#no one is pure. but will you be kind? will you be a good friend? will you grow? i hope i grow. i hope i always make the choice to grow.

[cceana]

Arcane Highschool!AU

characters - vi, caitlyn, jinx, sevika, ekko, jayce and viktor content - 7.1k words, cliche highschool tropes, gn!reader, just pure fluff also a little reverse comfort

A/N this was so fun to do, cant believe i finished this in 1 day ahahahahhaah. this is my longest work yet so hopefully you guys enjoy it <3

— Star Athlete!vi and Band!reader

You’ve spent most of your high school life flying under the radar as the band’s flute player—quiet, responsible, and perfectly content in your niche. Your days revolve around early-morning rehearsals, sheet music, and the steady rhythm of practice. It’s predictable, comfortable.

That is, until the school’s star athlete, Vi, always in whispers and cheers, bursts into your life like an unrelenting storm.

Shes everything you’re not—loud, brash, impulsive, and dangerously confident. The type who winks at the crowd after scoring the winning goal, whose swagger fills the halls, and who’s constantly making headlines for their fiery outbursts on and off the field. You’ve heard the stories: the scuffle at last week’s game, the heated argument with the coach, the rumors of detention slips piling up.

You’d barely exchanged more than a few words with her, but that changes when the school decides to host a collaborative pep rally—complete with a showstopping performance featuring both the sports teams and the band.

When the coach volunteers them to help promote school spirit by playing a surprise number with the band, you’re horrified. So is she.

“I don’t have time for this,” she scoff when she gets dragged to the band room. “Why don’t you all just play louder or something?”

Your teacher assigns you the unenviable task of teaching them how to play an instrument. You can practically hear your friends giggling behind your back as you pull them aside, thrusting a trumpet into their hands.

Vi groans, slouching in her chair like a bored kid in detention. “What’s the point of this? Everyone’s here to watch me win, not play this stupid thing.”

You bristle at their cocky tone. “Well, if you don’t want to embarrass yourself in front of the entire school, I suggest you try.”

VI then gives you a smirk, leaning in just a little too close. “Oh, you think I can’t do it? I’m good at everything.”

It turns out, she's not.

The first few lessons are a disaster. She blow into the trumpet like she's trying to blow out a candle from across the room, their fingers fumble over the valves, and she keep snapping, “This thing is broken!” every time it makes a screeching noise.

But underneath all the bravado and eye-rolls, you start to notice something. The way she glares at the trumpet when she messes up isn’t just frustration—it’s determination. she hates failing, and she hates it even more that they’re bad at this.

“I’m not giving up,” Vi declares after her third failed attempt to hit a note. “I’m not letting some dumb piece of metal beat me.”

The more you work together, the more cracks appear in their tough exterior. she's fiercely competitive, yes, but also surprisingly quick to laugh at themselves when the trumpet sputters out the wrong notes. Her cocky grin softens when you praise even her smallest improvement, and she starts showing up to practice earlier than you do.

One afternoon, as you’re packing up your sheet music, you catch them staring at the band photo on the wall. “You guys practice this much all the time?” Vi asked, her voice uncharacteristically quiet.

“Yeah,” you say, surprised. “It’s a lot of work, but it’s worth it.”

she nod slowly, her usual swagger replaced by something contemplative. “Never thought about it like that. I guess… it’s kind of like training, huh?”

That’s when you realize she's not as invincible as she seem. Behind the hot-headed confidence is someone who works just as hard as you do, who’s just as passionate about what they love—even if they show it in a completely different way.

And when the pep rally finally arrives, with the gym packed to the rafters, she surprise's everyone—not just with how she learned to play, but with how she step aside during the performance to let the band take the spotlight.

Afterward, as the crowd cheers, she give you a lopsided grin. “Not bad, huh? Guess I’m pretty good at this whole teamwork thing.”

You roll your eyes, but you can’t hide your smile.

The pep rally is over, and the gym is buzzing with energy as people file out, still cheering and talking about the unexpected performance. You’re gathering your things in the corner of the stage when you hear footsteps behind you.

“Hey,” she calls out, her voice softer than you’re used to.

You turn to find her standing there, holding her trumpet in one hand, the other rubbing awkwardly at the back of her neck. For once, her usual cocky smirk is nowhere to be seen, replaced by an expression that’s… almost nervous.

“Uh, so… you were pretty great out there,” she says, her eyes flickering between yours and the floor. “I mean, you’re always great, but, like, today—you really killed it.”

You blink, caught off guard by the compliment. “Thanks. You were pretty great too. You didn’t even mess up the solo.”

She laughs, a warm, genuine sound that makes your chest flutter. “Yeah, well, I had a good teacher. Guess I owe you for that.”

You shrug, trying to play it cool. “Maybe. But you did the work. I’m impressed, actually. Didn’t think you’d take it so seriously.”

She steps a little closer, her usual confidence creeping back into her voice. “Yeah? So, I impressed you?”

Your face heats up, and you roll your eyes to hide it. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

“Too late,” she teases, but her grin softens as her gaze lingers on you. For a moment, neither of you says anything. The noise of the gym fades into the background, and all you can hear is the faint hum of your own heartbeat.

She looks down at the trumpet in her hand, turning it over like she’s stalling. “You know… I used to think band stuff was just… background noise. Like, nobody really notices it. But being up there, seeing how much you guys put into it…”

Her voice trails off, and when she looks back at you, there’s something in her eyes that makes it hard to breathe. “It made me notice you more.”

Your breath catches. “Me?”

“Yeah.” She takes another step closer, so close now that you can feel the warmth radiating off her. “You’re not just some quiet band geek who hangs out in the background. You’re… amazing. And I’ve been an idiot for not seeing it sooner.”

You open your mouth to reply, but the words get stuck in your throat. She’s staring at you like you’re the only person in the world, and for the first time, you don’t feel small or invisible. You feel seen.

“I know I’ve been kind of… impossible,” she continues, her voice dropping lower. “But I don’t want to screw this up. So if I asked you to, I don’t know, grab milkshakes or something sometime… what would you say?”

You bite your lip, trying to suppress a smile. “I’d say… as long as you don’t try to play the trumpet during the date, I might say yes.”

Her laugh is loud and bright, and before you know it, she’s grinning down at you. “Deal.”

The gym lights flicker as the janitor starts cleaning up, and you realize you’ve been standing there for what feels like forever. But as she walks you out, her shoulder brushing against yours, you can’t help but think that maybe this impulsive, hot-headed star athlete isn’t so bad after all.

— Childhood Bestfriend!caitlyn

You and Caitlyn were inseparable once, two halves of the same whole. Summers were spent running through sun-drenched fields, plotting grand adventures, and swearing eternal friendship under the stars. But that was years ago, before her family moved away to chase bigger opportunities, and you were left behind with only memories of her bright laugh and unshakable confidence.

Life moved on, and so did you. By high school, she’d become little more than a bittersweet memory. Until now.

When she walks into your homeroom on the first day of senior year, it feels like the air’s been knocked out of you. She’s taller now, with an effortless grace that makes the room go quiet. Her uniform looks somehow sharper on her, her long, dark hair falling in perfect waves. There’s something in the way she carries herself—poised and self-assured, like she owns the world—and maybe she does.

Her family name has become a symbol of power and wealth. She’s been in the headlines, her achievements as a youth advocate already earning her a reputation as a fierce voice for justice. And yet, when her gaze scans the room and lands on you, her face lights up with the same brilliant smile you remember from childhood.

“Hey,” she says as she slides into the empty seat beside you, her voice low and familiar. “Long time no see.”

You’re too stunned to do anything but nod.

You quickly learn that she’s not just here for nostalgia—she’s here with a purpose. Between rigorous AP classes, she’s working on a project to bring awareness to systemic issues in your town. Meetings, interviews, and late nights at the library seem to be her norm, and it doesn’t take long for her to rope you into helping.

At first, it feels surreal being around her again. The girl you once knew has grown into someone so driven, so ambitious, that it’s almost intimidating. She seems untouchable, like a shooting star too far away to reach.

But every now and then, the cracks in her polished armor show. When it’s just the two of you poring over notes at your kitchen table, she leans back with a sigh and pulls her hair into a ponytail, muttering about how she wishes she had more time to breathe. And when you laugh at her frustrations, she throws a crumpled piece of paper at you, her grin wide and mischievous.

“You haven’t changed a bit,” she says one evening, her eyes soft as they meet yours. “Still the only person who can make me laugh when I want to scream.”

It’s during one of these late-night sessions that the air between you shifts. You’re sitting on the floor of her family’s impossibly grand living room, surrounded by papers and laptops. She’s wearing a sweatshirt that’s too big for her, a far cry from the polished image she presents to the world, and you can’t help but think about how beautiful she looks like this—unguarded and real.

“You’ve been quiet tonight,” she says, tilting her head to look at you. “What’s on your mind?”

“Nothing,” you lie, your heart racing under her gaze.

She raises an eyebrow, leaning closer. “I’ve known you long enough to know when you’re lying.”

You hesitate, your pulse hammering in your ears. “It’s just… I can’t believe you’re here. That after all these years, we’re… us again.”

Her expression softens, and she shifts closer until your knees are almost touching. “I’ve missed you too, you know,” she says quietly. “It’s been so hard, being away from everything I used to care about. From you.”

Her words hang in the air, heavy and electric. You want to say something—anything—but the way she’s looking at you steals the breath from your lungs. Her dark eyes search yours, and for a moment, the world seems to still.

“Do you ever think about those nights we spent under the stars?” she asks, her voice barely above a whisper.

You nod, swallowing hard. “All the time.”

“I do too,” she admits, her hand reaching out to brush against yours. Her touch is warm, grounding, and yet it sends a jolt through you. “Back then, I always thought we’d have forever. And when I left, I realized how much I hated being wrong about that.”

You’re not sure who moves first, but suddenly the space between you disappears. Her hand lingers on yours, her thumb tracing gentle circles against your skin, and you’re acutely aware of how close her face is to yours.

“Tell me if this is okay,” she murmurs, her voice trembling just slightly.

You nod, barely able to speak. “It’s more than okay.”

And then her lips are on yours, soft and hesitant at first, like she’s afraid you’ll pull away. But you don’t. You lean into her, your hand sliding up to tangle in her hair, and the kiss deepens—sweet and full of years’ worth of unspoken feelings.

When you finally pull back, she rests her forehead against yours, a breathless smile on her lips. “I’ve waited so long to do that,” she says, her voice tinged with relief.

“Me too,” you whisper, your heart soaring.

As the night stretches on, you realize that the girl you thought you’d lost has come back into your life, not as the same person she once was, but as someone even more extraordinary. And for the first time in years, the future doesn’t feel so uncertain—it feels full of possibilities, with her by your side.

— New kid!jinx and Class president!reader

You’ve worked hard to get where you are. Every meeting attended, every speech prepared, every carefully crafted decision—it’s all been for the sake of keeping order in the chaos of your high school. As class president, your name carries weight. You’re the dependable one, the one who keeps everything running smoothly, the one who always has things under control.

Until Jinx shows up.

The whispers start on her first day. The new girl. The one who doesn’t seem to care about blending in. She strides into the building like she owns it, her uniform already disheveled, her blazer slung over her shoulder, and a wild grin on her face.

It doesn’t take long for her reputation to spread. She’s unpredictable, impulsive, and utterly magnetic. Within a week, she’s already broken half the school’s rules, talked her way out of three detentions, and somehow charmed half your classmates in the process.

And for some reason, she’s decided you’re her favorite target.

It happens during lunch. You’re sitting at your usual spot, surrounded by student council members, going over plans for the upcoming fundraiser when she walks up to your table.

“Class president,” she says, her voice dripping with mockery and something else you can’t quite place. “Mind if I join you?”

You glance up, already annoyed. “I’m busy.”

She smirks, pulling out a chair anyway. “That’s cute. You think I was asking.”

Your friends exchange uneasy glances, but she doesn’t seem to care. She leans back in the chair, her sharp pink eyes locked on you, as if she’s trying to unravel you with her gaze alone.

“You’ve got a real stick-up-your-ass vibe,” she says casually, plucking an apple from the tray in front of her. “I like that. It makes messing with you way more fun.”

You glare at her, trying to keep your composure. “Do you need something, or are you just here to waste my time?”

Her grin widens, and for a moment, you see a flicker of something wild and untamed in her expression. “Maybe I just like watching you squirm.”

She becomes a constant in your life after that. You find her waiting outside your classroom, lounging against your locker, or casually walking into student council meetings as if she belongs there.

“Do you ever stop?” you snap one afternoon, cornering her in the hallway after she’s disrupted yet another meeting.

“Stop what?” she asks innocently, tilting her head.

“Whatever game you’re playing.”

She steps closer, and for the first time, you notice just how intense her gaze is. “Who says it’s a game? Maybe I just like you.”

The words hang in the air, heavy and electric, and before you can respond, she turns on her heel and walks away, leaving you standing there, utterly baffled.

It’s not until much later that you start to see the cracks in her chaotic facade. One night, you find her sitting alone in the empty music room, the piano keys beneath her fingers. She’s not playing, just pressing random notes, her usual manic energy replaced by a quiet stillness.

“You shouldn’t be here,” you say, stepping into the room.

She doesn’t look up. “Neither should you.”

For a moment, neither of you speaks. Then she sighs, her shoulders slumping. “I bet you think I’m crazy.”

You hesitate, caught off guard by the vulnerability in her voice. “I think you’re reckless and impulsive and… exhausting. But no, I don’t think you’re crazy.”

She finally looks up at you, her eyes softer than you’ve ever seen them. “You’re too nice for your own good, you know that?”

“I’m not nice,” you counter. “I just… I think there’s more to you than the act you put on.”

Her lips twitch into a small, almost shy smile. “Careful, president. You keep saying things like that, and I might start to believe you.”

The more time you spend around her, the more you realize how deeply she feels everything. Her chaos isn’t just for show—it’s a shield, a way to keep people from getting too close. But with you, she starts to let her guard down.

One evening, she shows up outside your house, her hair messy and her eyes wild. “Come with me,” she says, grabbing your hand.

“Where are we going?” you ask, letting her drag you down the street.

“Anywhere,” she replies, her grip tight. “Everywhere. I don’t care.”

You end up at the park, sitting on a swingset as the stars blink overhead. She’s unusually quiet, her hands gripping the chains tightly as she stares at the ground.

“You ever feel like you’re spinning out of control?” she asks suddenly, her voice barely above a whisper.

You glance at her, surprised by the question. “Sometimes.”

She exhales shakily, her fingers brushing against yours. “You… you make it stop. Just for a little while.”

Your heart skips a beat, and you don’t know if it’s the raw honesty in her words or the way her fingers linger against yours, but you feel something shift between you.

It happens later that night, as you’re walking her home. She stops in front of her house, turning to face you with an unreadable expression.

“Why do you put up with me?” she asks suddenly, her voice soft.

You frown. “What do you mean?”

“I’m a mess,” she says, her gaze dropping to the ground. “I break things, I hurt people… I’m not like you. I’m not good.”

“You’re not perfect,” you admit, stepping closer. “But you’re not as bad as you think you are, either.”

She looks up at you, her eyes shining with something you can’t quite name. “You’re going to regret saying that.”

“Maybe,” you say with a small smile. “But I don’t think so.”

Before you can overthink it, you lean in, your lips brushing against hers. She freezes for a moment, like she’s caught off guard, but then she kisses you back, her hands clutching at your sleeves as if you’re the only solid thing in her world.

When you finally pull back, her face is flushed, and she’s breathing hard. “You’re insane,” she mutters, though there’s no heat in her words.

“Takes one to know one,” you reply, grinning.

She laughs, the sound light and genuine, and for the first time, you feel like you’ve truly seen her—every broken, beautiful piece of her.

—Troublemaker!sevika and Tutor!reader

You weren’t thrilled when your teacher assigned you as her tutor. You’d heard all the rumors: skipped classes, biting comebacks that left people reeling, and a permanent spot on the troublemaker watchlist.

Her reputation painted her as unteachable, untamable, and entirely uninterested in anything resembling authority. When your teacher insisted she “just needed guidance,” you couldn’t help but feel skeptical.

The first session confirmed it.

She slouched into the library ten minutes late, her bag dragging on the floor, and dropped into the chair across from you with a loud huff.

“Look,” she said before you could even greet her, “I don’t need some perfect little know-it-all telling me what to do.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “I’m just here to help.”

“Sure,” she scoffed, leaning back in her chair. “Let’s get this over with.”

Her tone was cutting, her expression bored, and yet… there was something about her. A quiet intensity lurking beneath the surface, like she was daring you to break through her tough exterior.

Each session felt like a test of patience. She was sharp, no question about it, but her attitude made every interaction a battle.

“You’re not even trying,” you said one afternoon after she tossed her pen aside for the third time.

Her eyes snapped to yours, hard and unyielding. “Don’t act like you know me,” she said coldly. “You think I don’t try? You think I don’t bust my ass every single day?”

You froze, startled by the edge in her voice.

She leaned forward, her gaze cutting through you like a blade. “I don’t need this. I don’t need you. I’m here because they told me to be.”

For a moment, you considered walking away. But then you saw it—just the faintest flicker of something vulnerable beneath her defiance.

“You’re right,” you said, keeping your voice calm. “I don’t know you. But I know you’re capable of more than this.”

Her jaw tightened, and she looked away, her fingers drumming on the table. “Whatever,” she muttered.

But she didn’t leave.

Slowly, things started to shift. She showed up on time—barely. She started taking notes—reluctantly. And every so often, she’d let her tough exterior slip, just enough for you to catch a glimpse of the real her.

One afternoon, after a particularly grueling session, you handed her a worksheet.

“You’re getting better,” you said, offering her a small smile.

She snorted. “Don’t get all sentimental on me.”

“I’m not. I’m just saying you’re improving.”

“Yeah, well, don’t hold your breath for a thank-you card,” she replied, but there was a hint of a smirk on her lips.

Her walls were still up, but they were starting to crack.

It happened on a rare quiet day in the library. She was hunched over her notebook, her brow furrowed as she worked through a particularly tricky problem.

“Got it,” she said suddenly, sitting up straight.

“Really?” you asked, leaning over to check her work.

She shoved the notebook toward you, her smirk firmly in place. “Told you I’m not dumb.”

“I never said you were dumb,” you replied, meeting her gaze. “You just make things harder than they need to be.”

She rolled her eyes. “Maybe I like a challenge.”

“Or maybe you’re just stubborn,” you teased.

Her smirk softened, just for a moment. “Takes one to know one, princess.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the way she said it, her voice low and almost… fond.

After weeks of late afternoons spent together, you found yourself walking her home one evening. The sun was setting, casting a warm orange glow over the quiet streets.

“You’re not as bad as I thought,” she said suddenly, breaking the silence.

You blinked, surprised. “Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

“Don’t push your luck,” she shot back, though her tone lacked its usual bite.

When you reached her house, she stopped at the gate, turning to face you. Her usual confidence wavered, just slightly.

“Why do you bother with me?” she asked, her voice quieter than usual.

“Because I see how hard you work,” you said honestly. “And because I think there’s more to you than what you let people see.”

She stared at you for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Then, without warning, she stepped closer, her hand brushing yours.

“You’re a real pain, you know that?” she murmured, her voice soft but firm.

Before you could respond, she leaned in, her lips capturing yours in a kiss that was as bold and unapologetic as she was.

When she pulled back, her cheeks were flushed, but her smirk was firmly in place.

“Don’t let it go to your head,” she said, turning toward her door.

You smiled, your heart racing. “Too late."

—Artist!ekko and Muse!reader

It was one of those golden autumn afternoons, the kind where the sunlight made everything look softer, warmer, like it belonged in a painting. You’d escaped to the park during your lunch break, clutching a well-worn book in one hand and a coffee in the other. It wasn’t the first time you’d come here for a little peace and quiet, but it felt like one of the rare times you’d actually get it.

You settled on a bench near the fountain, a cozy corner of the park where the only sounds were the gentle trickle of water and the rustling of leaves in the breeze.

The moment you opened your book, however, you felt it—a faint, almost electric sensation prickling at the edge of your awareness. Someone was watching you.

Glancing up, you spotted him.

He was sitting on the grass a few yards away, sketchpad balanced on his knees, pencil flying across the page. His hair fell messily across his forehead, and the sleeves of his shirt were rolled up to reveal forearms speckled with faint smears of paint. Despite the chaos of his appearance, his focus was absolute, his gaze darting between you and the paper as if you were some rare discovery he couldn’t afford to lose.

You furrowed your brow, unsure whether to feel flattered or alarmed. “Can I help you?” you called, your voice cutting through the quiet.

He blinked, as if snapping out of a trance, and stood quickly.

“Sorry,” he said, striding toward you. “I didn’t mean to freak you out.”

His voice was smooth, tinged with an earnestness that made it hard to stay annoyed.

“I’m an artist,” he explained, gesturing to his sketchpad. “I know this sounds weird, but you’ve got this… look. The way you’re sitting, the way the light hits you—it’s perfect.”

“Perfect?” you repeated, raising an eyebrow.

“For a piece I’m working on,” he clarified, a faint blush creeping up his neck. “Do you mind if I sketch you? Just for a little while.”

You hesitated, studying him. He didn’t look like a creep—just young, maybe a little unkempt, with an intensity in his eyes that was hard to ignore.

“I’m not really dressed for a portrait,” you said, gesturing to your casual sweater and jeans.

He smiled, and the way his face softened surprised you. “It’s not about the clothes. It’s the way you carry yourself.”

The compliment was unexpected, and it caught you off guard. “Alright,” you said slowly. “But just for a few minutes.”

“Great,” he said, dropping to the bench across from you with a grin that felt like the sun breaking through the clouds

It turned out he was a prodigy, a young artist with a growing reputation in the city. His work had been featured in galleries, and he’d even won a few prestigious awards. But for all his talent, he was surprisingly down-to-earth.

“I don’t really like the whole ‘genius’ label,” he admitted one afternoon after convincing you to pose for him again. “It just makes people think I’ve got everything figured out. But most of the time, I’m just trying to keep up with my own ideas.”

You quickly realized that his art wasn’t just a skill—it was his lifeline. He spoke about it the way others might talk about breathing. And for some reason, he’d decided that you were his muse.

“Why me?” you asked one day as he sketched you in his studio. The walls were covered with half-finished canvases, each one brimming with vivid colors and raw emotion.

He glanced up from his sketchbook, his eyes soft but focused. “You’ve got something about you,” he said simply. “A kind of… light. I can’t explain it, but when I see you, I want to create.”

His honesty was disarming. There was no pretense in his words, no calculated charm. He spoke as though his heart was an open book, and every word was written in your honor.

“Do you say that to all your muses?” you teased, trying to lighten the moment.

He chuckled, the sound low and warm. “I’ve never had one before you.”

As time went on, you got to know him beyond his talent. He was fiercely independent, refusing to rely on anyone for his success. His compassion, however, was what surprised you most. He spent his weekends teaching art classes at a local youth center, his eyes lighting up as he helped kids discover their own creativity.

“They’ve got so much potential,” he said once, his voice filled with quiet pride. “They just need someone to believe in them.”

It was clear that he poured himself into everything he did, whether it was a painting, a lesson, or simply spending time with you.

One evening, he invited you to his studio after hours. The space was dimly lit, the air thick with the scent of paint and turpentine.

“I want to show you something,” he said, guiding you to the center of the room where a large canvas stood covered by a cloth.

With a dramatic flourish, he pulled the cloth away, revealing a breathtaking painting. It was you—your pose, your expression, every detail captured with such tenderness that it felt like staring into a mirror of your soul.

“Is that… me?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He nodded, his gaze steady. “It’s not just you,” he said softly. “It’s how I see you. Strong, radiant… inspiring.”

Your heart swelled at his words, and for a moment, you forgot how to breathe.

“It’s beautiful,” you said finally, your voice thick with emotion.

“So are you,” he replied, his lips curling into a small, genuine smile.

There was no grand confession, no dramatic moment where everything changed. Instead, your relationship grew in quiet, unspoken ways. The way he brought you coffee when you visited his studio. The way he asked for your opinion on his work, genuinely valuing your thoughts. The way his hand would brush against yours when he passed you a sketchbook, his touch lingering just a second too long.

One day, as you sat together in the park where you’d first met, he turned to you, his eyes filled with something you couldn’t quite name.

“You know,” he said, his voice low, “I’m not sure I’d be able to do this without you.”

“Do what?” you asked, tilting your head.

“Create,” he replied simply. “You make it… easier to believe in myself.”

You smiled, your heart fluttering at his honesty. “I think you’d do just fine on your own.”

“Maybe,” he said, his gaze never leaving yours. “But I don’t want to.”

—Bestfriend!jayce

The two of you had been inseparable for as long as you could remember. From elementary school to your final year of high school, your lives had been stitched together with countless shared moments—late-night study sessions, chaotic group projects, and lazy afternoons spent at the local diner. You were the grounded one, the planner, while he was the dreamer.

He was everything you admired in a person: ambitious, creative, and unrelentingly passionate about making the world a better place. Whether he was organizing a charity event for the school or advocating for a greener campus, he didn’t just talk about change—he embodied it.

“Alright, hear me out,” he said one afternoon as you sat in your favorite spot in the school library. His voice was alive with energy, his words spilling out faster than you could process them.

You glanced up from your notes, already bracing yourself. “This is going to be another one of your big ideas, isn’t it?”

“Of course,” he said with a grin. “It’s what I do best.”

He leaned forward, spreading out a sketchbook filled with colorful doodles and bold handwriting. Each page was a mix of blueprints, campaign slogans, and notes for an initiative he wanted to pitch to the student council.

“I’m telling you, if we can pull this off, it could really make a difference. We could partner with local businesses, raise money for community programs, and even involve the younger students—”

“You’re going a hundred miles an hour again,” you interrupted gently, a smile tugging at your lips.

“Not when I’m onto something good,” he replied without missing a beat.

That was him in a nutshell: a whirlwind of ideas and determination, always moving forward. It was both inspiring and exhausting to keep up with him, but somehow, you always did.

For all his big ideas and boundless enthusiasm, he had a softer side too—a side he reserved just for you.

One Friday night, he showed up outside your house, honking his car horn until you came outside in your pajamas.

“What are you doing?” you hissed, glancing around to make sure your neighbors weren’t watching.

“Get in,” he said with a grin, leaning out of the driver’s side window. “I need your opinion on something.”

“You’re insane,” you muttered, but you climbed into the passenger seat anyway.

He drove to a quiet hill on the outskirts of town, parking near an old tree you’d both claimed as “your spot” years ago. He pulled out a notebook from his bag and handed it to you.

“These are my ideas for the youth outreach program,” he said. “I need to know if I’m being too ambitious.���

You flipped through the pages, your heart warming as you saw the effort he’d poured into every word and sketch.

“This is incredible,” you said softly. “You’re not just ambitious—you’re inspiring. People are going to listen to you.”

He looked at you, his expression unreadable. “You really think so?”

“Always,” you said, your voice firm.

For a split second, you thought he might reach out to take your hand, but instead, he leaned back, staring up at the stars. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

After particularly grueling school days, he’d find you at your locker, holding out your favorite drink or snack without a word. When the stress of finals hit, he’d sit beside you in the library, quietly working through his own assignments while offering words of encouragement.

And then there were the moments when his usual confidence wavered.

“Do you think I’m crazy?” he asked one evening as you sat on the hood of his car, staring up at the stars.

The two of you had just spent hours planning his latest project, a school-wide fundraiser for a local shelter. Despite his ambitious plans, his voice was quieter now, almost hesitant.

“You? Crazy?” you teased, nudging him playfully. “Absolutely.”

He laughed softly, but the tension in his shoulders didn’t completely fade.

“Seriously, though,” he said, turning to you. “Sometimes I wonder if I’m aiming too high. Like, what if I can’t actually pull all this off? What if I fail?”

You reached out, placing a reassuring hand on his arm. “You won’t fail. You’re the most determined person I’ve ever met. And even if something doesn’t work out the way you planned, it doesn’t mean you failed. It just means you’re brave enough to try again.”

His gaze softened, and for a moment, the air between you felt heavier, charged with something unspoken.

“Thanks,” he said quietly. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

The moment lingered, and as he pulled back, his hands stayed on your shoulders. His gaze searched yours, and for the first time, you saw a vulnerability there that he usually kept hidden.

“I’ve been trying to figure out how to say this for a while now,” he began, his voice soft but steady.

Your breath caught. “What is it?”

“I don’t just care about you as a friend,” he admitted, his cheeks flushing slightly. “I mean, I do, but it’s more than that. You’ve always been my anchor, the one person who gets me, who believes in me even when I doubt myself.”

Your heart raced, the world narrowing down to just the two of you. “I think I’ve always felt the same way,” you said quietly.

Relief washed over his face, followed by a smile so genuine it made your chest ache.

“Then we’re in this together,” he said, reaching for your hand. “Like always.”

From that day on, your friendship transformed into something deeper, something stronger. His dreams grew bigger, but now, they weren’t just his—they were yours too. Together, you were unstoppable, a team bound by shared passion and a love that had been years in the making.

Whether it was planning for college or brainstorming ways to change the world, one thing was certain: with him by your side, anything felt possible.

—Enemies to lovers!viktor and reader

From the moment the new kid transferred to your school, it was as if the universe had dropped a puzzle piece into the wrong spot. He was a contradiction: introverted yet razor-sharp in class discussions, quiet but with an undercurrent of passion that seemed to burst through in unexpected moments. His snarky comebacks and aloof demeanor were practically tailor-made to clash with your confident, no-nonsense approach to everything.

You couldn’t help but notice how he kept his distance from everyone else, often retreating to the farthest corner of the library or lab. Despite his unassuming presence, he somehow managed to infuriate you with his brilliance. Teachers fawned over him, classmates whispered about him, and you? You glared daggers at him every time he raised his hand in class to counter one of your arguments.

The first real confrontation happened in science class. It was a group project, and your teacher, in a cruel twist of fate, paired you with him.

“Great,” you muttered under your breath.

He barely glanced at you as he set down his notebook, already flipping through its pages. “It’s not my favorite pairing either, but let’s just get this done.”

His tone was clipped, and his eyes barely met yours.

“Oh, so we’re starting with passive-aggressive remarks? Good to know where we stand,” you shot back, folding your arms.

He sighed, finally looking at you. “Look, I don’t care if you like me or not. I care about getting an A on this project. If you want to argue, fine, but at least do it while we’re running the experiment.”

His bluntness took you off guard, and for a moment, you were speechless. But you quickly recovered, rolling your eyes. “Fine. But don’t think for a second I’m letting you take over.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he muttered under his breath, already scribbling in his notebook.

Working together was like a storm brewing in slow motion. You were both stubborn and headstrong, constantly butting heads over the smallest details.

“Why are you doing it that way?” you snapped one afternoon as he adjusted the settings on the experiment’s apparatus.

“Because it’s the correct way,” he replied without looking up.

“You didn’t even let me explain my idea!”

“Your idea would’ve blown up the circuit.”

You narrowed your eyes. “You don’t know that.”

“Let me guess—you’re the kind of person who thinks trial and error is the only way to learn?”

He finally turned to face you, a faint smirk playing at his lips “And you’re the kind of person who thinks you’re always right,”

The tension crackled like static electricity, but neither of you backed down.

It wasn’t until a late-night study session in the empty library that things started to shift. The project deadline was looming, and you’d reluctantly agreed to meet outside of school to finish your work.

He was unusually quiet that night, his usual snark absent as he stared intently at the data on his laptop.

“Hey,” you said, breaking the silence. “You okay?”

He hesitated, his fingers pausing on the keyboard. “Just tired. And frustrated. I want this to be perfect.”

Something in his tone softened your usual defensiveness. “You know, it doesn’t have to be perfect. You’re allowed to mess up sometimes.”

He gave a faint, humorless laugh. “Not really. Not when people are counting on me.”

The vulnerability in his voice caught you off guard. For the first time, you saw past the walls he’d built around himself—the pressure he carried, the weight of expectations.

“I didn’t realize you were dealing with so much,” you said quietly.

He glanced at you, his expression unreadable. “Why would you? We’ve been too busy trying to outsmart each other.”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly. “Fair point. Maybe we should call a truce—for now.”

He smiled, just barely, and it was the first time you’d seen him let his guard down.

As the project progressed, the two of you started to find common ground. You discovered his love for science wasn’t just about theories and equations—it was about helping people.

“Why are you so passionate about this?” you asked one day as he carefully calibrated a piece of equipment.

He hesitated, then said, “Because I want to make a difference. I has a chronic illness, and I’ve spent years struggling with treatments that barely work. I want to change that for me, and for anyone else going through the same thing.”

His words hit you like a punch to the chest. You’d always thought of him as cold and detached, but now, you saw the fire that drove him.

“That’s… incredible,” you said softly.

He shrugged, his cheeks tinged with color. “It’s just what I care about. What about you? What drives you?”

You hesitated, caught off guard by the question. But as you opened up about your own dreams and ambitions, you realized something had shifted between you.

On the night before the project was due, you were sitting in his garage, putting the final touches on your presentation. It was late, and the two of you were running on caffeine and adrenaline.

“Here,” he said, handing you a mug of tea. “You’re going to burn out if you keep pushing yourself.”

“Look who’s talking,” you teased, taking the mug.

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the quiet hum of the garage filling the space.

“You’re not so bad, you know,” he said suddenly, his voice low.

You raised an eyebrow. “Is that your idea of a compliment?”

He smiled faintly, looking down at his hands. “I mean it. I’ve never met anyone who challenges me the way you do. It’s… refreshing.”

Your cheeks warmed, and you looked away, pretending to focus on the data. “Well, don’t get used to it. I’m not going easy on you just because you’re finally being nice.”

“Wouldn’t expect anything less,” he said, and there was a softness in his tone that made your heart race.

[ozzgin]

Ozzgin more than ever I really need a hacker yandere out to fight injustice done against me. Because why was my bank account hacked and someone tried it ed to steal 500$ bucks from me. Luckily I was able to lock my card and my bank is sending me a new one but I'm so so anxious at this point 😭

Yandere hacker would never let some twerps swindle me for my money like this(I'm sure they're a bunch of kids since the person tried to buy cs go ). He cares deeply for my digital footprints.

Oof, sorry it happened to you, pookie. Though I doubt a yandere would help you out of the goodness of his heart... content: gender neutral reader, obsessive behavior, manipulation, stalking

Yandere!Hacker always makes sure that your digital presence remains untouched. Through some sheer luck or unknown forces, you've never had to deal with any kind of online misfortune. You'll offer your friends a sympathetic smile whenever they bemoan the persistence of some internet pervert, but you've been spared of such predatory approaches.

You'd almost be tempted to believe that these said malicious attacks are mere myths meant to scare the unseasoned traveler. You've never been hacked, never been scammed, never had your data or photos stolen from anywhere. Maybe you're just particularly careful, you tell yourself.

In reality, you've been under the watchful gaze of your online stalker. He dutifully keeps track of every move and every click you make. If someone were to save one of your photos for later purposes, for example, he'd immediately track them down and make sure they can never access a computer again.

Yandere!Hacker doesn't protect you out of pure, selfless intentions, however. When it comes to invading your privacy, he's a meticulous sleuth constantly outdoing himself. It's just, you see, no one else should have this kind of control over you. From the moment he stumbled upon your profile, he knew you'd be his. Thus, he can't allow anyone else to interfere with his grand adoration.

Your dating apps always fail to show you any matches, your flirty messages from suitors never arrive. He'll watch through the webcam he's hacked into as you sigh, disappointed, from yet another case of being ghosted. Oh, sweet, darling (Y/N), give him a little more time.

Yandere!Hacker isn't quite satisfied with watching you from afar. While it certainly is endearing to observe you in your raw, innocent obliviousness, while he frequently touches himself to the exhilaration of voyeurism, being a passive bystander can become exceptionally boring. He often wonders if your skin is as soft as it looks, or if you smell as sweet as he likes to imagine.

"This can't be..."

Tears well in your eyes as you stare, helpless, at the notification: your bank account has been drained. Someone must've emptied it, and - as a consequence - you are now utterly penniless. Just as another sob escapes your mouth, your screen lights up with a new message. An acquaintance you don't remember too well.

"Is everything alright with you, (Y/N)? I just wanted to remind you that you can always count on me for anything. I mean it."

He leans back in his chair with a grin. Now he waits. You're desperate enough that it shouldn't require much convincing for you to move in with him. Of course you can have his spare room. No, he truly doesn't need anything in return. You're his dear friend, and he's at your service.

You can always rely on him.

[More Yandere Stories]

[bunnigumi]

can you do drabbles of best friend (fwb) gumi (*´-`) (i love ur work and aesthetic btw (´ｰ｀) )

cw. megumi x reader , friends with benefits , first time , possessiveness

an. i think i got carried away... i sooooo love this trope hehe. and thank you, nonnie! ^w^ (not carefully proofread)

Hey, 'Gumi, remember how I said you owe me one?

Fwb!Megumi isn't startled when you casually ask him if he can take your virginity.

Honestly, you were partially joking, but when he agrees with that static expression like you didn't just ask your best friend to be your first time, you're taken by surprise. You really didn't think he'd entertain your idea. Anticipating a huff, him brushing it off as a joke

You were expecting a more touch-and-go experience: He fucks you, you can claim you're no longer a virgin, and that's that. But he really takes the time to get you all worked up and desperate, telling you that your first should be your most memorable. It's just the rules.

And it was supposed to be a one time thing, you swear! But after that, nothing could get you off as good as he did.

Fwb!Megumi can't help the teasing smile on his expression when you tell him that you want to have sex again, Didn't realize we were friends with benefits now.

You can't even begin to explain how degrading it feels to go back on your own word, but you've been so pent up and had no one other than him to help... He seriously ruinied your ability to orgasm.

He teaches you the reins the second time around. How to touch him, The tip is the most sensitive. And tighten your grip, it's better. How to ride him, Fuck... yeah, that's it, letting go of your waist he leans back into the pillows, keep moving your hips like that.

It's way better than highschool sex-ed, that's for sure.

Fwb!Megumi is weirdly intimate—not that it's a bad thing. He's always had a romantic streak, even if he denies the fact.

It's in how he kisses you, not with hunger or pure lust. In the way he holds your hands and leaves marks on your neck that are hard to hide. Even if you whine about it, he'll still do it.

He has your other friends wondering who'd be giving them to you since you weren't in a relationship with anyone.

When you need a little cheering up, Fwb!Megumi starts offering a little more than just emotional support.

You're on your elbows and knees, back arched, face buried into his pillow. Avoiding his face so that he wouldn't have to see the makeup running down your own. Even though hes seen you in way worse states, somehow it's more embarrassing when he's inside you.

Your date had stood you up. Megumi knew how excited you were for it. Barging into his place, carrying tons of outfits in your arms. Showing them off. Asking him for his input, what you should wear. Which dress flaunts your body off best.

He told you that you'd look great in anything, but you urged that you should look perfect, and as your best friend, it's his obligation.

Fwb!Megumi likes to be a bit rough with you when you're sad like this. Feel-better-sex, as he jokes.

Tight enough with his grab on your hips to leave bruises, He finds that you forget about the pain better when you have a greater sensation to focus on. Dopamine's your favorite drug.

And he wont admit this either, but he's real possessive over you. As your best friend, he knows that you deserve more than the world.

Frankly, he likes the idea of keeping you all to himself; its practically why he agreed to your request in the first place.

He won't make you flip over so he can see your face while he fucks you missionary, but he really wants to see the pleasure wash over your face. To see how he can only make you feel good like this.

Pounding you from the back so hard that you forget the name of the douche who stood you up is good on it's own. Theres enough proof of his worth to you in how your cries are that of satisfaction, and not the kind caused by stupid boys who don't deserve to even look at you.

No one else should get to experience how your cunt tightens around him as your about to cum. Hear the way you moan out him name wantonly. See how you push back onto him when he tries to pull out, insisting that he stay inside you for just a little longer.

There's one more thing Fwb!Megumi won't tell you either; he really, really loves this arrangement.

[thorougly-melted-brains]

Civilian AU where Ghost and Soap end up flatmates by pure necessity. They didn’t know each other before hand. It was originally Soap’s flat, but it’s too big for his means (and too empty by his standards).

Soap works all day, photography and a few odd side gigs (video editing, graphic design, etc). Ghost works nights as a baker. Their schedules work well, and they don’t really need to see each other.

At first it stays like that, each of them getting home as the other was heading out. Ghost lives minimally but his starts to meld with Soap’s, and the kitchen and fridge stay stocked without fail. There’s two bathrooms but only one shower, so they figure out a schedule. After they’ve been living together for months, Soap gets sick. Ghost gets home and Soap's still there, asleep, having caught some bug at an event. They’d both been sick before, so Ghost figures he should be good by evening, and goes to bed. He wakes up to Soap puking his guts out and realizes he should handle it before they’re both too sick to do anything. He calls out from work.

Ghost makes him soup, airs out his room, and makes sure he’s drinking more than he’s sweating. It isn’t until Ghost rubbing his back after Soap’s thrown up again (apologizing profusely for not being able to keep the soup down) that Ghost realizes it’s the longest he’s ever spent with the other man. It’s comfortable, even though Soap looks half dead and he’s sweating through his and Ghost’s clothing.

He ends up dragging Soap to the couch, an empty pot nearby, and passes out without meaning to (it is, after all, early morning by his nocturnal schedule). Ghost wakes up to Soap’s head on his chest, drooling as he breathes through his mouth. It should disgust Ghost, but it only makes the knot in his chest tighten. He rationalizes it as some kind of pack instinct and moves on, miraculously without getting sick himself.

A few months later, Quarantine hits. Soap adapts smoothly, taking online work and covering their rent. Ghost takes it harder, his broken schedule leaving him disoriented and with too much time to think about whatever he is to Soap. He feeds their whole apartment complex with his pent up energy, spending half his day sitting in front of the oven watching the batter rise, just so he doesn't spend it in bed.

Soap, happy for the opportunity to pay Ghost back, cares for him. He’s well aware of his own feelings, but unlike Ghost, has made peace with them. He assumes Ghost's trouble is the schedule change, and maybe a dip (He’s seen Ghost’s prescriptions when cleaning). Soap’s read enough self-help to guess exercise would help, so he invites Ghost on his morning walk. It quickly turns into a morning run, and then a race through the empty streets. Lifestyle differences aside, they’re a perfect (or disastrous) match of competitiveness. As the quarantine ends, they both shift their hours to accommodate at least one shared meal.

Dating is not a new routine for them but a conglomeration of every whatever they were doing before, and a relief to their immediate friends. The paperwork comes sooner than they expect when Soap brings up his emergency contact. When Ghost becomes immediately solemn, bringing up insurance and wills, Soap wants to write it off as another macabre tick until Ghost grabs him by the shoulders to impress upon him, “You don’t know what an industrial mixer can do to someone.”

[puckinghischier]

haven’t been doing great today and could really really use some comfort for one or all of the brothers.

they’re all so good at comfort in their own ways i feel like

like luke comes to mind first for me, because he’s such a sweetheart and just screams comfort to me. and he knows exactly what kind of comfort you need when. bad day? he’s ready and waiting with a warm blanket and your favorite movie. you’re sad? he’s yapping away and tossing jokes in every few minutes to make you laugh. you don’t know why you’re feeling off? he’s making an ice cream run and pulling out the board games to occupy your mind.

jack is a little louder with his comfort. he’s so finely tuned to you that he knows when you need comfort before you even do. he can tell by the punctuation you use in a text if you’re having a bad day, or the tiniest of inflection of your voice over the phone. so he puts together a distraction before you even get home. he calls your friends, organizing a whole girls night for you to come home to. of course, his buddies are going to come over too, bc he doesn’t want to be bored while you’re having fun, so the girls night eventually becomes just a weeknight get together, but you don’t even care. you didn’t know you were even stressed until you feel the relaxing nature of the room around you. snacks on the table, everyone (yes, even the guys because you roped them into it) wearing face masks. the guys are playing whatever the latest video game is while you and your friends take turns painting each others nails. you’re sitting on the floor, your back against the couch where jack sits, caged in-between his legs, loving how he seems to calm your storms before you even know it’s raining.

quinn is also quiet with his comfort, but he’s sneakier with it than luke. quinn knows how you are, not wanting to be bothered when you’re in a bad mood, but also too stubborn to ask for it when you want to be coddled. but like jack, he’s tuned into your whole being, so he’s figured out how to work the system that is you. it’ll start with him offering to order take out when you start getting overwhelmed with the idea of cooking dinner after a particularly rough day. then the offer of him going to get it, because he needs to ‘run by the nutrition store anyways’. and while he’s out, if he just so happens to stop by your favorite bakery for a large slice your favorite chocolate cake, well that’s purely coincidental. and when he plates your food as well as his and tells you to pick a movie, well it’s because you watch more tv than him, is all. but when he starts off sitting on the opposite end of the couch from you, only to gravitate towards you as the night goes on, inching closer and closer everytime he gets up and sits back down, well…maybe that’s on purpose. but asking to share your blanket was only because he was cold, too. and tucking you into his side was just for added warmth, duh. it’s not his fault if you cuddle back into him, asking him to lay down so you can lay on his chest so you can see the tv better. but when you thank him for such a relaxing, stress free evening before dozing off on his warm body, he basks in his triumph of another successful deception.

[melodyanqel]

𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐃𝐑𝐎𝐏 ── ✦ h.ih.

a pretty little thing, who grew up extremely sheltered and has never seen the horrors in life until she gets recuited in a mysterious competition.

⤷ pairing: hwang in-ho x fem!oc

⤷ genre/tags: fluff, angst, thriller, psychological drama, established relationship, games, action, financial issues, gambling, betrayal, team bonding, family, possessive!sadistic!in-ho, sheltered!sunshine!oc

⤷ warning: mention of character's death

⤷ wc: 1.3k words

⤷ note: this first chapter is so fluffy and a bit emotional but i had fun writing it and i said to myself no prologue just go right into the story

⤷ melodyanqel taglist: @buckitostan

The café's honeyed hues bring sweetness to the day, coaxing an inner smile that warms from within.

Behind the counter, a young woman in her twenties is hard at work and her presence brightens the atmosphere like the glowing sun. Myung Yu-na is her name. She enjoys being a barista because she loves creating unique and delicious drinks. It may sound strange to many but sometimes not-so-extravagant things can be a passion. 

The happy-go-lucky Yu-na is viewed as too pure, wholesome, and, most importantly, very sheltered. Even though she still lives with her parents and they allow her to work and make some money for herself, Yu-na is too protected from the harsh realities and circumstances of the real world. Not once in her life has she seen or experienced any of it. 

Despite her lack of exposure, she is still a wonderful person. It did take a lot of courage and effort to convince her parents that she wanted to make decisions for herself until she reached adulthood. Yu-na will always love them and be grateful for everything they’ve done for her since she was born. 

“Yu-na! A customer is at the register!”

“Okay!”

She responds to her co-worker and a small grunt escapes her lips when putting the pesky lid on a mocha chocolate frappuccino. She calls out the order and the person’s name. Yu-na sees them approaching the counter. “Thank you, miss.” A sweet-looking elderly woman thanks her before taking her drink. 

Yu-na shows a kind smile. “You’re welcome. Have a great afternoon,” She said, cordially. “You too, miss.” The older woman returns the smile and leaves the place. 

Shortly after, Yu-na walks to the register to place the next order. “What can I get for you?” She asked a tall man dressed in dark clothes with a cap over his head, covering half of their face. She hears his deep, gruff voice speak. “Yu-na, how have you been?” He gives her a question. The young woman furrowed her brows with a confused look. 

Instantly, she gasps when he lifts the cap to reveal his face. Her dark brown eyes widened owlishly. “Oh my goodness! Uncle Gi-hun!” Yu-na says the man’s name in shock. A small smile plays on his wrinkled face. Hearing her angelic voice in so long makes him elated. 

Gi-hun’s niece responds, “I’m doing good. I’ll explain more when my lunch break starts in ten minutes. But I need your order.” She giggles blithely, her uncle almost forgot his coffee. Gi-hun clears his throat, “Yes. One warm Americano, please.” He said. Yu-na punches in his order on the register and gives him the price. She receives his money to pay for the drink and has him wait until it gets done. 

Within those ten minutes, Yu-na served Gi-hun’s Americano and three more customers. The uncle watches his niece do her best at being quick on her feet, kindly greeting people, and saying goodbye to them. Gi-hun was once like Yu-na before his life became what it is now. His youth was living a simple life with his mother and friends. If only he hadn’t made those mistakes and thrown his well-being away. Gi-hun’s expression downcasted. 

The winner of the game has the money he desires for a long time, but it’s meaningless to him. Gi-hun will forever feel tainted by the thought and look of the stacks of cash in his space, which is a rundown motel. 

Momentarily, his train of thought gets interrupted. “I’m ready! Where do you want to start?” Yu-na happily has her cooked ramen cup and sits across from her uncle. He shifts his sitting position to face her with his back leaning against the chair. “How is everyone? Do you hear much from your aunt?” Gi-hun hops onto the topic of family. He does miss his sister-in-law or his ex-wife’s sister. Even though Gi-hun was never on good terms with Eun-ji after Ga-yeong came into the world, he does get along with her sister Yu-bin. 

“Omma and appa are doing well. The bakery is still in business and they finally realized I should start my own life. I get that I’m a late bloomer, but I’ll keep on learning. Also, Auntie Eun-ji, I haven’t spoken to her since she left around 2021. It is much more difficult because of the time difference and adjusting to a new lifestyle.” Yu-na delivered a full response or an update about herself. She slurps on her noodles like a happy child.

Gi-hun sighed and nodded. “I see. Well, good for your parents I find it fascinating how they can keep running a business before you were born.” He chuckles dryly because he used to own businesses but failed to manage them properly. “I can understand not seeing your aunt as much. I wish to contact Ga-yeong more but I know her mother doesn’t want her to. But anyway, I’m glad you all are doing fine.” Gi-hun sips on his Americano and feels content, like a regular person. 

He has been out of touch with closure. It must be a miracle that Yu-na is unknowingly helping him. 

As they continued to talk, Gi-hun discovered new things about his niece. She has done a lot these past years; majoring in digital marketing because she gravitates towards creating her brand of art and clothes, making new friends, and going out more. Gi-hun can tell it’s a family thing to build your own business. He is even proud that she is becoming an independent woman. 

“How about you uncle? My family and I have been wondering where you’ve been. I’m also sorry for your omma.” Yu-na questions about his absence and she couldn’t help but mention his mother. It was devastating when she and her family received the news about her death because she practically raised both Yu-na and Ga-yeong. 

The older man answers the best he can to make it sound convincing. “I’ve been working overseas because I decided to wake up and find a better job. And I did. I’ve earned more than I usually get during my gambling days, which are done for. I got so busy that I couldn’t be at home as often. I then started to get homesick so I’m doing more of my duties here.” Gi-hun doesn’t want to look crazy in front of Yu-na if he talks about the game and has been searching for the so-called salesman.

As a pure and innocent girl, she takes his response as the truth. 

“I also took the time to heal when my omma passed. But thank you for your condolence.” Gi-hun truly appreciates Yu-na’s sympathy. She says to him, “Oh wow! I hope you are proud of what you are doing. I’m sure your omma is too from above.” Her beautiful face draws a reassuring smile. 

Gi-hun feels the warmth spread across his cold, dark heart. He hopes Yu-na will never forget herself. She is still young, vibrant, and has a long life ahead. 

Thirty minutes felt so short, but it was worth having a moment of peace and freedom. Before Yu-na goes back to work, she sees her uncle standing up from the chair and moves aside with open arms. She mirrors his actions and to enter a long-awaited hug. It was comforting and full of love. He needed this. 

When they pull away from the embrace, Gi-hun says one last thing before leaving the café. “Good luck with everything that you are doing. And remember this, please make good decisions because I know it’s hard being careful but I know you’re smart and can handle anything. Stay safe out there.” He doesn’t know whether this will be their first and last time together, but he believes she’ll follow his advice. 

Yu-na delivers a merry smile. “Alright, uncle. Thank you for making my day.” She expressed joy that brought fondness in Gi-hun's dark gaze. “You’re welcome. I hope to see you again.” The uncle bids his farewell to his niece who nods her head in a silent yet sincere response. 

She hopes to see him again as well. 

series masterlist | two

[akutsuir]

𖦹 Poisoning

𖦹 Synopsis: Rin sees you as his escape valve

𖦹 Character: Rin itoshi/Itoshi Rin

𖦹 Warnings: Emotional dependence, obsessive behavior, yandere tendencies

notes: this is very light, Rin just becomes dependent on your presence, I don't think there is any TW >ᴗ<

𓍼 You and Rin met after Sae left for Spain.

Your friendship started out in an unusual way, but you were happy to have made a friend like the younger Itoshi. You were both the same age and had similar tastes. Besides, you liked listening to him tell you about the news he saw about his older brother on the internet, and even though you didn't know much about football, you tried to follow everything the boy said.

He would invite you to the games he was going to compete in, and then take you out for ice cream. Together, you would watch the sunset while you listened to Rin talk about some of his frustrations regarding football. You always listened to him attentively, saying kind words to him right after, talking about how he didn't need to overwork himself like that, that he needed to take good care of himself if he wanted to become the second best striker in the world, and that you would always be by his side, cheering for him and his brother when they won the World Cup together.

You always knew what to say or what to do at the right time, it was almost like you could read his mind. You always calmed him down, taking a weight off his shoulders when he was with you.

Over time, Rin began to see you as an escape valve for the loneliness he felt since Sae left. He had no other friends, and his parents seemed to be completely absent when it came to the boy. But you, you were always there when he needed you.

Rin began to grow more and more attached to you, he didn't just take you to games, he took you to training too. He would ask you to come over to his house after you left the ice cream shop, he had bought new horror games for the two of you to play together, he was sure you would like them.

He said his class was boring, his classmates were nothing like you, he wanted you two to study together, that's why he always texted you during class.

You two were kids, there was no way you could know that such a pure friendship was slowly becoming something so... Poisonous.

When you both turned 14, you and Rin started studying in the same class.

Now, with the same classes for the day for both of you, Rin and you ended up getting even closer. For Rin, it was as if his classmates had really disappeared. You were always his partner, in any work or activity. He didn't even give you the chance to try to get closer to your new classmates, even though you told him that you wanted to make new friends.

You were always with him.

He wasn't very verbal, but his actions always made it clear that he wanted you around at all times. You were his best friend, besides your brother, no one understood him better than you. For Rin, he also understood you better than anyone. That's why he didn't mind asking if you wanted to go with him to training before dragging you there and making you wait for him in the stands until the end, or asking if you had other plans when he took you to his house and made you listen to more about his frustrations or ambitions.

For him, he was sure that your answer would always be “yes”.

That's why, when he heard your first "no", he didn't know how to react.

You had accepted your classmates' invitation to go to the park in the afternoon, so you wouldn't be able to accompany Rin after school. But that was okay! Ever since you met, you two had barely been apart, so Rin wouldn't mind if you changed your plans even once, right?

Absolutely wrong.

He didn't care if it was just an afternoon outing. That didn't make sense to him. Why were you leaving him aside to be with those lukewarm people you had just met? What did you mean by "this time you can go alone."? He didn't want to go alone.

Weren't you the one who said you'd always be by his side?

Wasn't his friendship enough for you?

In the end, you gave in. The two of you spent the day together, as always. But it was impossible to ignore that strange feeling that had settled inside you.

The days passed and Rin continued to act normally, but you were increasingly exhausted. You wanted to try to enjoy his company like before, but now it was like something draining your energy. You were the only one he felt comfortable talking to openly about what was bothering him, you were the one who showed him that he could always tell you about what was bothering him, but over time, having Rin always pour out his problems with soccer and the fear of not being able to reach the older Itoshi on top of you, always looking for your consolation, was also a situation that was starting to become exhausting.

The training sessions, the trips to the ice cream parlor, all the messages at night when you weren't together, the way he kept you away from others, the way he seemed to truly believe that every minute of your day was dedicated solely to him.

It was all exhausting.

And the worst part was that you didn't want to push your best friend away.

You knew that trying to start a conversation with Rin wouldn't lead anywhere, after all, if there was one thing you learned during those years with the boy, it was that no one could be as inflexible as he was. When you thought about cutting this relationship off at the root, all the memories you created and the time you spent together came flooding back to you. You were trapped in a maze of your own making.

So when you heard from Rin that his older brother was coming back, an immeasurable relief washed over you. With Sae back, Rin would divert his focus to him and, at least for a while, he wouldn't burden you with his presence anymore. You felt bad for being happy to know that you wouldn't be around him so much anymore. It was never your intention to get tired of someone you liked so much, after all, you knew he hadn't made that friendship exhausting on purpose.

So why?

Why was Rin calling you so late at night? Why did he want to talk to you now? Shouldn't he have gone to rest so he could meet Sae again the next day?

When you, once again, neglected your wishes and went to him that night, you heard in detail about their unfortunate reunion and felt a hole grow in your chest. In that moment, you let him hold you for as long as he needed, you listened attentively to everything he had to say. You noticed that he seemed even more apathetic and indifferent now, but at the same time, it was as if you were seeing the same scared and distressed boy you had first spoken to at the airport exit years ago, right after he saw how lonely it would be without his brother around.

With his arms wrapped around your waist and his face buried in the crook of your neck, he breathed deeply, feeling some of that nagging pain in his chest go away now that you were there with him. Even though his dreams had been cruelly crushed by the one he admired the most, Rin still didn’t feel completely alone.

Because he still had you.

You would be there when he needed you, you would be by his side, being his point of peace and comfort whenever he felt exhausted.

“Do you want me to stay here for the night?” With a worried sigh, you asked, lightly stroking the dark green strands on you.

“Yes…” Relaxing under your touch, he replied. “Don’t leave my side.”

And of course you would never leave.

tags:

[maxdibert]

Now w the Sirius date headcanon thing and so, I wonder what do you have about other characters as well. Like weighing the pros and cons of dating (or being close friends with) M era characters, like James, Sirius, Lily, Snape, Remus; actually according more canonly and not the POVs I read that might not make sense at all 😔☹️

James is the kind of guy who spends the entire first date talking about sports, specifically the sport he plays, and probably sold you the idea that he’s interesting because he’s into political causes and social inequalities. But when you check his Instagram, you realize he went on a “volunteering” trip to some remote village in a third-world country, and his biggest contribution was taking photos with the locals and handing out things like European football team caps or sunglasses. His captions are cliché lines like “they’re so happy with so little” or “despite not having enough to eat, they always have a smile on their face.” He’ll also tell you he’s a huge fan of women and considers himself a feminist, but not the “radical and victim-playing” feminism that’s around now—he supports “real feminism,” which basically doesn’t challenge his fragile masculinity.

Remus is the soft boy who gives you good vibes at first because he seems like an intelligent guy with an interest in cultural stuff and has a friendly demeanor. But after four or five dates, you realize he’s a pushover who only talks about how unlucky he is, how miserable he feels, and how hard it is for “good guys” like him to find a girlfriend because “girls only go for bad boys.” A textbook nice guy who thinks all his misfortunes are others’ fault and that he’s just unlucky but has the emotional responsibility of a brick. He’ll probably bail at the first sign of conflict and make you feel guilty when you call him out. Very prone to ghosting you at any moment.

Lily is the type of girl who plays humble but deep down thinks you hit the jackpot just because she agreed to a date. She’ll downplay herself and her obvious qualities because she constantly needs validation and for you to tell her how wonderful she is. She likes getting involved in social causes but only to post about it on Instagram so everyone thinks she’s a saint. If she can’t document the moment, she won’t lift a finger. If you don’t agree with everything she says, she’ll cause a scene at the pub and leave without paying the bill, expecting you to cover it. She pretends she’s not superficial at all, but there probably won’t be a second date unless you have a promising future—and by promising, she means not ending up broke.

Severus is the guy with literally zero self-esteem who probably won’t ask you out because it wouldn’t even cross his mind that you might like him. If you ask him out, he’ll think you’re making fun of him. You’ll have to carry the entire conversation because he won’t share anything about himself. He’ll complain about every little annoyance, like, “How can they charge seven pounds for this crap half-pint? Do I look like a millionaire or what?” He’ll switch from being a block of ice to pure hysteria in a second and has the emotional reactions of a 12-year-old. You probably won’t tolerate him unless you’re just as traumatized and used to constant fights.

Peter is basically the kind of guy you start dating, and one day you find out you’ve got 12 bodies buried in the basement because he turns out to be the serial killer the police have been hunting for years. But until then, he’s always been super nice. A calm, formal boyfriend. The neighbors will say he always greeted them politely.

I’m feeling a bit uninspired, but I have no doubts about any of these descriptions, sorry not sorry.

[adoresia]

HOME RUN : LIKE THE WIND CHAPTER FOUR ;

LIKE A GUNSHOT

hey siri, play Never Be Like You by Flume

series masterlist | more JJK

⬅️ back / next ➡️

CW // none? Lolz

WC // 0.8k

The stadium buzzed with the electrifying tension of a game nearing its end. Yuta sat at the edge of his seat, the melted remnants of his soda sat forgotten beside him. The game had been neck-and-neck, and as the final inning approached, all hope to bring this home seemed to be on you.

Down on the field, a player on the opposite team waved toward their section of the bleachers. Her grin was wide, self-assured, and a little too sharp. Yuta instinctively waved back, with a smile of course, he could recognise who it was from a mile away. What kind of friend would he be of he didn’t?

He leaned toward Toge, his brow furrowed. “Oh wait I lowkey forgot the whole reason we’re here, look” he pointed, squinting at the diamond. “She transferred just for the game? Crazy” Toge muffled while shoving a handful of popcorn into his mouth. “Yeah she told me, I thought it was insane but,” Yuta shrughed, eyes narrowing as he thought back to their conversation. “I promised I’d talk to her after the game.”

His focus was quickly pulled back to the field as she strutted confidently toward the mound, ready to field your next hit. The air grew tense, Rika on the opposite team shot you a smug look, her confidence radiating in the way she rolled her shoulders. “Don’t think you’re so special, L/n. One good hit doesn’t mean you’re the heart of the game,” she taunted, her voice dripping with arrogance.

You recognised Rika, It would be concerning if you didn’t, her ego followed her everywhere — it was so big you could see it coming before her.

You simply smiled, adjusting your stance. “I’m not like you. Rika.” you replied calmly, your tone carrying an effortless edge. “I don’t care about being better than you, I just need to win this game.”

Rika’s smirk wavered ever so slightly, and the crowd quieted in anticipation. You stepped up to the plate, your grip tightening on the bat as you glanced at the field; calculating. The pitcher wound up, their arm cutting through the air with practiced precision as the ball came hurtling toward you once again.

The moment stretched in slow motion. You tracked the ball with sharp focus, your body moving fluidly as you swung. The crack of the bat meeting the ball was sharp and pure, a perfect connection that sent the ball soaring high and fast.

Yuta’s heart skipped a beat, or maybe two as he followed the arc of the ball, which cut through the air like a bullet. It sailed over the outfielders, who could do nothing but watch as it cleared the fence entirely.

Another home run.

The crowd erupted, an unstoppable wave of cheers and applause rolling through the stadium. You sprinted around the bases, every movement precise yet effortless. The way you carried yourself confident but not arrogant, focused yet still having fun made it impossible to look away. By the time you slid into home plate, your teammates swarmed you, their cheers blending into the roar of the crowd.

Back on the field, Rika stood frozen, her fists clenched at her sides. Her expression was a mix of disbelief and frustration, her earlier confidence completely shattered. She scowled, muttering something under her breath as she walked back to her position.

“Hell yeah!” Yuji shouted, his voice barely audible over the roar of the crowd. “This is the most insane thing I’ve ever seen,” Yuta uttered without thinking, his eyes glued to you as you laughed and high-fived your teammates. “Bro’s whipped,” Toge teased, snickering. Rika’s glare burned into you from across the field, you could feel it — but you didn’t seem to notice, or maybe you just didn’t care. The poise and calm you exuded were undeniable and it only seemed to annoy her more. Yuta noticed her irritation and felt a pang of curiosity. Did she know you?

The final moments of the game were just as electrifying. With the score tied, you stepped up to bat one last time. Rika moved to field once again, her irritation now replaced by a steely determination to stop you. The ball came hurtling toward you, but this time it was faster, sharper, meant to intimidate. You didn’t flinch. Your swing was powerful, almost effortless, the crack of the bat echoing like a gunshot. The ball rocketed into the sky, higher and farther than anyone had expected. It cleared the outfield with ease, sailing over the fence and into the parking lot beyond.

Cheers and applause thundered through the stadium as you rounded the bases once more, your teammates waiting at home plate with wide grins and open arms. The energy in the stadium was electric, the kind of moment that stayed with people long after the game ended. As the game concluded, with your team taking the win, Yuta was sat frozen, both shocked and unsure on what to say or do.

The game ended with a buzz of excitement, the air electric from the win. Yuta’s eyes trailed after you as you jogged off the field, your helmet tucked under your arm, your hair slightly mussed but still managing to frame your radiant smile perfectly. “You know you might aswell say something to her now,” Yuji grinned, leaning forward. “This is like the first time i’ve ever seen her, your acting like this is love at first sight” Yuta grumbled, shifting awkwardly in his seat. “She’s just a really good player, that’s all there is to it.”

“I’ve never seen this much glaze in my life.” Toge smirked, leaning back with his arms crossed. “You’ve been burning holes into her this whole game. There’s no way she didn’t notice you dude.”“Talking about her plays like you’re on commentary duty or something. Get up off your knees.” Yuji chimmed in.

“Well I mean? did you see that double play in the sixth?” Yuta leaned forward with too much excitement, like the scenes kept replaying in his mind over and over again like an Ipod stuck on replay. “She made it look so easy…”

“Do you even know what a sixth is…?” Megumi asked. “My ears are bleeding please stop.” Toge slapped both of his palms over his ears in agony. “You need to Calm down, I don’t want to walk into your room and see pictures of her invading your walls…” Megumi sighed in agreement.

Before Yuta could respond, a familiar voice chirped behind them. “Yuta!” The group collectively froze, heads snapping around to see Rika approaching, her expression bright but her smile just a little too tight. Toge upped the strength on the hands he had covering his ears so hard he almost started bleeding.

“Hey, Rika,” Yuta greeted, his tone polite but distracted. His gaze flickered briefly toward her before returning to the field. “I saw you watching from all the way down there.” she said pointing down to the diamond, stepping uncomfortably closer to him. Her voice a touch louder than necessary. “What’d you think of the game? We didn’t win but I lowkey carried.” “Oh, yeah,” Yuta said absently, nodding. “You did okay.” “O-kay…?” Rika’s smile faltered, but Yuta didn’t seem to notice. “Yeah, but number 13 was fucking insane. Her batting, her fielding… it was crazy.”

“Her?” Rika’s voice sharpened slightly, her eyes narrowing, ultimately thinking back to number 13 on the field.. you. “Yeah, you know,” Yuji chimed in, barely hiding his smirk. “The one who pretty much carried the whole game.”

“She was unreal, as much as it’s killing me to hear Yuta going on and on about it.” Toge added, shaking his head as though in disbelief. Rika’s lips pressed into a thin line, her patience clearly wearing thin. She opened her mouth to retort, but Yuta’s attention had already drifted again. His eyes widened slightly as he spotted you a few rows away, running up to Maki and Nobara.

You were laughing, breathless from the game, and Maki grinned as she pulled you into a quick, casual hug. “Your actually insane what the fuck,” she said in absolute disbelief of your play, not for the first time either. “Litterally,” Kugisaki agreed, her eyes glinting with pride. “The way you caught that thingy in the eighth inning? I almost kissed Maki.” She made the gesture dramatically. “Why the hell would you say that. I’m never sitting next to you at a game again.”“Guysss, It was all instinct,” you joked, shrugging. “But thank you, it was all for you guys but whatever.” She smiled “Aww shucks I feel so special.” Kugisaki held onto her chest dramaticaly, wiping away fake tears.

From his seat, Yuta was completely transfixed. The warmth in your laughter, the ease in your movements — it was all so magnetic, even from a distance. Kugisaki’s gaze flickered to the stands, catching sight of Yuta and his friends. She nudged you with her elbow “Omg look, I told you I wasn’t crazy! It’s the guy who was staring before.” “Huh?” You followed her gaze, spotting him almost immediately. His awkward wave made you laugh softly. “Oh my gosh him?! I could literally feel his eyes on me the whole game.”

Maki snickered. “He looks like he’s about to pass out now that you’re looking at him.” “Well, I guess I should be nice then,” you said, flashing a bright smile in Yuta’s direction before lifting your hand in a casual wave. Yuta froze for a second too long before managing to wave back, his movements clumsy but endearing. “Yikes,” Toge muttered under his breath, watching the scene unfold. “We’ve officially lost him guys,” Yuji added, grinning.

Rika, meanwhile, had reached her limit. She cleared her throat loudly, forcing Yuta’s attention back to her. “Well, anyway,” her tone clipped, “thanks for coming to watch. I’m glad someone noticed me out there.” Without waiting for a reply, she turned on her heel and walked off.

As the group watched her go, Yuji leaned closer to Toge. “When you think your the main character but its actually me.” Toge turned to him. “Who even are you?” But Yuta barely registered the exchange. His gaze remained locked on you as you laughed with your friends, your happiness lighting up the evening like a firework. In that moment, as the crowd began to disperse and the sun dipped lower on the horizon, he realized just how much better you looked up close.

He sank back into his seat, heart racing, your smile etched into his mind. Somehow, even after everything, you’d left him even more mesmerized than before.

Hmm. Does Rika like Yuta?? Guess we’ll find out in tomorrow’s episode of hrltw 🤗🤗

One thing I will say though is that they’ve been friends since they were kids, and you’ll find out why and how that happened xxx

Also Rika used to be on their school’s baseball team but she left because she thought she was too good for it and joined another college/uni (guys idk im aware i mostly have american mutuals on here so atp its up to your interpretation where they’re at)

Rika and you are opps and have always been opps because she’s a bit odd

idk why megumi wants to be so nonchalant about knowing you

Taglist ! : @shokosbunny @fushiguruuzzzz @blu3-l0v3r @lizbix @anonnieghost @juneii3 @madison777x @jvpit3rr @cup1dsh0t @potteraep @anotherwriternamedclara @cinnamxnangel @raven-nevra @s777athv @sunnie21 @cutiestawberries @evilari111 @shitoke-mushrooms-1128 @luluminati

19/50

If your user is in bold I couldn’t tag you because of your settings!!

Sia here ! : hey guys. Lol. Im going to crash the fuck out why the FUCK IS THIS POSTED??? TUMBLR COUNT YOUR DAYS WTF. THIS WAS SCHEDULED FOR THURSDAY. DOES THIS LOOK LIKE THURSDAY TO YOU TUNBLR??? DOES IT LOOKN LIKE THURTSAY. Watch this flop. Pls reblog for me guys ❤️

[sirenontheloose]

PET-SITTING CHAOS

Chaos is just another word for adventure in disguise.

GENRE: comedy??

“Don’t forget we’re pet-sitting for Mrs. Han tomorrow!” Yoonchae shouted across the street with a burst of enthusiasm. The two girls had decided they needed an easy summer job, and Mrs. Han, the strict but sweet old lady in their neighborhood, had offered what seemed like the perfect gig.

“Got it! I’ll meet you at your place at 8 a.m. sharp!” Y/N shouted back, equally excited. The whole neighborhood knew they were looking forward to spending a day playing with Mrs. Han’s adorable pets, or at least that’s what they assumed.

The next morning, as they walked to Mrs. Han’s house, they chatted excitedly about their plans for senior year. The five-minute walk flew by, and soon, Yoonchae was knocking on Mrs. Han’s front door. Mrs. Han greeted them with her usual warm smile, though there was a slight edge of desperation in her voice. “Oh, girls! Thank you so much for doing this. I wouldn’t know what to do if no one could take care of my babies.”

“All good, Mrs. Han! We’ll make sure everything’s fine until you’re back at 5,” Y/N assured her confidently.

Mrs. Han, looking both grateful and slightly rushed, then informed the two girls, “They’re upstairs, second floor, first door on the left. Good luck!” With that, she hurried to her car and drove off before they could ask any questions.

“‘Good luck’? What does that mean?” Y/N muttered as they climbed the stairs.

“Probably just her being nice,” Yoonchae replied. “How hard could this be? Feed a couple of cats, maybe walk a dog. Easy peasy.”

When they reached the door, Yoonchae swung it open with a grin, expecting to see a couple of fluffy puppies or sleepy kittens. Instead, the first thing they heard was a loud, “Bitch!”. Before they could process it, a monkey leapt from the dresser and landed squarely on Y/N’s face. Y/N screamed, stumbling backward as the monkey clung to her head like a furry hat.

“Get it off! Get it off!” Y/N yelled, flailing her arms.

Yoonchae, half-panicked and half-laughing, grabbed the monkey and pried it off her friend. She quickly shoved it back into the room and slammed the door shut.

“What was THAT?” Yoonchae gasped, leaning against the door like it might burst open again.

Y/N, still recovering from the ambush, wiped her face. “I think… I think it was a monkey. Why does Mrs. Han have a monkey?”

“More like why didn’t we ask what kind of pets she had?” Yoonchae groaned. “We just assumed it’d be normal pets, like dogs, cats, maybe a goldfish. Not… this.”

As they stood there trying to catch their breath, a loud squawk came from behind the door. “Idiots! Idiots!”

Yoonchae froze. “Please tell me that wasn’t what I think it was.”

The door creaked open a crack, and a colorful parrot peeked out, glaring at them with what could only be described as judgmental eyes. “Bitch!” it repeated, then cackled like a cartoon villain.

Y/N and Yoonchae exchanged a look of pure disbelief.

“Okay,” Y/N said, taking a deep breath. “We’ve got this. It’s just a monkey and a cursing parrot. How bad could it be?”

The door rattled ominously as the monkey tried to open it from the other side. Yoonchae gave her a deadpan look. “Do you really want the answer to that question?” Y/N let out a big sigh and said, “Look, we just need to keep them alive until 5. We can do this.” She wasn’t sure if she was convincing Yoonchae or herself. “You better hope we stay alive until 5,” Yoonchae muttered, getting ready to open the door again.

As soon as the door opened, the parrot shot out like a rocket, yelling, “Losers! Stupid!” It sounded like it was laughing at them.

“Come back here!” Yoonchae shouted, running after the bird. “Why does it sound so proud of itself?” Y/N groaned, chasing after it too.

While the girls ran after the parrot, the monkey saw its chance. It climbed out of the room, sneaked into the kitchen, and opened the fridge. Moments later, it was holding a bunch of bananas and throwing yogurt containers everywhere.

“Is it throwing yogurt?” Yoonchae asked, staring in disbelief.

“Forget the parrot! We’ve got a monkey making a mess in the kitchen!” Y/N yelled, ducking as a yogurt container flew past her and splattered on the wall. The parrot landed on top of the curtain rod, watching the chaos below. “Idiots! Losers!” it shouted again, laughing loudly.

“This isn’t pet-sitting,” Yoonchae said, crouching behind the couch to avoid flying food. “This is a survival show!”

The monkey peeled a banana, took a bite, and then threw the rest at Y/N, who wiped banana mush off her shirt.

“Alright, you little troublemakers,” she said, glaring at the monkey and the parrot. “Game on.” But the monkey and the parrot weren’t done yet. They were just getting started.

After surviving the wildest food fight of their lives against animals, no less, Y/N and Yoonchae finally managed to corner the parrot. “Gotcha!” Yoonchae said triumphantly as she slammed the cage door shut.

The parrot glared at her, puffed up its feathers, and muttered, “Idiots…” before turning its back on them.

“Yeah, yeah, we’re the idiots,” Yoonchae muttered, wiping yogurt off her arm.

Meanwhile, the monkey had retreated to the top of the fridge, happily munching on its last banana.

“Alright, your turn, buddy,” Y/N said, hands on her hips.

The monkey looked at her, then at the empty banana peel in its hand, and threw it at her face.

“That’s it!” Y/N shouted, grabbing a towel quickly. “You’re getting a bath whether you like it or not!”

It took another ten minutes of chasing the monkey through the house, including a brief moment where it tried to hide in Mrs. Han’s flower vase, before they finally managed to scoop it up.

“Why is it so sticky?” Yoonchae asked as they carried the squirming monkey into the bathroom.

“I don’t know, but it’s about to be squeaky clean,” Y/N replied, turning on the shower.

The monkey, realizing what was about to happen, let out a dramatic screech and clung to Yoonchae’s shirt. “Oh no, you don’t!” Yoonchae said, prying it off and plopping it into the tub. Water splashed everywhere as the monkey flailed, but eventually, it gave up and sat there sulking while Y/N scrubbed it with shampoo.

“See? This isn’t so bad,” Y/N said, rinsing the suds off.

The monkey gave her a look that clearly said, I will remember this.

By the time they were done, the bathroom looked like a hurricane had passed through, but the monkey was finally clean and wrapped in a fluffy towel. Yoonchae collapsed onto the couch, exhausted. “We should’ve just taken a babysitting job.” Y/N flopped down next to her, still holding the damp towel. “Next time, let’s ask what kind of ‘pets’ we’re dealing with first.”

From its cage, the parrot squawked, “Try harder! Pathetic!” one last time, as if to agree.

The girls groaned in unison.

THE END

[livmightlive]

Dawn Headcanon

Probably my biggest headcanon for LU, and honestly the Zelda games in general, is that Dawn was quite a bit older than Hyrule when he rescued her in Zelda 1.

I think while he was, I’m pretty sure canonically(?), around 10 or 11 she was more so like 17 or 18. I have no canon backing for this or any context at all besides that fact I like it for the following:

It’s no secret that fans of Hyrule and the first two Zelda games in the series have to do a lot of their own world building based off the lack of actual details the games give us. This paints a very lonely picture of Hyrule (in my modest opinion). He has no family members and not really any established friends in the series. Of course it’s implied that the Zelda’s probably think highly of him and he does have a few character interactions but the rest is purely left the speculation.

I like the idea of Dawn being quite a bit older than Hyrule because I like thinking that she brought him up as an elder sister to him, leaving him with a family member to return to. I also like the drama that would occur from her being older.

imagine: You are 18 and have been kidnapped by an ancient evil that not even you, the princess bestowed with power from the goddess herself can defeat. (I like to think that Dawn is brawny and tough. She is a princess yes, but she is the princess of a wasteland. She is a survivor with the rest of them.) You’re furious that this creature is razing your land to even more pieces and you are also disappointed in yourself. You have high expectations for yourself being one of the only figures of authority left in this place. You don’t expect to be rescued, it’s a dog eat dog world out here, but you are. And your brave rescuer is 10 years old 😭

I like to think that she’d be horrified that the only person in this world to try and save their princess is a literal child. So she takes him under her wing and finds that he is quite literally half feral. Like he growls at strangers and doesn’t know basic hygiene. So she takes it upon herself to teach this kid how to live as a proper person 😭

she feels kind of awful, like she’s stripping away his core as she civilizes this child, but she firmly believes it’s for his own good. If he doesn’t know how to clean himself he will fall to infection, even as he bites and screeches as Dawn painstakingly brushes and cuts the mats out of his hair. He hates learning math and reading, it caused him a frustration that not even fighting darknuts had caused him, but without it he can’t read road signs or spell books. Through blood, sweat, and tears Dawn manages to mold Hyrule into a person.

it’s not all bad though, she teaches him to forage for medicinal herbs and he takes to it like breathing. He starts smiling at her and rarely, in a hushed croaky voice, he shares conversations with her.

Dawn is the first to fight her own council when they want to cast out her little hero as his blood begins to drawn in beasts. She’s the first to cry when they don’t give her a choice and her little brother is cast from underneath her arms back into the wastes. he visits occasionally and sometimes she receives a letter, but there isn’t a day that passes that Dawn doesn’t miss those days he spent under her care.

I just really see Hyrule as the type of boy to have a big sister. She forcefully loved him and he learned to be loved.

(I think later on Aurora would be like a little sister to Hyrule giving him a little taste of what Dawn had to put up with him but that’s a different conversation)

I find Dawn really interesting and I feel like I don’t see much of her at all in the fandom. I think there’s a lot of potential in the princess of a wasteland kingdom (as so many people chose to see Rulie’s era). In general, I wish I could see more of the Zeldas.

if you have thoughts on any of the Zeldas pls lmk!! I love nothing more than hashing out different thoughts and headcanons

[giantkillerjack]

Today my therapist introduced me to a concept surrounding disability that she called "hLep".

[plain-text version of this post can be found under the cut]

Which is when you - in this case, you are a disabled person - ask someone for help ("I can't drink almond milk so can you get me some whole milk?", or "Please call Donna and ask her to pick up the car for me."), and they say yes, and then they do something that is not what you asked for but is what they think you should have asked for ("I know you said you wanted whole, but I got you skim milk because it's better for you!", "I didn't want to ruin Donna's day by asking her that, so I spent your money on an expensive towing service!") And then if you get annoyed at them for ignoring what you actually asked for - and often it has already happened repeatedly - they get angry because they "were just helping you! You should be grateful!!"

And my therapist pointed out that this is not "help", it's "hLep".

Sure, it looks like help; it kind of sounds like help too; and if it was adjusted just a little bit, it could be help. But it's not help. It's hLep.

At its best, it is patronizing and makes a person feel unvalued and un-listened-to. Always, it reinforces the false idea that disabled people can't be trusted with our own care. And at its worst, it results in disabled people losing our freedom and control over our lives, and also being unable to actually access what we need to survive.

So please, when a disabled person asks you for help on something, don't be a hLeper, be a helper! In other words: they know better than you what they need, and the best way you can honor the trust they've put in you is to believe that!

Also, I want to be very clear that the "getting angry at a disabled person's attempts to point out harmful behavior" part of this makes the whole thing WAY worse. Like it'd be one thing if my roommate bought me some passive-aggressive skim milk, but then they heard what I had to say, and they apologized and did better in the future - our relationship could bounce back from that. But it is very much another thing to have a crying shouting match with someone who is furious at you for saying something they did was ableist. Like, Christ, Jessica, remind me to never ask for your support ever again! You make me feel like if I asked you to call 911, you'd order a pizza because you know I'll feel better once I eat something!!

Edit: crediting my therapist by name with her permission - this term was coined by Nahime Aguirre Mtanous!

Edit again: I made an optional follow-up to this post after seeing the responses. Might help somebody. CW for me frankly talking about how dangerous hLep really is.

Plain-text version:

Today my therapist introduced me to a concept surrounding disability that she called "hLep".

Which is when you - in this case, you are a disabled person - ask someone for help ("I can't drink almond milk so can you get me some whole milk?", or "Please call Donna and ask her to pick up the car for me."), and they say yes, and then they do something that is not what you asked for but is what they think you should have asked for ("I know you said you wanted whole, but I got you skim milk because it's better for you!", "I didn't want to ruin Donna's day by asking her that, so I spent your money on an expensive towing service!") And then if you get annoyed at them for ignoring what you actually asked for - and often it has already happened repeatedly - they get angry because they "were just helping you! You should be grateful!!"

And my therapist pointed out that this is not "help", it's "hLep".

Sure, it looks like help; it kind of sounds like help too; and if it was adjusted just a little bit, it could be help. But it's not help. It's hLep.

At its best, it is patronizing and makes a person feel unvalued and un-listened-to. Always, it reinforces the false idea that disabled people can't be trusted with our own care. And at its worst, it results in disabled people losing our freedom and control over our lives, and also being unable to actually access what we need to survive.

So please, when a disabled person asks you for help on something, don't be a hLeper, be a helper! In other words: they know better than you what they need, and the best way you can honor the trust they've put in you is to believe that!

P.S. Also, I want to be very clear that the "getting angry at a disabled person's attempts to point out harmful behavior" part of this makes the whole thing WAY worse. Like it'd be one thing if my roommate bought me some passive-aggressive skim milk, but then they heard what I had to say, and they apologized and did better in the future - our relationship could bounce back from that. But it is very much another thing to have a crying shouting match with someone who is furious at you for saying something they did was ableist. Like, Christ, Jessica, remind me to never ask for your support ever again! You make me feel like if I asked you to call 911, you'd order a pizza because you know I'll feel better once I eat something!!

Edit: crediting my therapist by name with her permission - this term was coined by Nahime Aguirre Mtanous!

Edit again: I made an optional follow-up to this post after seeing the responses. Might help somebody. CW for me frankly talking about how dangerous hLep really is.

[my-thoughts-and-junk]

unrequited love in the "i don't want to fuck up our friendship" sense can actually be really sad if you do it right

[hylianane]

hey OPLA if you want to pick another random supporting woman to give sudden romantic tension with Nami, like you did with Kaya, I’m just saying that Tashigi is right there. and that it would mean a lot to my heart

[zones-spinterest-corner]

*takes the talking stick*

Alright so um

Misc stuff lmao

Aside from the overarching threat of Dub and Cubic (and mid s3 onwards, Barracuda), each area has a main antagonist related to the respective caretaker of the area’s tree that repeatedly pops up and torments said caretaker, those being:

PolyLands: Cintagram (his relation to Pentellow isn’t revealed immediately, and he refuses to stay purified and seems to have it out for Iris, which is later revealed to be due to Iris’ dad basically forcing Cintagon to give up Pentellow to the SphereLands so she could be set up with Iris) (they fall in love before the arranged relationship could happen though lmao)

SphereLands: Circubit (gayass is undead and very pissed at a certain grape man, hopefully I don’t need to explain his relation to Iris or his motivations hsdhjdjdj)

PrismLands: Ajaceare (met as early as s1 but isn’t a major threat until s3, I’m thinking she was maybe friends with Barracuda once upon a time and knew how shitty of a parent Pyrare was to him so she kinda has it out for him, she also has it out for her sisters due to them being basically the sibling equivalent of helicopter parents)

The CubeLands technically has three, though one is a red herring and is actually on the heroes’ side:

Zone is the red herring, he’s corrupted and seemingly aggressive towards the group, but it turns out he’s trying to get them away from someone they perceive as an ally who doesn’t have their best interests in mind

Karat is Zone’s (very abusive) mother who puts on a kind and generous facade, when in reality she’s trying to worm her way into the caretakers’ good books so she can expand her business to the rest of Paradise, she also ends up driving a rift within the group due to sowing doubt about Cyanide and Circusic’s intentions (as they’ve joined the group by this point)

Lycanthropy is the one with actual relation to Cube, he’s basically a persistent annoyance fuelled by jealousy of Cube gaining a high status while he’s left just in the background

As for recurring allies that help the main group within their respective seasons:

S1: Circumsphere (he misses his boyfriend and has no idea why he’s so fucking mad at the grape)

S2: Big Giant Circles (they’re old friends of Iris’ (except for Spheer, who only has very vague memories of him) and just wanna help him)

S3: Antimonos (old friend of Pyrare’s who is looking for his adoptive son who got kidnapped by the corrupts)

S4: Decep (said son who got kidnapped by the corrupts, was also horrifically experimented on to create an artificial reaper as Calcifer wouldn’t do Dub’s bidding and he wasn’t giving up on the Barracuda revival plot LMAO), Zone (mid s4 after he confronts Karat onwards)

Cube isn’t the only caretaker to get corrupted during the series, as Iris gets his ass kicked by Circusic’s grieving and corrupted mother and ends up getting corrupted himself (and turns into the biggest bastard in existence, aka Ecllipse)

Cyanide never purifies because fuck you, she gains the caretaker/hero connection with Circusic at the end of s2 when she defends him from Ecllipse and becomes functionally pure, the two join the gang (rather reluctantly on Cusic’s end) from the beginning of s3 onwards

Cyanide is also able to parade as a corrupt due to still being pink, meaning she’s able to gather intel into Dub’s plans

Thinking maybe Circusic and Circubit have a sort of symbiotic relationship or something, where they’re both present as Cusic is half corrupted (the corruption’s keeping him alive so he can’t be fully pure) and if need be Bit can take over and deal with things (so like. System coded basically /silly)

Cyan’s joy and whimsy continually diminishes throughout the series which ultimately leads to his demise in the final battle against Dub, luckily Tree Piece Ex Machina exists and he gets revived and kickstarts the TIO sequence (the other heroes TIO as well thanks to them all being connected in a way)

Oh yeah and Dub straight up dies after TIO, both due to stabbing himself with a tree piece and also because he’s been corrupted for so long that he just. Cannot survive pure whatsoever (the only two people who aren’t perfectly okay with his death are Barracuda and Pyrare lmao, everyone else celebrates)

Idrk what else LMAOOO

lowkey tpcblr should hae a showcase or somehting featuring various tpc rewrites by the community

idk just a thought

[gloriousmonsters]

read camp dama.scus. enjoyed some stuff, really wish i didn't have the experience so often reading a book that's Good and Progressive and about Queer Affirmation etc of feeling like i'm side-eying the author like 'and you know that delineating the people that oppose you as pure evil that therefore deserves torture or death or being eliminated from society entirely is bad, right? you know that, right??'