in there. Whatever it was in there, it better be something worth all this hustle.

You weren’t sure if you were underwhelmed or amused when you finally got to the Center if the parcel to find a quaint ornament of a Portuguese rooster. It was colourful, carefully carved out on a small piece of wood with paint dotting on the vibrant patterns on the rooster’s body. The tiny statue was small enough to be placed in your palm and as you inspected it, you wondered if it was supposed to hint at anything.

Was it supposed to be a play on words or did you overthink too much and steered the wheel towards the dirtiest direction you could think of?

Looking into the box once more, you held it upside down to see if there was anything else in there. Reaching into the depths of the box and rummaging your hand in there, you paused when the tips of your finger touched a sharp line.

It was a card. A small card stuck under the pile of bubble wrap, very easy to just throw away with the rest of the trash if you didn’t look for it specifically. You were expecting an address or at least a room number, but there was none of those among the line of scribbled letters in black marker on the plain white card.

Was this really the right place? We’re you really going to meet up with a stranger who presumably you would really, and like really, “get to know” each other at this place? There? You pondered as you read it once again, but the fact that it only told you to go to the rooftop of a nearby office building this weekend at 6 in the evening didn’t change as the words stared back at you.

You sighed as you placed the card on your table and put the rooster on it as a paperweight. Fine, you would go, you thought to yourself as you looked as the rooster now standing happily at a corner, it was not like there was anything else you could do this weekend anyway.

To say that you were nervous would not exactly be far from the truth but in all honesty, you were more doubtful and confused as to whether this was legit or not. Climbing up the back stairs from the emergency exit, your heart beat faster and faster as the number on each floor increased until there were no more stairs ahead of you.

Putting your hand on the railing of the heavy-duty metal door, you took your phone out to check the time, your hand brushing past the small wooden ornament as you reached into your pocket. You were equal part relieved and anxious when you saw that you were a few minutes early from the supposed time. 

You waited as time passed, your hand froze in place as you stood there. You were afraid of looking too desperate by waiting for the person to show up even for just a few minutes when you weren’t even sure if they would show up at all. You sighed when the number on the clock finally jumped, showing the glowing 1800 on your screen. 

Taking a deep breath before pushing the door open with a sudden force, the cold evening wind hit your face as you stepped out, a sharp contrast to the stuffy stairway. You looked around the empty rooftop, the unsettling idea of being alone started to stir up inside you.

Should you wait? Part of you wanted to give whoever you were supposed to be waiting for the benefit of the doubt, but another part of you was already contemplating at what point should you assume that you had been stood up on and go home. 

You took the rooster out of your pocket and mindlessly traced the smooth edges of the polished wood. To be quite honest, you had grown to be rather fond of having this little fella at the corner of your home, staring at you with those big eyes as you carried out your errands. If no one showed up by the end of this, does that mean that you got to keep the rooster as a compensation?

“Seems like you quite like that thing.”

You jumped at the sudden voice, feeling slightly embarrassed by how squirmish you were after regaining your senses as the person laughed. Your jaw hung open when you looked up to see who was standing in front of you. No, not standing, mid-air in front of you. The man smirked as you stared at him with wide e the s and a dumbfounded expression, his red wings flapping leisurely as he landed on the edge with ease.

If there was anyone you were expecting to see, the number two hero of the nation would be ag the very, very back of the list.

“I would say I’m growing attached.” Still processing the situation you were in, you tried your best to calm yourself down and responded like you would had it been anyone else that showed up, swallowing the nerve of talking to someone who was basically a celebrity and smiled.

The corner of Hawks’ lips tilted up to form a crooked smile. He did not know what he was expecting when he signed up for that sketchy looking website. There were people lining up just for a chance to spend time with him. If it was just the company he wanted, he probably didn’t need to go through all the risk. An urge for a thrill maybe, or perhaps it had been a long time since he had met someone new outside of his professional relations that he was willing to give it a go just for a chance for some good fun.

He flew to the rooftop he would pass by every day after patrol that evening, fully prepared to fake his exit if whoever he was paired with happened to be one of those people who would make a big deal over who he was. But seeing that you at least had a sense of humour, there seemed to be no need for his fake “emergency phone call” after all.

"Ready to go?"

"Go where?" You asked as you shook his extended hand, his finger soothing over the skin at your wrist as he didn’t seem to have any intention to let go.

He chuckled. "You wouldn’t think that this," he motioned to your surroundings, "is where we’re spending this little ‘night in heaven’ of ours, will you?"

You shrugged, heat slowly creeping onto your face at how he held onto your hand. A smirk danced across his handsome features. Taking your hand, he pulled you closer to him so that you could reach your arm to his back and you instinctively hooked it around his neck. Goosebumps rose on your skin as his hand sneaked onto your waist and the other at your thigh. 

You knew you were in for a wild night when he took off, but not before sending shivers down your spine when he leaned down and whispered into your ear, telling you to hold on tight.

When you signed up for this, you were fully expecting to meet up with a random soneone and just get down to business right away. To say that you were pleasantly surprised when you saw a table nicely set up inside of the hotel room when you leaped in through the window was an understatement.

“Classy.” You grinned when he pulled out a chair for you, leaning your jaw on your hand as he took out the bottle of champagne from the ice bucket at the side.

“I might have wings, but I’m no animal.” He said as he handed you one of the thin glasses, “Cheers.”

You smiled, taking the glass before clinking it against his. “Cheers.”

Hawks was charming, more charming when he was sitting in front of you laughing along something you said than he was on tv, which really said something about the hero. You were hoping that it was more than the glasses of champagne you poured down your throat, but this was the most fun you have had with a guy in a very long while, and you could swear that he was getting flirtier and flirtier as you talked, and the excitement of what that could mean bubbled up inside of you.

You watched in anticipation when he got up, his eyes never leaving you as he walked over to your side. Leaning down, his fingers brushed against yours as he took the empty champagne glass from your hand and placed it on the table. You could feel his warm breath against your face with how close he was, the scent of the wine in his breath still apparent and it added to the intoxication he was already putting you through with his close proximity. You smiled as you toyed with the hair at his neck. If you had moved any closer, your lips would touch. 

“I hope that I’m living up to your expectations so far?”

“You’ve exceeded all of them,” you whispered, very tempted to just close the bit of painful distant left between the two of you. The way you could feel every vibration of his voice was sending heat down your core, and you were not sure how much longer you could endure being under his presence without embarrassing yourself. “all except one--”

Your words were cut short when he slammed his lips against yours. You kissed him back, your hand hanging around his neck as you welcomed the way his tongue invaded your mouth. He pulled you up with a hand around your waist, his lips never stop as he pressed you against the wall. A gasp escaped your lips when he trailed down, leaving wet kisses along your jaw and the sensitive skin of your neck. 

Breath hitched at the back of your throat when his hand hiked up your dress until it was around your waist, exposing the thin lace that covered your most intimate areas before reaching further up and pushed your bra to the side. Hearing how your whimpering got louder as his soft lips ghosted across that one particular spot, he groaned at how you shuddered when he sucked at the spot all while teasingly circling your nipple with the pad of his finger. 

“You were promised heaven," you were holding onto his arms desperately as the hand that wasn’t toying with your chest moved down the side of your waist, a loud moan echoed off the walls when his finger dipped into the band of your panties and found its way to your crotch that was already slick with arousal. “and I won’t stop until I give you what you came for.”

Your mind was clouded over with a haze as he pushed two slender fingers inside of your pussy with ease. Still standing, it took you all your might to stop yourself from wobbling. His face was buried at the nape of your neck as he started moving those digits inside your velvet walls, his breathes and soft murmurs only served to fuel you further. He was moving agonizingly slow as if he was trying to drive you off the walls deliberately, and there was nothing you wouldn’t do to get more friction. 

He didn’t stop you when you started grinding down in response to the rhythm he was setting, desperate to get more of the painfully little he allowed you to have inside you to relieve your burning ache. You gripped onto his shoulders, your whimpering growing louder and louder as you rocked your hips against his fingers. 

Your voice nearly broke when he added another finger in there, the sudden stretch prompted your movements to get even wilder. Piercing at your face with his golden eyes, the way your lips parted and eyes struggling to stay open from the pleasure making his erection straining against the fabric even more. You could feel how his chuckles reached your ears from his throat when he nibbled at your earlobes, a soft yelp escaping your lips when he suddenly held onto you and forced you to stand still. 

“I can watch you get off on my fingers all day,” you mewled when his fingers were replaced by a sudden emptiness. He made a show to lick off the evidence of your lust that was dripping on his fingers, sucking on the tip and releasing with a soft pop. His lips curled up at how you were gripping onto his shirt, eyes flooded with wanton lust and begging for more. You gasped when he pushed you onto the bed in the center of the room, the sound of belt buckle rattling made tingles sparked across your exposed skin.

Your back arched off the mattress when he pulled your panties off, the ventilated air hitting your wet folds. Your breaths were rigid when you felt him sliding his length against your lips, the tip nudging at your clit that was puffy from stimulation with each roll of his hips. He gripped at your knees, hooking your legs at either side of his pelvis for a better angle. Each push had you yearning for more, and with the way he applied the pressure to your folds in a languish pace, it didn’t seem like he would give him to you just so easily.

“Please...”

You whined when he pushed the tip and only the tip in, the stretch that was barely there did not do anything but pushing you to the edge.

“Please what?” He smirked, tilting his head cockily and arching his brows to encourage you to keep going.

“Please put it in-” you moaned when he pulled back just to bury his cock deep inside you with one swift motion, the stretch made you claw at the sheets and he groaned. You were hanging on the edge of the back as he thrust up in an erratic pace, his balls slapping against your cheeks as he bottomed out of your every single time. The sound of your slick along with his heavy huffs with each motion rang in your ears, making your face heated up and the coil in you tightened.

You could not control yourself, erotic noises slipping past your lips as your mouth gapped and your eyes rolling back from how his head rubbed against your walls, the vein along his shaft adding to the friction.

“Hawks-”

“Keigo,” he gritted his teeth, keeping himself from breaking apart at how good you felt all wrapped up against him and your body shaking against his riling. “Say my name, remember who is making you feel so good.”

His name rolled off of your tongue like a mantra, the bed shaking under his rough movements as you got closer and closer to your high. You lids were heavy with lust, but you managed to force them open to look at the man who was making you see stars. His brows locked together, his lips that he was biting down on now parted as rumbled moans slipped out. His wings, those glorious plumages spasming and each feather ruffling as its owner approached his own edge. 

With one hard push, his tip brushing past your cervix was the final step to breaking you apart as your walls contracted around him, your toes curling at the sensation as your orgasm washed over you. The way you clamped down on him had him throwing his head back, thick spurts of his release painting your insides as he came crashing down.

With your body still buzzing with numbness from your high, you used your arms to push yourself up against the mattress and get under the covers. You were still heaving as Keigo flopped down next to you, throwing an arm across your waist as he looked at you.

You snuggled closer to him, your thumb running along his jawline as you stared into his eyes, a soft smile finding its way onto your lips.

“Rest,” he pressed a quick kiss to your forehead, pushing your hair out of your face in an affectionate manner that shocked even himself. You hummed as you buried your face into his neck, letting your lids dropped and for slumber to take over your worn out body.

Blinking to accustomed to the light, it took you a quick second to remember where you were at when you woke up the next morning to a strange bed and sheets so crisp that there was no way it could be yours. Moments from the night before flashed in front of your eyes as you slowly picked up on where you were and you could feel your face heating up at the delicious details. You looked to your side to find the other side of the bed empty, with nothing but the ruffled sheets reminding you that there was someone lying here next to you last night.

Getting up to retrieve your scattered clothing from the floor, a vibrant shade of red on the writing desk at a corner caught your eye. It was one of Hawk’s feathers, pining on a torn out piece of paper from the notepad with the tiny ornament of the rooster on top. You smiled at the familiar handwriting, the same as the one on the small white card in your dress pocket. This time, instead of telling you to go to a rooftop, it was a string of numbers.

“Heaven does not need to be a one time thing. Call me?;)”

Cocky bastard. You chuckled as you took out your phone to put in his contacts.

[all-might-can-smash-me]

Extended Ending to Young Love

Young Love

Masterlist

I had this idea and I just really wanted to write it after finishing up Young Love, so here it is lol

———————————————————————

The young girl couldn’t help but bounce around from window to window to look out to the streets at the front of the house. Her body would twist and turn to peer out from the blinds and curtains excitedly, a poor plushie being crush underneath her arms.

“Listen here squirt! You are either going to wait outside in the front yard or stay at one window!” You called out as you could hear her feet began to zoom again to another window, though they stopped at your warning. You and Toshinori’s daughter finally plopped herself down before a window, listening to the soft clanging of the pots and pans in the kitchen, though something caught her attention. There! Just appearing from the corner of the street! She knew that hair and face from any angle, from anywhere!

“He’s here!” She shouted as she was already tugging on her shoes at the front door, impatiently watching you remove the apron that you had tied on, hands quickly washing themself off at the kitchen sink before stepping up to the front door, still damp hand twisting the knob and opening the door. Your daughter though was already zooming out the door, plushie forgotten at the window she had once sat at impatiently.

“Shoto!” She shouted excitedly, arms already opened wide for Shoto before her, the teen already kneeling down to except her open arms for a hug, standing up and already holding her hand back, which was a standard procedure with the young girl, as she led him up to the house, you greeting the two at the door as you closed it behind them.

“So glad to have you Todoroki, she’s been excited for this play date.” You said with a little laugh as you looked to the boy. It was actually quite amusing having to ask a 15 year old if he wanted to come over and play with your 5 year old daughter, but to your surprise he said yes.

“Come Shoto!” Shouted your daughter once the shoes were off and shoved away at the front door, dragging Shoto now to the back door where she slightly struggled to get a good grip on the door knob with her small hand. Shoto soon reached forward to open the door for her, revealing the small table and chairs she had set up with a plastic tea set to accompany it.

Shoto Todoroki soon found himself squished onto one of those small chairs, knees basically up to his chest as he watched her pour the ‘tea’ into each teacup around the table. Soon he grabbed the tiny handle of the tea cup with the tips of his fingers as best he could, bringing it up to his face to ‘drink’ it, but was quickly stopped by her little hand.

“No! You have to raise your pinky Shoto!” She corrected. Soon her little hand lifted her own tea cup, demonstrating her raised pinky to him, wiggling it around too to make sure he would see it. Though he only looked down to how he held the teacup before looking back up to the litte girl.

“Why do I have to raise my pinky?” He asked bluntly as he set the teacup back down onto the plastic saucer on the table. He watched her though as she messed with the stuffed animals that sat around the table, name tags sitting before them, and messing with the other pieces of the tea set.

“Because it’s...uh...it’s that e word!” She said as she began to pour more ‘tea’ for some of the stuffed animals that sat around the table. “I can’t pronounce the word...but I do know it!” She spoke proudly.

“I think the word is etiquette.” He soon spoke out, a hand slowly reaching out to fix the Totoro plushie that leaned dangerously towards falling off of its seat along with straightening out the lead that rested on top of his head, she nodded her head vigorously as she slowly repeated it to make sure she could say it properly.

“Yes! It is tea etiquette to raise your pinky when drinking tea from a tea cup!” She explained before she picked up the tea cup and again to demonstrate the raised pinky to Shoto. Which he soon picked up the small tea cup to raise his pinky.

“Like this?”

“Yes! Exactly like that!”

And so then the tea party went on....until it didn’t. The young girl would soon get distracted by something else. She found herself rolling down the little grassy hill that was in the backyard, instructing Shoto on how to do it to which then he of course did it. Then Shoto pushed her on her swing set so high that she thought she could touch the sky! Of course she tried to push Shoto on the swing after, but he was too big, but the effort counts.

“Spongebob is on!” Called out your voice from the back door, your daughter excitedly grabbing ahold of Shoto’s hand, racing to the back door to lead him back inside.

“Come on! Spongebob is on!” She excitedly told him as she tugged him into the living room, already plopping herself down upon the floor in front of the tv, patting the spot beside her for Shoto to sit down. Now sitting beside her, his eyes looking to the show upon the screen, watching the sponge and the starfish carry out their silly antics.

“What is this show?” He questioned quietly as he watched, a small dramatic gasp being heard from the little girl that sat next to him.

“You don’t know what Spongebob is? It is the best show ever!” She said excitedly, now already beginning to explain each character as they would appear on screen. Shoto listened intently to her explanations, his soft laughs accompanying hers as something funny would happen during the show. Those words echoed within your head from your place in the kitchen. It was sad to think that the teen didn’t get to experience the iconic childhood things such as rolling down a grassy hill or watching the silliest children’s show of all time. Though soon you emerged from the kitchen, plate in hand.

“I got snacks, kids.” You happily chimed out as you stepped up behind them, bending down to place the plate that held two red bean Taiyaki between your daughter and Todoroki. The young girl already grabbed one of them, happily biting into it, but Shoto only gently grabbed onto his, holding it gently within his hands to admire it.

“My dad never let me have one of these...” he admitted as he finally brought it up to his mouth, taking a bite. Shoto’s eyes brightened though as the taste hit his tongue, a smile growing upon his lips as he went ahead to take another big bite.

“Well my mom’s are the best and that’s a fact.” She whispered out to him as if it were confidential information, continuing to eat her Taiyaki. Shoto on the other hand had already finished the cake, a soft smile upon his face as he savored the taste as he continued to watch the children’s show. Though soon the few episodes that were being aired ended and the young girl was once again dragging Shoto somewheres else, this time however to her room. There she showed him every trinket, toy, Barbie, and figurine, which she was proudly showing him now as he sat on the edge of her bright pink bed. Though his eyes slowly moved about the room to take in the Barbie doll house that sat off in the corner with the last scene still set up from the last the girl played, the different trinkets lining the shelves in the room, to the toy trunk that could barely close, and the small little desk that still had her last doodles sitting upon it. Though her voice tugged his gaze back.

“I have daddy, Endeavor, but he scares me.” She said as she casted a glance to Shoto to make sure he was still listening, which he was to every word she said. “Then I have Fatgum because he is cute and really nice! And I have Hawks...I think he’s really handsome, but don’t be jealous, ok?” She said with her small hands rested upon her hips as she looked to Todoroki.

“I won’t be jealous.” He confirmed, now waiting for her to continuing her run down of her figures. Which she eventually did as she turned away and back to them.

“Best Jeanist...oh! Present Mic! He’s really funny!” She said with a giggle, but she was soon distracted by something else within her room. “Present Mic gave me this” she said with a huff as she kneeled down, beckoning Shoto to come over, which he did, now leaning beside her. “It’s a record player.” She said as she opened it up, beginning to make sure it was switched on and prepared before sliding a crate over to her and Shoto. “And these are the records!” Her small hands begun to flip through the many records, eyes scrunched as she flipped through them. “Present Mic said that only old people listen to these, but I like them.” She said as she continued to flip through them, though retreated her hands back and looked to the teen kneeled beside her. “What don’t you pick something?” She offered Shoto, which he than began to flip though the older or newer records that reside in the crate before pulling one out and handing it to her, but she only laughed and handed it back. “You have to pick a song silly!” She said as she pointed to where it listed what songs were on what side of the disc. Finally he pointed to a song on the cover, showing it to her, which she gave a nod of her head as she took it from him.

“Good choice.” She said as she removed the record from the cover, gently place it down, Shoto hovering over her shoulder to watch her lift the needle to place it down on the area of the record the song that Shoto chose. A smile had grown onto his lips as the song ‘Changes’ by David Bowie had begun to flow from the record player, eyes watching the record spin in amazement. “Let’s dance!” She soon said excitedly, Shoto already standing up and taking ahold of her hands, tiny feet on top of his. The girl shrieked and giggled as Shoto had began to move his legs and feet to the beat of the song that was playing, laughing along with her through their silly dancing, but once the song ended, Shoto was now sprawled out upon the ground, your daughter laying down next to him as the two listened to the rest of the songs play out, though they had finally come to a stop, so Shoto moved his head to the side to tell her, but froze upon seeing your daughter asleep on the ground beside him, small hands clutching onto his arm.

“Thank you...for everything...” he whispered out before letting his eyes look back up to the ceiling, letting his eyes close shut.

That day may have only been a second compared to his whole childhood, but he felt as if he finally lived it....

[un-beel-ievable]

[You got a package! It's a gift box that's wrapped in a cute paw and snowflake pattern print, with a simple white box to hold it all together. Inside is a bunch of knickknacks and what seems to be handcrafted charms, which includes several animals like cats, puppies, crows and even a tiny narwhal. There's also some fancy-looking chocolates and a letter stuffed away in a corner, the envelope itself has doodles of roses and sunflowers scribbled on with glitter-gel pen.]

[The handwriting is neat, yet somewhat childish. Emoticons, pencil stars, and sketchy hearts are all over the pages of the letter, alongside the occasional doodle of a certain ginger-haired man and a dark-haired male with puppy ears on him. Overall, the letter is cute and looks like it belongs to some kind of aesthetic board.]

To my dearest "Rain-e" Cloud!

Good morning, sweetheart! (Or, uh, good evening if this package arrives a bit late ^^;;) it's your lovely little puppy here, ready to brighten up your day even when I'm not there! Anyways, how are you? Have you been eating well? Did you get enough sleep recently? Are you going outside more often like I told you to? If you are, then don't forget your mask! I don't want you to get sick. :(

Ahhhh, just listen to me rambling on. Well, you know what they say; like mother, like son. ^^;; But besides that!! I got you something-- actually, um, it's multiple somethings. I don't know how long it would take for the rest of my gifts to arrive, but I sure hope that you'll get this one first! (It would sooo awkward if it didn't..)

Remember the Arts N Crafts class that I took a few weeks ago? Well, feast your eyes upon the fruits of my labor! It's a bunch of cute animal charms!! I, uh, got a bit carried away with making them, but I hope that you'll like it! Look, I even made Childe's narwhal and your little crow friends! ♡

You can use them as whatever you want!-- phone charms, keychain charms, bracelets, and earrings. I made them multi-purpose so you can have a lot of options! Pretty nifty, right? :D

Winter break is almost here, as well as Christmas! Not going to lie, I'm very, VERY excited for the holidays to come! My exams has been tough.. T-T so when I come home to you for winter break, please give me headpats and cuddles~ Save my tired soul, my angelic cutie! ♡

Oh, and speaking of Christmas, Mama Akamiya has been wondering when she will meet you! :0 She wants to know the darling thief who stole her eldest son's heart, and basically demands you to come over for Christmas Eve! Sorry if this is all too sudden, we've only been dating for a while now, but what Mama Akamiya wants, she always gets... T ~ T (Don't worry about it tho! Mom is super sweet, and she's gonna love you! I just know it ♡)

Also.. I know this is a bit silly, since we call each other almost everyday and we attend the same university, but... I really, really miss you, y'know? Sunflower do need sunshine in their lives, but they also need lovely little rain clouds too! (And yes, I will keep making those rain puns. ;P)

So, uh, please keep waiting for me! When I come home, I'll give you many love and kisses to make up for the time I'm not there until you'll get sick of it!! (Not literally tho. Your safety and comfort is always my #1 priority. ♡)

Anyways!! Keep an eye out for the rest of my gifts! Everyone in the Akamiya household went all out for this year. Especially Reina and Rini! I think they might love you more than me LMAO. :D

Your Sunflower Prince,

Akamiya Ren ☆

(PS: I think Xiao's and Julie's packages are next!! I don't know what Xiao got for you, but Julie has been playing with rope and colored beads before exams started, so I think those things are related to her gift!)

(PSS: Also Childe says hi. :D)

[A shoebox sized package shows up on the sender's doorstep several days later. It's wrapped in pastel yellow paper that's been vandalized with numerous doodles of sunflowers and delicate looking finches, and topped with a neat lilac hued bow. The box's contents include a hairclip topped with a crocheted sunflower (the flower has been carefully secured to the hairclip with lengths of yarn in a hue that's identical to the yarn that's been used to craft its petals; it's clearly a handmade gift), a lilac crocheted cat plush that matches the ribbon that's been used to adorn the box, and several packages of konpeito candy. Hidden beneath the plush body of the stuffed cat is a golden envelope addressed to 向日葵王子 (xiàng rì kuí wáng zǐ) (translation: sunflower prince). The letter it holds reads as follows:]

亲爱的向日葵王子 (qīn ài de xiàng rì kuí wáng zǐ) (translation: dearest sunflower prince): If the care package was a ploy to get me to send you your Christmas gift early, it won't work, Akamiya! Bribery doesn't work on me! I won't be bought so easily by your sweet words and heartfelt gifts— ...just kidding. If that were true, I wouldn't be writing to you right now. Damn it, Ren, why do you have to be so sweet? T_T I don't know how you could expect me to not give into you...it's so unfair. Hmph. If it weren't obvious already, your package arrived safe and sound in the mail the other day. I've told you this before: you don't have to give me anything, you know. Your presence in my life is already a gift in itself, and I know I don't tell you this enough...but I really am grateful for the opportunity to love you and be loved by you. ...but don't get me wrong, it's not like I hate the gift or anything. Thank you for the present, Ren...it's really, really pretty. Almost as pretty as you. I can't believe you made all those charms yourself —I would have believed you if you told me they were store-bought. The little narwhal charm modeled after that massive plushie Ajax won at the arcade is really cute...it looks just like the real thing. I still have no idea how he managed to win all those prize exchange tickets...what a showoff. But he did look pretty cool, I guess... The next time you sign up for an arts and crafts class, do you think...you could reserve a slot for me too? The idea of taking a class with you sounds pretty fun... It'll definitely be more fun than attending archery club with Ajax...he's an actual nightmare at it —he was this close to shooting me the other day. How the club president hasn't kicked him out is beyond me... I hope you like the Christmas presents I got...or, well. Made for you. I started crocheting again recently, and Ajax took it as his cue to impulse buy an entire store's worth of yarn. He wants me to knit him a scarf or something...but I thought making you a Christmas gift would be a much better use of the yarn. It's not perfect, —it's been a while since the last time I made anything that wasn't just a sad, unfinished square— I know...but I was hoping that you'd be able to keep me with you whenever we can't be together so let me know if you don't like it, okay? I'll get you something else. The konpeito is for you to share with your family, by the way. I know it's probably not as good as the candy you can get in Japan, but they were selling some at the university's Christmas carnival, and I couldn't help myself... Speaking of your family...you're really serious about me visiting them on Christmas Eve? I...I mean...it's not that I don't want to, I'm just...nervous. I didn't think I'd be meeting your mom this soon, and I haven't even finished getting gifts for all of your siblings yet, and I don't have anything to wear— I'm not sure when you'll receive this...but you're probably done with your exams by now, right? You keep telling me to take better care of myself, but I hope you've been taking your own advice. I'll be really mad if you aren't >:c I'm not there to nurse you back to health if you fall ill...so you have to take care of yourself for me, okay? I worry about you. If I find out that you aren't looking after yourself like you should...I'm not going to give you any headpats or cuddles the next time I see you! That's a threat, Akamiya! I mean it! I don't. Call me when this reaches you! And promise me that you'll come home to me soon...I miss you. Oh, and one more thing... I love you, Ren. Always yours,

Raine

P.S. Stop making rain puns, dork. P.S.S. Bye, Ajax.

[ourstarscollided]

jatp fanworks appreciation - day 3 (wips)

wip wednesday - I didn’t think I wanted to join in on this day for my own stuff considering I’ve never posted anything original for this fandom, but I think this might just be the little boost I need from myself to actually finish the wips that I have sitting around. I am peer pressuring myself and holding myself accountable by posting this - or at least that’s what I’m telling myself. Most of the past 6 mths has just been me screaming to no one in a Google Doc, so here are some things I’ve been ruminating about over the last 6 months (and if my secret agenda is to get other people to write about it so I don’t have to? Then that’s between you and me).

Everything’s under a read more because I like giving context and that usually spirals out of control!?!?

If you would like to see more from any of the below, feel free to shoot me an ask/message and I can definitely share some more! (Or you can just come yell at me about JATP in general.)

Strangers Fake Dating AU // Julie x Luke

I’m a simple person. I see a prompt, I latch onto it, and then I completely miss the entire point of the prompt as my imagination goes wild for no real reason. This really was supposed to be a super short drabble, but it manifested into a 3k+ thing that isn’t even finished.

Julie’s not really sure what she’s supposed to do now. Nothing has ever prepared her for a situation in which she’s supposed to pretend to be a stranger’s girlfriend, especially if that situation involves parents. Does she continue this ruse? Can she come up with a quick enough excuse to tell this Luke character that she actually can’t stay? What if this is just all an elaborate plan to kidnap her? Has she been listening to too many true crime podcasts? Why does Luke smell so good? Does he know how to cook? Why does his shirt not have sleeves? What-

“I can hear you thinking from here.” Her head whips up at the sound of Luke’s voice, which is now at a whisper and kind of frantic. “I just- I just really needed to get my mom off my back, so I kinda need you to pretend to be my girlfriend. Just for the night. I swear I’ll make it up to you somehow.”

Julie studies Luke’s face and it’s nearly impossible to not cave under his gaze, which can only be simply described as ‘puppy dog eyes’. She finds herself smiling back, letting out a huff, “I hope you like lasagna.” And the grin that spreads across the boy’s face is enough for her to know that he’s incredibly relieved that she agreed.

“I’m Luke by the way. Luke Patterson.”

(Okay, he’s kinda cute. And no one this cute is a serial killer. Right?)

She gives a small smile back, “I’m Julie.”

//

5+1 alive!Juke AU // Julie x Luke

Inspired by paper - LANY

This is one of the first things I ever felt the urge to write down back in September because I love exploring the idea of how two people can appear to be the perfect relationship on the outside, but are actually fighting their own demons. Especially when it comes to celebrities and people who are in the spotlight. It’s basically a 5+1 fic about the moments from other people’s perspectives who happen to orbit around Julie/Luke that all revolve around paper. My outline for this is so long because I can’t manage to narrow it down, and there’s zero cohesiveness but I do have little things jotted down.

“Hey little man,” Luke’s knelt down to match his 5 year-old height, and a hand extends out to him for a high five, “What are you doing here?”

His eyes flicker to the left, towards his own apartment door, where his mom is giving him an encouraging nod. “ I- I just wanted to-” he stutters and finds himself looking at his feet as he shuffles back and forth on the spot. “I- I drew you guys something!”

He shoves the paper out towards the older boy in front of him, but doesn’t look up.

//

Reincarnation AU // Julie x Luke

I had a random thought in December about how magical it is that Julie and Luke are so tied to one another that their love transcends time and space, which will always lead them back to one another. I remember reading a book a long time ago about how the main character is fated to die at a certain age, and that kind of sparked this little idea. I can’t bring myself to actually plot out every single timeline right now, but I did manage to write a little bit.

It will never be as complex as Rosie’s idea and all the wonderful additions in the link here, and I don’t really plan on it being anything more than a small idea. But I really do still think someone should write some sort of reincarnation AU cause I’d hop on that so fast!!

“Okay- that’s not- Luke. You seriously just ran away?”

“What was I supposed to do Alex? We all know how this ends.”

His friend looks at him, face painted in understanding and he sighs, “Yeah. Yeah, we do.”

Because it’s true, Alex does know, so does Reggie and Bobby. Most importantly, so does Luke. It’s the exact same tragic love story every time.

Call it a curse or fate or destiny. Maybe it’s because Mercury is in retrograde. Whatever. It always ends the same way - with a heartbreaking goodbye, a whisper of the promise that they’ll find each other again, and the possibility of a happy ending. He’s said the same goodbye at least 734 times, but it’s not like he’s counting or anything. Fuck the universe and its mystical ways.

//

Competitive Alex // Alex x Willie

No real thoughts or reasons for this other than I just think I self-projected my need to play board games with people in real life into a fic. And maybe a little bit of my competitiveness onto Alex and then threw in Willie because I think he would be able to handle it while also finding it endearing. I also have written nothing about the actual competitiveness, it’s just 2k words of Alex crushing on Willie.

“Wait,” his eyes dart between the three boys, “You both know Willie? How come I’ve never met him?”

His roommates look at each other, and there’s a smirk on Luke’s face when he says, “Actually Alex, I think you have. Remember that time you got really drunk after one of our shows?”

Oh no. He really hopes that it’s not the time he’s thinking of, so he tries to sound nonchalant. “You’re going to have to be more specific, Luke.”

“The night we played at that tiny bar at the edge of the campus! We got paid in those tiny colourful shots?” He doesn’t really know where Luke is going with this, so he’s slowly nodding along. “And you were super upset that the hot dog vendor at the end of the street was closed?”

//

Dear Julie, Love Mom series

I made myself sad with this thought when I first watched the show and was talking to my friend about how I think that Rose would’ve left messages for the Molina family, especially when we found out that Wake Up was actually from her mom. I wrote a bigger explanation for it here.

Anyways, I started with the one for Julie’s wedding and it kind of became an 8k monster with three different POVs?!? As much as I love how I wrote this, I feel too unsure about my writing to share it in full, so you will get carefully selected looks alkfe. (I’m also kind of stuck on some of the more emotional scenes and I may or may not have procrastinated by photoshopping a moodboard for it.)

Excerpt 1 (Julie POV): A look into where I’m going with this whole letters from Rose thing.

The key clicks into place, and with a turn, the latch falls open. She’s not sure what she wants to find in the box, and she’s too scared to think about it really. All she knows is that this was the sign from her mom that she was waiting for all week, and in true Rose fashion, her mom had managed to give it to her, even if at the last second. Her dad turns the box to face Julie, and gestures to her to open up the lid.

Tucked inside is a VHS tape, the words ‘For Julie, on your wedding day’ written in her mom’s cursive on the cover. Some loose glitter and confetti fall back into the box as she reaches in to pick up the tape and turn it over in her hands. There’s a little purple butterfly etched on the back, the same one that’s been drawn on all the other messages that her mom had left her. Her finger automatically finds its way, tracing the shape of the small doodle.

“Do you want me to leave you alone, mija?”

Excerpt 2 (Julie POV): This part has absolutely nothing to do with the main plot of the story, but it self-inserted itself into this fic after @tangledstarlight and I talked about You’re Still the One by Shania Twain being their first dance. This whole scene came to me at 4am one night and might be the most self-indulgent thing I’ve ever written.

They knew that when they had asked Reggie to be in charge of the first dance performance, that they (and Alex) weren’t allowed to veto any of his ideas. Luke had warned Julie that that would be a mistake, but the giddiness that radiated off of Reggie when she had told him he could have free reign was worth it. She just hadn’t thought that he would actually take it to heart and run with it.

Sure, they had chosen You’re Still the One by Shania Twain as their first dance song, and sure it was more or less a country song, but she didn’t really imagine that she’d be staring at her adoptive brother, Carlos and her Dad wearing cowboy hats and boots at her wedding. They had somehow managed to ditch their Flynn-approved suit jackets and were sporting a taupe-coloured suede-textured vest over their dress shirts. If she looked closely, she could see that they had somehow also found some gaudy looking bolo ties with a matching set of ornamental clasps to wear. When she envisioned her wedding, she really didn’t expect that her first (public) dance as a married couple would be a full-on Western themed occasion. The only exception was Alex, who had settled on his cajon in the back, still in his pink suit, eyes rolling when she met his gaze. But even she knew how there was no real annoyance in the blonde’s reaction or else he wouldn’t also be wearing one of the tacky ties around his neck as well.

“I’m gonna seriously kill him.” She hears Luke grumble under his breath, only low enough for her to hear. But she’s still too busy giggling to actually be mad, and she knows that Luke isn’t really going to kill Reggie. At least she doesn’t think so.

Excerpt 3 (Luke POV): Idk man. My mind went “What about Luke?” and I said “You’re right!! What about him?!?”

He doesn’t realize that he’s just been silently staring at the woman in front of him, until a gentle voice breaks him out of his thoughts. “Why are you looking at me like that?” Julie’s peering at him from under her eyelashes, a curious look on her face.

“You just-” he gives a little shake of his head, trying to come up with the right words. He wants to tell her she’s beautiful. Stunning. A wicked beauty. But she’s more than that - she’s almost angelic. “I can’t believe you’re my wife.”

“Luke, we’ve been legally married for like, a whole year.” Her lips are quirked up in a grin, amusement in her voice. “You’ve only just realized that now?”

“That’s different.”

“Yeah? Different how?”

This feels a little strange to post and a little like my inner self seeking validation but let’s not talk about that.

Kskssj anyways present me @ future me: finish one of these because writing has been really cathartic for you and you didn’t think it would bring you so much joy!!!

[wangxianficrecs]

Wangxian Fic Recs Presents:  Mojo’s Favorites

Mojo’s Favorites

anonymous asked:

Hello! What are your fave wangxian fics? Thanks so much for all the hard work you do for the blog💖

Oh, thank you for the encouragement, sweet thing!  And, do I have favorites?  Hahaha, oh dear, I have so many (and I add more all the time.)  Because this is a long list, I’ll point you to my comments elsewhere – either on this blog if I’ve already recced it or just my raw AO3 bookmark.

Favorites are an interesting thing:  they depend on the time and place and mood you are in.  So this isn’t exhaustive, and it isn’t the final word.  It is, however, a good place to start.  Add your own favorites, too!

In no order whatsoever:

❤️Wangxian’s Time-Travelling Shenanigans

by pupeez4eva

T, 12k, (3 works complete; series incomplete WIP)

Summary (Part 1):  “Wei Wuxian ignored Jiang Cheng’s hysterical yell, the whispers that had suddenly broke out around them, the scandalised looks of the Gusu Lan disciples — or the way Lan Qiren’s face paled in a mixture of shock and horror — and pulled back, peering into Lan Wangji’s face. His face which, Wei Wuxian suddenly realised with mounting dread, was a lot younger than he remembered it being.”Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji end up in their younger bodies mid-way through the events at Guanyin Temple. Wei Wuxian isn’t about to let a little issue like that — or the numerous other people surrounding them — stop him from confessing his love.

My comment.

❤️ unabashed indecency

by quags1re

T, 25k, WIP

Summary: Jiang Cheng glances down at Wei Wuxian’s notes, which have tiny doodles of Lan Wangji and many variations of Lan Wuxian drawn into the margins. “Holy shit,” he gasps, unable to contain his glee.

.

wei wuxian falls at 15.

My comment.

❤️ Fallen

by Jaywalker_Holmes

M, 151k, wangxian

Summary: A cultivation accident in the future destroys Mo XuanYu’s frail body and sends Wei WuXian’s soul back into the past, in his six-year-old body. This time, armed with the knowledge of his future self and his love for his beloved Lan WangJi, he decides to rewrite his destiny and protect those he loves. Will the YiLing Patriarch have a happier life this time?

My comment.

❤️ The Three Jades of Lan

by IceBreeze

T, 37k, series with 5 works, WIP, incomplete (READ IT ANYWAY)

Summary:  “Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan, look!” Wei Ying did a twirl. “I’m the same as you now! Am I pretty? Say Lan Zhan, am I pretty?”

Huan muffled a laugh behind his sleeve as A-Zhan said “Mn,” eyes never once leaving Wei Ying. There was something a little like awe in his stare, like Wei Ying was the only one in the world to him at that moment, and if Huan hadn’t already known that his little brother cared deeply for Wei Ying then that look would have been all the confirmation he needed.

(If A-Zhan knew what marriage and romance was beyond the vague explanations he’d heard then he’d probably already be courting Wei Ying, with all the dogged determination he shows everything he puts his mind to. It’s adorable, and Huan supports it wholeheartedly, no matter what direction it heads in the end).

Or: an AU Wei Wuxian is taken in by the Lan clan instead of the Jiangs.

My comment.

❤️ Coming Back to Yourself

by acernor

E, 22k, wangxian

Summary:  Lan Wangji gets cursed with a ~woman’s body~ and has to orgasm to go back. Since he’s 1) a virgin 2) super repressed and 3) SUPER gay, he has no idea what to do.

If only he had a super nosy friend who’s read lots of erotic novels who could help him figure out what to do… hm…

My comment.

❤️Save a Sword

by etymologyplayground

E, 5k

Summary:  Lan WangJi presses a kiss into his throat, which draws a shivering whine from him. “Like this,” he agrees, his voice so low. Then he slides one warm elegant hand down Wei WuXian’s chest to his belly, and then to his — to his —

–

fan ending for acernor’s fabulous masterpiece “coming back to yourself” because i’m a huge goofball and that fic fucks

My comment.

❤️tame

by rikke

M, 12k, wangxian  

Summary: After the Xuanwu Cave incident, Wei WuXian wakes up back in Lotus Pier with one hand clutching Lan WangJi and the other hand clutching…an egg?

in which wwx and lwj accidentally hatch a baby xuanwu

My Comment.

❤️ asymptotic

by chinxe

T, 27k, Wangxian

Summary:  The members of the Lan Clan have never been particularly well-known for their good judgement when it comes to matters of the heart.

Which is why it should come as a surprise to no one when Lan Wangji falls in love with an actual ghost.

My comment.

❤️SanRen

by Kyogre

T, 90K, Wangxian

Summary:   Leaving YunmengJiang in an effort to curb the tensions in the Jiang family, Wei WuXian becomes a rogue cultivator.

Even without the support of a sect, he is a rare genius whose name will become known across the cultivation world and whose techniques will influence the course of a war.

However, what influences his own fate is a chance meeting that becomes the first step toward love.

My Comment.

❤️Taking Responsibility

by tuesday

E, 3k, wangxian

Summary:  In which things go differently on Phoenix Mountain.

—

“You’ve done this to me. You should take responsibility.”

My comment.

❤️ Lan Sizhui Sees Dead People

by darkbrokenreaper

T, 15k, series (5 works, might be more), wangxian

Summary (from 1st work):  Nearly two months after finding and adopting Lan Yuan, Lan Wangji begins to notice an odd quirk of his child.

Also: Lan Sizhui sees dead people. This becomes a constant source of strife for Lan Wangji who notices his son sees a spirit he calls “Mother”.

My comment.

❤️null hypothesis

by chinxe

M, 7k, wangxian

Summary:  Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji practise kissing. With…each other.

My comment.

❤️A Match Made In Heaven

by Ariana

T, 38k, WIP (don’t let that stop you), wangxian

Summary:  After getting fed up once and for all with Wei Wuxian getting into trouble, Madam Yu decides it’s time to call in the matchmaker.

My comment.

❤️ A Wedding of Choice

by scifigeek14

T, 17k, wangxian

Summary:  When Wei Wuxian asked Lan Zhan to tie his headband to his wrist he didn’t know the connotations. But, Lan Zhan fully knew that his actions would result in a wedding.

Set as a happy au/canon divergence starting at the Cold Pond Cave scene. Instead of some Yin Metal, Lan Zhan gets a new guquin and a new fiancé.

Wei Wuxian POV, Limited 3rd person.

My comment.

❤️ever a part of me

by AlotikaWolf, RennieOnIceCream (Hitsugi_Zirkus)

M, 42k, series (4 works complete;  series ongoing), wangxian

Summary:  AU formed by AlotikaWolf and me! ABO-verse, mostly canon-compliant AU where omega Mo Xuanyu was unknowingly pregnant when he sacrificed his body. What follows is a bunch of misunderstandings, Wei Wuxian constantly giving Lan Wangji heart attacks, a second helping of angst, and plenty of Wangxian cuddles~

My comment.

❤️a stone to break your soul, a song to save it

by rikke

M, 18k

Summary:  When the entire cultivation world turns against Wei WuXian, Jiang Cheng comes up with a plan to save him and arranges a marriage between his brother and the Second Jade of Lan, Lan WangJi.

My comment.

❤️Just a Tiny Mistake

by Dudette_Mal

T, 54k, wangxian, WIP

Summary:  Wei WuXian makes a mistake and wakes up to find himself in the past. Sure, he has a headache, but Lan WangJi is still there and everybody he loves is still alive (or will still be born). This is absolutely fine.

My comment.

❤️Home Is Where Wei Ying Is

by Hades_the_Blingking

E, 12k

Summary:  As Wei WuXian walks away from him, Lan Zhan cannot help but think that he is making the biggest mistake of his life. Lan Zhan decides to live with no regrets, and acts on his doubts - and it works out pretty well! or in which in Ep50 (The Untamed ending) Lan Zhan goes back to Wei WuXian, and they share a first kiss and a first time together. Lan Qiren is not pleased, but will have to deal. Lan Xichen gives some good advice.

My comment.

❤️Muted

by Akabara_13

T, 27k, WIP (oh, wow, a new chapter was posted TODAY!!!)

Summary:  Jiang FengMian thought the boy would talk again once the storm passed, but Madam Yu praised his silence. The boy would not talk to anyone, but his brother and sister.

My comment.

❤️ A Street Kid Named Wuxian

by NaoNazo

G, 9k, wangxian, WIP

Summary:  “Pffffff- ahahahAHAHA!” The kid curled up, resting one hand on his stomach while he used the other to smack at Lan Wangji’s shoulders. “That was close!” he giggled.

Lan Wangji was starting to think he’d been saved by a madman.

“… Thank you.” He bowed as best he could while seated and prepared to make his way down.

“Wait wait wait!” The kid grabbed at his sleeve before he could shift away. “If you go down like that, you’re just gonna get caught, y’know!”

Lan Wangji looked down at himself and back at the kid, raising an eyebrow.

The kid propped himself up on his elbows and gave him a blatant once-over, obviously holding back laughter. “You’re wearin’ all white, genius. Even if you scuff it up a bit and take off the girly ribbon–” Lan Wangji scowled reflexively– “no one around here wears stuff that nice.”

Lan Wangji had to admit he had a point.

My comment.

❤️Where the Wild Things Are

by yeolinski

M, 23k, WIP, wangxian

Summary:  “Tread carefully for now, Wei Wuxian. There appears to be much more to this this wildling than what meets the eye.”

“A lot has already met the eye,” Wei Wuxian admits; “And trust me when I say, let’s hope it stays that way.”

Jiang Cheng turns to him, scrunching his nose. “What the hell does that mean—”

“He’s seriously hung. His dick’s, like,” Wei Wuxian gestures, so Jiang Cheng could have a correct visual; “the size of a space rocket. Thrusters and everything.”

My comment.

❤️ Two for the price of one

by ULTIOcean

G, 42k, wangxian

Summary:  When Wei WuXian opened his eyes again in the world of the living, he didn’t know what to expect.

He hadn’t asked to be brought back, had no intention return on his own, either. But he had, inhabiting a body that was not his own, drowning in memories and desires for revenge, a lonely soul asking for retribution, even if he’d been asking the wrong person.

He had known he had to fulfill this person’s wishes to be set free, and as such was the contract, he hadn’t felt wronged or used, it was how things were, and the other person had paid the price for their wish. But…

But nobody ever told him what to do in this situation? Whatever was he supposed to do with a toddler? And why did the spell take that person’s last mumbled wish as a condition, too? How was he supposed to fulfill that, ah?

Big blue eyes stared up at him.He stared back.

He totally hadn’t singed up for this!

He was going to do it, because of course he was going to! He didn’t want to die again so soon! If he had to become a single father and rise this child alone until he was happy, then so be it! Wei WuXian would shower him with all the love he had!

My comment.

❤️ You Are My Euphoria

by tangerinechar

M, 18k, wangxian

Summary:  This odd new push and pull between them is something Wei Wuxian is just discovering, and he’s also discovered that he likes the ideas it gives him - hug Lan Zhan, run your fingers along his arms, get him to look at you, say your name - the simple light that being with Lan Wangji brings to his life, the feeling that he could smile forever if Lan Wangji stood by his side.

Wei Wuxian arrives at the Cloud Recesses, breaks at least seven rules, and gets his heart stolen by the prettiest boy he’s ever met, in that exact order.

Or; 5 times Wei Wuxian smiled at Lan Wangji, and 1 time Lan Wangji smiled back.

My comment.

❤️ Here Again (Spirits Rise, Unbroken)

by TheDefenestrator

T, 74k, WIP

or, Catharsis: The Fic

Summary: In which Wei Wuxian, shortly after being called into Mo Xuanyu’s body, is further forced into the past, where he proceeds to tumble his way into absolutely nailing a time travel fix-it.

My comment.

❤️Trojan Kiss

by malkinmalkout

E, 33k

Summary:  Due to a misunderstanding Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji start an incredibly long and complex game of gay chicken.

My comment.

❤️Ribbons and  Heartsongs

by jeyhawk

E, 37k

High Fantasy/Science Fiction AU.

Summary:  The cot looked like a death trap. It was held together by a bunch of leather straps connected to a metal frame. Even with a mattress put on top it looked like a torture device.

“If I die in the night, I will come back to haunt you,” Wei Wuxian said, eyeing it.

“It is not for you,” Lan Wangji said.

“What? I’m a prisoner. Of course I’m taking the cot.”

“You are a guest and you are taking the bed.”

“I’m not taking the bed. Come on, I can’t let you sleep on that. If you die everyone will blame me.”

“I will not die.”

My comment.

❤️Always Knew You Were Magical

by jeyhawk

E, 25k

Modern Cultivators AU.

Summary:  Lan Wangji finds Wei Wuxian pajamas to wear and coaxes him into them, wide plaid pants in dark blue and white and a t-shirt with two rabbits on it. Wei Wuxian looks down on the shirt and smiles for the first time all evening.

“Lan Zhan, do all your pajamas have rabbits on them?”

Lan Wangji thinks about lying, but it would be foolish when Wei Wuxian is standing right next to the proof. He inclines his head slightly.

“I like rabbits,” he says.

Wei Wuxian blinks and then he smiles a little wider.

My comment.

❤️The Simplest Way Forward

by harriet_vane

E, 71k

Summary:  It’s a really unfortunate thing, developing a crush on your husband. Wei Ying had assumed this would be easy. Lan Zhan had been so icy and unpleasant to him, it had never occurred to him that he might end up spending the next however many years with this dumb, burning feeling in his chest whenever he looks at him.

“Okay,” says Wei Ying. “But tell me if I…if the pretending gets to be too hard, okay?”

“It will not,” says Lan Zhan, quietly certain.

My comment.

[bush-viper-cutie]

“Final Exams Week” || YEAR 3 – Ch.33 (HP au)

                              Chapter List

<-- Last Chapter                          Next Chapter -->

Day posted: 12/4/2020

Word count: 3, 416

Relationship: EVENTUAL severus X oc (slow burn)

Rating: E for everyone

Warnings: none

-----

A/N: This is my first fan fic I’m writing mainly as a way to practice. This is a retelling of the hp books with an inserted character. Although most every character will be written about, this is mostly for the pro snape fandom. Please do not fear, although this is a severus x oc story, it is an incredibly slow burn as I do not intend for them to get together at all until after the final book events. Chapters will be posted twice a week.

This derivative work follows the events of the Harry Potter books by Jk Rowling and is intended as a fun way to practice my writing. Thank you for reading :D

-----

~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~

Heather ran her tongue against her front teeth and squinted at the words on the page. The sun was shining down on her stolen potions book and no matter how she moved her head to block it, the glossy ink kept blinding her. She sighed and let her head fall back against the rough bark of the tree she was leaning on.

“Angelina said she’d work all summer to afford a firebolt – ”

“The team would be unstoppable then!”

Heather quickly stuffed the potions book in her bag and stood to face Harry and Ron as they approached. “Won’t you act the least bit disappointed you lost the Quidditch Cup? For me? Just for show.”

Ron nearly tripped and slid down the small hill in his attempt to suppress a laugh. “Just face it Heather. You saw how fast Harry was. Next year Gryffindor will win every match, the Quidditch Cup, and the House Cup. And the year after that, and the one after that. There’s no stopping the firebolt!”

“As if.”

“Catch!” Harry tossed a can of iced pumpkin juice at her. “We’ll get you a firebolt over the summer and then maybe Slytherin might be able to keep up.”

Heather caught it and dropped back onto her spot facing the lake. “You know we can’t afford it. And since we can’t, I think a week of gloating is quite enough from you two. You’ve only won a measly match.”

“Says the losing team,” Ron laughed.

Harry and Ron sat beside her and took out their textbooks.

“I can’t believe it’s almost June.” Harry flipped through the pages of his textbook lazily.

“How’re we supposed to study for our exams with all this homework?” Ron turned the pages one by one while staring at the giant squid as it propelled itself out of the water, twirled, and splashed back down.

Tiny waves crashed on the lake shore as laughter could be heard from the other students basking in the sun on the grassy castle grounds.

Heather picked at the can of ice cold pumpkin juice with her nail, wedged it underneath the tab, and plucked it up hearing the tantalizing fizz. She smiled and pressed the opening to her lips.

“WHAT are you three doing!”

Ron, Harry, and Heather screamed as Hermione came out from behind their tree.

“You should be studying for exams!” Hermione handed them each a paper with their study schedules along with their exam times.

Harry waved his textbook in her face. “We’re already doing that.”

Hermione pushed the book away and placed a single hand on her hip. “Not out here. There’s too much distraction.” She dragged the three of them into the castle and forced them to sit down in the much quieter Great Hall during study hour. “Now you can ask the Professors any questions you have.”

Heather, Harry, and Ron grumbled as the summer air blew through the doors.

Heather glanced at Hermione’s exam times and frowned.

‘Monday:

9 o’clock, Arithmancy

9 o’clock Transfigurations

Lunch

1 o’clock, Charms

5 o’clock, Care of MC

11 o’clock, Astronomy

Wednesday:

10 o’clock, Herbology

Lunch

1 o’clock, Defense Against DA

1 o’clock, Ancient Runes

3 o’clock, History of Magic

5 o’clock, Potions

5 o’clock, Muggle Studies’

“Hermione. I don’t think Snape will let you leave early to take your Muggle Studies exam or arrive late from it.” Heather watched Hermione stuff the paper in her bag and push her hair behind her ears.

“Of course not. That’s silly.”

Ron pulled a face. “Then you’ve copied the times wrong.”

“No.” Hermione snapped. “And might I remind you, you’ve got two essays due tomorrow. Now… I NEED to study so no more interruptions – Where’s my copy of ‘Numerology and Grammatica’? Have you seen it?”

“Yeah, I used it for a bit of bedtime reading last night,” Ron mumbled.

Heather pulled the book out from under a stack of five and slid it roughly across the table to her. How could Hermione not trust them? After everything they’d been through? What. Was she afraid of spilling her punctuality secrets?

Hedwig flew down and landed on the large stack of books besides Heather. She pulled the letter out of her beak and handed it to Harry to read while she smoothed down Hedwig’s fluffy white feathers.

“From Hagrid.” He turned the note over and flipped it open. “Buckbeak’s appeal… Its set for the sixth of June. That’s next month…”

“That’s the last day of exams,” Hermione said from behind her book.

“Well they’re coming up to the school for it with a Ministry official… and an executioner.”

Hermione gasped.

Ron took the note out of Harry’s hand and turned it around to read for himself. “That’s not bloody fair!”

“Mr. Weasley!” Professor McGonagall gave them menacing eyes from the High Table.

“It doesn’t sound like they’ll be very willing to hear Hagrid out.” Heather gripped her quill tight and poked holes into her parchment. “Not fair at all. Poor Buckbeak.”

“It’s Malfoy’s fault.” Harry looked around for him, ready to stare daggers.

“Yeah, and I’ve got a stack of handwritten Hippogriff research scrolls to shove down his throat. Where is he?” Ron stood, searching with Harry for their target.

“Do not make things worse with him,” Heather warned.

Although she managed to settle them down to study that day, she could not help the growing hostility between them for the next several days. However subdued Draco had been after the Slytherin Gryffindor match loss was all in the past now. Draco had regained his confidence after hearing from his father about Buckbeak’s scheduled beheading, thinking it was all thanks to him, and was now parading around the castle with Lockhart’s same pompous attitude.

After his daily dose of bragging, gloating, and boasting he took extra time from his busy schedule to sneer at them from afar, whisper rude comments about it in the corridors, and even pass taunting notes to Harry and Ron during classes.

‘Ignore him’ was all Heather and Hermione were saying until exam week began, and an unusual silence fell upon the castle. Even Percy was going around shushing anyone who disturbed the quiet of the corridors.

“People are studying!” he hissed at a group of second years before going back to soundlessly reciting charms and spells on his way up to the Gryffindor common room.

“He’s almost as bad as Hermione,” Ron noted, turning around to watch Hermione bump into student after student from behind a leather-bound book so large it hid even her bushy hair.

Harry eyed Heather as she doodled in her art journal as they walked. “How are you managing to not have a mental collapse like them?”

Heather scoffed. “For the same reason the Slytherins and Ravenclaws never worry over exams. Slytherins are always studying and Ravenclaws are always OVER studying – It’s not impressive they could pass next year’s exams, it’s annoying. They should stop bragging.”

They sat all of Monday’s exams and by late dinner the whole school was spent and puffy eyed. Heather sat with Pansy and her friends who were all talking about the tasks for Transfigurations, particularly the one that involved turning a brick into a crow.

“Yours looked like a raven.”

“Did you see Cindy’s magpie?”

“I heard Neville’s was still red – ”

“I heard Neville’s was still a brick.”

Heather rolled her eyes and turned away. Almost everyone at the table was bragging about their results, which would be fine if she wasn’t a little insecure about her transfiguration and charm skills. As much as she tried, Hermione was always better and got the spells faster than Heather did. The only reason she wasn’t more worried about her skills on those subjects were mostly due to Ron and Harry and their consistently horrible attempts.

Draco turned to Heather and smiled. “Know what I Saw in the crystal ball?”

“Was it Hermione smacking you again?”

He frowned and stabbed his fork into his potato salad. “No. That pigeons head rolling around those pumpkins. Got perfect marks for that too.”

“That’s funny. I saw YOUR head rolling around the boy’s urinals. Perfect marks on that prediction as well.”

Draco set down his fork and slid his wand out of his sleeve and pointed it at her, hidden from view of the High Table. “Is that a threat, Potter?”

Heather scoffed and leaned forward. “It is if you don’t stop talking about murdering that poor creature.”

He laughed and nudged Goyle beside him. “Hear that? She thinks she can take me.”

Heather had better things to do than sit around the table entertaining Draco and the two goons beside him. She still had Astronomy to study for and got up to join the several other students who were gathering at the astronomy tower to go over star charts and planet paths.

The test was on the last century only and as much as she hated when Harry cheated, even she knew he’d need her answers to pass. What star constellation was visible during the mountain troll attack of Hogsmeade in 1901? What planetary alignment led to the invention of self-tying brogues? The easiest part was the final question which asked what the current visible stars, constellations, and planets were.

After the test Professor Sinistra collected their telescopes and let them hang around for a few minutes while she put them away.

Ron’s hair danced in the wind as he leaned over the stone half-wall and squinted through the darkness at the grounds. “Er… Harry? Did YOU remember to put our Salamander away after the exam?”

Harry pulled him back and leaned over the wall, holding his glasses securely to his face as he looked down. “I’m sure Hagrid will notice the small fire…”

Heather looked down and saw tiny flames growing in the bushes on the outskirt of the forbidden forest. “Is there ever a year where you two WON’T damage the school in some way?”

“What did we do first year?” Harry pulled them back and together headed down the tower stairs.

If they still had their invisibility cloak Heather would have suggested going down to tell Hagrid about it and also taken the opportunity to check in on him – which they hadn’t been able to do for several weeks due to the strict rules on Harry and her because of Sirius Black. The strict rules wouldn’t be much of a problem, except the cloak was still down in the one-eyed witch’s tunnel which was under constant guard of Snape, Filch, and Mrs. Norris after their last talk and Heather’s outburst in Snape’s office.

She didn’t think there was anyone as naturally suspicious and distrustful as Snape was. The way he could smell out trouble and deceit and stay on his intuition was impressive in some ways and just downright annoying now that she disliked him.

The next day was spent studying for Wednesday’s exams in the common room during the morning – since Harry and Ron had stayed up late and were fast asleep during valuable studying hours – and the library and study hall in the afternoon with Hermione as frantic as ever.

“Oh! Why is there so much to know!” Hermione gathered all her notes and pulled at her hair. “I-I’m going to go splash water on my face.” She stood with a thick pile of notes in her hand and walked away from their table towards the large Great Hall doors.

Heather bit her lip and ran to catch up to her. “I’ll go with you. I could quiz you with those notes while you dunked your whole face in water if you wanted.”

Hermione stopped her and shook her head. “Oh, no, that’s alright Heather.” She stood waiting for Heather to turn around and march back to Harry and Ron.

“I don’t mind.” Heather crossed her arms.

Hermione nodded slowly and handed her the stack of notes. “Wonderful.” She walked out of the Great Hall and down the corridor towards the girl’s bathroom.

Heather looked through the notes and found the ones for Ancient Runes. “What’s – er – the symbol with the bug and two lines mean?”

“Too easy. It’s the letter ‘B’. Give me actual sentences.” Hermione turned the cold water on and ran her hands under.

“Hermione. How are you going to take this exam at the same time as Defense Against Dark Arts? In fact, how have you been attending this class at all?” Heather stared at Hermione reflection and watched her look around the sink.

She frowned and turned off the running water. “I – well – You’re supposed to be quizzing me. I have six exams tomorrow – ”

“You’re keeping a secret. I know it Hermione. I can understand why you wouldn’t tell Harry and Ron… but me? Last year you got upset that – ”

“Yes I know! But… I’m sorry, I’m just not allowed to tell. I swore I wouldn’t.” Hermione took back her notes and looked down at her shoes. “You can go back. I’m staying here for a minute.”

Heather clenched her jaw and ignored the tightness in her chest that made her want to tear up. Before she had friends she’d always found it easy to hold back tears. Now it was hard to not show her emotions around them, even when she was hurt and sad. “Just tell me. Please? You’ve hardly been around while somehow being around and if it’s because of this secret so why not just let me know? We’re best friends.”

Hermione looked up with watery eyes. “Then why don’t you share your secret first?”

Heather looked around at the dirty tiled floor and up at the streaky mirror. Should she come clean about the raskovnik growing in her charmed pot? She’d have to explain then about the stolen library books as well…

“I know you and Draco hung out over the summer. You went to his house. I overheard it.” Hermione wiped at her eyes and huffed. “He’s always using the word mudblood, always fighting with Ron and Harry, and now he’ll be responsible for Buckbeak’s death… and you’re friends with him. Harry doesn’t even know you’ve been INSIDE his house.”

“It was only a few days! I swear! I hated it there but I NEEDED to. You don’t understand how it is in Slytherin. Flint doesn’t even want me on the team for being a girl. I have to keep up the drills and beat all those stupid boys who are all so much stronger than me! I don’t even know what I’ll do next year if Flint doesn’t get held back again and some other idiot becomes team captain.” Heather pressed her palms to her eyes and sniffed. “I have to prove I’m not weak because I’m a girl. I have to prove I’m not weak because I’m a half-blood. I have to prove I’m not a house traitor because of Harry.” Heather wiped her nose on her sweater sleeve and sighed. “I don’t get to relax comfortably in a house that just accepts me… Everyone’s always watching me, waiting to see me trip up and prove them all right… And then I’m stuck all summer in a house that forbids magic? I’m sorry Hermione… please understand? I know how horrible he is to us. But I needed his help.”

“I… do. I’m sorry I know it must be hard not being in Gryffindor with us. But who cares what they think? They’re all just a bunch of blood-purists. You have us aleways. And we don’t judge you or anyone else like that.” Hermione hugged her and pulled away.

Heather nodded and wiped the few tears that had escaped. She was relieved Hermione forgave her. Maybe if Harry found out, would he too? Although it might be harder after Buckbeak’s appeal depending on the outcome. “What’s your secret then?”

Hermione sighed and hugged her arms. “I really can’t say… yet… Look, I swear I’ll tell you on the train. But you can’t tell Harry or Ron… ESPECIALLY not Ron. He could mess up the whole world and even worse, get me expelled.”

Heather nodded and they sealed the deal with a hand shake. She walked back into the Great Hall and a minute later Hermione followed and was back to her usual frantic self.

The next morning was the Herbology exam which had them out in the sun baking to crisps in the greenhouses. Defense Against the Dark Arts exam was after lunch and Professor Lupin had made them some sort of obstacle course outside.

“Oh no…” Heather’s eyes swept across the transformed grounds closest to the lake at the small pool labeled ‘Grindylows’, the field of potholes labeled ‘Red Caps’, and the patch of marsh labeled ‘Hinkypunks’.

“The end of the exam is hidden. Full marks to those who come out the right tree.” Professor Lupin smiled and signaled the start of the exam.

They waded through the pool – holding their socks and shoes in one hand and their wands in the other – then jumped over the Red caps, squished through the marsh while Hinkypunks shouted misleading directions, and headed into the trees. Heather stayed on the marked path and tried to figure out the correct tree. There was a large tree the width of Hagrid’s shack with a large hole carved out the side. It looked hungry, with its gaping mouth showing the darkness that would engulf anyone who entered.

Harry was the first to crawl in with Hermione, Heather, and Ron following in right after. With wands up they fought the new boggart that was shoved into a hollowed branch. For her turn, Heather swallowed as it slithered out from its hole in the darkness and dropped to the ground just beyond the light of her wand.

“Riddikulus!” Heather shouted, before it could manifest into anything. A bouncing red and gold ball rolled into the light. She shot a simple spell at it and it shot back into its hole, wedging in tight.

Almost everyone had received full marks, except poor Neville who had to face his grandmother telling him Snape would be his new grandfather. He was so shaken up several students had to help walk him up to their next exam, History of Magic.

Heather was fairly certain she’d passed all her exams so far, and was now worried about potions.

“After this we’re free!” Ron skipped down the corridor. “The last exam of the year!”

Heather could still hear herself shouting at Snape to shut up and the look of pure rage on his face. She was going to fail. She knew it. He hadn’t even given her detention for that – nothing. He was waiting for this exam to get back at her and Harry.

“We’re going to fail this one.” Heather shook Harry’s arm as they walked down the dungeon stairs. “He’s going to give us low marks out of vengeance!”

Harry pushed her away. “What’s new?”

“He’s never done that to me! You, I understand, but I always get high grades! Second to Malfoy – ”

Hermione huffed. “I thought you were second to me.”

They took their seats near the back of the classroom.

“No… Second to Malfoy but I’d be first if he’d just let me ‘study’ with him – ”

“Silence.” Professor Snape stood from his desk and began explaining the exam.

They were afforded two whole hours to brew a Confusing Concoction which turned into the biggest, messiest disaster Heather had yet seen. Cauldrons were erupting with goo, over spilling with sticky liquid, or hardening into chunks that melted out the cauldron bottoms.

It took Heather almost the full two hours to complete the potion and in the end she wasn’t sure if it was supposed to look like yellow cake batter in there. Snape peered in and grinned before marking his notes and tisking vindictively. He then stepped over to Harry’s cauldron and waited as Harry desperately tried to thicken his up enough. Snape stood tapping his notes with his fingers and the second the bells tolled, scribbled something suspiciously like a zero and walked away.

They left the dungeons feeling empty and relieved that everything was over. Heather and Hermione were starting to poke fun at Ron and Harry’s attempts when their attention was caught by the two men waiting at the bottom of the Entrance Hall stairs.

Cornelius Fudge and a black-hooded man with a large blade stood looking at all the students as they ran to the Great Hall for late dinner.

~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~

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[dontasktheradiodemon]

Bullet Wound

Follow-up to this discussion with Angel. They ended up doing the surgery in Angel’s room instead of the bar because SOMEBODY forgot that was where we agreed to meet. (It’s me I’m somebody.)

Alastor

Knock knock knock, guess who. It's Doctor Alastor and Nurse Hentai, here with their trademark "surgery with a smile" service.

Angel

He opened the door with one of his tertiary hands. The couple others were busy pressing a pink-stained... _something_ to his shoulder.

" Oh nonono, I ain't drunk enough fa THIS, YET. " Angel knocked back the remainder of whiskey left in the bottle he had before trudging to his minifridge for another. " Is Hentai, uh, gonna hurt? He slimy or some shit? How drunk I gotta be? " His eyes were beginning to lose focus.

Alastor

Alastor's gaze landed on the pink stain. Aha. There was the wound, no doubt. "It'll hurt about as much as you'd expect for something the width of a coffee stirrer to squeeze into a wound and yank a bullet out. I can dull your ability to feel around the injury."

Alastor tilted his head to peer into the minifridge, checking to see how good Angel's stash was. "I think you're quite drunk enough already! Unless you want to sleep the next two weeks." He held up the one bit of surgical equipment he'd visibly brought with him: a bottle of Everclear. "But I'd planned to use this to clean the wound."

Angel

" Oh, ya can?? " he responded with uncharacteristically dulled excitement, " Thank _fuck!_ I would'a gone fa a hit but, uh, _Bolivian Ma'chin' Powder's_ all OUT. An' I gotta... uh, show. Even if just ta say I can't work so I can get my standa'd issue ass kickin' an' come back. "

Angel then stumbled to his chair, flipping it around so he could lean forward off the back. " Just... go nuts. Fuck th' rug. I could get a Daddy ta get me a new one if it gets fucked up. Uh... youse can use th' bench if ya need to. "

Alastor

"What, sending a self-E of the bullet wound isn't a good enough doctor's note?" Alastor tutted.

He unscrewed the bottle; for the moment, he was still standing so he could remain taller than Angel. "Now, this IS going to sting—but I've got to clean you off before I can numb the area. I'd warn you to bite the bullet but—hah—we'll have to fish it out before you can do that, won't we!" And here comes the sting.

Angel

" Nah... he's gonna think I photoshopped it... " he groaned with a reach for a throw pillow to scream into.  He would've laughed a little more whole-heartedly if not for the anticipated _agony_ that tensed him so hard he could've bit off his own tongue.

" _UGH THIS IS WHAT I FUCKIN' GET!_ " he muffled into the plush pink, now growing darker from the entrance wound, " Why's good shit gotta HURT so bad? It's so fuckin' _DUMB._ " Angel smothered a few more whines and hisses before getting a handle on his breathing again. " ... Can ya do the numbin' thin', yet...? "

Alastor

Ignore the studio audience laughing at your pain, it's nothing personal.

Alastor lightly brushed off what few drops of fresh blood the alcohol hadn't washed from Angel's fur. "Now I can!" He decided owing a small favor to a prince was worth it so he didn't have to drag a miniature apothecary out of his trunk, looked around for a pen or marker—ah, of course, makeup everywhere—and grabbed a tube of black lipstick. "You don't happen to have any bad blood with Prince Gaap, do you?"

Angel

Angel groaned, metaphorically biting his tongue to hold back any amount of quips or name-calling he would've fired at the hip for the sake of not pissing off the demon that was about to start poking around in him.

" Prince a who? " he asked with an instantly regrettable twist to see what Alastor was doing, " I ain't ever known any _legitimate_ royalty... I don' think... "

Alastor

"Then I'll take that as a no." He scrawled Gaap's sigil on Angel's shoulder around the wound—not his most artistic work, given how fuzzy his canvas was, but Alastor was on good enough terms with enough nobles that they wouldn't nitpick tiny errors in his work. "Now, this will make the area around your wound feel temporarily hale and hearty—but it's only a feeling. You're still just as damaged. Don't jump up and do cartwheels." He finished the double circle around the sigil and the lines started to glow green. Good. "Working yet?"

Angel

Angel took a deep breath as the nerves began to cease fire until finally, he no longer felt the need to scream or cry. Well enough to turn his head, he gave himself a peek in the mirror.

" Yeah... like I wanna do cartwheels, " Angel giggled, " Tell Prince Gaap I said thanks ~ " _An' ask him if he's single,_ he chuckled to himself as he stretched his limbs more comfortably about his chair. " Ya gonna stir me like a cup a coffee, now? " he joked.

Alastor

"I'll pass on your gratitude! Just don't tell him you owe him one if you happen to cross paths with him, he'll take it literally and then we'll both be paying him for the anesthesia."

Alastor huffed. "Once I clean the wound a little more. I don't know if you've noticed, but you've got quite a lot of fur around it." He looked around for some sort of towel that wasn't completely soaked in blood, poured a little more alcohol in it, and finally sat on the bench as he started carefully cleaning the wound itself while trying to avoid disrupting the sigil.

"You don't strike me as the type to get shot in the back," he mused. "What happened here—somebody take you by surprise?"

Angel

" Oh, he's _that_ type, " he commented, deciding on whether or not he should offer a razor. He was already going to be getting a temporary bald spot. May as well...

" If ya needa clear it some, there's clippers off th' side a the mirro- " Angel's arms and legs tightened around the chair as he sank his chin _deep_ into the pillow. _When_ was the last time...? Without the sting to distract him, all there was to focus on was the touch and it made his head swim. He didn't know how to process it, so he reverted to his go-to distraction. " _Funny how I still ended up on th' twink ma'ket cove'ed in all this peach fuzz, ah?_ "

He chuckled bitterly as his eyes swept to the ceiling. " Yeah... somethin' like that... Was a _surprise,_ alright... "

Alastor

"Most nobles are. Out of the ones that bargain with humans, anyway." He grabbed the clippers and very carefully started clearing a patch around the entry wound. "You know, between you being called one and *me* being called one, I'm beginning to think that 'twink' doesn't actually mean anything."

Alastor leaned around Angel's side to give him a vicious grin. "So, tell me about this surprise! You didn't think I was doing this without hoping to get a little entertainment in return!"

Angel

" _It means ya never get ta eat **shit,** that's what it means-!_ " he grumbled.

Then a sudden **gasp.** How the hell he manged to scare him despite being the forefront of his attention was beyond him. " _Fuckin'-_ " he groaned with a turn of his head in the opposite direction, " Was an ex... an angry one... That dramatic enough fa you? "

His claws clenched his skin as he tried to replicate the buzz of the razor into his brain. Sure would be nice if he could uncap his skull and do some doodling in _there._

Alastor

"... *Does it.*" There was a little bit of info Alastor was going to file away and never let go of.

"An ex! Oh, yes, *quite* dramatic enough! What did you do to *him?* That is to say—" One freshly alcohol-soaked claw brushed dangerously close to prying into the wound, "—was this earned, or an overreaction?"

Angel

" Earned. Def'nitely earned. Uh... " Angel pondered. He'd already vague-blogged about the incident. Any opportunity to avoid any scandal was already blown.

" She. I let her 'and it to me. It was th' _least_ I could do. "

Alastor

"*She!* That brings up some questions, doesn't it?" He dropped his impromptu wash cloth on his lap and said, "Now, as much as I'd relish prying this story out of you one detail at a time, unfortunately I won't be free to talk for a bit." He summoned up his cane. "Ready to have an alien abomination pry a bullet out of your back?"

Angel

Angel braced himself. Salt in the wound felt well deserved to him. Even if subconsciously, he'd allow every opportunity to pay for what he did to her. Being pried through by an alien abomination, sitting through a mortifying interview, and being shot point blank was a good enough start.

" Wouldn't be the _first_ time I 'ad tentacles in me ~ " he replied cheekily with a thumbs up, " Just don' let 'im get _too_ carried away, yeah ~ ? "

Alastor

"Oh, I plan to guarantee he won't!" A dark blot, small as an ink stain, opened in the air between them, and a single thin tendril wiggled out. "But while I'm giving him instructions, I won't be listening to closely to you. So!" He swung his cane around in front of Angel. "Take Mic here and let him know if you need me to stop, would you?"

Angel

" _Plan_ ta guarantee...? " He snorted, then crimson eyes flickered. He'd voluntarily _hand_ him that thing? " Yeah, ok ~ " Angel wiped off his bloody fingers and gently took the rod. " Can't feel a thin'- " _Liar._ " -so prolly won't need to. "

" Heyyy, Mic-y, how ya doin' ~ ? " he asked sweetly, turning the instrument about and inspecting him curiously. " Al give ya routine polishin'? Ya just, chill in th' other dimension 'til he calls ya? " Like a set of keys given to a toddler, he was sufficiently distracted.

Alastor

"Oh, I can't complain! It's not allowed in my contract!" The cane rolled its eye. "Naaah, who needs polishing? When I poof off, the dirt doesn't come with me!" It gave Angel a wry look. "Or d'you got another reason for asking how often Al *polishes his cane?* Eh?" Mic's humor was somewhat lowbrow compared to Alastor's usual standards. Usually Alastor would scold it for getting saucy. But right then, Alastor's brain wasn't entirely present.

He couldn't actually give his tentacled "friend" orders, per se. They were too different, too alien for normal person-to-person communication. What Alastor COULD do was broadcast a signal that let him slip into a fragment of a tentacle's mind and pilot it directly; but when he was doing so, when he was making sense of the world as the alien beast saw it, he wasn't exactly able to, say, process language.

If Angel happened to turn around, he'd see that Alastor's eyes had gone blank and filled with static. But he probably shouldn't turn around, since that was when Alastor managed to seize control of the noodle-thin tentacle that had wriggled through and fed the tip of it into the wound.

Angel

" Hehehe! I getcha, I  getcha. Talk back get smacked, ah? " Angel couldn't can more giggles, but he did feel the need to do some scolding in Alastor's place. At least, as much as he _assumed_ he should.

" Buh-BUH! Shouldn't ya know better than ta be talkin' deer dick? At least, _more than me_? Ta at least keep it in th' context a dick seasoned up real nice on a silver platter? " He snickered deviously, remembering certain debaucheries he'd engaged in both before and after death. " I _like_ ya, though! Wonder how much fun ya'd be _outta_ contract ~ "

Gently tapping the deep red surface of the back with a pristinely manicured claw, Angel had a sudden urge to seize an opportunity he might not get later. " Hey... can ya do that radio thin' ta _my_ voice? "

Alastor

"You can't have slapstick without the stick! And what'm I if not a stick? You ain't gettin' me outta contract, though. That's not how it works."

(Alastor, meanwhile, has slithered the tentacle in deep enough to reach the bullet. Pardon the weird feeling as it wraps around the intrusion, and then prods briefly past the bullet to make sure it didn't penetrated Angel's lung. Whole new can of worms if it did.)

"No can do! You wanna get your voice broadcast outta the radio, sure, I'm the Mic for the job, long as Alastor's authorizing the broadcast. But if you wanna GET the radio voice? Uh-uh. Only way to sound like the Radio Demon is to BE the Radio Demon."

Angel

An eye twitched as he took a breath and felt that internal pinch. Sans the pain of one, the sensation reminded him of an air bubble he'd have to spend several minutes patting out until he could finally take a deeper breath again. He shallowed his lungs and stayed still as he could with a held breath until the tendril retreated. A deep, testing sigh of relief, then he shook his head with a glance to the mirror. Alastor sure was getting _busy._ He trusted he was in good hands.

" Nah, I don't wanna do _that._ Just wanna give ya singin' a lil' try. Not _everyday_ ya passed off t' another demon, am I right? Specially not a _talented_ one like yours truly ~ " Angel pouted and pursed his brows. " C'mon ~ Just this once! I promise I'll _do ya right ~_ "

Alastor

"Ya wanna sing, then sing! But I can't give you the voice any more than I can give you deer antlers. It ain't transferrable. It's *his.*"

And there was the bullet being slowly dragged backwards out of the wound it had caused. Carefully. But they probably weren't going to completely avoid doing a little extra damage.

Angel

" 'Tis almost th' season, Sweetie, I can give _m'self_ antle's if I wanted to ~ " He then rolled his eyes and relented, followed by some sensational weirdness in his shoulder cavity. Checking in wasn't his first instinct. It was, of course, to _play._ He'd never nail Alastor's southern belle, so he let his register drop as he casually snapped and tapped his own beat with Mic dramatically in hand. ( At least, theatrically as he could while being an obedient patient. )

https://youtu.be/eAiMOTlUVv4

Alastor

Bullet retrieved. Alastor's eyes snapped back to normal as the tentacle withdrew into its portal, dropping the bullet as it did. He caught it, but waited until the end of the song to speak up. "Not bad." He held the bullet over Angel's shoulder. "Do you want this little troublemaker?"

Angel

" Hehe! _Thanks ~ !_ " Angel took the bullet in a free hand to inspect it for shatter. Thankfully, it was all in one piece. Hentai wouldn't have to do any further digging. " What I owe ya? This thin' gonna last 'til it heals, or should I get ready ta go Vicodin huntin' _now?_ " he asked with an experimental roll of his shoulder and another check in the mirror.

Alastor

"Go Vicodin hunting. And also bandage it up, change the bandage twice daily, check for infection, et cetera et cetera." He stood, stretched, and his cane poofed out of Angel's hand and into his own. "As for what you owe me... Give me the rest of the story about this ex of yours and if I think it's interesting enough, we'll call it square."

Angel

" ... Ya ain't gonna be reco'din' it, are ya? " he asked solemnly, " Ah fuck whatever... " Angel threw himself into mercy and rummaged around his drawers for bandages.

" I 'ad a squeeze t' get the Outfit off m'back, " he began, " Drew it out as long as I could but uh, _women's_ a pretty hot topic wit' th' boys. Older I got... y'know. _Family._ They's wantin' _kids._ Big ol' fuckin'... Italian _famiglia_ ta' keep th' bootleg business goin'. "

Was it the pain of the memory or the pressure of the wrapping? Angel was thankful for it. He even dabbed at himself a bit forcefully to override any involuntary bodily response to the whole ordeal.

Alastor

"You have my solemn vow that I won't start recording." That wasn't a promise that he wasn't already recording.

Alastor could guess where this story was going; his grin widened in anticipatory schadenfreude. "Go on."

Angel

As Alastor's grin widened, Angel's eyes narrowed. He tucked his bandage and leaned back against his vanity.

" She's was _-IS-_ like you. I was about as inta her as she was inta anyone else. At least, when I wasn't mistakin' 'er fa a guy. We's was dumb kids, grew up t'gether in the same mafia network. We knew th' game an' we knew we 'ad ta play it. So we _made a deal._ "

" I broke it in, uh... 1944. "

Alastor

Now there was a twist Alastor hadn't been expecting. He'd anticipated a young bride doe-eyed with love and a young groom miserably trying to pretend it was reciprocated. But a mutual ruse was far more interesting.

And far more relatable. It wasn't very far off from his own parents' arrangement—except that theirs hadn't involved the Mafia.

"Let me guess. Get handcuffed together, play the happy couple in front of the family, ignore each other at home? Something like that?" And the one point that actually concerned him—"Were children involved?"

Angel

" No. We were very close, very convincin'. She was m' best frien'. Like Cherri, I didn' deserve 'er. E'ryone thought we was wildin' in the sack, but it never happened. No sex, no kids, just... two murderin' peas in a pod playin' th' most convincin' game a pretend... 'til I couldn't anymo'e. "

" _Could_ say we 'ad kids involved, though _THEM_ fuckin' wild childs could 'ardly bc counted. They was lil' monste's from the Forty-Two. Loved 'em like m'own. Some's prolly down 'ere. "

Alastor

Good—if they'd gotten offspring involved, that would have just been distasteful. Outside children that Angel actually liked were a different matter entirely.

"So, what did the grand breakdown look like? A big blowout fight and a demand for a divorce? No—Catholic, I presume—attempted murder?" He cocked an eyebrow. "*Successful* murder?"

Angel

Angel actually bursted a laugh. " Nope! Wasn't really... a _single thin-_ ok, it was, but uh, said _breakdown_ was less of a _single act_ an' more of a... "

His eyes searched the air for dates, encounters. It didn't help he didn't remember most of it, but he shrugged thinking that was enough indication in itself.

" _Buncha dragged out climaxes_ fa th' next... three years a so. Then I died an' left 'er ta face th' music all 'er own. Hence... " He then tapped at his shoulder and shrugged as if violence was the logical answer to beginning to level a half century-long grudge.

" She's workin' fa Rosie now. Keepin' th' fucks off 'er turf. I was one a them, " he snickered.

Alastor

Well that was the least subtle euphemism Alastor had ever heard. "You mean the prenuptial agreement for your marriage of convenience didn't include provisions for you to sleep around?" Alastor shook his head in exaggerated disappointment. "I can forgive her for the lapse—it takes multiple lessons to learn that you sexual people aren't exaggerating when you say the allure of sex is irresistible—but *you* ought to have known better!"

But never mind that, there was a personal connection now. "Well, it's a small underworld after all! If she's working for Rosie, then *I* might know her! What's her name—down here, I mean?"

Angel

" That was fa show! " he burst defensively, " We was bound by nothin' but laws an' laws is fake! " Angel pouted with a quadruple arm cross. He hadn't even _intended_ that innuendo as much as he meant to convey the feeling of being constantly at the edge of your seat for years. That'd drive _any_ sane person wild.

" She didn't _care_ who I fucked with! If ya ask _me,_ it's her _own fuckin' fault_ I went off th' 'andle because she had ta fuckin' PLAY WINGMAN AT THE MENAGERIE! "

He ignored Alastor's question of her identity at the moment. He was much too offended and much too defensive to let any shaming go unchecked, untouched by the oblivion of his violent self-assurance.

Alastor

Alastor laughed at the outburst. "Well, if she didn't care who you were crawling under the covers with, then what in the world is it you did in '44 that constituted such a great break from your 'agreement'? You didn't try to kill her, by mutual agreement you weren't cheating—what's left? Beatings? Framing her for infidelity? Eloping with a rival don's son?"

Angel

He clamped his jaw shut, gritting gold grinding into a horrid sound that soundtracked his anger. Angel didn't want to tell him any more than Alastor was surely not going to be letting it go. Should he just lie? Was that better than letting this asshole in on what was arguably _the_ most defining moment of his life?

" I already told you. I died. I left her alone when we were supposed to get through the fucking SHITSHOW together. '44 was just the year I _started..._ dying. "

Alastor

Alastor was silent for a moment as he processed that—and Angel's atypically somber tone at the announcement—and then, at last, said, "Some betrayal. Most people can't help dying—even the people who do it to themselves." Well, it didn't make for an exciting conclusion to the story—he could vaguely imagine the drama and trauma of the story in action, but the retelling left most of it out.

Still—a sham marriage in the middle of mobster family politics; it was a good enough story. "But, very well! Consider your surgery paid for. And I suppose if the two of you think that was reason enough for her to shoot you—HA!"

Alastor suddenly slapped Angel's shoulder. (By sheer luck, at least it was the uninjured shoulder.) "Have you ever heard that joke? 'My ex-wife still misses me—but her aim's getting better!'" Studio audience laughter. "I guess she doesn't miss you!"

Sometimes Alastor kills himself.

Angel

He _almost_ wished he had slapped his injured shoulder, just so he'd have a more solid reason to hit him back. Nonetheless, he managed to dodge _that_ bullet so Angel figured he could call it a day. A day to start dealing opioids.

" Yeah. She didn't miss, alright. " The corner of his mouth could only twitch. He wasn't consciously _stifling_ a smile, but his every deep-seated instinct to self-destruct at the slightest brush with self-awareness took more effort than he had to deal.

" Bel. La Donna. Like th' poison. She's like yay high an' redder than ya fuckin' mop before ya treatment. A spider. Like me. "

Alastor

"Oh, come now, that was funny and you know it."

Alastor's eyes lit up in recognition. "Oh! *Bel!* Yes, we're acquainted! Not *well*, but well enough we'd be obligated to say hello if we passed on the street. My, my, it really *is* a small underworld."

Angel

" Aw _fuck,_ " he groaned, " Best _keep_ it that way. This place is already starting to feel like Double Hell. Last thin' I need's YOU TWO tag-teamin' me... "

Angel then lazily fished for his phone and hit up a dealer. " I'm gonna head out fa meds. Youse- " He hesitated. " ... gonna need anythin'? I'll replace ya everclear. "

Alastor

"Don't you worry! We don't talk much. Anyway, if she's gone this long without spreading the news around Rosie's inner circle that her ex-husband is Hell's biggest porn star, I doubt she has any interest in discussing it now."

He shook his head; he got the story behind the bullet, he had his payment. "It wasn't my bottle, I got it for this."

Angel

" Heh heh... that's the funny thin', " he confessed, " _She ain't known I was goin' by Angel Dust until t'day._ " He picked up a jacket and shrugged through the sleeves. " She always knew how ta cover my tracks. I _don't know_ how generous she's gonna be _now,_ but... here's hopin' she's satisfied with gettin' me penetrated by an alien named Hentai. "

He snickered, returning some to his usual self. " Thanks anyways. Ya didn't have t' be helpin' me out. "

Alastor

"And what's she going to do if she doesn't feel generous? Tell people that the famed porn star Angel Dust married a beard when he was alive? I hardly think that would cause a scandal down here!"

He waved off the thanks. "I'm perpetually bored and bullet wounds are almost always interesting."

Angel

" Oh you'd be surprised ~ Though. I don't think she's the type. Prolly just shoot me again fa hidin' from 'er all these years. "

He snickered and shot Alastor some fingerguns. " If she does, I'll let her hit somethin' interestin' fa ya ~ "

Alastor

Alastor tilted his head thoughtfully. “Yes, that... does sound like her.” He didn’t know a lot about Bel, but he knew THAT. How had Angel described himself and her, murderous peas in a pod or something of the sort? “See if you can’t persuade her to avoid the lungs and the bowels. Those are a pain to deal with. For me. But I imagine they’d also be a pain on the receiving end!”

Angel

" _The heart it is then ~_ " he sang with a wink, landing a heavy hand upon Alastor's shoulder on his way towards the door, " If ya see 'er aroun', be good ta her, ah? I should be back in time fa late dinner. "

Alastor

"A classic! How symbolic."

He gave Angel a farewell nod as he headed out himself. "I'll set aside some leftovers for you." *Never get to eat shit,* his ass. Not on his watch.

[thottyimagines]

LMAO so I'm the anon who requested the whipped list and imma fulfil your request 🥺💙 since some of my choices were already done, I'm curious about Naruto, Shika and Sasuke as whipped. I expected Shika and Naruto but Sasuke was a slight surprise. Though now that I'm thinking about it Sgfgf you're absolutely right and i gotta hear it

hi thank you for bringing about the whipped chronicles bb 

ok so 

Naruto (Whipped!! And what about it??)

Naruto is so obsessed with his s/o lmao it’s gross he’s so cute. 

He talks about them incessantly. His closest friends feel like they are also dating his s/o. 

Naruto sings his s/o’s praises so often, Rock Lee develops a brief crush by proxy. He quickly stomps it out, but it was there. 

Naruto wants to do everything with them. It’s just so much more fun with them there by his side, even when he’s doing something mundane that he previously hated. Grocery shopping is suddenly way more interesting when he has his s/o right next to him pointing out what they want to keep at his house (!!!)

Also, he leaves them little notes all over the place. Silly doodles, mostly, but sometimes he’s feeling pretty inspired and will write them some shitty poetry. 

It’s the thought that counts. And he puts a lot of thought into it.

Shikamaru (Lowkey whipped. Don’t talk about it. Don’t look at me.)

Shikamaru is so soft for his s/o lmaoo it’s ridiculous. 

Ok we know he kind of sucked as far as women (should his s/o be a woman) and relationships in general went as a kid, but he grows the fuck up. And he definitely needed to. 

Back on track: Shikamaru is whipped in a more behind-the-scenes way. Even if it seems like he isn’t totally listening to what his s/o is complaining about or what worries them, he’s taking note of e v e r y t h i n g. 

He’ll come back very quickly with solutions. Or maybe he’ll just go fix it all by himself and let them know later in that lazy way of his. 

XYZ is taken care of, just so you know...it wasn’t nearly as troublesome as you thought.

Also, say in a more modern, AU type of thing...I feel like Shikamaru would post lots of “artsy” pictures of his s/o with their face turned away or just them doing something. He wouldn’t have couple pictures with long, drawn-out captions, but they’d be all over his feed. He basically only posts to show them. 

Sasuke (Lowkey whipped. Don’t talk about it. Don’t look at me.)

Okay if you think about it, I think it’s very Sasuke to be whipped as hell but to put up that I’m too cool for that front, even as a grown ass man.

Sasuke Uchiha is first and foremost Difficult and Dramatic as Hell. This doesn’t change just because he is in love. 

Anyway, he’s whipped and is such a little weenie about it. He freaks the fuck out if he thinks his s/o could potentially be in any sort of peril, even if it is minor. 

He zeroes in on any sort of scrape or bruise on their body that wasn’t there before. Are they okay? God, they definitely didn’t put neosporin on it and they should have. And if his S/O voices that they need something related to it (Neosporin?? You need some?? No? Were you thinking of it?), it’s there. 

Sasuke gets all embarrassed if anyone points out what he’s doing. He’s just looking out for them because they’re stupid, okay? They need him. 

This is very bold of him to say, considering the fact that he has maybe one very small, very weak brain cell. 

That tiny little brain cell loves his s/o so much, at least. 

[fink-le-freak]

If you guys have suggestions on stuff I could add to his reference sheet or bio, I'd love to hear them! His sheet as is just feels...incomplete to me. 

Name: Ryne the Hedgehog

Gender: male

Sexuality: gay

Age: 19

Height: 3'5", not including spikes

Alignment: true neutral, has no interest in good vs evil or chaos vs order, only wants to live his life in the mountains

Likes: camping, mountain/rock climbing, napping in the sun, drawing, telling stories, sunflower seeds, getting up early, wildflowers, hiking, kayaking

Dislikes: staying indoors, rushing, strict deadlines and rules, snowstorms, puzzles, know it alls, being thought of as incompetent, sweets, having responsibilities thrust onto him, cursing

Skills: rock climbing, basic camping skills(purifying water, tying knots, first aid, starting a campfire etc), rolling, flexibility, beginner level artist, basic knife fighting

*Ryne is unable to Spin Dash, Boost, Light Speed Dash, Light Speed Attack, project Chaos energy, wall jump, bounce or Homing Attack*

Strength: 6/10

Endurance: 7/10

Intelligence: 4/10

Willpower: 5/10

Agility: 5/10

Luck: 6/10

Transformations: none

Willingness to Fight: low

Willingness to Kill: nonexistent

Willingness to Flee: moderate

Willingness to Surrender: moderate

A ditzy, carefree and good natured outdoorsman who spends his days scaling the rocky cliffs of Hill Top Zone and exploring the caves within. He knows the Zone better than most inhabitants and would be happy to show you around. If only he remembered where he put his map...

"Howdy-ho, friend! I don't think I've seen you around before. Or maybe I have...No, no, you'd remember if you saw someone out here; hardly anyone goes up this trail anymore. But I forget faces real easy, you know that. Oh, that's true...Huh? Oh! But where're my manners? Name's Ryne! Not Ryan, R-y-n-e. You need anything, just gimme a shout! And careful going up this trail, we've had rockslides!"

-well meaning but bumbling hedgehog from Hill Top Zone, an airhead who always seems to be in his own world but is very kind and friendly

-resourceful, can think outside the box to solve a problem

-eccentric and tends to carry full conversations with himself, often unaware he's speaking aloud

-common sense is a bit lacking and a little slow on the uptake but hardly an idiot and hates being treated as such

-can be lazy, prone to procrastination and takes things nice and slow, lives life at his own pace and on his own terms

-quite imaginative, likes to daydream and doodle as he sits in the grass, not a good artist but he has fun drawing things like tiny animals and flowers, happy to show you his sketchbook 

-carries his backpack around with him, inside is his sketchbook, pencils, water bottles, snacks, first aid kit and a small battery powered radio

-afraid of bees, hornets, wasps and all similar insects

-tends to get lost in thought and might not listen to someone or ignore them completely, will apologize if it's brought to his attention, unlikely to notice if he's upset somebody

-clumsy, usually has a few scrapes or bruises somewhere on him, knows the Zone like the back of his hand and still trips over rocks and tree roots all the time

-very independent, becomes uncharacteristically timid if he has to ask someone for something

-scatterbrained and disorganized, frequently loses things like his sunglasses or his pencils  

-has trouble remembering faces

-would never want to be a hero or be famous, wants to hang onto his carefree way of life and not be in the spotlight 

[aquainnie]

Valentines Day with Stray Kids ♡

♡⋆⁎ Person of Interest: OT8 Stray Kids

♡⋆⁎ Genre: Tons of Fluff, Literally 0 Angst, School AU

♡⋆⁎ Requested? Y/N

♡⋆⁎ Word Count: 2207

♡⋆⁎ Additional Info: Happy Valentine’s Day! I hope you’re spending it with the person/people you love, whether it’s romantic or platonic! I have a couple of notes about this reaction.

This took 3 days to write and is my longest piece of writing!

Chan and Hyunjin’s are based off of personal experiences, of course without the confession part. (I’m giving all of my friends candy this year and my school is selling wooden roses and I WOULD buy one for myself but dang the line is way too long and I need FOOD, they’re sold at lunch)

The reactions alternate from the member confessing to you confessing, so be aware of that!

Enjoy reading, and have an awesome Valentine’s Day! Please know if you're alone this year, you can still spend this holiday with your friends and family. Spread the love today!

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

c h a n ♡

Chan was always aware about the observant side of you; the side that over analyzes everything to see if there’s a hidden message. That’s why, to confess to you on Valentines Day, he wanted to put your skills to the test.

Fundip: the gift Chan would be giving out to the majority of his classmates, of course, including you. Each one of them was personalized to the person getting the small pack of sugar, which helped Chan with his plan. His plan? Every single pack would have a smiley face on it, except yours, which would instead have a heart on it.

Soon after passing the candy out before class, his friend, who knew of his scheme, Changbin, nudged Chan on the shoulder.

“I think it worked, dude. She’s asking people around her something,” Changbin subtly says to Chan, who’s palms were getting sweatier by the second. You eyed Chan suspiciously, who made eye contact back. Grabbing your blue raspberry flavored pack, you raised it in the air with your two fingers and pointed at it dramatically, eyebrows raising up in exaggeration. Chan laughed silently in response, waving you off as to say, “Talk to you later after class.”

Right after class, you immediately caught Chan by the doorway, waiting for you. Before he opened his mouth to explain, obvious blush on his face, you spoke first.

“Nice candy. And yes, I’ll be your valentine.”

m i n h o ♡

Listen: it wasn’t your fault you fell in love with Minho, the “bad boy” in your class this year. I mean, his leather jacket, flirty attitude, countless pranks in class, intimidating tone...

Is that a cat airpod case?

Regardless, by now you’ve fallen head over heels with your classmate, who you’ve only spoken to once or twice due to your timid nature. But this year on Valentines Day, you aren’t missing your chance to make a move.

And you immediately started regretting making that card last night. You saw a small pile of gifts Minho got, but even though it was clear he rejected all those girls, you couldn’t help but tremble.

Deciding you couldn’t present your gift directly to him, you set the lousy folded piece of paper you ever so delicately drew inside of it on his desk, set off to the side of the other failed presents.

As soon as the bell ring, signaling the end of class, you attempted to rush out of the room, only to be stopped by Minho.

“Hey Y/N!” He called out, which you mistakenly turned around in response. You were only a few feet from the door when he started approaching you, your feet taking to the back of the wall.

“Do you make this?”

You nodded, trembling at his response. This was it, you were going to get rejected, feeling like a loser holding your textbooks tightly around your chest.

Then, Minho lit up into a bright smile.

“I love it! Those cats you drew were awesome, they even kinda resemble my own lil’ kittens! And yes, I’ll be your valentine.”

c h a n g b i n ♡

For once, you and Changbin agreed on the same thing: that your friend group made a stupid event. I mean, secret santa, valentines edition? Then again, they’re your friends, might as well play along and draw a name from the hat.

“Changbin.”

Well, at least both of you announced to the group that your gift would be very minimalistic. Then again, you had a tiny crush on him..

Might as well put a little effort into it.

Valentines Day arrives swiftly, everyone having their gifts ready in white, paper bags.

“Okay, I guess everyone can start passing out gifts!” Someone finally announces and soon, everyone was turning left and right passing out their gift.

You notice Changbin standing there silently, clutching his bag quite tightly. You approach him from the side, extending your arm holding the bag. Changbin raises his eyebrows in surprise, looking up at you before taking the bag and gently opening it.

“Snorlax?! Ah, you should see my gift for you..” He pulls out a small Snorlax pushie out of your bag as you giggle at his shock. It was your turn to be shocked however, as he gave you his bag. Inside..

“My own Gyu? Oh, it has a pink bow on it, cute!” You smile, examining the soft plushie in your hand.

“Look at the tag..” you’re able to hear Changbin grumble out. You look up to see him scratching his ear, his cheeks a very faint red that you’re barely able to make out. You open the tag and read what’s written on it.

“Be my valentine?”

h y u n j i n ♡ 

“Man up!” They said,

“It’ll be fun!” They said,

“Yeah right,” you mumbled quietly as you clutched a dollar in your hand, waiting behind tons of people to purchase this artificial rose.

Honestly, your school is a genius for thinking about selling fake roses and giving them out at the end of the day. With relationships blossoming everyday in your grade level, they might as well double the amount of them in a single week.

Also, they’re getting tons of profit from this event, especially with you as one of their daily customers. Always a blue rose, always with your unreadable signature at the bottom of the note. It’s not like your massive crush, Hyunjin, can read it anyways, right? And you’re happy you can see him smile everytime he gets one. All because of you.

Valentines Day, you don’t feel alone carrying a single real blue rose in your hands as you scanned your grade level. Huge teddy bears, bouquets of flowers, some may say you under did it. But you know Hyunjin’s the type to not put on a show, so you shall do the same.

“Hi Hyunjin.. Here’s your last rose!” You shyly say to the boy sitting at his desk, doodling in his journal. He looks up, definitely not expecting you to be the one purchasing the blue roses.

“You’re the one who—?” You cut him off, nodding. He starts laughing at clapping, making you giggle as well. He gets up from his seat and gives you a tight hug.

“Be..my valentine?” You managed to say, still overwhelmed by what’s happening.

“Of course!”

j i s u n g ♡

Jisung was panicking. Going around the dorms left and right, asking all of his hyungs for advice (because let’s be honest, if he goes to the three maknaes of the group, he’ll become even more of a laughing stock than he already is).

“But hyung!!” Jisung waddled back and forth on Chan’s bed, arms locked around his legs.

Chan sighed once more. “Well, what does she like?”

“I already told you, I’m not sure!!”

“Then, I don’t know, get them a stuffed animal? Make them a song?” At the second suggestion, Jisung’s ears perked up.

“A song! That’s a good idea, hyung! Thanks!!” Jisung suddenly jumped out of the bed and scrambled to his room, leaving Chan wildly confused.

A week later, as the classroom was decorated with heart streams and colored paper, you sat with an empty heart for another year. Of course no one would want you as a valentine, you’re too “cold” and “quiet.” That is, until your good friend Jisung plopped into the seat in front of you.

“Listen to this,” he demanded as he placed his phone on your desk and slid it over, a song on the screen. You looked at him suspiciously, in which he smiled wider. You took the phone and held it near your ear, making sure the volume was loud enough for you to hear yet quiet enough for no one else to.

Needless to say, when the short song was finished, you were flooded with emotion as you gave the phone back to its owner.

“Yes, I’ll be your valentine.”

f e l i x ♡

With both of you as the class clowns, it was incredibly easy for you to think of a way to ask Felix to be your valentine. Really, he shows you the latest memes everyday at break, how could you not make your own and turn them into valentine cards?

“Y/N..! You never give me memes back, when will you get some for me?” Felix whines to you at break time as you roll your eyes in annoyance.

“Find me three Pewdiepie memes and I’ll give you some tomorrow,” you negotiated, clearly not getting a good response from Felix.

“I swear you like THAT Felix more than me! I’m hurt, Y/N,” Felix starts to fake cry, wiping his dry face with his finger.

“Go ahead and cry, you big baby.”

“You suck!”

The bell rings, and Felix heads back to his seat.

“Okay, do I still suck if I have some memes for you?” It was the next day, and despite that Felix didn’t bring you your Pewdiepie memes, you still wanted to give him his present.

Once you turn your phone around that you discreetly pulled out of your bag, Felix immediately starts laughing.

“Donut ever leave deez nuts1!!1!1” He says out loud, you laughing along with him too.

After you calm down, you asked him. “Do you get the joke?”

“Yeah, the donut and the deez nuts— Oh— oh!” He looks up at you with wide eyes, and seeing you fall back into your chair with laughter confirms his thoughts.

“Is this your way of asking me to—?” You cut him off with a nod, still bubbling with giggles.

“I— Yeah! I would’ve asked you but I’m a coward so— Woah!”

he hits the woah afterwards

s e u n g m i n ♡

Seungmin likes to think he has two personalities. There’s the “Quiet Prankster” side and the “Hopeless Romantic” side. The more Seungmin thought about it, the more he realized he probably got the second side from Day6, but that’s not the point here! He has to make his Valentine's Day gift extra special, just for you!

After using several of Minho’s post-it notes to scribble down some ideas you would like, he finally settled on two. The very original and very romantic bouquet of flowers and a box of chocolates. Seungmin facepalmed at his originality, but knowing you, you would like anything, so it’s better to keep it traditional.

Right?

Wrong. Oh dear god he was absolutely wrong for once.

Because when the 14th arrived and Seungmin came to school clutching his small bouquet of sunflowers and a heart shaped box of chocolates, you stared at him wide. 

“These are for me?” You asked, keeping your distance as you pointed at the gifts.

“Yeah, why? Is there something wrong?” Seungmin started to worry.

You waved him off with your frantic hands. “No, it’s fine, it’s just...”

“I’m allergic to chocolate/flowers.”

“O-Oh.” Seungmin looked down at the objects in his hand as if they were his enemy. Suddenly embarrassed, his ears grew bright red.

You laughed at his attempt, but still wanted to assure him it’s fine.

“It’s okay, Seungmin! I could give the flowers/chocolates to my friends if that’s okay with you. And I know you’re going to ask me this, so yes, I’ll be your valentine.”

j e o n g i n ♡

Scanning the kitchen surroundings, you knew this plan would fail. You never realized the stereotype of “covering the whole kitchen in powder” could actually come true, because it was right in front of you.

Simple sugar cookies for the sweetest boy in the classroom, Jeongin, right? Well, not very simple if you’re being honest. How did flour get to the top of your head? You weren’t even sure at that point.

Suddenly, your older brother, Woojin, stepped into the kitchen area looking down at his phone before retracing his steps to you.

“D-Do you need help?”

You whined loudly and nodded, Woojin chuckling a little bit before leaving to get a broom and dustpan.

While you told him who you were baking the cookies for (because thank god, he’s such a good older brother that you can literally tell him anything and he wouldn’t judge), you two sweeped up the floor and threw a new batch of cookies into the oven.

“I think I got it by now. Woo, thank you so much!”

“Yup! I’ll be in my room if you need any more help.” You two salute each other off, leaving you standing right in front of the oven waiting for the batter to cook.

With some homemade icing recipe you found online, you frosted the heart shaped cookies with cute messages. Gently tossing them into a box, you slipped it into the fridge and slept anxiously for the next day.

Before class, you nervously tapped on your crush’s shoulder as he sat in his desk, fiddling with a pencil. Jeongin whipped around to see you holding out a box of homemade cookies to him.

“Hi, uh, I’ve actually liked you for a long time and wondered if you could be my valentine?”

Jeongin beamed. “Since the gift is as sweet as the person who gifted it, of course!”