#i swear i don’t care i’m not a discussion kind of person

[rowanthestrange]

bless u for thinking there’s structure as to whether i manage to miss a post or not, tungl on ‘mobile web browser’ is a crapshoot

#new friendship level unlocked <3#im not.....entirely sure we've got the same thesis here tho#maybe we do i wouldnt be that surprised if you disagree#but like ive not even formulated my own thesis here properly so im not sure i know it or what you understand of it#/which part of it you disagree with#bc i was........pettyannoyedposting#that word doesnt really work but it's on the pattern of vagueposting#but so first level of my post here was just 'stop calling the doctor neurodivergent especially in canon it annoys me'#second level 'and it misses the point'#third 'and i can prove it' (not convinced i can but)#fourth (getting somewhere into the area of what my actual thesis would be probably) 'the doctor as a character (by design or evolution or#bit of both) is a perpetual other which is an experience that resonates with most people in one way or another#(fun bit of paradoxicality there) and what makes an other is not about (doctor) who/what you are#but rather about what everything around you is. the narratives youre captive in (social identities nationalities racialisation alienisation#what is Normal and how do you respond to it. how do you construct yourself/are you constructed through this response.#and i know what youre thinking now 'dimitri how the fuck did you get here' and also 'you dont know what a thesis statement is'#and you are correct#however how the fuck i got here is autism and its kin (dsm/icd diagnoses) are constructions of (ab)normalcy as heterosexuality and whitenes#and to diagnose the doctor i think doesnt work in a couple of ways#first of which is that a diagnosis i think only means something in the context of treatment#the second of which is that i think it stops what could be an interesting conversation/exploration as a theme in dw#the third of which is that it accepts the authority of the dsm/icd/psychiatrist and the validity of 'neurodivergent' as a concept#which i dont. and now im back to my petty first emotional response. nardole voice: hey we got there#and im missing a lot of aspects of the othering here clearly and also i dont know what im talking about CLEARLY ive never made an essay but#*gestures vaguely* was this the thing you disagreed with? ghkghjgh

Yeah, no, I do get it I think. From this and your previous tags and things, I think so. So here’s my essay i guess. Not a rebuttal just my general take, long, rambly, not exactly structured and best argued cus i’m just killing time til art supplies arrive and my brain wants to do that instead. Feel free to skip sections or all of it tbh, I really don’t care about this all that much despite essay length, do not take this as me giving a shit about minor differences in opinion if that’s even what these are. Headings are in bold for easy skippability.

Personal Views (not Dr Who. This was part of my conclusion but fuck it i’m making it the top actually):

I believe in normalising the not-normal, but I don’t think people saying “everyone’s weird and we’re all a bit different :) ” is actually the way to do that. I think that’s the “I don’t see colour” approach. I don’t think it works and I don’t think it particularly helps, neither people on an individual level or the wider society practically.

Love disability. Love neurotypes. Love definitions that flex as people lean on them differently year to year. Think diagnosis is incredibly helpful unless there’s a contraindication (like if god forbid you desperately want to join the army, and you think you might be a little autistic, hey, if it doesn’t impact your life that much, don’t need to be barred from getting your dream job just for that but also get a better dream job). Pro medication to be whatever you need to be, be that a woman, a non-depressed person, or someone able to hold down a job. Meds are Accessibility.

I think that some people prefer not be considered abnormal, and I get that, but knowing you’re in a small area that most aren’t in the spectrum of human existence is ultimately helpful. Pretending that some experiences/disabilities aren’t disabilities but actually based on our ‘cultural expectations of x y and z’ are often cope meant to validate negative emotions towards that aspect of the self or that person’s relations with their proximal environment; without true reference to the fundamental experiences of people with disabilities, and the points that actually bind us together across the world to our kin in other countries. And being broken compared to other people can be fine actually. But identifying it helps both internally, socially, and medically.

My General Philosophy - Not Dr Who related, whether relevant or not depends on if I was understanding you correctly:

So I disagree with the general thesis usually put forward in left spaces that ‘mental illness/neurodivergence’ is a socio-cultural construct created by white people, and terms we’ve constructed related to such, like “ADHD”, are therefore fundamentally rooted in that and why should cultures of non-white people be pathologised using these terms.

Here: The Doctor isn’t [earth term] they’re [not from our culture].

This also is often dovetailed with the social model of disability. Which I’m sure you know, but that’s stating ‘disability’ as consequence of a world not built for you i.e. the idea that in a world of wheelchair users you would not be disabled.

On a philosophical level, while I understand them, I generally disagree with both.

Going in reverse.

These often are rooted in people seeing ‘disability’ (and here substitute for any other non-normative words I just don’t want to fill this with /queer/minority-gender etc) from an external perspective. I think it’s probably the least dangerous way for a normative person to think if you have to feed them a lazy solution, but it’s still lacking in nuance. And ultimately It’s a….validation response. “There’s nothing wrong with you, it’s the world that’s wrong” which ew. Cus I don’t think either is ‘wrong’ - a non-normative person or the world. It flattens the concepts.

And while helpful in a ‘please god just make accommodations like ramps’ way, and it is, it so is, please don’t let the non-disabled people read this; it doesn’t have the fundamental core of truth in this world we live in. I.e. if you can’t make a world of all wheelchair users, and you can’t, then with all the feasible accommodations in the world you’re still ultimately going to be disabled. Because you can’t change the heights of everything to a wheelchair user without making taller people have to bend painfully a lot etc. and none of it stops the variety of people that are wheelchair users where some can do some things, others can do others, and none of it gets rid of things like pain and hygiene difficulties and whatever, just says ‘but it would be easier to access painkillers, rest, etc’. The social model of disability purely used, is a good broad base for disability rights, but also in that pure form doesn’t stand up to much scrutiny unless you bring things back to one singular individual.

Example:

When my brain is full of cats, if I was in a world of people whose brains are also full of cats, we’re all still disabled because we can’t effectively communicate our ideas with each other.

Is it only useful to see this as a disability in order to access treatment/medication? I’d argue no. Knowing how and why you’re different is helpful on a fundamental level I feel. And in a world where most people’s brains aren’t full of cats, I get to benefit my psychological situation by knowing the details of how their brain broadly works and my brain broadly works, and having academics having researched people like me, and them, etc. etc. And if you would consider that self-treatment, then that folds so fundamentally with ‘living how i can most happily exist minute to minute and day to day’ that it may as well be indistinguishable.

Now, for socio-cultural construct. You’re not American, so I don’t need to do the whole ‘there’s no such thing as ‘white’ culture’ thing, I’m gonna assume you know all the nuances there, whatever.

There are definitely cultural differences in how people think. Huge ones. Have you ever been to Japan? Awesome place, but I think really shows some of those distinctions in a clear way. The general desire for things to be neat and ordered is so palpable that if you haven’t been there I can’t describe it. It’s like an aura. And don’t get me wrong, despite the amount of people sometimes, my autistic ass felt very at home. In fact because people were more ‘ordered’ the crowds were actually easier than in other countries. But I was still autistic. Still disabled by it. And Japan, like many places, is only just now coming out and trying to help and accommodate people with autism and other disabilities rather than them being in the house all day. They’ve only recently got around to even properly diagnosing ‘adult’ autism. And while there’s such a long way to go there, that’s helping people a lot, that they’re not just called ‘shut-ins’ anymore but they’re starting to be seen as legitimate people.

And this is what we forget when we talk about ‘pathologising’ people. Yes it can definitely go too far, but having someone not just be A Failed Person is also very very important. For them and for the people around them. All very well to go ‘what if we see nobody as a failed person’ cool but we won’t. Even you and I won’t sometimes.

And the reason why a lot of mental illnesses/neurotypes change some symptoms border to border but keep basics is because well, that’s the disability for you. Those are the bits that are wrong with the body and that’s fine. (And while things like “ADHD” may be underdiagnosed if say, you’re black, because people’s racism says ‘all black boys are hyperactive and don’t pay attention’ that’s a racism problem with the diagnoser, the disability is there). And cultural differences are very real, but that’s also one of the reasons why every country has their own diagnostic procedures. So imperfect, very very so, but not to the point of throwing out areas of study. Areas of study that truly have been studied across the entire globe. Fine, a white French person came up with this theory in 1904 but it’s been studied worldwide ever since - we’re going to say “schizophrenia” is a white term if it’s been studied in every continent?

Certainly these things have more weight when it comes to ideas of gender expression and sexual preference. America’s masculine ideal is not English, English masculinity not Finnish, Finnish masculinity not Japanese etc. etc.

However usually discussing this has two real world roots. Are we physically trying to change something in ourselves, or denoting a personal understanding of a boundary. Either way, given all people’s rights are equal (and they are rarely, but I’m pro that part of ‘western hegemony’), that does mean different cultures will view what makes a transgender person differently. For some people an amab’s desire to cook and look after children might cause a question of gender identity where in other cultures it wouldn’t. But that doesn’t mean the terms we’d use in regards to that are less meaningful, just nuances of them shift depending on culture.

(Someone is choking their lungs out outside. Hope we’re ready for the real world deconstruction of the diamond of the core of social disability model which is ‘the majority of people aren’t disabled’, cus hoo boy)

Finally The Dr Who Bit:

Out-Universe:

Doctor Who is a celebration of Being A Weird Guy.

But also not.

Because on one hand it’s quirky is good, good to be childish sometimes, and the other is This Character Is Fucked Up Don’t Be This. Both of those are Four, who much like Ten, gets the last but sanded down in people’s minds.

Doctor Who tells us being weird is good, that you should be kind even if it’s weird, helpful even if it’s weird, be clever even if it’s weird, and if you’re an interesting enough person you can even dress super weird if you like.

But it also shows us where being weird is…not good. For us and others around us. Yeah, maybe you should get help for that, go see a therapy group, take some respite, identify your partner as a problem and leave.

And many times it’s neutral. We write them with the differences so that an ADHD or Autistic person can go, ‘hey that’s me :) ’ and characters and writers and actors labelling them so helps those people feel seen. It’s become almost a staple of main characters now to have some sort of identifiable characteristic to people, but wasn’t always so, and I really do think Doctor Who helped a lot with that. Back when freaks weren’t heroes.

One shouldn’t feel the need to have to label every bit of themselves, as a capital-Q Queer I don’t. But having things to guide you is lovely. I came from a very country place in England that’s perpetually stuck in the worst parts of the 60’s. Pre and early days of internet. I didn’t get to know what things like autism, adhd, sexuality, or gender divergence, most races (not joking, exceptionally white, didn’t see a black person til I was like 9 that wasn’t on kids tv or crime watch — as in i know exactly where i saw him, that specific — and there was 1 black kid in our school of 600+ who came when we were 16), even most physical disabilities. If I hadn’t had CBBC I genuinely wouldn’t have had most of what I did. Hadn’t heard of ‘muslims’ until 9-11. I’m talking a deeply stagnant place.

But finding out there were different aspects of people but far more importantly, different WORDS for that? Huge. Game changing. You can’t actually look these things up otherwise. There was no library book that could tell me what I meant when I said I felt like the Doctor. Took a magazine scan on Doctor Who Forum talking about the character to actually say the word ‘autistic’ and help me in any way.

(Also turned out my mother had been fleeing various medical professionals trying to get me an autism diagnosis since the age of four. THANKS.)

Having a label helped me…de-alienise myself. I wasn’t alien any more, I was a person, just a specific kind.

So I’m pro-diagnosing (even if frequently distrusting of the people who are in theory supposed to be equipped to actually do that irl but aren’t). And I’m pro labelling the Doctor. While also giving enough freedom so that anyone can still headcanon the one that’s most like them. But saying Twelve has ADHD does no harm to anyone’s headcanons while also helping ADHD people, things like that are good in my book.

In-Universe:

The Doctor’s culture considers them a freak. If they truly have terms for mental differences I doubt it, they’re eugenicists, we know their go-to for depression is forced-regeneration i.e. suicide-by-murder.

Even the nice ones are not like the Doctor, seem little different to us, or at least those high in politics or money.

Within the Doctor’s own culture, they are extremely different, and if their culture had the words for autistic/adhd/genderqueer/whatever they would be them by their own society’s culture too, not just ours. Saying that they’re not those things they’re just Not From Here doesn’t make sense cus the Place They’re From thinks it about them too.

For it to be a they’re ‘Not From Here’ thing the Doctor would fit normally within their own society but they don’t.

Maybe this was part of the autschizadhdfirework-brain jump

'the doctor as a character (by design or evolution or#bit of both) is a perpetual other which is an experience that resonates with most people in one way or another#(fun bit of paradoxicality there) and what makes an other is not about (doctor) who/what you are#but rather about what everything around you is. the narratives youre captive in (social identities nationalities racialisation alienisation#what is Normal and how do you respond to it. how do you construct yourself/are you constructed through this response.#and i know what youre thinking now 'dimitri how the fuck did you get here'

Trying to follow. But might not be, the idea that you can’t label the ‘other’ parts would seem to contradict that - that the Doctor and us share the same sorts of experiences of othering (despite alien society) that allows one to see ‘same hat!’ and label it so would…fit that, wouldn’t it? Perhaps with the same fluidity we give them on assigning a political spectrum to them, but ‘being defined by what you aren’t’ is surely labelling of ones’ characteristics in a nutshell. That is the construction of ones’ sense of self. The definition of one as an entity and how best to navigate the world with those tools.

But ymmv.

I’m not one of those people who needs people to see things the same way I do. I’m not big on philosophical discussions or whatever, I promise.

the doctor isnt neurodivergent or autistic or adhd or nonbinary or genderqueer or asexual. what the doctor is, is Not From Here

[gothamsfinestdummy]

One day I might actually write an essay thing about how the reboot completely destroyed Pinky and Brain’s characters I am soooo very passionate about that subject

[slttygeto]

HUSBAND SUGURU! + PREGNANCY ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

tags: fem! reader, husband suguru!, nsfw, suguru is very hesitant about being a dad, but isnt forced into this :), reader is very motherly, dirty talk and talk about getting off the pill and being bred.

word count: 2,1k

Husband Suguru! whom before you even got married, sat you down and mentioned to you how starting a family wasn’t something he was looking forward to. you know of his past, of the trauma he’s been through. he fully expects you to break up with him when he tells you that, knows how much you want to have a baby of your own, but you don’t. instead, you cradle him in your arms and tell him that you love him and appreciate what you have right now, not what you don’t even see in the picture.

Husband Suguru! who swears he hasn’t changed his mind about babies, about starting a family in general even three years into the marriage. but when he sees you with your friend’s baby, the glow on your face, the motherly instinct—how you gently place your hand on the baby’s head, rock her back and forth and coo at her softly while her mother gets her food ready, his heart feels as though it is about to explode.

“There there baby girl,” your voice is barely above a whisper, and when the baby cries, your lip juts out and you pull the infant towards your chest in an attempt at soothing her. your eyes find his where he is sitting on the couch, and the lighthearted chuckle you give him pulls a nervous one out of his body. you are now convinced that your husband would never ever change his mind based on the horror painting his features as he turns to your friend’s husband to strike a conversation. but in reality, the topic of their conversation is all too surprising.

“Has it been difficult? You know, managing a career and taking care of the baby,”

“Oh yeah very,” the other man admits but Suguru doesn’t detect a single hint of regret in his voice. “but yknow, look at that,” he point his glass of water in the direction of his wife and you holding the baby. “seeing my wife with our baby, our creation—seeing her act all motherly like that? Totally worth it.”

Husband Suguru! who starts to consider the idea of getting you pregnant. he hopes for the rational part of his brain to win over, rather than the horny, disgustingly perverted one. but when you walk out of the shower in a crop top, his mind drifts elsewhere—and suddenly, the image of your belly swollen with his kids floods his mind and he has to put a pillow on his crotch to hide the very evident bulge in his pants.

Husband Suguru! who once he calms down and takes care of his raging boner, texts Satoru in a hurry, asking if they could meet up tomorrow morning. your husband tells you of his plans and you hum sleepily, telling him how catching up with his best friend seems like a good idea. Suguru drops the bomb on his best friend the moment they sit down and the ivory haired’s jaw almost meets the floor.

“You mean you wanna be a dad?”

“I’m not…too sure,” Suguru looks conflicted, he is holding his head in his hands. he knows very well that this is a topic that should be discussed with you, since you were the other person of interest in the situation. but he would hate to give you false hope, he’s seen the way your eyes light up at the mention of a baby, at one of your friends or colleagues being pregnant, how there’s a disappointed look on your face that you try so hard to conceal when Suguru gives you a face in response of a pregnancy announcement. but you are so patient, so accepting, you’ve never once forced him into anything. and truth be told, he wanted to see what kind of mother you would be to your baby—and then toddler, and then teenager and adult—you’d have a life together with a new person who would adapt either your personality or his, with a face of the love of his life. your baby could have your eyes and nose, he’s always pointed them out—even before you started dating.

“Dude, do you or do you not want to have a baby?”

“I don’t know man, it’s hard to think of.”

“Because you are thinking too hard about it,” Satoru says nonchalantly and it irks Suguru a little.

“I am not thinking too hard about it—this is a new responsibility, what if I am not fit to be a dad? I could be a failure for all we know—what if I pussy out of it and—“

“I would kill you.” Satoru warns the man and Suguru doesn’t try to hide how he stiffens up. “I am not joking, I would find you and bring you back to her as a sack of bones,”

“I wouldn’t betray her like that…”

“You’re too focused on the aspect of being a bad dad rather than a good one—yknow, you really think that she’d marry someone she doesn’t see fit as the future father of her children?” Satoru has a point. you did mention to him once (when Suguru was nowhere to be seen at a party you all attended) how falling in love with him was the best thing that’s ever happened to you, but the one thing that would top it is if he became a father to your children. Satoru, knowing his best friend’s stance on the topic, reminded you of how terrified the man was of the idea and all you did was give him a reassuring, understanding wave of your hands.

“I know, but I just know he’d love them hard and make them feel as safe as he makes me feel.”

Husband Suguru! who doesn’t really try to bring up the topic of ‘trying for a baby’. he cringes at the thought, feels as though it makes the process less romantic and intimate and more of a robotic task. as he is stripping you of your clothes, he is silent and lets his eyes wander over your figure. you are extremely shy tonight, unable to meet his eyes as his rough, calloused hands brush over the skin of your boobs before bending down to be at eye level with them. he brings the flesh inside his mouth and sucks—and blood rushes down to his groin at the thought of them being filled with milk, heavy and swollen, more sensitive than usual. his teeth graze the skin at an attempt to catch your attention and your thighs squeeze as you meet his eyes.

“Sugu…” your smaller hands rest on his face as he pulls away from your boobs to plant a heated kiss to your lips, effectively pushing you back on the bed. your back gently hits the mattress, and your chest is heaving in anticipation, unsure of what his next move would be.

“Baby,” he finally speaks up, nose brushing against your stomach as he brings his lips to the skin. “how about you drop the pill tomorrow?” he knows how much of a horrible job he is doing at this, but he feels you move, supporting yourself on your elbows.

“w-why would I do that?” your eyebrows are furrowed in confusion, and Suguru wishes to brush his thumb over the tense skin of your forehead.

Suguru is shameless as he kisses further south, planting his kiss above the tuft of your pubic hair before pushing your panties to the side. He parts the lips and gives your clit a kiss before moving to your inner thighs.

“why not? It’s doing horrible things to your body—“ he brushes his nose over your clit as he speaks. “beside, we need you off the pill if we want a baby, don’t you think?” when you don’t react to his words, Suguru looks up only to find you staring down at him with parted lips and eyes glossed over with tears.

“…are you sure?” you ask softly, and your husband swears he could never say no to you if you asked like that all the time.

“very,”

Husband Suguru! who fucks you with a new purpose. each drive of his hips fueling the other to go harder, deeper, to keep pushing his cum inside you and plant his seed deep within. your cunt does a great job at showing Suguru how ecstatic and excited you are with his sudden change of heart. you keep squeezing around him, barely able to keep your sounds in—he fucks you so deeply that the sound of skin to skin is louder than your moans and his groans. when he puts you on all fours, the cum starts to drip out of you but he pushes it back in with two thick fingers, lips pressed to your ass cheek.

“want more?”

“mmm! please,” you whine when he aligns his tips with your folds and fixes your arch with a hand on the small of your back. the gasp that escapes your lips when he fucks into you hard makes Suguru chuckle and he rubs your sides, soothing you.

“no need to beg for it,” he leans down and presses a kiss to your nape. “I’d gladly fill you up.”

Husband Suguru! who stiffens up when you show him the positive pregnancy test. up until this point, he is in control of his emotions—he lets you cry in his arms about how scary all of this was, despite you saying you’ve always wanted a baby. he is supportive, understanding of the heightened emotions that you are experiencing—when he sees your tears turn into happy ones, only half of him is able to relax. clearly, he is nervous but he doesn’t wanna show it. not right now.

The first ultrasound during your pregnancy was nerve racking—your hand squeezed your husband’s as you stared at the screen showing what appeared to be your unborn baby. Very tiny, but still there.

“Okay mom and dad,” the doctor presses the ultrasound transducer a bit lower on your stomach, a small smile on his face. “I got some news for you.”

“Good?” your anxious voice has Suguru rubbing his thumb on the back on your hand.

“It depends, how long have you been trying for this baby?” You couldn’t exactly disclose of your very active sex life, but you do give the doctor hints that it was definitely wanted.

“Well, look over here—“ he points to the screen with his gloved finger, ushering Suguru to come closer. “Look over here dad, what do you see?”

Suguru swallows hard as he stares at the screen in confusion, unsure of what to say. “..a baby?”

“Babies. Congratulations, you’re pregnant with twins.”

Your husband whips his head towards you fast, and you cover your mouth in shock. This wasn’t planned—twins? And for a first time? You didn’t know if the tears streaming down your face were of excitement or fear that maybe you weren’t ready for this.

But Suguru still comforts you, holds you in his arms—tells you that maybe finding out the gender won’t make all of this sound scary anymore. He knew you never really had a preference for gender—you were a natural mom.

However, finding out the gender was an emotional experience for the same man who never thought he would become a father.

Husband Suguru! who tells Satoru to buy the gender reveal cake for you two. he doesn’t want to throw a party, and neither do you. finding out within the privacy of your own home seemed like the best option—you didn’t want to reveal that you were pregnant to any family members—at least not yet.

“Are you ready?” You hold your own glass as you wait for your husband to stand next to you. Your bump wasn’t that evident yet, but signs of pregnancy were starting to show on your body and it brought this warm feeling to Suguru’s body.

“Yeah, hold my hand.” You chuckle slightly at his request but comply either way. Each of you holds their own glass above the cake before looking away as you push it down—you hold your breath, Suguru rests his forehead on your shoulder as he mumbles something about not being able to look at the cake. But you muster up the courage and lift your glass, eyes wide and lips parted in shock.

“Sugu—“ you don’t need to tell him to look, he was already staring at the glass with teary eyes. The pink frosting wasn’t something he was expecting to see—he knew he was going to be happy with either but two little girls? His own baby girls—the thought of being a girl dad brings tears to his eyes and you’re quickly pulling him towards you.

“Oh baby,” you hold back your own tears as you comfort your emotional husband, his arms wrapped around your middle. You hear little sniffles and a hand rubs your back before feeling a pair of lips pressed to your forehead.

“Gonna be the prettiest mom to the prettiest girls. Ever.”   

note: my posts are all self indulgent at this point… enjoy :D

2023: all works belong to @ slttygeto. do not repost my works on any other platofrm.

[inkykeiji]

omg clari sweetie i just read your post about tokyo revengers and LISTEN i hate the time travel plot thingy too but when i tell you i got struck HARD by tokrev i'm not kidding,,,,, like my friends watched it first and i didn't want it to bc of the time-travel but once i saw the first season and got into the manga i just couldn't dig myself out of that hole. i have never hyperfixated so much about a media in my life like i did with tokrev and its characters... not even bnha, jjk, haikyuu!! or bsd. NOT EVEN CLOSE. i'm not lying when i tell you some of the characters and their adult selfs in tokrev are everything you dream about touya-nii and bmb!tomura <33333 you can search ‘bonten’ if you want some insight about what you can find if you give it a chance 👀

ahhhh i dunno anon!! i really don’t feel interested in it. i just looked up how many timelines there are and two separate posts said there are at least six >.< that already sounds so convoluted??? i dunno like maybe it’s handled really well and in a way that isn’t confusing and tangled and is written fantastically; i can’t make any concrete judgements, i don’t know. but there’s genuinely nothing that’s catching my eye here. i love organized crime, but if it’s involved in several people jumping back and forth between the past and the present my interest has withered to ash.

if there’s something specific you think i might actually like about this series that’ll make it worth investing time into, you’re totally welcome to tell me, spoilers and all (tho don’t feel pressured!!! obv you absolutely do not have to! it isn’t ur job to convince me HAHA). otherwise, i think it’s just not for me!

[itneverendshere]

maybe wheezie or even sarah needing rafe to pick them up from school or attend a back to school night. like the school calls rafe to pick up sarah after getting in a fight. or the teacher calls him in to discuss that wheezie struggling in math

thank you for the request!!! 🫶🏻🫂 i think rafe's always had a soft spot for wheezie so i did this one for her cause i personally can see their dynamic being really cute.

 we're both older now - r.c

pairing: rafe x pogue!reader (bartender!reader universe)

Sitting in the passenger seat of Rafe’s truck, you couldn’t help but sneak glances at him. His hands were on the wheel, jaw clenched just enough for you to notice, but not enough to freak out.

It’s been months since rehab, and you swear, you’ve never seen him like this before—so focused, so... responsible. It’s kinda hot.

But that’s not what you’re here for. Not right now.

You’re headed to Wheezie’s school because, apparently, she’s been struggling with math. She didn’t want to tell Rafe because Ward’s rarely at home these days and she didn’t want to bother him. When you found out, you could’ve smacked her. You get it—Rafe’s been under a lot of pressure lately—but you don’t think she realizes how much he cares about her. That’s why you two are heading to a parent-teacher meeting like it’s the most normal thing in the world. It’s not. 

“I should’ve known something was off,” Rafe mutters, breaking the silence.

You look over at him. “You couldn’t have. Wheezie’s good at keeping stuff to herself.”

He shakes his head, his grip tightening on the wheel just a little. “I’m her brother. I should’ve noticed.”

You reach over, resting your hand on his arm. “You’re doing your best, baby. That matters.”

He lets out a breath, his tension easing under your touch. God, sometimes it’s hard to believe he’s the same guy who used to pick fights at every chance he got just a few years ago. It’s been almost a year since his last relapse, but every day you see him fighting to be better—for himself, for you, for his sisters. And honestly? It does something to you, seeing him like this. 

You pull into the school parking lot, and he parks the truck, turning off the engine. For a second, he just sits there, staring straight ahead. You know what he’s thinking. He’s wondering if he’s good enough to handle this, to handle all of it.

“You got this,” You say softly.

Together, you walk into the school, and after a quick conversation with the receptionist, you’re led to Wheezie’s teacher’s classroom. The room smells like dry-erase markers and stress, the kind you remember from my own high school days.

Except, this is a private school, completely different from what you were used to, and back then, you loved school. You were good at it too—really good, actually. Straight A’s, honors, full ride to a decent college…but life had other plans.

You look at Rafe as you wait for the teacher to start the meeting. He’s sitting up straight, listening intently, and your chest tightens a little.

The same guy who used to blow off any responsibility now sitting here, laser-focused, ready to step up for his little sister. The teacher starts talking about Wheezie’s grades, how she’s been falling behind in math, and you can see the guilt in his face. You squeeze his knee under the table, trying to ground him, but honestly? This was hitting a little too close to home for you, too.

“I can help her,” You hear yourself say before you’ve even really thought about it. Rafe turns to look at you, surprised, and you shrug like it’s no big deal.

The teacher blinks, probably not expecting the girlfriend to jump in with a solution. “What did you score on your final exams?”

You move in your seat, not expecting the question but not exactly shy about your answer either. "I got a 1600 on my SATs," You said, trying to sound casual about it, even though you could see Rafe’s eyebrows shoot up next to you. 

The teacher’s eyes widen slightly. "That’s impressive," she says, "You must’ve had a lot of options for college."

You shrug again feeling that familiar feeling of bittersweet regret. "Yeah, I had a full ride to a few places.”

“And you didn’t go?”

The way she says says it—like she can’t imagine why you wouldn’t go—hurts a little. 

"Yeah, well... life happened." You try to brush it off like it doesn’t bother you.

Rafe’s hand slides over to yours under the table, interlocking your fingers and giving you a gentle squeeze. It’s subtle, but it’s enough for you. To remind you that you made the right choices, even if they weren’t easy ones.

The meeting wraps up pretty quickly after that.

The teacher gives Rafe some advice on how to help Wheezie stay on track, and you both thank her before heading out of the classroom. As you walk down the hallway, he stays quiet for a bit, and you can’t really read what’s going through his head.

By the time you get back to the truck, he turns to you, his brow furrowed slightly, like he’s still processing everything. "You got a perfect score on your SATs?"

Three years into the relationship and he’s still learning things about you every day.

You let out a small laugh, brushing some hair behind your ear. "Yeah. It’s not a big deal."

"That’s kinda insane," he says, looking at you like he’s seeing a whole new side of you. “Why didn’t you ever tell me that?”

You shrug for the millionth time today, suddenly feeling a little shy. “I don’t know. It just never came up. It’s not like it matters now, anyway.”

"It does matter." His voice is firm, and when you glance over, you can see how serious he looks. "You gave up a lot to help your sister. That’s not nothing."

Your throat tightens, and you have to swallow down the emotion rising inside you. The way Rafe says it, like he actually gets it, means more than he probably knows. "I just did what I had to do."

He nods slowly, like he understands that feeling all too well. "You didn’t have to offer to help Wheezie today. But you did.”

You don’t want to make a big deal out of it. "I want to help her. She deserves it."

Rafe doesn’t say anything, just looks at you with this soft, almost disbelieving expression. Like he can’t wrap his head around the fact that you’re still here, beside him, helping his family without a second thought.

"You’re amzing, y’know that?" he murmurs, his voice low and warm in that way that makes your stomach flip.

You feel your cheeks heat up, a shy smile tugging at your lips. "Stop."

"I mean it." He reaches over, cupping your face gently with his hand, thumb brushing lightly across your cheek. His eyes soften as they meet yours, filled with so much adoration it makes you want to hide. "I don’t know what I did to deserve you, but I’m really fucking grateful."

You bite your lip, glancing down at his other hand on your knee before looking back up at him.

"You’ve been working hard. For yourself, for us. I see that."

His jaw tightens just slightly, and he looks down, almost like he’s not sure how to take the compliment. But when his eyes meet yours again,

"I’m trying," he says quietly. "I’m trying to be better."

"And you are," you whisper. "Every day."

The months of hard work, the late nights when you’ve held him through his doubts, the mornings when he’s shown up for his family even when it was hard. It’s all there, between you, unspoken but understood.

Rafe leans in, pressing his forehead to yours, his breath warm against your skin. "Thank you," he whispers. "For everything."

You close your eyes, letting the moment settle around you. "I’ll always be here," you whisper back. "We’ve got this."

“I don’t think I would’ve made it this far without you.”

You swallow hard, trying not to let it hit you too deep. But it does. Because for all the mess you’ve been through—his ups and downs, his relapse, his constant fight to be better—it always comes back to you. To this.

“I’ll always have your back,” You remind him quietly. “You know that, right?”

He nods, like there’s absolutely no doubt in his mind. “I know. You’re really good with her," he says after a beat. "With Wheezie. And with Milo."

You smile, leaning back in your seat. "Yeah, well, someone’s gotta look after the kids, right? Might as well be me."

Rafe’s lips twitch into another smile as he leans over, pressing a soft kiss to your temple, "Thank you, baby.”

“For what?”

“For sticking around,” he says, pulling back slightly to look at you. “Even when I didn’t make it easy.”

 “You make it worth it, Rafe. You always have.”

Because seeing him like this—happy, strong, responsible, and healthy—it’s more than just him trying. It’s him becoming the person you always believed he could be, from day one on that stupid country club. And that? That’s something you’d stick around for any day.

When you and Rafe pull up to Tannyhill, the sun’s already setting. You grab your bag from the backseat, and he takes a deep breath, his hand hovering near yours like he needs to hold onto you just for a second longer. When you step into the house, you’re greeted by the usual stillness that fills the place. It’s huge, but it always feels too quiet.

Wheezie’s sitting at the kitchen island, hunched over her phone, clearly trying to distract herself. Her leg’s bouncing nervously under the stool, and you don’t even have to say anything to know that she’s been dreading this moment.

As soon as she sees the two of you, she freezes, eyes wide, "Hey," she greets, her voice shaky.

Rafe glances at you, and you give him a small nod. You know he’s trying to figure out how to handle this—he’s never really had to play the role of ‘responsible older brother’ before. But he’s doing it. He’s trying. And that’s what matters.

"Wheeze," Rafe starts, as he walks over to her, and you can see the panic rising in her eyes as she sits up straighter like she’s preparing for the worst. "Why didn’t you tell me?"

She bites her lip, glancing between the two of you. "I-I didn’t want to bother you," she mumbles, her voice small. "You’ve been dealing with a lot, and I thought— I don’t know. I thought I could handle it on my own."

He sighs, running a hand through his hair. He’s quiet for a second, and you can feel Wheezie’s anxiety practically buzzing out of her. She’s probably expecting him to yell, to go off on her, but instead, he takes a step forward and pulls her into a hug.

"You ever keep something like that from me again," he mutters into her hair, his tone firm but warm, "and you’re grounded."

Wheezie’s eyes go wide in shock, like she wasn’t expecting that at all. Her arms wrap around him a little awkwardly, but you can tell she’s relieved. She pulls back after a second, staring up at him with those big brown eyes of hers. "You’re not mad?"

Rafe shakes his head, but his expression is serious. "I’m not mad. I’m worried, Wheeze. I’m here, okay? I got you."

"I’m sorry," she whispers.

He sighs again, rubbing a hand over his face before looking at her. "Don’t be sorry. Just don’t do it again."

She nods quickly, and you step closer, offering her a small smile. "You’re not in trouble, Wheezie. I’m gonna help you with the math stuff, okay? I promise."

Wheezie looks over at you, clearly surprised, and then back at Rafe. "You’re… really not mad?"

Rafe rolls his eyes but in that big-brother way that’s full of affection.

"No, Wheeze, I’m not mad. But next time you’re struggling with something, tell me. That’s what I’m here for."

She nods, relief washing over her features. "Okay. I will."

Rafe reaches out and ruffles her hair, something so casual and brotherly it makes your heart swell.

"Good. Now go do whatever you do, and remember—grounded if you pull that shit again."

You slap his arm, “Will stop cursing in front of her?”

He shoots you a half-smirk, looking completely unbothered. "Please baby, she’s sixteen. You think she doesn’t curse?"

Wheezie lets out a small laugh, covering her mouth as if she’s trying to keep it together, but you can tell she’s relieved. 

"Yeah, but maybe not in front of her big brother," you tease, raising an eyebrow at him.

Rafe shrugs, looking like he couldn’t care less. "If she’s smart enough to hide it from me, more power to her."

Wheezie giggles again, and you can’t help but smile. "Yeah, yeah," you sigh, rolling your eyes at him playfully. "You’re a great role model, Rafe Cameron."

He groans, “Please don’t use the full name.” The corners of his mouth tug up in a grin that makes your heart skip. “Alright, no more big brother lectures tonight. We’re good, yeah, Wheeze?”

Wheezie nods, still smiling. “Yeah, we’re good.”

[rosiecosy]

the joker

(seventeen x reader) - fluff

a/n - thank you to the anon who requested this! i hope you enjoy!

"welcome back to another episode of going seventeen!"

the staff's voice boomed through the speakers as the members sat in their seats, waiting for today's game to be announced.

"i swear if it's carnival again, i'm leaving," jeonghan muttered, slumping in his seat.

everyone not-so-quietly agreed. but before the complaints could continue, the staff revealed the game.

mafia.

with a secret role.

silence.

"what kind of secret role?" jeonghan asked, already thinking of ways to cheat.

the staff handed out the role cards—one mafia, one doctor, one detective, the civilians, and one joker.

"what does the joker do?" dino asked.

the staff grinned. "the joker wins alone. they don’t care if the mafia or civilians win—as long as they survive."

the members turned to look at each other.

"oh," woozi said. "so you want us to die."

round one

they started discussing immediately.

"i think it’s hoshi," vernon said.

"what?!"

"you’re being too loud."

"i’m always loud!"

"exactly," vernon deadpanned.

hoshi sulked. "you guys suck."

meanwhile, she stayed silent. she wasn’t mafia. she wasn’t a civilian.

she was the joker.

which meant she had one goal—survive.

and what better way to survive than to act completely, painfully average?

so she did what any normal civilian would do—she accused mingyu.

"mingyu looks suspicious."

mingyu’s jaw dropped. "i literally just breathed."

"exactly," seungcheol said, nodding. "too calm."

mingyu groaned. "i hate this game."

and just like that, he got eliminated.

round two

the next morning, the game resumed. when they opened their eyes, they saw joshua sitting quietly with his arms crossed.

"wait…" dino furrowed his brows. "are you—"

joshua sighed. "yeah, i’m dead."

seungkwan gasped. "who killed joshua?!"

woozi rolled his eyes. "obviously, the mafia."

"wow, they really went for an easy target," jeonghan muttered, sipping his tea.

joshua turned to glare at him. "excuse me?"

she sat back, watching. she didn’t care who won—as long as she wasn’t eliminated.

so she did something risky.

"guys… what if there’s no mafia?" she said suddenly.

the room fell silent.

seungkwan gasped. "what are you saying?!"

"i mean, what if it’s all a trick? what if the staff just told us there was a mafia but secretly… there isn’t one?"

chaos. immediate chaos.

dino: "huh?!"

woozi: "shut up."

seungcheol: "oh my god."

jeonghan: "wait… that’s actually genius."

and just like that, they forgot about her.

round three

it was down to four people—her, seungcheol, jeonghan, and seungkwan.

one mafia. one civilian. one detective.

and her—the joker.

she needed one more person to go before the final round.

so she turned to jeonghan and whispered,

"it’s seungcheol."

jeonghan’s eyes narrowed.

he turned to seungkwan. "it’s seungcheol."

seungcheol: "what?!"

"he’s been too quiet."

"that’s just my personality?!"

seungkwan nodded. "true. he’s always the fake leader in mafia."

seungcheol got eliminated.

she smiled.

one step closer to victory.

final round

three left.

jeonghan. seungkwan. her.

one mafia. one civilian. one joker.

seungkwan squinted. "wait… who’s lying?"

jeonghan pointed at her. "it’s her."

she gasped. "you’re really gonna betray me like this?"

"you literally started this whole thing!"

seungkwan turned to her. "are you mafia?"

she gave him the most innocent look ever. "do i look like a liar?"

"…yes."

"…fair."

jeonghan sighed. "look. let’s be logical."

"oh my god," woozi mumbled from the ghost section.

jeonghan continued. "if i was mafia, would i have gotten rid of seungcheol?"

"yes," she said.

jeonghan blinked. "wait—"

too late.

seungkwan eliminated him.

the staff clapped. "congratulations! the civilians win—"

"actually."

the staff paused.

she grinned.

"i was the joker."

seungkwan froze. "wait… does that mean…"

"she won," woozi groaned.

jeonghan looked personally offended. "you backstabbed me."

she shrugged. "that’s the game."

seungkwan fell to the floor. "i can’t believe this."

the members screamed. mingyu threw a pillow at her. jeonghan stormed off.

but all she did was sit back, smile, and say,

"well… see you next episode."

[samsblades]

✶ ruined (not really) — sam winchester

cw : gn!reader, grumpy!reader, fluff, academic rivals!au, stanford!sam, mentions of school stress and arguments, unedited, 1.4K words. requested ! for my 900 followers event [ closed ] .

prompt : a hidden away bookshop + “i can’t get you out of my head.”

your safe haven has been ruined, just like many other things, by one sam winchester. this bookstore is supposed to be yours, hidden away from all of the stressful, irking things you deal with on campus. ‘stressful, irking things’ is code for rigorous classwork, academic pressure, the stairs up to one of your tuesday thursday classes, and sam winchester.

ever since your second semester at stanford when you discovered this tiny, hole in the wall bookshop that is practically impossible to find, it’s been a refuge of sorts. of course, there are other customers, mostly regulars like yourself, but you tend to visit during the quietest hours by the nature of your class and work schedule. 

but today, when you round the corner of the bookshelf in the far corner to settle in your usual seat—which is indeed the only table in the whole store—you’re greeted with a sight that you can only classify as horrific. your relentless, stubborn, awfully intelligent, and maddeningly beautiful academic rival is perched in your spot. his imposing frame isn’t so hulking as he hunches over a book, settled happily in the corner-most chair that you’ve deemed as literally perfect because it’s under a window, gives a view of the rest of the shop, and is gloriously comfortable without making you slump or fall asleep as you read and write.

you only barely hold back an indignant noise of protest from escaping your lips as you stop dead in your tracks. a scowl settles on your features. you have an essay due tonight, and you swear that this seat is the only place you’ll be able to finish it successfully. sure, this isn’t the first time that you’ve come to the shop and found it’s only seat taken. but those were innocent strangers. because it’s sam this time, it’s completely his fault and he’s anything but innocent. by being here, he’s personally and intentionally sabotaging you and your essay.

before you can think of a scathing comment to interrupt his deep concentration, he picks up on the presence of another person and looks up, eyes widening when he registers that it’s you. you take two steps towards him so that you can lean against the back of the second, empty chair on the closer side of the table.

“you’re in my spot,” you say, and it would’ve sounded a bit lame if you hadn’t said it with such confidence, like it was a matter of fact rather than petty annoyance. he sighs and sets his pen down on the notebook in which he’d been jotting down quotes from his book.

“this is a public space. it’s not your spot,” he says, voice even more matter of fact than yours because it really is a fact. you know this, of course, but don’t care. you give a frustrated huff of breath, just as he expected you to.

by now, you know when to leave an argument alone with him. you don’t think of it as him winning, just you having the sense not to say something stupid. and, these days, the two of you have been a bit more amicable with each other. it takes a lot of energy that neither of you have to argue about everything, so you leave it for the important things like class discussions, essays, and exams. “how long are you going to be here?” you ask tersely. just because you don’t argue doesn’t mean that you’re particularly nice to each other. just not mean. he’s a nice guy, and you know it, however annoying that is. you suppose he probably knows that you’re a kind person too.

he shrugs, though, and it makes you annoyed all over again. “not sure. a while, probably. i’m working on the essay for critical theory.” you want to grind your teeth and curse.

you don’t hold back a little, “dammit,” from slipping out under your breath. your frustration builds, and it’s probably more because of your stress over this essay than anything else, but it’s much easier to blame it on him. “can’t you work on it somewhere else?” you know that’s a stupid and unfair thing to ask, but your attachment to the chair he sits in is thick and unmoving.

“no,” he frowns, “i sat here first. you can find somewhere else. there’s hundreds of places to sit on campus.” you hate that he has the sensible upper ground in this whole conversation, and there’s no way in hell that you’re going to explain to him that sometimes, it seems this is the only place in the world that you can concentrate. you don’t move an inch. he rolls his eyes. “there’s two seats, you know.”

“that seat’s better,” you grumble in complaint, but you’re already pulling the chair out and swinging your bag off your shoulder. both of you hide it well, but there could be a battle of who’s more surprised; you, because sam has offered to let you sit with him, or sam, because you’ve actually accepted said offer. both of you are asking yourselves why.

why did he offer? and why did you accept without a moment’s hesitation? sam can answer the first one; because he likes you very much and it bothers him to no end. he can’t get you out of his head, but there’s no way he can tell you that. you can answer the second one; because you like him very much, and it’s quite insufferable. you can’t get him out of your head, but you’ll never admit it.

“too bad,” he grumbles back, looking back down at his book but secretly pleased to have you sitting with him by choice. you’re adorable when you’re grumpy.

part of this place’s merit towards your ability to concentrate is it’s lack of other human beings outside of the worker, who is out of sight due to bookshelves, and therefore, out of mind. but outside of your horrible crush on him, you accepted his invitation because you’ve found that working on assignments around him is around isn’t half bad. yes, you’re self proclaimed rivals, and yes, you’re always trying to be better than the other, but he has an easy presence and fake begrudging willingness to help you if there’s ever anything you don’t understand. you know it’s fake because yours is too. he doesn’t even pretend to be cocky anymore if you ask for his help, so you don’t either.

hours pass, and he splits his snack with you because you’d forgotten yours. he’s a gentleman, unfortunately, because that makes thing confusing.

eventually though, the ease of being with him passes and is replaced by the urge to constantly look at him and think about the way that his eye color has changed since the late afternoon turned to twilight.

after you loose your concentration for what feels like the hundredth time, sam looks up at you with a question in those pretty eyes. he can feel it every time you get restless. he goes through a few iterations of what to say. what’s wrong? will get him a huge scowl. do you want to take a break? you’ll certainly say no to. so he decides on, “let’s go grab some dinner. i’m starving. there’s a lebanese place a block away that’s really good.”

he thought the offer of food would work as an excuse to get you to take a break that you clearly need. he even framed it so that it would seem like he’s the one who needs a break. plus, he wasn’t lying about being hungry. but you look unconvinced and almost pained by his kindness. so his voice turns gentle, because he’s actually quite endeared with you, and hates the idea of you being truly upset or frustrated by anything.

“c’mon,” he murmurs, “a break will help us concentrate better when we get back.”

you look even more bothered now. why is he seemingly taking care of you? “i can’t get you out of my head,” you frown and cross your arms, like it’s a very concerning thing. to you, it is. it can be very unhelpful.

his face morphs into an expression of shock for a moment before he regains composure. the way you say it makes things very hard to interpret; you're critical and calculating, like you’re trying to work your way through a complicated theoretical concept. but the words themselves are an echo of exactly how he feels. you think about him. so much so, that it’s making it hard for you to concentrate.

his spine straightens. “me too,” he says, keeping a soft tone. maybe he can coax you into speaking softly too. and maybe he can hold your hand on the way to and from a late evening dinner.

[redrose10]

so i was told 'maybe in another life' pt. 2 was a possibility and here we are.... PLEASE IM BEGGING YOU GIVE ME A PART TWO AND MY LIFE IS YOURS 🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏

I hope this lives up to your expectations…

There will be another part to this one too. Sorry

This is a part 2/continuation of this one here.

Non Idol Yoongi x Loan Shark Female Reader. Soulmate AU

Warnings: Violence, guns, kind of suggestive, mentions of orphanage, murder, swearing, name calling

*******************************************************

Over the years, lifetimes really, you grew to hate the idea of soulmates. You used to think the idea was sweet. The thought of being tied to someone else so tightly that destiny would force the two of you together somehow seemed romantic. If only your other half had felt the same way.

The last time you saw Yoongi in person he was a famous idol that you happened to have to work with while he was completing his required military service. Once again he rejected your soulmate status though. He told you to move on and find someone else like he had. Because just like he said he would, he married another woman who wasn’t you. She was an idol just like him. Famous, talented, and beautiful. The wedding photos that were plastered in every magazine and all over the city were beautiful. Even you couldn’t deny that he looked at her with so much love and affection, something you never saw from him. They ended up having two kids, a boy and a girl. He had his own little happy family while you struggled every day to get by. Yoongi went on to live a long successful life filled with fame, money, and happiness from what you could see.

You can still remember the way you felt the day you saw the news of his passing. There had always been a part of you that hoped that maybe he would realize his love for you, especially after it was announced that him and his wife had divorced. Then the two of you could be together and finally put an end to the lifetimes of suffering you had endured, but you never saw him in person again.

And in that moment as you stared at his smiling face plastered on your tv screen while the newscaster discussed the upcoming funeral it sealed the deal and forced you into yet another life once your current was over.

In this new life you no longer cared to find Yoongi and instead accepted the fact that you would be forced to live a million different lives possibly for eternity. All of this lead you to be the cold, bitter, ruthless person you had become today.

“Please!”, the man in front of you sobbed, “I’ll get the money. I promise. Just give me another week.”

You pushed the end of the pistol a little harder into his forehead sure to leave a mark. “That’s what you said last week.”, you spat, “I’m out of time. The boss wants his money or a body. Which is it gonna be?”

“Please. I’m begging you. I’ll have it next wee-“

The man dropped to floor lifeless as you put away your still smoking gun. “Clean this up and get him over to the boss.”, you ordered to one of your men before pulling out a pack of cigarettes and lighting one up.

The first time you killed someone you cried yourself to sleep that night. Their crying, sobs of desperation, the way they called for their mother… You had nightmares for weeks. But now, years later, it was just another day on the job. Tonight you will go home, crack open a beer, and forget everything that just happened. It was the only way to survive.

“Let’s go. Boss sent the next location.”, one of your men spoke from the doorway, “Said it’s a big one.” You nodded and put out your cigarette before following behind.

You don’t exactly remember how you ended up as one of the lead loan sharks for the biggest and fiercest mob boss this side of the planet, but somehow you got there. You were orphaned at a young age. Bounced around from home to home most of which not equipped to properly provide for you which resulted in stealing to get what you needed. One evening you smelled something that made your stomach growl even harder than it had been. A steaming loaf of fresh baked bread was left out in front of a bakery to cool. You were starving and cold and after making sure no one was looking you grabbed it and ran. You didn’t get very far before two men caught up to you grabbing you by your arms. They carried you back to that same storefront and into one of the back rooms where you were thrown on the ground.

“We don’t tolerate thieves around here.”, someone spat before forcing cold metal against your head. You closed your eyes not having the strength or motivation to fight back and hopelessly just wished for it to be over soon. You heard another voice enter the room demanding the gun to be put away. After some protests by your captor and a stern warning from the other man the gun was removed from your skin and the grip around your neck loosened. The man who saved you left the room without a word. You never even opened your eyes to get a look at him.

Before you knew it you were being driven to a large mansion just outside of the main city. You were given a bedroom and clean clothing. Three meals a day were provided which was more than you’d ever had. All of this was free of charge, you just had to promise to sign your life away to someone they only referred to as The Boss.

Regardless of what others think, to this day you’ve never seen him. Haven’t heard his voice since that day he demanded your release in the back of the bakery he used as a front for a gambling ring. You agreed to work for him because you had nothing else to loose and now many years later you were his top worker being trusted to lead his teams while doing all of his dirty work. It gave you a comfortable life by keeping you fed and housed and most of all kept your mind busy to the point you hardly ever thought about Min Yoongi.

“Ready? Boss says he wants this one alive if he refuses to pay. Wants to take care of him hisself. Guess this one has been extra mouthy.”, Baek said next to you. Baek was your right hand man. One of the few people in this business you trusted.

“Good, means we can be a little extra rough. I need to let off some steam anyways.”, you sighed checking to make sure your gun was loaded.

In the middle of an old abandoned factory you found a group of your men standing in a circle hurling insults and expletives, a few threw in a kick or punch at the man who was on his knees with his hands tied behind his back and a blindfold blocking his vision.

“Alright boys, step aside.”, you said pushing your way through the crowd of taller bigger men that you were never afraid of.

“Great. The princess is here.”, one of them groaned. “Wonder how often she has to fuck the boss for him to keep her around.”, another scoffed. You cocked your gun and pointed it directly in the middle of his forehead, “Who I fuck and when or where I fuck them is none.of.your.business.”

“Whoa whoa whoa Y/N let’s put the gun down. It’s late and we need to get this over with so we can all go get some rest.”, Baek said while he gently, but firmly forced your hand down.

“Yeah watch your mouth bitch.”, another in the crowd said, but before you could figure out who was the culprit someone else decided to interject.

“I’d be happy to keep her mouth occupied for a while.”, the man on his knees said making your stomach twist into a knot. That voice was oddly familiar.

Your head whipped to the side so fast you lost balance and when you composed yourself and got a good look at him you froze.

That smirk. You could recognize that smirk anywhere. That same smirk has haunted your dreams for centuries.

[woniverse-writes]

“MOTH TO A FLAME (preview)”

Bada Lee x Fem!Reader

prologue ⟶ part one

summary: y/n l/n is the youngest team member of Jam Republic, competing in the second season of Street Woman Fighter. she’s got the sweetest smile and the most vibrant personality, but she also may or may not be the biggest hothead on the show when it comes to defending her teammates. apparently that’s attractive to Bada Lee.

word count: 1.7k

warnings: swearing, reader is described as cute and petite… sorry to my non-tiny friends.

Starting something young and continuing into your present adulthood can be pressuring, especially if that certain thing happens to end up being your career. For y/n l/n, she's still very young and just in the beginning stages of her career. Still in college, but turning her studies to be online right now due to her current situation, she's working towards a business degree, and doubling that major with dance. 

So you can imagine she's a little high-strung since on top of being a college student, she's currently in South Korea, competing as a member of Jam Republic on the second season of Street Woman Fighter. Although y/n is always busy, she's always got a sweet smile on her face- which is why many people, including other dancers, have been drawn to her. It's also why she's currently facing a sea of dancers, waiting to be picked for the "no respect" battle, since she and her fellow teammate, Audrey, received the most votes as the worst dancers.

"She looks kind of scary now…" Yoonji whispers to her teammates looking at y/n. Redlic looks in the direction Yoonji is looking at and laughs a little.

"What're you talking about? y/n? She looks like a kitten trying to be a lion." Now the rest of ManneQueen is staring at Jam Republic, specifically y/n l/n. And sure enough, instead of her usual bright and smiling self, her eyes are fiery and to put it bluntly, she looks pissed the fuck off. Waackxxy was the one to turn to Redlic and go-

“No, she’s definitely got something fierce going on right now… I hope she has a lot of battle cuz I’m kind of interested in her now…” causing the rest of her team to laugh and agree. On the other side, Jam Republic is having their own discussion regarding y/n. 

“I think you should just wait and see- maybe no one will even pick you as a “no respect” dancer!” Ling tried cheering up her younger teammate.

“No I want someone to battle me- I want everyone who voted for me and Audrey to come and try us” y/n fired back with her arms crossed as she leaned back into her chair. She really did look intimidating, especially with her makeup and hair done. Audrey on the other hand was not feeling the same fire-

“Uhm, maybe we don’t need everyone to want to battle us…maybe just a few.” Audrey started to reason, 

”Cuz I don’t know if you remember, but there were a LOT of people that voted for us as the worst dancers…” which caused Kirsten and Ling to sigh, and y/n to roll her eyes and clench her jaw.

“Audrey, my love, I’m very well aware of how many people think we suck-“ 

“You don’t suck-” 

“Thank you Emma, but please give me a second”

“Y/n take a deep breath and check your well-being”

She sighed at their team leader’s advice, knowing it was to help her out and so that she didn’t get too fired up with her teammates. It’s not that y/n doesn’t get along with them- it’s the furthest thing from that- but she gets very passionate about everything, and she’s a bit of a hothead. On top of all that, y/n is very protective of those she cares about, some of those people being her dear teammates.

“I’m sorry” she mumbles a bit, but ultimately huffs out the response. To which Kirsten replies with a motherly “thank you”, causing the others to chuckle.

“I just don’t understand how they can all collectively make the assumption that we’re not as good as them- for what? Why? Because we’re foreigners? Because we smile a lot? Because we’re pretty? To me THAT just sounds like jealousy” y/n continues to rant, frantically moving her hands and arms about, expressing her frustration- and her team just listens patiently for her to finish. Once she finally lets out her final huff and relaxes back into her chair with her arms crossed again, and a pout now sporting her face, her teammates can’t help but smile gently at their youngest member- some even trying to hide giggles and chuckles of endearment. 

“Y/n, sweetheart, you’ve gotta remember- not everyone thinks like you- I wish they did, but they just don’t” Kirsten starts to comfort her, and places a hand on her head, trying her best to calm down the passionate young girl. 

Kirsten always felt like asking y/n to join her team was one of the best choices she made in regards to being a leader. She knew the younger girl had experience in kpop dance styles, having performed at multiple k-con stages and doing countless covers from other groups. Kirsten also saw an unlimited amount of potential in y/n and saw how quickly and easily she absorbed everything around her. The only thing she was worried about was how young she was. it wasn’t a huge concern to her since their whole team was pretty young, but when it came down to it, Kirsten ended up adding Audrey in as well, and the two hit it off right away! To be completely honest- Kirsten felt as if the three youngest members were her babies. Audrey being the sweet angel of a golden child, Emma being the responsible oldest, and y/n being the chaotic troublemaker who’s always trying to pick a fight with someone for hurting her sisters. 

“You just need to remember that we’re here to dance, have fun, and gain a new experience… alright?” Kirsten has successfully reduced her gremlin child to a less angry (but still very pouty) version of herself.

“…alright”

“Thank you. Now please stop pouting, you look like a kicked puppy and the other will probably start picking on you soon” Kirsten teased lightly, which caused Audrey to join in and start poking y/n’s cheek, leading to Emma tugging gently on her hair, and Ling poking her other cheek, all while Latrice coos at her and pats her head. This all of course causes her to start whining and complaining playfully at her members teasing.

But the endearment for each other doesn’t end outside of the members' little cluster. the love for Jam Republic, and specifically y/n, has now spread to the entire studio. as everyone originally took notice of the youngest member’s slight temper tantrum, most didn’t really know what she was ranting about, but they could tell she was not happy at all. The two teams sitting nearest to Jam Republic happened to be Bebe and 1Million, who originally both had members that intended to battle y/n, but after hearing her rant, some opinions changed. 

“I like her style! She’s very passionate” Harimu laughed as she explained her newfound interest in Jam Republic’s youngest. 

“That’s what I was thinking- I don’t even wanna battle her anymore, I just wanna watch her tear up the stage with all her energy” Redy chimed in.

“Do you think we should go up to her during break and try to become friends?” They begin to laugh and joke around about their shared interest in y/n. But their team’s older members aren’t quite on the same level of endearment.

“Ya- you two should be trying to take her down before befriending her, don’t you think?” Lia warns the two girls, who just look at each other and start giggling.

“I don’t know if I’d necessarily wanna go up against someone with her temper” Redy starts off jokingly, but Harimu is already coming back in a teasing mood-

“Yeah cuz you’d probably cry.” Which has Redy letting a gasp-  her jaw dropped to the floor, eyes wide with shock and (false) betrayal.

The other team seated next to Jam Republic isn’t as chipper as 1 Million though, as their leader is trying to convince her team to stick with their guts.

“You wanted to battle her at first for a reason- why would that reason change if you still haven’t seen her dance?” Bada asks Cheche, Sowoen, and Minah. They all voted y/n as the worst dancer because her style was too “pretty” and they thought she relied on having cute expressions. Bada didn’t entirely agree with her teammates, but everyone is entitled to their own opinion. She even originally stated how she thought y/n’s style was refreshing and youthful, but she was worried about how she’d be with darker concepts.

“Well- I mean- she seems kinda crazy…” Cheche halfheartedly joked, but in reality, she was being completely serious.

“Why? Because she’s angry? She should be angry. Being voted as the worst dancer isn’t something to be happy about…” Bada replies calmly. No one really says anything, as they all are just trying to process whether or not their leader is defending their opponent or just provoking them. 

Bada sighs and stands up to stretch. She wants her team to not only be amazing dancers, but critical thinkers too. Of course Bada wants a win, but she also wants her team to be strong- and if going up against someone with untouchable morale will force her teammates to be stronger, then that’s what they need to do.

She also may or may not be personally interested in seeing what y/n is made of. After all, she caught her attention originally with her bright smile and explosive personality- Bada thought her bold expressions and reactions to things were an endearing contrast from her cute or refreshing facials used when dancing. So now having seen y/n in stark opposition, she’s even more interested.  

Even in the short period of time she’s known her, Bada’s interested in who y/n is and what she can do- especially since she didn’t expect that much personality to fit into such a petite person. She wants to understand her better- even more so after hearing her passionate rant about wanting to prove everyone wrong. She almost feels delusional for being as interested in y/n as she is, but Bada really can’t help but feel drawn to her- like a moth to a flame.

notes: thank you to everyone who read!! this is my first fic so i was a little nervous to share it- especially since it's not really all that interesting yet. but i thought it would be better to write the not-so-interesting stuff as an intro/preview/prologue, so it didn't take up space in the actual fic. I'm hoping to have the first full part up by sometime in the middle of this upcoming week. i want it to encompass the whole three episodes that have aired so far, so there's a lot i wanna write lol

[proudfreakmetarusonikku]

before I go to bed and spend tomorrow doing mostly spreadsheets (it’s fun I swear I love logistics I’m doing it entirely for fun and restarting a game bc I find making detailed spreadsheet plans that enjoyable and I realised I could get some cool mods bc I don’t care about balance) I really appreciate that while mouthwashing acknowledges and condemns curly's enabling behaviour, it never presents his disabilities or his abuse as some sort of just punishment. his extremely naïve faith in jimmy hurt everyone and was born out of a patronising misogynistic worldview where he assumed anya was mentally unwell before she was a victim but what happens to him is not a fair consequence, it’s just horrible and senseless. even if it happening made curly aware of the suffering anya did- the obvious parallels between the rape and himself being forced to take his pain medication are something I’m sure crossed his mind in the months he spent trying to focus on anything but pain- that in no way is ever framed as a good thing even if it technically made him a better person in some respects bc under No Circumstances is abuse ever justified or okay. curly is not a great person, but you do not have to be a perfect victim to be a victim. no one deserves the humiliation and violation jimmy put others through, not even jimmy himself. curly made many mistakes, and was a deeply flawed human- to think otherwise is to fall into jimmy's ableist and dehumanising obsession he uses to justify his abuse of curly- but he was not malicious. the patriarchal support of abuse eats its own, any man who falls outside of the cishetero able bodied white supremacist ideas of man are victims of it. this is not a hashtag girlboss moment, and is tragic and horrible in its own right bc abuse is always horrible, even if men aren’t the primary intended victims and even if those men uphold the patriarchy. bc people can be victims and also be deeply harmful to each other. the lines between the misogynistic sexual abuse towards anya and the violent medical abuse towards curly are blurred on purpose- bc being disabled means curly is no longer protected by male solidarity when the idea of maleness we have excludes disabled people. the parallels between ableism and misogyny are a very prominent theme I don’t see discussed much about the game, and them not framing curly as in any way deserving of his injuries nor the ableist abuse against him is so important for that point. like, curly sucks in a lot of ways, but he’s still a human being, and no human being deserves violation of any kind, whether they’re dehumanised for being disabled or for being a woman.

[rist-ix]

Heyyy rist!

I hope you are doing alright and I can't wait to read what you write next, even if it isn't tbhtbh. But speaking of tbhtbh do you think Valtor would ever resort to using a love potion or at least something of that nature? I can't remember if you've answered this question or not but i thought it was a fun ask, this could also be for sparked too. I feel like Valtor thinks he's above that cause of his natural charm🔥tm but maybe he might grow some self awareness and get desperate 🤔

These next few years are gonna be hell in America but at least I know I can always turn towards sparked for some joy 😊 and of course tbhtbh. Have a wonderful day ✨

Hi!!!! As always these days, big apologies for not giving more updates, I swear I’m gonna finish this chapter one day haha

My internship is going to continue until end of march, and after that I’m pretty much entering straight into my bachelor semester without break. So I can’t even offer an optimistic prediction rn. If you’re rereading Sparked, pls know that so am I. (Looking back I have NO IDEA how I could write like 9000 words every 1-2 weeks, WHERE has that energy gone oh my god.)

Talking about current political events: don’t worry, it’s gonna get MUCH worse here in Germany too! 🙃

But! What really helped me is going to my local town hall meetings, and joining up with the tiny offshoot of the Green Party that runs my town. The medium age there is like, sixty, but it’s honestly so healing for the soul to be surrounded by ppl who care so much, and have the know-how to make changes in our immediate environment. Even if the world goes to shit on a national level, the people who run things closest to us are always gonna do the best with what they have. It’s also so funny to watch two dozen 60-year-olds discuss how to best bully the one local AfD politician. Or plan Instagram reels with them. The seniors are alright is what I’m saying

Anyway, to get to your question!!! As always my answer is going to be kind of “it depends”, but leaning towards a pretty strong No.

Main reason for that is that we only have 2 canonical examples for a love potion, and both are, um. Not what Valtor would be into. The more recent example would be Diaspro's potion for Sky, which seems to take effect almost immediately and comes with a near mindless suggestibility, total obedience, and some pretty egregious mood swings and personality changes. She could tell Sky what to believe, what to do, and how to feel, with Sky falling into really atypical, bloodthirsty rages when faced with the Winx. Keep in mind, he's faced way worse threats to both himself and his friends before, and has always been pretty blasé about it.

While we do know that Valtor has no qualms about using mind control, and has always pursued control over others as his end goal, in any fic I've written so far his obsession with Bloom depends highly on the challenge/threat she poses to him, and the unexpectedness of her actions. In Sparked especially, Bloom's unpredictability plays a huge part in Valtor's escalating fascination with her, and I cannot see him willing to throw that away for a subjugated love-potion version of her. Plus, as you mentioned, Valtor prides himself on his charm and persuasiveness. Using a love potion would be akin to admitting defeat, and he would NEVER do that!

Similarly, in tbhtbh, Valtor doesn’t dare to try and use his mark on her, for fear of turning Bloom into a mindless puppet as a consequence. Here is where it gets tricky, though, because I CAN see this version of Valtor being way more ready to use drastic measures to get his way. Tbhtbh!Valtor is motivated largely by his desire for control, and the love potion would give him that with way less obvious side effects than his mark. Additionally, the love potion wouldn’t require any active input from him. It's a one-time-usage kinda deal, not a constant supervision of her mind. And the idea of Bloom being in love with — or even merely affectionate towards— him, might seriously pull his resolve into question. After those infamous three years, tbhtbh!Valtor is pretty unhinged already, and could convince himself of almost anything if the situation is dire enough. Though even then, I can’t see it being his first choice — if only because it would hurt his ego.

Now, outside of any specific story, I'm gonna be honest: there is nothing a love potion would do that would go against Valtor's canon principles. In a really dark fic, love-potioning Bloom would just be mind control, with the added insult-to-injury benefit of her applying all that blind faith, loyalty and affection to him instead of her friends. In a scenario where he does not yet have that begrudging respect for her as an opponent, he would absolutely pull that stunt. Or hell, even with that respect, if he was just a little more vindictive and pragmatic.

In any case, whether he would use one or not, I think Valtor would clearly see a love potion as mind control. There would be no convincing himself that Bloom's feelings for him were real; wether he'd do it out of revenge, need for control, or plain wish for her affection, he'd be very clear-eyed about the reality of it.

Notable mentions to the only other example we get or love potions being used in Winx Club: season 2! That would be Amore's spell on Améntia, the princess of the Downlands. It’s been a while since I've watched that episode, but I vaguely remember that Améntia IMMEDIATELY switched her obsession with Brandon over to Sponsus, who she had pretty much ignored up to that point. Leaving aside how the show glossed over the pretty mind-controlly implications of that, Améntia seemed to be pretty much unchanged personality wise, afterwards. While that might be a version of love-potioning that would appeal to Valtor's very unique honor code, the logistics of that would probably be a no-go for him. I just can’t see him stooping to using pixie magic, or even allying himself with one. Just wanted to mention it, for completions' sake. (There is a love-potion-esque spell Amore displays in s3 too, during the pixie’s “battle” against the Trix. She claims that it would be able to make Valtor fall in love with any of the Trix, but we never see that spell put into effect, so I’m not counting it here.)

[no-damsel]

Just friends

Warnings: Swearing, minor violence

Chapter three

“Son of a bitch!”

“Stop,” you hiss, smacking Adam’s hand away from your face. “Trust me, I’m fine.”

You had gotten in between two drunken assholes when they started fighting in front of you while you were collecting dirty glasses from tables. You ended up getting punched twice in the face since both men swung at the same time; however, the fight immediately stopped when they realized they’d hit the wrong person.

Two bouncers threw them out, and that was the end of it until Adam got involved. He got riled up, thinking he was going to have both of them thrown in jail.

“Is there a problem here?” Jasper walks into the staff room and says, “I heard there was some kind of altercation.”

“I got caught up in a bar fight; I’m fine.”

Since you were facing Adam, the owner couldn’t see how swollen your eye had become or the blood gushing from your eyebrow.

Adam steps up towards the owner, but before he can say anything, you lightly shove him in the chest, gaining his attention again. “Tommy, I’m fine. Take a walk or go back to work.”

He lowers his head slightly. “I’m sorry, boss, I just hate seeing a woman getting beat on, you know? It sets me off.”

Jasper pats him on the shoulder and says, “I get it.”

At this point, you turn to toss the tissue in your hand into the trash and go to get another one. “I think Angel should go home,” Adam says. “Have you seen her face? It’s a mess.”

“Angel, let me see.”

You turn and look Jasper in the face, and his jaw clenches. You were under no false illusion that he cared for you personally; rather, he cared about how you looked. He makes a tsk sound. “This just won’t do. Princess,” Jasper clicks his fingers at a blonde dancer when she enters the room. “Go and find Gregg for me; tell him I need a word with him. Tommy, go back to work.”

“I’m not excusing him shouting his mouth off.” You top off the whisky in Jasper's glass with your free hand while the other holds ice over your eye. “But one of the dancers told me his dad used to beat on his mom and sister as kids; he was just being protective. Which is more than I can say for the pathetic excuse of bouncers who let a fight like that break out.”

You felt guilty saying that Bob Ruzek was a good man, but you needed a cover story to excuse ‘Tommy’s’ behavior.

“No sweat, baby,” he motions for you to sit beside him. “Have you thought about my offer? More money, fewer late nights.”

“Why did you pick me?”

Jasper chuckles. “You’re the only one in here I trust to have my back.”

Adam and Antonio had been undercover for almost three weeks, and they were so close to making an arrest; they had found the stash house. They now just need to catch him handing the drugs over to his dealers. But now, his newest revelation was something you needed to discuss with Voight as soon as possible.

“Gregg,” Jasper says, standing up.

“The blonde girl said you wanted to see me.”

You hold back a snort. Antonio would go out of his way to call the dancers by their show names; whenever he heard someone being called Princess, Heaven, or Angel, he’d screw his face up.

Jasper pulls multiple twenty-dollar bills out of his pocket and hands them to Antonio. “Take our angel to the emergency room. Make sure they take good care of her.”

“The bleeding has stopped,” Antonio says, tossing the bloodied cotton ball into the trash. “I don’t think it will scar; just leave a nasty cut for a couple of weeks.”

“Thank you.”

Instead of taking you to the emergency room, Antonio took you back to his apartment to clean up your wound. If you went to the hospital, you’d need to use your real name, which could blow the whole operation if Jasper caught wind.

Antonio disappears from his bathroom and reappears moments later, holding a bag of ice in one hand and a hand towel in the other. He says nothing as he places ice on the material, then holds it up to your swollen eye, causing you to flinch.

“Sorry,” he mumbles.

Your fingers brush against his when you take the ice from him. You felt slightly uncomfortable; Antonio always seems wary of you. As if he’s expecting you to somehow betray him.

He leans back against the wall with his arms crossed. “Do you think Jasper bought the cover story you said about Tommy?”

“I think so. Although Adam looked pretty pissed,”

Antonio motions for you to follow him into the living room. “Can I ask you something? Sorry, gotta take this.”

He walks into a bedroom you presume is his own to answer his mobile and starts talking in Spanish. Every so often, his voice would become louder, so you would assume he was mad at something. You were grateful he cleaned you up but didn’t want to impose, and you would probably leave once his call was finished.

Sitting on the couch, you glance around his apartment and notice the framed pictures on the table. One stands out more than the other; on one side of the frame is a happy-looking young girl surrounded by balloons and banners with the number eighteen on them, and the next one is Antonio standing between the same girl and a young boy with his arms wrapped around them. All three of them were smiling brightly.

Hearing the sound of a door closing, you look up and see Antonio coming out of the bedroom. Before you can say anything, he shoves his phone into his pocket and says, “Sister.”

“Are these your kids?”

He nods.

“They are beautiful.”

He picks up another picture frame and sits down beside you. The kids look younger in this picture, and there is a brunette woman hugging them. “That’s my sister Gabriela, my daughter Eva, and my son Diego.” Smiling, he places the picture back down. “Do you have kids?”

“None biologically, but I’ve been raising my nephew Eli since he was two; he’s just turned seven. The only downside to being undercover is being away from him.”

“Yeah, I get you. When Laura filed for divorce, she took the kids with her, and it killed me. Eva did come and live with me for a while, but she’s now at college, and Diego only stays with me the first two weeks of the month.”

It took you by surprise that he was sharing any personal information with you since you didn’t really know each other.

“Where’s Eli now?”

“In our home with my dad. My dad’s a retired detective; he moved back to Chicago to help me with Eli.” You trace your finger over the thin red bracelet, a friendship bracelet your nephew made. “Is Gabriela your only sister?”

“Just the one sister,” he says. Antonio relaxes his arm over the back of the arm chair. “Gabby is younger than me and is incredibly strong-willed. She is a paramedic firefighter.”

You smile seeing how his face lights up when he talks about her. “Does she work in Chicago too?”

“She did. She moved to Puerto Rico a couple of years ago. Do you have any brothers or sisters?”

“I’m the youngest of three girls. My oldest sister, Cherry, lives in London.”

“What does she do?”

“She’s a sonographer. She moved to England to live with her husband and her stepson.”

“So I’m guessing she’s not Eli’s mom?”

“No, he’s my sister Amber’s son.”

He laughs, “You’re kidding me? Cherry, Amber, and Viola?”

“Yeah, yeah. My mom named us after her favorite colors.”

Antonio senses your change in emotion and, in a lighter tone, says, “So, does Amber live in the city?”

“Amber moved to New York when she was pregnant. She died five years ago.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” he says sincerely. “Eli is lucky to have you; not everyone is willing to raise a kid; that’s not there.”

Before you can respond, your work mobile vibrates in your pocket. You answer the call and put the phone on loudspeaker. “Hey, I’m guessing you got my voicemail?”

“Yeah, I did. You okay? Adam said you got caught in a fight, and Dawson left with you.”

“I’m fine.”

When Hank doesn’t seem to believe you, Antonio speaks up: “Hank, we are sitting in my apartment; the bleeding has stopped.”

“Okay, good. So what was so urgent?”

You lick at your dry lips, mentally reading yourself to share the information you learned right before the fight.

[fan-fantasies]

Care For You

A/N: surprise! I’m avoiding my issues with real men by fantasizing about my fictional men so please enjoy the product of that! Slight enemies to lovers (which isn’t easy cuz Osferth is such a sweetheart) but it’s my favorite trope!

Warnings: swearing, insults, unprotected sex and slight choking, people walking in on them

Pairing: Osferth x fem!reader

The sun was slowly setting over Rumcofa when a watchman from the river yelled to Uhtred.

“Lord! We’ve spotted a ship we cannot identify!”

“Soldiers to the riverside!” Uhtred called to his men.

He and his merry misfits waited on the dock to see who it could be. As the ship came closer, a familiar face stood up.

“Is that Eadith?” Finan asked, standing taller.

“It is!”

“Lord, we are from Frankia looking for safe passage. We have coin to pay the toll!” She called out with a smile.

Uhtred and his men were thrilled to see her.

“Don’t let her fool you, lord. It is no more than tin,” you joked, popping up beside her.

Finan looked at Osferth who already had a scowl on his face. The Irishman elbowed him in the side and chuckled.

Uhtred helped the two of you off the ship and escorted you to the great hall along with his men.

“What are you doing here?” He asked.

“We have been studying healing in Frankia and we heard that Rumcofa has become riddled with diseases of all kinds,” Eadith answered.

“Well that would be Osferth’s fault,” Finan laughed.

“That wouldn’t surprise me in the slightest,” you smirked. “Or perhaps it would since I’m sure you’re still a virgin, baby monk.”

“Didn’t feel like staying in Frankia?” He snapped at you.

“And miss out on seeing my favorite warriors?” You asked, throwing your arm around Finan. “I think not.”

“Do not listen to him, y/n. We are glad to have you,” Sihtric smiled.

“Speak for yourself,” Osferth mumbled under his breath before leaving the hall.

You had to admit he had grown into quite the fine young man, but his attitude was as sour as ever and you loved to poke at him.

“Why such hostility?” Eadith asked Finan quietly.

“They want to hump each other but neither will admit it. So they do this instead,” he sighed. “Stubborn bastards.”

“We will celebrate properly later but we have much to do to prepare for the festival,” Uhtred said.

“Yes and we must get settled,” Eadith said, looking at you. You followed her to the small inn where they informed you that they only had one small room left.

“You take it! I’ll stay with someone else,” you insisted.

“But-“

“No buts! You’re here for important business and you’ll need a place to rest,” you reminded her, referring to a letter the Lady Aethelflaed had sent to you in Frankia.

“Fine, but go straight to Uhtred and tell him you need a place to sleep,” she said.

“Yes, lady,” you said while rolling your eyes playfully. You sought out the lord and found him at the ale house inspecting the latest brew for the festival.

“Uhtred! May I have a moment?” You asked.

“For you, you may have many moments,” he joked.

“It seems your inn is full and I gave Eadith the last room so I’ll be needing a place to sleep,” you informed him.

“Well I’m sure Sig and Sihtric wouldn’t mind you staying with them. I doubt they’d even notice another person,” he laughed.

“Any other options?”

“Finan and Ingrith already have guests and I would offer my own, but-“

“The princess is coming, say no more,” you gave him a soft smile. “So that leaves…”

“Osferth!” Uhtred said with a huge smile as the young man in question came through the door.

“I’d rather sleep with the pigs,” you grunted.

“I doubt even they would have you,” Osferth snapped.

“Kids, play nice,” Uhtred sighed. “You will stay with Osferth, end of discussion.”

“What? Lord!”

“End of discussion, Osferth,” he said in a serious tone.

“Well are you going to show me the way or do I have to guess which place is yours?” You asked. He said nothing but left while expecting you to follow.

His little house was nicer than you expected it to be. It was simple but it suited him. It didn’t seem like as much of a bachelor pad as you would’ve expected and it made you wonder if he had a woman in his life. You quickly rushed that thought from your mind because you didn’t like the jealousy bubbling up inside you.

“There’s a small makeshift bed over there for guests so…help yourself,” he mumbled.

“What a shame, I thought we’d be sharing,” you said with a wink and a laugh.

“Not if you begged me,” he scoffed. “Although I’m sure it would sound nice coming from you.”

“Like I’d ever beg you for anything.”

He crossed the room in only a few steps and bumped his shoulder against yours as he passed, stopping briefly at your side.

“I’m sure there are ways to get you to beg,” he whispered in your ear before walking out the door.

What a cocky asshole he had grown into; you couldn’t say you disliked it though. It lit a fire in your belly that you wanted to ignore.

Osferth left and went to find Finan and Sihtric who were searching for Aethelstan who was probably hiding from his chores.

“So, it must be weird seeing y/n after all this time,” Sihtric commented.

“Why would it be weird?” The younger man asked.

“We know you were upset when she left with Eadith so I’m sure there’s some unresolved feelings there,” Finan smirked.

“I was not upset and there are no feelings!”

“You don’t have to lie to us, baby monk,” the Irishman chuckled.

“Has she grown into a beautiful lady? Yes. Is she still the same annoying brat from all those years ago? It would appear so. So that’s all there is to it,” Osferth insisted.

“She just likes to play with you,” Sihtric sighed.

“Yes well I don’t enjoy it.”

“Perhaps you’d enjoy it if she played with you in a different way,” Finan said, jabbing him with his elbow. Osferth replied with a scowl but deep down he knew his friends were right- about everything.

Uhtred held a small feast to welcome the two of you back. You found that you actually enjoyed the townsfolk of Rumcofa. It was nice to be back with your friends, even if Osferth’s weird stares had been throwing you off all night.

“Lady, I am glad you have found your way to our humble town,” a man said, taking the empty seat next to you. “I am Ivar.”

“Hello, Ivar; it’s a pleasure to meet you,” you smiled. “I’m quite enjoying my time here so far.”

“You’ve come at the perfect time. Blood month festival is always a momentous occasion,” he said. He scooted closer to you and slid you another cup of ale.

He was attractive, you couldn’t deny that. You knew Uhtred would not allow any sleazy men in your company so you hoped he was decent. What harm could it do to entertain him?

“Perhaps we will be able to celebrate the festivities together,” you said, taking a sip of the ale he offered. His eyes lit up at your words and you laughed. The two of you were unaware of the eyes that were watching you with much scrutiny.

“I would enjoy that very much, lady-“ he leaned in closer so that no one but you could hear- “perhaps there are some other festivities that we could enjoy together as well.”

You were surprised by his words but you were more surprised by the knife that was stabbed into the table between the two of you. You jumped apart from one another quickly, looking up and realizing it was Osferth standing over you.

“To cut your meat, lady,” he sneered while pointing to the knife. He stormed off, leaving you angry and Ivar confused.

“He should probably be more careful next time,” he mumbled more to himself.

You wanted to chase after him and demand a reason for his behavior but you did not have the energy to deal with him.

You continued on with some small talk before you realized that as handsome and forward as Ivar was, he was actually incredibly boring. You finished your meal rather quickly and excused yourself from the table. He offered to walk you back but you politely declined, feigning exhaustion from your long journey.

The walk to Osferth’s was not long but it was enough time for your anger to creep back in. You slammed his door shut when you entered, causing him to look up from whatever book he was reading.

“You were a reckless idiot back there,” you snapped.

You began to take off your top layer of clothing to get ready for bed. You’d spent enough time around Uhtred and his men that being shy was no longer a thing.

“I was reckless? I’d consider you the reckless one if you’re going to sleep your way through Rumcofa,” he replied.

“Are you dense? It was one man and we were simply talking! It was not as if he was going to take me right there on the table in that moment!”

Osferth’s jaw tensed when that image flashed in his head.

“I saw how you were acting, like a bitch in heat.”

You stormed over to him and ripped the book from his hands, throwing it across the room. He stood up from his seat, fuming.

“I should cut your tongue out for saying such a thing,” you growled. “I’m so sick of your holier than thou attitude! You’re no better than anyone else.”

“I’m better than you,” he sneered.

“Is that so? I’m fairly certain it was I that saved your ass in our last battle. And it was I that convinced Uhtred to allow you to join us in the first place; what a mistake that was!”

“Is that why you’ve always been mean to me? You regret having me around?”

“I’m not mean! I simply tease you like Finan and Sihtric do!” You defended yourself. You truly never meant any malice toward him.

“It is different with them.”

“Why? Because they are men?” You asked.

“Yes!- well, no!”

“Are you sure about that?” You laughed. “You’re no better than me just because you’re a man.”

“Well at least I stuck around! I didn’t run off and come back years later pretending as if nothing happened after abandoning my friends!”

His words made you stop in your tracks. You left with Eadith to gain more knowledge and secure your own coin. Uhtred encouraged you to do so so you knew it was not him that was angry with you for leaving.

“I was not aware that you were so upset over my leaving,” you mumbled.

“I was not.”

“It sounds like you were,” you said with a small smirk. “Do you care for me, Osferth?”

“In your dreams,” he scoffed. His heart was racing and he was afraid he had been discovered.

“Oh in my dreams you do much more than care for me,” you joked.

His eyes widened at your admission and he was left speechless. You noticed the change in demeanor and decided to test his limits.

“Do you wish it were you?”

“What are you talking about?”

You moved closer to him so that you were nearly pressed against him.

“Do you wish it were you whispering dirty things in my ear? Do you wish you were the one taking me on a table at any given moment?” You asked seductively.

He gulped and refused to look at you. You could feel something against your leg so you looked down and noticed he had gotten hard beneath his robes.

“I knew you cared for me,” you chuckled, looking at him with a smirk. He finally looked at you and you could tell he was annoyed.

“Just because I wish to hump you doesn’t mean I care for you,” he scoffed.

“Do something about it then,” you said. “You may bed me if you wish.”

Once again, he found himself speechless. You were testing him but he couldn’t tell if you really wanted it. He allowed himself to stay in his head for too long before he heard you laugh. You turned away from him and went to the table where you had tossed your belongings.

“I thought just as much. Perhaps I should go back and find Ivar. I’m certain he would not hesitate if offered to-“

Before you could finish, his back was pressed against yours and he had a hand wrapped around your throat, forcing you to look at him.

“Do not say his name again,” he growled.

He slammed his lips to yours in a feverish kiss of passion. He turned your around and you slid onto the table, welcoming him between your legs. His hands were rough as they grabbed at your hips, sliding your slip around your waist.

“You are far too dressed,” you sighed as you pawed at his robes. He threw his robes aside and dropped his trousers.

“Your turn,” he chuckled as he pulled your underwear down your legs and threw them behind him.

You pulled the slip over your head and set it aside. You took a moment to admire his body just as he did with yours. He hooked his arms beneath your thighs as you braced your hands behind you. He slid his cock through your folds and chuckled.

“Already so wet, lady. Is fighting foreplay for you,” he asked.

“Only when it’s with you,” you admitted. His eyes snapped to yours and he could tell there was sincerity in your words.

He slid his cock into you slowly, allowing you time to adjust. He waited until you told he was good to move before sliding out and thrusting his hips back into yours.

You couldn’t contain your moans and whimpers as he began to fuck you relentlessly. He enjoyed watching you fall apart in front of him, knowing he was the one bringing you this pleasure.

“I should bring you back into the hall and let everyone see what a whiny little mess you are on my cock,” he growled. Your cunt clenched around him and he chuckled. “You like that, huh? Want everyone to see who you belong to?”

“Y-yes,” you managed to say as he hammered into you. He released one of your legs so he could circle your clit, bringing you closer to your release.

“Say it; say who you belong to,” he grunted.

“You, Osferth! I belong to you!” You cried as your climax washed over you. He kissed you once more to swallow your moans and his as he spilled his seed inside of you.

He broke the kiss only so the two of you could catch your breath. He rested his forehead on yours and you enjoyed the intimacy more than you cared to admit.

“I do care for you,” he whispered. “It pained me when you left so easily.”

“Uhtred encouraged me to leave and I believed there was no hope that you’d ever return my feelings so I fled from them,” you told him.

“Your feelings?” He looked into your eyes with hope.

“Why do you think I always teased you?” You asked with a laugh. “That’s my way of flirting I suppose.”

“Couldn’t have just stuck with ‘you’re handsome and I like you’?” He laughed.

“I suppose that may have been easier,” you agreed.

“No matter. Now we just have to make up for lost time,” he said, leaning in to kiss you again.

*bang!*

“Aye! We were told to make sure you didn’t kill each other yet!” Finan laughed as he burst through the door.

“Oh my god!” Eadith shrieked as she averted her eyes. Sihtric took in the room, clothes strewn about before turning around, laughing as he left.

“Told you they wanted to hump!” Finan laughed as Osferth did his best to shield you from their eyes.

“We’re alive! You may go now!” He yelled, very annoyed at the intrusion.

“Uhtred owes me 10 silver,” Finan said as he took his leave, closing the door behind him.

You let out a sigh of relief but you both jumped when you heard tapping on the window. You turned to see Finan’s stupid face in the window.

“And close your curtains!”

You covered yourself with your slip as Osferth went and pulled the curtains shut. He turned around to look at you and after a moment of silence, you both burst into a fit of laughter.

He came back over to you and helped you off the table, gently taking you in his arms.

“To bed, then?” He asked with a small smile.

“I’m not tired.”

“I didn’t say it was to sleep,” he smirked.

He did say that you had to make up for lost time, and that you did.

[comfort-person]

Request: Were YN is madly in love with harry and propose him. Due to some circumstances he rejected her and Later he accepts it.

YN as Harry’s tour assistant

Thank you for this request!! Sorry for taking forever I’ve been on holiday, but I hope this is okay!

Trigger warnings: swearing- but near to nothing

Harry x tour assistant reader

“So what kind of thing were you thinking? America, England then Europe?” You spoke staring at Harry, moving your hands around to get your point across. You did it without even thinking, it was something that was just natural for you: talking with your hands. “I think it would be cool to add in Australia dates as well,” Harry spoke your eyes lingering on his lips as he spoke. You were utterly and completely in love with Harry. You had been his tour assistant for about five months and over those months you had gotten to know him better but also gotten to fall in love with him more and more… you had been bottling up these feelings for him for three months and gods was it becoming unbearable. His sweet lips, his green eyes, his kindness, his humour… fuck… you were obsessed with him. But who wasn’t? This is Harry fucking styles we’re talking about.

A soft hum left your lips and you nodded your head “yeah sure thing,” you wrote a few notes down to discuss with your managers later on “we could even do a wide world tour,” you spoke staring at him with a soft smile Harry’s lips curving up into to a warm smile his dimples appearing making your stomach flutter “wide world sounds good. There’s fans everywhere and you know, the cost of living isn’t exactly helping people buy concert tickets so to minimise that we can put tours all over- Japan, America, England, China, Asia in general, Australia- Everywhere else.” He spoke, this was one of the many reasons as to why you loved him so much and adored him because he spoke in such a beautiful way…. He was just so well spoken and kind and generous. “Okay yeah definitely… so like when you and one direction went on tour yeah? You guys went everywhere. So like that?” Harry nodded a permanent smile on his lips, it would be quite a big budget but you weren’t scared of it. It was going to be exciting to figure something out. Plus you knew it made Harry happy to make his fans happy so either way he was going to be happy and that made you happy. Beyond happy.

“I’ll figure this out with the managers and hopefully it’s successful, if it is I’ll be in contact with you in the next few days,” you spoke “thank you, Y/n I truly do appreciate it.” He reached his hand out towards you and you smiled expecting him to shake your hand but instead he patted you gently on the shoulder making your stomach flutter all over again. You were totally besotted with him. You stared at him with happy gentle eyes a lot of love in your own eyes Harry soon realising you hadn’t stood up “everything okay?” He asked and you cleared your throat “yes yes everything’s fine, sorry,” you chuckled nervously Harry’s green eyes searching your face but before he could’ve even said anything your feelings that you had kept to yourself for months came spurting out of your lips,

“I’m sorry Harry… this is probably really fucking abrupt but… you make me so happy. You’re such a beautiful person and.. I-… I don’t know I just like you… a lot…” Harry’s smile slowly faded, his lips parting in awe before a laugh left his lips yet he soon realised you weren’t laughing, your face was painstakingly anxious and that’s when his smile faded and he stared at you shocked. He didn’t realise you were being serious. He liked you, he did, he really liked you in fact- you were beautiful, someone he cared for and adored but he didn’t think a relationship was the right thing at that present moment especially because of the recent relationship with Olivia… Harry liked to call it a ‘fling’ between them as horrible as that sounded but it was the truth. Harry was the main role in don’t worry darling and Olivia wanted to promote her movie… what better way to promote it than sleep with her new money maker who was easily going to bring her fame and money. Harry didn’t want Olivia to target you and because his relationship with her was still pretty fresh and raw he didn’t feel like it was right to have a romantic relationship with you at that very moment.. sure things could blossom in the future but right now it just wouldn’t be fair on you and although he didn’t say it he cared about you so very much and just wanted the best for you.

“Look y/n you’re wonderful… and I care about you very much but…” he shook his head struggling to find the words. You were a sweet girl and he didn’t want to break your heart. He’d never forgive himself if he ever broke your heart “I just don’t want a relationship at the moment… you’re lovely though and beautiful you are… I’m very uh… flattered? That you think that but I’m just not ready for a relationship.” He spoke carefully and softly, he was usually straight forward but with you he was more tender because he cared so very much for you. You were more than a friend… so much more… yet he wasn’t able to express that at the very moment. Your heart had instantly dropped into your stomach your grip on your notepad tightening and you gulped harshly tears beginning to sting your eyes but you quickly forced a smile “that’s okay,” you let out a soft chuckle attempting to hide the shakiness in your voice but Harry noticed it and it broke his heart “thank you for understanding…” he smiled softly his eyes genuine and apologetic. You slowly stood up “I’ll be in touch soon Harry, have a good rest of your day,” you spoke before quickly leaving your anxiousness only growing yet you quickly forced yourself to calm down… getting rejected was absolutely one of the worst feelings ever. But you respected Harry’s honesty… you respected and were grateful for the fact that Harry was honest with you and didn’t even think to lead you on.

Harry the next few days was overthinking everything. He was thinking everything over and attempting to understand his own feelings and what he truly wanted and after two weeks of no contact from you Harry finally realised that he wanted you. He needed time to think… time to gather his thoughts and finally he had figured out that he didn’t want money, he didn’t want fame, he didn’t want anything…. All he wanted was you. Nothing else, no one else… just you.

And so Harry later on that day went out shopping where he bought chocolates, flowers and ingredients to cook a meal. After that he headed over to your place, and once arriving he knocked loudly on the door- he waited for a while, before eventually hearing the sound of the door unlocking before it was pulled open you coming into view and a warm charming smile formed on Harry’s face “oh.. harry..” you spoke confused, looking down at yourself almost insecure you wore turquoise blue shorts and a random T-shirt yet that soon was the least of your worries as you noticed was was in his hands… flowers… your heart skipped a beat and you gulped harshly “I uh… I just wanted to see whether the offer was still up.” He spoke and you furrowed your brows “the offer for what?” You asked and he smiled softly “the offer to love you.” Those words shocked you your brows raising “to love-“ “I love you y/n. I have done for ages… I just couldn’t tell you right away bec-“ he fell silent as he felt your lips smush against his, his eyes widening slightly at your burst of confidence but he soon placed the bag down keeping a hold of the flowers as he wrapped his arms around you, kissing you back gently but deeply all at once… the amount of love in the kiss being portrayed massively.

The flowers were pressed against your back, his free hand stroking against the small of your back as you melted further into him gripping onto his T-shirt tightly his lips tasting delicious… softer than anything…. Just how you had imagined. Before he eventually pulled back a small smile on his lips and he gazed down at you before lifting his hand up to caress against your cheek stroking his thumb against your skin as he searched your eyes softly and gently “you’re so beautiful y/n… let me cook us a dinner, yeah? Let me make you happy….” A soft grin tugged at your lips and you smiled nodding your head before kissing his cheek before dragging him inside the apartment Harry’s finger’s immediately finding yours, like the last piece of a puzzle finally connecting… it was beautiful.

“Also it’s been confirmed… you can do a world tour…” you spoke smirking at the man you loved Harry’s eyes widening with excitement and happiness “well then…. I suppose I better get a extra seat booked hm?” He spoke smiling and you stared at him with wide happy eyes “a seat booked for who?” You asked gently “for you obviously…. Just for you… you’re gonna be coming on tour with me…” a soft happy laugh left your lips before you wrapped your arms around him tightly and he smiled gripping onto you tightly yet gently “gods I love you..” you murmured softly, it was moving so quickly already but you couldn’t wait… it was going to be perfect… “I love you more.” He murmured pressing a kiss to your forehead “love you most…” you spoke smirking forcing a small scoff out of Harry “please, Y/n… I don’t think that’s possible..” he chuckled out gently tucking a piece of hair behind your ear as he smiled down at you. For once Harry felt as if this was going to be the start of something wonderful…. Something that was going to blossom into something beautiful… maybe it was too soon to admit it but he knew then and there that he was in love with you. Head over heels. He was going to love you forever… he loved your soul, personality and smile… maybe finally he could spend his life with you: the one he loved more than anything.

[harry-styles-obsessed]

Were YN is madly in love with harry and propose him. Due to some circumstances he rejected her and Later he accepts it.

YN as Harry's tour assistance

Please x

Thank you for this request!! Sorry for taking forever I’ve been on holiday, but I hope this is okay!

Trigger warnings: swearing- but near to nothing

Harry x tour assistant reader

©️ please do not copy or translate my work.

“So what kind of thing were you thinking? America, England then Europe?” You spoke staring at Harry, moving your hands around to get your point across. You did it without even thinking, it was something that was just natural for you: talking with your hands. “I think it would be cool to add in Australia dates as well,” Harry spoke your eyes lingering on his lips as he spoke. You were utterly and completely in love with Harry. You had been his tour assistant for about five months and over those months you had gotten to know him better but also gotten to fall in love with him more and more… you had been bottling up these feelings for him for three months and gods was it becoming unbearable. His sweet lips, his green eyes, his kindness, his humour… fuck… you were obsessed with him. But who wasn’t? This is Harry fucking styles we’re talking about.

A soft hum left your lips and you nodded your head “yeah sure thing,” you wrote a few notes down to discuss with your managers later on “we could even do a wide world tour,” you spoke staring at him with a soft smile Harry’s lips curving up into to a warm smile his dimples appearing making your stomach flutter “wide world sounds good. There’s fans everywhere and you know, the cost of living isn’t exactly helping people buy concert tickets so to minimise that we can put tours all over- Japan, America, England, China, Asia in general, Australia- Everywhere else.” He spoke, this was one of the many reasons as to why you loved him so much and adored him because he spoke in such a beautiful way…. He was just so well spoken and kind and generous. “Okay yeah definitely… so like when you and one direction went on tour yeah? You guys went everywhere. So like that?” Harry nodded a permanent smile on his lips, it would be quite a big budget but you weren’t scared of it. It was going to be exciting to figure something out. Plus you knew it made Harry happy to make his fans happy so either way he was going to be happy and that made you happy. Beyond happy.

“I’ll figure this out with the managers and hopefully it’s successful, if it is I’ll be in contact with you in the next few days,” you spoke “thank you, Y/n I truly do appreciate it.” He reached his hand out towards you and you smiled expecting him to shake your hand but instead he patted you gently on the shoulder making your stomach flutter all over again. You were totally besotted with him. You stared at him with happy gentle eyes a lot of love in your own eyes Harry soon realising you hadn’t stood up “everything okay?” He asked and you cleared your throat “yes yes everything’s fine, sorry,” you chuckled nervously Harry’s green eyes searching your face but before he could’ve even said anything your feelings that you had kept to yourself for months came spurting out of your lips,

“I’m sorry Harry… this is probably really fucking abrupt but… you make me so happy. You’re such a beautiful person and.. I-… I don’t know I just like you… a lot…” Harry’s smile slowly faded, his lips parting in awe before a laugh left his lips yet he soon realised you weren’t laughing, your face was painstakingly anxious and that’s when his smile faded and he stared at you shocked. He didn’t realise you were being serious. He liked you, he did, he really liked you in fact- you were beautiful, someone he cared for and adored but he didn’t think a relationship was the right thing at that present moment especially because of the recent relationship with Olivia… Harry liked to call it a ‘fling’ between them as horrible as that sounded but it was the truth. Harry was the main role in don’t worry darling and Olivia wanted to promote her movie… what better way to promote it than sleep with her new money maker who was easily going to bring her fame and money. Harry didn’t want Olivia to target you and because his relationship with her was still pretty fresh and raw he didn’t feel like it was right to have a romantic relationship with you at that very moment.. sure things could blossom in the future but right now it just wouldn’t be fair on you and although he didn’t say it he cared about you so very much and just wanted the best for you.

“Look y/n you’re wonderful… and I care about you very much but…” he shook his head struggling to find the words. You were a sweet girl and he didn’t want to break your heart. He’d never forgive himself if he ever broke your heart “I just don’t want a relationship at the moment… you’re lovely though and beautiful you are… I’m very uh… flattered? That you think that but I’m just not ready for a relationship.” He spoke carefully and softly, he was usually straight forward but with you he was more tender because he cared so very much for you. You were more than a friend… so much more… yet he wasn’t able to express that at the very moment. Your heart had instantly dropped into your stomach your grip on your notepad tightening and you gulped harshly tears beginning to sting your eyes but you quickly forced a smile “that’s okay,” you let out a soft chuckle attempting to hide the shakiness in your voice but Harry noticed it and it broke his heart “thank you for understanding…” he smiled softly his eyes genuine and apologetic. You slowly stood up “I’ll be in touch soon Harry, have a good rest of your day,” you spoke before quickly leaving your anxiousness only growing yet you quickly forced yourself to calm down… getting rejected was absolutely one of the worst feelings ever. But you respected Harry’s honesty… you respected and were grateful for the fact that Harry was honest with you and didn’t even think to lead you on.

Harry the next few days was overthinking everything. He was thinking everything over and attempting to understand his own feelings and what he truly wanted and after two weeks of no contact from you Harry finally realised that he wanted you. He needed time to think… time to gather his thoughts and finally he had figured out that he didn’t want money, he didn’t want fame, he didn’t want anything…. All he wanted was you. Nothing else, no one else… just you.

And so Harry later on that day went out shopping where he bought chocolates, flowers and ingredients to cook a meal. After that he headed over to your place, and once arriving he knocked loudly on the door- he waited for a while, before eventually hearing the sound of the door unlocking before it was pulled open you coming into view and a warm charming smile formed on Harry’s face “oh.. harry..” you spoke confused, looking down at yourself almost insecure you wore turquoise blue shorts and a random T-shirt yet that soon was the least of your worries as you noticed was was in his hands… flowers… your heart skipped a beat and you gulped harshly “I uh… I just wanted to see whether the offer was still up.” He spoke and you furrowed your brows “the offer for what?” You asked and he smiled softly “the offer to love you.” Those words shocked you your brows raising “to love-“ “I love you y/n. I have done for ages… I just couldn’t tell you right away bec-“ he fell silent as he felt your lips smush against his, his eyes widening slightly at your burst of confidence but he soon placed the bag down keeping a hold of the flowers as he wrapped his arms around you, kissing you back gently but deeply all at once… the amount of love in the kiss being portrayed massively.

The flowers were pressed against your back, his free hand stroking against the small of your back as you melted further into him gripping onto his T-shirt tightly his lips tasting delicious… softer than anything…. Just how you had imagined. Before he eventually pulled back a small smile on his lips and he gazed down at you before lifting his hand up to caress against your cheek stroking his thumb against your skin as he searched your eyes softly and gently “you’re so beautiful y/n… let me cook us a dinner, yeah? Let me make you happy….” A soft grin tugged at your lips and you smiled nodding your head before kissing his cheek before dragging him inside the apartment Harry’s finger’s immediately finding yours, like the last piece of a puzzle finally connecting… it was beautiful.

“Also it’s been confirmed… you can do a world tour…” you spoke smirking at the man you loved Harry’s eyes widening with excitement and happiness “well then…. I suppose I better get a extra seat booked hm?” He spoke smiling and you stared at him with wide happy eyes “a seat booked for who?” You asked gently “for you obviously…. Just for you… you’re gonna be coming on tour with me…” a soft happy laugh left your lips before you wrapped your arms around him tightly and he smiled gripping onto you tightly yet gently “gods I love you..” you murmured softly, it was moving so quickly already but you couldn’t wait… it was going to be perfect… “I love you more.” He murmured pressing a kiss to your forehead “love you most…” you spoke smirking forcing a small scoff out of Harry “please, Y/n… I don’t think that’s possible..” he chuckled out gently tucking a piece of hair behind your ear as he smiled down at you. For once Harry felt as if this was going to be the start of something wonderful…. Something that was going to blossom into something beautiful… maybe it was too soon to admit it but he knew then and there that he was in love with you. Head over heels. He was going to love you forever… he loved your soul, personality and smile… maybe finally he could spend his life with you: the one he loved more than anything.

[givekennyabreak]

Heyyyyy!! Me again😁 “le anon” hope everything is going great for ya :)

Can we all just take a minute to think about Jade’s character development? I, for some reason (that isn’t because he’s my husband I swear), feel like even before the town (pre season 1) he wasn’t the entitled little bitch prototype… at least not 100%. I’m not saying he’s not developed during the series… I think he has the best character improvement actually: went from prick to someone who actually seems to care about people.. but here’s the thing, I don’t think it’s a new trait for him, it’s just something that he lets show now. I feel like there are moments when his true self slips out into the open (for example when he said Julie should be picking prom dresses or when he said he appreciated the whole dad-daughter thing with Jim and Julie in the first season). It’s something opposed to his character, something more like season 2-3 Jade (if that makes sense), but it shows from the beginning.

And the interaction with Tian Chen when he found her praying while they were building the tower is just 🥹🥹🥹🤌🏻🤌🏻🤌🏻 and I know.. it was the moment, but I just keep thinking it’s only been a week since he’s been in the town, he didn’t spend that much with her… and the whole kindness as manipulation that would work for a character like his (or he was initally made out to be) just doesn’t apply because he’s getting nothing out of it, he’s giving

We’re not gonna discuss the bicycle 😂

Thoughts on this?

Oh god, YES!

I've always seen Jade as someone who uses sarcasm as a defense mechanism (like myself.). I feel his whole prickly exterior is a way to not develop ties to anyone in town, because when he notices that the creatures are indeed real and dangerous, if he gets attached to anyone, the chances they're going to die here are way higher than in the real world (see Tobey.).

I feel like even pre-fromville he was always this one dude who doesn't let himself get near people to not get hurt emotionally, but that doesn't mean he's not caring! Bro was raised by his grandma, ffs.

So yes, I think Jade is a caring and kind person, but he has built walls so high that he cannot express himself well, nor let people in easily.

But he lets it slip, in his own way - like comforting Bakta at the bar, or taking Ethan on strolls with him, even the little snippets of him with Boyd.

We let the bike incident pass, because he thought it was an escape room at that point.

Soft jade ftw, 10/10 would have him as my bestie