#i’ve become attached to my version of him so maybe one day i will write a dpxdc au with him involved lol

[jungkoode]

𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊 𝐌𝐄 𝐔𝐏 | 21

˗ˏˋ birthday shots ˎˊ˗

"Jungkook’s friends, Jungkook’s birthday party… It’s all honestly not what you expected. But then again, Jungkook keeps twisting your expectations of him, once and once again."

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⋆｡°✩ chapter details ✩°｡⋆

word count: 8,4k

content: jungkook having friends, feeling out of place, pretty girls, judgemental people, tae/hobi/jk protecting the peace, shared secrets, nicknames gaining an intimate layer, stubbornness with spicy food, drinking, doing shots and jungkook being both attentive and protective.

✧ author's note ✧

Aaaand we’re finally here. The party. The build-up. The chaos potential. The birthday. After 20 chapters of yearning, character dissection, awkward eye contact, and conversations that say everything and nothing at the same time… we are officially entering the next arc: actual real-world social interaction. Which, if you’ve been paying attention, is every character’s personal hell. Including mine.

First of all—yes, this is Jungkook’s party chapter. Yes, it’s a pivotal one. Yes, I was pacing around my flat in a hoodie muttering “okay but what would he wear” like a deranged method actor trying to get into character. And yes, there are about 15 new people here. But please don’t panic. You don’t need to memorize them all. This isn’t a fantasy war council. You’re not about to be quizzed on the name of Jungkook’s friend’s cousin’s dog. They’re not here to steal the plot—they’re here to color it.

Jungkook’s different social groups, clashing and blending like some unhinged Venn diagram of his life. They each say something about him and the many versions of himself he keeps—because, as always, this isn’t about the party. It’s about him and her, and us, and the very inconvenient reality of human attachment.

Now. Tessa (and yes, Toasty, when you read this… the name comes 100% from you hahaha).

Yup. That girl from the library. She’s here. She’s breathing. She’s talking. And she’s not a villain.

I know, I know, fanfiction is riddled with the evil-rival-love-interest trope. The girl who eyes you up and down with thinly veiled contempt. The passive aggressive bitch who “just happens” to sit on his lap or call him baby in front of you. The girl whose entire personality is “threat to the main couple.” And listen—I could never.

Tessa isn’t like that. Because most people aren’t like that. Attraction doesn’t automatically equal competition, and not every woman who talks to a man you like is an enemy. That’s such a tired, flat, boring cliche. I’m not writing this story to project misogynistic tropes onto women so we can feel smug about someone else being “the wrong one.” I don’t want you to root against her. I don’t want you to root against anyone, really. Maybe Mia, but that’s what she’s for. She’s your pressure valve. You need someone to hate. That’s what makes the rest bearable.

Tessa’s presence is not a betrayal. It’s just reality. Jungkook is allowed to be liked. He’s allowed to explore. And so is Nix. She’s not some pushover sainted martyr of “true love.” She’s a girl. She’s confused. She’s a little guarded. She’s still trying to understand herself.

There’s no jealousy because there is no claim. There’s no relationship, no commitment, no confessions, no secret “we’re basically already in love” subtext. There’s just this slow, painful, glacial slide into a kind of closeness that might one day become something else—but hasn’t. Not even close. This chapter is about a possible beginning of something resembling tentative friendship. We are barely out of enemies-to-mildly-tolerating-each-other zone. We are in the “do I text you or is that weird” era.

Don’t rush it. Don’t expect it. That’s not the story I’m telling.

Nix being unbothered isn’t character growth. It’s just honesty. It’s consistency. I’ve spent 20 chapters building a girl who’s emotionally guarded, private, and painfully aware of the dynamics she allows herself to engage in. She’s not “cool with it” to be cool—she’s just not invested like that yet. And that matters. We’re not jumping stages for drama. We’re walking, slowly, through the psychology of two people who don’t even know what they want. Let them be confused. Let them be messy. Let them take their time.

I’m writing slow burn with psychological realism at its core, and that means actions have context. If you came here expecting love confessions and possessive meltdowns and “he’s mine stay away” drama… wrong story, babes. I want you uncomfortable. I want you squinting at every interaction wondering if it means something. I want you to question how affection develops, really. Slowly. Subtly. Almost invisibly, until it’s all you can think about.

The story isn’t about dramatic betrayals or Big Plot Twists. It’s about tension. About two people orbiting each other in their own broken, stumbling ways. It’s about glances that last too long and words that don’t come out right and the way your heart knows something long before your brain does. It’s about patterns, and Jungkook’s are catching up to him.

You don’t need to like everyone. But you should understand them. And that’s what I’m asking of you here. Because these characters aren’t plot devices—they’re real to me. They’re studies. They’re messy. And god, I love them for it.

So yeah. Welcome to the party. The masks are on, the music’s loud, and no one knows how to behave when they’re being watched. Especially him.

Enjoy. Suffer. Stare at the page like you’re decoding a sacred text. That’s the vibe.

And as always…

You’re here to suffer. I’m here to deliver.

You’re welcome.

⋆｡°✩ read on✩°｡⋆

ao3

wattpad

You never realized a person could contain so many versions of themselves until you saw Jungkook surrounded by his friends.

"SURPRISE!"

The word explodes through the small ramen shop, followed by cheers and laughter as Jungkook freezes beside you. 

His fingers quickly pocket his phone, eyes widening with a genuine shock that transforms his entire face. 

Gone is the perpetually amused, slightly condescending roommate you've come to know. In his place stands someone younger, almost innocent—lips parting in stunned delight, eyes crinkling at the corners.

It's fucking weird is what it is.

"Holy shit," he breathes, a laugh bursting from him as Taehyung launches himself across the restaurant, wrapping Jungkook in a hug that nearly knocks him over. "What the fuck?"

Hobi follows immediately, bouncing on his feet like an overgrown puppy before throwing his arms around both of them, turning the duo into a chaotic tangle of limbs and laughter. 

Even Yoongi gets up, offering a slow clap before joining with a more restrained but no less genuine embrace—the kind with back pats that guys do when they want to prove they have exactly two emotions: hungry and sports.

You hang back, suddenly aware of how many strangers are packed into this place. 

The restaurant is full of people—at least a dozen beyond the ones you recognize—all focused on Jungkook with varying degrees of excitement. Some are already raising drinks in toast, others taking photos, a couple shouting things you can't quite make out over the general chaos.

"P-Kill! Happy birthday, man!"

"Proofs! You made it!"

"Proofy, get over here!"

What the actual fuck are these names? 

You frown, trying to connect these bizarre nicknames to the Jungkook you know—the one who leaves his dirty dishes in the sink and plays his music too loud and once tried to convince you that Kraft mac and cheese was "technically gourmet."

None of this computes.

Jungkook catches your confusion as he disentangles himself from his friends, eyes flicking toward you with that familiar half-smile that somehow feels like a private joke.

"Hey," he says, suddenly at your side again. His hand brushes your elbow briefly—not grabbing, just a light touch that seems oddly grounding in this chaos. "These are my friends. Guys, this is my roommate."

He says your name easily, no ‘Phoenix’ or ‘Nix’ in sight, and it's weirdly jarring—like hearing a song you know played in the wrong key. 

Not technically wrong, just... off.

The next few minutes are a blur of names and faces, most immediately forgotten as you try to keep track of who's who in this bizarre alternative universe where Jungkook is apparently the center of a large social circle. There's a group of guys—gamers, apparently—who keep calling him those weird nicknames.

"These three idiots," Jungkook explains, gesturing toward a trio of guys who look like they haven't seen sunlight in months, "are my Steam friends. My username is ProofedToKill, so that's where all the dumb nicknames come from."

Of course, that tracks. He's always yelling at the TV when he plays Call of Duty in the living room. You've had multiple arguments about it, usually ending with him putting on headphones and you turning up your music out of spite.

"Don't start," he warns, but there's no real edge to it. "I've already heard all your anti-shooters propaganda."

"It's not propaganda if it's true."

He rolls his eyes but doesn't take the bait, already being pulled toward another group by Taehyung. 

"Come on, there are more people you should meet."

You follow, because what else are you going to do? Stand alone by the door like some kind of abandoned pet? 

Besides, you're curious now. Curious about these other fragments of Jungkook's life that you've never been privy to before.

The space is packed, noisy in that way that forces everyone to talk slightly too loud. Sensory overload city. People keep touching Jungkook—hugs, shoulder claps, high fives—and he's letting them, which might be the weirdest part of all this. 

Since when does he like being touched by people who aren't naked?

"Jungkook!" a female voice exclaims, cutting through the noise. A tall girl with auburn hair moves toward him with the confident grace of someone who's never tripped over her own feet in public. "Happy birthday!"

She wraps him in a hug that makes you realize just how tall she is—like, almost his height tall—and beside her, another girl—smaller, with short black hair and glasses—offers a more reserved greeting.

"Hey Tessa, hey Diana," Jungkook says, looking genuinely pleased to see them. "Didn't think you'd be here!"

Tessa. 

The library girl. The one he was doing that group project thing with.  The one who kept laughing too loud whenever Jungkook said something that probably wasn't even that funny.

"Taehyung invited us," she explains, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Hope that's okay."

"Of course it's okay," Jungkook says, and you hate how sincere he sounds. 

Where's the sarcastic asshole you live with? Who is this pod person?

"We brought you something," Diana says, holding out a small bag. "Just a little thing."

Jungkook accepts it with a thanks that sounds almost shy, and what the fuck? Since when is he shy about anything?

"Oh, this is my roommate," he adds, suddenly remembering your existence. 

He says your name again, and you force a smile because what else can you do in this bizarre social ritual?

"Nice to meet you," Tessa says with a warmth that feels genuine, which is almost worse than if she'd been fake. At least fake would make sense. "Jungkook's mentioned you before. You're in English Lit, right?"

He's talked about you? To her? 

What the fuck has he said?

"Yeah," you manage, because apparently your vocabulary has been reduced to monosyllables in the face of all this unexpected social interaction. "English major."

"That's amazing," she says, and she actually seems to mean it. "I'm in Film too, but I've always loved literature. What's your focus?"

Before you can answer—thank god, because you haven't prepared a thesis statement on your academic interests for a birthday party—Hobi appears with a tray of shots, announcing that it's time for the birthday boy to start celebrating properly.

So, of course, the whole crowd moves towards him, shots being thrown back easily. You find yourself suddenly on the outside of it, still standing with Tessa and Diana but no longer the focus of their attention.

It's a relief, honestly. 

You've never been good at this kind of thing—large groups, small talk, unfamiliar social dynamics. 

It's like being dropped into a play where everyone else knows the script and you're just… improvising. Kinda hoping you don't accidentally say the wrong line and reveal yourself as the impostor.

Your eyes wander around the restaurant, taking in the details you missed—it’s actually a cozy place, warm wood and soft lighting, with private booths along one wall and a long table down the center where most of Jungkook's friends have gathered. 

You can smell the sizzling of pans working through different ingredients—garlic, onion, ginger… But your eyes end up on Jungkook anyway.

He swallows down a shot, grimacing at the burn. 

Someone passes him another. 

Someone else claps him on the back. 

He's at the center of all this attention and he's... thriving in it. Laughing, talking.

It’s strange, seeing him like this. So carefree, so loud (although he’s always loud but this is a different kind of loud?)—so in his… element. 

You can’t help but feel out of place.

Because, truly. Do you even fit in here? Are you an element? Part of his element? Or whatever this is? 

This morning you were agonizing over whether you could be friends with the guy you've been fucking. 

Now you're standing in a room full of people who already are his friends, who've known him much longer than you have, who see a completely different side of him than the one you get.

It's... a lot.

You pull out your phone, needing something to do with your hands, but the screen stays dark. Okay. Dead. Fantastic.

"You okay?"

The voice at your elbow makes you jump. 

It's Jungkook, somehow back at your side despite the crowd still demanding his attention.

"Fine," you say automatically. "Just... observing."

His eyes scan your face, more perceptive than you'd like. "You look like you'd rather be literally anywhere else."

"Not true. I can think of at least three places that would be worse." You tick them off on your fingers. "The DMV. An insurance seminar. Dinner with my parents."

That gets a laugh out of him—a real one, one you seem to be getting out of him more and more often. 

“Fair enough. Come on, let me get you a drink. It'll help with..." 

He pauses, purses his lips as he tilts his head at you.

"With what, exactly?"

"The whole 'I'd rather eat glass than make small talk with strangers' vibe you're giving off."

"I'm not—" you start to protest, but he's already pulling you toward the bar, his hand warm against your lower back.

"It's fine, Phee," he says, the familiar nickname slipping out naturally now that you're momentarily separated from the crowd. "Not everyone's into the whole big social scene. You don't have to pretend."

You want to argue on principle—deny that he knows you that well, that he can read your discomfort so easily—but it would be pointless. 

He's right. 

You do hate this. 

And the fact that he noticed, that he came back to check on you instead of just leaving you to flounder on your own...

It's annoying. Or it should be. 

Instead, it feels weirdly considerate.

"I don't need a babysitter," you mutter as he flags down the bartender. "Go enjoy your party. I'm perfectly capable of standing in a corner judging people on my own."

"Maybe I'm enjoying my party more over here." 

He orders something you don't catch, then turns back to you with that half-smile that's somehow more familiar than the broad grin he's been flashing at everyone else.

“Besides, if I leave you alone too long, you might decide to ditch, and then who would I blame when I need an excuse to escape Hobi's karaoke demands?"

"Yoongi seems like a good scapegoat."

"Nah, Yoongi secretly loves karaoke. Just pretends to hate it so people will beg him. It's weird."

The bartender slides two glasses toward Jungkook—whiskey is one, by the look of it. 

The other one is… 

Vodka cranberry.

He remembers?

You lick your lips. Nervous suddenly. Maybe. Or not really. Just uncomfortable, because here it is again. Jungkook being attentive, doing these stupid kind things that completely shatter the reputation you have built for him in your head. 

"You really don't have to babysit me," you say again, but you take the drink anyway. "I'm fine."

His eyes search yours, more serious than usual. "I know you're fine. Maybe I just want to hang out with you."

Something shifts in your chest—a small, uncomfortable flutter. 

“Why? You have a dozen other people here who actually like you."

"Ouch." He presses a hand to his heart, mock wounded. "And here I thought we were making progress on the whole friendship thing."

"The jury's still out on that one."

"Uh-huh." He takes a sip of his whiskey, eyes never leaving yours. "Well, consider this evidence for the 'pro' column: I noticed you were uncomfortable and came to rescue you instead of letting you suffer in silence."

"Maybe I prefer suffering in silence."

"No one prefers suffering in silence, Nix. Some people just don't think they deserve better."

The way he says it makes something twirl uncomfortable inside your chest.

You take a large drink instead of responding, welcoming the burn as it slides down your throat.

“Make sure to finish that quickly. Get ready for the party games.”

"There are going to be party games?"

"That’s only the beginning."

"So," you say, swaying your glass slightly, watching the burgundy liquid catch the light, "ProofedToKill, huh? Didn't know I was living with such a badass."

"No? I thought you knew how badass I am.”

“You’re bad, and an ass. That doesn’t make you a badass. Different word.”

He laughs, low and warm, and you can’t help the smile that forms on your lips without conscious input.

"You know what it actually means?" he asks, leaning back against the wall. 

You raise an eyebrow. "That you're secretly a hitman with terrible grammar?"

"Hilarious." He rolls his eyes, but there's no real irritation behind it. "It's a baking term, actually."

"A what now?"

"Baking. You know, that thing people do with flour and heat instead of burning the place down.”

“If you bring up the candle incident one more time—”

He makes a zipping motion over his mouth, and your lips twitch with the effort of chuckling. 

“Wait, are you seriously telling me your super tough gamer name is about... baking?"

He sighs, looking down at his glass. "When you're making bread—sourdough specifically—there's this stage called 'proofing.’ It's when the dough rises, develops flavor. If you overproof it, it collapses. If you underproof, it's dense. But if you get it just right..."

"You've... proofed to kill?" you finish, unable to keep the disbelief from your voice.

"Exactly." He grins, clearly pleased that you've made the connection. "Perfect proofing. Killer bread. It's a whole thing."

You stare at him, genuinely speechless for perhaps the first time since you've known him. 

This man—this infuriating, cocky roommate who struts around like he owns every room he enters—has a gamer tag based on fucking bread-making. 

And he's admitting it. 

Voluntarily. 

"So let me get this straight," you say slowly. "Your badass online persona, the one all your friends call you by, is actually a baking pun?"

"In my defense, it's a really good pun. And most people assume it's about, you know, being good at shooting things. Which I also am." He shrugs, cockiness slipping back into place.

“You’re so weird,” you mutter, but you know he doesn’t take it seriously.

"Been doing it since college. The whole sourdough thing at midnight." He confesses, glancing around briefly, like he's checking to make sure no one else is listening, then lowers his voice. "My mom taught me. She had this whole recipe she'd developed over years, this perfect sourdough method. Made the best bread you've ever tasted."

Again that softness, almost reverence when he speaks about his mom. 

It always catches you off guard. You've never heard him talk like this before. Never heard him talk about his family at all, really.

"After she..." he continues, then stops himself, shaking his head slightly. "Anyway. I keep trying to recreate it. Haven't quite nailed it yet."

Neither of you speak for a couple of beats. His gaze is still fixed on his drink, and then he takes a sip, like his mind is somewhere else completely.

“Is that why you stress-bake at 3 AM? Trying to get the proof right?"

His eyes meet yours, surprised.

Maybe a little grateful for the redirect. 

“You’ve noticed?”

“I mean, I just went to the bathroom one night and saw you fighting the dough, so…”

He chuckles, gaze back on his glass. “Yeah. It's... meditative, I guess. Helps me think."

"Weird way to think, but okay."

"Says the person who reads the same depressing Kafka story fourteen times and calls it 'processing.'"

"It's a good story."

"It's about a guy turning into a giant bug."

"And it speaks to the alienation inherent in modern existence. Your point?"

He laughs again, shaking his head. "God, you're such a fucking English major."

"And you're a secret bread nerd. We all have our crosses to bear."

His smile shifts into something different—softer around the edges, almost vulnerable. "Don't tell anyone, okay? About the username thing. I have a reputation to maintain."

"What, you mean your friends don't know your tough gamer handle is actually about your sourdough obsession?"

"Only Yoongi knows. And now you." He drums his fingers on the glass once, twice. "That's enough oversharing on my part for the day, I think. Sooner or later it's going to have to be your turn, you know, Pyx?"

Great. A new variation of your nickname. Does he ever stop coming up with them?

"My turn for what?"

"Sharing something real." His eyes hold yours, steady. "Friendship goes both ways, Nix."

You scoff, ignoring the way your heart rate picks up slightly. "I share things."

"Like what? Your coffee order doesn't count."

"I told you about the IUD."

"That's medical, not personal."

"It's literally inside my body. How much more personal can it get?"

He sighs, but he makes it dramatic this time. "You know what I mean. Something that matters to you. Something real."

You do know. That's the problem. He's asking for exactly the kind of vulnerability you've spent years carefully avoiding. The kind that gives people ammunition, that creates expectations, that leads to disappointment when you inevitably fail to meet them.

But he just told you about his mom. About bread and baking and usernames that mean more than they appear to. He offered something real—small, maybe, but genuine.

And isn't that what this whole friendship experiment is supposed to be about?

You open your mouth, not entirely sure what's going to come out, when a crash from across the restaurant saves you. Hobi has somehow managed to knock over an entire tray of drinks, and the resulting chaos immediately draws everyone's attention, including Jungkook's.

"Shit," he mutters, already half-moving. "I should go help before he makes it worse."

"Go," you nod, equal parts relieved and strangely disappointed. "Your public needs you."

He hesitates, eyes still on yours. "We're not done with this conversation."

"Pretty sure we are."

"Pretty sure we're just getting started." He stands fully, but doesn't leave immediately. "Come join, okay? Whenever you’re ready.”

You watch him weave through the crowd toward the spill, already calling out something to Hobi that makes the other man laugh despite the mess. It's strange, seeing him like this—in his element, surrounded by people who know him in ways you don't.

ProofedToKill. A baking pun turned gamer tag. A piece of his mother he carries with him, encrypted in plain sight.

You take another sip of your vodka cranberry, wondering what else about Jungkook you've been missing all this time.

Eleven people crammed around a table is basically psychological warfare in restaurant form.

You're somehow stuck directly across from Jungkook, because apparently the universe has a shitty sense of humor. 

Next to him, Tessa has claimed her territory, her long legs perfectly positioned under the table while yours are already cramping from the weird angle. Of course.

At least you've got Yoongi on your left—a silent, grounding presence in the chaos. When you'd awkwardly hovered near his chair, he'd just grunted and shifted slightly to make room. 

In Yoongi-speak, that's practically a formal invitation with calligraphy and shit.

Diana sits on your other side, petite and prim, her small hands already arranging her napkin with quick movements. She keeps glancing at Tessa across the table with an expression you can't quite decipher—somewhere between admiration and mild disapproval.

The menu in Yoongi's hands looks worn and slightly sticky, but your stomach is basically staging a revolt after hours of nothing but ibuprofen and vodka. You lean over, scanning the options without asking permission because fuck it, you're hungry.

The spicy ramen section catches your eye immediately. 

Your stomach gives another impatient growl.

"I want those," you announce, pointing at the spiciest option on the menu.

Yoongi barely blinks. "Cool. I didn't ask."

You roll your eyes and lean back in your chair because, okay, whatever. Rude ass. Though honestly, there's something almost refreshing about his complete lack of social polish.��

At least you always know where you stand with him, which is approximately nowhere.

A movement across the table draws your attention. 

Jungkook's eyes have lifted from his own menu, catching yours with an intensity that feels weirdly intimate in the crowded space. His gaze flickers down again almost immediately, but not before you notice the corner of his mouth tilting upward.

What's he laughing about? Stupid. He's stupid.

"I kinda wanted the spicy ones too," he says, looking up again. "Maybe we can share?"

You squint at him suspiciously. "Huh? No. I want the bowl entirely for me."

Diana makes a soft sound beside you—half laugh, half disbelief. 

“I can't believe you can eat all that."

The words hang there for a moment while your brain processes the judgment packaged in her innocent-sounding comment. 

Did she just really—

"C'mon Diana," Tessa cuts in swiftly, laugh warm and genuine, "not everyone has a small stomach like you."

Diana scowls, her delicate features pinching together. "I just think that's a lot to eat."

"Bro, I could eat two bowls in one sitting," Jungkook says.

"Make that three," Taehyung adds from Jungkook's other side. "You're a fucking goblin, Kooks."

"Three? Amateur," one of the gamer guys—Steve? Sean?—chimes in from the end of the table. "Remember that time after the tournament when you ate four bowls of ramen and then threw up in my car?"

"That was food poisoning," Jungkook protests. "Totally different situation."

"Your face was poisoned."

"What does that even mean?"

"Your face... poisoned... my eyes," the guy finishes lamely, clearly losing his train of thought.

"Ten points from Slytherin for that weak-ass comeback," Hobi declares, raising his beer like a wizard's wand. "Jungkook requires better trash talk in his honor."

"Oh shit, we're using Hogwarts points now?" another one asks. "When did we switch systems?"

"Since I just decided, and I'm the dungeon master."

"That's D&D, you uncultured swine," Taehyung sighs, long-suffering. "Completely different franchise."

"Whatever, they're all just wizard nerds," Hobi says with a dismissive wave.

"That's wizard king to you, peasant," Jungkook corrects, puffing out his chest.

“Do you all... actually play these games?" Diana asks, voice faintly disdainful.

"Only when we're not busy with our super cool and important adult lives," Taehyung says, deadpan.

"I just don't get the appeal," she sniffs. "Sitting inside all day, staring at screens—"

"Yo," Hobi cuts in smoothly, somehow managing to sound both friendly and firm at the same time, "different strokes for different folks. Some people climb mountains, some people slay digital dragons. Both valid." 

Diana shifts uncomfortably under his gaze. "I guess."

"Besides," you find yourself saying, "it's literally his birthday. Maybe, I don't know, let him enjoy things without the judgment?"

The words come out sharper than intended, surprising even you. 

Since when do you jump to Jungkook's defense? Since when do you care if someone judges his nerdy gaming habits?

Jungkook looks equally surprised, eyebrows raised slightly as he studies your face. Then his expression shifts into something softer, almost appreciative.

"Exactly. Today's about celebrating you," Tessa adds, turning to Jungkook with a warm smile. "And apparently your inhuman ability to consume ramen."

"It's my superpower," he says solemnly. "With great appetite comes great indigestion."

A ripple of laughter moves around the table, breaking the awkward moment. Diana still looks sulky, but at least she's dropped the subject.

The waiter appears then, ready to take orders, and the conversation splinters as everyone tries to decide what they want.

"You really getting the level five spicy?" Yoongi asks quietly while the others debate.

"Yeah. Why, think I can't handle it?"

He snorts. "Just checking if I need to order extra water for when you inevitably start crying."

"I do not cry from spicy food."

"Everyone cries from spicy food if it's actually spicy."

"Well, we'll see, won't we?"

He shrugs, a barely perceptible movement of one shoulder. "Your funeral."

"Comforting as always, Yoon."

The ghost of a smile flits across his face before he returns to his default expression of mild disinterest.

Across the table, Jungkook is in the middle of a heated debate with Taehyung about... something involving a game you've never heard of. His hands move animatedly as he talks, face lit with genuine enthusiasm. One of his friends keeps trying to interject, but Jungkook and Taehyung are in their own world, talking over each other and somehow still understanding perfectly.

He looks so unguarded.

So... normal. Like any other twenty-something guy arguing about video games with his friends.

Not that you care. It's just an observation.

"So you're Jungkook's roommate," Diana says, drawing your attention back to her. Her tone suggests this is somehow both surprising and slightly concerning.

"Yep." You keep it brief, hoping she'll take the hint and drop whatever line of questioning is forming behind those judgmental eyes.

No such luck.

"And how did that happen exactly? Through the university housing board?"

"Craigslist, actually."

Her eyebrows shoot up like you've just admitted to finding the apartment through a demonic summoning ritual. 

“Oh! Isn't that... dangerous?"

"Not really. The apartment was already Yoongi and Jungkook's. I just answered the ad for the third room."

"Still," she persists, "moving in with two guys you don't know. That's brave."

The way she says ‘brave’ makes it clear she means ‘stupid,’ but you're not in the mood to defend your housing choices to someone who probably thinks spicy ramen is too adventurous.

"Not really. Yoongi's background check was pretty thorough," you deadpan. "Only had to provide three references, a blood sample, and my complete genetic history."

Diana blinks, clearly unsure if you're joking.

"It's true," Yoongi confirms without looking up from his phone. "Her midichlorian count was acceptable."

"What’s… midichlorian?" Diana asks uncertainly.

"It’s a real scientific test," you say, keeping your expression perfectly serious. "Very exclusive."

She frowns, increasingly confused, and you feel a small, petty satisfaction at her discomfort.

"They're fucking with you," Taehyung calls from across the table, apparently tuned into your conversation despite seemingly being absorbed in his argument with Jungkook. "It's a Star Wars reference."

"Oh." Diana forces a laugh that doesn't reach her eyes. "Right."

"Ignore them," Tessa says kindly. "They operate on their own wavelength sometimes."

"Especially these two," Hobi adds, gesturing between Taehyung and Jungkook. "Like an old married couple, but with more shouting and fewer financial benefits."

"What do you mean fewer financial benefits?" Jungkook protests. "I've been carrying his broke ass in-game economy for years."

"That gold farm was my idea!"

"Your idea crashed the server and got us banned for a week!"

"Details," Taehyung waves dismissively. "The point is, I'm the brains of this operation."

"And I'm the beauty," Jungkook fires back, striking a pose that makes Hobi snort water through his nose.

It's all so... easy. The banter, the inside jokes, the casual way they navigate each other's personalities. They've clearly had years to develop this rhythm, to learn each other's edges and how to fit together despite them—or maybe because of them.

Something twists in your chest, sharp and unexpected. You busy yourself with your water glass, suddenly very interested in the condensation gathering along its sides.

The waiter returns with drinks, setting them around the table. You're grateful for the distraction, for something to do with your hands besides fidget awkwardly.

"Alright," Hobi declares once everyone has a drink, lifting his glass. "To the birthday boy! May your K/D ratio remain impressive and your hairline unreceded."

"Here's to another year of Jungkook being Jungkook," Taehyung adds, raising his own glass. "God help us all."

"To Kooks," Tessa says, her voice softer but no less sincere. "Happy birthday."

Glasses clink around the table, a chorus of echoed sentiments following. You lift your glass automatically, catching Jungkook's eye as you do. He's watching you, before he smiles—small and surprisingly genuine.

"Thanks for getting me here," he says quietly, just for you.

"Don't mention it," you reply, equally quiet. "Seriously. Don't. I'll deny everything."

His smile widens, and for a moment, it feels like you're back in that booth from earlier—just the two of you, everyone else fading to background noise.

Then Taehyung jostles his arm, demanding his opinion on something, and the moment breaks. 

You take a sip of your drink, trying to ignore the strange feeling that's settled in your chest.

It's probably just hunger. Or the vodka from earlier. 

Or the fact that you've been in this loud, crowded restaurant for what feels like hours now, surrounded by people you barely know, playing a role you're not quite sure how to perform.

Yeah. That's definitely it.

The server arrives with a ridiculous number of bowls balanced along his arms like some kind of food-based Cirque du Soleil performer. Steam rises from each one, carrying scents that make your stomach growl with embarrassing volume.

A massive, angry-looking bowl lands in front of you, the broth practically glowing red. It looks like someone liquefied the sun and threw in some noodles as an afterthought.

Perfect.

Two bowls slide in front of Jungkook—your spicy demon soup's twin and something much more reasonable looking, probably miso based on the color.

"Hungry much?" you ask, eyeing his double order.

"Growing boy," he shrugs, already reaching for chopsticks.

Taehyung, meanwhile, receives... a plate of curry rice? 

"Seriously?" You can't help the judgment that leaks into your voice. "We're at a ramen place and you ordered curry?"

He shoots you a look that could curdle milk. "Some of us have taste beyond 'hot noodle soup.'"

"Some of us aren't afraid of flavor, dickasso."

"Bold words from someone currently holding weapons-grade capsaicin," he fires back, gesturing at your bowl. "Does your taste even function, or did you burn it all away with your sad little Hot Pockets diet?"

"At least I'm not too precious to eat what the restaurant specializes in."

“This is objectively superior."

"Only if your objective is being a pretentious dick."

"I prefer 'discerning connoisseur.'"

"You would."

You hate that banter with Taehyung is starting to become more and more comfortable. Like verbal sparring with someone who actually knows how to return a serve, instead of just standing there getting hit in the face with the ball. 

Not that you like him or anything. His whole vibe—artsy, too cool for school, judgmental as fuck—is objectively annoying.

But maybe also a little entertaining. 

In small doses. 

Very small.

Across the table, Hobi watches this exchange with undisguised amusement, head swiveling between you. 

"I feel like I'm witnessing the beginning of a beautiful friendship," he says, grinning widely. "Or a homicide. Hard to tell."

"Definitely homicide," Taehyung and you say in unison, then glare at each other for the coordination.

You turn your attention back to your ramen, inhaling the spicy steam before digging in. The first bite hits like a kick to the teeth—pain followed immediately by pleasure. 

It's fucking delicious despite feeling like you just licked the surface of the sun.

"Good?" Yoongi asks, watching your face with what might be the ghost of amusement.

"Incredible," you manage, already reaching for more.

Across the table, Jungkook dives into his own spicy bowl with enthusiasm, slurping noodles with zero concern for how it looks. A drop of broth escapes, clinging to his lower lip.

You're about to say something—point it out, make fun of his complete lack of eating etiquette, something—when Tessa reaches out, casual as anything, and swipes her thumb across his lip.

"Messy," she says, the word warm with affection.

He tilts his head toward her, smiling in a way that can only be described as flirtatious. 

“That's my brand."

You purse your lips, returning your attention to your own food. 

Whatever. Let him preen over a pretty girl paying attention to him. His loser ass probably never gets that chance.

Although... that's a lie and you know it. 

The guy is annoyingly good-looking and he knows it. He's probably used to girls fawning over him, cleaning his face like he's a toddler who can't be trusted with utensils.

"Whatcha looking at, Phee—" He cuts himself off abruptly, eyes widening slightly. "—asantly surprised by how spicy that ramen is? Your face is getting red."

Smooth recovery. Not.

"Just thinking about how long it's been since I've had decent ramen."

You grab your water glass, suddenly very aware of the burning sensation spreading across your tongue. 

It's fine. Totally manageable. Nothing to worry about.

"Knew it," Yoongi mutters beside you.

You set the glass down with more force than necessary. "It's not spicy."

"Uh-huh." He doesn't even bother looking up from his own bowl. "That's why your face is the same color as the broth."

"It's warm in here."

"Sure it is."

"I can handle spice."

"Never said you couldn't."

"You implied it."

He finally glances at you, expression as bored as ever. "I implied you're a liar, not a spice lightweight."

"I'm not—" Another wave of heat crashes through your mouth, cutting off your protest. "Fine. It's a little spicy."

The corner of his mouth twitches in what might be a smile on anyone else. "A little."

"Shut up and eat your boring miso."

Amazingly, he actually laughs—a short, quiet sound that's there and gone so quickly you almost think you imagined it. 

But no, that was definitely a laugh. From Yoongi. Directed at something you said.

Huh.

You return to your ramen, determined to finish it despite the way your sinuses are starting to protest. 

It's a matter of pride now. You said you could handle it, so you'll handle it, even if it kills you.

Which it might. But what a way to go.

You glance up, seeing how Jungkook and Tessa have their heads tilted toward each other, engaged in what looks like a very amusing conversation based on her laugh. She keeps touching his arm, casual little points of contact that seem to arrive at perfectly timed intervals.

She's good at this, you'll give her that. The whole flirting thing. Not too obvious, not too reserved. Just the right amount of interest without seeming desperate.

Huh. He might get laid tonight then. Not by you. 

Good for him. 

"You're staring again," Taehyung says, his voice pitched low enough that only you can hear. "Plotting his murder or just generally disapproving of his existence?"

"Just wondering how someone with the personality of a half-deflated balloon animal manages to function in society," you reply smoothly.

"Years of practice and an excellent support system." He gestures between himself and Hobi, who's busy trying to convince one of the gamer guys that yes, there is in fact sake in the sake bomb he just drank. "We've been managing his personality disorder since freshman year."

"Sounds exhausting."

"It is." His eyes drift to where Jungkook is now showing Tessa something on his phone, both of them laughing. "But he has his moments."

You turn your attention back to your food. Halfway through, you make the tactical error of taking a large bite just as Hobi says something particularly funny, causing you to inhale sharply—and sending a piece of chili directly into your windpipe.

Coughing. So much coughing. 

Your eyes water immediately, turning the table into a blurry mess of colors and shapes as you desperately reach for your water again.

"Easy there," Yoongi says, actually sounding a little concerned as he pushes your glass closer. "Small sips."

You manage to get the water down between coughs, the cool liquid offering minimal relief to your burning throat.

"You okay?" Jungkook asks, leaning across the table with a frown.

Great. Now everyone's looking at you. Perfect. Just what you wanted. All the attention.

"Fine," you rasp, waving a hand dismissively. "Went down the wrong pipe."

"Maybe you should try something less lethal," Diana suggests, eyeing your bowl with thinly veiled judgment. "Like the mild shoyu."

"I'm good with my life choices, thanks."

"Not all of them, I hope," Taehyung mutters, just loud enough for you to hear.

You kick him under the table, aiming for his shin but probably hitting the table leg instead based on his lack of reaction.

"If you die from ramen, I'm not cleaning out your room," Yoongi says matter-of-factly.

"Noted. I'll make sure to haunt you specifically."

"Bold of you to assume I'd notice the difference."

"What, between me alive and me as a ghost?"

"You already have a resting bitch face and make weird noises at night. How would I tell?"

You choke again, this time on your own surprise. 

"I do not make weird noises at night!"

"The walls are thin."

Heat creeps up your neck, and it has nothing to do with the spice level of your food. 

“I don't—that's not—"

"Relax. I meant the way you talk in your sleep."

Oh. That's... marginally less mortifying.

"I talk in my sleep?"

"Constantly."

"About what?"

He shrugs. "Mostly nonsense. Something about pencils last night. Very intense opinions on pencils."

"I don't have opinions about pencils," you protest. "Intense or otherwise."

"Tell that to your subconscious."

The conversation shifts as one of the gamers—Ryan? you think?—slams his empty sake cup on the table with more force than necessary.

"Yo!" he announces, loud enough to get everyone's attention. "We should do shots. Birthday shots for the birthday boy!"

A chorus of approval goes up around the table. Even Diana looks on board with this plan, probably because alcohol is the one thing that might loosen up whatever's holding her personality together.

"The birthday boy needs birthday shots," Hobi agrees, already signaling the waiter.

Taehyung groans. "Please tell me we're not doing that ridiculous 'one shot for each year' tradition. I'm not carrying his drunk ass home again."

"That was one time," Jungkook protests.

"One time too many. You kept trying to pet dogs that weren't there."

"I was seeing through the space-time continuum to where dogs would eventually be."

"You threw up in my shower."

"I cleaned it!"

"With my loofah!"

"I replaced it!"

"After I used it!"

You watch this exchange with growing amusement, the rapid-fire back-and-forth almost dizzying in its intensity. It's clear this is a well-worn argument, trotted out for entertainment value rather than actual grievance.

"Fine," Taehyung concedes dramatically. "Birthday shots. But I'm not responsible for any hallucinated canines or bathroom incidents."

"Deal," Jungkook grins, then turns to Tessa. "You in?"

She laughs, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "I should probably pace myself. Early class tomorrow."

"Responsible," he nods, mock serious. "I respect that."

"Unlike some people," Taehyung mutters, glancing pointedly at Jungkook.

"It's my birthday. I'm legally exempt from responsibility for twenty-four hours."

"That's not a law."

"It's the law of birthdays, Tae. Everyone knows this."

Ryan—definitely Ryan—flags down the server successfully this time, ordering a round of shots for the table. 

“Even for the responsible ones," he insists when Tessa tries to decline. "Just one. For Proofs."

She relents with a smile, rolling her stupid pretty eyes. 

"You too, Miss Spicy Ramen," Ryan says, nodding toward you. "Unless you can't handle your liquor either."

Is that a challenge? It sounds like a challenge.

"I can handle my liquor just fine," you say.

“Debatable,” Jungkook mutters, the menace.

"Oh, fighting words," Hobi laughs, clapping his hands together. "I sense a story here."

"There's no story," Jungkook says quickly.

"I think we've found the first drinking game of the night," Hobi declares. "Most embarrassing Jungkook stories. Winner gets... I don't know, bragging rights and my eternal respect."

"That's not fair," Jungkook protests. "I'm the birthday boy. I should be exempt from humiliation."

"Birthday boy gets birthday roast," Taehyung counters. 

Even Yoongi cracks a smile at that, which might be the most shocking development of the evening so far.

Five shots in and the room has developed that particular tilt that makes everything both sharper and blurrier at the same time.

"Next round!" Seth announces, grinning as he surveys the damage he's caused. 

Seth, as you've learned through increasingly slurred introductions, is one of Jungkook's film school friends—tall, blonde, and way too enthusiastic about drinking games for someone his size. 

"Embarrassing stories! Laugh and you drink!"

Groans mixed with cheers ripple around the table, which has somehow gotten messier and louder with each passing shot. Empty glasses create a small army between plates. Someone knocked over the soy sauce earlier, and no one's bothered to clean it up.

"Oh, oh, OH!" Taehyung practically bounces in his seat, raising his hand like an overeager student. "I have one."

"This'll be good," Yoongi mutters beside you, the most he's spoken in twenty minutes.

Taehyung clears his throat dramatically. "Picture this: Eighth grade. School talent show."

"No," Jungkook groans, head dropping into his hands. "Not that one."

"Yes, that one." Taehyung's grin is borderline evil. "Our boy Kooks here decides he's going to impress Minah Park with a dance routine."

"I'm begging you," Jungkook says, voice muffled through his fingers.

"To what song, you ask?" Taehyung continues, undeterred. "None other than 'Milkshake' by Kelis."

Ryan lets out a bark of laughter, immediately reaching for his shot.

"Oh my god," Diana whispers, eyes wide.

"Did he know what the song was about?" Tessa asks, already giggling.

"That's the best part," Taehyung says, pausing for dramatic effect. "He thought it was literally about making good milkshakes. His mom helped him with the routine."

The table erupts. Even Yoongi snorts, reaching for his shot glass with resigned dignity. You're trying—genuinely trying—to hold it in, pressing your lips together, but then you make the mistake of looking at Jungkook's mortified expression and it's over. Laughter spills out, and you grab your shot, tossing it back with a wince.

"His mom found out what it meant halfway through the performance," Taehyung continues, wiping tears from his eyes. "Her face—I wish smartphones existed back then."

"I hate you," Jungkook mutters, but there's no heat behind it. "So much."

"Did Minah like it at least?" Hobi asks, still chuckling.

"She transferred schools the next week," Taehyung says solemnly. "Unrelated reasons, allegedly."

Another round of laughter, another round of shots.

"My turn," Hobi declares once the chaos subsides. "Let me tell you about the first time I met this guy."

"Which version are you telling?" Jungkook asks warily.

"The true one," Hobi says with a wink. "Picture it: 2021. Dance studio on 8th. This scrawny kid walks in, says he needs to film a project for his class."

"I wasn't scrawny," Jungkook protests.

"You were a twig with hair," Hobi dismisses. "Anyway, he sets up his equipment, very professional, very serious. Then my advanced hip-hop class starts, and halfway through, he abandons his camera to try and join in."

"Oh no," Tessa whispers, delighted.

"Oh yes," Hobi confirms. "He jumps in, full confidence, absolutely sure he can keep up. Two eight-counts later, he slips, takes out my star student, and they both crash into the mirror."

"It didn't break!" Jungkook interjects.

"It cracked," Hobi corrects. "Still there. I call it the Jungkook Memorial Spiderweb."

You laugh despite yourself, drinking quickly to hide your smile when Jungkook shoots you a betrayed look.

"What about you, Yoongi?" Seth asks, refilling glasses with alarming efficiency. "How'd you meet the birthday boy?"

Yoongi regards the question like it's asked him to explain quantum physics. 

“Music production seminar. He needed help with a film score." He shrugs. "He wasn't completely terrible."

"From Yoongi, that's basically a marriage proposal," Hobi stage-whispers.

"Wow, such a beautiful story," you deadpan. "So moving. So detailed."

Yoongi raises an eyebrow. “Not all of us need a thousand words to make a point."

"Clearly." You snort, then immediately regret it when the room spins slightly. 

"What about you, new girl?" Seth asks, suddenly focused on you with an intensity that feels both flattering and vaguely predatory. "Got any good Jungkook stories from the roommate archives?"

All eyes turn to you, expectant. 

You scramble for something suitably embarrassing but not too revealing.

“Oh, I’ve got plenty,” you say, the alcohol making you bolder than usual. “But I have to live with him, so I’m weighing the entertainment value against the revenge factor.”

“Coward,” Taehyung coughs into his hand.

"Yeah, tell us the real dirt," Seth presses, leaning forward with a grin that suggests he's hoping for something scandalous.

You narrow your eyes, suddenly protective of the weird dynamic you share with Jungkook. These people don't get to know about the late-night arguments over the TV volume, or the silent coffee maker standoffs, or the way he sometimes hums in the shower when he thinks no one can hear.

"Sorry to disappoint," you say with exaggerated sweetness, "but I value my security deposit too much to reveal his darkest secrets."

"Cop-out," Seth accuses, but he's smiling.

"Another round!" Ryan announces, refilling shot glasses with something that smells vaguely like cinnamon and regret. "Tessa, you laughed at the dance story, you owe one."

“I didn’t!” she protests, but she’s fighting a smile now. “I was just… appreciating the story.”

“Liar! Your lips twitched. That’s a drink.”

She shakes her head, still smiling. “No way. I have that early class, remember?”

Before Ryan can argue further, Jungkook smoothly grabs her shot and downs it in one fluid motion. 

“Problem solved,” he says, setting the empty glass back on the table with a decisive clink.

Something about the gesture—casual, protective, maybe a little possessive—makes your stomach twist in a way that has nothing to do with the alcohol or spicy ramen. 

Seth slides another shot toward you. “Here, you need a refill.”

You stare at it, trying to do math through the fuzzy haze of alcohol. 

How many shots have you had? Four? Five? You've lost count, which is probably not a great sign.

But everyone’s looking at you, waiting, and you’ve never been good at backing down from a challenge—especially when you’re already tipsy and your judgment is shot to hell.

You reach for the shot, hesitating only slightly. It burns going down, making you cough and sputter in a way that is definitely not attractive, but whatever. You can handle it.

Probably.

“Another round!” Seth calls. “Funniest pet stories. Go.”

And so the new game continues, stories flying around the table with increasing volume and decreasing coherence.

You lose track of who’s talking, everything blurring into laughter and voices and the clinking of glasses.

“Oh, and remember when Jungkook tried to sneak into that bar with his cousin’s ID?” someone is saying—maybe Ryan? The faces at the end of the table are swimming a bit. “The bouncer took one look at the picture and said, ‘This says you’re 5’4” and Filipino.’”

More laughter, more shots. The room spins again when you tilt your head back to drink.

“Another one for you,” Seth says, sliding a fresh shot in front of you after you laugh at something Hobi said. His hand lingers near yours on the table, fingers almost but not quite touching. “Don’t tell me you’re backing down so soon?"

The challenge in his tone hits some stupid part of your brain—the part that's been responsible for most of your worst decisions. 

So of course you grab the shot.

"Just getting started," you declare, tossing it back with more confidence than coordination. 

Seth grins, clearly pleased by your response. "I like you. You're fun."

"I'm a goddamn delight," you agree solemnly, which makes Taehyung snort into his drink.

The next round comes with someone telling a tale about Jungkook getting locked out of his dorm freshman year wearing only a towel. Hobi recounts the time Jungkook tried to learn breakdancing and sprained both wrists. Jungkook retaliates with something about Taehyung and body paint that has everyone howling and reaching for their drinks.

You keep pace, determined not to be the one who can't hang, even as the room develops an interesting spin and your tongue feels increasingly disconnected from your brain.

"Another one!" Seth declares, sliding a fresh shot in front of you.

You stare at it, hiccupping slightly. The thought of one more makes your stomach perform an acrobatic maneuver. 

"I don't know..."

"Come on," he urges, eyes bright with that specific drunk intensity people get when they're determined to make everyone else as wasted as they are. "Don't quit now."

You hiccup slightly, staring at the shot with growing uncertainty. 

Your stomach churns in warning.

But your pride is a stubborn, stupid stupid thing.

Before you can decide, Jungkook’s arm shoots across the table, grabbing the shot and downing it in one quick movement. His eyes find Seth’s, narrowed and unmistakably warning.

“I think she’s good,” he says, voice deceptively casual.

Seth raises his hands in mock surrender. “Just keeping the game going, man.”

You stare at Jungkook, confused by the intervention. He catches your look and shrugs, a simple ‘what?’ in his expression that somehow makes you frown harder.

The game shifts again, someone suggesting “Never Have I Ever” as a change of pace. Your brain struggles to keep up with the new rules, everything moving a little too fast, a little too loud.

“Never have I ever…” Seth taps his chin thoughtfully, eyes finding yours again. “Been skinny dipping.”

You groan internally. Of course he’d pick something designed to make people admit to being naked. Typical.

Those who have done it drink, including Jungkook, which makes Tessa raise her eyebrows in a way that seems both surprised and intrigued. 

You remain still, glass untouched, which somehow feels like a victory.

The questions continue around the table, growing progressively more suggestive as everyone’s inhibitions lower. 

A fresh shot appears in front of you, courtesy of Ryan, who’s moved on from the game and is now just passing out alcohol indiscriminately.

“Drink up!” he declares. “We’re celebrating!”

You stare at the shot, swaying slightly in your seat. The room feels too hot, too crowded, too everything. Your brain is sending out warning signals, but they’re muffled under layers of alcohol and stubbornness.

Jungkook is watching you, expression unreadable but lips pressed together in what might be concern. 

He knows you shouldn’t drink that. 

You know you shouldn’t drink that. 

But admitting it feels like losing somehow.

So you reach for the glass. Fingers clumsy.

Suddenly it’s gone—snatched away by a hand behind you.

“She doesn’t want any more, broski.”

You whip around so fast the room spins alarmingly, but there’s no mistaking that voice, that attitude, that general aura of ‘fuck around and find out.’

Yeji throws back the shot with 0 problem, slamming the empty glass on the table with a decisive clink. 

Behind her, Irya and Jimin hover like backup, taking in the scene with varying levels of amusement.

“Surprise.” Yeji grins, sharp and protective. “Happy birthday, dickhead,” she adds, nodding at Jungkook. “Mind if we crash the party?”

goal: 600 notes

next | index

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© jungkoode 2025 no reposts, translations, or adaptations

[prfctparis]

@pristinewonderland ok SO flynn fenton is a “canon secret brother” that butch hartman (the creator of danny phantom) made after the show ended. apparently flynn at around age 10 i think, got lost in the ghost portal when it conveniently worked one time way before anything about DP takes place. he stayed there, became evil if i remember right, & is just…living in the ghost zone

but the timeline of it all doesn’t make sense & a lot of fans who know of flynn do not like that version of him, so some have created their own – someone hc he’s their cousin instead, others that he’s vlad’s kid, or he’s still a fenton & is too busy being a college graduate to know about anything going on with amity park

i, personally, have a version in my head where he’s into archeology & is similar to the miniminuteman milo guy on youtube (also in a dpxdc au i fully believe he would think batman is not real but definitely believes in ghosts, tho he has a nicer outlook on them than his parents)

hopefully all of this makes sense & explains things well i’m still waking up lmao

WHEN will there be a dpxdc fic that includes flynn fenton. am i gonna have to do it myself because i will don’t test me

[gojosystem]

✧˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳ LABOUR ♡·˚

— [♡] ; souls tied by fate will inevitably cross paths again. ｡°. gojo satoru

tags: endgame gojo satoru, afab!reader, slow burn, pregnancy, regret, hurt/comfort, angst, co-parenting, vulnerable gojo satoru, past suguru geto x reader, past rejection, longing, bittersweet, I'm dramatic so I write dramatic shit, chapter nine of ten

wc. 3.1K

prologue | part 1 | part 2 | part 3| part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8 | part 10

It began slowly, almost imperceptibly, but the shift was undeniable. As the weeks turned into months, and the twins grew stronger, you found yourself laughing more often. The weight of grief still lingered, but it no longer suffocated you. And Gojo—he had started to slip back into the version of himself you remembered. The one who made light of everything, who could turn even the darkest moments into something bearable.

It started with small things. Jokes about the children, their habits and quirks. Gojo, ever the playful one, was a natural with them, making up ridiculous stories that had your daughter giggling uncontrollably. His presence in the hideout had become a steady, comforting rhythm in your life, and slowly, without even realizing it, you began to joke with him again—just like you used to.

One evening, after the children were asleep and the quiet settled over the hideout like a soft blanket, you found yourself sitting with Gojo at the kitchen table. The day had been long, and you were exhausted, but there was something comforting about sitting across from him, sipping tea and allowing the silence to be filled with easy, casual conversation.

“Your son,” Gojo began, a smirk playing on his lips, “is a menace.”

You raised na eyebrow, knowing full well which of the twins he was referring to. “Oh? What did he do this time?”

Gojo leaned forward, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “He spent a solid ten minutes staring at me like he was planning my demise. I’m telling you, he’s going to be a sorcerer to reckon with.”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “He’s just curious. Maybe he’s plotting something, though—you are pretty annoying.”

Gojo clutched his chest dramatically, feigning hurt. “You wound me. Here I am, helping you raise these kids, and this is the thanks I get?”

You laughed, a sound that felt so natural, so easy now. It surprised you, how comfortable you had become with him again. The banter, the teasing—it was like slipping into na old, familiar rhythm you hadn’t realized you missed.

“Maybe he’s just imitating you,” you said, a playful smile on your lips. “Plotting, scheming… sounds like something you’d do.”

Gojo grinned, clearly enjoying the back-and-forth. “Oh, definitely. I’ve taught him well. He’s going to surpass even me one day.”

You rolled your eyes, but the warmth of the conversation lingered. The ease with which you spoke to him now felt like a bridge between the past and the present. You had spent so long carrying the weight of everything that had happened between you and Suguru, but now, with Gojo’s presence, it felt like you were rediscovering parts of yourself you had thought were lost.

The banter between you began to grow more personal over time. You’d tease him about how easily he got the children to sleep—“It’s the voice,” he’d say with a wink—or how your daughter had become attached to his ridiculous stories. And then, one evening, the conversation took a slightly more personal turn.

You were both sitting in the living room, the twins asleep in the crib nearby, your daughter already tucked into bed. You were feeling particularly tired that night, your body still recovering from the strain of carrying and giving birth to the twins. As you shifted uncomfortably in your chair, you caught Gojo looking at you with a raised eyebrow.

“Rough day?” he asked, his tone light, but there was genuine concern in his eyes.

You sighed dramatically, leaning back. “Rough body, more like it. Two pregnancies… Let’s just say my body is not what it used to be.”

Gojo’s expression softened, though his lips quirked into a smile. “You still look amazing,” he said casually. “Two pregnancies and all.”

You snorted, waving a hand dismissively. “Yeah, well, if anyone’s to blame for how I look now, it’s Suguru. That man was insatiable. I swear, he was like a rabbit.”

The words came out before you really had a chance to think about them, and for a brief moment, you felt a flash of embarrassment. You hadn’t meant to be so candid, but the comfort between you and Gojo had lulled you into letting your guard down.

To your surprise, Gojo burst out laughing, his head tilting back as he let out a deep, genuine laugh that filled the room. It was a sound you hadn’t heard in a long time, and it warmed your heart.

“Oh, I believe it,” he said between laughs. “Suguru always had that… intense energy about him. I guess it carried over in more ways than one.”

You couldn’t help but laugh along with him, the ridiculousness of the conversation pulling you out of your initial embarrassment. “It’s his fault my body is a mess,” you said, grinning now. “Two pregnancies back-to-back? It’s like I’ve aged ten years.”

Gojo leaned forward, a playful glint in his eyes. “You know, I always wondered why you two were so… close. Now I get it. Suguru just couldn’t keep his hands off you.”

You rolled your eyes, swatting at him playfully. “Oh, please. You’re just jealous.”

Gojo raised na eyebrow, his smirk widening. “Maybe a little. I mean, look at me—how could anyone resist all this?”

The exaggerated confidence in his voice had you laughing again, the tension that had once existed between you all but forgotten. It felt good, this easy banter, this lighthearted teasing. It was like a piece of your old dynamic had returned, and it was a welcome relief from the heaviness that had defined your life for so long.

“Yeah, yeah,” you said, shaking your head. “Keep telling yourself that, Gojo.”

He leaned back in his chair, the smile on his face softening into something more genuine. “But really,” he said, his tone more serious now, “you’ve been through a lot. And you’re still here, still strong. That’s more than most people could handle.”

You looked at him, his words sinking in, and for a moment, the weight of the past felt a little lighter. “Thanks,” you said softly. “I guess I didn’t really have a choice. I had to keep going.”

Gojo nodded, his eyes meeting yours with na understanding that went beyond words. “You’re not doing this alone anymore,” he said quietly. “You’ve got me. And I’m not going anywhere.”

The sincerity in his voice made your heart ache, but it was a good ache—one that reminded you that, despite everything, you weren’t alone. You had Gojo now, and even though your relationship had changed, even though you had lost so much, there was still something between you. Something that was worth holding on to.

You gave him a small smile, the playful banter between you giving way to something deeper. “I know,” you said softly. “And I’m glad.”

As the night went on, you continued to tease each other, the lighthearted moments slowly weaving themselves into the fabric of your new routine. It was different now—your relationship with Gojo had evolved into something more mature, more grounded in the reality of your shared experiences. But the familiarity, the comfort, was still there.

And for the first time in a long time, you felt like you were beginning to heal.

The hideout was unusually quiet that evening, a soft, serene atmosphere settling over the space like a warm blanket. Outside, the sun was beginning to set, casting a golden glow through the windows, the last remnants of daylight filtering into the living room. The twins were asleep, their soft breathing filling the room with a rhythmic calm. Your daughter was nestled beside you on the couch, her head resting in your lap as she dozed off, exhausted from a day of play and mischief.

Gojo sat across the room, leaning back in his chair, his long legs stretched out in front of him as he watched the peaceful scene unfold. You were absentmindedly stroking your daughter’s hair, your own eyes heavy with the weight of the day’s exhaustion. It was a simple, domestic moment—one filled with a quiet kind of contentment that had become more frequent lately.

Gojo didn’t say anything, but his heart ached as he watched you, his mind drifting to places it rarely went. In moments like these, when the house was still and the world felt far away, reality dawned on him in ways that made it impossible to ignore. He had spent years running from these thoughts, avoiding the painful questions that came with them. But now, with you and your children woven into his life, the thoughts were unavoidable.

This could have been his life.

The thought hit him with a quiet intensity, and for a moment, Gojo closed his eyes, letting the weight of it wash over him. He had always been so sure of himself—so sure of the choices he had made, the life he had built. But here, in the warmth of this quiet moment, he couldn’t help but wonder.

What if?

What if he had accepted your confession all those years ago? What if he hadn’t pushed you away, hadn’t kept you at arm’s length, thinking he was protecting you? What if, instead of rejecting you, he had let himself love you the way you had wanted him to?

He looked at your children—the twins and your daughter—each of them a reflection of the life you had built with Suguru. They were beautiful, perfect in every way, and yet, Gojo couldn’t stop the pang of jealousy that twisted in his chest. Those children could have been his. They could have been running around with blue eyes and white hair, just like him.

He tried to imagine it—your children with his features, his laugh, his mannerisms—but it felt surreal. It was a life that never came to be, one that had slipped through his fingers the moment he had pushed you away. The life you had built with Suguru had been real, tangible, while the one he was imagining was nothing more than a daydream.

He opened his eyes again, watching as your daughter shifted in your lap, her small fingers clutching at your shirt. You were so gentle with her, so patient. You had grown into motherhood in ways that he never expected—ways that made him realize just how much time had passed since those early years.

Gojo let out a quiet sigh, running a hand through his hair as his mind wandered back to the past. He thought of you as you were back then—young, full of life, with wide eyes and a heart that beat too fast whenever he was around. He had been your teacher, the person you looked up to the most, and at the time, he couldn’t see you as anything but a kid. Someone he needed to protect, someone too young to understand the weight of the world around them.

You had confessed to him, your heart laid bare, and he had turned you away. He had thought he was doing the right thing—keeping you safe, keeping things simple. But now, as he looked at you—older, more worn, but stronger than ever—he realized how wrong he had been.

You had left Jujutsu High soon after that rejection, running straight into Suguru’s arms. And then, not long after, your first pregnancy. Gojo’s heart clenched at the thought. You had been so young, still so fragile in his eyes. He couldn’t even imagine what you had gone through during that time��adjusting to your new life with Suguru, carrying a child before you were even ready to fully process what that meant.

What had it been like for you? Had you been scared? Alone? Did Suguru comfort you in ways Gojo hadn’t, hadn’t known how to? He wasn’t sure, and the not knowing hurt almost as much as the reality of it.

You were still just a kid to him back then—at least, that’s how he had seen you. He hadn’t realized how quickly you had grown up, how quickly you had been forced to grow up. By the time he understood, it was already too late.

Gojo leaned forward slightly, his elbows resting on his knees as he stared at the floor, lost in thought. He had always believed he was doing the right thing by keeping his distance, by not allowing himself to care too deeply. But what had that gotten him? A lifetime of regrets. A lifetime spent watching from the sidelines as you built a life with Suguru—a life that could have been his, if only he had been brave enough to accept it.

He glanced at you again, watching the way your fingers gently stroked your daughter’s hair, your soft breathing matching the rhythm of the room. You looked so calm, so at peace in this moment, and yet, Gojo knew the weight you carried. The loss of Suguru was something that would never fully heal, but you were moving forward, day by day, and Gojo found himself wondering if he could ever be part of that forward motion.

Could this be his life, now? Could he truly step into the space Suguru had once filled, not to replace him, but to support you in a way he hadn’t before? He wasn’t sure. It felt like an impossible line to walk, but here he was, in your life in ways he never expected to be.

The children were part of that life now. He had accepted that much. He couldn’t imagine not being there for them, not being a presence in their world. But when he thought of your first pregnancy—the one that had happened so soon after you left—his chest tightened with a deep, aching sadness. You had been so young, too young to handle something like that alone. He wondered if you had been scared, if you had wanted to turn to him but couldn’t.

He hated the thought of you suffering without him.

Gojo shifted in his seat, glancing at you again. The soft rise and fall of your chest as you rested with your daughter made his heart ache. He knew he couldn’t change the past. He knew he couldn’t go back in time and accept your confession the way you had wanted him to. But the present—this moment right now—was something he could hold on to.

Maybe this was his second chance. Not to rewrite history, but to make sure that, moving forward, you wouldn’t be alone. That he wouldn’t let you carry the weight of everything by yourself.

In these soft, domestic moments, Gojo allowed himself to imagine what could have been. But more importantly, he began to wonder what could still be.

Maybe this life wasn’t the one he had imagined, but it was the one that was in front of him. And for the first time, Gojo wasn’t going to run from it.

He looked at you again, his heart full of unspoken words. He couldn’t bring himself to say them yet, but he knew, deep down, that this was where he was meant to be—by your side, with your children, in this fragile, beautiful life you had built together.

Over the past few weeks, the space between you had changed—mended, perhaps, in ways that neither of you had anticipated. The laughter had returned, the easy banter, the shared moments of comfort, but beneath it all, there were still things unsaid. Things that lingered, unspoken, between the two of you.

You both sat in the kitchen, a single lamp casting a warm glow over the room. Gojo was sitting across from you, his hands resting on the table as he sipped his tea. He had been quieter than usual tonight, more thoughtful. You could feel the tension in him, like there was something he wanted to say but didn’t know how to begin.

You knew what it was. You could see it in the way his gaze lingered on you, the way his lips parted slightly, as if he was about to ask but then thought better of it. You waited patiently, knowing that this was a conversation that would come eventually.

Finally, Gojo set his cup down, his fingers tapping lightly against the table as he looked at you. His usual confidence was missing, replaced by a quiet vulnerability that made your heart ache.

“Can I ask you something?” he said, his voice low and uncertain.

You nodded, already knowing what was coming. “Of course.”

He took a deep breath, his blue eyes flicking up to meet yours, searching your face for something—reassurance, maybe. “How was it? With Suguru… after you left. How did it all happen?”

His voice was soft, but the weight of the question hung heavily between you. This was something you hadn’t talked about in detail, something you hadn’t even fully admitted to yourself. But now, in this quiet moment, with Gojo sitting across from you, waiting for na answer, you felt the truth pressing at your lips.

You closed your eyes for a moment, gathering your thoughts. When you opened them again, Gojo was watching you closely, his expression gentle, patient.

“It was… odd,” you said slowly, your voice trembling slightly. “We didn’t love each other at first. It wasn’t like that.”

Gojo remained silent, listening intently as you continued.

“It was more like duty,” you admitted, your heart aching at the memory. “I had just left Jujutsu High, and everything was chaotic. Suguru… he wanted a kid. He believed it was part of his plan, his vision for the future. And I—I didn’t know what I wanted.”

Gojo’s eyes softened, his expression filled with something like sorrow. He opened his mouth to speak, but you shook your head, needing to finish the story.

“It wasn’t love, that’s for sure,” you said, your voice growing quieter. “At least, not in the beginning. We were together because it made sense. Because he needed someone by his side, and I… I was lost. After you rejected me, I didn’t know where I belonged. And Suguru… he gave me something to hold on to, even if it wasn’t what I expected.”

Gojo’s face twisted with regret, his hands tightening into fists on the table. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I didn’t—”

You raised a hand, cutting him off gently. “It’s not your fault. I made my choices.”

There was a brief silence, and you could see the turmoil in Gojo’s eyes, the way he wrestled with the guilt of what had happened. But you weren’t finished yet.

“When it happened,” you said, your voice softer now, “when I found out I was pregnant with her, it changed things. Before that, it was just… duty. But Suguru was kind when it mattered. He was patient and gentle, especially after everything that happened. He made sure I was taken care of. I didn’t know what I was doing—I was so young, and it all happened so fast. But he helped me. He made it easier.”

Gojo looked at you with na intensity that made your chest tighten. “Did you love him?” he asked quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.

You hesitated, the weight of the question heavy in the air. It was a question you had asked yourself many times over the years. The answer had always been complicated.

“Eventually,” you said softly. “We grew into it. It wasn’t the kind of love that sweeps you off your feet. It was more… slow. Steady. But it was real, in the end.”

Gojo’s gaze dropped to the table, his fingers tapping against the wood again as he processed your words. He didn’t speak for a long time, and you could see the conflict in him—the regret, the sadness, the wondering of what could have been.

You swallowed hard, knowing that you couldn’t leave this part unsaid. It was the part you had always hidden, the part that still made your heart ache.

“Some nights,” you said quietly, your voice trembling, “I wished it was you.”

Gojo’s head snapped up, his blue eyes wide with surprise. You saw the shock on his face, the way his lips parted as if to speak, but no words came out.

“It was easier that way,” you continued, your heart pounding in your chest. “When things were hard, when I felt alone, I’d imagine that it was you. That you were the one by my side. I was so confused, and I missed you, even though you had pushed me away. It helped to pretend that maybe… maybe things could have been different.”

The silence between you was deafening, and for a moment, you thought you might have said too much. You hadn’t meant to admit that. You hadn’t meant to open that door, but now it was out there, and there was no taking it back.

Gojo stared at you, his expression filled with na emotion you couldn’t quite place. Regret, yes, but also something deeper, something raw.

“But then I stopped,” you said softly, your eyes drifting to the table. “I stopped pretending when I found out I was pregnant with Kaori. It happened soon after. Suguru was… he was overjoyed. And I couldn’t pretend anymore. I had to accept the life I had chosen, even if it wasn’t the one I had imagined.”

Gojo let out a long, shaky breath, his hands running through his hair as he leaned back in his chair, staring up at the ceiling. He looked overwhelmed, like the weight of everything you had said was crashing down on him all at once.

For a long time, neither of you spoke. The truth between you hung heavy in the air, raw and painful, but there was a strange sense of relief too. You had finally said it—finally admitted the truth about your relationship with Suguru, about the complicated feelings that had haunted you for so long.

Finally, Gojo lowered his gaze, his eyes meeting yours again, and when he spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper. “I wish I could go back,” he said, his voice trembling with regret. “I wish I had seen you. I wish I hadn’t been so… stupid.”

You shook your head, tears welling up in your eyes. “We can’t go back, Satoru. What’s done is done.”

Gojo’s jaw clenched, and you could see the frustration in him, the helplessness. “I know,” he whispered. “But I hate that you went through all of that alone.”

You smiled sadly, brushing a tear from your cheek. “I wasn’t alone. Not really. Suguru was there, even if it wasn’t perfect. And now… now I have the kids. I have Kaori, and I have the twins. I’m not alone anymore.”

Gojo looked at you, his eyes filled with something close to admiration. “You’re stronger than I ever gave you credit for,” he said softly. “I’m sorry I didn’t see that sooner.”

You smiled, a soft, bittersweet smile, and for the first time in a long time, the weight of the past didn’t feel so heavy.

“I’m here now,” Gojo said quietly. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

The sincerity in his voice made your heart ache, but this time, it was a good ache—na ache that came with the knowledge that, even though the past couldn’t be undone, you weren’t alone anymore.

You had Gojo. You had your children.

notes: if you wanna be tagged just let me know! <3

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[struggle-but-its-all-ocean-floor]

I’m probably projecting but I find Jungkook’s enthusiasm regarding his solo album pretty tamed. I too have been quite disappointed in most of his performances, not that they were bad but I couldn’t find the energy he usually has? I can’t exactly pinpoint what doesn’t work for me. I feel like it’s a toned down version of Jungkook we’re seeing now for some reason. On one hand he seems happy to have had the opportunity to work on a variety of songs of various genre, it was a challenge and I can see he’s satisfied with the result and tbh he should but at the same time I’m having a hard time connecting to the songs themselves because he himself seems quite disconnected to them. He seems a bit more enthusiastic about SNTY so it’s nice to see but otherwise I don’t see him overly excited. Even though he didn’t write anything he still participated in choosing the songs so I was expecting to learn a bit more about how and why he choose them, why he connected to them on a certain level but he barely said anything. The fact that he repeated multiple times it was just stories, it wasn’t autobiographical, like okay but still, those songs make you feel something, right? When he answered on those interviews Hate You is a good winter song or whatever I was a bit dumbfounded cause, huh, okay cool but don’t you have a little bit to say about it? It’s almost like he doesn’t think too much about the meaning of the songs. Or maybe it’s because it’s about love and he can’t really touch on this topic with us? He could still stay as vague as he wants, and be generally speaking about how he relates to this or what he likes about that song yada yada. I don’t know, maybe I was expecting too much. And I know he thinks he’s not good with words so maybe he just have a hard time expressing his feelings. At the same time we still have his documentary on the way so we might know more of the process then. I forced myself to wait for some time after the release to really make my mind about it but I still have mixed feelings. I like the album but I don’t love it. I’ve liked some performances but I can’t say I’ve been particularly impressed. It’s not groundbreaking. I don’t see a particularly energetic and powerful Jungkook like I used to. I feel like I’m being unfair and that I probably sabotaged my own enjoyment by having too high expectations maybe. It sucks lol. I’ve been following your and reading your posts and it feels like you’re one Jungkook biased fan who could relate.

Hey!

You brought up something I'd never though about before, which is Jungkook not being excited about Golden. I don't know how excited he is, but he doesn't seem unexcited? Jungkook was apparently on the fence about releasing an album, and I think the album itself doesn't hold as much meaning to him as the challenge it posed and the fact that he was able to achieve good results and make the fans happy. Golden seems more like a means to an end - an opportunity he took advantage of - than an album that is very dear to him simply because he wanted to release one. Of course Golden is dear to him - he chose the tracks and was especially involved in the performance aspect of Seven, 3D, and SNTY - but his attachment to Golden can't compare to Suga's attachment to D-Day, Jimin's attachment to Face, RM's attachment to Indigo, or Hobi's attachment to JITB, because they also wrote the songs, and put themselves in a more vulnerable position of sharing their thoughts and feelings with fans and taking responsibility for the album's success. Golden, in many ways, is just like another BTS album to Jungkook. Jungkook likes BTS's albums, but he may not personally relate to most tracks. To him, BTS albums are a chance for them to perform and make Army happy, to become more successful, to try different genres and grow as a performer, and also what he's meant to do as an artist. BTS albums are very special to Jungkook, and Golden may be even more special, but surely there is a difference when the album is self-produced. We saw how difficult the album making process was for Jimin and Jungkook was "spared" some that, even if recording songs, shooting MVs, flying, practicing choreos, etc. in such a short period of time was really challenging for him. But it's just different from having a producer role as well. Golden is still Jungkook's debut album though, and he is solely responsible for how it performs - even the album's name is special to him.

So I'd say Jungkook is excited and proud of Golden. But you're right that we'd be having a different conversation had Jungkook written it. He'd be asked different questions and share different stories with us.

As for the performances, I'm not sure if it's the energy, exactly, but there seems to be a deliberate intent to simplify his performances? His emphasis on "cool" performances aren't the type of "cool" we're used to in BTS. We're used to Jungkook hitting every note and adlib (the first time he missed was YTC in Busan...), but, tbf, he usually doesn't have an entire song to sing.

What I realized in his second GMA performance is that Jungkook isn't trying to impress people. Maybe in the past impressing Army and delivering very consistent performances was the biggest priority. But, now, although delivering good performances consistently is still a top priority, enjoying the process may be equally important? When Jungkook performs, he allows himself a lot more moments to look at the audience and enjoy their energy now. When he chooses not to sing some verses (many verses, even), is it because he's tired, or can't be bothered (doesn't have the motivation? doesn't seem likely), or wants to spare his vocals, or enjoy the fans? Is it because it's not the singing that's fun but rather the fans?

I really wish I knew what Jungkook thought during his two Euphoria performances, which, to me, were frankly so below his standards it was shameful. Has his idea of being a performer has changed? Like Jungkook of BTS is a high-achiever who never stops moving and singing (though he has way less lines), but soloist Jungkook is a high-achiever who also just wants to vibe? I've been disappointed too - not really with SNTY, but with a lot of Seven performances, as well as his Euphoria ones, and Global Citizen in general which was so bad by his standards, but I don't know either. I know he's a perfectionist, I know he loves being on stage, I know he loves his fans. So are Jungkook's recent performances because he's getting older and has to adjust his performances? Is he struggling with motivation? Is he struggling with his voice? Euphoria is a really hard song and he's had two bad colds since Seven and mentioned losing his voice once. Is he trying a more Western and less kpop style of performing? I wish I knew the answer.

I think you and I are a bit to blame, because we place really high expectations on Jungkook and are used to him always living up to them. But his performances have been different lately, and I think it's okay to be disappointed and confused, I think.

Thanks for the ask!

[mar64ds]

can you go in-depth about every untitled story idea featuring your OCs you have?

Oh my god!! Thank you so much for asking! I love to talk about them!

I’ve just talked a little bit about ‘A Loving House’ so I will talk about the others, I have other 4 main stories! Maybe 5… I’m still thinking about it. One of them does have a name but yeah the others still don’t have titles. Warning: this is very very long and I’ll probably not express all my ideas really well lol

-The Big Bad Bird: So this story does have a title! The title is a bit essential to the story, even if it just seems like the bird version of ‘the big bad wolf’, there is a bit more meaning to it…

This is a story about two arch nemesis, an evil supervillain wolf and a fun even if rather chaotic bird. The idea of the story is that they are a very typical hero and villain duo: villain tries to kill hero, hero outsmarts villain, hero wins, and this repeats again and again in every episode. But the thing is, at some point these two characters realize that they have formed a strong bond, that when they are alone and upset the person that is always there for them is the other, even if it’s to annoy or to fight to death, they are there. It’s a found family kind of relationship, Wolf becomes some sort of parental figure to Bird.

Wolf is a distant, cold and grumpy wolf. Wolf is really not dumb, that’s not the kind of villain I’m trying to write with him, he does get frustrated and angry pretty easily and he can be petty, but he’s not stupid, you do believe he is a pretty capable supervillain. Wolf is most of all very theatrical, he likes to put on a good show

Bird is cheerful, positive and energetic but they are not exactly the nicest person ever, they pull pranks and are pretty chaotic and things like that, although it’s not out of malice, they just can come across as rude and mischievous

The thing that is interesting about this ‘enemies to family’ dynamic is that it’s usually the villain who struggles to accept they care about the hero, and yeah Wolf does deny it at first but he’s quick to accept it, the one who really struggles with this is Bird. I won’t get into spoilers, but Bird is someone who has been rejected by so many people so many times that they have kind of gave up… so now they annoy people on purpose, because better to be hated than to be ignored, right? So they really don’t know how to… let someone care about them? They don’t like it! It’s strange! They are used to have fun annoying people because they have adapted well to not being cared for by anyone, what are they supposed to do now?!

The idea for this story is that it would be a… miniseries? It would be 10 chapters/episodes long. The first ones would follow a pretty episodic formula, Wolf tries to kill Bird, it doesn’t work, Bird wins. Then in episode 5 you start to see that maybe their relationship can be a bit more deep and complicated than just your typical saturday morning cartoon hero and villain. Bird seems to be more complex than it seems, Wolf seems to have a good side, things like that. So the next episodes are silly too but they have a bunch of a bit more serious and emotional scenes where they get to learn and understand each other better, and maybe even help. No spoilers for the last two episodes but oh boy……. I really like them, they are good I think.

-Story about a demon cat and a normal dad mouse.

A mouse finds a little cat one day. It’s alone, hungry and hurt. He feels bad for it so he takes care of it and grows attached to it so he adopts the little cat. Of course, everyone has that worry in mind, won’t the cat want to eat mice at some point? Well, don’t worry! The cat grows up and it doesn’t seem like it wants to eat mice, or rats or anything like that! This is great news, and the cat is loved by all the mice and gets along with the other cats too, all seems to go well.

However, recently there has been news of a creature that is feeding on humans. Weird. There are news everywhere about this, the humans are scared and it worries the animals too. Just what the hell is this creature? Hahah it couldn’t possibly be-

Yeah it’s the cat. You might have figured out that this is not a normal cat. This is in fact a demon… cat? So its origin story is very silly, but I wanted to capture a story with absurd comedy and a little bit of horror. The animals don’t talk in this story, only the humans that occasionally show up, but there are two humans that are important characters too! One is a scientist, who wanted to play god and bring a creature to live, the other one is her girlfriend, who is goth and wanted to try to summon a demon because her friends have done that before and she was feeling left out. So one day they find a dead cat and decide they could save it! Science wasn’t enough so they tried the demon thing and it worked! But the cat ran away. Well, as long as the cat was okay I guess it’s okay- oh god it’s eating people now. They have to find it now and look for a solution to this!

The little mouse guy… how is he doing? Well, not great. He slowly figures out his kid is the human-eating monster and it’s pretty pretty tense. And after he knows it’s even worse. What’s he supposed to do now? Despite eating humans the cat is… nice, it’s sweet, kind and it’s his kid, he loves it. If anyone finds out the cat is the monster they’ll take it away and maybe even hurt it

The girls and the mouse want what's best for the cat, it’s some of the other humans and the animals who they need to worry about, and maybe even the cat itself might become a bigger problem.

Perhaps there is a way for the cat to turn back to normal but if that works… would it want to eat mice?

-Story about a group of minions that work for a supervillain. This is my favorite one aaaaagh!! I want a tv show about this, I would sell this idea and someone else could do it just so I could see it on tv, this is just ‘my favorite things ever’ the story

We have a bunch of stories from the point of view of the villains, but the formula of this story it’s a bit different: we only see these minions BEFORE or AFTER an evil plan. It’s not about the evil plan, it’s not about seeing them try to conquer the world or defeat the heroes, it’s about seeing their everyday lives. Living with co-workers, cleaning up after a tough battle, the consequences of an evil plan backfiring, the enthusiasm before executing an evil plan, work struggles, personal struggles, etc.

This is a story with a large number of characters, think of the muppets, like that, there are a lot of different muppets but there is also the main ones, that’s kind of where I’m going for with this story. But even if there are central characters, I do want the secondary or even background characters to shine at least once, think of ‘villain of the week’, but instead of said villain being an antagonist they are just the main focus. It also makes me think about ‘Ojamajo Doremi’ and how that show has a lot of episodes that focus on the different classmates Doremi has and not just on the main characters, I kind of want to do that.

So, the three main minion characters are:

-Primary and Hellmet. Primary is a drawing that came to life, doesn’t care that much about the evil plans, they mostly just want to have fun. She can break the laws of physics since she is a drawing after all. While pretty energetic, he also has some sort of sarcastic humor. He likes teasing others but not to the point of upsetting someone, they are a genuine good friend. They can be a bit insecure but don’t worry she hides it well (give her a hug please)

-Hellmet is a pretty powerful monster, like one of the strongest people you could have in a supervillain army. And the thing is, they love being a monster! But there is one problem, they don’t mind being a monster but they DON’T want to be like their parents, who were awful to them and others. So in a way, they want to improve themself, break the circle, but in their own strange clumsy way. For example, if they are fighting someone in a restaurant, the fight will be intense, but then before leaving they will tip the waiters, because it’s the nice thing to do. They seem pretty serious but they are genuinely trying to be nice to their coworkers all the time

-He is a motivational speaker/life coach, who accepted this job as an employee on this supervillain base. He thinks that if anyone really needs motivation it’s the minions of a supervillain, who lose everyday over and over again, he feels bad for them and cares for them and is kind of impressed by them, so he sticks around. He can be kind of anxious but he has his feet on the ground. He is usually the person with the most common sense and that finds the solutions to stuff the fastest. He is pretty much Kermit the frog

I have some ideas so far for the secondary or background minion characters, here are a few but I need to think about a lot more of them, this is just the beginning:

-Croak Frog. This OC is pretty old, he has a name. So the idea of this character is that he is actually on the side of the good guys, let me explain. Croak Frog is someone who is willing to play the role of a villain just so someone else can be the hero. He loves comic books, he knows a hero goes through a character development thanks to adversity, he wants to help people that way, find that inner hero everyone has inside of them and he will be the villain if he has to. Of course, he has to pretend he is a true villain with his coworkers, but some of them can tell what’s going on

-A good guy that was captured by the villains, hoping that someone would try to rescue them and defeat them. But… no one showed up to save this guy. They felt so bad that they offered them any help, support, money or maybe they could even stayed with them. They now live here with the rest of the minions and they don’t really do much other than be sad, sarcastic and tired. They don’t really work for the boss, they are just here

Since this is a story that focuses a lot on the everyday life, we don’t see that much of the actual hero that defeats them. He always defeats them off-screen and is the person they always need to worry about, but he’s not a big focus. I imagine the hero as very similar to Super Mario, he is nice and simple, he probably has his own family and friends too. He does show up sometimes but he’s not a main character

So apart from the minions, the good guys we do focus on are the neighbors. The evil base they live in, well, they have regular neighbors living in regular houses. Three in particular:

-Pink otter. She is a sweet, positive and loving girl that spreads kindness and positivity and cuteness everywhere. So… she’s pretty much the opposite of a super villain. Kind of similar to Wander over yonder, she’s just really nice and that can be the kryptonite of a bad guy, or maybe they just like her so much they just let her do whatever she wants even if they are in the ‘before or after’ of an evil plan. She believes in kindness but she’s not naïve, if you are being too much of a jerk she will call you out. She loves nerdy stuff and she is very creative (she loves drawing fanart and writing fanfics and things like that, but also her own personal art). She can be a bit insecure and socially anxious but she has good close friends that can take those insecurities away

-Green bunny. She is pink otter’s best friend and roommate. Best way I can describe her is she is very similar to Pipimi from Pop Team Epic. She can easily emotionally destroy any bad guy at any second. But other than that she is very sweet and loyal to her friends, and she is overall really really cute. She struggles a bit with depression as well, but her close friends help with that too

-grumpy crocodile. I have the design in mind but I haven’t drawn it yet. Basically really similar to characters like Susie or Mad Rat, I just love grumpy or rude characters that are genuinely really nice people. This crocodile is very distant and doesn’t like to be bothered but they do care about others. They get mad pretty easily, but they can be very easy-going as well

A lot of times, the three neighbors are the ones that really stop the evil plan. For example, if the villains steal water for one of their plans, but grumpy crocodile wants to take a shower, they go to the castle to demand them to bring back the water or find a way to bring it back themself, not to play the hero, it’s just neighbor problems. Although sometimes if the plan is way too dangerous then yeah they need to play the hero even if they don’t really want to.

Speaking of heroes, the minions do have a boss, or other more powerful unkind individuals.

This is their boss, he is a very powerful supervillain, and while yes there is a comedic side to him, he is a really good villain. Think of Bowser, he has his funny side and he always loses, but we all consider him a good antagonist!

Despite how serious and powerful he is, he is also a very very petty person that has a lot of drama in his personal life. From exes, to rivals, to friends, to family members, etc. He gets very consumed in his worries about his image and reputation, he can get distracted from his evil plans because of this. For example, his ex could be the mayor of a town that has just built a nice fountain. Well, he NEEDS to build an even nicer fountain now in his kingdom, forget all the other plans, his kingdom needs to be BETTER. Things like that

Then there is this funny little creature. He has a VERY complicated long backstory, but basically, he is practically a god. He has infinite power and because of that, he is bored. He doesn’t try to do good or evil, he just wants to be entertained, and yeah that entertainment can be cruel sometimes. He only uses his powers to make things more entertaining, so you know, way more complicated. He bothers both villains and heroes

At one point, he gets to know pink otter, and for the first time in a long time, he genuinely cares about someone. She is really nice, she is really sincere, she is really passionate, he really likes her. She loves fictional stories and in his own way he can relate because he finds real people drama’s entertaining. They have that sort of Molly McGee and Scratch dynamic

My idea of storytelling would be comics. This is a pretty episodic story but I do have storylines and character arcs in mind. It would be mostly comedic but it has a lot of sweet and emotional moments. This is NOT a mean-spirited series, I just can’t write things like that, even when they are mean they are pretty nice. Again, if I could, I’d let a tv studio steal this idea from me just so I could watch a tv show about this

+ Story about a villain and a hero being roomates

So I’m not sure if I should include this one in the previous story, it works really well there too, but maybe I should just make it its on separate series.

The basic idea is that a supervillain and a hero live together, so everyday they go to work, villain tries to conquer the world and kill hero, hero wins every single time… then you go home and you have to live together and have roommate problems. It’s like a sitcom

Now why would they live together? I have two possible answers. If this took place in the other story, they could be cursed to live together by the puppet character, you know, he has god powers and likes being entertained, of course he would do this. If this takes place in another universe, then it would just be a joke about how the economy is so terrible they just have to live together

If this is a separated story then it would be a series of episodic comics, there is no story in this one, maybe from time to time there could be an arc, but this would be a silly comedic comic

-Story about being aromantic lol

I don’t know much about this one, just a series of comics about a duo that talk about aro experiences

Aaaand that's it! Thank you so much for giving me an excuse to rant about this, and if you have read all of this thanks again!

[scott-mccall-the-hot-girl]

my ultimate guide to thiam fic !!

( as a new teen wolf stan )

-

the classic post war, long ass (multi chapter) fic !!with great development that genuinely made me laugh out loud, they have the best friendship in this & i love it very much. ( like theo teaches liam to drive and i just *happy sobs* ) a fundamental in thiam fanfiction !! all stans have probably already read it but if you haven’t this is in fact a threat ,, go show this vv iconic story some love !!

Airplanes - Captainmintyfresh

Summary: After the Anuk-ite and the hunters are dealt with Liam needs a break. Cue Theo and a road trip that Liam should know better than to think will be peaceful.

Not Rated, No Archive Warnings Apply, Completed, 43/43 Chapters, Words: 236,875 (236k)

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okay okay so this one is also post 6B !! but ,, now we introduce fighting monroe & the hunters again ,, so we get the boys & a new mission !! so if you like an intresting plot 11/10 would recommend !! just to be clear this ISN’T complete ,, if that turns you off i understand but definitely give this one a read !! it litterally have theo doing crossword puzzles & fighting zombies

Vacancy Signs - LovelyLittleGrim

Summary: Theo and Liam are in Manhattan negotiating a pack allyship when the zombie apocalypse breaks out. Now, the two of them have to find their way back to Beacon Hills without getting eaten by zombies or killing one another.

Rated: Explicit, Graphic Description of Violence, Not Completed, 15/17 Chapters, Words: 89,605 (89k)

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Royalty AU !! I REPEAT ROYALTY AU !! a fantastic au where i stan their moms more than i stan them !! genuinely so good at the childhood rivals to lovers trope !! i’m genuinely obsessed with this one. has made me cry more than once ,, hurts in a good way <3 the ending is just *chefs kiss* also one of the tags is genuinely: # theo and liam make bad choices for over 130k straight !! if that doesn’t sound appealing i don’t know what does !!

Artificial Love - songbvrd

Summary: Prince Theo and Prince Liam are forced to spend every Summer together from age five onwards. They hate each other, and usually find ways to make each other miserable as much as possible in their six weeks together. But when they're reunited because of intended unions as adults, things change. They're both supposed to be married to noble women, but neither of them is as interested in anyone else as they are with their childhood rival.

Rated: Mature, No Archive Warnings Apply, Completed, Chapters: 32/32, Words: 172,935 (172k)

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so if you are in the mood for a crack fic that’s not explicitally a crack fic this is for you !! okay so i’m really hit or miss with AU’s ,, sometimes i feel like they don’t quite capture the characters right but this story have the BEST dramatic liam i have ever seen in my life !! basically they all live in the same apartment building & it’s fantastic !! i saw this one floating around a lot but the summary didn’t really unrest me until i have it a shot !! so go read it rn !! also nolan & brett are genuinely fantastic and make me wheeze ,, LIKE ACTUALLY VERBALLY LAUGHING !! all i’m gonna say is that my fav characters are scott & the beetles but that won’t make actual sense until you read it !!

The Neighbors Song - TheodoreR

Summary: “I always hear you singing on your balcony every morning, but suddenly you’ve stopped?”

Or the one where Theo annoys Liam every morning with his awful singing until he doesn’t anymore and Liam is even more annoyed. Liam hates every single thing about his mornings -the fact that they happen in the morning alone is enough. The thing Liam hates the most about his mornings though is the terrible voice of the guy who lives below him. He can’t sing for shit and Liam tried to politely let him understand that by throwing flour and water on his balcony, and also by shouting it to him, you can’t sing for shit!, and then by writing it into a note he proceeded to attach to his door, but this Raeken guy just keeps doing it, every single morning, like a fucking rooster. Liam did nothing to deserve this. He probably didn’t do anything to deserve better either to be fair, he doesn’t expect to open his window and be welcomed by some angelic voice singing him good morning, he’d just be happy with nothing. Silence. That’s something Liam can appreciate in mornings. Just some bark from his dog and the sound of his misery and that’s it. But no, god forbid the new guy lets him have that.

Rated: Explicit, Creator Chose Not to Use Archive Wanrings, Completed, 8/8 Chapters, Words: 42,814 (42k)

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me: i’m not a big fan of AU’s ,, proceeds to talk about ANOTHER au… OKAY BUT THIS ONE !! it’s not complete but the author has been updating regularly ,, vv slow burn !! but in a REALLY intresting way !! i lOVE LIAM IN THIS SO MUCH ,, he is such a diaster of a person and it’s wonderful !! they have a great dynamic & i’m sucker for general puppy pack content ( and erica reyes being a badass ) !! also theo plays lacrosse in this & i really like it ahhhhh ,, also liam is just being an artic monkeys stan the whole time & theo is like *que confused repressed gay noises*

Inglorious Roommates - honeyscape

Summary: A roommate is defined as “a person with whom one shares a room.”

Theo would say a roommate was more along the lines of, “The person who's the bane of his existence. The weirdo that sleeps for days. The spaz that exercises at 3am. The guy with a revolving door of annoying friends. An insufferable human being that Theo has no control over living in his room.”

Example: Theo hates his roommate Liam.

-

okay okay i hate myself but i have another WIP for y’all !! this one is jUST FANTASTIC. i’m genuinely so upset it’s most likely not going to updated again *incoherent screaming ensues*. for this story ,, it’s very theo-centric bUT thats bc it ends right before liam becomes a concrete member of the story !! ANYWAY: basic plot = theo & acquiring not one but two children ,, so #dad theo but he is still crusty & homeless and i love him very much. it’s just so GOOD !! just read if you want to experience my fav theo coming out story & him etching high school musical

Look who's talking - Captainmintyfresh

Summary: Theo had been labeled many things in his life. Evil, failure, monster. He'd never thought Father would be one of those things but as he looked across the table to a six year old with blue smears of bubble gum icecream across her face trying to coax the first words out of her sister. Finger jabbing towards Theo's face as she repeated 'Daddy' again and again he couldn't bring himself to dispute the label.

(Theo accidentally adopts two young werewolves)

Not Rated, Creator Chose Not to Use Archive Warnings, Not Completed, Chapters: 16/?, Words: 48740 ( 48k )

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so here me out: post-canon ( poetry like angst ) summer get away !! just the boys doing cute little domestic things together whilst pining !! theo’s guilt in this is just so powerful & aGjffkgkkfkvkdlv !! i think it’s so interesting to see how they interact in this one, it’s just very heart warming !! and it features one of my favorite niche teen wolf tropes of theo being great with like seven year old girls- it’s just so good ,, very much a wonderful little one shot that just makes your heart happy.

(next time i see you you'll show me) a hundred different ways to say the same things - cherrysprite

Summary: “...You deserve good things,” Liam says eventually. He makes sure not to look at Theo even though he can feel his eyes turn on him. Somehow he can already tell that Theo doesn’t believe him.

Liam instantly makes that the goal of this summer - making Theo believe him.

Rating: Teen and Up, No Archive Warnings Apply, Chapters: 1/1, Words: 28875 ( 28k )

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okay so this next section of fic recs is a bit different !!

two of my favorite authors !! and a compilation of fics i’ve read by them both !!

for context: these two have written some genuinely gorgeous fics, like pure poetry, they explore the real gritty & scary side of our boys relationship in such a wonderful way. they’ve both used some of my favorite tropes & i love them very much !!

whenever i need something soothing but so genuinely intresting & enticing these are my go to !! ( also they both write a lot of good nolan angst & some vv good fics with hayden )

go check out:

eneiryu

as well as fallingforboys

here are some of my favorite fics by them ~

darling i want you here in my arms (kiss the pain away, i know you can) - fallingforboys

even before you touched me, i belonged to you (all you had to do was look at me) - fallingforboys

memories linger like tattoo scars (but your touch on my skin is just as permanent) - fallingforboys

skin, bones, a stolen heart, and an ugly creature lurking underneath -fallingforboys

i don't know how to breathe in the place i called home - fallingforboys

whisper your gossamer truths into the shadow, maybe you'll find the answers you're searching for - fallingforboys

between the mountains and the valley we built a monument to our regret - eneiryu

cracked the hinges of the cage and waited for you - eneiryu

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okay and finally: since i am a self centered whore

my own fic: an rendition of the # elevator scene

it’s basically my version of post canon if we did get the kiss in the elevator. we got a classic liam pov in which he is has 12/10 for extreme bi diaster energy even whilst being shot at !! so go him ig…

Fuck Off, Fuck This & Fuck It! - nefelibata_peach

Summary: Liam thought to himself heart rate climbing, they were bound to be dead by morning. So he thought with everything but his brain and he kissed him.

Where Liam Dunbar is very confused, slightly traumatized, and just a bit scared but hey, aren't they all! Bad decisions ensue as two boys fight in a war they never did sign up for.

Rating: Teen and Up, Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Chapters: 1/1, Words: 3558 ( 3k )

[dorotharry]

tiny dancer ; chapter three

Pairing: bucky barnes x fem!reader

CHAPTER 2 | CHAPTER 4 (coming soon)

Word count: 2.3k

Warnings: pain, angst, nightmares, metal limbs?

Summary: After being drafted for the war in 1942, Bucky goes to the ballet a week before having to leave with his best friend Steve. There he becomes infatuated you with the prima ballerina of the show, and he just has to meet you before his last week in Brooklyn is up. He hopes one day you would meet again; little does it know it will be 72 years later.

A/N: Well, hello again, honestly after yesterday I really wanted to write again soon so I could start giving more away. Eep so exciting, thank you again for all your support too!! Please feel free to like, repost and comment any feedback, it’s much appreciated :)) Also lets just ignore that infinity war is a thing for the moment lolz. 

MY MASTERLIST

*gif not mine

“Nice to finally meet you y/n, I’ve been looking for you under Fury’s instruction for a while, my name’s Natasha.”

Natasha. It rang in your ears, there was some familiarity to that name. You kept your face blank, but for some reason it felt like you’d known her in a past life, or perhaps a life you didn’t remember. Though her face gave no indication that she knew either. But a younger version of her face flashed in your mind, only she wasn’t blonde she had bright red hair. You shook yourself from your thoughts, Natasha was a common name, surely you couldn’t know her. Surely.

“Come in,” you responded moving to the side as the women eyed you as she entered. She had to be around a similar age to you. At least in looks, you were at least a century year old in reality. “Did you want something to drink?” You said as you shut the door and gestured to the couch nearby.

The blonde shook her head, taking a seat her gaze still wary. “You’re probably curious to know why I’m here and who I am?”

You nodded as you took a seat on the second couch, it wasn’t often you had visitors.

“Well, I’m sure you’ve heard of the Avengers,” She started.

That’s where you knew her from! She’d swapped her red hair for blonde and suddenly you felt less confused.  

“I’m a part of it, and our director Fury has been sending me on mission after mission looking for you. It’s only now we got a tip that you were living in Madripoor.”

You almost wanted to interrupt and ask who had tipped them off, but you thought better of it. You rose an eyebrow at her comment, giving her an expression that told her to continue.

“Anyway, I’m here because we wanted to bring you back to the compound. You’ve been hidden away from us for a long time. In fact, the only reason we know you exist is because of the HYDRA files I shared in 2014. We hoped you could give us some intel; we think something big is going to happen again, but we aren’t sure if it’s HYDRA or something else.” She looked at you again, a serious expression on her face.

Yours matched hers. “You should know I don’t do that anymore, I don’t work as an assassin,” you began suddenly feeling more vulnerable as the terrible things you had done came back up in your memories.

Natasha cut you off sensing your distress. “We aren’t asking you to, we just need your knowledge. Whilst I know Fury wants you to join us in the long run and start fighting again, we also respect your decision not to if that’s what you want.”

You looked at her sceptically, had she not heard what you had just said? Plus, now your cover in Madripoor was blown, if the Avengers knew where you were then surely it wouldn’t be long until every other government in the world would too. You were sure there were many people who wanted you dead.

As if she had heard your thoughts Natasha spoke up again, “don’t worry, if you turn down helping us, no one but Fury and I know you’re here. Not even Steve.”

You silently gasped, you had forgotten about Steve in these brief moments, he was captain America back then, in fact he was still Captain America. Even if you would be throwing yourself back into the line of fire, maybe it would be worth it to see your old friend again. Would he want to see you though? After everything awful thing, you had done. Your eyes began to well again, but you didn’t want Natasha to see you vulnerable.

“Fine.” You spoke sternly looking at the woman in front of you, “I will help, but only if you promise that you avengers will protect me. There’s a lot of people who want me in chains.”

You could see the hint of a smile on her face as she listened, “Don’t worry y/n, we have ways around that,” she smirked. “I don’t exactly have the cleanest record either.”

You nodded, standing up. You knew now if you were leaving that you could never return to Madripoor. If you chose not to fight with the Avengers after helping them, then at least you were sure they could protect you and finally you could maybe be back home. “Where to then?”

Natasha told you to get anything valuable, some clothes and anything else you felt you needed. Luckily for her, you always kept a duffle bag with everything you needed if you had to leave under you bed, along with the shot gun that had been in your hand this entire time till.

You walked to your room, grabbed the duffle bad and your other favourite weapons in another bag and returned in under a minute. Natasha let out a chuckle, she should have known an assassin was always prepared to flee. Something they all knew, never get too comfortable.

Natasha led you out of your apartment, you close the door behind you both and follow her. It felt strange to be taking from directions from anyone else. Besides HYDRA you had always been the person in charge, choosing what you did without direction. But unless you miraculously knew how you’d be getting back to the Avengers compound this seemed like a time you would have to not be stubborn.

She led you to a jet, gesturing you to get on before she did herself. She walked to the front closing the door and sitting in the pilot’s seat. “Feel free to have a sleep.” She said casual pointing to the bed next to you.

“Thanks,” you mumbled going and lying down. After having no sleep, you wouldn’t complain, and it would save you having to make small talk with Natasha. Plus, usually you didn’t have nightmares in you ever occasionally napped.

Natasha answered a call and began telling someone (who you assumed was Fury) that you were coming back with her, just as your eyes were filled with the darkness of sleep.

1943

You woke up once again your entire body in pain. Although this time it was different, and though you remembered where you were much of your memories were feeling fuzzy. Like someone had attempted to begin removing them.

That couldn’t be possible though, could it?

There was an ache on your face, remembering your last memory before you had been engulfed in darkness again. You were sure there would be marks from whatever machine had done that to you, wincing at the thought of the pain again.

But besides there being the same pains you had felt before, there was something different. You were still restricted by your arms and legs in the same position but now you had a heart monitor attached, the faint beeping being the only noise you could hear in the silent and dark room. This wasn’t a room though, it was a lab you knew that now, and you were a lab rat to the red skull and his scientists. Why would they care if my heart is still beating? You pondered.

Once again you pushed against your restraints in an attempt to get out, the leather digging into your skin causing you to wince due to how in pain your body already was.  But again as you’d thought earlier, there was something different, yes your arms were wincing at the pain from the leather but your legs felt nothing. You moved your toes and felt no sensations. It was as if they were numb. What had HYDRA done?

As if on cue the laboratory door opened, the same scientist from before entering and two soldiers following behind him. The door slammed closed as the soldiers stayed there on each side of the door. Just in case you got out of your restraints again.

The scientist shuffled forward. “How are you feeling y/n? I realised I forgot the other day to introduce myself, I’m Arnim Zola but you can call me Doctor Zola.”

You sneered as his friendly attitude, causing him to frown. “I can’t feel my legs.” You responded in a harsh tone, “Why?”

“Well y/n, I told you that you would become a soldier for the red skull did I not? Now I understand you’re a ballerina but there’s something wrong with this. You see you always want to be perfect, and what makes you not is among many things your feet.” He looked down proudly at your legs.

The words rang in your ear. Your harsh glare to seem mean had softened as your eyes began to water. “Wh-- what have you done?” You began blubbering, your chest fell up and down panic striking your lungs.

“I’ve made you perfect.” He responded without remorse. Instantly he signalled for the men that had been stood by the door this entire time to come over. They did so, grabbing parts of your body so you were even more restricted that you already were as Doctor Zola walked to the foot of the table you were on. Slowly he undid one of the leather straps restricting your leg. You couldn’t even feel him doing it, your senses not working.

He lifted your right leg so that you could gaze down and what you saw only made your panic attack rise. You shrieked at the sight before you. Your eyes welling more and more with tears. You could hear the heart monitor beginning to pick up in noise, as you heart raced.

From halfway down your calf was what looked like a metal leg and foot. It looked exactly like what legs should be, but it wasn’t. It was silver and cold. Down the side of your calf nearing your ankle was a red star.

Tears rolled down your face as he placed your leg back down strapping it back up, then signalling the men holding you down to move away again.

You would have preferred to die then lose your feet. Your mind wandered as your chest rose and fell so quickly that the world around you began to spin. Would you ever be able to dance again?

Doctor Zola was now next to you again, his face held no remorse, in fact all you could see was pride. Even though the world was spinning, and you couldn’t focus on him you knew he didn’t care. “Don’t worry y/n, after today you won’t care about this. You won’t even remember who you are, only who we tell you are. From now on you aren’t y/n anymore. I’ll see you again when you’re ready to comply.”

The same machine from earlier then began to make noises lowering down to your head. Doctor Zola began rambling Russian words you couldn’t understand, the immense pain began again, and you screeched out in pain.

Present day; 2017

Gasping for air you shot up on the bed on the jet. Natasha looked back at you and instantly you dropped your fearful expression into one that was unreadable. No one would know your nightmares, no one could know you had weaknesses.

Luckily her gaze didn’t last long as she spoke up, “We’re here.” She was just glad she wouldn’t have to wake you up. She stood up, you following her lead out of the jet and towards a large white building with a big ‘A’ on the side.

“Jeez subtle.” You scoffed muttering under your breath.

She rolled her eyes at your comment but proceeded to walk into the building. “I’m sure you’ve heard about most of us. So, I feel there’s no need to explain to you, our names.”

She was right there, of course you knew their names, the whole world did. You hummed in response. She led you both to two big double doors pushing them open as you trailed behind. You may have been as assassin but that didn’t mean you were particularly keen on meeting new people, especially all at once. It took a while for people to come to your liking.

She stopped and you stood almost completely behind her looking down at your hands. You never looked at your feet anymore. The noise of all the voices talking amongst each other suddenly stopped and you could feel all of their eyes on you both.

“Everyone this is y/n, she’s going to help us with our current task we’ve been working on.” She spoke sternly but giving them all a small smile.

You raised your head reminding yourself to not be vulnerable and narrowed your eyes as you scanned them all. Of course, most of already knew who you were having read your files when she released them; each giving you sympathetic looks mixed with fear. But not Steve he never had the heart to look at yours and Bucky’s files. If he ever saw you both again, he knew in time you’d tell him.

Finally, you were met with a familiar set on blue eyes, not the ones you had fallen in love with but still ones who once meant so much to you. Now you weren’t so sure.

Steve looked like he was going to die of shock, as he stared at you with such intensity.

He took a step towards you, “y/n?”, his eyes searching for you to show some sort of emotion. But you didn’t, you couldn’t. You took another step back, away from him, the hurt instantly flashing across his face, but as soon as it was there it was gone.

“Hi Steve.”

- 

A/N: ooo we love the tension. how does reader know Natasha?? is it just cause she's an avenger or is it something else? I’ll guess you'll have to see *evil face*

P.S. we’ll see Bucky again soon I promiseeeee

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Taglist: (let me know if you want to be tagged)

@maybe-a-marvel​ @thatredlipped-classic​ @flightsandfantasy​ @7minutes-tomidnight​ @rebelemilu​ @cataves​

[jellyluchi]

May we have soft yandere! prosciutto headcanons? 👉👈

{if you're comfortable with that!}

A/N: According to the rules, I don't write yandere, especially if it's the violent towards reader kind. But in recent times I've been thinking of my own version of soft yandere Pros inspired by @tenthgrove's yandere works! I can't promise I can do it for the rest of La Squadra just yet but perhaps this could be my venture into future yandere content maybe? I'm not used to writing yandere so forgive me if it's not the best but I couldn't get this ask out of my head so I had to try.

Soft Yan!Prosciutto x Reader HCs

—Warnings: possessiveness, jealousy, abduction, stalking, unhealthy relationships, isolation. —Genre: SFW. soft yandere

When you first meet Prosciutto, it is likely under the circumstances where you have to see him often. He has to feel your presence become a constant in his life. He takes time to open up to people and the consistency of your presence gives him enough reasoning to speak with you. Given the way he is, he gets attached quite fast.

He's a master of disguises in the way that he can hide his affections or pretend to love another if need be. In the same way, his yandere tendencies are hidden deeply within himself, under a layer of protectiveness. In fact, it doesn't appear until you've already established some sort of relationship with him

Prior to first approaching you, he took advantage of his skills from being on an assassination team to stalk you and figure out your schedule, the people you associate with and most importantly, potential other suitors. Once he assesses your lifestyle, he puts his abduction plan to action through approaching you. With his charm, you two are in quite the happy relationship soon.

if you're not careful, you won't realize he takes big leaps in his relationship quite early such as moving in or sleeping together. But not too early so that you're suspicious. He's planned months ahead to coerce you into agreeing to be at home during all times of the day. Soon, you loose contact of friends and family.

He definitely chooses who you have contact with outside of him, he controls your finances and other necessities. He even cooks and cleans with you. There are not many restrictions placed except that you must not go out without him, in fact you can't leave his side at all. But he leaves that part out. His sweet words and extremely gentle demeanor has a way of calming and convicting you.

He is not delusional, but he really does believe he's protecting you from much more horrible dangers of the world while still letting everyone else know you are his and his alone. Having to watch you interact with his team members or other people in general, not giving him attention at all times, hurt him too much, he couldn't bear the jealousy so he had to abduct you no matter what.

Life with him is simple: you follow the rules, you live well and happy and eventually you're married and his forever. You don't follow the rules, you hurt him, he is forced to raise his restrictions. He's never mad with you, just disappointed much like a father at a child. He would make you occupy yourself with activities you hate shall you ever cross him. He can't bring himself to harm you, even if you try to escape. The most he will do is ground you in your bedroom until you promise to comply with his rules.

Most of his tendencies are triggered by jealousy and possessiveness. Outside of that behavior, he truly does love and care for you. Being the way he is, the only way to express that is through extreme protectiveness. That includes: using his assassination skills on those who have wronged you, approached you, generally aren't to your liking. He will not kill others unless you give him the word. He simply displaced you from your associates but one mention of someone who has wronged you in some way could mean their eventual end.

[lollytea]

Girl Talk

(ngl I hate this sm. I wrote this fic yesterday, the file corrupted and i lost everything, had a breakdown, rewrote everything the next day because I am obnoxiously stubborn. Anyways Hunter and Luz content. Bon Appetit?)

(READ ON AO3)

“Okay, but what am I even supposed to say to her? Oh! Maybe I could write down some jokes on the back of my glyph slips in case things get awkward. Wait, no, I don't want her to think I'm not taking this seriously. I don't need to be goofy all the time just to hang out with her. I need her to know that I'm serious about her and this whole...romantic thing. And I know she gets upset when she thinks I'm making fun of her so...”

“Alright, so, get this. It says here that there was once this old witch who lived on the outskirts of Latissa and his whole thing was experimenting by mixing paints and magic together. Apparently the stuff he created was like....super powerful.”

“I mean, she said she likes me 'cause I'm goofy and funny and lovable and...and...and I'm sure there's other adjectives I could use but I'm drawing a blank here. So, who am I to deprive her of what she signed up for? But I can't just....ugh, I can't even think right!”

“It doesn't have a lot of info on his specific technique but I'm sure if we did some more research, we could successfully replicate his experiments. We're pretty good at figuring stuff out. Woah, wait. I wonder what would happen if we created glyphs with this paint....maybe it would enhance the spell's level of power. Oh, that would be so cool!”

Luz stopped pacing, the floorboards practically burning after she thoroughly wore down the surface with her frantic footsteps. She set a hand on her hip and turned a withering look on her guest.

“Call me coocoo but I don't think you're listening to a word I say.”

Hunter lifted his head to blink up at her, chewing on the end of a pen. He was sitting cross-legged on the floor, boxed in by towers of Eda's Wild Magic books.

There was a glassy look in his eye, as if he was trying to get his bearings after being abruptly yanked out of an alternate dimension.

He had been, in a way. Luz was inclined to call it “Booksville.”

When Luz first met Hunter, this sort of stuff was a big, huge No-No for him. She could've invited him to take a look at any one of those books, packed with information on that obsession of his and of course, he'd be crazy with intrigue but he would hesitate. If he even opened the book at all, he'd card through the pages with an almost jumpy sense of caution, as if the paper itself would sting his fingers.

Well, that ship had certainly sailed. It had taken him a while to get fully comfortable but nowadays, Hunter didn't ask twice before digging into the contents of Eda's books, soaking up every tidbit of every sentence until he had exhausted every page.

He had even brought his own index flags to mark his favorite passages. He had gone on a little rant earlier about how Eda was an outright maniac for dog-earring the page corners.

Luz made a mental note to never show him the state of her Azura books. He would probably cry.

Hunter had become so lost in the Wild Magic sauce, he didn't even seem to care about the fact that he was not supposed to be here.

Of course, Eda didn't mind that he was here. That is to say, Luz didn't technically tell her he was here. She and King were currently out, being menaces to society and all that fun stuff, as they usually were before Luz would sneak Hunter in.

So, to be fair, Eda had never specifically said that Luz was not allowed to let The Golden Guard of the Emperor's coven into their home.

It was probably fine, right?

Yeah, it was probably fine that Luz had been hiding The Golden Guard of the Emperor's coven in her bedroom like some kind of forbidden pet.

Speaking of forbidden pets, that precious red cardinal of his was perched like a Christmas decoration atop his shoulder. That little rascal did wonders for Hunter. He seemed so much cuter than he was when there was an adorable little palisman snuggling up to him.

Once Hunter had processed what Luz said to him, his features screwed up tight. He was offended.

“Whadd'ya mean I'm not listening? I bet you can't repeat anything I was just talking about.”

“Ugh! Yeah, Hunter, I heard you. Paints! You wanna start painting as a hobby and let me just tell you, I fully support your budding creativety and will hype up your work with my entire heart but please. Right now I am having a full blown Amity Calamity!”

“Yeah, okay, that is not what I was talking about. Also, I get that you're freaking out n' all but....what do you expect me to do about it?” He threw his hands about wildly, at a complete loss. “Man, I don't know anything about that stuff,”

“I don't knowww....” Luz groaned. “I just....ugggghhh.” She buried her head in her hands, ruffling her hair into oblivion, like it would miraculously stimulate her brain cells into action. It released some pent up frustration, at least. “I wish it was easier for us to just talk about girls together.”

Hunter perked up. “Talk about girls? Are you kidding? Of course we can talk about girls, dummy!”

“Wait, really?” Luz asked, taken aback by this apparent development.

“Yeah, for sure. One sec,” Buzzing with eagerness, Hunter dove into his stacks of books, emerging seconds later with a worn, dust encrusted volume. It was so ancient, the title had faded away but Hunter still put his finger to where the big letters should be.

“Notable Female Witches of The Savage Ages,” He rattled off delightedly. “They were considered the mothers of Wild Magic. Their style of spell was really quite advanced, see they--”

Despite her frayed nerves, Luz sill managed a weak laugh.

As insufferable as he could be sometimes, she really did like this nerd a lot.

“Okay, Hunter. Buddy,” She said gently. “This stuff sounds really cool and I wanna hear all about it at some point buuuut....when I say girls, I mean...y'know. Amity specifically.”

“Oh. Right. Yeah.”

Hunter's face fell with disappointment but he was quick to snap back into a look of cool indifference. He shut the book in his lap with a soft thump, set it aside and turned his full attention to Luz.

“Sooooo...” he began awkwardly, scratching at his ear. It could not be more obvious that Hunter wanted nothing to do with this discussion. But Luz appreciated that he was trying. “Girlfriend problems, huh? Shoot.”

Luz's cheeks darkened. “Heh. 'Girlfriend'. Yeah, that's...uh...” She was suddenly very inconvenienced by the existence of her own hands so she clasped them together tight to keep herself from fidgeting. “That is.....a word for Amity.”

Hunter frowned, puzzled. “Okaaaay? So, what's the issue?”

“Ohhhhhh, boy.” An ironic, long suffering smile stretched across her face. “Let me just tell you that there is a lot goin' on up here, pal.” Luz tapped her finger against her temple. “So if I'm gonna give you the full unabridged version--”

“You could summarize it.”

“You know I don't know how to do that.”

“Yeah, I know.” Hunter sighed. “Figured it was worth a shot. Okay, let's hear it.”

“Alright but this is gonna be a lot so I suggest you strap yourself in,”

Luz sucked in a deep inhale, with full intent to let the entire flood of thoughts cascade out her mouth.

Hunter's eyes snapped to the floor, like he was actually looking for a safety harness to attach himself to. Then he seemed to realize that was ridiculous, as he scowled to himself. Little Rascal chirped and he irritably mumbled something under his breath in response.

And then Luz took off.

“Alright, so!” She announced, clapping her hands together. “So me and Amity have known each other fooooor...a while now? Yeah, it's been a while. And we've been pretty good friends ever since and then one day, she rescued me from her scary mom and she had this black flowing cape and her voice went all low and then suddenly, huh. Doki doki, y'know?” She thumped a fist against her chest. “I was gettin' all feelings-y up in here,”.

“And then a little later I figured out that we were both feeling kinda feelings-y and I was all like,” She mimed a brain explosion. “Pshww....”

“Pshww....” Hunter repeated quietly, testing out the little sound effect on his tongue. “Doki...doki....?”

“Yeah. Exactly. Doki doki. Pshww.” Luz nodded, as if he had made a valuable contribution. “So, now we're both here in the same boat, fully shish kebab-ed by Cupid's arrow.”

“Hold up. What language are you speaking?”

“And things are....great? Nice? Sorta hard to believe but stuff actually happens. We hold hands a few times, we...” The volume of her voice dropped to a bashful murmur. “we kiss a few times. There was so many beautiful, amazing romance-y moments that happened, just like in movies, y'know?”

“Movies....?” Hunter's bewildered stare turned from Luz to the bird on his shoulder, as if he was going to get any further clarification from either of them.

“Right! But here's the thing. It sorta feels like all that stuff just went by in a blur. I don't even know how I did any of that. The hand holding, the smooches the....ugh! It was like I was on autopilot or something and now I have no idea how to operate. Now, no matter how hard I try to get the vibe right, I can recreate those moments. So now it's starting to feel like...I don't know how to do anything!”

Luz's arms were whizzing around like an out of control windmill.

“I mean, Sure, Amity takes the lead sometimes but I can't make her carry this entire....relationship? Flirtationship? Whatever it is that's happening here! I gotta act or something! But I've been thinking about it waaaay too much. I never know the right time to hold her hand, I never know if she wants me to tell her she looks cute or if now maybe isn't the right time or...it's awkward, okay?! I've been making it awkward 'cause I don't know what to do! I-I don't even know for sure if we're dating! We've never talked about it!”

The last sentence came out as a squeak and Luz realized she had used up all her oxygen and needed to take a breather.

Hunter had not said a word but Luz did not know what to make of that dissecting stare of his, that studied her with a mixture of confusion and fascination. Like she was some kind of peculiar animal. A flushed, panting, peculiar animal.

“So.” He said finally, holding his palm out for Little Rascal to migrate from his shoulder to his hands. “Why don't you talk about it?”

He asked like it was the obvious solution. Luz was a little irked by it, but she kept her patience.

“Oh, Hunter. Sweet Hunter.” She heaved an exhausted sigh. “It is not that simple.”

He still didn't seem to understand. “Well, why not?”

“'Cause it's--.....Uh.” Luz trailed off, twirling her wrist around as if expecting to snatch an eloquent articulation out of thin air.

“Okay. Lemme put it like this. Amity is....really special. To me. Sometimes I still can't believe that she's real and she's friends with me and she likes me and....whew.” She pressed her fingertips to her cheek, surprised by the warmth. Even thinking that sort of stuff prompted a blush or two but it seemed saying it out loud made her face scalding.

“Anyway, now that we're going through....this, everything feels so much more....fragile?” Her voice rose in pitch, uncertain if 'Fragile' was even a suitable word to describe her feelings. It was just a vague, wishy-washy concept to describe.

“Like I feel like I could break it all so easy, just by....” Wait, she knew. She had figured out her handle on this.

“Just by being me.” She felt an ache just by admitting it, but it was the truth. Luz exhaled unsteadily to compose herself, clasping her fists tight into the fabric of her shorts and she continued...calmly.

“I can't risk doing anything that's gonna push her or make her uncomfortable or scare her away or...y'know, ruin this.” She held up her palms with a heavy shrug. “I-I don't have a plan and it would be way too reckless to wing it. Who knows what would come out of my mouth? She tells me a billion times that my weirdness is what she likes about me but...it can just as easily be the thing she hates if I overdo. I can't overdo it.

Luz was expecting Hunter to look at her like she was dumb again, but surprisingly, he nodded. A slow, thoughtful nod, as he absentmindedly scratched Little Rascal under the chin.

As the silence filled a little longer, she was starting to believe he had nothing else to add, which was fine. She had wanted to rant her heart out but realistically, she couldn't imagine Hunter having any advice for her. This wasn't exactly his area of expertise.

“Hey, Luz.” He said at last, voice surprisingly breezy. “You know those books that you really like? Uhh, with the nice witch Azuzu or whatever,”

“It's the Good Witch Azura!” Luz snapped, hands flying to her hips. “And I know you just pretended to not know her name. You're just trying to be cool.”

“Yeah, yeah.” The corner of Hunter's lip tweaked upwards. “And wasn't there that other witch that you liked to pretend was Azura's girlfriend?

Luz scoffed, finding it utterly unbelievable that this obnoxious little man had the audacity to be so dismissive towards her favorite book series, when she had been sweet enough to smuggle him in here.

“She was not her 'Girlfriend', she was her 'Soulmate' and if you even listened to me talk about it, you would know that. For your information, her name was Hecate and she began as Azura's rival but over the course of the series, they developed a beautiful, unbreakable bond that was jam packed with heavy romantic subtext. I mean, even their declaration of their eternal friendship in Book Five, which was really emotionally poignant by the way, reads so much like a love confession, it's a crime. And it's like...Ladies! Just kiss already!”

“Okay. Right. Sure. I understood some of that.”

“I mean, I guess I've read a ton of Heczura fanfics to tide me over. It's hard to find a fic where they don't kiss. Hold on, you know what fanfiction is, right?”

“Yeah.” The light in Hunter's eyes dimmed. “You made me sit through that three hour long slideshow presentation, remember?”

“Oh, right,” Luz popped a finger gun. “That was fun,”

It was fun, but a lot of work. Hunter was pouting over losing a measly three hours of his time. Well, newsflash, nerd, Luz spent two weeks working on that. Nobody is getting their hours back.

“And what usually happens in those fanfictions?” Asked Hunter, propping his chin up with his hand, as Little Rascal hopped over to a pile of books. “How do they end?”

“I told you, they kiss. A lot of the time they look deeply into each others eye and talk about how they complete each other like two halves of one heart. And y'know, moments of miscellaneous fluff.”

“Uh huh. Interesting,” He mused, tapping his pen against his bottom lip.

Luz knew Hunter could be a little...eccentric but was he really analyzing fanfiction right now? Where did the sudden interest come from?”

“So, uh, besides Azura and Hecate, are there any other...boats(?) that you--”

“Ships.” Luz corrected him.

Hunter snapped his fingers. “Right. Ships. Basically love stories that you really like.”

“We talkin' canon or non canon?”

Hunter squinted at her, lost. Seems somebody was not taking enough notes during the slideshow presentation. “Both? A-all...?”

“Oh, well, there's a bunch.”

Luz had no intention of listing every single ship that had captured her heart. They would be here all week.

“I've spent my whole life reading books, watching movies and anime and--”

“Anime...?”

“Hunter, please!” Luz squeaked as calmly as she possibly could, but she could not deny that she had started to vibrate. “You have no idea how excited you just made me at the thought of teaching you about anime but I'd need to dedicate a whole day to that 'cause I need to meet Amity soon and I'm still sorta in crisis mode. So, let's stay on topic.”

Her brow furrowed. “Whatever the heck the topic is! Why are we talking about ships, Huntifer?”

He waved off her question. “Okay but how does the story usually end for all your ships? The book ones, the anime ones, all of them,”

“We've been over this with the fanfiction discussion. They kiss, Hunter. Geez, you want a diagram or something?”

“But what else?” He prompted.

“What do you mean 'What else?'”

Now this was just getting ridiculous.

“They kiss!” Luz said with a huge amount of emphasis. “And again, miscellaneous fluff. They'll do stuff like pick each other up and swing around, hold hands and....walk off into the sunset, y'know?” She waved off all that extra padding as unimportant to the conversation. (Though Luz did really enjoy miscellaneous fluff.)

“Well yeaaaah,” Hunter was giving off vibes of a grade school teacher who gave her little nudges in the correct direction but ultimately wanted her to figure out the right answer herself. She wished he could just give it to her because honestly, she didn't know where this any of this was going.

“But when exactly do they ask each other if they're dating?”

“Whaa?” Well, that settled it. He had paid no attention to the slideshow whatsoever. “Nah, nah, they don't do stuff like that. They don't have to 'cause they're already perfect for each other. All they gotta do is look into each others' eyes and they just...” Luz shrugged, feeling lightness bubble in her chest at the very thought. She had a feeling her smile looked pretty dopey. “They just know.”

“Right. And why don't you and Amity just know?”

The bubbles burst and the lightness turned to dead weight.

The question speared through Luz's gut. Her entire body went rigid.

She had known but...

She had been trying not to...

Not to think about it.

Because if she thought about it, she knew she'd cry.

But there is was. A culmination of every coil of underlying dread that had been gradually writhing in her stomach in a monster of anxiety, summarized in a short and sweet collection of simplistic little words.

Luz did not just know when it came to Amity. She was constantly taking shots in the dark. That is, if she was even brave enough to take a shot at all.

The two of them together were not as seamlessly synchronized as couples in love were supposed to be.

Her throat stung.

Her vision went cloudy with blotted tears but she managed to catch Hunter's stony expression break into one of sheer panic.

“Wh-- Luz! Hey!” He yelped, scrambling to pick himself up from the floor. He nearly tripped over his books as he stood and hurried over to close the distance between them. He made to reach out to her but his hand stopped, just as it was about to brush against her shoulder. It hovered there for a moment, fingers curling and uncurling with uncertainty.

“Luz, listen, I wasn't....I-I mean, what I meant was...uhh. C-c'mon, cut it out!” Hunter's voice crackled with desperation and despite crying her eyes out, Luz felt the watery chuckle at the back of her throat.

“Aww, does crying make the Golden Guard uncomfy?” She tried to tease but her words came out all wobbly.

In fairness to the poor guy, it probably did. Luz couldn't imagine that dealing with tears in a delicate matter, was ever something he would need to handle in his line of work.

For all she knew, this was his first time having to comfort someone like this.

“You don't get to make jokes and cry at the same time. You gotta pick one.” Hunter snipped, but his tone was not nearly as cutting as usual. Luz was almost tempted to call it soft.

Clearing her eyes with the heel of her hands, she finally felt that warm touch on her shoulder, and then another rest against her upper arm.

Somehow the gentleness cracked all her remaining composure and she dissolved into ragged sobs.

Hunter did not speak nor did he let go out her until she got every tear out of her system. He waited patiently, tracing circles with his thumb into her skin.

Eventually, her sniffles fell silent and her eyes no longer blurred. She took a deep breath and the following exhale was shaky but manageable.

“Are you....good?” He asked cautiously.

Luz nodded.

Hunter removed his hands so carefully, you'd think doing so would cause her physical pain. He must have heard once that people were more prone to being hurt when they were already upset and assumed it was literal.

“Do you really think that...Amity and I....” Luz's voice was low and quiet but her jaw was set tight. She refused to let her words be whimpered. She looked up, meeting Hunter's eyes. “Aren't right for each other?”

“What? No! No, no, no,” Hunter looked positively alarmed at the accusation. “Luz th-that's not even remotely what I meant by that.”

“Well, then I guess you accidentally hit the nail on the head.” Luz managed a strained, bitter little smile. “'Cause it's true.”

“Luz, c'mon,” Hunter groaned, exasperated. “Don't talk like that, you've got it mixed up.”

“No.” Said Luz, tone quiet, polite yet strikingly obstinate. “You were right, Hunter.”

For someone who loved being right, he didn't seem thrilled at all.

“When it comes to Amity, I don't just know. I don't always know what she's thinking or what she wants from me. After all this time, I-I shouldn't still be trying to figure her out,”

Luz wanted to figure her out. Every time she was in her orbit, she wanted nothing more to turn over every last piece of that girl and find every hidden gem.

But now, it like she was barricaded. Something was keeping her from moving forward, from discovering Amity.

“I mean, we've kissed.” The memories of Amity were turning more and more bittersweet by the second “I told her I loved her! We had our happy ending already! A-at least I thought it was a happy ending. But we're not acting like people who are made for each other are meant to act!”

“How do you even know how people who are meant for each other are meant to act?!” Hunter demanded, as though it wouldn't reach Luz's skull unless he raised his voice. “In all the love stories you've read, it always ends with a kiss, doesn't it?”

“And--”

“And miscellaneous fluff. Yeah, I get it.” Hunter shooed the detail away before clearing his throat.

“Point is, they never talk about what comes after. You don't read about all those awkward talks where they decide if they're dating or not and talks about what they're okay with and what they're not. It always just cuts to the perfect, shiny romantic stuff, all tied up with a bow and because of that,” He clutched Luz by the shoulders.”You don't know how to move forward in a relationship 'cause you've never had a frame of reference to help you along.”

“Hey, that's not true!” She tore away from Hunter's grip. “I'll have you know that I imagine my favorite ships as couples all the time,”

“Yeah and lemme guess,” He droned, setting a hand on his hip and launching into a mockingly saccharine tone of voice. “They understand each other soooo well all the time, they can practically read each others' mind and everything is smooth sailing and peachy all the time.”

“Yeah, duh.” Luz didn't quite what he was making fun of. “That's what being a ship is all about.”

“Okay, fine, maybe, but I cannot stress this enough,” He ran his fingers through his hair before making a cutting gesture with the side of his hand, directed at Luz. “You are not a ship.”

“Well, yeah, obviously. I'm only one--”

“I mean that the two of you aren't a ship! Listen to me, you're not Azura and Hecate. You're Luz and Amity. You're real people. You've got like a million different emotions and they're messy and crazy and you don't understand most of them.”

“Okay, Hunter, I get it, I'm a hot mess. You don't have to rub it in.”

“We're all hot messes, Luz!” He exploded. “Every single one of us. 'Cause we're real and not book characters.” He was pacing back and forth now as he ranted and raved, gesticulating like a madman.

“We gotta handle all the awkward conversations that don't fit into books. You gotta talk to real people to get them and you can talk to them for years and years but you're never gonna entirely understand them. In your love stories, it's all kisses and happy endings and it's shiny and sparkly and perfect and nerds like you Eat. It.Up!”

Hunter emphasized his point by poking Luz's forehead, shocking a startled laugh out of her. As wound up as he was, the noise surprised him too.

Her laugh was contagious and soon the room was silent, expect for the sound of quiet, breathy giggles.

One of the knots in Luz's stomach had untangled itself. Hunter did make a point that she could understand. Yeah, okay, maybe she had been a little too wrapped up in fiction to successfully navigate through her own life. Luz had never been the most logical person so it was comforting for a levelheaded counter-argument to whatever was currently inflaming her anxiety.

Obviously, this didn't fix everything. Now, she understood why this wasn't easy but that didn't mean she magically knew where to go from here.

Once the shadow of Luz's smile had finally faded away, she looked up and studied Hunter for a long while. Her gaze may have been a bit intense as nervousness began to creep into his features.

“H-hey. Uh. Sorry if I was a little too--”

“Huntifer, I think you might be on to something with this one,”

He blinked at her before brightening with relief, shrugging it off. “Oh. Yeah, maybe. I dunno, I guess it's worth some thought.

Astonishing how Hunter could switch from the cockiest, most obnoxious kid in the Boiling Isles to a remarkably humble guy. Maybe it depended on context. Or he was just embarrassed that he sorta lost control of himself in his impatience.

Luz nodded. “I'd say a lot of thought. But..I think things are still gonna be awkward. With Amity. I still don't know how I'm supposed to talk this stuff through with her.”

Hunter snorted, loosely folding his arms over chest and resting his weight on one hip. And just like that, with that simple change of posture, he looked full of himself again “You wanna know a secret that's probably not much of a secret?”

He beckoned Luz to lean in closer and said in a stage whisper. “Amity probably doesn't know either.”

Huh. Yeah, Luz knew that. She knew that at the back of her mind but...she hadn't really thought about it much. She was a little too preoccupied with her own inexperience.

Hunter's lofty grin softened. “So, it's a good thing neither of you are doing it alone, right? Don't you think you could figure out how together?”

Figure out how together....

The realization sank from the surface of her mind, and everything was processing very fast then suddenly, everything clicked.

Amity.

Luz knew Amity. Luz trusted Amity. Luz loved Amity. If there was any person Luz believed would stumble alongside her through things they didn't quite understand yet, it was Amity. And it occurred to her that Luz would help Amity in return without hesitation.

With enough notches and trimming and smoothing edges, if they worked through this together, Luz and Amity could click too. Maybe not perfectly, not for a while just yet.

But enough that they could make each other happy.

A swing of confidence so strong flooded Luz's system, she swore she nearly collapsed. She felt the grin tugging at her mouth.

She could try. She could absolutely try. They could both try.

“Is...that a yes?” Hunter asked, gauging her expression.

Luz nodded so speedily, it made her head hurt. But then she realized something else and she turned a very specific look on Hunter.

But before he could ask if she was about to attack him, she held up two fingers on each hand and then placed them on either side of her head so they jutted out just behind her ears.

“Man, I don't know anything about that stuff,” Said Luz, in what she believed to be an uncanny imitation of Hunter's voice.

He frowned. “What are the theatrics for?”

“You lied to me!” Luz was delighted.

“I-I didn't lie!” He loudly objected, pointed ears scorching bright pink. “That was just common sense, you doofus. You know, that thing you lack.”

“You know, that thing you lack.” Luz parroted, swinging her hips from side to side. Once again, her impression remained flawless.

“Don't do that!”

“Don't do that!

“Stop, you weirdo!”

“Stop, you weirdo!”

At the peak of riled up, Hunter floundered for a retort that Luz wouldn't shoot back at him with childish mimicking. But then he cracked and wound up sticking his tongue out at her.

Luz simply mirrored him and Hunter huffed indignantly, turning on his heel and stomping back towards his books.

He had barely made a few steps when Luz lunged at him from behind, draping her long, lanky arms around his shoulders.

“Wha—Hey! Get off!” He squawked, struggling to pry her off him as Luz squished her cheek against his.

“Huntifer~” She singsonged. “Can you please calm down for two seconds and let me say thanks already?”

Hunter knotted his arms and his scowl didn't soften but Luz didn't miss how he stopped trying to squirm out of her grip.

“Even though you were kinda rambly and all over the place, what you said helped. It helped a lot. I know this is something I can handle and I know that 'cause of you. Thanks, nerd.”

She waited patiently until she felt his shoulders loosen. And then he glanced back at her and there was a smile. A small, tight, subtle smile but it was good enough for Luz.

And then with a burst of adrenaline, she gripped him tighter and planted a big, wet raspberry on his cheek.

Predictably, Hunter blew his top. He screeched furiously and his hands went wild to push her off but Luz was stronger than she looked. And so help her, she would give Hunter this affection or die trying.

Dying trying did not seem unlikely, actually. Hunter had told her once before that if he ever murdered her, it would probably be her own fault. Luz could not argue with that.

“That is so gross!” He griped, once Luz had finally released him.

“You're gross~” She chirped, practically bouncing on the balls of her feet.

Hunter wiped the spit off his cheek with his palm before looking up at Luz with narrowed eyes

Luz did not have time to brace herself and suddenly she was tackled to the ground. She kicked and she screamed as Hunter dragged his disgusting wet hand across her face.

“GrossGrossGrossGrossGrossGrossGroooooss!”

Hunter cackled maniacally the whole time.

They carried on like rowdy toddlers for a while until Luz had to go meet Amity, leaving Hunter and his palisman to themselves.

It was too weird to admit out loud but he was disappointed that she was gone. Hanging out with her like this wasn't that bad. Talking with her, arguing with her, wrestling with her. It all made Hunter feel....so much like a kid.

Something that he had realized recently was that he still liked being a kid.

In spite of the doom and gloom of white of gold, of the clawed scars in his shoulder, of the spear that grazed his hair, a spark of childishness remained in Hunter that had never been entirely snuffed out.

It wasn't until he met Luz that he began actively trying to keep that spark alive.

The sun had long since fallen asleep by the time Luz returned and the moon was pooling in the sky. A little after sun down, he heard the downstairs door slam shut and the loud exuberant voice of The Owl Lady boomed from the floorboards beneath him. By the sound of it, she was celebrating a successful day's work. Hunter wondered what she and the cute little demon had managed to steal today.

His snoozing palisman was tucked snug in the crook of his neck, a pleasant warmth against his skin. It was a good idea to keep the bird close. If someone other than Luz came barreling into the room, he'd better have his staff on hand to magically conceal himself.

But once an hour passed and the chatter of the witch and the demon below gradually faded into loud snoring, Hunter presumed they had passed out on the couch. For the time being, he should be fine.

Hunter hoped that creepy owl tube thing wouldn't rat them out. Fortunately, Luz had promised that Hooty was willing to take a bribe but unfortunately, gossip spread fast in the Boiling Isles. Now The Golden Guard had a reputation for being a lunatic who visited the night market several times, buying dead mice in bulk.

He snorted to himself, combing through 'From Bones to Fire: A Study of Wild Magic Volume 2'. Everything he went through just to get his hands on knowledge.

Well, also to be young with Luz.

Yet another hour passed and somehow, being surrounded by his own obsession, Hunter got a little overstimulated. To give his brain a rest, he was now flipping through some tattered old magazine that Luz brought with her from the human realm. Some of the articles were practically gibberish to him but overall, it was okay. He learned he was a Scorpio. He didn't know what that entailed but it sounded cool.

He nearly jumped out of his skin as Luz burst into the room, announcing her return.

Startled, his palisman flew into a fluster, cheeping like crazy before it settled down atop his head. Hunter, meanwhile, had flung the magazine away so fast, it was like it had contaminated him, and snatched up the closest book to pretend he was reading it the whole time.

Thankfully, Luz didn't notice.

“Hey there, Little Rascal,” She cooed, prancing across the room and plopping down next to Hunter. “And hey, you little bookworm, you.”

“Bookworm?” Hunter knocked his shoulder against hers. “You looking for a fight, kid?”

“Whaaaat? Hunter, you wound me, I was just....Ohhh, my bad. I always forget that our bookworms and your bookworms are two waaaay different things.” She paused thoughtfully before shaking her head. “Actually, I don't retract anything. You look like a bookworm.”

“Yeah, well, you smell like a selkidomus.” Hunter smirked.

“Hey!” Luz bumped their shoulders. “Can you blame me? I've had one heck of a day with lots of nervous sweating!”

He was surprised that got him laughing but that tended to happen around her.

“So, how'd it go?” Hunter asked, even though he already knew the answer.

Luz's beam was as bright as a dozen of her light spells. The corner of her lip was twitching, as if she wanted to smile wider but it was physically impossible.

“We're dating.” She stated, no more than a whisper.

It obvious since the moment she entered the room, far bouncier and bubblier than usual but Hunter still grinned.

He had expected her to scream it from the rooftops, to grind his ribcage into powder with the force of her hug, to set off a riot of firework glyphs, spelling it out in lights.

No matter how she could have chosen to tell him, he would have been just as giddy as she was.

And yet, despite the lack of fanfare, somehow, it still felt so much like Luz. Though he knew that in the morning, she would tell the entire Boiling Isles, right here, right now, only Hunter knew. Something about that felt nice.

But the quiet serene scene was momentarily ruptured when Hunter spotted Luz re-adjusting herself out of the corner of his eye and he was immediately on high alert. Another raspberry, he could sense it.

“Luz, don't you d--”

It wasn't a raspberry.

The feather-light peck against his cheek was gone before he fully processed it, as Luz drew away with that big stupid smile still plastered on her face.

Hunter blinked away the surprise, looking to her with a raised eyebrow.

“What's that look for? In this family, we give each other hugs and kisses~”

He felt his lip quirk upwards as he scoffed, turning away with a shake of his head.

“That was so gross.”

“You're gross.”

“For real, it was even more gross than the raspberry.”

Luz burst into giggles and Hunter could understand why everything was suddenly a million times funnier to her. She will still fizzling with that giddiness that Amity had kissed into her and now it was all spilling out.

To be honest, listening to a teenage girl gush and squeal about her girlfriend did not seem like something Hunter would ever willingly subject himself to.

But this was Luz. His friend, Luz.

He lightly pinched the pudge of her cheek. “Heeeey. You wanna tell me all about it, don't you?”

Luz snapped her head over to gawk at him, astonished. And then the excitement took hold and her hands started flapping and she looked about ready to explode with delight. Her mouth was already flying open to give every solitary detail of her evening with Amity Blight.

But then she stopped, a crease forming on her brow. He caught that unreadable look she gave him and the way her eyes skimmed over the books that scattered the floor around them.

“Hmmm.” She stroked her chin with an over dramatic 'thinking' face. “Y'know what? I'll think I'll keep it all to myself.”

“Oh, really~?” Grinned Hunter. “I can only imagine all the romantic schmaltzy sickening stuff that occurred tonight. Miscellaneous fluff, right?”

Judging by the blood that stained her cheekbones, he must have been correct.

“Hey, Hunter.” She said quietly, resting her weight against his side. “You've been lost in your books for hours now. Would you mind telling me all about the most interesting you read about today? Reading myself is fine but it's way better to hear all about it from a bona fide nerd.”

Frankly, it was embarrassing how fast the giddiness practically electrocuted him and suddenly he found himself rambling. He rambled until his voice gave up but it didn't bother him at all because it was just Luz.

Luz hung on every word he said.

[accio-victuuri]

The BXG Starter Pack / Life of a BXG 🤍

This is an expanded and updated version of a post I made before about things I have to live with as a BXG. it’s based on my experience and what I see, so what I write here may not be identical to yours. some of these may be applied to c-ent fandom in general.

• Using Apps and sites you don’t fully understand -

Whether it’s Weibo or streaming sites like Tencent or Youku, it is where firsthand information comes from. Weibo to check the supertopic and the boys’ accounts daily. Even if you don’t get it all, give it time and you will find blogs that you wanna follow. Fan sites that you watch out for. Even with the language barrier, as long as it’s about GG/ Web, it doesn’t really matter. You get an understanding of what’s on it one way or another. Google translate is there, tho not always reliable. As time passes by, you will get the sense of what accounts to look at for unbiased translations.

I’ve been using Wb for quite some time and tho there is alot of information, you have to careful in what you take out and bring to international platforms. Even if alot of people are posting/sharing it, it doesn’t mean you have to.

• Spotting a BXG from a mile away with what they eat and wear -

Being that person with the white nike bag and GG’s red bracelet. Wearing the signature gray/orange cardigan or the blue/white striped shirt. VLONE hoodie. Or drinking the Love drink. Eating 3+2 crackers and wonton. Using a black portable fan similar to what they used that summer. A cute Boxiao Keychain attached to your bag. All the little things will cue you on what fandom the person is from.

Even trying things you know they like. Coriander. Trying spicy hotpot even if you can’t tolerate anything spicy. Getting that green tea brewed and ready for you. lol. Becoming a fan of their favorites singers like Stefanie Sun and Li Ronghai. Just absorbing it all. You are what you love so it’s natural to check out the things they love.

• enjoying the creative content by the fandom -

the amount of content generated by this fandom, from c-fans and international alike is astounding. you will never be bored. If the boys are quiet and it’s a slow day, you can always look at this. From FANART/ FANVID to FANFICTION. There is a lot. Some artists even have their own following. You have characters like Bobi and Zanbi becoming our favorites and gaining some popularity of their own. The fictional child Suo. All the BoXiao Cinematic Universe pairings. lol. ChenWei or Xie yun x All characters by GG. the possibilities are endless!

If you look at fan merch for BoXiao — you will cry. Everything is beautiful and you know it’s made with love by BXGs. It’s one of my absolute favorite things as a BXG, is to look at the art and buy if I can. 🤍

• normal things having a different meaning to you -

I mean this in a way that red and green does not equal to Christmas to you anymore. It’s now LGLR. It’s now a representation of GG/Web’s favorite colors. A pig? Oh that’s Bobo! A lion? A panther? That’s him too. How about a rabbit? That’s GG. Do you see the time? Let me interpret that into a Kadian that totally favors my CPN. Is it summer and the heat is sweltering? Oh. This must be what the summer of 2018 felt like for them.

• melting from all the cuteness -

I’ve always liked cute things but this fandom just brings out so much cute art? And can we talk about the dolls? 🥲 I am especially fond of photos where they take the dolls to events. idk. Maybe it’s just me and I know this stuff is not for everyone but i think we can all agree that these gives you good vibes. 🤍 i know some of you prefer to collect standees and those are amazing too.

• enriching your “attention to detail” skills -

The people in this fandom can be detectives with the things they pick up in photos and videos. Tho sometimes it can be overanalysis, I gotta hand it to them for going that far. for researching. The amount of galaxy brain. There are things you also immediately pick up because of the past candies you consumed. The jewelry. The clothes. What they say. The people around them. There are times you don’t even have to that much and it will click.

Accounts here and other ones that do analysis/candy posts can literally eat up your day. I remember lurking here very early on and losing alot of time checking bxg sites. 😂

• multi tasking like a pro -

This is happening more and more for the past months. Mid 2020 to now cause they have alot of projects going on. The hardest? When they have appearances in the same day — in different stations. Hello NYE show! Or even if they are in the same event, you have to keep up with the two of them.

There is never a dull moment cause sometimes one of them is quiet and one just dumps all content on us. It’s a common misconception from outsiders that all we care about is CPN and sexualizing GG/Web. lol. It’s not. You are basically stanning two separate people. Two of the hottest stars in CHN who have alot going on in their career. We do what so/os do basically, in terms of supporting them. Watching their shows. Posting and talking about what’s new with them and so on.

• having so much content you have to save alot -

all the photos. all the videos. all the content. There is just so many. How will your phone memory survive? lol. Do you all keep folders neatly organized or you just keep them all in one place? I personally keep a list of links and oftentimes save things that I feel like will be deleted at some point.

• knowing what you can post or not -

It’s something I have learned specifically with this fandom. It is a tough learning process and sometimes you are just so excited to share but you have to check first. If you find someone posting a possibly harmful information, you can tell them in a nice way. We are not some reporting cult out to get people. A simple message is enough.

I wanna add here having some background politically in what’s going on in CHN. Or what is the reason why some things are the way they are in C-ent fandoms. It’s not required ofcourse. But it’s very helpful. I started not caring at all but I find that it helps you in anticipating what will happen or why things happen.

• learning to be smart about things you read and what other people tell you -

This is not limited to fandom but life in general. I’ve talked about this in detail before but it bears repeating. It is hard to distinguish what is true and not in this space. You have the language barrier and antis to make things hard for you and it’s really tricky if you’re new. So ask, ask people in this space. You don’t have to believe us 100% but it’s never a good thing to just look at one source and run with it. Especially shady youtube and instagram accounts who also post drama leaks and videos of them leaving and entering their hotels. EVEN IF IT’S CPN CONTENT. You have to be careful.

• living a life outside of the fandom and taking a step back -

Once in awhile this has to be done. Enjoy other things. You are allowed to have other fandoms and stuff that bring you joy outside of GG/Web. There is really no checklist of how to be a true fan. No one is in the position to tell you that you are not good enough as a fan. If you don’t like a particular piece they are doing because you are not comfortable with it’s theme — go ahead. You don’t like the song because the message is against your values — sure, don’t listen to it. These two always promote not being too caught up in your online life that you forget the real one. And it’s something I’ve always appreciated about them.

This also ties in with having to pick your battles and letting things go. You don’t have to engage in each and every person who is obviously just trying to get a reaction out of you. Block accounts who blatantly insult you. We are BXGs, if they don’t like the content— well, it’s not for them. We are not making it for them.

• meeting lots of cool people -

I won’t name people on here incase i miss someone but i genuinely interacted with cool people on here. It’s very easy to reach out to fellow bxg just to chat or if you have a question. It’s a good time! Or even if you don’t end up interacting cause that’s not your thing and you just want to lurk— that’s cool too.

I like looking at posts of people randomly seeing a bxg IRL and getting along because of shared interest. I have yet to meet one in real life.

• attending fandom events -

This may not be your thing but I’m interested in events that fans organize. Especially c-fans. The amount of offline support they do for the boys look like so much fun but tbh i will not thrive in social situations so I will just observe from a distance. Seeing them attend events together and support the boys. The art exhibits. Meet ups. Literal BXG events to showcase fan merch and everything. It’s a whole world of it’s own.

C-BXGs just coming together for a good time and even charity work is really one that i love to post about and bring to my space.

• adding China to your must visit place -

Before CQL and BoXiao, I didn’t even have China on my must visit place. Tho I love Taiwan and visited HK quite a few times for Disneyland, I didn’t actively add it on my list. Great wall of China? Sure. That would be cool, but I had other places in Asia I wanna visit or just go back to. BUT NOW. Oh now. I really wanna go to Chongqing and Luoyang. Go to Beijing. Go to Shanghai. Changsha. Visit and have a tour of Hengdian studios!😅

• buying endorsements - This is optional. I always say to support them if you can. Not everyone is a rich jiejie who can buy 850 copies of their magazine. Plus some live far away and costs to ship are so high. But it’s not a secret that a fan’s spending power matters in C-ent. and this is something that some of us have adapted. If it’s one you like and you can use, why not right?

The struggle of getting things before they sellout. Of hoping your packages don’t get lost and you won’t have to wait so long. Discovering new things to enjoy because they endorsed it. Consuming alot of yogurt. lol. 🙃

======

There is alot of going on in the life of a BXG, so we don’t have time to actively look at the negative and pick fights. It’s the good life we got going on. 🌈 I hope whoever is reading this will continue to have fun in this fandom. 🤍

[hotchnisslovechild]

On the Sidelines

Chapter One

Holly and Marvyn meet and have a few beers.

A/N: i've recently fallen in love with the show big shot and grown quite attached to the relationship between holly and marvyn. i'll be needing something to hold me over as i wait for season 2 to be announced and released *fingers crossed*, so i thought i'd write a little something about these two. i’m not sure if any of you on here watch the show at all, but i feel like posting this here anyway. i recommend binging the first season of the show on disney+ :)

Pairing: Marvyn Korn/Holly Barrett (Big Shot) Rating: T Word Count: 2,302 AO3 Link

Today is the day. The day Holly gets to meet her new coaching partner and the team meets their new head coach. Changing into her practice clothes, something resembling both anxiety and excitement burrows itself in Holly’s nerves. Her thoughts run wild as she anticipates meeting the great Coach Marvyn Korn for the first time.

Holly would be lying if she said she didn’t have a little crush on Coach Korn. Of course, she admired his great looks, but she found his coaching to be just as fascinating, if not more. Watching him coach was electrifying. He’s animated, excited, always moving around, unable to sit still for a single play. He saw the court and everything happening all at once, managing his players like a brilliant conductor of an orchestra. She learned a lot from him by studying his coaching methods at Wisconsin from the comfort of her living room couch. He unknowingly taught her about defensive schemes and rotations, end-of-game scenarios, the importance of teaching your players every detail of the game and correcting their mistakes so they can improve. He undoubtedly loved the game and coaching it. His enthusiasm for the sport was infectious to his team in every game, and it paid off. That was until he threw it all away. And ended up here, at an all-girls private high school in California.

Taking a deep breath, the assistant coach walks into her office, her excited nerves to make a good impression mingling with her eagerness to get the season started with a new coach.  After tapping Shave and a Haircut on the window separating her office from Marvyn’s, she lets herself in, extending a hand to greet him.

“Holly Barrett, Assistant Coach,” she greets with an enthusiastic smile, borderline out of breath from the anticipation of finally meeting him. She studies him. His looks. His demeanor. He looks better than he did on TV — if that’s even possible. She finds his dark features beguiling. And those eyes. She could get lost in those light-colored eyes. There’s a lack of actual light in them, however. He seems unenthused, maybe a bit on edge. But she shrugs it off, attributing the lack of energy to nervousness.

“Marvyn Korn,” he says, shaking her outstretched hand, holding on to it a bit longer than necessary, caught off guard by the bright energy of the woman standing before him. She’s the first person at this school to greet him in a way that resembles any sort of kindness. No one at Westbrook wants him there. Hell, he doesn’t even want to be there. This is just one step towards getting back to college ball.

“It’s a great honor, Coach,” she says, letting go of his hand and walking towards the front of his desk, “I’m a big fan. You have no idea,” she admits, trying her hardest not to come across as creepy or weird. They are going to be working together pretty closely for the next few months, so she wants to start things off right with him, not scare him away or freak him out. She’s sure he’s already a bit freaked out being transplanted into an all-girls high school after coaching college men for so many years, and she’s not caught off guard when he then asks her for advice on coaching girls.

“Well, I'm tempted to say just treat 'em like the boys,” she starts, debating whether or not she wants to continue that thought. It’s probably not the best idea to offend the head coach on his first day on the job.

“But?” he pushes.

“You didn't treat the boys so well,” she answers matter-of-factly.

“Do you have any advice that might actually be helpful?”

She tells him that the girls on this Westbrook team are future leaders who are anxious to get started and can be a bit much. “Don’t pretend, they’ll see right through it,” she adds finally. And I’ll see right through it she thinks. “Other than that… let’s go coach some basketball,” she says brightly.

Marvyn tries his best not to roll his eyes as he gets up from his chair and heads onto the court to meet the girls. He doesn’t want to be there. He doesn’t want to coach a bunch of rich high school girls. Everything about this gig is a demotion for him. From college to high school. From men to girls. His disregard for this job is anything but hidden as he walks out of his office, dreading the official start of his role as Head Basketball Coach at Westbrook.

Holly follows closely behind him, excited and ready for a fresh start with a new coach to work with. Their previous coach had been nothing short of insufferable, constantly telling Holly she had no say in the team, diminishing her role as a coach, making it clear she was not in charge. Despite his harshness towards Holly, he coddled the girls on the team, always telling them what they wanted to hear. The lack of discipline never got the team anywhere, but Holly bit her tongue, knowing that whatever she had to say didn’t matter to her then-colleague. Marvyn gives her a sliver of hope for the team’s future and hers. She knows Marvyn will run things differently, and she hopes that this change will be a good change.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

After one practice and not even one drink into their casual rendezvous at a sports bar, Holly concludes that Marvyn certainly is different from their previous coach, but she’s hesitant to consider the change a positive one. He takes the game too seriously, prioritizes the end goal of winning and success over the feelings of the girls on the team. To him, they are just pawns in his own lifelong game of basketball. They are X’s and O’s, not individuals worthy of being treated with respect. He practically committed every sin of working with teens in the book. He demeaned them, embarrassed them, and disrespected them all in the span of one practice.

“My life is basketball,” he begins, “Everyone in my life are basketball players. A good coach can't be successful if he becomes friends with his players.”

“What about after work?”

“There is no after work. Not if you wanna win. There's diagramming plays, there's watching tapes, the recruiting, but there's no after work.”

Holly lets out a breath. His version of reality is nearly incomprehensible to her. Never in her life has she met someone more polarizing and stuck in his way than this man in a tracksuit sitting in the booth with her. She almost feels sorry for him. He doesn’t have any friends, and he spends all of his time thinking about basketball and how to make his team better.

“I guess I don't have to ask what happened to your marriage,” Holly says boldly, venturing into the untouched territory of his personal life as she takes a sip of her beer.

“Nope. What happened to yours?” he returns. He checked her out in the teacher portal the day before. He’s all about preparation, and that does not exclude doing some research on his assistant coach.

Her eyes grow wide. How the hell did he know I was previously married? She thinks to herself. “None of your business,” she retorts, sidestepping his question as she shifts uncomfortably in her seat, not wanting to air out her dirty laundry in front of her colleague, especially considering they just met some few hours ago.

“It is my business. Add to that, you opened the door because you asked about my marriage.” She scoffs in response, now regretting bringing up the topic of failed marriages.

Marvyn opens up about his divorce first, telling her that his wife left him, which Holly deduces was because Marvyn is such a workaholic. “She figured that she deserved more, that she could do better. So she did,” Marvyn explains. “Your turn.”

“Same,” she utters, wanting nothing to do with this conversation any longer, “He realized he could do better.”

“Why?” He pushes once more, his stubbornness starting to set Holly’s nerves on fire.

“None of your business,” she says, her voice laced with more attitude than she intended.

“If it speaks to your character, it is my business.”

Looking down at her lap, Holly lets out a quick breath. She has her back up again the door of the closet, refusing to expose the skeletons locked in there. Her marital past is not something she’s particularly proud of or that she looks back on with much joy. It’s hard to talk about without feeling embarrassed, feeling ashamed that she had an affair with a man named Matt, who happened to be her husband’s best friend.

The neglect from her husband eventually pushed her over the edge to do what she would never forgive herself for. The person who was supposed to love her the most in this world stopping caring. She was left unfulfilled and disconnected from the man she once loved. He was absent. Even when he was there, he wasn’t actually there. They didn’t even bother to fight anymore. They simply coexisted in a house that no longer felt like home.

She really wasn’t thinking at all when it happened the first time. She had an itch to scratch, and Matt was there.

“I cheated on him,” Holly discloses finally, “I had an affair. Worst thing a spouse can do, I suppose. Short of neglect, maybe,” she explains, purposefully vague, hoping he doesn’t interrogate her further.

“Are you saying my betrayal was worse?” he asks, suddenly feeling defensive.

“I’m saying his was worse. But yeah, yours too, I guess, if that's what you're guilty of.” The weight of her words hangs in the air between them. He watches as she shifts once more in her seat, visibly uncomfortable with the level of openness of the conversation.

Holly sighs. “Wow. This is a really nice ‘How do you do? Let's get a beer’,” she says with a subtle bite of sarcasm, avoiding his gaze and reaching for her beer.

“This isn't a ‘How do you do? Let's get a beer’. You have an agenda.” She rolls her eyes at his accusation, although there is some truth to it. She does have something she wants to talk to him about. “You clearly have an agenda, so get to it.”

“You are profoundly unlikable. You know that, right?” She doesn’t even try to hide the sourness of her tone.

“You're just scratching the surface. If you have something to say to me, please say it. 'Cause I'd like to get back and work on the Laguna game.”

God, he’s so fucking persistent. “Okay.” She set aside her beer, leaning in towards him. “Marvyn, these are high school girls we are working with. I know your tried-and-tested ways of coaching got you far at the collegiate level, but these girls can’t be treated like they are men in college.”

“And why not?” Her point evidently went right over his head.

“Because they are different. They don’t handle criticism like those men do. They take things personal. They won’t be responsive to your derogatory, hotheaded way of giving feedback or your ‘my way or the highway’ mentality. These girls need to be inspired and supported, not embarrassed and disrespected. These girls don’t just kiss the ring. If they aren’t respected, they are going to try to get the upper hand. And they are quite good at it.”

“They’re not gonna get the upper hand with me,” he counters.

“Look at how scared of this you are.” She can’t understand how it’s so hard to just receive these girls as the complex people they are. This team won’t get anywhere if he doesn’t let go of all his unreasonable preconceptions and connect with these girls. He’s so stuck in this mindset that the team is beneath his abilities that he doesn’t realize he could actually learn something from these girls. And he shouldn’t be afraid of that. Holly is always learning new things from her students and players. When is Marvyn going to get it through his head that he can learn from these girls just as much as they can learn from him? It’s a two-way street.

“This is another thing. You don’t know me,” he snaps defensively, “so don’t pretend that you know me.”

“I don’t want to know you,” she says coolly, “I just want what’s best for the team,” she assures him, feigning sincerity, telling him exactly what he wants to hear whether it’s what she wants to say or not.

“Yeah.” He nods his head, thinking she’s finally seeing things from his point of view.

“Is that a good answer?” she asks as she raises her eyebrows, revealing the insincerity of her previous words. His face drops, catching on to her little game. She’s irritatingly clever.

The conversation comes to a quick end, interrupted by the other patrons of the bar cheering and applauding, celebrating a touchdown in the football game playing on all of the TVs.

They find themselves back in that same booth at the same sports bar the next night. As they sip on their beers, Marvyn expresses his doubts about coaching this team, telling Holly that he just doesn’t think he can do it.

“What else?” he asks after bringing up everything that’s happened with the girls in just his two first days, speaking so frantically Holly could hardly keep up. “What the hell else?” His apparent distress over coaching a bunch of high school girls makes her laugh. You would think the world was coming to an end based on how he was acting.

“I know. You're not prepared. Welcome to high school,” she quips.

“I- I had no idea what I was in for.”

Clearly.

[beauty-and-passion]

You know, I read a lot of fanfiction and theories based on the 'Who is the strongest side' hypothesis, and I wondered how you think who has the greatest power / influence? Anyone in particular, or do they all have the same 'power'?

Short answer: it depends. Being a Side already means having a huge power/influence over the person. If we think about it, only the most important aspects of Thomas’ personality are represented by a Side. All smaller parts of him aren’t strong nor important enough to become Sides.

Therefore, a Side is already a very powerful being and when we talk about “who is the strongest”, we’re talking about power levels that are already very huge.

Having said that, let’s try to see each Side in detail.

____________

Logan

* Logic can improve or destroy every creative work. You can write the most beautiful story of all time, but if the plot and the action don’t make any sense, the entire story fails.

Also, logic knows no compromise. No matter if you decide that 2+2=7 in your mind: logic will always tell you that 2+2=4. You can protest and scream and do whatever you want, but between your mind and pure logic, logic always wins.

* Logic is completely untouched by feelings. Feelings are susceptible to change, if you’re overwhelmed by feelings your perception of reality is altered. But logic doesn’t do that. Logic offers you clear, straight facts, with no emotions attached. Therefore, Logan shouldn’t be affected by emotion-based Sides like Patton and Virgil. Or, at least, their influence shouldn’t be as strong on him as it can be on Creativity.

* We humans are not creatures made of pure logic: on the contrary, we’re heavily influenced by feelings. And that means often pushing our logic to the side, to let emotions take over.

In other words, Logan might be powerful over other Sides, but his influence on Thomas is probably the weakest.

____________

Roman and Remus

* Creativity is a very fickle force: some days it blasts 200 ideas per minute, other days it’s anywhere to be seen. Sometimes it pretends to be satisfied, other days leaves you to anguish.

* Creativity should always deal with logic. Creativity is heavily influenced by feelings, emotions and the person’s background. It can be nullified by anxiety and pushed back down.

* And yet, Creativity is one of the primordial forces of the individual. Creativity shaped us, since we lived in caves. Creativity has always been with us and, more than once, it asked us to dedicate our lives to it. And no matter how high the price is, we pay it.

So Roman and Remus might be not as powerful as other Sides, but their influence on Thomas is probably the strongest.

* Who’s more powerful between Roman and Remus? I like to think they’re on the exact same level. The only difference is that Remus is free to unleash all of his power into pure creation, while Roman uses it to create and shape his works in different ways.

____________

Virgil

* In the worst case scenario, Anxiety has an incredibly destructive potential. A severely worsened anxiety can be so destructive, to the point of nullifying all other Sides’ influence.

Two words: paranoid delirium. A pathogeny so severe to completely change the person’s life, who will see everything as a threat to their survival.

In other words, Virgil has the terrible potential to wipe out Thomas’ morality, logic and creativity, all while closely tying with self-preservation, in order to justify his behaviour as a way to protect Thomas.

* In the best case scenario, Anxiety can become a careful guardian, who can be pacified by logic and doesn’t hold too much influence over emotions. So he can work with them on the same level.

* Anxiety and Creativity have a strong influence over each other. Creativity can soothe anxiety (as we saw during Are There Healthy Distractions) and anxiety can improve creativity (as Roman admitted in AA - Part 2):

[Roman]: Anxiety, you're... ...what pushes Thomas to rehearse and rehearse before performances (...) I think that's as good a sign as any that... you're willing to work as a team... and that you make us... better.

In conclusion: Virgil has the potential to destroy the mind and Thomas’ life, but if properly tamed, he can work with the other Sides on their same level and have a very tamed influence over Thomas.

____________

Patton

* Patton has a colossal influence on Thomas for obvious reasons. He isn’t just his emotions and feelings, but “my sense of right and wrong that I’ve learned ever since I was a kid” (My True Identity). In other words, Patton is one of the foundations that make Thomas who he is. Of course he has such huge influence over him.

* Since he’s the embodiment of Thomas’ feelings, he’s able to shut up logic.

* Patton is basically the reason Thomas has two Creativities: Thomas’ education, “his sense of right and wrong” is the main reason why he classified products of his creativity as “welcomed” or “forbidden”. So maybe Patton had no real influence over the creative split, but his morals sure had.

And if there is a Side who’s strong enough to be the reason why there are two versions of the same force, then said Side should be a pretty strong one.

____________

Janus

* It has been canonically said Janus has power over all Sides. During CLBG, Roman explained to Thomas that:

[Roman]: If you really don't want to know something, he can keep our mouths shut.

and

[Thomas]: Are there any other Sides that Deceit has hidden away from me?

[Patton]: ...Yes.

So not only Janus has power over every other Side, since he’s able to physically control them and force them to shut up, but he’s strong enough to overcome and hide other Sides. And, as I said, Sides aren’t weak forces.

* Janus is self-preservation. And if there’s a force that is so goddamn unstoppable, is self-preservation. Self-preservation overcomes EVERYTHING. If there’s some threat to your life, everything else disappears, except for your friggin’ desire to LIVE. And, as we saw with Virgil, even if paranoia takes over, self-preservation can’t be put down, but on the contrary, it’s enhanced by it.

Also, self-preservation is the reason why committing suicide is so difficult. All your body wants is to live. Every single creature on this planet wants to live. And when you want to end your life, you have to overcome something SO powerful, that is literally able to push you away.

* Under normal circumstances, self-preservation doesn’t have too much influence over the individual. Despite being so powerful, it could be more like a placid, background guardian - a bit like a tamed Virgil.

[mollymarymarie]

20 questions Writer’s Edition

Thanks @blitheringmcgonagall for tagging me in this! 

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

34

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

696,047

3. How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

Harry Potter (Marauders Era) Marvel (Stucky, Bucky/OC, Pietro/OC) And then one about Sam Kiszka from Greta Van Fleet (that I wrote as a commission, sort of) and one I wrote about Lee Pace (cause I saw it in a dream lol)

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

The Lad That Loved You - sort of canon Hogwarts-era fic with a twist on The Prank (Remus and Sirius pretend to fight to cover up their relationship)

When It Counted - Remus gets spiked with Veritaserum and makes Sirius (and everyone else) believe it was Amortentia to cover up the truth

Vow Under the Covers - Remus is getting married. And not to Sirius. And Sirius has to decide if he can live with that.

Save Me, Save Me, Save Me - Remus thinks Sirius is in love with his neighbor and offers to help cook her dinner (Sirius and Marlene have to pretend to be attracted to each other, despite being VERY GAY, to cover up Sirius’ feelings)

Heavy In Your Arms - Sirius is the Slytherin prefect and has to nurse Remus Lupin back to health after a vicious full moon 

5. Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

ABSOLUTELY - comments make my whole day, my whole week, I want people who take the time to comment to know that I LOVE THEM DEARLY

6. What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

It’s a one-shot, but the angstiest ending is definitely in Where The Willow Don’t Bend (the story is about Remus becoming one of the ghosts at Hogwarts, so it’s OBVIOUS that it is not going to exactly end ... happily)

7. What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending?

Generally, I tend to write all my fics with happy endings? Real life has enough terrible endings on its own AND I’M HERE TO ESCAPE FROM THAT OKAY 

But honestly, I think the ending in Heavy In Your Arms is QUITE happy :)

8. Do you write crossovers? If so what is the craziest one you’ve written?

I’ve never written a crossover! I don’t write for enough fandoms to have done that, I guess. Mostly just HP and Marvel and there isn’t a lot of room for crossover there, lol (besides, I haven’t written for Marvel in ages)

9. Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Somewhat. In Show Me Everything I Missed, I had someone tell me they were disappointed with how I made Remus be the emotional weight-bearer of the fic. But it was DIRECTLY after Sirius had gone through a VERY traumatic event, so of course Remus would be trying to help him through it. I get where they were coming from, and I guess I should be honored that my characters made them upset? isn’t that kind of the point of angst?? 

10. Do you write smut? If so what kind?

I do. For me, I went to private school (read: religious), so it was heavily instilled in me that sex is bad and disgusting and dirty, but then you get married and suddenly it’s beautiful and holy and important? So it took me a long time to be comfortable with sex in general, even more so with the idea of writing it down, but the idea of “smut” is kind of nonsensical to me. We go through all these things as human beings and those are all okay to write and to read and to experience, but a BASIC HUMAN NEED for most people is something to be hidden?? I’m going on a rant, but basically, I’m tired of the stigma, I guess.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not ... directly?? I have had people tell me, after the fact, that they posted my fic on a site outside of AO3 but it was still listed as being written by me, but I didn’t have an account with that site. I was still sort of weirded out by that one. 

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

yes! I had someone ask my permission to translate to ... Italian? I think? I can’t quite remember, but that was kind of cool, I guess. Again, it’s sort of iffy with those things because I think this was on a third-party site, too, so I was kind of indirectly attached to it.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

I never have! I have a problem with deadlines and working as a group looool I think i have control issues?? hahahahah 

14. What’s your all time favorite ship?

Wolfstar, hands down. I’ve been writing Wolfstar for, gosh, almost ten years. Which, comparatively is not that long, but it’s longer than any other ship for me

15. What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

I have a couple WIPs for characters that are NOT Wolfstar that I’d like to finish (mostly the one about Cassidy from Preacher, because I have a MASSIVE Joe Gilgun crush) but I haven’t written on it in YEARS so it’s probably not happening

16. What are your writing strengths?

oh gosh. okay, so i’m not good at answering these. I think I write smut relatively well? I do pretty good angst I think?? My characterization is usually something people enjoy? (honestly, i just write them as MY own versions of the character, but people seem to agree with me for the most part??)

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

I FOUND THIS OUT RECENTLY - i am not always good at following through with a plan for a fic and also i am not good at writing down what i see in my head. for example, if a character has black hair and glasses in my head (but maybe not necessarily in canon), i often have to go back and add these details because halfway through, i’ll be like DID I EVEN TELL THEM WHAT HE LOOKS LIKE AT ALL??? 

18. What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

oh i’m SHITE at it. I wish I could speak another language well enough that I could incorporate it into my fics, but I doubt that will ever happen for me! (I had quite a bit of French dialogue in We Can Pretend and it went okay, but I did have someone tell me I had a grammatical error because I just used Google Translate lol)

19. What was the first fandom you wrote for?

this is going to be a HILARIOUS answer, but ... the Good Charlotte fandom. I never posted it, just my friends read it (I had quite a few fics about boys in bands back then, I was sixteen) but yeah it was a total soap opera. Like. outrageous.

20. What’s your favourite fic you’ve written?

They all have uniquely special places in my heart, but I have two favorites:

We Can Pretend - Remus and his father are the butlers for the Black family, and Remus has to figure out how to take care of Sirius while hiding his feelings

Heavy in Your Arms (the Slytherin!Sirius one, and also Ravenclaw!Remus!)

[relaxxattack]

ayo! (wait this might be a bit of a jumpscare dishdks i apologize) i’m op of That Post and was wondering what your opinions were on the whole woobification thing? /gen

because it’s a Tiny Bit widespread within the dream apologists to sort of,, overdramatize stuff like l’manberg hurting him. like they’re not a 100% wrong but if you look at it subjectively you can see some sort of bias going into that sort of thing that makes the character’s mistreatment a bit more blatant and intentional which,, it really wasn’t? and there wasn’t That Much of it either. especially on twitter (tumblr is much better about it) people just jump to conclusions it seems and yeah. since you brought it up i was wondering if you wanted to write a bit about it from your perspective!

we’re kinda from different corners of the fandom but i still notice that once you are too attached to a character you start taking certain evidence and giving it more weight than it actually has. there’s a blurry line between “taking away a character’s humanity” and woobification and it’s extremely difficult to find a balance when said character shows pretty much nothing of his emotional life (e. g. putting up the intimidating villain act in front of only c!tommy, pretty much everything he does making rational sense with no emotional subtext) and a lot of the fandom instantly jumps to one side or the other while it’s like.

we don’t know by far enough to say “he’s traumatized” or “he isn’t traumatized” or “he was villainized and it hurt him” or “l’manberg didn’t affect him at all”

as a very analytical person people constantly jumping to conclusions grinds my gears, but that’s about it for my own view of the situation - sorry for the rambling.

in general i agree with you that both dehumanization and woobification is Bad and i really hope getting Actual Context sorts this out (e. g. him saying he was betrayed by his friends doesn’t mean it wasn’t partially his fault or that they were allowed to leave him, but it also shows that he did care about that happening. mentioning the cat doesn’t mean anything about what happened to c!tommy but it also shows that he did care about what happened to it. it’s just always interesting to get more information about the way he feels because he usually does a very good job at hiding it.) because man.

it’s like being stuck between a rock and a hard place, especially if you also are attached to the character and are expected to automatically agree with everything the people on “your side” say. it just ends up with everyone being mad and the character being mischaracterised overall.

oh wow hello! i didnt expect the op of the post to find me you’re right lol

and yes i agree! you seem to have a lot of very good thoughts tbh.

and by woobification, i mean exactly what you’ve already pointed out— the people who will say l’manberg purposely villainized dream, the people who will say wilbur faked his mental illness to manipulate dream, the people who are pretty much always talking about how badly dream was treated by people who were acting only fairly for themselves, usually.

for example people who act like dream was a perfect peacemaker before tommy showed up, or that tommy started most conflict. these are just actual lies that are told by c!dream himself to justify his abuse of tommy, and people fall for them incredibly easily because not a lot of people watched early dsmp and know that truthfully it was chaotic even then, and that dream was chaotic too. not to mention wilbur soot tried very hard to secede peacefully with l’manberg and dream jumped directly into war with no warning. and then people say he was forced into their war when, no, he started it.

theres also people who will say like, dream and sapnap for example are such good friends. i’m sure they cared for each other, but dream on multiple occasions has done horrible things to sapnap with no regard for his feelings (like leading fundy to sapnaps pets during the petwar, leading tommy to sapnaps pets during the other petwar and encouraging him to kill them, handing mars over to tommy to use as leverage against sapnap, etc). george he’s been less awful too but he certainly spoke over him and ignored his feelings enough that george felt hurt. he had places in his hall of attachments for beckerson and mars. george and sapnap were right to walk away from being treated like that.

there’s also what you just said here — “dream puts on a villain persona for tommy”— but honestly he acts like that around quite a few people (example: eret) and it’s usually when he’s revealing crucial info, which leads me and many others to believe that ‘persona’ is actually a more truthful version of him.

there’s the fact that he really isn’t safe for people to be around (or at least he wasn't before the prison) because he was planning to come up with ways to control every single person by stealing and threatening their attachments (some of which were not items but were living animals, or a real breathing person).

and then people will say dream was doing exile to enforce rules, or to keep the peace— when it’s very clear in canon it was a deliberate plan to get tommy on his own and into the prison. (from the way he was framing tommy for multiple crimes, and having sam set up the prison, and kidnapping tommy instead of correctly exiling him, all at the same time).

not even going into how he wants to kill and revive people for fun or make tommy immortal.

it’s just— ignoring all these actual facts and saying “oh he misses his friends, let’s get him some friends now” reminds me of like. when people would put flower crowns on pictures of serial killers. and then, there’s hardly anyone on the server who wasn’t subject to dream’s plans, so there’s absolutely no one i would be okay with him interacting with.

just remembered about the torture thing, and wow i still hate it so much. it’s someone’s sick revenge fantasy twisted into a way to get a manipulative villain sympathy, and it’s just gross to me on every account. i do think dream is traumatized-- just not by l’manberg, which was a conflict he started on his own terms. i would think l’manberg did affect him, because he was scared of losing control.

i’ve said it before and i’ll say it again— my ideal ending for dream would be for him to be sent far away from dsmp to an island full of therapy animals and super strong therapists who have never met him before. and for him to get a shit ton of therapy until he becomes a halfway normal person. and then eventually he could get integrated into society again; but a different one with new people. (although maybe dteam + bbh + puffy can visit him, they might still like him.)

none of the people on the server (who have all been affected by dream) should be burdened with befriending him or rehabilitating him— look how that turned out with sam! sam had a personal grudge towards dream and it ended with the poor dude being tortured every day; and sam himself falling into corruption and literally cutting off his boyfriends arm. like we can all see thats fucking awful right?

no one who was affected by dream should have to deal with him ever again. and contrary to popular belief, that includes a LOT more people then just tommy. dream isn’t just tommy’s antagonist, hes almost everybody’s.

the only person on the server who might also be able to stand to help dream is techno, and that’s from sheer lack of ability to give a shit. but techno is probably THE furthest thing from a good therapist there is lol, and dream needs better then that.

this kind of just ended up being a rant about my thoughts on c!dream, so im so sorry op. especially since it was probably negative for you. i hope you’re doing very well.

i guess in the end it’s true what you said— people will highlight or ignore things based on what characters they like, and it’s especially easy to do in this fandom, where half the content doesn’t even get watched and then we become a big echo chamber of half-truths.

considering dream has hurt so many of the characters i care about, i almost can’t understand how he could be someone’s favorite or comfort character— but he is nonetheless, and it would be unfair of me to be rude about that.

essentially it just bothers me to see someone who was a perpetrator of accurately portrayed abuse and manipulation (using both those words in their actual definitions, not just as random buzzwords lol) being given the flower crown edit effect. especially since he’s hurt the characters i care about a lot.

ANYWAY all of that being said (this got LONG im so sorry op) i am so so excited to get dream’s pov, because although i disagree with his actions strongly i actually find dream’s character very interesting and cool, and watching his POV is going to insanely fun. i cannot wait to see what theories get confirmed or denied

ALSO incase it wasn’t clear this is all /nm at you! you seem lovely and smart, and neither of us can help what characters we get attached to :]

[dmitri-writes]

Orion the Angry

INFO -requested by anon -orion is my version of the orange side representing anger -orion is a child -logan is paternal -i would love to write more abt orion im attached now hes my baby -logan is sad -the sides have animal forms and orions is a pig

WARNINGS -fire mentions (no actual fire, a clothes patch and matches)

The mindscape shifts. All the sides are used to this by now, cabinets being lower so a certain side could reach them, fridge stocking itself, bedrooms moving to accommodate new hobbies. But a new room was… rare. The last time it happened was when Janus and Remus became light sides. So when Logan finds a brand new room with an orange door and a name burned into it reading ‘Orion, Anger’, and hears a child sniffling inside… Well he can’t turn such a curious eye away. He knocks. “Who… who are you?” “My name is Logan. I am Logic. May I come in?” The door opens and a child stands there, wearing an orange shirt and black overalls with a fire patch on them, and some pig-like features like floppy ears, small tusks, and an upturned nose. He must have not learned how to shift yet.. “Hello Orion,” Logan says with a small smile, wanting to make the child feel comfortable. Orion leads him into his room. “So what do you want?” Logan makes no comment about the sharp tone, “I want to get to know you and help you assimilate comfortably into the mindscape. “Ass what?” Logan laughs a bit at the curse and explains, “Assimilate, to become part of. I think I’m the best choice to meet first. The others can be a bit… much.” “Oh. I guess that’s cool. What do you want to know?” “Hm… What things do you like?” Orion leans on his pumpkin patterned blankets, “Well… I like video games. And sports. And board games. Oh and ghosts, pumpkins, and fire. Logan nods thoughtfully, “I think you’ll get along just fine with Remus and Virgil.” 

Orion stays in his room for a few days, only talking to Logan. Virgil tells him that the anxiety he feels coming from the new sides room starts going down, and Logan decides to ask the question. “Would you be okay with meeting the others today?” Orion finishes killing the minecraft zombie before responding, “Maybe. Maybe only the ones you said I’d like?” “That would be fine. Would you rather them come here or you go out there. Orion gives that a long thought before deciding he would rather not have everyone know what his room looks like. Logan leads the boy to the kitchen, where Virgil and Remus were waiting. Orion hides partially behind him, holding a nintendo switch. Logan wouldn’t ask him to leave behind a comfort item when going into an unfamiliar situation. 

“Virgil, Remus. This is Orion. Orion, the purple one is Virgil, he’s Anxiety, and the green one is Remus, he’s Creativity.” “I’m Orion. I’m Anger.” Virgil waves calmly and Remus waves frantically. “It’s been ages since a new side showed up! I wanted to make a good impression so I made cookies all by myself. Logan said you liked pumpkins and fire so I made them pumpkin shaped and they’re holding matches with evil faces. Logan notes how tame these were to Remus’ usual creations and makes a mental note to thank him later. Orion smiles at the cookies and takes one before retreating back to Logan’s side. “I like your patch,” Virgil says, pointing at the fire patch on Orion’s overalls. “Thank you,” the boy responds through bites of his cookies. “Careful talking with your mouth full Ori,” Logan says, and Orion nods. “What game are you playing?” Virgil asks, and Orion perks up, “Minecraft! I’ve had this hardcore world since I got here.” Logan watches as Orion tours the two older sides around his minecraft world. Remus loves the monster grinders and Virgil likes the builds. Logan is happy this is going well. 

Logan is returning to his own room after putting Orion to bed a few days later when Janus stops him. “You and Orion are close.” Logan raises an eyebrow at the deceitful side, “But we are?” Janus chuckles a bit and holds up an ungloved hand. “Ah. In that case, yes, we are. What’s your point?” “He sees you as a father figure. Everyone can see that, especially Patton.” Logan is made dumbstruck by this revelation. “I mean,you put him to bed, make sure he’s safe, comfortable, make sure he channels his anger healthily, you even have a nickname for him.” Logan nods, “I suppose you have a point. Is it...bad? Should I stop?” Janus shakes his head, “He’s a kid. He needs a parent. You’re doing a good job. And honestly… I think you needed him just as much as he needed you.” With that statement, Janus leaves, returning to his own room. Logan thinks for a bit in the hall. He supposes Janus is right. He’s been the happiest since Orion has been here. Maybe it’s because it gives him a use, maybe it’s because someone listens to him, maybe it’s just because someone looks up to him, but whatever it is… He’s grateful for it. 

[all1e23]

Between the Stars [Pt.6]

Pairings: Past!Steve x Reader, Bucky x  Reader

Series warnings: CHARACTER DEATH. Grief. Overall sadness. Depression. It’s pretty angsty if I’m being honest. Things mellow out as the series goes on. TW: Military/Spouse death

A/N:  Good news! We are finally getting out of the terrible sadness! As a reminder, we are back to reader POV for this chapter. This chapter has a slight flashback from the last night and picks up right where the chapter ends.   Thanks to my beautiful beta @moonbeambucky​​ for looking this chapter over for me. If you like it write me a book report, sing me a song or come scream at me. 

***My fics are not to be saved or posted on any other sites without my written permission. Reblogs are my jam, though! Thanks!****

When Natasha showed up this morning with iced coffee and a box of doughnuts, you were relieved and a little excited -- not just because she got the chocolate fudge one you like. Natasha had yet to stop by since arriving home, and it was nice to see with your own eyes that she truly was alive and back home for good. There was always this unease until you could see a returning soldier in person; really see that they were home safe and sound, so seeing your old friend did settle a tiny part of the restlessness in your heart. And outside of the random visits from Wanda before Bucky came home, you haven’t seen much of your friends and family. It all felt forced when you did manage a visit with them and after a few weeks of exhausting lunches and house calls, you simply stopped answering your door and left your phone on silent. It took too much energy to pretend, and you didn't have that much to spare nowadays. 

After caffeine and baked goods, Bucky mentioned he had a few things he needed to take care of, stopping by his mom’s and an errand or two with Sam. Despite having Natasha there, you didn't want Bucky to go. He's rarely left your side since he came home, and there was a sense of peace knowing he was only a shout away. It was nice not to be completely alone, but Bucky couldn’t be there forever, and you knew that. He would eventually get a place of his own, figure out what he was doing with his life and move on. 

Just like everyone else was doing, everyone but you.

Sooner or later, Bucky would no longer live in the bedroom down the hall, he would get a new job, and new life, and you would still be stuck, unable to move past the life you lost. So, you let him leave without a hint of hesitation on your part. Natasha seemed to sense something was off because the moment Bucky left, she asked how you were handling everything and, more importantly, how were you handling everything with Bucky. You didn't love her spying on a regular day, but you especially didn’t like it today. What was that supposed to mean anyway? Why would she even bring Bucky into the equation? You didn't ask because you honestly didn't want to hear her answer. 

You had enough to deal with. 

Natasha caught onto your annoyance fairly quickly and changed the subject, leaving both questions unanswered. She could figure out the answer for herself if she looked hard enough. While the dark circles under your eyes had faded thanks to your nights with Bucky, you saw how empty your eyes looked -- she could solve that mystery without help. You felt bad at first. Natasha was only trying to help, but everyone was “only trying to help,” and no one actually helped. No one but Bucky. He was the only one that made you feel… well, he made you more than the nothing that’s consumed you for months on end. You were less numb when he was around, things felt less empty, and your chest no longer felt as hollow. You felt more like yourself, or whatever new version of yourself you were now. Without Steve, you could never be yourself again, but Bucky made you feel like this version you were forced into wouldn't be so bad. 

The ice between you and Natasha thawed the more she talked, and you relaxed some. Your laughs were still forced, and the exhaustion a performance like that brought on began to weigh you down after a few hours. You were grateful when she said she had to go and pick up dinner for Clint -- Pizza and cinnamon twists from the place in town. At the time, you wondered if you could talk Bucky into picking you up some instead of cooking. But now that he was home standing in front of you with what was supposedly your piano perched behind him, all you wanted to do was shove those cinnamon sticks down his throat till he chokes. 

“Hey there, Trouble. Sorry, I’m late. I had to make a stop.” 

You should have known he wasn’t going to simply drop it, it didn’t matter that it had been months since you sold the damn thing. It’s not in Bucky to let things go. He had to fix things. Bucky stood there, waiting for you were sure was your reaction and when your eyes darkened, he appeared to expect it. 

“How fucking dare you,” you seethed.

Bucky took a deep breath and braced himself as you crossed the room, barreling towards him with a look he’s only seen once before in his life -- the night he told you he was joining the Army alongside Steve.  

“Who the hell do you think you are? I didn’t ask you to get the damn thing back! I don't want it!”

“Y/n, I know you think you have to feel that way--”

"I’m going to stop you right there, James. You don't get to tell me what I feel now or what I should feel six months from now.”

Bucky took a deep breath, and after a second, he corrected himself. 

“I didn’t mean it like that, and I know you know that. I only meant--  All you’ve wanted to do since I met you was play, your dad bought her for you. I’ve spent more nights than I could ever keep track of, listening to you play on the damn thing. This isn’t about Steve. She’s got more than memories of Steve attached to her. You don’t have to keep punishing yourself to be a good wife to Steve.”

You wanted to scoff at the suggestion, but maybe you were punishing yourself. Even if you were it didn’t matter. You didn’t want it in your house. You didn’t need a reminder of all the ways you failed Steve, your marriage, and yourself. You didn’t need to be reminded how off-track your life has become and how sixteen-year-old you would be devastated to see the person you’ve turned into in Steve's absence. 

“I don’t want to play anymore, and I don’t want any of the Goddamn memories.”

“Bullshit.”

You narrowed your eyes, but Bucky stood his ground and stared back at you, no hint that he was going to back down. Bucky’s always been different from Steve. Steve would have apologized, told you he could get it out of the house if that was what you really wanted. He may have even followed through with that if only to hide it somewhere until you came around, but Bucky wasn't going to do that. Yes, he was gentle, softer with you than with anyone else, but in moments like this, things were different. He wasn’t afraid to push back a little, to challenge you if he had to. 

“You’re a stubborn ass, you know that?” you snapped back. 

“I’m a stubborn ass?” Bucky challenged, brows raised, and a hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. “Have you looked in a mirror, sweetheart?”

You weren’t in the mood for some cute verbal sparring match. You were exhausted, and you ached all over. All you had wanted from the moment you woke up this morning was a quiet night with Bucky, maybe watch some trashy movie that allowed you to forget for a few hours and possibly allow you to get some sleep, but none of that was likely now. 

“Get the damn thing out of my house, and you can go stay with Sam. I don’t care. Just get out and leave me alone.”

You turned to head back upstairs, but your anger quickly resurfaced with each step towards the stairs, you swiftly swung back around catching your second wind and stomped towards him and Bucky was still standing there as if he expected you to do exactly what you were doing. You wanted to hate him for knowing you that well. 

“You know, you have no right, Bucky. I am grieving in my own way, and I don’t… I gave it away, okay?! I don’t want it, and you’re an a-asshole for bringing it b-back and forcing me to relive it a-all.”

Bucky stepped forward when your voice trembled but kept an arm’s distance between you. He could reach out and touch you if he thought that was what you wanted, but he wouldn’t until he was sure it was okay to do so.

“You about done? Get it all out?” He asked, much softer this time around. 

That soft heart of his always found its way back at just the right time.  

“Yes,” you spat back, it didn’t come out angry as you hoped. You sounded tired. 

You were just so tired of everything.   

Bucky slowly reached out and took your hand, pulling you towards the dreaded instrument in question. You let him drag you towards the bench and didn’t fight him when he gave you a playful nudge towards the keys. You rolled your eyes but let your free hand land on the keys, one following the other as the notes consumed the stale air of your living room, you never admit to his face, but you already felt a little better. Bucky let go of your hand, and you stepped closer to make sure it was, in fact, yours -- not that you thought Bucky would ever lie to you or try to trick you like that. 

He cared about you far too much to hurt you like that. 

Bucky broke the tautness between you with an easy smile and filled you in on some of his trip. “You'll be happy to know the little girl I bought it back from said my hair looked dumb.”

You snorted. 

“It does look dumb.”

Bucky grinned at your playfulness. That’s been showing up more and more as of late, and he was more than willing to encourage it. 

”Now, you’re just being mean, Trouble. It takes a long time to grow it out. What am I supposed to do, huh?”

You looked up from the white and black keys, grinning as your fingers played on their own accord. No real thought to the rhythm, but it was clear it was one they have memorized.  

“Fine,” you conceded with feigned exasperation.”"You look handsome. Happy?” 

“Handsome, huh?” Bucky mused, that self-satisfied grin on his face as he toyed with your words in his head, and you couldn’t help but get annoyed. As if he didn't know. 

“Oh, shut up. You know you're good looking.” 

Bucky laughed suddenly, surprised by your words, and it made you smile. You’ve always liked that laugh, the one he gives when he’s caught off guard; his eyes light up with that spark, his nose scrunches up, and his smile is so big you’re sure his cheeks hurt. 

“I ain’t denying it. Just didn’t think you thought so.”

Your fingers faltered, and A sharp was hit by mistake, piercing your ears and Buckys from the grimace he made. It’s been a long time since you thought of Bucky in that way, not that he hasn’t always been attractive, and he’s only become more beautiful as he aged, but standing in front of him now made you feel shy and uncertain for some reason. How had he not known you’ve always found him beautiful? This wasn’t something you should be thinking, let alone saying out loud. You shouldn’t see Bucky that way or anyone for that matter. 

It was unfair to your marriage and to Steve.

Bucky shook his head as if he was annoyed with himself because he was thinking the same things you were, and he lifted his dusty black boot towards the bottom of the piano to change the subject or maybe to clear the uncomfortable tightness that returned to the room and forget their moment of disloyalty. 

“Come on.”

You followed Bucky without protest; both of you slipped under the piano lying shoulder to shoulder, staring up at the unpainted wood on the bottom where your initials rested next to J.B.B. You ran your fingers over the slightly faded marker and smiled. 

“That was a long time ago.” 

Bucky hummed in agreement. “Another lifetime.” 

“When you wrote that…” You dropped your arm onto your stomach and turned your head to meet Bucky's eyes. “Did you know this is where we would end up?”

“No,” Bucky opened his mouth again but quickly snapped it shut. He obviously wanted to say something, but some part of him, his head or his heart you weren’t sure, were telling him not to. 

“No, Trouble. I didn’t know we would end up here. I thought-- I knew you would always be in my life, but I didn't think we would ever be here.” 

You leaned your head on his shoulder and held your hand out, which he took right away. Your fingers laced together, and he brought your hands up to rest on his chest. Quiet settled over you, and you laid there, staring at the aging Sharpie markings. Things were so different then. If you could go back and ask the girl who scribbled her initials next to Bucky’s if she knew where she was going to end up in the next few decades, she would have told you with absolute certainty, laying right here next to Bucky. 

She was ignorant and so naive, and maybe a part of you still was because for just a few moments it felt like everything would be okay, it would all be okay as long as you stayed here under your piano, holding Bucky's hand. 

“Play for me?” Bucky asked, breaking the silence with a gentle whisper.

That wasn’t a strange request, and it’s one you’ve heard fall from his lips a hundred times before. When you were young and foolish, Bucky used to ask you to play for him all the time, and usually, you were happy to oblige. This wasn’t about that, though. There was a question in his voice that said he wanted to know this was okay, that what he did was okay and that you were okay because if you weren’t and you really hated having it back, he would get rid of it. 

“What do you want to hear?”

You didn’t mind having the piano back, and it was only right that Bucky was the one that brought it home to you. 

“How about the song you liked to play from that movie. Shit, what was it? Swallow. Eh, no. Shallow?”

“I hate love songs.” 

Bucky smiled. 

“No, you don't.”

You smiled despite yourself and whispered, “I want to.”

Bucky placed a kiss to your forehead and whispered against your skin, “No, you don’t.”

It was unfair how well Bucky knew you. He knew nearly everything about you. He knew you hated to be told when you were wrong when you knew you were absolutely right. Bucky knew when you were lying and when you were throwing up your walls to hide the more delicate side of your heart, only a few have seen. You pretend to be tough by saying things like that, so no one could see how gentle you really were under it all. It was infuriating and comforting to have someone who knew you inside and out, but it often made it hard to keep the broken parts hidden. 

“I’ll play for you, but I just wanna lay here a little bit longer, okay?”

He knew most of your secrets; you only wished he would trust you with some of his. 

“Okay, Y/n, We can stay here as long as you want,” Bucky promised.

“And then order a pizza?”

Bucky chuckled and gave the hand he was still holding a soft squeeze. 

“If that's what you want, Trouble.”

You grinned but didn’t say a word, simply closed your eyes and let your head fall into the crook of his arm. Things were less scary when Bucky was around, so it was okay to let your guard fall for a short while. He would brave the dark with you if he had to, help you figure out what your new normal was and what parts of your past were okay to keep.

It made you feel as if maybe one day in the near future, everything would be okay again. At the very least, there would be pizza and Bucky, and that was enough. 

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