#i might entirely be reading into it way too much but

[shoresoftheshadowlands]

I basically never ask for help with anything for all the reasons above. The bit about written vs vocal though is so me I feel it in my soul. I am almost entirely non-verbal when I am in my comfort zone. I don't need to speak so much because the people who would listen to me are online and read what I'm saying better than the people around me hear what I say.

I almost never ask for or about anything. Asking about something simple is more likely to get me a torrent of unrelated shit that by the time anyone bothers actually answering the core bit I wanted to know about, I no longer care and regret asking.

The only thing I keep asking for help with is my loud ass fucking door, which grates and scrapes as well as squeak-squeals like someone twisting satan's ballsack. I have asked for years if someone could please just fucking help me fix it. It's the only door in the house that squeals. (I had to ask for like two years to get a door in the first place after we moved here, which as a 32 year old at the time, not great)

I get the 'yea yea, we can fix that' and then they forget. And I am patient so I don't say anything. I will wait a long time before trying again. I've looked up how I might do it, but there's so much back and forth arguing online about what you should or should not do that I don't know anymore who's right so I don't try myself, what if I make it worse like some say it can? A nightmare waiting to happen.

So I keep to myself, I stay quiet, I avoid talking as much as I can. One wrong word already sets my mother off, as she assumed 99% of anything said is directly aimed at her and takes random shit personally, no matter how carefully it is said (Something she does to others in the home too so it's not just my autistic ass). Talking to her in particular feels like walking into an active minefield. I've got a long stick, I'm walking slowly. But no matter what you do, the field is far and eventually, you're gonna step on one. The best you can do is go back the way you came from, the fight isn't worth it.

I realized the other day that the reason I didn't watch much TV as a teenager (and why I'm only now catching up on late aughts/early teens media that I missed), is because I literally didn't understand how to use our TV. My parents got a new system, and it had three remotes with a Venn diagram of functions. If someone left the TV on an unfamiliar mode, I didn't know how to get back to where I wanted to be, so I just stopped watching TV on my own altogether.

I explained all this to my therapist, because I didn't know if this was more related to my then-unnoticed autism, or to my relationship with my parents at the time (we had issues less/unrelated to neurodivergency). She told me something interesting.

In children's autism assessments, a common test is to give them a straightforward task that they cannot reasonably perform, like opening an overtight jar. The "real" test is to see, when they realize that they cannot do it on their own, if they approach a caregiver for help. Children that do not seek help are more likely to be autistic than those that do.

This aligns with the compulsory independence I've noticed to be common in autistic adults, particularly articulated by those with lower support needs and/or who were evaluated later in life. It just genuinely does not occur to us to ask for help, to the point that we abandon many tasks that we could easily perform with minor assistance. I had assumed it was due to a shared common social trauma (ie bad experiences with asking for help in the past), but the fact that this trait is a childhood test metric hints at something deeper.

My therapist told me that the extremely pathologizing main theory is that this has something to do with theory of mind, that is doesn't occur to us that other people may have skills that we do not. I can't speak for my early childhood self, or for all autistic people, but I don't buy this. Even if I'm aware that someone else has knowledge that I do not (as with my parents understanding of our TV), asking for help still doesn't present itself as an option. Why?

My best guess, using only myself as a model, is due to the static wall of a communication barrier. I struggle a lot to make myself understood, to articulate the thing in my brain well enough that it will appear identically (or at least close enough) in somebody else's brain. I need to be actively aware of myself and my audience. I need to know the correct words, the correct sentence structure, and a close-enough tone, cadence, and body language. I need draft scripts to react to possible responses, because if I get caught too off guard, I may need several minutes to construct an appropriate response. In simple day-to-day interactions, I can get by okay. In a few very specific situations, I can excel. When given the opportunity, I can write more clearly than I am ever capable of speaking.

When I'm in a situation where I need help, I don't have many of my components of communication. I don't always know what my audience knows. I don't have sufficient vocabulary to explain what I need. I don't know what information is relevant to convey, and the order in which I should convey it. I don't often understand the degree of help I need, so I can come across inappropriately urgent or overly relaxed. I have no ability to preplan scripts because I don't even know the basic plot of the situation.

I can stumble though with one or two deficiencies, but if I'm missing too much, me and the potential helper become mutually unintelligible. I have learned the limits of what I can expect from myself, and it is conceptualized as a real and physical barrier. I am not a runner, so running a 5k tomorrow does not present itself as an option to me. In the same way, if I have subconscious knowledge that an interaction is beyond my capability, it does not present itself as an option to me. It's the minimum communication requirements that prevent me from asking for help, not anything to do with the concept of help itself.

Maybe. This is the theory of one person. I'm curious if anyone else vibes with this at all.

[misswynters]

A Noxian Christmas

featuring. viktor x reader

apart of the 2024 Christmas Special

Snow dusted the cobblestone streets outside as you glanced out the grand windows of your family’s Noxian estate. The sharp peaks of the towers were festooned with garlands, and the entire house smelled of spiced wine and roasted chestnuts. You had gone all out for this. This was Viktor’s first Christmas with you after all. Despite his initial hesitations, you had convinced him to leave his work behind for a few days and join you in Noxus. It would be a promising and quiet celebration without the chaos of Piltover’s politics. As always.

Viktor stood near the hearth, his golden cane leaning against the arm of a plush chair. He looked slightly out of place amidst the elegance of your home. His thin frame was draped in the dark wool sweater you’d insisted he wear. The warm glow of the fire lit his face as he fiddled with the buttons, muttering something about how “such extravagance” wasn’t necessary. Some might say it was over the top, but since you grew up with it, it was different. It was family tradition after all.

“You’re still adjusting,” you teased, stepping up behind him with a cup of mulled cider. “But trust me, you’ll thank me for getting you out of that freezing lab.”

He accepted the cup with a nod, though his sharp amber eyes scanned the room as if assessing its practicality. “It is different,” he admitted, gesturing toward the enormous tree dominating the center of the room. “I have never seen such a waste of resources in one place.”

“Viktor!” You nudged his shoulder, grinning. “It’s not a waste! It’s tradition. Besides, the tree is fake.” You couldn’t believe yours, viktor criticizing your home. In your own home during christmas season. It was despicable. Unheard of even. Maybe you were being quite dramatic. Though it earned you a small, envious smile.

After dinner which consisted of a quiet but rich meal of roasted duck and Noxian delicacies, you brought Viktor to the foyer where presents waited under the glittering tree. He froze at the sight of the neatly wrapped presents, his brow furrowing. There was quite a few that had his name on them. Some were huge and others were tiny.

“You didn’t need to do this,” he murmured, his voice quieter than usual.

“Probably not,” you admitted, sitting him down on the couch. “But I wanted to. Now, no arguments and open them.”

He sighed, but there was no real protest as he carefully undid the first present. It was a high-quality leatherbound notebook, its pages thick and unlined. Perfectly suitable for sketches and notes. His fingers ran over the cover, and you swore you saw his expression soften.

“I noticed you always run out of space in your current one,” you said.

“This is very thoughtful of you, my love. ” he said, his voice warm, if a little uncertain. “Thank you.”

“Keep going,” you urged, handing him the next one.

One by one, Viktor unwrapped the gifts: custom-fit gloves designed to protect his hands during lab work, an assortment of rare metals and components he could use for his inventions, and even a set of finely crafted gears engraved with his initials. With each gift, his protests about the extravagance softened, replaced by genuine curiosity and gratitude.

“You truly thought of everything, did you?” he said as he unwrapped a personalized toolkit. “I—this is too much.”

“It’s not too much,” you countered, sitting beside him and resting your head on his shoulder. “You give so much of yourself to your work, Viktor. To helping others. You deserve to be taken care of, too.”

He tilted his head, looking at you with an expression you couldn’t quite read. “My love,” he said softly, his accent deepened as he called you by your nickname. “I am not used to such kindness.”

“Well, get used to it,” you teased, reaching for his hand. “This is what being with me consists of. Over-the-top holidays and way too many gifts, more than you can count.”

Viktor chuckled, a rare sound that made your chest swell with warmth. “I suppose I should prepare myself for more of these traditions,” he said, though his tone was teasing. “Will there always be so many sweets?”

“Oh, absolutely,” you said, gesturing toward the tray of pastries you’d brought in earlier. “And don’t think I didn’t see you sneaking another slice of that chocolate tart.”

He flushed slightly but didn’t deny it. “It was adequate.”

You gasped, feigning offense. “Adequate? That tart is a masterpiece, Viktor.”

“I suppose I might require another slice to confirm my theory,” he replied, his tone perfectly deadpan, though the corner of his mouth twitched upward. The night continued with quiet laughter and more stories shared. Viktor, ever the curious, asked endless questions about your family’s traditions. You told him about the history of the decorations, the origins of the dishes, and even a few embarrassing childhood memories that left him smirking.

As the fire crackled and the snow fell steadily outside, you leaned into Viktor’s side, feeling his arm shift to make you more comfortable. “Thank you for letting me pamper you for once,” you said softly.

He glanced down at you, his amber eyes catching the glow of the firelight. “Thank you for showing me something new,” he said. “Perhaps… I could learn to enjoy these traditions.”

“That’s the spirit,” you said, stifling a yawn. “Next year, we’ll make it even better.”

“Next year?” he asked, his tone laced with mock disbelief. “I will need a year to recover from this one.”

You laughed, swatting his arm gently. “Oh, please. You’ll miss it the moment you’re back in that freezing lab.”

“Perhaps,” he admitted quietly, his voice thoughtful. “Though I think it is not the place I will miss.”

You blinked, glancing up at him. The way he looked at you then with a rare, unguarded look. It made your heart stop for a second.

“Merry Christmas, Viktor,” you said softly.

He smiled, leaning his head against yours. “Merry Christmas, my love.”

taglist. @kaixvdenny @ekkosh @diffusebread @xxblairslairxx @luneariaa @minagrayson @aliives @mammonsleftring @gxrextxgaidk @anna1-1 @bl-0-ndi-3

[aerynwrites]

Sacrifices

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!reader x John "Soap" MacTavish

A/N: sorry for posting a day late. Been busy with holiday things, work and school. Hope you enjoy! and if you do please consider leaving a comment or reblog! even if you just scream into the tags i really really do love reading your all's thoughts - incoherent or not haha. Word Count: 3k Warnings: Canon typical Violence, (attempted) self sacrifice, mentions of grenade based injuries, description of gore/injury, angst, hurt/comfort, emotional hurt/comfort, soft/fluff towards the end. Summary: The team is on a mission and quickly becoming overwhelmed. In the middle of a push through enemy lines, reader is the only one who notices the grenade that was thrown. She acts to save the men she loves.

The firefight has been constant it seems like, your entire group pinned down between sandbags and barricades and royally pissed off Russian soldiers. infiltration has been slow - almost nonexistent, your group moving forward only a few feet at a time, rushing from one barely there cover to the next. 

Your comms erupt with staticky calls of enemy movement before abruptly clicking off as gunfire takes its place.  Shouts from Price and Ghost trying to get air support and medical and god knows what else, just anything to help you all.

The mission has gone to shit. Gone from infiltrate and extract to a fight for your lives.

“Sunny, you with me?” 

Gaz’s voice fills your ears, your callsign pulling you from your own mind as you move to click the button to respond. 

“Repeat.”

“I see an opening,” Gaz says again, and you look over at him from where he sits several feet away from you, behind a concrete barrier matching your own. 

He gestures with his hands towards some cover a few yards up, and after a quick glance and no small calculations of your own, you think it might work.  Ghost and Soap are already there, having made the move ages ago but leaving you and Gaz unable to join them.  

If you can all get together, you might stand a chance at rushing the remaining enemies, pushing your way into the base and…

You nod.

“I’ll cover you,” Gaz says, “Then you three will cover me.”

“Got it,” you say, voice buzzing in your own ears. “As good a plan as any, at this rate.”

An all to familiar rough baritone fills your ears, and you have to fight back the smile twitching at your lips. 

“If ya quit your yapping,” Ghost says, voice firm, “You’d both be ‘ere by now.”

“On my mark…” Gaz says.

And then he’s calling out, a storm of bullets raining down as you sprint towards your team mates. the noise is deafening yet despite it all, it’s like you can hear everything. 

The beat of your heart in your chest. Thump, thump. Thump, thump.

The blood rushing in your ears, the sounds of your rubber soled boots hitting the cracked concrete. 

Thump, thump

The rush of air in and out of your lungs.

Thump, thump.

The all too familiar gentle jingle of a grenade pin. 

Thump, thump,

Two more breaths. Too long, you think. 

Thump, thump.

The sound of metal clattering against concrete. 

Thump. Thump.

No one’s seen it, the rattle of gunfire too loud, their focus too drawn in by the enemy. 

Thump, Thump.

It’s close to Soap and Ghost, just behind them - too close-

“Grenade!”

Your voice is barely audible over the chaos, the sound that your heartbeat was drowning out crashing over you all at once as you throw the entirety of your body weight forward. Soap had heard you just as your fingers dig their way under the straps of his tac vest, shoving him forward and down, right on top of your startled lieutenant who sees what you’re doing much to late to change the course of events. 

“Sunny, no-!”

Soap collides with Ghost - bodies toppling onto crumbling concrete, unable to keep their feet underneath them as you fall on top of them. You wrap your arms around Soap as the grenade explodes, tucking your head into the crook of his neck as you try your damndest to shield him and Ghost from it. 

It happens fast - faster than you’d ever imagined something like this happening - faster than your sprint over here. There’s a flash of light, burning heat, shouts cut off by a deafening blast as searing pain shoot through you.

Metal on your tongue.

More gunfire. 

You think your comms are going off but your head feels like its spitting open, ears ringing and you feel like your burning and freezing all at once. Teeth chattering and adding to that blasted ringing in your ears-

“-get out of there now!”

That you hear, along with the warnings of in coming air support. 

Instinctively you go to move, but pain blinds you, ripping a scream from your throat as pain shoots from your side up to your arm and down to your very toes. 

Soap is above you then, eyes panicked as he looks from you down your body then back up at Ghost.

“Lt! What the bleedin’ hell are we doin’!” He yells, fighting to be heard over the gunfire. 

You take this moment to look around, chest heaving as you struggle to breath, mind desperately searching for context. 

Ghost is up again, gun pointed over the concrete barrier as he continues to lay cover fire. You’re vaguely aware of Gaz just behind you, yelling into his comms about a man down and needing medical immediately and ‘we have to move!’

Your eyes then fall down to assess yourself, only to feel complete and utter fear pin you to the ground beneath you. Your side - the little exposed below your tac vest, your hip and your leg-

You have to look away to fight the vomit fighting its way up your throat. It’s a bloody mess - literally.nSoaps hands are covered in the viscous liquid as he put pressure on the gaping wounds, trying to stem the blood pouring from your leg.  You think you saw bone-

Black seeps in at the corners of your vision and you are only kept from the creeping darkness by a warm hand on your face as Soap’s own appears above you, and - why is it wet?

“Hey! Hey lass, none of tha’ now-” he gently taps your cheek. “Now why did you go ‘an do something right stupid like that?” He asks, trying to force that teasing lilt into his words but failing as the panic overrides it. 

Your mind is turning to mush, tongue heavy in your mouth as that coldness from earlier starts to slowly creep forward, starting at your fingers and moving ever upwards. 

“Do…do what?” You ask, fighting against chattering teeth.

Ghost turns then, speaking between breaks of gunfire as the telltale sounds of jets appear in the distance. 

“Use yourself as a fucking human shield is what!” He bellows, and even in your delirious state you can see the wrath in his eyes as he shoulders his gun once again, pointing at Soap. “Get her up, we have to move now!  Or whatever heroic bloody deed she was trying to commit will be for nothing-”

Gaz speaks now, glancing from you to Ghost.

“Lt. I don’t think she’ll-”

Ghost lunges forward then, gripping Gaz’s vest in his hands so tight you’re worried. 

“Don’t finish that sentence, Garrick,” Ghost bites. “No man left behind. Ever. Now move!”

Soap barely has time to mutter an apology before he tying something around your leg and yanking you up from the ground. 

The pain is all consuming. You think you scream but can feel it being cut off as something wet comes up on a cough. That all too familiar metal taste flooding your tongue.

It hits you then, with the taste of blood in your mouth and the tunnel vision closing in..

You’re dying. 

The world shudders around you as Soap runs full speed with your team, trying in vain to keep you as steady as possible as Ghost and Gaz lay cover fire for your retreat. 

Your head lolls backward, knocking against Johnny’s arm with every step, and you just manage to see the vapor trails of fighter jets above you, the white wispy clouds left behind giving you an odd sense of comfort in this moment. 

Johnny looks down at you as the earth shakes beneath his boots and he barely even stumbles. 

He always was the most agile of you all, Ghost the strongest - both of them protective. Even now you can feel Johnny’s arms tighten around you, can hear Ghost’s commanding shouts- although you can’t make out what he says. 

You’re too far gone for that.

Your fingers grip weakly at the various pockets and straps of Johnny’s tac vest as he starts to slow to a stop. You’re in the forest now, the towering tops of the trees creating a vast circle in your ever narrowing vision. A clearing? 

Wow...the sky is pretty too. A very faint pinkish hue dusting the sky behind the fluffy clouds. It must be approaching evening, the sun moving to sink below the horizon…

Night time…sleep sounds really good right about now. You’ve been fighting it -  the pain being your main focus, but now it’s all you want to do. Even the pain is starting to fade-

“No, no - “ another tap to your cheek and your eyes flutter open weakly. 

Johnny’s face is above you again, and you realize he’s kneeled down on the ground again, your legs outstretched in front of you as Gaz works quickly to try and do something about your injuries. 

Ghost is there too, and he’s no longer shouting, just breathing hard into his mask as he gazes down at you - that earlier anger replaced by…is that worry? Concern…fear?

“I must…” you trail off,breathing a herculean task. “I must be pretty…pretty bad if you’re scared, Simon.”

Ghost flinches at the use of his real name. It was an unspoken rule to never use it in the field. Never use it outside of you and him and Johnny together. Never use it unless if was just you three or in more intimate moments. 

Yeah. Simon is fucking terrified. Feels like his heart is about to plummet into the dirt. Feels like his whole world is crumbling down around him-

“Why did you do that?” He finally asks, voice losing its rough edge as he reaches up to wipe at something on your cheek. Probably blood. “Why?”

You smile then. Despite everything, you smile. 

“Couldn’t…” another wheezing breath in, “Couldn’t let them get…my boys.”

Soap breaks then, a broken sound ripping from his chest as he reaches up with his free hand to grip onto one of your own, bringing it up to press chapped lips to bloodied knuckles. 

You can’t feel the tears when they fall onto your skin, but you see the tracks they leave in the crimson stains. Follow them as they slide from the valley of your fingers over the back of your hand before disappearing beneath the sleeves of your uniform. 

“Don’t cry,” you whisper, before choking on another cough. 

The wind picks up now, and you can see the tree branches quiver violently. 

“Evac’s here!” Gaz calls, and you can see the hope that sparks in their eyes as the blades of the helicopter come into view. 

Soap looks down again, another kiss to you knuckles before he’s moving taking you into his arms as he stands. 

It doesn’t hurt at all this time. 

“They’re ‘ere, bonnie,” he says, voice cracking. “Gonna fix you right up-”

You don’t hear the rest.

The thrum of helicopter blades drown him out and then, just as you see a team of medics jump from the interior, darkness finally consumes you. 

At least they’re safe.

It was all worth it. Just for that.

———

Waking up is like trying to wade through knee deep snow. It takes all of your energy, and every moment feels like an eternity with little to no progress. But you keep pushing, snippets of voices and small sounds urging you forward. 

Two voices in particular. Familiar. Warm. Scared. 

“I never thought I’d be the one by your bedside.” Ghost. “A bloody idiot you are. But our idiot, so don’t,” is he crying? “Don’t you fucking die on me.”

You hear Johnny next, it’s the only other voice your brain seems to register in this thick fog of unconsciousness. Along with the feather light brush of fingers in your own.

“Still cannae believe ya did it,” you can’t find it in you to be sorry. “Please, wake up lass…please.”

You eventually do - Wake up that is. 

And what a bloody nightmare it is. Blinding lights, the deafening beeping of a monitor in your ear, people shouting but only two of them are familiar, fighting to stay in the chaotic room as Doctors rush about an shine lights in your eyes and ask you all kinds of questions and then-

It’s over. 

It’s over and you have a flimsy plastic cup of water being shoved into your hands and fingers carding through your hair and lips pressed against your temple before two sets of eyes fix on you. One chocolate brown and the other a piercing blue as they look at you expectantly.

It’s a stand off for longer than you anticipated. Neither Johnny nor Simon speaking and you trying to catch up with how fast your brain is moving. Eventually you move to speak after taking another sip of water, a few drops slipping past your lips as your hands shake slightly. 

“I’m not going to apologize, if that’s what you’re waiting for.”

Simon throws his hands up, a scoff slipping passed his masked lips, the sound muffled by the black surgical mask adorning his face. 

“Of course that’s the first bloody thing you say-”

“Well I’m not!” You argue, frustration bubbling up in your chest as the heart monitor slowly speeds up. 

Johnny tries to step in. “Lass, we dinnae expect an apology-”

Simon cuts him off.

“Speak for yourself,” he steps closer to the side of the bed, gripping the side-rail in a white knuckled grip. “Do you have any idea how stupid that was? Throwing yourself in front of us like that?”

You have to fight back the tears you feel burning at the back of your eyes. Anger, frustration, guilt all bubbling together in your chest in a confusing mix of emotions. 

Why is he giving you the third degree? 

“It’s not like I planned it Simon, I didn’t think-”

“You’re fucking right you didn’t think!” Simon roars, voice reverberating off the walls of the small hospital room. 

Johnny reaches out then, hand firm on Simon’s shoulder as he tries to pull him away from you. “Simon, that’s enough-!”

He shoves his hand away, turning to pin the sergeant with a fiery gaze before turning his attention back to you. 

“No Johnny,” he bites before addressing you again. “Did you know you died?” 

The words shock you, making you physically flinch back into the bed as Simons stares you down. And it’s in this suffocating silence that his statement brought on that you finally see it. The fear in his eyes. The fear that wavers just beneath the watery lash line of the eyes you’ve come to find solace in. 

You shake your head softly. 

“I…I died?”

Johnny nods, sniffling softly before swiping a hand down his face. 

“For five minutes,” He says softly, finally moving to sink into one of the chairs by your bed. 

“You died,” Simon repeats, voice having lost its angry edge. “And you could’ve stayed dead. Then you would’ve been six feet under with nothin’ but a fucking medal an’ a picture on the wall and-” he chokes. “And where would we be? Where would we be without you?”

Johnny takes your hand in his own - the familiar calloused warmth soothing to your battered mind and body. You close your eyes for a moment, breathing in and out in measured beats as you try to digest this information. You’re only brought out of it when another hand takes your free one - this one also familiar in a slightly different way. 

It reminds you of why you did it in the first place. You love them. Both of them in their own unique way. Johnny is big and all consuming and loud and boisterous but gentile and just slightly soft around the edges when he needs to be. His hands are calloused and warm but smoother on the palms. 

Simon is…he’s somewhat opposite. He’s quiet and reserved and frankly quite intimidating on the outside. His words are few but meaningful. He’s large and imposing and can scare the living daylights out of someone when he wants but when he’s with you and Johnny…he’s different. He’s all gentle words and soft touches - as if you’re made of fine porcelain and he’s the bull in the china shop. His hands are cooler than Johnny’s but still soft in places and still just as comforting. 

“I love you,” you finally whisper, eyes peeling open to look at the men by your sides. 

“I…I can’t apologize because I love you,” you explain. “And if I had to do it all over again, I would. It was just…instinct.”

They’re both silent for a moment, your words sinking in until Simon lets out a rather uncharacteristic sniffle. He tugs down his mask, pressing his thumb and forefinger into his eyes before bringing your hand up to his lips, pressing a feather light kiss to your knuckles. 

“Yeah, well…” his voice is thick with emotion. “Leave the sacrificin’ to us in the future, okay love?”

He doesn’t say much more, never being one to talk much about how he feels, but you understand what was left unsaid. And so does Johnny, apparently voicing what your shared partner can’t.

“He’s right, lass,” he agrees, lips tugging up in the smile you’ve come to adore. “We just got somethin’ good. Too good for the likes of us. Cannae go losin’ it now.”

You send both of them a smile of your own, but it’s damped by the tears that finally spill over. Not sad ones necessarily, but tears created out of love and pure adoration for the men before you. 

The tears don’t make it far before Simon is reaching out, cradling your face in his hands, thumbs wiping them away before pulling his mask down just enough to press his lips to your own. You return the gesture, squeezing his hand when he pulls away. 

You then tug Johnny towards you, sniffling before giving him a quick kiss as well when he leans in. Then before you can move two sets of arms are wrapped around you, careful of your wounds but holding onto you fiercely. Whispered ‘I love you’s’ are murmured into your skin, fingers carding through you hair as you all finally relish in each other’s presence. 

For now you were all alive - alive and able to hold one another. 

And that would just have to be good enough. 

[dinarosie]

Re-Reading Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire: Snape’s Moment of Unyielding Bravery

The scene I want to highlight in The Goblet of Fire is one that carries so much weight, and each time I re-read it, the gravity of the moment only increases. Imagine the setting: the hospital wing. It’s packed with people—Cornelius Fudge, Madam Pomfrey, Professor McGonagall, Bill and Molly Weasley, Hermione, Ron, and Harry. All eyes are on Snape as he steps forward, pulls up his sleeve, and reveals the Dark Mark burned into his skin.

“There,” said Snape harshly. “There. The Dark Mark. It is not as clear as it was an hour or so ago, when it burned black, but you can still see it. Every Death Eater had the sign burned into him by the Dark Lord. It was a means of distinguishing one another, and his means of summoning us to him. When he touched the Mark of any Death Eater, we were to Disapparate, and Apparate, instantly, at his side. This Mark has been growing clearer all year. Karkaroff’s too.

Let that sink in. Snape isn’t just showing a Mark; he’s exposing the deepest, darkest secret of his life. He’s standing in front of his students, his colleagues, and—let’s not forget—Cornelius Fudge, the Minister for Magic, and he’s admitting something most people would bury forever.

What makes this even more remarkable is that the choice to do this wasn’t something Dumbledore told him to make. This isn’t part of some grand plan discussed beforehand. Snape makes this decision on his own, in the moment, fully aware of how it will tarnish him in the eyes of others. Why?

Because Snape understands the stakes. Fudge’s denial of Voldemort’s return endangers the entire wizarding world. By exposing the Dark Mark on his arm, Snape hopes to convince Fudge to take Voldemort’s return seriously. His goal is clear: to push the Ministry into taking precautionary measures and preparing the wizarding community for the battle ahead.

And then there’s this haunting line:

“…We both knew he had returned. Karkaroff fears the Dark Lord’s vengeance. He betrayed too many of his fellow Death Eaters to be sure of a welcome back into the fold.”

What Snape doesn’t say, but what we understand, is that he knows he’s facing the exact same fate. When Snape goes back to Voldemort, he knows he’ll be met with pain, torture, and humiliation and even death. Where Karkaroff sees only a way out, Snape sees his duty—a stark contrast that underscores Snape’s resolve.

Here’s what makes this even more powerful: Snape is so determined to convince Fudge that he uses the suffering he knows awaits him as evidence. He stands there, knowing that returning to Voldemort will mean enduring unbearable torture, and he uses that as proof of Voldemort’s return. Snape essentially says, “I know what’s coming for me, and I’m still standing here to tell you the truth.”

Then we reach the next turning point in this scene:

“Severus,” said Dumbledore, turning to Snape, “you know what I must ask you to do. If you are ready . . . if you are prepared . . .”

Look at Dumbledore’s approach here. He’s cautious, almost hesitant. This is a sharp contrast to Half-Blood Prince, where Dumbledore gives Snape direct orders about killing him. Here, Dumbledore knows exactly what he’s asking of Snape: to return to Voldemort, to put himself in unimaginable danger.

And Snape’s response?

“I am.”

That’s it. Two words. No hesitation, no complaint. J.K. Rowling describes him as pale, his cold, dark eyes glittering strangely. Dumbledore, too, is described as watching Snape leave with a trace of apprehension on his face. Both of them know that Snape might not come back. Both of them know he’s walking into the lion’s den. And yet, Snape doesn’t waver.

This moment is a masterclass in bravery, but it also completely dismantles the argument that Snape’s good deeds are purely motivated by guilt over Lily or his promise to Dumbledore.

This scene also shows us that the promise Snape made to Dumbledore after Lily’s death wasn’t just about protecting Harry. It was about choosing a side. Snape made the decision to fight against Voldemort, no matter the cost. From that moment on, he dedicated himself to sabotaging the Dark Lord’s plans, enduring unspeakable pain and danger in the process.

And let’s not overlook this: Snape doesn’t just fight when Harry is in danger. He fights Voldemort at every opportunity because he knows it’s the right thing to do. He does it not because of guilt or obligation, but because his own moral compass demands it.

This scene in The Goblet of Fire encapsulates everything that makes Snape such a complex, fascinating character. It’s raw, vulnerable, and incredibly brave. Snape isn’t perfect—far from it—but this moment proves that he is so much more than the sum of his flaws. He’s a man who chooses to stand and fight, even when it means sacrificing everything.

[hasufin]

One of our intended future renovations is to rip out the carpet in our lower floor and install hardwood. Because we have cats.

I think.. look, minimalism can be taken too far, yes? And our culture doesn't do restraint. But I think there's something to be said for "Do you have a table there because you actually want a table there, or just because it feels like you should have a table there?" and "Do you actually like having an entire shelf full of knickknacks, or were they given to you by confused relatives who didn't know what you might want for your birthday, and they're actually kinda annoying?"

There's value in asking if you seriously want to have stuff you never use taking up space. Because that happens a lot. And gods, but I know. I grew up kinda poor so I hang onto a lot of stuff because it cost money and I don't know if I'll want it later, but there's shit I've had in boxes for longer than a lot of folks reading this have been alive.

"Keeping clean" isn't just about dusting, either. It's about knowing where stuff is - which is a lot easier when you don't have 40 boxes of "stuff I accumulated since graduating college which I might need someday". It's about not having places where grime - or worse - can accumulate. It's about being able to see when something is missing because you can see the stuff you use.

Realize that the shit you see in magazines is Too Damned Far, and done for effect. I think the underlying concepts are restraint and function. Know when you have too much, and don't get in your own way.

Look, I fully understand the criticisms of the minimalist decor trend, and I acknowledge the class dynamics implicit in being able to feasibly maintain such a living space, but fuck if it doesn't look easy to clean.

[dailynnt]

FRIENDS WITHIN TOUCHING DISTANCE

Summary: What happens when two best friends try to get along under the same roof? You've been living with Jungkook for three months now, but your cohabitation is still a challenge for you. He continues to live like a real bachelor without following the rules you agreed upon from the beginning of your decision to live together. Should you find a compromise or should you find a new place to live?

Couple: Jeon Jungkook/ Fem!Reader

Characters: The Reader, Jeon Jungkook, Park Jimin, Kim Taehyung, Min Yoongi, Kim Seokjin, Kim Namjoon, Jeon Hosuk.

🔞 Age restrictions: 18+

👩🏼‍❤️‍👨🏻 Relationships: ⚤

📑 Number of words: ❓

📕 Number of part: 2/?

🖇️ Tags: best friends, friends with benefits, ex-relationships, slow longing, sexual tension, protected sex, unprotected sex, alcohol, drunken sex, inexperienced main character. Tags will be added as the story is written.

👩🏼‍💻 From the author: I can't believe I wrote the second part. I am so happy with how it turned out. I hope you will also enjoy it and look forward to the sequel. I will try to write it as soon as possible. I tried to create tension between Y/N and Jungkook. In part three, you'll find something very hot, so stay tuned for part three. Thanks to everyone who liked my story, I will do my best for you.

⚠️ Warning: English is not my native language, so there may be mistakes in the text. Please don't get mad at me too much! Those under 18, please don't read this story!

→ Part 1

Part 2. In theory

Today was a day off. Sunday. The one and only day when you could devote it entirely to yourself and not to your studies. Even though exams were about to start before the New Year holidays, you still recognized that you needed to rest, otherwise you might go crazy. This day could have started better if not for the morning's fight with Jungkook. And that's why you feel uncomfortable. You seem to have resolved everything and he has apologized, but there is some unpleasant residue. The emotions that you've been holding in for so long have left behind this very residue.

It wasn't just the quarrel you had this morning that made you feel uncomfortable. Jungkook. That's who was really making you feel as if you were detached from reality. His "question" about your love life kept repeating in your head.

Why did he suddenly want to know? Did you behave in such a way that he wanted to ask you about it? You had conversations on this topic, but it turned out that most often it was when you got together with a large group of your friends. One of them would start, and the evening would turn into a discussion of sexual achievements. Not infrequently, when you were drinking with Jungkook, he would also start such conversations, but you tried to avoid them.

But the truth is this. You only want to know one thing: why did he want to know if you had sex? What business is it of his?

You beat your fists on the bed. This question was tearing at your brain. Why are you lying here thinking about this? Don't you have anything better to do?!

You heard the sound of the combination lock. Jungkook had returned from the store. Your heart beat faster and felt like stomach was being stirred with a spoon. You sat on the bed and stared at the front door of your bedroom.

You need to calm down. You need to act normal. This is Jungkook, your best friend. You've known him for so long, so why would you have any problems with him now? You stood up and clenched your fists. "I'm going to make it through this. Nothing strange has happened. I'll treat my friend like I always do!" You straightened your hoodie, pulled up the sweatpants you loved to wear at home, and confidently opened the door to the living room.

Jungkook was on the doorstep, taking off his shoes. His black jacket was already hanging on the nightstand at the entrance. Two large bags of groceries were standing next to him. Noticing the white containers, you concluded that he had bought ready-made food. That's why he was gone for so long.

Your best friend noticed you. When your eyes met, you felt a twinge inside. And you literally lost to yourself. Your heart started pounding again, and your breathing became rapid, but you tried to hold on. In a split second, you ran your eyes over his figure, and you liked what you saw in front of you very much. Jungkook was dressed in all black. He liked to dress like that, 90% of his wardrobe was black. The other 10% were white clothes. For some reason, he did not wear colored clothes. The black Calvin Klein hoodie fit him perfectly. His pants were the same color with many pockets. His hair was slightly disheveled, probably because he was wearing a hood.

Jungkook picked up the bags and smiled broadly. "I decided it would take too long to cook, and we were already hungry. So I bought some ready-to-eat food." - He rustled the bags. You smiled awkwardly. Mentally scolding yourself for acting like a fool, you walked towards Jungkook, who had already come to the table and started to open up the containers of food.

"You're such a smart boy for thinking of that, because I'm really hungry." - You said as you helped Jungkook take out and open the lunchboxes.

"But you had breakfast!" - Your friend protested. "You fried some eggs for yourself and didn't even leave me a piece!"

"Two eggs without anything is not breakfast. Consider it as if I didn't eat anything. And I didn't fry them for you because you thought deserve them?" - You jabbed your finger at him. Jungkook giggled.

"I really didn't deserve breakfast this morning. But to make it up to you, I bought something for you." - Jungkook said. You looked at him. He was taking something out of the bottom of the bag. And as soon as the craft rectangular box appeared, you squealed with happiness.

"Donuts!" - You squeaked. You had no idea that Jungkook would buy your favorite hazelnut and chocolate-filled donuts. You loved all the donuts in the world, but these were your favorite.

You threw your arms around Jungkook and hugged him. And you kept squealing with joy. Donuts were the only thing that made you feel good, and your friend knew it. So it couldn't have been better. Jungkook hugged you around the waist with one arm, laughing, and tried to hold the box of dessert in the other.

"Thank you!" - You were still squeaking over Jungkook's ear. You probably would have hugged your friend for another 5 minutes and mocked his eardrums, but at that moment Jungkook's phone rang. You had to let him go. Handing you a box of donuts, your friend picked up the phone.

"Hello!" - Jungkook said. He went to the sink, and you continued to set the table.

You opened all the boxes and looked forward to finally having a good meal. Jungkook bought pork jangmyeon, kimchi, pickled radish, five packages of cooked rice (Jungkook eats a lot of rice for lunch), your favorite pulgogi, pocheeji (tofu stew), and stewed vegetables. You were almost salivating at the sight and smell of the food. You walked over to the chopstick stand and heard Jungkook talking.

"...Nothing special. I don't think I even asked her name." - You realized who Jungkook was talking about and with whom he was talking. It was Jimin, and conversation was about this morning girl who you had seen in the morning. You looked up at Jungkook. You had to nudge him to the side to get the chopsticks.

"I drunk but remember all. It was good, I don't think I'll call her again." - The irritation reappeared. But why would you care what Jungkook is talking about? But your mood disappeared easily. You were annoyed that he was talking with Jimin about the this morning girl. The image of her in your head made you think back to the fight, which made you feel uncomfortable. "How annoying... let him start telling him in detail about what they were doing there!" - You were angry. Why do he have to discuss it so loudly? You feel like you're eavesdropping, but he's talking so loudly that you have to be deaf not to hear.

You sat down at the table and started eating without waiting for Jungkook. Your movements were sudden and loud. Jungkook noticed that you started eating without him and smiled slyly. Your sudden, irritated movements could not escape his eyes.

"But you know what, Hyung? I haven't had a blowjob this good in a long time." - You spat out the pulgogi you had put in your mouth a moment before. You coughed, covering your mouth with your hand so that you couldn't be heard.

Jimin didn't know you were living with Jungkook, no one did. You were the one who asked don’t to tell anyone. You explained that you might be misunderstood, because everyone already suspected you were dating. But this did not happen. Even though you spent most of your time with Jungkook, it didn't mean that you were dating. You were just really good friends. Like soul mates. Although, considering the last three months, you were like sworn enemies.

Jungkook walked over to you and lightly patted you on the back while he continued to talk on the phone.

"I can give you her number if you want." - You heard your friend's voice somewhere above your head. He sounded like he was smiling. You wanted to strangle him. How can you say such things when a person is eating? You looked up at him. He was standing over you, smiling slyly. Jungkook was no longer pounding you, but stroking you. You beat his hand away and gestured that he was a fool and needed to end the conversation because the food goes cold.

"Anything. I was going to have lunch and bought some food." - A big sly smile graced Jungkook's lips. He sat down next to you and grabbed the metal chopsticks. Your eyes were completely focused on the lunch dishes, but with your peripheral vision you saw what your friend was doing. He was opening his portion of rice and still listening to what Jimin was saying to him.

"Tonight? I'm free..." - Jungkook answered. You looked up at him with anger eyes and encounter with two black buttons. "Ahh, I mean I'm free, but I promised Y/N I'd eat samgyopsal with her. We haven't seen each other for a long time, and she's going crazy because of the exams..." - Your friend made up a lie on the spot. You raised one eyebrow in surprise and question. Would he really refuse to meet Jimin? You love Jimin, he's also your friend, but whenever Jungkook is "free in the evening" like this and Jimin calls him, it always ends the same way. Jungkook is either gone for a day or he brings someone home. Jungkook probably feels guilty and, taking into account his words about following the rules, decided to lie. The guy sitting next to him nodded his head with a sweet look on his face, confirming to you that he wasn't going anywhere with Jimin. You lost interest and went back to your plate.

"If you want to join us, I won't mind. After all, we've been wanting to eat samgyopsal with you for a long time. But you need to text Y/N. She needs to know you're coming too. She's been very nervous lately." - You heard that irritating smart guy. His side was instantly hurt by your punch.

"I'm not a nervous fool!" - You said with one lip. Jungkook could hardly contain his laughter. He talked to Jimin for another minute and finally said goodbye. You didn't say anything, although at first you thought about killing Jungkook as soon as he hung up, but you changed your mind. It's better to restrain yourself. God, why are you so angry with this guy lately? Has he really always had such a big mouth?

The only sound in the kitchen was the sound of metal chopsticks hitting a plate. When Jungkook finished talking on the phone, several minutes had passed. And all this time you were eating in silence. Each of you was thinking about something different. For example, you were wondering why Jungkook hadn't spoken to you yet. Why he didn't ask you if you liked the food, or why you were angry, or if you wanted to go to a restaurant tonight and have samgyopsal with Jimin. God, what's wrong with you? You're ready to go off like a bomb. How soon is your period due? Maybe you're so angry because your period is coming up.

"How's the food, baby?" - Jungkook finally broke the silence. You took your time answering. He surprises you sometimes. How he knows what you want him to do. He almost always does exactly what you think. You've known him for so long that you can just guess what he's going to do?

"It's good." - You said, finishing the radish. You tried to keep your tone calm, but it came out too dry. Jungkook smiled, surprisingly. You heard him sigh.

"You wanted to eat samgyopsal, so I thought we'd go to a restaurant not far from here tonight. That's why I made up this story for Jimin..." - Your friend said. But to you, it sounded like an excuse. He said it after you gave him a look full of lightning.

"Really? For some reason, I thought that when you told Jimin you were free, you wanted to continue yesterday's fun!" - You said in a sarcastically sweet voice.

"No, I didn't. I really wanted to invite you to eat out." - Jungkook said seriously. "But if you don't want to..."

"I do. I need a drink." - You said, getting up from the table.

"You've already eaten?" - Jungkook was surprised. You grabbed a box of donuts to eat alone in your room. Jungkook had bought them for you and you didn't want to share them.

"Yeah, you talked on the phone too long. I'm already full. What time should we go?" - You asked.

"I don't know, what time do you get hungry?"

"Okay. I'll tell you when I'm hungry. Thanks for lunch." - You turned on your feet and walked toward your bedroom.

***

You spent almost the whole day in your room. After lunch, Jungkook went out without telling you when he would be back. You only knew he had left when the door slammed shut. Trying not to think about what business Jungkook could have gone on, you turned on a drama to distract yourself from the annoying thoughts of your friend and your constantly irritating attitude towards him. You didn't get to watch the drama properly. First, you got a call from Suyong, a friend from the university. Then you called your parents and talked to your mom on the phone for almost two hours. It had been a long time since you had talked to her for that long. Given your busy study schedule, conversations with your parents were usually late at night and it was literally to find out if you were okay.

After talking to your mom, you received a text message from Jimin inviting you and Taehyung to join you with Jungkook for grilled pork and soju tonight. You agreed, saying that you missed the guys and that you'd love to spend the evening with them. You really needed to dilute the company of Jungkook, who had been annoying you lately.

Finally, when you finished texting Jimin, you could devote yourself to watching a drama.

The drama turned out to be so interesting that you didn't notice how you watched 6 episodes at a time and it was getting dark outside. You felt very hungry, because your last meal was well past lunchtime.

You went out to the living room to look for Jungkook. He must have come back when you didn't hear him, but the light was off. You noticed that Jungkook's jacket, boots, and bike helmet were missing. It's so late, almost eight o'clock in the evening. Where could he be for so long? Maybe he was called to work because of something urgent?

You didn't know where Jungkook worked. The only thing you knew was that it had something to do with security. He was some kind of manager or something. You repeatedly tried to ask Jungkook where he worked, but he was skillful at avoiding answering.

You went back to your room to call your friend and tell him you were hungry. A few long rings and he picked up the phone.

"Hello!" - Jungkook said.

"Hello. Where are you?" - You asked.

"I went away for work. I'm sorry I didn't tell you, I had an emergency." - Jungkook's voice was quiet in the background.

"Mmm. I'm already hungry." - You said. "You promised we'd go to a restaurant."

"Yeah. How long until you're ready?" - You heard Jungkook walk outside. The sound of the road and the wind reached your ear.

"Are you coming to pick me up?" - You asked hopefully.

"If you want." - Jungkook said gently. You didn't think for a second. You answered immediately.

"I want to. I'll be ready in about 30 minutes."

"I'll be there in exactly half an hour. I'll call Jimin and have him come too." - You heard the sound of Jungkook's bike engine.

"Taehyung will be here too." - You said as you went to the shower.

"Great. It'll be more fun!" - Said your friend. "I'll be there soon. Get ready." - You gave a short "Okay" and ran to take a shower.

After quick showers you washed face and put on light makeup. If it were just you and Jungkook, you wouldn't have done this. You're used to not wearing makeup around him. But Jimin and Taehyung are the kind of people who shouldn't see you without makeup. You can't really trust them. In December, you wore a warm beige sweatshirt and jeans to keep warm on motorcycle. It might have been warm in the restaurant, but you don't want to freeze to death while Jungkook is riding his bike. So a warm puffy jacket is perfect. You were just putting on your hat when Jungkook called. He told you that he was waiting for you.

You arrived at a restaurant that was a block away from your house. It was a cozy place that was always crowded. Jungkook parked his bike and you went inside together. To your surprise, Jimin and Taehyung were already there, grilling pork. When they saw you, they waved their hands energetically to invite you to the table.

"Hi guys!" - You greeted your friends, taking turns hugging them. Jungkook shook his hands and helped you undress. There was a hanger near each table. You sat down at the table and felt the smell of roasting meat warming your appetite to the max. Jungkook sat down next to you.

"How are you? Did you come together?" - Jimin spoke to you. You followed his movements and the way the pork was being cooked, fascinated.

"I picked up Y/N on the way to the restaurant." - Jungkook said as he stuffed his mouth with rice and kimchi. You decided to wait until the meat was ready and then start eating.

"Taehyung, pour me some soju." - You asked him gently, noticing the four bottles on the edge of the table. He smiled kindly and grabbed the bottle closest to him.

"Don't drink on an empty stomach. I'm not going to carry you home on my shoulders." - Jungkook said, still chewing on something. He waved his hand at the shot glass you were holding in your hand and you saw that his knuckles were knocked off. You abruptly put the stack down on the table before Taehyung could finish, causing some soju to spill onto the table. You turned to Jungkook, grabbing his injured arm.

"What happened to your hand?" - You asked with horror in your voice. Jimin and Taehyung looked at you, puzzled. Jungkook wanted to pull his hand out, but you were holding it tightly. Jungkook carefully hid his other hand.

"Hey, did you fight with someone? Let me see your left hand!" - You demanded. Jungkook used a little more force and this time pulled his arm out. You looked at your friend in displeasure. Jungkook looked at you, and then at his friends, who were also looking at him.

"It's nothing. I just fell off my bike." - Jungkook replied, ignoring his friends' looks and continuing to eat. Jimin and Taehyung lost interest as well, the former continuing to grill the meat and the latter starting to eat as well.

"How did you fall off the bike?" - You asked. Of course you didn't believe him. How can you fall so hard that you hurt your knuckles? Or is it possible?

"Simple, I didn't calculate the rise when I parked. I forgot to put on gloves, so I bruised my hands." - Your friend explained indifferently. You continued to look at the wounds on his hand with suspicion. Jimin had already finished grilling some of the meat and put it on your plate first, followed by the rest to everyone else . You didn't notice because you were too busy worrying about Jungkook. He continued to ignore you and stuff his stomach. You sniffled, went back to your plate, and started eating. Why do you care so much if he doesn't care? You hadn't seen Jimin and Taehyung in a long time, so you decided that you would pay more attention to those two and your wonderful dinner.

The friendly get-together was a great decision for you. Jimin and Taehyung were perfect for a casual conversation on a Sunday night. You had fun, delicious food, and warmth. For some reason, Jungkook, who was sitting next to you, hardly participated in your conversations. You found out that Jimin had been promoted last week, and Taehyung told you how he lost a bet with a friend in the military (Taehyung was in the military special forces) and had to do some hellish set of exercises. He also said what it was called, but you didn't remember because you were already a little drunk. What's the point of making excuses, even sober you couldn't remember the name of this exercises. You encouraged your friend, telling him that he would become even cooler and stronger than he was before after the bet. Taehyung almost went to kiss you for that compliment.

Sometimes, when you looked in Jungkook's direction, you noticed that he was constantly texting with someone. And a few times he even went to talk on the phone, although he lied about taking a smoke break. Jungkook did smoke. Although it didn't fit in with his lifestyle and sports, which he was obsessed with, but yes, he smoked. Once in a conversation, he shared that smoking helps him calm his nerves. Don’t good reason, if ask you. There are many other ways to calm your nerves. But if smoking is the only thing that helps Jungkook, what can you do?

In the afternoon, Jungkook was gone all day. He said he had an urgent call to work. Could his distant behavior have something to do with it?

Jungkook returned after another smoke break. When he sat down next to you, you caught the smell of cigarettes and his perfume. It wasn't a good combination, but you liked it. You turned your head to the black-haired guy who was your best friend and roommate. He picked up a shot of soju and drank it in one gulp without even a wince.

You were shocked when he suddenly started drinking after a while of sitting there. Although he didn't mean to at first. He was driving and it was logical. When you protested who would take you home, he said "taxi". You stopped worrying. It's not far anyway, you can walk at least.

Jimin and Taehyung left the table, one to go to the restroom and the other goes to order more appetizers and soju.

In a short moment, Jungkook drank another shot of alcohol. What caught your attention were his bruised knuckles. Some of them were just red, even blue, and the first three were bruised to the point of blood. This was evidenced by the healing wounds covered with a blood crust.

"They should have at least put band-aids on them or something." - Suddenly you said, drawing Jungkook's attention. He gave you a look.

"No need for that." - He smiled. You rolled your eyes.

"Of course, we're so cool. There can't be any infection or contamination at all. You fell on the road. Is asphalt ever sterile?" - You answered sarcastically.

Jungkook smiled, his smile seemed sly. He leaned in and whispered almost in your ear.

"You care about me that much?" - A wave of heat rushed through your body. Your alcohol-red cheeks flushed even more. Your heart started to race. That self-assured, sly smile on his handsome face again.

"Get over yourself, Jeon. I'm just saying the obvious. If you've hurd, you need to take care of yourself." - You said calmly. But if Jungkook could hear your heart beating so fast it could jump out of your chest, you were doomed to fail. Jungkook laughed again, confidently, still too close to you. How he loved this kind of talk. Teasing you was probably his favorite thing to do.

"I’d rather when someone cares about me." - Now it was your turn to laugh. That's what you did when he said. "When we get home, will you take care of me?" - Jungkook whispered in your ear. His breath was hot, and his whisper set your insides on fire. You couldn't give up so easily. He was teasing you and you knew it. This thing was that manner of his, probably the same way he traps the girls who fall into his bed. Ahhh that fox! But you rarely lost in such cases.

"You want me to take care of you, of course I could, but on a condition." - You joked. Jungkook raised his left eyebrow with interest, while playing with a lock of your hair.

"What condition?" - You heard his playful tone.

"You will do me good." - You answered. Jungkook froze, and the curl he was playing with slipped from his finger. "I win," you thought, laughing with difficulty.

Jungkook probably wanted to answer, but his friends came to the table at the same time.

"Just look at them!" - Taehyun said to Jimin with indignation. "And then they say they're not dating. They're openly flirting with each other!" - You straightened up sharply and tried to pull away from Jungkook. Your best friend also returned to his previous position, folding his arms on the table.

"Really. Perhaps you two confess to us at the end. Who is this hypocrisy for?" - Jimin said as he poured soju for everyone. You were outraged. Again, these talks about relationships. Especially from Jimin, who knows that Jungkook fucked another girl this night. If he was in a relationship with you, how could he do that?

"Hey guys, come on!" - You started to get angry. "We've discussed this topic a thousand times. We are not in a relationship. It's never going to happen." - You knocked over a stack of soju Jungkook waiting for anyone to respond. Jungkook looked at you, struck by how harshly you said it.

"Living with him is a nightmare, what kind of relationship you talking about?" - You blurted out. The table became quiet. Everyone was looking at you, trying to understand what you had just said. Jungkook tried to hold back his laughter. You were gave yourself away.

Panic filled your thoughts. But you had to act quickly, given the looks on Taehyung and Jimin's faces. You threw a quick glance at Jungkook, who was almost laughing.

"Do you live together?" - Taehyung asked, squinting his eyes.

"No." - You answered too quickly. "I mean, he's impossible to stand in life, we argue all the time, how would I date him?" - You justified yourself.

"We argue because you're always unhappy about something." - Jungkook suddenly spoke up. He sounded irritated.

"I'm unhappy about something?!" - You punched Jungkook in the ribs. "You're the one who's always acting like a piece of idiot!"

"Okay, okay, calm down." - Jimin tried to calm the two of you down. "Otherwise, people are all staring at us." - You turned away from Jungkook. This guy really annoys you.

"Let's talk about this specifically." - Taehyung began to think out loud. "You've been best friends for a long time. Ever since high school. You went to taekwondo school together. You spend a lot of time together. Have you ever thought about dating?"

"No!" - You and Jungkook said in unison.

"Well, don't you attract Jungkook’s appearance? He was very popular in school and college." - Jimin joined the conversation. You chewed your meat and answered indifferently.

"I know and I've never denied that Jungkook is handsome, but dealing with his personality is a mission impossible." - You said. Jungkook started to complain again, exclaiming "what the hell is wrong with my character?!" as Jimin ordered him to be quiet and continued his interrogation.

"You mean you admit that you like him... Appearance!" - Your friend clarified.

"Well, yes. But I don't look at his looks..." - You said. "You know It's like when you eat chocolate every day and it gets tried and you just stop enjoying it, even though it tastes the same. Besides, I always had only one problem with those girls of his. And it continues to this day." - You finally finished. All three guys were puzzled.

"How about you. What do you think Jungkook? Do you like Y/N’s looks then?" - Taehyung asked. Jungkook clicked his tongue.

"What are you guys, matchmakers? Stop asking stupid questions."

"Hey, have you lost your mind? I answered so you answer too!" - You snapped, glaring at your friend.

"So you want to know if I like you, baby?" - Jungkook purred. He was amused that it was you who insisted on answering. You blushed. Him calling you "baby" in front of everyone didn't make it any easier for you.

"I swear, Jeon, I'm going to kill you tonight." - You were seriously angry. And for Jungkook, there was nothing more amusing than your expression right now. He took another drink, keeping the three of you waiting.

"Y/N is hot. And her looks are beautiful." - Jungkook finally said. Hearing those words about yourself is like a miracle. Jungkook really thinks you're hot? Oh my God, you were ready to fall apart. "But she's not my type. So we'll never really have anything with her." - It's like a bucket of cold water was dumped on you after his words. You froze, but there it was expected. Yes, you've always known it. You are not his type and he would never like you. So there's nothing to talk about. You were upset, but you couldn't show it. You faked a laugh to support Jungkook's words.

"You see, there's no way we're going to be able to date. I hope this is the end of the matter." - You said.

"Come on!" - Taehyung persisted. "If you were to live together in the same apartment, wouldn't anything happen between you?"

"Do you mean sex?" - Jungkook asked. You almost choked on the rice bun you were eating. Jimin jumped up to you and gently patted you on the back to save your life.

"Yes. In theory." - Taehyung asked with a sly smile.

"I don't know." - Jungkook shrugged. "In theory, it could happen if we lived together." - It was at that moment that you really thought you were going to die.

[authortelevision]

arthur frederick and the new producer: chapter 3 ₊˚⊹♡

words: 4,350 ✦ .ᐟ

♯┆arthurtv slow burn, bach and arthur podcast

after lara leaves bach and arthur’s podcast, you become her replacement. after discovering that arthur hates change, it takes a lot for him to warm up to you and become friends. it also takes a lot for him to admit how he truly feels about you.

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Chapter Two

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Chapter Three ₊˚⊹♡

The studio is buzzing with the usual pre-recording activity. You can feel the nerves in the air, though they’re not as sharp today. You’re feeling a little more confident than before, despite the lingering tension from the last few days. Today’s recording feels like it has the potential to be a breakthrough.

Before you start, you glance over at Arthur, trying to break the ice. “Oh, and thanks, Arthur, for saying I looked nice the other day,” you say with a small, light smile. It feels like a safe way to acknowledge the compliment, even if you’re still not entirely sure what to make of it.

Arthur pauses for a moment, his hand still hovering over the controls, before he looks up at you. His expression changes more than you’ve ever seen it before, his eyes were wide like he was surprised you knew. “Yeah. I did,” he replies, his voice strangely flat as he regained his composure.

You can’t quite read the tone, but you force a smile and turn back to your equipment. It wasn’t much, but it was something. At least you acknowledged it, right? But before you can feel too good about it, Arthur’s attention shifts back to what he was doing. He starts talking to everyone in his usual positive tone, that he speaks to everyone but you with.

As the recording begins, you’re hyper-aware of his proximity. He’s on the other side of the room, microphone in front of him, but the way he critiques you and no one else around him makes it impossible to fully relax. Arthur is meticulous, and every word that leaves his mouth sometimes feels a little more like criticism than direction.

“You need to hold your mic a little closer,” he tells Isaac, who’s adjusting the angle of his microphone. “It’ll pick up better sound if it’s just a bit closer to your mouth.”

Isaac nods, adjusting without a word, and you can’t help but feel that familiar weight in the air, the subtle sense that Arthur’s standards are always hovering just out of reach.

When it’s your turn to speak, you can feel his eyes on you, sharp as ever. You know the tone in his voice when he’s about to comment. “You’re rushing through that,” Arthur says, his voice cold, distant. “Try to pace yourself a bit more. It’ll sound more natural.”

You bite your lip, nodding. You were trying to get through it, trying to keep the energy up, but his feedback feels like it’s still focused more on the flaws than on the positives.

You push through the rest of the session, trying to focus on what you are doing. As much as Arthur’s distant tone stings, you know this is what he does. He’s critical, sometimes to a fault, but you’re learning to navigate it. Still, that part of you, the part that wants to be accepted and liked, can’t help but wonder if you’ll ever truly break through that wall he keeps up.

The session continues, and you remind yourself to focus. Keep your head in the game. You’re doing your job, and no matter how critical Arthur gets, you’re here to make this podcast better.

You kick off your shoes as soon as you walk into the flat, the door closing with a soft click behind you. The weight of the day is already starting to settle in, that familiar knot of frustration tightening in your chest. You toss your bag on the sofa and head straight for the kitchen, hoping a glass of water might ease your mind.

Emma’s sitting at the counter, scrolling through her phone, like usual, until she looks up when you walk in. She doesn’t have to say anything. The way you’re moving, like you’ve got the weight of the world on your shoulders, is enough of a cue.

“Long day?” she asks, after knowing her for all this time, she just kind of knows when you’re stressed.

“You have no idea,” you mutter, grabbing a glass. “Arthur is impossible to read.”

You pour yourself some water, your mind already racing through the events of the day. You can still feel Arthur’s eyes on you, the odd mix of a compliment and a coldness that follows. It’s like he can’t make up his mind whether he wants to be a complete jerk or at least acknowledge you as a person.

Emma raises an eyebrow but doesn’t say anything yet. She’s learned that sometimes you need to work through things out loud first.

“I swear, he’s so confusing,” you continue, leaning against the counter as you take a sip. “He complimented me yesterday, told me I looked nice, which… I don’t know, it felt like a big deal. But then he was still acting like I was doing everything wrong during the recording. And I can’t tell if he’s just being critical, or if he’s annoyed with me, or both. He literally can’t make up his mind.”

Emma’s face softens as she listens, clearly understanding where the frustration is coming from. She pushes herself off the counter, walking over to where you’re standing.

“Sounds like he’s being a classic mixed signal guy,” she says, leaning against the kitchen island. “He says something nice, and then immediately goes back to being a critic, like he doesn’t know how to handle being… well, nice. It’s like he wants to soften things but doesn’t know how.”

You run a hand through your hair, exhaling sharply. “Exactly! He can’t even give a compliment without trying to backpedal, and then when he’s being critical, it feels like he’s just trying to keep me in my place. Like he can’t let his guard down for even a second.”

Emma chuckles, but there’s no humor in it, only understanding. “Sounds like he’s got some weird boundaries. Or, he’s just not used to working with someone new and doesn’t know how to handle it. Maybe he’s trying to figure out where he fits in this whole thing.”

“I don’t know,” you murmur, frustrated. “Maybe. But it’s hard to figure out. Why did he even compliment me when the next day he’s acting like I can’t do anything right. I’m just trying to do my job, but it feels like I’m constantly walking on eggshells around him.”

Emma crosses her arms. “You know, it’s not your job to decode his moods. You’re there to do your job, not play therapist to a guy with mood swings. If he can’t make up his mind, that’s on him, not you.”

You let out a long breath, the tension in your shoulders finally starting to ease a little. “Yeah, I know you’re right. It’s just so frustrating. I don’t know if he likes me, if he respects me, or if he thinks I’m doing a terrible job. And I can’t tell if it even matters to him.”

“Of course it matters,” Emma says, “But don’t lose yourself trying to figure him out. Keep doing your thing, and if he’s too much of a dick, you don’t have to keep putting up with it. You’re there for a reason, you’re good at your job. If he can’t see that, that’s his problem, not yours.”

You smile weakly, feeling a little better. It helps to vent, to have someone who gets it, even if she can’t solve the problem for you.

“Thanks, Emma,” you say, grateful for her perspective. “I think I needed that.”

“No problem,” she says with a grin. “Now, are you going to talk about how cute Isaac is, or should we just skip to the part where you obsess about Arthur some more?”

You roll your eyes, but a laugh bubbles up in your chest, easing some of the tension. “He’s literally got a girlfriend you freak. I’m going to bed before you make me spill my entire brain. But seriously, thanks for listening.”

“Anytime,” Emma says, giving you a quick hug. “Go get some rest. Tomorrow’s a new day, and maybe Arthur will stop being a walking red flag.”

You chuckle as you walk past the kitchen, grateful for Emma’s existence. Your mind is still buzzing with thoughts of Arthur, the compliment, the critiques, and the confusing mix of everything in between. But for now, at least you know you can handle it. You just have to keep doing your best, no matter what mood he’s in.

You walk back into your room, still feeling the weight of the conversation with Emma pressing on you. As you shut the door behind you, you sigh, feeling the urge to just zone out for a while. A distraction. Something to take your mind off everything.

You flop onto your bed and grab your phone, scrolling aimlessly through social media for a few minutes. Eventually, you end up on YouTube, opening a random video to let your brain just wander. The title is something unrelated to anything you’ve been dealing with, just a quick laugh before bed, right?

But then your thumb stops, and you freeze for a moment.

There, on the screen, is Arthur.

He’s in a group video with a few friends, laughing so easily, his voice light and genuine as he jokes around with them. You watch for a moment, surprised by how different he looks. In this video, there’s no cold distance, no rigid formality, he’s relaxed, smiling, clearly enjoying himself.

He’s even funny. You hadn’t expected that. He’s laughing so easily with his friends, making jokes and genuinely having a good time, and it stings. The image of him from the recording session earlier, barely acknowledging you except to be a dick, clashes so much with the guy in the video, it’s almost jarring.

You keep watching, biting your lip as you do, a mixture of irritation and confusion brewing in your chest. Arthur is clearly capable of being… well, human. He’s charismatic, funny, and lowkey kind of attractive. Watching him with his friends, you can see a completely different side of him, a side that feels genuine and lovely.

And that just makes you frustrated.

Why couldn’t he act like that around you? Why couldn’t he at least show you that side? Instead, he’s constantly on the defensive, as if every move you make could be the wrong one, as if he’s just waiting for you to mess up. You want to be friends with him, really. You want to break through the cold exterior he’s put up and see the person you’ve just seen on the screen.

But instead, he’s been nothing but distant, and hard to read. It’s like he’s purposely making it difficult for you to get to know him.

You pause the video, staring at the screen for a long moment, the laughter still ringing in your ears.

“God, what is your problem, Arthur?” you mutter under your breath.

Part of you wonders if it’s just a defense mechanism. Maybe he’s afraid of opening up to you because it’s easier to stay distant, easier to stay detached. Or maybe, maybe you’re just a little too eager to decode everything he does.

You shake your head, frustration still gnawing at you. Either way, it’s becoming clear, this whole relationship between you two is going to drive you mad if you don’t get some answers soon.

You move to lay on your bed, phone in hand, staring at the screen. The video of Arthur laughing and having fun with his friends is still fresh in your mind. You’ve been trying to figure him out for weeks, but it’s like you’re only seeing bits and pieces, never the full picture. You can tell there’s more to him than the stiff, professional exterior he puts on at work, and for some reason, you want to know what that is.

Taking a deep breath, you type out the message.

You: Hey, Arthur. I was thinking, maybe we could hang out tomorrow? Just to get to know each other a little better outside of work?

You hesitate for a second, then hit send before you can second-guess yourself. You don’t want to overthink this, even though you’re already doing it.

The reply comes quickly, almost too quickly.

Arthur: Sure, what time?

You blink at the screen, a little taken aback by how fast he responded.

You: How about 2? Maybe grab a coffee or something?

Arthur: Sounds good. See you then.

You can’t help the small grin that tugs at the corner of your mouth. It’s not much, but it’s something. A step toward figuring him out, even if you don’t quite know what you’re expecting yet. You’re just curious, curious about the person he is when he’s not in ‘work mode.’

You’re surprised that Arthur took the coffee thing so seriously. You’ve always known ‘getting a coffee’ to just be saying but with Arthur, everything was just so literal.

You walk into the coffee shop, scanning the room for Arthur. You spot him almost immediately, sitting by the window, looking slightly out of place but calm enough, eyes on his phone. He seems to be waiting for someone but still, there’s something a little stiff about his posture, as if he’s not entirely comfortable here.

You make your way over and sit down across from him. He looks up when you approach. It’s the same reserved Arthur you’ve come to expect, but today, there was something different, like he’s trying a bit harder to make this work.

“Hey,” he says, with a slight nod, his voice a little quieter than usual.

“Hey,” you reply, smiling. “Did you get anything yet?”

“No,” he answers, still looking a little unsure, but he’s looking at you now, not his phone. “I was waiting for you.”

It’s a small thing, but it hits you in a way you weren’t expecting. You smile a little, warmed by the gesture, though you try not to overthink it.

“Thanks,” you say, your voice softening.

He waves it off quickly, his tone more casual now but still a little awkward. “It’s not a problem,” he says, almost like he’s trying to play it down. “You’re my boss, basically. Just trying to get on your good side.”

You smile, surprised, and chuckle a little. His dry humor is unexpected, but it lands in a way you didn’t anticipate.

“Well, thanks for that,” you reply, feeling oddly flattered despite his strange delivery. “I wasn’t expecting that.”

Arthur gives a half-smile and shrugs, his gaze drifting for a moment. “Don’t worry about it. I don’t mind. I normally wait anyway.”

You watch him for a moment, trying to get a read on him. “What do you mean?”

He shifts, clearly a little uncomfortable, but still tries to explain. “I don’t mind waiting, I guess. It’s just how I do things.”

You nod, taking it in, your mind swirling just a little. “Fair enough,” you say, still not fully sure what to make of him, but there’s something about this whole exchange that feels a bit different, maybe even a little more real.

“So,” Arthur continues, his voice dropping back into more neutral territory, “what do you like to drink?”

You tell him your usual order, casual enough, just trying to make conversion, and he nods before getting up to place his own order at the counter. You glance around, feeling a little awkward, but you don’t think much of it as he steps away.

A few minutes later, Arthur returns with not one, but two drinks, his and yours.

“Oh my god, thank you so much,” you say, genuinely surprised. “You didn’t have to do that.”

Arthur places your cup down in front of you, still looking a little stiff but a little more at ease than he was when you first arrived. “It’s no big deal. Just thought I’d get it right. You know, get on the good side.”

You laugh softly, shaking your head at his dry delivery. “I appreciate it, though. Really.”

He shrugs, still avoiding looking at you directly, but his words come a little easier now. “Like I said, it’s no problem.”

You sip your drink, listening as Arthur talks more freely now, the conversation settling into a familiar rhythm, work talk. He’s talking about logistics for the next podcast episode, tossing around ideas, sharing his thoughts on the content. It’s comfortable in a way, but it’s also… exactly what you expected. There’s no attempt to stray from the professional, no small talk, no attempt to get to know each other beyond the scope of your roles in the podcast.

You try to keep up with the conversation, nodding along, but you can’t help the small sense of disappointment creeping in. You were hoping, maybe foolishly, that this time would be different, that you could break the surface a little, have a real conversation, maybe find some common ground outside of the work stuff.

Arthur stops talking for a moment, glancing at you. “You alright?”

You pause, caught off guard. You’ve been staring at your drink a little too long, caught in your thoughts.

“Yeah, yeah,” you say quickly, shaking your head, trying to brush it off. “I’m fine.”

But Arthur’s still watching you, his brow furrowed slightly, like he’s trying to figure something out. “You sure?”

“Yeah, just…” You trail off, unsure how to put it into words. “I just thought… I don’t know.” You hesitate, then take a breath, trying to voice what you’re feeling. “I wanted to get to know you outside of the podcast. Like, just as people. Not just… the job.”

Arthur looks at you for a long moment, his expression unreadable, before he shrugs, almost like it’s no big deal. “Why?”

You blink, feeling the weight of the question pressing down on you. “I don’t know, I just thought it’d be nice. You know? I want us to be friends.”

Arthur stares at you, his face going blank for a split second. The silence stretches for a moment before he responds, his tone casual, almost like he doesn’t understand why it’s a big deal.

“I thought we were.”

His words hit you harder than you expected. You look at him, feeling a pit in your stomach. He thought you were friends? This whole time, the way he’s been acting, cold, distant, sometimes outright rude, and he thinks you’re friends?

You laugh a little, though it sounds more like a nervous exhale than anything else. “Really? After everything? You think we’re friends?”

Arthur looks a little confused now, “I mean, yeah. We work together, right? I thought that’s how this works.”

You stare at him, still processing what he said. “But you’ve been… kind of a dick to me, Arthur.” The words come out before you can stop them. “I don’t feel like we’ve really been friends at all. You’ve barely said anything outside of work, and when you have, it’s mostly been… well, criticism. Not really friendly.”

Arthur goes quiet for a moment, and you can see the cogs turning in his brain through his eyes as he processes your words.

“I didn’t think it was like that,” he says slowly, his voice quieter now. “I thought you were doing your job, I was doing mine. I didn’t think there was any… tension.”

You shake your head, frustrated, though it’s not really with him anymore. “But there is, Arthur. I mean, why are we even here, having this conversation, if you think everything’s fine? You can’t just keep brushing things under the rug and expect it to be okay.”

He’s still quiet for a moment, staring at his cup, clearly thinking, and for once, you can’t quite read him at all. The conversation feels like it’s slipping away, and you’re unsure of where it’s going or if anything will change after this.

Arthur sighs, finally meeting your gaze again. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make things weird between us.”

You nod, feeling a little lighter but still frustrated. “I just… I don’t know. I wanted to actually be friends, Arthur. I don’t want to keep doing this back-and-forth, professional stuff all the time. It’s tiring.”

Arthur shifts in his seat, his gaze softening just a little. “I get it,” he says, his voice low. “Maybe I’ve been a bit… distant. I didn’t mean to make you feel that way.”

You let out a small breath, realising this conversation may have been more productive than you initially thought. Maybe things aren’t fixed, but at least there’s a crack in the wall between you. A small crack, but a crack nonetheless.

“Okay,” you say quietly, not sure what else to add, but feeling slightly more hopeful than you did before. “Can we be friends, Arthur?”

Arthur nods, his lips quirking just the tiniest bit into a smile. “Yeah, friends.”

You walk back to your flat, your mind still turning over the conversation you just had with Arthur. You weren’t sure what exactly changed between you two. Maybe you could work together without all the tension. Maybe you could actually be friends.

When you get to the door, you step inside and kick off your shoes, the warm familiarity of your flat greeting you. Your flatmate Emma is cooking something and she looks up when you enter.

“So,” she says, sitting up and giving you a knowing look. “How’d it go with Arthur?”

You sit down next to her, exhaling a heavy sigh, trying to shake off the weight of the conversation. “It was… good. We talked. Finally.

“Finally? You mean you didn’t talk before this?”

“Not really,” you say, letting your head fall back against the couch. “It was all just about work, you know? He’s been really distant, and I was starting to think he hated me. But today… today, we talked. Actually talked.”

Emma looks interested now, sitting down next to you. “Okay, come on. What happened?”

You tell her everything, how Arthur had been cold, distant, and how you’d been confused, frustrated, and unsure of what was going on between you. Then you mention his response when you finally opened up about wanting to be friends.

“He said he thought we were already friends,” you finish with a small laugh. “Like, what?”

Emma smiles, clearly amused. “That’s… a little messed up. But hey, at least he didn’t completely shut you down.”

You nod, a little frustrated but also kind of relieved. “Yeah, I guess. But it felt like… like there’s still a lot he doesn’t get. I don’t think he even realised how weird he was making things for me. Like, I was just supposed to understand that he was ‘being professional’ or whatever, but it still felt like he didn’t like me.”

Emma frowns slightly. “That sucks. But it sounds like he’s starting to see where you’re coming from. Maybe things will be different now?”

You’re not sure how to answer, but before you can, your phone buzzes on the coffee table, lighting up with a message from Arthur.

You pick it up, your heart giving a little lurch as you unlock the screen and read:

Arthur: I didn’t realise you felt I didn’t like you. I really enjoyed talking to you today.

You blink at the message, not sure what to think at first. The words are simple enough, but there’s something in them that makes you pause. A small, almost apologetic tone to them, like he’s realising his behavior was off.

You show Emma the message, and she grins. “Well, look at that! Sounds like someone’s trying.”

You bite your lip, feeling conflicted. “I don’t know. It’s nice, but it’s still kind of… weird, you know? Like, it’s not really a big apology. It’s just him saying he didn’t realise.”

Emma shrugs, not without some sympathy. “Well, it’s a start, right? He seems like he actually likes you. He’s at least acknowledging how you feel, even if it’s awkward.”

You nod slowly, still processing the words. “Yeah, I guess. I just wish he’d be more… upfront. Or just, you know, less weird.”

Emma snorts. “Arthur’s a work in progress. I’m sure he’ll figure it out eventually.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “I hope so.”

As you think over the message again, you can’t quite tell if Arthur’s being genuine or if he’s just being polite. But either way, you appreciate that he’s acknowledging the tension. Maybe things between you two will improve.

“Thanks for listening. Again,” you say, sinking back into the sofa, feeling a little lighter. “I needed to vent.”

Emma grins, nudging you playfully. “Anytime, my friend. Just make sure you keep me updated on all this Arthur drama. Sounds like there’s more to come.”

You chuckle, nodding. “Yeah. There probably is.”

And even though you still feel unsure about where you and Arthur are heading, there’s a small sense of hope that maybe, just maybe, you’re on the right path.

You stare at Arthur’s message for a moment, your fingers hovering over the screen. You want to respond, but part of you feels unsure. It’s one thing for him to acknowledge what’s been happening, but you’re still figuring out how to navigate this weird, in-between space you two find yourselves in.

You: Thanks, Arthur. It was nice talking to you too.

You hit send then set the phone down on the table. You’re already preparing for the awkwardness that could follow, or maybe the lack of a response. But almost immediately, your phone buzzes again.

Arthur: A medium iced latte with vanilla.

What a strange man, you thought. Why is he telling you your coffee order? Isaac has told you he was a bit weird and you’d noticed it yourself but you didn’t really know what to say.

You stare at the message for a moment. You start typing a reply, but this time, you take a breath before hitting send.

You: What do you mean?

Your phone buzzes almost immediately.

Arthur: Your drink order, I’ll buy you the same one next time we record.

You find yourself smiling as you put the phone down, feeling not just a little less anxious than before, but kind of excited.

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Chapter 4 - coming soon…

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a/n: THERE WILL BE PROGRESS I PROMISE

for my lovely commenters:

@rubyskies @rkaya @pookietv @rougetv @arthurhillmastermind @picklepiastri @pretendyoucantseeme @neivivenaj

[cpvnksabm]

hey rtc fandom. i wanted to talk about some of the more common ableist stereotypes that affect how society views disabled people. i don't see ricky as being much of a stereotype in canon, however i sometimes see fanworks where he's depicted in stereotypical ways that really don't line up with how he's portrayed in canon, and i find this worrying. i think there's a lack of awareness around these stereotypes and people often aren't realizing that what they're doing can be harmful

Infantilization of disabled people

This is basically just the idea that disabled people are somehow mentally younger than their actual age, or should be treated as younger than their actual age. This idea is mainly used against people with neurodevelopmental disabilities, intellectual disability in particular, but it is also sometimes applied to people outside that group. And this stereotype is really harmful because of how frequently it results in disabled people's freedom being limited. based on a false idea that disabled adults are "mentally too young" to drink alcohol, swear, or make their own life decisions.

You can see this stereotype in the musical itself, with how Ocean treats Ricky. Despite only being six months older than him, she refers to him as "Sweet Little Ricky Potts", expresses shock when he talks about sexual topics, and claims in her song that "he'll never learn to read".

But you can also see in the musical that Ocean is wrong to treat him this way. Ocean's character development, culminating in her decision to choose Jane over herself at the end, is a huge part of the musical! Ricky's entire song focuses on him expressing his creativity and talking about sexual fantasies, which he has just like most teens do. And his dialogue after the song focuses on talking about his worldview, showing that he does have thoughts that are worth sharing.

So I find it concerning when the fandom also gravitates toward treating Ricky like a child - sometimes talking about him using the same infantilizing language that Ocean uses. RTC might not have had a scene where Ocean turns directly to the audience and says "By the way, I was wrong to infantilize Ricky and this was due to my own ableist biases!", but that doesn't mean you're supposed to agree with everything she says.

Ricky might be the youngest of the choir, but only by a few months. It's not appropriate to talk about him as though he's a small child. Please be mindful of the words you're using for Ricky, particularly words that are used to infantilize him in canon like the "sweet little ricky potts" nickname, and try to talk about him just like you would talk about any other seventeen-year-old character.

Disabled people getting "special treatment"

This is just the idea that disabled people automatically have access to special privileges because of being disabled - that we can easily get away with things that abled people would be punished for, that we get given anything we want without having to work for it, that we are automatically treated better, etc etc.

This stereotype is twofold. First of all, it involves framing basic things like mobility aids and accommodations as "special privileges", when in reality, these things mainly exist to level the playing field. They don't give us an automatic advantage over abled people - they just help mitigate the advantage abled people generally have over us. And second of all, this stereotype involves assuming that these basic things, such as mobility aids and accommodations, are automatically given to us.

In reality, disabled people are not automatically treated well for being disabled. The opposite is true - we are frequently discriminated against in a variety of ways. Even extremely important things, like medical treatment or mobility aids, are often a struggle to access.

Despite all of this, people in the RTC fandom sometimes talk about Ricky getting special treatment or extra attention for his disability. In fact, that claim was the one that inspired this whole post.

And yet in canon this couldn't be further from the case! Karnak literally emphasises that Ricky was treated with "the worst cruelty humanity can muster - complete apathy". We see him being constantly ignored by his classmates and expressing that the choir, in the afterlife, are the first people to actually listen to him. The most "special treatment" he gets is his classmate, who infantilises him, singing about how his life isn't worth living because of his disability. And that's barely even special, she sings like that about most of the characters!

The idea that Ricky gets any "special treatment" for being disabled is clearly not inspired by anything in the musical itself. And it's also not accurate to real disabled peoples' experiences. It's just a completely wrong stereotype.

I've touched on this in previous posts but just a reminder - you should never be trying to "fix" RTC's disability rep without doing research. I think that sometimes people wrongly believe the ableism ricky faced in canon was unrealistic, and that they're improving canon by having him be automatically treated well for his disability - this is not true at all. Please look into real disabled peoples' experiences as inspiration for changing or expanding on canon, and please put in the effort to make sure your idea of "realism" isn't just based in stereotypes.

The "all disabilities are the same" idea

This one is simple - it's the idea that all disabilities can be treated interchangeably. For example, that two people with different disabilities (such as autism and arthritis) will automatically have similar life experiences, just because they're both disabled.

This is a ridiculous stereotype. "Disabled" is an extremely broad term which describes an extremely wide range of things. Not everyone benefits from the same sorts of aids or accommodations, and not everyone has the same experiences.

What this means in regards to Ricky is that you cannot swap his canon disability out for another one and have that not be erasure. Ricky canonically has a rare degenerative disease (heavily implied to be neuromuscular), which causes mobility impairment (resulting in him needing mobility aids), inability to speak, and a reduced lifespan. None of these aspects of his disability are interchangeable with other disabilities.

It's not okay to remove aspects of Ricky's disability just to give him another, different disability. They are not interchangeable.

It's perfectly okay to give him disabilities he isn't implied to have in canon - people frequently do have multiple unrelated disabilities! Just please make sure this is in addition to his canonically implied neuromuscular disability, and not replacing it.

Conclusion / TL;DR

I'm all for death-of-the-author and interpreting characters in various ways but it's a little concerning when I see fanworks and the like pigeonholing ricky into specific ableist stereotypes, when canon almost went out of its way to avoid them. we all know that stereotyping isn't polite or accurate so there's really no reason to depict ricky in these ways. i assume people aren't realizing the potential harm or sometimes think they're improving on canon by making it more stereotypical? this is why it's important to research rather than assuming you know what would be the right way to depict ricky

i didn't cover everything in this post because there were some issues that i thought were complex enough to justify a separate post. but reminder that my asks are always open if you'd like a disabled person's perspective on something specific! please dont hesitate to ask for advice!

[unconventional-lawnchair]

okay, because you broke my heart with everything is blue, I want a barty x potter!reader where it's the mauraders seeing how barty and the reader love/take care of each other. I need to be healed, I might die

They'll Be Alright

Barty Crouch Jr. x Potter!Fem!Reader

AN: I've taken out all the stops to mend your heart

WC: ~5k

Summary: James Potter learns to like tolerate his sisters taste in men.

Warnings: Grumpy James, Snogging, cursing, tooth rotting fluff, self indulgent, this is literally the cheesiest things I could come up with

“I can't do this much longer, I'm going mad.” James hissed as he sat on the grass, watching from across the courtyard as you stood outside the Quidditch pitch with a bit of a pacing form. You were sitting with your big brother and his friends just moments ago, but RavenClaw was out for practice and you just couldn't wait for your precious boy to leave the stands.

“I think it's cute.” Lily sang sweetly. “She's as obsessed with him as he is with her. Only a Potter could match a Crouch’s insanity.”

James groaned, dragging his hands down his face dramatically as Sirius burst out laughing, collapsing onto the grass beside him. “It’s not cute, Lily,” James hissed, throwing a wild gesture toward you. “It’s deranged. She’s my little sister, for Merlin’s sake! And she’s practically glued to the sidelines for him. Him! Of all people.”

“She’s not glued, mate. Look- she’s pacing,” Sirius pointed out helpfully, grinning as he threw a snitch up into the air and caught it lazily. “And, to be fair, Barty’s just as bad. Didn’t he travel all the way from Hogwarts to the Potter Manor once just to say, what was it? Right!” He sat up sharply and threw in some jazz hands. “Hi, to her over winter break?”

James groaned louder, flopping onto his back in the grass. “Don’t remind me. He’s the one who’s mad, and now she’s gone mad too. My family’s turning into a bloody soap opera.”

“It’s not madness,” Lily argued, her voice soft with a knowing smile as she plucked a daisy from the grass. “It’s love, James. Messy, consuming love. And if you can’t see it, then you’ve forgotten what it was like when you were chasing after me.”

“Oh, don’t start,” James grumbled, sitting up to glare at her, though his face was tinged with a hint of pink. “That’s completely different.”

“Is it?” Lily asked, raising a brow as she tucked the daisy behind her ear. “Because I distinctly remember you doing some insane things for me- like charming the entire Gryffindor common room to play my favorite song every time I walked in.”

Sirius let out a loud bark of laughter, nearly choking on his snitch when he forgot to catch it. “Oh, that was brilliant! What was it again? Some Muggle tune about sunshine?”

“‘Here Comes the Sun,’” Lily said smugly, her smile widening as James grumbled under his breath. “And I’ll remind you, Potter, that it worked.”

“That’s different!” James protested again, jabbing a finger in your direction. “I wasn’t a bloody Crouch!”

Remus, who had been quietly reading nearby, finally looked up from his book with a raised brow. “And what, exactly, is wrong with being a Crouch?” He asked calmly, though his tone carried a faint edge of amusement.

James floundered for a moment, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. “You know what I mean! He’s- he’s- he’s bloody Barty! He’s reckless, obsessive, and- and-”

“And utterly devoted to her,” Lily interrupted firmly, her eyes softening as she looked toward you across the courtyard. “He’d send us back to the stone age if she complained it was too busy, James. And she’d do the same for him. That’s not something you get to stand in the way of.”

James sighed, his shoulders slumping in defeat as he ran a hand through his messy hair. “I just want her to be happy.” He muttered. “And safe.”

“She is happy,” Lily said gently, resting a hand on his arm. “And as for safe- well, that’s why she’s got you, isn’t it? To make sure nothing gets in the way of her happiness. I'm also quite sure if anyone is to defend her like you have all these years.. it would be him.”

James let out a long, slow breath, watching as you finally stopped pacing, your face lighting up as Barty appeared at the top of the Quidditch stands. Even from across the courtyard, the way your shoulders relaxed and your smile softened was undeniable.

“She looks so bloody happy,” James mumbled, almost to himself.

“She is,” Lily said softly. “Just like you were when you finally got me.”

James turned to her, his face scrunching up as though he’d tasted something sour. “Don’t make me feel good about this, Evans.”

Lily just laughed, leaning her head on his shoulder. “Sorry, love. It’s my job.”

Remus chuckled. “Just watch mate.”

~~~

“My dazzling girl!” Barty called down from the steps as he hurried down. You couldn't help but feel a humiliating bubbling of excitement in your chest. Normally, you wouldn't be so shameless and public with your affections, but since dating the brazen Bartemius, you had forgotten what it meant to hold private affections.

“My brilliant boy.” You cooed back and he hurried across the yard to meet you. “How was it?”

“Dreadful. Humiliating. Humbling.” He rambled and stepped closer to you, taking your hand and kissing it, before slowly leading the kiss up your arm to your neck. You laughed and attempted to free yourself, only for him to wrap his arm around your waist and pull you in, flush against him. “You simply must make me feel better.”

“It was only practice!” You laughed and cupped his cheeks in your hands, stilling his unconventional attack before it could reach your face. He gave you that signature woman eating smile with dimples that pressed so far into his cheeks you could about die. “It couldn't have been that bad.”

“It was, you see.” He started and gave you a playfully firm dip before he spun you around to scoop you back up to a proper stand. “There was this dazzling girl-”

“You've used dazzling for today, Barty.” You teased and he gave you a wolfish grin.

“This beautiful, magnificent, breathtaking, awe inspiring-”

“Barty!” You laughed and he leaned in with a flurry of kisses to your cheek, effectively freeing himself from your hands.

“Irresistible, bewitching, stunning-”

“Barty-”

“Absolutely exquisite witch who promised to watch my every game, and yet, not this one.” He moped and you shook your head.

“That was practice, my love.” You muttered and he gasped.

“And thus it does not deserve your full undivided attention?”

You couldn’t hold back the giggle that escaped your lips, your hands playfully swatting at his chest as you shook your head. “You’re insufferable, Bartemius Crouch.”

“And yet, you’re still here,” Barty countered, his grin widening into something wickedly charming as he tugged you closer. “Which makes you either as mad as me or utterly bewitched. Shall we flip a coin to decide?”

“Bewitched, obviously,” You teased, raising an eyebrow as you leaned in closer. “But don’t let it go to your head, Mr. Crouch.”

“Too late.” He replied with a laugh, his lips brushing your temple before trailing down to your cheek. “My head’s been full of you for years, my star. You’ve left no room for anything else. I think it's only fair I consume your every thought from now on.”

“Sweet words don’t excuse your theatrics.” You teased, your hands gently slipping to his shoulders as you pretended to push him away, though neither of you truly let go. “You’re going to give James a heart attack if you keep this up.”

Barty’s grin turned mischievous, and he tilted his head to glance toward the courtyard where your brother and his friends were undoubtedly watching. “Good,” He said with mock seriousness, his tone laced with humor. “If I can survive Quidditch practice, he can survive the sight of me adoring his sister.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to keep the smile off your face as you sighed dramatically. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re perfect,” He murmured, his hands sliding down to rest on your waist. “So I think that makes us even.”

“Even?” You repeated with a laugh, shaking your head as you leaned your forehead against his. “I think it makes you a menace.”

“I’ll take it,” Barty replied, his voice softer now, his green eyes locked onto yours with a sincerity that made your heart skip. “As long as it means I get to keep you.”

For a moment, the playful banter between you faded, replaced by the weight of his words and the warmth of his presence. You knew the world saw Barty as reckless, obsessive, even dangerous. But in moments like this, when he looked at you like you were the only thing grounding him, it was hard not to feel the same pull that had always drawn you to him.

“I’m not going anywhere.” You said softly, your hands brushing down his arms before entwining your fingers with his. “Just… promise me you’ll try not to antagonize James too much. He’s already halfway to pulling his hair out.”

Barty smirked, his dimple deepening in that way that always made your heart flutter. “No promises,” He teased, though the glint in his eye told you he’d try- for you, if nothing else.

“Bartemius Crouch,” You huffed, feigning sternness as you tugged his hand. “I mean it.”

“And I mean it when I say you’re irresistible,” He countered, spinning you again for good measure before pulling you back into his arms. “Now, my alluring, charming, pretty girl- are you ready to make James’s day a little more unbearable?”

You let out a laugh, the sound bright and lighthearted, as he laced your fingers together and led you back toward the courtyard. You could already see the exasperation on James’s face from across the field, but Merlin did you hear it. Him and Lily.

“I wasn't THAT bad!”

“Oh yes you were!”

~~~

It was a quiet afternoon in the Gryffindor common room when James finally let out a dramatic groan, throwing his head back against the couch. “I can’t take it anymore!” He exclaimed, startling Lily, who had been peacefully reading beside him.

“What now?” She asked, though the amused quirk of her lips showed she already knew the answer.

“It’s them,” James hissed, pointing toward the window where you and Barty were clearly visible in the courtyard below. You were both sitting on the edge of the fountain, laughing at something Barty had said as he carefully wrapped a scarf around your neck, adjusting it as though it were a delicate treasure. “They’re insufferable.”

“They’re adorable,” Lily corrected, leaning over to peek out the window. She sighed softly, her expression turning fond as she watched Barty tuck your hair behind your ear and press a quick kiss to your temple. “Look at him. He absolutely dotes on her.”

“Exactly!” James groaned again. “Dotes! It’s unnatural. He’s supposed to be a Crouch-brooding and conniving, not… not whatever that is.”

“Love,” Remus supplied calmly, not even looking up from his book.

“Obsessive devotion,” Sirius added with a smirk, throwing a piece of popcorn into his mouth as he sprawled on the armchair.

“Same thing,” Lily said with a shrug. “And besides, James, weren’t you the same way with me? You practically worshipped the ground I walked on.”

“Still do,” Sirius muttered, earning a glare from James and a stifled laugh from Lily.

“That’s different,” James argued, his voice petulant. “I wasn’t… that. Look at him! He’s practically wrapped around her finger.”

“And she’s wrapped around his,” Lily pointed out, motioning toward the window again. Sure enough, Barty had pulled you to your feet and was holding your hand as he led you toward the castle steps, pausing every few moments to make you laugh with his animated gestures.

“He carries her books half the time,” Sirius added. “And she carries his cloak when he forgets it.”

“She fixes his collar when it's crooked,” Remus chimed in. “And he charms her quills when they snap.”

James groaned louder, dragging his hands down his face. “You’re not helping.”

“Prongs,” Sirius said with a chuckle, sitting up and clapping him on the shoulder. “You’ve got to admit, they’re good together. Annoyingly good, yes, but still.”

“Annoying is an understatement,” James grumbled, but his protests faltered as the portrait hole swung open and you entered the room, Barty trailing behind you with an armful of books and an easy grin on his face.

You turned to him with an exasperated laugh. “You didn’t have to carry all of them, you know. I can manage.”

“Nonsense,” Barty replied smoothly, setting the books down on a nearby table before tugging at his crooked collar. “If I can’t carry a few books for my treasure, what kind of wizard am I?”

“A dramatic one,” You teased, stepping closer to him to fix his collar with practiced ease. “There. All better.”

“And this is why I adore you,” He said, grinning as he caught your hand and brought it to his lips for a quick kiss.

James let out a strangled noise from the couch, causing you to turn with a startled look. “Everything alright, Jamie?” you asked, tilting your head.

“Perfectly fine,” he said through gritted teeth, glaring at Barty, who had the audacity to wink at him.

Lily leaned over to whisper in James’s ear, her voice low but teasing. “Admit it, James. You’re just mad he treats her as well as you treat me.”

James’s face turned scarlet, and Sirius howled with laughter, nearly toppling out of his chair. “Got you there, mate!”

~~~

The clatter of hurried footsteps echoed down the stone corridor as you stopped in your tracks, turning just in time to see Barty sprinting toward you with an energy that bordered on reckless. His tie was slightly askew, his school robes flaring behind him as he called out, his voice full of dramatic flair, “Treasure! You simply must hear this- you’ll have no choice but to reward me with a kiss once you hear of my heroics.”

You furrowed your brow but couldn’t suppress the amused smile tugging at your lips. He always had a way of making everything sound like the most exciting tale in the world. As he skidded to a halt in front of you, panting slightly but grinning ear to ear, you took a moment to properly look at him.

For once, Barty had made an effort with his appearance. His robes, usually a little wrinkled or hanging off his shoulders in that endearingly careless way, were perfectly straightened. His tie was knotted neatly (if a little loose), and his hair was slicked back in a way that made your stomach twist, the gleaming coil of one rebellious strand falling charmingly over his forehead. He was maddening, and he knew it.

“Oh?” You replied, your voice playful as you arched a brow.

Barty straightened, smoothing the lapels of his robe with an exaggerated air of importance. “Correct me if I’m wrong- I hardly ever am- but you look like you might just kiss me unprompted.”

Your cheeks flamed at his words, the boldness of his statement making your heart skip. “Crouch!” You hissed, swatting lightly at his chest in mock indignation.

He caught your hand easily, holding it against his chest with a dramatic sigh. “See? Even your instincts betray you. Your heart is telling you to reward me already.”

“And what exactly did you do to earn this so-called reward?” You asked, your tone laced with amusement.

He tilted his head, his dimpled grin widening as he leaned in slightly, lowering his voice as if sharing a great secret. “I managed to survive an entire Transfiguration class without turning our professor’s patience into dust. Surely that deserves a small token of appreciation.”

You laughed despite yourself, shaking your head at his antics. “That’s your big heroic tale? Restraint in a single class?”

“Not just any class,” He countered, pulling you closer with the hand still held captive against his chest. “A full fifty minutes of maintaining decorum. You, of all people, should know what a trial that is for me.”

“Decorum, huh?” You teased, your lips twitching as you fixed his slightly frazzled lapel. “Then why are you so out of breath, running down the halls like a maniac?”

“Because the faster I reached you, the sooner I’d get my reward.” He grinned, tilting his head closer to yours. “Now, treasure, let’s not delay-”

“Barty!” You cut him off with a laugh, stepping back to put some space between you. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet, here you are, utterly smitten,” He said cheekily, but there was a softness in his eyes that made your chest ache. He reached out, brushing an errant strand of hair from your face, and you felt your heart skip again.

Before you could respond, a voice broke through the moment, sharp and incredulous. “You two are going to make me lose my mind.”

You both turned to see James standing a few feet away, arms crossed and a look of pure exasperation on his face. Sirius was behind him, grinning like a Cheshire cat, and Remus stood a little further back, his book tucked under one arm, an amused glint in his eye.

“Honestly, mate,” James continued, throwing his hands up. “Must you be this dramatic? She’s my sister, not the bloody queen.”

“And yet,” Barty said smoothly, not missing a beat as he turned to James with a smirk, “she deserves nothing less than a royal treatment.”

James groaned, dragging his hands down his face as Sirius burst out laughing, clapping him on the back. “He’s got a point, Prongs.”

You shook your head, trying to suppress your own laughter, but Barty caught your chin with gentle fingers, turning your gaze back to him. “Pay no mind to the peanut gallery,” He said softly, his tone dropping to something more intimate. “I’m only interested in you, treasure.”

Your heart swelled, and for a moment, you forgot all about James’s groaning, Sirius’s laughter, and the knowing look Remus was undoubtedly giving. All you could see was Barty- your boy, maddeningly confident yet infinitely tender, his green eyes locked onto yours as if you were the only person in the world.

And as maddening as it was, he certainly did deserve that kiss.

~~~

The firelight flickered warmly in the Potter living room as the group gathered for the holidays. Snow had blanketed the grounds outside, creating a cozy atmosphere inside the bustling house. You were curled up on the couch, a blanket draped over your lap, a steaming mug of hot chocolate in your hands. James sat nearby, watching with a sharp eye as Barty leaned down to adjust the blanket around your legs, making sure you were tucked in properly.

The sight grated on James- he was used to being the one to look after you, his little sister, not this Crouch boy who had somehow wormed his way into your life. But then Barty turned, sitting cross-legged on the floor beside you, and James found himself watching the interaction more closely than he’d care to admit.

“You didn’t have to go out into the cold to fetch the marshmallows, you know,” You said softly, your voice filled with affection as you sipped your drink.

“Of course I did,” Barty replied, grinning up at you. “Your hot chocolate isn’t complete without them. It’s a crime to deprive you of anything less than perfection.”

James rolled his eyes, but Lily elbowed him gently, a knowing smile playing on her lips. “Watch,” She whispered.

As if on cue, you reached for the plate of marshmallows to pop one into your drink, but Barty’s hand shot out to stop you. “Ah, ah, allow me,” He said with a dramatic flair, picking out the largest marshmallow with precision. He placed it delicately into your mug before handing it back with a flourish. “Perfectly placed, as all marshmallows should be.”

You laughed, a bright sound that made James pause. He couldn’t deny that it was genuine, the kind of laugh he hadn’t heard from you in a long time. And the way Barty looked at you in response- like your happiness was the only thing that mattered- made James’s chest tighten in a way he wasn’t prepared for.

As the night went on, James watched the two of you more closely. It wasn’t just the over-the-top gestures or the playful banter; it was the way Barty noticed the smallest things about you. How he shifted your mug away when he noticed you leaning too far forward, how he reached for the book you’d left on the side table before you even asked for it, how he listened intently to every word you said, his focus unwavering.

Merlin even their parents loved him.

Later, when the others had dispersed to different parts of the house, James found himself in the kitchen with Barty. The younger boy was rinsing out a mug, his usual bravado toned down in the quiet moment.

“You really care about her, don’t you?” James asked suddenly, his voice steady but curious.

Barty looked up, surprised by the question. But then his expression softened, and he nodded. “More than anything,” He said simply, his tone devoid of his usual dramatics. “She’s everything to me, Potter.”

James leaned against the counter, his arms crossed as he studied Barty carefully. “You know, if you hurt her, I’ll-”

“Spend every waking moment trying to kill me?” Barty interrupted with a small, knowing smile. “I know. But you won’t have to. Because I’d rather tear myself apart than see her hurt.”

James blinked, caught off guard by the raw sincerity in Barty’s voice. For the first time, he saw past the theatrics and charm, and what he found there surprised him. There was a genuine devotion, a steadfastness that even James couldn’t deny.

“You’re good to her,” James said finally, his voice quieter. “Better than I thought you’d be.”

Barty smirked, but there was no arrogance in it this time- only a quiet confidence. “She deserves nothing less.”

James nodded slowly, the tension in his shoulders easing just a fraction. For the first time, he found himself believing that maybe- just maybe- Barty Crouch wasn’t the worst person his sister could have chosen. In fact, as he watched Barty quietly return the mug to the cupboard, James couldn’t help but think that she might have chosen someone who truly knew how to love her the way she deserved.

~~~

The tension between you and Barty had been simmering all day, ever since that small disagreement in the courtyard earlier. It wasn’t anything monumental- just one of his reckless decisions clashing with your cautious nature- but it had left you feeling irritated and, perhaps, a little hurt.

Now, as you sat at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall, picking at your dinner, the weight of the silence between you lingered in the back of your mind. Barty hadn’t come to sit with you, choosing instead to stay at the Ravenclaw table. Every so often, you caught him sneaking a glance your way, but neither of you made a move to close the distance.

“You’re brooding,” Lily said gently, nudging your arm with her elbow.

“I’m not brooding,” You replied, though your tone lacked conviction.

“She’s brooding,” Sirius confirmed from across the table, earning a glare from you. “You’ve got that ‘he’s an idiot, but I still love him’ look all over your face. I'm very familiar."

You rolled your eyes, but before you could retort, Remus leaned in, his voice calm and measured. “You know, he’s been sulking at the Ravenclaw table since lunch. Practically hasn’t touched his food.”

“I don’t care,” You muttered, stabbing at your mashed potatoes.

“Sure, you don’t,” James said, his tone laced with sarcasm as he leaned back in his seat. “That’s why you’ve been glancing at him every five minutes.”

“I have not,” You snapped, though your cheeks flushed in betrayal.

James smirked, folding his arms across his chest. “Look, I’ll admit it- he’s an absolute pain sometimes. But he’s your pain, and frankly, I’ve put a lot of effort into liking this one. Don’t break his heart.”

The entire table froze. Lily’s fork clattered against her plate, and Sirius let out a loud, exaggerated gasp, slapping a hand over his mouth like he’d just heard the most scandalous news of the year.

“Did… did you just admit you like him?” Remus asked, his tone full of disbelief.

James shifted uncomfortably under the weight of everyone’s stares. “I didn’t say I like him,” He grumbled, though the tips of his ears burned red. “I just said I’ve put in the time.”

“That’s the same thing, mate,” Sirius said with a grin. “And we’re never letting you live this down.”

Lily laughed, nudging James playfully. “I think it’s sweet. It only took him months of watching them make heart eyes at each other to admit it.”

“Shut it, Evans,” James muttered, though his scowl softened as his gaze flicked to you. “Seriously, though. He’s mad about you. Don’t let this stupid fight ruin something good.”

You blinked at your brother, caught somewhere between gratitude and shock. “You really think that?”

James sighed, his expression softening. “Yeah. I do. Just… go talk to him, alright? Put me out of my misery.”

You couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped you as you stood, smoothing out your robes. “Fine. But if he’s still being a prat, I’m blaming you.”

“Fair,” James said, though he shot you a rare, encouraging smile.

As you crossed the Great Hall, you could feel the weight of everyone’s eyes on you, the murmurs from the Gryffindor table blending with the soft hum of conversation around the room. When you reached the Ravenclaw table, Barty looked up, his green eyes widening in surprise as you stopped beside him.

“Treasure,” He started, his voice tentative, but you held up a hand to stop him.

“We need to talk,” You said firmly, though the corner of your lips twitched upward.

Barty stood immediately, his end of the bench scraping against the stone floor. “Anything. Anywhere.”

You nodded toward the doors, and he followed without hesitation, leaving behind his untouched dinner and a flurry of whispers in his wake.

Back at the Gryffindor table, James let out a heavy sigh of relief, leaning back in his chair. “Finally.”

“I can’t believe it,” Sirius said, shaking his head in mock astonishment. “Prongs has feelings. Actual, human feelings.”

“Don’t push it, Padfoot,” James muttered, though the faint smile on his face betrayed him.

Lily rested her chin on her hand, watching as you and Barty disappeared through the doors. “I think it’s sweet. He finally gets it.”

“Better late than never,” Remus added with a small smile. “Though I’m sure he’ll deny it by morning.”

Sirius, smirked devilishly and Lily’s smile twitched just a bit.

“It's almost like we didn't catch them snogging a few days ago.” He sang and James's face turned pale and his eyes widened.

James shot up from his seat so quickly that his table toppled backward, the loud clatter echoing through the Great Hall. “WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY?”

Sirius threw his head back in laughter, nearly choking on his pumpkin juice, while Lily covered her mouth with her hand, clearly enjoying the chaos.

“I said,” Sirius repeated slowly, his grin widening, “it’s almost like we didn’t catch them snogging a few days ago. Almost.”

“You- you WHAT?” James sputtered, looking between Sirius and Lily with a mixture of horror and betrayal. “And you didn’t tell me? Evans! You’re supposed to be on my side!”

“I am on your side,” Lily said, struggling to keep her composure as she shrugged innocently. “I just didn’t think it was a big deal. They’re dating, James. What did you expect?”

“What did I- what did I- NOT THAT!” James shouted, flailing his arms toward the doors where you and Barty had disappeared. “I didn’t expect him to be sticking his tongue down her throat in public!”

“It wasn’t public,” Sirius said with a mockingly thoughtful expression. “It was a little alcove near the library, actually. Quite private. You’d be proud of them, Prongs- very stealthy, very romantic. A solid 9 out of 10.”

James groaned, dragging his hands down his face dramatically as Remus finally chimed in, his tone calm but amused. “James, they’re in a relationship. This isn’t exactly shocking.”

“It is to me!” James snapped, glaring at Remus as if he’d just committed treason. “And you lot just sat on this information like it was nothing?”

“Mate, you’ve been watching them practically live in each other’s pockets for months now,” Sirius said, still grinning. “I figured you’d have put it together by now.”

Lily patted James’s arm consolingly, though her eyes still sparkled with mischief. “I think you’re just mad because you’re starting to like Barty, and this makes it harder for you to yell at him.”

James opened his mouth to argue, but the words caught in his throat. He closed his mouth, glaring at the table as his face turned an impressive shade of red.

“Admit it, Prongs,” Sirius said, leaning forward with a gleeful grin. “You like him. He’s grown on you.”

“I don’t like him,” James muttered, though his voice lacked its usual conviction. “I tolerate him. For her.”

“You tolerate him enough to tell her not to break his heart,” Remus pointed out, his lips twitching.

James groaned again, collapsing back into his seat with the air of a man defeated. “Fine. I don’t hate him. Happy now?”

“Ecstatic,” Sirius said with a wink. “Though I’d be happier if you didn’t look like you were about to throw a fit every time you saw them hold hands.”

Lily leaned in closer, her voice soft but teasing. “He loves her, James. And she loves him. That’s not something you need to fight.”

James sighed heavily, running a hand through his messy hair. “Yeah, well… if he hurts her, it’s still open season.”

“Fair enough,” Sirius said with a laugh. “But you’ll have to get in line behind her. She’s got a mean right hook.”

The table erupted into laughter, and even James couldn’t help but crack a small smile. Somewhere beyond the Great Hall doors, you and Barty were likely making amends, and for the first time, James felt a reluctant sort of peace about it.

He still didn’t like Barty- he probably never would- but he could admit, quietly and only to himself, that the boy made you happy. And maybe, just maybe, that was enough.

[chaoticshifter18]

My NON shifter friend shifted and she's in shock

I've openly talked to my friends about shifting for the 4 years I've been in the community, and they've always been skeptical but respectful about it, so it shocks me how my friend just told me she shifted the other day.

She says she woke up at 4 a.m and couldn't fall asleep back again, so she just went on tiktok and scrolled for hours, apparently listening to paranormal stories and that kind of stuff that only pops up on your fyp at 4 a.m (nothing about shifting btw). Without realizing it, she fell asleep, and she says she woke up in a place that looked nothing like her place.

She immediately thought "Am I in a sleepover?" "Whose house is this??", but the room she was in didn't look familiar AT ALL.

She says the walls were paper white, and there wasn't much furniture except for the bed she was in, a nightstand next to her, and a closet in front of her. The closet had a mirror, so she saw her reflection and noticed she was wearing her usual pijamas.

In that moment, she proceeded to touch everything and freak out about how unbelievably real everything felt. She touched her hands, her face, got on her feet and stomped on the floor... Every single thing she did just felt WAY. TOO. REAL. Her surroundings, her own body...

Guys she swears with her life it wasn't a dream.

The realization hit her, and she came by with the idea that she might have shifted. Out of her mind, she got out of the room and explored a little bit of the house. She says the house was huge and felt really modern and expensive.

As she was traveling through the corridors and getting down the stairs she couldn't help but freak out again and again. She couldn't believe it. And to make things worse, when she reached the ground floor, a group of people approached her and greeted her as if they knew her.

"Hey, did you sleep well?"

"Look who just woke up!!"

And she was like "Excuse me, who are you?". (She just thought it, she didn't say it)

Suddenly, a guy came by and KISSED HER, a guy she hadn't seen in her entire life, and he said:

"Darling, are you okay? What's wrong?"

That shocked her, but she just told him she was fine and says she got away from there as quick as possible.

In the living room, one of the walls was completely made out of glass, so she could perfectly see that they were in the middle of the forest and it was nighttime.

Since she didn't know where the hell she was and the situation was just TOO MUCH to handle, she proceeded to walk around the house in awe, and she says she did that for about FOUR HOURS.

Four freaking hours just staring at everything in denial and avoiding everyone.

At some point, she could't stand it anymore and layed in a couch with her eyes closed to try and shift back, but no matter how hard she tried to visualize her room and this reality, she kept opening her eyes to that damn house.

About to cry, se got up, went to the kitchen and sat down, she stayed there for a good hour just zoning out, and at some point, she says she heard her alarm (her CR alarm, cause she had to go to uni).

She claims she didn't even realize how or when it happened: in the blink of an eye, she was back at her CR, sitting down in her bed with her eyes WIDE OPEN and her heart racing.

And that's her storytime...

I feel sorry for the stress she went through, but this just proves to me everything that needed to be proved as my friend was the number one person to believe shifting's just lucid dreaming.

Thanks for reading and happy shifting!! <3

[itsbeenliketenyearsitsprettywild]

on tag responses and reply trains or: "click the readmore for my analysis of the the (mostly) Greek love terms that sum up jayvik and jaymel and also at some point i forget how to shut the fuck up and turn this into what might as well be a thesis paper on jaymel as a duo and How Mel Is Dedicated To Jayce Her Own Way"

starting from op @aurieeeeeenyx's tags that got me thinking:

#you mightve guessed that ive been listening to the hadestown soundtrack again recently#but anyways. jayce going back over and over and failing in timeline after timeline in the hopes that maybe this time. maybe just this once#he'll succeed and get his partner back#viktor putting the whole of his faith and trust in jayce that jayce will come back for him even though he fails again and again#but still viktor cannot imagine not believing in jayce one more time#the way the entire universe hangs in the balance of their bond oh man#i feel like jayvik is beyond categorization they're like the peak of classical romance which is not necessarily kisses and dating etc#but like the purest form of intimacy and affection. or something#i should write a fic abt this#anyways . idk . im a big fan of meljayvik so mel fits in here SOMEWHERE i just havent figured it out yet#if you made it to the bottom of this wall of tags here's a pie 🥧

(the last tag isn't exactly relevant, but hey. free pie 🥧) my response in the replies (with a few spelling edits):

moreso than calling what Jayce and Viktor have 'classical romance' (as such a phrase feel like it could be confused with the Romantic movement in the arts, which doesn't have much to do with love directly), I feel like it would almost be more accurate to describe it using the ancient (and a just few more modern) Greek terms for love. They already exist as a way to delineate the many types of love that can exist either combined or singular that can be part of a relationship between two people. (there's like eight or nine different Greek/Greek-derived words to categorize love at this point depending on who you ask, feel free to look 'em up yourself - there are six ancient Greek ones in there too. the Greeks have been dissecting love for a *very* long time) Of the types of love exhibited between Jayce and Viktor specifically, I think what you're getting at is that it's a bond which involves this incredibly beautiful blend of philia and agape, with a bit of mutual meraki as well. In actual English - their bond is made of deep personal affection on a mental/personality level (philia literally translates to 'soul connection') which isn't hurt by their shared love of creating/inventing new technology together. All of this being further boosted by the fact that they would anything for each other, even if it means damning themselves or other reallities in the process. I'd love to go into meljay as contrast, in large part because their relationship feels pretty unique in terms of what we see in media, but there's only so many characters allowed in a reply lol. feel free to ping me if you want me to put the rest of the deets on this or another post, though (and clarify you want it on a reblog instead of a reply if that's the case, as i default to replies otherwise)!

op's reply:

actually it's funny you say this because the romantic movement in the arts is pretty much what i had in mind just because of the like...aesthetic? i feel like it comes with a certain mood of sublime beauty and some mix of nature/humanity/passion/nostalgia while being both subdued and Not, which the jayvik finale sort of embodies to me if that makes sense (but then again i'm not an art connoisseur so i could be spouting total bullshit) i do agree with your analysis of their bond in the framework of greek terms for love and think that funnily enough it goes back to the orpheus and eurydice thing again (arcane when i come for you and your greek tragedies WHEN I GET MY HANDS ON YOU--) sooo i guess i'll have to do some more research on that and i'd love to hear about your thoughts on meljay! if you feel comfortable i think a reblog might help more people see it (in which case you might need to put my notes and/or your comment as context to this admittedly very short post) but i don't mind either way :D

And, since the notes and comments have been placed, time to continue (I've been using this website for reference and been extrapolating best i can, but I'm no expert on the subject so feel free to correct me on it)

I honestly find JayMel really interesting to analyze from this perspective, because I feel like media doesn't show many relationships with this unique blend of loves, and especially not presented in a way where it's actually given some weight and value to both people within it. So, to start:

This list is very, very long, so let me this for the sake of everyone's sanity...

TL; DR - While Jaymel absolutely involves sexual attraction between the two of them (and is sometimes connected to these more casual, playful moments between the duo), those aren't nearly all the facets of their love. Some of the other types include: how they both enjoy working on Hextech (from the angles of technology and politics respectively), even if they sometimes have to make deals and do things with it they personally don't like; the surprisingly tentative yet compelling nature of their friendship together; the practical ways they (read; mostly Mel) are willing to help and support each other on a much more functional level, and how that in turn plays a very large part in letting them further emotionally connect with one another and deepen their bonds as people.

First (and most obviously), Mel and Jayce's dynamic obviously has a fair amount of eros in it. Eros can best be described as 'sexual love' or 'physical desire for each other' - the kind of love most people (largely allosexuals) assume are a part of "romantic" relationships by default, though one doesn't have to be a couple to act upon mutual eros. Either way, it's absolutely a part of their dynamic that deserves to mentioned and recognized - pretty sure none of us are going to forget the Sextech scene any time soon, and all. But that's only the tip of the iceberg when it comes to their dynamic.

In a fair few scenes where eros between them is evident, there's also pretty obviously some ludus going on. Ludus is one of the more modern categorizations love types, and describes 'playful love' - something more casual or carefree, no strings inherently attached, but a noted expression of affection all the same. You know that forge scene in season 1, where Mel sarcastically calls Jayce's smithing 'a delicate art' and she watches him sexily hammer out some metal, or at the end of that same scene, where she leans into him seductively... only to smack him in the tiddies with his own forge bolt and adds the one-liner, "Hold onto your nuts?" That absolutely reads as ludus following up on the eros within their dynamic. After all, ludus is the kind of love found in booty calls and one night stands, but could also just be enjoying a night out drinking with your pals. Which makes jaymel really interesting, considering the fact that it's also steeped in the opposite type of love....

....Which, in all honestly, I feel like I'll only be able to talk about once I've described meraki. You see, this and the next type of love seem pretty deeply entwined with one another when it comes to my categorizing and understanding of jaymel, but it feels like this is the one best needed to help describe the context of the other. Now, meraki one of the terms coined after the ancient Greeks, being a modern word that most people who don't speak Greek down know about. Essentially (and i could be wrong about the best term to use - but honestly i legitimately feel like this a type of love that shapes them, and don't know a better word to use), meraki is the love of creation, the love one pours into the act of making art or writing poetry or skillfully setting a table - or, best as i can sum all that up, a love of your work/what you do. And, lest we forget, the thing that brought them (alongside Viktor, though he's not the focus of this post) together is... well, Hextech. It's just that the work Jayce and Mel happen to be doing in relation to creating Hextech happen to be quite different in nature. Nonetheless they're both quite necessary for its creation to come to fruition. For Jayce, this 'love of creation' he has for hextech is quite literal - he's one of the two geniuses who invents, designs and very directly builds machines and technology that utilize Hextech within them, and it's obviously from the get go that he loves the idea of it so much that he dedicated his life to it (something something what that means in terms of what he said in the finale-). Mel, meanwhile, also loves Hextech and how she goes about creating it - but, in her case, she creates far less literally than how Jayce and Viktor do, though still plenty important. Because, for all the boys physically create the technology, it wouldn't be able to have nearly as much of an impact as it does if there wasn't someone politically advocating for its use and working for it to become societally integral. For all Viktor and Jayce may love making their gadgets and gizmos that utilize it, she's the one who loves it enough to build it up as A Brand and help get Jayce into top enough form that Hextech can even have its own seat on the council (no matter how much she regrets that decision almost immediately afterwards. But, it's this difference in terms of how they precisely they go about creating Hextech that can lead to a divide in how much they enjoy particular parts of shaping that leads to struggle in staying dedicated to specific parts of the process, which really comes down to their comfort with....

Pragma, or 'practical/dedicated love'. Pragma is the final love term coined after the time of Ancient Greece, and essentially acts as the complete opposite of ludus. While ludus is all about fun and in-the-moment playfulness, pragma is the love shown by doing what needs to be done to keep things functional, even if said actions are not particularly fun or enjoyable themselves. It's not the same thing as agape/'sacrificial' love, because it's not a case of being willing to throw everything just to keep this one person happy. These things are being done because they have to be done to make sure everything stays okay, not because the thing they love comes before absolutely anything else. Though it might seem boring (or maybe even selfish, if you compare it to agape in particular), it's a huge part of all kinds of relationships you can find between people, and says as much about nature of a dynamic as anything else. But, as stated, this type of love between Jayce and Mel is seen very specifically when it comes to their mutual love for Hextech and less directly for each other. In making Hextech and allowing it to flourish as a technology, steps have to be taken to ensure sponsors and investments, so that they never lose access to the resources required to continue working on it. As such, deals have to be cut and made, as seen in the concert scene, and continuing to make sure Jayce and Viktor's projects are properly funded is something they have to do over and over again just to keep things moving. In this sense, the main difference between the two of them in this context is the nuance of their meraki - for all they both enjoy creating Hextech in some way, the types of work they enjoy dedicating themselves to contrast quite a bit. For Jayce, politics and lobbying for funding are only a small part of what he does for Hextech - and not what he gravitate towards naturally, charismatic as he can be. To him, his love of is for the literal process - the one that Viktor both enjoy creating as a team moreso than they'll ever enjoy doing it alone. Meanwhile politicking and dedication to Hextech's social and financial success (which is where a lot of the pragma comes to the forefront) is what Mel enjoys doing - alone if necessary, but preferably with one of the creators of Hextech at her side, to have another hand on deck and a more direct face to associate with it. As such, it *does* make its own kind of sense that the duo (jayvik) whose meraki is almost identical have an time easier time bonding personality-wise (tho i do think Mel and Vik would have an easier time of it- *shoves my melvik-in-the-polycule headcanons in a box for later*), in comparison to the fascinatingly tentative nature of Jayce and Mel's....

Philia, or 'soul connection'. For all it sounds like a term for soulmates or such, what it really just means is that two people get along well with each other when it comes to general socializing and interaction. This is the type of love that underpins deep friendships, but also romantic couples that go beyond just being sexually compatible (or queerplatonic couples - sadly, the terms for love never developed in such a way to make it *easy* to differentiate aspec couples from other kinds of dynamics, but we work with what we got), or even just coworker who get along pretty well. And it's here in particular that I find jaymel compelling as we see them in the show, because, for all we see them work together well on Hextech and be playful with each other and Do The Fuck, their philia seems... surprisingly awkward, or at least not nearly as natural as it is for jayvik (or how i headcanon it would be for melvik). To be clear: you're allowed to headcanon jaymel as more naturally friendly than this, like how many people like to extrapolate jayvik out to include some level of eros (which, once again, not disparaging, just noting as not being shown in Arcane directly). But in terms of what we actually see in the show... jaymel has a bit of a hard time with getting close on an emotional level. Which i honestly really appreciate; the show doesn't invalidate the love that is there simply due to this fact, after all. All the other parts of their relationship exist and are recognized in the narrative while still letting the philia between them not come as naturally as everything else. People's personalities may end up with them clashing fairly often, but they can still be close anyways. (well, as long as they work at it - but I'll segue into that subcategory in a little bit.) And because of this, they're able to take a very fun option: showing some of these moments of tension or awkwardness between them, and letting us as the audience watch how the two navigate and end up resolving these moments. Though some of these moments do end up getting interrupted by a third party, which can end up impacting how these moments of tension end up getting resolved. (I'm looking at you, Viktor, for how you interrupted that moment between jaymel and instigated the season 2 council room fight. go to ur eldritch jesus shame corner /lh/j) Speaking of reaction: Mel and Jayce each have distinct ways of expressing emotional distress (at least most of the time - Mel lets herself get a lot more angry with her mother than she would otherwise). For Jayce, his reactions are what he's infamous for in fandom - impulsively jumping into action based on his current feelings without considering what consequences. (read: almost always not what he wanted.) Meanwhile, Mel tends to withdraw into herself and act more emotionally unaffected than she actually is - for example, how her reaction to Jayce leaving in the middle of the night after Sextech is to... well, paint, and respond relatively neutrally up until Jayce justifies his actions. But it's in resolving of these conflicts that the two of them are able to start building up their philia and comfort with each other (beyond their mutual focus on hextech or sex) into a deeper level of companionship. The reason why their philia is able to end up further developing is due to the active usage of...

Pragma, not within the framework of Hextech. You see, Hextech-focused pragma can quite often lead to added tension between them instead of anything getting resolved, as seen when Mel gets Jayce voted onto the council without asking him first. In comparison, many of the moments of pragma between them that aren't focused on Hextech itself often lead to to bonding moments between the two of them as individuals. (Which makes sense as talking about work, even if you like doing it, doesn't tend to lead to much personal emotional intimacy.) Alongside that, there's one other thing that differentiates these moments of pragma from those focused on Hextech directly: in those situations where willingly taking action leads to them getting closer, it's almost always Mel who takes the initiative. For Jayce, the vulnerability he shows to her is never from a place of willingly dropped guard or conscious intent, but instead due to being absolutely overwhelmed by his emotions. As such, it's Mel who consistently dedicates herself to their relationship by reacting in ways that only really serve to benefit or support Jayce, such as: -> accepting her suddenly-given role as emotional after the discovery Viktor is dying -> voting Heimerdinger out of the council on Jayce's inferred behest -> comforting Jayce over said vote that he pushed through -> stalling while he's supposed to be leading the council so he has time to find Viktor -> implicitly supporting Jayce's decision to bring Viktor back from at least the brink of death, if not death itself, at the beginning of season 2 Even past the ones I listed, there's so many moments Mel has which speak to her own brand of love for Jayce, especially in season 1. Times where she very much chooses to act in favor of his interests, even though it in no way benefits her, can be readily pointed to as cases of pragma. For all they might not be big and noticeable, they help keep the dynamic functional and healthy. Though, that's not to say Jayce doesn't have a moment of pragma outside of working on Hextech. Though, unless I'm missing something, it is just. A singular moment for him. Which is after his implicit apology for the argument the two had in the council room before the Viktor fight in season 2. After the apology, Mel goes on to open up to him about how she unlocked her abilities as a mage, that he comforts her by saying that Mel could never be just a passenger in her body - this is a moment that, while it does nothing to help him personally, still speaks to him caring about Mel. But... that's pretty much we only case we have of him directly engaging in pragma in relation to Mel. (...But then again, we see a lot of him and his active cases of pragma in those situations in season 1 focused on Hextech in particular, so in that regard it evens out if you consider pragma a whole without those specific contexts in mind. But I digress.)

There's potentially one other type of love i was tempted to add to all this, but this post has gotten very, very long, so i think I leave it here. If you somehow got this far down: holy shit what the fuck (impressed). For the sake of the sane people. I think I'll be putting my TL;DR at the top of the list.

oh yeah also jayvik are extremely orpheus and eurydice coded i don't make the rules

[icarusredwings]

Baby talk 2/2

Trying something new. Be kind (take 2)

A very little wade fic

Ft. Wo-wo, Mama, and 'essy

For @sirwadewilsonfromimgur because apparently people like my brain

"Logan? It's a bit late, what's wrong?" The voice asks over the phone. He wasn't sure why he called her. Why he called Jean. But he felt like she might know what to do.

"Yeah.. sorry, i-.. It's nothing.. I'll go if you're busy - I just.." he mumbles, phone in his shoulder as he begins boiling some water for the pasta.

"Logan... tell me." She says, in a way of someone who knows he won't tell her if he feels like he's bothering her.

"So, I'm... er.." He turns to see Wade laying in his pile of stuffies, watching the movie with large eyes and a curious o shaped mouth. Right now, they were at the part where she was singing in her secret cave, Wade's eyes glued to the screen in awe, as if he hadn't seen this movie 40 times already. "Babysitting... and I don't really know what to do?"

"Oh.. okay. Well how old are they?"

"Young. Really young. Barely talks." He says, trying not to sound nervous out of his mind as he preps the chicken to be cooked.

"That can be as young as 12 months. Are they potty trained?" She asks, trying to help best she could over the phone. Not like Logan would ever let them see him like this anyway.

"God I fucking hope so." Is all he can awnser with a big sigh. "I don't know, I just.. it's so much different then the kids at school."

Chuckling, he could feel that 'well no duh' look in her eyes and that smug smile. "Well, I would hope that 12 month olds are different than 12 year olds. That's 12:1, Logan." She says, and he grunts, nodding.

"Yeah, yeah, I just.. you read parenting books, right? What do they like? Babys, I mean."

Instantly Wade turns, Giving him a small glare and a pount. "MmMmh.."

"My bad, kids this little." He didn't need to understand the whines to know exactly what he was saying.

'I'm not a baby' He always said that.. man.. Wade not talking felt so weird, and it freaked him out, getting to the point he would subconsiously check to make sure he was still consious and that he COULD talk if wanted, but he didn't.

Wade was just quiet today. Al must think it's a blessing but to Logan? This was a nightmare.

"I do" She laughs again, giggling. "Why? Are they misbehaving?"

"Well... No.. but i'm afraid I might..." He mutters, blowing his cover at pretending not to be anxious about this entire thing.

"Mama?" He hears, indirectly awnsering. "No bub. Not your mama."

The woman giggles again from the side conversation. "I'm sure you'll be fine. Do you want me to-"

"NO!!" He screams, watching as Al got spooked, drawing her pistol on Wade, and for once, she had a good shot. "Get off of me!!"

"Well, jeez Logan, you could have just -"

"Sorry! I have to go!!"

Beep.

"Logan??.. He hung up on me." Jean says, miles away. Logan just knows it.

"Althea! It's Wade!! It's just Wade!!" He shouts, quickly coming over to take the gun from her. "He's just.. really little right now. God damn kid, are you tryna die!?" He yells at him, seeing him only try to curl up more into the woman, tearing up.

"Althea, why don't you go sleep in the room, okay?"

The older woman grumbles, shifting. "Baby you can't lay on me like that. You're too big." She says, much calmer now as Logan pulled Wade off of her and set him back on the floor.

"You're too big for that, kid, you're gonna hurt her!" He tells him, only making Wade feel worse.

"..mama?"

"No! No mama. She dosn't feel good and-"

"Logan. Enough. I can take care of myself." She mutters, groaning as she got up.

".. Mama?" Wade says again, his mind very one tracked at the moment. He knew three things. That he wanted held. He liked Mama. And he didn't know why he was so upset with him. Did he hurt her? Was she okay? Wade wished he could ask, but no words seemed to come out when he tried.

"Hi, Honey, Mama's gonna go take a nap. Behave. Both of you." The old woman mumbles, cupping his face and giving him a kiss on the head, stumbling towards the room. "Wake me up when dinner's ready."

"Yes ma'am.." Logan mutters, glancing down at Wade, watching as he wiped his tears, pulling Fluffy and his legs into his chest, sniffling.

Swallowing, he wasn't even sure if he would understand if he apologized, but he needed to anyway. "Hey.. I'm sorry for yelling at you.. I thought... I thought that.." He rubs his hand into his face with an embaressed grumble. "..Honestly, I don't know what I was thinking. You can't even.. well, no, that's not right. It still would hurt, and I guess I just didn't want Mama to hurt you and- "

Wade wasn't even looking at him. He was staring at the Tv, curled up, and didn't seem to be litsening.

Sighing heavily, he looked at the gun in his hand, deciding he should put it up. It wasn't something he should have down with Althea not feeling the greatest and Wade not even being able to put together sentences.

Walking away, he puts it in the closet, making sure to lock it like it was supposed to. God, there were so many weapons in here. It wouldn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that these guns weren't just for hunting or a hobby. No one had this much ammo when owning a gun collection that was "just for show."

Making his way to the kitchen, he stirred the boiling noodles, dumping them in the colander.

"Wo-wo?... wo-wo!"

"Woah woah?" He asks himself, looking up to see Wade pointing at the tv. Prince Eric had picked up Ariel and was now twirling her while smiling.

"Wo- wo?"

Tilting his head, he thought that perhaps this was cool to Wade. "Yeah, Wow buddy. That's amazing." He says but Wade gave him a dirty look. One that usually was his 'Bitch? Thats not what I said' squish of his non existing brows.

"Wo-wo. Ups?"

"Ups?"

"Wo-wo, Ups?" He grins, putting his hands up as he did the grabby motions again.

Oh. That made more sense. "You want me to do that to you?"

Wade nods, crawling about two feet before doing the hands again.

"Mmh... okay, but just once. And then I have to cook. Deal?"

Putting the butter in the pan, he came to pick him up, raising him up. The small squeal and the wide, sparkly eyes said all that Logan needed to know. When put back down, Wade claps.

"Yaay!"

Logan couldn't help but smirk. Really? That's all he wanted? "Heh.. yeah.. Yay." Was it that simple? This.. easy??

Vanessa made it sound so much more complicated when she talked about it. But then again.. I guess Vanessa wasn't as strong as him either, so it must have been difficult for her to hold him. The idea of her holding a 6'2 man on her hip made him snort.

She was strong, obviously, most dancers had to be, but dancers were lean and nimble as well. Logan was much more on the heavier side, so it was far easier for him.

"More?"

"More ups?" He asks, despite seeing his hands reach up. It wasn't the fact that he didn't know. Rather, he wanted confirmation.

"Wo-wo, Ups!" He smiles, excited and happy to be given the attention.

"Ok, ok, but last time, alright?" With another nod, Logan picks him up again. This time, Wade wraps his arms around him tight, nuzzling him again.

Sighing, Logan rubs his back, letting his chin go to the top of his head. "I can't hold you forever, you know... I have stuff to do.." he mumbles, bouncing just a bit in his knees, keeping his arm under his bottom so he didn't drop him.

"You're a good kid, Wade but I really do have to cook."

The whine that comes out of Wade is desperate for attention, lonely even. As if he just told Wade he was leaving and never coming back ever again.

"I come."

"No, sweetheart.. you'll get burned." The bouncing stops as he tries to set Wade down but he holds onto him like a kitten whos afraid of being dropped too far.

"Come on, let go. You'll be okay in here. See look. She's using a fork as a comb. Isn't that funny?" Logan says, trying to distract him enough to stay put. Vanessa wasn't kidding about the wanting held part. He was quite literally clinging to him like his life depended on it.

"Alright, get off. Here- do you want this? Take it." Putting him down, he took his hoodie off with him, letting him hold it as he stood. "There. Now stay. Im trying to make you some noodles, bub."

Finally getting to walk away, the look on his face hurt his chest.. just a bit anyway. The way he watched him go with such sad eyes and clutching the hoodie close to him. As if he was abandoning him.

Eh. He'd be fine. He could still see him in the kitchen so there wasn't really any reason to worry.

In said small kitchen, Logan put together the sauce, butter, and some seasonings, starting to stir it when he glanced towards the tv, doing a double take because Wade was missing.

"Wade?" He says, only to be met with him tugging on his jeans. The sight was something he wasn't prepared for, Wade put his hoodie on, and it was too big for him by at least two sizes. "Wo-wo!"

"Woah woah huh... wait, is that me?" He asks, tilting his head. "It's an L, bud. L" he made the L noise for him. "Lo-Lo."

"Wo-wo."

His eyes roll. "What ever. Come on, kid get out of the kitchen. You're gonna burn yourself."

This lasted about 2 seconds before Wade came back in. "Ups?"

At this point, dinner was practically done. Now, just have to finish it up and serve. "Fine... but don't touch anything."

"Yaaay!!" He claps, reaching up only to get scooped up and put on his hip, holding him with one arm, the other stiring.

"Yeah... yay.. fuckin' brat.." Wade was always getting what he wanted.

Wade giggles, holding his neck and once again snuggling up to him.

"Yeah, yeah, that's enough. Just be good. Don't touch. Ouches."

"Ow?"

"Yup. Ow."

So now, here was Logan, an almost 400 pound man holding 150 pound 6'2 guy on his hip, stiring and plating dinner. With his head on his shoulder, Wade calmed down immensely from being carried, just watching what Logan was doing and silent.

Dipping his finger into the sauce, Logan held it up. "Do you like this?"

Taking the finger in his mouth, Wade immediately made a 'mmmh' noise, nodding.

"Good. Do you want it on the side or on top of your noodles?"

" 'op."

" 'kay." Putting the sauce on top, he began to make Als.

" 'essy?"

"Huh?" He asks, not sure.

" 'essy??" Wade points to the plate.

"No. Mama's."

"Mama?"

"Mhm. Wo- wo's." Logan points to his own.

"Ooooh! Yummies."

"Yup.. Yummies..." he says, only to become embarrassed, face heating up as he grunts. Man... damn this baby talk..

____

A little later, after dinner, Wade came out of the room, looking almost ashamed, wearing Logan's x-men athletics department hoodie, the back saying 'HOWLETT' in big letters.

He was playing with his hands as he came to him. "Hey.."

Glancing away from the Tv, Logan was a bit confused, Not now sure if he was still small or not. "Hey?"

"I-.. im sorry.. for.. ealier. I know you don't like that stuff. I don't really.. know.." It seemed the farther he got into the apology, the tighter his voice got, his eyes becoming glossy.

"Hey-hey, stop. Why are you crying? You don't have anything to be sorry about. You're alright. Everything's okay, Wade. Sit." He says, patting next to him, but he just shook his head, rubbing his arm.

"No. I-it's not okay. You didn't ask for that. And you don't like t-taking care of me like that-" he wipes his eyes with the sleeves, clearly feeling bad about being so small infront of him.

"What? No, hold on. I never said that. I'll always take care of you." He says, a little frustrated that he would think differently.

"B-but you-"

"Shut the fuck up and come here."

Swallowing, He hesitantly sat on his lap, letting Logan pull him close and kiss the tears from his eyes. "Don't you ever say that shit again, you hear me? If I didn't want to take care of you, I would have left a long time ago. It was just.. odd at first. Because I've never seen it before. That's all. Just because something is new doesn't mean it's bad. You taught me that, idiot."

Sniffling, he shifts to nuzzle up under his chin again, curling up to be as small as possible, letting the man hold him in his arms. "I-i don't.." he heaves.

Logan is patiant, holding his cheek and rubbing his breath. "Shh.."

"I-i don't even know why I did that. I just.. it just happened." He whispers.

"That's alright. You don't have to know everything... a little heads up would be nice though." He mutters, pulling him up more to rub his cheek on him the way he liked.

Sniffling again, he smiles softly. "I'll try.. worst case senerio I just ask you to pick me up."

"Tell ya what. You ask me to pick you up and I will. Just... not during missions. I don't wanna have to slice a fucker in half because he shot you when you're small."

Wade giggles, his heart rate finally settling down as he listened to Logan's. "No promises.." letting out a big sigh, he let his body relax, taking a few deep breaths, nestling into him, the smell of the hoodie making him tired. "..I love you.. a-And thanks for not letting Al shoot me.."

Logan's eyes widened. He did hear his apology. A soft half lidded smile came to his face, glad that it wasn't for nothing. "I love you too.... cry baby."

"Can you guys shut up? Wheel of fortunes on." Al says, feeling much better that she too has had a nap and a good meal.

Sigh... that was their Althea.. keeping them humble.

The little giggle that came from him and the rythemed breathing following told Logan that he would be stuck in this spot for quite a while. Oh well... He was always up for a good nap.

"...Morons." The old woman says with a hint of fondness in her voice, hearing not one but two sets of snores. It was music to her ears.

[atleastpleasetelephone]

I know you’re in the middle of Kinktober (and crushing it btw!!!) so I’m sure you won’t be taking requests for a while, but leaving this in your inbox because I cant stop thinking about it. Humbly requesting wholesome cockwarming with BDE 🙏🏼

A/N: Thank you very much! I decided to make this a sequel to Bunny.

Not that innocent

Pairing: BDE x reader

Word count: 2.3K

TWs: Erectile dysfunction, cockwarming, p in v sex, a lot of cum, a short appearance from angry!Elvis, reader cries (not sex-related).

Elvis likes you, so he wants to keep you around. He was a little anxious that maybe you didn’t like him back when you said no to his invitation to spend the night. But then you turn up to his show the next night wearing the dress he’d had sent to you, so some of the anxiety dissipates. He feels like he does the entire show for you, the moves, the songs, even when he’s kissing all those other women he still has you in mind. You intrigue him - he thought you were shy, and then you asked him all those questions. All those oddly pertinent questions. As though you could see inside his mind and knew that he was sad and lonely a lot of the time. He wants you by his side again so he can talk to you some more. And of course it wouldn’t hurt to teach you a few more things in the bedroom. 

This time you decide to go to Elvis’ suite alone. Your friends aren’t that interested in going again anyway - they’re only in Tahoe for one more night and then they’re going back home. You’re supposed to go with them, only you’re not sure if you will. There’s not a lot pulling you back to Virginia. Your job, of course, but no significant other or pets or anything like that. And you could get another job. It might not be that professional to just stay in Tahoe until the end of Elvis’ residency, but part of you is wondering if you should try living a little. 

As soon as he sees you Elvis’ hands are on you, guiding you around the room as he murmurs questions in your ear about the show and what you’re drinking tonight. You answer him brightly, because you loved the show and you’re dying for another margherita. He settles you down next to him on the sofa and immediately starts talking to the rest of the people around him in an extremely animated fashion. You sip quietly on your drink and watch him. He really is very handsome, and you love the way he talks. Not just his accent, but the way he says things, something about it really appeals to you. 

After an hour or so, you start to get antsy. You’ve been sitting in the same position, with Elvis’s arm around your shoulders, being jostled by him as he moves back and forth. And you’re uncomfortable. And if you’re really, truly, being honest, a little bored. You tap his leg cautiously and look up into his face. He’s still talking though, barely registering anything else in the room other than the conversation that he’s so completely immersed in. You tap again, but there’s still no response. Then you think of something that will get his attention, your little hand wandering over to his groin and squeezing his balls. 

“Bunny!” Elvis’ face is red and his eyes are wide. 

“Sorry,” you whisper, your eyes meeting his a little reluctantly. “I tried to nudge you but you weren’t paying attention.”

Elvis is briefly furious at the fact that you’ve touched him, there, in public, and part of him wants to throw you out of the suite and never see you again. There’s a weird stillness in the room as everyone around him waits to see how he’s going to react. It’s not as if any of them actually saw what happened, but they all know that tone, and that there’s a high likelihood of the entire suite being cleared out in the next couple of minutes. 

“You can’t do that!” He rages, far too loud and too close to your face. 

You’d heard that he has mood swings nowadays, you’d read about them in the newspapers. He’d been nothing but sweet to you last night, though, so you hadn’t really believed it. But here you were now, right in the middle of one. You burst into tears. 

“I d-didn’t mean to… I… I… it’s uncomfortable and loud and I don’t know anyone but you and I don’t even know you…” the words are rushing out of you at a rate of knots and you struggle to make them stop. “I just wanted y-your attention, it’s too much b-being here on my o-own…” you sniff loudly and then succumb to sobbing again. 

“Oh, bunny…” Elvis softens immediately, seeing how upset you are and knowing he’s the cause of it. 

“Right, Charlie, everyone out!” He shouts into the room, and then without warning scoops you up and carries you into the bedroom, closing the door behind him. 

“Bunny I’m so sorry,” he coos, placing you down on the bed and sitting himself next to you. 

You sniff and try to get your breathing under control as he passes you a box of tissues. “It’s… it’s okay.”

He watches as you wipe your face and take a few more gulping breaths of air, gradually calming down again. 

“Ya don’t like all those other people?” He asks, gently. 

You shake your head. “N-no. It’s just a bit much.”

“Sorry, honey. C’mere.” He pulls you into his arms, your head on his chest as he strokes your hair lovingly. You both stay like that for a while, and then he wonders what you were trying to get his attention about in the first place. Now he’s had some time to think about it, it’s kind of a funny way to get his attention, and if nudging didn’t work he can’t really blame you for doing it. 

“What did ya want anyway, Bunny?”

You move your head to look at him. “Jus’ your attention. Wanted to move off that sofa and do something else.”

He grins. “Well ya got what ya wanted.”

You wriggle up his body, your hand burrowing into his hair. “I kinda wanted something else, too.” You press your lips against his and he responds eagerly, kissing you gently at first and then with increasing passion. 

You start to pull at his clothes and it’s not long before he finds himself naked with you, a position he doesn’t usually like to be in with the lights on, but somehow your little body is making him care less about it than usual. He caresses you with his big, guitar-roughened  hands and you moan, kissing him and rubbing your body against his. He’s shocked when you pull away from his embrace and straddle his thighs, your hand tugging on him just like he taught you yesterday. He’s even more shocked when he feels you rub the head on your pussy, your arousal covering him as you sink down onto his length. 

“Fuck,” he groans, looking down at you through hooded eyes. “Thought ya were an innocent lil bunny.”

You giggle, settling yourself down, his dick completely inside you. “I’ve had sex before, Elvis.”

He shakes his head and clicks his tongue. “‘parently so. Ya not gonna move then, bunny?”

You giggle again, shaking your head and running your hands over your breasts, arching your back as you do it. He groans. “Thought I might tease you a little?”

“T-tease me?” He stumbles over the word a little. He really read you wrong when he met you, you might’ve been terrible at handjobs but you definitely know what you’re doing with your body right now. 

“Mmm. Jus’ sit on it.” You bite your lip and tip your head to one side. One of your girlfriends had told you about teasing and you thought it seemed fun, but you hadn’t really had much of an opportunity to try. The couple of guys you’d been with were so demanding about their own pleasure you’d been more of a fun plaything than a woman with agency. 

“S-sit on it?” Elvis feels like he has to stop repeating everything you say back to you as a question, but it’s like his brain has gone completely blank. Apart from the part that reminds him that he’s 40 and he takes too many meds for his dick to co-operate like this for too long. And he doesn’t want to say that out loud. 

You grin. It seems like it’s working. You rock your hips just a little and he moans in response. Biting your lip, you decide to try pushing it a little further. 

“Maybe you’ll think twice about being so mean to me, next time?”

Elvis’ expression changes a little, and you wonder if you’ve pushed it too far. His hand reaches to slap you on the side of the thigh. 

“C’mon. I apologised fer that. Ya need ta move.”

His tone is bordering on annoyed, and you consider it for a minute and then shake your head, going for your best attempt at a girlie cute little grin. 

“No! Not yet.”

Elvis groans, feeling himself starting to get soft. 

“Please!”

“No!” 

You think you’re still teasing, until you feel something change inside you and watch something changing on his face, too. 

“Ya may as well jus’ get off,” he huffs. 

You tilt your head to one side and look at him. “Don’t want to.”

Still huffing, he gets up onto his elbows and looks at you sternly. “There’s no point now.”

His tone is bitter but he keeps staring at you, waiting to see what you’re going to do. Expecting you to move. But you don’t want to. You don’t feel as full as you did earlier, but he’s still nestled inside you and you like that feeling. 

“I like it,” you tell him, then you hold out your arms. “Want you closer.”

He’s confused but the way you’re being with him softens his frustrations and he finds himself sitting up as you ask, with you adjusting to make sure he doesn’t fall out. After some wriggling he finally finds himself with his arms around you and his head on your shoulder, breathing in your scent. 

“Too old ta be teased,” he whispers. 

“Maybe I’m jus’ not good at teasing,” you suggest. 

“Hmmm.”

“Like the feeling of you inside like this.”

He grumbles into the crook of your neck, then sighs, relenting. “Like it too.”

You sit there for a while, in one another’s arms, enjoying the feeling of closeness. Then you wiggle your hips a little. 

“You think I can get it back?”

“Hmmm?”

“Your hard-on. Think I can get it back? I’m not that good at teasing but I am good at… other stuff.”

Elvis shakes his head a little to clear it of your dirty words. “I dunno, honey. Little Elvis isn’t that co-operative nowadays.”

You giggle, moving so you can look at him properly. “Little Elvis? You named it?”

He looks down, shyly. “Y-yeah. I named it.”

“Ohhh. Maybe I should talk to him.”

“What’re ya gonna say?”

You think for a while, tilting your head to the side and nibbling on your lower lip, going through several options. Then you decide you’ve come up with it, and smile brightly at him. 

“I think I’m gonna say, Little Elvis… you’re not actually that little, are you?”

Elvis bursts out laughing, his fingertips digging into your fleshy hips as he throws his head back. Your hands hold onto the back of his neck as you grin at his reaction. 

“I’m also gonna say, I like playing with you, and I’d really like it if you got all red and hard for me again. But if you’re too tired, I understand.”

Elvis is still laughing, all the tension from earlier has completely gone and he just loves how silly you’re being. It’s making him feel like the whole thing is less serious than he’d first imagined. Then he starts to feel something as you rock your hips back and forth on him, your ass firmly pressed against his thighs so he doesn’t slip out. A little hardening, a little rush of blood back down there again. Your lips find his ear and you murmur into it. 

“Want to show you how good I am at this. I know you’ve had a lot of girls and I’m sure I’m not the best, but I want to try.”

He groans at your words and your movements, and he starts to think that you’re right, you are good at this and you can bring his erection back. He’s never known a girl be able to do it before, he usually gets so psyched out and upset when it happens he doesn’t even let them try. 

“Bunny,” he breathes, feeling your pussy hugging him again as you start to roll your hips forwards, pushing your breasts against his chest. 

“Elvis,” you moan back, raising yourself up on your knees just a little before sitting back down. 

“Fuck,” he mutters, his hands on your ass as you start to make your movements bigger and bigger, until finally you’re bouncing on him like…well… a bunny rabbit. 

You move one of your hands to rub your clit as the familiar feeling inside you builds, his dick pleasuring you just the way you like. You’ve only been in this position once or twice, but those are the times you’ve been able to cum from sex and so you’re excited to do this with Elvis. You watch his face contort in pleasure and it brings you even closer, thinking that you’re the cause, you’re what’s making him feel so good. Your fingers rub faster and you keep bouncing, his hands helping you move now too, fucking you on his dick. 

Leaning back, you finally sigh out your orgasm, so quietly Elvis would’ve missed it if he was just relying on his ears. But he feels you, and then he knows he has to move you before he cums. His strong hands pull you off him completely and set you down somewhere around his knees, before he grabs his dick and quickly jerks himself, cumming in seconds, his release spurting all over your belly and tits. Lying down with a groan, he wraps his arm around you as you lie down next to him. 

“I need a shower,” you whisper in his ear. 

He’s still breathing hard, trying to recover from his orgasm, and he pries his eyes open to look at you. You’re literally covered in his cum. 

“Shit.”

You giggle. “Told you I was good at it.”

He shakes his head with a wry smile. “Knew Bunny was a good name fer ya. Jus’ didn’t realise how good. Until now…”

***

@vintagepresley @arg-xoxo @from-memphis-with-love @msamarican @blursedblegh @returntopresley @eapep @everythingelvispresley @i-r-i-n-a-a @sissylittlefeather @arrolyn1114 @jhoneybees @cattcb @polksaladava @lookingforrainbows @jkdaddy01 @ccab @epthedream69 @lustnhim @elvisslut @pomtherine @that-hotdog @ladelinee @angschrof @fairybloodsucker @deltafalax @makethemorning @elviswhore69 @ilovequeen978 @wildhorseinkansas @pocketfulofpresley

[ascottontail]

𝐎𝐥𝐝 𝐇𝐚𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐬 𝐃𝐢𝐞 𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐝

summary 𖦹 izuku calls katsuki by his government name & everyone’s hearts stop beating

contents 𖦹 crackfic? not really fluff not angst? idk what this is it’s just pretty silly & nothing heavy, warning for mineta & mineta yearning for izuku (everyone hates him dw)

a/n 𖦹 idk who but someone said izuku would probably stop calling katsuki kacchan and so i made this little thing to cope w the leaks lmao idk what this is but if you guys like it i might make it a whole fic about the leaks who knows !!! (pls go easy on me i’ve never written mha and it’s been a while since i’ve written so it might b ass </3)

wc 𖦹 683

“Alright, everybody, drink up!” Denki raised his glass up high and the others followed his lead with a cheer. Even though they booked a private room, the room was still filled with chatter. It had been sometime since the class came together. There was always someone who couldn’t come, so when their schedules finally lined up they couldn’t possibly pass up the chance for a reunion.

Sero put his glass back down after gulping down his water. “How’s teacher life treating you, Midoriya?”

Izuku wiped his mouth with the back of his closed hand and put down his drink with a smile. “I thought I wouldn’t be able to keep their behaviors in check, but turns out they listen to me better than I expected!”

Ochako hummed. “I heard you’re teaching Kota now!”

Bakugou scoffed. “Yeah, right. Little brat glares at me more than he listens to the lectures.” He leaned back in his chair.

“If you didn’t come so often it wouldn’t be such a reoccurring problem…” Izuku mumbled.

Bakugou turned his head to Izuku in disbelief.

Izuku just raised an accusatory brow.

“Oh!” Mina interrupted. “Wasn’t there picture of you spotted on the window of the UA school building?”

Jirou bursted into laugher. “No way.”

Denki’s face almost lit up. “Show it to me right now.”

Bakugou’s face warmed up as he glared at Mina. “I will kill all of you.”

Mina, who was already scrolling on her phone with a smile, dropped her phone on the table and put her hands up. “Okay, okay! Let’s not do that.”

Bakugou huffed.

“If you wanna see it search ‘Bakugou third floor UA building,’” she whispered quickly.

Bakugou snapped his head to Mina, but she was looking around the room while whistling.

“Noted!” Denki said after he jotted it down in his notes app and put the phone back down.

Sero laughed. “How often does he come by?”

“Once too often,” Todoroki chimed in before taking a gulp of his drink.

“And how’d you know that?!” Bakugou leaned forward to look past Izuku.

“I read the news everyday. I see one of this pretty much once every week,” Todoroki said a matter-of-factually as he put his drink back down.

Bakugou flinched.

Izuku smiled awkwardly in between them. “Kacc-” He shook his head. “I mean, Katsuki helps me out a lot, so I’m not complaining at all! And the class loves him anyway, so it’s not a real problem.”

Silence filled the room.

Hagakure let out a noise and slapped her mouth to silence it.

Izuku only blinked in confusion as he looked around to all the blank and shocked faces. “What?”

He looked to his right to see Katsuki’s horrified face.

“I think that’s the first time I’ve ever heard Izuku call Bakugou by his real name,” Tokoyami was the first one to interrupt the silence.

Mineta sat straighter so all of his face appeared above the table. “Does this mean I have a cha-”

Shouji pushed his head back down.

Izuku chuckled awkwardly as he continued looked at all of their faces. “I- It’s just— We’re adults now, so I thought it’d be weird to call Kacc-” He shook his head again. “Kat-su-ki, by the nickname I chose when we were 5!”

Izuku heard a gagging sound next to him.

Another shaky scream could be heard, but this time it was Aoyama’s.

Izuku scratched his neck. “It sounds too childish anyway, I don’t want to embarrass you, Ka- Katsuki,” He looked to Bakugou again whose face hasn’t changed.

The entire room waited for his response, the silence engulfing it once again.

“I have to use the bathroom,” Katsuki said and scrambled away.

Izuku reached for him, but he slipped out of his hand. “Wai- Kacchan-!” He called out for him. “I mean-! Ugh, this is hard…”

“I think you broke him,” Denki said.

Mineta raised his face above the table. “Gang, be honest, do I have a chance-”

The silence broke as everyone groaned.

“Oh my God,” Momo said.

“Please read the room,” Iida scolded.

“Shut up, Mineta!” Everyone else exclaimed.

[elderberries-and-honey]

Much to Oscar's relief, but against his father's better judgement, his parents allowed him to stay home from school the following day.

All throughout the morning, he struggled to take his mind off Dr Jekyll. It seemed no matter what he did to distract himself, his thoughts always circled back to his beloved cat.

First, he had tried Beth's puzzles, but quickly became flustered by the many pieces and the way none of them seemed to fit just right. He turned to reading, but found that no matter how hard he tried, he could not make sense of the words on the page.

After recognising that waiting inside the house was going to drive him mad, Oscar went to the garden to look for his father, who had been outside the entire morning.

Once there, he saw his father holding a rather large box in his hands. Curiously, he asked his father what was inside. His father hesitated for several seconds before answering, almost as though he were lost in thought.

Silence fell, then his father asked, "Come see?"

They only went as far as the largest tree in the yard. Except that now, there was a large hole in front of it, and what appeared to be two wooden planks attached by nails.

"Do you know what this is, Son?" His father asked, to which Oscar shook his head no.

His father explained that this was where they would bury his beloved cat, and Oscar listened intently. Oscar's face twisted up in confusion as he looked up at his father. It wasn't until his father explained that this was a grave. But it wasn't until his father told Oscar that he could visit it anytime he wanted, and even talk out loud to Dr Jekyll, that Oscar found it interesting.

Oscar sat in front of the grave marker for a very long time, while his father answered all of his questions. They talked about different funeral practices all over the world, and how different cultures had holidays dedicated to honouring their loved one's like Day of the Dead and Obon.

For the first time, Oscar understood how important his parents' jobs were, and wondered if he might do it someday, too.

But eventually, he worked up the courage to ask the question he'd been wondering the most - if he'd ever see Dr. Jekyll again. His father sighed, and even in his youth, Oscar could that his father struggled to answer."I think so, yes. Someday, many, many years from now, you will be reunited in Heaven."

After a while longer, Oscar picked some flowers and leave them there for Dr Jekyll. He tied them together neatly with a red ribbon, just like the one he wore around his neck. His father told him that people sometimes gave eulogies at a funeral, and Oscar decided it felt right to give one to Dr Jekyll, too.

So, he knelt down in the dirt and clutched the flowers in his hand tightly, not quite ready to part with them yet.

"You were a wonderful cat, no-" Oscar paused for a moment in thought, and corrected himself quickly. "The BEST cat! And I hope there is lots of fish for you in Heaven, like Tuna and Carp...and endless balls of yarn. Someday, we'll see each other there, just like my daddy said. Keep a spot warm for me, Dr Jekyll. I'll miss you..."

Once he finished, his father reached for his hand and squeezed it tightly. "Well done, my boy." His father whispered. "Well done."

[menofsweaters]

Okay, I finally broke down and read the MHA epilogue leaks and I'm throwing my thoughts at the wall here so they'll get out of my brain. I fully did NOT seek these leaks out, but I was inundated with them all over tumblr, Insta, and even TikTok.

First and foremost, canon genuinely means very little to me. 90% of my enjoyment of MHA comes from fan works, including creating my own AUs and whatnot with friends, so like... canon being bad can't hurt me. I'm also old and have lived through way worse queerbaiting and fandom wars. There's also probably a lot lost in translation that we don't know yet and won't know until the official release. 🤷‍♀️

In no particular order, here is my brain dump on:

Izuocha and shipping in general

- as mentioned above, I don't really care about canon and I don't think ships need to be canon to be meaningful and enjoyable. I'll ship characters who never meet. I'll ship characters from completely different fandoms. Who's gonna stop me? In general, I think the shippers need to stop putting so much emphasis on a particular ship being canon.

- ALL THAT BEING SAID, BKDK was my first MHA ship and it's incredibly important to a lot of people. I think Hori had the opportunity to do something with that relationship that would have been groundbreaking, and he chose not to. He also had the opportunity to simply not focus on any ships and he didn't do that either, soooo... yeah. I think it's okay to be bitter that we still can't have a canon queer ship in shounen. It's reasonable to be disappointed. BKDK and Togachako were the most moving and complex relationships portrayed in the entire manga, in my humble opinion, and it does sting that they got pushed aside.

- I am not a fan of Izuocha, even though I generally like Ochaco. I just find it boring. I'm not enthused by het ships in general, but Izuocha in particular has zero chemistry in my eyes. They're also very similar characters in their mannerisms and personality, and I prefer "opposites attract" type ships that are more dynamic. I prefer Izuku and Ochaco as besties. They went through such similar traumas during the war, being unable to save someone that truly mattered to them, I would prefer to think of this ending as them helping each other move past their PTSD to rekindle a closer friendship.

- ALL OF THAT BEING SAID, while the chapter did not explicitly pair up ANY couples (except apparently Mushroom Girl and Vantablack? which is?? cute but random???), it's definitely implied that Izuocha is pursuing a romantic relationship. Feel free to tell yourself something different but it is what it is.

The hero rankings and other random plot crumbs

- the rankings also felt so incredibly random to me?? Best Jeanist dropping below Mt. Lady? what??

- good on Lemillion being number one though, I always imagine him in the top spot and I think the MHA world needs a hero like that to lift their spirits after the war. It makes sense that he's popular.

- also makes sense that Shouto is number two but wtf do you mean AIR CONDITIONING HERO

- so many of the updated character designs on the adult heroes are BAD, but Jeanist looks slick

- they changed Shinsou's hero name? for why? and gave him a bad haircut??

- absolutely no mention of how Hawks and All Might are working to revamp the hero rankings system, do not accept this

- Mirio is one of my favorite characters but his scene was weird af

- so many inconsistencies in the art style and messaging

- people randomly saying ominous things with no follow through like "heroes won't be around for much longer" or whatever

- I saw someone mention an implication that Bakugou is married to a woman but I didn't find any sign of that in the leaks, so I think that's fake. I know everyone is upset about Dynamight being number 15, and I agree that's too low, but that irritation is low on my list of grievances.

- the whole conversation between Baku and Deku about joining his agency was confusing and unfulfilling? I get why Deku would say no to being a sidekick, but I also don't feel like that's what Bakugou was offering, and they had the conversation in the car with Kirishima... just awkward. Which segues into my next talking point

Horikoshi's writing as a whole

- I think you can easily track the degradation of Hori's writing from the vigilante Deku arc to now. It's disjointed, confusing, often strays from established themes, and meanders around on weird tangents. It's... not great. It's not awful, but not great, especially for an epic climax/epilogue. Which is fine! He's a human being, not a content machine! But I think it's fair for fans to be disappointed that the writing has gone downhill, especially since the art has improved and become much more dynamic and interesting at the same time.

- in my view, it's incredibly easy to see that Hori lost his passion and was completely burnt out on MHA as we approached the end. The writing reflects a desire to wrap up everything quickly. Vital details are written in text rather than shown on the page. Storylines and themes are abandoned. Characters die, fail, or excel completely off screen. Hori spends more screen time and puts more emphasis on random side characters (see: Dai and the figure escaped a basement and was saved by that grandmother) rather than main characters, probably because it would be too difficult to give better endings to the main characters.

- you can also see the difference between the complex symbolism and plot points set up since the very beginning in earlier chapters, and all of that complexity and the hopeful vibes are bled away at the end. It's sad, actually.

- I saw an interesting take that this final chapter is Hori trying to make everyone happy - implying Izuocha while leaving BKDK still kind of open, making Deku a teacher AND a hero, listing all of the rankings, etc. and I think this is the theory that makes the most sense to me. He's taking a safer route and trying to please as many fans as possible, while unfortunately disappointing everyone.

- I've also heard that there's pressure from editors or Shounen Jump to have the series end this way, but I don't know about that. I'd think they would want to keep milking this cash cow forever. Maybe that partially explains the lack of queer canonical ships.

- SPEAKING OF WHICH, I've heard consistently from the fanbase that Hori is more progressive and more queer-friendly than other mangaka, but I honestly haven't seen any proof of this. Feels like wishful thinking. I've also hear that he's had other canon gay and trans characters, but the only ones I know of are Magne and Tiger, both characters that are simply implied to be gender nonconforming and maybe trans. But these are also not necessarily great portrayals, even if they are intended to be canon. Maybe there are characters in other works of his that I don't know about.

- maybe I'm jaded, but I also can't shake the assumption that Hori purposefully implied Izuocha at the end because he doesn't like his main characters being seen as gay. We've seen this in many other fathoms. Even if Hori didn't want to make BKDK canon, there are other popular queer ships that could have been given a tiny spotlight if he really wanted to have that representation.

- this is going back to shipping a bit, but Hori had this entire manga to create a meaningful relationship between Izuku and Ochaco and he just... didn't? Instead he literally and figuratively pushed them together at the end? Why not show them going on cute dates and getting closer? Why not a kiss? It just feels like a half-hearted cop-out. Ochaco has more chemistry and more screen time with Toga's ghost living in her brain than with Izuku. I am not exaggerating.

- I think Hori has a major case of "oops I accidentally wrote a powerful queer love story" syndrome (see also: Destiel) and just didn't know what to do with that. There's so little room for chemistry with other characters when you make the entire story about Bakugou and Izuku's relationship. 👀

- I think a lot of fans put Hori on a pedestal and expected perfection, but it turns out he's just one guy and he can't please everyone. I never got the vibe that he was a particularly great writer, and I never got the vibe that he was going to make BKDK canon. I think he (kind of like a certain JKR) created an amazing world and beloved characters, and then really fumbled at the very end when all the pressure was on.

Okay, I think I've cleansed my brain enough of all this.

TLDR: I think Horikoshi's writing has unfortunately been going downhill for a long time and this is the culmination of that. I feel bad for the man because he's probably under so much pressure and so burnt out - he wants to be done. Maybe we would have gotten something better if Hori could take some extended breaks or hand off the manga to someone else.

I'm disappointed about BKDK but more in an "I'm disappointed that we couldn't have this representation in 2024" way than a personal way. I would have preferred no ships. I'll keep enjoying fan content of lots of different ships that aren't canon and you should too! The canon can't hurt you! I hope we get the queer shounen we all deserve one day.