#i just. the strain and the guilt of wanting to spend money on like. things that i want or enjoy! and then being low on money.

[wilderat]

applied for ebt. did not qualify for ebt (:

[cherry-muses]

tom riddle x gn! reader: oneshot

<a/n: oneshot after the image! haven't written in a while so i lowkey feel like this sucks. ps: sorry i disappeared for like 5 months lol i had to graduate. >

tags: mentions of a difficult childhood, orphanage, bullying, hurt/comfort, fluff

He was sat across you, writing his History of Magic essay with his ever-so-neat handwriting. The only sounds you could hear were those of his quill scratching the parchment and of you turning the pages of your Potions textbook.

As Riddle wrote, his other free hand rested on the table, and you couldn’t help but appreciate the fact that he had really pretty hands. Your eyes subtly scanned them and eventually landed on the sleeve of his robes… which seemed to be a little torn and frayed at the edges.

You smiled to yourself, knowing the exact spell required to make the sleeve good as new… secretly hoping that Riddle would give you one of his rare smiles when you did. Perhaps it’d make the boring study session slightly more entertaining, and the rather bleak winter evening more colourful.

You tentatively reached your hand to gently hold his wrist, and gave him a soft smile. “I could fix that… may I?” You asked, gesturing to the torn sleeve.

To your surprise, Tom did not give you even the smallest smile. In fact, he flinched and harshly pulled his hand away, giving you an accusatory glare at the same time. “I’d much appreciate if you wouldn’t disturb me when I’m trying to work. And I know perfectly well to take care of my own clothing, thank you.”, he snapped. “I think I’d much rather spend my evening with someone who isn’t so dull and irritating to the core.”

“I didn’t mean-”, but you were rudely cut off mid-sentence by Riddle slamming his textbook shut, stuffing it into his satchel and storming off, out of the library.

You were left sitting alone in the library, feeling an odd mixture of guilt, anger, and confusion, holding back tears.

It was the next evening, when you were approached by the dark-haired prefect again. You had been reading by the fireplace in the Slytherin common room when he came up to you, fists clenched at his sides in nervousness. “What do you want, Riddle?”, you spoke, rather harshly, as you sat up straight to face him.

“I am… sorry.”, he replied, voice strained as if it was taking him a great deal of effort to get the words out.

You slammed your book shut, tossing it aside on the couch in annoyance. “I am sorry too.”, you replied, not a hint of emotion in your voice.

“You’re sorry?”, he asked, frowning in confusion.

“For assuming we're friends.”

For a split second a look of hurt flashed across his sharp features, until, ever the Slytherin, Riddle schooled his expression to appear vaguely sad.

“I should not have spoken in that way to you.”, he begins.

“No, you shouldn’t have.”, you retort.

You are both silent for a few moments, and the air has a sort of charged tension which makes you feel like either one of you would be storming off at any moment.

It comes as a bit of a surprise, then, when he instead chooses to sit close to you on the black couch, the water from the Great Lake casting a greenish glow upon the two of you.

“I really am sorry. I must admit, out of sheer habit I had assumed the worst intentions out of you.”

Those deep brown irises of his conveyed a kind of sincerity you had never before seen in him. You hoped to Merlin it was genuine.

“It is no excuse but I’d like to…er, explain why I behaved in such a way. Not justify, just explain.”, he said, a request for you to kindly hear him out implicit in his words. You somehow found yourself nodding, silently urging him to continue.

“You know where I grew up. I much prefer to hide it, but somehow your… constant affection has gently coerced me into entrusting to you the things I wish I could hide even from myself. ” He pauses, sighing and staring outside the dungeon windows, into the depths of the Great Lake.

“As would be expected, the orphanage wasn’t made of money. They could hardly feed us twice a day.” He was practically avoiding your eyes now. “My wardrobe essentially consisted of the worn clothes people donated. And, well.” A pause. “My first time on the Hogwarts express, a group of Ravenclaws found it a good enough excuse to remind me of my inferiority… and throw a couple of assorted hexes my way.”

Realization dawned on you, and at once you took his hand in yours, gently caressing his skin with your thumb. “Oh…”

“Well, since then I’ve managed to handle such issues with reparation spells, but I suppose I missed my robe’s sleeve. Which caught your attention yesterday. And… and when you tried to fix it, I just...”

You could bear it no more, and without any warning he was engulfed in a hug. “Tom, I’m so so sorry. I should’ve known.”

“No, it is my fault, for comparing you to someone who was been cruel to me, when you’ve always shown me nothing but the complete opposite.”, he breathed out softly.

There was a look of steely determination on your face now. “Promise me one thing, Riddle.”

“Hmm?”, he inquired, far too occupied with staring into your eyes to bother with actual words.

“Next time you feel like that, please… please just talk to me.”, you request. “I hate when we hurt each other in such a way.”

“Anything you ask.”, he says. You beam at him and gently kiss his forehead

The rest of the evening was spent cuddling on that couch, whispering sweet nothings to one another and watching the fish swim by in the lake.

[mlleanonymes-blog]

Divorced, struggling and single with kids in college: When your financial contributions are being used as a measure of value. 

You’re sitting at the kitchen table, looking at college tuition statements while your ex just purchased a brand new Range Rover. Meanwhile, your college child is texting, asking for money you simply don’t have. The emotional strain feels suffocating. Sound familiar?”

As a single mom, I've often faced the painful reality of being measured by what I can’t provide—especially when my kids compare my financial contributions to those of my wealthier ex. It’s not just about the money; it’s about feeling like no matter how hard you try, it’s never enough.  

Recently my college son and I had an argument when he became frustrated, wondering why I couldn’t cover his textbooks and groceries. It stung—especially when I knew his dad would step in to pay, only to later hold it over my head like a badge of honor.

The stats are grim—27% of divorced women over 50 live in poverty, compared to just 14% of men. But these numbers don’t tell you the real story: the late-night panic attacks, the resentment that builds between you and your child, and the fear that your value is being whittled down to a dollar sign.

So how do you break free from this damaging cycle of comparison? It starts with setting boundaries and finding ways to communicate your value that don’t rely on financial contributions alone.

Here are some strategies and tips for single parents on setting boundaries when they're being unfairly compared to a wealthier ex:

Be Transparent but Age Appropriate

Share the reality of your finances in a way that fits their level of understanding. Younger kids don’t need all the details, while older teens and college children may appreciate more transparency.

Focus on Needs vs. Wants

Explain the importance of budgeting and prioritizing needs over wants. This opens up conversations about responsible spending without placing blame or guilt on anyone.

Empower Them with Understanding

Rather than making it about your financial limitations, frame the conversation around values like smart financial choices, savings, and the long-term benefits of financial health. Help them see that these are life skills rather than sacrifices.

Avoid Blame

Don't let your financial situation become about "what went wrong" or who’s responsible. Instead, approach it as a learning experience and emphasize how you are working to manage things responsibly.

Involve Them

If they are old enough, consider involving them in budgeting or decision-making in a small way. This fosters responsibility and avoids making the situation feel like a burden placed solely on your shoulders.

Reassure Them

Kids of all ages can pick up on your stress, so it’s important to reassure them that you have things under control, even if times are tight. Let them know that while adjustments may be necessary, you're focused on what's best for the family.

You are more than the size of your wallet, and though the comparisons may never fully disappear, setting boundaries, communicating openly, and standing firm in your value can help build stronger, healthier relationships—with both your children and yourself. 

[menalez]

I’m a very introverted tomboy. I isolated myself from people for years due to abuse and trauma but recently I befriended many beautiful hyper feminine women. Sad to say, it has put a bigger strain on my mental health than being isolated ever did. I deeply care for them and value our friendship but commentary about my looks, my body and my refusal to perform femininity have been made. Last week, my friend casually said something about my body and it hurt. These women are not to blame nor for my deep-seeded issues. Had I not had the trauma that I had, I most likely wouldn’t feel this way. So I am not here to demonize anyone apart from men of course.

But because I’ve internalized all that has been said I have an eating disorder now, I self harm, and I can’t help but cry every time I get ready to see them because the self-hatred is so intense. I’ve come to believe they’re is something wrong with me. And these comments aren’t malicious, some of them were and I am not longer in contact with those women. But what was said even the seemingly innocuous comments still held weight. I’ve come to see myself as a “failed woman.” Unloveable as I am.

Women who perform femininity to such a high degree often can’t grasp why other women don’t wish to do the same. They see it as a short-coming. We look this way because we’re not putting effort into our appearance. And if we’re not putting effort into our looks we must not value the friendship. You spent hours getting ready to see me for our hang out, and here I am with my bear face and plain clothing like I just “rolled out of bed” because you must not be worth my time. That I must’ve had better things to do than spent hours looking my best for you in. I feel pressured into pretending to be something I’m not. Spending money I don’t have on things I don’t need or want so I can be a “proper” woman. But I still fail each time. I was alone for so long because I felt unworthy of love. And now I feel that I simply can not be loved the way I am.

anon, you don’t need to tolerate such people and take such skewed ways of thinking. there is nothing wrong with not being feminine and if those women cannot respect that their friend does not want to spend hours performing beauty rituals and will shame you for it by making it seem like it’s a show of “care” then that’s on them. you’re not somehow a bad person for not wasting your time the way they’re wasting theirs. it’s their choice how they spend their time but they shouldn’t be trying to guilt trip you into also wasting your own time as some twisted proof of “caring” for them.

this friendship is clearly harming your mental health. i strongly advise you to either tell them to quit it with those comments as they are causing you harm & insecurity, or to cut them off entirely. no friendship is worth your self-esteem.

[leontyne]

My birthday has never been important or special. I was the middle kid of 5 and only girl so you'd think there'd be something there but alas.

My birthday falls in December. It's too close to Christmas to be remembered. Too close to Christmas to be worth the hassle. Not close enough to fall into that "it's both your birthday and Christmas present" category.

I realized my birthday was a burden when I was 11-12. I woke up excited, as you do. I always was that kid that never mentioned the day, I didn't like the idea of seeming greedy and I always secretly wondered if I'd be forgotten. I think it was around lunchtime it clicked for my parents. They seemed frustrated about something, wished me a happy birthday and told me they had to go visit someone (aunt?) And then I could open my presents.

When they came home they gave me a shopping bag full of this and that, the only things I remember now is the colouring book and one of those generic art supply packs we all probably got at one time or another. Nothing was wrapped but I didn't really focus on that. Nothing was wrong per say, I was big on art at the time. It took me a little to click that they had forgotten about me.

I remember every year after that feeling like I wasn't allowed to talk about my birthday coming up because it was a bother, it was so close to Christmas that of course they'd be broke and busy and shouldn't have to deal with that stress.

I stopped asking for things. If I was asked, I'd offer the cheapest thing I hadn't the time to get myself. One year dad built me a tv cabinet. Beautiful thing but 10 years later I no longer had a tiny block tv but a plasma followed by an lcd. I didn't have the room anymore so I was made to feel guilty about having to get rid of it. It truly was lovely..

I never had a party growing up and whenever I went to parties we couldn't afford gifts which I didn't understand at the time, I just thought you didn't take anything. Everyone else did, so I always felt terrible but always forgot by the next party.. there weren't many.. maybe 4?

On my 18th I had 2 parties. One organised by my college friends, one by my mum. The first was with friends at a bowling alley with cake and my favourite people. My 2nd eldest brother also came but it took a while to realize he'd come to hit on my friends. That's another story. Never mind. The second party was at home and involved alcohol, a bbq, my parents, 2 eldest brothers and 2 cousins and one of their gfs. We went to the pub for a drink then went home again. The night ended in a fight between the cousin and gf and didn't really make an impression.

I've had birthdays without any gifts, birthdays without any calls, birthdays wrapping my own stuff to unwrap again on the day, birthdays where I was made to feel bad for checking if I was still allowed to have the $50 they'd give me instead of a gift, birthdays where my friends had me spend my money on them for junk jewelry, birthdays where I simply cried in my room until the day was gone.

My birthday is not special. It was never special.

I am in my early 30s now, I have a death anniversary to share with it (obviously not their fault), I have no girlfriend or children, my family is busy with nibblings and hospital and Christmas.. f**king Christmas.. which I now take almost complete responsibility for, for my nibblings on my mother's behalf because otherwise they'll run themselves into debt at the last second.

So I just don't mention it anymore. If I'm asked, I ask for an exacto knife, a watering can, a charger, a book. Most of the time this just gets my hope up and they forget anyway so that's also fine.

I'm not one to point any of this out though. If I did I'd feel terrible for even wanting something nice to happen. I'd feel terrible for the guilt they may feel or the financial strain I'd put on them or I'd simply feel like anything that did happen was born of pity and not want in celebrating the day.

So I just buy myself a nice pair of converse or a game or a movie and just move past it and start counting down again.

But sometimes.. sometimes I wonder if I could ask a stranger, a pretty lady with kindness in her eyes, if she could spend the day with me. Make me feel like that day means the world to her because it's the day I was born. Make me feel loved and worth it and special and individual. Maybe a swim at the gorge, a walk around town, a stop in at the book store, a picnic in the park, a cozy night in with my favourite movies, trashy take out and some star gazing, falling asleep in a huge ass fort we made in the lounge while telling secrets and stories no one else knows. She wouldn't have to love me. She wouldn't have to know me. It'd just be enough for her to pretend that I was important for that one day.

The day is close and my heart is breaking and I just can't wait for it to be gone again.

Perhaps someone will remember the day this year past fb wishes and awkward texts that only come once a year.

Perhaps I'll stop hoping and it'll stop hurting.

Perhaps.

[360iris]

NSFW Alphabets: Sirius Black (Poly!Marauders Edition)

In which Sirius is in a polyamorous relationship with James, Remus, yourself and Lily.

A - Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

He’s the type that almost immediately launches into your specific after-sex routine. He’ll leave the holding and kissing part to the others while he gets warm rags and a pitcher of water.

Makes sure you’re all cleaned up and having a clean set of sleeping clothes on; might even fix your hair so it’s not all over your head depending on how crazy the night was.

Very much the quietly caring type.

B - Body Part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

His favorite aspect of himself is his hair, he devotes so much time, money and care into keeping it soft and long. He loves when you or the others play in it (despite how many times he might grumble, it’s an act). Not to mention when he’s giving oral and you pull at his roots? He’ll work even harder to please you.

His favorite aspect of you are your hands. He loves that you’re almost all hands, always subconsciously grabbing for him; it makes him feel wanted, needed even. Enjoys when your hands are in his hair, holding his own, or mischievously drifting over his thighs.

C - Cum (Anything to do with cum)

He loves seeing you swallow, there’s just something hot about it that gets him going? He also gets a kick out of coming on your chest, thighs or butt? It’s probably a marking territory type of thing.

D - Dirty Secret

Extreme throat fucking is probably his favorite way to get off. Forcing himself down your throat until your lips are touching his base and then holding you there by the hair at the base of your neck until you’re crying from the strain? Most definitely his thing.

When he has to pull out for a second to let you cough and try to catch your breath, he’d 100% spend the time degrading you.

“It wasn’t even that long, stop you sniveling and get back over here. Didn’t you say you wanted to be good for me?”

E - Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

Very! Probably the most experienced out of all the Marauders.

The man is downright gorgeous, with the darkest onyx locks that fall past his shoulders; not to mention a tongue and wit that’s sharper than a sword. Interested partners flocked to him and he got plenty of physical use out of those encounters, but he never paid mind to them emotionally. His heart was set on particular group of dummies.

He knows what he’s doing and knows how to pinpoint what you like by watching your reactions. He’s very adaptable and changes his approach around your needs. A very sexually intelligent and intuitive partner.

F - Favorite Position

Doggy style for when you’re being punished, it’s a way to distance the intimacy and focus on the act. Also allows for easy spankings.

The Ballet Dancer and the Upstanding Citizen are his usual go-to positions bc they allow for face-to-face interaction.

He loves getting to see your reactions during sex, not only does it allow him to gauge how to best please you, but also gives him a sense of satisfaction to see you come undone up close.

G - Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc?)

His during sex humor is usually derived from him degrading you. He’ll laugh at you for how whiny and needy you’re being or for how quickly you came. He enjoys being a sarcastic asshole.

H - Hot Spots (A place that drives them crazy when touched)

Massaging his scalp really gets him going regardless of if he’d directly admit it or not. The second your fingers begin caressing gentle circles in his hair, he’s melting into a puddle. Very puppy of him to be honest.

Rubbing the back of his ears probably gets him too, I have a feeling they’re quite sensitive to touch.

I - Intimacy (How are they in the moment, romantically?)

His intimacy is very serious, all lingering steely stares, face-to-face closeness and caressing of your hips. His love is quietly passionate and searing.

Because of his childhood and being disowned at sixteen, he’s been very weary of caring about others. He had Remus and James and that was enough for him. He could love them freely and know it wouldn’t burn him.

With you however, he couldn’t begin to control his love. The way you seemed to understand who he was at his core. The way he could love you no matter the weather or the consequences. The way your opinion of him never swayed, even when he was hurting the most.

His love for you is the unsung and unspoken kind, no need for the words because you can feel his adoration through his actions. Through his unwavering stares and tender caresses.

J - Jack Off (Masturbation Headcanon)

He’s not obsessed with it, but if he’s feeling particularly overstimulated in the mornings or after a Quidditch match, he just might stroke himself in the showers. He could also be into the idea of mutual masturbation.

K - Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Impact play + sadism

He enjoys seeing the aftermath of sex. The bruises on your thighs, love-bites on your neck and the lingering redness on your butt.

Corruption kink

Remus was the first partner you’d had before he’d introduced you to his friends. Sirius loved seeing how they slowly trained you into becoming more confident and sexually aware.

Degradation

The process of getting you to point where all your inhibitions are abandoned and the only thing you can even think of wanting is him, thrills him like no other. All shame, embarrassment or guilt gone.

Voyeurism

Whether it’s in an abandoned classroom, the library or an empty hallway, he loves the anticipation; the paranoia and pleasure in your eyes.

L - Location (Favorite places to do the do)

Anywhere but his favorite has to be abandoned classrooms. Your button-up wrinkled, skirt hiked up and figure bent over a desk. What can be better than that?

M - Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going?)

His love for you motivates him like no other. The need to see you under him with watery eyes and puffy lips begging him to do something, anything.

N - No (Something they won’t do, turn offs)

Big no to bodily fluids that aren’t spit. Doesn’t do CNC, he wants his partners to be eager and willing so even the act of genuinely not wanting it turns him off.

O - Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

He’s fine with either because they give him a different sense of pleasure. He’s very observant so once he’s assessed what pleases you the most, he leans into that hard until you’re shaking.

P - Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual?)

Slow but impacting, allowing you both to savor the way he slides into you. The pain of the stretch but also the pleasure of the veins and ridges of his length.

Q - Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc)

He’s definitely not the type to say no to a quickie unless he’s intentionally playing a long game. Usually he has no problem pulling you away from to group to fuck in a random broom closet.

R - Risk (Are they game to experiment? Do they take risks, etc?)

He’s all for trying new positions or fucking in different locations. By no means is he vanilla.

S - Stamina (How many rounds can they go for? How long do they last?)

Three rounds at most on a good day! He could probably last an hour or two, with foreplay and all.

T - Toys (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or on themselves?)

He has dildo for himself when he wants to masturbate or for when he lets you peg him. The rest of the toys are for the sole purpose of overstimulation either you or himself.

U - Unfair (How much do they like to tease?)

A teaser one hundred percent! The power edging gives him over you is intoxicating. Denying you release until you’re sobbing makes him overly giddy. Definitely the time when he’s smiling the widest.

V - Volume (How loud are they? What sounds do they make?)

Grunts, curses and sighs are the most you can get from him regularly. Introducing vibrators can easily change that however.

W - Wild Card (Random headcanon for the character of your choice)

He’s secretly into pet play? Loves reminding you that bunnies don’t make noise. You can bet on pastel collars, lingerie and tail butt plugs (if you’re into of course.)

X - X-Ray (What’s going on under those clothes)

A very lean torso, he’s not insanely built but definitely has firm muscles. Very nice abs from all those years of obsessively playing Quidditch.

His penis is about 6-7 inches hard, a few veins along the length of it with a protruding, pink tip.

Y - Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

Average, he’s not always thinking about sex but he’d never turn down an advance from you or the others. I’d say a healthy amount.

Z - ZZZ (How quickly do they fall asleep afterwards?)

Pretty quickly? He’s not one to stay up chatting so I’d drift off after making sure you’re all comfy and properly taken care of.

[bondsmagii]

I needed to share this thought somewhere, but growing up poor really messes you up in a lot of ways. It just hit me today that I have money now—I've got a pretty decent job, I can handle unexpected financial hurdles thrown my way and make it to the end of the month. I can buy stuff that I want? And maybe organize a trip or two if I do it right?

And I have to buy myself some glasses and clothes, but every time I think about it, I get this burst of anxiety, because what if I buy them and then something happens and I don't have enough money left and really it's not even an emergency, I can deal with shitty glasses for a bit more, and-

I am financially stable after almost three decades of never having anything, and it's terrifying how my brain has been wired to live on the edge. I'm thankful for what I have now, but damn I wish I could just shake off my experiences and let myself enjoy the present.

you basically described how my brain works, lol. I feel this 100%. I think something we don't talk about enough is the concept of financial trauma. being poor is traumatic. it is quite literally traumatic, because nobody should have that amount of stress occurring at all times. being poor means never being safe, and never having security, and never being able to predict and plan. it means being at the mercy of circumstances totally beyond your control and impossible to predict, and it's an unhealthy way to live. it's my firm belief that being poor for a prolonged period of time leaves people with C-PTSD, a specific type of PTSD that comes from long-term trauma, usually some kind of prolonged fear or survival situation.

like any trauma, it takes time to process. we learned these behaviours because it was literally a matter of life and death, and even when things are going well, it's difficult to forget and difficult to ignore. even when everything is telling us that it's fine, we still think What If -- because we've always had to think What If. we had to try and prepare for every situation imaginable, because we needed to stand a chance when it finally happened. things that were minor inconveniences for others would be catastrophic for us. things that were slightly worse inconveniences for others would mean starvation and homelessness for us. all we could do was be as cautious as possible, and that's a very difficult habit to get out of.

the best thing to do is to keep pushing through it. it does get easier, even if it never goes away; these moments of guilt and doubt become less frequent, and it's possible to reprogram your brain into thinking of new things as necessary. you need clothes. you need glasses. you deserve to be comfortable and cool/warm enough, and you deserve to wear things that make you feel good. your glasses are a tool for your health. you require them to be healthy, to see properly (which is a matter of safety), and to avoid further strain to your eyes, which could result in more damage and/or nasty headaches. teach yourself that these things are your new priority, now that rent and food are more stable. it's possible to learn to think about things in a different way, and even if it's still tough or doesn't ever come as naturally to you as to someone who's never been poor, it will still come easily enough that it doesn't cause stress and torment and guilt.

finally, if you haven't done so already, create an account to save money into. even a little bit each month is good. whatever's left over that you don't spend by the end of the month, put it into savings. even having a little savings helps this kind of fear immensely. you've pulled yourself out of poverty, which is the most difficult bit. with some savings, you'll ensure that a major hiccup (such as an emergency move, a car breakdown, redundancy, etc) won't throw you completely off track. it'll do wonders for your stress levels.

[hargrove-mayfields]

The first summer after the incident at Starcourt, things have finally had enough time to slowly ease back into normalcy.

The day after school lets out, the kids talk Steve into letting them come swim in his pool. It’s only for a couple of hours, and honestly, it does them all some good, the kids getting to pretend things are okay for a while, and Steve getting to soothe that worry that crept in every time he didn’t have an eye on all of them, so despite the guilt they all certainly felt for having fun, they let themselves enjoy it, for a little while at least.

The gimmick of what made summer fun ran out pretty quickly for them though, so once they’d all gotten sunburnt shoulders and had tangles in their hair and wrinkles on their fingers from the chlorinated water, they decided it was time to go home. They weren’t up for the arcade or ice cream after the pool like they used to be either, but they had had just under a year now to decide they were okay with that.

So Steve loads them all up into his new Mercedes-Benz, the replacement for the BMW that became necessary post battle when they discovered his car had been crushed at some point during that night by the Mind Flayer, and took them all home.

Max’s house was the last on his route no matter which way he went, the only member of the party who lived on the outskirts of the wealthy part of town now that the Byers’ had moved, so it’s just the two of them in the car. As they pull up outside though, she hesitates to get out, instead nervously picking at the stitches in the seat, mulling over something in her head.

They aren’t really close, no bond between them beyond babysitter and grumpy teenager not happy to have one, but Steve feels an obligation towards all of these kids, so he shifts in the seat so he’s facing her, and asks her in a way he hoped sounds approachable, “What’s up, Max?”

Max takes another second and a deep breath before speaking, wringing her hands nervously, “Billy’s birthday is in a few days and I don’t think anybody knows that, but I want to do something for him.”

Steve nods, doesn’t really know what he’s supposed to do at first, “Have you talked to your mom about this?”

He asks because word traveled fast in a small town like Hawkins. Everyone and their mother knew that Neil Hargrove had split before they’d even stabilized his son in the hospital, and his wife had stayed with their children, taking full responsibility for Billy and Max. If anyone should be having a party for Billy, it should be Susan.

“Yeah and she liked the idea, but she’s been really busy with work and stuff, double now with Billy’s medical bills, and I know a lot of the other parents are too and some of them I just don’t know well enough to ask, and I don’t know who else to turn to because normally I’d take this stuff to Billy and I can’t do it by myself.” Max rambles all in one breath, has clearly been thinking about this for a long time.

Steve obviously wants to encourage that, so he asks, “What did you wanna do for him?”

“I just wanted to have a party for him at the hospital, but I know that’s kinda dumb since nobody goes to see him anyways.” Max mumbles, wrapping her fingers around the door handle like she’s going to get out, “I don’t know, it’s stupid.”

“No it’s not. What day is it, his birthday?”

“The sixth. I know that’s kinda short notice but-“ Max starts again, but Steve interrupts, a small smile on his face as if to prove he’s genuine, “No, it’s fine. We’ll figure something out. We’re not going to let Billy be alone on his birthday.”

It doesn’t seem to have the effect Steve wanted though, because Max scoffs and pushes the car door open, snapping before she gets out, “You do every other day.”

Even though Max had been so short with him at first, after that, she and Steve work on a plan at the end of every day when he was driving her back home, Max slowly evolving from tense about even bringing it up to actually excited for this thing they were working on together for her brother.

Steve doesn’t really have the time or the know-how for home made anything, but he buys everything you typically would find at an under twenty one birthday party, balloons and streamers, a chocolate cake, per Max’s request, and a tub of Superman ice cream, also a suggestion from Max.

He doesn’t buy Billy a present, he figures he doesn’t have use for much for anything material in the hospital, and although he’s willing to help, he feels he still doesn’t really know Billy like that anymore.

Or maybe he does, he just doesn’t know if the friendship they had been reluctantly developing would withstand the strain the accident at Starcourt had put on it, and didn’t feel it was very appropriate just to show up with an expensive knick knack that would just rub his wealth in Billy’s face.

Instead, he gets him a card, because who doesn’t want a birthday card, and leaves a hundred dollars and a heartfelt note in it. The money is because he has it and Billy needs it more than he does, and a hundred dollars was standard for milestone birthdays, in his family at least, and since Billy was lucky to see his nineteenth come around, he figures this counted.

So on the sixth of June, they’re ready to celebrate Billy.

Steve drives the kids all to the hospital that day, surprised that even without El around right now to convince them to, they were all willing to come. He guesses they’d all seen how torn up Max was when Billy was admitted to the hospital, and now that eleven months later he still hadn’t got out, it was bound to be hard on her.

It wasn’t a surprise anymore, Max had let it slip to Billy a few days beforehand in her excitement, so they just went straight up to his room, each kid and Steve carrying something, decorations or food or presents.

At first, Billy doesn’t really seem to thrilled to see them, but Steve supposed he wouldn’t be either, it couldn’t be any fun aging in the hospital, especially surrounded by nobody but your little sisters friends.

But they still set it all up for him, tying balloons to his bed and hanging streamers above the door. Max sits with him and keeps him entertained with stories, but what makes his mood significantly improve is when a nurse interrupted them to give him another dose of his pain meds.

Once they’re all set up, it’s Lucas who points out, “We forgot the candles for the cake.”

And it’s Max who, without really thinking about it, reminds him, “We probably have some with all the decorations and stuff we bought.”

It’s Dustin who looks and finds a pack of candles that someone indeed had brought, and calls out, “Found some.”

But it’s Steve who is seemingly the only one able to remember that the birthday boy was still on oxygen after a lung transplant and didn’t think he needed to be blowing out any candles, reminding Dustin very pointedly, “Actually, Dustin, I don’t think we need any candles.

Of course he argues, because kids do, “C'mon Steve, it's a birthday cake. All birthday cakes have candles.”

“Yeah, but I said I don’t think this one needs any.” Steve says, through his teeth this time, nodding subtly towards Billy, and Dustin's eyes widen a little, and the candles get put back without another word about it.

Instead, Steve gives Billy the zippo from his pocket, flipping it open for him so a tiny flame dances in front of his face, “Make a wish, Hargrove.”

Billy takes the lighter, a little apprehensively, but he stays quiet, looking up at Steve as he presumably makes his wish to himself, then clicks it shut, extinguishing the flame.

Ever impatient, the kids decide that’s their cue to cut into the cake without really asking anybody, but Steve doesn’t stop them, because as Billy reminds Max when she sits down on his bedside with a piece, “I can’t really eat that right now, kiddo, but thank you.”

She blows him off, teasingly uncaring in that sibling way, “Oh, I know, that’s why I picked chocolate cake, ‘cause I know you don’t like it. I just wanted you to have one, so it felt like a real birthday.”

Billy smiles wide, holds his arms out the best he can anymore for a hug, “Aww, come ‘ere, shitbird.”

Max spends the rest of their little impromptu party at his bedside, talking to her friends but sitting with her brother, the both of them chasing that sense of normalcy that everyone else had been able to move on and achieve, but they had no chance at grasping so long as they were apart.

That is at least, until to keep himself busy while the kids argue about something, Billy reads his card from Steve, that long written out note that detailed all his feelings and regrets and thoughts about Billy that he had been grappling with since Billy was hospitalized, sorrys and thank yous and happy birthday, everything crammed into that card but the part about how Steve had been falling in love with Billy since they met in ‘84.

It makes Steve nervous, twitchy and vulnerable with Billy reads it, until he gently closes the card and looks up at Steve, eyes wide and a little teary.

The first thing he says is an unrelated question, ruffling his little sisters hair and asking her, “Maxi, can you go down to the vending machine at the end of the hall and grab me some stuff? I’m running out of candy to hide in the bedside drawer.”

Max nods and slides down from his bed, and Billy adds, “Take all your friends too. See if they want anything.”

He waits until all the kids are gone, their voices echoing distantly down the long hallway, to ask Steve, “D’you do all this for me, Harrington?”

Steve shrugs, not sure if he’s more humble or nervous about why Billy wanted to talk to him alone, “It was Max’s idea.”

“But you still organized it, right?”

“I guess. I don’t want a thank you or anything though.” Steve insists, but Billy smiles, a bright one like Steve hardly ever saw anymore, and insists right back “Too bad, you’re getting one. Thank you.”

Steve just shrugs again, “It’s your birthday, Hargrove. I wasn’t going to let you be forgotten.”

“I would’ve been okay, Steve. Birthdays were just… never really a thing in my family anyways.”

Steve can tell they were going to go back and forth all day, arguing over whether or not he should be celebrated, and if he needed someone by his side, if he doesnt change the subject, so he asks him, “What’d you wish for?”

“Can’t tell you that or it won’t come true.” Billy hums, thoughtful, and he says, sounding like his sister, “And it’s sort of dumb anyways.”

“Hey, I’m sure it’s not dumb. If it’s something you want, it can’t be.”

Billy looks up at him, a little smile on his face, and explains, “I don’t know it’s just, I’m going to be sick for the rest of my life, I’m stuck in the hospital for another month at least and my dad disowned me, but, my wish still wasn’t for any of that to change.”

“What was it then?”

Billy takes a deep breath, a noticeable flush to his face, “I wished that I would have the guts to finally do this.”

For a second Steve wonders what he’s talking about, worries briefly that he was going to use the distraction and the relaxed attention from the nurses on his birthday to make grand escape from the hospital or something, until Billy leans up and kisses him.

It’s chaste and it’s sweet, everything that he’d expect from anybody that wasn’t Billy Hargrove, and everything that Steve could ever have wanted. He sits down on the bed beside Billy to make the angle easier on the both of them, not breaking the kiss for even a second, bringing his hand up to cup Billy's cheek, and deepening the kiss.

They’re interrupted by the squeaking of tennis shoes on the waxy hospital floors in the hallway, the kids coming back already, so Steve pulls away, just as flushed as Billy was now and keeping one of his hands resting on top of Billy’s, “Happy birthday, Billy.”

[chaoticpuff17]

Suga We’re Going Down

part 5

masterlist

alright my darlings! here it is, and its a long one! and I have some links for you today! you can visit the National Palace Museum here! The website allows you to virtually explore this beautiful museum! as well as a link to the song she plays later in the chapter here. Enjoy, my darlings!--- chaotic puff

Everything was better when she was with Eun Jae. Her little guy was her favorite person in the world. Halmeoni was confused as to why she was spending a Monday night at the house, but she allowed it without too many questions. It was one of the things that Y/N loved the most about the old woman. She knew when to push, and when to let things lie. Halmeoni knew that she was knew that Y/N would talk to her when she was ready, and Eun Jae was happy to have his mother there with him.

He was a sweet kid. He really was, and there was nothing she loved more than cuddling up with him, but their little bubble had to burst eventually. The next day came too quickly for her, and much to her horror, Jackson was waiting for her outside when she and Eun Jae left the house both with their backpacks on.

“Miss Kang.” He greeted smile bright on his face until he caught sight of the toddler hanging onto her hand. His expression dropped into one of shock before a softer smile crept across his features. “Hi, buddy.” He greeted bowing slightly to the toddler who immediately hid behind his mother’s leg. Jackson was unphased though. “My name is Jackson. What’s yours?”

Eun Jae looked up at her as if asking for confirmation that it was okay to interact with this stranger. She nodded giving him a soft smile of her own as she gently pushed him forward. “Go on.” She encouraged not wanting to be rude. It was important to her that Eun Jae grew up with good manners. She did not want him to end up like his parents or her parents for that matter.

“I’m Eun Jae.” The toddler muttered ducking his head quickly before burying his face in her leg again.

“It’s very nice to meet you, Eun Jae.” Jackson stood up rubbing his neck as he glanced back at the car. “We’re going to need to get a car seat installed.”

Y/N froze. “You’re not going to have to tell Mr. Min about this, are you?”

Jackson’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Mr. Min doesn’t know?” She shook her head. “I don’t…”

She glanced down at Eun Jae making sure he was distracted before she started speaking to Jackson her voice low and rushed. “He’s my sister’s kid. She walked out, so he’s mine now. Mr. Min doesn’t need to know about him. My family doesn’t affect him.”

Jackson nodded in understanding. Family was family. Business was business. He could respect her wish to keep her family out of it, and the fierce spark in her eye was enough to convince him that he didn’t want to mess with her when it came to her family.

“I won’t lie to him, but I won’t tell him either.” He promised. “Do you have a car seat we can use for now?” She shook her head no. “Okay…” He thought for a moment. “We could….”

“I’m not taking him in that car without a car seat.” She snapped seeing the direction his thoughts were going. “We’ll take the bus like we normally do, and if you really want to drive us, you can come pick us up, with a car seat, at the end of the day.” She nodded giving him a firm glare before she smile turning back to the toddler. “Let’s go to the bus stop, buddy. Say bye-bye to, Mr. Wang.”

Eun Jae unburied his head from her leg and waved goodbye shyly.

“Bye, Eun Jae.” Jackson waved with a smile of his own as Y/N led the little one away a little more quickly than she would have normally.

She just wanted everything to go back to normal, but it was too late for that now. She’d already signed the deal, and everything else would have to wait until they were back on their feet and far away enough from financial ruin that there was no need for her to be signed away to Min Yoongi. But that was a long way off as of yet. For now, she’d focus on Eun Jae and classes. There was no use worrying over things she couldn’t change.

She dropped Eun Jae off at his preschool and then made her way to her own school. She’d see him later. She’d promised Halmeoni that she would drop him back off, as she had a doctor’s appointment today and couldn’t pick him up herself, and neither of them trusted her father to get him from school. If they did that, Eun Jae would never get picked up, and they would receive a very angry phone call from the preschool wondering why no one had come for Eun Jae.

Thankfully the day passed much as it always did up until her classes were over, and then there was Jackson waiting for her with that damned car.

Despite her sour look, he met her with a smile.

“I got the car seat!” He announced proudly as he opened the door to the backseat for her.

“I can see that.” She sighed as she slipped inside. “It’s a bit early to pick up Eun Jae yet.” She informed him. “I usually go home after class, but Halmeoni can’t pick him up today.” She explained.

“Well, what would you like to do in the mean time?” He asked as they pulled away from her university. She was silent thinking it over, and Jackson was suddenly struck by how young she was. She looked a little lost sitting there in the back of a car that was much too large for just one person. “Perhaps, we could go to spoil you for a moment.” He suggested.

“What do you mean?” She asked staring at him in the rear view mirror.

“Well, you have to go meet Mr. Min eventually, and he would want you to treat yourself.” He shrugged. “Get your hair done, your nails. Go buy yourself something nice. It’s on his dime.”

Her eyes widened in shock. “I really don’t think…?”

“You’re Agust D’s girl now. You have to look like Agust D’s girl. And you never know when he’s gonna call for your first date. Don’t worry. He’ll pay for it.”

She hadn’t thought about that. Technically, Yoongi was responsible for her clothing budget, but would it be added onto her payment like a reimbursement or did it only cover the things he wanted her to wear? But then again, Jackson said it was covered, and he’d been so nice. Maybe it would be okay to do something for herself. She was meant to look a certain way, she supposed.

“So what’s it gonna be, chickadee?” He asked flashing her a smile in the mirror.

“Nails maybe?” She fidgeted uncomfortably not knowing what to do. It felt odd to have access to someone else’s bank account.

“Nails it is.” Jackson nodded driving them off in the direction of the nearest nail salon.

As weird as it all was, she had to admit it was nice to get her nails done. She never had them done before, not professionally at least, and this was better than anything she’d ever been able to do on herself. She was musically inclined, not artistically, but there was still a feeling of guilt, of spending money on herself when her family needed the money far more than she needed a manicure. Her nails were never long anyway. Musicians didn’t normally keep long nails. It was odd to see them painted so prettily.

Staring down at her nails she had to wonder if this was going to be her life now. Would she have to look all put together all the time? Would she be constantly worrying that Yoongi would find out about Eun Jae? She didn’t want to be constantly worrying. She knew worry. She already had too much to worry about, and worry was exhausting. She couldn’t afford to be any more exhausted than she already was. There was too much to do these days.

She glanced down at her phone wondering when her first summons would come in. He had promised she’d be seeing him soon, but when was soon? Did they start having their meetings this week or next week? Either way she was expected to meet with him at least three times a week, not counting extra meetings he could ask for. Those at least she could refuse so long as she had a good reason, but she was smart. She was sure she could get out of a good majority of the extra meetings so long as Yoongi didn’t catch onto her dodging him.

She knew she wouldn’t be able to avoid all extra meetings, but she could dodge some of them. She’d have to. She needed time with Eun Jae, and she knew that weekends would be hard to balance between Yongi and Eun Jae especially when she hadn’t told Yoongi about Eun Jae’s existence.  They were the two men in her life even if Yoongi’s stay was only temporary. That did not make him any less a part of her life though. For now, at least, he was quite a major part of her life, and she’d have to treat him as such.

“Where to now, miss?” Jackson asked pulling her out of her thoughts.

“The preschool.” She gave him the address with a strained smile as she began to wonder how she was going to balance everything out. She had other jobs. She had school. She had Eun Jae. She knew this was the best way to settle their debts, but what had she been thinking when she’d agreed to this? How was she ever going to make this work?

Jackson took her home after they dropped off Eun Jae with Halmeoni. She rather unfortunately had a date to prepare for. She’d gotten the text while she’d been signing Eun Jae out of preschool. It was short, precise, a simple message saying for her to be ready by seven o’clock and the promise that appropriate attire would be delivered to her home. Other than that and a promise from Jackson Yoongi and his driver would pick her up later, she knew nothing.

When she arrived home, she was met with a package on her doorstep. She had to give it to him, he was nothing if not efficient. There was still hours before she expected him, but it at least gave her time to get ready even if he hadn’t told her where they were going.

The box contained a modernized hanbok. The top was done in layers. The first was white, and undershirt. The second was in a lovely shade of purple that trailed down towards her knees, and the last layer was a black jacket type piece. There was a black pair of pants to match, and a thick traditional style belt to tie everything together. There was also a pair of ankle boots which to her immense relief looked comfortable. The heel was thick and not too high. She could actually walk in them. Anything too tall or with a stiletto was always a bit of a challenge for her. The next thing she picked out where the two smaller boxes that contained her jewelry for the evening. One was a pair of lovely earrings, the other was a hair pin. It was a lovely piece with the main part crafted too look like a branch while the decorative piece at the end was fashioned into tiny silver leaves and little off shooting branches that surrounded a smooth round piece of jade with a silver stripe slashed through the middle. It reminded her of the moon.

There was one final thing in the box that caused her to laugh in disbelief. There sitting in the bottom of the box was something she had skipped over when she was looking at the hanbok and the shoes and jewelry, but there sitting at the bottom of the box, was a coat. It was a long thick wool coat that would hang down to her mid-calf. At the very bottom of the box, underneath the coat there was a note written in short quick strokes. The letters scrunched together slightly. It was the handwriting of someone who was used to writing in a hurry.

Because you won’t wear mine.

She had to laugh at that. He was respecting her wish not to wear his coat while at the same time taking care of his worry over her own coat. It was as sneaky as it was caring, and even she had to admit that it was a better coat than the one she had. It was warmer and better quality. And she very begrudgingly had to admit that she loved the entire outfit especially the coat.

She passed the first few hours till her date on homework. She had to get it done at some point after all. Even if she was a sugar baby now, school came first. School what was going to help in the long run, not Yoongi, but that didn’t mean she detested lesson planning any less. It was a necessary evil even if it left her wondering for the thousandth time why she had chosen to go into education.

Homework could only keep her occupied for so long though. Eventually, she had to get ready. It was simple enough. All she had to do was throw on the provided outfit, slap on some makeup, and pull her hair up into a bun sticking the hair pin through it, but then she was left to twiddle her thumbs as the minutes ticked by until Yoongi’s arrival.

In hindsight, she had begun getting ready too early. Now she had all this time on her hands to sit and think about what she was about to do. She had always been a worrier, and years of experience had taught her it wasn’t good to sit with her thoughts when she was nervous. The pent up nervous energy had her pacing the floor as she revisited the urge to tear her hair out from the roots. She hated that feeling, the feeling that your stomach is trying to crawl out of your throat. Worse than that, she felt as though she was going to crawl out of her own skin. She was buzzing with nerves.

Part of her couldn’t wait for Yoongi to arrive just to get this first date over with, but another more prominent part of her hoped that he would never arrive. But it was too late for thoughts like that, wasn’t it? She’d already signed the contract, and she was bound to it for a year. She could survive a year. It wasn’t like Yoongi was a creepy old man. He was young and handsome too. He was even kind, from what she had seen at least, and yet something just wasn’t right. He made her just the tiniest bit uneasy, and she couldn’t place her finger on why.

There was nothing about Yoongi that should have made her uneasy. He had been nothing but kind to her so far, but that didn’t stop that spark of unease telling her something was not quite right. She was determined to brush it off as nerves though. It had to be nerves just jumping to the worst case scenario as her mind was prone to do. She could blame that lovely habit on her wonderful parents. They hadn’t been a shining example of a good life. Something was always wrong when it came to them, and they’d taught her to expect the worst. It was almost a relief really that her mother was gone. She didn’t show up often, but when she did, she always brought trouble with her, and they really couldn’t afford any more trouble at the moment.

There was a knock on her door that pulled her out of her thoughts with a jump. That had to be him. With a deep steadying breath she got up and made her way to the door making sure to pull the coat closed around her before she did. There was nothing revealing about the outfit that he’d picked out, but she still felt exposed, but that had to be nerves as well. He made her nervous in a way that was completely different than the unease he gave her.

It was his eyes. Those eyes seemed to see straight through her without ever revealing anything about himself. They were almost catlike. He reminded her of a stray that used to hang outside of the restaurant. He was an old ornery creature, scruffed up from one too many fights with the other cats, but he had those same eyes. He’d stare at you as though he knew everything about you, and as a child, Y/N really believed it. She had been convinced that the cat knew all the secrets of the universe. Halmeoni had done nothing to dispel that belief either. She’d treated that scruffy old tomcat as though he was a prince. She’d told her that cats were bad luck, and that the old tomcat was a bad spirit. She kept the animal fed and watered as a way to appease the bad spirit. Now as an adult, Y/N wasn’t so sure that the cat hadn’t been a bad spirit. Her family certainly hadn’t had much good luck over the years, but it also wasn’t as bad as it could be.

Yoongi was like that cat. He, or at the very least the situation, was bad, but it wasn’t as bad as it could be.  She doubted though that Yoongi was a bad spirit come to torment her family. He was honestly the best luck they had had in a while even if it wasn’t in an ideal way.

She opened the door with a smile and was met with Yoongi standing there waiting for her with his hands tucked into his coat pockets.

“Hi.” She murmured shuffling her feet awkwardly.

“Hi.” He murmured back offering her his arm with a small almost imperceptible smile of his own. “Let’s go.”

“Lead the way.”

She took Yoongi’s arm and let him lead her towards the elevator. “I see you got the coat.”

“I did.” She agreed suppressing an awkward smile not sure what to say or do with herself. “It’s very nice, thank you.”

“Well, you didn’t seem to want mine.”

“Oh!” She groaned before looking at him apologetically. “I completely forgot to give that back to you. I can run back up…”

“It’s fine.” He interrupted his lips quirking up a little bit on edges. “You should keep it.”

“It’s really fine!” She rushed. “I can just take the elevator back up. It’ll only take a minute.”

“Keep it.” He insisted his first actual smile of the evening stretching across his lips. “It looked good on you.”

He found the stunned expression on her face cute. Everything about her was cute, especially the blush that heated up her cheeks as she averted her eyes. She was just so innocent. How could anyone not like her? How could all those people in her life leave her in the mess that was her life? How could her family have put her in this position to begin with? On the one hand he was grateful that they had. It meant that he got her. But on the other hand, he was just so angry on her behalf. She was too sweet to for her family. They didn’t deserve her, sweet soul that she was.

“So, where are we going?” She asked as they walked out to the car.

“It’s a surprise.”

The drive wasn’t terribly long, but it was quiet. Neither she nor Yoongi were much for small talk. He didn’t seem the kind for small talk, and the jitters had left her grasping at straws for something to say. Coming up empty, she settled on silence. It was mercifully not an awkward silence though. She kept her attention on the city going by outside the window, and Yoongi, unbeknownst to her, kept his attention on her until they reached their destination.

“The museum?” She asked as Yoongi helped her out of the car. “It closes at six doesn’t it?” She turned to him in confusion, tugging her coat tighter around herself to ward of the evening chill.

“I rented it.” He shrugged wrapping an arm around her waist as he saw her shiver. He couldn’t do much for her until they got inside, but he could offer her what little body heat he could with a simple gesture.

“You rented the National Palace Museum?” She asked staring at him with wide eyes as he steered them towards the steps leading up to the entrance.

“Yep.”

“Just like that?” “Just like that.” He nodded leading her up the stairs. “I need to do some research for an upcoming mv. Thought it would be more fun with company.”

“So you rented the museum?”

The concept was mind boggling for her. Who rented a museum? She knew he was famous, but couldn’t he go to the museum like a normal person? Plenty of celebrities went out. A hat and a face mask worked well as a disguise, and no one would be expecting Agust d at the National Palace Museum. It didn’t exactly fit his image. The big tough rapper going to the museum? She didn’t think so. His fans wouldn’t exactly be looking for him there.

“Seemed like a nice date, and you don’t seem like the kind of girl who goes to clubs.” He shrugged again as the climbed the steps.

She bristled at that. “I go where you want me to go.” She sniffed straightening her spine. She knew she shouldn’t be offended. She wasn’t the kind of girl that went to clubs, but she was bristling anyway.

“I didn’t mean it badly.” He chuckled looking down at her fondly. “But this seemed like a better option, and I’d appreciate the company.”

She sighed forcing herself to relax as they reached the top of the stairs. “So what kind of mv are you making that needs research at the National Palace Museum?”

“It’s for a track called Daechwita. I wanted a historical vibe for it.”

“Daechwita is a traditional type of music.” She nodded understandingly. “Military march or royal procession type of vibe?” She asked as Yoongi helped her out of her coat once they got inside.

“Bit of both.” His eyes widened slightly as he took in the sight of her in the outfit he had picked out for her. It looked better than he had imagined it would.

The layers of the hanbok draped around her elegantly while the colors complimented her skin and hair wonderfully. It wasn’t sexy per say, but it was extremely hot to see her in something he had bought for her. His mind was already whirring with the possibility of all the things he could fill their wardrobe with. He planned on spoiling her rotten.

He liked seeing her hair pulled up as well. It exposed the length of her neck to him. He couldn’t wait to mark up that neck. She’d look so good covered in his marks, but she wasn’t ready for that yet, but soon.

“Then we’d better start researching.” She smiled eyes sparkling with excitement as Yoongi shed his own coat.

She couldn’t lie. She really did prefer the museum to the club, and the idea of being able to wander the museum after hours with no one else around was too exciting to pass up.

Yoongi grinned following after her as she wandered off into the first exhibition room.

He didn’t have to follow for long though as he found her just past the doors examining the first of the exhibits, a painted screen and a throne.

��Joseon Dynasty.” She said her arms folded comfortably around her. “The museum focuses mostly on the Joseon Dynasty. This screen, well the scene on the screen there are two more upstairs, traditionally sat behind the throne of the king.” She explained her eyes glued to the painted silk in front of them.

“It’s not a very intimidating throne.” He commented stepping up next to her. “Doesn’t look comfortable either.”

“Well, if you were king, you could make your throne look however you wanted.” She shrugged. “There’s been more than one throne, but the screen is traditional.”

“Why?” He asked wanting to hear her talk more. She was relaxed for once. She was never relaxed with him, and he didn’t want it to end. It was also cute to him how she seemed to know so much about the exhibit. She’d probably been before, but she was looking at the exhibit as though it was the first time.

“It represents harmony and balance. See how everything is symmetrical, fitting of the perfection of the king?” She motioned towards the screen drawing his attention from her and back to the exhibit. “Everything in it is long lasting, the mountains, the trees, the waterfalls. It’s supposed to represent the benevolence of the royals.”

“Even if the royal wasn’t benevolent?”

“Even if they weren’t benevolent.” She agreed.

“I’d pick a more comfortable throne.” He mused eyeing the wooden seat.

“Well, it’s not for lounging on.” She laughed looking at him with a bright smile.

“It could be.”

“Lazy king. Lounging on his throne instead of ruling.”

“Maybe he was a tyrant.”

“Maybe.” She agreed. “But look how beautiful it is. The detail that went into it.”

“It’s beautiful.” He agreed looking at the golden creatures drawn all over the panels of the throne, visions for his mv already taking hold in his head. “Why the screen though?”

She shrugged. “Screens normally sat behind the seats of the powerful. You see them in every historical drama. Sometimes more than one. Royalty needs to hold a sense of divinity and majesty. Everything from the clothes to the jewelry to the throne needed to display that.” She explained her tone soft, respectful.  “It’s why the throne was always on a dais and why the king and queen always had opulent robes.”  

“You know a lot about history.”

She startled a little blushing sheepishly. “It was always my favorite subject in school.”

He hummed nodding his head as he turned his attention back to the throne. “So the king should definitely have a screen.”

She nodded gently. “And lots of things in gold.”

He held out a hand to her, palm up. “Shall we?”

She eyed his hand for a moment, trying to decide if she wanted to take his hand or not. It was such a simple thing, holding someone’s hand, but it was such an intimate thing as well. Friendship, romance, comfort. Those were all things that could be conveyed in the simple act of holding another person’s hand. She’d have to do things that were much more intimate in this arrangement though, so she placed her hand delicately in his allowing his much larger hand to envelop hers as he led her to her next exhibit.

It was a case full of seals, all shaped like turtles. Each seal had a corresponding piece of paper stamped in red ink to show what the seal looked like when it was stamped.

“Why are they all turtles?” Yoongi asked staring down at the seals.

“Because they’re like dragons.” It was his turn to stare at her incredulously. Turtles like dragons?  

“How is a turtle like a dragon?”

“They rule over all the bugs, and they live a long time, longer than anything else around them usually, like a dragon.” She explained smiling softly. “And turtles are cute.” She added on her smile stretching into a grin her nose scrunching up in a way that Yoongi found absolutely adorable.

“I still don’t think turtles are like dragons.” He shook his head repressing a grin of his own. It was so good to see her smiling though, not nervous smiles real happy smiles.

“Agree to disagree.”  She shrugged before tugging on his hand leading him further into the exhibit. “That seal across from us is King Taejo’s seal.” She explained pointing across the room. “It’s why it gets its own case.”

“How do you know so much about all this?” He asked as they moved further into the exhibit.

“My grandfather was a history teacher.” She explained her smile dimming becoming softer, sadder. “He used to take me here when I was little.” He hummed in understanding waiting for her to continue. “He died when I was seven, but I’ve always loved history because of him, and he loved this place.”

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

“He was a great man.” She hummed tilting her head as she thought. She shook her head slightly before a bright smile lit up her features, bright but a little strained. “Come on. There’s a lot more to see.”

And that’s how they went through the museum. Yoongi kept her hand safely tucked around hers. She pointed out her favorite exhibits, laughing about how uncomfortable the royal women’s palanquin looked compared to the king’s, and Yoongi hung off her every word, attentively taking note of the things that he could incorporate into his music video. He found her knowledge of the museum and its artifacts endearing. Her eyes would light up when she showed him her favorite exhibits. She’d been so tense and hesitant when she’d first taken his hand, but now every time they slipped apart for even a moment, she didn’t even flinch when they rejoined their hands. She had even been the one to grab his hand at one point, and Yoongi was practically beaming.

He had wanted something more secluded and easy for their first date, but he had never expected it to go as well as it had. The museum, the dinner for two he had set up for them on the second floor, it was all more perfect than he could ever imagine. She was perfect. He never wanted her to stop smiling. He loved that smile of hers. Just from this one night he had a million ideas, songs he wanted to write for her, places he wanted to take her. She liked hanok houses? He would buy her one. He’d buy her a piano and a cello too, the nicest cello he could find to fill the house with music. He’d buy her anything she wanted so long as she kept smiling at him like that.

It wasn’t nearly as bad as she expected either. Y/N actually found herself having a good time. Yoongi wasn’t so intimidating after all. She still had a lingering sense of unease at the back of her head, but it was easier to ignore now. Even if the intimate nature of the outing was a little too close to a date for her liking, she could actually see herself getting through the year now. It wasn’t going to be so bad. It helped that he was a gentleman. He pulled out her chair, helped her with her coat, opened doors, all those things that gentlemen are supposed to do. The happy atmosphere of the evening came crashing down though when Yoongi drove her home, but it wasn’t her home.

All the nerves came back with a fury. She was inexperienced, but she wasn’t naïve. She knew what was expected in their arrangement, but she that didn’t mean that she wasn’t horribly nervous. Yoongi could see it too. He watched all the color drain from her face as they pulled up to his building, but he squeezed her hand reassuringly as he led her into the building dismissing his driver for the night.

“It’s okay.” He assured her gently ushering her into the building as the escape route drove away leaving her stranded with Yoongi.

She nodded nervously, looking back at the entrance as though the car would magically appear to take her back to her own home.

Okay. Everything was okay. That was what she kept telling herself over and over again. It had to be okay, but she couldn’t stop the way her hands were trembling, and she was sure that Yoongi could feel it. Her hand was still enveloped by his own. She knew he’d noticed. He squeezed her hand reassuringly as he took her up to his penthouse apartment.

She had to admit that his home was beautiful, but it was too large for just one person. The apartment was done in shades of warm gray, and even though it was large, it still had the appearance of being lived in. Shoes were scattered by the door not having made it into the shoe rack. He flung their coats haphazardly across the table in the entryway before giving her a pair of guest slippers to wear. There was a coffee cup left out on the coffee table, and sheet music spread over the piano nestled in the corner of the living room.

It was the piano that drew her in. It was a gorgeous instrument. Coming closer she realized that a lot of the sheet music spread across the instrument was hand written.

“Did you write these?” She asked turning back to look at him where he stood a few feet away.

“Yeah.” He nodded moving forward a little.

“For the same album that the new mv is going to?” She asked picking up a few of the papers to look over the notes scribbled down in the same scrunched up scrawl that the note from the box had been in.

“Some of them.” He nodded coming up next to her to look at the particular song she was holding. “That one is for something else though.”

“What is it for?” She asked looking over to him.

“Not sure yet.” He shrugged.

“Can I try?” She asked tilting her head towards the piano, and a gummy grin spread across the man’s face.

“Please.”

She took a seat at the bench as Yoongi helped her arrange the sheets properly. “You’re sure this is okay?” She asked her fingers hovering over the keys.

He nodded again, and she turned her attention to the music.

“What tempo?” She asked noticing the lack of instruction. But it was hand written, and that was to be expected.

“Andante at the beginning. It builds up to be allegro around here.” He pointed out a particular measure and she nodded in understanding before putting her fingers to the keys.

Hand written notes were always a little harder to read, but his hand writing was neat enough if not a little scrunched. Her fingers drifted across the keys filling the room with the sound of his music. Yoongi thought his heart would stop. Hearing her play his music, in his home, it was like a dream, and she was as beautiful of a pianist as she was a cellist.

Her fingers danced across the keys, her attention fully on the music. It was enchanting, and Yoongi knew he had made the right decision as he watched her play.

She filled him with the desire to compose as well as an intense urge to protect her. She was such a sweet soul, and he hated that she’d been driven to this even if it brought him her. He would protect her though. He would always protect her.

When she finished she folded her hands gently in her lap.

“You play beautifully.”

She laughed smiling up at him contentedly. “You compose beautifully.” She complimented before looking down with a blushed. “It’s late. I should head home.” She stood up skirting around the piano bench.

“Stay.”

She froze looking at him like a deer caught in the headlights. “What?”

“Stay.” He repeated. “It’s late. Stay the night.”

He could see the panic setting in as her eyes darted across the room searching for an exit. “I really should…”

He huffed amused a smirk playing on his lips as he watched her. “No funny business. It was a busy day, and I’m tired. Stay.”

He watched as she debated her option her eyes flitting between him and the door. “I don’t…”

“I’d like you to stay, but you don’t have to.” He assured her slowly making his way towards her.

“Just sleep?” She asked her voice shaking slightly.

“Just sleep.”  

She waited a minute, debating her options before sighing. “Okay.”

part 6

[wyn-n-tonic]

Golden, Like Daylight -- Part V

Word Count: 2,005 Warnings: PTSD. Allusions to sex (it borders on the edge of smut but we should know by now I'm shit at that). Hint of a praise kink. Bit of marking kink. Death. Ben Affleck. Author's Note: The last few chapters have taken a lot out of me, I put a lot of my own experiences with PTSD and mental health into them. I tried to make this fluffy, I needed that comfort after a hard week and I feel lighter for it. As always, thank you so much for your kind words and loving this like I do.

MASTERLIST | PART: I | II | III | IV | V | VI | VII | VIII | IX

“Fuck you.” Benny stares straight into Tom’s eyes. "This is my fuck you money.” The held breaths are louder than gunshots, waiting for a reaction that doesn’t come.

Cold Camp Davis grunts a laugh, “We don’t have enough men to carry all this money so we might as well be warm.”

Benny giggles like a child as he grabs a strap, zippo clicking to ignition again.

The laughter that bubbles up is like a light, warmer than the thousands of dollars burning bright against his eyes.

Frankie, you might as well take your salary out on the front lawn and pour some kerosene on it.

He hears it so clearly in his head and in his heart, Leah teasing him for all the lights being on the first time he took her home.

Tom stands up, dumping an entire case down to tinder in the cold air.

Eight dates in and she’d already witnessed one of his attacks. It was the third date, he’d wanted to take her home that night. His body on hers for hours. Wanted to make breakfast the next morning, having already committed to memory the way she takes her coffee. Instead, she spent that night holding tightly to his hands as his panic crescendoed in the backseat of his car.

If it wasn’t then that he realized he loved her, it was in the way she turned to look at him when he quietly said,

The lights being on make me feel safe.

It wasn’t pity, like he’s used to. It wasn’t the look somebody gives a broken man with a broken mind and a broken soul. The only change he found in the already soft features was an understanding behind the dark eyes staring back at him.

This fire makes him feel safe now.

He’s always straining in the dark. It’s not just about watching his six. It’s all twelve hands on deck with two eyes and a ringing in his ears so intense he can feel it in his toes.

But here? It beats back against the edges of gloom that have continuously threatened to consume him.

He can sweep enclosed spaces in minutes, assess the situation and the danger within. It’s a lot harder in the extended wilds, nothing but the moon to guide the eye.

Before Leah—and for a while there after—he combed room for room upon his arrival home. He’d ask her to stay in the car, his conceal carry coming out as soon as the door would swing open.

He’d sheepishly grin, collecting her from the passenger side after his survey and she’d hug him. Holding tightly around his middle section, pressing her cold hands up under his shirt to that hot place where his heart beats and whisper with genuine gratitude,

Thank you for protecting me, Frankie.

It was never condescending, that’s all he ever wanted to do. Protect her. Protect himself. Protect the men giggling like schoolboys around him right now.

And he liked being told what a good job he did at that. —————

“What's Frankie short for?” Barely audible, her breath fanning across his chest as she continues to catch it. Like willing waves of normalcy in the aftermath of a hurricane.

“Francisco.”

“Francisco,” she repeats, dragging out the o. “Do you like it?”

“Used to make me feel like I was in trouble, very harsh coming from pissed off higher ups and even angrier parents but it sounds…” he thinks on that for a second, the events of the night still rippling through his body, “a lot sweeter in your mouth.”

“Watch yourself,” she hums a kiss into the flat plane of his breast before sinking her teeth into the flesh there, biting as hard as she can.

A chuckle vibrates from deep within him, “one hell of a bite too, I won’t soon forget.”

He looks down into her eyes, bright with mischief as she pulls her bottom lip between her teeth now. He’d had hickeys before but never like this. He surveys the purple marks across his body, somehow burning brighter than the rest of him, and a contentedness pools in the pit of his stomach. Her stamps on him in easily hidden spaces to match the lipstick stains she’s started marking across his right cheek in the moments before they walk into the bar or the restaurant.

Little ways she says mine.

And he is hers. He knows it in the steady way his lungs rise and fall underneath her now.

He brushes a soft wave from where it tickles across her nose, “is Leah short for anything?”

Her nose scrunches, “not a goddamn thing.”

“Do you know what it means then?” His large hand is sprawled across her lower back, the weight of it an anchor.

Don’t leave me, it says.

“I don’t know,” she drawls, the slight twang coming forward in moments of exhaustion and inebriation, “just think my mama liked the sound of it is all.”

His heart is blazing underneath her cheek as she settles against him once more, her soft voice tumbles towards him, “Francisco…” as her eyelashes brush against his skin and he swears he can count them all on sensation alone.

“Yeah, baby?”

He feels a smile tug at her lips, stopped in its tracks where she’s rooted into him. It’s the first time he’s called her that.

“I have nightlights.”

The light makes her feel safe too. —————

He’s standing over Tom’s body and he hates to admit it but the feeling washing over him is one of relief.

Relief mingled with guilt.

Guilt that nobody was watching his six, his back wide open to the world behind it. Five seasoned fucking veterans and nobody watching the higher ground.

Relief at the silence he knows will engulf the group now. No more orders from a child who should’ve never been granted the lead to begin with.

Guilt because he was climbing up a fucking rock when he should’ve been doing his job as a friend and brother.

Relief that it wasn’t his brains splashed across stone.

His head is fucking pounding and it has been for days, pain dulled by consistency but never not there.

At least I can feel my fucking head.

He thinks of all the other things he can feel now, the things service beat from his body.

The ache in his limbs, heavy with exhaustion.

He’s dreading adding the dead weight of a dead body to the load.

The pang in his stomach, too used to consistently hot food.

He wants black coffee and bacon and tiny spoonfuls of sweet potato puree he airplanes into his own mouth to show Luna it won’t hurt her. Hell, he’d take the mushed peas right now.

Benny’s sobbing. The one amongst them all that never breaks is the broken one now.

He’s staring off again at everything and nothing, Santiago and Will unfurling bags for the body.

What a present to bring home.

It was always the risk they faced, they knew it.

If you were lucky, truly lucky, you came home whole. Untouched, unscathed, unmarred. The safe deployments, the technical shit, the brains behind the operations never seeing bloodshed. Everybody else though? Some were held together by duct tape and pure grit.

Others tied up in a flag with a bow.

Daddy’s not coming home but here’s a purple heart for the dress uniform he’ll never wear again.

I should’ve done more.

He’s not getting a purple heart for this.

I should’ve held on tighter.

He didn’t die in service to his country, he died in service to himself.

I should’ve made a bigger issue of the weight.

Another family he’s failed to protect.

I should’ve said no. —————

The darkness is cut through with a warm glow in every outlet as the clock tips over the edge of midnight.

Wednesday, the eleventh of October.

Nose to nose, the excitement of the day hangs over them like a wave threatening to crash. A giddiness in their bed forcing sleep to the edges of thought.

“Do you think they’re gonna know?” Her voice is soft, featherlight. Trying not to disturb the peaceful bubble they find themselves in now.

“No,” he lifts to press his lips gently into hers, “but I can’t promise I won’t shout it out on the altar.”

Panic takes her eyes, he knows it all too well and he’s gripping tighter before she can inhale. Fingers splayed across the small of her back, the weight of it a comfort to the tender bones and aching muscles.

I'm right here, it says.

“Breathe, breathe,” he’s speaking softly into her hair, “it was just a joke, baby.”

“You're not funny, Francisco Morales.” She speaks it like a fact, like she doesn’t spend hours in his arms filling his head with the music of her laughter. She says it like he isn’t watching smile lines appear in real time, falling more in love with each one.

“Would it be so bad though? If I did? If people knew?” It’s hope in his voice that she’ll say yes. That he can announce to his best friends all at once, every single one, before Santi leaves again. He doesn't want his happiness to arrive by text message. He wants to see the light of congratulation dancing around him.

“I don’t want to jinx it,” she’s scared, “besides… it’s not traditional.”

He scoffs, “what about us has ever been traditional, mi alma?”

“I'll make you a deal,” her fingers run through the stubble along his jaw, thumbs lingering over the patches, “don’t shave this tomorrow and you can tell the boys.”

“You want me to keep this malnourished shit on my face? For our wedding?”

Her giggles vibrate against him, “Yes. I have plans for it after you say I do.”

He growls, “this deal sounds pretty sweet to my lazy soul, what do you get out of it?”

“Hmm…” she brings her hand up to tap on her chin, “well, to begin, I’m getting a hot husba—”

“Debatable.”

“I'll fuck you up, Morales, take the compliment.”

He laughs a kiss into her, “what else?”

“Benny and Will will become automatic attack dogs around me, I’m fairly certain they will clear their schedules for all of April to stand guard outside the room. My own personal security team.”

He laughs again at the truth in her words, “what else?”

She pushes forward again, taking his lip between hers. A soft kiss with the burning desire for more.

“I’ll wake up on Thursday morning with a rawness between my legs that I’m usually only gifted on the weekends.”

His grip tightens, any suggestion of sleep leaving his body in a rush of blood straight through him, “I will never shave again.”

“Don't threaten me with a good time, my love.”

He rolls himself into her at that, kissing down her jaw. Her neck. The sensitive skin of her breasts, low lying cotton barely above indecency. He raises the hem, the curve of her belly burning hot against his lips, two hearts now beating inside her.

He grabs the elastic around her hips and gently pulls, kisses so soft across her pelvis they feign an innocence to his true intentions. Her legs kick out to help discard the fabric tangling her ankles as he settles broad shoulders at the base of her being.

Her fingers twirl through the soft curls that have been crushed against a pillow for hours by her side.

He kisses her soft thighs, slowly dragging his rough cheek against the delicate flesh.

“Francisco,” her fingers flex tighter as he looks up to meet her eyes, “don’t be such a fucking tease.”

He smiles wide, the devilish grin splitting his face as he drops his eyes to where she wants him, the fever that’s taken over her body in the last three months beckoning him in.

His hands are heavy on her hips, clenching deep purple into her. Marks in easily hidden spaces, his little ways of saying mine.

TAGLIST: @justanotherblonde23​ | @greeneyedblondie44​ | @icanbeyourjedi​ | @princess76179​ | @bbuckysbeardd​ | @notcookiebelle​ | @knivesareout​ | @phoenixpascal​ | @lexi-b-writes​ | @empress-palpat1ne​ 

[zodiyack]

Curiosity Killed The Cat

Requested by Anon: I know we do happy Elizabeth Shelby but, could you imagine teen Elizabeth figuring out that Bonnie was never her real dad? And it was a dead beat bastard? I’m feeling kinda angsty????

Pairing: Bonnie Gold x Female!Shelby!Reader, Mentioned Male!Character x Female!Shelby!Reader, Bonnie & Reader + Elizabeth Shelby (platonic)

Warnings: Angst, swearing, mention of teen pregnancy

Words: 1,898

Summary: (See Request)

Note: I like- I had an idea, altered it a little halfway through, and then went with it. I hope you like it, anon!

Taglist: @matth1w, @redspaceace-writes, @simonsbluee, @fandom-puff, @marquelapage, @stuckysslag​, @psychkunox​, @darling-i-read-it​, @sebastianstanslefteyebrow​, @i-love-superhero​

Masterlist | Peaky Blinders Masterlist | Elizabeth L. Shelby Masterlist

She had never meant to invade another’s privacy in her life...but one little detail pulled the small bit of string sticking from the yarn ball, unraveling into one big mess. That was how she’d ended up in the situation never meant to happen. But it did.

It was a slow morning, Bonnie out to help with the Peaky Blinders and Y/n helping Ada and Polly with the boys. Elizabeth had a free day from her schooling and her ever growing mind was still as inquisitive as it was when she were just a babe.

The study, in which her parents did most of their work, was not off limits to her, just a place where she hadn’t been as often. Because of that, she decided she’d spend her time taking care of her boredom by snooping around.

All was going pleasantly until she found a letter, hidden in the bottom drawer of her mother’s wooden desk. Elizabeth frowned to herself, knowing better than to stick her nose into things that were not hers to know of, and began to move the items in the drawer to return the letter to its original place. However, the glimpse she caught of her name, or what looked like her name, sprawled in messy handwriting, caught her like a fish on a hook and reeled her in.

The word had been seen slightly between the folded end and the middle. She wasn’t completely sure it had been her name, so she debated leaving it alone and moving on with her day or giving into the pull of the hook of intrigue.

Biting her lip, she looked around. Then she breathed slowly and carefully unfolded the paper.

When Bonnie and Y/n returned to their home, they had expected a few things. Perhaps the house would be spotless and Elizabeth would act as if it were nothing, or the house would be a mess and she would have a boy over- that idea caused Bonnie to almost crash the car. Thinking of many things they’d find, Elizabeth with her arms crossed, a paper in her hand and a conflicted look upon her face was not one of them.

It was like they were the teens caught out and about in the middle of night by returning after curfew and she was the angry parent. Her expression caused her parents to stop in place and give her a questioning look. Ellie unfolded her arms and held up the paper. Right at that moment, Y/n’s heart stopped and dropped into her stomach. She squeezed Bonnie’s hand tightly.

“Who wrote this?” The two exchanged a knowing glance. “Mother. Who wrote this?”

Y/n hesitated getting the answer out of her mouth. The letter was something she hadn’t thought about, something she yearned to forget. “Your father.”

“My father? But I thought he was my father.” Elizabeth gestured to Bonnie, who sighed and moved to take a seat opposite to Elizabeth. “Have a seat, mum, I think we have something to talk about.”

“Indeed we do, Elizabeth.” Bonnie avoided his daughter’s- step-daughter’s eyes as he spoke, staring at his hands.

Y/n did as her daughter requested, more so demanded, and sat beside Bonnie. She too held a sheepish manner.

“Please, tell me, why am I just now learning of my father? Why not when I was a little girl? Why is he not a part of my life?”

The final question led Bonnie to surge upward from his seat, finally making eye contact with a now startled Elizabeth. “That man will have nothing to do with you if I have any say in this whatsoever!” His face was as red as a tomato, but calmed a few shades as Y/n put a soft hand on his arm.

“You don’t have a say in it. This is between my mother and I.” She looked at him apologetically, “You will always be my dad, but I want to know my real father.”

“He’s right...ya know? I never really wanted you around him...but-” Was it worth it? Ruining his image before Elizabeth had the chance to even meet him? He lived right there in Birmingham, she could meet him and see for herself, but, as Y/n thought more about it, he was a cruel man, one who neglected to even care for his child or his lover who was carrying said child.

“But what? Is he dead or something?”

“No, but-”

“But nothing!” Moments prior, Bonnie had scared Elizabeth with an outburst of his own, but it was the adults this time who nearly fell out of their chairs in surprise. “Either let me meet him or leave me to find him on my own.” She whipped around, her shoes clacking against the floors as she paced quickly to her room, leaving her parents to discuss her ultimatum.

Each meal went by with an awkward tension hanging over the three, the room filled with silence if you didn’t count the scraping of spoons against bowls or forks against plates. The simple sound only worsened the strained feeling in the air.

No answer came to Elizabeth, so she took matters into her own hands, following out her second offer and sought to find the man who gave her life. Each day she’d ask the name of which had been signed on the letter, going as far as to put his name in the newsprint. As a Shelby, she didn’t have to pay a single thing to have the people put anything in the news, but the goodness of her heart got the best of her and the people themselves. They offered to call the place she had been staying when they had a lead, but sadly, no calls had been made.

But one day, while she sat with the same hopefulness by the telephone with a cup of coffee in hand, the ringing filled her ears and a smile struck her face instantaneously. She almost dropped the coffee onto the carpeted hotel flooring as she jumped to set it down and grab the phone. “Hello?!” Her voice beaned with joy.

“Miss! There’s a call from the newsprint office,” the woman from the front desk said, voice ringing with a sense of rush, “they’re on hold- they say it’s urgent!”

The smile on Elizabeth’s face widened, “Please, put them on the line!”

“Miss Shelby, we have him!”

He waited for her in the lobby of the hotel, confusion obvious on his features. Elizabeth slowly walked down the stairs and the second her eyes met his, she felt sure that it was him. “Father!” She grinned and raced to him. Ellie threw her arms around him the second she reached him.

A small feeling of uncertainty picked at Elizabeth when he didn’t hug her back right away. She noticed his hesitation almost instantly but brushed it off when he finally wrapped his arms around her small frame. “You must be...”

“Elizabeth. Elizabeth Luludja Shelby.” She paused, furrowing her brows a little when he scoffed at her middle name, but continued nevertheless. “I’m um...your daughter.”

“Did your mother tell you about me?”

Elizabeth rolled her eyes, sucking in a breath bitterly. “No.”

“Oh...It’s fine with me. Never liked the whore that much anyways.”

Another pang of guilt struck Elizabeth, but again, she ignored it. “Yeah...” She laughed nervously, the unsure feeling growing deeper, twisting into a big sign that told her in capital letters to RUN. But she didn’t.

The two spent the day together, bonding and discussing what he would’ve done with her had he been given the opportunity to be her father. Of course, he never wasted the chance to call Y/n slurs and ghastly words. All seemed fine, Ellie wondered why on earth her parents thought he was a bad man, until he did yet another thing to make Elizabeth’s fight or flight mode prepare itself despite her not exactly wanting to.

He offered to hold her bag whilst she used the toiletries, then when he handed it back, took her to a shop. There, when paying, she found that a large amount of funds she’d been saving up since childhood had been missing. She bit the inside of her mouth and shook her head. But still, she refused to give up on him just yet.

They walked the streets, making small talk as they went by. “You got a lover yet?”

“Not quite. Mother said I should be sure before giving my heart to someone.”

“Yeah, well, your mother got herself knocked up before she was even of age so. Best think about who you’re getting advice from, Eirene.” He butchered her name off the bat, but she’d ignored that too, only correcting him each time- just not this one. “Date and fuck whoever you want, don’t let that bitch boss you around.”

He leaned closer to her, allowing her to smell the alcohol under his breath, the tobacco and surely, without a doubt, plenty of drugs. She cringed, scrunching her face and looking away from him in hope to get fresh air, but something about that smell stuck with her. What had he used her money on? Did his breath smell like that before? Was he intoxicated at the hotel?

“Listen, I think it’s best I get going...” She tried to pull away from him, but he caught a grip on her arm, tighter than he should’ve.

“No. You’re staying with me and that’s final. Come on Eliza, lets go meet my friends. You ever try snow before?”

That was the final time the red lights flashed. In what felt like a split second slowed dramatically, Elizabeth socked her father in the nose, hearing a cracking sound before he let go of her arm and she stumbled backwards a little.

“You bitch!” His grumble was muffled from behind his hand. He covered his nose and mouth, blood on his hand from either places but Ellie didn’t know which. “Why the fuck would you do that?!”

She was ready to apologize, but for once, it felt good to do something un-ladylike. “I seldom act as barbarous as that, but I know one thing. I feel not guilt for my actions, but justice. You call my mother horrid names that she would never be defined by, you can’t even stay clean for a visit with your own daughter nor keep your thieving hands out of anything that is not your own! Let alone remember my name!”

“And?!”

“And-” She hesitated, but rolled her eyes and let it out. “And fuck you. I believe there is good in everyone, but you have shown me otherwise. I thought mother and...and my father were wrong, that my birth father was a good man, but the day started with joy and ended in disappointment. I’m ashamed to even be from your blood. May you rot in the deepest depths of hell, you dishonorable bastard.”

Gasps came the people around them, making Elizabeth look around and glare at the bystanders, “Fuck off before the Peaky Blinders have you all...”

She turned to the man, still on the ground clutching his face, and thought about how she’d spent just a little less than a month searching for him; news traveled fast in Birmingham. “In fact, you’re lucky all you got was me. Because, if you have any brain whatsoever, you’ll leave Birmingham before you get the Peaky Blinders too.”

[capricornsims]

Strangetown Mystery 16: Tycho

The last few months of Pascal’s life had changed drastically ever since Tycho was brought into the world. He never thought he could feel unconditional love like this until he met his son. There was something about Tycho that completed a piece that he was missing in his mundane life. Now he had a purpose and that was to protect and raise this extraterrestrial gift and prove to everyone that he was a good father. Ever since he started his investigation in the [Redacted] lab along with his work at the Bunker, his time with Tycho was greatly limited. His encounter with the Mother plant instilled a fear in him that he never felt before, as though if he continued fighting he would never see his son again. He assured himself that everything he was doing at the lab along with his dangerous endeavors would be worth it in the end. The last thing Pascal wanted was for his son to grow up in this toxic world, shunned for his existence and locked away in a secret lab. Yes, he thought ... he was doing the right thing. 

....right?

Vidcund swiftly made his way out of the [Redacted] lab, Pascal’s investigation preoccupied him for the most part, rarely seeing the infant alien he kept hidden in his room. After the Mother Plant was discovered, his older brother wasted no time going back to the Bunker to continue his research on the bizarre plants, not even taking a break to see how Tycho was doing. All of this worked in his favor, The Dudes in Black were waiting for him at the house after all, with a brief case full of money waiting to be put into his bank account. This was probably one of the most morally bankrupt things he’d ever done, but at this point refusing to aid the Dudes in Black would be even more dangerous. All the Dudes in Black requested was one Sixamian alien baby, for $500,000. 

Vidcund: Well here he is, we call him Tycho and he’s turning five months soon. 

Dude in Black 1: Fine specimen you have there, from one look I can determine that it belongs to Pollination Technician #12 am I not correct? 

Vidcund: I don’t know, I wasn’t abducted yet. My brother, Pascal, made this one.

Dude in Black 1: PT12 is ...particular about their spawn, weaponizing them with extreme telekinetic powers. What you are holding is a very dangerous specimen, which I shall take off your hands. As Promised $500,000 will be deposited into your bank account, Vidcund Curious. 

Vidcund: Oh man...well I think it’s for the better, Pascal is too busy to take care of him anyways. 

Dude in Black 1: Yes you are doing him a favor, now hand over the infant.

Vidcund: It was nice knowing you, Tycho, I’m sure Pascal can just ask for another one if he gets abducted again.

Dude in Black 1: Yes he can. Now hand it over I have urgent matters to attend to. Oh, and tell Pascal that the Dudes in Black say hello.

Without saying so much as a goodbye, the Dude in black tucked Tycho under his arm and walked out door. If Vidcund had a hint of rationality left he would rush after the agent and pry Tycho out of his hands. But he didn’t, Vidcund watched as they disappeared in the distance, into the unknown expanse of the desert. 

The house was silent for a moment as Vidcund stood in the center, taking in the uncharacteristic silence. All he could hear was his rapid heart  beating in his ears and feel the sweat in his palms. He froze when he heard tires screech outside and the sound of Pascal’s voice approaching the house. “ I’ll see you tomorrow, Erwin” he said....Vidcund was f*cked. He didn’t even think of a cover story despite planning this weeks in advance! The door unlocked and Vidcund was face to face with his brother, smiling widely at him “ I think I got it. A way to combat the Mother!” He said enthusiastically. Vidcund could only nod with a weary smile plastered on his face, he knew that Pascal’s optimism was due to be short lived. Pascal pushed passed him and rushed into his room to see his baby, finally having the time to spend with Tycho...

Pascal: Tycho you won’t believe what just happened at work! 

Vidcund: ( oh my watcher...what have I done? ) Pascal! Wait! 

Pascal: TYCHO!!!

Pascal: Tycho... Where did you? Oh no...oh no no no no no no This ISN’T HAPPENING.

Pascal: This can’t be happening.. HE was HERE this morning! I fed him this morning... I...He was here.... I WAS HERE!  he’s not under the bed...no he can’t even crawl...no no no no no. 

Pascal: This..THIS IS ALL MY FAULT! If I wasn’t so busy in the lab... trying to find out the goddamn cure...trying to fight the mother... if...I just stood here for one day and actually looked after Tycho he would still be here.

He would still be here... if I was a good father. Tycho where are you!

Pascal spend the next hour tearing through the house to find any clue of where Tycho went, from under the bed, Lazlo’s laundry, and the cabinets. The house was left in an absolute wreck once he finished his emotional rampage, too exhausted to continue. He crumbled to his knees and broke down crying once more until his throat strained and his eyes were sore. He wiped off his glasses and stumbled outside in an attempt to find comfort in fresh air. The plants and the spores around him only served as a cruel reminder why his son had suddenly vanished...it was because of this Strangetown Syndrome, it took away his family, his time, his friend and his baby.

But he couldn’t just blame himself, he spent all the money he had for Tycho’s care and the one person who said that they would look after him managed to lose him. The sound of footsteps broke the silence of the desert and Pascal turned to see his brother standing pathetically behind him. He was so weak and feeble looking like a dog with its tail between its leg. He could practically smell the guilt emitting from Vidcund. The more he gazed at him, he could feel his blood boiling, his face tensed with rage as he snapped.  

Vidcund: Pascal I- 

Pascal: DON’T YOU DARE SAY THAT YOU ARE SORRY, VIDCUND. 

Vidcund: I’m - I don’t know what else to say.

Pascal: THEN DON’T OPEN YOUR STUPID MOUTH IF ITS SOME LAME EXUSE AS TO WHY MY INFANT SON IS MISSING! YOU. HAD. ONE. JOB!!

Vidcund: Now take a deep breath. I was in the basement working. I had the baby monitor right next to me the whole time 

Pascal: AND YOU LEFT HIM ALONE! YOU LEFT TYCHO ALONE!

Pascal: Do you have any Idea what world we are living in, Vidcund? He’s just a baby, he only just started eating solids. I put all that I had into Tycho and made sure that he was taken care of. Physically, mentally, spiritually! He is all that made me whole...Watcher it feels like someone just dug into my rib cage and tore a piece of me out. 

You cry about Circe all the time now imagine that pain 10,000x more. This is real, Vidcund, I can’t just take a deep breath and make this better!

Pascal: Watcher- What if something bad got him. What if he’s sold on the black market and vivisected... I can’t imagine that...what if he’s hungry. I have all his formula here. What if they don’t sing to him that lullaby...it’s the only thing that gets him to sleep....they forgot his bear...I- I- can’t.

Vidcund could only watch as Pascal’s expression fell from rage, his eyes gazed down at the sand as he imagined all the cruel scenarios Tycho could be in, tears streaking down his cheeks again as he tried to speak. He tried to say something else but he was too focused on looking around his surroundings that he completely disregarded his brother and the rage he felt a second before. His breathing became rapid as his chest weighed heavily against his lungs. The world was growing so blurry as he tried to breathe. He thought he heard Vidcund say something as he turned his heel and sprinted down the sidewalk. It was  all he could do.  

What was he doing, running until his legs burned, trying to find another living being that had not had their brains rotted by spores. For the first time he felt helpless, the weight of the world weighed on his shoulders along with freeing his family, and finding his friend Nervous. Above all now he had to find his baby. Who knows where he could have been taken in a climate like this. 

Where ever Tycho was, Pascal prayed that he was safe, somewhere that he would be fed and changed and taken care of for the time being. 

The swirling clouds of the spores towered in the air as Pascal stood in the middle of the barren road, taking in the immense responsibility he had put on himself. He knew he wasn’t alone on his mission but as the days wore on he felt doubt take over his morale along with his team’s. He needed to put an end to all of this. He didn’t know how much he could hold on. 

Pascal: Where ever you are, Tycho. I will find you even if it kills me. 

[rhett-meadows]

✦ JOE MANGANIELLO, CIS MALE, HE/HIM ✦ RHETT MEADOWS the FORTY year old has been in Hidehill for SIX YEARS and was a STRANGER to Jade Parker, the missing person. Whispers on the streets are that he’s a SURGEON AT HIDE GENERAL who lives in HOVE LAKE. He is said to be PECULIAR and DISCRETE but I guess we’ll find out for ourselves. { HELEN, 25, EST, SHE/HER }

trigger warning(s): motorcycle accident, death. found under biography and trauma.

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height﹕six feet five inches weight﹕two hundred and thirty-one pounds hair﹕raven black hair with slight waves, never grows past his chin, soft to the touch, styled back with natural hair products eyes﹕light brown orbs, often accompanied by dark circles, fixed curious gaze complexion﹕easily tans, olive and warm undertones build﹕giant of a man, towers over just about everyone, well-defined and muscular body, forged and maintained by his nightly gym visits distinguishing features﹕dyes his salt and pepper beard to match his hair, a noticeable large scar that stretches from the middle of his right calf all the way to the side of his knee face claim﹕Joe Manganiello

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name : Rhett Meadows age : forty years old gender : cis male sexuality : demiromantic bisexual occupation : full-time chief head of trauma surgery at hide general residence : owns a rather spacious home in hove lake

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persona﹕ mysteries have always intrigued him, leading Rhett to become easily obsessed with finding answers. spends hours engulfed in thought, mulling over minute details that get stuck in his head. can't stand things not being done perfectly, or half-assed, especially if it's him at the forefront. he is his own biggest critic and worst enemy. responsibility, and the weight it brings, have always been a long-time friend. never makes a promise he intends to break, so they are few and rare. struggles to let go, even more so with relinquishing control, and can become quite the nightmare when challenged or asked to do so. makes it a point to stay silent until he gets the full picture, even when he really wants to bite people's heads off. shame and guilt are like deadly poison to him, avoids situations that make him appear weak. having his attention is like winning money from the lottery; few get it and even fewer can keep it. dark humor and crude jokes are part of his signature trademark, don't be so surprised if you end up as the punchline. if it weren't for his initial stoic demeanor you'd never know how judgmental he is about other people. he'd certainly be a good guy if he stopped playing devil's advocate all the time. some say he loves to argue, but he'd disagree on that. there's little that offends him personally (unless you talk about his work) and makes it a point to not over-react under such circumstances. is strongly the ❛ only I can be a dick to this person ❜ type and it usually stems from his tough-love approach. if at any point one manages to piss him off, he (metaphorically) goes straight for the jugular, chivalry be damned. biography﹕from a young age, Rhett took care of his two younger siblings. both parents worked full-time jobs, and as the eldest, it was Rhett's responsibility to take care of the household. slowly as time passed by, some duties were eventually distributed to his younger siblings, and the burden of such tasks didn't solely fall on his shoulders. life was hard but it became even harder once his father became wheelchair-bound. a close family friend had begged Rhett's father for a small loan, however, he refused. money was tight back then and with a family to feed it just wasn't possible. the situation quickly escalated and once things got physical, his father was thrown down a flight of stairs. family life became strained after that and those very same responsibilities he tried managing multiplied. through hard work and pure tenacity, he managed to become a junior surgeon at a general hospital. wanting to add more to his resume, he relocated to small-town Hidehill, where for the last six years he operated on countless residences. trauma﹕

about two and a half years ago, he was involved in a side impact motorcycle accident. the accident left him with several fractures but he miraculously survived. with the help of intensive therapy and drugs, Rhett was able to fully heal many months later. although most wounds healed he hides the fact that chronic right leg pain and a subtle limp still plague him.

he blames himself for the tragic passing of a patient. firmly believes that his leg injury played a part in his inability to perform well during the surgery.

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extra﹕

his motorcycle has been collecting dust in his garage ever since the accident.

he hides his limp very well and it's only under severe muscle strain that it becomes more pronounced. it's safe to say that this injury is a sensitive topic he would rather not talk about.

finds being intimate with someone else quite difficult, and due to his injury avoids doing so at all costs.

he's an insomniac, which makes sleeping quite difficult. though he always finds something to occupy his time.

often finds himself sitting on his dock enjoying the site of stars at night.

whenever he has free time, he hits 'undercover books' for some reading material.

goes to 'big guns' religiously, especially after work or when he can't sleep.

occasionally goes to hide cemetery. though he doesn't know if it's to clear his head or to pay tribute to the patient he lost.

used to live at hartley avenue but soon changed to hove lake after his injury. wanted more privacy and the ability to fully relax without having to put on airs for others.

is in the process of reconciling with his faith... or maybe not, he has too many unanswered questions.

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ex-fiancé/partner ⋮ dysfunctional fwb(s) ⋮ one night stand(s) ⋮ dubious fling(s) ⋮ estranged friend(s) ⋮ close confidante(s) ⋮ enemies ⋮ family member(s) ⋮ gym buddies ⋮ family member of his deceased patient

Please send me a message, either on my discord or primary, and we can start plotting!

[finnoky]

AU where Quirin takes and raises Eugene after the DK falls

•| Send me a potential AU and I’ll tell you five fun facts |•

Oh you have no idea how much this enables me - I stand by Quirin raising Eugene until the end of time bc it’s what they BOTH deserve

1) Oki so, here we see Eugene taken away as a baby without disclosing an EXACT location — that will not stop Quirin though, who had a stance against cutting him off completely despite it being Edmunds orders [It made sense to send the boy away but to send him to an ORPHANAGE was another story] Quirin finds Eugene a month or so after they get separated, during that time he found a house and a stable farm to raise a kid on [Gotta have an income] and then promptly goes to the orphanage and adopts Eugene.

By then, Eugene’s name has already been changed and frankly... Quirin thinks it suits him, though he occasionally slips up and calls him Horace. He feels a duty to raise the Prince but also kinda has a “My son now” mentality! Disagrees with Edmunds choices + decides... His kingdom is doomed, so he’s gonna ensure Eugene gets a stable upbringing with KNOWLEDGE of the Dark Kingdom without necessarily telling him “Oh BTW you’re the prince”. Being a father is hard and he struggles a lot, esp in early days, it’s a whole new challenge from being a knight but... Not one he really regrets?

Cue some fluff! Knight-dad trying to raise a baby and establish a life in a new country — Over time he grows and becomes Village Leader + Develops a bond with the monarchs based on his knowledge and previous high-rank in society from being a knight! Gets offered a guard position but turns it down in favour of spending time with his toddler son. Eugenes first word is Dada and Quirins never felt so content. Baby fluff of Eugenes milestones — Quirin has Eugene helping on the fields as soon as he can toddle without tripping (tho it’s mostly Eugene playing and running around while Quirin works) Toddler Eugene is a little darling and knows exactly how to use his cuteness to get praise and sweets

2) Eugene starts thievery / acting out soon after Quirin dates and marries Ulla, though it soon become a hobby he usually indulges in with his friend Arnie [though they take on the names of the coolest book characters Flynn Rider and Lance Strongbow!] Quirin thinks it’s just a phase and leans into the whole calling Eugene ‘Flynn’ because... He really loves the books, that’s not too odd? Though he doesn’t know of crimes + just thinks they go out to play a lot. Eugene ignored Ulla for the first few weeks because he doesn’t like the idea of someone new staying around — He doesn’t hate her, it just raises a lot of questions about his mum that Quirin doesn’t know how to answer... He resolved on the explaination that she was very sick and couldn’t take care of him anymore, though loved him dearly — it’s enough to placate him.

Eugene doubles down on stealing when he’s 10 and suddenly there’s gonna be a new baby in the house. [He doesn’t WANT a sibling + worries Quirin will love the baby more than him since he knows he’s adopted & all that though is too scared to ask] Eugene grows an attitude and Quirin finds himself exhausted and constantly caught in petty bickers as Eugene keeps running away + acting up, especially to his wife (Who loves Eugene very much, of course) ‘Flynn’ declares he wants to travel the world and be far away from step-mums and nasty babies, uhhh Domestic fall out stuff?

Things change when baby gets here and suddenly Eugene is a big brother and Quirin is MORE distracted, sometimes they forget to even read him a story and he can’t stand the squirmy little creature... All it does is cry and take what little attention his misbehaviour had earned him... So naturally, petty crime continues + Eugene starts caring less about getting caught, so it becomes more risky. He and Lance befriend some bad influences and start taking Big Kid Crime. It’s fun! Until Eugene is brought home by a guard and Quirin gives him the silent treatment for the next week. Quirin... He loves his sons, both of them, but he just isn’t sure how to handle a distressed 11 year old and a baby, it feels like there’s not enough hours in the day and Eugene is SET on making life harder for everyone.

Eugene stays against ‘Varian’, frequently makes the baby the villain in his games and makes him cry on several occasions. It gets even worse when he starts crawling bc now he can’t get anytime alone, it’s just frustrating! The solution probably comes when Varians starting to talk and he says ‘Oo-gee’ as one of his first words — ‘Lisa’s first word’ style — and Quirin and Ulla admit that Varian is obsessed with Eugene. It’s sorta a wake up call for Eugene to start trying to get along with the kid, and it works! He finds it fun to teach him things & have someone to talk to (even if he just babbles back) By the time Eugene is 12 he’s calling Ulla mum and love spending time with his little brother

3) Right! When Eugene is about 18 he picks up theiving again, mostly because he isn’t suited to the farm life and it’s easy money (Plus how else is he gonna achieve his dream of financial independence?) He moves out the farm under the guise of finding a new life with his best friend, though they quickly realise it’s not amazing when they get tangled up with the Baron + his antics. Eugene visits home every so often and claims everything is fine, it’s going great, he doesn’t need any extra help + his life is just dandy. His dishonesty mostly bc he doesn’t wanna worry Quirin and there’s been a bit of a strain since Ulla passed away.

Life keeps on like this. Eugene ages, steals alchemy supplies for Varian and hides his true income source because he wants to make Quirin and Varian proud! Varian grows up to be more headstrong in what he wants because he has someone standing up for him and telling him he’s proud, though the longer Eugene spends away the harder it gets? He loves it when Eugenes here! But the house feels empty without him, and Quirin is so busy + stressed from Varians experiments that there’s still that desire to do more, prove himself.

4) Movie diverts a bit! Eugene finds out about the hair glow and thinks... If one person knows about this then it’s him, and takes Rapunzel to Old Corona over night rather than a campfire. Varian is ecstatic to see him though gets confused by a random girl Eugene claims to have just found — He’s about to ask questions when Eugene asks if Varian could do his magic thing to find out about her hair. Varian insists it’s alchemy and agrees, dragging Raps down into the lab! Boop gothel talks to her when Varians gathering all the equipment and talks her ear off about how cool Eugene is and asks how they found each other since the story is weird... Experiements start!

Meanwhile Eugene is talking to Quirin, when Quirin pulls out a wanted poster and puts it on the table. He finally found out about how bad Eugenes crimes are and wants answers. Now. Eugene sits and tries to explain its not what it looks like, but Quirin doesn’t wanna hear it. The disappointment is evident and Quirin criticises “I thought you grew out of this, what role model is this for Varian?” Eugene doesn’t have an answer but argues his case that it was to be reliant — and he doesn’t wanna do it anymore anyway! Quirin accuses him of using the girl, while Eugene insists her name is Rapunzel and he’s just helping her, get the crown, be set for life and never have to bother him again.

Their argument is cut short by a Varian coming back upstairs looking frazzled, says there’s something about the magic that’s familiar but he can’t place it — sure is strong tho, and continues gushing and asking Eugene for all the details of what he’s been up to. Eugene... Explains, his usual light-hearted rendition of a great quest, while Quirin leaves and stays upstairs the rest of the night.

Varian sees them off in the morning! Hours after they’re gone Vari is still looking into the magic thing — that’s when he remembers the old legend about a sundrop... about how it saved the Queen... About the Princess. Varian sneaks out the house and heads up to the lantern festival to tell Eugene and Rapunzel his revelation, but he gets there just as Eugene is being lead away by guards. Varian finds Max and tells him how they need to free Eugene + basically... Helps him escape with fewer pub thugs and more alchemy. When they get to the tower Eugene tells Varian to stay on the floor and climbs up to help Raps - Varian stays at the bottom of the tower for approx 10 minutes before finding the back entrance and climbing up. Figure he gets there just as Gothel deages, it’s suddenly and before anyone knows it Varian is the one pushing her out the window bc he saw a stabbed Eugene and put two and two together. Then! Cue New Dream scene, except Varian is sitting on the floor in shock a distance away... After New Dream hug Eugene looks at him and Varian admits that “Ok, magic isn’t that bad”

5) Oh god the series! First off — Raps is closer with Varian in this (that’s becoming a theme...) so doesn’t just throw him out into the blizzard when he comes asking for help. Instead he and Eugene go back to Old Corona together after the storm, Varian isolates himself from guilt + has a tough time dealing with what happened, but he lives in the castle as Eugene starts getting angrier with the king and wants answers for what happened. He’s the one that finds Dark Kingdom stuff and he and Varian work on it together... Eugene has a suspicion he came from the Dark Kingdom so when the rocks start pointing there he’s like dope!

No villain Varian joins them on the trek to the Dark Kingdom + it’s all fun and games, Eugene tries to get more answers from Adira as they travel but she says it’s not her place to say... All he needs to know is the kingdom fell, and everyone was evacuated... She’s almost annoyed as she explains it, then Hector is treble annoyed when he finds out Eugene was raised by QUIRIN since that went against the direct orders... Though Adira defends it and says he was doing his duty of keeping Eugene safe, it’s basically a rift between them that’s confusing until they get to the DK and the revelation happens.

I feel... Moongene could be a thing in this AU? but since I’m running out of points I’ll leave it with Cass taking her canon role! I will point out! when Quirin is freed initially only Varian runs into his arms... Eugene hadn’t really spoken to Quirin properly since their movie fallout & he’s not sure he belongs... Until Quirin holds and arm out to him and pulls him into the hug too (PARALLLELS) and we get a happy reunited family (tho with some issues to work out regarding somethings... they need to rebuild trust, but work on it slowly. Edmund stays ‘Edmund’ to Eugene. He sees Quirin as his father & doesn’t push as much to reconnect with Edmund... Though that makes it easier in a way. There’s less pressure once Edmund understands and they form a friendship, but Quirin is Dad 100% (Sometimes Edmund gets called Dad 2))

[dulce-pjm]

under the table

word count: 3.8k

genre: fluff

summary: you’re doing great! 100% amazing. a-okay! alright, no you’re not. but what does everyone say is the perfect cure for a heart that never had the chance to be broken? game night, of course! but knowing you, there will always be complications. 

You’re at peace. 

When things are like this, the universe is in harmony. You’re tucked away from the rest of the world, cuddled up under a blanket next to the thing most important to you, a relaxed smile across your face. You think you could spend the rest of your life here, content and happy. Safe. 

But you’ve never been particularly lucky. 

“The fuck is a board game club?”

“It’s fun, I promise!” Mina looks you up and down as she stands in the doorway of your bedroom. You know how you look, sprawled on your soft comforter in sweats and a grease-stained t-shirt. Your laptop sits beside you, a trashy drama playing in the background, while your hands are occupied with your phone and a large bowl of popcorn. 

“But I’m having fun now.” You gesture to your well-planned setup, grimacing when Mina turns the lights on. “Dude. Warning, please.” She sighs, stepping into the room with a stern look on her face. You can already feel your stubborn resolve slipping. 

Mina shuts your laptop and moves it aside, plopping onto the bed next to you. She takes your non-butter-coated hand in hers. 

“Y/N, I love you. But it’s Friday night. We haven’t gone out in a month. A month!” You glare, offended she’d bring up the subject. 

“Because you know what happened last time!” Mina opens her mouth to argue, but shuts it quickly. This discussion always goes the same direction anyway. 

“This won’t be like last time,” she reassures, taking the popcorn bowl from you, much to your dismay. “I promise. You like games! It’ll be fun and tonight we’re betting, so if you win you might even have some cash to take home.” 

“But I’m so happy here.” You cuddle your pillow childishly, puffing out your bottom lip. Mina is not amused. She sighs, massaging her temples. 

“I didn’t want to do this,” she begins. “But you owe me, remember?” You cock your head, no memory coming to mind. She sighs in exasperation. “You dragged me to that stupid dance class last semester! By the end I thought I was gonna puke!” You scoff. 

“Oh, puh-lease, you were practically drooling over the instructor. He was so hot I forgot about the pain. Too bad he has a girlfriend now. I stalked him on Instagram.” Mina laughs, a light tinkling sound compared to your usual guffawing, abrasive and obnoxious. 

“So… you’ll come?” You take a moment to think, despite already knowing your answer. You were too easy to guilt-trip, you knew. Too trusting, too. But Mina was right, you did owe her. You sigh. 

“Fine. I’ll come.” Mina’s entire face lights up as she cheers and hurries to her feet. Your joints creak as you heave your limbs off of the bed while Mina begins babbling instructions your way. 

You were rather talented at board games. And silly banter. You might even have a chance at walking away with the money. This will be fun, you assure yourself. 

“...So, yeah. Just bring ten bucks. And maybe change first.” Her eyes take one last glance at your outfit in light disgust. “Be ready in half an hour?”

“Mhmm,” you groan, stumbling to your closet. You sniff one of your old sweaters and when no ungodly stench meets you, you shrug it on in place of your tee. Mina thanks you before trotting out of the room, taking away your snack with her. 

This will be fun, this will be fun.

Or, at least it better be. You make a mental note that, if this goes south, you aren’t leaving this apartment for the next six months. 

After sprucing up your appearance and coating yourself with cheap perfume, you approach the supposed ‘board game club meeting’ (how the hell did that get approved, anyway?) with a newfound sense of confidence. Your smile is beaming, your shoulders are back and unbothered, your skin glowing. Wait, doesn’t that phrase mean you’re pregnant? You can’t remember. Not that pregnancy is even a remote possibility for you anyway. What with you never leaving the apartment and all.

You trail after Mina as she weaves through the library halls, before slowing in front of a corner study room. You’re astounded she made it here so easily, you had no idea this was even here. To your knowledge, this wing of the library was reserved for storage and staff. 

 Just as you’re about to follow her through the door, she spins to face you. 

“You know, I’ve been thinking and you know if you really don’t want to go-” 

“Oh my god, we’re here already! Let’s just go in!” You smile at her teasingly while she blushes. Despite how it might look to outsiders, you and Mina care about each other deeply. You appreciate how considerate she is of you.

 “Alrighty then!” She turns back around and throws open the door, drawing the greetings of everyone else in the room. Your eyes land on Mark, Mina’s boyfriend, who’s already shot to his feet and pulled Mina in for a kiss. 

You barely have time to scan the rest of the crowd before Mark’s wrapped you up in a hug, ruffling your hair. He’d always been friendly, definitely a little much for you. But his affectionate ways are perfect for Mina. 

“Hey! Didn’t expect to see you here.” He finally parts from you, allowing you room to breathe. You shrug sheepishly. 

“Well, here I am.” Your hands fidget nervously at the belt loops of your jeans. “So expect to lose.” Mark laughs, wrapping an arm around Mina. You suppress the part of you that’s immensely jealous of their easy-going relationship. You’ve never been able to achieve quite the same thing. Your relationships rarely lasted longer than a few months, at best. 

“I believe it. You always outplay me in Monopoly.” He throws a thumb over his shoulder. “But Yoongi might give you a run for your money.”

Your blood runs cold. Chills travel across your skin. A fire fueled by anger and embarrassment that had almost sputtered out over the past month is suddenly reignited, a blazing furnace beneath your face and chest. 

“What?” Mina’s smile becomes strained while you stand there, face void of emotion despite the thunderstorm raging inside. Her voice lowers to a harsh whisper. “I thought you said he wasn’t coming!” Mark, oblivious to the brewing conflict, smiles happily.

“Yeah, but his work thing got canceled, so I told him there was still plenty of room.” Pride beams off of his face. At any other time, Mina would congratulate him for his efforts to be inclusive and encouraging to their mutual friend. But right now, she was starting to be as panicked as you were pissed. 

Your mind is flooded with memories of fun conversation, casual flirting, and, ultimately, anxious nights spent staring at your phone screen, waiting for a very specific notification to appear. But it never did. You’re starting to see red. 

“God, Mark, I told you about this!” Mina turns to you, eyes frantic. “You know, if you just want to go back home, that’s okay. I’ll go with you, we can watch dramas and eat pizza and-”

“It’s fine,” you spit through clenched teeth. You force your fists to relax, allow a gentle smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes to settle across your lips. 

“A- Are you sure?” Mina touches your arm with concern, forcing you to tear your gaze away from a certain someone across the room. You shrug nonchalantly, forcing your smile to go wider. 

“Why wouldn’t it be?” 

“Y/N, you seriously don’t-”

“It’s fine, Mina.” She immediately clamps her mouth shut, knowing your will is set in stone by the harsh tone of your voice. She nods vigorously and steps back into the arms of a very confused Mark. 

“Okay, okay.” She puts up her hands defensively before smiling and facing the rest of the group. “Who’s ready to get started?” She’s met with cheers and smiles as Mark settles into a seat beside her and starts dealing cards, leaving one empty chair, across from Yoongi. 

You slide into it, meeting his intense gaze as he looks up from his phone. Not that it surprises you, but he appears exactly the same. He’s fucking gorgeous. His features are soft, yet when he meets your eyes with that piercing gaze and unreadable expression, he becomes sharp and intimidating. His greyish-brown locks just barely sit above his dark, umber eyes, effortlessly tousled. Even his taste is good, his outfit composed of a leather jacket and vintage band t-shirt, topped with a single hoop earring. 

God, he is so perfect. Was so perfect, until he’d ignited your unending anger. 

“Hey,” you mutter, words coming off much more bitter than intended. Whatever. It’s how you feel, anyways. 

“Hey,” he replies. “Been a while.” His eyes never leave yours. 

“Sure has.” Your nostrils flare against your will. “You doing alright? Gone on any more blind dates?” Yoongi’s lips twist into a scowl. 

“Can’t say I have. You were the one and only.” The staredown between you two could start wars. The negative energy you’re generating sends a chill down an unsuspecting Mark’s spine. 

Your brooding is interrupted when a shiny, white sticker is passed in front of you. 

“It’s a name tag!” Mina explains, looking between you two anxiously. “You can decorate it. It’s fun.” You internally roll your eyes at Mina’s not-so-sly attempt to break up your silent argument. 

You grab a stray pen to scribble your name, but just as the ink begins to meet the sticker, fingers tighten around your wrist. With his free hand, Yoongi takes the sticker from you, bringing it to his side of the table. 

“Let me do it. Your handwriting is shit.” You grimace. He isn’t wrong. You work to get your mind moving, you’re already behind in the insult-slinging. After a brief moment, Yoongi releases your wrist and snatches the pen from your fingertips, dipping his head to start writing. 

“So are your dialing abilities.” Yoongi pauses, his eyes lifting, a poorly built facade of confusion masking what you’re sure is smug pride. The little shit. 

“What?” he asks curiously, pen lowering. 

“You heard me.” You cross your arms and lean back in your seat, as if daring him to challenge you. This asshole had the nerve to pretend he enjoyed your company despite the less-than-ideal circumstances, treat you to a nice date, not call you ever again, NOT EVER CALL YOU AGAIN, and then pretend he didn’t know what you were talking about? God, you’d really dodged a bullet there. Or, you would have. If Yoongi had picked up the damn phone and taken a shot in the first place. 

After a few seconds, a smirk plays on his lips and he shakes his head, returning to the sticker. 

“I see you and Yoongi are acquainted!” Mark comments, throwing an arm over your shoulder while blissfully unaware of the situation. Oh, to be pretty and ignorant. “He’s a monster at Risk, let me tell you. He could probably take over the world if he really wanted to. Most of the time, he’s the lucky guy walking away with the payout.” Yoongi shrugs, eyes still focused on the project before him. 

“Or you guys just suck.” Mark laughs, the boisterous sound rattling from his chest. 

“Either way, he’s the guy to beat.” You nod in understanding as a plan hatches in your mind. You rub your hands together, not unlike a cartoon villain. Your fixed smile becomes slightly crazed and Cheshire cat-like. 

Interesting. Very interesting. So, if you were to, perhaps, theoretically, make some private bets and win this game night, Yoongi would be out a shit ton of money? Now that sounded like fun, Mina be damned. Screw closure and moving on, revenge is much more gratifying. 

When Yoongi finishes your nametag, you slap it on your sweater without so much as a glance, oblivious to the way his face falls. 

If it took every fiber of your being, you were going to beat Yoongi’s ass, steal his money, and never ever see him again. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck!

Fuck!

How was it possible for somebody to be good at Candyland?! The game’s pure goddamn luck. But here Yoongi was, having claimed victory for three out of the six games played so far (you claiming the other three) and being well on his way to winning the seventh and final game: Uno. 

You, Yoongi, and Mina are down to three cards each, while Mark and the other participants are too caught up in rambunctious conversation to care that they’re losing terribly. 

Mistakes have been made. You had egged Yoongi on into raising the bets between you two from ten to fifty dollars. And now you were fearing you’d lose. But your will was still strong, refusing to give up so easily. And where there was a will, there were Draw Four cards. 

“Are you fucking kidding me, Y/N?” Yoongi groans, reaching to draw from the pile. But at the last second, his fingers flicker back to his hand, slapping his own Draw Four card onto the table. You sigh, banging your head against the table without an ounce of embarrassment or true anger. That time had long passed. Now you were just exasperated. 

Mina cries out in protest, but having nothing to counter with, she begrudgingly draws eight, eliminating her from the close race between you and Yoongi, having two cards each. Yoongi smiles apologetically, making you laugh quietly to yourself. 

When he wasn’t being an ass, Yoongi still made pleasant company. He was nice and sarcastic and introspective, never failing to add something new to the conversation. Despite your initial resolve, you’d found yourself opening up to him once again, obnoxiously cracking your own jokes and telling wild stories from your past experiences. Whenever Yoongi smiled or laughed at you, your heart soared. If only he had called you back, things could be different. 

But they weren’t. This is a war now. A war you intend to win. 

“What are you doing?” The question startles you from the goofy selfie you’re taking as you wait for the play to make its way around the table. You set down your phone, ignoring the way that, in the picture, your eyes are straight ahead, meeting Yoongi’s, rather than directed at the camera.

“Texting my nephew.” Yoongi cocks his head, brows furrowing. “He’s five and has a tablet for some godforsaken reason. We just send each other pictures of ourselves making stupid faces back and forth. It’s silly.” You don’t know why you’re suddenly sheepish, heat rising to your face. It’s probably the bad air conditioning in this place. Yoongi’s confused expression melts into a soft smile, making the furnace beneath your cheeks blaze hotter. 

“Cute,” he murmurs.

“What?” He shrugs, taking a sip at his soda. Your eyes narrow. What kind of game is he playing? Does he think flirting with you will distract you from the mission at hand? Because if so, he’s an absolute idiot. 

“You’re an idiot!” you’re yelling just a few minutes later. Yoongi’s practically cackling from across the table, clutching his middle with one hand, the other holding just one card. You still had two, but no matter. It’s pretty unlikely he’ll be able to play his hand anyway. “The cookie is the backbone of the entire Oreo! Without it, the whole experience is ruined! Don’t disregard it so easily.” Yoongi only snickers more, his gums peeking out from behind his massive smile. He’s enjoying the way you get riled up so easily, how quickly he can get under your skin with the most meaningless of words. 

“It doesn’t even taste good, Y/N. The least they could do is make it taste like sugar, since that’s practically all an Oreo is.” You roll your eyes. 

“That ruins the whole balance. The only thing you could possibly add to an Oreo to make it better is peanut butter.”

“Peanut butter?” Yoongi leans forward in interest and slight disgust. You nod assuredly, finding yourself leaning forward as well.

“Trust me, it’ll change your life.” Yoongi looks at you earnestly. 

“I’m pretty sure it’s you that’s the life-changer.” Your eyebrows pop upward, jaw momentarily dipping open before you snap it shut. No. No. You’re not falling for this again. You scoff and fall back into the incredibly uncomfortable chair, which only makes Yoongi smile proudly. 

“Y/N, it’s your turn.” Mark nudges you and you barely acknowledge him, slapping your blue four onto the pile easily. 

Yoongi looks at you oddly, lolling his head to the side. 

“What?” you snap, giving him your best glare.

“You’re done with your turn?” he asks, expression turning slightly concerned. God, he was such a fucking tease. 

“Yes I’m done, you dipshit. Play your turn.” You glance at your phone screen, seeing several notifications from your nephew and a scolding text from your sister for encouraging his behavior. 

Yoongi sighs, drawing his card when he can’t play. When you glance up, there’s a smirk on his face once again.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Yoongi’s smirk deepens. 

“You didn’t say ‘Uno.’” You stare at Yoongi. He starts to snicker again. 

“Fuck!” you shout, ignoring Mina’s many comments about ‘language!’ and ‘non-competitive dialogue!’ Yoongi laughs in your face, not even bothering to cover his mouth and try to spare you. You’re about to go ballistic, your fists clenched as Yoongi does the favor of drawing four for you, sliding them in front of you. God, you hate him. 

In the end, neither of you wins. Some freshman with glasses you didn’t know took the victory, teasing his apparent girlfriend for losing. Who even let freshmen in here, anyway? The participants decide that the winnings will be divided between you and Yoongi, since you both won three games, and the mini-bet between the two of you becomes null, with neither of you able to fully stake your claim.

But you’re the one who’s really been defeated. You couldn’t even succeed in getting a second date with this guy, what made you think you could beat him in board games?

You give Yoongi a small, meek nod before standing to go. Mina left with Mark already after double and triple-checking that you were okay to walk home alone. You make for the door, open the handle as unexpected tears threaten to prick at your eyes. 

You’re so pathetic. You’d let a fucking blind date get you so upset you’d barely left your apartment in the past month except to go to class. Could you really be faulted? You hadn’t had so much fun with someone in your entire life. You could feel the connection, the spark, between the two of you. You were certain this was the one that would last. So you took the leap, gave him your number, proposed a second date. But he never called you. Not once. 

You’re unlikable. Unlovable. You don’t deserve to win game night, let alone to win at life or relationships or-

“Y/N, wait up.” Yoongi’s found his way next to you as you trudge out of the library, staring straight ahead. 

Great.

“What is it, Yoongi?” You shoot him a dark look, only to find his ears tinged pink and his hand awkwardly scratching his scalp. 

“Well, uh, I was thinking.” The sentence ends, thought hanging unfinished in the air. 

“You were… thinking?” Yoongi jolts, like he’d forgotten you were here. His eyes never meet yours, contrary to his crude confidence from before. 

“Yeah! And, um-” He sighs, taking a deep inhale through his nose. “I think we should use the money we won and go on a second date.”

What.

“What?” You’re openly gaping at him now. “Why?!”

“Because I really enjoyed our first date and I’d like another one.” You’re running out of air, sputtering on your breath. 

“But- But you didn’t even call me! I asked you out and now you suddenly change your mind?” After an excruciating moment, Yoongi’s eyes meet yours, panicked rather than unreadable. The image is unsettling and unfamiliar. You’re starting to feel dizzy. 

“Because you gave me a fake number!” You gawk at him in confusion. “Or that’s what I thought, until you were talking earlier and I put it all together.” He grins, seemingly finding his confidence again. “Your shitty handwriting made me misread your number. I almost thought it was on purpose until now, that you just wanted to get rid of me. But it was all a misunderstanding.”

The weight of his words settles on your shoulders, making your head spin. All a misunderstanding? All those stupid tears and endless nights over… a misunderstanding? You could laugh. You do, actually. The sound makes Yoongi jump as the two of you step outside, the night oddly warm despite the time nearly reaching midnight. A stupid, dopey grin spreads across your face. 

Yoongi doesn’t hate you. He doesn’t think you’re stupid or unlikable. You’d done everything right, well, almost everything right. It’s humorous, really. 

“So, uh… What do ya say? Tomorrow? Seven?” You smirk. 

“Bold of you to assume I’m free.” Yoongi’s grinning too, enjoying the casual banter significantly more than the way his face grew flushed and he couldn’t seem to spit out what he wanted to say. 

“Well, then cancel your plans.” His eyes flash wildly and you giggle childishly, taking delight in his antics. You nod, your cheeks beginning to ache. 

“Tomorrow at seven.” Yoongi grins as you prepare to go your separate ways. 

“Tomorrow at seven.” You spin and begin walking the other way, but not before Yoongi can call after you again. 

“What?” You laugh, yelling at him from down the sidewalk, the streetlamps barely illuminating his figure. 

“Check your nametag! And text me when you’re home so I know you’re safe!” You laugh again. 

“I don’t even have your number, dipshit!” Yoongi sighs loudly, the sound echoing down the empty street. 

“Just check the fucking nametag!” 

“Fine, fine!” You giggle as you peel the sticker off your shirt. Your giggle intensifies when you see its contents. 

Along with your name, Yoongi decided to draw a small picture that you could only assume was you, composed of an angry face, frazzled hair, and devil horns. And in the bottom right corner is a string of digits. You’re grinning from ear to ear as you stare at the piece of paper. You tell yourself to find a safe place to keep it when you get home. 

“Goodnight, Y/N!” he shouts, figure fading farther in the distance. 

“Goodnight!” 

You practically skip home, your body singing with adrenaline and joy. 

You muse that your world might never be in balance or harmony, not in your lifetime, anyway. 

But with you beside Yoongi, you thought it’d be pretty damn close. 

[thelovelyghostwriter]

KuraNeon ABC Fluff Headcanons

uThis ABC is taken from this post. I was thinking, hey, what about KuraNeon? 

[Yessss... They have a special attack together on one of the mobile games - not the mobage cards by the way]

Let’s go!

A ctivities - What do they like to do with their s/o? How do they spend their free time with them?

Neon’s always bored, given that Kurapika is the one who is doing all the work. She’s often delighted to spend time with him, particularly shopping. She likes to shop for clothes, wearing cute outfits and asking him his opinion of it. She’s a tease and we know it. Sometimes she would purposely try on some racy outift for him to ogle at. 

For Kurapika, he doesn’t really have a particular favourite activity with her. He’s just happy to spend time with her. 

B eauty - What do they admire about their s/o? What do they think is beautiful about them?

At first they weren’t very close. Kurapika only focused on her flesh-collecting hobby that he disagrees with and Neon finds his serious working attitude boring and she didn’t really care about him. Ironically, the traits that each of them has that the other doesn’t is what draws them to each other. 

After spending time together, Kurapika finds her eccentric view on her life interesting, even if he does not agree with them. He likes how she’s happy-go-lucky and just lives in the present, uncaring about what the future brings. Which is kinda ironic for someone who can predict the future. 

Neon, on the other hand, finds his stern and down-to-business attitude really amusing. She likes how genuinely concerned he gets in doing the job done and she likes it when he teaches her things that she doesn’t know about. She also catches the glimpse of him being playful, it’s so rare and she likes it when he relaxes once in a while. He’s also really sassy when he wants to and she likes bantering with him. 

For physical traits, Kurapika is in denial. She’s one of the few girls he interacted with and he finds her really adorable and pretty. He likes how she’s always wearing long sleeves and it all leads to a lot of imagination. Her eyes also drives him crazy because it holds so much naivety that he wants to stain. 

Neon finds Kurapika a pretty boy. She likes his soft blond locks and the red earrings that he wears. She thinks it looks good on him. If she knows that he is a Kurta, she loves those pretty eyes (especially when they’re having sex). The first time Neon sees Kurapika in a tuxedo, her gaze will linger because he looks bonafide yummy in it. 

C omfort - How would they help their s/o when they feel down/have a panic attack etc.?

I don’t know what panic attack is like so I will not address that. 

Kurapika is the type that tries to rationalize things (even though he’s impulsive as shit). So whenever Neon feels down, he will listen to her issues. He will try to understand her situation, analyse it and give her a few suggestions on what she can do. If it’s a problem that cannot be solved practically and she’s being confused/overwhelmed, he will comfort her by saying “it’s okay to feel this way”, he’ll tell her why she’s possibly feeling this way with scientific stuff and whatnot. He’ll find reasons to reassure her that it’s not the end of the world, and that he’ll always be there for her. 

For Neon, Kurapika’s issues are deep. Sometimes he won’t even tell it to her. She won’t press him for answers, but she’ll let him hold her. She’ll hug him when he needs comfort. She’ll give him soft kisses on his forehead. She’ll try to distract him from feeling down by getting him to do fun activities like playing chessboard games until he gets better. If he’s working too much, she’ll ensure that he takes breaks by either sleeping, going out with her or you know, the old-fashioned way to de-stress ;) 

D reams - How do they picture their future with their s/o?

For Neon, she’s not too concerned of the future. To her, it’s just... like that. She goes with the flow of the events and the growth of her connection with Kurapika just like a river. Whatever happens, happens. 

Haha, it reminds me of the lullaby my mom used to sing - Que sera, sera. Whatever will be, will be. The future's not ours to see. Que sera, sera.

For Kurapika, it’s bleak. This guy has always been a bag full of worry - which includes the future of his relationship with Neon. Initially, he did not plan to be in this sort of relation with Neon (his employer’s daughter, I might add). At first, he thought he’d marry her for practical reasons and earning her father’s trust, so that he can gain money in order to buy back some of his clan’s eyes. 

His relationship with her becomes something a little more than that. He hates himself for being “distracted” or even indulging in that sort of happiness when he’s supposed to be on a mission. As a Last Kurta, he has some sort of survivor’s guilt. He thinks that if he lives on and forgets about bringing justice to his clan, he is bringing disgrace to them. He thinks he doesn’t deserve to live happily. Especially with a flesh collector. He thinks that it’s his duty as the last survivor to collect their eyes and bring them the justice they deserve. 

Yet, he sticks around because this is the only thing that keeps him together and prevents him from sinking while trying to carry out this mission. He knows that one day, eventually, this relationship and his mission will become mutually exclusive, and he has to pick one of them. And that will be his mission. 

However, whenever he tries to look into the further future after his mission ends, he sees nothing. After his mission, he doesn’t see anything to live for. This goes back to his wishes and thinking if it’s possible to ever live for something else after this whole mission of his is over - which is to be in a relationship with Neon. 

It’s a paradox. His dilemma is indeed confusing and mentally straining. 

E qual - Are they the dominant one in the relationship, or rather passive?

Neon is rather passive. She relies on him when it comes for down-to-Earth decisions and she just tags along (she doesn’t care about the boring financial stuff). Ever since Neon lost her ability, he’s the one earning money for them. (He’s kinda like her sugar daddy ahahahha). He loves to be in-charge anyway, given how quickly he got promoted from a mere employee, to a head bodyguard and finally the head of her family.  

She does influence him in certain decisions when she suggests it, or demands him what she wants. Depending on how reasonable her request/demands, he will either comply to make her happy or be firm with her by reasoning/compromising with her. Neon will sometimes just pout and agree with it hesitantly, other times she’ll throw a tantrum (and Kurapika has to deal with that, and maybe even “punish” her to discipline her KEKEKEK). 

So yes, Kurapika is the dominant one in the relationship because he does a good job in being the role of providing for his partner (and he’s the dom in the bedroom). 

F ight - Would they be easy to forgive their s/o? How are they fighting?

OMG. Neon has temper tantrums and impatient; and Kurapika’s worse - he’s stubborn and he has a very bad anger management. It’s like a volcano meeting a thunderstorm. 

When they fight, they fight big time. Sometimes it’s about Neon’s unreasonable demands/spoilt attitude, sometimes it’s Kurapika’s secretive behaviour or his neuroticism that leads to an argument. 

After the fight, both of them will be grumpy towards each other and Neon will refuse to talk to him, glaring at him. Kurapika will be too hard-headed to talk first. Eventually, both will kinda miss each other’s presence. They will forgive each other once they realise that the fight they had was not worth breaking up the relationship. 

G ratitude - How grateful are they in general? Are they aware of what their s/o is doing for them?

They don’t usually express their gratitude explicitly. At first, they kinda just take it for granted and don’t really think too deeply about it. Especially for Neon, she’s the type of girl that likes luxury and she enjoys all the materialistic goods that Kurapika gives her. After a few months where it really gets serious, she thinks about all the things that Kurapika has done for her - protection, financial security and pretty much, everything for her. I have this headcanon where she does those tiny surprises for him on occasions (e.g. his birthdays) just to tell him how much she appreciates what he’s doing for her. 

H onesty - Do they have secrets they hide from their s/o? Or do they share everything?

Neon is more open to him whenever he asks. Besides, she can’t really lie or keep secrets from him because he’s sharp. 

As for Kurapika, he’s rather secretive and even hid his ethnic identity to her. He doesn’t tell her things and it takes a while for him to open up. This can be a problem because once he admits to Neon, she is rather upset. She doesn’t like how her father lies to her all the time and will be very disappointed in Kurapika when she uncovers his motivations for being hired under her employment initially. 

I nspiration - Did their s/o change them somehow, or the other way around? Like trying out new things or helped them overcome personal problems?

I think for both of them, they are both ends of the spectrum. So definitely, along the way, they will influence each other. 

Kurapika will teach Neon to be more mindful and caring of those around her. He will try to tell her why sympathising with the dead is as important as caring for the living (because baby girl just likes to make the living happy). 

For Kurapika, Neon will get him to at least live in the present and enjoy it, because this boy faces a lot of trauma in his past and constantly worries about the future. Neon will try to get him to relax from time to time, be happy with the ever-present. 

J ealousy - Do they get jealous easily? How do they deal with it?

Neon doesn’t really get jealous because Kurapika is very much focused on her. She knows these bitches aren’t even her competition. Even though he attracts attention as he is a pretty boy, he’s very cold towards them, which actually makes a lot of them disinterested. 

As for Kurapika... this man is extremely possessive. He didn’t like the fact that Chrollo talked to Neon that one time in the September auction, and he wanted to know every detail of what happened. Neon gets suitors from the mafia community and he makes sure none of them makes contact with her. He’s also paranoid as hell whenever she talks to a guy. Sometimes Neon finds it suffocating (they even fight about it at times), but she appreciates his overprotective nature and sometimes even teases him about it.

K iss - Are they a good kisser? What was the first kiss like?

Their first kiss was rather awkward. Neon and Kurapika are still young. Neon was kinda heavily guarded so she didn’t have the opportunity to date a guy. She doesn’t seem like she’s interested either. The girl just minds her business and doesn’t seem to appreciate ingenuine attention from men. Kurapika is pretty focused on his mission for his clan so I doubt he dated either. So yes, when they first kissed, it was literally their first kiss. It was soft, short and sweet. And hella awkward because both of them weren’t sure what they were doing. 

They will get good at kissing as time passes by. They just have to keep practising by kissing each other HAHA. 

L ove Confession - How would they confess to their s/o?

HAHA. I actually don’t see this couple saying “I love you” to one another - at least for Kurapika’s part. Neon is like 50-50. They pretty much just grow attached to each other over time and expressed their feelings by a kiss or something. 

M arriage - Do they want to get married? How do they propose? What would the marriage be like?

Fam. Let me tell you something real quick. Usually, for other pairings, it’s they become close friends, then date, then get married. This pairing is founded by a marriage theory. HAHAH. 

It’s a common KuraNeon headcanon where they have an arranged marriage due to some mafia business. At first it will be like any arranged marriage since it was for practical reasons. They go through the motions, play the role of a traditional husband and wife. Then they get it all mixed up with the emotions and then fall in love. They proceed to become a full-fledge consummated marriage relationship and have kids. 

N icknames - What do they call their s/o?

Kurapika isn’t really big on the nicknames. It’s more on how he goes from calling her “Boss”, to “Miss Neon” and eventually just her name as he got more comfortable with her. 

For Neon, she calls him Kurapika, most of the time. Only when they are in the bedroom, she calls him Daddy. She even puts his contact name on her phone as that. Kurapika was repulsed by it at first, but she was often a playful sub whenever she calls him that. It makes him feel powerful. HAHAHA. Kinky. 

O n Cloud Nine - What are they like when they are in love? Is it obvious for others? How do they express their feelings?

Both of them can’t really define what love is, or understand what they’re feeling when it first hit them. It’s obvious for everyone - Linssen and the rest of Kurapika’s underlings. They know that their boss is in love with his wife and is sincere about their marriage. Neon just feels happier with his company and she did question it at one point, but decides that it’s for the best to continue and go with the flow. For Kurapika, when he realised that he’s suddenly happier, he’s scared. He’s not sure if he should be feeling happiness at all. He’s always afraid that the fiery wrath within him would die out. He wanted to remove that feeling. A man like him shouldn’t spare any time for love. But he stays anyway because it benefits him. 

Neon’s love language is gifts and spending time with someone. She sees gift-giving as something where someone spends the money (which is earned by the hours they spent working) as precious and flattering for her. She dislikes it when the gift is ingenuine. Kurapika knows this and gives her all sorts of things to impress her. Neon also gives back gifts whenever she can. When she shops, she started to shop not only for herself, but enjoys thinking about what she can buy for Kurapika. Kurapika is a busy man, so Neon is often excited whenever he takes off-days to do fun activities with her. 

For Kurapika, he’s more of an action guy than words. Aside from giving gifts for her, he shows his affections by doing what he thinks it’s best for both of them. This means protecting her from any harm and making sure they’re financially stable. 

Both of them also like to be physically intimate with one another to show their affections. 

P DA - Are they upfront about their relationship? Do they brag with their s/o in front of others? Or are they rather shy to kiss etc. when others are watching?

Kurapika is not very open about their relationship in public. Dude is too shy to do PDA. He thinks it’s none of anyone’s business when it comes to his relationship. Neon on the other hand, don’t really care what people think. She will hold his arm whenever they go out, and Kurapika will just let her. He blushes a little whenever she does peck kisses on him in public or in front of their employees. Linssen and the rest will just snigger and tease their Bosses, leaving Kurapika irritated. 

Q uirk - Some random ability they have that’s beneficial in a relationship.

Kurapika’s chains. Uhm, joke lmao. He can’t wrap her around his chains even if he wants to. They like to do bondage but they have to use clothes or some other type.

R omance - How romantic are they? What would they do to make their s/o happy? Cliché or rather creative?

I’d say they are rather an unconventional couple, but their activities are that of a cliche couple. Kurapika is romantic in a sense that he takes her out to dinner, give her gifts and pretty much goes out with her to make her happy. Neon, of course, the ever-so indulgent brat that she is, likes to be pampered. They are okay with a routine-type of relationship, although once in a while, Neon adds in a surprise to make it interesting. 

S upport - Are they helping their s/o achieve their goals? Do they believe in them?

Neon doesn’t really have a goal. She’s more onto goods and her desires are often short-lived. Kurapika tries his best to support her in what she wants, given that they are reasonable. 

For Kurapika, his goal will always be vengeance and collecting the eyes of his brethren. His marriage to Neon supports that, even if she is unaware of it. Being the head of her family helps him get the power, influence and money to negotiate (and buy) his clan’s eyes. 

If Neon does find out about his goals, I think she’ll feel disoriented. She may have an inkling that he is marrying due to some motivations that are hidden; but she was unaware it was this drastic. She will be upset that he wasn’t fully honest, and may have mixed feelings collecting his clan’s eyes. She doesn’t care for dead people, but she does care about living humans and it’s important to Kurapika, who is alive. After a while, she will calm down. I don’t see her actively supporting him, maybe trying to use connections and her ways as a flesh collector to help him find the Scarlet Eye sets. As for the Spiders part, I think she’ll be more of a foil to that so I think she’ll just let him do whatever he’s supposed to do. 

As for believing in him, Neon knows that he’s intelligent and he’s one of the bodyguards that are still alive. She had her fair share of bodyguards who just drop dead like flies, so she assumes Kurapika must be strong enough to still be alive and kicking. She is also aware that he has his ways of influencing people, given that her father believes in him. Therefore, she believes in him too. She also acknowledges that Kurapika saved their asses from being broke, when her father was freaking out. So definitely, she knows that he is very capable of running their organisation. 

T hrill - Do they need to try out new things to spice out your relationship? Or do they prefer a certain routine?

I think I already answered this in the “R” for “Romance”. 

But if I may add an NSFW... 

Well, certainly they do have their own fixed of kinks ahhaha. They start out as being kinda vanilla and just make out, then have some good ol’ missionary sex. And then, Neon, being a mischievous girl that she is, seeks out to try new things. She starts out by calling him “Daddy” and being very bratty/teasing... just to let out his inner dom in the bedroom. She also prompts him to do bondage on her because well, the chains he wears gives them ideas HAHA. Neon will just act like the total brat that needs to be subdued and disciplined; and Kurapika will follow. He likes to be in control; and he finds all sorts of ways to tame his bratty wife sexually. Kurapika is deep down kinky but he doesn’t admit it; and Neon nudges him towards that direction and everything just flows. 

U nderstanding - How good do they know their partner? Are they empathetic?

Okay. So... this is one of the main issues with their relationship. But this is what, I believe, makes it so interesting yet difficult to write a slowburn canon-compliant fiction of them. 

Neon doesn’t understand him well because she mostly minds her business and is more self-centred. And the way she empathise with people is different from how Kurapika expects her to be. Canonically, they are the polar opposite. Neon (and Light Nostrade) acted as a foil in the YorkNew City. Neon values the life of the living, breathing people; and not giving two cents about the people that had died. Kurapika, on the other hand, mourns for his dead clan. 

At first, Kurapika wanted to change the way she thinks - which is, of course, it kinda fails. Her hobby is in direct conflict of his beliefs. 

While canonically, he straightaway knew her situation (that conversation he had with Basho explaining that it was the father that is using the daughter, not the other way round), it was not indicated if he sympathises with her. He was just very task-focused to impress Light Nostrade and gain his trust, which is to protect his daughter.  

It definitely took a while for him to know her aside from being a “flesh collector” and the “bratty girl”. Maybe he got to know her more as a person, who is not so far from his age. 

As for Neon, I imagine her whining about Kurapika’s strict behaviour as a bodyguard, and finding him a bit boring to converse with due to his serious attitude while working. 

This couple really needs a LOT of patience with one another and time for them to bond. 

V alue - How important is the relationship to them? What is it’s worth in comparison to other things in their life?

I think I had already addressed this in the “D - Dreams” section. 

W ild Card - A random Fluff Headcanon.

Neon and Kurapika initially never considered having kids, until Kurapika knocked her up and they have their first son. They named their first son Pairo. They have like, 3 to 5 subsequent kids, depending on how many kids you want them to go for. No matter how many girls and boys they have, all of them have Scarlet Eyes. 

X OXO - Are they very affectionate? Do they love to kiss and cuddle?

Oh yes. They do enjoy kissing and cuddling. And sex. But yeah, they don’t usually do PDA because Kurapika is rather shy about that. But behind closed doors? They’re doing more than kisses and cuddling - if you know what I mean. 

Y earning - How will they cope when they’re missing their partner?

They will be upset. They will try to get themselves busy. For Neon, she will shop and play card games with her fellow attendants to get her mind off of him. She will wonder how he’s been, send him text messages and nudes while at work and complain about how much of a workaholic this guy is. 

For Kurapika, usually he’s the one away for either a business trip or on his way across the world to obtain another set of the Scarlet Eyes. He will think about her, it irritates him because missing her distracts him from the task at hand and he can’t help it. He’ll call her at some points of the day to just hear her voice and ask her well-being, to check whether everything in the mansion is fine or not. 

Z eal - Are they willing to go to great lengths for the relationship? If so, what kind of?

Kurapika is persuasive in getting what he wants. That includes doing all sorts of tricks and nefarious ways to protect their relationship. As for Neon, if someone is blocking them, she will try to eliminate it by making demands and throw tantrums. 

However, they won’t admit it. They will find some excuse to jusify their behaviour, which often fails. 

Also, special thanks to @anotherworldash for helping me with Y and Z.