#i say likely because there could still be some exceptions to this i feel

[whisperofwonder]

Tipsy

Ushijima Wakatoshi x reader - 790 words

Ushijima is an affectionate drunk, confirmed.

Warnings: Alcohol mentions, obviously. Reader wears a dress, but no pronouns are used. Very slightly suggestive.

There are certain things you've always assumed you'd never experience in your lifetime. A 10 million yen inheritance from a great aunt you never knew existed. A smart house like the one from that movie you saw as a kid. The heat death of the universe. A drunk Ushijima Wakatoshi.

Except maybe you were wrong about that last one. You're out with the Adlers, a celebratory dinner at a nice place. Your meal is delicious, and you're having a good time talking and laughing with Waktoshi's teammates and their partners. Suddenly, you pause mid-sentence, biting back a squeak. A warm, large hand has worked its way under the hem of your dress, and is now pressed firmly against your thigh.

Kageyama gives you a strange look from across the table. You laugh it off with a wave of your hand, saying you'd lost your train of thought. When the conversation moves on, you turn to Wakatoshi.

"Toshi," You murmur under your breath. He looks at you then, eyes slightly unfocused, and for the first time you notice the slight flush high in his cheeks. He doesn't move his hand. Oh. Your gaze goes to the empty wine glass by his plate.

-

"How many glasses of that wine have you had?" You ask softly, gently shifting his hand out from under your dress.

His brow furrows in thought, and he doesn't answer right away. "It's nice wine," He says finally. You look at the bottle, and to your surprise, there's only an inch or so left. He slides his arm around the back of your chair, fingertips grazing your shoulder.

"Well, maybe you should stick with water now," You suggest.

He only hums in response, lips close to your ear. It's certainly not inappropriate, but such closeness in public like this is so unlike him that you still feel your face heating up. "I'm glad you could come tonight," He says in a low voice. "That dress looks incredible on you." You can feel his breath ghost across the shell of your ear. It's all you can do to keep your jaw from dropping open.

"Thank you," You reply, flustered. "I'm glad, too." You furtively glance at the rest of his teammates, but they seem too caught up in their own conversations to notice anything odd. You're glad for that, because the next thing he does is press a kiss to your temple.

"We're in public," You remind him.

"I'm sorry," He says, still just a little too close to your ear. Luckily, the night is soon drawing to a close. The dessert plates are being cleared away, and Kageyama is getting antsy to leave, suggesting it to his girlfriend in a tone that isn't as low as he must think it is. It wouldn't be out of line for you and Wakatoshi to leave as well.

"Are you ready to go home?" You whisper, and at the suggestion, he focuses on you again.

"Yes," He says decidedly, just a little too loudly. It draws the attention of some of the others, who look at him curiously. His hand finds its way to your thigh again.

"Okay," You say, a little too loud yourself. "Let's get our coats, then," You prompt. When he gets to his feet, it's with a slight wobble, and he looks at you in surprise, angling towards you for support.

"Wakatoshi isn't drunk, is he?" Hoshiumi asks in disbelief.

"It appears that way," You laugh, shifting slightly under his weight. He's leaning on you just a little more than is comfortable, but when he feels you move, he shifts more of his weight to his own feet.

"You good?" Hirugami asks, and you nod. Wakatoshi may be tipsy, but he hasn't drunk that much. After bidding farewell to everyone, he insists on helping you into your coat, hands on you perhaps more than necessary. You make your way to the car, getting him situated in the passenger seat before you get in the driver's side. The moment the car is running, his hand finds its way under the hem of your dress again, thumb grazing your skin.

"I don't think I've ever seen you drink that much before," You muse, looking sideways at him.

"I don't think I have," He rumbles, rough fingertips tracing shapes onto your skin. "The wine was nice." He repeats his statement from earlier.

"Maybe I'll have to get a bottle for our anniversary next month. We can make dinner at home." Your suggestion isn't selfish at all.

"I'd like that," He murmurs, your suggestion seemingly prompting a thought. "When will we be home?" He asks, giving your thigh a squeeze.

"Soon," You promise, gripping the steering wheel just a little bit tighter.

[kjack89]

New year, same bullshit. I’m sorry I’ve been so MIA, friends, but I hope you accept this drabble as an explanation of sorts. Love you all ❤️

“Should I be worried?”

Grantaire’s eyes flicker up to Enjolras’s, his cereal spoon halfway to his mouth. “Do you mean, like, in general?” he asks. “Because I mean, like, it’s 2025. And we’re all fucked. So.”

He sticks his spoon in his mouth and shrugs. Enjolras doesn’t smile. “That’s on me for not being more specific, I guess,” he says, scrubbing a hand across his mouth before crossing his arms in front of his chest. “You’re not painting.”

Grantaire swallows. “Well, no,” he allows, “mainly because I’m eating breakfast at the moment.”

“Be serious.”

Grantaire’s lips twitch. “It’s somewhat less funny when you know it’s coming.”

Enjolras arches an eyebrow. “And yet that’s never stopped you before.”

“Fair.” Grantaire twirls his spoon between his fingers before pronouncing, like the well-worn, inside joke it had become, “I am wild.”

Almost certainly despite himself, Enjolras smiles, just slightly. “Yeah, you are,” he agrees. “But you’re also not painting.”

Grantaire’s answering smile fades. “Could be,” he says, a little sullenly. “It’s not like you’re around enough to know.”

It’s a low blow and he knows it, but Enjolras doesn’t flinch. “Maybe not but we live in a late capitalist surveillance state so I have my ways of finding out.”

“Well, well, well, typical white man, complaining about the system except for when it directly benefits you.”

“Yep,” Enjolras says. “Are you going to keep deflecting? Because I can do this all day.”

For a moment, Grantaire’s tempted to take him up on it, to see just how long he’ll actually allow this to drag on. It’d almost certainly be good fun, and it isn’t like Grantaire’s got anything better to do.

But he can also see that Enjolras is genuinely worried, can see it in the tightness of his shoulders and the lines at the corners of his eyes that he tries to claim aren’t crow’s feet because he’s not old enough to have crow’s feet. And considering Grantaire’s previous point about all of the other things that are almost certainly more worth Enjolras’s worry, he supposes he owes him at least a semblance of the truth.

“Yes, I haven’t been painting,” he says, dipping his spoon in his bowl of cereal and stirring it, mostly to give himself something to do with his hands. “No, you shouldn’t be worried.”

Enjolras nods like he didn’t really expect a different answer. “Are you depressed again?”

Enjolras’s bluntness, characteristic though it may be, still startles a laugh from Grantaire. He sighs and looks down at his cereal bowl. “There’s not really a way to say this that won’t worry you.”

When he sneaks a glance at him, Enjolras meets his eyes evenly. “Try me.”

Grantaire jerks a shrug. “I’ve never really not been depressed,” he admits, which isn’t really a dirty secret so he’s not entirely sure why he’s saying it like it is.

Maybe because he really doesn’t want Enjolras to worry. They don’t talk about this, really, other than for Enjolras to reiterate more times than Grantaire can count that he’s always there to listen if ever Grantaire wants or needs to talk.

He knows that Grantaire’s in therapy, and takes meds, and had some very low lows previously, but Grantaire’s never felt the need to fill him in on the specifics.

It was depressing enough living it the first time.

He made that joke, such as it was, to his therapist, who didn’t laugh. “Do you frequently feel like you’re a burden to your loved ones?” she asked in response.

Of course Grantaire does, but again, he won’t tell Enjolras that.

Enjolras taps his fingers on the table, the way he does when he’s deciding on the best plan of attack or how to most effectively dismantle whatever asinine argument Grantaire’s brought up. “I thought you were doing better,” he says hesitantly after a moment.

He doesn’t pitch it as a question but Grantaire still nods. “I was.”

“What happened?” Enjolras asks, before pausing and asking, “Did something happen?”

Grantaire sighs and crosses his arms in front of his chest. “It doesn’t always work that way,” he says. “It’s not always triggered by something happening.”

Enjolras’s brow furrows. “Right,” he says shortly, something like disappointment flitting across his expression.

It took Grantaire a very long time when they got together to realize that this kind of disappointment isn’t aimed at him, but at a problem Enjolras can’t fix, an enemy he can’t fight.

At least, not directly.

He clears his throat. “But in this case, I think probably everything over the past few months played at least a contributory role, shall we say.”

True though it is, he mostly says it for Enjolras’s sake. Enjolras just nods slowly. “Are you not painting because your depression is bad again?”

Grantaire exhales sharply. “I’ve painted a lot while depressed.”

Enjolras’s expression doesn’t shift. “Another excellent deflection.”

Grantaire barks a laugh and scrubs both hands across his face. “You know me too fucking well.”

“Or just well enough.”

Grantaire lowers his hands and sighs again. He doesn’t quite meet Enjolras’s eyes as he says, “Every time I go try to paint…it’s like I can’t see it anymore, you know?” Enjolras almost certainly doesn’t know, but he’s struggling to put it into words in a way he can understand. “Like I can’t picture it in my mind, how I want it to look, or how to get there. It’s– it’s like trying to paint in fog.”

It’s not an exact metaphor, but it’ll do.

Enjolras nods slowly. “But I don’t need to be worried.”

“No,” Grantaire says, before wrinkling his nose. “Yes? I never know what the correct response is.” Enjolras just gives him a look, and Grantaire tells him, “No, you don’t need to be worried.” He pauses, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth before telling Enjolras with an almost tired conviction, “It’ll come back. It always has.”

“And if it doesn’t?” Enjolras asks.

Grantaire cracks a smile. “Then you can worry.”

Enjolras takes a deep breath. “Ok,” he says simply.

Grantaire eyes him resignedly. “You’re going to worry anyway, aren’t you?”

A smile twitches at the corners of Enjolras’s mouth. “Newsflash, asshole, I’ve been worried this whole time,” he says dryly, and Grantaire’s smile widens at the quote.

“I’m sorry,” he says, and Enjolras’s smile disappears.

“What? Why?”

Grantaire shakes his head, mostly because he knows Enjolras won’t like his explanation. “Because you shouldn’t have to—”

Sure enough, Enjolras cuts him off with a scowl, though his voice is gentle as he tells him, “That ship I’m pretty sure sailed when I fell in love with you. Or, frankly, probably a good deal sooner than that.”

There are so many things that Grantaire wants to say that, but he can’t bring himself to. Instead, he stretches his hand across the table and tells Enjolras, sincerely, “I love you.”

Enjolras takes his hand, lacing their fingers together. “I know,” he says softly. “I love you, too.” He squeezes Grantaire’s hand before adding, “I hope it comes back soon.”

“Yeah,” Grantaire agrees. “So do I.”

[heylittleriotact]

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: the majority of death care professionals I’ve worked with have some sort of fucked up mortician-origin-story and got into funerals in the first place to either try and demystify death or cope with their trauma by constantly exposing themselves to it, and that’s literally what Emmrich has done his entire life and it’s why I love him so much.

Under the cut for some pretty raw death talk, including infant death, because fuck it - there’s a reason this pixel man lives rent free in my head and I’m about to get personal.

My Mom very unexpectedly and traumatically lost a full term pregnancy when I was 7. The first corpse I ever saw or touched was my dead sister. The first baby I held in my arms was dead.

What the fuck do you mean she’s dead? Why is she dead? She’s a baby. Babies don’t die. Old people die. Bad guys in movies die. Babies don’t.

And then from there it was like… months of infuriating and condescending bullshit from well-meaning people just wanting to reconcile with something that can’t really be reconciled with: people said a lot of stuff to me like, “it was God’s plan” or, “it wasn’t meant to be” or, “at least she didn’t suffer” or “God needed her more” and loads of other trite bullshit in the same vein, and it really, really fucked with me as a child.

I watched it destroy my already unstable mother and cause her to take out her complicated grief on me - her abusive tendencies sharply escalated after the loss. I think she resented me. I think she resented seeing how much the loss hurt me and felt that I had no right to be as upset as I was. I think she didn’t know how to support a grieving child when she didn’t even have the tools to support herself.

I felt so isolated and confused. I became obsessed with death and heaven and angels and the idea of a soul, and as I got older, I couldn’t let go of the belief that no child - or person for that matter - should have to go through what I did.

So I became a funeral director. Because if I could help one child in a horrific situation feel seen and validated, then I’d made a difference. If I could help one despondent mother towards the right resources, or even just fucking make her feel seen and validated too, maybe she’d wind up in a better place than mine did.

I wanted to say fuck you to death. I wanted to prove my defiance by helping the living people left behind pick up the pieces. I wanted to learn to handle the unavoidable, permanent, unfeeling existence of death with the cautious reverence that one would employ when handling a venomous snake. And I did. I helped a lot of people and it fed my soul in insurmountable ways.

I became that weird death obsessed friend who couldn’t talk about anything EXCEPT funerals and death and souls and embalming and what happens to your body when you die. If you had a curious question about death or funerals? I would jump on the chance to answer it for you. Needed help with the loss of a loved one? I’ve gotchu. I became The Death Guy (I guess I still kind of am - I’m still happy to front questions and help friends and family navigate death and funerals because the knowledge is all still there.)

Eventually it became a great way for me to bury other traumas that happened to me (an abusive childhood, sexual assault and all sorts of abuse at the hands of a partner) and just not really deal with them because I couldn’t: I didn’t have time to deal with my own shit because other people needed help more than me. After all, they were dealing with a death. My own problems were small in comparison, right?

It all caught up with me after living and working through the nightmare that was COVID, and I burnt out super hard, had a small breakdown, hit the sauce super hard for awhile, and developed a lovely anxiety disorder and full blown insomnia. Counselling and a career change have helped immensely, but yeah…

I obsess over this old man as much as I do because I see a lot of my own shit and insecurities and fears and unhealthy coping mechanisms in him, and I just want everything to be okay for him, because it ended up being okay for me. It just took a lot of fucking work to get there.

To be gifted a character as complex and real as Emmrich is some once in a lifetime shit, and I’m so glad he exists. Get his ass to therapy.

I'm glad we agree that Emmrich has an absolutely unconscionable amount of rizz. However, I also have a great appreciation for his proficiency at the great honored pastime of Being A Fucking Weirdo. My man goes to work at the Death Factory every single day and copes with his deep deep fear of dying by?? Cosplaying a skeleton? Taash was NOT WRONG when they called him the corpse guy. Even amongst other necromancers, he is THEE corpse guy! His best friend is a skeleton and he hasn't left the Cemetary Where He Lives for years. He is 90% ookie spooks and 10% bisexual disaster man. The only reason he's so suave and smooth is because the ookie spooks are actually load-bearing and manage to utterly obscure what a nervous wreck he is at all times of day. It's hard to give into the existential dread when you're spending all of your time saying shit like, "The tapestry of the Fade holds many threads."

I just know that this man is holding back the mother of all existential crises. He all but has it after he yoinks Rook out of the Fade but he bottles it back up so quick you KNOW that wasn't the whole thing. You KNOW that Rook is going to wake up in the middle of the night six months after Elgar'nan bites it and there Emmrich will be, lich or not, staring blankly at the ceiling and saying, "Darling, what does it all mean?" Emmrich Volkarin is a sexy, sexy man who needs therapy and some sleep and maybe an extended sabbatical from Dead People University.

[househrt]

Can I please hear your trans Wilson headcanons

YES literally always (and yes these may contradict each other but there are infinite universes full of an infinite number of trans Wilsons)

he didn't go to med school solely to get a gender neutral title, but it definitely helped him make the decision (because we know this man usually doesn't know what tf he wants in life)

maybe he also wanted to study medicine to stop him from being scared of T injections, because he started out on gel but it got too inconvenient to have to apply every day and he got too paranoid about making sure he didn't touch anyone before 6 hours (yes I'm projecting for the second half of that lol)

I'd need an entire fic to flesh out this idea more but there could be something interesting in Wilson feeling guilty for transitioning after he lost contact with Danny, because now he's worried that Danny might not recognise him if they crossed paths again (this genuinely puts off his medical transition for a While, but he eventually does it anyway)

when he met House, he introduced himself with his surname because he hadn't chosen a new first name yet, and House noticed (because of course he would) but he didn't say anything about it (yet)

he's still in the habit of pitching his voice lower even though he's been on testosterone for ages, which is why he sometimes gets that theatre kid line delivery accent

dysphoria is part of the reason he wears too-big clothes in later seasons, to hide what his brain keeps calling curves but is actually just normal weight gain for a dude his age

I love the messy path of him identifying as a lesbian pre-transition, then as a straight trans man, and then a trans man dealing with so much comphet because he's actually just gay

I like to think he learns about non-binary people in the later seasons and it resonates with him enough to add a they to his pronouns (he/they Wilson I am crushing you up and putting you in a jar to carry around with me)

or, trans Wilson who doesn't realise until he's in his 30s/40s and is disgusted (dysphoric) at the idea of being House's girlfriend, so he's convinced himself he's not into men, but then he transitions and realises being House's boyfriend solves all his problems (except not actually because this man has so many problems)

he feels guilty about transitioning after he becomes the head of oncology because he thinks it makes the hospital look good to have more women department heads (House and Cuddy independently think this is the stupidest thing he's ever said. House's main argument is that trans department heads earn way more diversity points)

he doesn't know if House knows he's trans or not, but he's still keeping it a secret so he can bring it up to win an argument or bet at some point

he used the equivalent of trans tape to bind all the time even though he's mildly allergic to the adhesive and it left him with scars from where it always blistered and tore his skin (no I'm not projecting shhhh)

I always think of @defibrillism when I think about this but transmasc Wilson/transmasc Amber is also very special to me and you should check out his transmasc Amber tag for that very good content if you vibe with it

[marsbutterfly]

MECHANIC BADDIE HANJI WHO FIXES UP READERS CAR. SHES ALL LIKE I CAN TAKE CARE OF IT DARLING. YOU JUST SIT THERE AND LOOK PRETTY. (IDK SHIT ABOUT CARS) JUST NEED AN ACTS OF SERVICE HANJI

I'll Fix It All

a/n: omg happy new year!! this turned out way longer than I originally intended for it to be. i was hoping to post it before the year turned but i'll also accept the first day of the year lol. enjoy.

warnings: fem!reader (she/her), nb! hanji zoe (they/them), modern au, anxiety, panic attacks, kissing, fluff, comfort. also like, i don't know much about cars or car repair so pls bear with me. tagging: @wizzy21 wc: 2.5k | wattpad! | ao3!

"No, no, no, no, NO!" You cry out as your car slowly begins to lose speed. This isn't the first time this week, nor the second, nor the third. You couldn't even count on one hand the amount of times the engine had been making that weird noise and the light had been blinking at you like a malevolent eye.

But you thought you could put it off, that you could easily ignore it, and that it would fix itself like it had many times before. Maybe you just needed to check the coolant or add some more water to the radiator, except you continuously forgot to do so. And it finally came back to bite you in the ass.

As the smoke comes out of the hood, you grip the steering wheel tightly, a loud grunt escaping your lips as your forehead presses against the horn, the loud noise filling the air all around you. Still, you are lucky enough to be in a somewhat empty area so the least amount of people will be disturbed.

Your first instinct is to panic. You can feel the blood rushing through your body, your face getting warmer as a few tears begin to prickle in your eyes. You let out a shaky exhale, cursing yourself for allowing this situation to happen in the first place. Before you can even begin to cry, you feel your phone vibrating in the cup holder next to you, the caller's name showing up on the screen attached to the dashboard. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ‎‎‎"Sunshine ☼"

With a sniffle, you wipe the tears before they even have the chance to roll down your cheeks and pick up your phone, pressing the green button on the screen as you try your best to sound like you are composed and not entirely freaking out at the moment.

"Hello, my most beloved," you say, trying your best to sound like your playful self. Though it has no sound, you can almost hear the smile dropping off Hanji's face. It was not out of the ordinary for them to quickly pick up on the slightest change in your tone of voice.

"What happened?" They ask without missing a beat, the tone of their voice filled with love and concern, almost as if they were already expecting you to be in some sort of distress. "I was doing the dishes and accidentally broke a glass because I got such a bad feeling that my hand started shaking."

You sniffle but a small giggle exits your chest, the idea that the two of you are so intertwined that they can even sense when you are in some sort of distress, "Yeah, I'm fine… My car just finally gave out on me and I'm in the middle of a random neighborhood because I decided today, out of all days, to take a random shortcut!"

"Send me your location, and I'll get my tools and meet you over there," they say and you can already hear them moving around on the other end of the line. You wish you could protest but, the more you look at your car, the more panic fills your body. So you simply let out a quiet "okay" before hanging up.

Though your hands nervously shake, you can open your text messages and send Hanji a pin of your exact location. It isn't too far from your house, maybe five minutes if you speed up, and that knowledge only adds more fuel to your frustration. "Why now? I could have easily pulled into my driveway before you gave out!" You can't help the angry grunt that leaves your throat as you slam your hand against the steering wheel.

The waiting time seems like an eternity, an eerie feeling in the back of your mind like you are being watched. Your eyes dart to your phone, half convinced that maybe you should just call a toll truck when you see the headlights of Hanji's motorcycle as they speed down the road.

The light from the post shines above them and you can barely distinguish if they are an angel or a real person. As soon as their bike is parked behind your car, you exit the vehicle, running towards their embrace.

Their hair is still messy from having a helmet on and they hold a small toolbox with their left hand, but that does not stop them from hugging you as tightly as they possibly can. Their lips press against your head as the two of you remain like that for a while.

"Shhh, it's ok, my love," you can feel the smile in their voice, a gentleness like nothing you have ever experienced before, "Hanji is here to fix your problems."

"I truly appreciate you coming this fast," you whisper against their chest, "I genuinely thought my car would be able to handle the journey today but… I guess I was wrong."

"Did you have any trouble starting it this morning?" They pull back, their arm still wrapped around your frame. You think for a second, having trouble focusing on anything other than this panicky feeling in your chest.

Slowly, you begin to remember your day: you left work and the car started. You left for lunch and the car started. Clearly, it had started when you left home that morning… Didn't it?

"Oh shit…" You whisper while an embarrassed expression takes over your features. Your eyes shift towards the ground as you pull slightly further away to create a bigger distance between your bodies, too self-conscious to even look at them. "I couldn't get the engine to turn this morning. I had to start it, put it in neutral, and then start it again."

They nod, kissing your forehead once more as they stand in front of the hood of your car. You are still too embarrassed to look but you can hear the moment their toolbox touches the ground and as their hands pop it open. A few seconds go by as they begin tinkering with the metal inside, though your knowledge of cars isn't deep enough for you to fully understand what is going on.

You cross one arm against your chest while the other rests above your hand, your index finger tapping on your cheek while you can't help but take small nibbles on your thumb's nail. The anxiety inside of your chest never dissipates, nor the shame.

The morning had been nothing but a blur. You woke up late for work, forgot to eat or even bring anything to snack on until you had time to go to lunch, spilled water all over your car, and, to top it all off, it was raining in the morning. The engine not starting was just one of the many, many things that had gone wrong. You meant to text Hanji about it so they could meet you during your work hours and fix it but, of course, you forgot to charge your phone the night before.

You close your eyes and exhale, leaning against the car. Before you can get yourself into a frenzy, you hear Hanji's gentle voice pulling you out of the dark spiral you were about to send yourself into, "Okay, good news and bad news."

"Please explain it to me like I'm five," you say, shooting them an exhausted look and it causes them to chuckle quietly. "Bad news first."

"The alternator, or thing that charges your car battery, isn't properly working for some reason. Maybe because it's old, maybe it's faulty, but it for sure will not start working again, like, that thing is dead."

You nod, surprisingly following along with what they are telling you. You realize that all this knowledge comes from the previous times they have come to your aid or maybe from all the times they would check under the hood of your car before you left their house while the two of you still lived in separate households. Regardless, you turn your attention to them once more.

"I checked the fluid and the coolant and everything seems to be full and working ok. I ran some codes and nothing out of the ordinary popped up and lastly, I checked your oil." They say, wiping the grime out of their hands with a bleached towel, their face slightly sweaty, especially around the area where their glasses sit on their nose.

"Fuck… And the good news?" You ask, biting your nails even more, almost to the point of blood. With a gentle and concerned expression, Hanji takes a few steps forward, wrapping their dirty digits around your trembling palms, and only then do you notice just how short your nails have become.

"I can easily fix it. The last one we bought still has a warranty, so I can just change them." They whisper, placing a kiss against your fingers. A sense of despair fills your body again as tears prickle at the corners of your eyes, your lip trembling as you speak in a quiet yet pathetic voice.

"Please, don't leave me alone."

They sigh, running their hand over their messy hair. They look over to the open hood of your car and around the neighborhood, trying to think about what the best choice would be in this situation.

"The store is fifteen minutes away, on my bike, I'll be back in - "

"Please, don't leave me alone!!" You beg desperately, whatever is left of your fingernails now digging into the skin of their biceps, your eyes are wide open as tears stream down. You weren't that upset about the car breaking down, but just the intensity of all the feelings you had been holding back finally caught up to you the moment you realized you would have to be without them for even a second.

Hanji is taken aback by how sudden your response is, and how desolate you sound. They can see the anxiety written all over your features and it causes their heart to ache in their chest. That's the moment in which they realize just how many feelings you have been bottling, just how bad your week has been, and just how you have refused to talk to them about it.

Almost like they gain consciousness, their arms wrap around your frame, pulling you closer to their body. In exchange, you bury your head on their chest, not carrying that their shirt is now covered in grime and sweat, even if it is chilly outside. "Is there anything you want to talk about?" They whisper, their lips pressed against the top of your head.

You want to shake your head, to put your walls up once more and brush it off as "just a bad day", but it was more than that. It had been a bad week, a bad month, and you had gone through it all by yourself, in silence. Crying in the shower but still putting on a smile when around them, your appetite barely exists but you still eat all of their cooking. But before you can deny anything, the tears begin pouring down your face once more, you cling to them like they are the last life vest on a sinking ship.

“I d-don’t know what is going on with me…” You gasp, hiding your face in a mixture of shame and search for comfort. “I just… I just want to be close to you at all times, I just never want to be alone and I just… Everything is too much and not enough, everything is going wrong. I…”

“My love,” they whisper, holding you slightly tighter with one arm. With their free hand, they prop up your chin, a gentle and warm smile taking over their lips once your eyes meet. “You don’t have to suffer alone, ok? I am here for you, no matter what, when, or where. I will always be by your side.”

“Good and bad?” You sniffle and they chuckle softly, brushing a strand of hair away from your eyes as they lean down so their forehead is touching yours. They nod.

“Good and bad, my angel…” They whisper, their eyes closing as your noses brush together. You lean closer, your lips brushing against theirs so lightly that it nearly feels like a paint-filled brush against a canvas, working its way through a halfway-painted masterpiece.

Hanji gently presses your body against the car door, their grip on your waist is tight as they make sure to keep you safely in place. Your lips are half-open, temptingly wet in the dim light of the street pole, your face is stained with silent tears and the only thought going through their head? “I really need to kiss her.”

And so they do. They lean forward ever so slightly until there is no more room between the two of you. When your lips collide, you can’t help the quiet gasp that exists in your body, your hand gently resting on their cheek while your thumb brushes against the softness of their skin. 

You get lost in the warmth of their body, in how comforting it feels to have them pressed against you like this. Your nose brushes against theirs as your head tilts slightly to the side, the faint smell of coffee and menthol cigarettes still lingering on their breath as it mixes with the scent of the gum you had in your mouth earlier.

They nibble on your tongue gently, sometimes brushing the tip of their own against it and it’s enough to cause you to nearly melt in their arms. If it wasn’t for their strong arms holding you in place, you would have fallen to the ground into a puddle underneath their feet.

Neither of you wants to pull away, but the need to breathe is becoming stronger by the second. When you separate, your forehead rests against theirs, and your eyes remain closed as you enjoy the smell of their skin. Even if it isn’t a pleasant smell, it brings you too much comfort in this moment for you to care.

“I’ll call Moblit and he can come to help, ok?” They whisper, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. You nod, lacing your fingers with the ones on their left hand while they pull their phone out of their pocket with the other. "I'll send him to the store and I will stay with you. You won't be alone, I promise."

As they speak to the man on the other end of the line, you can’t help but allow a small smile to form on your lips as you think about how lucky you are to have someone like them in your life. Someone willing to stop everything at the drop of a hat to come to rescue you when you need them most. 

As they blow you a kiss, you find yourself thinking about that one specific sentence once more, realizing that no truer words had ever been spoken:

“Hanji is here to fix all your problems.”

[itendtothinkalot]

beomgyu!spiderman au

summary: you and beomgyu have a normal yet budding friendship—well, mostly normal. turns out he's got a bit of a secret, and not just any secret, he's spiderman and well he doesnt want u to find out.

genre: fluff

characters: beomgyu!spiderman x f!reader

words: 4.6

a/n: idk i thought this wld be fun to write

warnings: nothing much

It was weird. So weird that it left this hollow ache in your chest every time you thought about it. Beomgyu wasn’t like this—he wasn’t the kind of person who left you wondering, second-guessing. He’d always been so easy to read, an open book with no missing pages. If something was wrong, you’d know. If he had a secret, he’d tell you. But now? Now he was shutting you out, and you didn’t understand why.

You tried to brush it off at first. Everyone gets busy, right? He had a life, you had a life, and it wasn’t like he owed you every second of his time. But standing you up three times in one week? That wasn’t just “busy.” That was deliberate.

And you weren’t mad—you told yourself you weren’t mad. You were just… confused. Hurt, maybe. Because this wasn’t like him. Beomgyu was your best friend. The guy who had spent hours trying to braid your hair after watching some random tutorial, only to give up and suggest cutting it all off instead. The guy who knew all your favorite snacks and always bought extras just in case. The guy who swore he’d never leave you hanging.

Except now he was. And every time you tried to talk to him about it, he’d brush you off with some flimsy excuse, like he couldn’t even be bothered to lie properly.

“I was just late,” he’d say, his voice light, casual, like he wasn’t tearing you up inside.

Late? For three days straight?

It was ridiculous. But instead of pushing, you waited. Because what else could you do? You couldn’t exactly drag the truth out of him, and part of you—an annoyingly soft part—was scared of what you might hear if you did.

So you waited. You sat in your apartment, half-watching reruns of a show you weren’t even interested in, your phone next to you on the couch just in case he called. And he always did, eventually, with that same apologetic tone that somehow made it worse.

“Don’t watch it without me!” he’d said the last time you saw him, practically begging. “Promise me you won’t!”

And you had. You promised. Because that’s what you always did when it came to Beomgyu—you kept your promises, even when he didn’t keep his.

But now it had been weeks since you’d paused that stupid show, and you were starting to wonder if you’d made a mistake. Maybe you should’ve just watched it without him. Maybe you should’ve stopped waiting altogether.

You sighed, slumping further into the couch. “Stupid Beomgyu,” you muttered under your breath.

And yet, you knew the moment he showed up, all of this would melt away. Your frustration, your hurt—it would disappear the second he smiled at you, like it always did. Maybe you were too soft. Or maybe…

Maybe you felt more for him than you wanted to admit.

(You did. You absolutely did.)

But it didn’t matter, right? You shook the thought out of your head. He was your best friend. That was all. Adding feelings into the mix would only ruin things, and you weren’t going to risk that.

Still, the ache in your chest didn’t go away.

You must’ve drifted off at some point because the next thing you felt was someone nudging your shoulder.

“Hey…”

Your eyes blinked open, hazy and unfocused. And there he was, crouching in front of you with that same apologetic look.

“Gyu?”

“Yeah, it’s me.” His voice was soft, quieter than usual. “Did you fall asleep?”

You wiped at your mouth, realizing you’d been drooling. Great. “How’d you even get in? I locked the door.”

His eyes flicked to the side. “You left your keys out front again.”

“I… I don’t think I did.” You frowned, sitting up and pulling your blanket tighter around yourself. “And why’s the window open? I thought I closed it.”

“You probably forgot.” His voice was quick, dismissive.

You narrowed your eyes but let it slide. “I guess. So, where’ve you been?”

“Just out,” he said, avoiding your gaze.

“Out where?”

“The grocery store,” he muttered. “You know… stuff like that.”

“Grocery store?” You looked him up and down. “Where are the groceries, then?”

His laugh was awkward, almost forced. “Why the interrogation? I thought we were watching our show.”

“Maybe we would be if you actually showed up on time,” you shot back, the words sharper than you intended.

“I said I was out!” His voice cracked, a sudden edge of frustration breaking through. “Can we just… watch the show?”

The shift caught you off guard. Beomgyu never snapped at you—not like this. You stared at him, trying to figure out what was going on in that head of his, but his expression was locked tight.

“Fine,” you said softly, scooting over to make space for him on the couch.

He sat down beside you, a little too close, and for a moment, you thought about pressing him again. But the tension in his shoulders stopped you. Whatever was going on, he wasn’t ready to talk about it.

The room felt heavier than usual. The two of you sat side by side on the couch, eyes glued to the screen, but it wasn’t the same. Normally, there’d be sarcastic commentary flying back and forth, bursts of laughter at the ridiculous plot twists, or arguments over which character made the dumbest decisions. But tonight? Silence. The kind that didn’t just fill the air—it seeped into it, cold and suffocating.

The show was playing, but neither of you were really watching. The images moved, the characters spoke, but your mind was elsewhere, and you were sure his was too.

You stole a glance at him. His face was slightly turned away, hood pulled over his head like he was trying to shield himself from the world—or maybe from you.

And then the words slipped out, quieter than you intended.

“Are you sick of me?”

Your voice was so soft it barely felt like your own, but it cut through the silence like a sharp knife.

Beomgyu froze. For a moment, he didn’t move, didn’t even breathe. Then he turned to you, just slightly, still not meeting your eyes.

“What?” His voice cracked. He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “No. Never. Why would you even think that?”

You shifted, pulling your knees to your chest and hugging them tightly. “Because… because you’ve been avoiding me like the plague. Did you really think I wouldn’t notice? You’re kind of my best friend, Beomgyu.”

Your words hung in the air, raw and vulnerable.

“I know,” he said quietly, his voice laced with guilt. “I know, and I’m sorry.”

But he still wouldn’t look at you. His eyes stayed fixed on the screen, his hood casting a shadow over his face.

That’s when you noticed. He hadn’t taken it off—not once since he arrived. Beomgyu never kept his hood up indoors. He hated it, said it made him feel stuffy. 

“Beomgyu,” you said softly, sitting up straighter. “What’s going on?”

He shook his head, pulling the hood tighter around his face. “It’s nothing. I just—can we not do this right now? Please?”

Your chest tightened. The Beomgyu you knew was open, even painfully so at times. He wore his emotions on his sleeve, never hesitating to share what was on his mind. But now? He was closed off, guarded in a way you’d never seen before.

And it scared you.

You didn’t think. You just moved closer, scooting toward him until your knees brushed against his. Your hands found his cheeks, soft but firm as you turned his face toward you.

“Beomgyu…” Your voice wavered, your heart sinking the moment his eyes met yours.

Your breath caught. His face—the left side—was a mess. Swollen, raw, the kind of bruising that made your chest ache just looking at it. It wasn’t just a scrape or a tumble. It looked angry, like it had a story you didn’t want to hear.

You swallowed hard, forcing down the gasp that threatened to escape. He didn’t need that right now. Instead, you steadied your voice, though your hands trembled slightly.

“What happened?”

He tried to look away, but your hands held him there, gently but firmly.

“Nothing,” he mumbled, barely above a whisper. “I fell—”

“Bullshit.” The word came out harsher than you intended, but you didn’t care. “This doesn’t look like a fall, Beomgyu. Not even close.”

You could feel it now—the sting of tears threatening to spill. Everything from the past few weeks was bubbling up: the missed hangouts, the lies, the hood, the silence. And now this.

“Did someone do this to you?” Your voice cracked, barely holding it together.

He hesitated. His jaw tightened under your palms, and for a moment, you thought he’d lie again. But then he exhaled, defeated.

“No. I mean… yes.” He paused, his voice faltering. “I mean… kind of.”

Your brows furrowed.

“What do you mean kind of?” Your voice cracked, rising just enough to betray the knot tightening in your chest. “Beomgyu, what’s going on? Who did this to you?”

He sighed, pulling back slightly, your hands falling to your lap. “It’s nothing,” he muttered, his voice low. “It’ll heal in no time.”

“Beomgyu—”

“I’m fine,” he cut you off, avoiding your eyes.

And then—

“BREAKING NEWS!”

The sudden burst of sound from the TV made you both jump, your heads snapping toward the screen in unison.

The anchor’s voice was urgent, almost breathless. “Spider-Man vigilante almost gets caught in bank robbery two roads ahead from West Avenue earlier tonight. Witnesses report seeing him injured but still managing to escape authorities…”

“Look at how messy the world is. God, I can’t even fathom if you were out there doing stupid shit like this,” you sighed aloud, rubbing your temples and covering your face with your hands, the weight of the week catching up to you.

Beomgyu gulped audibly. “I–”

You didn’t hear him. Your eyes stayed glued to the screen, the video playing on repeat. Spider-Man, scraped up, barely getting to his feet, stumbling before launching away into the night. Something about it nagged at you, pulling at a thread you didn’t even know was there.

Instinctively, you grabbed the remote and paused the footage.

Your gaze flickered between the screen and Beomgyu.

Then back to the screen.

Spider-Man's bruise—the one on his face—was in the exact same place as Beomgyu’s.

Your heart stuttered.

You turned to him slowly, eyes scanning him up and down. He wasn’t looking at you anymore; instead, his gaze was glued to the floor, shoulders hunched. His hoodie sleeves were pulled down to his wrists, but now, the faintest hint of color peeked out—red and blue.

“Beomgyu,” you said carefully, your voice low, deliberate. “What are you wearing?”

You didn’t wait for an answer. Before he could react, you grabbed his arm and yanked the sleeve up.

And there it was.

Red and blue, unmistakable.

The fabric of the suit stretched over his skin, torn slightly in places, the bright colors muted by smudges of dirt and—was that blood?

“What. The. Fuck.”

Your words came out in a whisper, barely audible, but the weight behind them was deafening.

Beomgyu finally looked up, his wide eyes meeting yours, panic and guilt written all over his face. “I can explain,” he stammered, his voice trembling.

“You fucking—idiot.”

Your voice cracked as you spat the words, frustration laced with a trembling undertone of worry. You bolted from the living room, leaving Beomgyu staring after you with wide, uncertain eyes. A moment later, you came back, lugging your first aid kit and dumping it unceremoniously on the coffee table.

Dropping to your knees in front of him, you started rummaging through the kit, pulling out antiseptic wipes, gauze, and bandages like a woman possessed.

Beomgyu opened his mouth to say something, but you cut him off with a sharp glare. “Don’t,” you warned, your voice trembling with restrained anger. “Just sit there and let me deal with your idiocy.”

You grabbed his chin, pulling his face toward you. His eyes searched yours, but you avoided his gaze, too focused on the task at hand. The bruise on his face looked even worse up close, a deep purple that made your stomach twist in knots.

“You’re so stupid,” you murmured under your breath, the anger bubbling to the surface as you dabbed at the cut on his cheek with an antiseptic wipe. He flinched slightly, and you pressed harder, your hands trembling.

“An idiot,” you added, almost to yourself.

Beomgyu sighed, resigned to the scolding. “I know,” he mumbled.

You scoffed. “Putting yourself in danger to protect who? Huh? People who don’t even give two fucks about you?” Your voice cracked again as you pressed a little too hard with the wipe, making him wince. “You’re an idiot for doing this to yourself.”

“The biggest idiot I know,” you finished, your voice softer now, tinged with a mix of anger and worry.

Beomgyu chuckled, the sound low and almost sheepish. “You give a fuck about me,” he muttered under his breath.

Your hands froze. You looked up at him, narrowing your eyes. “What? Are you trying to say you’re doing this because of me? Because I didn’t ask you to do any of this. In fact, I didn’t even know you had spider-fucking powers.”

His lips quirked into a faint smile, amused despite the pain. “No, that’s not what I meant. I just—”

“Don’t,” you cut him off, shaking your head. “Don’t try to justify this. You scared the hell out of me, Beomgyu.”

Beomgyu watched you, his smile lingering as he took in your flustered state. This wasn’t how he imagined you’d react when you found out. In his head, you’d be awestruck, maybe even impressed. Maybe you’d finally see him as more than just your idiot best friend.

But this? The anger, the worry etched on your face, the way your hands shook as you patched him up—it wasn’t what he expected. And yet, somehow, it made him feel warm inside.

“You’re so mad at me,” he said, the corners of his lips twitching upward.

“Damn right I am,” you snapped, tying off the bandage a little too tightly.

“You’re mad because you care,” he teased, his voice soft, almost playful.

You rolled your eyes, but your cheeks flushed slightly, betraying you. “I’m mad because you’re a dumbass,” you shot back, but your voice had lost some of its bite.

Beomgyu laughed, and for a moment, the tension eased. Despite everything, despite the bruises and the secrets and the sheer absurdity of the situation, you couldn’t help but smile faintly. Because, as much as you hated to admit it, he wasn’t entirely wrong.

You dabbed the alcohol-soaked cotton ball gently on his bruised cheek, your tongue poking out slightly as you focused. Your brows knitted together in deep concentration, and every time he flinched, you did too, wincing like you could feel his pain yourself.

Beomgyu bit his lip, trying to stifle a smile. Even in the middle of this mess, you looked so ridiculously cute, so endearingly worried. He wanted to tell you to stop fussing, but honestly, he didn’t want this moment to end.

“Does it hurt?” you asked softly, your voice full of genuine concern.

“No,” he lied, shaking his head.

You squinted at him suspiciously. “How about this?”

Before he could register your words, you drove your knee into his groin.

“WHAT THE FUCK!” he yelped, doubling over in pain.

You crossed your arms, glaring down at him as he clutched his stomach. “Hurts, doesn’t it? That’s how I feel every single time you’re out there fighting God knows what,” you snapped, your voice trembling with anger and worry.

Beomgyu groaned, still catching his breath, but he couldn’t stop the faint smile creeping onto his face despite the unimaginable pain. “You’re insane,” he muttered, still grimacing.

“And you’re an idiot,” you shot back, your arms still crossed, but your voice softened slightly.

“I’m fine,” he said after a moment, straightening up as best as he could. “I’ll be fine.”

“Beomgyu, you don’t get it,” you said, your voice breaking now as the worry in your chest spilled out. “Sure, you’re fine now. Sure, you’ll be fine tomorrow. But these people…they’re getting weirder, stronger. Yesterday it was a bank robber. And you saw the news two weeks ago—the Avengers are fighting aliens from outer space!”

He stayed quiet, his gaze dropping to the floor.

You took a shaky breath, blinking back tears. “We’re just kids, Beomgyu. From a small-town neighborhood. You’re out here fighting things you shouldn’t even be near. What happens when you come up against something you can’t handle?”

He looked up at you then, his face serious, but there was something tender in his expression too. “I can handle it,” he said softly, his voice steady.

You shook your head, biting your lip. “You don’t know that.”

Beomgyu hesitated for a moment before reaching out, his hand brushing against yours. “I’m not doing this because I want to,” he admitted. “I’m doing it because…because if I don’t, who will? If I can stop someone from getting hurt, then isn’t it worth it?”

Your heart ached at his words, but you couldn’t bring yourself to argue. Because as much as you hated it, deep down, you knew he believed what he was saying.

“Beomgyu,” you began, your voice trembling as you tried to steady the whirlwind of emotions inside you. “The people you’re saving out there…they mean the world to the people who love them. I get that. But you—” your voice cracked, and you took a shaky breath. “You mean the world to me.”

His eyes softened, the guilt in them deepening with every word you spoke.

“It’s not that I don’t care about what the fuck’s been happening with the world, but when they look at you, they see a hero,” you continued. “But…when I look at you, I see my best friend. The person who’s been there for me through everything. I can’t let you get hurt. I just… I can’t.”

Your words hung heavy in the air, and for a moment, all he could do was watch you, his lips parted as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words.

“I’ll be careful,” he said finally, his voice soft but steady. “I promise. I’ll be here. Always.”

You stared at him, searching his face for something—certainty, reassurance, anything to make you believe him. “Can I count on it?”

“What?” he asked, taken aback by the raw vulnerability in your voice.

“Can I count on your promises?” you whispered, your hands clutching each other tightly, like you were holding yourself together. “Because if anything—and I mean anything—ever happens to you, I’d feel like it’s on me. For not stopping you. For not doing enough to keep you safe.”

Beomgyu’s heart broke at your words, at the way your tears glistened in your eyes but refused to fall, as if you were fighting against your own pain for his sake. He stepped closer, his hands reaching out to gently take yours.

“Nothing’s going to happen to me,” he said, his voice filled with a quiet determination. “You don’t have to carry that. It’s not on you. This is my choice, and I’ll do everything I can to keep that promise to you. To always come back. To always be here.”

You wanted to believe him, but the fear in your chest wouldn’t let go. Still, you nodded, swallowing back the tears that threatened to spill.

“Just… don’t make me regret this,” you murmured, your voice barely audible.

“I won’t,” he said, squeezing your hands gently. “I swear.”

But as much as you wanted to hold onto his words, you couldn’t help but feel the weight of everything: that no promise could shield him from the dangers he could face.

It had been a few hours, and all Beomgyu and you had done was lie on the couch, wrapped in each other's arms. Maybe a few tears here and there, mostly from you. Well, all from you, while Beomgyu kept insisting he'd be fine. It was a cycle of reassurance before things finally started to calm down.

"Why didn’t you tell me?" you asked, scratching the back of your neck, your voice quiet. "I thought we shared everything."

Beomgyu chuckled, clearly not taking you too seriously. "Well, look at how you reacted. Not too well, by the way."

You shot him a glare, not backing down. "What if you were in my shoes? You’d be telling me to take that suit off the second you found out."

Beomgyu smirked, clearly amused. "Well, that's because you have no athletic ability—"

You rolled your eyes. "The only reason you have athletic ability is because you got bitten by a radioactive spider. So... who’s really the winner here? Hint: it's the spider."

Beomgyu’s smirk faltered as he laughed softly, shaking his head. "Okay, you’ve got a point there. But still, it’s not about athleticism. It’s about being able to do something, anything, to make a difference."

You sighed, a little exhausted but grateful for the lighthearted moment amidst everything. "Just promise me, okay? No more secret superhero acts without telling me first."

His tone softened, the playful edge fading as sincerity took over. "I promise. Well, unless you don't pick up the phone and someone's getting robbed. I can't just sit back, right?"

You raised an eyebrow. "I trust you with some small-time bank robber armed with a knife or whatever, but an alien threatening to destroy Earth for eternity? That's a little different.”

Beomgyu’s grin returned, though there was a glint of seriousness behind it. "Okay, okay. I get it. Aliens are a little… above my pay grade," he teased, nudging you gently.

You crossed your arms, leaning back into the couch. "Exactly! See, now we're on the same page."

"Fine," he sighed dramatically, rolling his eyes. "I’ll leave the big, world-ending catastrophes to the professionals." He paused, then added with a smirk, "But if there's ever a small-time villain with a bad attitude, I’ll be there. I can't resist a good bank robbery."

You shot him a playful glare. "Just remember, you’ve got me to answer to if you get yourself killed trying to stop some thief."

"Wouldn’t dream of it," he said with a wink, though there was a hint of seriousness beneath the playful gesture. "Also," he muttered, "have I told you how Iron Man's basically mentoring me?"

"The Kang Taehyun? Get your head out of your ass, Beomgyu."

"Oh, I’ve got him on speed dial! Watch this." Beomgyu pulled out his phone and dialed a number, putting it on speaker. The phone rang for a while before abruptly cutting off, the screen showing that the call had been declined.

"Well... he might've been busy. I mean, he's Iron Man." Beomgyu shrugged with a grin, clearly trying to mask his embarrassment.

You rolled your eyes. "You do realize I don't care about this whole suave superhero life you're living, right? I'm mostly concerned about your safety."

Beomgyu raised his hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright, but if Mr. Kang Taehyun knocks on our door tonight, I'll just tell him to beat it. My girlfriend doesn't care."

"Girlfriend?" You raised an eyebrow, giving him a pointed look.

"Did I say girlfriend? I meant best friend. You know, because you're a girl and all…" Beomgyu chuckled nervously, quickly turning his face away from you.

“No, you said girlfriend,” you teased, raising an eyebrow. "And don't think I didn't catch that."

Beomgyu stiffened, his face turning a little red as he tried to play it off. "I—uh, I meant best friend! You know, because you're a girl and all... I—I’m just—uh, kidding. Obviously."

You crossed your arms, leaning in with a smirk. "Are you sure about that? Because it sounded like you were already claiming me as your girlfriend, Beomgyu."

“Okay, and what about it?” Beomgyu’s voice softened, his playful smirk turning into something more serious. “Let’s be real, we were this close to telling each other we liked each other anyway. So why not skip the whole confessional part and get to the point? Let’s date.”

You stared at him for a moment, unsure if you were hearing him right. The air between you felt different now, charged with something you hadn’t expected.

"Wait, are you—" You stopped yourself, suddenly self-conscious. "You’re serious?"

Beomgyu leaned back, his eyes not leaving yours. "Yeah, I’m serious. I don’t want to keep pretending like I don’t care about you more than just... this." He motioned between the two of you, his voice growing softer, yet full of conviction.

For a moment, all you could do was breathe, trying to process his words. But then, the feeling you’d been ignoring for so long bubbled up, and before you could stop yourself, you found yourself smiling.

“This is how you’re going to ask me out? Looking like Scar from The Lion King and telling me to date you while using that tone on me? This is almost too romantic,” you said, dripping with sarcasm.

Beomgyu blinked in mock offense, throwing his hands up dramatically. “Hey, Scar’s got style! I can’t help if I’m channeling his energy right now. And for the record, I wasn’t angry—I was being passionate.”

You raised an eyebrow, trying to keep a straight face. “Oh, passionate, huh? So now I’m supposed to swoon over your villainous charisma? Really selling it.”

He rolled his eyes playfully but then leaned in a little closer, his expression softening. “Look, I’m not great with words, but if you want the long, drawn-out confession, I can do that too. But you already know how I feel. I care about you. More than anyone else. So... what do you say?”

You took a deep breath, letting his words settle in, the sarcasm fading as your heart did the talking. "Well, when you put it like that...I kinda wanna hear the long, drawn-out confession.” 

Beomgyu grinned, his eyes lighting up as he straightened up. “Alright, alright, if you insist.” He cleared his throat dramatically, then looked at you with all the seriousness he could muster, though a playful spark lingered in his gaze.

“I’ve spent countless nights trying to figure out how to say this. Should I tell you how every time I see you, my heart races? Or how I can’t help but smile whenever you walk into the room, like everything’s right in the world? Maybe I should mention how I think about you more than I care to admit, even when I’m supposed to be saving the city,” he said, each word sincere, though he tried to mask it with his usual humor. “But let’s get to the point. I care about you more than anything, and I think it’s about time I stopped pretending like I’m okay with just being your friend. So... what do you say? Will you be my girlfriend?”

“If you’ll take me as your girlfriend, then yes.” 

Beomgyu's heart skipped a beat at your words, and for a moment, he forgot to breathe. He stared at you, eyes wide, as if processing what you had just said. 

A grin slowly spread across his face, softer than his usual teasing smirk. "I think I can handle that. Might be a little tougher than fighting bad guys, but if I can take them on, I can handle you, right?"

You rolled your eyes, a playful smile tugging at your lips. "Oh, so now I'm your biggest challenge, huh?" you teased, raising an eyebrow.

Beomgyu smirked, his gaze softening as he leaned in a little closer. "You’re definitely the toughest one," he said, his voice low and sincere, "but I think I'm up for it."

"Well, good luck," you whispered, your voice suddenly quieter, the teasing giving way to something a little deeper. "You’re gonna need it."

[milliesfishes]

Millie hope you are well! Had a request idea! Was thinking about the idea of sweet innocent reader still being so protective of Billy. (And he’s even more protective of her obviously!) and maybe! maybe! when they are going to bed one night she’s like “don’t worry I won’t let anything get to you they’d have to go through me first” and he’s just like 🥹 cause she couldn’t hurt a fly but it’s the sentiment

this is short but :) needed some feel-good

౨ৎ꣑ৎyou're protective over billy౨ৎ꣑ৎ fem reader x billy the kid

Billy always shifted into a different mindset whenever you were with him.

You were his sweetheart, the one thing truly worth having in this world, and therefore he was always on alert when you were in public with him. Besides wanting to protect you, he was well aware of what being seen with him could mean. There were folks out there who wouldn't stop and think about what a kind, lovely girl you were. All they saw was your connection to him.

He was subtle about it, or he tried to be. Always scanning the perimeter, making sure no threats were looming on the horizon. Anyone who decided it'd be a good idea to threaten his girl was a dead man on sight. You were blissfully unaware as far as he knew, always chattering happily with your hand slipped into the crook of his elbow.

One look into your eyes, one touch, one call of his name and he'd melt, all his attention on you. Billy swore you made him better just by being near him. So in return, he saved only for you all the softest parts of himself.

The gentlest kisses. The softest touches. You got everything the world didn't. Billy was very careful with you, terrified that he would make a wrong move and you would slip between his fingers and he'd be left to dream. But everything he did only seemed to draw you closer.

"That was my first kiss," you confessed softly after the first time he'd touched his lips to yours. Billy's heart swelled a little at your admittance, and he cupped your cheeks, kissing your forehead. It was at that moment that he knew what a treasure you were, and how safe he'd keep you. The fact that you'd trusted him with a first meant more to him than he could ever say.

He eased you into everything slowly, making sure you were comfortable, double checking with each move. Billy could see the difference between you before and after and it only made him want to protect you more.

You were different when you were taken care of. Your smile was brighter, your demeanor more relaxed. You seemed happy, and Billy was determined to keep it that way. His sweet girl deserved it. The best, because you were the best.

He began bringing you along for nearly everything except work, sitting you in front of him on his horse and riding around the surrounding area, to run errands. You would lean happily against his chest, playing with his hand on your waist, accepting the kisses he pressed to your head with a sweet smile.

There was no doubt in his mind about loving you. How could he ever do any different. Eventually he found a little cabin secluded enough to settle into, and you were a frequent visitor there. Billy had discovered that his favorite thing in the world was holding you while you slept, and he wanted to do it as much as possible.

It was the fact that you were even able to sleep around him. That your body allowed itself to be unconscious, that you felt safe enough to do so. Billy would bundle you in blankets and kiss your nose, holding you close until your eyes grew sleepy. He swore he couldn't go even a week without it.

"C'mere," Billy murmured one night, slipping into bed and reaching for you. Once you settled into his chest, he pulled a blanket over your back, kissing your forehead. "There we go. All comfy now."

"Billy?" You murmured it half into his chest.

He looked down, rubbing your back gently. "You okay, baby?"

"Mhm." You sat up a little, elbow on his chest. He smiled slightly, looking up at you, hand still stroking up your lower back.

"I'm gonna look out for you," you murmured, nuzzling into him. "People are so mean to you Billy."

"That's okay, angel," he said quietly, holding his lips to your hair. "It's okay."

"Uh uh." You shook your head, resting your chin on your arm. "They have to go through me, Billy. Nobody can be mean to you."

That brought a smile to his face, imagining his sweetheart telling someone off for badmouthing him. But he didn't laugh, only leaned down to kiss you gently. "Thank you, baby. That's very good of ya."

"You're welcome," you said proudly, snuggling close with your head on his shoulder. Billy let himself smile wider once your eyes were closed, and he hid it in your hair anyways.

He truly didn't know what he would do without you.

[thefandomenchantress]

General Thoughts About Eden's Garden

I have, at long last, finished chapter one of Eden's Garden. And I really liked it! While it wasn't perfect, I still really enjoyed playing it and am very glad I got to experience it. Since I wasn't around for the Another fangames, this is the first time I've been able to keep up with a project like this as it's coming out, and it's been really cool.

So, without further ado, let's get started! Project Eden's Garden spoilers below. :)

I'll start with my criticisms, since I don't have a lot of them. Honestly, my biggest complaint has to be the technical issues I faced while trying to play this game instead of watching it. But I'm not going to sit here and pretend making a game is easy by any means, so I don't really hold that against the game, even if it was frustrating.

Plus, I'm an idiot. I sat for like half an hour trying to figure out the Non-Stop debate controls and thinking my WASD thingy was malfunctioning and not letting me switch truth bullets, when there was only one truth bullet I was allowed to use at the time. I was just being stupid and not catching on when it only showed me one truth bullet in the corner, haha. The repeated crashing of my game, however, wasn't my fault. But I was able to get my hands on a work-in-progress low-spec version of the game that stopped most of the crashing and stuff! After that, most issues went away, except for after the trial ended and the after-trial dialog wouldn't pop up, leaving me on a black screen even after a restarted my computer and tried a few more times. But I'm not too unhappy about that, it's not like I was missing any riveting gameplay sections, haha. I could just watch the YouTube version of the execution and stuff.

Other than those technical difficulties on my end, there are only a few actual problems I had with the gameplay, haha. The first being that I am terrible at bullet hell-styled gameplay, apparently, and Argument Altercation kicked my ass in normal mode. I really wish there was a way to switch your difficulty on that, or maybe checkpoints, because after about thirty or more tries of not being able to get past stage three, I gave up and ended up just getting my hands on a save file from after the minigame. I may love videogames, but that does not mean I'm good at them, haha.

As for the actual writing, I don't have too many complaints...I suppose if I had to say something, though, it'd be that some of the characters felt like they didn't have enough to do this chapter. Ulysses is probably the main one I felt this applied to, even if I love him, he didn't give us too much this chapter, other than a lore drop during the pharmacy investigation (His limited screentime didn't stop me from growing attached to him, though haha). Other characters, despite getting a little more screentime, felt like they didn't really develop at all in the grand scheme of things. But I don't want to focus in on this too much, since it's only chapter one and most characters usually don't start having any big changes until a murder occurs. And the disproportional screentime may just be the writing style of Eden's Garden being that they focus on a certain group of characters each chapter, when they have the most relevance. Wenona, for example, feels like she's being set up to be a larger player down the line, even if she wasn't a super major character this chapter.

There was a lot more I liked about the chapter than disliked, though! All the characters really grew on me, for the most part. Well...Almost everyone. There is one character who I'm kinda meh on right now, since I'm not quite sure what they're going for yet. He's entertaining, I like him fine, but he's not quite on the same level as everyone else. And that character is:

Jett.

Honestly, I think the main reason I'm having trouble is just how he treats Toshiko.

Jett, why are you picking on a literal child??? What are you doing??? This wouldn't bother me if I knew an explanation for it that gives cool insight into his character, but as is I'm just kinda annoyed at him for it. Then again, I haven't bothered to experience any of his FTEs yet, so it's possible he gives some sort of explanation for his child-belittling ways there, haha.

The Mark and Jett thing was fine, I'm liking the set-up there. I think the only difference that makes me like the Jett and Mark stuff over the Jett and Toshiko stuff is that Damon actually calls Jett out for not respecting Mark's boundaries, meanwhile no one really reprimands him for belittling Toshiko because of her age. When he shares her blackmail, no one says "Hey, man, that wasn't very cool of you." They just shrug Toshiko's blackmail off and say no one should share anything else. Wolfgang even calls her blackmail a "joke". No wonder Toshiko is so desperate to be respected, everyone but Ingrid is so rude to her (I can forgive Grace, though, because the gremlin bit was the funniest thing in the prologue to me).

Of course, if they end up calling out his behavior towards her later, as well as everyone else's, I'll be happy and probably end up liking him more. His whole never taking off his helmet thing is pretty cool, I'm interested to see where that goes and to see any character development he has. And him and Cassidy's little friendship being established through gaming was fun.

...Writing all this out actually made me appreciate Jett a little more, since I don't think I would be able to say this much about some of the other characters...I mean if I felt something other than passive enjoyment maybe they’re doing something right…

Oh, right, there were other characters this chapter. Let's get onto them!

Damon was just as entertaining as last time, I'm excited to see what happens next with him. Him letting Diana defend herself made it seem like he was going to be more empathic to others and improve, but Eva betraying him might mean he starts trusting the others even less than before.

In daily life, Eva...Might've been my favorite. Don't get me wrong, Kai is still my favorite character overall, but I loved Eva in daily life so much. Her "Bweh..." and "Raaaage..." voicelines are some of my favorites in any fangan and I'm happy I experienced all her FTEs. I loved her in daily life, deadly life was...Still fine and good, the execution was super well-animated and cool. But her being the culprit did sort of undercut my enjoyment a little, since it sort of calls into question the truthfulness of certain aspects of her character that made me like her. Still really cool, though.

Kai was great. I'm going to make a post dedicated to him later, where I'm sure I'll ramble on and on for a while, so for now I'll keep it brief. He was just as funny as last time, surprisingly helpful in the class trial, his large amount of screentime was a pleasant surprise to me, I'm super excited to see if he'll be the new support, and his FTEs were really cool. I'm super hyped to ramble about everything concerning him later.

Ulysses, despite his limited screentime, managed to be pretty charming this time around. Him already telling backstory stuff to us makes me a little worried for if he'll die soon, but oh well. Him literally saying "um, actually" when he starts his objection was great. Toshiko calling him ugly in...the Prologue, I think(?), was blatantly incorrect because I really like his design. There's something about his color scheme that I enjoy, idk. Plus, owls are my favorite animal, so I was pretty much guaranteed to like his theming.

Diana being heavily suspected by the fanbase and then being suspected in-universe in the trial was cool, the whole "choose the culprit" minigame legitimately tricked me into thinking it was her for a hot minute...Until I remembered how much unused evidence we had, haha. Excited to see where she goes from here.

Wolfgang...Damn those sprites in the Diana flashback were cool. I should definitely check out his FTEs to get a little more context, but wow. While I'm not surprised he was the chapter one victim, I'm a little disappointed we'll never hear more from him.

Grace was great, her demeanor is kinda similar to another favorite character of mine, so I've become pretty endeared to her. I'm interested in seeing where the bunny symbolism goes, and how she'll react to Wolfgang being gone. She had no FTEs (her actually responding when I tried to enter her dorm (I was doing an experiment to see if I could enter anyone but Kai's and Damon's) jumpscared me haha), so I'm guessing she'll live a bit longer and receive some character development! Yay!

Wenona was fun, her attitude was as entertaining as ever. She's probably one of the characters I most want to go do the FTEs of, I'm interested to hear more about her.

Desmond and Eloise's friendship was fun, the scene where they try to get Grace to let them in Wolfgang's room was definitely the highlight of both their characters for me this chapter. Eloise standing up for herself during the confrontation and Desmond backing her up without hesitation was awesome. Can't wait to see their friendship expanded on (And Desmond being angsty during the closing argument was hilarious).

Toshiko and Jett already had most of my thoughts laid out above. Jett I've mostly finished describing, but I did like Ingrid and Toshiko's friendship this chapter. Toshiko's whole pretending-she's-totally-not-freaking-out-and-being-actively-traumatized thing was good, I liked how she was desperate to sound smart in the trials, it fits her character.

Mark was a little ruder than I thought he'd be going in, but I'm not complaining. While I don't think anything topped "Grace, call the fire brigade" this chapter, some things got pretty close, like his annoyed facial expression when you agree with him. Him not wanting to be acknowledged at all at the gaming tournament was interesting, I'm excited to see where they take his character.

Ingrid...Was fine. I'll be honest, I was a little disappointed at how my view of her failed to change at all this chapter. Even her blackmail was something we learned in the Prologue already. Still, I can appreciate her. Even if she didn't change much this chapter, I still like what she is right now. She's all-around pretty cool, and I like how she makes sure to defend Toshiko, unlike some characters I know. /j

(Her being called "reliable" made me immediately feel like she might not last long, though... :()

Jean is pretty interesting to me so far, Cassidy suggesting that he might just be posing as a 'pirate' was intriguing. Him saying there was an arcade on his ship made me think of a crack theory that he worked at a Chuckie Cheese type place, but instead of there being a strange mouse, you could hang around at his prop ship and take pictures with him and his "crewmates" (Co-workers or employees) in costume, with an arcade and snack bar nearby...His knowledge of machinery stuff is also cool. I should check out his FTEs.

Cassidy's whole gaming gimmick is cool, and I like her, but I think if I'm being honest, her fun design and awesome voice actor kinda carry her for me. I don't think she'd be one of my favorites to hear speak otherwise. Some of her voicelines are just hilarious by themselves, too, though ("I better zip up my fly, my genius is showing" was my favorite, like what the fuck that is so random and funny and she only uses it once). She's a character who I don't think I'd find nearly as funny if the vocal delivery wasn't as on point as it is, but seeing as it's totally awesome and on point I have nothing to complain about she’s really cool haha.

And those are all my general thoughts on each of the characters. Now onto a few individual moments I really liked!

I replayed the Prologue before playing through chapter 1, and something really cool I noticed was that when they're on the train, this happens after Cassidy says she smells something weird:

I thought it was really cool how they subtly foreshadowed his lack of a sense of smell like that! The devs really thought his character through from the beginning, I suppose.

But moving on to chapter 1, specifically the trial. One detail I really liked was this:

“Near the boiler room door, I discovered a thin piece of metal.”

“During the investigation, there was a strange smell permeating the boiler room. It took me a moment to notice, but when I did…”

Damon takes credit for both the scrap metal and the smell.

This happens very directly with the metal, where he says that he discovered it. While he does admit he didn't think the metal was important before, what he fails to do is give credit to Ulysses for pointing it out to him, since Damon didn't notice it until Ulysses did. And when Ulysses did notice it, Damon berated him for even writing it down. And yet now here he is, pretending that he took note of the piece of metal all by himself.

He also takes credit for finding the smell, albeit slightly less directly. But he still makes it sound like he noticed it by himself, when Jean was the one who had to directly point it out to him. And even then, Damon could only smell the generator at first, and Jean had to further explain what he meant. And Damon pretty much plagiarizes his description of the smell without crediting him, too. You’d think a debater would know how to cite their sources correctly, haha.

So long story short, Damon fails to mention that he got help investigating from both Ulysses and Jean. I find that interesting because even though Damon says he can only rely on himself right before this trial starts, he is actively ignoring that he is only able to steer the trial in the right direction at certain points because of the help he received from others. The game is both proving his point about him only relying on himself (+Eva this trial) wrong, while also letting the player further see his mindset. Pretty cool. (Though I’d honestly be kinda pissed if I was Ulysses haha).

I also really liked Eva this chapter. Legitimately the first chapter death I've been most sad about in any Fangan. Usually I see the fake-out support thing coming a mile away, since it's such a common thing in fangans, but they genuinely fooled me with Eva. I really got attached to her and I'm sad to see her go.

I still haven't really fully processed her character, but what I do know is that she's really cool and relatable and her voice actor is very talented. Her design is amazing. Her sense of humor is immaculate. Overall, amazing character I was devastated to see go.

One cool detail I noticed, in order to commemorate my love for her:

After avoiding Grace, which Damon theorizes was because she didn't want her talent mocked, she investigates the Dining Hall people. And yet, even though she mentions Jett and Mark being unhelpful, she says nothing about Kai.

This could be shrugged off by the fact Kai said something helpful about the footsteps when Damon approached, but since Kai says this info like he hasn't shared it with anyone else, I don't think that's the case. Instead, I think this confirms Damon's suspicion that she is avoiding those who mocked her real talent, since Kai is definitely a jerk about it to her face on at least two occasions. She legitimately just didn't speak with him. That really hits home just how uncomfortable Eva was with a lot of the people in the killing game.

(I'll talk more about this in the Kai post, but Eva not mentioning Kai when you enter the dining hall, and Desmond also not mentioning where he went before that, made me actually start worrying that we were gonna find a second body haha, that's why I noticed this).

Lastly, I'd just like to say:

Even Desmond and Eloise being like "dude no stfu" at Diana in this CG was hilarious and I love it.

[lu-is-not-ok]

quick question, how we feeling about hong Lu's new id after the trailer? I am personally so fucking hyped

Oh there's a lot I am feeling. Not just about Hong Lu's new id, but I am feeling things about them regardless.

I don't usually do full analysis on walpurgy trailers, but I want to at the very least plop down some observations I noted.

One - THERE IS A NEW TRACK IN THE SECOND HALF??? I can tell it's not originally from Ruina. They added. A wholeass new track. For the Church of Broken Gears fight. Fucking Incredible Honestly.

Two - Nothing too interesting going on with the Full Stop Heathcliff voice lines we got. It's mostly reiteration of the ammo-preserving ideas we got from Ruina's Full Stop Office reception, but we do get a little bit of lore through the full name of one of the ammo we see being used - Atelier Logic-made high velocity pulverisation round.

Three - Gameplay trailer for Full Stop Heathcliff. Three-coin Skill 1. One-coin Skill 2. One-coin Skill 3. Special Skill 3/Skill 4 that uses a cinematic as fuck animation of a unique bullet, my guess is that this Skill is used for either the last Ammo or through some other unique conditional. Evade that causes a followup attack from Full Stop Hong Lu. Retreat mechanic similar to Devyat IDs, but in this case upon running out of Ammo. Upon return, Heathcliff uses another Skill 1 - I'm guessing this is to showcase that this retreat is a Reload mechanic.

Four - Full Stop Hong Lu voice lines. So can we talk about the middle line? "I don't think the Head wants people to die anti-climactically. But what is an anticlimatic death anyway? We can put all kinds of meaningful labels on deaths, but it's still death at the end of the day." Hey. Hey Hong Lu. What the fuck are you talking about? This is terrifying because this could have two equally as likely explanations. This could be a Baoyuism, a musing about Daiyu's death being meaningless. OR. This could be a Daiyuism, a musing on the nature of death not unlike that of the flower burial scene. And the fact that both fit scares me.

Five - Gameplay trailer for Full Stop Hong Lu. Two-or-three-coin Skill 1. Four-or-five-coin Skill 2. Maybe four-coin Skill 3. Hard to tell if every gunshot is one coin or not. Then, we get something that I fucking called - Full Stop Hong Lu has an alternate Skillset for when he runs out of Ammo. Three-coin Skill 1. Three-coin Skill 2. Three-coin Skill 3. Next up, clashable Counter with two coins and what seems like a Reload. Then, a similar followup attack, in this case Full Stop Heathcliff shooting as a followup to Hong Lu's attack. And another followup attack mechanic, except in this case while Heathcliff has retreated - he can snipe enemies from afar.

Six - Quick note on Magic Bullet Outis E.G.O animation: I don't think what we're seeing is one continuous cinematic of one E.G.O use. I think this E.G.O will display different animations and have different effects depending on the amount of uses, aka depending on the amount of Magic Bullet Ammo. Similar to how Magic Bullet Outis ID's Skill 3 changes depending on the amount of Magic Bullet Ammo.

Seven - Magic Bullet Outis E.G.O Voice lines. Cause holy shit there's a lot of them.

Awakening:

"It really is as you say; this is a magic bullet that will never miss." - This is obviously a reflection of how the bullet is given through a deal with the devil... which then makes me think. Was Outis's role in the war also a deal with the devil? Was there someone in her life who willingly gave her the position of commander?

"There's no going back when I've already come this far by firing the bullet. Even if this road I walk is an inevitable path to inferno." - A reflection of Outis's own feelings. She feels like after what she's done, she can't turn back and change, even if she knows that continuing down this path will spell her doom. It's an insecurity we see be partially unearthed in Canto 7.

"The despairing heart is burnt black, never to fade away. Only its shearing cold floods within." - Perhaps a hint to her deeper feelings. Despair is what led her to taking the deal, and in the process she had to burn her heart and leave it with nothing but cold within.

"Though it was despair that I sought, the bullet's trajectory... is predetermined!" - Something something this flow cannot be stopped. Outis feeling like no matter her motivations she can't change what she's doing because she's in far too deep.

Corrosion:

"A bullet was fired, a magic bullet that will never miss." - Interesting how in these she completely dissociates herself from the bullet firing. Perhaps it's a reflection of how she deals with the crimes she's committed. Detaching herself from them, seeing them as just something that happened

"No justice, no malice. Only a finger that pulls the trigger." - Not just personal dissociation, but a dissociation from any emotions. Trying to say there is No real motivation for the bullet, it's just something that happens regardless. There's no malicious intent, but no righteous justice either. Just calculated violence.

"I'll be left alone in this inferno at the end of the road." - Girl you are so abandonment issues. This could be a reflection of both how she's worried about whether anyone is waiting for her to come back, but also an insecurity about whether anyone will accept her for knowing what she's done.

"Though I may lack the will to move forward... ...the bullet's forward-momentum cannot be stopped." - Reflection of how Outis, despite not wanting to continue down this path, feels like she has no choice. This flow cannot be stopped. Unable to change, she continues on.

To me, the awakening is a reflection of Outis when it all began. When she took the deal at the start of the war. The corrosion on the other hand is a reflection of Outis how she is now. One who is distant from the past, and yet unable to move on from it.

[fangirl-erdariel]

So I'm not going to comment on which version of the names sounds better, I don't really have an opinion on that or a headcanon on what any given character feels about it. But the comments made above about the Sindarin names sounding harsher or clipped or inelegant are interesting to me, because to my ear it's almost the opposite? The softer/voiced consonants, the dropping of certain vowels or even full syllables in between, it all makes for a smoother, flowing elegant sound that Quenya doesn't have

It's not that I dislike Quenya, mind you, it's just... it's sound has something of the same bluntness and clumsiness and length to me that my own native Finnish has?* All the unvoiced consonant sounds, the avoidance of certain consonant clusters, it just makes it have all those edges and corners you can accidentally hit your elbow on that Sindarin doesn't have.

The repeated vowel sound on each side of r in "Turukáno" and "Arakáno" sounds like you'd asked my grandmother who was from Etelä-Pohjanmaa to say "Turgon" and "Argon". Makalaurë doesn't have specific meaningful elements from Finnish or any dialect or accent I can think of (aside from the fact that the latter part of the name is one vowel sound away from Lauri, a fairly common Finnish man's name), but it still manages to sound blunt and casual, something you'd half-mumble while gesturing vaguely at the person when introducing a couple of your acquaintances or pointing out from a crowd someone you sort of know like joo toi on toi makalaure, se on se joka soittaa kitaraa**. As for Nolofinwë... well that's just inadvertently hilarious in Finnish ("nolo" in Finnish means roughly "embarrassed" or "embarrassing")

So, yeah, idk, to my ear if one language here is elegant and one is blunt and harsh, it's Sindarin that's the elegant one. But then, maybe all of us here are finding the elegance in the exotic, in the thing that seems further from our own native language?

(Of course not all the sounds in that exist in Quenya are used in Finnish; the w and f aren't, really, except f in some loan words and some accents, and both of them can easily get simplified to v in many speakers' mouths, and d is kind of... well it's there, but it mostly exists as something for t to change into in certain inflections and stuff? And the Silmarillion fandom's favorite controversial th sound doesn't exist in Finnish, and in fact gets simplified into a t in the mouth of a careless speaker, sorry Fëanor :P But nonetheless, the way Quenya looks and sounds is fairly reminiscent of Finnish to me)

* I don't know whether that's on purpose or not; Tolkien had many other inspirations besides Finnish for Quenya, and it could well have come from one of the other ones, I have no way to tell

** rough translation: "yeah so that's makalaure, that's the one that plays the guitar"

I know the quenya names are more confusing to use but man some of these sindarizations are MASSIVE downgrades

Findekáno sounds so pretty and regal and then Fingon just sounds like some guy. Makalaurë sounds gorgeous but Maglor is also just a dude. Turukáno gets one of the worst, no one can make “turg” sound good. Nolofinwë sounds perfectly elven, but Fingolfin just sounds goofy. Arakáno -> Argon is just an element. from the periodic table

[flooffybits]

Tell Me

Idol: Hirai Momo (Twice)

Momo has conflicting feelings that she doesn't quite understand. So someone has to knock some sense into her.

Word count: 3.2k

Warning: mean Momo, reader gets sick, Jihyo and Jeongyeon are angry

☕buy me a coffee☕

Things within the group have been a little more comforting as of late. Even with your late addition to the team, you all seemed to gradually get along with all of the girls, especially with having to deal with constant comebacks and late night practices.

Except for one person.

"Unnie, do you want to come with Mina and I?" You ask with a little bit of a hopeful look in your eyes, but the older woman didn't even bother looking your way as she shook her head, eyes trained on the device in her hands. "I'm busy, have fun though." She answered curtly and your shoulders deflated a little before you nodded in defeat, exiting the room to meet with the other Japanese woman.

Once she heard the door close, Momo finally lifted her gaze and let out a sigh, glancing at the door you just exited from. A frown crept up her lips and she had to roll her eyes before grabbing her bag and then waiting a few more minutes just so she was sure you still wouldn't be around.

Once she hears the sound of the front door closing, Momo takes that as a sign and finally moves from her spot, shoving her phone inside her pocket as she navigates herself through the kitchen.

"So, you're busy with… what, exactly?"

The short haired woman jumps in surprise, squeaking before she whirls around to look at the source of the voice that had nearly given her a heart attack before shouting. "Yah! Don't do that!" She protests while Jihyo gives her an odd look.

"You're ignoring Y/n." The leader doesn't beat around the bush when she speaks and Momo has a bit of a hard time collecting herself from the sudden accusation that wasn't entirely false.

In all honesty she doesn't have a clue on how to get out of this, and unfortunately for her Jihyo already senses it before she can even manage a sound.

"I thought we talked about this before, Momo?" Said member only sighs while leaning against the kitchen counter. "I know! But every time I see her I just… I don't know! I feel so unsettled whenever she's around and I can't help but distance myself from her." She explains, exasperation laced in her tone as she ran her fingers through her hair. "And I know that she hasn't done anything but I just can't help but remember how much we went through to get here."

"And Y/n has gone through the same. The only difference is that she was alone while we had each other." Jihyo reminds her for the umpteenth time that Momo doesn't even remember how many times she's heard that from the leader or even any of the other members. They were right no matter how she looked at it.

She could never change how things went. She could never truly blame you for being assigned here either. It wasn't your fault.

You didn't ask to be here.

Momo could always remember the hesitation you had displayed when you were first presented to the group. There was shame in your features that none of the girls could blame you for and she's honestly guilty for being so hostile since the beginning.

You weren't a bad person.

In essence, you were one of the nicer people that she's met in this industry and she would consider themselves lucky to have such nice and caring members.

That was why the guilt never went away because she wasn't nice.

Not to you at least.

"I know." Is all she can say and Jihyo doesn't quite understand what she's thinking because her expression right now is unreadable. "Sorry but I… think I need some air."

Jihyo doesn't even stop her when she exits the dorm nor does she question where she's headed. At times like these, Momo only had only one other place to head to.

"Momo unnie isn't back yet?" Tzuyu's question earns a few of the members to look over and Nayeon just shakes her head. "She's probably with Heechul oppa again."

It wasn't an abnormal occurrence, the majority of the group, if not all, knew that your senior had a crush on the dancer. But only a few of them knew that it had already exceeded that level of admiration between them. It just wasn't their secret to tell.

"They've been going out a lot." Sana comments while she fiddles with her phone. "Do you think they're actually dating now?" She can't help but ask and Chaeyoung raises a brow. "Aren't we prohibited from being in a relationship?" The younger girl can't help but question, sharing your own thoughts because you knew that there was a dating ban when it came to artists.

Jeongyeon snorts while leaning her chin against her arms. "We don't always follow the rules, plus it won't be long before that ban is lifted. I wouldn't be surprised if they're already going out together." Somehow the comment makes you uneasy.

Maybe it's the thought of your member getting into possible trouble with the higher ups. But given how your members aren't too bothered, you try to shrug the feeling off before focusing on the game that was currently on your phone with Dahyun beside you.

You don't even remember how long you've been in the living room. You only know that you refused to leave until Momo had returned home. Even when your roommates were telling you to head to bed, you just made some excuse about being comfortable where you are and wanting to finish the game.

You didn't even know when you fell asleep on the couch.

Nayeon had only sighed and shook her head at you before she grabbed a blanket and draped it over your body, patting your head as she headed for her own room.

Jihyo had noticed you when she went to grab some water, but she had stopped at some point, hiding in the corner when she noticed that Momo had finally arrived and was crouched over your sleeping figure.

Blinking in surprise, the leader quietly watched as the Japanese woman examined your face, her brows pinching together in concern when she saw the way you were sleeping before she muttered something under her breath.

Carefully adjusting your position, she made sure you were comfortable and tucked you in, too tired to carry you to your room before she quietly exited the vicinity so as to avoid being caught.

After that night, Jihyo pays a lot more attention to how Momo acts when she thinks no one else is looking.

Momo cares about your opinion more than she'd care to admit. She always has to look in your direction when she's doing something and it's only when you smile or nod does she feel like she can breathe again.

It makes absolutely no sense if you ask her.

But when you're getting compliments from everyone else, she can't help the frown that settles on her face or the way her chest constricts as though there are a pile of bricks laying there.

So she distances herself so she doesn't have to feel that and it only earns itself a frown from you because you think that the rift between the two of you is nowhere near narrowing. She's still so far away from you and it both confuses and frustrates your leader because she sees that Momo is going one way then another.

She can see the effect it has on you and while she does scold the dancer from time to time, she can't help but bite her tongue when she sees that you've opted to be the one to adjust instead.

Your leader was merely a spectator to the odd relationship you and Momo had, dancing around each other but never meeting due to fear and rejection, while the other with uncertainty. It was a difficult relationship to appreciate, and at some point, one of your roommates soon noticed this push and pull as well when she caught Momo peeking inside your room one day when you had fallen ill and failed to participate in one of the events you had scheduled.

"What's… going on?" Jeongyeon muttered curiously the next day, passing by the dancer who had subtly checked the door of your room when the short haired woman left.

"What do you mean?" The culprit was quick to reply, doing her best to seem casual while Jihyo, once again, watched from the side. "You do know that you can just come in to check on her, right?" It was becoming ridiculous at this point, really. Despite being one of the older members of the group, Jihyo was very close to scolding the dancer for the way she had noticed her acting.

Momo, on the other hand, just looked like a deer in headlights as she blinked owlishly. She isn't sure what to say. “I just wanted to be sure if she's still sick. I don't want to get sick too." That was definitely what she wanted to say.

Jeongyeon’s face scrunched up in displeasure while Jihyo scowled.

“Look, I get that you're not her biggest fan, but don't treat her like she's not a person. If you don't wanna get sick, then don't come near her.” The short haired woman scolded and Momo had to cross her arms, defensive as she retorted. "I was just saying! I didn't mean anything by it.” She tells them and Jihyo just sighs while shaking her head. "Momo, enough. Just go somewhere else."

The comment earns a scoff from the dancer, but the thing that irritates her is how she's being told to stay away from you.

"What? You're kicking me out?” She snapped angrily but Jihyo only shook her head. “I don't care where you go right now as long as it's not anywhere near Y/n."

"This isn't healthy, Momo. I hope you realize that.” Jeongyeon spits out before she turns and enters your room, shutting the door behind her and refusing to give the Japanese woman a chance to respond.

She's had enough and you needed her more at the moment rather than Momo needed to be taught a lesson. Plus Jihyo was there and judging by the look on her face, Jeongyeon could tell that the leader would be more than accepting of the role of scolding their friend.

“You guys need to stop arguing like this." All of a sudden a new voice cut through, beating the leader off before she could utter a single sound. “We're all adults here but you're acting like children." A frown is present on Nayeon's face as she looks at the two. “We're supposed to be the unnies here. But you guys are creating a bad vibe that no one can enjoy.” She sighed out and Momo scoffed. “I'm not doing anything.”

“Oh, cut it with that bullshit. We know that you don't like Y/n but at least be civil!” Nayeon scolded, taking the reign this time whilst Jihyo listened. “How can we be a group when you're acting like one person should be left out? How are you setting an example?” She went off as Momo looked away with a huff though the twinge in her chest tells that Nayeon had hit her mark. “Y/n isn’t some outsider, Momo. She’s here to stay so get that through your head.”

There’s a pregnant pause as the three of them stood in the middle of the room, Momo’s thoughts going a mile a minute as she kept stealing glances at the closed door that separated you and them.

“Why do you hate her so much?”

All eyes are on Jihyo as she stares at the dancer, a tired expression on her face. “I mean, I get that you weren’t happy about her joining outside of Sixteen, but you know just as much as I do that she had to deal with things differently from us.” Momo struggles to come up with an answer.

It was true that she had been upset by the decision. She worked hard and suffered through a reality show, fighting to be where she was now. But couldn’t the same be said for you?

Jihyo was right, you were alone throughout your training process while they had each other. They depended on each other during the survival show but who did you lean on when things were getting too much?

“I don’t hate her.” Is all she ends up saying. And judging by the look on her face, it looked like that was the only answer she was willing to give.

..

The practice room was always a paradox for the Japanese woman.

She could always relax and let the music take her away from all the mess that went on with her life, but the same room always reminded her of all the suffering she’s been through just to attain her dream of being an idol.

The never ending practices, the starvation, the crying - it all seemed to happen a lot in this room.

Even when she found solace in it, it still held the storms that she had gone through and the ones she was currently going through.

“Oh-”

The sound made her pause and Momo quickly spun around to see you standing meekly by the door, a timid look on your face as you looked anywhere but her. “I… didn’t think anyone was here already.” You say awkwardly, hand still on the knob.

“I’ll just-”

As you moved to exit the room, Momo wasn’t sure what tugged at her chest, but she was stepping forward without realizing. “It’s okay. You can stay.”

That made you blink and your eyes snap to her face to see if she was kidding. But this was Momo. She didn’t joke, not with you at least. So when you see that she actually means for you to stay, you slowly step away from the door and head over to one of your usual spots in the room.

All the while, Momo’s eyes follow your every move, contemplating on what she could possibly say.

Even when she’s been an utter bitch towards you, Momo realized that you neve retaliated or treated her with any ill will. It was always the other members that did that for you without you knowing and she knows that she deserves it for how she treats you.

You’ve only been understanding of her situation, greeting her with a smile even when she shrugs you off, offering her things you know she likes, but she would always turn you down just because it was you.

God, she felt horrible.

Why did you have to be so nice to her?

“Y/n.”

The call of your name had you looking up during your stretch and you fidget a little when Momo waves you over.

Were you asleep right now?

Momo was calling for you?

That didn’t seem right.

Nevertheless, you stood and approached the older woman and she internally sighs when she sees the shy look across your face. You were cute, she had to admit.

The thought made her pause.

No, no, no. That was not what she needed right now.

But as you stood awkwardly in front of her, the older woman could see the way your eyes looked up at her, kind and shy, she had to bite her tongue before exhaling loudly and then awkwardly putting a hand on your shoulder.

She frowns when you flinch a little at the contact, but the look you give her is reassuring that it leaves a bitter taste in her mouth.

“Don’t look at me like that.”

You were honestly surprised by the softness in her tone, lacking its usual edge whenever she was talking to you, but the look in her eyes manages to make your breath hitch. 

“... I wanted to apologize.”

You keep quiet as she tries to find the right words to say. “I haven’t been fair to you, but I just wanted to let you know that I don’t… I don’t hate you.” She mumbles softly, her hand moving from your shoulder, down to your forearm, until she’s eventually taking your hand in her own, albeit hesitantly, almost as though she were afraid you would pull away.

“I know that I have a lot to make up for, but I hope you know that I’m really sorry.” She sucks in a deep breath. “I was confused and frustrated, and Jihyo was right, I shouldn’t have been taking it all out on you because you didn’t ask for any of this. I was just a bit bitter.”

You raise a brow, the corners of your mouth twitching a little. “A bit?” You can’t help the teasing lilt in your tone and Momo huffs. “Shut up, I’m trying to apologize.” And you do so with a smile on your face this time, and Momo can’t help but find that she likes your smile better.

“You somehow make my skin crawl and I get this weird feeling whenever I see you. But at the same time, I don’t like it when you’re upset or sick.” She remembers Jeongyeon getting mad at her again and she knows she has to apologize to her, too. “I hate not being able to talk to you because there’s so much going on with me that I can’t sort out.”

Your eyes widen a little and you know there’s heat crawling up your cheeks at that point because… god, this sounded like some sort of confession in some way. But you keep your mouth shut because you barely knew Momo enough to assume whether you were right or not.

Especially not when she acted like she didn’t like you.

“Unnie.” You began quietly and she’s squeezing your hand like a lifeline. “Is there… a chance that you were… jealous of the others being able to talk to me when you couldn’t?” You bite your lip when her brows furrow, but she nods either way. “And when Sana unnie or Nayeon unnie are hogging me to themselves?” She huffs at that and rolls her eyes. “It’s annoying, really.” You snort a little in amusement before you finally try one last thing.

“Can I hug you?”

Momo’s brain seemed to short circuit at your request, but when she doesn’t say anything, you’re afraid you may have overstepped.

Just as you were about to pull away from her, she tightens her hold on your hand before tugging you closer, making you tumble into her arms before she’s holding your head close to her chest.

Her warmth wraps around you like a blanket and you could hear the way her heart pounded against her chest even when her fingers ran through your hair.

“If this is how hugging you feels like… you can hug me as much as you want.”

Honestly, that and the way her heart sped up a little more only made the stupid grin on your face widen.

She wasn’t too sure what she was feeling right now. But maybe after a bit more of time, she could finally come to terms with herself and tell you how she really felt.

[eternal-love]

IT’S TOO LATE

Pairing: Austin Butler x Female!reader

Summary: Austin was your childhood sweetheart, years later, things weren’t just the same. And now your relationship was lead by guilt.

Warning: Angst. Mentions of religion. Mentions of death.

Note: I’m back with my fucking angst🤭 Too much love lately. Have to go back to my roots. You know the drill. The small and pink part are memories.

You and Austin were teenage sweethearts, you grew up together. Basically. Even your grandmothers were friends, that’s how you two met. As small children, drinking cold lemonade on the hot days of Anaheim while playing on the green backyard, swinging on swing sets and jungle gyms.

Then as you two grew older, you grew closer too. And suddenly you were dating. Then you got married and then started your own family. But things hadn’t been easy. At least not with your careers. You two had been lucky enough to have your big break in Hollywood.

But, being a celebrity wasn’t easy and your marriage was crumbling down. This wasn’t a problem you could point at Austin or viceversa. This was a two-way street. You were both at fault. Never being together, never interacting, you two had stopped having sex, hugging each other, laughing with one another. You two were always very physical so you were in serious problems.

To try and make it work between you, the two of you planned a trip back to Anaheim. To try and rekindle your relationship that seemed to be dead by now. But at least he accepted.

You were with him inside the car as he drove around, you felt like a teenager again somehow. It was a funny feeling. You still remembered him driving you both around, the Stones on the radio, then parking behind some abandoned place to make out on the back. Good old days.

You guys went to his grandma’s home. The small, green house.

The old woman opened the door, her big smile appeared once she saw you. Albeit it faltered when she didn’t see her great-grandchildren

“Oh, my dearest loves!” His grandma said with excitement, hugging you first and then Austin. Typical.

Austin was happy to see his grandma and you too, this woman was basically your second grandma. As you made your way inside her house, you felt like a child again, the smell of grandma’s home was something you wish you’ll never forget. Because you were getting used to that god-awful smell of loneliness in New York. One that started to appear once Austin and you spent less and less time together.

When you two walked inside his childhood bedroom, you both were washed with a feeling of nostalgia, this room held too many memories. Still the same. The plaid sheets, the skateboard he only used once because he got scared, shelves full of trinkets, an old tv in the corner, movie posters as well as some Playboy posters.

“I remember this!” Austin ran to his bed and grabbed a stuffed animal. Like a little boy, he held it close to his chest and smelled it. Home. That’s what it smelled like.

As you looked around on your own, you stopped right in front of his cork board. It was filled with stuff from back then, dates and concert tickets. You saw a picture of you two, but eighteen years ago. Doing the math, you were fifteen. You looked extremely young, babies actually.

“I remember them.” You pointed out softly. How stupid and in love you both looked. Austin came to stand by your side, his hand reached to touch the photo, not his young self, but yours. He ran his finger through your face in the photo.

“Hey, we were tiny babies.” Austin spoke with a small smile. “We looked so in love.”

That was the problem, looked. Past. Austin looked like he was in love with anyone he met, except with you these past months. You weren’t blind, everyone could see it.

He acted so nonchalant after saying that, he moved away and went to the abandoned guitar. “Oh, remember this? How many times did I play you Wonderwall?” He asked with a chuckle.

“Enough to make me cringe.” You answered, still looking at the photo. You could still recall how many times you had to sit through him playing you Wonderwall by Oasis once he learned it. You hated that song now.

“Hey, it wasn’t so bad. Playing you that song made you want to sleep with me. Don’t deny it.” Austin said as he kept admiring his guitar.

“That was you. Not the guitar.” You rolled your eyes as you turned to look at him. How things have changed, how nostalgic everything was.

Back when you two actually loved each other, and when it wasn’t just the fact that you two were used to each other what kept you together.

Sitting on the backyard of his grandma’s house, you stared at the old jungle gym you two used to play in. As a matter of fact, the giggles and voices still lingered in the air, far, but audible.

“I remember how much of a brat you were. Always accusing me of things.” You said. “Oh! Grandma! Y/n pushed me again and I scrapped my knee!” You imitated a child’s voice.

God, you could still remember the scoldings you got from your own grandma. Sometimes he just lied because you didn’t let him get on the slide first.

“I always got I wanted.” He spoke, a small smile forming in Austin’s face as he stared down at his glass of lemonade. “I still do.”

“You still do.” You spoke as the same time as him. You both chuckled to which you both know it was true, Austin could get whatever he ever wanted or desired.

That’s why you were still here. No matter how miserable everything was. He had something that made you want to stay by his side. Perhaps it was the fact that for more than 20 years you had thought that he was the one.

“You weren’t an angel either. In still looking for a replacement of my Workin Out Barbie. You broke it. And filled it with sand.” You scoffed, side eyeing him.

“Oh, you and your stupid doll.” Austin rolled his eyes. Smiling. “I told you I would get you one.”

“Well, I’m still waiting.” You smiled at him. Waiting? For what?

For him to love you as he used to do? To make as much effort as he did before? You didn’t know but you were still waiting. For something.

You can still remember that one special, core memory. When you were young teenagers.

“Stop. This a really old magazine.” You groaned as you sat under the tree, covering you both from getting sunburns.

“Oh, an old magazine. Please, I wouldn’t want to ruin your stupid magazine.” Austin imitated your voice, albeit his was laced with sarcasm.

“Don’t be stupid. This is my grandma’s.” You rolled your eyes. An old vintage magazine from the early 70’s.

“Lemme see it. The women back then were hot.” Austin said as he took the magazine from you. He started to eye it, skipping through the pages until you stopped him.

“That’s how I want my wedding dress to be.” You pointed at a page filled with wedding dresses, 70’s dresses, long, flowy, with bell sheer sleeves and lace. Perfect.

“You will look pretty in our wedding.” Austin said, turning to look at you with a sheepish smile.

“Excuse me, our wedding?” You asked, confused and a bit flustered. To which he nodded, his smile even wider now.

“Actually…” Austin looked through the pocket of his shorts, pulling a small lip gloss ring. Plastic, with glitter. Which probably costed him few cents. “I got this last week when I went out with Ashley and my mom. This, is while we grow up and I have the money to buy a good one.”

You blushed, smiling shyly as he took your hand and placed the ring on your finger. It was cute and you two were also fifteen. He leaned in and kissed your lips. You corresponded, although you two never told each other if you were dating or not. You both acted like a couple as soon as you discovered that you could.

“And the lipgloss is strawberry and pink. Your favorite.”

He knew you too well. It made you pull him closer and kissed him once again, this time your arms went around his neck. You both giggled in the kiss.

But as you pulled away he grabbed the opened magazine and ripped off the page where the dress of your dreams was displayed.

“What are you doing?” You freaked out and took the magazine from his hands.

“So you remember. For our wedding.” He gave you the page. You took it, your eyes wide open still.

“If my grandma sees the magazine—” he cut you off as he looked at you, a smile forming on his lips.

“Fuck your grandma.” He said, finding it funny. You found it funny too. The old woman was always uptight but she was your grandma.

“Austin!” You giggled as you shoved him softly.

Your giggles filled the backyard, as the air felt fresh and light.

Now, staring at that very same tree, all you could feel was the uptight flickering, as well as the sharp sting of words stuck in your throat.

“Do you remember when they would take us to church?” Austin mentioned, playing with his rings. You wished his hand was in your face, you always loved when you felt his cold rings against your cheek as he caressed your bottom lip.

“Yes. Yes I do. Why do you think I don’t take the kids to church?” You shook your head.

“I won’t ever get over when the preacher’s voice cracked while giving his sermon.”

The moment lingered in your minds. You both started laughing like there was not an end, like in the old times. But the laugh died early, vanishing with sighs.

“We should have taken them here.” He cleared his throat.

In reality, Austin would rather fill this uncomfortable silence with the sound of your kids running and screaming. He hated the fact that you both were so close yet so far apart. It’s like he couldn’t even reach for you. And he hated that.

“We should visit the church. Maybe it’s still as small.” He stood up and fixed his belt.

You were in for a ride.

That talk with Austin had been way too bitterly nostalgic, what was the point in dwelling of something that couldn’t return, because it had slipped from your fingers, vanished with the wind, like dirt, you could see it fly away but you couldn’t stop it or see where it landed afterwards.

You hadn’t been here in so long, Church. The church your grandmas forced you to go to when they hung out. You still remembered the altar to pray in the corner of the small church.

So you two knelt in front of the altar, it was weird. You remembered vividly being young and never actually praying, you only closed your eyes and placed your hands together.

“I don’t even know what to pray for.” You chuckled, before turning to look at Austin.

Then, you saw it. Your worst nightmare, you saw him. Yes, Austin, but not him now. But his younger self, 17 years old. The one that took you to pray after your grandmother passed

“Whatever you wish. Is just between you and whoever you’re praying to.” He looked at you, smiling. To which you only stared in complete horror.

From his perspective, he couldn’t even stare at you, staring right in front of him strictly, he forced himself to not turn his head around to face you, because if he did, he remembered your seventeen year old self. The one that didn’t know who or how to pray, whose breath was shaky.

It was heartbreaking, very. Gulping and while you forced yourself to look at him due to the guilt, he couldn’t even look at you because of the guilt.

“Austin…” You tried to speak to him, but it was too much.

“It’s too late.” He said before standing up and leaving the small church immediately.

Without knowing what to do, you looked at him and then turned around, you took a deep breath and then followed him out the church.

“No, it’s not too late. We can work on this.” You raised your voice at him.

“Really? Because I couldn’t even fucking look at you.” He turned around. Almost growling. “There’s nothing we can’t do anymore. Nothing that we haven’t done already.”

“If there’s guilt then there’s love!” You tried to excuse everything. “Why would we feel guilty if we supposedly do not care for each other anymore?”

“It’s not love. We’re just used to each other at this point! Listen, we can’t even stand each other anymore. That’s the point.” Austin spoke, his hand in his hip while his other rubbed his temple.

You stared at him. Perhaps it wasn’t the fact that your heart was breaking, but the fact that you would lose that certainty that he would always be there. Because he had always been.

“No, listen. From the beginning I knew this wouldn’t work. I just did this for the sake of nostalgia. But I cannot keep pretending. I really, really care for you. But all of this— it’s over.”

Definitely, it was the whole fucking truth but you just didn’t want to accept it.

The more it hurts, the less it shows.

“Listen, I’ve talked about this with my lawyer. Alright? It sounds bad but I just— I had to. We can get to an agreement. A quiet and calm divorce.”

To see Austin, the man who swore to never get a divorce, who didn’t want to repeat the story of his parents and childhood, ask you for a divorce. It hurt quite a lot actually, a burning pain in your chest.

“You know what? You may be right. This won’t work.” You tried to act tough. But you were crumbling inside.

As soon as you both were on your own. You both sobbed your hearts out privately. How weird. If you guys wanted a fictive so bad then why did it hurt so fucking much that it burned?

You nodded your head as you stopped the tears from falling.

“A divorce it is.”

[welovewarcraft]

when i die

fandom(s): homicipher

pairing(s): mr. crawling/reader (mc)

summary: What a blissful love life he enjoys. Alas, all good things must come to an end.

The fresh air was very nice to feel; it was very different from the metallic odor that constantly lingered in his old world. You told him about the sky and how beautiful it could be when it was blue. When the rain clouds cleared and he saw the sun's rays poke through the clouds from the confines of your apartment, he was giggling and happy. He had no eyes, but due to his supernatural qualities, he could still see.

Mr. Crawling liked many other things about your world in comparison to his. The buildings and their interiors were much like the ones he was familiar with, except they were cleaner and not tinged with dirt, rust, and blood. There were no ghosts with dubious intentions that could pop out at any moment. Though paranormal activity still existed in this world, as long as the both of you stayed away from prominent areas and activities, you two were fine. 

This world was so much safer and nicer.

With you, Mr. Crawling was almost ecstatic every day. He had his first shower, his first set of clothes that weren’t his usual robe (you thought he looked rather cute in a hoodie and pair of sweatpants of the same color, but in the end, Mr. Crawling preferred his old clothes, so you got multiple kimonos for him), and his first real meal that wasn’t flesh (you’re a great cook!). He also learned about your language, your interests, and much more (once, you joked about turning him into a man of culture, but Mr. Crawling didn’t understand at the time). 

About a year had passed since he started living with you. Mr. Crawling was content with the better and safer lifestyle, and he was able to speak your language at a basic level. One day, as Mr. Crawling was watching a documentary, he noticed you weren’t beside him. When he looked over, he noticed you staring out the window, lost in thought.

“(Name)?” He asked, the name rolling off his tongue naturally.

You looked at him in response.

“Yes, Mr. Crawling?”

“What are you thinking about?” His words still sounded a bit stiff. Your name was the only word that came naturally to him; once he got it right, he was ecstatic and didn’t stop saying it for a long while, enough to practice pronouncing it perfectly.

“Nothing, dear,” you replied.

Mr. Crawling blushed at the endearing nickname, but he still felt a bit unsure. Despite that, he turned his attention back to the documentary, enjoying the visuals on-screen and trying his best to pick up new words.

Mr. Crawling was very glad that he got to go to the human world with you.

A few days later, Mr. Crawling got worried. You seemed increasingly stressed, and he wanted to relieve you of it. This time, he was really poking at you, to the point of being annoying. He hadn’t acted this worrisome in a long time since accompanying you in the other world. When you finally were pushed past a tipping point by his badgering, you snapped and said that you attracted the wrong kind of attention and that if you weren’t careful, you would end up dead. 

Mr. Crawling cried at your outburst. He could not produce tears, but the feeling was there all the same. You felt really bad, and patted his head and back to soothe him. Once he calmed down, he wanted to know everything. You refused to tell him much. A bit toward the end of your conversation, you said some words to him that made him shudder.

“When I die,” you began, “I would like to feed you my flesh so that you won’t be hungry for some time. I want to do one more good thing, even after I die.”

At this, Mr. Crawling had burst into tears again (to remind, metaphorically). He wanted to perish the thought, but you already planted the seed in his head, and he couldn’t seem to uproot it now. He could never eat you! You are his joy, the light of his life! He would rather go back to the otherworld or die than do such a thing.

He must have been really out of it because you dropped the subject instantly.

After that, Mr. Crawling became very clingy. He didn’t want you to leave your apartment at all. He succeeded at first, but after a few days, you managed to get away to go to work. You had to promise him extra cuddles and kisses after you came home every day (even on the weekends). He never wanted to leave your side, even when you had to take a shower (and thus, that’s how he got his first bath with you. It was greatly comforting, even if it was just temporary). You even got him a phone so you could send messages about what you were doing.

Fortunately, a few months later, the fear seemed to disappear almost entirely. You had managed to convince him that you fixed whatever situation you were in and that he didn’t have to eat your flesh. He was overjoyed. Everything was back to normal and perfect again.

Until one day, you didn’t come home. Mr. Crawling wasn’t too worried at first but when it was about eleven o’clock at night, he couldn’t take it anymore. He unlocked the apartment door while he was on his knees and exited the apartment. He tried his best to lock the door from the outside despite not having much experience with them; he knew you would be upset if you came home to an unlocked door and him not being there at the same time, but he was just so worried for your safety, that he eventually stopped trying and just left.

He wandered the city, making sure to stay away from other people and stick to the shadows. As he traversed, he picked up a strong metallic scent. He hadn’t smelled blood this strong since his residence in the other world (you would cut your hand on the kitchen knife sometimes). Afraid, he cautiously followed the scent.

He crawled and crawled until he reached an empty park. He made it to some trees when he saw you. You were still recognizable, but your body was mangled on the ground.

He crawled hurriedly over to your corpse and cried.

If only you just… didn’t go to work. 

He sobbed and sobbed and sobbed. His human was dead. Who would do this to you? 

As he drowned in his sorrow, he suddenly remembered your words.

When I die, I would like to feed you my flesh, so that you won’t be hungry for some time. I want to do one more good thing, even after I die.

He made a louder whimpering noise. He wanted to preserve your corpse, like how he watched in those videos about funerals. He didn’t want to eat you! He was torn between doing what you wanted and doing what he wanted.

After he was able to calm down a bit, he looked at your corpse for a little while.

Unsure, he slowly reached with his claws out.

+++

AO3

[yourmomsawh0r3]

A New Year’s Resolution

pairing: joel miller x f! reader

The neighborhood block party was an annual tradition, one Joel Miller barely tolerated. He showed up out of obligation, lingering on the edges with a beer in hand, watching his neighbors mingle while silently wishing for the night to end. This year, though, was different. Joel wasn’t just watching his neighbors he was watching her.

Y/N had been a fixture in his life since they were kids, and not in a good way. Their parents had been close friends and next-door neighbors, practically forcing Joel and Y/N to grow up together. From the moment they met, they were like oil and water always clashing, always competing. She was sharp-tongued and fearless, never backing down from a fight, especially when Joel was involved.

But somewhere along the way, those fights had changed. Her teasing barbs weren’t annoying anymore they were thrilling. Her laughter wasn’t grating it was addictive. And the way she looked at him, even when she was rolling her eyes or smirking, had started to make him feel like the ground was shifting beneath his feet.

Not that he’d ever tell her that. Joel wasn’t the kind of man who wore his heart on his sleeve, and certainly not for Y/N. She was still as stubborn and infuriating as ever, and he couldn’t risk ruining the delicate balance they’d maintained over the years.

Y/N, for her part, had always known there was something between them, though she’d never admit it out loud. Joel had been a constant in her life a tall, brooding shadow who seemed to haunt every family gathering, every summer barbecue, every late-night fire pit. She’d spent years pretending she didn’t notice the way his dark eyes lingered on her when he thought she wasn’t looking, or the way her stomach flipped whenever his deep voice said her name.

This year’s block party was no different, except for one thing: Y/N had decided she was done waiting. She wasn’t going to spend another year wondering if Joel felt the same way. If he wasn’t going to make a move, then she’d push him to the edge and see what happened.

She arrived at the party wearing a deep red dress that hugged her curves, her hair loose and falling over her shoulders. She knew Joel was watching her she could feel the weight of his gaze from across the street but she pretended not to notice, throwing her head back in laughter at something a guy named Liam said.

Joel, leaning against his old truck, gritted his teeth as he watched. Liam was animated, gesturing wildly as Y/N laughed and touched his arm. Joel couldn’t hear what they were saying, but it didn’t matter. The sight of her with someone else was enough to make his blood boil.

“Careful, Miller,” his brother Tommy teased, clapping him on the shoulder. “You’re about two seconds away from stormin’ over there and makin’ a scene.”

Joel scowled. “Shut up, Tommy.”

Tommy just laughed. “You’ve been in love with her since we were kids. When are you gonna grow a pair and tell her?”

Joel didn’t respond, but his jaw tightened as he downed the rest of his beer.

The Countdown

As midnight approached, the crowd gathered for the countdown. Somehow, Y/N ended up near Joel, their shoulders brushing as people jostled for space. She glanced up at him, her heart skipping a beat at the way he was looking at her intense and unyielding, like he was fighting some internal battle.

“You okay, Miller?” she asked, her voice teasing but soft.

Joel’s eyes flicked to her lips before meeting her gaze. “That guy you were talkin’ to earlier Liam, or whatever his name is. You like him?”

Y/N blinked, caught off guard by the question. “Why do you care?”

“10… 9… 8…”

Joel leaned closer, his voice low and rough. “Because it’s killin’ me watchin’ you with someone else.”

Her breath hitched, her heart pounding in her chest. “Joel…”

“7… 6… 5…”

“I’ve been fightin’ this for years, Y/N,” he admitted, his hand brushing against her hip. “But I can’t do it anymore.”

“4… 3… 2…”

Before she could respond, Joel’s hands gripped her waist, pulling her against him as his lips crashed onto hers. The crowd erupted into cheers, fireworks exploding overhead, but all Y/N could feel was Joel his strong arms around her, his lips moving against hers with a desperation that left her breathless.

He didn’t stop there. His hands slid down to her thighs, lifting her effortlessly as he turned and pressed her back against the side of his truck. Y/N’s legs wrapped around his waist instinctively, her hands tangling in his hair as the kiss deepened.

The world faded away, leaving only the heat between them and the sound of their ragged breaths. When they finally pulled apart, Joel rested his forehead against hers, his hands still holding her close.

“Happy New Year,” he murmured, his voice rough but tender.

Y/N smiled, her fingers tracing the line of his jaw. “Happy New Year, Miller. Took you long enough.”

Joel chuckled, pressing another kiss to her lips. “Guess I’ve got some makin’ up to do.”

“Damn right you do,” she whispered before pulling him back in, the fireworks lighting up the night sky as they lost themselves in each other.

Joel set Y/N down, her legs wobbling as they both finally caught their breath. The block party was still alive around them, but the rest of the world had faded into a blur of laughter, fireworks, and the lingering taste of each other’s kiss.

“Alright, Miller,” Y/N said, her voice slurring slightly as she poked his chest. “You owe me a dance for taking so long to kiss me. That’s how it works.”

Joel raised an eyebrow, his smirk deepening as he set his hands on his hips. “Dance? You forget who you’re talkin’ to? I don’t dance.”

She narrowed her eyes, swaying on her feet. “Oh, you’re dancing. I don’t care if I have to drag you.”

Someone nearby fiddled with a speaker, and the opening notes of an old country song filled the air. Before Joel could argue, Y/N grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the makeshift dance area in the middle of the street.

“Y/N, I—”

“Nope!” she interrupted, spinning clumsily before stumbling into his chest. Joel steadied her, chuckling under his breath.

“You’re ridiculous,” he muttered, his hands finding her waist again.

“And you love it,” she teased, looping her arms around his neck.

Joel rolled his eyes but didn’t argue, swaying with her to the slow, twangy tune. They were completely out of rhythm, stumbling over each other’s feet and giggling like teenagers. At one point, Y/N attempted a dramatic spin, only to trip, and Joel caught her just before she hit the ground.

“I warned you,” he said, his voice full of amusement as he helped her upright.

“Shut up,” she said, laughing so hard she could barely breathe.

As the music transitioned into something faster and more upbeat, they gave up on dancing altogether, doubling over in laughter at their mutual lack of coordination. Y/N wiped tears from her eyes, her cheeks aching from smiling so much.

“You’re a terrible dancer, Miller,” she said, leaning against him for balance.

“Speak for yourself,” he shot back, his arm wrapping around her shoulders.

She looked up at him, her smile softening. “I can’t believe it took us this long.”

Joel’s expression softened too, his hand brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Better late than never.”

They stood there for a moment, the chaos of the block party swirling around them, before Joel suddenly bent down and swept her up into his arms.

“Joel!” she squealed, wrapping her arms around his neck.

“You’re about two drinks away from falling flat on your face,” he said, his tone gruff but affectionate. “C’mon, I’m takin’ you home.”

“You’re taking me to your home?” she teased, her grin wicked.

Joel smirked, carrying her effortlessly as he began walking toward his house. “You got a problem with that?”

“Not even a little,” she murmured, resting her head against his shoulder.

As they reached his porch, Y/N sighed contentedly, her eyes half-closed. “Happy New Year, Joel.”

“Happy New Year, darlin’,” he replied, his voice low and warm.

He carried her inside, both of them still laughing softly, the sound of fireworks fading into the distance as the door closed behind them.

[starlightiing]

loscar, pg, 1.2k words, fluff - if i got you here with me, then let it snow

Title: If I got you here with me, then let it snow

Pairing: Loscar (Logan/Oscar)

Summary: Logan and Oscar get snowed in a few days longer than anticipated. But they have a warm cabin, plenty of food, a little extra time, and most importantly: they have each other. Written for F1 Family Secret Santa in my F1 Discord Server! (All are welcome to join, if you want F1 chatter without the drama!)

Secret Santa Recipient: @yuki-tsunodas Yun, my friend, I sincerely hope you enjoy! This was a delight to write out for you. Happiest of Holidays, and may the New Year bring you much joy!

Huge shout out to @allphatauri for thinking of the event, hosting it, running it, and handling all the logistics. This is his baby, and I'm grateful for everything he does to keep us all engaged <3 !

AO3 Link

The snow is more than a foot high when Oscar takes his first peek out the window. It’s not too surprising, given the way the flakes had been pummeling down to the ground for the past few hours, relentless and yet oddly silent in the way snow always seems to be (not that he’s seen a whole lot of it in his lifetime, but nonetheless). 

It’s beautiful, really, the way the light from the sunset hits the crystals just right and makes it look like the entire ground is sparkling. The urge to open the door and jump out into the soft, pillowy snow like a child is overwhelming, but he doesn’t want to spend the rest of the vacation with a cold because he let his impulsive thoughts overtake him.

Especially now, with his and Logan’s plans to leave before the New Year foiled by this comically timed blizzard. 

“They’re saying the snow should stop in a few hours, I think.” Logan’s voice filters in from the kitchen area, the gentle thumping of his socked feet audible as he pads over towards the couch. “But it could take some time for the temperature to rise enough for it to melt. We may be here a while.” 

Oscar hums thoughtfully as he watches the snow continue to pelt the already blanketed ground, still in absolute awe at how serene and quiet everything is. It’s a different sort of silence, one that brings him a peaceful feeling in his chest that he knows he shouldn’t be entertaining. He should be agitated that this very same snow is blocking his exit from this stuffy cabin and preventing him from going home to spend New Year’s Eve with his family. He should be fretting over their stock of food and whether or not the pipes in the cabin will freeze with snow piled this high around them for what could be a few more days at the very least.

But he isn’t. In fact, there’s not a single bother at all. They actually have plenty of food and water to last another two weeks at least, and getting to spend another few days locked inside a warm cozy skiing cabin with Logan sounds more like a blessing than a curse.

“Well, there are worse things than being stuck in a skiing cabin with you, I suppose.” Oscar says after a moment, smirking slightly when he hears Logan chuckle under his breath from a few meters away on the couch. 

“You suppose? Ouch, man.”

“Well, I don’t want to boost your ego too much, you know. I’ve got to keep you tethered to Earth somehow.”

Logan tilts his head back and cackles, “Right, as if my ego has ever been a problem.”

Oscar shakes his head, stepping back from the window and padding over to the couch where Logan has made himself a little blanket cocoon in the corner of the sectional. It’s fairly warm inside the cabin, Oscar has made sure to stay on top of the heating so they don’t freeze, so he raises an eyebrow in amusement seeing Logan swaddled up like an infant. “Cold?”

“A little. Everywhere else in the cabin is fucking freezing except for right here.” 

Oscar shakes his head in amusement, letting himself fall back against the cushions right beside where Logan is cocooned. He opens up his arms, reaching over and pulling Logan, blankets and all, into them almost eagerly in an attempt to warm him up (and perhaps satisfy his own want to be close).

“Wait,” Logan says after a moment, worming around inside of the blanket until he’s managed to shed it like a second skin, “we’ll be warmer if you’re underneath the blanket with me.”

“Now you’re just making excuses to touch me.” Oscar points out with a grin, though he makes no move to get away. In fact, he helps dislodge the blanket from behind Logan and then pulls him into his arms with the utmost delicacy. Logan then carefully fluffs out the blanket, laying it across them in such a way to trap their shared body heat so it cannot escape. It’s warm, but Oscar doesn’t mind as long as Logan is comfortable.

“Something like that. But it is also warmer this way, so just sit there and look pretty while I leach all of your warmth.” Logan mumbles, his voice barely audible from where his mouth is pressed against the side of Oscar’s chest. “You’re surprisingly comfortable.”

“Surprisingly?” Oscar shoots back, looking down at Logan with a raised eyebrow. “My chest is the epitome of cozy, I’ll have you know.”

“No objections here. Now hush.”

“Hush?”

“Yes, hush. I can’t hear your heartbeat when you’re yapping like this.”

Oscar is stunned into silence, then, unable to formulate a worthy rebuttal. How can he, when Logan is being so painfully earnest and painfully adorable? Instead, he sighs softly in contentment and wraps his arms a little tighter around the small body in his arms. Logan lets out a small hum as he nuzzles his head further against Oscar’s chest, something like butterflies rudely flapping their wings at a frantic pace from deep within Oscar’s stomach. 

This is precisely why he cannot be upset by the blizzard snowing them in. How could he ever construe more personal time with Logan as a negative thing, especially when they’re both happy, healthy, and comfortable? 

In fact, there is simply nothing better. Nothing better at all.

“You reckon we’ll be out by next weekend?” Logan asks after a few moments of peaceful silence. Oscar rests his head back against the couch, looking up at the intricate chaos of the popcorn ceiling, and shrugs. 

“Don’t know. Depends on how fast the snow melts, I reckon. You in a big rush to get out of here?”

“No, not really.” Logan replies, gently rubbing Oscar’s arm beneath the blanket. “I was kind of hoping you’d say no.”

Oscar chuckles softly, then, tracing circles into Logan’s shoulder. “Well, to be the bearer of good news, we could always just extend our stay. We don’t need to wish for horrible weather to keep us together.” 

Logan seems to consider this for a moment, letting out a long, thoughtful sigh as he shifts himself in Oscar’s grip to a more comfortable position. “Yeah, I guess we could. At least until duty calls - I’d imagine you’ll be needed soon.”

“Soon, but not yet.” Oscar says, his lips pressed to the top of Logan’s head as he speaks. “I can pencil you in for a few more days, if you ask really nicely.”

Logan snorts, reaching up blindly to poke Oscar in the nose. Somehow, he manages on his first attempt, and Oscar wiggles his nose in retaliation, despite the fact that Logan cannot see him.

“What, like, ‘pretty please will you spend another few days with me after the blizzard melts?’” 

“Just like that, actually.” Oscar confirms, pressing a warm, loving kiss into Logan’s hair. “And yes, yes I will.”

“Perfect.” Logan whispers into Oscar’s chest, softly adjusting the blanket. “I had no plans to let you go, anyway.”

“Consider me trapped and happy, then.” comes Oscar’s content response, watching as Logan’s eyelashes flutter closed with ease. 

His chest feels warm and full in the best possible way, knowing he still has a week and change here to spend with Logan in the midst of his favorite season. After the New Year, he knows things will pick up again. There will be more gym training, and car testing, and meetings, and sponsorship responsibilities, but for right now?

For right now, he gets a brief moment of peace amongst the madness, and he couldn’t think of a single better person to spend it with.

[muckyschmuck]

ultimately!