#like why do you want it to be gross and looked down upon and distasteful

[remotewatch]

Thank you so SO much for drawing that boundary! Jacks 31, I’m 26 and even with a 5 yr gap it makes me wonder, IMAGINE 21 AND 31, “controversially young gf” is very cringe to me and gives groomer vibes which is so not Jack.

Thank you thank you thank you!

Of course! And same, I would be so fucking grossed out if he popped out with a gf my age 🤮

I know he has a lot of young fans who want to see themselves in fics about him, which is why I try to keep most of the generic bf/fiancé ones ambiguous on that front. Idc if you’re 18 and into him but I’m certainly not going to explicitly characterize him as reciprocating that!!!!!

[laf-outloud]

I hope it's okay to vent to you here about this.

I only now watched the panel from last weekend's con and I just have such a distaste for Jensen these days. The Portuguese buns joke was just gross to me. Especially when he added to it by asking if anyone there was Brazilian? Way to reference your ex-gf in such a male gaze way, pal. Like I get that Jared made the same joke too and it was just a joke, but why make it blatantly obvious that he's talking about his ex-gf? Which is beyond weird given the circumstances. It almost reminded me of that tasteless and tone deaf Brendan Fraser joke he made when with Jeffrey Dean Morgan in that NJ panel. His overgrown frat boy is showing. Not to mention all we have learned about his attitude towards other people working on a set, his or someone else's, ever since the Rust interview, what the Winchesters cast and crew were forced to endure during shooting, and now this lawsuit.

Then his answer to the gift question just made me roll my eyes. I get that these guys are essentially putting on a show at these cons and we don't know how they are privately, but sometimes the whole Jensen being a grumpy dad thing just leaves him looking like an ungrateful jerk. I also know this was a joke but why does he always have to take a potshot at his kids? I don't get it. In what way is that entertaining? And why do AA's eat this shit right up? I can't have kids so maybe it's a touchy point for me but do you know how grateful I'd be to get any kid's drawing never mind my own? Kids aren't trying to be the next Picasso. They're making those drawings for you because they love you and want to make you something. I get he's joking and most likely embellishing for entertainment's sake but that just came off to me as him being an ungrateful asshole, just like the race car story.

Ever since that very entitled story, my opinion of him has sunk lower and lower. I don't know what's going on with him. I don't know if it has to do with the whole Soldier Boy and Dean branding, trying to emulate some mix of the two but holy crap I am so over him acting like an asshole. The grumpy persona is extremely tired and off-putting, except to AA's who only see him for his looks. He could be cursing them out or punching someone out and they wouldn't care as long as he looks good doing it.

I saw a video the other day of him at a con with Jared from 2014 I think it was. What a vast difference. Perhaps in his private life he's much different but how he's been acting publicly recently leaves a very bad taste in the mouth. In comparison, Jared seems way more grateful, a lot happier, and kinder I would even say. Like I said, maybe Jensen is different privately but publicly he has become a major dick. That's very disappointing and like I said off-putting. I've tried to continue being a fan of both guys and be supportive of them separately and together, but with the things he's said lately, Jensen is making it awful hard to continue.

It's just disappointing and really reminds you that no matter how they act publicly, like once upon a time this guy acting humble and gracious and down to earth and grateful for every opportunity that's been given to him, you never really know who they are. It's just so massively disappointing. Thanks for letting me vent to you here.

My blot is always open to venting. Vent away, anon!

To be honest, I didn't really connect Jensen's bun story with his ex from over 20 years ago. If he was, yeah, it's crass, and it would certainly fall in line with so many of his other crass jokes/stories. I'm on your side when it comes to being tired of his grumpy/frat boy persona.

Part of me thinks the de-evolution of his public persona is a coping strategy for hiding how lost/uncertain he is with his career (and possibly his personal life). Like, he has to create a character of himself in order to hide any vulnerabilities. But at the same time, you wonder how much truth there is in that personality because it shows up in other cases where he's not putting on a show (like the police interview).

(It could also be that he no longer has Jared around to inspire him to be a better person which may be why he seemed so much nicer in those earlier cons. Some people tend to adopt the traits of those they're most around.)

Whatever the reason, it is disappointing to see and I understand your frustrations. It's hard to be a fan of someone who is no longer the person you thought they were. I hope venting helped a bit and I wish you the very best!

[vazelbeak]

Thoughts on S1E8

Okay lemme organize this. My apologies for not having a consistent formatting however it try to organize it based on my thoughts for each episode

Story Progression: Okay, for story progression a lot of it I feel is best described as nothing holds weight until Blitzo shows up. And thats to say I think a lot of the writing for Loona isnt very strong. I go to bars to perform so I'm not sure how or why Loona is embarassed over throwing up and why other hellhounds care much if at all mainly because I can see it embarrassing if she threw up on Vortex, but that seems like a situation other people at most would find her gross or a jerk for showing up to his party after. I think its very natural for people to assume Gluttony as being centered on eating too much, however I think the thing about that is Gluttony in context is about materialistic over consumption so things like fast fashion and much more akin to our modern ideas of greed. It also looks quite bad knowing Kesha had an eating disorder and of course it's not my place to say what she can and can't do, it just comes off distasteful. I didn't quite follow why Loona decides upon leaving the party. It might make a bit more sense if Vortex walked off with Bee and so Loona felt like the only person she cared about is leaving with someone more important than her. Otherwise it feels not very well written to express why Loona was upset in my eyes. Bee was nice to her, and wanted her to have fun at the party. The idea Loona wanted to stay because of different hellhound showing up feels like it should've built up to her interacting with this new character but instead the spotlight goes to Blitzo drinking with Bee. Speaking of which, to my knowledge drinking competitions are more about drinking the most and keeping it down more than just who drinks the fastest? So I dont know why Blitzo ripping the tube off to drink more would make him win. I think it may have been stronger if they had things get tense and a more close up shot of Blitzo ripping off the tube and taking massive gulps and other people looking on either shocked or slightly worried because nobody's drank so much so fast let alone in one sitting as well as make it a bit more tense to build up to Blitzo being trashed. The theres the conflict of Loona being rude to Bee which feels very out of nowhere. And more like a reason to make Loona go check on Blitzo because she didn't want to. The way Blitzo is the one driven home and taken care of by Loona feels like it has very little meaning sheerly because this episode seemed meant to be focused on Loona but instead we're back to it being all about Blitzo. Lastly "fizz was right im gonna die alone" feels very out of nowhere. There was minimal build up in the episode to this being the issue beyond making a joke of him trying to have sex with the nearest imp he can find. I get that they want this to tie into the convo but I think it would be prompted better if Loona said something that tied into it like

Blitzo: i had a shitty night Loona: well you definitely made that clear, remind me not to invite you to anymore parties. in which is prompted because Loona unknowingly made a poorly timed comment and Blitzo takes it to heart. There is also the whole "will you be there Loonie?" feels hollow both because its delivery feels like it lacks the seriousness needed to be genuine when she shouldve been able to grasp it from what was already said. But this also rings hollow when in Seeing Stars she's beating the hell out of him. And if they wanted it to be in line with Season 2, i think they shouldve swapped Blitzo and Loona. Make Blitzo help Loona to bed, and noteably have him empty her pockets placing her lighter somewhere and then when in season 2 when she talks about Blitzo trying while looking at her lighter it holds more weight. Because it indicates her thinking of when Blitzo helped her to bed.

Consistency/Continuity

Continuity and Consistency are on the messy side again. While i get the song is Cotton Candy I do somewhat wish it was a bit less literal because when so many lyrics are literal and then you have a lyric of "keep making me that mother fucking honey" while i think this was supposed to tie into her tasting people at her parties, it wouldve better correlated if during this she appeared to drool or licked her lips to better integrate this. In a similar vain if Bee can taste it was she not able to tell Loona was upset? Why was that lost on her? The lines "He's like a brother to me but not actually my brother" and "It was fine i COULD hit that" Look bad next to Western Energies incest thing. It would be similar if swapped because if meant as a joke it struggles to read that way. Next people shocked Blitzo has a daughter feels like it didnt really belong as a line. I feel like it'd make more sense if people heard he had a daughter from Verosika (since Tex is her body guard and its Tex's GF's party) and wanted to meet her. like "I heard you had a daughter, where is she?" and Loona was upset because people didnt realize she's his daughter emphasizing how isolated she feels. She feels like she doesnt fit in around other hell hounds, but the at home she's the only hell hound. Which would make sense in how she tries to jump into conversations and acts or makes it awkward as well as make sense of why she seems to care what other hellhounds think of her more than Millie and Moxxie. Loona's "it looks like your in the middle of an orgy!" doesnt make much sense to me hes kissing one guy. Interestingly we see the trans masc imp he spoke to earlier and a trans fem imp watching this. If anyone tries to tell me this makes up for making Millies brother cis i dont wanna hear it because I dont see a good reason for her to have remotely done that.

Speaking of that one guy not sure where else to fit this, it may just be me but Blitzo saying "Im not fucking a dennis I need a monica or alejandro in here stat!!" perhaps it may be due to an article I read the other day but this sounds like a latin lover stereotype and a bare minimum poorly written. So is Loona punching another imp. It just didnt come off funny.

Everyone says Beezle but its spelled Beelzebub. I get belphegor = bell but Bee shouldn't be Beez. Bee works though!

Character Writing

Character writing is largely well...hollow. It feels like very little of what Loona feels means much because we're shown so little of why she feels the way she does. I dont think we needed to see Blitzo getting in a drinking contest with Bee because it was clear they had alcohol. Part of me wonders what Vortex sees in Bee, mainly because of how she's not really hanging around him much. Usually couples either hang together, or are in the same vicinity unless something important draws them away like hanging out with a friend which it seems currently a lot of the imps and hell hounds here aren't based on interactions. It might help if she was asking more personal questions like "how are the kids?" "Did you tell them you were sick so you could come here?" that feels more human and less like a celebrity interacting with fans.

If this was Vivs idea of a big Loona episode it feels like it's just making her shallow and another "theyre either besties or a bitch" situation where those are the only dynamics Viv seems to be able to write between two female characters. I think maybe it would be neat if Loona felt like she was a bad person for having feelings for Vortex and knowing his girlfriend is a nice person makes her feel worse because she can't even justify hating her outside of being in a relationship with someone she has a crush on.

WIth the fight think Vortex should be more upset that the two started fighting. Both Loona for getting mad when Bee asks her to check on Blitzo, and Bee for wanting to start a fight with a friend he invited. It feels weird for them to just want to go dance right after and not have Vortex at any point be like "Can you please not pick a fight with my friend? Its not you its just, she and her dad have a complicated relationship." with Bee replying "I'm sorry, I'm not very close to my family and forget other people can be a bit more attached to them." "Its okay, I forgive you. Do you wanna go dance?" Largely Id say the interactions felt kinda of hollow and not expanded upon enough. Things only meant something and felt weight when it was regarding Blitzo because we get so little info and expansion regarding Loonas character to have anything we see mean anything outside of the episodes theyre contained to.

[captain-kinda-trash]

Hello love! I hope I’m one of your first asks!!! 😍

Can I order up a new love/confessing feelings with a side of fluff, a la Bayverse Donatello please?! 💜

Sure thing lovely!! Hope you enjoy!!

Truck Repairs (Bayverse! Donatello x Fem! Reader)

"Torque wrench please."

"Got it."

The slap of cool metal against scales resounded from underneath the Turtle Truck (a name Y/N commonly used, much to her companion's distaste), as Donnie was handed yet another tool from the plastic box next to his feet.

"Thank you." He huffed out. The cranking of gears, clinking of iron echoed out from the truck.

"Sure thing, Don," The girl said, sitting cross-legged on the floor beside the turtle's legs, "How much longer do you think this should take?" Her eyes stole an extensive glance at those toned, long, delicious-looking limbs. Wait. What? That didn't come from her mind again, did it?

Of course, it did. When did it not? Donatello sighed, voice floating out from below the massive machine, and then the wheels of his skateboard rolled against the cement as he uses his feet to pull his body from underneath.

"Uh, I'm not sure. The damage inflicted on the lower regions of the compression body is pretty tremendous. It could take up a few days, weeks even, if not strategically maneuvered-" he pushed the goggles from his eyes to settle comfortably on the top of his head, revealing the glittering hue of those beautiful amber eyes, "But it seems to be going well at the moment."

His mouth cutely curled up into a smile, one that never failed to release a cocoon of uncaged butterflies in Y/N's stomach.

She grinned back, and then shyly turned to study the soles of her shoes, evidently more interesting than looking at his uncannily handsome face.

"That's good to hear. Maybe we should take a break soon. You've been working like crazy since you got back from patrol."

His smile very subtly faded at this suggestion, though he made sure that his friend didn't catch it. Donnie enjoyed this company that she provided working with him on the truck's repairs, much more than he was willing to admit. Though, yes, he could use a nice break, maybe grab a snack or glass of water, the mutant knew surely that nothing fueled his cravings like her sweet presence (incomparably rich to the taste of his beloved pop tarts).

And if the same wasn't in her book about him, then by gods...

I mean sure, he's a mutant. Gross right?

Wrong. So, so very wrong.

"Y-yeah I guess we could take a little break." He responded, then let out a sort of struggled grunt as his body lifted to sit upwards and rest his shell on the side of the garbage truck.

Y/N's eyes wandered once more at the marvelous rolling and extending of his muscles as he did so, draping a single sturdy arm across one knee and using the other to adjust his glasses. She gulped. Her gaze shamelessly traveled to the seemingly endless length of his legs, until she caught the quick movement of his head in her peripheral.

She immediately averted her stare, back down to the laces of her converse, trying to subside the heat crawling quickly over her neck.

"T-tell you what, why don't I go grab you a snack, and you stay here and see if there's anything else we can do." Y/N pushed herself up from the ground and before Donnie could respond, she had already scampered out of the workshop to avoid any further humiliation.

"O-okay!" He called after her, though the likeliness of hearing him was probably far gone since she was already in the kitchen by then.

Y/N grasped the bridge of her nose between her for dinner and thumb, letting out an exasperated sigh as the tap water still poured, pattering against the metal sink.

'He totally caught me staring,' she thought. Though her self-control was usually tempered, easily under restraint, it melted into a helpless puddle when Donatello's presence was made known around her. Hell, even passing up the open doorway of his lab as he worked was a strain, and Y/N found herself peeking in curiously as his eyes fixated carefully, passionately over a project as he worked.

It took every willful ounce in her body not to just snatch the tails of his violet bandana and yank him in for a savory kiss every time he was a few feet away from her.

Her brain, exhausted from such thoughts, tried to focus on her footfalls, the wrinkle of pop-tart wrappers, the clinking of ice against glass cups, a cool contrast against Y/N's warm arms.

She halted directly outside of the workshop, inhaled, exhaled, and then rounded the corner to see-

Nobody? Weird. Perhaps Donnie had gone to his lab to grab more tools or just put them away since the aforementioned bucket of appliances had gone missing right along with their possessor.

"Huh. Weird." Y/N thought aloud, and then after looking over her shoulder and out of the doorway, she decided that she might check out the inside of the truck. After all, it had been some time since she'd seen it and was rarely able to because of the lack of missions she joined in on.

She set the two cups of water and foil packages gently on a nearby bench, before making her way towards the rear entrance. Y/N's hands settled on the large iron handle wrapping their small extent around it and then pulled down with all of her strength.

Man, the brothers made it look so easy, and by the time the lever reached its lowest point with a loud click, she had managed to work up a bit of a sweat.

The door, a huge garage-like lift system on the back end of the truck, began to lift, creaking and groaning as it did so. Y/N smiled, eyes glancing down carefully as her feet made contact with each rising step into the truck.

However, her plan had been spoiled, if you could even call it that. Because, just as she was entering the vehicle, it seemed Donatello would be exciting. As Y/N looked up from the final footstep, and Donnie from his tech pad, their noses and mouths bumped, and all was still. Both of their bright eyes were wide with shock and unbearable mortification at the sensation of petal-soft skin against cool scales, lips awkwardly resting upon one another.

They both pulled away as fast as they had come together, though Y/N had been so caught up in her humiliation, that she forgot about the staircase behind her and lost footing. An abrupt shout escaped her lips, helplessly flailing her arms in the air to grab onto something and a strong pair of arms had quickly caught her.

When the girl hesitantly opened an eye to analyze her seemingly unfortunate position, all she was met with, was the shine of Donnie's lustrous eyes, glinting in the bright lights of the workshop. Both were heaving breaths, adrenaline rushing from the swiftness of this occurrence.

"Thanks..." Y/N managed to squeak, trying to calm the furious blush and racing tempo of her heart at the touch of Donatello's strong arms still wrapped around her, "I think I just saw my life flash before my eyes..."

At her remark, Donnie's expression seemed to relax, and he let out a little giggle of amusement. Y/N smiled softly, and then placed the tip of her finger on the bridge of his snout, accompanied with a small 'boop!' That made him laugh even more and then a snort, something he didn't seem to proud of.

"Have I ever told you how cute you are?" She asked, rather abruptly, and the blunt question caught the turtle off guard. She wanted to smack herself across the face at the spilling of her internal conflicts but figured that doing so would cause her further embarrassment. Instead, Y/N was stuck trying to interpret Donatello's dumbstruck expression.

"E-erm, uh no. No, I don't think you've told me that..." Stupid, stupid stupid! What a response! Donnie's mind quipped, Could have at least said thank you... "Y/N..."

"Yeah, Don?"

His answer was completely wordless, just boring endlessly into her sparkling eyes. Though his next move seemed to be a more suited response.

Before he could stop himself, Donnie closed the short distance between and capturing her mouth in a short kiss, tightening the strong grasp of his forearms around her waist and back.

Y/N blinked once. Twice. And nothing shifted, though seemed completely unreal, like one of the hallucinations that she'd conjured in her mind before.

But this was just so... Real. He pulled away before Y/N could fully process what was going on, leaving her mouth to chase after his momentarily.

"You're really... U-um, Y/N I think you're beautiful. And I have this strangely romantic fascination with you..." Donnie trailed off, realizing how utterly stupid he must sound, however, the girl held tightly in his arms found it extraordinarily romantic.

Her fingers danced around the back of his neck snatched the tails of his silk bandana, and then pulled him in again, this time for a lingering address on the lips, tilting her head just slightly to deepen it. Donnie let out a short squeak of surprise, that faded into a satisfied chirp, bellowing from his throat.

They broke away, heaving puffs of air, and idiot-like grins spread across their faces.

"I really like you too Donnie."

"I'm glad," he breathed, just inches away from her face, "cause now we can work together and you don't have to hide staring at my legs."

Y/N flushed immensely before swatting his chest repeatedly, trying to hide her smile at his amused laughter.

"Donatello I will take away your pop tart privileges!"

fin💜

[angry-geese]

Sage

nanami kento x reader

warnings: none! sfw. entirely fluff, this will quite literally rot your teeth. gn!reader though there is mentions of them being pregnant. aside from that gn pronouns are used.

notes: some dad!nanami and domestic fluff

word count: 1,435

Nanami settled into being a father better than he thought he would.

You were another jujutsu sorcerer, working with Gojo at the time. Your meeting with Nanami was only by chance. The two of you bonded over bullying Gojo. Though you found him much less annoying than Nanami did, you still made it known how you didn't appreciate his antics.

Slowly you wormed your way more into his life. The two of you frequented the same bakery. Early mornings turned into getting pastries together. You offered to pay the first time. He had your order memorized. He picked up little things about you that you hadn't even noticed yourself. Nanami was observant. He didn't intend to memorize these things—he wasn't certain why he was watching you—but he did. The one day you showed up late he had your order waiting for you in his arms. Since you were still under the impression he didn't like you, it was surprising.

The next day he had your order waiting for you.

No matter how many times you offered to pay him back, he always refused. Reluctantly he enjoyed your company. Though you weren't officially partners, Gojo usually ended up sending you on the same missions. Working together turned into spending time together outside of work. Much of your free time was spent at his home, or him at yours. The two of you were inseparable.

Nanami made it known he'd never date a coworker. He was awfully vocal about his distaste for work. The last thing he'd ever want was his personal and work life crossing over. But he made an exception for you.

He realized he was too far gone when he couldn't imagine life without you.

You were always calm and collected and strong in a way he could respect. The jujutsu world was never kind to you, but you took whatever it threw at you with grace. He respected you before he liked you. But when he fell for you, he fell hard.

His confession wasn't anything grand, but he still tried to make it special. After a mission, he invited you out to dinner. The place was a bit fancier than what you usually went to. He insisted it was a special occasion.

Nanami was almost too nervous to get his confession out, but after a few drinks he managed.

To be honest, you were under the impression you were already dating.

Dating wasn't all that different from the way things were before. You were a bit more affectionate around him. You had no problems with draping yourself over his form. Or giving him a kiss without warning. Anything to bother him while he worked. You two would move in together almost instantly.

His plan always was settling down. The idea of a family was scary, but appealing. The typical life of a jujutsu sorcerer—or any normal life at that—wasn’t for him.

From the beginning he wanted kids. You did too—eventually—there was a mutual agreement on it. You weren't exactly trying for one, but you weren't trying to avoid it either. If it happened, it happened, that was your logic. The two of you were well off enough financially to care for a child.

You would find out about your pregnancy not long after.

You didn't tell Nanami for a while. While you knew he would be happy with the news, it never felt like the right moment. You wanted to surprise him with it but the moment to do so never presented itself.

Gojo—of all people—spoiled the surprise. Really it was an accident. You made an offhand comment about missing going to bars. As a joke, he asked: "what? Are you pregnant?"

There was no way you could respond without outing yourself. It was a bit embarrassing that your coworker found out before your husband. Nanami took your silence as a yes.

Upon hearing the news, he was ecstatic.

The second he could, he quit. The jujutsu world is no place for a family. He would be content with never seeing another sorcerer again.

He would hardly leave your side for the next nine months.

Nanami would tag along to each and every one of your doctors appointments. God forbid you lifted something too heavy, or were on your feet too long. He was always on your case about pushing yourself too hard. His presence was suffocating at times, but you knew he meant well. If you wanted it, all you had to do was ask and he’d bring it to you. You tried not to abuse this power too much.

The two of you decided to keep the gender a secret until your child was born.

A few months later you'd have a girl.

Eventually one of you would have to go back to work. Maternity leave wouldn't last forever. Your “normal” job paid enough to support the three of you. You weren't rich, but you made enough to live comfortably. Nanami agreed to stay home and take care of the baby.

He took to being a stay-at-home father better than he thought he would. Being a househusband was a better fit for him than any office work. A deep fear lingers in him that he’ll be a bad parent; the same doubts that any new parent has. He’s not nearly as bad as he says he is. You make sure he knows that.

"She's so little," he says, "am I doing this right?"

The idea of being responsible for such a small and fragile thing scares him.

The tiny bundle rests against his chest. A tuft of soft blonde hair is visible from under her yellow cap. Nanami smooths a hand over her head, fixing her hat. He can't stop the smile that spreads across his face and she chirps happily. Her pudgy fingers reach out and wrap around his much larger one.

"It's a baby carrier, how complicated can it be?" You ask.

The instructions look like they're written in Greek.

He notices your confused look and says a weak: "I told you"

The parts look nothing like the picture. Her baby carrier is a mess of straps and unnecessary clips. You can't tell what parts are spares, or just things you've left out.

It's oddly stressful.

Since when were these things so hard to put together?

"It looks nothing like the picture." He says.

"I mean, it doesn't look wrong." You say, a bit irritated. “As long as it keeps her in one place I think she’ll be fine.”

He fixes her hat one last time.

The walk to the bakery isn't a long one. When you two were looking for a house, you found one nearby. Nanami has your order memorized, and orders for the both of you. He’s made plenty of midnight trips to this place; you had cravings for some pretty strange things. You get your usual order of a coffee, a filled pastry, and a loaf of bread you plan on saving for breakfast tomorrow.

You gather your things and sit on a nearby bench to eat. Although it feels like such a little thing, this feels like the first time you've been out since you had the baby. Being away from work has made you both a bit stir crazy.

"You're dropping food on her head." You say.

A small "oh" leaves his mouth before he picks up the crumb, popping it into his mouth.

"Ken' that's gross."

He looks at you, then down at her, then back to you.

"Yeah."

He smooths a hand over her head. She squeals in delight, her pudgy hands outstretched. Nanami still can't get over how little she is. Months later he's still shocked that something so small is his. He acts like she's the most fragile thing on earth. Constantly you have to remind him that children are a lot more resilient than he thinks. If the baby is crying, he’s usually the first to console her. Even on nights that you offer, he refuses. He’ll stay up for hours reading to her.

He never thought he could love something so much. He presses a kiss to the top of her head, then yours. Moments like this are fleeting. He hates to get sentimental, but moments like this are fleeting. Before you know it, your kid will be all grown up and that thought terrifies him.

You lean your head against his shoulder. He almost seems surprised by it.

“We should hit that bookstore on the way back.” You offhandedly mention.

“Do you have room for more books?” He asks.

No, but you’re getting more anyway.

[taetaespeaches]

“I didn’t think you’d care if I came back.”

yoongi x reader (or oc) genre: angst; fluff word count: 3.2K

a/n: Finally we have some fluff again! I mean, the angst is still here, but we’re getting to a resolution. This drabble is inspired by “this is me trying” off of Taylor Swift’s album, folklore, and it takes place after, “You know that I would ruin myself over and over again for you.” This also includes a hint of crack for some comic relief, and because where Jin and Poopsie go, crack follows. I hope you all enjoy, and thanks for reading! :)) 

STEPPING into your apartment, returning home from work, your eyes scanned the small space with distaste. You dreaded coming home to your empty sofa and your empty kitchen and your very empty bed. Even more so, you hated the disappointment you felt in yourself for letting another person get so close to you that they started to feel like home.

Dropping your bag at the front door, you kicked your shoes off carelessly before making your way straight to the bathroom to take a shower. Your showers had been doubling in length, perhaps in hopes that the heat of the water would scald the past couple months right off your skin. Or maybe it was just to feel something other than the hurt.

It was just two months of your life. Why was it having such an impact? It had only been three days since Yoongi walked out, so you hoped it was just the newness of it all that had you feeling so hollow.

Yoongi was just stopping by the dorm for a change of clothes and then he was heading back to the studio. He had spent three days straight in his studio, not even returning to the dorms after leaving your place. Whereas his fans would probably think he was working hard on the second Agust D mixtape, he was mostly just sulking.

He did what was best right? You said you were ruining yourself over him. He was ruining you. So, he left. He didn’t try to work it out, he left. For you. That way, you would have a chance at happiness with someone else. Someone more suitable for you. Someone who could give you what you deserve.

Walking toward his bedroom with his overnight bag in tow, the sound of his roommate’s squeaky laughter echoed through the hallway. Yoongi was suddenly very thankful for the isolation his studio provided, as he remembered Jin saying his girlfriend was visiting family for a few days so he wouldn’t get to see her right away upon returning to Korea from Japan. She must be back now.

“I don’t care if the whole game and franchise is named after Mario, Yoshi is hands down the best character in the Mario realm, and that’s just a fact,” her ranting sounded through the closed door, Jin interrupting her with overdramatic sound effects. Yoongi’s hand was on the doorknob and he had half a mind to ignore his need for a change of clothes and escape back to his studio before anyone noticed he was there.

“There wouldn’t even be a Yoshi if it weren’t for Mario because there would be no Mario franchise,” Jin shouted back, Yoongi’s motions still stalled as he stood on the other side of the door in disbelief. Fucking Mario? Really?

With a sigh, Yoongi opened the door, clearing his throat to alert the two idiots of his presence. Jin’s head popped up off the pillows, greeting Yoongi with an, “oh, hey,” his girlfriend sitting up from her spot next to Jin on the bed.

“Oh, Yoongi, thank god you’re here,” she exclaimed, Yoongi flashing her a surprised expression. “Tell Jin that Yoshi is the best Mario character.”

“That’s ridiculous and you know it,” Jin shouted with wide eyes, his girlfriend turning to look at him. “Yoshi can be your favorite character, but you can’t argue he’s the best.”

“Why can’t I?” She complained, Yoongi quickly losing all interest as he escaped to his side of the room, separated from the bickering couple by a large bookcase.

“Because it’s not called Super Yoshi, or Yoshi Kart,” Jin informed her. Yoongi hurried around his belongings, shoving some clothes into his bag so he could get back to this studio without being dragged back into the couple’s pointless disagreement.

“You’re so annoying,” she huffed, Jin laughing at her attitude.

Zipping the bag back up, Yoongi started toward the door, anxious to get out of the dorm, away from everyone.

“Aw, but I got you something in Japan,” Jin told his girlfriend. Her silence piqued Yoongi’s interest, for reasons unknown to Yoongi, enough for him to look back. She was looking at Jin with her eyebrows raised as Jin pulled out a Yoshi figure from his pocket. “It’s Yoshi!” Yoongi watched as the girl held back a smile, trying to keep up her challenging glare. “I may disagree with you, but I support you and your poor judgement,” Jin teased the girl, lowering himself onto his knees on the bed.

“I'm in love with you, so you may be on to something with the poor judgement thing,” the girl teased right back, taking the figure before cooing at it. “It’s so cute, thank you,” she told him, Yoongi quickly exiting the room.

Part of him found the two lovers cute. A much bigger part found them annoying and gross. Shoving their love in everyone’s faces. He felt like a bitter old man as he shuffled out of the dorm angrily. Why was it that Jin could manage a relationship? How was it that Jin could have his shit together, but Yoongi couldn't? And Hoseok for that matter. Hell, even Namjoon was seeing someone. Why couldn't Yoongi do the same? Making his way out of the building, you overtook his mind. You would have called him out on being a bitter old man. “Jesus, Grampa Min, stop being so grumpy,” he could hear you saying with a giggle. You’d probably even press a kiss to his forehead, flashing him a warm smile. All anger and bitterness dissipated from his body, leaving him sad and frustrated with himself, even more so than before.

Another addition to the list of things you were growing to hate about your living space: it was cold. Bundled up in a large sweatshirt, baggy sweatpants, and colorful fluffy socks on your feet, you waited in the kitchen for your water to boil. All you wanted to do was have a cup of tea and plant yourself in front of the TV to waste away while watching the next Netflix series in your queue. Your still wet hair only made you colder, a shiver moving through your body, causing you to let out a groan.

You resisted the urge to check your phone. He surely hadn’t texted, and you didn’t feel like dealing with the pain that struck your heart every time you saw no notifications from him.

As you mindlessly played with the ends of your damped hair, a knock suddenly sounded on your door, and your heart dropped into your stomach. It had to be him. No one ever visited you at 6:30 pm on a Thursday night. You thought about not answering it, but when the knock sounded again, you convinced yourself you could be wrong. It could be someone else.

Then you caught yourself hoping it wasn't someone else.

Hesitantly, you opened the door, and if you weren’t so angry you would have cried at the sight in front of you.

Yoongi stood in your doorway, dark circles just as prominent as three days ago, eyes puffy and slightly red, one of his hands shoved into his pants pocket, the other hanging by his thigh as he held onto a bouquet of tulips.

Your eyes lingered on the flowers for a moment, not because you really cared about the gesture, but because the appearance of the man who had always been so composed before now looking so completely broken on your doorstep was almost too devastating for your heart to bear.

His eyes scanned your features desperately, though neither of you spoke. It was hard to find the words.

It felt like minutes passed by before Yoongi finally opened his mouth to say something, though he struggled to get the words out. “Kid, I-” he started, tears forming in his eyes.

“I don’t want your flowers if they come with disillusions,” you told him bitterly, holding onto your anger, despite the bubbling feeling of wanting to wrap him up in your arms.

Your eyes followed a tear as it slid off his plush cheek, the cheeks you adored so much, landing on the side of his hand. “If you want me to lay out all my mistakes right now, I will,” he told you sincerely, the comment taking you by surprise. “For starters, I shouldn’t have left. I should have fought with you, I should have stayed to finish that fight,” he said in frustration, partly to himself.

Maybe the words should have confused you, but you understood exactly what he was saying. For you both to express your frustrations with each other and with yourselves, the fight needed to happen. With Yoongi leaving, you didn’t get to the point of discussion following the anger. Instead, he walked away, as if you weren’t worth fighting with, or for.

“Why did it take you three days to come back?” You asked, a strange mixture of anger and sadness and hope swirling around your stomach.

“I didn’t think you’d care if I came back,” he admitted sadly, wiping his face with the back of his hand to get rid of the tears, the bouquet messing his fringe as it made contact with his forehead. He avoided eye contact, keeping his stare directed to your fuzzy sock-covered feet.

“Of course, I care,” you told him, taking a step back to allow him space to enter your apartment. His eyes followed the colorful fluffy material as you moved aside. “Now get in here so we can fight.”

You barely noticed the quirk in Yoongi's lip as it curved just slightly into the tiniest of smiles. He entered your apartment tentatively, and his presence already made it feel more like home again. You felt certain in that moment that no matter what room he walked into, it would feel like home.

Turning toward you, still avoiding your eyes but raising his gaze to your waist, he weakly held up the bouquet. "These are tulips," he told you dumbly, finishing the statement off with a sniffle.

You stared at him for a moment but he didn't continue. "I know," you finally said.

Another beat went by as you faced each other, a feeling of awkwardness enveloping the room. “They symbolize-" he started, just as the teapot started screaming in the kitchen.

“Hang on,” you told him, rushing to the kitchen to remove the pot from the stove, turning the burner off. For a moment, you thought about sitting in the kitchen for a moment to gather your thoughts, but with a vulnerable Min Yoongi standing just a few feet away, you found yourself hurrying back to him.  

“Sorry, what were you saying?” You asked, Yoongi looking to the side of the room.

“Tulips symbolize-”

"Yoongi,” you breathed out. “I don't care about the flowers right now, what are you doing here?" You cut him off, getting straight to the point.

"I want to fix this," he told you sincerely, lifting his gaze to meet yours.

You shrugged. "And how?" He stared at you for a moment, so you decided to continue. "I'm sick of feeling like I'm not wanted."

Yoongi quickly negated the comment, shaking his head. "I always want you."

"Then why do I feel unwanted by you?" Your volume raised as you asked the question, Yoongi appearing to hold his breath for a moment. Letting it out in a shaky breath, he looked back to your feet. "You say you want me but your actions say different, Yoongi. And you can't tell me how I feel, I feel unwanted."

"I'm sorry," he apologized quietly, lifting his gaze to meet your eyes. "I'm not trying to tell you how you feel, I'm just coming to terms with the fact that I made you feel that way," his voice broke.

"I don't want to hold this over your head, and I don't want you beating yourself up for it," you told him. "I just want you. But if I can't have you and feel good about myself and us, then I need to you to leave and I need you to stay gone." Speaking the words added cracks to your heart, but it also lifted a weight off your shoulders.

"I deal with a lot of shit," he suddenly said, your eyebrows pulling together in confusion. "Mentally. And that mixed with my work- I'm afraid of putting you through hell just because I'm selfish and want you," he told you with tears in his eyes. That’s what he’s afraid of? Putting his burdens on you? "I get so stuck in my head and I was in Japan and all I could think of was you and,” he sighed, looking into your eyes. “Fuck, Kid, I wanted to call you every moment I was gone. But that's for me, what am I giving you?" He shrugged hopelessly.

"You," you told him, your tears threatening to fall. "You're giving me you."

"And what's that worth?" His question shattered your heart. What's that worth?

"Baby, that's worth everything to me," you told him. "When you’re actually giving yourself to me, I feel more like myself. I feel braver and happier and-" looking back at the bouquet in his hands, you asked, "why tulips?"

He stalled for a moment, surprised by the question. "Right now?" Nodding at him, you bit back a grin. A faint smile appeared on his face, scoffing at himself. "Tulips can mean rebirth and forgiveness and true love, and I'm not saying we're in love,” he quickly backtracked. “I mean not yet, but we could be some day, and," he spoke slow but he was lost in his words, panicking over bringing up love, and the sight of him trying to find his way was enough to make you crack a smile. His speech faded out as he watched your face brighten just the slightest bit, a blush overtaking his plush cheeks. "I don't know what the fuck flowers mean, I don't know what I'm doing."

"That much is obvious," you teased, Yoongi letting out a single breathy chuckle at the comment.

"All I know how to do is care about you, Kid," he shrugged.

Tears forming in your eyes at his confession, you shook your head. "Then care about me."

"I'm trying," he told you, staring into your eyes. For a man who usually avoided eye contact, you were surprised by the sincerity he was trying to convey as he held your gaze. "I really am trying."

"I know," you nodded. And he was.  

"I wanted to protect you from me," he added, his orbs scanning your face. "But fuck, Kid, I can't stay away from you." You watched him thoughtfully as he spoke. "But when I saw the hurt in your face-" he paused to compose his emotions. "When you said you thought I left that morning," he shook his head. "That's when I first realized what I was doing to you."

"But you don't have to do that to me," you reminded him. "You don't have to protect me from you, I've told you I'm prepared to be with you regardless of your lifestyle and your work." Yoongi stared at you as you spoke, and you cocked your head at him. "I'm ok with the time apart and the late-night dates and the days where we can only fit a few texts in.”

“But are you ok with me? And everything that comes with me?” He asked. He was really asking, he needed the assurance.

“Of course, I am,” you told him definitively. “I want all of you. You don��t need to wear this mask around me, you don’t need to shield me from you. And you’re not the only one with demons,” you told him. “I want you and everything that comes with you. I’m just not ok with feeling like I'm always about to lose you."

"Baby," he whispered.

"I can't keep being afraid that every time you walk out the door, you might not come back," you whimpered, a tear falling down your cheek. "I need assurance too, I need to know you're in this with me as much as I am with you." Yoongi nodded quickly.

"If you want me here, I'm here," he assured you, sincerity coating his words.

"I want you here," you told him. Yoongi suddenly tossed the bouquet onto the table before approaching you. His arms wrapped around your body before you could react, your arms slowly folding over him, holding him close to you as he buried his face in your hair. You felt a kiss on the top of your head, your body responding by relaxing against his frame, turning your face to nuzzle it against his neck. "I'm sorry for the shit I said," you mumbled against his cool skin, still slightly cold from the night air.

"Don't apologize," he whispered into your hair.

"I didn't mean the mean shit," you added, Yoongi chuckling at the obvious pout on your lips.

"You were hardly mean, Kid," he told you, pulling away just a bit to look down at you with a soft smile, his eyes glistening in emotion.

“Well, I’ll never mean the mean shit,” you said with a small smile.

"I missed you,” he told you as he wiped the fallen tears off your cheeks.

"I missed you too," you whispered. “We were supposed to fight, you know,” you added teasingly.

“That wasn’t a fight?” He questioned in feigned surprise. “We still can if you want,” he playfully responded, his eyes widened humorously.

“You came in here trying to explain flower symbolization and I just couldn’t get mad at you,” you giggled, Yoongi smiling adorably just before pushing his lips to yours, giving you a sweet kiss. Before you could deepen it, he pulled away again.

"Yoshi or Mario?"

"What?” You questioned in utter confusion. “Min, I'm trying to make out with you," you complained with a look of dissatisfaction, Yoongi smiling fondly at the expression. With a sigh, you said, "Yoshi, obviously, what do you think I am, an idiot?" Yoongi laughed fully at the comment, his shoulders shaking as he flashed you that adorable gummy smile you were so obsessed with. "Why?" you asked through a small laugh, "what about you?"

"Honestly, I could not care less," he smiled, now your turn to laugh.

"I love that about you," you told him through your big grin.

"My roommate, Jin, thinks Mario is better," he told you, you raising your eyebrows in response. "I think you should come by the dorm to put him in his place. Maybe meet all the other guys too?"

You smiled widely as you nodded. "I'd love to," you said softly, Yoongi nodding before leaning in to kiss you again. "I mean, for Yoshi's honor," you whispered right before his lips pressed to yours.

"Of course," he giggled against your mouth. Pulling back just slightly, Yoongi stared at you for a moment, his eyes appreciating your every feature slowly, taking his time, as you did the same with him. Wrapping his arms around the back of your neck, he tugged you closer to him to hold you against his body once again. "Jin's a moron but remind me to thank him one of these days," he whispered against your temple.

"I will," you giggled. "But for what?"

"For having his shit together."

[fruitcoops]

I usually don't like angsty stuff but I love it with a happy ending and I've been THINKING....

O'Knutzy... one of the boys, let's say Logan, has a nightmare where Finn tells him he doesn't love him anymore and because of that the relationship between the three doesn't work anymore and he loses both of them.

But than he wakes up they cuddle and kiss and everything is fine

This was a rough one to write, but very cathartic. O’Knutzy credit goes to @lumosinlove!

TW for night terrors, crying, and insecurity

Logan wakes up in a bed, and he is alone. Once upon a time, this would not have been unusual, but for the past five months—six? Seven? Leo always teases me for forgetting our anniversary—he has greeted the morning with two warm bodies next to him, their steady breaths easing his mind.

Logan is…cold, this time. He hates being cold. “Peanut?” he calls when he hears sounds from outside the bedroom. “Finn?”

The rustling doesn’t stop; nobody responds. He frowns and clambers out of bed, stretching his back and reaching for one of the many, many hoodies that usually lay crumpled on the chair in their room. Logan stops dead in his tracks when he sees only two there, and both are his own. Panic spikes in his chest. “Mes amours? Where are you?”

“I told you not to wake him up,” Finn whispers harshly. Logan frowns and walks out, nearly tripping over the multitude of cardboard boxes lining the hall. His boys are in the living room, packing the blanket Leo’s mother made for them for Christmas.

“What’s going on?” Logan asks warily as he steps over a box labeled ‘clothes—Finn’. “Why are you packing our things?”

“We’re leaving,” Finn says. His voice is devoid of emotion and he looks at Logan with utter contempt. He feels as if he has been doused in ice water and then set aflame.

“What?” He glances at Leo, who shuffles awkwardly. “Where are we going?”

“Not you.” Leo looks up at him, and his beautiful blue eyes are like chips of ice. “Just us.”

Logan is drowning, he’s sure of it. He is suffocating on the dark cloud of fear and agony that billows from the place his lungs used to be. “No.”

“Yes.” Finn rips a piece of packing tape off the roll and Logan flinches.

“Why?”

“Because I don’t love you anymore.”

Logan’s legs give out and he sits down hard on the floor, barely registering the flash of pain. “But—”

“No.” Finn’s face is twisted and furious all of a sudden, and Logan is almost grateful—at least there is something left of the passionate, bleeding-heart boy that he loves with everything in his fucking body instead of that mask from before. “No, Logan, you don’t get to keep us here. I don’t love you.”

“But you do.” His voice is feeble even to his own ears. “You said it when you kissed me goodnight. Peanut-“

“Don’t call me that,” Leo says quietly. Logan’s heart snaps in half.

“Please.” He doesn’t know what he’s begging for anymore. An explanation, maybe, or just for them to stay. “Please.”

“This is your fault,” Finn continues as he opens a new box. “If you had just talked about your feelings, we wouldn’t have to do this.”

“You don’t have to do anything,” Logan chokes out as the first tears start to fall. “You hate being told what to do.”

“You don’t know me—”

“I do know you!” Logan shouts. It rings throughout the apartment, along with his ragged breaths. “I know you better than anyone. You’re Finn O’Hara, Harzy, my best friend, my Finn—”

“I’m not your anything.”

“Leo, please tell me what’s going on.” Logan turns to Leo and sees almost nothing on his face. For the first time he can remember, that shining sunlight is dim.

“Finn doesn’t love you. I’m going with him.”

“Why?”

“Because I can’t stand being around you.” Exasperation laces Leo’s tone, as if he’s speaking to a child. “The only reason I was with you is because Finn was there.”

Some horrible, strangled noise rips out of Logan’s throat and he covers his mouth with his hands. This is what dying feels like, he thinks. This is it. “Don’t do this,” he pleads, little more than a whisper. “Please don’t.”

Finn opens his mouth, looking straight at him with those hard brown eyes, and Logan knows what he’s about to say. “Good—”

Logan wakes up in a bed, and he’s not alone. A cut-off shout escapes him as he scrambles out of the blankets that threaten to drag him back under and his foot connects with something warm that grunts, reaching out toward him. “No!”

The floor is unforgiving as he falls onto it and shoves himself back against the wall, shaking from head to toe as the beginnings of a scream accompany every shallow breath. “Logan?”

A sob, clogged and gross, tears from his throat and he puts his forehead on his knees. “I’m so sorry,” he blubbers.

“Holy fuck, Lo. Leo, wake up.” More shuffling sounds come from the bed and a sleepy voice murmurs something, confused. “Leo, wake up.”

Two gentle hands rest on his shoulders and Logan thrashes away. ��Get off me!”

“Hey, shhhh, it’s me.” The voice is terrified, he can tell. But it is so achingly soft. “Lo baby, it’s just me.”

“F—F—” He can’t even get the name out as more tears pour down his face. Someone slides off the bed and kneels next to him, a dark shadow.

“It’s me,” Finn says again, running his hands down Logan’s arms. “It’s your Finn. Leo’s here, too.”

“Oh my god I’m so sorry.” He balls up tighter, digging his fingers into his thighs. “I’m so sorry, just please don’t leave.”

“We’re not going anywhere,” Leo murmurs, still accented from sleep. Logan makes a noise like a wounded animal and a third hand comes to brush the sweat-damp hair off his forehead. “What’s wrong, Lo?”

“You’re leaving.”

“What?”

“You’re leaving,” he repeats, voice cracking with grief. “You’re leaving and I’m sorry.”

“We’re not leaving,” Finn says. A solid weight presses against the length of his side and an arm comes to rest over his back. “See? We’re both right here for you. You had a nightmare, baby.”

Logan only sobs harder; in his mind’s eye, Finn is still glaring at him with that stonelike distaste as Leo watches him weep with no reaction. “Can you tell us what it was about?” Leo’s hands are broad and warm on the sides of his legs, even through the fabric of his sweatpants.

“You—you don’t—” Logan takes a few gulping breaths. “You don’t love me anymore.”

There is a small, punched-out exhale from Leo and a shuddering gasp from Finn. “That’s not true.” Finn sounds like he’s crying. “That is not true, Logan.”

He shakes his head. “You said it so many times. So many.”

“Look at me, Lo,” Leo says, smoothing Logan’s hair back. “Please look at me.”

Come on, Tremblay, you can do it. He sniffles and raises his head just enough to see over his knees; Leo’s got heartbreak written all over his face as he carefully wipes Logan’s cheeks dry with the heels of his hands. Logan can’t bear to look at Finn right now. His chest still hurts too much. “Please don’t go.”

“I won’t,” Leo promises. Even in the low light of the streetlamps through their window, he glows. “I love you too much to do that. It was just a nightmare, okay? None of that was real.”

A shiver rolls through Logan again and Finn’s arm tightens around him. “It felt real, and it hurt.”

“I’m sorry.” Leo kisses his forehead. “You’re cold. Do you want to go back to bed?”

A slender hand comes into Logan’s periphery and touches Leo on the arm, light as a feather. “Logan, please look at me,” Finn says. Logan squeezes his eyes shut. I can’t. “Please.”

“I asked you to stay.” His voice is broken glass, each word tearing his throat. “I asked you to stay and you looked me in the eyes and told me you didn’t love me. You hated me.”

“Logan, please.” Finn sounds miserable and Logan can hear the tears in his voice as he finally turns. His eyes are so bright, so wide, so Finn as two small rivers form on his cheeks. Bambi, he thinks. “I love you so much, Logan. I would never, ever say that to you.”

Logan’s lower lip wobbles and he leans his head against Finn’s shoulder, prying one hand off his leg to pull Leo close as well. “I know. I know. It wasn’t you.”

That is one thing he is sure of, one thing he would swear in front of God and every angel. Those cold caricatures in his nightmare were wrong on a deep, deep level—Leo radiates kindness. Finn looks at him with nothing but love. Their other selves were the exact opposite of everything Logan adores about his boys.

“Are you going to be alright?” Leo asks as he places a light kiss to Logan’s temple. “We don’t have to go to sleep if you don’t want to.”

“I’m so tired.”

“Okay.” None of them make an effort to stand.

He knows Finn and Leo are having a silent conversation and nuzzles against Finn’s warm collarbone, pulling Leo’s arm up to kiss his wrist. “Can I be in the middle?”

That draws a light laugh from both of them. “Yeah, Lo, you can be in the middle,” Finn says, getting to his feet on wobbly legs and hauling them both up with him. They collapse into bed again, dragging the covers up to their shoulders.

“I feel like a panini,” Logan mutters as they squish him between their chests. There is a moment of silence before they break down laughing and a series of kisses find their homes on his face and back; he wraps an arm around Finn’s chest and presses into Leo’s steady warmth. “Goodnight. I love you.”

“Love you, too, Lo.”

“Love you, baby.” Finn shifts closer and sighs against him. “And that will never change.”

[breadbrioche]

➵ Gokudera Hayato x GN! Reader

➵ Word Count: 568

➵ Warnings: mint choco slander, mild swearing

➵ A/N: I’m on a khr writing high and I feel invincible lol I feel like Gokudera seems the type to absolutely loathe mint ice cream so this was created

“Oh.” Gokudera exclaimed with distaste as he peered at the waffle cone in your hand as you sat down in your seat. “You’re one of those freaks.”

Upon hearing his words, your eyes widened with horror.

“Fucking excuse me?” You said while making direct contact with Gokudera.

“You heard me.” He said coolly. “People who eat mint chocolate chip are freaks of nature.”

You couldn’t explain it, but his comment really rubbed you the wrong way. Perhaps it was the crude nature of his language or the fact how he casually dug into his own dessert without any care - either way, Gokudera offended you. Because of this, you did what any person would do.

Swiftly you kicked his shin harshly which made his leg jerk up, knee crashing into the underside of the table. The boy squawked in pain, dropping the spoonful of his peanut butter ice cream on the table’s metallic surface and demanded your intentions with that move you pulled.

“Mint chocolate chip is just as valid as any other ice cream flavour!” You almost shouted. He shot you an unconvinced look.

“According to who? That shit is almost as gross as my sister’s cooking. They’re both that sickly green colour too, for fucks sake!”

“I’ll have you know that there are many people who like mint chocolate chip!” You deflected.

Gokudera scoffed at your accusation. “Like who?”

“Uhhh…Yamamato does! And so does Ryohei! Yeah see! A lotta people like it.”

“As if they count - they’re weird in their own rights.”

You groaned before stabbing the top scoop of your ice cream cone and ate the green ice cream frustratedly. “Now you aren’t even making a proper excuse for why you don’t like it. I’ve seen you eat mints and chocolate - so why won’t you eat ‘em together?”

He huffed before putting his tub of ice cream down on the table.

“Look. You eat mints to make your breath smell good and you eat chocolate because it’s sweet. When you turn the mint into ice cream then add the chocolate chips, you’re basically just eating fuckin’ toothpaste with weird lumps in it.” He explained aggressively while gesturing with his small spoon at you.

The way your face scrunched at the eloquence of his argument brought great joy to Gokudera. He smirked when you said nothing to further your point and just silently dug into your disgusting dessert, taking it as a sign of his victory.

“Yknow,” Gokudera began with his mouth full. “I dunno why you always try to pick such petty fights with me when I always end up wi-“

“You owe me money now.” You cut him off suddenly.

“What the FUCK? HOW?” He screamed before choking on his food. He hastily covered his mouth with a tissue while his eyes conveyed his anger, confusion and disbelief.

“I don’t agree with how you kept slandering my mint chocolate chip so I want the money that I used to pay for your ice cream back.” You made grabby hands at the air towards him but he lightly slapped it away.

“You can’t do that!” The boy denied.

“Yes I can; I just did too.” Your lips twitched upwards slightly.

“You’re just upset that you couldn’t-“

“I don’t think you're in the place to talk right now.” You stated teasingly as you reached over and grabbed his tub and ate what was left in it.

“Wha- HEY!”

[wincore]

vixen | nakamoto yuta

pairing: kitsune!yuta x female!reader

words: 5.1k 

summary: every year, you visit the fox who claims to know everything about you. 

genre: fantasy/folklore, fluff, angst(?)

warnings: suggestive, mention of past bullying, one excessively flirty nakamoto yuta

song rec(s): clear and sunny - sou (cover)

a/n: this is for all you furries who aren’t quite furries yet muah (im joking) but aaaa love exploring folklore and also i should put in a disclaimer that not every aspect adheres to the original tales of the kitsune <3 i did not proofread btw and i am very sorry

Some things never change.

Examples: boys, shitty friends, death, and the scent of nostalgia. To you, that very scent happens to be the earthy smell of chrysanthemums and a faint waft of spices from the kitchen in your parents’ house. To you, October is not just another month. To you, there is one more thing that never changes and it is not your belief in old ghost stories. 

Around this time of the year, the autumn festival begins in a flurry of vibrant red smudges and a whiff of excitement, in streets suddenly brought alive. The skies are candied orange, and it’s the only time you aren’t tired of home. This time is also when you find yourself right in the clutches of the one demon you swore you’d avoid for the rest of your life. You swore. It’s not your fault that said demon is a little, let’s say, tempting. 

Tempting in the most vexing, infuriating way possible. Bewitching, cruel, seducing—all that foxes are and all that you’ve heard of them could not have prepared you for an encounter. Folklore runs deep through you. The memories of a certain fox-boy run deeper. 

It is not the festival you are here for. 

You yawn, leaning against the wooden door frame of the shop. It would be inappropriate to fall asleep on the job, especially since there are a bunch of children staring idly at you. You close your mouth quickly, resting the back of your hand against your lips. Late afternoon is an easy time to fall asleep. You have half the mind to snarl at the kids to scare them off, their gaze getting on your nerves and when you think you will, you turn the other way. Manners come first to you, no matter how temperamental you get. 

The procession has gathered a crowd. Some shouts and squeals from the children make you slump further. At least they’re having fun with whatever stupid game they’re playing. You breathe in the autumn air. A part of you wonders if you simply let your feet lead you down the stairs, you’d be free of this entire ordeal. You shake your head. Temptation has always been hard to resist—never meant to be resisted but you’re much older now. There is dignity to be answered.

October is mild—your grandmother’s shop is still on the verge of collapse, your mother still yells at you for misplacing kitchen utensils and your old friends from school still gossip about who you’re dating. It’s like the script never changes; people change the meaning, twist their words in the same old pattern. If you were a little less behaved, you would have poured your drink over their heads yesterday. 

You clench your jaw. It’s always an ‘Oh, you’re so attractive’ and an ‘I wish I could date as many men as you do but I’m loyal to my boyfriend’, or even a ‘Must be nice being surrounded by boys all the time’. You know what they mean. It’s not the first time you’ve been called a fox, and you don’t think it’ll be the last—at least until you decide to stop letting your hometown suffocate you. Maybe you’ll accept what they say. You have heard of what hatred left unchecked can do.

If you’re honest, you haven’t been with too many men. If you’re a little more honest, none of them have ever made your heart race.

You watch the children play with a keen eye, their painted masks ridiculously large for their faces and in brightly coloured clothes contrasting well with the town. You might not be allowed to fall asleep, but there’s nothing against closing your eyes for a second or two.

The image of glinting yellow eyes and a fanged smile pop up and you quickly open your eyes. You don’t know why your heart beats so loud at the mere thought of him, thoughts in which his lips are full and painted red, and his bright smile is stretched upon them. Sometimes, the thought of him is in gentle washes, his hand fixing your hair, or a flirty smile when you dare stumble upon him on a particularly sleepless night. You shake your head to get rid of the thought. That is not love. Some sort of embarrassing attraction, maybe. However, the friendship you have is worse.

“I see you’re a slacker as always.”

Your grandmother’s voice breaks you out of your cycle of thoughts and you’re almost grateful.

“I sold approximately zero sweets,” you snort. “Why can’t we just do away with the shop?”

“You’re starting to sound like your mother,” your grandma calls from behind one of the counters, distaste ringing clear in her voice. 

You sigh. “Fine, but… you work way too hard to make these for them to not sell.”

“Maybe they would sell if a certain little lady would stay and help.”

You groan, leaning your head back. “You know I have work in the city.”

Your grandmother waves her hand about, dismissing your reasoning. She fiddles around in the shadows for a bit before coming forward with more boxes than she should be able to hold.

“You don’t have to feel too guilty. Yuta’s been helping out,” your grandmother informs fondly. “You could learn a thing or two from him.”

You’re not the superstitious sort and yet still, your heart beats faster. For him, or for the bad omens foxes bring to a household—you don’t know.

You scoff instead. “He’s not as great a guy as you think, grandma. He can be really mean too!”

“Oh, I doubt that. Have you seen his smile? Impossible.” Your grandmother waves it off before drawing nearer, voice hushed without reason. “Have you thought about it then? He is handsome, isn’t he?”

“Grandma.”

You’re not sure what old women go through in their youth that makes them something of a matchmaker in their later years. You think the whole ordeal is messed up. There is no way you’re going to stick your nose into your grandchildren’s love life; it’s gross.

“These should be enough for the children, no?” Your grandmother asks and you look up.

“You’re giving them away for free?” you question, furrowing your eyebrows. “And you talk about bad business.”

She places her hand on her hip, pointing an accusatory finger. “You’re going to lecture your grandmother?”

You raise your hands up in defeat, standing up to help her with the red boxes of acorn candy and paper wraps of roasted chestnuts. You end up with the entire load in your arms, your grandmother happily shuffling about as she locks up the store.

You turn sharply at the surprised sound behind you. The evening has settled in and glowing lanterns bring forward the evidence, the darkening streets flooding with round droplets of light.

But it is not the festival you are looking at.

Yuta looks somewhat serene, your cheeks heating up despite yourself. You look at him with bated breath, hoping the boxes obscure your face enough to make the vaguely positive emotions less evident. The dark red jacket draped over his shoulder does not look out of place—in fact, he fits in so well you would’ve mistaken him for another face in the crowd if he weren’t stupidly gorgeous. He looks at you with no strong emotion in the eyes before breaking into a smile; and when his hand strokes the top of your head as a greeting, he seems fond. He always does.

“Grandma,” he calls with his best smile, turning to the old woman.

Your grandmother doesn’t need any more convincing of his character. 

“Oh, there you are! Did I tell you (name)’s back? I wanted to break the news to you earlier. Ah…I must have forgotten.”

You glance from Yuta to her. Is this another one of her tricks and tests?

“She’s always here this time of the year,” he responds, laughing politely.

“Ah, you remembered,” she says, eyes crescent as she smiles back. “Help her with the boxes. The city has made her so frail.”

“I’m good,” you choke on the words, hurriedly moving away and almost dropping one of the boxes.

You slip on your sandals and scurry off faster, wishing he’d just stay behind. He always has. The air makes you shiver but you’re adamant; and it’s not the only trait of yours to make relationships fail.

“You know, you should be nicer to old friends.”

You try not to react when Yuta takes the boxes from you, matching your pace almost effortlessly.

“I thought foxes ran away once they’re found out,” you snap, reluctantly letting him take the packages.

Yuta rolls his eyes. “I see you still aren’t very fond of me.”

“Not when you’re tricking my grandmother like this,” you hiss.

“You call helping trickery?” he retaliates.

“Foxes bring bad business,” you mutter.

“I’m the reason your grandmother’s business is somewhat above the water.”

You sigh, exasperated. There’s no point in wasting your breath. You look away, crossing your arms as you walk, the silence between the two of you suddenly awkward. Even so, you’re not going to open your mouth for him.

“Would you two slow down?” your grandmother calls, voice weary. “We’re already there.”

The two of you halt in your tracks immediately, taking mellow steps back to her. She looks over the two of you with furrowed eyebrows and you try to think of an explanation when she starts laughing.

“Oh, I don’t mind the two of you flirting,” she says, littered with slow laughter. “Just make sure the food is where it’s supposed to be.”

You’re about to refute when Yuta laughs, the sound still boyish and lively. “Of course. (name) missed me so much this year, she couldn’t help herself.”

You give him a pointed look which he ignores, deliberately or not. “We- I wasn’t—”

“Grandmother, if you’ll give us permission,” he interrupts, settling the packages on the table by the food stall and smiling wide. “We’ll go enjoy the festival now.”

She bobs her head in affirmation and Yuta grabs your hand to pull you into the bustling street, your silent plea for help ignored by your smug grandmother.

“What are you doing?” you ask, slipping your hand from his. “You aren’t- You aren’t trying to eat my liver, are you?”

“Why the liver? Can’t I have the rest of you too?”

It’s not like you were particularly alarmed but his response makes you feel a flush of embarrassment.

“It’s been a year since I last saw you,” he says before his voice turns a shade cooler. “Have you thought about my proposal?”

You fall silent. The overthinking started last year too. Your thoughts and dreams, so easily pervaded by him and all it took was one sentence. 

“We should get married.”

“Why did you even think I’d agree to that?” You try not to get too flustered. He knows all your petty weaknesses and you’d rather not have them on display for him to stare and pick at. “What the fuck would I get out of marrying you?”

Yuta whistles. “I like your tongue. But—yes, to answer your question, you’d get a very handsome and capable husband. Your bed will always be warm and oh, speaking of beds—”

You clamp your hand over his mouth at the suggestive look he sends, worried about being spotted by one of your school friends. Ah, right—friends, the very same people that smell of jealousy and won’t miss any opportunity to throw a jab your way. Friends. You can’t believe you’re still afraid of their judgement.

“And why do you want to get married to me?” you ask, looking into his eyes.

There’s a pause, filled with the chatter of the crowd.

“You look like you’re afraid of finding someone,” he speaks finally, ignoring your question. “Or is it the other way around?”

You roll your eyes, ready to walk off when he grabs your wrist to pull you closer to his chest. It draws some looks from nearby people, your eyes darting from face to face in fear. You take a deep breath and look at Yuta again, almond eyes distracting. 

“People will think we’re lovers,” you whisper, almost a hiss.

“What’s wrong with that?”

You breathe out in disbelief. “You’re really something.”

“What? Why did you always come to meet me then? Behind the keyaki tree?”

“It wasn’t for you,” you lie quickly. “I had nothing better to do.”

Pining after a fox? You could never have feelings for him. Even so, your answer comes off childish and silly, and somehow he’s the only one to be able to draw that side of you—the you that is messy and unprepared.

Yuta smiles in return. “You think people can’t fall in love with us the same way they fall in love with most everything.”

It’s a statement, not a question.

“How conservative of you,” he leaves with an airy remark, but not before urging you to follow him.

The sizzling sound of food being fried and the knocking, clicking sound of children playing games, all these forgotten sounds grow louder and for a second, if only you let yourself, you could close your eyes and it would be just like your first date. 

No. It’s different. You look up, eyes trailing over Yuta’s back, his golden hair, how his figure moves with ease and confidence.

It is different.

You raise an eyebrow at the box of takoyaki Yuta shoves towards you, an expecting look across his face.

“You like this, don’t you?” he asks, an uncharacteristic hesitation in his voice.

You hum in response, taking the box from him and saving yourself the trouble of asking whether he paid for it or simply charmed his way through. 

“Eh, no thank you?” he complains. “How polite.”

You scrunch your nose to accompany an exaggerated smile and he laughs, the two of wandering over the asphalt streets. Your hands are close enough to brush—and if a twenty-something year-old woman can feel jittery because of it, hands truly are meant to share warmth. The smell of candy and caramel fills the air, making you smile. You’ve saved enough for the taste of home, you think. 

The taste of home. 

Inevitably, the thought of kissing your companion crosses your mind and you stop in your tracks. Whatever. It must be natural when someone as attractive is beside you. Those aren’t feelings. You curse yourself for feeling like a teenager again.

The festival grounds aren’t as shabby as you expect them to be. The city,—if you could call this one—stops here and the earth spreads out to the forest behind. The crowd also thins, and you take a fresh breath. They’re selling old books in the corner, but no one seems to be there.

“The raccoon dogs,” Yuta whispers in your ear, with an arcane smile. “Want to visit those rascals?”

You roll your eyes. He knows you’ve heard one too many folktales for a lifetime, seen one too many. It’s time to go home, especially now that the thought of thanking him crosses your mind. You’re about to turn when your shoulder crashes into someone else’s. A surprised, syrupy smile greets you, which you cannot return for the first few moments. Yui’s smile wavers and you flash her a quick smile. A friend. Her arm is looped through her lover’s, the one she never shuts up about and suddenly the urge to pour water over her head returns.

Yuta glances from you to her before pressing his lips together, as if suppressing laughter. You’re almost offended when Yui laughs flippantly.

“You’re on a date too? I knew you couldn’t stand spending the festival alone,” she says, tugging her lover closer. 

People have always told you who you are and what you do. As if they know better.

You smile awkwardly. “It’s… actually not—”

“Oh, don’t be shy.” She gently pats your shoulder before leaning in. “He’s a real catch. As expected from you. You can never leave the boys alone.”

You know what she really means. You’ve heard the same words in high school when she was shoving you into a wall behind the school. The sickening smile is still on her face.

You gulp, feeling sixteen again. The lack of people around somehow makes it more awkward and you’re about to excuse yourself when suddenly, Yuta bumps into Yui and his warm drink spills over her left shoulder. Your eyes widen, more in confusion. When did he leave? You don’t doubt his ability to sneak past people, but surely you couldn’t have been so enraptured in your own feelings that you barely noticed.

“I’m so sorry,” Yuta says, voice honeyed with surprise.

Yui looks like she’s about to explode when she looks at him, her expression dropping to a calmer one almost immediately.

It’s an easy look to recognize. They always have it when they first meet Yuta, whether it’s the smile that’s too dazzling or the pretty round eyes. 

How persuasive, those eyes.

“Ah… I must have not seen you,” she says faintly, and Yuta’s smile widens.

Before he can stir up more trouble, you slip your arm into his and pull him away, not caring for another polite apology to an old, almost nameless face.

“I was having fun,” Yuta complains, voice still smug and calm.

You glare at him and it only seems to add fuel to the fire, to whatever cold fire dances at his fingertips. 

“You’re happy, right? Don’t look at me like that. You should reward me.”

You don’t respond, looking away and hoping to get at least a word in about how troublesome he is every single time you visit. Yuta has other plans, however. Leaning his head to look you in the eye, he maintains a distance which looks perfectly decent but feels less than so.

“How about a kiss? I deserve one, don’t I?” He moves his head closer to yours, making you shy away.

You grab him by the belt and pretend to not catch a glimpse of the pleased look on his face as you drag him into a secluded part by the forest.

It’s quieter here, so much that you can almost hear your own heart drumming in your chest, and the faint light of the distant festival grounds doesn’t help much at all. It’s dark as dusk, and you can only make out Yuta’s jawline and a faint smirk over his lips. You think that if a fox ever wanted to eat your liver, this would be the perfect spot.

“You did something,” you finally utter the words. “You did something to me.”

“Why do you think I did something? Do you mean love?” he responds with a cheeky smile. “This means you’ve been thinking about me? How cute—”

“Yuta, stop it,” you warn. 

“Or what? You should stop me yourself.”

You grab the lapels of his jacket, the cloth bunching as your knuckles turn white. The anger you feel isn’t the first of its kind—it’s just a little funny how it’s always Yuta every time, making you remember the burning feeling time and time again. You find yourself unable to respond. 

“Oh, don’t hold back,” he provokes, leaning in.

You push at his chest in exasperation, but he grabs your wrists before you can retract your hands.

“Scared?” he whispers.

You pull apart anyway, a scowl over your lips. “You’re as annoying as ever. Don’t you have anyone else to bother?”

“Ooh! Sharp claws. You’d be lovely as my fox-bride.” he teases. 

Your face flares with heat. “I’m not your… I’m not a fox.”

“I didn’t say a fox, I said—”

“I know what you said,” you snap, massaging your wrist so you don’t have to look at him.

Yuta falls quiet for a moment, voice lower when he speaks again.

“Is it so nasty to be called a fox? There are worse things, you know.”

You scoff, growing increasingly annoyed. “Of course you’d say that. I hate it. I hate this town. I hate foxes and I hate you.”

Yuta places a hand over his chest, gasping with no emotion. Your eyes linger over his long, painted nails a little longer before you meet his eyes. A part of you regrets saying the words but you couldn’t help it. The shroud choking your hometown makes you want to scream at the top of your lungs every time you’re here. You hate this place.

But you don’t hate him, after all. 

You try to clear yourself of the thought. A gentle gust of wind brings you back to the present, Yuta still glancing at you with no giveaway to what he’s feeling.

“You wouldn’t make a terrible fox though,” he says, eyes sharp. “Don’t they know you’re a vixen already? How many livers will you eat?”

You suck in a breath, tears stinging at your eyes. However, it’s not like you to get so easily affected by him. No. No, somehow that doesn’t make sense either. Those words do hurt from Yuta and you’re not sure if it’s just because he's the only one you didn’t expect them from.

“You…”

“What? Aren’t you going to lash at me again? You’re so predictable.”

His voice is calm despite your obvious annoyance and you feel flames lick at your heart. Your hand moves before you can think, about to meet his cheek when he grabs your wrist. You struggle, trying to pull free but to no avail and you use the other hand to hit him in the chest. Unsurprisingly, it doesn’t bother him and that same feline smile curves up his lips.

You feel something you haven’t before, a warm growl at the pit of your stomach.

You push with all your strength, catching Yuta off guard and he stumbles backward but not before pulling you into him. Consequently, either of you lose footing and land on the grass with a sudden thud, Yuta’s side pressed against yours. His hands still clutch your wrist, and he shifts to hover over you.

“We used to wrestle like this as a litter,” he says, erupting into full laughter. “Ah, memories. I don’t even know if they’re alive or dead now.”

Yuta is much stronger than he looks, and he’s taken your tantrum as a source of amusement much to your infuriation. He has your hands pinned back, eyes unaffected as he scans over your face. You try to shift but there’s just too much weight on you. You breathe slowly, chest rising and falling in time with his. His earrings sway gently in the wind, dangling a few inches above you—he’s pretty, so pretty. Admitting defeat has never been your forte but now that your senses are gathering again, you feel a flush of embarrassment for losing your temper. 

Or perhaps, it is something else when you register the lack of distance between your noses.

“Playtime’s over,” Yuta coos. “You’re kinda cute when you’re losing.”

He tilts his head, an adoring smile over his lips. For a moment, they’re all you see.

Can a fox comfort you? Can a fox make you feel loved on the darkest of nights? Your mind races with questions your heart does not want to answer. 

Yuta leans in to close the distance and despite every nerve in your body, you turn your head away. You can hear him gulp, the following moments painfully quiet before he gets up. Your breath is soft and shallow, lying on the ground till you get enough courage to sit up. 

You almost gasp. His tails are clearer under the dim moonlight, all nine of them golden and luxurious. The light hitting his face isn’t any less flattering and once again you are reminded of how handsome he is, fairytale or not. 

Yuta looks uncomfortable, and that’s a first for you.

“I’m sorry,” you say, though you don’t know why.

He waves his hand dismissively, annoyed.

“Yuta,” you take a step forward.

“I see the way you look at me,” he says quietly, “Is it not want?”

You fall silent, biting your lip so you don’t retort violently. He doesn’t look particularly malicious when he says that but you do not want to give him the satisfaction of an answer yet.

He quietens for a moment before a look of curiosity flashes across his features.

“What is it then?” he asks. “Is it a secret? Foxes love secrets. Tell me.”

Despite every bone in your body burning up, you find it in yourself to laugh.

“I don’t think I could keep a secret from you if I tried,” you finally say, before bursting into soft laughter again.

Yuta looks at you puzzled, lips parted while he stands frozen as if he were a painting. A daunting, reckless, heavenly painting.

“It’s not want,” you answer quietly. “It’s more than that. Even if I hated it. I like you.”

Yuta’s ears perk up at your confession. “So- so you admit, then? You are interested?”

“I could blame you for this, you know?” You shrug, hugging yourself once the night starts to feel cold again. Yuta begins to take off his jacket when you stop him, gently pressing your palm against his chest. 

“You’re a fox, after all,” you whisper. “Like me. What they think of me.”

Yuta purses his lips. “Does it really hurt you? No, wait. Did they- did they—”

“Now, you tell me,” you cut him off. “Why do you insist on getting married—to me?”

There’s a pause. The crickets chirp a merry tune despite the leisurely darkness of the night.

“You’re not terrible,” he says, nonchalantly.

You glare at him and he raises his hands in defeat. He looks wearier the more you look at him.

“I want to grow old,” he mumbles after a long pause. “Properly.”

You hold your breath.

“And you want to do it with me?”

Another flower blooms in your chest, as if he hasn’t planted a garden in there already. The lights from the festival flicker down, the lanterns burning brighter in the distance. He glances at them for a moment, your eyes still fixated on him. 

The tails glow even brighter in the dark, as if gold in broad daylight. You’ve always been curious about him and his kind, all the stories; but he says he’s too old to remember if you ask.

You reach out to touch one of the tails, wondering if the fur is as warm as it looks. They’re pale and captivating, but they look so soft—they shouldn’t belong to an animal so vicious. Is he, though? Is he all that you think he is or have all these years failed you? If anything, he’s quite probably not as much a fox as you are, you think bitterly.

The fur is warm, but the realization is short-lived.

A short growl leaves the corner of his mouth. Yuta glares at you like he was stolen from and yet, you do not move your hand. Some part of you wants to aggravate him further.

“I’m not a pet,” he snaps. “Stop that.”

“You should stop me yourself,” you mimic his voice.

Yuta’s shoulders relax, and he looks down but you can still see the trembling smile on his face. It’s the way he looks at you, you think to yourself, maybe that's the reason after all.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you say, feeling warmer than the autumn night should allow.

“Like what?” he asks, still smiling.

You look away. 

“You’re not too fox-like, you know?” you mumble. “You’re just annoying. And flirty. And annoying.”

Yuta chuckles, before pressing his palm to the top of your head. 

“And you’re lovely.”

You give in to the gesture of affection, leaning your head to press against his shoulder.

“Why do you even do all this? What do you get out of it?” you say, voice muffled. He hears you clearly, however.

“Because I love you,” he responds, as if coming to terms with it himself. “More than you think.”

There is no joke, no flirtation to his tone, no decoration upon his words. It’s plain, and laid bare. And sometimes, simplicity is scariest. 

You pull back, lips pulled into a frown. The air is cold once more; the longing for warmth flowing into you. The silence is worse.

“You don't believe foxes can fall in love,” he states softly upon a wavering smile. “I knew that. Of course.”

A part of him believes it too.

“I…” you begin, and for the first time, you are afraid of promises in the name of love. You are the one making them now.

“I’ll believe you,” you whisper, “I’ll believe you so please… please take care of me.”

You place your palm against his cheek, his skin bewitchingly warm. 

“Only if you take care of me,” he whispers back, leaning in.

This time, you do not move.

The lovers’ kiss you’d been searching for—lovers’ warmth, lovers’ comfort—all of it comes crashing down once Yuta tightens his arm around your waist, the other hand resting gently at the base of your neck. He kisses with the right amount of pressure, the vague taste of sweet berries in his mouth.

You used to fear his touch, like he would eat you whole; even if they have been gentle, always. This time, you might as well let him. He presses his lips from your cheek to jaw to neck, lingering at each spot enough to make you clutch at his shirt tighter, taking in short gasps of breath. You kiss for a little longer, like time means nothing.

“We should go back,” you whisper, pulling apart.

Yuta kisses you again, the distance unacceptable. 

“Yuta—”

He kisses you once more, your calls falling on deaf ears.

Finally, after another long kiss, he pulls apart enough to rest his forehead against yours, eyes still closed.

“It must have been hard for you,” he mumbles.

“You don’t have to worry about that,” you scoff.

“Foxes are faithful lovers, you know?” he insists.

You laugh. “What do you mean?”

“It means I’ll follow you everywhere.”

He stands up straight, his thumb stroking your cheek as he bites back a smile.

“I don’t think we should get back tonight,” he suggests all of a sudden. “We could book a hotel. That’s the place you use these days, right? I’m sure your grandmother will understand your absence—”

You groan, resting your forehead against his shoulder and he presents a delighted laugh in return. It is warm by his side; he is warm. You find it easy to forget the failures in love, the loneliness of a lover that isn’t meant to be yours. Folktales are just long tales, after all. You smile to yourself. 

You should’ve known—it was the fox all along. 

[liliesoftherain]

My Everlasting Alstroemeria

Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x Reader; Midoriya Izuku x Reader 

Genre: Fluff, Slight Angst? 

Summary: Part 2 of Alstroemeria

A/N: Hi y’all, here's part 2!! Bakugou’s Pov. Let me know if you want a Deku pov????

-----

“Say hello dear; this is Lady (l/n) and her lovely daughter, Miss (y/n) (l/n).”

Katsuki stands there as The Lady bows gracefully with her daughter following suit, so he straightens and greets them as he’s been taught to. 

The Lady smiles, turning to his mother, and converses about something he has already tuned out. He stares at you, all properly cleaned and groomed--he wants to roll his eyes. He hasn’t encountered many girls his age before, but he knows they were all too, too girly.

“Katsuki, why don’t you show Miss (l/n) around the gardens outside? I am sure she will appreciate the sights,” His mother gently shoves him closer to where you stood, grinning triumphantly and looking at your mother with a wink. “Now, friend, we have an entire tray of biscuits calling our name--shall we?” 

The adults walk off to the parlor, and Katsuki knows they’ll have a perfect view of the gardens from there. Just great, he has to continue to pretend to be nice. 

He saunters away, yet doesn’t make it more than three steps as he realizes you still haven’t moved. How bothersome. 

“Are you coming, or not?”

“Oh, um, of course!”

Katsuki actually rolls his eyes this time, all while struggling to keep his hands from entering his pockets--he can still feel the welts of his mother’s fan as she reminded him of how improper he acted. You keep quiet, and he supposes it’s better than you talking his ear off like the other boys from his school. 

The garden was nothing new to him, the same flowers and exotic plants, perfectly trimmed and on display. The marble fountain in the center of it all was always a fan favorite--even if he could care less about the structure. 

Despite his feelings, he noticed that your wide eyes have settled upon it so he brings you close enough to view the detailed carvings along the sides. 

“It’s beautiful!”

“I suppose.”

He huffs, sitting on the ledge as you continue to admire it. The longer you stare, the more aggravated he grows, and he can’t help as he stands to shout for your attention.

“Hey! It’s just a fountain--Woah!”

Katsuki wasn’t expecting you to be leaning down to touch the water so close to where he was, so the moment he stands and turns he ends up bumping into you--sending you straight into the water. 

The fountain isn’t deep, so you sit up without a struggle, but you are soaked. Your hair is ruined, and you spit water from your mouth. Rubbing your eyes of stray droplets, Katsuki winces at the fact you will start to cry at any moment--as well as the hits he’ll receive later, although he tries not to think about it.

“I, what were you, are you okay? Why were you so close to me?”

He grabs you by the arms and tries to pull you out, sending nervous glances to the large windows to his left. He can tell you’re still processing what happened; you’re rapidly blinking and proving to be of little help as Katsuki drags you out and plops you to sit on the edge--much to his annoyance. 

When your (e/c) eyes bore into his own, he knows this is it; this is the moment where you’ll start to throw a fit, and he’ll never hear the end of it.

“Don’t cry, for the love of--”

Instead of tears, he is granted with laughter that thoroughly confuses him--why were you laughing? You chortle loudly, gripping the sides of your stomach and leaning forward. Katsuki doesn’t know whether he should steady you or step back, so he just stays still, watching as your body shakes and shivers from the breeze--yet you still laugh.

“What, just what is so funny?” Exasperation tugs his lips downward, and you struggle to contain yourself.

“Sorry. I just can’t help it--I, I fell into a fountain! Mother is going to be furious.”

You stand, and Katsuki jumps back to avoid getting wet; your skirts are weighed down by the water, and it falls to the ground around your shoes. Although, it doesn’t matter much, seeing as your shoes are also soaked straight through. His eyes narrow and his mouth twists in amusement, he struggles to contain his own laughter at the full sight of you.

“You look like a wet cat.”

“I feel like a wet cat.”

“You aren’t going to cry, are you?”

“Cry?” You tilt your head in confusion, grasping the ends of your dress to ring out as much water as you could. “Why would I cry?”

“Because, um, well, because you fell?”

“So?”

“So now your dress is ruined. Don’t you girls care about stuff like that?”

“It will dry, won’t it?” You shrug, grinning brightly up at him. “Besides, these dresses are pretty itchy.”

Huh. You were strange--especially for a girl. 

-----

“Katsu!” 

He turns at the sound of your voice, watching as you hike your skirts up and run towards him. He faintly hears your mother yelling at you to behave, to act more proper, but you pay no heed as you continue on. You’re out of breath by the time you reach him, yet you’re still grinning wide, with a missing tooth on display.

“You’re not supposed to run like that--you act like such a boy sometimes.”

He has to look away as you puff your cheeks in protest, smoothing your dress down as if it would help. You were awfully annoying. 

“How mean of you Katsu, I came for you to be nice and play with me, not for you to be grumpy.”

“I am not grumpy!”

“You are too!”

Katsuki huffs, flicking your forehead before running further off into the woodland behind the manor. The yelp of aggravation causes him to laugh, and he turns back to see you chasing after him--the bottom of your dress collecting dust and you weren’t upset about it. 

Good, he didn’t want to be friends with a girl who was fussy and cry-babyish after all. 

-----

“Katsu!”

He holds in a sigh, seeing the table you have set before you--the same table you have been decorating differently for the last week in fact. Why did you have to do this anyway? What was the point of setting a table--didn’t the maids do that? Who cares what it looks like, it was just for gossiping ladies wasn’t it? 

He spots another occupant and the table, and this time he cannot hold in his sigh of annoyance. Of course, Izuku had to be here, the little wimp never knew how to say no to you.

“Katsu, come sit and enjoy some tea!”

Your smile was small--formal--and Katsuki found the sight rather gross. Still, he sat down. Not because you asked him to, he was just tired after having to come all the way to your home. That was all.

“Good to see you, Katsuki!” Izuku waves shyly.

“I would say likewise, but it would not be gentlemanly of me to be dishonest.”

“Behave.”

He rolls his eyes at your input, leaning back in the chair as you come close and pour him a cup of tea. He observes your side profile, the way your brows--that used to be furrow in concentration as you struggled not to spill a drop--now stay smooth and worry-free. You’re graceful and poised, something he wasn’t used to. You catch him looking through the corner of your eye, and you smile sweetly at him. He quickly huffs, looking away annoyed.

Girls were so weird--you were so weird.  

Katsuki watches as you gracefully take your place in the chair across from him, conversing in idle chatter with Izuku about who knows what. You sat straight, arms perfectly crossed over your lap, with a flawlessly pressed gown, and not a hair out of place. 

“I just feel as if something is missing from the décor, don’t you agree?”

“I believe it is lovely, (y/n).” 

“Well, thank you Izu, but I really believe there is just, just something that I need to add.”

You sigh, face screwing up as you ponder, and Katsuki acknowledges that he prefers your face this way. Less put together, more you. It’s easier to make fun of that way, of course.

“Your face will be stuck if you continue looking in such an ugly manner.”

“Oh hush you fiend, I do not need beauty tips from someone whose frown lines are more prominent than his fathers.”

Katsuki exhales quickly, amused at your quick wit. 

Time passes and they leave you, Katsuki sending Izuku off with a warning of his victory at the next fencing match. Yet before he can fully leave your tea room, he glances back and watches as you continue to fret over whatever it could be you need for your final table piece. He turns away before you notice, heading home, and finds himself in his own mother’s parlor. 

Her spread is just about the same as any other boring table, and yet set in the center was a large bouquet of her favorite flowers. Petals decorated around the tins and plates that would have held the food. Scoffing in distaste he leaves for his room, muttering how boring and stupid tea parties were and how he would never understand. 

On his walk home after school the next day, he takes a long way home through a field of flora. He didn’t want to go home right away, that was all, and this was the longest route he knew. It wasn’t his fault it was full of flowers, and it certainly wasn’t his fault as he spotted a vibrant shrub of sunset-colored ones that he just had to pick. 

Once inside his home, he mentally cursed as the first person to notice him was no one other than his mother.

“Katsuki, what are those?”

“Flowers mother, of course.”

His tone didn’t go unnoticed, and Lady Bakugou clicked her tongue at his words. 

“For whom are your, of-course-flowers, to go to?”

“No one. I simply wanted them.”

“You simply wanted an alstroemeria--a romance flower?”

“I just wanted them; I do not care what they are.”

“...What an insufferable child.” She dismissed him with a wave.

He holds his tongue, rushing up the stairs and away from her scrutinizing eyes. A breath of relief stops short as she speaks up once more, a teasing tilt to her voice.

“Would you tell Miss (l/n) I say hello whenever you present her your gift? It has been too long.”

Why were all the women in his life so aggravating?

-----

“Katsuki, can you please try to act as if you are entertained?”

“This is the fourth dance today, (y/n), I cannot be any less than indifferent now.”

You both circle each other, the music from the pianist floods the ballroom and he can tell you were counting in your head along to the beat. He brings you back into his arms, and you stare into his eyes, your own swirling with emotion. Katsuki pulls his gaze away, choosing to look around instead; pride puffs his chest as he sees multiple alstroemerias decorating the room. 

“Oh, of course! You must be exhausted--do you want to stop?”

He’s drawn back to your face, and he curses how he is unable to stop sneaking peeks at your pouted lips. He wants to say yes; he wants to tell you how his feet ache, how since he had barely gotten home from his small business trip with his father a mere few hours ago he wants nothing more than to sleep. 

“No. Now continue before I change my mind.”

The smile that stretches across your face is absolutely radiant, and the laugh bubbles from your lips causes his stomach to twist in ways that he cannot explain. 

You really are a strange and aggravating girl--one he can’t appear to say no to.

-----

“Oh Katsuki, it is adorable!”

He watches as you trace a finger along the broaches front, your once sullen mood has now gone at the sight. When he first arrived he didn’t understand why you looked to be so upset, but the moment you realized it was him you had perked up. 

A part of him wishes to believe you were happy for his return, and not just the idea of presents.

The broach pin he had gotten was something he felt as if he needed to have for you; obtaining it on another one of his trips, this one lasting far longer than most. He went away the entire summer, staying in one of his father’s estates in another area he possesses, for educational purposes. As a future Duke, he was constantly thrown around to learn lands, trade, and the people of surrounding areas--especially of the land he will one day inherit. It was rather taxing, boring, and dare he say lonely. 

Katsuki would never admit it out loud, but your presence was quite missed. 

“Of course it is, my taste is impeccable after all.”

“Yes, the only man who would see the beauty in a woman’s broach.” You laugh at your own taunt, and Katsuki clicks his tongue as he pretends to try and snatch it back.

“I will just keep this then if I am the only one who sees such beauty.”

“No, I am merely jesting! Please, I love it.”

You bring it close to your chest, holding it carefully as if it were the most precious thing you owned, and his heartbeat quickened. He knew that wasn’t true--you may not have been as high in social status as he was, but being the daughter of a Viscount meant you still had luxury in life. As well as being the only daughter of your line meant you were pampered, downright spoiled, and yet you were anything but a pompous brat; you were wonderful, kind, caring, and too sweet for your own good. 

“I really do love it Katsuki. Thank you. I’ll wear it always, it looks just like my favorite flower! My everlasting alstroemeria.”

Maybe you were too sweet for his own good. 

-----

“What are you two doing here?”

Katsuki stands beside Izuku as they both find you in the drawing-room, accompanied by your mother. You both stand and bow, and he and Izuku dismiss the gesture--they are both too familiar to want to be treated with such formalities behind closed doors. Your mother allows the boys to take her spot, and she moves to the other side of the room to grant some privacy. 

“Well, we are all to be busy this season--you especially of course.” Izuku starts, soft eyes not going unnoticed by Katsuki. 

He does all he can to not push him away from your side.

“We came here to wish you luck, you are sure to need it with all this prepping you must endure.” Katsuki sighs, leaning back tiredly as if it was him to be affected.

Your laugh lights a fire within him, and he can’t remember when it had switched from an annoyance to being angelic music.

“You both are too kind--I shall survive, hopefully.” 

You fall into easy conversation, and Katsuki remains reserved to observe. 

You’ve grown throughout the years, no longer were you the wild child who would ambush him with sticks in the grove behind his home. No longer were you the young girl who would step on his toes purposely when he would verbally complain. No, now you were a bewitching young woman, one with an enticing face, enthralling wit, and a beauty like no other. 

If you weren’t the top choice for the season, he would be surprised--no doubt would the rest of the male occupants; it was something he was dreading. The chance to court you would be more difficult with the more callers you had and while he didn’t want to use his status as a flaunting point, he would hope it would keep others at bay until he could propose.

However, no one was as big of a threat as the green-eyed dimwit he called a friend. Katsuki was no fool, he knew Izuku cared for you just as much as he did. How could they not become so enchanted with you? 

You were perfect.

“I am not looking forward to all the dancing, it is different than dancing at home with one of you.”

“Well, you must promise to save a dance for me then.”

“Oh?” You raise a brow, attention focused on him. That’s what he liked to see.

“Yes, you must. I have been subjected to your torture for years now--I have to see if you can hold your composure while under that type of pressure.”

You snort, an extremely unladylike mannerism that he held endearment for, and roll your eyes at his taunts. 

“Well then it is a promise, I shall always make sure to save you a dance,” you turn from him to the other and the illusion of being alone with you vanishes, “the both of you.”

Yes, if there was one person he’d have to watch for, it was going to be Izuku.

-----

“My Lord, this is my daughter, Miss Tokage.”

Katsuki merely greets her respectfully, not fully present in the conversation as he waits for your arrival.

When you do arrive, it is like time had stood still--no one else’s presence mattered except yours. You were ethereal; your seamstress having outdone herself as you wore a gown that did nothing but accentuate all the right traits. Your makeup--while you never needed it--brought out the color of your eyes and the temptations of your lips. Your hair was adorned with alstroemerias of the same beautiful sunset gold as he had brought to you all those years ago, and the urge to propose to you then and there was extremely difficult to hold back.

As his feet began to move toward you, a body blocked the way.

“My Lord, my dances for tonight are free--if you wish to occupy them, that is.”

His eyes flicker back to you, seeing you hanging off your mother’s arm as another suitor reaches you first. As long as it wasn’t Izuku…

He catches his mothers gaze, and she too looks as if she wants for him to turn the girl away. Yet she offers a half-heartfelt smile, and he feels his resolve crumble. That's right, Miss. Tokage was a very prestigious daughter, and it would be a good match. But that's not what he wanted--he wanted you.

He swallows down a sigh, accepting her offer as he writes his name on the first dance and pulls her onto the floor. Dancing with her is much different than with you; she's not the right height, she feels all too wrong in his arms, and the little conversation there is, is dull. Sure, he is probably the cause of that, as he merely offers polite responses and nothing more. He searches for you again, and finds you standing off to the side--the one and only Izuku standing next to you. 

The song ends, and Katsuki means to take his leave to head to you but this girl follows him, and he tries to explain as peacefully as he can that he is no longer interested before he gives up and makes his leave anyways. 

Katsuki searches the dance floor and sees how Izuku twists you effortlessly, and his anger begins to rise. You both are laughing, as always, and yet Katsuki knew it was different than before. This time, it meant so much more than playful banter between childhood friends. 

Without another thought, he pushes himself in your direction with a simple,

“Pardon--”

Your wide eyes fall upon him and his heart stutters.

“Miss (l/n), a dance? A real dance, anyways. Seeing as the ever graceful Izuku may as well have two left feet.”

“Oh, most amusing, Katsuki.”

When you look away, his smirk loses its humor and grows tighter; Izuku’s eyes darken in return. His arm tightens around you, and Katsuki has to bite his tongue lest he say something he’d regret.

When you take his outstretched hand, he calms; you’re the only one who could soothe his soul with something as simple as your touch. He spins you round, before pulling you close--this is what he needed. You fit perfectly into his arms, there was no way anyone could ever replace you.

“How are you this evening, (y/n)?”

“Very well, My Lord.”

Katsuki doesn’t know what to make of your neutral face--normally at these events you joke and tease him, talking the night away, uncaring of the scrutinizing eyes of the guests. Now, it was as if you were truly strangers, speaking formally as any other person would.

After a bit more coaxing, you relax, and even let out an adorable snigger--he bites his lip to hold back a smile. There was the girl he loved.

“May I say, your hair looks lovely tonight--alstroemerias again? It suits you.”

He spins you, slightly longer than before just so he could control his flaming cheeks, and holds you closer when you spin back. All of his life he never understood why he cared for you so much; you were some strange girl his mother had made him escort around until you were so much more. 

He yearned for your quips and teases, he ached for your time and presence, he so desperately desired to spend every moment by your side. You understood him like no other, conversations with you were never dull, always full of life and warm--and he longed to converse with you until he grew old and unable. 

To him you were his path to true happiness, and Katsuki wanted nothing more than to be truly happy. Yet, your happiness mattered more; Katsuki would do anything to ensure it. 

He bowed when the dance finished, and his eyes looked up and locked onto green. Izuku stood off in the crowd, bottom lip caught between teeth before his attention flickered elsewhere. Maybe this was the opportunity he needed to take, to propose here before anyone else could. But fear kept his mouth from moving, what if you were to say no? What if you never spoke to him again? He could let you go if he had to, but did he really have the strength to never be able to be near you again? 

“Thank you for the dance, My Lord. I hope you enjoy the rest of your night.” 

Confusion tore him from his thoughts, words caught in his throat as he watched you hastily walk away. Your tone was sharp, words final as you disappeared in the crowd.

When his eyes flickered to where Izuku once stood, he found that he too was nowhere to be seen.

-----

Katsuki Bakugou has never felt quite this hurt before; the feeling of his heart clenching in pain is something entirely new to him. His body is numb, his hands shake, and the feeling of drowning makes it difficult to breathe. 

He is stuck in place, watching as another puts a flower behind your ear and brings your hand up to his lips. He cannot move as you grow shy, basking in the presence of another man's soft gaze.  

“Izuku…”

“If the Lady is willing to accept, may I be so bold as to call upon her tomorrow?”

“Of course, My Lord.”

That punch to the gut is what it takes for him to come back down to reality, and he quickly turns on his heel and leaves. He aches in silence, leaving the ballroom without any goodbyes, blowing right past the juniper maiden who just couldn’t take the hint. 

None of that was important, he was too focused on his need for a breath as his chest constricts with the lack of oxygen. His gasps ring out into the empty night and he’s forced to learn against a marble pillar lest he falls. 

To be reduced to such a pathetic state angered him, but it was nothing compared to the anger he felt at his so-called childhood friend. 

The anger soon melted into even more pain, and Katsuki clenched his jaw at the way his throat constricted. He knew from the beginning he hadn’t much of a chance, he knew Izuku would be his biggest competition, and yet, there wasn’t one at all. If Izuku won your hear--who was he to argue that?

And so, he knew that nothing will ever be as good as it once was, as you were, nothing will be worth all his effort like you were, no one will ever come close to you. 

But if you were happy, he could pretend to be.

For you, his everlasting alstroemeria.

[sodamvelvets]

“remember forever”

kim yerim x fem reader

warnings: kinda angst in the middle 

word count: 4,234

a/n: It took forever, but it’s finally done! This story was originally going to end with angst but I felt bad doing that, so the ending will be fluff as usual. I’m hoping to do an Irene fic next :) Enjoy!

The jarring sound of the school bell snaps Kim Yerim awake, the brunette blinking confusedly as she watches her classmates begin to slowly file out of the lecture hall. With wide eyes, Yerim hastily packs her things and stumbles out behind them, her black messenger bag hanging lazily over her shoulder and bouncing against her hip bone with each step she takes. All around Yerim, her fellow students begin to file out of their classes and fill the hallways, their louder than usual chatter signaling the end of a long and tiring school day.

“Kim Yerim!” A sudden force slams into Yerim, jumping on her back, and instinctively she shakes the weight from her body, hearing a loud thunk as she frees herself from her attacker's grasp. Yeri’s expression is one of annoyance as her eyes narrow upon you, her troublemaking best friend, who currently lays groaning on the floor. Wordlessly, Yerim helps you to your feet. 

Yerim scowls at the bashful grin on your face, self consciously glancing around as she hears the snickers of her peers.

 “Shin Y/N,” She hisses into your ear, grabbing your wrist. “When will you quit acting so childish? We’re almost thirteen!”

You raise a brow, pulling away from Yerim’s grasp. “Thirteen isn’t that old,” You say, your pace easily falling in sync with Yerim’s as the two of you exit the school together. “At least not old enough for our moms to let us walk home on our own,” You mutter, digging your hands into your pockets. 

Yerim unintentionally laughs, her irritation with you quickly fading as your lip curves into a pout. “Maybe they will one day,” Yerim says, comfortingly patting your back, even if she doesn’t quite understand why having to walk home with her upsets you so much. 

You beam at the younger girl. “Yeah! I’ll even ask my mom about it tonight!”

Yerim halfheartedly grins in response to your enthusiasm. Truthfully, Yerim doesn’t think she ever wants to walk home without you, or at least not until she has to, but that time won’t come for another three years when Yerim will most likely transfer to some performance arts high school that can better accommodate her trainee life. Until then though, Yerim wants to spend as much time as possible with you and make all the memories she can, before her free time is completely swallowed by her tedious practice hours that are already starting to encroach on her life now. 

You’ve always been supportive of Yerim’s dream, ever since last year when she first told you she wanted to become an idol, and Yerim has always appreciated that, but lately it’s become an unspoken rule to not talk about the future, where you and Yerim will have to go your separate ways. Honestly, the thought of not always being with you scares Yerim. She can’t even remember a time when she wasn’t with you, growing up across the street from each other the two of you became quick friends, as did your mothers, and throughout your entire lives it was always spent together, and Yerim never thought it would be any different. But now that she’s a trainee, she realizes it will be different, and soon.

“Y/N?” Yerim asks suddenly, breaking the comfortable silence that had previously settled between you and her. “We’ll be together forever, right?”

Yerim bites her lips, noticing as a weird look of confusion fills your eyes. “Of course,” You say, your voice laced with worry. “Why would you think we wouldn’t be?”

“I don’t know,” Yerim responds, rubbing the back of her neck. “I guess with me being a trainee now I was just scared about what that meant for us in the future.”

“Oh,” You laugh quietly, reaching for Yerim’s hand. “You think we won’t be best friends then because you’ll have to go to a different school.” Yerim nods and a smirk slowly spreads across your lips as you teasingly punch her shoulder. “Kim Yerim, you’re a lot dumber than I thought. I’m not going to stop being friends with you just because you have to go to a different high school.”

Yeri smiles softly. “Promise?” 

“Promise,” You whisper, interlocking your pinky with Yerim’s. “Besides,” You add. “Three years is a long time from now.”

///

You were wrong, three years is not a long time, Yerim thinks bitterly as she gets ready for her first day at Hanlim and adjusts the bow of her freshly ironed gyobok, her eyes landing on a photograph of you and Yerim from this summer when you went to Everland all the way in Yongin. 

Yerim remembers that day well. You were almost constantly smiling and there was this certain teasing but friendly lilt in your voice as you made fun of Yerim for being too afraid to go on the scarier rides. But what she remembers most clearly is what happened that night, when the two of you returned to your house, Yerim having been allowed to spend the night at your home. She remembers being surprised when you showed her the bottle of soju you had stolen from your parents, and how you and her nervously took turns sipping from it, quickly becoming giggling messes. Despite being insanely drunk at the time, to this day, Yerim can still clearly recall what happened next.

“Wait, you’ve never been kissed?” You laughed in disbelief, your cheeks starting to turn slightly red from the alcohol. “Not even by any of the hot guy trainees?”

“No,” Yerim responded, embarrassedly ducking her head and focusing on the pattern of the rug beneath her. “They’re all gross.”

“Even Minhyung?” You asked with a raised brow, and Yerim rolled her eyes.

“Especially him!” Yerim exclaimed with a fake gag, which caused you to chuckle. It was a well-known fact that Yerim loathed Minhyung, or as he preferred to be called, Mark. The young rapper had much to Yerim’s distaste begun a fruitless and in Yerim’s opinion, a rather shameless pursuit of you two months ago when he had first seen you walking Yerim to the SM training center. 

“Well,” You said, suddenly leaning closer to Yerim, wearing a frown. “I obviously can’t let my best friend go to her fancy idol school without ever having kissed someone.”

And then you gently wrapped your arms around her neck, delicately pressing your lips to Yerim’s for only a few seconds before pulling away with a confident smirk and giggling at Yerim’s shocked expression. “I think you’re ready for Hanlim now.”

Of course, Yerim realizes now you only did that because you were drunk, but she likes to think that you would’ve done it sober too, even if that’s just an impossible fantasy. Yerim sighs, her gaze returning to the image of you and Yerim, which she automatically omits herself from, focusing on you and your relaxed half-grin, that even in an image manages to make her heartbeat quicken, which seems to be a growing problem for Yerim as of late.

Yerim supposes it started sometime during the last year, long before you kissed her, when for some reason you suddenly stopped looking so dorky to Yerim, and less like the awkward best friend of her whole life and more like a beautiful and mature young woman that quite frankly left her speechless. Suddenly, Yerim began to notice the little things about you that despite her years with you had never caught her attention before, like how you would subtly raise a brow when you were annoyed or the way you’d bite the inside of your cheek when you wanted to say something but couldn’t. Yerim was surprised to find that she no longer wanted to slap you when you made your stupid jokes but rather laugh, and even worse kiss you goodbye instead of simply hugging you. 

Yerim never told you any of this though nor did she dare act on it, instead she chose to keep it to herself, which is why you never quite understood Yerim’s hatred for Mark Lee, whom she frequently found herself jealous of, especially when just a week after your kiss with Yerim, you finally agreed to go on a date with him that led the two of you to quickly enter a relationship with each other, and of course everyone loved Mark, especially your parents. Even though Yerim said she was happy for you, always forcing a smile when you would excitedly tell her Mark was teaching you English or that you had plans with him for the weekend, deep down she was upset that she couldn’t be Mark, because sometime in between your walks home together and your whispered secrets in the dark, Yerim started to fall in love with you, her best friend, and all she wants is for you to love her back in the way she loves you. 

“Yerim, let’s go!” Yerim’s head snaps up at the sound of her mother’s voice, eyes widening as she hurriedly grabs her bag and slings it over her shoulder as she races downstairs, yelling a farewell to her younger sisters as she runs out the door, where she sees her mother sitting in the family car, leaning slightly outside the rolled down window and talking to someone who Yerim immediately recognizes as you.

“Yerim!” You call excitedly, apologetically excusing yourself from your conversation with Yerim’s mother as you run to meet Yerim, capturing her in a tight embrace. “Excited for Hanlim?” You ask, pulling away and giving Yerim an impressed look. 

Yerim shrugs, observing your own gyobok, which is a lot simpler than hers. “I guess so,” Yerim chuckles, poking your stomach. “I definitely won’t miss you though.”

You cackle, melodramatically clutching your heart and pretending to have been shot, stopping when Yerim kicks your shin. “That is a lie Kim Yerim,” You say, wearing a knowing grin. “I know for a fact that you adore my presence.”

Yerim crosses her arms, her brow arching upwards. “Do I now?”

“Yes,” You say confidently, tapping Yerim lightly on the nose. “You love me.”

If only you knew, Yerim thinks bitterly, before shaking the thought away. “Unfortunately, you are right,” She huffs, and you smirk in victory.

“I gotta go,” You mutter, checking your watch. “I’ll catch you later Kim Yerim. Have fun with the talented kids,” You tease, and Yerim gasps in offense, moving to hit your shoulder but missing, causing you to childishly stick your tongue out at her. 

“Hey,” Yerim says, grabbing your wrist as you start to leave. “SM is giving student trainees the day off for the first day of school, do you want to do something together after your classes end?”

“I’m so sorry Yerim,” You say with an apologetic smile. “But I can't, I have classes until ten o’clock tonight and I promised Mark I’d practice English with him one more time before my hagwons start next week. I’m really sorry Yerim.”

Yerim internally facepalms herself. Of course, you’re busy, Yerim forgot your school day isn’t cut short like hers is in order to accommodate her training schedule, and even if it was, you’d obviously want to spend your free time with your own boyfriend. Noticing the worried expression that has spread across your face due to Yerim’s silence, she hastily forces out a laugh. “It’s okay, maybe another time then?”

“Definitely,” You promise, lightly patting Yerim’s cheek before pulling away from her grasp. “Have a good day Yerim!” You call over your shoulder as you start to jog away.

“You too, Shin Y/N,” Yerim murmurs waving goodbye, watching as you set off down the sidewalk, heading in the direction of the nearby high school. 

“Ready?” Yerim’s mother asks as she climbs into the passenger seat. 

Yerim nods, taking one last look at your receding form before smoothing her skirt. “Yeah.”

Yerim doesn’t see you much after that day, especially once she was requested to move into the SM dorms following her debut. Sometimes she’ll see you hanging around the dorms with Mark, who like Yeri also managed to debut. The two of you are still going strong even after almost two years. But other than your occasional appearance at the dorms, Yeri doesn’t ever really see you around. Both of you had little to no free time with Yerim’s training and your constant after school studying and hagwons that went all the way until two in the morning. In fact, you’re so busy that she hasn’t personally heard anything from you since the congratulatory text you sent Yerim after her first special stage for Ice Cream Cake, which was over a year ago. 

The most recent time she saw you was a couple months ago when she returned home for Chuseok, having been granted a few days off by her company, and even then it was barely an interaction, just a rapidly uttered hello as you ran past Yerim’s house, chasing after your younger brother and pet dog, with a laughing Mark trailing closely behind, having been invited to stay with your family since he couldn’t return to Canada. Despite the briefness of your encounter, Yerim still remembers the way you looked, your long black hair flowing in the wind, everything about you still as gorgeous as ever. Even after all these years, Yerim was still jealous of Mark Lee. 

Still, Yerim doesn’t blame you for not being able to spend time with her, especially as the days practically fly past Yerim and she soon finds herself already wrapping up her fourth comeback with Red Velvet, Russian Roulette. By now Yerim guesses it’s been almost a year since she saw you on Chuseok, but today, as she determinedly walks up the drive of your house, knowing it’s one of the two Saturdays you have off from school each month, she decides that streak will end. Yerim misses you a lot, and even though she hasn’t seen you in so long, she still loves you just as much as she did before the two of you lost touch, and as Yerim rings your doorbell, she feels hopeful that she can revive your friendship, not even caring that she can’t be the one to hold your heart. She just wants you back in her life in some way, no matter the label of your relationship. 

“Yerim!” Your mother, Mrs. Shin, gasps in surprise as she opens the door, wrapping her arms around Yerim in a tight hug. “It’s been years!” Mrs. Shin pulls away from Yerim, looking at her with a raised brow. “But what brings you here, aren’t you busy with promotions?”

Yerim gapes at Mrs. Shin, somewhat surprised that she’s kept up with Red Velvet’s activities before shaking her head. “No, they just ended actually,” Yerim says, rubbing her neck awkwardly. “I just came by to see Y/N, it’s been a while since we last talked.”

Mrs. Shin tilts her head, an unreadable expression coming over her face. “Y/N?” She echoes, confusion clearly laced in her voice. 

“Yeah,” Yerim laughs uncomfortably, attempting to peer over your mother’s shoulder and look inside your house. “Is she here?”

“Oh Yerim,” Mrs. Shin says softly, sudden realization in her voice as she reaches for Yerim’s hand. “She didn’t tell you, did she?”

“Tell me what?” Yerim asks nervously, dread beginning to build in her stomach.”

“Y/N went to America to study abroad,” Mrs. Shin whispers. “She won’t be back until she graduates.”

You broke your promise, Yerim thinks as tears begin to roll down her cheeks. You promised you’d be with Yerim forever and then you left. Yerim wants to scream, and curse the world, to fly all the way to America tell you how much she hates you, but the worst part is, she can’t do that because she knows she’d be lying. Even after all you’ve done, Kim Yerim still loves you, and she can’t even stay mad at you for leaving. 

///

Yerim sighs softly as her makeup artist, Kyoung Mee, applies her lip liner, preparing the young idol for Red Velvet’s fan meeting happening in less than an hour. 

“All right,” Kyoung Mee says, patting Yerim’s shoulder. “You’re all set.”

Yerim smiles in appreciation. “Thank you, it looks beautiful.”

Yerim bites her lip, looking in the mirror and adjusting her jacket. It’s been four years since that day when she found out you went to study abroad, and even now, you still haven’t officially returned. According to your mother, you had decided to stay in America to study at some high-class med school. Every once in a while, you’ll come to Korea for a brief visit before disappearing again, but no matter how hard she tries to free up her schedule, Yerim always seems to miss you. 

“Yeri’s making that face again!” Yerim jumps at the sound of her bandmate, Park Sooyoung’s voice, Yerim turning in her seat to slap the older girl as she appears behind Yerim, wearing a mischievous smirk. “You hit like a baby Yeri, but I guess it makes sense since you’re the maknae.” 

Yerim rolls her eyes. “Why don’t you give me another try,” She mutters. 

“No thanks,” Joy grins, pinching Yerim’s cheeks. “We can’t have our little baby tiring herself out before the fan meet,” 

“I swear to God Sooyoung,” Yerim growls swatting the older girl’s hand away. “I‘ll kill you one day.”

“I’d like to see you try,” Joy cackles, ruffling Yerim’s hair and taking a seat next to her. “Anyways,” Joy says, leaning back in her chair and stretching out her arms behind her. “Why were you making that face again?”

“What face?” Yerim asks flatly, pulling out her phone and beginning to scroll through her social media. 

Joy shrugs. “The one you make when you think about that Shin Y/N girl.”

Yerim places her phone on the table, meeting Joy’s gaze. “I don’t make a face when I think about her,” Yeri deadpans. 

Joy laughs obnoxiously. “Yes, you do.” 

Yerim crosses her arms. “No, I don’t.”

“Actually, for once Sooyoung is right,” Joohyun, who despite being across the room calls, clearly having been listening to the two younger girls’ conversation. “You totally do. I remember you used to make the same exact face whenever you’d see her and Mark Lee together.”

“Shut up Irene!” Yeri yells, sinking down in her chair, and burying her head in her hands, she feels like an idiot. It’s been five years since she last saw you and yet somehow she’s still horribly in love with you. You, a girl who quite literally left Yerim on her own and has never once even thought of Yerim romantically. 

“I’m sorry Yerim. I didn’t mean to upset you,” Joy says softly after a few moments of silence, reaching out to grab Yerim’s wrist. “But, don’t you think it’s time to move on?”

“I’ve tried Sooyoung,” Yerim murmurs. “I just can’t.”

Joy opens her mouth to say something but closes it when their manager appears with Seulgi and Seungwan lurking behind him. “It’s time for the fan meeting ladies.”

Yerim nods, standing to follow her manager, but Sooyoung stops her. “Will you be okay?” 

Yerim takes a deep breath. “Yeah.” She says, brushing past Sooyoung.  

Yerim is smiling broadly by the time the fan meeting is nearing its end, her precious luvies having improved her mood significantly, each brief conversation and signed album helping her push away any lingering thoughts of you. 

“What the hell?” Yerim hears Irene mutter under her breath, and Yerim briefly peers over at her leader only to find her cheerfully conversing with a female fan, who has hidden their face in embarrassment, and Yerim assumes it’s most likely because of some greasy pick-up line that Irene learned from Seungwan.

Still confused, Yerim looks down the table,  handing a luvie their album back and searching for what could’ve possibly alarmed Irene as she waits for Joohyun to finish things up with the fan she’s currently talking with. But Yerim notices nothing out of the ordinary unless she counts the different order she and her members had decided to sit in today, that leaves Yerim and Irene at the table’s end.

“Excuse me?” Yerim jumps at the sound, her gaze refocusing forwards as the female luvie who had just been chatting with Irene sits down in front of her, wearing a lazy half-grin, and Yerim’s jaw drops. Suddenly, she understands Joohyun’s prior shock. It’s you.

“It’s been awhile Kim Yerim,” You murmur. 

Yerim gapes, taking in your face that’s just as gorgeous and breathtaking if not even more so than she remembers, and she sees that your eyes are still filled with their familiar troublemaking gleam. Tentatively Yerim reaches to touch you, slightly surprised to find she can feel your warm skin underneath her fingers. 

“You’re actually here,” She laughs in amazement, tears starting to roll down her cheeks. 

“Of course I am,” You say, grabbing Yerim’s hand and giving it a comforting squeeze before your lips curve into a smirk. “Hey, when you stop crying can you sign my album?”

Yerim kicks you under the table. “You’re such a jerk.”

///

Yerim’s shoulder brushes against yours as the two of you walk quietly up the stairs that lead to Yerim’s dorm room. The fansign had ended over an hour ago and with Joohyun’s help, Yerim had been able to convince her manager to let her skip the rest of her schedule, allowing her to spend the remainder of the day with you.

“I’m sorry for leaving you,” You say finally as Yerim unlocks the door and ushers you inside, effectively breaking the silence that had previously settled between you and Yerim.

Yerim bites her lip, glancing up at you and noticing the guilty expression on your face. “It’s fine,” She says slowly, guiding you to her bed where she settles herself, motioning for you to do the same and trying her best to keep her voice even as she continues. “But why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I knew you’d be able to change my mind,” You mutter, your gaze becoming far off as you sit down beside Yerim. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Yerim asks. 

You look at Yerim, smiling slightly. “You’re still dumb as ever Kim Yerim,” You chuckle. “Do you remember Minhyung?”

“Mark?” Yerim nods her head. “Of course.”

“You never liked him did you?” 

Yerim doesn’t respond causing you to laugh loudly. 

“It’s okay,” You say quietly, leaning into Yerim’s side. “I didn’t like him either, at least not in the way I should’ve. Whenever I was with him I was always thinking of someone else. He told me to stay in Korea, but I didn’t listen,” You frown. “I actually ended up breaking up with him over it, but that’s not the point. The point is, I think that if that someone else I mentioned had told me to stay I would’ve, without a second thought. Even if they said the exact same thing Mark did.” 

Yerim’s mouth goes dry as she stares at you, your words from earlier ringing in her ears, that she would’ve been able to change your mind. Yerim thinks of all the times you left lingering touches on her skin that she had never let herself believe were more than friendly. She thinks of how you’d always ask her to sleep in your bed when she’d stay over at your house, even when you were most definitely old enough to sleep alone. She thinks of the dozens of times you rejected Mark before you finally said yes, exactly a week after you kissed her, seemingly giving him a chance out of nowhere. “You weren’t drunk that night, were you?” 

“When I kissed you?” You shrug. “No, at least not enough to not know what I was doing.“

Yerim isn’t sure how it happens, maybe it was all those wasted years of yearning manifesting themself, but suddenly she finds herself hovering over you, gently pressing you into the plush mattress as she moves her lips so tantalizingly close to yours that she can feel your uneven breaths tickling her skin. Yerim doesn’t dare close the gap though, instead searching your eyes for a sign to continue, and all it takes is your subtle nod for her to finally do what she’s been waiting to do for so long, capturing your lips in a kiss that she makes sure shows how long, how much, she’s wanted this, her body falling on top of yours as you pull her into you, and flip the two over so you’re straddling Yerim by her waist. Soft whines escaping Yerim as you run your tongue across her bottom lip, before pressing it into her mouth, tangling your hands amongst Yerim’s hair. 

“You know I meant it,” You breathe out minutes later as much to Yerim’s distaste, you slowly pull away from her, rolling off her and onto your side, allowing Yerim to wrap a protective arm around your body as your head moves to rest on her shoulder.  

Yerim glances down at you. “Meant what?”  

“When I promised you we’d always be together,” You say with a small smile. “I’m transferring to a med school in Seoul this month.”

Yerim’s eyes widen. “I thought you forgot about that promise.”

“No way,” You murmur, reaching to caress Yerim’s cheek. “When it comes to you Kim Yerim, I’ll remember forever.”

[grimoire-of-thirst]

Tulips

Requested by @eri-chan-likes-apples​

Genre&Warnings: Fluff (?)

Tags: none

Summary: Langris confessing to you. Or at least trying to.

✩:✩:✩ 

It was already far too late for him to realize that it was a dangerous territory he was getting into. The Black Bulls’s base was dark, tall, and intimidating, it also gave him some spooky feeling, but upon remembering the reason why he was there a new feeling of confidence boosted into him. He was there to finally ask you out. And he planned everything, from the bouquet of red tulips to the speech in which he’ll declare his love for you.

Four months ago, he didn’t know of your existence, partially due to his lack of interest in meeting new people and because he always thought of your squad as the lowest of the lowest. However, now that he was finally, kind of, getting along with his brother, he had the pleasure to meet you, someone who was way too kind and powerful to be in such squad, or at least, that’s what he thought. Slowly but surely, Langris began to see the Black Bulls members as almost equals, and he slowly fell in love with you. Surprisingly, Finnes was supportive of his new love interest, and she was the one that suggested him to give you some flowers.

Even from the outside of the base, he could hear all the ruckus that your friends were making, and it only served to make his insecurities resurface. His brother’s squad members were known for being reckless, free-spirited, and way too energetic, and some could even be as rude as a human can be. He didn’t see all the them in a good light, only Asta and his brother where the ones that he acknowledge, well, and you of course. 

Hesitantly, he knocked on the door while a lump formed inside his throat. He was nervous, that much was clear, yet, he hoped that nobody would notice it.

After standing for several minutes, he was quick to understand that nobody will answer, probably because of all the noise and screams that were echoing not only inside the castle, but also into the forest that surrounded the place.

Taking in a deep breath, patience running thin as seconds passed, he finally pushed the door open. What he was expecting, he had no idea but surely not this.

One of their female members was sprawled on the couch half-naked surrounded by bottles of alcoholic drinks; two guys were fighting, sparks of electricity and fireballs destroying the walls; Asta was also dragged into the fight, sword swinging into the air cutting through their magic to save the base from being totally and utterly ruined; another man was having a river of blood pouring out of his nose looking at a picture – to which Langris grimaced in disgust thinking of whatever obscenity the man was gushing on; lastly there were two small girls and a creepy looking guy whispering to each other.

Overall, Langris was kind of concerned. He would never admit that aloud, but the Black Bulls were intimidating, especially to someone who had zero knowledge of them. Individually, they were like pests to him, however, when in group, their presence was… heavy, to say the least. 

Now, Langris wasn’t a scaredy-cat, nor someone who could be easily intimidated, but knowing that that particular squad treated each other like a real family, it meant that he will probably have to get along -or at least be tolerated- by them in order to have a chance you.

Luckily, nobody seemed to notice his presence, probably because they were far too busy fooling around, yet, upon taking a better look at the room, his brother was nowhere to be found, nor you nor the captain of the Black Bulls. Even if the doors were now wide open, and he was standing there with that vibrant bouquet of red tulips that would catch anyone’s eyes, none of your squad members seemed to pay any mind to him. Either they were ignoring him, or they really didn’t see him.

He debated with himself if he should just speak up, but they all looked like thugs and if he thought about everything that happened in the past and how close he was to kill his brother (in front of all of them) and how defensive they all got, he doubted they will welcome him with warm smiles.

“Yo!” the sudden hand placed on his shoulder, and the breath that grazed his ear startled him. For a second the color in his cheeks drained, fearing the worst, but when he turned around seeing you, widely smiling at him -the kind of smile that can melt his heart-, his shoulders relaxed.

“What’s up with his nobility visiting outlaws like us? Looking for Finral?” you asked, tone easy and carefree while making your way inside. Langris bit his inner cheek, heat spreading up his neck, reaching his cheeks. He hated how you identified as a thug despite coming from a noble family, and it always made him wonder why you did that.

“You’re a noble too.” He said. Langris really hope that this will get to make you at least slip some information, but you just shrugged, as if that small bit about you was not important. You gave him a cheeky smile before running off toward a small child that was eating. Your quietness, and how you always avoided telling him different aspects of your life, was bothersome to him. But one day, when he’ll finally get closer to you, and gain your trust, he really hoped to at least get a small bit of your backstory.

Yet… Why was he here?

He didn’t have a good enough reason to be here, not at all, he could’ve have waited and asked you out on another day when stumbling on you around town, but his stupid heart wanted to confess his stupid ass feelings, today. He wanted to say many things to you, especially how much he liked you, yet no words would come out of his mouth. He was too proud to be weak, and showing his feelings was far too close to what he defined as ‘weakness’. However, backing out now, after he went all the way to buy flowers and fly to your base to confess, was out of the question.

He opened his mouth, ready to get over with his insecurities and let off his chest all the things he wanted to say, you spoke. 

“Finral will be here shortly. He’s been training with Cap, give him a couple of minutes!’” you shouted from across the room. But while shouting those things, it gained all the attention of the people that were inside the inside, everyone turning around to see who was their sudden guest. Langris didn’t know if it was a good or a bad sign, but from the scowls that were plastered on their faces, it was probably worse.

The first one that approached him was a guy with weird glasses and dual-colored hair. Now, that was the embodiment of a delinquent, at least to him. As the young man made his way toward him, Langris just stared, wondering what could he possibly want from him.

“What does a Golden Dawn knight do in here? Hah?” he asked, growling into his face. Langris however, was unbothered by his approach, if anything, it was annoying him. He wasn’t there to chit-chat with your squad, let alone fight with one of your friends.

“I’m here to ask Y/n out on a date”

After seeing how the place suddenly went dead, and everyone just stared at him in shock, Langris thought that maybe he said something he wasn’t supposed to. Beating around the bush wasn’t his style, and he was a man that preferred to be straightforward with everything.

“Huh?”

“Exactly what you heard, insect” 

“Name’s Magna, you punk!” he screeched, swinging his flame baseball bat up in the air. Asta was quick to calm his senior down, putting himself in between them and avoid another imminent fight. Langris looked to his side, feeling somewhat embarrassed. It was hard to look at all those people in the eyes, especially when his past was still heavy on his shoulders. He couldn’t find it within himself to ask for forgiveness, especially when he wasn’t that close with all those people, and to him, it was enough knowing that Finral already forgave him.

The Black Bulls began to babble among themselves, voicing their thoughts about what he said earlier, yet Langris was not listening to them, far too focused on mentally repeating the speech he had prepared for you. But only when Vanessa pointed at the bouquet he was holding, did the others finally calm down. And Gauche was the first one to comment on them.

“I too gave Marie those flowers, that old hag said it meant something like first love. Fitting for my sweet Marie!” again, blood began to drop out of his nostrils while his eyes were glazed with adoration upon remembering his little sister holding said flowers. Everyone blinked, unfazed by his words, while Magna was the only one that breathed out a “Gross”, soon receiving a glare from Gauche.

“I’m wasting time with you. Like I said, I’m here for Y/n, don’t get in my way” he said, pushing past the Black Bulls and heading toward the same room you disappeared in. After all, he came here to confess his… feelings, not to get all buddy with your squad. To him, it was pretty clear that none of them liked him, and the feelings were reciprocated.

Once you were again in his line of view, Langris confidently approach you. However, it soon dissipated, replacing it with something he could describe as nervousness. It wasn’t necessarily the idea of talking to you that was making him all giddy, but never in his life had he ever expressed his liking toward someone. He was good at expressing his distaste, just like he did for several years with his brother -and everyone else-, but telling out loud someone that he likes them? Never happened before.

Once again, Langris found himself lost in his own thoughts, completely forgetting that he was now standing in front of you, staring at you but not really.

“Langris? Are you constipated?” you asked, slightly concerned by the sudden lack of color on his cheeks. He was pale and looked as if he just saw a ghost, he looked exactly like Captain Yami when he needed to urgently take a dump.

Langris blinked a couple of times, sight focusing on you munching on some cupcakes.

“What?”

You had never, not even once, witnessed a Langris that could muster the face of a lost puppy, and oddly enough, it was quite cute.

“You’re extremely pale, do you need to poo? I can show you where the bathroom is” you said, offering him a pitiful smile, as if you actually believed that he was in need of a chunky dunky. Those were the times when Langris questioned his taste in women.

“No, I actually need to tell you something.” He started. You perked, eyes meeting his own ready to listen to whatever he wanted to tell you. If he had the guts to come all the way to your squad’s base, then it must be something really important.

“You… You’re less useless than the others.”

.  .  .

Now… You had some expectations. When you saw him taking in a couple of deep breaths, you really thought that it must be something serious, and the fact that he looked so solemn, as if he was going to tell you a capital secret, anticipation, curiosity and wonder, bubbled inside of you. Yet, he said… something to which you didn’t know how to react to.

“…Excuse me?”

Langris fucked up. Well... not entirely. He knew that the speech he had carefully prepared won’t come out as perfect as he envisioned, but from the complicated love confession to… that was a total U-turn. But, to his surprise, you didn’t look remotely mad, if anything, you were close to burst into laughter.

“That's… That’s not what I’ve been meaning to say” he said, voice slowly lowering while he turned his face to look at the wall, embarrassed by his mistake. You smiled, leaning on the back of the chair while folding your arms in front of your chest, a cheeky smile blooming on your lips.

“Langris, don’t you know that when you want to get the girl a simple ‘I like you’ can do the trick?” your voice was taunting, and saying that Langris was taken aback was an understatement.

“You knew?”

“Let’s just say that a small little bird whispered it to me. But why don’t you try again?” you suggested, wiggling a bit your eyebrows. His eyes narrowed into slits, bothered by the fact that you already knew about his feelings and acted as if nothing happened. If he knew that you knew that he liked you, then everything could have been much easier, instead of him spending three nights in a row to write down a stupid, almost diabetic speech, that now was fruitless.

He slammed both of his palms on the table, right in front of you, while the stems of the tulips got crushed against the table, finally catching your attention.

“And why didn’t you say anything?” he wasn’t necessarily mad, and you knew, but it could’ve at least avoided him this embarrassing outcome.

“I was waiting for you to confess first because I wasn’t 100% sure if you actually liked me romantically. Also, you have a really unfiltered mouth when turning down someone. I’ll let you know that at the dark market there’s this lady that sells a magic soap called ‘Go-Away-Filthy-Mouth’. I heard it’s pretty good and effective, you should definitely try it!” you said, still smiling at him and completely unbothered by the sudden proximity.

“I’ll be back tomorrow at six sharp. We’re going on a date.”

“Not unless you say the magic words.”

Langris cocked an eyebrow, as if you weren’t really asking him to do it.

“Either you say them, or go home. You can’t get the milk if you don’t get the whole cow first.”

“Did you just compare yourself to a cow?”

“Wha-No! I’m the milk and the cow are the magic words!”

“That doesn’t make sense, there’s no reason to get the cow if I can buy the milk.”

“But you can’t buy my love~”

At this Langris just sighed, yet, an amused smile had been present on his face since the beginning of the ‘conversation’. That was the reason why he liked you; the nonsensical stuff that could pour out of your mouth was always pleasant to him.

“I like you” he started, finally giving you the tulips that he had been holding the entire time. “Would you consider going on a date with me?”

“See? It wasn’t that hard! And yes, I’ll gladly enlighten your tomorrow with my presence!”

Langris just rolled his eyes before turning around and finally exiting the Black Bulls base, with a stupidly foolish smile plastered on his face. The whole confession didn’t necessarily go as he initially planned, but it turned out better than he hoped. 

✩:✩:✩ 

A/n: So, this took longer to do -two whole weeks- because I had little to no details/ideas to work on. Please, when requesting, read the rules, If you just send me a request like “character x reader fluff” I can’t do much, and it will take me longer to actually get it done. Anyways, I hope that you enjoyed reading this shot, and thank you for taking the time to read it! 

Hope you’ll have a wonderful day/night!

[lennydaisy]

EPIPHANY // OUTER BANKS

The Outer Banks. Paradise on earth. Well, it is if you can afford it.

Figure 8, home of the portentous and intitled. So detached from reality that you'd have to use their private jets to bring them back down to the ground. If they're not lounging around on their secluded beaches in front of their White House sized mansions, then they're at the country club complaining that their ice-cold lemonade isn't ice-cold enough. We call them Kooks. Guess where I don't live?

Next up, The Cut, neutral habitat of, drum roll please ladies and gentleman... The Pogues. Lowest members of the food chain. You see, it's one island divided in two. You either have two houses or two jobs. I have two jobs and will still never be able to afford one house, let alone two, but that's life I guess. The Pogues are like those kids your parents tell you to stay away from when you visit the park. Well, now the park has stretched to all aspects of life warranting us to be unwanted and neglected which isn't such a bad thing, that just means we get to do whatever we want, whenever we want.

Right now, however, this is the last place I want to be. Save-A-Lot. One of my two jobs. See how this all ties in?

The continuous, subtly, beeping of the scanner, the bright overhead lights that the same moth has been flying into for a week now, that one cart that you can hear before you see, and this frustratingly itchy, red polo shirt that I'm wearing because it's 'oh-so mandatory'.

It's been reported that a storm is going to hit us in a couple of days, so naturally, the stores been busier than usual, with both Kooks and Pogues. It's like sacred land, all differences get put aside in this very store unless there's a two for one deal at the seafood counter. In that case, no one's safe, not even me, the poor, little employee. I've been slapped with a Tuna Fish before. I don't want to talk about it.

"Can I interest you in some... What are they again? Sea salted chocolate with a crushed Macadamia nut shell and a rich creamy filling, homemade by Mrs Adams?" I squint at the packaging before smiling at the man before me who peered at me, head tilted slightly. Nodding instantly, already knowing the answer, "I don't blame you, I wouldn't trust anything made by that lady."

Smashing my fingers on the scratch invested, touch screen register, slapping the side of the machine until it eventually rings up the total, "That'll be $148.98 however, you get the extended family discount, so that makes it..." twirling my finger around the air, attempting the mental math, "10% off $148," I utter, closing my eyes as if that's going to help me find the answer quicker. 'I knew I should have joined the math team with Pope.'

"$134," the man affirms looking at me sympathetically, halting my search for my calculator that is normally taped to the till. I take the mans money, squinting at him, "Okay, I'll take your word for it man but if I get fired, I want a job at The Wreck," handing him his receipt.

"We'll see," he said putting his packed bags back into his cart, "I'll get through to you one day. You can't deny I'm your favourite" I state in a matter of fact, waving him off as he pushes his cart away from the checkout, "Bye Mason."

"I don't hear you denying it," I shout, watching him hurridly pushing his cart towards the door, "Okay bye Mr Carrera, tell Kie I said hi!"

Twirling around in my chair a couple of times, I came to a stop at the sight of a pink calculator, my pink calculator, taped to Mrs Adams till. That Bitch. I sit patiently for her to be done with her customers, waving at the elderly couple as they pass, "See you later Mr and Mrs Graham, have a nice day," I smile.

"Oh you too Mason, you should stop by again, you and your friends were such a delight the last time," Mrs Graham praises tapping her ringed fingers on my counter. Nodding at her request as her husband began to drag her away from me, claiming he 'Wants to be home today not tomorrow,' knowing his wife to be quite the blether.

"What a pleasant young lady. Wouldn't you agree, Marty?"

"Oh yes, very well mannered."

"Listen here, sticky fingers, I know you stole my calculator" My smile instantly dropping as I look upon the thief that I have the pleasure of calling my co-worker.

Mrs Adams is your typical grandma. Tonged hair, thick-rimmed glasses and filled with opinions that are always unwarranted. She has had it out for as long as I can remember, once locking me in the walk-in freezer claiming to not know I was in there despite being in there with me moments before. At least I only have to deal with her a few days a week, I couldn't handle any more than that.

"What calculator?" she questions innocently. Pointing my finger accusingly at her till where low and behold, sits my calculator, "Oh really, what's that then?"

Sparing a glance at my calculator, she shakes her head, nose pointed up, "That's an anniversary gift from my husband. I, by no means, stole your calculator."

I can't believe I'm having this conversation.

Laughing at her alibi, "Are you aware of how much bullsh-", the clearing of a throat interrupts my tangent and I suddenly became aware of where I am again. Mrs Adams raises her eyebrows at me, is she mocking me? Glaring at her one last time as to say 'this conversation isn't over', I timidly spun my chair back around, plastering a smile on my face, getting ready to greet my next customer.

Oh no.

"Hi, Mr Cameron," I greet the man, scratching behind my ear hoping he didn't overhear me. Beginning to scan his items, another figure catches my eye.

Rafe.

Here, ladies and gentlemen, I present the biggest dickhead on the entire island. He thinks everybody owes him something just because his daddy is well known throughout the OBX and has no problem expressing his distaste for anyone who doesn't fit his agenda. He's a cocky, arrogant snob who needs to be knocked off his podium a few inches, or feet.

"Hello, Mason, and how many times have I told you to call me Ward?"

"Clearly not enough for me to listen," I mutter under my breath, passing the already packed bags towards a very accepting Rafe, who snatched them with a scrawl printed on his face, "Your face will stay like that if the winds change" I advise innocently, waving my fingers around my forehead area, "Don't want to get any wrinkles, but if you need some anti-ageing cream, I'm sure Mrs Adams can recommend a few of her favourites,"

"Maybe even get you a coupon," I suggest finishing to scan the last of their items, "Isn't that right, Mrs Adams," I called to the lady over my shoulder how instantly peeped up at the chance to chat with the boy.

"Oh, yes. Come here deary, I'll show you my collection,"

It's no secret throughout the OBX that Mrs Adams is a bit of a renowned cougar, having no problem expressing herself towards any sort of male attention. Mrs Adam doesn't discriminate, so even assholes like Rafe can't escape the clutches of her fondness, but she's harmless... most of the time.

Ward nudges his son in the direction of the lady, who is eagerly waiting for the boy with her creams placed in an orderly fashion before her. Rafe's eyes practically begging for his dad to have some mercy on him only to earn a point in her direction.

"I hate you," he huffs at me, feet dragging towards the ladies till.

Fluttering my eyes with a cheesy smile, "I know," I say before turning to finish Mr Cameron's groceries.

"That's $236 please," I state ringing up his total as he slides his card into the swipe machine, "It'll take a minute, a caveman has better technology than this place." He shakes his head at me, waving his hand slightly, understanding.

"Sea salted chocolate, uh?" he wonders picking up the bar, as I mentally slap myself for forgetting to ask if he was interested, "Would you like to buy one?" I questioned despite already knowing his answer. It's the same one that I've heard all day.

Placing the packet back in its place he shakes his head, "No thank you, I wouldn't trust anything made by that lady."

"That's what I'm saying," ripping off his receipt before handing it to him, "Thank you, Mason," he laughs before turning towards his son, who is still listening to Mrs Adams ramble on about why she prefers Olay over Caudlíne.

About to bid farewell to the man, he turns and asks, "I hate to be a bother and I know it's short notice, but would you mind babysitting Wheezie for me on Saturday morning, I know you don't normally work weekends, it's just this storm's going to cause a run-in with my properties and-"

"Of course I will, Mr Cameron," I interrupted his ramble. He looks at me relieved, nodding his head, "See you later, Mason."

"Bye Ward," gross, I'm sticking with Mr Cameron.

Watching as the pair walk past my till I can't help but laugh as I see Rafe slouching away with a tub of Olay Anti-ageing cream. Turning around at the sound, he flips me off, "I'll get you back for this," earning a shoving on the shoulder from his dad, but I can't help but wave cheerily, "Oh, I'm sure you will."

Mr Ward Cameron, my other boss. A few years ago I put up flyers with a tear-off of my phone number offering a babysitting service. Safe to say, I got my fair share of prank calls and when I got a call from someone claiming to be Mr Cameron I assumed it was someone messing with me again, but it turns out it wasn't. He genuinely needed someone to watch his youngest daughter Wheezie and I needed cash, and he does pay generously, especially now considering recent circumstances.

Glancing at the clock that is nailed above the exit I see that it's 2:00 P.M, the best time of my day, getting out of here. Grabbing the key from my pocket, I lock up the till before heading toward the poor excuse of a staff room.

Glancing around the room blue painted room, making sure no one is still on their lunch, I quickly grab my bag and dash over to the fridge. I never, and mean never, condone stealing, that's why I don't call it that. I prefer 'borrowing and then 'forgetting' to give it back'. Sure, I never asked if I could 'borrow' the alcohol that I am currently stuffing in my bag but, that's neither here nor there.

I throw my bag, which I can already tell is going to cause my back hell, over my shoulder. I grab Kie longboard, which I did ask for permission to use, and begin to make my way past the checkouts.

Before leaving, I pivot around, "Hey, Mrs Adams," I called out just to see that she was already glaring in my direction, a bit creepy if you ask me, "Don't worry, you've only got like what, another 6 hours?" acting like I didn't know as I pointed at the clock.

"Oh, and before I forget," I rush over to her counter and rip my calculator off her till. Smiling sweetly at the older lady, saluting her as I leave, "See you next week, Mrs Adams," I laugh, running out the door, jumping onto the longboard.

Let the fun begin.

Now there is something about my friends that you should know. As cheesy as its sounds, we're a group of misfits who happen to fit perfectly together, well almost perfectly, but no matter what we've got each other backs.

Now, where do we start?

JJ Maybank. We've been best friends since the third grade after he got into a fight with some kids who were making fun of me for having a 'boys name', and I haven't been able to get rid of him since. He's the guy who jokingly pushed me off the HMS Pogue only to quickly find out that I couldn't swim. I insisted that it was fine but JJ doesn't take no for an answer and took it upon himself to personally teach me.

He's the most loyal guy I know, willing to drop anything to help his friends. I most definitely developed my kleptomaniac tendencies from him and despite how much I deny it, I have a soft spot for him.

Next, Kiara Carrera or Kie, my best and only girl friend. I met Kie during her first year at the Kook Academy, I had seen her around before, passing out leaflets about how 'we're killing our planet' and that 'the turtles deserve better'.

I was about to go fishing with my dad when I saw someone sitting at the dock, feet dangling in the water. Long story short: she was supposed to meet up with some of her 'friends' but they had sailed away leaving her behind. So, I asked if she would like to come fishing with us, half expecting her to say no, being partly a Kook and all, but she said yes. And now she's one of us, the Pogues. Not sure how her parents feel about that, but there is no denying I'm their favourite. Right?

There's Pope Heyward. I met Pope in the first grade. We were sitting beside each other at assembly and he dared to tell me that my singing voice sounded like cats dying, not that he was any better mind you. I had seen him around the cut a few times, helping his dad with deliveries and after seeing him struggle to carry four bags of groceries, I offered him some help. Of course, being a stubborn 6-year old boy, he delined saying 'I don't need your help, I'm super strong'. Safe to say, two seconds later I was carrying two bags and helped Pope and Mr Heyward with the rest of the deliveries that day.

I got an earful from my dad when I got home, but I didn't care, I'd made a friend that wasn't my brother. They didn't believe me when I said I had a friend called Pope, just brushing it off as one of my imaginary friends. Let's just say they got a fright when my 'imaginary friend, Pope' showed up at the Château.

Speaking of, up next, John Booker Routledge, John B. My twin, fraternal twin. Is 12 minutes older than me and will never let me forget it. My favourite memory with John B was when he fought to the death with our triplet in the womb. Okay, maybe that didn't happen, but you weren't there so, where's your evidence that it didn't?

He's my other half, not my better half because we all know I'm the better twin, and I couldn't live with him and his optimism. He can be irrational at times, but he always has plan A-Z mapped out in his head. I'm currently trying to convince him that we psychic powers, and by currently I'm mean from the day we were born. It's a weird sensation like there's a pit in the bottom of my stomach, and once I get that feeling I know that something's not right. And with a brother like John B, I get that feeling at least 3 times a day.

Might as well introduce myself whilst I'm at it. I'm Mason, Mason Routledge. The better twin. Yes, I too, have a middle name but I will never tell it to anyone because of how utterly embarrassing it is. I have managed to swear John B to secrecy, but I know it's just a matter of time before he blurts it out.

Now I know what you're probably thinking, 'Mason? That's a boys name.' Well yes, you'd be right but really what is a boys or girls name? The reason why I'm called Mason is simple, mom and dad were expecting twins. Twin boys. They had the names planned out as soon as they heard the news. One would be named John B after our dad, Big John, and the other would be named Mason, after our mom's dad. Makes sense, right?. Well, it was until I popped out, y' know not being a boy. But I love my name and I wouldn't change it for the world. My unspoken middle name, however, yes, I would rather that just not be associated with me.

I like to believe that I can hold my own, maybe it's because I grow up in a predominantly male household or the fact that I'm a Pogue, but I don't take peoples shit. My friends and I seem to always have the world against us, but without a doubt, I'd ride or die for them. They're my family.

Seeing the all too familiar hippie van parked at the side off the road brings me out of my autopilot state. Jumping off the longboard, I hurriedly shoved it into the back of the van. Fun fact about John B's van, he never locks it. There would be the fear about someone stealing it, but honestly, it's trashed and smells like weed, no thanks to JJ.

Quickly scaling the fence and as quietly as possible I tip-toed into the under-construction house and up the cement stairs, dodging the dangling wires and leftover pots of plaster.

'I can't believe they got rid of the turtles for this'

I'd know that voice anywhere. Peering around the corner, I spot Kie, hunched over a table reading what I'm assuming is maps for the house. Coming up with an idea, I slowly start to creep towards her, raising my hands just to clasp them down on her shoulders, "And what do you think you're doing?" I say in the deepest voice I can muster.

Jumping out her skin with a squeal, she spins around, hand over her heart, breathing heavily, "Macy, what the fuck? Don't do that," she exclaims, slapping my arm after she realises it was only me.

Unable to stop myself from laughing at her shock, "God, Kie, didn't know you had such a girly scream," I wheeze, arms wrapped around my stomach in an attempt to stop the ache.

Nodding her head pettily, "Yeah okay, you got me," clicking her tongue, but against her best efforts, a small smile dances across her face.

Taking a few deep breaths to calm my giggles, "Once you're done with sad girl hours, come out back, I've got beer," making my way towards the open glass doors.

"Caring about the turtles doesn't make me a sad girl," she exclaims as I nod my head understandingly, "You keep telling yourself that," I wave stepping outside, breathing in the fresh ocean breeze.

From under the scaffolding, I see a pair of dangling legs, "Afternoon, boys," I announce, jumping up in an attempt to smack the dangling feet that I now know belong to JJ

"Did you get the goods?" asks John B causing me to hold my hand on my heart, mocking insult, "Do you have no faith in me Johnny boy," tosing him a beer, "Of course, I got the goods."

Holding one out for Pope, even though I knew he would decline, proving my point as he shook his head, "And where did you get said goods?" he asked, raising an eyebrow at me.

Grabbing two beers, I begin to climb up the scaffolding, plopping down next to JJ, handing him a beer which he greatly excepts, "Are you question my morals?" I ask, taking a big gulp of my beer instantly wincing at the lukewarm taste.

"No, no," I hear him say, turning around, occupying himself with the builder's tools.

It a pretty view from up here. The calm crashing of the waves. The way the cold ocean and the warm sky meet for a perfect kiss on the horizon. Imagine living here. Having no worries. Being full Kook.

Glancing at the boy beside me, I see that he was already looking at me. Lifting my eyebrows in question, "You look cute," he cheekily says, picking at the loose thread on my sleeve.

"Very funny JJ," I saying, looking back out at the water, "No, I'm serious. I love a woman in uniform," nudging his shoulder into mine and I nudge him right back, "Hey," he laughs, dramatically falling to his side, "Watch the sweet nectar," holding his can of beer dearly to his chest.

Shaking my head, I turn to see John B scaling the house, jumping up to the peak of the roof, "Hey, please be careful, Johnny B, we don't earn enough to cover a medical bill," I warn sitting my beer beside me, using my hands to block the blinding sun, staring questionably at the boy.

"Oh, but you'd catch me though, right?" he says, now taunting the idea of falling, balancing on one foot with outstretched arms, "And break your fall? Nope," I popped, reach over to grab my can only to grasp the air. Looking at where I know I placed it, my confusion vanishes when I hear the sounds of slurping beside me.

Blinking at the boy, who just peers back at me after tanning my can, crushing it, and letting out a pleasant burp which he so graciously blows in my direction, "Gross, JJ," attempting to swat away the smell. The boy just shrugs, "What were you not done with that?" faux concern covering his face but his eyes glistening with knowing mischief.

"Should I do it?"

"Yeah, jump. I'll shoot you on the way down," says Pope, aim a drill in my brother's direction, "You'll shoot me?" John B taunts, holding up a finger gun, "Pow," he laughs as Pope fall back onto the table pretending to be shot.

"They're going to have Japanese toilets with towel warmers," complains Kie, slugging her way onto the balcony, voicing her distaste for the future Kook's beach house.

"Didn't I tell you to come out when you were done being sad?", I direct, leaning my chin against the cold pole, feeling on top of the world as the fresh breeze blows through my hair.

That swiftly changes when Kie dashes towards my feet, tugging the laces on my converses loose as I hastily attempt to lift my feet away from her snapping fingers, "Go away!" I exclaim hugging my legs to my chest, tusking at her antics "God, you're annoying."

My comment doesn't affect her as she blows me a kiss which I can't help but catch, holding it to my heart sending a wink in her direction, "This used to be a turtle habitat, but who cares about the turtle I guess?"

"Well, I did, but since you've-" I start, but the feeling of my shoe gets tighter distracts me, "...What are you doing?" I question as JJ finishes up my shoes, "You should double knot your laces," he comments, tapping his fingers in a random beat on the toe of my shoes.

Lightly, I begin to flick his hand away only for him to grab my wrist, fiddling with the silver ladybug charm on my bracelet, "Can I have this?" He has asked me this multiple times in the past and the answer has always been the same, "No."

"Can you please not kill yourself?" Kie squints up at my brother, "And don't spill that beer, you're not getting another one," JJ adds just as a sudden gust of wind brushed past causing John B to lose his balance and drop his beer.

Jinx.

"Oh, shit. No!" cries John B, making grabby hands at his fallen beer.

"Of course you did, like right when I told you."

"Smooth."

"Well done, dumbass!"

"Hey!"

The sound of a car pull up to the driveway halts our attack on John B, yelling being heard, "Hey, uh, securities here. Let's wrap it up," confirms Pope, making JJ and I raise to our feet as John B slides off the roof, "Boys are here early today."

Rushing over to grab my bag once my feet are back on the balcony, I lean over the railing squinting, "Gary? Is that you?" I asked, "You know it's me, Mason."

Turning around to look at friends, "It's Gary guys," I smile, "Gary, good to see you, man!" JJ adds and quickly pulls the back of my bag when he sees Gary climb up the stairs, "JJ!"

"You two, are asking for it," Kie laughs as we all rush back through the house, all of us laughing and cheering, running down the stairs, "Go, go!" I giggled as I Gary's attempts to grab me but I duck under his swinging arms, running out to the garden.

"Not much of a hugger man," JJs joke echoing off the empty wall of the house.

Running up beside Pope, I urge him up over the fence, "Come on, Pope, go, go, go," landing on the other side, watching as he lands flat on his face, "Graceful as always Pope," I giggle pulling him back on his feet.

"Come on Pope, Fatso's coming" JJ encourages, suddenly landing beside us just barely missing the hot-headed security who is dangling over the fence, "Come here, you little pricks!"

"Bus is leaving," John B pulls up the van honking the horn, Kie opening the door for us, laughing as we shove each other in. John B wastes no time hitting the gas, driving away from the angry security.

"Check out Gary, gunnin' for a raise," Pope laughs as we watch a hopeless Gary chase after the van.

Having an idea, JJ unzips my bag and leans out of the open door, "Come on Gary," he taunts, waving the beer can in front of the man like you would a dog with a treat.

"You're going to give him a heart attack," Kie sympathises but still finds his actions amusing, "You're so close! You can do it. There you go," he tosses the can at the poor man who attempts to dodge it.

"God, they don't pay you enough, man" I laugh peering out the door, taking in the sight of Gray who is wheezing with his hands planted on his knees.

Seeing enough torture for one day, Kie tugs us back in, "That's enough," she says finally feeling sorry for the poor man, sliding the door close.

"Oh, come on. That sort of initiative is just begging to be punished," reasons JJ, plopping down in the back of the van, now finding interest fiddling with the blunt he pulled from his back pocket.

I lean my head on Kie's shoulder and sigh, "I love Gary," I confess, earning a flick on the head from Pope and a nudge on the leg from JJ

We're the Pogues, and our mission this summer is to have a good time, all the time.

Prologue: FIN!

What did you think?

I’m really excited to explore Mason’s character and her adventures with the Pogues. I have so much planned for her.

I hope you enjoyed this introduction <3

[mierinette]

day 06 - enemies

i am superman, and i know what’s happenin’

tumblr month: @auyeahaugust

links: ao3 | ff.net

“AND he keeps making these infuriating jokes that aren't even that funny!"

Marinette huffs as she takes a box of camembert to put in the freezer. She spares her partner a passing glance of confusion, before raising it up. "I thought we agreed that we should start buying less of these?"

Adrien grins, somewhat nervously, as he takes the box from her hands. "What can I say? I just love my cheese!"

"But why this kind? It's expensive," Marinette rebuts, shaking her head. "And it smells gross. I just don't get why you like them that much." She leans toward him and pinches her nose, scrunching it in evident distaste. "See, you're starting to smell already!"

"It's not that bad," Adrien tries to reason with her, surprisingly undaunted by the scent beginning to fill the room. Marinette briefly wonders how he manages to keep a straight face the whole time, but decides that it's just one of those strange quirks of his that she hadn't known about until they moved in together.

(Other traits which fell under that list included his tendency to nap a lot, his frequency to disappear at random moments in time, and most of all, his extremely weird habit of acting like a cat, especially when he wasn't aware of it— something Marinette would honestly find adorable if it didn't remind her so much of a certain someone that got on her nerves almost a hundred percent of the time.)

Marinette sighs to herself, finally nodding in defeat. "Fine," she finally mutters. "But you're showering before you come to bed, okay?"

Adrien nods enthusiastically, putting the camembert down to suddenly grab her by the waist and press a kiss to her cheek. "Thanks, Mari."

Fortunately, after years of being together, Marinette's learned how not to explode into scarlet whenever he shows even the barest minimum of affection.

Doesn't stop the light blush that dusts her cheeks afterward, though.

"So you were talking about this workmate of yours?" Adrien finally asks, as Marinette feels the anger rush back in her veins. She bites her cheek, then exhaustedly runs a hand through her hair.

"It's just… I don't get him at all!" Marinette whines. "It feels like the purpose of his whole existence is to make mine as inconvenient as possible. And it's not just me that he's bothering, it's everyone! How cruel do you have to be to actively play a part in trying to make everyone's lives miserable?"

Adrien hugs her closer to him, putting his chin atop her head. "Sounds like a pain."

"You have no idea," she mumbles. "Chat — I mean, whenever we chat, it's like everything he says is just to spite me! He keeps making jokes whenever we meet and they're not even that clever!"

"I don't understand why you don't just quit then," Adrien finally says, after a long pause. "We're earning enough money, so I don't know why you took on this extra job in the first place."

"It's not like I don't want to quit!" Marinette tries to protest, before immediately shutting up as the words leave her mouth. "I just… can't," she finally confesses. "And it's not like you can talk. You have your mysterious extra work too."

Adrien laughs. "I have to pay for that camembert somehow, right?"

"That sounds like a problem that could be easily fixed if you just stopped buying it," Marinette points out, as she starts to giggle herself. "How's work, anyway? That co-worker of yours still bothering you?"

At that point, it's Adrien's turn to heave a sigh of exhaustion. "Bothering is too small to describe what she's doing to me," he says, and though she can't see it, Marinette can practically imagine the annoyed expression on his face. "She keeps ruining all my plans! Things I've spent so much time trying to perfect, she ends up destroying just like that!"

"That's awful," Marinette frowns, hugging him closer. "I can't believe anyone would actually do that? How is anyone okay with what she's doing to you!?"

"Actually, a lot of people are on her side," Adrien replies, a tone of evident distaste dripping from his tongue. "But they just don't know better, and I can't blame them for that. It's just… I've tried explaining to her what I've been doing, and she still insists that I'm in the wrong!"

With that, Adrien lets her go, walking over to the counter as he combs back his hair in stress. Marinette quickly moves next to him, leaning her head on his shoulder and linking their hands together. "Well, I'm sure they'll find out the truth someday," she finally says. "And for now, I'm glad you're doing what's right." She looks up at him, then presses a shy kiss to his cheek. "My personal superhero."

"Who needs Ladybug, right?" Adrien teases.

"Believe me when I say she's not all that," Marinette laughs, as if it were an inside joke. (And it was; Adrien just didn't know the punchline). "So what do you say that we stop thinking about people who aren't worth our time, and spend time with people that do? Let's have lunch together, tomorrow?"

Adrien looks down at their linked hands, then beams at her proposition. "I love you, Marinette."

She's practically glowing. "I love you too!"

.

.

"I never thought I could hate anyone until I met you."

"Aw, milady, I'm flattered that you've thought of me!"

Ladybug seethes as Chat Noir easily dodges her attacks, at some point even yawning just to spite her. She attempts to lunge at him, only for the latter to press his baton and jump to another building. "I'm not that attracted to girls throwing themselves at me, sorry!"

"Please, like I'd ever throw myself at you." She scoffs, quickly making chase as he runs away from her grasp. "And I doubt you've had any girl actually have a crush on you."

"I was actually pretty popular in my day!" Chat Noir shouts back, leaping over the rooftops of random civilians. "Even have a steady girlfriend now, if you could believe it!"

"How unlucky."

"For you?"

Ladybug rolls her eyes. "For the girl."

"What about you, then?" Chat Noir begins to ask, looking back at the irritated superheroine. "Are you going to go ahead and ruin this unmistakable chemistry between us?"

"What chemistry? If anything, our relationship's best described as toxic." She points dryly, before hooking her yoyo to one of the taller buildings, pulling herself over and suddenly appearing before him. Ladybug quickly sticks her leg outward, and before Chat Noir can make sense of what's happening, trips him over as he's sent tumbling over to one of the rooftops.

As she stands over him, victorious, Ladybug speaks: "And I have a boyfriend."

Chat Noir only smirks.

"My condolences to the guy."

Then he shouts cataclysm!, as the floor below them breaks into pieces, as Ladybug's sent tumbling down while Chat Noir uses the baton to keep himself in the air, as he gracefully lands onto the next building. She tries to jump over, realizing only a little too late that her leg's caught in the wires.

He offers her a catlike grin. "You know, we'd be unstoppable if you just joined me! We'd be a purrfect team."

"I'll never join the side of evil!"

"And as I've told you before, I'm not evil," Chat Noir shouts back at her, shaking his head. "Do you ever listen to me?"

"There's no way that you can persuade me of that." Ladybug only responds, then gestures to the destroyed architecture around her. "You just destroyed a whole building! People could've gotten hurt!"

"Don't you mean purrsuasion?" Chat Noir teases. "Besides, this building was empty. It's a hub for illegal activity at night, so nobody's here in the morning. And now, criminals have nowhere to do their shady dealings. I honestly think I did you a favor!"

"You must be extremely simple if you think that would stop criminals from acting," Ladybug says, rubbing at her forehead. "Besides, aren't they your comrades or something?"

"Me!? Please, I work alone," Chat Noir points out. "And I'd never stoop down to their level."

"Destroying property and scaring the people of Paris not that bad for you, then?"

"Believe me, I could be doing much worse."

"But you're not!"

Chat Noir sighs. "Just know that I'm doing my best in my own way," he shrugs. "And you don't have to believe me." The sudden beep of his phone distracts the conversation. "But for now, I have to go."

"Wait, Chat Noir—"

"Until next time, milady!" He winks. "It was pawsitevely a pleasure to see you again."

"Don't you dare leave, we're not finished—"

"Bye!"

When Ladybug finally manages to free herself, Chat Noir's already gone. She debates upon chasing after him, but the beep on her own phone reminds her of a certain appointment.

One she was certainly already late for.

Ladybug spends the next few minutes zooming across Paris to get to her apartment on time.

.

.

When Marinette arrives, Adrien's already in the kitchen.

He smiles at her.

How she needed to see that smile today.

"Rough time at work, then?"

Marinette exhales deeply.

"As usual."

"But at least you have me."

"At least I have you!"

[violetnotez]

My Hero

Pro Hero! Red Riot x Reader

I havent seen much for Pro Hero Red Riot so I thought Id mine as well give it a shot! This is a rewrite of one of my older fics so I hope its a little better than the last :)

-----------------------------

Genre: Angst (ish) to Fluff

Word Count: 2500+

Warnings: Catcalling, cussing

Summary: When you decide to leave your neglectful date and walk home, your met with a drunken idiot who cant seem to understand the meaning of “No”-until the hero Red Riot comes to save the day.

One Shot

(RULES | MASTERLIST| REQUESTS OPEN!!! :))

Why did I ever think this was going to be fun,” you thought miserably, the chilly night air biting your exposed skin.

Parties were never your “thing”, since nobody really invited you. It wasn’t because you were hated at your school or were an outcast; it was  just you didn’t care to belong to a ‘clique’. You were a roamer, being a friend to anyone who was nice and social enough to talk to you, but you never became to the level of close friends with any of them. So, when you had been invited to go to a house party by one of your guy friends who was a little bit popular, you were more than just a “little” shocked. You were completely confused on why, but you shrugged it off and just decided to go. How bad could it be?

Very bad, more than you had expected, and now you were cursing at yourself for even agreeing to be his date. He decided to take you with a group of his old high school friends, who were the definition of a typical “Popular” group of high school: a bunch of lip glossed cheerleaders and crazy sports fanatics. It would’ve been tolerable to be around such a group if your “date” was polite enough to pay attention to you, but he had ran off to be idiots with all his football buddies, leaving you defenseless with the slightly air headed cheerleaders.

You were seriously itching to rip out your hair from frustration all night.

When two hours of having to deal with high pitch squeals from girls who would laugh at anything the guys would say finally hit, you were thoroughly annoyed and grossed out and wanted to go home. You tracked down your date, told him you were leaving, and walked yourself home, politely declining his offer of driving you home.

You had just passed what looked like another house party, the music pumping through the windows as people came in and out of the house, stumbling and dancing around with no care in the world.

To say you were mad was an understatement. You were exhausted from having to act like you were enjoying yourself so you didnt look like a whiny prick, mad that you had actually used up your money (and was now broke) on a dress and a pair of shoes you’d never wear again, and a little hurt your “date” just left you to fend for yourself with his buddies’ dates all night.

You were so frustrated at yourself and the whole situation, you almost didn’t hear the person behind you.

“Hey hottie, where ya going lookin like that?”

You whipped around, the slurred voice making your blood run cold.

The guy in front of you was definitely intoxicated, his overly gelled hair slicked back, his polo untucked and a red cup in his hand. His face was plastered with such a smug smile, it made you want to cringe from disgust. This guy was a total creep.

“Buzz off,” you gave him a dirty look, mustering your face to look menacing when on the inside you were terrified.

“Playing hard to get, huh, babe? I like that,” the drunken idiot walked closer, his drink sloshing out of the cup and the stink of alcohol and sweat hitting you, making you feel dizzy.

“No,” you walked backwards quickly in fear, “Im trying to get away from you! Now go to back to your party and leave me alone.” You pleaded the last part, wishing you could break out in a run but knew you’d hurt yourself on your shoes. 

He was getting too close for comfort. You could now see clearly the stitching of the emblem on his polo, a bright cherry red. HIs breath was suffocating you, making it harder to breath. You looked around desperately for any way out.

“Why dont you come inside, baby- you’ll definitely want to stay here once your alone with me,” the drunken idiot licked his lips, making you shiver in disgust.

“What the hell!” you gasped in shock, pushing him away from you. “Get the hell away from me you creep!” you yelled, hoping somebody would hear you as you frantically walked backwards, trying a last ditch attempt to shake this creepo off as he drunkenly groped for your arm.

“Whats your deal?!” the man yelled accusingly, as if you were in the wrong and stumbling closer to you. “Why are you being such a bitc-”

“I wouldnt finish that sentence if I were you.”

You looked up quickly, your eyes still wide with terror as you searched for the source of the voice. Your gaze fell upon a boy wearing a plain gray hoodie, with spiky hair as red as a cherry. His eyes were dark, slanted in a mad glare. He looked as if he was going on a night run, and you felt relief flood your body- somebody heard you and was willing to help.

“What the hell dude, mind your own damn business-!” the drunk yelled out in anger, but then he paused, and something strange happened- the man actually looked scared. ‘Wait...I know that hair...your the hero Red Riot, right?” he said with a mix of awe and terror, turning sober for the span of .2 seconds.

“Huh, so you do have a brain? Wouldn’t have guessed that!” he laughed, a feeling of safety warming your body- a Hero was saving you-and a great one at that! You remembered that name instantly- you had seen Red Riot all the time on TV, sporting that signature red, spiky hair everywhere he went. He was always fighting some villain with that amazing Hardening quirk of his, and you had always taken time to admire his costume (and his amazing body). He was pretty young for a hero, around his early 20′s, but was already being described as one of the “Best Debuting Heroes” of that year. 

The drunk man stood there, his groggy mind trying to understand the insult. You took that time to make a run for it- you shoved him again, his drink spilling all over his shirt as you ran towards your savior.

“Dude, what the hell!” he sputtered as he looked down at his now beer soaked shirt.

Red Riot instantly protected you once you got close enough to him, shielding you with his body from the idiot in front of you two. “You gotta admit,” Red Riot said, a laugh spilling out of his lips, “you kinda deserved that. Its not cool to keep pushing on a girl if she says “no”, man.” 

The drunken man’s face turned red from anger and embarrassment. 

“Ya know what, he yelled, “I dont give a damn if your a hero, I’m gonna beat your ass into the ground!”

The drunken idiot threw his cup on the floor, sprinting up to the hero and throwing him a punch aimed for his head.

You gasped, not expecting something so reckless and violent to happen so quickly. Red Riot instantly blocked, though, as if it was a reflex, his hardening quirk making his arm jagged like a mountain cliff.

“Hitting a hero! That wasnt very smart,” Red Riot replied calmly, as if amused. You watched the drunk’s face contort in shock, and then into panic as Red Riot swung a matching punch to his face, knocking him out cold. 

Kirishima looked down at the man in distaste- he hated scumbags like this, who treat others like property and expect rewards for being aggressive. To be honest, he’d loved to do more than just one lousy punch on this idiot but- he was a hero, and heroes didn’t abuse their powers. If he did, he’d be just as bad as this creep.

He sighed, giving one last look to make sure the drunk was breathing and okay-which he was- and turned to the startled girl behind him.

“You alright miss?” Red Riot asked softly, concern in his voice.

You turned sharply, your hair flipping away from your face as you looked up at the hero, your chest hurting from the fear you were feeling moments before.

You looked at him in shock and awe- “You just saved my life,” you stated, the sound of your steady voice surprising you.

He scratched his head, almost looking embarrassed. “Its nothing, really,’ he said quickly, his concern pushing you for an answer. “DId he do anything to you? Are you hurt?”

“A little shaken up,” you said with a weak smile, “but nothing I cant handle.”

“Im sorry you had to deal with that,” he stated, the slight anger in his voice surprising you. “But- is it okay if I can walk you home? I really don’t feel comfortable letting you walk by yourself. The streets are super dangerous at night.”

You laughed sarcastically, trying to ease your nerves and keep the growing pit of emotions at bay. “Yeah, kinda figured that out the hard way.” You paused, thinking the new situation over- you didnt want to walk home by yourself, that was not happening. You felt unsafe, and violated, and the anger and slight embarrassment bubbled in your stomach, threatening to come out in streams across your face. You wanted to forget this, and you felt embarrassed that someone witnessed what just happened, even if it was a person who helped you and you surprisingly felt comfortable around. He seemed like a genuinely good person- someone who would listen to and truly care about someone.“I shouldn’t be embarrassed,” you thought violently to yourself, “it isn’t your fault.” But the feeling of being rejected and then sought after in a disgusting way made you feel crushed, and you couldn’t keep everything in any more. The tears came quietly, then slowly came on harder, the sound of sobbing escaping your mouth.

You willed your tears to go back, to evaporate and leave you, but that, inevitablely, didn’t work. But, surprisingly, the hero didn’t question this. He gently wrapped his arms around you, the soft thin fabric shielding your exposed skin from the cold.

It did feel awkward to hug a stranger at first, but it quickly soothed you.. He didn’t feel so much as a stranger, but an anonymous confidant, a past friend, someone who was easy to be with and be your real self, and not have to pretend that life was great all the time. Sometimes life throws you some curveballs-You just needed someone who a least cared a little bit about how you felt when you got two curveballs in one night.

“You’re safe, I got you. Its not your fault- Youll be okay.”

Your shoulders shook slightly as the tears left your face, the feeling of relievement making you feel much better. As your breathing began to go back to normal pace, you pushed away gently, your now shiny face smiling in embarrassment with a sniffle.

“Are you sure he didnt hurt you? Or do anything to you?” he asked again, his voice filled with care and urgency as he looked into your eyes, searching for an answer. His hands on your shoulders shielded you from the cold, the fabric tickling your skin.

“Yeah, Im okay, what you saw is all he did,” you said, your voice thick from crying. “Im sorry I broke down a little, just-, you sighed, feeling there was no point in keeping your walls up- “ it hasnt been the best night.”

He hugged you again, this time being quicker and harder.

“Dont be sorry for crying, you deserve to. Im just sorry I wasnt here sooner.”

Your heart melted a little for this boy and his big heart. You pushed a piece of hair away from your face, your cheeks a little warmer than the rest of your body.

“No your fine, you didnt know that was happening, Im just so grateful for you helping when you did. I really do mean it when I said you saved my life.”

The hero shuffled, embarrassment yet again evident in his mannerism.

“Just doing my job I guess!” his eyes filled with happiness, the evident blush looking almost comical.

“So- is it alright if I can walk you home?”

You giggled, your stress now alleviated and the look on his face looking so silly it made you feel almost peaceful.

“Of course,” you replied, and you began to walk  alongside him.

You two walked quietly, the soft breeze nipping your skin, but filling your lungs with brisk air, clearing your head. The silence between you two was comfortable as both of you thought deeply. You were going over the events of the night- the feel of betrayal and annoyance, then extreme fear, and relief, and sadness, guilt, happiness- it was so much to process you couldn’t wrap your head around it. But one thing you could think clearly on was the person next to you. You gave him a side eyed glance, staring at his sweatshirt, the toned muscles contouring the sweatshirt. You wish you could know who he was- he seemed sweet and genuine, and not to mention even more handsome in person. But being around him felt peaceful, even for just talking to him for a few moments-the feeling was a little intoxicating.

As Red Riot caught your side eyed glance, the feeling of butterflies filled his stomach. He had just met this girl, but he already knew he liked her. She had a fighter’s spirit, she wasnt hung over the fact that he was a hero and gawking at him like some object- she treated him like a person, not just some hero. She was sweet to him, even though she looked like she just had the crappiest night of her life. And the fact he found her unbelievably pretty made the butterflies fill his stomach with a ticklish feeling.

You two began to start talking a little, slowly becoming more comfortable. You talked about everything, from school to friends to hero work to anything you could think of. By the end, both of you were hurting from laughing and the smiles that were plastered on your faces.

You both reached the front steps of your apartment building, the look of happiness on your face making Kirishima feel great inside. He knew a comfortable walk would make you feel better- it always did for him. But he knew he just met you and he shouldn’t go out of his way so much to help a stranger, but you looked like you needed it. And he had this itching feeling like you deserved something good to happen to you. Everyone does, right?

You looked at him, feeling a rush of butterflies fill your stomach. You had never wanted to get to know someone more so hard in your life. To just know who he was and thank him properly would alleviate the sudden need to know him, not just “Red Riot”. You grabbed your hands tightly, wishing the walk wouldnt ever end.

“Thanks again for  everything,” you smiled warmly, making Red Riot’s stomach bubble with butterflies. 

“Yeah, no problem!” he replied, sadness ebbing into him at the thought of leaving you. His eyes suddenly light up, an idea striking him. 

“Do you by any chance have your phone on you?” he asked sweetly. You gave him a slightly confused look, but nodded, handing him your phone. 

He quietly punched in a few characters in the key pad, and then handed back your phone. You looked down and there was his phone number in your contacts, and his name- “Kirishima.”

“That’s my last name-and- uh- my number,” he chuckled nervously, scratching the back of his neck, “If you never need anything, or want to talk and maybe...go on a date, just-”

“How about tomorrow at 2?” you asked quickly, wanting so badly to meet him again. 

Kirishima was caught completely off guard- in a good way. Electricity flooded his body, as if all his nerves were on everload..

“2 so great! I'll be off tomorrow, so wherever you want to meet, I'll be there!” His smile was so happy and large, you couldn't help but smile back. 

“Thanks again,” you said softly, feeling as if you were in a dream.

Then you did something you wouldn't even expect from yourself- you kissed him on the cheek, before looking one last time at your hero before you closed your front door softly.

“Wait!” Kirishima yelled as he realized something.

“Hm?” you opened the door a crack, your freezing legs hidden behind the warm inside of the door.

“I never got your name!”

You laughed as you realized you never actually did introduce yourself. “Its y/n!”

Kirishima thought your name was beautiful- a pretty name to match a pretty girl. “Well- good night y/n!” You waved goodbye, a smile playing on your lips as you closed your door.

Kirishima looked at your front porch, the spot you kissed still tingling and his heart pounding. He looked at your door in a blissful daze- he couldn’t believe that just happened. A grin spread on his face as he finally turned away from your house, and walked off with a warmth creeping in his chest. A pretty girl he saved kissed him. Well- on his cheek- but still. It was a win for the books.

-----------------------------

Requests open!!!!!

[feuilly-cakes]

Twilight - review

I'm now revealing myself to be twilight trash, but let's talk about it! In this review you'll find the good, the bad, and the ugly (in list form even!) I know this story like the back of my hand, and this is a reread, so although I've only read this particular book once before, I can't be unbiased here. I am a more critical reader now than I was at 14 though, so hopefully this review counts for something. There will be a warning before the section with the spoilers if you haven't yet given in to the curiosity.

I loved it. I gave it 4*. I also found certain parts offensive. Some parts were very funny, and others just as dramatic as you'd expect from a book published for teens in 2005. The love story was, dare I say it, good. It's an enemies to friends to lovers, with a very quick progression on those last two. Both Bella and Edward acted just like regular teens around each other, and if there wasn't a vampire aspect involved it wouldn't have been criticised too heavily on the relationship front. I pretty much sped through the book, even with life getting in the way and pausing every 5 minutes to stick annotation tabs in. We are given a good amount of information about vampires, the history of the characters, and also the kinds of people these characters are. Aside from the offensive/insensitive parts, the entirety of which I will be listing below as I picked up on them, there are only a few moments of genuine real life creepiness not related to the Port Angeles scene right up until the epilogue, which made me very uncomfortable for reasons I shall be explaining. As a random note, I noticed 9 obvious instances of foreshadowing. She must have known where she was going with this series, or else that was a strange coincidence. The rest of this review will contain spoilers Let's begin with how this differs from the movie, since pretty much everyone has seen the movie. First and foremost, there are the characters - Bella and Edward specifically. Bella in this book is a typical teenager with a strong personality. As a child she had tantrums over going to Forks, saying she 'hadn't made a secret of [her] distaste for Forks.' She has a fierce temper, but she is also kind, frowning upon Jessica Stanley's judgement of Esme for adopting kids because she can't have any biologically. She's not vain but she cares about her looks, fussing over her skin being paler once she got to Forks - 'My skin could be pretty' 'I had no color here.' Sarcasm is her thing, and she despairs that none of her new classmates seem to get her sense of humour. She's friendly though an introvert, smiling and waving at everyone who greets her after a week of school while not knowing all of their names. She loves girls nights, and finds being around other girls 'invigorating'. She's independent and won't let Edward question that: "No, she did not send me here. I sent myself." However, she notices she has a very strong crush on Edward that is almost obsessive and finds it 'pitiful' and 'pathetic'. At least she's self aware. 

Bella is very funny at times, especially when referencing her clumsiness (I won't spoil this because humour should never be spoiled). Bella is very smart and resourceful, but not in the obvious way. Schoolwork is a breeze for her because she's done most of it at her old school, but she's smart in other ways. It's Bella who figures out about Edward's mind reading abilities and questions him about it, and who flirts with Jacob Black to get information about the Cullens and why they aren't allowed on the reservation. It's Bella who tells Edward that men and women should be equal or as close to equal as they can, each saving each other the same amount of times. It's also Bella who feels that Mike Newton understands her, because they both were new in Forks at one point, and both lived in sunny places and probably both experienced the chain link fences and metal detectors that Bella was shocked were not at Forks High School. (Personally that threw me for a loop too, that schools could have metal detectors.) Edward is closer to the movie characterisation, but acts more like a typical teenage boy. He's moody but charming, awkward at times but also mischievous. At one point he cuts Bella off in the school car park and then deliberately stops his car to wait for his siblings, causing a queue behind them and giving Tyler Crowley the opportunity to ask her to the dance. He does all this to anger Bella, and it was absolutely hilarious. He flip flops between cheerful and broody, and finds Bella utterly fascinating. He is constantly relearning boundaries and ways to make Bella and himself feel more comfortable. An interesting aspect of his character that was definitely unintentional and handled poorly was the way he was coded as demi-sexual. He states that he has never wanted anyone before Bella, and his adoptive mother Esme thought there was something missing in him. As this is offensive I'll be bringing it up again later. Back to some positives, he likes to sing under his breath in a very fast speed that looks like his lips are trembling, and finds the heat of Bella's hands very pleasant. I thought this was cute, and I had to tab it for future reference. A not so cute thing is how he can 'dazzle' Bella by being close to her face and breathing on her. She describes this as her mind going blank, after which we see her agree to whatever he says while she is in this state. It's a bit creepy but he doesn't take advantage of it at first after being made aware of it, he only does so towards the end, which we shall get into later. He also hears the minds of others as a background hum that he can then focus in on, which I found interesting. Now, onto actual plot things that differed, we have Bella never buying that book on Quileute legends, instead simply flirting with a 15 year old Jacob to get his information and then combining that with a google search, and coming to her conclusions that way. Next, we have the Volturi being mentioned but not by name, firstly on vampires a-z in the section: 'Stregoni benefici: An Italian vampire, said to be on the side of goodness, and a mortal enemy of all evil vampires.' and then in a scene that wasn't a part of the film at all, wherein Edward and Bella are in Carlisle's office, talking about his history, and they are brought up simply as Carlisle's artistic friends from Italy. They are named but the word Volturi is nowhere in this book. In a similar vein, several backstories are revealed in this book that we didn't really get to see until later in the series. Bella gets some meaningful interactions with Jasper, who actually sits next to her and touches her to calm her down in the hotel. It's also implied somewhere in those chapters that Alice possibly knew about Bella planning to sneak off and let her go anyway. Finally, Bella is awake after the venom gets sucked out. This is important because she tells them that the venom is gone and thanks Edward before passing out. She was awake and aware the whole time, though in incredible pain. Another difference happens but I'll be discussing that with the other creepy things. Next, I would like to discuss a few things we learn about Vampires. Did you know that despite their physical perfection, a hungry vampire looks like they are recovering from a nose job? The bruises are very prominent, and likely not pretty to look at. Did you also know that they a venomous in the true sense of the word? Alice tells Bella that the venom is to incapacitate victims with the pain, and becoming a vampire is just a side effect, not the true function of the venom. The pain is there for a reason, and that reason is to torture victims with the burning sensation so they can't get away. These vampires may sparkle, but they aren't cute. I will never get the image of snake fangs out of my mind in conjunction to twilight vampires. Am I the only one who didn't realise the inherent creepiness of that because there's no mention of it in the films? Alright, now onto the offensive/ creepy stuff. I'll be bullet pointing these with elaboration where needed. -Bella refers to herself as an albino simply because she is pale. This one just didn't sit right with me, for reasons I can't explain. Stick with me here, it gets worse. -A casual comment about suicide: 'I guess he considered me old enough now not to shoot myself by accident, and not depressed enough to shoot myself on purpose.' This one is tricky, because everyone has made jokes like that, but it made me personally uncomfortable and didn't need to be in there considering the tone of the rest of the book. -Upon Edward talking to her again after the car park incident, Bella says this: "Do you have multiple personality disorder?" This needs no elaboration. Buckle up, it gets worse. -Jacob. He tells Bella his people's legends after she flirts with him, all the while telling her he didn't believe them himself. Then he asks her: "So do you believe we're a bunch of superstitious natives or what?" As someone who is not native american, I can't give a personal perspective here, but I don't believe this is something she should have had a native character say. Stephenie Meyer is a white woman and had no place essentially calling the people she culturally appropriated a bunch of superstitious natives. It was jarring to read that line knowing that it's not her culture and she has no right to say that, only someone from the culture has the right to say that. As I said, I'm not native american and I haven't looked deeply into what exactly she stole and changed, but I know she did it, so that can of course be a pretty major offence to many people. -She compares her clumsiness to being 'almost disabled'. Gross. -The watching her while she sleeps thing. Let's talk about it. She guesses he's been spying on her when he knows where the key is after the meadow date, and he says he's been watching her sleep. It's undoubtedly creepy, but Bella isn't concerned about that. Oh no, she's concerned about what he heard while she was sleep talking. She actually seems unbothered by the stalking aspect, which is why I think these actions flew under the radar for so many people. If Bella thinks it's fine then it must be fine, right? This should have been handled differently. -The Aphobia. Edward tells Bella that Esme was 'afraid that there was something missing from [his] essential makeup'. This is really harmful, but it wasn't intentional. I have no doubt that Stephenie Meyer had no clue and perhaps still has no clue that asexuality is a thing and that she accidentally made Edward demisexual, by simple fact of him being interested in no one before Bella. Nonetheless, it needs to be warned for. -There are heavy implications of p*dophilia here, by choice of language. Regarding Bella's class, full of people her age. Edward calls them a 'class full of children' then on the next page calls Bella 'an insignificant little girl' and then a few chapters down he calls jacob a 'child' to which Bella responds that he is not much younger than she is and Edward cheerfully replies that he knows. It's beyond creepy and I wish it wasn't there, because if it had gone the opposite way of Edward making old man jokes it could have been funny and not horrifying to think about. -Lastly though not leastly, the epilogue. All throughout the book Bella has under no circumstances wanted to go to prom. She is tricked into going to prom. Alice sees the future, Edward reads minds, they knew she wouldn't want to go but bamboozled her into going anyway, and when she starts shouting and crying, Edwards tells her "Don't be difficult". This is creepy and horrifying, that they are taking away her agency and treating her like a child when she tries to refuse. Although she goes and has a goodish time, it still wasn't right to force her into that position. Thus concludes this review, and I leave you with the knowledge that if you read this you get to see the part where Charlie Swan tells Bella that Carlisle Cullen is very attractive. Good day.