#i'm struggling so much i know exactly what's going on i just need two conversations (2.5 really) to happen

[illegiblehandwriting1]

kinda cringe that the only way to get back into writing is to write. like, what do you mean i can't just sit down, go into a fugue state after not consistently writing for a year, and manage to bang out three full chapters. who came up with this and can they meet me in a denny's parking lot after school

[burningembers91]

Lunch Date - Park Min-Su x Fem!Reader

Follow up piece to:

The Secretary

Synopsis: While out for lunch, Min-Su struggles to voice his needs.

A/N: This storyline is going to be a slow burner, but trust me... It'll be worth it. I really want to build up the tension and show how much Min-Su struggles with being his own advocate. I also wrote the first two pieces at work today, and had to resist the urge to write the third because I have so many other characters I'm writing for that I'm slowly losing track!

Park Min-Su had taken you to lunch today, or rather, his father had insisted he take you to lunch. The restaurant was on the top floor of a high-rise building, with 360 views of the Seoul skyline. It was a cloudless day, the sun streaming through the windows and bathing you in the most exquisite golden hue. Min-Su was hot, his shirt and suit jacket clinging to him as he fiddled with his tie. He could see you biting your bottom lip as you studied the menu, could smell your perfume clinging to your shirt. Your bare legs were crossed, your heeled foot tapping against the table as you hummed quietly.

He couldn’t bare to look up, couldn’t bare to make eye contact with you. Your presence was almost stifling, Min-Su barely holding it together when you were around. You were his secretary, you were meant to work for him, and yet you spent most of your time telling Min-Su to tell you what to do. “Would you like me to get you a coffee?” You’d asked him that morning, as he sat at his desk adjusting his too-tight tie, not entirely sure what he was supposed to be doing. “Uhh…” He looked wildly around, unsure if you were talking to him, despite the fact it was just you and him in his office. “Mr Park,” you smiled, coming to sit next to him at the expansive mahogany desk he had no desire to sit at. “If you’d like me to get you a coffee, please just ask.” “O-ok,” he stammered. He did want a coffee, you always made it exactly the way he liked it. But for some reason, he couldn’t bring himself to ask you. he could barely maintain eye contact with you, all too aware of your nipples ever so slightly visible through the fabric of your shirt. You busied yourself with the day’s agenda, handing Min-Su various files, explaining each one in detail. You would wait patiently until he asked you for a drink, knowing that he wanted one. You couldn’t understand why he found it so hard to ask for things, but he was constantly silent. He finally plucked up the courage, and you brought him his coffee, just the way he liked it.

He peeked up at you from the menu and your eyes met. You had red lipstick on today, one that contrasted perfectly against the cream colour of your shirt. You smiled at him, and Min-Su forgot to take a breath. He was terrible around women, but you were something else entirely. He’d thought about you many times over the few months you’d been working for him. He thought about how, if he’d been a confident man, he’d have asked you out on a date. He’d have pressed you against the glass windows of his top floor office and undressed you, before fucking you against his desk. But as it stood, he could barely say your name, his words only coming out as the faintest whisper. You were so confident, so sure of yourself; a lioness working for a mouse. “I think I fancy the ravioli,” you smiled. “What are you getting?” There it was again, his complete inability to hold any form of conversation with you. You intimidated him, but in the best way possible. He didn’t really like the look of anything on the menu other than the chicken, but the chicken came with mushrooms and Min-Su couldn’t stand them. You knew that of course, it was your business to know everything about him, but you wanted to see if he’d say something. “Maybe the chicken,” he mumbled, taking a gulp of water. He didn’t know why he couldn’t voice his opinion, why he was so scared to open his mouth. He supposed it came from a lifetime of having everything planned out for him. from the moment he’d been born, he was told where to go, what to do, who to be and what his future would entail. His father was a stern man, and years of fearing his wrath had reduced Min-Su to a timid little lamb. He struggled to ask for help, struggled to have his voice heard by a man who couldn’t be bothered to listen.

The waiter came to take your order and Min-Su asked for the chicken, not mentioning the fact that he didn’t like mushrooms. He could so easily have asked for them to be substituted for something else, and his inability to speak up for himself made you feel sad for him. Lunch arrived, and you watched him push the food around his plate, the smell of them making him feel sick. “If you don’t like mushrooms, why don’t you ask them to take them off the plate? They could always give you something else.” “I don’t want to be a bother,” he said, shrugging. He wanted to be able to speak up, but he was terrified of people turning around and laughing right in his face. You leaned forward towards his plate, piercing the soft buttery fungi with your fork before popping it into your mouth, winking at Min-Su.

You were so confident, so bold. Min-Su didn’t understand how you had such certainty in your actions. You never flustered, never faltered. He liked the way you were so unashamedly yourself; he found it incredibly sexy. You didn’t care what others thought, and Min-Su wished he could be like you. As you headed back to the office, you turned to him. “You shouldn’t be afraid to tell people what you want,” you told him. “You should try it sometime.”

That night, Min-Su thought of all the things he’d tell you he wanted if he was brave enough. He’d tell you he wanted to kiss to you, to taste you, to make love to you in every corner of the office. He’d tell you that he didn’t want to be a CEO, that he didn’t want to sit at a desk all day. He’d tell you he wanted to be with you, to love you and hold you and never let you go. But the next morning, he couldn’t get the words to leave his mouth. You were in a green dress today, one that clung to your waist, hips and the curve of your ass. He wanted to tell you that you look beautiful today, but his mouth wouldn’t move. He couldn’t tell you any of the things he really wanted to say, but he could ask for something simple. “Excuse me?” he said, as you dropped off his daily agenda. “Please could you make me a coffee?”

[mystcldydrms]

LIBRARY ADORATION - FRED WEASLEY

summary: a book isn't the only thing fred weasley wants you to have

pairing: fred weasley x fem!reader

word count: 1.5k

warnings: fluff

notes: you know how much I love books and libraries. I just had to write this one. also please be aware that I haven't written anything for probably 6 months. I'm slowly getting back into it.

You stood in front of one of the many bookshelves of the Hogwarts library, your eyes scanning the spines of the books. The words already started to blur; however, you shook your head lightly, focusing on the titles as best as possible.

You had abandoned your essay, which was due in two days, on a table, alongside two books that had helped you tremendously while writing it, however, you still needed one more that could help you while writing your essay.

For a few more minutes, you kept looking everywhere. You knew exactly which book you needed. One of your fellow students had told you about it. Unfortunately for you, she had forgotten in which section she had found it, hence, here you were, looking at every shelf that was dedicated to the history of magic.

“Where are you?” you whispered to yourself, rounding yet another corner to go and look at yet another shelf. This time, you weren’t alone.

In the corner sat Fred and George Weasley with their friend Lee Jordan. They had noticed your presence right away. You saw them quickly shielding their notes from you. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes slightly. You didn’t feel the need to know what they were whispering about. You didn’t care about their schemes or plans. Well, you did, but not at that moment. You just wanted to grab your book and finish your essay.

Your eyes looked at yet another couple of books until they finally landed on the one you needed the most. You took one more step towards the shelf and tried to grab the book, which, unfortunately, was almost at the top. You let out an almost inaudible sigh. Although you tried to stand on your tiptoes, you couldn’t reach the book with your hand.

You weren’t small. You had an average height for a girl your age. But why couldn’t you reach the book? Of course, you could use your wand and get it, however, your wand was in the pocket of your robe. And that robe was almost all the way across the library.

“Do you need a hand?”

You jumped lightly, and although that voice had talked to you in a whisper, you were surprised to hear it. You turned your head to the right and noticed Fred Weasley standing right next to you, a teasing smile on his lips.

The three Gryffindors must have watched you while you struggled to grab the book. You immediately felt the embarrassment and the heat that was starting to make its way up to your face, turning your cheeks a light shade of red. Another sigh escaped your lips as you nodded your head.

“Which one is it?”

“The one with the brown spine. Magic Mysteries.”

Fred nodded his head before he easily extended his arm and grabbed the book you needed. A proud smile graced his lips as he handed it to you, your fingertips lightly brushing his.

“Thank you.”, you whispered as you pressed the book against your chest, looking up into his eyes.

“No problem. Why did you need this one?”

You caught a glimpse of Lee and George, who slightly snickered behind Fred until they noticed you looking at them. They quickly looked at their notes again, pretending to write something down. You giggled lightly, shaking your head before you looked into Fred’s eyes again, a smile already on his lips. Did it even leave? You didn’t know, but you liked it that way.

“I have an essay due in two days. I’m almost done, but I still need a few more details. What about you? What are you doing?” you asked curiously.

Yes, you didn’t really care about it when you first saw them scheming something in their little corner, but you didn’t want your conversation with Fred to end so soon. You liked talking to him, always have. It was easy. You couldn’t call yourself friends, however, you were in the same house, and you greeted each other whenever you saw one another in the castle. And sometimes, you even had a conversation.

Did you have a crush on the ginger-haired boy? Yes. But who wouldn’t? Every girl in their right mind could see that the twins were two good-looking boys.

“Oh, nothing important. Just a few notes for a future project.”, Fred explained, snapping you out of your little daydream about him.

“Sounds fun?” you said, grinning up at him.

“Well, I better get back and finish my essay. Have fun. I’ll see you around.”

Before you rounded the corner, you stole one last glance at Fred, who hadn’t turned around yet, but rather stayed where he was, locking eyes with you. You could swear you saw a shimmer of red on his cheeks, however, after looking at books for such a long time, you weren’t so sure of your focus anymore.

After another hour of reading and writing, you had finally finished your essay, but before you could get up and pack everything away, you noticed someone sitting down next to you.

“Fancy seeing you here.”, you heard a male voice say.

A bright smile immediately graced your lips as you turned your head and, once again, looked into the eyes of Fred Weasley.

“I know. I swear I saw you an hour ago just behind that bookshelf over there.”, you said, both of you laughing lightly.

“Have you finished your essay yet?”

“Yes, finally. I can’t write another one for at least a week now. I can’t even focus on words anymore.”

Fred couldn’t help but laugh again. You had that effect on him. You were funny, you knew how to hold a conversation, and you laughed about all his jokes, which was one of the reasons he had started to fall for you. Of course, you were also a beautiful girl.

You saw one another in the castle every day and talked every other day, but for him, it wasn’t enough. He wanted to spend as much time with you as possible. He needed to talk to you every day, laugh with you, hold you … and finally find out how your lips felt on his.

“Can I ask you something?” Fred blurted out, a bit louder than intended. Madame Pince was instantly by your side, staring angrily down at the ginger-haired boy who only shrugged and mumbled ‘sorry’.

You giggled quietly, watching how Madame Pince walked away before your eyes landed on Fred again, who was already watching you, a dreamy smile gracing his lips.

“Go ahead. What do you want to ask me?”

To say that you were curious was an understatement. You were nervous. What could Fred Weasley ask you? Did he need help with an essay? Did he need help with his future project?

“Would you like to go to Hogsmeade with me this Saturday? Just the two of us, I mean.”

Your eyes widened; your mouth lightly opened as you tried to process his words. Fred just asked you out on a date. And he wanted it to happen this Saturday.

‘Wow’, you thought to yourself, as you nervously started to play with your fingers.

You had no idea how long you were quiet, but you could see the way Fred started to fidget. He kept staring at you, waiting for an answer.

“Yes.”, you whispered. “Yes, of course. I would love to go to Hogsmeade with you.”

The young man that sat next to you couldn’t help but clap his hands together before he stood up and triumphantly put his hands in the air.

“Fred. Stop.”, you said, giggling, taking his robe in your hands, trying to pull him down onto his chair again, but he didn’t bother. He just stood there and looked at you with the brightest smile you had ever seen on his face.

“You just made my day so much better.”, he confessed, leaning down until he was face to face with you, your eyes on one level.

You studied his face, first his eyes, then his lips, the freckles on his cheeks, until your eyes landed on his again. You knew that you were blushing again, but you didn’t care. You were beyond happy.

“I have to get going now. George and Lee are probably already wondering where I am, but I will see you later in the common room. We could discuss our date.”

The only thing you could do was nod your head while Fred sent you a small wink before he turned around and made his way out of the library.

Your heart was pounding like crazy in your chest. You felt the butterflies flying around in your stomach. You and Fred. You and Fred on a date.

Too stunned to do anything else, you just sat in the library for a few more minutes until you regained your strength and started packing up your things, already looking forward to seeing Fred in the common room.

[brayneworms]

prompt: l lawliet + food play + pink

wc. 2.8k. gn!reader, foodplay, virgin!l, handjobs, sliiiight come eating, reader is a wet cat in a cardboard box kinda, safe sane and consensual, no real power dynamics.

L contextualises things in the way he sees the world.

Strings of numbers, statistics, behavioural patterns that he's memorised to a 'T' until he can tell guilt from the aversion of an eye or fury from the remnants of nails pressed into the palm of someone's hand. It's why maybe something like sex or desire is a struggle for him. It's not that he doesn't understand it, it's more like he doesn't see the—the need for it, or whatever. You chalk it up to him being extremely busy and also probably totally asexual and don't think about it.

(Don't think about it much.)

It sort of surprises you that it's you he corners with his questions about. Maybe he's more embarrassed than he lets on—as it is, he looks cool as a cucumber save for the faintest shade of pink across his cheekbones. There's no way he would escape a conversation about it from anyone on the squad without a degree of ragging. Misa would squeal like a pig if L dared to broach the topic with her, you're sure. Matsuda would blush bright red and trip over all his words, and Aizawa would probably stare at him like he'd set his firstborn on fire.

And Light is Light. He probably knows little more than L, for all the airs he puts on.

So it's you he comes to. When it first starts, you think it has something to do with a case or lead he's hunting. Tell me, have you had sex before?

Perched like a frog, licking whipped cream off his finger. You don't know if he's doing to be provocative or not; don't know which is worse, that he's aware of what he's doing or not.

"This isn't exactly proper workplace conversation L."

A flicker of a smile. Cheeky, omniscient. "Feel free to report me to HR, in that case."

You do answer—honestly and concisely, if not with a shade of awkwardness. He's essentially your boss. But L seems so far removed from the worlds of sexuality and desire that it seems harmless, occupational, and eventually it stops feeling embarrassing. Out of nowhere—what is the purpose of restrains in an intimate context? Why do you think some people like to feel as though they have no control in the bedroom? Would you say that visual pornography has given watchers unrealistic expectations of actual intercourse?

One night, the two of you alone in front of a big glowing screen, turning to him and asking. "Why do you ask me this stuff, anyway? Is it for a case?"

"No," he says neutrally. A quick glance from his dark eyes you could almost describe as coy. "I'm just... curious."

"Curious," you echo, deadpan. "You?"

"Does that surprise you?" he murmurs. You almost feel that your honest answer—yes—would be insulting now, so instead you just shrug and mumble something incoherent under your breath. "You're not completely wrong. I thought having a better understanding of things like sex and power dynamics would be beneficial in the long run. Most people have a greater knowledge of it than me, which—puts me at a disadvantage." He says these last words with an air of revulsion, as though the very concept of knowing less than someone sours in his mouth, and you chuckle at his childishness.

"That makes sense." You pause. Wonder if you're reading this all wrong, then barrel ahead anyway. "Wouldn't actually experiencing it for yourself lend a better understanding than anything else, though?"

L's eyebrow raises. His smile has vanished, leaving him bug-eyed and unreadable. "What are you suggesting?"

He's not stupid, and you're not subtle. He knows exactly what you were suggesting. The fact that he's trying to get you to go into more detail rather than firing you on the spot is probably a good sign, and further than you expected to get. You squirm in your seat.

"You know. It's like being told about how something feels rather than knowing," you say awkwardly. "I'm just—can I ask—"

"It only seems fair," L says slowly. "After I've been badgering you with my own questions for so long." His chair spins; he rests his wrists on his rucked-up knees, fingers steepled in front of him. "Please."

Hot-faced, you spin your chair aimlessly. "Okay, well, uh—have you? I mean, before?"

L hesitates before he shakes his head, an almost imperceptible twitch that has his dark hair floating. You swallow the sudden large dry lump in your throat.

"Okay. So. Probably somewhere to start," you mumble.

L seems to consider this. "Would you be willing?"

You don't have the right to be surprised, with all the dancing around the subject, but you are, still. You choke on your spit and fly around to look at him, which is a mistake. His gaze is so dark and intense, and you think he can see right through you before you even open your mouth to answer.

"I'm not—" you stammer, with no idea what you're going to say. "I mean—"

"I had assumed you would be," L goes on calmly, but you catch the slight flicker of his eyes, a ghost of uncertainty that makes your chest squeeze. "If I have read your responses incorrectly, though, feel free to forget I asked. I can guarantee no awkwardness tomorrow."

"It's not that," you blurt. L blinks at you, go on. "It's just... do you have any idea what you're, you know. Into? Where to start?"

L's eyes flicker, the barest furrow knitted between his brows. You can tell he hasn't thought too hard about it. "What would you suggest?" he asks, curling his long fingers over his knees.

You swallow. "Well... anything you like the idea of, I guess. Something familiar, to ease you into it."

L's eyes roll over to his desk, where a perfectly glistening slice of strawberry cake waits for him. Pink sponge and halved red berries, topped with pale pink cream. "Familiar," he echoes. "I may have a suggestion."

-

So you feed L a strawberry just to get started.

Hold it up. It's distinctly awkward; L just stares at it for a moment, the berry dusted with frosting that glistens between your fingers. You tell him, "If you're not comfortable with this, sex is probably going to be—"

He leans forward and plucks the fruit from between your fingers; you feel the barest ghosting of teeth, the sweep of his tongue sharp and curious against the pads of your fingers before he leans back again. You watch the motions of his jaw and throat as he chews and swallows. Pins you with his headlamp stare, wide and dark.

You deconstruct the strawberry cake carefully, removing the berries and setting them to the side. Cast a look over at him. "Take off your shirt?"

L twists the hem of this shirt for a few moments before removing it. It feels so strange to see him devoid of clothing, like a knight removing their armour. Pale ribs, pinched waist. He's not whipcord-thin like you had imagined—there's lean muscle packed under the skin, his stomach flat and somewhat soft. It flexes almost nervously when you look at it. He reclines back on his bed without being told, bracing his weight onto his elbows, legs dangling off the side.

"You sure about all this?" you ask, glancing from the smooth planes of his white skin—shit—to the plate of crumbling pink dessert. "Didn't think you'd be into, you know. All the mess."

"I have a shower," L says reflexively.

You take that as permission to approach with the plate. You place the strawberry halves in a red dotted line, starting at his clavicle, watching him shiver and flex at the cold touch. Down—one at the bottom of his ribs, one above his bellybutton, one at his naval just above the low sling of his jeans. He's started to flush, prettily pink down his chest. It makes you slightly dizzy.

"Okay. So. Okay." You try not to feel so nervous, but it's more like you feel out of place, or time, or space. It feels surreal, basically. Standing between L's legs with your fingers stained pink from fruit and frosting. Him looking up at you like that, all big dark round eyes and slightly parted lips. Damn it. You take a deep, steadying breath. "Okay, so, I'll start now if you're okay. And just say if you don't want—if you want to stop, or if you don't like anything, just say, okay?"

"I understand the basic premises of consent, if that's what you're trying to affirm." The words are all L, but there's an element of breathlessness to them.

"Just making sure we're clear," you mutter. You lean forward and smooth a palm over his collarbones. They're sharp, they jut up to meet your hand like cut diamond, and you hear and see his breath hitch, which is slightly intoxicating. His skin is warmer and softer than you thought it would be. You run your hands over his shoulders and neck, which he squirms away from with a wrinkled nose.

"No neck?" you ask.

He shakes his head. So no neck.

Once you're done exploring this part of his body, you lean forward, close your lips around the strawberry and bite the end of it, sinking your teeth into the flesh. Pink juice runs down your chin; L's eyes follow it, transfixed, as you tilt your head forward and push your mouthful against his lips. They part unquestioningly, and you push the strawberry into his mouth with your tongue. Your lips brush together, tantalising and sweet with sugar. A mimic of a kiss, a palimpsest of intimacy. You don't want to overwhelm him, anyway.

This goes on; your hands over his chest next, the soft pectorals. An experimental brush of your thumb over his left nipple that makes his whole body shudder. He's so sensitive, reacting to every prod and touch and tweak with a jerk and a shiver. Gooseflesh blooms up his skin, pebbling his nipples, and when you tweak the other one gently he lets out a choked sound.

Finding the strawberry nestled under his ribs. Taking it between your teeth and passing it to him. His face gets pinker with each one. Stomach, concave, flexing with every hard breath. A ticklish spot over his belly button. Strawberry, bite, pass. The flex of his jaw as he chews.

Fingers over his waist, indenting the skin as much as you dare. You try not to think of how easily he would bruise. Brushing your touch over his lower abdomen makes his breath catch again. You find the strawberry, hold it between your lips. L cranes his neck, searching this time—he thinks he knows the game, has memorised the steps, found the pattern, the sequence. He doesn't know that the best sex is the unpredictable kind. This time, you press your lips against him and when your tongue pushes the strawberry into his mouth it stays there. His lips part, slack against yours, either in shock or inexperience. You allow yourself the briefest twirl of your tongue against his before pulling back with a wet pop.

L stares at you as you retreat. The strawberries leave pale pink residue on his skin. Pulling back fully reveals the hardness between his legs, pushing up against the dark denim of his jeans. He grunts when your eyes land on it, either out of embarrassment or frustration. You swallow and its like sandpaper.

"Still want me to...?"

"I have not changed my mind," he replies, slightly hoarsely and a beat slower than usual. You shrug, smooth your hands over the tent at his crotch, and he whines. It's the most searing noise you've pulled from him yet, and all from some halfhearted palming over the jeans. It sends a thrill zipping through you, hot and addicting. His arms shake with the weight of holding himself up, neck craning to follow as you sink to your knees between his legs.

You unzip him, pop the button, and he groans slightly at the freedom from the constraints of his clothes. He's fully hard, straining against his dark underwear. You experiment, rubbing at the tip, feeling for the wet spot, and he keens and thrashes, losing his stability and crashing to the mattress. He makes a frustrated noise just after, as though cursing himself for his own lack of control.

"That—" he swallows hard, breathes shakily. "That feels..."

Your hand hovers. "Am I stopping?"

"No, I don't..." He scrambles. L scrambles over his words. "Please, continue."

You stroke him over his underwear for a few concentrated minutes, mostly enjoying the way he twitches and huffs and occasionally makes soft, whiny noises, the way he starts to rut his hips against your hand. No technique, no rhythm, just some sort of baseless desire that you find incredibly hot. There's almost a frustration to it that makes you want to laugh—of course there would be nothing more agonising to someone like L than seeing what he wanted so close to him but being unable to accomplish it himself.

When he starts gritting his teeth, you pull his boxers down to his thighs and he makes a choking, embarrassed sound. When you wrap your fingers around his cock for the first time, finding it velvety-soft and leaking, his eyes roll back and his hips arch into the loose wet tunnel of your hand. "Oh," is all he says. Small and soft like he's surprised. His neck twists and his mouth presses into the starched white sheets. "Oh," he says again as your fist moves slowly, stroking with intent, up and down. He's not overly big, fits nicely in your hand, makes swiping over the head where the pre beads with your thumb nice and convenient. And you love the way he shudders and thrashes when you do it.

"How does that feel?" Your voice is lower than you remember it being. L cracks a bleary eye open; his face is flushed bright pink now, a flush that bleeds all the way down his chest, blending in with the strawberry stains.

"It feels," he starts, before his brow pinches. "I—I am not sure how to—how to describe..."

"It's okay," you tell him. His thighs shake, flexing against the edge of the mattress. When he tips his head back the cords in his pretty throat bulge, so biteable. "You can come whenever."

"I wasn't—oh," he gasps, squirming. "I wasn't aware I n-needed your—permission, oh."

"Yeah, well," you say intelligently, a little struck dumb by the sight before you. "Just making sure we're on the same page."

"A-and what page is that?" he pants, thrusting his hips messily into your hand. He's so fucking sensitive that you swear you can see his eyes growing shiny.

"The one where I help you out, so don't be a brat," you murmur. L laughs breathlessly, trying, you think, to summon some retort. You twist your fist around him and it died, half-formed in his brain, his eyes rolling back and fingers flexing hard in the sheets.

After another minute, he reaches out and grabs your wrist hard enough to bruise. He doesn't say it—can't, maybe. But you know. Your pace speeds up just a touch and he honest to god moans, spilling out of him soft and breathy before he comes, streaking over his stomach in pearly arcs. You watch him flinch at the contact, fingers slipping on your wrist. His chest flexes—in, out, in, out.

You collect a big scoop of pink frosting on your finger and dip it in the come starting to cool between his pecs before pressing it to his lips. L's brow wrinkles, startled—but he opens his lips and lets your fingers pass into the hot cavern of his mouth. Like a cat he licks your finger clean, pointed pink tongue prodding with no technique or flourish, just something steadfast, something stubborn.

You do him the dignity of tucking his softened cock back into his underwear and zipping up his jeans. Unsure how to proceed until L sits up rather abruptly. His hair is even more tousled from his tossing and turning as he reaches for a tissue to wipe himself down.

He looks at you. "I understand it's customary to offer some sort of equivalent exchange in these circumstances." A pause whilst he gathers his breath. "You'll have to forgive me. I'm not quite feeling up to the task."

His tone is normal, if a little shaky. You rock back on your heels. "Did you like it?"

L blinks at you. "My curiosity has been sated," he says, carefully. "Yes, I believe I did enjoy it."

Well, that's a relief if nothing else. The pink remnants of the strawberry cake it on the plate; the shade matches his blush.

[screamingcrows]

Notes: Reupload of an ask box drabble for the prompt "a kiss out of spite". Steal for anything and I'm spreading Anobium punctatum in your home. Tags: Alhaitham x reader, established relationship, 700 words Minors DNI

Alhaitham knew it had to be his fault that you were currently huffing and puffing in frustration. Why else would you so angrily be collecting scattered papers and books, snapping thomes shut with no care for placing a bookmark first. You had been prone to such harmless, if petty, ploys of 'revenge' since he'd first met you.

Admittedly, your shared space had begun resembling the aftermath of an exam season, something neither of you had needed to stress about for years. When he shifted slightly in the couch it didn't go unnoticed, and his stomach churned at the scowl on your face. He hated this just as much as you, but there was nothing to be done really.

"I said I'd tidy up once I was finished working," he attempted to pacify, making his voice as neutral as possible.

"Not everything can be pushed around based on your schedule," you snapped at him, voice shaking slightly.

So this was about more than just the clutter then. Gently closing the book in his hand, Alhaitham considered how to proceed, letting his eyes drift towards your face. For a moment, he wondered if spring had finally set in before realising with a bleeding heart that your eyes were red for an entirely different reason.

You were evidently upset, holding his stare with a passion that was rare. It clicked into place far sooner than he'd have liked, he'd been horrible, hadn't he?

"I-.. I haven't been fair to you these past few weeks. This was precisely what I've wanted to avoid, and I'm sorry for not noticing sooner," he stood up as he spoke, hating the way you stepped back, placing a broom between the two of you. Another barrier.

"I've barely spoken to you since you became the Acting Grand Sage, barely even seen you, and- and I thought today would be different. I got so excited that you stayed home 'haitham, I cleared my damned schedule to stay with you,"

He took a deep breath, knowing now would be a bad time to point out that he'd never made any indication that he would have any free time today. That wasn't a conversation either of you needed right now. Before he could reply, you already made a verbal lunge.

"There's no partnership in this, and I'm sick and tired of doing everything without so much as a single acknowledgement from you and-"

"Sit."

"What? No."

Alhaitham did what he could to stop his hands from trembling when he reached out and pried the broom from you, immediately regretting having let it clatter to the ground, the sound doing nothing to break the tension.

With a firm hand, Alhaitham guides you to sit before taking the spot beside you. No amount of noise cancelling would be enough to drown out the thundering beat of his heart. How had he allowed himself to become so blind to the weight upon your shoulders?

If the broadest shoulders must bear the heaviest load, how had he ever let himself so carelessly neglect assessing the tired look in your lovely eyes? But your fingers remained intertwined with his, you were disappointed but not enough to loathe him. That by itself was reason enough to not overthink but act.

"The day isn't over, my work can wait. We could go for a picnic, it shouldn't be too warm and we have leftovers to bring. I can go to the bazaar and get fruit while you get ready," his mind was running as fast as possible, voice struggling to keep up.

"I don't want it to be forced, and that's exactly what you're doing right now."

His eyes widened slightly, struck by lightning when you pulled your hand from his.

"Tomorrow then, the entire day?"

He saw how your eyes narrowed, which only made the surge of relief he felt that much greater as you yanked his earpiece to the side to press a kiss to the shell of his ear. You were still scowling, arms crossed in front of your chest as a petulant toddler.

But now Alhaitham had no doubt that it was strictly for show.

"Three more weeks and I'm back to lazing around as much as you want. And ah-," he cleared his throat sheepishly, "handling my own clutter in a more timely manner."

[coldfanbou]

Manor: Parting

The new part of the Manor series involves Umji and Taeyeon!

Length 2.1K

Umji x Taeyeon x Mreader

It was the day after. You sit in your room packing a backpack full of clothes and other things you might need. Nayeon was doing the same. You had pulled out a good amount of money from your bank account, and it would last you a couple of months if you were wise with it. Nayeon was doing the same. You’re both nervous; you don’t know exactly what Moonbyul could do for the two of you, but at the moment, you feel like it’s your only choice. Once everything is packed, you hide your backpack in a closet and head out into the manor, taking a walk around the area so you can remember it well.

“Young Master!” You hear from behind you the quick steps of the person, telling you it was Taeyeon. “I have something I have to talk to you about. Could you spare me some time?” 

“Sure, what is it, Taeyeon?” 

“You’ll have to excuse me, but it's something that we should talk about in private.”

“I- alright.” Taeyeon leads you to her room. She opened the door and stepped to the side to reveal Umji sitting on the bed. You hadn’t had too much interaction with her in the time she worked here. “What is this about Taeyeon?”

“You see, Young Master. Umji managed to overhear something about Yuna and Chuu that I thought you should be aware of. Umji, please go ahead.”

The young woman stood up, fiddling with her hands. “I overheard them saying something about Yuna not ending up pregnant and that they would need to try again with you, Master.”

“This is very concerning, Young Master. It seems like they may be trying to force a marriage.” A knock on the door interrupts Taeyeon; she goes to check it. Opening the door just a crack, she sees Moonbyul on the other side.

“Taeyeon, I finished my task. Is there…” Moonbyul goes quiet as she manages to spot you over Taeyeon’s head.

“Moonbyul, you can- can.” Taeyeon struggles to think of a task for Moonbyul when you manage to see who it is. 

“She knows Taeyeon. You can let her in.” You grab the door handle and open the door for Moonbyul. You close the door behind her. “Well, Moonbyul. It looks like you were on the money, but I think Yuna took a different path. According to Umji here, Yuna just planned on getting pregnant to force a marriage.”

Moonbyul nods her head. “I guess that is the fastest way.”

The confused expression on Taeyeon and Umji’s faces is enough for you to explain the situation. “So Moonbyul heard something similar and saw Chuu heading in and out of my father’s office. We have come to the conclusion that it’s my father’s wish.”

“I see.” Taeyeon looks slightly concerned at the prospect. “I’ll talk with him.”

“No, Taeyeon. I’m planning on running away with Nayeon.”

“I don’t understand. If you’re running away with her, why not tell your father? You two could become a couple, and this would all stop.” Taeyeon makes a good point, but this wasn’t as much about marrying and more about wanting your freedom.

“Taeyeon, that’s not what I meant. I meant that we both want to get out of this life. I want my freedom; I don’t want to have my parents watch over me my entire life. Nayeon has her own reasons.” 

“That’s his call, and I’m helping him,” Moonbyul says, stepping back into the conversation.

“I think I should leave,” Umji says as she approaches the door. Taeyeon holds her at the door. “Miss Taeyeon?”

“Young Master. I don’t think you should leave. I think we should have a longer talk about this.”

You sigh in response, “Taeyeon, I don’t think there’s anything you can do to keep me here.” 

“Let’s just talk this out. I’d like you to leave us, Moonbyul.”

Moonbyul stands there for a moment, “What about Umji?” 

“I need her to stay here for a moment. Please leave us. Now.” Moonbyul bows and leaves the room. “Young Master, please reconsider this. If you talk to your father, I'm sure we could get him to stop all this nonsense.” 

You put your hand up. “Taeyeon, I just need to leave.” She looks to the floor, considering her options.

In a quiet voice, she says, “You wanted me, right?” Taeyeon slips the straps of her maid dress off her shoulders and forces it off her body, leaving her in her bra and panties. “You can have sex with me whenever you want. Umji, you want him to stay here too, right?” She whispers something into Umji’s ears, and soon, she’s stripping down, too. Your body reacts the only way it can after seeing the two beautiful women strip down. 

“Taeyeon,” You whisper before she rushes in and plants her lips on yours. She places your hands on her ass and rubs your bulge. 

“Let me do this, Young Master.” She pulls your cock out of your pants and strokes it gently. Taeyeon looks over her shoulder and nods at Umji. The young woman steps up to you and takes your cock from Taeyeon’s hand, continuing to stroke your shaft. Taeyeon’s kiss muffles your grunt. She starts stripping you of your clothes, starting with your shirt, before dragging you onto her bed to take your pants.

On her bed, Taeyeon continues to kiss you. You feel her fingertip move across your chest, but your focus is soon on Umji’s tongue as she drags it along your shaft. You groan from the pleasure. “Just stay quiet and enjoy this Young Master,” Taeyeon says before moving down your body to join Umji. You stare at them, watching each woman take their turn licking your shaft. Taeyeon cups your balls, moving them in her hand as she plants her lips on your cock and runs them along your shaft. On the other side, Umji is doing the same thing; her cute face and dirty act turn you on. “I’ll let you have it first,” Taeyeon whispers before kissing Umji’s cheek. You see the smile on Umji’s face grow as she moves toward the head and swallows it. Her small warm tongue playfully moves up and down over the head of your cock. Taeyeon strips off her remaining pieces of clothing and straddles your leg, rocking on it. Small moans escape her. She uses one hand to balance herself and uses the other to pinch her nipple. You can feel her nectar rubbing off against your leg. “We can take good care of you here. Always and forever.” She moans. 

You switch between watching Umji and Taeyeon, unable to keep your attention on a single person. Umji begins bobbing her head, taking in half your shaft. She looks pleased with herself as she glances at you. You moan her name; Umji rubs the tip against the inside of her cheek. It’s soft and warm, but soon you feel something else. Umji reaches your pelvis, your cock down her throat. Her voice is garbled as she mouths something. You unconsciously move your hand down and caress her cheek, feeling the skin around her mouth pull as she smiles. Her tongue taps the underside of your cock as she slowly pulls back. She lets go of your cock with a pop, smiling to herself as she kisses the tip. Umji gently sucks on it, involuntarily making you thrust your hips. She’s surprised and giggles before going back to your cock. You’re getting close to your orgasm, your cock beginning to throb in the young woman’s mouth. “He’s cumming.” Umji mumbles for Taeyeon to hear.  

“Go ahead, Umji. Drink it all; you deserve it.” Taeyeon replies before moving to your side. “Let her have it, Young Master.” She whispers into your ear. You give in, pouring your cum onto Umji’s tongue. A happy hum comes from Umji as she greedily drinks every drop. She laps at your tip as your orgasm comes to an end. Opening her mouth, Umji shows you how she drank it all with a smug smile. Taeyeon looks just as happy. She sits up and caresses Umji’s cheek. “I’ll take it from here. You can ride him after.” The two switch places. Taeyeon is between your legs, stroking your cock, getting it hard again while Umji kisses your neck and presses her body against yours. You feel her modest breasts rub against your side. 

Once you’re hard, Taeyeon straddles you aligning herself with your cock. “We love you, Young Master.” She says before pushing your cock inside. Taeyeon throws her head back and moans as she slowly stuffs herself with your cock. “You’re so big. I feel so full.” You see a slight bulge where your cock is inside her. Taeyeon rests for a moment, nearly at her end, despite just putting it in. Umji sits up and attaches herself to Taeyeon’s nipple, running her tongue around her areola. “Ah, Umji, don’t do that. I’ll cum.” Taeyeon moans as she starts grinding on your cock. “It feels so good.” She mumbles as she slowly rises. You grab her hips and pull her back down. “Shit,” You feel Taeyeon’s walls tighten around your cock. She leans forward, biting her lip. Taeyeon’s body goes stiff as she hits her orgasm.

You didn’t realize much you missed being inside Taeyeon; you moan and start thrusting into her tightening pussy. “Y-young Master, wait,” Taeyeon mumbles as she becomes overloaded with pleasure. Your thrusts were driving her crazy; add in Umji teasing her breasts, and Taeyeon was becoming lost in pure bliss. Taeyeon struggled to keep herself up as she felt your cock being slammed inside her. Taeyeon was being pushed toward another climax. “I’m cumming again!” Taeyeon cries out. You hold onto her waist, continuing to piston in and out of her as she cums again. Her tight pussy pushes you slowly toward your orgasm, but you hold on for now. 

Umji detaches herself from Taeyeon, watching as her superior collapses on top of you after her orgasm ends. “Let me rest, let me…” Taeyeon mumbles on about needing to rest. You lift her off your cock and move her to the side. Umji immediately replaces Taeyeon, rolling over you. Her back was to you, you could feel her soft ass against you, and your cock was trapped between her thighs for the moment. She rubs her legs together, making you groan. Umji’s thighs were beyond soft. You hold onto her waist and begin thrusting; after a minor adjustment, you’re cock in rubbing against her slit. Umji releases a small whine; she reaches up and plays with her tits as she watches your cock slide between her folds. 

“Put it in, please, Master. I want your cock.” Umji’s pleas are heard, and you give her what she wants. You slide your cock inside; Umji is tighter than Taeyeon. You both moan loudly. Umji turns her head toward you, and you do the same, kissing her as you begin thrusting. Your hands dig into her soft flesh as you push every inch of your cock inside her. Umji moves one hand down, rubbing her clit. “Harder Master, Harder.” Umji whines. You drive your cock deep inside Umji with every thrust; you can see her body jiggle when you put a lot of strength into it. Umji grabs one of your hands and moves it up toward her breast. Knowing what she wants, you squeeze; you find her nipple between your fingers and try to pinch it. She holds your hand over yours, helping you. Umji’s whines continue to flow as she feels your cock begin to throb inside her. “Master! Cum inside me, please!” You feel Umji walls wrapping around your cock, rubbing every part as she nears her climax. 

“Fuck, I’m going to cum.” You groan. You pull Umji down, impaling her on your cock as you cum. She feels your thick baby batter pour into her. Umji rests against you, her hand slowly rubbing her clit as she comes down from her orgasm. 

“Master’s cum feels so nice. It’s warm,” Umji mumbles blissfully. You kiss Umji, her lips melting into yours. You slip your tongue inside her mouth as your hands wander her body, running over her smooth skin.  “Master can use me whenever he likes,” Umji giggles. You stay inside Umji, letting her be a cockwarmer as you look over at Taeyeon, who’s fallen asleep. You think to yourself about how you still need to go. You decide you’ll at least leave her a note. For now, though, you choose to enjoy Umji for a little while longer.

[wowcatboys]

Hello! :)

First, I'd like to say that I've been enjoying your works so much! They're so well-written and fun to read ^^ I especially loved the one with Kayn and a cute partner, it was so sweet! <3

If it's alright (and there's no worries if not!), may I ask for either Sett or Yone with a shy, soft-spoken partner? Both seem like they'd make a cute pairing! Just completely sfw please.

Tysm! 🩷💫

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HEARTSTEEL SETT/ SHY READER ♡ Gender Neutral ♡ SFW ♡ No TWs ♡ YESSSS I'm so excited to write for Sett ! While the amount of Kayn content might indicate otherwise I have ALWAYS been a Sett main and I will ALWAYS maintain he is BEST BOI ♡ Thank you for your kind words anon! Hope you enjoy ~

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SETT

Wonderful, sweet Sett—he can tell exactly when you're worried about a social situation. All it takes is a look, and he knows that you're stuck in your own head, stressed about meeting new people or replaying the last conversation you stumbled through. "Hey," he says gently, bumping you with his shoulder. "You okay?" Sett listens as you talk through your concerns, rubbing a comforting thumb over your knuckles. He's silent until you finish. "I know other people can be rough" he says once you've expressed your struggles. "But honestly? Screw what anyone else thinks about you. You're sweet, kind, cute..." Sett continues the list until he coaxes a smile out of you. "But for real," he says, once you feel better. "I think you're the greatest. If someone else can't see that just because you're a little shy, that's their loss."

Sett knows he's got those Scary Boyfriend Privileges and he's not afraid to put them to work for you. Trapped in a conversation? He'll stand behind you, arms crossed, and glare. Usually the other person says their goodbyes pretty quickly. Need to confront someone? Any disagreement, big or small; say less. Sett is there, definitely not flexing menacingly. And asserting yourself? Well, telling your roommate to do their own dishes is a hell of a lot easier with over six feet of solid muscle backing you up.

Whenever you've got something to say, Sett shushes everyone so that you can speak. It's a little embarrassing, suddenly having all the attention suddenly on you. You do have to admit, though, it's nice to have people actually listen to you for once.

Obviously he can't avoid fans approaching him, but Sett feels so bad whenever you're out together and someone recognizes him. You've already got limited social energy, and now you have to waste it playing nice with heart-eyed fangirls ogling your boyfriend? He understands it's not pleasant. "Sorry, baby," he says to you. "I'll make it quick, I promise." After taking a selfie or two with them, he politely but insistently makes an excuse to leave. "Awesome to meet you," he smiles, winding his fingers through yours, "but we gotta go. Heartsteel schedules, man!" After you make your escape, Sett bends down to kiss your forehead and apologizes for the unwanted attention.

The best way Sett supports you in social situations is through his body language. He comforts you with the soft pressure of a hand on your back, or a reassuring thumb rubbing circles over your knuckles. When you speak, he turns his head to you, fully engaged. And, if you're in a group, he always makes sure to angle his body so that you're included in the circle.

When introducing you to his mom, Sett sticks to you like velcro. The two people he cares about most, finally meeting? Of course he wants it to go well! He practically hovers over you, trying to give you as much support as he can. You can barely go to the bathroom without him chaperoning. Bless his heart, though—he's so nervous and eager to please both his mom and you that it actually ends up making you more withdrawn. Thankfully, his mom—angel that she is—notices how nervous you are. She gives you a comforting smile (the exact same one her son often offers you, you note) and tells you both to relax. "Don't pressure yourself, my dear," she says to you. "My son adores you, which means I do, too. You've already got my approval." Her kindness and warmth is incredibly disarming, and you find it's very easy to come out of your shell around her.

God help the poor soul who tries to speak over you. Sett gets so pissed whenever anyone cuts you off. It doesn't matter if it's a Heartsteel member, or one of your friends, or, fuck it, your own damn mother—Sett's jaw locks and he gives them the dirtiest of dirty looks. "Uh, hey? I think they were trying to say something," he interrupts them, voice firm and eyes hard. And with Sett glaring down at them like that, all bulging muscles and barely-concealed growls and pissed-off-boyfriend energy? They usually quiet down pretty quick, and you're free to continue. They're on Sett's shit-list for the next couple of days, though. He's giving them a glare every time your back is turned.

While Sett loves his bros in Heartsteel, he knows that they all have really big, loud personalities. It can be a lot to deal with, especially for someone so shy. So, he invites you to everything—music video filming, birthday parties, movie nights— but he makes it clear that he completely understands if you don't want to come. Oh, but if you do show up? He's over the moon, and he'll do anything to make sure you're as comfortable as possible. Feeling overwhelmed and need a social break? He'll step outside for a walk with you. Kayn's teasing you? Sett's got him in a 'friendly' headlock in .2 seconds. Said something embarrassing? Don't worry. Sett will immediately distract everyone, even if he's got to say something twice as embarrassing to change the subject. Whatever you need, he's got you.

[hellfirenacht]

Wing Man Part 8

Fic Summary: Steve 'the Hair' Harrington is your best friend, and is constantly striking out. Sick of this, you two make a deal; you'll wing man for each other. Hooking Steve up with dates is easy, but he finds himself struggling to find you a date. At least, until Dustin starts talking about his new cool friend Eddie.

(1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9)

Chapter Summary: Eddie explains himself, and you two make plans to hang out on purpose.

5.7k Words

a/n: Sorry I haven't been updating! I swear, I'm almost always thinking about this fic but I've been trying to figure out where to go with it. I'm started to see how I want to shape the story (over 40k words in, go figure). Thank you all so much for your patience!

Also, I've had a lot of people ask me about Paige and have shown interest in what happened between her and Eddie. She is actually from Eddie's prequel novel, Flight of Icarus! I'll still explain bits and pieces during the story, but I highly recommend reading the novel for the full context. I am trying to write this in a way you don't need to read FoI, but it does give extra context to the story.

Anyway, we continue.

Aside from the mixtape playing in the van, it was surprisingly quiet between you and Eddie. Despite his eagerness to show up and take you out, now that you were sitting in his passenger side seat again, he had no idea what to do next. The sound of Iron Maiden was rumbling through the van, crackling through the old speakers. 

It wasn’t often that Eddie was at a loss for words or couldn’t come up with something to say. After embracing his role in the Hawkins High ecosystem as the resident loudmouth freak he could always come up with something to say to break the ice or cause a ruckus. 

But, being loud wasn’t exactly a substitution for actual charisma. He could hold the attention of his Hellfire Club during the game, and keep them safe enough from most bullies even. But intimidation was different than... whatever the hell he was supposed to be doing here. Flirting? That seemed right. He knew he should be trying to flatter you or compliment you or do something to show that he had an interest in you. 

“So,” you were the one to break the silence between the two of you. “What have you been up to for the past two weeks?”

Eddie know what you actually meant was “What the fuck, man?” which was a really fair question. 

“I should have called you sooner.” It was best to go ahead and rip the bandaid off now and get this conversation out of the way. “I’m sorry, I wanted to but I couldn’t.”

“Why not?” you asked, leaning against the passenger side door as you looked at him. Despite your eagerness to get out of Family Video with him, he could see that you weren’t going to just let him not explain why he hadn’t talked to you. Not that he was going to leave you hanging like that anyway. 

“My phone blew up.” Eddie said bluntly. 

“Your phone blew up? Like... actually exploded?” you asked, trying to see if he was fucking with you. 

“Remember that huge storm a few weeks ago? Turns out that old trailers don’t exactly have the best wiring sometimes so when lightning strikes it knocks out power for a few days and fries some important wires.” he explained. “So... yeah, we just got a new phone today and when I tried to call...”

“So, I didn’t answer my phone so you decided to track me down?” There was amusement in your voice which he took as a good sign. “Seems like you could have done that part earlier. I’m not hard to find.” 

“I’m not exactly interested in stalking.” Eddie snorted. “I’m already on enough people's shitlist in town.”

“Oh, you’re no fun.” you laughed. “You know where I live, you could have shown up at my doorstep in the rain or used random phones around town to leave weird messages about how you can’t stop thinking about me or sent me letters with cryptic meanings.”

“Where do you come up with these things?” Eddie laughed, feeling the tension between the two of you start to dissipate. 

“I read a lot of bodice-ripper books.” you shrugged. “Trashy romance novels are a guilty pleasure sometimes.” 

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re a weirdo?” 

“Steve did about an hour ago when I suggested that Bozo the clown could be the shit out of Pennywise from It.” 

Eddie wasn’t sure what he expected you to say, but it wasn’t that. Every time you had shown up in his life, you had completely thrown him off. He was starting to suspect that no amount of “Munson Magic” was going to work on you. Not that he wanted to work his dad’s charm on you to begin with. 

What he really wanted to do at that moment was ask you about your little bet with Steve. No, wait, not a bet. A deal? Maybe he should have asked Dustin more questions, or at least waited until after Hellfire to talk to the kid- 

”So what’s the plan?” You broke through his thoughts once again. “You show up out of nowhere and have me get into your unmarked van to take me to a second location... is there a second location in mind?”

There wasn’t, Eddie really hadn’t thought that far ahead.He’d panicked after his talk with Wayne and had shown up to Family Video on the chance that you’d been there. He’d run straight out the door with every intention of finding you and let you know that he was stupid for not trying harder to call you before. 

”I figured we could just... drive.” He wished he could ignore the sudden parallel between you and Paige. He wished that he could just forget about what happened in ‘84. Fuck, him and Paige never even had an official date, only hooking up in his van for a few weeks before everything blew up. 

Wait, was this a date? Crap, that had been the plan right? Show up, ask you on a date and then... then he’d be on a date. What the FUCK was he actually doing? He was acting so fucking awkward now- everything had been easier before. Why did Dustin have to open his big mouth about this?

“Just driving sounds great.” you said, and Eddie once again tried to relax. Every girl he had been with had wanted something from him. Nicole Summers and Cass Finnigan just wanted bragging rights that they got with the freak, and Paige had wanted him to be a rock hero. What did you want from him?

“Have you eaten?” It wasn’t exactly late, but it wasn’t really early in the evening either. His uncle always asked him that whenever one of them got home, and it had taken Eddie an embarrassingly long time to realize that it was Wayne’s way of showing that he cared. 

“I could eat.” you replied, which at least gave this... whatever this was, some structure for the night. Eddie didn’t have a lot of cash on him, but he could probably scrape together enough to get you each a burger or something. 

When the Iron Maiden tape clicked off and spat itself out, you took it upon yourself to pull it out and look it over. “Got any other tapes in here? I need to judge your music taste.” 

That made Eddie laugh “You and every other person in this town. I have a few more tapes in here.” He tapped on the center console which you eagerly dug into, flipping through the different cassettes with eagerness. 

“Metal. Metal. Metal. Metal.” You said, going through each cassette one by one. “I’m starting to see a pattern here, Eddie.” 

“What gave it away?” He said deadpan. “Was it that I play guitar or the fact that we’ve only bonded over music so far?”

“And Chris Morrison.”

“And Chris Morrison.”

“It was your hair, actually. You look so much like Eddie Van Halen it’s actually uncanny.” You looked up from the tapes and he could feel your eyes studying his face. He was glad that it was dark out now, as he could feel warmth rising in his cheeks at the comparison. Was that a compliment? Were you into him looking like Van Halen? 

“Van Halen?” Eddie asked. “I figured I was more of a Kirk Hammett type.”

“The hair yes,” you agreed, still staring at his face as he continued to drive. “But your smile is definitely more Van Halen.”

When was the last time someone had ever looked at him with that much consideration before? Something in Eddie’s gut twisted as he glanced over at you for a split second to meet your eyes. Huh, that was weird. Had anyone made him nervous like this before? Yeah he’d been attracted to Paige but this was starting to feel different. 

He really needed a cigarette right about now. 

“I hope that’s a compliment.” Eddie managed to say as he fumbled for the packet of Camels in the cupholder by him. 

“Oh, it is. I promise.” you replied, digging out a lighter and helping him light the smoke in his mouth. The world's tiniest supernova...

Eddie hated that the closest thing he had to compare notes on when it came to a healthy romance was two months with Paige and a handful of movies that he barely watched. 

You went back to his tapes, and seemed to pick one out. You removed the tape that had been spat out, put it back in the appropriate case (which Eddie found himself appreciating), and he was surprised to hear the old riffs of Muddy Waters playing. 

“A palate cleanser.” you said, leaning back into the passenger side seat. 

Eddie felt his mind reeling from your choice of music. Muddy Waters had been how his mom introduced him to rock at a young age. The two of you sat in silence for a few minutes, listening to the well loved tape as he pulled into the drive in of the next fast food joint he’d seen. 

When he pulled up to the window to pay, a fresh ten was shoved in his face before he could even reach for his own wallet. It took a moment for him to realize that you were wanting to pay. 

“You got me out of work early, it’s the least I can do.” you said, not giving him the option to say no as cash was exchanged for a bag of questionable but cheap food. You held the bag in your lap as Eddie started making his way out of town. 

“So is this an ‘eating van’ or a ‘non-eating van’?” you asked, messing with the top of the bag. 

“I think I’d starve if I didn’t eat in here.” Eddie snorted. “Knock yourself out.”

You wasted no time digging into the fries and taking a few for yourself as Eddie went to the only place that he could afford to take you right now that might be date worthy. 

Luckily, Lover’s Lake was quiet and private on weeknights. If Eddie had taken two minutes to plan this better, he would have thought to maybe clear out the back of his van and set out a blanket and have a picnic. When it came to music and D&D he was great at planning out details, with dates? Not so much. 

This isn’t a date. He reminded himself for the hundredth time tonight. She’s just a girl that you ran over to spend time with the second it occurred to you that she might have an interest in you and she really willingly hopped in your van and your friends actually like her-

Shit. This had to be a date right? Neither of you had said the word but that’s what it was... right? 

Eddie was snapped out of his thoughts with the sweet smell of hot potatoes and grease was wafting under his nose. You had shoved a few fries in front of his face and Eddie wasted no time in taking them. You continued to absently feed him fries as he found a spot to park.

The two of you divided up the food on his dashboard, and Eddie rolled down the windows to let the cool autumn air in. 

“So... what are you gonna be for Halloween?” Eddie asked, wincing internally. When was the last time anyone he knew had dressed up for Hallowen? Okay, so Hellfire Club did tend to dress up on Halloween for a special one shot but that was different- no one came to school in costumes anymore.

“It depends on my plans.” you answered. “Halloween is on a Thursday so I’m usually working. If I have a morning shift I’ll probably do zombie makeup for work, if Steve and Robin are working with me that day I think we’re gonna attempt to be Luke, Leia, and Hans.” 

“And are you gonna be Leia?” Eddie asked. 

“Ideally, I wanted to be Chewie but I don’t have the time for that.” you laughed. “Robin and I voted on Steve to Be Leia. Robin will be Luke, and I’ll be Hans Solo with a teddy bear.”

“Please tell me that Harrington isn’t going to be in the bikini.” Eddie laughed. 

“Keith said costumes had to be work appropriate so, sadly, Steve will not be gracing the store with his sweater-vest chest hair under a bra.” You sighed dramatically. “It’s like he hates the idea of us having fun!” 

“What if you have to close?” Eddie prompted, adjusting in his seat to lean against the door to face you as best he could. Next time he was absolutely clearing out the back to give you both more room. 

“Oh, I am not closing.” you said firmly. “And if Keith thinks he can schedule me that day he can suck it because I have plans.” 

You already have Halloween plans. Of course you would. It’s not like you had to worry about school on a weekday like he did. Eddie tried not to deflate in front of you and remained calm. 

“And what plans would that be?” he asked. 

“Have you ever seen The Rocky Horror Picture Show?” you asked, a smile tugging at your lips. 

He had, once, with Reefer Rick a few months ago when picking up his usual supply. A quick pick up had turned into a game of pool, which had turned into the two of them high on Rick’s couch watching an old VHS tape while Rick laughed his ass off and yelled at the tv before passing out in the middle of Tim Curry seducing Brad and Janet. 

“Once.” Eddie said, not giving the exact details of circumstance. “With a friend, I didn’t really get it.” 

“Did you see it in theaters or did you just watch it at home?” you asked, finishing off your food. 

“Friend’s house.” 

“Oh, no wonder you didn’t get it. Rocky Horror is an experience, you can’t just pop the tape in and watch it. You have to come see it in a theater.” As you spoke you were absently folding a napkin in your lap turning it into what looked like a heart. When you were done with that one, you started with another shape with a different napkin. 

“Is that an invitation?” Eddie asked, tearing his eyes away from the way your fingers moved for now. He found his heart pounding in his chest, unsure if you were actually wanting him to come to this, and from the knot forming in his stomach as the shapes you were folding reminded him of the times he met you before. 

“It is.” you confirmed, the ninja star you had shaped with the napkin was placed on the center console as you grabbed another napkin. “...It could also be a date.” 

Despite the period at the end of the sentence, Eddie heard the slight waiver in your voice on the word date. It was that same nervous stammer that had been in Paige’s voice when she offered to let him move in with her in California, it was the same hesitant inflection that one of his Hellfire players used when they weren’t sure if Eddie would approve of what crazy plan they had for their character. 

Aside from that first awkward meeting at the Palace Arcade, you had been pretty confident and upfront with him. Now here you are, laying out your intentions and seeing what he would do. 

What would he do? Eddie had shown up at Family Video with no real plan. He only knew he wanted to see you again, and he knew that Dustin and Steve were trying to set you two up. And it’s not like Eddie was completely against the idea of going on a date with you. You were sharp, and you kept him on his toes, and when you smiled at him it felt like his brain might short out. 

But he had also panicked when he had thought that you were going to kiss him before. After Eddie’s disastrous break up with Paige two years ago, it’s not like he’d been completely against any physical relationships. There had been a grand total of two other hook ups that he’d sabotaged. People weren’t interested in getting to know the freak, they just wanted to say that they had been with him. So both times, Eddie had made sure that he’d been a lousy date and a decent enough lay before deciding that he’d rather had a date with his right hand and a Heavy Metal magazine.

Eddie would rather the rumor mill call him a boring date rather than set a standard that he’d go out with anyone who asked. He wondered if he had, would Steve have put his name on the town marquis for the world to see? Would Eddie ‘the Slut’ Munson be treated any differently than Eddie ‘the Freak’?

Shit, you were still waiting for a response. 

“A date.” Eddie finally managed to echo your last words back at you. The napkin you had been messing with in your hands was now taking the shape of a ninja star. 

“I mean, if you’re interested.” you said quickly. “It could just be a friend thing. Or you probably already have plans for Halloween-”

“I don’t.” Eddie interjected. “It could be a date.”

He watched your shoulders relax and you smiled up at him. “It’s a date then.” You grabbed a napkin and your green marker out of your bag and scribbled something down, handing it over to him. 

“In case your phone blows up again, here is the date and time and location for the Halloween showing of the movie.” your eyes narrowed slightly at him. “And my work schedule has been hectic but I consistently work on Sunday’s and clock out at four.”

Eddie got the message loud and clear, he would know where to find you now. There wouldn’t be any excuses for not reaching out, but two could play at this game. He took the marker from your hand and grabbed his own napkin, scribbling his own phone number down and handing it over to you. 

“I’m at school all week, but I still play at the Hideout on Tuesdays.” He answered back. “Friday is Hellfire.”

With that, the playing field felt a little more level. Both of you now had the power to track the other one down or call when needed.   

“So what are you going to be for Halloween?” you asked, tucking the napkin with his number into your bog. 

“Oh, haven’t you heard? When you’re the town freak every day is Halloween.” Eddie chuckled. 

“So what, you’re gonna put on a polo and khakis instead?” He liked the way you scrunch your nose when you laughed. “Ditch the jewelry and cover your tattoos?” 

“That would probably scare some of the teachers at school.” Eddie had considered doing exactly that, but he really didn’t think he’d want that kind of attention. “No one dresses up at school anymore.”

“Boring.” You sighed. “I tried dressing up for Halloween my senior year but when I got to school my friends convinced me to change clothes.”

Eddie raised an eyebrow. “You don’t seem like the type to let other people tell you what to do.” 

“Now I’m not.” you shrugged. “I’m not in high school anymore, and all those people that I saw everyday? Turns out I was only friends with them because I saw them every day. Once you get away from that forced routine you realize that it’s all bullshit.”

Eddie could relate, probably better than anyone else. He was so sick of the day to day hierarchy of highschool that he’d scream it from on top of a table. Literally. 

“What were you trying to be before your friends killed your fun?” Eddie asked. 

“A pirate. It was last minute but I had a bandana, an eyepatch, a sock puppet with feathers glued to it for my parrot, and a wire hanger I was carrying around as a hook.” you laughed at the memory. “I ended up dropping the eyepatch before my friends made me change because I kept running into people. My wire hanger was confiscated, some asshat stole my parrot, and one of my friends gave me a sweater to change into. I didn’t even make it to first period in that outfit.”

Eddie had made it a point to not pay attention to anyone outside of his small group at school, only ever keeping an eye out for lost sheep that didn’t have anywhere else to go. He wondered, if he had seen you that morning in the brief window before you were pushed back into conformity would he have noticed you? Talked to you? You had already been nice to him before. 

“Wait,” Eddie over at you, taking in the picture you had painted for him. “You made a sock puppet parrot?”

“I needed a parrot, or else no one would get it!” you explained. “But then when I took it off and left it to go use the bathroom it was gone. I finally found the thief in fourth period because they kept playing with it and squawking my own parrot at me. But by that point I had just cut my losses and had given up on Halloween.”

“Are you usually this crafty?” Eddie asked, once again looking at the final napkin you were folding into what looked like an old cootie catcher. 

“I get bored easily.” you said. “If I don’t have something to do with my hands I can’t focus.”

“How’d you start with the whole-” Eddie grabbed one of his slightly used napkins and gave it a wave. “Folding thing?”

“Fourth grade show and tell.” you said. “I did not prepare anything and so I spent a full ten minutes in the school library to find something to show. I found a book on origami, found the easiest thing to make and realized that I actually enjoyed it.”

If that was a mystery, it sure did get solved right there. Eddie wanted to ask about Steve and Dustin. He wanted to ask you why him? He could keep his mouth shut, let this whole thing play out and see what happened. Eddie could sit here, and enjoy the fact that a girl was giving him the time of day and leave everything up in the air just like he had with Paige. 

“So I heard you and Steve had a deal going on.” Eddie said. “Something about getting dates?”

You froze for a second, the completed cootie catcher in your hands. Things were dead silent for a grand total of ten seconds. Ten agonizingly long seconds. Even the cassette player had clicked off and was now whirring as it rewind the Iron Maiden tape. 

Then you started laughing. A lot. 

“Jesus, Eddie!” you said, wiping your eyes with the ninja star as a tear threatened to spill down your cheek. “I tell you I have origami as a hobby, and you follow up with ‘So I heard you and Steve are trying to get dates.’ Seriously?”

Eddie remained silent at your reaction, trying to process your laughter. You didn’t seem scared or nervous that he had called you out, and he had to admit that he hadn’t completely thought through the consequences of asking you that question. 

“Who blabbed?” You asked, after your laughter had calmed down. 

“Henderson.” Eddie admitted and, in an attempt to ease any lingering tension he leaned forward to rest his elbow on the center console and held his chin in his hand as he looked at you. “That shrimp informed me that you found me so irresistible that you begged Steve to set you up with me.”

“Is that right?” You asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“Oh yeah,” Eddie agreed. “Told me all about how ever since Chris Morrison shot you down, you’ve been desperate to get my attention to get back at him.”

“So which is it, am I attracted to you or am I using you to get back at a guy I talked to once in high school years ago?” you asked. Eddie saw a glint in your eyes, the same one he’d seen that first night at the arcade when at the air hockey table. 

“Both are true.” Eddie continued to explain, a shit eating grin on his face. “You see, you were originally going to use me to get back at Chris, but then you saw me play guitar and instantly fell in love.”

“Damn, this sounds like the plot of a terrible movie.” you laughed. “So is this the part where I tell you that ‘It started out like that, but I swear it’s not like that anymore!’? Do I beg on my knees that my feelings for you are genuine, even though we’ve hung out a grand total of two-and-a-half times?”

Five times, but who’s counting? 

“What’s the half-time?” Eddie asked. 

“You ditched me at the arcade after I said I’d be right back.” you stated matter-of-factly. “I’m hoping it’s not a pattern where you start dropping off the face of the earth just when things start getting good.”

“Between you and me,” Eddie leaned in closer. “I thought Dustin was trying to set me up with Steve. Not you.” 

Cue more laughter from you as you threw your head back. “Are you kidding me?! Dustin makes me and Steve show up to an arcade and tries to force a meeting with you- and you thought you were supposed to be dating Steve?!” 

“Not dating!” Eddie clarified quickly. “You see, Steve and I only have one thing in common and that’s Dustin Henderson. Kid practically worships Steve. I thought he was trying to get us to be friends or something.”

“Oh my god, you thought Dustin was trying to hook his two dads up!” Your cootie catcher was now crumpled up in your hands, stained with tears from your laughing. “I’m a homewrecker!” 

Yeah, this really wasn’t going the way Eddie had expected it. 

“Shit, Eddie, I’m sorry.” you said, your laughter calming down into giggles instead. “Have I been reading this whole thing wrong? I mean, if you have more of an interest in Steve I could probably set that up. He’s only ever shown interest in girls but you have long hair and are pretty enough-”

“No.” Eddie said. “I don’t have an interest in Steve- you think I’m pretty?” How were you able to throw him off so easily? He could tell that if you had been able to join Hellfire you would have been a menace at his table.

“Extremely.” you said, your voice more sincere now. 

The two of you just stared at each other for a while and Eddie felt that same twisty feeling in his gut again. You thought he was pretty. That was good, right? Did you like pretty boys? You were pretty- he liked that a lot. 

“I...” Eddie started and then dug deep inside himself to find the words he wanted to use. “Prettier than Steve?” Those were not the words he wanted to say, but he said them anyway. 

“Steve is conventionally attractive but, as I said before, not my type.” you said. “I like guys with long hair anyway.”

Eddie really couldn’t tell if he was nailing this or blowing it. “So, what is your type?” 

“I’ll tell you mind if you tell me yours.” you countered. 

Had Eddie ever really thought about what his type was? Yeah, he’d had ill-advised crushes and had been attracted to various women in comics and tv but did he have a type? He tried to connect all the girls in his mind that he’d been with, trying to find a pattern. 

Someone who actually pays attention to me. That’s pretty sad, Eddie. He came to the conclusion. Yeah, aside from his disastrous kiss with Ronnie five years ago, every girl he’d been with had been the one to show interest first, and you were no exception. But had he actually had feelings for the others? Not really. Attraction? Yeah. Feelings? Well, with Paige he had been far too busy dealing with Corroded Coffin, his dad, and school to really decide what he felt for Paige. Any other small flings had been dead on arrival.

So why did he keep wanting to spend time with you?

“Don’t go spreading this around,” Eddie started. “But if I had to pick a type, it’d be She-Hulk.” 

“She-Hulk?” you mulled that over in your mind. “So tall, green, and angry?” 

“Strong-willed, and funny as shit.” Eddie corrected. 

“And green.”

“And green.” 

“If I had known that earlier I would have picked Kermit the Frog as my Halloween costume this year.” you teased. “I don’t have a character off the top of my head, but I like people who feel.. Real.”

Real. The word that Paige and him had used over and over in those two months. 

“What’s real to you?” 

“Not high school.” you said. “Someone who’s not afraid to exist and be themselves. I’m most attracted to anyone who can let go of their desperate ego and just have fun. High school was boring because everyone was so wrapped up in their own bs of looking cool that they didn’t do anything that they actually wanted to do. Shit, even I fell into that.”

Eddie didn’t want to ask if he was real to you. He wasn’t sure if he was ready for an answer. There were lots of times he wished that he wasn’t still in school, but this time really hit harder. He was starting to really like you, and yeah part of him was terrified of that. 

The two of you finished off the last of your food and Eddie shoved all the leftover trash into the brown bag and tossed it in the back so you wouldn’t be stepping on it. 

“I don’t know much about real anymore, but I think you’re pretty badass.” Eddie finally said. “I mean, you brought a wire hanger and a fake parrot to school for a costume. That’s pretty brave, even if your friends did talk you out of it.”

“I’m more mad that the parrot was stolen and used to annoy me than the lack of costume.” you said with a small laugh. “They weren’t even funny. They just kept repeating what I said. It was easier to just shut up at that point.” 

“Didn’t think to make them say anything embarrassing?” 

“Oh, I tried. But, jocks don’t know the art of a good ‘Duck Season, Rabbit Season’ gag. Anything embarrassing I said they’d just turn it around. I’d say ‘I pissed myself in gym.’ they’d reply with ‘you pissed yourself in gym’. No love for comedy.” You took a deep breath and let out a long sigh. “If you’re going to be a bully, at least give me a good story to tell later, you know?”

“I once got slammed against a locker by a jock who called me ‘a myriad freak.” Eddie said. “To this day, I still don’t know what he was trying to mean by that.”

“See? At least that’s funny.” you said, and then. “Holy shit, we’ve gotten off topic.” 

“There was a topic?” Eddie leaned back on the seat again. 

“Yes, an important one that I was very interested in before we started talking about bullies and high school and She-Hulk.” you nodded. 

Talking to you was so easy that he hadn’t realized how many topics the two of you had blown through in a short amount of time. He looked at his watch real quick and realized it was creeping towards 11 pm now. Had the two of you really been talking that long?

“What topic was it?” 

“You flirting with me.” you said, your lips pulling back in a cheshire grin. “I’m pretty sure you were at least, before I became a homewrecker between you and Steve. Normally I’d hate to break up a happy family, but I might have to make an exception this one time.”

“Was I flirting?” Eddie tilted his head with his own grin. “I’m pretty sure I was just telling you that I thought Dustin was trying to make me be friends with Steve. If I had known that the shrimp was trying to introduce me to a cute girl-” He would have shot it down and canceled Side Quest Day- “I wouldn’t have left the way I did.”

“You think I’m cute?” 

“Extremely.” 

You nodded. “Alright, then it’s a good thing that we’re going on a date. I’m glad to know that I’m not coming between you and Steve.”

It was just past midnight when Eddie dropped you off at your apartment that night. This time when you leaned over the center console towards him, he didn’t freeze up or panic. Eddie let you hug him and he hugged you back, his cheeks growing hot momentarily when he felt your lips press against his cheek and he was able to breathe in your scent. 

“See you later, Eddie. Oh, and for the movie- I highly recommend dressing up.” you looked him up and down. “Actually, just wear what you’d normally wear. I think you’ll fit right in.” 

Eddie made a mental note to ask Rick later on what he was supposed to wear for this. 

“I’ll call you.” he said. “I promise. I mean it this time.”

“Not if I call you first, I have your number now. And worst case scenario, I know where you play.” you responded. “See you Tuesday, Eddie.” 

And with that you were gone again, leaving Eddie alone in the van feeling much better than the last time he had given you a ride. There were still questions he had. He still wanted to know why exactly everyone was wanting the two of them to meet again, and why you always so readily agreed to meet up with him. But those were questions for another day. 

“You had a missed call.” Wayne said as Eddie made his way into the trailer. “Didn’t leave a name or number. Said she’d call you back.”  

Eddie laughed and shook his head, guess you meant it when you said you’d call first. 

“Don’t stay up too late watching tv.” Eddie said before heading towards his bedroom. He once again found himself falling asleep with his copy of The Hobbit, the origami flower tucked safely in the back. 

Next Chapter

Ending note: This fic takes place during October 1985. Stephen King’s It did not come out until September 1986. I would like to ask you all politely to suspend your disbelief for the historical inaccuracy of a piece of dialogue that probably didn’t add much to the plot. If this horrible inaccuracy bothers you, please repeat to yourself “it’s just a fic, I should really just relax” which is what most of us should be doing anyway.

Dividers by: @strangergraphics

Tag List: @k8loo @terrormonster55 @sp1dyb0y1008 @crocwork-clockodile @ali-r3n @mxcheese @josephquinnschesthair @gagasbee @peaches-roses-sins @witchwolflea @vintagehellfire @royale1803 @cumslutforaemond @prestinalove @browneyedgirl320 @perpetualmess @thebook-hobbit @mistonk @cultish-corner @grishaversecaptivated @sortagaysortahigh @halialex1119 @bakugouswhOr3 @siriuslysmoking @pookiesnatcher @sky-full-0f-fl0wers @takemetoneverlandbabe @killjoynotes @maelibo

[groenendaelfic]

you know I wasn't going to comment on anything s3 in detail or write a super long divisive post because that's draining and tiring and I just want everyone to have fun and find joy in fandom in whatever way is best for them. And yet here we are. Who'd have thought?

All I wanted from season 3 was for Wilmon to talk to and with each other, to get to know each other (better) and to try to understand and support each other and grow together. To be a couple in love and working on their relationship, learning from each other. Them against the world, facing problems together as a team. I wanted romance and hugs and honesty, and all I got was them being horny. I mean don't get me wrong I love them being horny, but I don't want that to be their entire (positive) relationship and the only thing they have going for them as a couple. Please just have an actual, proper conversation with each other?

This post however is not about that. This post is about Kristina.

I hate what they did with her. I hate her entire character arc (if you can call it that) in s3. I hate what triggered her breakdown. I hate that instead of breaking the circle of abuse and emotional and physical neglect she no doubt suffered, she perpetuated it.

She left her son alone when he needed her most. When all he needed was a hug and a good long cry and the assurance that he's not alone, that she's there for him. That she understands. For someone (his family) to be there and listen and assure him that for them, Wille comes first. (I mean not all, he also needed proper therapy for one, but that'd have been a great and important start)

Wille is a child. Her child. Wille needed her and she failed him. She pushed him away and she sent him away and she left him alone.

(the same is true for Ludvig of course, it'd be extremely sexist etc to not put the exact same expectations and blame on him as well, but alas this post is only indirectly about him as everything always is at best)

However.

Her son is dead.

She's been groomed to believe her entire purpose in life is to be a mascot (which comes with very specific expectations and restrictions she herself said she struggled to adapt to) and to give birth to the next mascot.

I don't pity her for that, but that's still her entire identity and purpose in life. It's always been, and now the next mascot is dead and she has to burden the son she thought would be spared with it all, pun very much intended.

But let's return to my first point first. Her son is dead. Not just the next mascot. Her son.

Yes, Wille's brother died as well and I'll never make light of that. It's horrible and a grief and pain impossible to put into words. Especially as a kid or young teen. Wille needs all the support. Still.

It's not the same.

I know it's not the same because I know exactly what it's like. Both of it.

Granted I'm not a queen, but I did have a cousin who died aged sixteen. We lived in the same house their entire life and shared a bedroom for years. We were like siblings. It was my first time experiencing the death of a close loved one and it was horrible. We all struggled for a long time. Their siblings and I and the entire family, and they will never be forgotten, but it broke my aunt and uncle. Fifteen years later and they're still broken.

I also have two sons and a spouse who are dead (no I didn't lose them, I know exactly where they are) and I promise you it's not the same. A dead sibling is nothing like a dead child. (not that it's a competition)

I'm not going to talk about what it does to you internally, but I will tell you what you'll experience from the outside world when your family dies excitingly enough to make it to the local newspaper. Then feel free to multiply it by a large number of your own choosing when you're royalty and the entire country is looking at you and you've been groomed to never lose composure.

Everyone will call and show up and want to show their support and their condolences (that lasts until about a week or so after the funeral). And they will get two words in and break down and cry, each and every one of them, and then it's your job to console them and be strong and deal with all the arrangements and lawyers and bureaucracy. And it'll have to be you for most things no matter how supportive your family might be, because it's you who needs to sign shit and show the school a death certificate. Everyone will mean well, but it'll be everyone else who'll require reassurance and you who'll have no choice but to function because at first there's so much to do. So much. You won't have time to breathe until after the funeral, and after that there're still so much more to do and take care of you'd never have considered before. For weeks. You can ask someone else to drive you but it'll still be you who's required to show up and do the thing. Some things will drag out for months and more. You don't have time to break down and be weak. You can't afford to, because you also have a job and other responsibilities and a duty to your dead loved ones.

But then the day comes when it's 'over' and there's nothing more to do. Sure people still look at you with pity and whisper behind your back wherever you go and fall quiet, unsure how to react or what to say, because you're now the lady who lost her family in a freak accident, but everything and everyone else moves on. That's normal. It can't not. But it's that quiet after which is the most dangerous.

I hate that they made Kristina's breaking point her son publicly coming out as queer, renouncing following traditions without thought and admitting to having been in the video. I hate it so much, because that was a choice made with an entirely different motive behind the one I'll expound on now and I hate that. Don't instrumentalize grief and the loss of a child and sibling to further prove and underline your political agenda (which I agree with). It cheapens it and was very much unnecessary. We all would've gotten the point without it as well.

But you know what? I can't fault Kristina for that.

You don't know your breaking point until you reach it. It can be anything. There's a reason the saying goes 'the straw that broke the camel's back'. Everyone has a different one and they often feel very ridiculous to oneself (which is a very helpful feeling in that situation, believe me /s). I've talked to numerous people who've gone through something similar. In my support group and in grief counseling and group therapy. No one I've met had a 'logical' breaking point.

Mine came late last fall when I saw a robin outside my window. Yes a bird. We'd have one come every winter to eat the oats and raisins etc we put out for it, and my youngest would spend endless hours every day before dusk looking out that window waiting for the robin to come and eat for a few moments at a time, less if he started clapping out of excitement.

That was it. Boom. I was useless for the next seven weeks.

You don't let your grief overcome you. That isn't a choice. You don't choose not to function when a loved one dies. You don't choose to be depressed or to have the most ridiculous thing be your breaking point. You don't choose to be too strong to not let the grooming break you or to be too weak to be unable to break out of it. And you don't choose to be unable to sit at a birthday party and enjoy cake with a son you know you'll have to force into a role he never wanted, the one your dead son was supposed to fill.

Does that make Kristina any less of a shitty mom? No, of course not. Nor does it change anything for Wille. Kristina's grief shouldn't be Wille's concern. But you don't choose any of that, and the stronger you have to appear the farther you'll fall once you just can't hold it together anymore.

I grew up with a very large, multicultural extended family. There wasn't an hour I was awake at home as a kid when I wasn't hugged or kissed by a younger cousin or aunt or my mom (it was super annoying). We talked and still talk about everything. I married into a family which was a bit less physical and more Swedish in showing their affection, but they are still very open and loving and genuine. I had all the support I could ask for. They're the best and I couldn't have asked for more.

It's not enough. Your child is dead. And Kristina had none of that.

Is Kristina (and Ludvig) super annoying for going on and on and on about Erik and how perfect he was? About always bringing him up when they have a son right there who needs them desperately?

Yes. It annoyed me too. I kept catching myself being furious on Wille's behalf and Simon's with how Wille reacted to the not-comparison between Erik and Sara. But I understand Wille's reaction to Simon and I understand Kristina and Ludvig.

Because once your child / sibling / spouse / dog dies?

They become perfect. My oldest once poured syrup where he shouldn't (it was a Nordic winter night and the car was thirsty) resulting in us being out of our only car, our insurance laughing at us, and us unable to afford a new one. It cost a lot of money, my spouse almost their job and made our life a lot harder for well over a year. He was old enough to know better (and leave the house by himself to go outside and play). He never did anything wrong in his life. He was perfect. They were all perfect.

Erik? What we learn about him is horrifying, and it being normalized and dare I say institutionalized, with him probably not having second guessed his actions, makes it worse instead of better. I do believe Erik was the kind of guy who just didn't (care to) think and merely did what was expected without further thought. That doesn't make it better either, because those kinds of people are the ones who keep corrupt systems running. I might be wrong about his character entirely, but it doesn't matter, because as soon as he died he became perfect.

It's weird what death does to our perception of a loved one. Or maybe not. It's also weird what death does to our perception of everything, because suddenly everything will remind us of that person.

A cloud? A scent? A sound? Toilet paper? Kristina is at the stage where everything she sees and feels and smells and hears will remind her of Erik and his death. Of how he's dead and now Wille has to become him and that is the worst.

Also her son is dead.

No she can't just pull herself together and eat the damn cake. Everything she talks about is Erik because everything she currently is is Erik. Her son who is dead.

There is a reason this is such an often used trope in fiction.

Kristina spent all her life being told that her duty to the throne is her only purpose in life. Be queen. Represent Sweden. Produce an heir. Part of why she's as old as she is is no doubt because Pernilla August is awesome and you can't not hire her when that's an option, but nothing else in this show is a coincidence and done without thought, so I refuse to believe that Kristina hasn't always been meant to be an older mom.

Maybe she had fertility issues. Maybe she for whatever reason didn't want kids and put it off for as long as she could. She's certainly not maternal. Unlike every other woman her generation, no one ever expected her to be maternal. That's not her job.

Quite the opposite. Kristina is old enough to have been raised at a time when royal mothers weren't expected to have any hand in raising their children except for approving (or rather disapproving chosen) nannies and playmates and tutors and the like. She was very likely the first female heir apparent, or maybe she was simply the heir because she had no (male) siblings. Either way her job was always to be a monarch, not a woman or a mother. That's what staff is for. That's not an excuse, but it does explain her as a character.

She was groomed and forced herself to adjust (I do believe forced is the right word, because unlike Erik she seems to (have) be(en) a lot more like Wille than she'd like to admit). She had to be strong and queen and represent Sweden. And then her son and heir died and she failed at both.

I do believe Erik was always the 'easier' child, doing what he was told and taking only the freedoms he knew he'd be granted, while Wille is willful, argues, has a temper and his own head. (that doesn't mean Erik was happier or better adjusted)

And now Erik is dead and Wille has to fit the mold. Wille who got to go to a normal school and clubbing and was let to run wild with little preparation for the role he'd someday have to support his brother with. Arguments can be made that Kristina and everyone else never cared about Wille until they needed him, but I'd like to think she meant well and gave him the freedom she could, and because she is a bad parent she thought she was being kind, and because she is queen no one told her otherwise until it became a problem.

Kristina has never been a good parent, and I honestly believe saying someone meant well is an insult and not an excuse, but I do believe she tried the best with what she knew, the best she could.

It wasn't enough, it was the opposite of enough, but she tried and her breakdown is not a weakness but something which was a long time in coming.

She's not maternal. Her job wasn't to be maternal. Her job is to be a mascot and have other people make sure the next mascot is fed and watered and able to perform. Her being too brainwashed to see how horrifying that is does not make her innocent or any less of a bad mother, but why would she think of acting any other way?

She's ashamed of her breakdown. She can't be weak. Not in front of the nation and not in front of her son and heir. Wille can learn and grow and change. Everyone can and it's never too late, but Kristina here is meant to be what Wille risks becoming if he doesn't, if he gives up and becomes a thoughtless mascot.

Kristina is not a victim and I can't forgive her for being a shit mom, but she's also not the devil. She's a mother who lost her child, and she's spent her whole life being told that the worst thing she can do is to appear weak.

Well guess what? At one point that simply doesn't work anymore.

This post by the lovely @voldiebeth is what motivated me to write a similar one. I originally planned on reblogging and merely adding my own thoughts, and I did talk to her before posting, but then it became something even more personal than originally planned, and considering the difficulty of the subject I found myself more comfortable making this a standalone post. I know that's not proper tumblr etiquette, but please bear with me. Many thanks to @voldiebeth for motivating me to put my convoluted thoughts and feelings in writing and order them a bit. It was very cathartic.

[justwhisperingfantasies]

Memories Part 1

Characters: Dean Winchester x Female Reader, Sam Winchester, Castiel. Mention of other SPN characters.

Warnings: near-death experience, language, angst (kind of), cute dean, fluff (kind of) not exactly cannon.

A/N: This is my first ever fic post. Please go easy on me. Hope you enjoy

Summary: You've had your memory wiped and sent off to your death. Sam, Dean, and Cas save you just before it is too late. the guys struggle with being strangers to you after all the years you have shared. You are forced into a life-altering dilemma.

Word count: 3,142 words

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

This is it. This is how I die. You thought to yourself.

After all the hunts, all the monsters, all the bullshit. 

You hear the door being kicked down as you think about everything you would have done differently.

"CAS! Get over there she needs you!"

You feel arms wrap around you and then lift you as you slip into the darkness.

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

You wake in a panic on a strange bed. Sitting up to examine your wounds, but there's none to be found. What the hell?! I should be dead. Was it all a nightmare? It couldn't have been, It felt so real! Where the hell am I? You scan the room and notice there is a small writing desk in the far left corner. A sink with a mirror above in the far right corner. A  door that was halfway open in the middle. Nothing fancy.

"(y/n)"

You turn your head in the direction of the voice. Your eyes find a man with dark messy hair, a lighthearted expression, and the bluest eyes you've ever seen.

"(y/n), Everything is alright. Don't freak out. My name is Castiel. I'm here to help. We are lucky we found you when we did."

"Umm.." just as you were about to blurt out every question that came to mind his cell phone started ringing. He gave you a soft smile and answered it.

"Dean..... Yes, she's alive... Yes, I healed them all…..  She seems to be okay. Maybe a bit confused... Sitting in the spare bedroom looking at me like I have 3 heads..... Well, I haven't gotten a chance to explain everything.... okay, see you soon."

All these thoughts and questions are swirling in your head, but you've lost the ability to talk.

"Before we get into it, do you need anything? Thirsty? Hungry? Bathroom?" Castiel asked, putting his phone away.

You Shook your head no, still at a loss for words.

"Alright then, like I said. My name is Castiel. I'm an angel..."

You laugh out loud at the world angel. "You're an angel?! Like an angel of the lord?"

"Well yes, but exactly." 

"You're an angel? And you came to save me?"

"Yes. As I was saying, we are here to help you."

"We?"

"My friends and I."

"Let me guess they are angels too." You say rolling your eyes. "Look, bud, I've seen some crazy shit in my life, but angels?!"

"With all the crazy shit you've seen in your life.." He mocked you. "Why are angels so hard to believe?" He asked with a smile on his face.

"One, I have no idea why this is so amusing to you. Two, if you are an angel of the Lord." You mocked him right back. "Then where is he? What kind of god would let there be so much evil and unnecessary death in the world?"

He chuckled "I didn't say he was a good person or that he even cares, but I know he does exist."

"Then he's not much of a god now, is he?" you were starting to get very annoyed. "okay, I believe you or whatever, can we just get to the point? Why am I here? How did I get here? Where is here? And how do I get home?"

"Well, I could have started explaining everything  if I didn't get interrupted." He stated. You couldn't tell if he was being an ass or if he didn't banter well. You made the gesture of zipping your lips. You probably wouldn't believe anything this psycho said. but you might get another good laugh. "You see (y/n) we have met before. we had this same conversation already."

"Wha.."

"Ah, I thought you zipped it?" He teased smiling 

RUN!! Your mind screamed at you but found yourself compelled to keep listening.

“Three months ago you were captured by the British men of letters,” The confusion must have shown on your face. “It's a hunting organization. They conducted a brainwash memory wipe experiment on you. Then forced you to work for them. We spent countless hours searching and trying to track you, but with your brains and their technology, it was impossible.” 

You looked up to find guilt in his eyes. You quickly looked back down as you crossed your legs and started fidgeting with your hoodie sleeve. 

“You started asking too many questions. They decided you weren't worth the risk. So they mind-wiped you once more, then sent you to your death.”

“The vampire nest,” you interrupted, an apologetic grin on your face.

“Yes. There weren't just 6 vampires living in that nest. There was about 20. You are an excellent hunter, but you couldn't handle 20 vamps that also had a heads up.”

“But how did you find me?” 

“We got a call from one of them, he explained everything and gave us your GPS information.” He explained. “Do you remember anything before the vampire nest mission?”

“Sort of. I know that I had been working for them for a while, but I don't remember the group name or any of the individuals’ names. I didn't even question it. It's like I just knew I had a mission and it had to be completed. Seems pretty damn stupid now.” you confessed as you got on your feet and started pacing near the bed. 

“y/n, you were brainwashed you can't blame yourself. They programmed you to listen not to question things.” 

“Yeah, I guess. Still, I feel so stupid. But why me? Why am I so special? Why does an angel and his friends care so much? Why would a British hunting organization come for me?” you were a good hunter sure, but not the greatest.

He was just about to answer when the sound of a familiar voice made you stop in your tracks.

“CAS?!” You had heard it earlier just before you passed out. 

“In Here” Castiel yelled back with a smile 

You heard heavy boots rush down the hall. 

You jumped at the door slamming against the wall as two brawny men bursts in. Relief washed over their faces the second they saw you.

The shorter of the two looked at Castiel for reassurance. 

“Dean. She's alright, Just confused, and maybe a bit nervous.” He had noticed your telltales signs. 

Dean looked back at you raising his eyebrows like he was waiting for your confirmation.

“Very confused, but physically I feel fine.” 

He rushed over to you, and before you could react, you were in his embrace. You were resistant at first, but the feeling of his arms wrapped around you made you feel at peace. You inhaled deeply as the sandalwood, vanilla musk that had a hint of leather and gunpowder swirled around you. It's like you could feel the anxiety drain out of you. And you couldn't help but hug him back,

“I'm sorry," he said as he untightened his arms. “I'm just really glad that you’re okay.” a touch of pink on his cheeks as he stepped back a little. 

“It's alright” you smiled at him. You were more mad that it ended rather than it happened, but there's no way you would admit it. “So Castiel, an angel of the lord. (you pointed at Cas) Dean is a strange guy who likes to hug. (you then pointed at Dean) And?.” you pointed at the towering man. You saw the hurt in their eyes even though they all tried to hide it with a smile.

‘I’m Sam.” he introduced himself. “The giant with great hair.” his smile got a little bigger. 

“Gotcha” you giggled. Your laughter eased the tension in the air a little bit.

“You got to be hungry. Let's go find something to eat,” Sam said, gesturing to the door.

“I am starving. Lead the way, Bunyan.” your lips twisted into a teasing smile. This whole situation was so weird. You actually trusted these 3 strangers. Well, they did just save your life you argued inside your head. There was more to it than that. You could feel the love and care they had for you.

He chuckled as you guys walked out the door.

Dean walked over and shut the door. “Well, it's nice she still has her banter, huh,” he said, smiling.

“Yes. although it does hurt when she looks at you like a stranger…” Castiel's words stung, but Dean knew they were so freaking true.

“We are going to fix all that. I talked to Mick on the way over. He was getting on a plane. He said he would call when They landed. That was about an hour ago. So I guess we just hang out and get tortured until he gets here.”

“Sounds great,” Castiel said sarcastically. “Dean, I don't mean to be the “Debbie downer”, but with all the crazy she's been through do you think there's a chance she doesn't want it fixed?”

Dean shot Cas a bewildered glance.

“Think about it. If you got rid of all your bad memories and bullshit, would you want it Fixed?” The sadness showed in Dean's eyes. “I'm not trying to be an asshole. Just looking At the situation and all the options.” Castiel explained. 

“Yes! I would fix it in a fucking heartbeat. I wouldn't trade my Good memories for anything.” Dean exclaimed. He couldn't help but feel hurt. He and (y/n) had some great memories. It would kill him if she chose never to get them back. “I'm gonna grab her some clean clothes. Betcha Sammie is gonna make her favorite,” he said walking towards the door.

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

You followed Sam into the hallway. It was brighter out here with a blueish tile halfway up the wall. The upper half was a painted white drywall. All the doorways were accented with a pretty white brick.

“What the heck is this place?” you have never seen anything like it.

“Did Castiel get to the men of letters?”

“Yeah, well, the British ones.” 

“ Well, there was an American chapter too.”

“Was?”

“From What I read, back in 1958, some experiments they were doing went wrong and killed most of them The survivors were never seen again. This was their bunker. Dean and I are legacies Apparently.”

He led through a doorway that opened Into a big, beautiful library. Your eyes went wide. So many books, So much lore, and kick-ass swords on display. 

“Yeah, you always did like this room .” He said with a smile. 

“It's beautiful! I get to borrow all your books right? “

he chuckled, “I'm Pretty sure you've read most of them. 

You laughed “Too bad I can't remember any of it.”

“Shit, I'm sorry. “ he said as he closed his eyes and shook his head

“Don't worry about it, big guy. I'm just giving you shit.”

He started walking in the direction of another doorway.

“So I was thinking of making your favorite, but I can make something quicker. I'm sure Dean and Cas wouldn't mind going out even if that's what you want.”

“I can…”

“You can let me make you something.” he cut you off in a teasing tone.

You rolled your eyes “ Fine, Just whatever is easier for you. Although it would be easier if we just went out.” You had a tough time with letting people take care of you. 

You have a look around the kitchen. It was nice, very spacious. A bit dull compared to the library though. No cabinets, they had a decent-sized island with shelves under it. A baker's rack on the far side. They had a walk-in pantry and tons of fridge space. Okay, this kitchen was pretty badass you admit to yourself. The best part was the coffee machine. A Bella Pro Series Combo. It Makes a pot of coffee on one side and espresso drinks on the other. You always took coffee seriously, but you would never have thought that these guys would. 

“Do you mind if make a cup?” you asked as you walked up to the machine. 

He smiled. “Should have known. Have at it, But just a heads up you will probably be making more than one.”

“Eh, I'm okay with that. Do you want one?”

“Oh my God, yes!!” 

His reaction made you chuckle “I wouldn't peg you guys as serious coffee people.”

“We aren't really. Dean bought that for you a couple of years ago. He said he got tired of you complaining about the old one.” He smiled.  “Dean and Cas are probably gonna want one too. It's been a while since we had your coffee.”

You look up to see Dean walking in. You make eye contact and he grins from ear to ear. His bright green eyes filled with love. Your knees go weak and you can't help but mirror his smile. 

“Hey, bab…. err (y/n) I got you some clothes so you can clean up,” he said still smiling. You traded him the clothes for his coffee. Which he immediately put to his lips and sipped. “Mmmm. God I missed this.”

“So (y/n) how does (your favorite food) sound?” Sam asked. You didn't want to burden him but he just seemed so excited to make it for you. 

“That sounds amazing.” You smiled 

“Dean can show you around and I'll get started.” He said pulling food out of the fridge. 

You turned to Dean. He pointed at the extra coffee sitting on the counter “Cas.? You nodded. He picked it up then nudged his head toward the doorway and started walking. You followed. 

“How ya feelin?” He asked as you guys walked into the library. 

“ I told you I'm feeling Fine. Nothing hurts, no holes.” 

You guys walked over to Castiel. He was sitting at the first of two long wooden tables. He had a laptop in front of him and books open on both sides.

“Here bud.”  Dean handed the coffee over. 

Castiel looked up from the book in his hands. His eyes flashed to you then back to Dean. Dean smiled and nodded his head.

The excitement showed on Castile's face. “Thank you!!”  you grinned. 

Dean started walking again. You followed him into the next room. There was an open staircase on the opposite side and a huge table in the middle. As you pass the table you notice the top is a screen-like world map. He noticed you looking at it. “Sam seems to think it's some kind of radar. We can't figure out how to get the damn thing on though.” you nod as he leads you up the stairs.

“Well I'm glad Cas got you healed up, but I wasn’t asking about your physical state. You almost died, had everything healed, met an angel, and were told that you have a past life you can't remember. On top of that, you have two creepy guys smiling at you and telling you they're so glad you're back.”

“Eh, another day in the life.” you joked trying to avoid your emotions.

He could read through your bullshit. “ Seriously, I know I'm a stranger in your mind, but I’m here if you need to talk.”

“Thanks. I appreciate it. All of it.” you gave him a half smile.

Topping the stairs he pointed to a door. “And here you will find an exit on your right” he gave you his best flight attendant voice.  Of course, you laugh. How could you not? He was so adorable.

He turned around still pointing “Down there's the uh dungeon slash storage.” he turned back and started walking “Our room is this way.”

“Our room?!” you raised your eyebrows

His body stiffened a little “ roomsss. I said our rooms.”

“Oh. my bad.” 

You continue down the hallway. “Here is the infirmary. We mainly use it for storage. You walk a little ways more. “Sammy's room”  he was sorta distant now. Was he really that offended that you misheard him? Right after Sam's room, there's a doorway. “ At the end of the hall, there's a stairwell” Little ways more. “This is my room.” he clenched his jaw after he said it. The hall continues but there's also a hallway on the right. He pointed down the hall you are in “man cave, another bedroom.”

“Man cave, No girls allowed?”

“Ehh usually not, but I guess you're cool enough” Finally some of the tension eased. And he turned down the other hall. There was a door on the left. “This one is yours”.

You walk up to the door and hesitantly open it. As you turn the light on your jaw drops. It's a totally different vibe than the rest of the bunker. the floor was a wooden panel. The walls a soft white with a clock on one and art on the other, a King-size bed in the middle that had white bedding with navy blue sheets and accent pillows. There were two nightstands on each side.  A navy blue dresser sat on the same wall as the door with picture frames all along the top of it. You walked over to look at them. You picked one up, it was a young couple holding a newborn baby in the hospital. You didn't recognize them. 

“That's your folks and you.” Dean was watching you while leaning on the doorframe 

“They look happy” You picked up the next one a young couple standing with arms around each other, next to a black car. It kinda looked like you and Dean. You looked up at him asking the question with your eyes.

“Yeah, that's us when we were 17,” he reassured you as he walked over “and this is us about 2 years ago.” he pointed to a picture of him kissing you on the cheek. He pointed at another. “This one is right after you. me. and Sam finished our first hunt together. We were 22. Sam was 18.” you were in the middle of them, blood splatters all over the 3 of you. You blinked back tears. “I took this one not too long ago.” it was of you and Cas making silly faces. He pointed to one of you and an older man. “This is Bobby Singer. He was a great man. Kinda a father figure to all of us.” the last one was a group shot. Cas, Sam, Dean, (with his arm around you) Bobby the man Dean just told you about, but he was in a wheelchair, and two blondes you did recognize. You pointed at the older blonde woman and looked up at Dean. “That's Ellen, she was like your crazy cool aunt, and Jo (he pointed at the younger one.)  was like your little sister.” A tear had managed its way down your cheek. Dean wiped it away. “It's gonna be ok. We have a way to fix your memory if that's what you want.”

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[chemblrish]

Hey Lena, any tips for how to make friends in uni as a nerdy but introverted/socially anxious girlie? 🥺 thank youu

Hi!

I need you to know I saw this ask and immediately thought, "Did I just get a message from my past self?" 😅 Nerdy and introverted? Check. Used to have very bad social anxiety? Check. I was in therapy though and it was immensely helpful! I'm still a little shy but doing incomparably better, so I can tell you what I've learnt and hopefully some of it can help you too :)

Excuse the language, but first of all, you need to give yourself a fucking break. Shy people, we tend to fixate on ourselves: our looks, our posture, on whether what we just said was weird, and so, all our flaws (both real and imaginary) appear magnified tenfold - but only to us. Because truth is, nobody else is judging you half as harshly as you're judging yourself. Nobody is analyzing all your jokes or the way you walk. If you trip or say something awkward, it genuinely doesn't matter. It happens to everybody sometimes, it's okay. Remember that there's nothing wrong with you. Maybe you're shy, maybe you're easily overwhelmed, maybe you have very little experience making friends - but none of these make you inherently weird. So give yourself a break. You're sincerely doing a lot better than you think, I promise.

Small talk is actually not a bad thing, no matter what some edgelords may try to tell you. I used to spark up a lot of conversations early on in uni by bringing up things like the last test (because most of the time I'd get a mildly pained sigh in response and then we'd bond over how hard it was and how the professor was crazy lol) or the upcoming lab class ("Any interesting exercises in your schedule?") or how my commute to uni that day wrecked me and hey are you a commuter? Oh, you live in a dorm, how do you like it? And many other things of this sort, because if you think about it, uni is a neverending source of conversation topics when you're a student talking to another student.

You know how shy people are advised to just ask questions because everybody loves talking about themselves? That's not a bad advice. The trick is to be genuinely curious about other people. Don't ask just to say something, ask to hear what that other person has to say. This is helpful for two reasons: it takes the focus away from you (which is exactly where shy people shouldn't keep it) by directing it at the other person, and it actually helps to keep the conversation going, because it allows you to find either another thing that might interest you about that person or something to share about yourself.

Maybe it's obvious, but don't hide yourself. I know it's a lot easier to just curl up in a corner with your phone, but you gotta put yourself out there. Hang out with the rest of your course mates outside the lecture hall as you're all waiting for the professor. Take your time packing up afterwards instead of dashing straight for the exit. Don't look for that secluded spot where you can hide safely with a book (even though your introvert instinct tells you to do just that), be where the other students hang out.

Sometimes you have to keep choosing someone. Storytime with a moral: I took a liking to one of my current friends very early in the first semester. She seemed like exactly the kind of person I wanted to stick with in uni. I'd always come up to her and talk to her first but she hardly ever did the same. For some time I'd think, "Welp, clearly she doesn't dislike me, but she doesn't seem to like me much either." Now I can't even remember when that changed, but in an honest conversation we had maybe last month (so after almost two years of knowing each other!!), she told me she often struggles with figuring out whether someone likes her and wants her around or not, so she usually just stays away. You aren't the only introvert out there. Maybe the person you're trying to befriend is also a little anxious and needs a bit more time and effort from you. Don't give up too easily!

Not all people are your people and that's okay. You'll find that trying to talk to someone continuously feels like a chore no matter your good intentions. That doesn't mean there's something wrong with you or with them. Everybody can't click with everybody and that's fine!

And lastly: "different friends for different things" is a liberating philosophy. Maybe there's this one person in this one class that you always sit with and get along with well, but it doesn't seem like either of you wants to take it any further than that. Cool! That's your buddy X from Y class. Not everyone has to be your bestie who knows all your secrets and shares all your interests. Be open to the concept of casual friends, so that you don't miss out on the more meaningful relationships by chasing someone who's just not feelin' it if you know what I mean.

Good luck my fellow introvert. Remember getting better at making friends is a process but also a skill that can be practiced and polished. You got this, I'm rooting for you!

[barb-l]

Vaggie is my favorite character, so I want to know where all of this hate for her came from. Like…people hate Vaggie yet love Lute, for example….. wtf? How? And I’m not saying people have to like the same things I do, but I’ve seen mfs bash Vaggie for things other characters have done. Again… what? The? Fuck?

Oh hohoho

I'm in a ranting mood, so let me tell you exactly why by paraphrasing some of the hate posts I've seen classlessly left in the chaggie tag before I blocked the OP's for said posts

"Vaggie has nothing going for her character. All she is, is Charlie's girlfriend"

- not even remotely true. She has a lot going on with her character aside from being The Girlfriend. She struggles with deep self-hatred, something that doesn't necessarily revolve around Charlie, although it does affect her relationship with her(codependency). It's a huge character flaw, though not necessarily bad character writing. It's something she needs to grow from, and something we can still see unfold in the coming seasons. Although she's helping with the hotel to be a supportive girlfriend, it is also something Vaggie believes to be the right thing to do regardless of Charlie. As Rosie inferred, Vaggie saw helping with the hotel as a way to atone for her sins and to do better. Even if the person running the Hotel weren't Charlie or anyone she fell for, I believe it's something she still would have helped with given her backstory. She has connections with other characters too that can be explored more in the future. Aside from just being "Charlie's girlfriend", she is Carmilla's possible additional daughter figure, she is Alastor's biggest obstacle in gaining whatever tf from Charlie, she is Lute's rival, and finally she is Lucifer's blatant parallel.

"Being a fallen angel is the only thing carrying her character. And we barely got any build up on that."

- let's say that's true. IF that's the case, why isn't anyone spitting hate on characters like Husk whose only "thing" is being a past overlord? Even though this had less foreshadowing than Vaggie's angel secret? Even though his only purpose in the story so far is to be Angel's love interest? He may be an alcoholic, but it's barely touched upon what terrible effects that may have for him. And although having his soul owned by Alastor sucks, does he actually suffer aside from that one time Alastor threatened his life? All Alastor is making him do is man the bar(so far). He has nothing to develop from with his character either. In fact, aside from the swearing and the grumpiness, he's a pretty swell guy who doesn't seem to fit in hell. He doesnt have a flaw that the story can aim to have him improve from. All he has going for him is his romance arc with Angel, and his past as an Overlord. Which, i repeat, isn't a bad thing! But how come Vaggie would get so much hate for similar criticisms, while Husk is widely loved by majority of the fandom?

"She doesn't have any chemistry with Charlie"

- something told by someone who ships:

Ch*rl*stor - two people who have only had direct interactions in the pilot(a quick dance number), episode 5(Alastor taking advantage of Charlie's daddy issues to curry favor with her and hit Lucifer's ego), and ep 7 (Alastor taking advantage of Charlie's dejection to make a deal with Charlie). A ship involving the kindest soul in Hell and a serial killer who has no desire to change and ridicules the dream Charlie holds so dear and is so passionate about. It isn't a bad thing to crack ship. Hell I do it too, but it's such a hypocritical thing to say that a canon ship has no chemistry only to claim that two people who have barely any meaningful conversations and positive interactions objectively look more like a couple and would be a better choice to be canon. Just because you like how they look in your imagination doesn't mean canon is objectively bad.

Ch*rlie/Emily - two characters who share so much similarities they can be sisters. It is such a personal thing. I have nothing against those who ship them. It just isn't for me because of the amount of similarities they have. With the intentional parallels, I personally think Emily would be better off having a gf that resembles Vaggie. Where Chaggie has a sunshine demon X grumpy angel duo, Emily could visit hell and fall for a demon who would be her opposite.

Ch*rlie/Lucifer - it's. Incest. Cmon.

"She doesn't care about the denizens of Hell"

- Vaggie's in Hell in the first place because she spared a demon's life. She cares TOO MUCH!

"Vaggie lied to Charlie. Even Adam was more honest with her!"

- I dont even... It should be common sense why Vaggie, who had just been betrayed by ANGELS, would not trust a demon princess with her true identity. Charlie and Rosie already talked about this. Or did they have their eyes and ears closed throughout episode 7?

"She ruined Lucifer's song by reprising it. Why would she do that when it's supposed to be Charlie and Lucifer's thing?? Why would she go and use a song about familial love and change the meaning to romance??"

- musicals that reprise songs to change its initial vibe has always been a thing, first of all. Vaggie reprised Lucifer's song specifically because they have been parallels of each other for the whole show. In fact, Lucifer indirectly echoes back Vaggie's reprise, with his lyrics in The Finale mirroring Vaggie's lyrics. It's not about Vaggie "stealing Lucifer's thing", it's about these two angels who both love Charlie reminding her of that love and how much they believe in her, despite being withheld of Heaven's love and losing faith in it in the process. It's about these two forms of love withstanding Heaven's abandonment and being there for someone who wants to face Heaven head on.

This is probably one of the most ridiculous anti-Vaggie criticism I've read. It's so weird to see such an earnest act of love as something audacious. If anything, Lucifer's the one with the audacity. I love him a LOT, but he did not deserve to be forgiven just because he had a beautiful song number with his daughter. It doesn't change the fact that he neglected Charlie for ages. If anyone deserved to sing More Than Anything, it was Vaggie because she has truly shown her commitment to Charlie. But, yunno. Baby steps.

Honestly for a lot of the characters in this show, all it seems to take for the fandom to like them is to have a song number that they like. People find Vaggie's songs boring. So they find her boring. Not a lot is known or shown of characters like Vox, Velvette, Alastor, and Husk, but apparently they're better developed. Just because they have sick song numbers doesn't mean they're better developed...

[hiwelcometothemonstersancturary]

Do you have ideas for how the Angel and The Prototype ship would occur and progress? (Like, who would get feelings for who first, who would they get advice from, how the toys would react, if it would be an even bigger romcom than Dogday and Catnap…)

FINALLY, MY TIME HAS ARRIVED.

Angel x Prototype in the Everyone Is Saved AU first starts after Angel finds a nice house for all the toys to live in. After everyone is moved out and settled in, Catnap convinces Prototype to leave the abandoned factory. Prototype reluctantly agrees, making sure to grab every single document he can find with him. I know Prototype is known by the authorities because Angel had to tell them about him, but not by the general public. When he leaves Playtime, it's a very quick and effective escape and into a small hut outside the farm.

This new place is way smaller than Playtime, physically wise, but it feels so much better in every way possible. Prototype is weirded out by everything at this point, even the sound of the toys playing with each other and talking like normal kids and young adults would do instead of trying to hunt each other for food like before. Elliot's mind is full, all the memories from the toys he absorbed together with his own, and now his brain finally has time to work out through the +10 years of trauma. He dissociates a lot, his hallucinations get weirder, all the good stuff about dealing with trauma, and the only ones who are there for him are Catnap and Angel.

Oh, Angel...

So we all can agree that Angel is also suffering from PTSD, right? And on top of that, they're taking care of +80 kids! Yeah some of them are young adults, but from Angel's POV those are still THEIR kids, and they have no idea how they work. Except Prototype does, and thus their relationship evolves from merely two adults desperate to give a better life to monster toys to two adults having no fucking idea what they're supposed to do for them. Prototype feels like he will never be able to repay for his sins, Angel feels like they'll never be able to provide everything the kids need. So one day Angel stays up late in Prototype's hut just talking about the toys, with Proto/Elliot also talking about them, and the two just go "this feels so overbearing, right?", and the other agrees.

When Prototype's relationship with Catnap finally gets better when they have some important conversations about the decade-long post Hour of Joy, there's a notable shift in his behavior, because now that he feels like he has his kid back it's like things can indeed be better. Cue to Angel getting better at dealing with the other toys, and as months go by their bond becomes stronger and more than just "hey the kids gave me a lot of work today and I need to drink/smoke, i'll stay at your hut so I won't be a bad example to them".

The really good stuff hits only after Poppy finds out that Prototype = Elliot Ludwig = her actual dad, because it's Angel grabbing Proto around and going "TALK. WITH. YOUR. KIDS", and it's the first time in decades since someone ever did that to him, because who in their right mind would bicker with a monster like HIM? And then Angel does exactly that. Smacks him with a newspaper and demands him to get his shit together instead of spiraling further into depression.

Somewhere during the months where Prototype is being promoted to parent #2 by each toy, one by one, is when Angel realizes that their friendship is getting a bit Funky(tm), but they just. Ignore it. Two years post-Playtime Co. go by and Angel is just there like "what I feel for parent #2 is entirely platonic and I do not think of him as anything else than a friend at all hahaha it would be weird right. Because he still talks to me about how he misses his wife (they divorced each other +70 years ago) and how he feels like he failed literally everyone important to him. I mean he didn't fail me what I see is just a guy struggling to be better and honestly I'm worse than him and- oh wait What" until like, they go to a family trip and Prototype decides to stay behind to watch over the farm, and Angel misses him way more than they think they would just miss a dear friend, and it's not just because he helps them with the kids.

Anyways Angel is panicking in all levels except physical when one day Prototype is talking with Catnap and Poppy (they're having a three-toy "tea party" because Pop wanted them to have a small family gathering) and she looks at him in the eye(s) and says "dad, are you sure you don't feel anything else for Angel?", and Proto is just "why are you asking me that???". Cue to Catnap staring at him like

And then Prototype realizes it's not very normal kind of platonic two months later when Angel, as per usual, is called by a scammer. And, as per house protocol, all the toys immediately go to the living room as Angel says "hold up, can you talk to my husband for a moment?" and gives Prototype the phone and tells him to do his thing and annoy the scammer. And Prototype feels weirdly a tiny bit too happy about pretending to be someone else's husband.

At this point the other toys are eyeing the two of them and going "no way..." as the two IDIOTS show them that yeah, yeah, they're witnessing the second romcom of the house, after Catnap and Dogday's telenovela-level worthy levels of drama. Some of them, like Kickin and Dogday himself, think it's no big deal, just two people being friendly, that's all, and then some time later Prototype accidentally sleeps over Angel's room during a thunderstorm (Angel is afraid he'll get struck by lightning so he stays in the main house for safety), and Angel, a genius Made In Brazil, decides to sleep in their room anyways because why not, Proto is just giving free teddybear vibes.

Proto wakes up and just accepts his fate (he's happy with that). Angel is half-asleep and very content with the setup.

... Anyways. Next day goes by, surprise surprise, the family's cuddle pile for movie night now has Prototype added to it, and it's not because Angel sleeps better when he's around. Nope.

Poppy and Catnap are considering start doing some bets to see how long it'll take their parents to realize It's Not Normal Platonic Anymore(TM) at this point, and are unimpressed when Prototype goes to them, sighs, and agrees that Poppy indeed was right. Meanwhile Angel has NO IDEA what to do because it's Prototype/Elliot, no way they have a chance, they'll just end up ruining their little weird family structure, and Dogday and Mommy Long Legs calm them down.

Bobby Bearhug and Craftycorn are working with the other toys to see if they can make Angel realize they need to do something, because Prototype is NOT going to do ANYTHING because his therapy is going strong but his communication issues are stronger. Hoppy and Picky know all about it and try to make Prototype do something about it, while Kickin and Bubba are Dissapointed But Not Surprised at the Situationship going on. "Guess Dogday and Catnap aren't the only ones with communication issues...", they agree, not realizing they also have communication issues. Mommy Long Legs is losing her fucking mind because HOW can one household have SO MANY IDIOTS RUNNING AROUND AND WHY ARE HER ADOPTIVE PARENTS LIKE THAT. AAAAAA. It's good drama tho.

Poppy tasks herself with keeping tabs on what's happening between her two parents. Catnap is watching in the background like "stop being so dramatic over this, Pop, they're working adults, they sure can talk". He may or may have not be gathering information to share with the old ladies at the church he goes to, because those girls LOVE Angel and are all curious as to how their relationship with the kids' "second parent" going. Catnap never tells them much asides from "my mother is, once again, terrible at communication, but has been doing well", but even he starts getting a bit impatient at one point.

Prototype and Angel's big telenovela-level worthy of romance drama lasts a few months, mostly because they both need lots of time with themselves in order to figure out what to do, and also mostly because at some point Angel is pretty content with just being Prototype's non queerplatonic/romantic partner. They're just going with the flow, initial anxiety being left behind and all of that.

Also Angel is a really big freaking dumbass, because Prototype's way of affection is through pampering, and he has been pampering Angel for MONTHS at this point and our human just didn't notice it's not platonic pampering. Prototype gets them more than one flower bouquet and Angel is just "oh this will be very nice for the house, Bobby and Long Legs love red roses!", and he keeps giving them the bouquets because it makes Angel happy, thus making him happy.

No, Elliot doesn't realize Angel is also stupid. He just tries to flirt like it's the 1930s while Angel is flirting like "haha what if we were married. Just kidding! Unless...?"

I think Angel doesn't exactly confess to Prototype in a traditional way. One night they're both chilling at either the hut or Angel's room after a long day and Angel gathers the courage to ask him what they even are. "You're the children's Parent, and I am Elliot Ludwig". Angel reworks their question to be "I don't think we're just platonic friends anymore".

"Do you want to be more?", Prototype asks, hopeful. Angel pauses, then agrees. "Then we can be more". After some talk they settle on either queerplatonic or romantic - I don't know which one would work best, but I think they aren't just platonic or just romantic. Angel and Prototype understand and respect each other a lot, and their relationship, for me, can't be defined with a simple "it's romance" definition. They're just them, and that's what matters.

Also Prototype goes "I WAS TRYING TO GET YOUR ATTENTION FOR MONTHS!" and Angel goes "I WAS REFERRING TO YOU AS MY HUSBAND ALL THE TIME AND YOU JUST THOUGHT I WAS JOKING AND BEING A SMARTASS????"

... Also Angel can wear a ring now! Prototype as well. They tell the kids about their new Situationship and Poppy very happily says "I won our bet!" to Catnap. Everyone else is glad for their parents but also their real-life telenovela is no more..,....

Anyways, I think this post is getting too long, I may share hcs about how their relationship works later, if anyone is interested!

[strawberrynightmere]

Bad Cats!!! [Part 3]

Warning ⚠️: yandere tendencies, mention of (temporary?) re-homing, mention of financial struggling (idk how to exactly put it), an attempt at writing a professional sounding email.

A/n: Sorry, this took a while, I had things to do. This is a bit longer than what I expected.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

It finally happened. Your boss' incompetence has set back the whole company. You knew it would happen eventually, but you thought that by then, you'd be working somewhere else. There's still no reply from the places you applied to and the bills! What are you going to do now? The obvious thing is to cut your food supply short, but that's still not enough.

And how are you going to take care of Andrew and Ashley? You can't just toss them outside. That's inhumane! You've grown attached to those two and they have also grown attached to you. Besides, they've been living here with you for some time, and you're afraid they won't be able to adjust to the streets again.

All of this has been brought up in your conversation with Julia. Unlike Nina, Julia knew how to offer helping you.

"What if I take them in until you get back to your feet."

"You would do that? Even take in Ashley?"

"Yeah! You said they got tamer over the time, besides when introduced to new people. I can deal with that for the time being."

You wanted to cry in releaf. Like a boulder just fell off of your shoulders. You make the arrangement with Julia and end the call.

"Meow?"

Andrew was right at the doorway looking at you with what you can pinpoint was concern.

You crouch down to his level and pat his head. "Everything is alright."

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

You were waiting for Julia in the park, where you said you two would meet. Andrew and Ashley were in their cat carriers wondering why they were here and what was happening.

You hear footsteps running in your direction. It was Julia!

"Sorry I'm late. Traffic." She said out of breath.

You take her to the bench you were sitting on to rest a bit. While she was resting, you, for some reason unknown to anyone, spoke to Andrew and Ashley.

"Listen, you two will be staying with Julia, temporarily, please be good to her. I'll come back for you as soon as possible." Then you turn to and tell her what she needed to know about the two.

Meanwhile, Andrew and Ashley were confused, to say the least.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

The time the cat siblings spent with your friend was unpleasant. Ashley hated everything about this situation. She hated the place they were living in. She hated Julia. She hated how she treated them as babies. She hated that Andrew was unresponsive the whole stay.

"Are you still going to stay quiet?"

At this point, she'll die of boredom and frustration.

Speaking of which.

Ashley slaps her brother with her little back paw.

"Are you gonna talk now?"

"She left us."

"Huh?"

"She. Left. Us." Andrew repeated, emphasizing each word.

"Well, watcha gonna do about it?"

"Something I should've done before."

That surprised her. It took only a moment for her to realise what he meant.

"Oh. Oh! My god, really? Are you actually gonna do it? You are gonna listen to me. This. This moment is so much bigger than me! I'd like to thank myself for holding up for so long. My parents... can continue to rot in Hell where they belong."

Andrew just rolled his eyes at his sister's dramatic speech, like she was gonna get some kind of reward.

"But anyways. This episode is titled 'Andy and Leyley and the-"

"You're not going."

"Huh?!"

"You'll stay here and distract the human. She still can't tell the difference between us."

Ashley sinks down to the floor.

"And Leyley is stuck with the crumiest job possible."

"Daww, don't worry, Leyley. We'll pick you up very soon." Andrew assured in a teasing tone.

"Ha ha ha! Fucking asshole."

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

One rejection letter after another. You were losing hope. You're gonna end up homeless at this point.

Slumping your head on the table.

Ding!

An email from your current job. It's probably gonna beo something like half of the company being let go. Whatever. You click on the email.

---

Respected workers of [COMPANY],

It has come to us with a heavy heart to announce that [REDACTED] from [DEPARTMENT NAME] has been forced to let go.

As you are all aware of the current setback in this company. We are glad to announce that this is just a small hiccup, and in soon time, the company as a whole will soon be able to function like before, and you'll be able to receive your full payments.

For any questions you have, please email us.

With full regards

[RANDOM NAME]

P. S. As for the new manager of [DEPARTMENT NAME], the position will be vacant until further notice.

---

This has to be a dream. You rub your eyes to confirm. Yep. It's real. So many questions were forming. Was any of this possible? What was this feeling right now?

Who cares! You won't have to worry about this anymore. You won't have to worry about finding a home for Andrew and Ashley or the possibility to send them to a pound. You won't have to worry about starving or being homeless.

And the best part? That sucker of your boss finally got fired.

Wait. Andrew and Ashley. You'll have to see until next month if you'll be able to take them back. Right. It's late. You'll tell Julie about the good news in the morning.

"Meow."

What the...

Black fur, green eyes. Either you're hallucinating from the lack of sleep and the lack of nutrition, or that really was Andrew sitting at the doorway.

You carefully get close to the cat and stretch your hand out to him. And then you feel his little head rubbing against your palm.

"What are you doing here?" You ask in a voice that was right above a whisper. "I can't take you back just yet. I need to call Julie."

Picking up your phone from the table, you dile Julie and wait for her to pick up, but there is no answer.

"Gess, I'll return you back there tomorrow."

As you say that, two arms trap you at the table where you were sitting. Turning around, you see the same man from your dreams. Black hair and green eyes. It suddenly dawned on you.

"You're not taking me anywhere."

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

A/n: There were a lot of possible plots I was working on, and honestly, this one was the only one that was working out for me. Hope you enjoyed it.

[jungkoode]

SLOW BURNS | ADDRESSING CONCERNS

Okay my sweet chaos gremlins (affectionate), let’s sit down for a second and talk because my inbox has literally exploded since chapter 11 dropped. Like, seriously, you guys need to chill—kidding, don’t chill, keep yelling at me, it's my favorite thing ever (ಥ‿ಥ)♡

I’ve noticed a pattern: a lot of you are READY TO FIGHT Jungkook for sleeping around, and some are also ready to gently shake Phoenix for not being furious about it. First of all, can I just say how much I absolutely adore that you're feeling frustrated about them? The fact you’re emotionally invested enough to threaten bodily harm (jokingly, I hope) means I’m doing something right. Go me~

But here’s the thing (puts on psychologist glasses dramatically): Fuck Me Up is, and always has been, a slow burn story. Like, really slow. PAINFULLY slow. I know this fanfic has over 60k words already and some of you are shaking me by the collar begging them to get their act together and kiss already, but babes—we're literally just warming up. Phoenix has only been in town for TWO WEEKS. They barely know each other. Right now, the extent of their emotional connection is basically "You're dumb but hot, let's bang." They’re not even friends yet. (I know, shocker.)

As a writer, my ultimate obsession is realism. Relationships, feelings—they don’t bloom overnight. Especially not when we’re dealing with emotionally traumatized gremlins like Jungkook and Phoenix. They're carrying around some pretty heavy baggage, so they need time. Realistically, people do a ton of shit without even understanding why. Phoenix doesn't understand yet why she insists on keeping things secret; Jungkook doesn't fully grasp why commitment is terrifying for him. They both think they know, but trust me—they don't really. People are rarely fully self-aware about their deepest motivations, at least not right away.

I promise I'm not torturing you for fun (okay, maybe a tiny bit). The slow pace is intentional—I want their relationship to feel earned. Every glance, every conversation, every annoying yet somehow endearing moment matters. I am planting seeds everywhere. There are breadcrumbs scattered throughout every chapter—small details, tiny moments that might seem insignificant now, but they'll mean a lot later. If you pay attention, you'll see pieces slowly click into place. This is my favorite thing to do, and I’m not changing it because you crave instant gratification (though mood, same).

Also! It’s normal and healthy for people—especially messy twenty-somethings—to fuck around and make dumb choices. That’s part of growing up, figuring out life, love, and themselves. People date and sleep around before finding their forever, and sometimes the person who ends up being your ride-or-die was right beside you all along—you just didn’t realize it yet. They’re just quietly there, blending into the background of your chaotic twenties until one day you’re like, “Oh shit, it’s you. It’s always been you.” That’s exactly what I’m portraying—real humans making questionable decisions because we’re all idiots when we’re young. It’s okay for Jungkook and Phoenix to be messy. It’s okay for them to frustrate you. Actually, it’s fantastic. That’s the realism I live for.

They'll get there eventually, but their journey isn't about just ticking off a trope because this is a Jungkook x reader fanfic. It’s about authentic, organic growth. When they finally get together, it'll feel real and right—not because they’re obligated to fall for each other, but because they've actually earned it through every struggle, misunderstanding, and quiet moment.

If you’ve checked my “About Me” section (and if you haven’t, literally zero hard feelings—I barely check those myself), you already know I’m absolutely fed up with rushed relationships in stories. Like seriously, I’m allergic to insta-love. I write slow burn, I breathe slow burn, I procrastinate slow burn (it’s a problem). Everything I write is painfully slow-paced, intentional, and deeply psychological because that’s just who I am as an author. Relationships take time and work. They require deep emotional processing, especially when your characters have as many issues as mine do. (Yeah, I’m looking at you, Jungkook. Therapy exists, bro, use it.)

And this isn't just an FMU thing—it's gonna happen in Kkangpae too. Characters doing things for each other unconsciously because feelings develop in sneaky ways is my whole-ass brand, okay? So buckle up. We're nowhere near finished, friends, and there’s a whole emotional rollercoaster ahead. (I did say I was psychologically fucked up, didn’t I?)

In short: Please trust the slow burn. Let it cook. Let it simmer. Let it emotionally devastate you gently, because that's what love and life and my stories are all about.

ILYSM for engaging with this mess. Keep the asks coming—I'm thriving on your frustration. (≖ᴗ≖✿)♡

[sanemiss]

"Dumb f*cking idiot" Part 5- Sanemi x reader

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Part 6

Angst, slow burn, fluff ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

>definitely expect more chapters >:)

>tw cursing- obviously ; ;

...Little do you know...he can't stay away from you.

He comes over for dinner and... maybe you can be more than strangers?

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

"i gather you're enjoying it?" you say giggling at the sight of sanemi stuffing his cheeks with all the dishes you laid on the table.

he pauses, embarassed.

of course he eats well on his missions or when he's out with the other hashiras, but the setting is totally different.

he can't remember the last time his heart felt so full while eating, surrounded by such ambundant comfort in a home. he's never felt any type of real, care-free comfort at home growing up, let alone the luxury of relaxing and enjoying a meal knowing there's enough to even have leftovers.

he's never known the struggle of having! to leave room for dessert, until now. how did you even know that was his favorite dessert anyway? he's secretly so excited. the little sanemi inside of him can't help but feel like this is heaven.

"yeah, really good", he says, not looking up from his plate.

you respond with a smile. you instictively want to pat his hand, but you stop, sensing it would make him uncomfortable.

"do you want some tea? or sake?"

"i don't drink" he spits out, then corrects his tone, "thank you. you don't have to bother."

"oh, right, you must have a strict diet to keep in shape, right?" you mindlessly try to make conversation.

"that's not the reason", he says, as a wave of heaviness cuts through the air.

"alright." you pause, holding your breath. "tea it is, then."

"i said-"

"it's not a bother!", you cut him off, smiling.

---

you move the hangout outside, to enjoy the colder summer air and, honestly, to let the murmur of the night fill in the conversational gap between you two. you feel safe, but not exactly comfortable around him. he's not that easy to talk to and that makes you rather anxious. you really want to know everything about him, but it seems like you're gonna need a lot of patience.

"so, what are your plans for the rest of the night?"

sanemi is lounging on a garden chair, his head leaning back facing the sky. to be honest, he is fighting a serious case of food coma, one that he's never experienced before, getting heavily sleepy, thoughts all muffled and numb.

"hm?"

"i understand", you laugh. "if you want you can rest here."

not moving an inch, his eyes immediately open wide. his voice toughens:

"you should really stop offering so much to stragers, you don't know who will take advantage of you."

"i think that someone who has saved me before- and would have probably saved me again today given the opportunity- might be quite alright?"

"you don't know. you never know."

"fine. let's stop being strangers then", you shoot, searching for his gaze, for a reaction.

he's so relieved that he is still facing the sky because he would rather die than let you see how red his face just became, boiling in embarrassment.

alright, stop being an idiot, enough of this nonsense.

"i don't make friends. people who end up knowing me, they die. whether they deserve it or not. do you have a death wish?"

●●●

you're trying to keep your heart afloat, not letting it drown in the deep grief and sorrow he's suddenly emanating. he solemnly accepted his -what he thinks is- fate long ago, wearing it like an unspoken curse.

with your presence, you're trying to reach his core and tell him, i'm feeling it all, i feel the insanely unbearable pain, the burning, endless, purposeless, falling into a torturous abyss all over again, yet i promise you're not cursed and you can't keep acting cursed, i promise, life goes on, fight for it, you don't have to keep doing it alone.

you go inside and come back with your favorite, softest blanket, gently throwing it on his bare chest.

"i'm really sorry", your tone deep and soft, "i can feel it. i'm sorry."

he looks down, trying to decipher the point of the blanket. anger, the easiest feeling of all, is popping all over his face, and all you want to do is cup his face and kiss him gently.

"i know it's summer and you don't need a blanket. i imagine you've even slept outside in the snow given what you do. but i don't think you would let me hug you. so please, at least take this."

he looks at you, piercing through your eyes in disbelief, as you take in his gaze and let it wash over you like aching cascades.

"you don't have to keep going like this, sanemi. let's break the curse, okay?", you try to smile encouragingly.

you go back in and come back with a blanket resting on your shoulders.

you sit back in your own chair, covering yourself with the blanket. "i'm here. i'll rest my eyes for a bit and probably doze off. please consider sleeping too, okay?"

...

┈➤・❥・

Part 6