#one thing that did surprise me is just how much optional content I've never seen before there is

[arolesbianism]

In other news Odile crashed my game during her friend quest. Smiles in pain.

[freesia-writes]

if it's not too much trouble could I request gn reader x crosshair with number 16 🫣 and preferably cross saying the "line"

thanks so much and congrats on 500 followers 😊💕

Never too much trouble. <3 Hope I did it justice!

Crosshair: #16 - "I've seen the way you look at me, when you think I'm not looking. You don't think I've noticed…"

Word Count: 2.7k Content: Kissin, Harder Kissin, and general Crosshair a**holery.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

The door to the shop swung open with a dainty tinkle from the bell, and you looked up from your book behind the counter to see who it was. Him again. That lanky newcomer who had originally visited a few weeks ago with a similarly tall, skinny man he’d introduced as his brother. They were both equipped with a curious array of armor, splashed with red accents across the gray, and were quite unique-looking, catching your interest immediately. The first had approached the counter with a squint of scrutiny at the menu, scanning the lists of loose-leaf teas you offered, and the second had simply lurked behind, lazily rolling a toothpick from one side of his mouth to the other. 

“For increased muscular vascularity and general circulation, which of the following options would you surmise is the most concentrated and potent? The cinnamon green tea or the hawthorne root tea?” the bespectacled one inquired, looking up to you and continuing quickly as though his question needed to be justified, “I understand they are both useful for that purpose, but am curious if you’re aware of the concentration levels of your particular strains.”

He was regarding you so earnestly that you couldn’t tell whether to be pissed off or amused, but the eyeroll from his companion behind him pushed you more toward amusement. You made a thinking face, twisting your lips to one side and furrowing your brow, and considered the question. To be completely honest, you didn’t have a damn clue, but didn’t want to appear completely inept. Fortunately, your pondering was interrupted by the impatient lurker.

“We’ll just take four of whichever one tastes the least disgusting,” he hissed, and his smooth, silken voice gave you a surprising case of tingles down your spine. You couldn’t help but laugh at his approach to the matter, and he raised an eyebrow at your levity in response to his seemingly intimidating demeanor. 

“Definitely the cinnamon green tea,” you affirmed, turning to begin preparing them at his brother’s shrug and nod. “The hawthorne root is… an acquired taste… Although you might like it.” You directed the last little jab at the brooding one in the back, suddenly emboldened for some reason. He had some kind of magnetism about him, and you were always up for some playful verbal sparring. 

“An astute assessment,” the first one chimed in. “Crosshair is particularly fond of things that most others dislike,” he said factually, earning yet another eye roll as his brother turned to wait in a nearby booth, completely ignoring both of you. “I am Tech,” the first one offered, moving the conversation along. “How much will it be?” 

You finished your transaction, passed the steaming hot cups to them in a carrier that neatly held all four together, and wished them a good day, watching them disappear out the door, thoughts lingering on Grumpy Toothpick man. His silvery gray hair had made him look older than the other, but his sharp face and brown eyes were not aged at all. You found yourself ruminating with an unnatural amount of curiosity over the next few days, replaying the interaction in your head and trying to nail down what it was that you found so fascinating about him. 

They had made a habit of coming in after that, about every few days, sometimes longer. They tried different teas, and Crosshair was occasionally accompanied by different members of the squad. You enjoyed meeting Hunter and Wrecker and smugly noted that Crosshair had been part of the group for every visit. You tried to make small talk, but Wrecker was the only one who seemed to enjoy it, while the rest were not even remotely interested but would put up with it for the sake of civility. Crosshair, however, had developed a little competition with you, where the two of you would exchange little jabs and playful snarky comments each time. 

It felt ridiculous, but you felt a growing suspicion that there was a lot more to him than what you were seeing on the surface, and there was an inescapable desire to find out what it was. During one of their visits, while Wrecker bullied a scowling Crosshair in the corner, Tech dropped a data card on the counter, pushing it toward you with a proud look on his face.

“Here is a detailed comparison of the types of teas from across the galaxy, with insightful information about a variety of their uses and applications, as drinks and many other options,” he prattled, tapping it with his finger as he spoke.

“Aw, Tech, thank you! That sounds fantastic,” you answered sincerely, feeling warmed that he had gone out of his way. "That was kind of you to think of me."

“It was Crosshair, actually,” Tech said abruptly, “Although, on second thought, perhaps he didn’t want me to say anything since he made me bring it up here. Disregard that, please.”

You chuckled at the way he treated you like a computer that could be given such straightforward tasks, and also felt a little flutter in your chest at an overt sign of kindness from the aloof sniper. You glanced over at him in the corner, where he was digging an elbow into Wrecker’s side as he held him in a headlock, rustling his gray hair with an oversized hand, and smiled fondly. Once the drinks were made and handed out, the three of them headed for the door, and you decided to go for it.

“Hey, Crosshair, could I have a word real quick?” you said, voice cracking even though you were trying to sound confident. 

Without answering, he hung back while the others continued out to the street, slowly turning to face you and leaning against the door frame. They always seemed to visit during the quietest hours, and you were grateful for the lack of an audience as you approached, suddenly becoming aware of his height and how it made his presence a little more intimidating the closer you came. 

“Problem?” he crooned, and the reaction within you felt disproportionate. What the kriff was so alluring about him anyway?

“No. I just wanted to thank you for the tea data. That was sweet,” you trying to keep your tone light and easy-going.

“Mm,” he rumbled, shifting uncomfortably on his feet, “Tech found it.” 

“Ah,” you said, heart sinking a little at his diversion. “Well, I appreciate it.”

He nodded, sidling out the door without another word.

The next couple of visits had you noticing that Crosshair was notably absent from the group, and you were kicking yourself for scaring him off. But there was also a sense of indignation. He was the only one able to share anything beyond hello and goodbye? You couldn’t quite pin him down but decided to let it go. You didn’t have time for games. Perhaps you'd have engaged in it when you were younger, but now you were more confident in what you wanted and what you were willing to do. Let him reach out if he wanted any sense of connection. 

Their visits begin to shift, and the squad would sometimes enjoy their drinks in a corner booth, working on various armor repairs, datapad inquiries, or weapon inspections. You snuck glances as often as you could, marveling at his intimidating rifle as well as the adeptness with which he handled it. You’d always been a sucker for the type that needed to be drawn out of their shell, and you found your mind wandering toward him more often. You did your best to keep your eyes on your book where you sat behind the counter during the quiet hours while they tinkered, chatted, and enjoyed their drinks, but you also did take every opportunity to try to engage him in conversation above and beyond the witty jabs. It felt like he was toying with you, seeming to be more friendly and connective one visit, then being equally aloof and reserved the next. The tension was mesmerizing, and while your friends told you that you were an idiot for entertaining any of it, it was an enticing little perk in your otherwise quiet life.

Until it wasn’t. One day, when you felt as though you were drowning in a cascade of bad news that you had received all at once, from your landlord changing your contract to a hugely painful family divide, Crosshair walked in by himself. It was almost closing time, and the exhaustion of holding up a cheerful façade all day to your customers was wearing you down to the last nerve.

“What’ll it be today?” you asked flatly, as he approached the counter.

“That’s not very good customer service,” Crosshair needled, arching a sharp eyebrow at you. Even his silken purr wasn’t enough to pull you out of your funk, and you slumped onto one hip, eyeing him with thinly veiled frustration.

“I’m not in the mood for it tonight, Crosshair,” you snapped, and both his eyebrows joined together high on his forehead. “What’ll it be?” He squinted and scowled, repeating the usual order and pushing a few credits across the counter. As you picked them up, tapping on the register, you kept your eyes down, unwilling to engage. “Sorry,” you mumbled finally, the anger slowly ebbing away as he quietly waited without pressing. “It’s been the worst day in a long time.”

“Hmm,” he answered, in as much of a sympathetic tone as you believed you’d ever get from him, and you turned to make the drinks. The silence between the two of you was palpable, and where most people would busy themselves with a datapad, or look around, or chat with a friend while they waited for their orders, he stood still, quiet, observing. It was unnerving, and you felt a mess of emotions, simultaneously wanting to punch him and rip his shirt off. You made a mental note to go to bed early, or perhaps to go to a club and forget it all so you could return to your usual clear head. 

“Here you go,” you grumbled, pushing the four-cup carrier toward him across the counter. He watched it come his way, then slowly lifted his gaze to your face. You could feel it, and couldn’t resist meeting his eyes, your heart skipping a beat at the smoldering intensity in their amber depths. He slowly moved forward, wrapping his long fingers around the edges of the carrier, and you noticed out of the blue that his mouth was missing its usual toothpick. Why you were looking at his mouth, you didn’t know, but you noticed the slight curve of his thin bottom lip, the gentle peaks of his upper... You snapped out of it, turning to pick up a rag at the far end of the counter and venture out to wipe off some tables. 

He smirked at your retreating back, picking up the order and heading for the door. But as he reached it, he set his cups on the table to the side, slowly turning around to meet you where you were furiously scrubbing a sticky spot on the corner booth, taking out all your pent-up frustration via a microfiber towel on its surface. You didn’t even hear him approach, whether it was because he was silent as a cat or you were thoroughly engrossed in cursing various elements of your life, but when his hand suddenly covered yours, stopping your frantic wiping, you startled in surprise, jerking your head up with a slightly embarrassing yelp. 

“Geez, Crosshair,” you breathed, not knowing that the way you exhaled his name sent a flush of warmth through his body. “What are you doing?” Truth be told, he didn’t really know, but the simmering interest and desire had been growing within him as well, and your vulnerable state had sparked an oddly protective sense in him. Not that he would ever admit it.

"I've seen the way you look at me, when you think I'm not looking. You don't think I've noticed…" he said, voice barely above a whisper, just enough to have that rich timbre that lingered in your ears. An exhilarating chill went through your body, and you noticed he still hadn’t removed his hand from yours. You stared into his face, incomprehensibly severe yet somehow soft, and felt your stomach flip as he tilted his head, regarding you with a gentleness you’d never seen before. “I thought perhaps I could lift your spirits a little,” he purred, and you swallowed. Hard. It was a whirlwind of responses running through your head, from a flushed yearning to an indignant rage. He lowered his head slightly, still gazing at you from beneath his distinctive eyebrows, and you went with the latter. 

“What the kriff?!” you began, and he flinched but didn’t recoil. You jerked your hand out from under his, jabbing a finger into his chest as you continued, “You think you can just be hot and then cold, friendly and then distant, and just swoop in thinking you’re hot sh*t all of a sudden?” You took a deep breath, readying another barrage, but he lifted a single, slender finger to your lips, somehow taking all the wind out of your sails. 

“Would you like me to leave?” he whispered, and your resolve melted away at the reaction you got from the mere touch of his hand. You shook your head minutely, unable to take your eyes from his, and he instead brushed the backs of his fingertips across your cheek. In all the times you’d imagined what he would be like in a romantic sense (which was never, thankyouverymuch), you’d always taken him for the rough, cold sort -- very different from the warmth and precision with which he was caressing your face. Your hand tightened around the rag as he leaned closer, one millimeter at a time, and breathed his response: “Good.” 

Whether it was the culmination of the emotional roller coaster of the day, or the angsty yearning you’d been harboring toward him, or the insanely sensual way he was able to purr a single word and send a hot flash of desire through your very core, it sent you over the edge. You closed the distance between your faces in a second, pressing your lips to his with all the urgency and need that was spilling over. His arms were around you immediately, a tiny, smug chuckle rumbling in his chest as he kissed you, gently at first, then with a slight edge as he nipped your bottom lip. Your hands pressed into his back, fingers tightening with passion. 

It felt like a second and an eternity when you separated, taking a deep breath, and you pushed some hair out of your flustered face with a shaky hand. You were flushed across both cheeks, eyes wide with surprise and delight, and stood in stark contrast to the icy cool composure that enrobed him. That incensed you a bit, so you gave him a playful smack on the shoulder, earning a squint in return. 

“You don’t get to be totally chill all the time,” you quipped, and his snarky retort was lost in oblivion as he kissed you again. He stepped closer, pressing his body against yours, making your knees feel wobbly. Your hand roved up his neck, fingers weaving through his silver hair, and nestled against the back of his head. He deepened the kiss, flicking then sliding his tongue against yours in a way that sent sparks through your head as your mouths met again and again. You clenched his hair in a gentle fist, eliciting a growl of desire from Crosshair, and you knew you were hopelessly lost. 

When you parted minutes later, slightly sweaty and in complete disarray, he released you slowly, his hand lingering on your waist as you leaned against the tall booth backrest behind you. The rest was a blur -- cheesy comments about what had happened, sarcastic retorts, and beneath it all, a new sense of vulnerability, connection, and authenticity. Crosshair took his room-temperature drinks out the door, back to his smooth-moving self, and you stared after him, still in a daze. His foot jammed in the door just as it was about to close, and he leaned back in. 

“By the way,” he tossed, “I don’t even like tea.”

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FULL DISCLOSURE -- the setting/meeting of this Crosshair/reader was inspired by this fic by MelMorganne99 on Ao3. I tweaked it to be a tea shop, and it’s not an AU, but still felt as though credit was due. If you’re looking for a long, engaging, fun, amazing AU slow burn with Crosshair and an OC, give it a read!

Roasted, Brewed & Served with Attitude - MelMorganne99 - Star Wars: The Bad Batch (Cartoon) [Archive of Our Own]

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[satorusnovia]

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐥

Chapter 3: Hello Kitty Face Masks

❦Pairing: Satoru Gojo x (f) Reader

❦Genre: Modern AU, romance, angst, forbidden love

❦Status: Ongoing

❦Summary: Your first touch, first love, first everything is stuck with no other option than to leave you to go to a whole new country across the world. 7 years flash by within the blink of an eye when you reunite with your past lover, but he's too late. You've already promised your love and detion to another even though that marriage is corrupting right before your eyes. But, of course that isn't enough to stop your pretentious past lover from stirring up old chemistry the two of you once shared. Only rule? Keep it confidential.

❦Warnings: NSFW content, emotional/physiological, manipulation/abuse, unhealthy relationships, mental health issues, heavy drinking, smoking, and graphic violence.

❦A/N: Hi, my name is Victoria. This is my fanfic and I hope you guys enjoy it! Please let me know your thoughts and opinions! ૮₍ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ₎ა

༊࿐ ͎. ｡˚ ° ⊹ ˚. ͎. ｡˚ ° ⊹ ˚. ͎. ｡˚ ° ⊹ ˚. ͎. ｡˚ ° ⊹ ˚. ͎. ｡˚ ° ⊹ ˚. ͎. ｡˚ ° ⊹ ˚.

When you two arrived at the wedding, you realized it was at a huge church that was decorated with diamond chandeliers, roses, and white marble floors.

You and Satoru were running a bit late and noticed everyone had already taken their seats. Thankfully, you found enough space for you and Satoru to sit in the middle row.

You wrap your arm around him. "Follow my lead."

And so he does.

As you're walking to your spot, you decide to also look around to see who's here. All you see are distant family members and a couple of people you don't recognize. Your eyes land on your ex-best friend or at least you thought she used to be your best friend.

When you two were very young her parents grew very close to yours. She always thought she was better than you and never wanted to play with you and when she did she would manipulate you into being her little slave and into giving her your toys. You obeyed her without a fight because all you ever wanted was to play with her, but once you developed a mind of your own, you realized what she was doing and told her off and distanced yourself.

That same girl was glaring at you with so much evil tucked inside her soul. Her eyes land on Satoru and you knew she was jealous.

You will admit she's beautiful, but her soul is one of the ugliest— if not thee ugliest thing you've ever seen.

Your arm squeezes tighter around Satoru, unconsciously being protective of him. He noticed and looks at you, then the direction you're looking. His eyes land on the girl and he sort of realizes what's going on, but he's still a bit confused, but reassures you nonetheless.

"Y/n." Satoru whispers, making you look up at him. "It's okay."

The fact that he reassured you without even fully understanding what was going on made you fuzzy inside.

Your strength around his arm eases and a smile graces your lips. "I know."

When you’re about to sit down, you realize you’re about to sit right next to your grandparents.

"Y/n, you made it." Your grandmother smiles.

"Of course I did." You smile and hug her. "How are you?"

Before she can respond, your grandfather peers behind your grandmother. "Y/n! How've you been?"

"I've been great ojichan, how about you?" Your smile is radiant as you greet your grandparents. They were always so kind and full of life.

"Who's that handsome young man next to you?" Your grandmother interrupts your grandfather before he can respond.

They also have a huge habit of interrupting one another, yet don't get mad at each other for it. I guess they just love one another all that much.

They were high school sweethearts and you're so surprised they made it this far with each other. You knew they'd still be together even if death tried to get in the way because their souls would meet in the afterlife. You're sure of it and you can't help but crave such love.

Sometimes you wonder how your father became so closed off with such loving parents like his. You'd at least expect him to be loving towards you, but you're in disbelief if he even looks your direction nowadays. You wish you had parents like your grandparents.

"I'm Gojo Satoru, y/n's boyfriend. It's lovely to meet you." Satoru bows his head.

"You have beautiful eyes, Gojo. I've never seen anything quite like them and I've met a lot of people at my old age." Your grandmother says.

"Thank you and please, call me Satoru." He replies.

Satoru didn't wear his usual shades because of the formal event, so you could see his eyes perfectly.

"Y/n, you found yourself quite the charmer." Your grandfather says with a smile on his face, pleased with your boyfriend.

You roll your eyes. "Yeah, yeah. He's perfect or whatever."

Satoru can't help but laugh. He knew you were half pretending that you were jealous by how much they were praising him. "Obaasan, have you seen my parents?" You change the topic.

"They're in the front." She points toward the front.

You turn around and scan the seats in front of you till you finally spot your parents.

"You're going to have to wait to greet them." You whisper to Satoru and he nods.

Suddenly wedding music fills your ears and everyone is standing up.

Satoru helps your grandmother stand up with one hand in hers and the other on her back. The sight is so heartwarming, it makes your heart physically ache. He really is a keeper.

You look back at the aisle and see your aunt in a beautiful white kimono, holding a wagasa in one hand while her other hand was wrapped around her soon-to-be-husband's arm who was wearing a black kimono as they walked down the aisle.

You were so happy for your aunt, especially since she was in an abusive relationship a few years ago, but this new man seems different. Every time you see them together they're always laughing and smiling unlike when she was with her ex-husband. They never talked nor looked in each other's direction when you saw them together.

You wonder if you'll ever be able to commit to someone so much that you'd be willing to marry them. To you, marriage was a very scary thing.

After they declare to love one another till death due them part, everyone gets up to go to the dining hall.

You take this as an advantage for Satoru to greet your parents. You point them out to him so he can see what they look like first.

A wave of anxiety rushes past him once he knows who your parents are.

"Toru, there is nothing to worry about. Just greet them the way you did with my grandparents and I promise you'll have their hearts." Your instructions were clear, yet soothing. You tugged your lips into a genuine smile as he looked down at you and suddenly all his fears vanished into thin air.

Before you can even ask if he's ready, Satoru grabs your hand and walks towards your parents. Your parents realize this and fix their gaze on you and the 6'3 man beside you.

"Hello, you must be y/n's parents. I've heard so much about you both. I'm Gojo Satoru, y/n's boyfriend. I'm very pleased to finally meet you." Satoru bows with a charming smile decorating his lips. The smile that traps you into loving him.

With a smile like that, he could make anyone love him.

༺ ♡ ༻

Satoru ended up sitting next to you with your parents and other close relatives. He suddenly turned into a comedian, making them all laugh and have a good time. You were so happy your parents ended up liking him.

You just finished eating, so you decide to go to the bathroom to touch up your lipstick.

"I'm going to the bathroom." You whisper into his ear. He nods and you leave.

Once you entered the bathroom, Satoru noticed the girl that was glaring at you earlier, enter the bathroom.

You're touching up your makeup as she enters the restroom. You sigh in annoyance and continue to apply your lipstick, already knowing she isn't here to use the bathroom.

She looks around to make sure no one else is around. She checks the stalls and saw they were empty. Once she knew no one was around, she unmasked her true colors.

"Oh, y/n, I haven't even been in here for a second and you're already annoyed with me?" She pretends to pout.

You ignore her and continue to apply lipstick. You've dealt with this for years, so it's been tougher for her to break your thick skin.

"Who's your little boyfriend? He sure seems like the charmer." She continues to pry.

You cap your lipstick and continue to ignore her.

Don't engage y/n. What good will that do? It's your aunt's wedding and you came here to have a good time. Don't let her ruin that for you.

"How big is his dick?"

Your eyes widen and your heart begins to thump in rage. The grip you have on your lipstick seems like it's about to break as your knuckles turn white.

You walk towards the door to avoid conflict. You open it, but she slams it closed with her hand. Her face was dangerously close to yours and you could feel her breath on your ear. You were well aware she wanted you to look at her and get some sort of reaction out of you, but you refused.

"I'm just wondering because if I were with him, I'd waste absolutely no time sleeping with him. Fuck, we wouldn't even have to be together. You're gonna have to share a man like that."

Calm down.

"I wanna taste. No fair."

Calm.

"I bet he's so good in bed."

Down.

"He's definitely next on my fuck list."

Your ears begin to ring and your vision turns red as your heart thumps faster. You grab her by the collar and slam her against a wall with her feet barely touching the ground all in one swift movement.

She's smirking, satisfied with the reaction she got out of you. "Still taking things so seriously, aren't we, y/n? He has such a pretty face. Don't tell me you think you're the only person he's slept with."

You and Satoru both took each other's virginity that night. If Satoru was just some lousy player then Ieiri would've warned you or you would've found out for yourself because players aren't difficult to figure out. Plus the only women in his life are his mother, Ieiri, and you.

This fucking cunt knows absolutely nothing about him.

"I'm going to fucking kill you." Your voice was barely above a whisper, but she heard crystal clear.

She snickers. "You're not gonna do sh—" Before she could finish her false sentence you punched her in the face so hard, her head slammed again the wall.

Her body lost its balance, but before she could fall to the ground, you grabbed her hair, digging your fingernails into the flesh of her scalp, and dragged her. Once you let go, the force caused her to fall into one of the bathroom stalls, slamming her head yet again with her ass falling into the toilet.

You stand there while your body slowly begins to shake. You look down at your hands with wide eyes when your eyes are met with bloody fingertips.

You take a few deep breaths, trying to calm yourself before you go back to the dining hall.

You wash your hands and leave.

The moment his eyes land on you, he could tell something was wrong. He knew he had a bad feeling when he saw that girl enter the bathroom after you.

Once you're sat down he whispers, "Are you okay?"

"I-I'm fine. Just feeling a bit sick." You lie and the fact you haven't even bat an eye at him shows that what you were saying was nothing but a lie.

"Y/n, are you alright?" You heard your mother's voice.

You look up at her. "Yes, I'm just not feeling well. I think I'm going to have to leave early with Satoru." You respond.

"Of course. We understand and we hope you feel better." You heard your father say.

You look up at him and give him a fake smile. "Thanks, otosan."

And with that, you and Satoru left. The car ride was silent because he wasn't sure if you wanted to talk or needed space.

Once he parks in front of your house, you open the door before he could open it for you.

You still haven't looked at him.

Satoru chases after you and when you're one foot in the house, he grabs your arm. "What's wrong?"

"I don't wanna talk about it." You don't even turn your head to look at him, completely shutting him out.

"I'm not leaving until I know what's wrong. I can't stand the fact that you're hurt and I don't know why." He says truthfully.

Those words finally break the dam of tears you've been holding back against.

You fall onto your knees and begin to cry into your palms. You're still outside, so Satoru lifts you by your thighs. You wrap your legs around him and wrap your arms around his neck as you head lay your head in the crook of his neck.

His arms are tucked underneath your thighs as he walks inside the house and shuts the door. He uses one hand to shut the door and lock it.

When you're finally inside he sets you down on the couch.

"Tell me everything."

"I'm s-sorry." That is all you can say as you continue to cry into your palms.

Satoru grabs your wrists and gently removes your hands from your face and when he does, he noticed them shaking along with the rest of your body. "It's okay. Calm down and then explain to me." His words are smooth like silk and you can't help but obey.

༺ ♡ ༻

"Slowly breathe in." You do as Satoru says as he begins to count. “One, two, three, four, five." He slowly says. "And breathe out. One, two, three, four, five." You follow his pace and feel your body begin to ease.

You changed into a tank top and shorts to cool down. You're sitting on his lap with your head leaning against his chest as he repeats this process a few times. As he counts his long and cold slender fingers tap on your sensitive warm skin with each passing number. The sensation was therapeutic against your skin. His other hand is holding a glass of water in case you need it.

"Can you tell me what happened now?"

You sigh and finally give in. "My ex-best friend, if you can even call her that, ever since we were little she always viewed me as a threat and some sort of competition. She would easily manipulate me because I was so young and vulnerable. All I ever wanted was to play with dolls or whatever kids do at that age. Once I got older, I realized this, so one day I finally decided to tell her off and rarely spoke to her again after that. The only times we ever speak is when she's trying to set me off." With all the talking you did, you take a second to catch your breath and prepare yourself for what you're about to say.

"When she sets me off it's usually because it's something specific that I have that she doesn't, so when she saw you with me..." You exhale deeply to calm yourself. "She followed me into the bathroom and told me how much she wants to fuck you and how she will fuck you." You don't even have to look at Satoru. You could feel the rage boiling out of him. 

"But what really set me off was the way she accused you of being a player just cause you have a pretty face. I became so defensive...I don't know what came over me." Your head droops in disappointment. "I slammed her head against a wall...twice. I dragged her so hard that once I let go she flew into a toilet." As much as this was supposed to be a heart-to-heart conversation, you and Satoru can't help but laugh at the last part you said.

That's why you love him. You two could laugh no matter the situation.

"A toilet?" He repeats. "I'm surprised she didn't get a concussion."

"Stop it." You jokingly push him, making him chuckle. "But in all seriousness..." You hold your hands out in front of you and notice them gently shake. "I feel terrible after doing that to her just because I was blinded by rage...it makes me feel like I'm no better than your father if I'm capable of hurting someone like that." You say the last part in a whisper, but he still heard.

"Are you serious?" Satoru asks as he sets the water glass down. He palms your cheeks with both hands, squishing them together gently as he forces you to look at him. "There is absolutely nothing you can use to compare yourself to my father. You're nothing like him. Never ever compare yourself to him again. Do you understand?"

You nod with your cheeks still being squished. "And that girl deserved everything you did to her after all the shit she's done to you. She should be lucky you let her go with just that because if I was in your position and someone mentioned wanting to fuck you even once, that fuckward would be damn lucky they survived after I beat them to a pulp."

"Fuckward? That's new." You joke, your cheeks still being squished.

Satoru smiles and pecks your lips. "Shut up."

༺ ♡ ༻

That night you texted your parents if Satoru could spend the night. They said yes, but told you they don't want their 15-year-old daughter getting pregnant.

You rolled your eyes at their response. You showed the message to Satoru who was sitting on your bed with you and he laughed.

"You're lucky they like you or they wouldn't have let you spend the night." You say, putting your phone down.

"Yeah, I guess I am." He replies with a smirk on his face.

"We haven't heard anything about her." You mention. Satoru looks at you confused, so you clarify. "The ex-best friend." You nod. "Oh yeah, why don't you think she told anyone?" He asked.

"Because her ego is too high and she would die of humiliation if someone found out I beat the crap out of her. She probably touched herself up with makeup and will put an ice pack on her head when she got home, I don't know."

"Can't say she doesn't deserve it." He replies, making you laugh. He knew that was the first time you ever hurt someone like that. He could tell by the way you reacted to the whole situation. "I have to stop by my house to make sure my mom takes her antidepressant. Do you wanna come with?"

This makes you knit your brows in confusion. "But you said—"

"I know." He cuts you off. "You can stay in the car. I'll be quick."

You nod in agreement.

༺ ♡ ༻

Satoru parks his car and this is your first time seeing his house. It was huge, to say the least, but you weren't surprised because you knew he came from a wealthy family.

"I'll be back in a minute." He kisses your cheek and leaves the car. Once he's at the front door, he rummages through his pockets and lets out a frustrated groan. You laugh because you knew he forgot his keys when you saw the way he frantically searched his pockets.

He knocks on the door and after a few seconds, an older woman opens the door. She was beautiful even though her eye bags were present and she was still in her pj's. Her hair fell to her chest with small knots in them.

She was so beautiful regardless and looked just like Satoru. Or rather he looked just like her.

She had hair as white as snow just like his, but brown eyes instead of the sky.

His mom peeked behind his shoulder, making your eyes meet hers. Anxiety flows through you, but you try to play it off by giving her a warm smile.

Satoru looks back and sees you. He waves and you wave back and with that, he finally gets inside and closes the door.

Satoru's POV

"Who was that girl?" His mother asks.

"My girlfriend," Satoru replies, walking towards the medicine cabinet.

"She's very pretty." His mother says, taking a seat at the dining table.

"Believe me, I know." He pulls out his mother's antidepressant.

"I'm sorry I can't greet her, Toru." You and his mother are the only people who call him that. Her voice is full of disappointment.

"Don't beat yourself up about it, okasan." Satoru takes out a pill. "She's a very understanding person."

"Maybe one day, I'll be able to." She says.

Satoru hands his mother the pill and a glass of water. "I know one day you'll be strong enough to. Maybe that day isn't today, but one day."

His mother smiles. "No wonder you've seemed so much more joyful and full of life. Not to mention you're out way more often than before."

Satoru returns the smile. "She makes me really happy."

"Tell me more about her." His mother's face was full of curiosity and it made him happy that his mother wanted to know about you.

"Okay, but take your pill first, and let's freshen you up while we talk."

Y/n’s Pov

After 30 minutes you contemplated knocking on the door. It can't take that long to give his mother medication or were you just being impatient?

Before you begin to cause an internal war with yourself, you see Satoru open the door and wave goodbye to his mother.

He shuts the door and walks towards the car. Once he opens it you immediately asked the question you've been wondering all this time. "What took you so long?"

He buckled his seat and looks at you with a smile. "Nothing."

That only makes you more curious, but you don't pry. "You're weird." You look out the window.

"Look who's talking." He starts the car.

You look back at him and squint your eyes in annoyance. "I'm not weird."

"Whatever makes you sleep at night, pretty girl."

"By the way, does anyone in your family have eyes like yours?" You randomly change the topic. After seeing his mom didn't have his eyes, you were curious.

"It's a special genetic in my clan that gets passed on very rarely. The last person that had it before me was about 400 years ago."

"Wow..." Satoru looks at you to see your shocked expression, making him let out a small chuckle. "No, seriously that's so cool."

"Eh." He shrugs his shoulders acting unimpressed by his rare genetics, but you could tell he was being cocky on purpose to piss you off.

"Don't." Is all you say, making him laugh as you cross your arms over your chest and face forward.

༺ ♡ ༻

Once you're back home, you face-palm yourself. "You forgot to get spare clothes."

Satoru smirks and holds up a bag making you sigh in relief, but then a question crosses your mind. "Wait, how did I not see that earlier?"

"Because you're slow." He gently flicks your forehead making you massage the spot.

"Whatever."

༺ ♡ ༻

Satoru changes into grey sweats and a white tank top in front of you as if you weren't even there. You pretend to scroll through your phone, but can't pull your eyes away when he's just in his sweats. They're hanging right below his torso and his V line is practically begging you to stare. His body was fit with light muscles poking from every part of his body.

"Y'know, if you keep undressing me with your eyes, I'm gonna catch a cold." You lifted your eyes to see Satoru watching you with a smirk tugging his lips.

Shit, I was staring too long.

You turn away in embarrassment and hide your face in your phone so he doesn't see your vibrant pink cheeks. "I don't know what you're talking about." You murmur.

Satoru laughs, making you even more embarrassed. "Sure."

༺ ♡ ༻

"First we have to remove our makeup." You hand him a small cotton pad. "You apply makeup remover on it, but you don't want to add too much." You show him how much to pour. "That much is good."

Satoru nods and applies it to his. "Like this?" He asks and you nod.

"What do you use to take off your concealer?"

"Makeup wipes." He says, making you wince. "What?" He's confused by your reaction.

"Those burn my eyes." You reply as you take off your makeup.

"Mine too." He admits, also taking off his makeup. Once he reaches his forehead, he holds his bangs back by using his hand.

You notice this and stop him by grabbing his wrist. "Wait." You grab a light blue hair tie that almost matched his eyes if they weren't so many other shades of blue. You sit on the counter in front of him and hook your legs around his to bring him closer, putting the hair tie around your fingers.

"Lean down." He does as he's told. "Don't hold them back with your hands anymore. It can make your hair oily. Hair ties and headbands are better. Since I only have one headband you have to use this in the meantime until we buy you one." You tie his bangs and once you're done, his bangs are in a tiny ponytail right on top of his head.

You laugh causing Satoru to stretch to his full height so he can see his hair through the mirror’s reflection. Once he’s met with the tiny ponytail resting on top of his head, he chuckles. "Haha, very funny." He says sarcastically.

"Obviously since you laughed." You joke. "Also I have an extra makeup remover bottle and cotton pads. I'll give it to you."

Of course, you will.

"After that, you apply this solution everywhere on your face." You instruct him as you guide him through your skincare routine.

You take out your jade rollers and show him how to use them. You show him the other few steps into your routine and finally...

"Are these...Hello Kitty face masks?" He asks, holding the packet of Hello Kitty-themed face masks.

"Yep! They're so cute, right?" You light up like a child, causing Satoru to cover a hand over his mouth to conceal his laughter. You glare at him. "Don't make fun of me, asshole."

You guide him on how to apply the face mask and he tries to follow your instructions.

His mask started to crinkle and fold in his hands. "Toru, you're messing it up." You take the face mask from him and fix it. You once again sit on the counter in front of him, hooking your legs behind his. "Down." You ordered and he did as he was told.

"You're like a puppy." You joke as he cranes down to your height. "A helpless little puppy." He sticks his tongue at you and you do it back.

You help him apply the face mask and once you're done, you can't help but burst into laughter. He looked so cute with his little ponytail and Hello Kitty face mask.

"What are you laughing at?" Satoru asks with a smile even though he knows perfectly well what you were laughing at.

"You." A smile rests on your face. Satoru looks down at your lips and gently kisses you and of course, you kiss him back.

You and your boyfriend kissing in Hello Kitty face masks? Now that's a first.

After you two are done with your mini make-out session, you pull away knowing it will lead to more if you don't stop now. Not that you mind, but you didn't wanna ruin the face masks.

An idea pops into your head, so you pull out your phone and snap a picture of him without giving him time to process what you were doing.

You look at the picture and burst into laughter. "Thanks for the new wallpaper."

"That's not fair," Satoru whined and tried to snatch the phone, but you dodge it.

He tried again, but you dodge again. Satoru leans in, trapping you. You quickly shove your phone in your shirt between your tits.

It's stupid of you to think that will stop him.

He looks down at your tits, then back up at you with a smirk graced upon his moisturized lips.

Oh no.

Within the blink of an eye, his hand is down your shirt, trying to get your phone.

"Toru!" You shout, trying not to laugh.

"Give it, pretty girl~~." He rummages underneath your shirt, but you press a hand on your tits so he doesn't get it.

”You’re such a perv, Toru! You don’t even care about the picture! You just wanna touch my tits!” You scold your boyfriend.

“Maybe.” He shrugs with the same mischievous grin tugging on his lips.

This is how you and Satoru would joke around.

Any normal couple would think you two were weird, but did either of you care?

Not in the slightest.

If there is one thing you knew about Satoru, it’s how ticklish he is, so with your free arm you tickle his ribcage, his weakest spot.

Satoru jolts from the sudden movement, his body forcing him to back away.

You take this as your opportunity to run out of the bathroom as you try to contain your laughter.

You heard Satoru's footsteps so you rush to the dining table.

"Come back here you little shit!" You hear your boyfriend yell from behind you. Once you're at the dining table you rush to the opposite side.

Once you’re there, you see Satoru standing on the other side of the table. "How are you going to get me now, Toru? The table is in the way so—"

You couldn't even finish your sentence as Satoru runs around the table, trying to get to you.

You quickly run before he can get you, but you'd be lying if you said he almost didn't catch you.

Curse those long legs of his.

You're now on opposite sides of the couch. He's carefully watching your movements and you do the same for him.

"Give up." You say with a smirk, trying to mask your nervousness that he might catch you.

"You first." He smirks back, but his is confident unlike yours.

"Fuck you." 

"Already have."

You look at the staircase leading upstairs. If you're quick enough you can run upstairs and lock your door and let him stay out here until he admits defeat.

You make a run for it and this time Satoru's steps are faster and more persistent.

Shit.

You try to find a door to run to, but this house is too big to make a quick getaway.

You suddenly feel strong arms scooping your waist. "Gotcha!"

“Damnit!” You tilt your head up and glare at the man above you. "I for sure thought I'd win this time."

"Maybe you would've if you weren't so slow." He teases with a smile.

You stick your tongue at him and he does it back.

༺ ♡ ༻

You're back to the bathroom with Satoru and thankfully he didn't make you delete the photo and you took a couple more photos together.

"While I let the face mask sit, I brush my teeth in the meantime." You put toothpaste on your toothbrush while Satoru rummages through his bag.

"Y/n..?"

"Hm?" You look at him through the mirror.

"I forgot my toothbrush."

You sigh and look through your cabinets. "There should be an extra one here somewhere...found it." You take the toothbrush that's still in the packaging and give it to Satoru. "Who's the slow one now?" You flick his forehead.

"Ow..." He pouts, massaging the spot you flicked. "You flicked me way harder than I flicked you."

"I know." You respond and go back to brushing your teeth.

[aria0fgold]

Can't believe my energy was drained by aitsf yesterday. But! Energy full now and I've processed everything and thought bout it and I can finally tell all the stuff I like bout it! This is gonna be long :D

First off the story bro, I'm in love with the story so much! Honestly, it's hard to get my attention in full since I get distracted easily, especially by visual novel type games where I just have this urge to tab out to do something else then go back again. Barely did that for aistf.

Felt like I was watching a movie instead of playing a game, voice acting is so good! And the story! I'm never shutting up about the story, I just really really love it a lot! Went in completely blind playing this game, only thing I knew was that there's Aiba and there's Date.

One thing that grabbed my attention so much which interested me in the game from the very beginning is the goofy scenes it has. Seeing Aiba do that funky lil dance behind a skeleton did it for me, it was unexpected but in a funny way. I was like, aight this game is good! Without even knowing the ride I was in for.

And something that really surprised me was the branching of it. From the beginning I thought there was a linear type plot and I'll have to replay the whole thing to get certain stuff so I was mentally preparing myself, also the reason why I turned off skipping unseen contents so I can only skip the stuff I've seen.

It was both a pleasant surprise and a hoo boi surprise. I knew it was going to be a long game and I thought it was a typical mystery game so I wasn't expecting much bout it but boi was I wrong. And the branches are also very useful! And I love how in each branch, everything is different even though only a single action was changed so I loved that about it!

I love the way that the story is written so much! At the beginning, there's so so many questions to be answered and as I kept playing, some were answered, new questions popped up, and so many more info known but the thing here, the more I played, the more it felt like a bucket was being filled. Like, at the beginning the bucket was completely empty and it just fills slowly without exposing much of what the story actually is and I love it so much!

It reminded me of 999, played that years ago and the details are blurry but I do know I enjoyed it a lot too. The aspect of an empty bucket getting slowly filled as I played it was similar with it too and I love mystery games like that so much!

It just feels so satisfying! Once you reach the end and everything makes so much sense and how everything you've seen and played through connected in ways you overlooked at the beginning and how perfectly everything fits now that you're at the end! I love it a lot!

And the way how in aitsf, the branches aren't just a game mechanic but ties in with the parellel worlds thing and how it affects Date and the fact that only the player really knows and and how it really contributes to having the best ending! It's like, it's like a timeloop thing in the player perspective, having to go back at various somnium for a better outcome while the character experiences a parellel world type thing!

And I love how it isn't all, choose the good options for the better ending type too! There are parts where the 'bad' option is better so a better option would appear in the future and I love that bout it cuz it makes the story feel so alive! How every character isn't just a 'character' and each one has their own personalities and charms and even if they don't appear much you can easily tell what kind of person they are from the way they speak and I LOVE IT!!!

[crystalelemental]

Alright I'm gonna be honest.  I didn't initially intend to do this.  But the last few weeks have been about doing some random shenanigans, and I hit Dark and went huh.  I've kinda used all options available now.  And that's when it dawned on me.  I never did secondary damage type clears.

Vs. Olivia There are two options for this in my current roster: Leon, and May.  I opted for May, for no reason in particular.  May's Earth Power is okay, but is mostly notable for having Surging Sand 5.  You know.  The thing Cynthia has.  I opted for condition 1 with permanent field effects, to ease the requirements on Ingo and Courtney while she spammed her DPS.  It worked out decently well.  Gauges are a little bit of an issue until Ingo gets going, but May's damage is pretty significant even at only +4.

Vs. Acerola Oh, Lysandre.  This is a pretty fun team.  I didn't want SS Cyrus completely overshadowing his attempts, so I went with SS Elesa and Lucian as a combo.  This was strategic: SS Elesa's trainer move perfectly complements Lysandre's for a fast-ramp, and her special attack boosting after the fact helps cap his needs.  As an EX support, she powers up those Dark Pulses for really nice damage, while Lucian supplies gauge and debuffing.  The fun is that, if Elesa rolls MPR on her trainer move, she and Lysandre can fast-ramp a second time with trainer moves again.  Also, Lysandre has a 60% flinch if you take both Dark Pulse nodes, which is great for disruption.  For anyone curious, the final Dark Pulse hit for like 13k.

Vs. Kahili Fun fact: I initially overlooked Bede because I forgot primarily Fairy somehow, and was super stuck on Wallace for a bit.  So I got to learn that Mirror Coat won't even activate unless he's hit with a special move, and Kahili's like all physical.  One time, the sides hit with Air Cutter.  He dealt like 4k.  Wallace needs a grid expansion real bad.

But enough of that.  Bede's really good.  Roxanne speeds up the team beautifully, and is a relatively nice tank as well.  Bede's Psybeam actually does respectable damage after an EX support sync, hitting around 7k under Terrain.  Bianca also surprised me; I figured lack of crit would hold her back, but she was throwing out like 4k attacks too.  Unexpected, I'll tell you that much.  And of course, Bede has his Max Move to just throw out.  We got to save it for the last remaining side, because DPS alone still handled Kahili.  Legitimately thinking of EXing Bede.

Vs. Hala This is why May took Ground.  Leon is my only "Flying as Secondary" sync pair.  He does really well on damage, being able to easy blast through center with his Max move, and OHKO sides with Hurricane after an EX support sync.  Now that said.  I was right to bring Lillie.  The flinch mattered.  Because when she missed it, this moron dropped from full HP to dead in one AoE attack.  Leon's a bit of a problem.

Vs. Kukui Yeah, you may have seen the screenshot, but I tried out SS Acerola and SC Steven for a partner who doesn't even really need the Sun.  Lodge Lillie just accepts the stacks of moves up next, rebuff, SEUN, and then throws out Petal Blizzard turn 4 and hits like 14k for a denial, then 18k on center alone.  This is...not what I expected to happen here, but I am very satisfied with the outcome.

Final Thoughts I kinda liked this one.  I dunno, I feel like...I feel like maybe Masters should lean into this a bit more.  Not forcing something like this, I don't even think you could barring some CS condition that reduces your sync damage specifically.  But making sync pairs with secondary DPS types.  I feel like there's some good fun to be had in such an approach, and it simplifies the search for new methods to clear content.  I feel like it's also a good stepping stone for off-typing.  You get a better sense for how to boost DPS in general, and can apply that to off-type.

[jakesimfromstatefarm]

not jealous | jake sim

summary: jake sim is not a jealous person. at least that's what he tells himself. so why does he find himself going through your phone when a certain "bluejay park" decides to text you?

pairing: jake sim x y/n [ft. mentions of jay park]

genre: angst, fluff 

warnings: angst, cursing (very minimal), one slightly suggestive sentence, jake being cute, some more angst lol, slightly cheesy bc jake’s just too cute ugh

wc: 3.8k

a/n: ok i loved writing this, which is why i went on to almost 4k words LOL oops. but anyways, i love jake a little too much and this type of scenario has been running around in my head for a while now so i decided to put it into words. also i may have created this blog just so i could post this somewhere LMAO anyways yeah this was my first fic so hope you guys enjoyyyy <3

Jake Sim is not a jealous person.

At least that's what he tells himself. To be fair, in his past relationships, he never showed any jealously. Then again, he doesn't know if he can call those relationships, "relationships". Does a fifth grade relationship with a girl who he was once dared to kiss during a game of Truth or Dare in the basement of a classmate's house during their 11th birthday party count? He doesn't remember being jealous when the same girl was later dared to kiss his classmate, Sunghoon. (Funny enough, that's how the two boys came to be best friends 'til this day, but that's a story for another time.) 

But really, Jake doesn't think jealously is one of his traits, even if he's now almost 20 years old without any experience with love other than his current relationship with you and that short-lived romance in the fifth grade. (What was her name again? Jake would have to ask Sunghoon later.)

So he doesn't know what clicked in that brain of his that lead him to this current situation he was in. He doesn't know why he felt a little spark of anger in him when your phone, which you left right next to him on the couch while you went to take a shower, kept buzzing with texts from "bluejay park". He doesn't know why he couldn't kept his eyes distracted from the messages, although your phone was constantly lighting up because whatever it was Jay had to say to you, he would not shut up about it. He doesn't know why he questioned what your relationship with Jay was for a split second.

In fact, you're close with all of Jake's friends. That's one of his favorite things about you, you get along so well with all his friends you might as well replace Jake himself in the friend group. So he doesn't know what tells him to take a little glance at your phone—at the messages.

But he finds himself doing it anyways.

Hearing that the water in the shower was still running (you were always the type to take long showers), he quickly grabs your phone and scrolls through the lock screen just to find that he couldn't even read the messages since you had your notifications set so no one could read them unless the phone was unlocked (darn you and your settings!) Thankfully, Jake knew your passcode––and you knew his too––or he thought he did. Until the iPhone vibrated, telling him the passcode was wrong.

He must've entered it too fast or something. So he tries again.

And again.

And again.

Until the iPhone switches its screen to say: "iPhone is disabled. Try again in 5 minutes."

There's no way. You never change your password. And even if you did, you would tell him—you two even had each other's fingerprints saved into each other's phones in the past (you know, before the world decided that Apple's home button was too lame and decided to just completely get rid of it). If there was an option to save multiple faces for Face ID, you two would be that couple that saved each others faces in your own phones.

That being said, Jake sat there, your phone in hand, frozen. Why was your phone locked? Why was Jay texting you 10 texts per second? Why did he feel guilty about this entire situation?

He hears the shower switch off and in that moment, he swears he feels his heart beat just a little faster. He tells himself there's no way you'll be out before the 5 minutes are up. You followed a really meticulous skincare routine (one that Jake memorized by now) that took an extra 15 minutes of your time after each shower.

"Hey Jake?" Your voice calls out from the tiny bathroom door crack that you left open before you hopped in the shower, "Is my phone out there? Do you mind bringing it to me?"

Fuck.

Jake shifts on the couch. Taps his foot on the ground. Returns your phone to its original spot. Clears his throat.

"Don't you want to get dressed first?" he calls back, quite timidly.

He can hear you stop moving around in the bathroom. Probably telling yourself what an odd response that was. To be fair, it was an odd question, considering the fact that you two have been together for so long, it’s not like he hasn’t seen you undressed before...intentionally or not. 

Next thing he knows, the steam is rolling out of the bathroom door and you're stepping out in your towel, eyebrows raised.

"If you didn't want to get up from the couch, you could've just said so, you lazy butt," you smirk at him as you walk towards him and the couch, leaving a faint trail of water drops behind you. Jake's eyes follow your figure as you go to grab your phone and lift the screen towards yourself.

That's when he freezes. You do too.

You cock your head, as if asking yourself why it was disabled. He can hear the gears in your head turning.

"Jake, did you try to unlock my phone?"

He runs through all the possible excuses he could blurt out. Come on Jake, think of something! But he knows he can't lie to you.

Too many beats of silence pass by.

"Maybe," he finally says—or more like murmurs. He looks up to you like a child looking up at their mom, who just them caught stealing a cookie from the cookie jar. To his surprise, you don't show any hint of anger. A flash of confusion—and is that worry he sees?—crosses your face for a split second before you shrug and turn towards your room to change, dropping the subject. It was natural for you two to use each other's phones anyways. So then why did you have that look of worry?

Jake knows you well, a little too well. But that's what you love about him. He can easily read all your emotions. One of the many things he picked up from dating you for almost two years now. But why would you care if he tried to get into your phone? Why would that worry you? All the possibilities run through head and his own worry begins to increase. He trusts you. He does.

So then why does the thought bother him throughout the entire day? Why does he bring it up during dinner later that night, when you're both cuddled on your sofa, slurping take-out ramen while rewatching your favorite k-drama under the thick blanket that you always keep in your living room for nights like these?

"Huh? Of course I've heard from Jay today, we had that conversation about that stupid meme you boys kept laughing about in the groupchat we're all in, didn't we?" You answer him when he asks if you've heard from Jay lately. You sit up from your warm spot under Jake's arm to put your empty bowl on the coffee table in front of you. When you lean back, you look up at him,

"Why do you ask?"

"Oh, it's nothing, just wondering," he says, avoiding your eyes by keeping his own trained on the series currently playing on your TV. This would be your third time rewatching this series together. He would never complain to you though, he knows how much you love it and if he were being honest, he was secretly attached to the characters—not that he would ever tell you, he would never hear the end of it from you and the boys.

"You're being weird. Just tell me, or did you forget that I can practically read your mind," you say with a giggle and shove to his side, the one you were currently warmly cuddled into. Jake wasn't the only one who learned how to read emotions; you could read him just as well as he could read you. And like you, that's one of the many things he loved about you. But maybe not in this case.

He toyed around with the contents inside his ramen bowl with his chopsticks.

"I just..." God, how does he word this? Why was he having trouble explaining it? You were the easiest person to talk to. To him, you were the only person he could tell everything to.

"Jaywastextingyouabunchearlier," he blurts out quickly, but not quickly enough for you to miss it.

He feels you shift under his arm. He feels the air in the room shift. Tension.

"What?" Now you're sitting upright, legs criss-crossed in front of you on the couch but turned, so your body is completely facing him. He mirrors you, sitting up to put his ramen bowl next to yours on the surface, but he stays facing the TV.

"Your phone kept going off because of him when you were showering," he says with a little more confidence. But inside, he was nervous as hell, the same nervous as when he asked you out for the first time many moons ago. But it's too late to back out now, he brought it up first, anyways. Guess we're having this conversation now, good going Jake!

"Is that why you tried unlocking my phone earlier? I mean I thought you were just trying to leave selfies on my phone like you always do but you were trying to read my texts?" You question, slightly raising your soft voice. He doesn't know how to react, he hates confrontation.

"It wasn't like that, Jay just kept spamming you and like I—why was he even texting you in the first place? Then your phone got disabled because you changed your password, which you never do by the way, so I–"

"I changed it because my little sister kept getting into my phone when I went to visit my family yesterday! Did you really think I was hiding something from you? You know I can text whoever I want, right? You don't own me."

Okay so now he's managed to make you angry. Good going Jake, part 2!

"Okay but what does Jay need from you so bad that he has to send you like 50 messages at once?" He's standing now. So are you, eyebrows furrowed together as you collect your bowls from the table.

Standing there, bowls in hand, you say, "Jake, that's none of your business! It wasn't even that big of a deal, I don't know why you felt the need to nosy around."

"Well, if he's texting you non-stop, then obviously it's a big deal! We wouldn't even be having this conversation if you would just tell me what you guys were talking about," he murmurs back, eyes narrowing. You scoff as you trail into your kitchen. He follows behind and stops at the other side at your kitchen island as you place the dirty dishes into the sink.

"No, we're having this conversation because you obviously don't trust me! It doesn't matter what we were talking about, it doesn't matter who I was texting! I could be texting your mother and I shouldn't have to tell you what we were talking about! That's why we're having this conversation," you say as you turn back to face him from the other end.

He hates this. He hates fighting with you (which is a very, very rare occasion). He hates that you think he doesn't trust you. He hates his insecurity eating at him, telling him to keep questioning you on why you and Jay were talking in the first place. He was aware that you were close with his friends, but it wasn't until the texts he realized just how close you are with them. It's not that he didn't trust you, he just didn't know how to act when it came to you and other guys. God knows how he got lucky enough to meet you, let alone date you, so the thought of him losing you to someone else actually terrified him. Not only were you his first real relationship, but he wanted you to be his first and only one in life. You were it for him.

"Why did he text you." He deadpans from his side of the kitchen.

You scoff with a hint of exasperation. "You're kidding me."

You stare at him. He stares back, quirking an eyebrow, as if restating the same question back, as if testing you.

You're fuming now. Why was he making it so hard? Why was he doubting you? Out of frustration, you start laughing, which scares him. That can't be good.

"Fine. You wanna know so bad? Take a look,"  you're one tone level away from screaming as you take your phone out of your pocket, unlock it, and open up your conversation with "bluejay park", sliding the phone across the island to reach him.

Jake stares at the phone which now lies there, unlocked, facing him. Isn't this what he wanted? It is, right? That's why he started this dreaded argument with you in the first place.

Then why does he feel so fucking awful?

He looks back up at you, to see you sighing and looking up at the ceiling, as if trying to force your forming tears back into your eyes.

Yup, he feels horrible.

"Happy? Happy to know we were just trying to plan a surprise birthday party for you but you and your jealously just had to know huh, Jake?" You quickly state, voice cracking, as you tried not to choke up. You weren't sad that he found out about the surprise. You were sad that it felt like he didn't trust you. That he thought you were the type of person to do god knows what behind his back. You hated the feeling of not being trusted. Especially by Jake, of all people.

"Fuck."

Jake's face (and heart) falls with the most broken expression you've ever seen. But you're too sad, angry, tired (a mix of all?) to care. Your only goal right now is to not let him see you cry.

You hurry past him, across your apartment, and into your bedroom, slamming the door behind you, leaving behind a shocked, and regretful, Jake.

His heart shrinks when he hears the door slam shut and a little more when he looks down at the still unlocked phone in front of him. He didn't have the heart in him to look at it anymore. Of course he trusted you, he knew what you said was the truth.

He mentally screams at himself for assuming the worst––for thinking that you, a literal angel, would betray him.  First, he thought he was losing you to someone else. Now, he was afraid he just lost you through his own actions. 

He hesitantly sulks over to your door, softly knocking when he reaches it.

"Y/N?"

No response.

"Y/N, I'm so sorry. I didn't know, I let my—”

"Jake just please leave me alone for now," he hears you painfully say from a distance, meaning you're on your bed. He knows the door's unlocked—the lock on your door hasn't been working for a long time now, despite the many times he tells you to talk to your landlord about it. But he doesn't find it in him to open it. He knows he messed up. If he saw you in there right now, crying, he wouldn't know what to do. He wouldn't know what he would to do himself, knowing he was the reason behind your tears.

He nods in silence, knowing you can't see him, but does so anyways and returns to his spot on the couch. He could leave right now, go back to the dorm with the rest of the guys, let you have your space like you wanted. But his heart hurts at the idea of leaving you sad, angry, or a combination of both. He can't leave this unresolved. He fucked up, he has to fix it.

And so he sits on your couch for another hour. The clock on the wall behind him continues to tick as the silent tension in your apartment continues to grow. When it hits 11pm and he's sure you've slumbered off into sleep, he quietly enters your room.

He can see your figure in the dark, your back facing the door as you're curled up into yourself under the comforter. He feels his heart drop a little more when he imagines you crying in that position from earlier. He slowly peels the comforter open and gets into his side of the bed, careful not to bother your sleeping figure.

Laying there, staring up at the ceiling, he's never felt more like a stranger in your bed. It's not that he hasn't slept over before, god knows he's probably slept over at your place more than he has in his own bed. But right now, in this moment, he just felt awful. Like he didn't deserve to be in such close proximity to you. How could he be deserving? He violated your privacy, made you feel like you weren't trusted, doubted your relationship.

These thoughts run through Jake's head as he stares up at your ceiling fan, wishing he could turn back time to a few hours ago, before he checked your phone, before he let his insecurities get to the best of him.

You can feel the dip he makes in the bed behind you when he gets in. Of course you're not asleep. There's no way sleep could reach you when you had the recent events constantly replaying in your head like a broken record.

You knew Jake with all your heart. You didn't have to look at him to know he was probably laying there, hurt, staring up at the ceiling, drafting what to say once you wake up—or once he knows you're actually still awake.

You decide to break the tension by turning to lay on your other side, facing him.

You were wrong. Thanks to the little sliver of moonlight shining through your sheer curtains, you can see him, now laying on his side, already looking at you with so much regret in his eyes. You can almost hear the cracks in your heart physically forming.

His eyes widen when he realizes you're still awake. He opens his mouth to say something, but not before you quickly shift over to his side of the bed and embrace him in a tight hold, burying your face into his chest. Without any hesitation, he returns the gesture, arms holding your body as close to him as possible. As if once he let go, he'd lose you forever.

He lets out a sigh of relief as he breathes you in. He didn't even know he was holding his breath all this time.

"I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry Y/N," he mutters into your hair. He feels his hoodie getting wet from where you buried your face. He pulls you closer, if that's even possible, feeling his own eyes heating up with sadness. He would never forgive himself for making you feel this way.

"You know I trust you right? Please know that. I shouldn't have assumed the worst when I saw your phone. I...I let my insecurities get to the best of me."

You move your head from its home on his chest to look up at him, as if asking him to elaborate. This was new to you, you didn't know he held insecurities in your relationship. But it wasn't because of you, no, you were his entire world. Losing you meant losing everything.

Jake's never been the best at saying his feelings. That's why it took him so long (with the help of his six best friends) to finally confess how he felt about you. He was afraid of letting people in if they could easily walk out. Maybe that's why he never let anyone into his life before you. But oh, were you an exception. The second he met you, he knew he was fucked. But thank god he did, because thanks to you, he's been able to be more open, more vulnerable. He's able to talk to you about anything and everything. He doesn't have that same fear of losing people anymore, not when he has you in his life to reassure him every step of the way. But right now, in this moment, he doesn't know how to tell you that his new fear was, in fact, just losing you.

The sheer idea of you not being a part of his life anymore terrified him. 

"I hope you know you're never going to lose me Jake, if that's what you're insecure about," you softly mutter as you wrap your free arm that's not stuck in between both your bodies around him to gently play with the ends of his hair. It's as if you could read his mind, he loves that you know him so well.

"It just sucks that you could even think I would ever do something as awful as what you were assuming...with one of your closest friends nonetheless," you continue.

"I know. I know, and I feel terrible. I'm so sorry. I know you would never do anything remotely close to that, and I know you would never intentionally try to keep anything from me," he sighs. He shifts so he can lie down on his back, bringing you with him to lie on his chest, never letting you go once. "It's just...I just don't know what I'd do if I ever lost you Y/N. Everyday, I ask myself what heroic thing I must've done in my past life to deserve this life with you and I can't help but think you could just as easily be stripped away from me."

As much as your heart breaks listening to him rant, you feel your love for him grow even more. You knew how hard it was for him to put his true emotions into words, and him telling you this reminded you how much trust he had in you.

After some moments of silence, moments of him drawing random shapes onto your back, moments of you two just holding each other like it was the end of the world, you speak up.

"I love you. I'm sorry for making you doubt yourself—"

"No, it's not your fault, I can't help but think things like that. I just don't know what I did to deserve you, and I know that I need to be mo–"

"Babe let me finish," you say with a little giggle in your tone. He immediately stops and mutters a little "sorry". How cute, you tell yourself.

"I was gonna say," you look back up at him so you're making direct eye contact now. "You're the only one that's ever on my mind, Jake. I can't help the way you think, but I can assure you that there is no one else I would rather be with. And I mean that for the rest of life."

You snuggle back into the comfortable hoodie he's currently wearing (you make a mental note to yourself to steal it from him later) and decide to ease the tension,

"So you're stuck with me for life, sorry to inform you Mr. Sim."

Jake lets out a laugh, looking down at you to see you returning his smile with a cheeky one.

"I love you. So much," he says so sincerely, so genuinely, that you almost tear up again from how content you were. Now you were asking yourself, what did you do to deserve him?

Jake Sim is not a jealous person.

No, he just loves you.

A lot.

[helloalycia]

The Wrong Lifetime – Three // Wanda Maximoff

chapter two | story masterlist | main masterlist | wattpad | chapter four

author’s note: i have nothing to say except enjoy!

Chewing on my bottom lip, I looked over the shelves at the different kinds of stationary the shop had to offer. I needed a new notebook and some ink since I'd ran low at home, so I decided to come into town to have a look.

A brown leather-bound notebook caught my eye and I picked it up, flicking through the pages. Sadly, they were too thin for my liking, so I replaced it and kept looking.

Moments like this were one of the few luxuries I had to myself, where my mother wasn't nattering in my ear about finding a husband and learning to do something useful other than writing, or where my brother wasn't overshadowing me in everything he did, making me feel even worse about myself. No, moments like this, I could just be.

"Y/N? Is that you?"

And there goes my moment.

Plastering a smile on my lips, I spun around and was surprised to see Wanda approaching me with an equally surprised expression on her face. She really was everywhere, wasn't she?

"Wanda, hello," I greeted as she stopped by my side. "It's good to see you."

She looked good, considering I hadn't seen her for a few days. Maybe once when she'd popped in to say hello to everybody before her date with my brother, but that was hardly a meeting. Now, she looked cheery, eyes sparkling with their usual excitement.

"You, too," she said softly, a smile creeping on her lips. Her eyes fell to my hands, where I was holding some ink. "Don't you have servants to do that for you?"

"Don't you have servants to do that for you?" I countered lightheartedly, eyes flickering to the vast amount of paintbrushes and paint in her arms.

She narrowed her eyes in a playful manner. "Touché."

Rolling my eyes in good nature, I asked, "So, what made you decide to go shopping?"

"I needed some new supplies," she quipped with an adorable smile, lifting her arms which were filled with said supplies.

"And you didn't think a basket would help?" I joked, before turning to grab a stray basket beside the shelves and helping her to put everything in it.

She chuckled, accepting my help, and answered, "Truthfully, I only came for the paint, but then I saw some new brushes I wanted to try, and then there were some new colours in stock and, well, before I knew it–"

"This happened," I finished for her with amusement, handing her the filled basket.

She took the basket from my hands and nodded. "Exactly. I would have sent my servant to get the paint, but last time I did, she came back with the wrong one."

"Oh, the scandal," I teased.

Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment and it was refreshing to see the shoe on the other foot. I guess I could see the fun in it now – no wonder she teased me often. Plus, she looked cute when she was caught off guard.

"What about you?" she countered, attempting to take the attention off her.

Content smile on my lips, I watched her. "What about me?"

She gave me an isn't it obvious? look. "I told you why I was here. What about you?"

I shrugged, looking back to the shelves. "I just needed some things... and I may or may not get excited when buying stationary."

Her melodious laughter filled the air. "Of course."

"I just don't know which to get," I told her, motioning to the notebooks. "There's so many options!"

She hummed with amusement, stepping by my side closely and reaching out to get a better look. I was acutely aware of her shoulder pressed to mine and tried to stop thinking about it, but obviously, once I told myself to stop thinking about it, it was all I could think about.

"How about this one?" she suggested, picking up a notebook wrapped in a burgundy-coloured sleeve. She was probably biased since it was her favourite colour.

I took it from her grasp as she held it towards me, feeling tingles at the tips of my fingers when they grazed her hand. God, I needed to get a grip.

Before I could look at the notebook properly, I noticed a smudge on her hand, subconsciously grabbing it before she pulled away. Flipping it over so I could see her palm, I saw several smudges of colour and stared with confusion.

"Paint," she explained, mildly embarrassed as she pulled away. "The stuff goes everywhere."

I hid a smile, finding it cute, before looking to the notebook again.

"I like it, but now to see the pages," I said, flipping through them to see if they were thick enough. I hated getting a notebook with flimsy pages that ink seeped through.

"Are they to your liking, your majesty?" she teased, and I looked up to see her tilting her head and watching me through her eyelashes.

"Yes, they are actually," I retorted with a childish glare, before closing it. "Thanks."

She half-suppressed a laugh. "Good. Let's hope it gives you some... vdokhnoveniye."

She paused, scrunching her nose in thought, probably searching for the right word in English. I was too distracted by how enchanting she looked when she did that to care about her struggle to find the word.

"Vdokhnoveniye is like inspiration," she explained, eyes looking back to me after staring up in thought, "but it's something better. It's from the word vdykhat', meaning to breathe."

"So, you want me to get a good breath from this?" I asked, quirking a brow with bemusement.

"No! No." She laughed, running a hand through her curls. "It's like... when you get inspired by something so quickly, as quickly as it takes to take in a breath. Never mind, it's stupid."

"It's not," I reassured her with an appreciative look. "I get it. Thanks. I like that. Russian is definitely a fascinating language."

She seemed glad that I made sense of her ramblings and I smiled, realising there was much more to Wanda than her ability to make me a stumbling mess.

"Have you got everything?" I asked her, glancing to her basket, before quickly adding, "What am I saying? Of course you've got everything. Practically half the store is in there."

She shoved me gently. "Not nice. But yes, I have everything."

I refrained from chuckling at her dismay before leading the way to the till so we could pay. As we took turns, the cashier made conversation with both of us. I knew of him because I'd been here enough times to make a friend, but I was surprised to see Wanda was the same. I was certain I'd never seen her here before. And I'd been here a lot.

When we finished paying, we began to head outside and I decided to speak my thoughts.

"You know, it's strange to think that we've both been coming here for a while and yet we've never crossed paths," I noted. "I mean, unless we have and just didn't know who each other were then."

She shook her head casually. "Oh, no, we haven't crossed paths. I'd definitely remember a pretty face like yours."

I paused, bewildered at her words as they took time to sink in. She seemed to notice as she laughed, holding the door to the shop open for me. I walked outside and she followed after me, eyes glancing at me satisfactorily.

"So, er, what are you doing now?" I changed the subject, recovering from my momentary shock.

She settled with a smile as she answered, "I'm in the middle of adding some finishing touches to a painting I'm working on. I'll probably head back to finish it."

"Ah, the paintings that you talk about but I've never seen," I joked, relaxing under her stare. "I'm starting to believe you're lying to me, love."

She rolled her eyes, though her smile widened, revealing a dimple by the corner of her mouth. "I'm not... You can come with me if you'd like. I don't mind showing you." When her eyes met mine, she quickly added, "If you're not busy, that is."

Humour disappearing, I nodded with surprise. "Sure. I'd love to."

And that wasn't a lie. I was curious to see the Sokovian's work since she seemed to enjoy talking about art so much. Plus, I could appreciate some good art when I needed to and I wondered if hers would fit the bill.

Or at least that's what I told myself when she flashed her dazzling smile my way, making my heart explode with adoration.

—

Just like me, Wanda didn't have a dedicated place to work from because her parents didn't deem her passion an appropriate hobby for a young woman in today's day and age. So, just like I did, she worked in her room and made the most of the space she had.

As soon as we took a step inside, I was amazed by how much stuff there was. Of course there was the expected – a bed, an ottoman, a wardrobe and a desk – but it was as if that was all secondary furniture to the main focus.

Closest to the giant window on the opposite end of the room were several canvases being supported by easels, some painted and some blank. Papers with sketches of literally anything you can think of were taped to the walls, some scattered along the floor and some scrunched up entirely, missing the bin.

Her desk was filled with jars of paintbrushes, oils, pencils, chalk and any other art supply I'd probably never heard nor seen of before. The place was messy, but not dirty. Her bed was made, the sheets as crisp as could be, her books were lined up neatly, her paintbrushes all had a perfect spot. It was clean, but it was a giant mess, and it was the most beautiful mess I'd ever seen. I refused to believe art was merely a hobby for her when it seemed like her room was dedicated to it.

"This is your room?" I asked with disbelief, eyebrows raised.

Clearly mistaking my amazement for critique, she dumped her newly purchased art supplies on her bed before rushing to pick up some loose papers and canvases from the floor.

"Yes," she squeaked, attempting to kick some papers under her bed as she straightened up sheepishly. "Sorry for the mess. Believe it or not, it does follow a system."

I laughed wholeheartedly, heading further into the space to where her makeshift studio was. "Wanda, you don't need to apologise. This place is amazing."

She snickered, glancing around at everything. "You think? I'd love something more – a real studio – but of course, women aren't supposed to have hobbies apart from pleasing their husband and hosting dinners every other week."

The last part she said with a hint of bitterness, clearly repeating what she'd been told before, no doubt by her parents. I was surprised by her vulgarity, but I wasn't in disagreement. She was absolutely right and it was such a shame because women were so much more than their husband. Too bad society would never see that.

"My father only allows me this... sanctuary," she finished with a sigh, before her hand rested on her desk. "It's not much, but at least it's mine."

"Well, I love it," I told her honestly, making her smile as she looked my way. "Can I look around?"

She waved her hand. "Of course. Nothing's off limits,  but do be generous. My ego is easily bruised."

I chuckled at her joke and she flashed me another smile before grabbing her neglected art supplies. As I helped myself to looking around at her work, I heard her rustling around behind me and glanced her way, seeing her making herself comfortable on a stool before a particular canvas. I presumed it was the piece she was working on that she mentioned earlier and got back to my browsing.

She was extremely talented, not that I had any doubts to be honest. There were her bigger pieces, the extremely detailed ones, that she'd painted of grassy landscapes. Some were green full trees with falling leaves, some were cherry blossom trees with pink blossoms floating in the air, some were buildings overgrown with mother nature. I recognised none of them, but they transported me elsewhere like a nostalgic reminder of being a kid and playing in the garden with my mum. Even now, I helped her do the gardenening, but I'd never really appreciated my surroundings until I saw Wanda's work.

And those were just the huge pieces. She'd done sketches that were taped to the wall, to her desk, floating out of sketchbooks. Some were plans for bigger pieces, others were daily observations, all of her surroundings. She didn't draw people, I noticed, it was mainly scenery. But it was all stunning and it brought a smile to my lips as I imagined her producing all of this in her own little sanctuary, as she called it.

"You've been quiet for too long," she called out jokingly, after a while of me perusing her sketchbooks.

I looked up from my seat at her desk, seeing her focused on her painting, but an amused smile ghosted her lips. The sunlight from the window was hitting her perfectly at the moment, and even from where I was sat, I could see the flecks of gold shimmering in her eyes, matching the auburn streaks in her hair. The breath got knocked out of me momentarily, and I almost forgot that she'd said something.

Clearing my throat, I returned her smile. "I'm admiring your work, Wanda. You're bloody talented."

She lowered her paintbrush and gave me an incredulous look. "Tell me what you really think, Y/N."

I grinned, laughing slightly. "I am! I genuinely think this is amazing."

She pressed her lips together, still reluctant to believe me, but she nodded gratefully and returned her attention to her painting. I didn't fail to notice the pink spreading across her cheeks at the compliment, and my heart fluttered at the sight.

"Would you ever sell any of these?" I asked her, standing up and approaching her side to see what she was working on.

I noticed the addition of stray paint that had made its way to her hands and forearms and it made me smile. I don't even think she realised it was there.

She scrunched her nose up at the idea. "I've given some away to family friends because my parents made me. But no, I don't think I'd sell them." Something seemed to make her snort with amusement, then she said, "Nobody would buy them anyway."

I frowned as she sighed, her shoulders sagging at the thought. It was horrible to admit, but she was right. Female authors – questionable, but sure, they existed. Female painters? Let's just say that it was easier to be successful if you worked under a pseudonym and pretended to be a man. Which she clearly wouldn't do, or at least her parents wouldn't allow her to do. Sadly, Wanda Maximoff was in the wrong lifetime.

Hoping to cheer her up, I stood by her side and admired the strokes she made with her paintbrush. "If it's any consolation, if we were in another lifetime where I actually made money, I'd buy them."

She glanced at me, partially disbelieving my words, partially intrigued. "Seriously?"

I nodded with certainty, eyes flickering between hers and her painting. "Seriously. All of them. I'd buy every single one."

She looked away, swallowing hard, then a soft, barely noticeable smile appeared on her lips, and I was glad I'd said the right thing.

Focusing my attention on the painting again, I saw it was a stunning view of a stream, and the way she'd painted it made it seem like it was flowing off the canvas. Her last minute touches, adding white flecks of oil paint on the water, managed to bring the piece to life without any effort. I was amazed at how someone could make nothing turn into something so easily.

"Where is this?" I asked curiously, not recognising the scene, and also wondering where she'd gone for the inspiration since we lived in a busy town that didn't have water sources nearby.

She pointed to her head with the end of her paintbrush. "Up here."

"You made this up?" I asked, surprised for the millionth time since arriving.

"Uh-huh." She tilted her head to study the piece, whilst saying, "I usually paint what's in the garden. Sometimes what I see in town is good, too. But I really wanted to paint water, and apart from the constant rain we get, there is none. So, I made it up."

I was impressed at her ability to make up something like this, but also slightly confused. "Why don't you just visit Blackpool? There's a beach – water, sand, pier, everything. And it's not too far from here. You could make it a day trip."

She shrugged, distracting herself with dipping her brush on her palette. "I don't want to go by myself."

I probably should have recommended she visit with my brother. You know, the man she was engaged to? But my eagerness got the better of me, and I ended up saying, "Maybe we could go together. If you want."

She looked up, a slow smile forming on her lips. "I'd like that."

I mirrored her expression, nodding slightly. "Great. I'm sure we can arrange something. Promise."

She held my gaze for a second longer, saying, "I'll hold you to that, milaya," before looking back to her painting.

"What does that mean?" I asked suddenly, my mind clearly not controlling my words today. "You keep calling me it."

She chuckled, leaning forward to get a closer look at her work with her paintbrush. "Darling."

"Pardon?"

She shook her head, glancing at me with amusement. "No, Y/N. It means darling."

I swallowed awkwardly, certain my cheeks were as red as they felt warm. I wasn't sure what was more embarrassing – that I'd responded to her calling me darling when she hadn't, or that she'd been calling it me this whole time without me knowing. "Oh."

"Pull up a stool," she changed the subject, though my mind was still racing at her revelation. Had she called Y/B/N that? I couldn't recall. "I'll show you how to paint a little if you want."

Dazed, I did as she said whilst chewing on my lip with thought. She watched me, grinning from ear to ear, but said nothing. Was it normal for my heart to flip-flop in my chest like it was? I couldn't tell anymore. And when she grabbed my hand without saying anything, my hand felt like it was on fire with her touch.

The tip of her paintbrush swiped against my inner palm, her soft fingertips holding it up. Every area that her finger touched was burning, sending tingles up my arm and leaving me paralysed. Good thing I was sat down.

"There," she said like it was obvious. "Now you're an artist."

Blue eyes met mine excitedly and I gave her a small smile in return, hoping that these strange thoughts and reactions would disappear soon enough. Because this was definitely not appropriate.

—

My dreams were never anything worthwhile.

For someone who had a creative mind and could string sentences together to create a story I was proud of, my subconscious was the opposite. It was dry and boring and I rarely remembered my dreams unless they were scary enough to wake me up. But this time, this was a dream I was certain I'd never forget...

As with all dreams, I was unable to control what was happening. I was myself, observing from a first person point of view like it was real, but I had no control over my words or actions. Everything was predetermined, like a script I was forced to follow.

So, in this particular dream, I was sat in the back of a carriage, wearing a dress that was fancier than my usual taste. One hand was clutching my purse and the other was in someone else's hand, the person playing with my fingers soothingly.

"We're stopping now. Are you ready?"

It was Wanda. I had no idea why she was in my dream, or why she was leaning into my side comfortably, or why she was playing with my fingers like she did it all the time. I just knew that it shouldn't have been happening.

"Yeah, c'mon," I said with a smile, following my dream's script.

I intertwined our fingers and raised them to my lips, pressing a kiss to her palm. She smiled with adoration and allowed me to lead her out the carriage quickly. We were at the theatre and the first thing I thought was that my mind was creating a date similar to the one she shared with my brother. Oh, God, this wasn't good.

"Promise you've got the tickets?" she asked as we walked inside, hand in hand.

In my dream, nobody around us seemed to care that we were together, that we were two women showing affection and simply existing in a way more than friends. As wrong as I knew it was to dream of my soon-to-be sister-in-law like this, my mind was at peace, knowing I could be myself in my dream state. I didn't have to hide my identity and it was liberating.

"No, I decided to leave them at home," I answered her sarcastically, smiling.

She squeezed my hand and tugged me close, stopping me from walking any further. Her face scrunched together with a feigned annoyance.

"You don't need to be mean," she mumbled, eyes peering into mine, and my heart raced at the contact of her body pressed to mine.

Grinning, I pressed a kiss to her nose. "I've got them right here, love. Now let's go before we're late."

The dream didn't have a clear transformation. I just knew that one second I was staring at Wanda and the next I was sat beside her in the theatre, waiting for the lights to go down.

"Here," I said, passing her the programme for the show that was in my hand.

When I looked down at it, I was surprised to see a wedding ring on my left hand. Huh.

The lights dimmed when Wanda looked my way, green eyes bright in the dark. She shrugged, grabbing the programme and tossing it over her shoulder to the (thankfully) empty seat next to her.

"Looks like I missed my chance," she said, referring to the lack of light.

I opened my mouth to counter her words, but she didn't give me chance to as she pressed her lips to mine, hand raising to hold the back of my neck and pull me closer. Real me was freaking out, wondering why the hell I was allowing myself to have such thoughts about the girl who was going to marry my brother. And dream me was melting into her touch, shivering at her warmth and the way she began to suck my bottom lip.

"Wanda," I breathed out, pulling away breathlessly, but she continued to hold me close with a stifled grin.

"Isn't that why we got these tickets?" she said jokingly, eyes meeting mine.

My heart raced as she did, the simplest of glances making me weak in the knees. I was beginning to learn that her eyes were irresistibly beautiful.

"Right," I found my words, smiling in agreement as my eyes flickered to her lips.

They were painted red tonight, slightly smudged from the abrupt kiss she gave me, and I could only imagine the state of my own lips.

"We can watch the play now," she whispered, and I just about managed to tear my gaze from her lips to see the entertained look in her eyes.

I hummed in response, not trusting myself to say something comprehensible. Her lips curved into a smile and she linked our arms before settling into her seat, head leaning on my shoulder. I leaned mine on top, kissing the top of her head gently before also getting comfortable.

When I woke up, I didn't remember the rest of the dream, or know if there was a rest of the dream. I opened my eyes and found myself laying in my bed alone, tired and in the dark. It was still nighttime and my mind was foggy with fatigue. It took a moment for me to remember what I'd just dreamed. And then it hit me.

I liked my brother's fiancé.

[chdarling]

1. Do you have any one-shot recommendations while I obsessively wait for the next chapter? 2. I’ve seen bits of TLE2 and TLE4 but any chance of a tiny tiny tiny tiny sneak peak of something to look forward to in TLE3?

Hi there! So, as far as one-shot recommendations, unfortunately I have hardly been reading any fanfic while I’ve been working on TLE2, so I'm rather short on new recs. If anyone wants to share their faves, please do!!

I will enthusiastically recommend Large Heart, Tiny Photographs by @the-dream-team. Even though it’s technically multi-chapter, each chapter reads as a standalone, and it’s utterly heart-wrenching and beautiful. 😭❤️

Moving on to part 2 of this ask…

Since I did decline to share a spoiler for TLE2 earlier this week, I will take this opportunity to redeem myself with some choice TLE3 content. 😅

It was actually quite difficult to find a snippet from TLE3 that was a) actually written and b) not hugely spoilery for the ending of TLE2...but you know how everyone has that proverbial devil and angel on their shoulders, giving them advice? I have a confession to make: I am cursed with only devils. Devils on every shoulder. Behold, a conversation:

Devil on my left shoulder: Release a fake snippet of James and Florence and pretend they’re still together in TLE3 just to watch the world burn 😈😈😈

Me: um, ok sure that is an option. Or, hear me out, we could instead share a nice little snippet that is both genuine and doesn't give too much away—

Devil on my right shoulder (in a gremlin voice): RELEASE THE JILY KISSSSSS 😈😈😈

Me: …I need a new brain, pls.

Anyway, I've been sitting on this snippet for actual years and it's oddly enough the least spoilery thing I have written for TLE3, so have at it, folks. Think of it as me giving you something to hold onto through these dark, Florence-infested days ahead. 😉

(I got carried away and didn't want to cut it off so you get the whole dang scene...I better be forgiven for the great anti-Florence uprising of 2021 is all I'm saying 🤣🤣🤣)

Excerpt from The Last Enemy: Marauders' End (TLE3)

“Well, you are Head Boy now.”

James slumped his elbows onto the low wall of the rooftop and let out a despondent noise. “Don’t remind me.”

“Oh, come on,” said Lily, walking over to him. “Sirius was just teasing earlier. You’re not actually upset about it, are you?”

James straightened up a bit and shot her a quick, reassuring smile that made her heart flutter. “‘Course not,” he said. “It’s just — I don’t get it. I’ve spent my entire career finding new and inventive ways to break the rules, and now I’m supposed to enforce them? I can’t imagine what Dumbledore was thinking.”

“Well, I can,” said Lily, and James looked at her in surprise. “It’s a difficult time in the world right now, isn’t it? I rather suspect the Headmaster was looking for different qualities in his Head Boy than mere ‘rule enforcer.’ He has a whole army of prefects and teachers prepared to do that unhappy job. I think he was looking for someone who could be a role model, on a broader level.”

“And that’s supposed to be me?”

Lily smiled at his dubious expression. Cocky, full-of-himself, Quidditch Hero Potter wasn’t sure he was up to the job. There was a time when she never would’ve believed it, but over the past year as she’d gotten to know him better, she’d realized that behind all the posturing and performing, the Quidditch swagger and the hair ruffling, was a boy who was desperately concerned with doing what was right.

“Yeah,” she said after a moment. “That’s supposed to be you.”

James shrugged again. “I don’t get it.”

“Because you’re still thinking about breaking rules…but I’m thinking of the boy who never once hesitated to call someone out for anti-Muggle speech. Who never once uttered the M-word, even when it was considered cool and edgy.”

“Well, that’s just being a decent—”

“I’m thinking of the boy,” said Lily loudly, “who [REDACTED FOR TLE2 SPOILERS].”

“I — you knew about that?”

“I’m thinking of the boy,” Lily went on in a softer voice, “who doesn’t like to talk about that Special Services to the School award sitting in the trophy cabinet.”

James did not have a response to this one.

“I can imagine exactly what Dumbledore was thinking,” concluded Lily, “and I’m really glad he chose you.”

James looked as though he wanted to make a joke, but couldn’t quite figure out how to get there. “Well — er — I’m really glad he chose you, too.” He ran a hand through his hair, and it was such a familiar, sweet gesture — one that used to infuriate her, no less — that she couldn’t help but stifle a giggle.

“What?” demanded James. Then he withdrew his hand from his hair and glowered at it as though it had misbehaved. “Oh. I’m doing it again. I don’t mean to.”

“Oh, with hair like that I expect it’s hard to resist.” Lily stood on tiptoes and mussed his hair herself. “Don’t touch it, it’s perfect.”

It was as though Lily had vacated her body and some foreign, flirty version of herself had taken over. As she rolled back onto her heels, she realized they were standing very close; he was gazing at her with a slightly bemused expression on his face, lips parted in a question he didn’t seem able to formulate. God, he had beautiful lips, all soft and curious.

Before she could stop herself, she leaned up and pressed her mouth firmly to his.

It wasn’t much of a kiss — she’d somewhat overestimated the space between them and thus smashed against him more forcefully than planned — and he’d hardly had a moment to realize what was happening before she’d jumped back, her hand flying to her mouth in embarrassment.

“Oh!” she gasped. “I’m sorry.”

James blinked at her. “That’s — that’s not something you’re supposed to apologize for.”

Lily didn’t respond; her hummingbird heart was fluttering about and all she could do was stand there with her hand over her mouth, staring at him, eyes wide, breath caught in her throat. The foreign, flirty creature had deserted her and once again she was merely Lily, seventeen years old and horribly, bone-shakingly nervous.

His mouth curved into that crooked half-smile of his and he stepped towards her. Slowly, he took her hand and guided it away from her mouth, then placed his palm along the line of her chin, his thumb brushing the slope of her cheek. Her gaze was locked on his as his eyebrows lifted in an infinitesimal arch: a question. Her chin dipped an answer.

And then he kissed her. A slow and gentle kiss, with none of the harsh urgency of her impulsive peck, but rather as though this — this perfect state of being — was as natural as the spin of the earth, as though this had always been here and always would be. They had all the time in the world; they need not hurry.

His hand slid to her waist and with a gust of breath she folded her arms around his neck, pressing herself deeper into the kiss. The evening enveloped them in its warmth; he was night and she was stars, and the wind that blew across the sky was the breath in his lungs, the roar of the city the sigh in her chest.

At last they pulled apart.

“Oh,” breathed Lily.

And then James began to laugh, a soft, quiet rumble that shuddered his shoulders.

“Are you — are you laughing?”

James inclined his brow towards her, solemnly shaking his head, trying to swallow a fresh burst of giggles.

“What is so funny?” Lily demanded, torn between amusement and mortification.

“I’m sorry,” he said, trying to maintain a straight face and failing. “It’s just…I have wanted to do that for so long.”

Lily leaned back. “Oh really?”

“Oh yes.”

“And…did it live up to your expectations?”

“Oooh yes.”

Then Lily started to laugh as well; she pressed her forehead to his chest, trying to muffle her giggles. They laughed until they slid to the floor under the weight of their mirth…then they sat there, collapsed into each other, their peals of laughter ringing into the night.

“We just kissed,” said Lily faintly, wiping her eyes.

“Yeah,” agreed James. “Sure did.”

[randomshyperson]

THE SCARLET WITCH PROPHECY - Chapter VI - The Fourth Year (Final Part)

Gif is not mine, blessed are the gif makers.

Summary: As the youngest daughter of Howard Stark, you have ordinary expectations for your years at Hogwarts. Little do you know what adventures await you when your destiny is intertwined with the legendary Scarlet Witch.

Warnings: +16. Adaptation of the Harry Potter Saga, Magical Thematic, Prophecies, Mentions of Violence, Torture and dark magic, Language (swearing and minor/major offenses), manipulation of will, Underage kissing, insinuation of smut with minors, Smut (overage), descriptions of death, aggression, obscurity, angst, fluffy, soulmates analogies. | Chapters Warnings: Heavy angst in this.

A/N: This took me a while, because i had writer block (and it's not over yet). Anyway, I hope people like this. Let me know if anything is confusing okay? Sorry about typos too.

Words counting: 11.344K

Series Masterlist ||  Read on AO3 || All Works Masterlist

//-//

The Fourth Year - Final Part

Wanda was avoiding you. Well, not just you, but all your friends.

You told Gamora what happened, but you didn't have the stomach to repeat the story to anyone else, so your sister passed the news on.

You were coping well in spite of everything. You missed her terribly the whole time, but you were pushing the feelings down and trying to stay positive about everything.

By trying to put yourself in Wanda's shoes, you understood why she did what she did. You just had to find a way to prove to her that what you felt was real, and for that you needed to find out more about your magical bond.

Your best alternative to the lack of books about it in the library was to talk to the professors. Judging from your experience with them, none of the teachers would tell you anything. But Fury has been acting very differently all year, and although you don't agree with the way he has been teaching D.A.D.A. lately, you have the impression that he would tell you anything you asked.

That's why after a particularly exhausting class where he made all students practice the shield spell until one of the boys threw up, you waited until the room emptied to talk to him, watching with curiosity as he turned a small bottle he kept in his pocket to his mouth.

"What is it Stark?" He asked still on his back. You wondered if behind the eye patch he had some enchanted eye to see around things, but the idea seemed too absurd to you.

"Sorry, Professor Fury." You say. "I have a question about advanced magic and would like to clear it with you."

Fury put his materials away in his bag, and beckoned for you to accompany him into the private office, and you followed him into the small room, watching him set the desk on a coffee table and move toward a glass cabinet of magic supplies.

"Have a seat and make yourself comfortable." He said with his back turned. "I need to prepare a potion, but you can ask me what you want."

You stumble half-heartedly to one of the empty armchairs, and then clear your throat.

"It's about magic bonds, professor." You recount. "I... well, I think I have one. And well, I'm not finding much material on it, and I don't understand how they work."

Fury makes a noise with his mouth in understanding, his hands wandering through the cabinets behind ingredients you don't recognize, but he seems to be paying attention to both you and the brewing of the potion.

"Are you familiar with the concept of magical bonds and connections, Miss Stark?" He asks and you deny it. The professor cuts something that looks like mushrooms on the table as he speaks again. "The reason you can't find books that explain to you exactly the nature of this magic, is because no wizard has been able to decipher these enchantments correctly." He explains. "The magical bonds are one of the oldest and most powerful enchantments in the magical world, Miss Stark. Extremely dangerous, yet immeasurably valuable for some purposes."

You swallow dryly, but do not interrupt. Professor Fury bends down to reach a tin cauldron and places it on the counter in front of him, on a small makeshift stove. He deposits some ingredients inside.

"Have you ever heard about any of these bonding spells?" He asks and you think for a moment.

"I think I've heard about the perpetual vow, sir."

Fury gives a small smile, nodding. He sniffs a small bottle before pouring the contents into the cauldron.

"Yes, the perpetual vow is a great example of a magical bond." He says. "But it is still an active spell, you need to recite an incantation and both parties need to voluntarily close the bond. Some witches believe it's a contractual magic, much more than a natural connection." Fury explains. "I particularly prefer to use another example, Stark. The life debt."

Fury has a smile at the corner of his lips, and a strange gleam in his eyes when he looks at you for a moment, but you don't have the courage to ask. He turns his attention back to the cauldron, lighting the flame under the metal with his wand.

"I don't know what that means." You confess and the professor doesn't take his eyes off the cauldron.

"A life debt is a magical bond created when a wizard or witch saves the life of another magical being." He explains. "And I say magical being, not just another wizard, because I've seen it happen once for a centaur to owe a wizard their life. But never the other way around."

"How does that work?"

"It's very simple really." He says. "If you save someone's life, that person or creature will owe you a debt. The bond is created, without needing an incantation. The act of preserving a life is magical enough to create that bond." He explains and his expression turns almost somber. "The best part is that the person saved needs to pay back."

"And how do they do it?"

"A life can only be paid with another life." He declares. By now, the potion is smelling. You don't know what it is, but it looks like lavender, and it makes you a little dizzy. "I have witnessed a quitting in my time as an auror, Miss Stark." He tells you, and you already imagine that what he is about to say is not something you should tell a fourteen-year-old witch, but you don't think to interrupt. "The debtor throws himself in front of the Reducto incantation to prevent the death of the witch who saved him once. I still remember the pieces flying around the room."

You looked away, uncomfortable with the mental image you were given. The professor didn't seem to mind.

"But of course not all debts are paid off like that." He added as if he hadn't just told the story of someone tearing themselves apart. "Stopping a friend from falling off his broom in a game of quidditch might be enough to pay off a debt. Or to create one too." He counters. " This kind of magic has always been very difficult to decipher."

You murmur in understanding, keeping your gaze on the floor. The professor sighs lightly, moving away from the cauldron to sit in the empty armchair in front of you.

"But I'm guessing you're not talking about any of these bonds, are you?" He hints and you swallow dryly, feeling intimidated by the watchful gaze he gives you. You figure that lying is not an option.

"N-no sir." You reply. "I wanted to know more about protective bonds. Like... like the idea of someone you care about getting hurt, causes you a really bad feeling. And it makes you ignore your own safety and makes you go too far e...."

"Impressive." The professor interrupts, his gaze almost fascinated on you, and making you swallow dryly. "And how far are we talking about, Stark? What's the limit? Would the wizard put themselves in front of an unforgivable curse? Would they offer themselves up as a sacrifice? If one were to get hurt, would the bruises show up on the other, or does the very idea make your insides turn? Or…”

"Fury." You jump in fright when Strange's voice interrupts the monologue of the other man, who was very close to you now.

Fury looks annoyed that he has been cut off, but he turns away with a smile. "Pardon the interruption. I need to have a word with you on a matter." Stephen said, but he didn't look happy at all, and his expression was one of concern and disapproval, probably from the discussion he witnessed.

You stood up awkwardly, taking a step back, your heart still racing from the things the professor told you.

"Of course, Professor Strange." Fury spoke as he stood up. "Stark, I hope that has cleared up your doubts. If there is anything else you wish to ask me, you may come to my office as needed."

You bit your tongue to avoid saying that Fury only scared you rather than clarifying anything, and nodded in understanding.

"Defense Against the Dark Arts may not be my class, but I am also available to talk with you, Miss Stark." Stephen added softly as you passed him in the doorway. You mumbled a goodbye before walking out of the office, ignoring the horrible feeling that settled in your stomach.

//-//

You were really disturbed by the conversation with Professor Fury. The story of the wizard casting himself in front of a spell gave you strange dreams, and you could no longer be sure that you wouldn't do the same for Wanda.

Your friends were equally impressed by what you told them, and you ignored the feeling of dissatisfaction at the pit of your stomach that you felt because you wish you were talking to Wanda about it, and tried to be more grateful that you have someone to talk to at all.

You were thinking of talking to Tony about everything, and you thought you'd look for him in the Slytherin hall, and to your surprise, he showed up in your common room. You thought he was there to spend some time with Steve, but he really came to see you.

"Daddy wrote for us." He explains as soon as he greets you. The letter already open in your hands as he throws himself on the couch in the communal hall. It is Sunday, but the room is very empty because with the amount of free time and foreigners in the castles, most of the students are socializing outside. You had dismissed your friends' invitation to practice Quidditch in exchange for a nap, as you were upset by the way Wanda left the main hall at breakfast when she realized you were sitting at the Slytherin table with her brother.

"Finally." You grumble as you sit down in the armchair across from Tony, stretching out your arm to pick up the letter. It must have been the first letter in three months or more. Last time, your father had said he was overwhelmed with work and would not send any news for a while. You thought it would be days, but it was months. Jarvis at least wrote to tell that he was alive, working in the basement.

Looking down at the paper, you began to read:

"Dear children, how is school going? I hope you are studying as I have always asked you to do. I have been busy with an important project at the ministry, an invention to improve the astronomical forecasts of the wizarding community. Please forgive me for the lack of contact these last months.

Tony, I received the letter about the detention, and I was quite upset when I heard about the bet. You are the older brother and you should protect your sister, not put her in danger. But I am glad that everything ended well and hope that this kind of behavior will not happen again.

Y/N, dear, I heard about your willingness to start studying Muggle Studies, and I'm very glad..."

You stop reading the letter halfway through, frowning and looking at Tony next, who was lying with his head on the cushions and his arm under his eyes.

"What kind of crap is this?" you ask with confusion and irritation, causing Tony to let out a short chuckle. "Dad telling us to study? What the...?"

"It doesn't sound anything like him, I know." Tony interrupts and then sighs, sitting down on the couch to point to the paper. "And see how he doesn't make any jokes about the dare, or any comments about your incident at the lake? It sounds so mechanical and vague."

"Do you think he hasn't read our letters? He only mentions the one from school." You say and Tony leans back on the couch, thoughtful.

"I don't know. It just doesn't sound like him." He says. "I wouldn't be surprised to find out that Jarvis wrote it."

"Why would Jarvis do that?"

"Because Dad hasn't spoken to us in three months." Tony retorts with irritation. "And well, you almost drowned and he didn't even bother to read about it."

"Tony..."

"No, it's fine." He grumbles, taking the letter from your hands and standing up. "Screw him." Cursed the boy in annoyance, tossing the letter into the fireplace in the room. You frowned, sighing. "We don't need him. I'll take care of you."

You were tired of this. Running a hand through your hair for a moment in frustration, you let Tony take your hands in his as he knelt in front of you next.

"I'm sorry I've been absent this while." He says surprising you. "I hated how all the adults were hiding things from us, and I did the same with you. I promise I will tell you everything from now on."

You nod in understanding, squeezing Tony's hand lightly.

"I need to tell you something too."

And you do. The whole conversation with Wanda and with Professor Fury shock Tony. And he has a frown creased in concern when you finish.

"I know it's a lot." You say. "But I'm terrified. I don't know what will happen to me if I lose Wanda, and all I can do is miss her."

"Hey, it's going to be okay." Tony says tenderly, releasing his hand to caress your cheeks and wipe away the dripping tears. "I won't let anything bad happen to you. I promise."

"What if you can't avoid it, Tony?" you retort softly, your voice whiny.

"I will." He assures you. "I will help you. We'll figure out a way to break this bond, and then you and Wanda will be safe."

You nod, deciding to believe his words. Your brother hugs you next, and you wish he is right.

//-//

Just like you, Tony was also unable to gain access to the restricted section of the library. But that is the least of your problems.

As the date of the last task approaches, you are a pile of nerves. Tony assures you that he will try to find something about ways to break magical bonds on the last trip to Hogsmeade in a local library, but you are barely listening to him, your thoughts wandering towards Wanda.

The other girl, on the other hand, continues to avoid you and your friends. Your only option is to ask Pietro about her, and he assures you that she is as upset as you are as if he is trying to make you feel better somehow. But all this information causes is a worsening of your distress. Pietro is not comfortable coming between you two, so you don't insist that he spend time with you or your friends, knowing that Wanda needs company. You also insist that Gamora and Nebula continue to spend time with the witch, but they comment that Wanda is not really sociable after the whole thing.

The rest of the school starts to notice the way the Maximoffs are no longer hanging out with you, and since everyone in the school loves a little gossip, the news that you and Wanda broke up starts to circulate very quickly.

You don't want your detention for the lake story to escalate, but it's hard to control the urge to jinx your classmates when their snarky remarks reach your ears.

"I heard they broke up because Wanda became a champion, and didn't want to be seen with a hufflepuff anymore." Said in a not so low tone, a Ravenclaw boy as you were walking ahead of them toward the Potions classroom.

"No, dude, that's not true. I heard that Wanda got pretty close to the other champion, Jean Grey, and obviously she'd go for a famous quidditch player than a nobody." Added a female voice, and you clutched the books in your hands tightly, but didn't turn around.

"Come on, the girl's a Stark." Retorted the boy. "I think Maximoff is a winner with either one."

The girl laughed lightly, and you wished you reach the classroom soon.

"I think you're right." The girl spoke up. "Maximoff has always been weird, I don't know how she got such great options."

Your attention wandered from the conversation when Mantis reached you. She went back to the dorm to get the potions book she had forgotten, and frowned at your annoyed posture when she arrived, but when she caught the words of the pair behind you, she threw them an annoyed look that made them fall silent.

"Don't pay any attention to that kind of gossip, Y/N." She asked gently and you just sighed.

"I just wish people would mind their own business." You grumble annoyed and Mantis agrees with a murmur.

Potions class was as difficult as it usually is. What surprised you was Professor Lensherr's tired appearance, but you imagined it must be because of the tournament finals that were being organized by the teachers.

When you were packing your materials, you almost knocked over the glass jar when he appeared in front of you.

"Stark, a word, please." He asked earnestly, and Mantis shot you a glance before hurrying to leave. The professor waited until the room was empty and then nodded to the door, which closed. "Wanda told me about your magic bond."

"Shit." You grumbled immediately, and Professor Erik raised his eyebrows. You cleared your throat, apologizing for cursing. "Look, sir, I don't know what else to say about it. I don't know where the bond came from, and I'm trying to find out..."

"I can help." He interrupts and you fall silent, surprised.

"Really?"

"Yes." He says straightening his posture and crossing his arms. "I obviously have more magical knowledge than you, and your nosy brother." He says and you understand that he is talking about the way Tony has been pestering the teachers to get information. "And if this bond affects Wanda, it is of particular interest to me."

You swallow dryly, nodding in understanding. You explain to him how you feel next, and Erik absorbs your words with a neutral expression.

"Interesting. I had my theories since you couldn't duel with Wanda in the second year, but since you became close, it wasn't my place to intrude.” He tells with a bit of a nostalgic face as you finish speaking. “I have a few questions, Miss Stark. I need clarification on the nature of this bond." He says with his arms still folded across his chest. "Last summer, Wanda had a cold. Did you feel anything?"

You thought about the vacation for a few seconds.

"No, sir." You reply. "I don't remember getting sick."

"I see." He says. "Tell me, have you ever had dragon pox?"

You nod in agreement.

"At how old?" The teacher asks, and you think for a moment.

"I don't know, four I think. Maybe five."

"Wanda had dragon pox when she was six." He declares, his gaze assessing you. You blink, trying to follow what he is trying to say. "It's not a very common disease in England, is it?"

"I don't think so." You mutter without understanding why the professor is looking at you like that.

"Wanda caught the disease in Sokovia, the country where she was born." He recounts. "We were on vacation and she came back sick. The last case of that disease here in England was almost a hundred years ago."

"I guess I'm unlucky then." You try to joke, and Erik almost smiles.

"The flu Wanda had last summer was not of magical origin." He adds, and you frown slightly, not knowing what to make of this information. "But dragon pox is magical in nature."

"Professor I don't..."

"Wanda broke her wrist at the age of seven." He interrupts as he uncrosses his arms, gesturing slightly. "She and Pietro were playing in the backyard, no magic."

"Okay..."

"I imagine Wanda has already talked to you about her exceptional magical abilities, Miss Stark." The professor continues. "Her visible magic, I meant. It started when she was three years old, when she was able to bring her toys into her crib and wrap them all in a magical cloud." Erik tells and you smile briefly at the image of a baby Wanda, but his expression makes you bite the inside of your cheek the next second. "I want to know how much of this you were able to experience, being on the other side of the country."

You swallow dryly, looking away and trying to think back to your childhood.

"I don't know, professor." You reply. "I was a child. Maybe Tony or dad will know something."

"Come on, isn't there anything you can tell me?" He insists. "Any specific memories, any strange dreams? Anything."

You think, and think, but none of your childhood memories seem relevant. And then you frown, remembering one.

"Actually... There was this one time I got really sick. I think I was about eight. Maybe nine, and dad took me to St.Mungus. I had a high fever, and I couldn't sleep at night with nightmares, but I don't remember what happened. They thought it might be the flu, but we never found out what it was. The next day I was better."

Erik was slightly wide-eyed and then he sighed.

"Before she came to Hogwarts, Wanda was afraid of losing control of her magic at school." He starts to tell. "I tried to calm her down, but she was very upset. She managed to convince Pietro to help her into my potions room and took an entire bottle of a brew for magical containment. Her magic seemed almost enraged, and she destroyed the greenhouse with a wave of energy. I've never seen her so out of control." He says thoughtfully, as if remembering the events. "She passed out from exhaustion, and didn't wake up until the morning. She was ten.”

"You don't think...?"

"That's exactly what I think, Miss Stark." He interrupts, "The dates match. Every time Wanda was in danger from a magical source, you were affected, because the nature of your bond with her is magical. And that was confirmed during the tournament by noticing the way you jumped into the lake during the second task. I imagine your little interaction with Professor Heimdall when Wanda was facing the dragon was about this as well?" He asks and you nod your head in confirmation. "Right. Well, that's a problem."

"I noticed." You grumble, but then realize from the professor's expression that in addition to what has been said, it seems to be a problem for another reason. "Why?"

"Regarding your safety, I mean." Explains the professor. "The last task of the tournament is going to be exceptionally challenging, and perhaps not the best of experiences for you."

You widen your eyes in anticipation.

"Professor, what will happen in the third task?"

"I can't tell you." He says. "But there will be many challenges. And Wanda may encounter difficulties, especially since she is only fifteen."

You sigh, trying to push the wave of worry down.

"I hate this tournament." You state in a mumble and Professor Erik gives a short little smile. "I hate to see Wanda in danger. If it's for the gold, she can have all mine."

Erik laughed, and you blinked in surprise at the sound.

"Believe me, I dislike this competition as much as you do." He says. "There is no pleasure in seeing Wanda in danger for something as superficial as eternal glory. But the goblet chose her, and she would have suffered a magical penalty if she didn't obey the contract. It was a difficult decision, but it was the best for her."

You mutter in understanding and the teacher is thoughtful for a few minutes.

"I would recommend you not watch the competition so you don't get so nervous, but clearly distance doesn't matter for the bond." He remarks. "I need more information about how all this works. I want to run some tests with you two."

You frown slightly, but before you can ask what kind of tests, the teacher speaks again.

"That will need to wait, of course. With the competition and the final exams, I understand that you are experiencing enough stress and I don't want to cause any more suffering." He explains. "Over the vacations, perhaps I can write to your father. It's time to see old friends again after all."

You are surprised that the professor makes this mention, but you don't bother to comment. He clears his throat, and signals that this is all. You thank him as you get up and then leave the room.

//-//

When the day of the last task of the tournament finally arrived, the whole school was in a joint peak of excitement.

You could hardly sleep, strange nightmares throughout your entire night combined with the anxiety at the pit of your stomach made you wake up several times during your sleep. In the morning you decided to ignore the buzz around the hallways about the task and the possible winner, and joined your friends for breakfast.

You wanted to talk to Wanda, but you didn't see her at the Slytherin table, and Gamora tried to cheer you up with news about a band you liked playing in London next month, but you could barely force a smile, feeling tired and irritated.

You heard a group of Gryffindors commenting excitedly that the occultation spell had been removed from the quidditch field, and that the gates of something that had been conjured for the last task were already visible, but before you could try to hear what they were saying, the boys were already leaving the hall and Pietro came to talk to you.

"Hey, good morning, how are you?" he asked curiously, taking a seat across from you at the table.

"Not well, if you want to know." You grumbled dejectedly, your fingers lazily stroking the piece of bread on your plate. "What about you?"

"Worried." He replied shrugging his shoulders with a small corner smile. "But I'm optimistic. Wanda is confident, and thinks she can win. And I'm trusting that everything will end well."

The mention of Wanda makes you sigh slightly and lean your chin on your arm on the table, looking at the boy in front of you.

"I miss her, Pietro." You confess upset and ignore the way Gamora and Nebula who are sitting next to the boy look at you with pity, but appreciate how Mantis strokes your back lightly. "She won't talk to me, and I can't blame her or even be mad at her."

"Wanda asked for some time, didn't she?" he asked slightly curious and you grumbled in agreement. "Well, I guess you have the right to ask the same."

You frown in confusion, and Pietro has a little smile as he pours himself some juice.

"What do you mean?" You ask.

"Ask her for, I don't know, five minutes of attention?" He suggests. "Five minutes to at least give her good luck. You look miserable, and I hate to see you like this."

You sigh, thinking about the idea. And then you smile.

"Thanks, P." You say as you raise your head.

"No problem." He says. "You can try now, Wanda should be on the lower floors. She wanted to talk to dad before the task."

You nodded in understanding and then said you would meet your friends outside.

It didn't take long for you to find Wanda. The girl was walking up the stairs as you were coming down, and well, she had no choice but to look at you.

You felt your heart race to have her looking directly at you after so long, but you ignored the sensation as you walked down the steps and stopped in front of her. Wanda swallowed dryly, but held her gaze.

"Hey." You greeted half breathlessly, smiling slightly.

"What do you want?" she asked uncomfortably, her gaze serious. You ignored the seriousness of her words.

"Talk to you."

"I already said I need time."

"I know." You said without hesitation. "But I also have the right to talk. Can you give me five minutes?"

Wanda looked away, and then at her feet. She sighed and nodded, and you waited for her to look at you again before speaking.

"I miss you, Wanda." You confessed and watched Wanda swallow dryly, her eyes filling with tears as she looked away. "And I wanted to wish you good luck in the last task."

Wanda sighed faintly, nodding in understanding, her gaze on the stairs. You raised your finger to her chin, gently turning her face so that she was looking at you. Wanda closed her eyes as you fitted your hand to her cheeks, your thumb stroking her skin tenderly as she leaned into the touch.

Her hand moved up to your forearm the next moment, squeezing before moving your hand away from her face as she pushed your arm away gently.

You sighed, ignoring the feeling in your stomach and the urge to kiss and touch her again.

"Please don't do that." She whispered. "Don't touch me as if you love me as much as I love you."

You gasped, widening your eyes at the confession. But before you could add anything else, footsteps approached and Erik was coming up the stairs behind Wanda. The girl took a step back, wiping her eyes quickly.

"Stark." The professor greeted politely. You had a hard time disguising how much Wanda's words stirred in you. "Wanda, you'd better hurry up for breakfast. The task will start soon."

"Yes, dad." Wanda agrees and she doesn't look at you as she leaves. Erik nods politely and you stand on the steps for long minutes, your heart racing in your chest.

Wanda loves you. And you can't be with her.

Ignoring your broken heart, you turn and walk back into the hall, following the crowd of students who are making their way to the site of the last assignment.

//-//

The third task was a maze full of magical trials.

You gasped as you reached the sight of the large grass ones that were raised at the entrance to the quidditch field and the matched grass gates.

The crowd of students spilled out onto the bleachers set up in front of the maze, and you began to look around for your friends, ignoring the urge to run to Wanda and tell her you loved her back, not wanting to upset her before the task.

When the crowd was fully seated in the stands, and some students were already raising their cheering posters in the air, you watched the tournament judges move along with the faculty as Agatha took her place to announce the start of the competition.

"Hey, it's going to be okay." Gamora whispered to you as the director made the announcements. "I bet Wanda will be back before you can miss her."

You try to smile, your stomach turning in nervousness.

Watching the field below, you see the champions positioning themselves at the entrance.

Jean Grey had the highest score, so she entered first. The Durmstrang students cheering loudly until she disappeared into the maze.

Soon after, Wanda entered. The Slytherin people conjured a serpent of artifice through the air that disappeared as soon as she walked into the maze.

And then Maria Hill last, the Beaubatox crowd clapping their feet until she entered.

Just like the second task, all that was left for the crowd to do was wait once the champions entered. So as soon as the gate closed, the students started talking animatedly among themselves, in addition to the betting chart that began to circulate.

You also noticed that the reporters of the Daily Prophet were asking the cheering people in the front row about the bets for the winners.

Trying to distract yourself from the sense of worry that had taken over you most likely linked to the fact that Wanda was inside a place dangerous enough to kill her, you tried to engage in some of the conversation with your friends.

//-//

With thirty minutes to go, a movement in the field below caught your attention.

"Y/N, isn't that your father?" Gamora asked poking you in the ribs to call you, but you were already looking down.

Your father was not alone. There were four other witches with him that you had never seen before, but judging by their capes, they were aurors from the ministry, as they were dressed exactly like the witches that day in the cup.

There was a sudden movement among the teachers, and then the aurors were opening the gate to the maze and Headmistress Harkness was talking to the judges, all looking extremely worried. The crowd was buzzing, and it didn't take long for the comments to reach you.

"They're saying they're going to cancel the test!" Told a Ravenclaw girl who had just leaned forward to listen to her classmates, and then he turned and said to you and Gamora, making you both widen your eyes. You looked around next, in time to catch Tony coming down the bleachers from the side until he reached your father.

"What do you think happened?" Gamora asked you.

"I don't know, but it doesn't look good." You replied already moving to leave in Tony's direction. Gamora and Nebula looked at you, but you just signaled for them to wait up there.

When you reached Tony and your father, they seemed to be arguing.

"You didn't think to send at least a letter?" Tony squawked angrily, but your father was distracted, looking around and especially back at the entrance to the maze.

"I can't talk now, Tony, please." The man asked. He gave you a short smile as you approached, and Bucky and Steve joined you all next.

"Dad, what's going on?" You asked, but before your father could say anything, the principal was asking the students to return to the castle and the crowd erupted in booing.

The tournament judges were commenting quietly among themselves, and you frowned when Professor Erik approached and whispered something in your father's ear, who made a worried frown.

"Go back to the castle." Your father ordered looking at you and Tony, but you didn't move and Tony pushed your father's hand away.

They began to argue, but you felt your whole body shiver all at once, and you looked back, thinking that someone had called your name.

Professor Erik looked at you curiously, but before he could do anything, you ran past him and into the maze.

//-//

Gasping for breath from the run, you blinked in confusion as you stopped at a crossroads. Your head was spinning slightly, and you looked around.

The maze was dark, and the walls were high and shadowed the path. You noticed that the noise of the crowd was muffled from the inside.

Taking the left path, you were not fully conscious, following only the magnetic energy that seemed to pull you around the correct path.

Your wand was raised to your hand, an illumination spell that you don't remember conjuring. You frowned slightly when you noticed another light, and then Maria Hill was standing in front of you.

"Who are you?" she asked, but you didn't answer, walking past her in a mechanical manner. The girl looked at you with confusion. "Girl, can you hear me?"

"Wanda." You whispered without stopping your walk. Maria hesitated but then began to follow you through the labyrinth.

"Are you hexed?" She asked curiously but got no answer. When she tried to hold you by the shoulders, you pushed her to the ground. "Hey, no need for that!"

You didn't answer and Maria sighed in irritation as she stood up, running lightly to catch up with you as you turned the corner.

The tugging on your abdomen began to get stronger, and then you reached the center of the maze.

"Wow, you found the center." Maria commented in surprise next to you. "But where's the cup?"

You looked around confused, feeling the pain in your head increase.

And then noises of footsteps and shouting became closer and a moment later your father and Professor Erik entered the center through one of the trails.

"Honey!" Your father exclaimed worriedly, but before he could reach you, you fell to your knees, a shrill cry of pain escaping your throat.

Your vision blurred and you had another vision.

It was the graveyard from your dream, but now much clearer than before. You were attached to something, and there was a tall wizard standing in front of you.

The man turned around and you could see his red eyes staring at you with hatred.

"Erik, what is happening to her?" You heard your father's voice sound muffled by the ringing in your ear. You were trying to breathe normally, lying on the grass with your hands on your head.

"Look out, Howard!" It was Professor Erik's voice, but you didn't have the strength to look up.

"Protego!" Someone shouted the incantation next to you, maybe it was Maria but you can't open your eyes to see.

The pain in your head seemed to subside slightly and you forced your gaze upward, not understanding what was happening.

There were two bright lights in front of you. The image was not very clear because of the pain, but you struggled to understand what you were witnessing.

A wizard you didn't know was exchanging spells with Professor Erik. And Bucky was standing next to him, his robotic movements exactly matching those of the mysterious sorcerer. Your father was dueling with the younger one.

The unknown wizard let out an angry grunt, and said something in a language you didn't recognize, and then a green light shot out of Bucky's wand and hit your father in the chest, knocking him backwards.

"Stupefy!" Shouted a female voice from your side, and the spell hit Bucky squarely.

You whimpered in pain again, and could stare no longer.

A few minutes passed before you gasped back to consciousness, or perhaps it was hours. Your tears wet your shirt, and you coughed helplessly.

You raised your eyes to a scene that you didn't understand at first.

There were three people lying on the ground. A man you had never seen before, Bucky and your father, and Professor Erik was kneeling beside the last.

You blinked in confusion and then Tony came running out of the other opening and he widened his eyes when he noticed father.

"Hey, can you stand?" it was Jean Grey beside you. Maria Hill was holding you in her other arm, and you blinked in confusion at both of them.

"Where am I?" you grumbled, and then looked forward again. Tony ran up to your father, and you widened your eyes.

"Dad?" Tony asked with his face wet with tears. "Dad? Wake up!

"Stark..." Erik started as he touched the boy's shoulder, but your brother didn't look at him as he pushed his hand away.

You forced yourself to get up and with the help of the girls you succeeded. You took two steps and then fell to your knees again, understanding what had happened.

You had just witnessed your father being murdered.

//-//

The maze was dismantled from the inside out.

The rest of the teachers moved to remove the incantations and the maze disappeared around you, while you and Tony were kneeling beside the body of your father.

Soon there were reporters trying to reach the center, but Principal Harkness ordered them to stay away.

The aurors from the ministry were also there and they conjured a containment spell around the man who dueled the professor.

"We need to get the children out of here, Harkness." You heard someone say, but their gaze was on your lap, the hand you entwined with your father's.

"We don't know how many of them then here." Another witch said.

"Darlings, let's go inside, okay?" Professor Erik asked you. You were too tired to contradict, but Tony refused.

He said something about responsibility, and they did not contradict him again. You were led out of the maze, however, and the place where the entrance was located was empty.

The reporters who had been thrown out approached you and the ministry's auror immediately as soon as they saw you two, and you blinked at the flashes of the cameras.

"Can you tell us what happened inside the maze Miss Stark?"

"How are you and your brother going to take care of the fortune now that you are Howard's heirs?"

The lack of sensitivity made your stomach turn, but you were too tired to cry.

The auror who was with you said something to keep the reporters away, and then you were taken back to the castle.

"Hey, kid, are you still with me?" The lady asked as she knelt in front of you, her expression concerned.

You sighed, feeling an urgency to close your eyes. You think she called you again before you blacked out.

//-//

When you woke up, it was warm. And when you realized that you were in the infirmary, it took you a few moments to remember everything that had happened. As you did so, you began to cry. Finally understanding that your father was dead.

Your pillow got wet, but you didn't care, finding it hard to see past the tears.

"Hey." It was Tony, looking extremely tired, standing at your bedside. You couldn't tell if he was already there when you woke up, or if he had entered the infirmary at that moment, but you didn't ask. He lay down on the bed with you next, and hugged you.

You know that he was crying too, even though you didn't look at him.

You eventually fell asleep between sobs, and when you woke up again, you were feeling better physically.

Tony was standing in the doorway of the infirmary, talking to the Auror who brought you in. When she noticed you looking, she nodded slightly to Tony and he looked at you, forcing a smile.

The two wizards walked over to you next, and you sat down on the bed.

"Hey, are you feeling better?" Tony asked and you shrugged. "Carol wants to ask you some questions."

You looked away from Tony to the woman, and she looked slightly embarrassed to have to question you after a situation like this, but she did it anyway.

"My name is Carol Danvers, Miss Stark." She introduced herself first. "I am an auror from the ministry of magic. I brought you to the infirmary, can you remember this?"

You nodded in agreement.

"I need to tell you some things, and then I'll ask you about what happened in the maze, okay?" She asked and waited for you to confirm before she started talking.

Carol explained to you how the dark wizard Korvac used polyjuice potion to disguise himself as Professor Fury all year long, and infiltrate the tournament organization. The real Fury was a family friend of the auror and was able to warn her in some way that she didn't tell you, and then the aurors used flu powder to get to Hogwarts. Your father was still an auror in secret to the ministry, and so he also joined the operation group.

When the Aurors arrived, however, Korvac had already entered the maze and they went after him. Neither your father nor the professor were supposed to enter the maze, but when you did, your brother followed, and consequently Steve and Bucky did the same. Your father and the professor went after, but the maze was enchanted to make everyone get lost, and that's exactly what happened. While you were guided by your connection to Wanda, everyone else was lost all around.

Carol told you that Korvac had found Bucky and used the Imperio curse to control him, so he was fighting on behalf of the dark wizard against both your father and your teacher. With Jean Grey's intervention, Bucky was knocked out and Professor Erik hit Korvac, but it was too late.

Everyone eventually found themselves in the middle and the maze was dismantled. Tony had already given his statement to the ministry, and Korvac was sent to Azkaban.

"Your brother told me that you have some kind of magical bond with one of the champions and that's why you went into the maze right?" Carol asked as you wiped away your tears. You sniffled slightly as you confirmed. "Miss Maximoff won the competition and she has also talked to my colleagues about what she saw in the cup portal."

"W-what?" you questioned with confusion.

Carol sighed slightly and then her posture changed. She looked back for a minute.

"Look, I trusted your father. He knew there was corruption in the ministry, and he warned me about it when he recommended me to work with him." She began as if telling a secret. "Let's keep that between us for now. I don't know who I can trust in that department."

Carol told about how the triwizard cup was bewitched to become a portal key, most likely by Korvac. She repeated Wanda's words to you, saying that the girl had ended up in a graveyard with the remnants of Mephisto's followers in place. Wanda also said that Mephisto himself had returned and that they faced each other. She managed to escape by touching the cup again.

What made you angry was knowing that the minister didn't believe any of her words, and refused to acknowledge Mephisto's return. The whole thing would be treated as a trial of the tournament that got out of hand, and Korvac, who had been captured, would be accused of all the crimes.

Carol didn't seem happy with the minister's decision either.

"I have nothing to say but tell the minister to go fuck himself, Carol." You informed irritated and the blonde smiled at you.

"You inherited your father's attitude." She comments and you think the intention is good, but it makes your heart ache. "I will close your statement then. Thank you very much for your time, Miss Stark."

You nod and Carol hesitates. She sighs lightly and touches your brother on the shoulder and your outstretched hand on the bed.

"I used to be friends with your father." She says. "Don't think you are alone, children. You have more family than you can imagine. And you can contact me if you need anything."

Carol smiles and walks away with a nod. You and Tony exchange a slightly surprised look. Tony sighs and sits down next to you on the bed. You say nothing, but you both know that this should be one more among your father's many secrets.

//-//

Nurse Cho released you from the infirmary that same afternoon.

Aside from the mental exhaustion, you were perfectly healthy.

Your friends, with the exception of the Maximoff twins, approach you in the dormitory. They hug you together, mourning the death of your father. You want to say that you feel a little better about this, but that is not true.

As you are seen in the corridors, students and professors stop you to say "my sympathies", and you answer them in a polite way. You can also hear the gossip after all.

Wanda did not obey the order of the minister of magic, and when the journalists of the Daily Prophet asked her about the tournament, she told her version. Nobody bought her story, and she was branded a liar after the minister denied the return of the dark wizard.

Professor Erik also greeted you in the hallways, and Pietro was with him. The boy hugged you tight, and you held back your tears.

"Stark, my home is always open to you and your brother." Erik said as his hand was on your shoulder. "I just want you to know that."

You nodded in understanding and then walked toward the communal hall intending to organize your belongings, since the school year would end that week.

//-//

On your last day at Hogwarts, you finally talked to Wanda.

Because your nightmares had become more frequent than ever, you had spent the last days at school without sleeping properly, and on the last night you gave up sleeping and decided to go to the kitchens.

You were in the empty halls when you heard the familiar noise of Drax monitoring the castle and stumbled to the first door you found, trying to avoid being seen.

As you waited for the hissing noise to become distant, you looked back and gasped in surprise.

There was a girl sitting on the floor and it took you a few seconds to realize that it was Wanda.

"What are you doing here?" You asked curiously, and your voice startled her. She stood up quickly, looking at you in surprise.

"Shit, you scared the hell out of me!" She complained and you frowned slightly as you realized she was crying, but Wanda quickly wiped her face.

Only at that moment did you notice the large antique mirror behind her. On the metal rim was a Latin phrase that you didn't understand.

Biting the inside of your cheeks, you looked away to the floor.

"Sorry to bother you, I couldn't sleep." You mumbled clumsily and Wanda shifted the weight of her feet before clearing her throat.

"Do you wanna stay?"

You raised your head in surprise, but then nodded in agreement.

Walking up to the girl, you stopped about four steps away from her, not knowing exactly what to do next.

"Are you going to tell me what you were doing here?" You asked again, and Wanda bit her lips before turning toward the mirror.

"I found this place in second grade." She counters. "That's the Mirror of Erised."

"I am supposed to know what that means?" You ask with mild irony causing Wanda to smile slightly.

"We studied that in fourth grade, so yes." She retorts.

"I haven't been busy this year, no time for books, if you know what I mean." You say with a smile and Wanda laughs softly. You stare at the mirror in front of you, but there is nothing special about it. It seems to reflect you and Wanda just like any other. "What does this mirror do anyway?"

Wanda turns her face to you, and you want to ignore the nervous feeling that settles on the edge of your stomach, but to no avail.

"Look closer." She says, and her gaze lingers on you for a moment before she takes a step to the side. You turn your face to the mirror again, and then step forward.

It takes a second for the image to change. It is you in the reflection, but you are not alone. Your father is standing beside you, smiling contently. You frown in confusion, gasping slightly at his sudden appearance.

Ignoring the lump in your throat, you continue to stare. The image trembles slightly, and you try to understand what the mirror is telling you. Nothing looks much different except the image of your father, but then you notice the wedding ring in your reflection.

You look down at your hand for a moment and then back at the reflection. Your image copies the movement with delay and you squeeze your eyes shut to read the letters on the ring.

Your face heats up as you read Wanda's name and you take a step back. The image becomes fainter, but doesn't disappear.

"What do you see?" Wanda asks curiously from beside you, and you startle, turning your head to her quickly.

"M-my father." You answer at the same moment, biting your tongue to make sure you don't say anything else. Wanda's expression tumbles, and she looks down at her feet. You swallow dryly.

"I'm sorry, y/n. I really am." She whispers, and you look away. There is something that is bothering you as much as your father's death, and it is the distance that seems to exist between you and Wanda now.

"Thank you." You mumble the response you have learned to give whenever someone says that to you. "W-what do you see in the mirror?" You ask next, trying to change the subject from you. Wanda looks surprised at the question and even in the low lighting, you notice the slight redness in her cheeks.

"My mother." She answers without looking at you. "And... myself. No magic. Just me and her, and Pietro and papa at a distance. We look happy and normal."

It is the most intimate confession Wanda has ever made to you. You want to caress her face, hug her and thank her for her trust, but you just nod in agreement, swallowing her words and pushing the desire to touch down.

"Have you been here many times?" You ask after a moment and Wanda sighs before confirming. "You never told me about this place before."

"I never told anyone." She retorts without sounding angry, just slightly weary. "I guess I wanted it to be something just mine."

"I understand." You comment as you look into the mirror again, the image of your reflection and Wanda's now visible. "A private space for you to visit your mother."

Wanda murmurs in agreement, and you think she won't say anything else, but she does.

"I need to tell you something."

You turn your head toward Wanda's direction, but when she turns her body toward you, she keeps her gaze on the floor.

"About the day of the task." She says. "About Mephisto."

"Okay." You mumble as you wait. Wanda takes a deep breath.

"I guess you've heard from the whole school that I fought with him." She starts with a sad smile, and you nod in agreement. "Well, there's a reason he couldn't kill me."

You frown with confusion.

"Right...why?"

"It’s better if i show you." She takes a deep breath, raising her hands between you. "Can I?" she asks, and you notice the red magic escaping her fingers.

"You can do that?" You ask impressed and Wanda nods with a shy smile. When you consent, she raises her fingers to your forehead and then you have another vision.

You see the moment when Wanda was teleported into the graveyard, and it's as if you're seeing everything through her eyes.

The moment when a hooded wizard appeared and locked Wanda in a spell against one of the tombstones. You watched the wizard walk to the center of the graveyard and conjure a rune on the ground that you didn't recognize. He recited a few words and then cast an incantation in the sky. The mark of a hydra.

Walking back to the rune, the sorcerer deposited a necklace on the ground. With a dagger he took from his pocket, he recited an incantation in a language you didn't recognize, and cut his own palm. When the blood fell on the necklace, Wanda gasped in pain.

The ground around the rune began to open up and a man crawled out of the earth. You imagined it was a necromancy ritual and they were resurrecting someone. You didn't have to ask to know that it was Mephisto.

When the wizard stood up completely, he laughed darkly. The man who helped him bowed.

"Master, you live!" Celebrated the wizard. Mephisto approached, a gentle flick of his wand wiped all the dirt from his robes, and you could see the metallic Hydra strolling along the entire length of his robes, as if getting used to being awake again.

"All thanks to you, John." Mephisto said his deep voice echoing through the room. "Your loyalty will be rewarded, my friend."

"Thank you, master." Said the man without raising his head. Mephisto touched his hood, pulling it back, and you looked at the kneeling figure. He was a man of about thirty, his blond hair was long and dirty. There was a deep scar across his cheek to the extent of his right eye, which was closed.

Mephisto raised his wand toward the young man's face, and a silver spell escaped from the tip along the scar. The mark didn't disappear, but when he opened his eye, you noticed the metallic glow of the reddish iris.

"Be my eyes again, John Walker." Mephisto commanded and the boy thanked him again. He continued kneeling as Mephisto turned toward Wanda, who was still attached to the tombstone. "I almost forgot about my guest of honor."

"Who are you?" Wanda asked angrily, you could almost feel her fear.

Mephisto smiled devilishly, ignoring the question as he took a deep breath. He raised his wand high and the Hydra's mark seemed to glow even brighter.

In the following moments, shadows began to appear in the sky, and only when the first one of them landed on the ground that you understood that they were wizards appearing.

There were at least eight of them, but because of their position, Wanda couldn't see them all. The masked witches remained static, waiting for their companions. Mephisto murmured softly, and after a moment without any movement in the sky, he sighed.

"It is only at our worst that we see who is really loyal to us." He comments somberly, before opening his arms to the crowd. "Friends! It's so good to see you all again, finally. So many years!"

Mephisto's smile doesn't reach his eyes, and then the wizards are kneeling, and recite together an "It is an honor, master." Mephisto laughs lightly, lowering his arms.

"Look at you folks." He comments with a psychotic look on his face. "You're not even ashamed that you abandoned me." He charges, but no one speaks up. Mephisto sighs impatiently. "No one has anything to say? What a disappointment."

"Master..." Started a wizard on the edge and then Mephisto raised his fist toward him hanging him in the air with his magic. Wanda's eyes widened, but the wizard let go just before the one in the air stopped struggling. As the wizard coughed to try to breathe again, Mephisto pushed his long hair out of the front of his face.

"I don't want your hollow apologies, Zemo." He says. "Nothing will erase the betrayal of all of you, cowards."

No one makes any mention of interrupting the speech, and Mephisto puts his cloak away momentarily.

"But a new era begins, and we need to leave the past behind." Says the mage. "I finally have my treasure where I wanted it, and nothing will stop me from reaching my power again."

Mephisto turns to Wanda now, a mental look on his face. The wizards look at her too.

"Master, is this...?" One of the masked men begins, and Mephisto interrupts with a devilish grin.

"Yes, my friend!" He says. "The Scarlet Witch."

The group loosely shares a buzz of excited excitement, but falls silent the next moment. Wanda wriggles uncomfortably against the spell.

"What is it, my dear?" Mephisto asks as he watches her struggle. "Is it tight? Try a coffin underground. I guarantee the discomfort is greater."

The comment makes Wanda clench her jaw as the group lets out a chuckle.

"I'm not who you say I am." Wanda retorts with irritation and Mephisto lets out a laugh approaching. You wish you could enter the vision to get him away from Wanda.

"Your name is Wanda Maximoff." He says looking her straight in the eye. "You were born in 1989 in a dirty muggle neighborhood of Sokovia. And you are a scarlet witch by birth." He narrates and then his gaze changes to malice. "And you belong to me."

"Fuck you."

Wanda's rude response makes Mephisto smile.

"Perhaps you, my dear friends, were not aware of what really happened that night fifteen years ago." Mephisto says as he turns to the group again. "I can only imagine the lies the ministry of magic must have told the world, making sure to tell I was defeated by some of their pathetic aurors."

The group exchanges surprised looks and Mephisto laughs, walking ahead.

"I think everyone has a right to know what really happened that day, don't you, my dear?" He asks Wanda, and then lets out a wry laugh. "Oh, I forgot that you were just a filthy brat back then. I'd better tell them instead."

Wanda struggles against the grip again and Mephisto raises his wand toward her, causing the spell to tighten more and Wanda to grumble in pain.

"Hold still and listen to the story, little brat." He commands. "Didn't the blood traitor teach you manners?"

You know Mephisto is talking about Wanda's father, but the girl doesn't respond to the teasing.

"Do you remember how well everything was going for us, my friends?" Begins the wizard, and he waits for the group to agree before speaking again. "I should have known that the cursed muggles in your community would bring more trouble than I expected."

Mephisto looks slightly nostalgic, but no one is going to interrupt him. He gives a wry laugh before continuing.

"You know that I was seeking the power of a scarlet sorceress for myself. And well, with all the commotion in the ministry, I decided to capture the child without being accompanied by any of you." He says. "I was always the most powerful, but now that I look back, a companion would have prevented so much delay."

When Wanda makes mention of fighting again, Mephisto strengthens the spell.

"I went to take what was rightfully mine in that muggle pigsty that is Sokovia, and I never expected that a filthy muggle would be able to stop me." He tells you and you notice Wanda's interest in the words, curious to know what he was talking about. "Maybe the traitor lied and she had some witch lineage. We'll never know, since I killed her." He comments humorously. "Contextualizing my friends, I went up to the second floor to get the child of prophecy, and I ended up running into two of them."

Mephisto counters with a wry laugh.

"Crazy isn't it?" He says. "But of course it was easy to figure out who the right baby was, since the sorceress' power emanated in the child's aura. I had no function for the other one so I decided to discard it."

Wanda's eyes widen at the confession. Mephisto was going to kill Pietro. She gasps slightly, feeling her anger rising.

"But the muggle pig begged for mercy." He continues. "You know very well how much I hate muggles, but if she had stood in the corner as I told her to do, I would have done no harm. But of course she had to throw herself in front of the infant, become a pathetic martyr."

The group laughs at the narration and you feel like vomiting. Mephisto stared at his own wand for a few seconds.

"I should have realized the sacrificial bond that was created, but I did not expect such a thing from a muggle." He counters somberly, sounding bitter. "When I skipped over her body and repeated the curse, it came straight back to me."

The group let out a chorus of surprise, but Mephisto just smiled.

"Don't worry, friends. I'm here after all." He says. "But a death curse is powerful enough to injure a body. And so I needed to escape." He counters as he walks around. "I would return for the girl as soon as I could restore myself, but where there is one blood traitor there is always another."

The group listened to the story intently and you swallowed dryly, trying to remember all the details.

"The traitor Stark and that muggle slut he called his wife were waiting for me downstairs." Mephisto counters and you hold your breath. "I knew that in my condition I couldn't stand up to an auror like Stark, but he could be useful to me. It was the perfect opportunity to have someone look after my belongings."

Mephisto sighed lightly.

"I think muggles must have some sort of self-sabotaging lifestyles about throwing themselves in front of spells, folks." He mocked causing the group to exchange confused looks. "I aimed at Stark, commanding him to protect what was mine, but it was the muggle who received the enchantment." He counters and you gasp in surprise. "Stark was furious of course, but I used the moments he spent assisting his wife to apparate."

Mephisto's expression was no longer content.

"My body couldn't handle the power of the apparatation, obviously." He counters. "After the curse, it began to betray me. I was on the brink of death for months, until I finally succumbed. My consciousness shallowed, waiting patiently for my faithful followers to find me. And here we are."

The group lets out a small exclamation and Mephisto forces a smile, straightening his posture.

"But that's in the past, of course." He says. "My sorceress is here for me, and I can regain my full power now."

Wanda swallowed dryly as she watched Mephisto approach. The wizard made a motion with his wand and the grip around her neck shortened slightly.

"I never had any use for the witch's receptacle." He says raising his wand to Wanda, you held your breath. "It's nothing personal, dear. At least you'll meet that pig of a mother of yours in hell."

The green incantation comes out of the small wood next, but never reaches Wanda. A yellow energy bumps into the magic and deflects it almost hitting one of the wizards in the circle. The group moves in fright and Mephisto has a psychotic but surprised look on his face.

"The protective spell... How?" he asks, stepping forward. “The spell killed the muggle, I saw her body! How is it still there?” He angrily asks .

His followers look as surprised as he is, and Mephisto assumes an angry expression. He raises his wand again, and even without saying anything, the emerald incantation escapes and the same thing as before happens. Distracted in his frustration, he doesn't notice that with each attempt, the spell binding Wanda grows weaker, until the fourth time he tries to curse the girl, the golden light explodes in the air, ricocheting light startling all the wizards in the circle, as Wanda falls to her knees, free.

The second of shock from the group is enough for Wanda to cause a wave of energy with her powers that kept the wizards away as she reaches for the cup at her feet, teleporting back to the school.

You stumble out of the memory, your eyes watering.

Wanda looks at you, but you turn away feeling overwhelmed by the amount of information.

"W-what was that?" You gasp taking another step back.

"I'm sorry if that was too much." She hastens to say. "I-I needed to tell you. About your mother."

You wipe away the tears, moving further away.

"I can't do this." You grumble. "Not now. M-my father just died, Wanda. I can't. I'm sorry."

The words are a little disjointed, but Wanda understands. She doesn't stop you when you rush to leave the room.

//-//

Coming home is much more difficult than any other time.

The ride on the Hogwarts express is longer than ever, but you don't mind, wanting to avoid the moment when you and Tony will set foot home without your father.

Jarvis picks the four of you up at the station, and you are grateful that Gamora lets you eat all her candy left over from the trip.

The whole feeling of stepping into the house and looking around and seeing your father's objects all around is oppressive, but you try to get used to it. You think the conversation with Tony about your mother can wait.

//-//

Tag list ( let me know if you want to be tagged or removed idk haha) @mionemymind / @abimess / @stephanieromanoff / @yourtaletotell / @tomy5girls / @justagaypanicking / @thegayw1tch / @idek-5 // @myperfectlovepoem // @helloalycia // @ENSORCELLME // @AIMEZVOUSBRAHMS @imapotatao / @aimezvousbrahms/ @ensorcellme/ @helloalycia //   @ichala​ ||  @madamevirgo

[siimjaeyun]

blue bag- jay park

genre: fluff, angst, bad boy au

tw: street violence, mentions of gangs

-------

Jay's reputation at Belift wasn't exactly a secret to most people. The loose uniform with the leather jacket, covered bruises, and exposed tattoos were noticeable to anyone who bothered to pay attention.

Most people would like to assume to not judge him by his appearance, but his character matched it to a tea. He never bothered to give anyone the time of the day, much less even look in their direction. The only people who received such privileges were his closest six friends.

Or anyone who dared to cross his path- including the slight punches he's thrown at the occasional classmate.

But people couldn't see behind his intentions. Like the time he almost beat one of uppers to a pulp when they tried picking on jungwon his first year. All good intentions.

On this fateful day, the teacher had thought a slight change would mix things up. Instead of placing Jay in the back by himself like usual, he placed him right beside you.

"Hi Jay!" Your warm welcome startled him to say the least. Sure, he was used to love letters by other girls, but you didn't really look at him that way.

He stayed silent and placed his head back onto the desk. At the end of class, you bid him goodbye and walked out with your friends who seemed to tattle over him almost immediately.

-------

After yet again another argument with the rivaling gang leader, he finds himself cornered in the back of an alley way. Maybe it wasn't the smartest idea to think you could fight five men at once.

Tired, and out of breath, he's barely holding onto himself before there's a final blow to his lower stomach, collapsing onto the ground before him.

The men are about to approach him, this time, aiming towards his back, but retreat at the sounds of a siren.

"Here, hurry! They might come back." He looks up and finds it's you, carrying a bag in one hand and reaching out towards him with the other.

"Get lost." Jay, who is too stubborn to ask for help, attempts to get up before his knees give up on him.

"You can't walk. Stop being a bitch and let me help you." You swing his arm over your shoulder, and pull him up, guiding him towards the exit of alley way. At the closest convenience store, you rest him on a bench, bringing a towel to his face to wipe off the blood from his brow and lip.

"How did you see me?" He barely manages to ask.

"I didn't know it was you until I saw your face, which is very beat up by the way." He observes quietly and patiently waits for you retreat the towel from his face, slowly admiring the way you move your eyebrows while humming a small beat. 

“I’m done. I’ll call a taxi to take you home so you can finish up. I’m going to assume this isn’t the first time you get beat up.” Jay, snapping back to reality, stands up quickly and blocks your view of the street. 

“I can manage. Now go home.” He nods towards the direction of the grand city. 

“You can barely walk. Either I take you home, or text someone to come pick you up.” Jay immediately takes the second option, and searches quickly for his phone before realizing he must of left at it home. 

“Go ahead, call the taxi.” He mutters under his breath. The bright lights signal to him that he has arrived, and in silence, you drop him off, and leave, not letting Jay even look back and say a quick ‘thank you.’ 

----- 

If Jay didn’t know any better, it’s almost as if nothing had occurred yesterday. He’s still wearing his black mask to cover up his bruises, but you walked in with a smile and the same welcome from the past two weeks. 

Usually, he would turn the other way or not even bother to look at you, but his slight nod was reassurance enough. 

At the end of class, he was almost the last to leave, given that he had woken up from napping the entire class. Rather than seeing the empty room he was used to waking up in, he saw you again in front of him, holding a blue bag. 

“Here. Eat well okay?” You left the bag onto his desk and walked out again before he could respond. He stuffed the bag into his backpack and went towards the lunch room he was used to meeting his friends in. 

“Jay’s late and beat up. What a surprise.” Sunoo’s snarky comment doesn’t catch him off guard, and instead pulls out the blue bag from his backpack and rests it on the table. 

“Oh? Jay brought lunch? Quick, let’s rate his cooking skills.” Before Jay can react, Heeseung had already snatched it from the table, pulling out a Tupperware with a sticky note on top. 

“Who’s y/n? And why did she call you a loser?” Heeseung asks, opening the container to a bento box. 

“No one, now give it back.” Jay takes back the container, almost admiring the contents inside. 

It was the first time his heart began to take notice of you. 

----- 

Everyone was quickly suspicious about Jay’s relationship with you. It all started with him publicly going to you and thanking you for the food. Then it was the constant good mornings when you would welcome him at the beginning of class. Then it was the morning coffee, and walking you to class in the morning. He was practically stuck to you when he wasn’t with his friends. 

“You know, I think Jay likes you.” One of your friends mentioned casually, causing you to roll your eyes. 

“Stop taking those rumors too seriously, he’s just paying back a favor.”

Yet, your friends weren’t the only ones who were beginning to notice. Most noticeably, Jay’s very own friends. 

“Sunghoon, I don’t like her, so can you shut up?” Jay, almost irritated by the constant confusion of emotions. 

“So, you wouldn’t mind her being so close with Sunoo?” Jake points at your direction. You laughing and trying to hold yourself together while punching Sunoo in the arm. 

“No. Of course not." Yet, he still finds himself burning holes into Sunoo's skull as he sees you wrap an arm around his neck to pull him into a head lock.

It seemed as if that was the last straw because in the next moment, Sunghoon was attempting to prevent Jay's next big mess.

"Get your hands off him." Jay commands, catching not only your attention, but those around him as well.

"Relax Jay, she's just playing around." Sunoo gets himself out of the head lock, and looks at your face who's been cleared of any laughter.

"I'll see you later Sunoo." You can't even look at Jay in the eyes before walking off with another friend.

"What's wrong with you? You know she wasn't hurting me!"

"Don't talk to me right now Sunoo." Jay storms off in the opposite direction while Sunoo turns his head to the side at Sunghoon.

"Am I going to die?"

"Not yet anyway. I think if you stay off y/n, maybe it'll extend your life line." Sunghoon states honestly.

"What do you think would happen if I told him she's my cousin?"

"I don't know but I've never seen Jay so..like this. Its a good look on him."

However, Jay is his full fledged rage, begins to shove everyone in his way including a poor freshman who happens to fall in front of your locker.

"Jay what the fuck!? Are you okay?" You crouch down and reach your hand out, giving Jay a bitter feeling.

"Is this how you catch men? You pretend to be the good guy?"

"Excuse me?" You repeat, shocked at Jay's sudden attitude.

"Nevermind just stay away from me? Got it?" You don't even process the words before he dashes off, ignoring his friends who are attempting to catch his attention.

"Sunghoon, what's his issue ?" Sunghoon only let's out a heavy sigh before shrugging his shoulders.

"It's not my business, but I can assure you that anger won't end well."

-----

And it just so happens that Sunghoon's response was quiet accurate considering Jay's familiar situation. He's been long enough member of his gang to know what territories they're not exactly welcomed.

Yet, he doesn't care and does so anyway because anything is better than having to imagine you with some one else.

"Haven't seen you in a while Jay, must have been busy hmm." The leader mocks him, but it only infuriates the pent up anger within him causing him to land a punch at his gut.

"Don't test me." And as if history repeats itself, he finds himself once more cornered in the back of an alley way. With the collection of bruises forming on his stomach, one could tell he was a kick or two away from a good surgery.

"Jay! Stop!" He curses himself mentally when he watches you run towards him.

"You better leave pretty one...I mean unless..." He approaches you, reaching for your chin to tilt it sidewards, leading to Jay using his last strength to push him off you.

"Don't touch her." Jay grits his teeth, earning a smirk that quickly turns into a frown at hearing the sound of police sirens.

"You got lucky this time." He flees the scene leaving you again with a bloodied up Jay.

"You promised me to not fight anymore!" Jay chooses to ignore you and limps away to a nearby post.

"And I told you to stay away from me y/n. I don't need people like you to worry about me because they pity me" He responds.

"How am I not supposed to worry when you left so suddenly? One moment we're good and the next you're mad at Sunoo and everyone?" You place him on the stair case while getting your first aid kit ready.

"How am I supposed to stay away when you worry me? Do you have any idea how fast I ran here with this when Jake told me you weren't at your house?" You continue to apply a bit of alcohol on his open cuts.

"I'm sorry, I was upset. I saw you with Sunoo earlier and I don't know what came over me. Sunoo is so darn perfect, and what about me? I was afraid you'd leave me." Jay mumbles the last part quietly, but you manage to hear it well.

Without much hesitancy, you press a light kiss onto his bruised and swollen lips. He gasps slightly but manages to wrap his arms around your waist.

"I'm not leaving okay, I'm here to stay if you want me to." Jay grabs you and pulls you in for a hug, resting his face in the crook of your neck.

"Please stay." He mumbles, letting his grip on you get stronger. He stays there for a while, before looking at the blue bag in your hand.

"What's this?"

"I brought some dinner because I figured you would be too lazy to do it yourself and end up eating frozen nuggets again." He smiles slightly before admiring your features.

"I really like you y/n.." Jay confesses, still in the position of hugging you.

"I like you too Jay...I really do." A grin forms on his face and he drops another kiss on your cheek before leading the way out.

Perhaps Jay wasn't exactly perfect, but you always knew he was more than ready to love and learn by your side.

------

a/n: this has been sitting in my drafts haha, but I figured we could all use a little fluff with everything going on :( <3

[virghogh]

Guessing NCT's rising signs: Huang Renjun as a Cancer rising

Welcome to my first post where I write all about why I think this idol is X rising sign! I don't know how many of these I'll do because it heavily depends on how confident I feel in my guess of their rising lol for Renjun's rising sign, it's something I've been sitting on for a loooong time just to see if anything else comes into my head. At the end of the day we really have no way to know for sure, even if the idols gives us their birth time it still has to be taken with a grain of salt! But it’s still fun theorize and to test your skills while learning at the same time. So for now I feel pretty confident sharing my thoughts on Renjun as a cancer rising.

Let’s ✨explore✨ why:

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧long post! *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

✦ Before I even decided to look up his chart layout, there were 2 characteristics of Renjun that initially led me to think he’s a Cancer rising. His eyes and his physique. His eyes aren’t necessarily as big as idols we’ve seen with moon in 1st, but they’re still very notable features of his physical appearance that he’s very well known for. They’re bigger, soft and dreamy, and sometimes look like he quite literally holds stars in his eyes. The biggest physical feature though is his, well, petite frame. Next to his eyes, renjun is also really well know for his smaller build. It’s even a well known inside joke amongst NCT, they all him “big shoulders renjun” (lol) because “for a guy” his shoulders a on the smaller side. Both of these physical attributes can also be identifying characteristics of cancer risings.

✦ So, in general I think he is a Cancer rising. But if we want to be more specific; I do think he is a 3rd decan Cancer rising which is the Pisces/Neptune ruled decan. I initially chose this because his house and planet placements just make so much more sense to me when the rising is in the 3rd decan (I'll get into that below), but after reading about the 3rd decan I also think it fits his personality really well! With the Neptune and Pisces influence, he's more on the open side of Cancer rising but more notably, 3rd decans are a lot more inclined to art/creativity and sometimes, music specifically. These people also have a very dreamy attraction about them. He also has his Venus trine ASC which can further add to this kind of creative vibe he gives off, but is also drawn to! It emphasizes the importance of aesthetics, art and creativity in his life. If you've never been on Renjun stan twt then you might not know that a lot of his fans see him as this incredibly dreamy and ethereal boy (as they should) and I can see why!

*:･ﾟ✧house and planet placements *:･ﾟ✧

Scorpio moon, Sagittarius Pluto in 5th:

✦ yea... just yes. Okay but actually, if you read my NCT Dream Hexaco x Birth Chart analyses, I talked a lot about his chart already because I really like it. As someone with a Scorpio moon, I can't help but be really interested in how his plays out. And I have to say, I am quite attached to this theory because I think his scorpio moon in 5th just. makes. sense. I'm not going to go much into the descriptions of the placements, I'm mostly going to stick to the house influence. We know that Scorpio moons have really intense emotions, they internalize everything and are just highly sensitive people to their environments. Renjun has been incredibly open about his mental and emotional struggles ever since being a kid. I've honestly never heard an idol talk about their struggle like he has. He even opened up recently about how a few years ago he had an art therapist that really helped him and lowkey changed his life. I feel like a lot of this can be reflected in his 5th house. The house of creativity, expression, creation. His 5th cusp is also in Scorpio. 5th house in water tend to be really drawn to arts and music. Having a Scorpio moon, a moon sign that can be quite guarded, in a fire house can also explain his readiness/openness to share his emotions and art. Also let's not forget his chart ruler is his Scorpio moon in 5th! What I've wrote above are big themes in his life, which we've seen.

✦ As for the Pluto in 5th. Because his 5th house is in Scorpio this would mean the 5th ruler is in 5th. I know it might not make sense at first because it's pluto and pluto is misunderstood. But it makes perfect sense to me. Pluto in 5th is a deeply passionate and creative placement. It bring so much energy to this house, and can even create a borderline obsession with themes of this house. With creating and expressing. But I could also see having this and his scorpio moon in this house bringing so much energy, it just kind of adds to the confusion and intensity of a scorpio moons emotions and processing abilities, like, emotionally overwhelming. Scorpio moons always need an outlet and they usually figure that out the hard way at some point in life. The outlet can vary based off the chart, his is without a doubt connected to his art; whatever that may be to him.

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Aquarius Uranus in 8th:

✦ This part is brief because it's more of like, additional details to what's already in his chart. Something that is really well known about Renjun too is how much he is into space and aliens and stuff like that. He, once again, has been very open about it lol on variety shows I've seen him light up every time its briefly mentioned and he'll comment on how much he finds that stuff interesting. The 8th house is weird, it can manifest in a lot of different ways. The biggest point here for me is that the house is in Aquarius with Uranus here. I know someone with this placement too and, while they're open minded to astrology and tarot etc. it's a bit more focused on logic. I can't say for sure because I don't know him, but he kind of strikes me as the kind of person that would fight to death over aliens existing, but draws the line at astrology lol. I actually do think he would be open to astrology and tarot, but he'd need the right introduction to it. Anyways, yea this placement to me explains a lot of his interest in space and things we don't understand. He's expressed his curiosity in it. I think a lot of this is coming from his Scorpio moon and Pisces mercury/venus which is why I think it's just additional support.

───────────────────────────────────

Pisces Mercury/Venus in 9th:

✦ THIS HOUSE right here... so much to say. Firstly, Pisces in 9th is probably one of the main culprits for his creativity, deep thinking and curiosity in the world. And more importantly: his imagination. I've mentioned this a lot when I talk about renjun but, he's very well known for his creativity, but I want to make it clear that there is a distinction between creation and imagination. His imagination is truly... on another level. Well, planet actually since it's pisces! Again, amongst fans it's really well known his imagination is just so unqiue. This is less about the 9th house and more about the fact that he has 2 pisces placements but it still affects it lol. He's very open about his imagination and speaks about it so naturally. He shared his drawing of a bird, hybrid, thing? and how it's an animal that steals your dreams in your sleep. Anyways, Pisces in 9th aren't necessarily the travelers we'd see with an air or fire sign here, but they like to travel mentally. He's also talked about how he's just in general a very curious person and you can tell his thoughts probably travel far and wide in his down time.

✦ What's really interesting to me about this house is his mercury is here and Mercury in 9th is a very specific kind of placement. It almost always guarantees an interest and talent in learning languages. I don't know if languages are necessarily a passion for him but he definitely is interested and cares about learning language and other cultures. He also did pick up on Korean and English with ease. Which also reminds me that, he actually was exposed to Korean at a young age because I'm pretty sure he went to a bilingual school (chinese and korean). This is also a big deal to me because planets in 9th, especially sun/mercury often indicate very early exposure to languages or other cultures... so yea that checks out. This can also be proved by looking at his IC in Virgo, which puts the ruler in 9th. His mercury is also sextile Jupiter. I also wanna comment that he has his Mercury in the 5th degree, I'm not great at degree theory yet but that feels significant to me. Of course we cannot forget his absolutely angelic voice. Renjun is also very well known for his stunning vocals. Not only are Pisces placements musically inclined but Pisces mercury are known for their sweet voices.

✦ As for the venus is 9th, I feel like I have more to say on his venus being in Pisces because that's where so much of his artistic creativity and imagination come from. But venus here adds to a lot of what I've written above, adding to his curiosity of the world. What I find most interesting about venus in 9th though, is it brings another inclination to art! He might really like art from different places in the world, or just exploring all types of art being very open minded to its different forms etc. Venus here also brings ease to language learning, and these people will naturally have other cultures and people from them as a big part of their life. I feel like, in general it's not surprising at all to me that as a foreign member (being from China), that he would have 9th house influence! It can often manifest as like.., travel, other languages, cultures and parts of the world etc. are just very naturally a part of their life. Some people never really contemplate life overseas or in another country. But for 9th housers, it's never not been an option. His 9th house influence can also make him a great teacher, mentor and just overall supportive person. We've seen some of this in the content he's made with NCT. Like trying to teach his members chinese with Chenle, except he was taking it way more seriously lol but was so supportive. He's also tried to get Jeno and Jisung involved in his art making, but keeping the process very open and fun.

───────────────────────────────────

Aries sun, Taurus mars in 10th:

✦ This is the last part I'm going to cover because it is really just the icing on the cake to finish this up. The 10th house is considered pretty important when looking at celebrities/idols because it's very likely a lot of what we see from them is their 10th house influence. In the chart model I'm using for Renjun, it puts his MC in the very last degrees of Pisces, so there's a chance it's in Aries but either way with his sun and mars here they are still playing a big role. So for that reason, I'm opting for Pisces MC. I also think Pisces MC fits though because first it puts the ruler in his 7th house. Meaning he could really benefit and work well in something that involves a group! Because it's Pisces in Neptune, it also adds to his very ethereal vibe and how people just seem to love him wherever he goes. He's very magnetic and can come off as artistic and sensitive. He's known for being dreamy, unreal, artistic, sensitive.

✦ Again, we know he has an aries sun and taurus mars so I'm not going to explain them here, just how they affect the house, but having his these here makes so much sense to me too. Having planets in 10th also influences what kind of "vibe" people get from you, and what you're "known" for. Mars and Sun bring similar energy of being well known for for energy, drive, and even stage presence. Not being afraid to be on stage, being good with attention and spotlight. He's known for his kind of playful and childish behavior at times. He is charismatic, bold, brave, happy and upbeat. With the sun, he is again known for his creativity and creations and also self-expression.

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Thank you to anyone who read all this. I don't really expect many people to because I'm mostly writing this for my own curiosity and to finally just put this theory out there! Anyways, stan Renjun best boy <33

Thoughts and feedback are always welcome <3

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[agent-murica]

Red vs Blue Fan Migration Survey Results

So here's the collected results for the survey I posted last week! The overall sample size for this survey was 181 submissions! All answers are anonymous no worries, in case anyone was worried about that! All the information will be under the cut! Survey results link posted in the end.

This was the least surprising result on the survey, since I expected it to be around half and half. The rest of the 21.5% was the other option where a lot of people elaborated that they were so-so in regards to their activity to the fandom, as seen by a couple examples above.

This one too was not surprising either! It's a part of fandom culture to constantly shift to newer fandoms and medias the more you indulge in them, as a lot of people who answered yes to this, also said they were an active part of the Red vs Blue fandom still!

Now, this was the big question that I thought would be a toss-up. There were a couple of surprising answers to this, as to when people stopped watching. I figured it would be a split between Shisno and Zero since, with Shisno taking more of the lead since quite a bit of people left after the announcement of RvB0 instead of RvB18. The one person who said they stopped watching during The Blood Gulch Chronicles did hurt my heart though.

For this question there was such a wide range of answers, but I saw a LOT of reoccurring ones. Those would include, in no particular order: MCYT (DreamSMP), Podcasts (The Magnus Archives, Dungeons and Daddies, etc.), Star Wars and Star Trek, Marvel and DC comics, some other form of Rooster Teeth entertainment, and quite a bit of people who answered with Red vs Blue and Halo!

Of course, there were tons of people who didn't have any of those listed, but these were the most common appearing ones. (I actually saw a few answers with the fandoms I'm currently into myself, haha).

Now, this result was one that I was looking to pay attention towards as it was one of my main purposes of conducting this survey. I did think that Yes on similarities would have the majority vote and was the reason why I had the elaboration question coming next. 11% decided once more that they were so-so in regards to this question, and also a lot of people who really didn't want to think that deeply about it (which is totally valid)!

This question, was the main highlight for this survey. I loved seeing what people had to say, and seeing their reasoning for why they like Red vs Blue and why they like their new shows too. The most common similarities?

Found family, sci-fi elements, humor surrounding a bunch of loveable jackass idiots, and as one response said perfectly, "surprise punches to the feels at Mach 5."

This question had many answers that it would be a little difficult to screenshot for, but there was a healthy balance between people who create all kinds of fan content and those who are just content to sit back and relax and enjoy what everyone has to offer. But I loved seeing some of the specifics that people put in the other spot as well.

For this question, I really wanted to see how Red vs Blue might have impacted fan creation. I'm not surprised that No won out here, especially since a lot of people don't make content as indicated by the previous question. The 12.8% who answered was a delight to see in specifics what they might have been doing or planning (a couple of people actually answered that they were in the middle of doing crossover work, so neat!)

And finally, the last question. I loved seeing so many people so passionately talk about their love for their newer shows, the things they love or hate about it, and also those who had some really funny responses. A lot would recommend the show, not so much the fandom, some couldn't tell since it all depends on the person, and a lot would say that no, what they're into isn't quite what a Red vs Blue fan might be into.

So, what does this survey say? Well, this was a really wonderful experiment I wanted to carry out. I really wanted to see if there was something that united Red vs Blue fans on what we enjoyed about the series and what we might enjoy in series going forward. And you know what? I was right. So many fans agreed on the ideals that Red vs Blue was based around- 181 people is a lot! Especially for a fandom that's been a little inactive lately (I've been around since s13, and few others can attest to the decline I should think), I certainly never thought I'd get so many submissions, so even this fandom can surprise me still.

But you know what? Even with a declining activity in the fandom, so many people agreed on one thing. One thing that's the whole reason why Red vs Blue has even stuck around for so long. And as one submission wrote it simply:

If you're interested in seeing the full submission forms, reminder that once again these are completely anonymous, you can check out the excel spreadsheet that google forms created for me (after I figured out that I didn't have to do it all by hand, smh). There you can see fans passionately talk about their newest interests and whether they would recommend them or not.

[crossdressingdeath]

I know you'll probably disagree with me, but i rlly hate the Cloud recessess ending. It's just....

Those elders killed wwx. The Lans were 100% ready to murder both at Qiongqi path but also at the siege. They see him as the guy who corrupted their precious jade. They all preach righteousness, but the whole madam Lan thing is iffy at best and i do not believe that everyone there fully believes the rules. Hell, i have a special bone to pick with the " do not gossip" rule, seeing as gossip had been the main info route for women in patriarchal societies.

I just don't think that after wwx killed Lans in the siege they'd be all that willing to forgive him and take him in w open arms. The juniors and kids love him, yes, but people who saw the war....

Not to mention the whole " do not speak to WWX " rule. I've seen ppl say it's a joke but it's On The Wall. It's supposed to be followed. Even if it was intended as a joke - which i don't believe - it's very cruel for someone w rejection and trust issues.

I also hate it from a very personal perspective. I see Wwx as ND, and, as an ND myself, all those rules terrify me. From the no running and the proper posture ones, i can pretty well imagine they forbid stimming. The Lan curfew would fuck anyone with insomnia and there's smth deeply ucked up abt the " do not grieve in excess". I get that they're supossed to be a paragon of the best things at all time, and that LJY is very UnLan like, but for someone w anxiety who CAN'T follow those rules, it would be a nightmare.

...Some points:

First, the Lan elders did not kill WWX, nor did they attack him unfairly. They weren’t looking at him as the man who corrupted LWJ, either, or at least that wasn’t their primary concern (I will never forgive CQL for suggesting they were or it was); they were looking at him as a traitor to the sects who was raising an army to destroy them. Remember, that is the information the Lans had. Every source they had except for LWJ (who the people he would have gone to would have known was biased and who presumably everyone knew had recently been in close contact with WWX where he could have been manipulated or enchanted in some way), sources which included multiple sect leaders (one of whom was WWX’s brother) and LXC’s dear friend, swore up and down that WWX was a major threat, and let’s face it, WWX didn’t do much to dissuade people from thinking that! Acting like the Lans were maliciously targeting WWX is doing them something of a disservice, I’d say. They acted based on the knowledge they had available; note how the Lans are the first to offer WWX their help once they’re given reason to believe he may not be a villain! And even aside from that, saying they killed WWX (and not JGS and JGY’s manipulation or JC’s army) feels a bit like scapegoating, honestly. Of the four sects, the Lans are quite possibly the least responsible for WWX’s death. If it would hurt him to live with or around anyone who held any responsibility for his death his only option would be to live as a hermit, which would be far worse for him. And yeah, the Lans aren’t perfectly righteous all the time and some morally dubious things have been done by Lan sect members; they’re human, after all! Some of them will only be as moral as their sect leader demands they be! That doesn’t mean the sect as a whole is bad, especially with LXC, LQR and LWJ in charge. Certainly I’d say they’re still better than the other sects, all things considered. One ambiguous situation that may or may not have involved some members of the previous generation doing some fucked up shit doesn’t mean WWX would for sure be mistreated! 

As for gossip... there’s a difference between sharing information and gossiping. There’s no evidence that the Lan women are blocked from... y’know, freely communicating and sharing information between themselves. We have no reason to believe they are reliant on gossip. Also they presumably go out night hunting just like the men? Men and women are kept separate in the Cloud Recesses, but I get the sense that that’s more like... school stuff than anything else. The women aren’t exactly locked up, they can be cultivators! The society is still sexist, but that doesn’t mean they’re kept from going out and doing things. And I need to make this clear: there is a fair chance that the rule against gossip saved LWJ’s life, because it kept word of him defending WWX from the sects from spreading to people who would not be willing to let bygones be bygones. Gossip sucks! It hurts people! A lot of this story (and more to the point the suffering of the characters within the story) happens because of gossip! The Lans banning gossip is pretty clearly supposed to be a good thing, I’d say.

And yeah, maybe after WWX killed a bunch of their sect the Lans wouldn’t accept him with open arms as if nothing ever happened! And that’s fair! I can’t imagine where WWX could go where that wouldn’t be the case, unless he and LWJ chose to abandon the cultivation world forever. But you know what else the Lans won’t do? Try to execute him. Or from what we see in the extras even dwell on the past that much. No, the Lans aren’t going to immediately forgive WWX and bring him into the fold without a moment’s hesitation, but you know what? They accept his marriage to LWJ! They let him supervise the juniors on night hunts! They consider him part of their sect! Honestly, that is all WWX can really ask and far more than he’d get from any other sect. There are consequences for what WWX did, even though he wasn’t the villain or necessarily trying to hurt anyone, and frankly people not being entirely comfortable with his presence is very much reasonable.

The “do not speak to WWX” rule may not be a joke, but it’s also pretty clearly not a serious rule. No one takes it seriously. The juniors (the only people WWX really talks to anyway aside from LXC and LWJ) only pay it the minimum lip service of talking to him off the path. WWX himself sure as hell doesn’t care! He clearly finds it pretty damn funny. And I don’t think a guy who has never liked him once again proving he does not like him (in a way that is clearly temporary given how later LQR invites WWX to the Lan family banquet with... reasonable amounts of grace, thereby implicitly accepting him as LWJ’s husband and therefore his own family by marriage) counts as a rejection or a breach of WWX’s trust? Like, LQR has literally always hated WWX. He isn’t preventing WWX and LWJ from spending time together or shutting WWX out of the Cloud Recesses or even making a concentrated effort to keep people from talking to him; he’s venting his frustrations, but if he really intended to block WWX from taking part in life in the Cloud Recesses he would’ve done a hell of a lot more than just make a rule who no one WWX likes follows anyway. It’s a temper tantrum, that’s all, and clearly that’s what WWX takes it as. I mean, if nothing else you can’t ban people from talking to the sect heir’s spouse indefinitely. That’s just not sustainable.

As for the rules... banning people from running in the Cloud Recesses and demanding proper posture during lessons doesn’t suggest to me that they wouldn’t allow stimming? ‘No running’ at least is a common rule... most places. It’s distracting, and can be dangerous. And the rule about sitting properly doesn’t mean “Don’t move at all ever”; it means... well, “sit properly”. Don’t slouch or sprawl across the floor. I see no reason why that wouldn’t preclude means of stimming that wouldn’t be disruptive (and given this is in a classroom environment “not disruptive” is kind of important). I mean, those rules certainly don’t suggest that they’re any worse than other sects, and given this is the sect that has magic music for calming people’s minds if any sect would give allowances for neurodivergence it would be this one. Also I wouldn’t be surprised if there was a song to put people to sleep, or medication that can help; this is a world with magic, after all, and if there’s a song that can put spirits to rest there are probably songs for human medicine and care. And of course there’s an element of conflicting needs; maybe the rules would screw you over, but frankly firmly enforced rules keeping people from running around or sprawling out of their seats would’ve been a godsend for me in school, given how much trouble I had focusing with people making noise around me. At the end of the day, is it guaranteed that the Lans would make allowances for people with needs that conflict with the Lan rules? No. But I’d argue it’s more likely that they would than any other sect. This is ahistorical fantasy ancient China, too; you can only expect so much in the mental health department. Still, a sect that literally invented magic music for calming the mind actually seems like the best choice for people with anxiety and such. There’s a reason why there are multiple fics that essentially set the Lans up as mental health experts in the setting!

Basically, a lot of your arguments seem to be issues that WWX would have in any sect. Unless he wanted to give up on the support of a sect altogether, they’re all things that he would have to work through or come to terms with. And of course... the most important point is that WWX is happy in the Lan sect. The extras make that clear. He has a home, duties that he enjoys performing, the love of his family and the support of his sect. He’s happy. I just... I do not understand why people keep feeling the need to try to make it angsty when the novel makes it clear that he genuinely enjoys his life in Gusu, and more than that that if he ever decided he didn’t enjoy it he could leave at any time. You have to remember that: if WWX wanted to leave... he would. He and LWJ would just go, and only come back occasionally so that LWJ could visit his home. Hell, LWJ would insist on leaving for WWX’s sake. So like... the Lan sect wouldn’t suit everyone, but WWX is quite content there and doesn’t want to leave. He’s happy and free to come and go as he wishes; there really isn’t anything to be concerned about there.

[katsukisbeatingheart]

adolebitque manet

breakups suck. and sometimes you just need to burn your ex's shit.

word count: 2573

ao3!

Ridiculous piece of crap.

You yanked the chain.

Pathetic promises.

You tore the letter.

And a long dead rose.

The stem twirled between your fingertips, and you didn't even flinch when a thorn along the spine left a gash in your index finger.

Typical.

It was however, enough for you to breathe deeply, and exhale—more over the case of everything they used to be.

Cheat.

Cheat. Cheat. Cheat. Cheat.

Liar.

Your bloody finger found the wasted tears before you did. Poetic, how they mixed and dripped over the broken pieces in front of you. A blood oath to break another blood oath.

How many years had you supported such a beguiling—bewitching feeling? All for naught, only to ruin by such a simple measure.

It wasn't simple though. It was so complicated, it was simple; and it was so simple, it was complicated.

You sneered at the contradiction of such a fact, of such a relationship.

You'd look back on this—hopefully in months time—and laugh at yourself for the dramatic wreck you came to be. Over one person.

One person, who had meant so much to you for so many years.

It had taken you weeks to even think about believing everything you saw to be true. It took another few to agonizingly collect each and every bit of each other, and begin destroying them.

You had strong encouragement from those closest to you, and they were very patient and kind with your struggling heart. Despite your best attempts to recoil, and pay for something you realized only you were probably invested in—they wouldn't let you.

Now here you were, in the middle of your apartment, ready to gather these things up and eviscerate them; but you couldn't do it alone.

The cardboard was flimsy, but it did the job. Sturdy enough to carry the weight of such useless trinkets with heavy price, you dumped and swept in each tiny, bloody bit as roughly as you could—quickly apologizing to the box, a reminder that it wasn't to blame.

You ghosted to your door, moving in a hollow effort to dispose of their evidence.

Softly cracking the door open and angling to look out into the hallway, you peered at your neighbor's doors; ears open, eyes wide for any sign of life.

Mina, Shoji, Tokoyami, Shinso, Izuku—

Your eyes flicked up.

Kirishima, Sero, and Denki are upstairs...

You had a wonderful, wonderful support system. The friends that lived in the same building, and the ones across town—but the more you sifted through your options, the more you couldn't bring yourself to bother any of them with this. No matter how small a request.

With the umpteenth sigh of the evening, your head lolled backward. Your eyes slid closed and your fingers rubbed at the ache settled in your neck. You peeked out of the corner of your eye, glancing down the right side of the hall.

There was only one more door facing opposite yours—at a diag to the fire escape window at the end of the hall, and you.

It was impulsive, and despite everything—your best option.

The two meter walk in your cement shoes felt like pouring a jar of molasses on a winter's day. Gathering courage to actually knock felt like pouring two jars of molasses on a winter's day.

It was inevitable, you decided—especially if he opened the door to step out only to find you standing there petrified in your own grief and nerves—and two gentle taps and a third slightly harsher, more desperate rap later, crimson red eyes glowered at you in annoyance.

"Oi. Do you know what fuckin' time it i—"

His abrasiveness grated to a humbling halt in the face of a wholy distraught you. He wasn't one to gossip, or even to put any stock into useless chatter of the sort; but even he knew you were keeping life together by pins and needles. And he didn't even need to have Ashido as a neighbor to know that, because he was looking at the tangled disaster right now.

Your shoulders shook, and the barely kept together bite of your lip with vacant eyes told him he needed to close his mouth and keep it that way.

He was generally coarse, brusque, and blunt—not stupid or blind.

You steeled your regard, holding a determined glint in your eye and a placating plead beneath it.

"Bakugo I need you to do me a favor."

"What is it."

"Burn this for me."

You held the box out between the two of you, handling it with a nauseating combination of disdain and care. Bakugo quickly brushed through the contents with a quickly baleful sweep of his eyes, and you were too numb to bother wondering why the hostility. It was enough you were baring such personal trinkets—yet thoroughly clichéd banalities—to someone of his caliber. You parts trusted him to suggest a certain modicum of consideration, and tiny parts trusted yourself to be too beaten down to care otherwise.

The regret at such irresolution toward your longtime neighbor and friend, ebbed away as he looked back up to you with a certain fire in his eyes. It warmed you abruptly in ways you didn't understand at all.

Bakugo jerked his head to the side, his body following along with it as he stepped aside to invite you in. You said nothing, catching your breath in a purposeful stride, ducking past his shoulder. You strode in confidently, but faltered not far from the doormat when you noticed how long it had been since you'd been there.

The lights were off, and the far wall—ceiling to floor sliding glass doors up one step, leading to a balcony looking over the other part of the city night lights—bled with the light of the moon, illuminating a living space shaped like yours, but not at all how you remembered it being from however long ago.

There were new pieces of furniture rearranged in a way that suggested the man was open to having guests—mostly Eijiro, Denki, Sero, and Mina, you figured. Matte black couch cushions, with silver finishings along the frame; a dark wooden circular dining table in front of the bar attached to the kitchen, right by the glass doors—a rather romantic placement, especially for him, you marvelled; deep brown cabinets with lighter hardwood doors, occupying the back right hand corner where the kitchen was.

You turned to glance at the potted plant and admired how generally... homey the place felt. Either Bakugo had been invaded by a homes and gardens magazine, or he had grown quite the honeyed eye.

Your admiration melted into remorse, quicker than the fondness came. You couldn't even remember how long it had been since you'd visited.

In hindsight, you immediately knew it was because you'd spent all of your time with...

I must've been a real shitty friend.

"What was that?"

His questions were coming out more as gruff statements, any inquisitiveness overrode by the demand for an answer. It almost made you smile, before, again, you remembered why you'd missed that so much.

You didn't even know you'd spoken aloud, and were too tired to avoid it now.

"I must've been terrible to you," you whispered.

You felt the air grow stale with awkward tension. Bakugo raised a hand to run through his hair, stopping at the base of his neck. He didn't know what to say.

But you did.

"I'm so sorry, Katsuki," you breathed. "I'm so sorry—I feel like I completely neglected you, and I'm only realizing this now, after I've come to you when I need something and I can't believe it's taken me this long to—to see that. You must feel so— so—"

Used. Ignored.

Cheated.

You clenched your fists, squeezing your eyes shut in suffocating reproach.

You turned to face him head on. You were going to deal with this with dignity—completely ready for the growling consequences and the scorching anger.

The thundering shouting.

Biting rejection.

Unadulterated hatred.

None of that came. Instead, Bakugo's eyes reflected with an intense sheen of pain—as if everything you left unsaid came swinging back to him in full force. Like he'd been repressing those exact accusations the entire time.

You wanted to scream. You wanted him to scream. You wanted somebody to scream.

It wasn't a scream, but his voice was indomitable enough to be.

"Let's fucking burn this thing."

Glass shattered, the dam broke, and you moaned once—exhaling a jagged breath of relief, anguish, and extreme adoration. The tears poured and you shoved them away with the palms of your hand, laughing and crying with a silent nod. Bakugo roughly pulled the box from your hands, stalking briskly toward the glass doors. He slammed them open, and you heard them rattle. You weren't afraid, though. He wasn't mad at you.

He dropped the container on the concrete floor with a harsh bang, and you didn't miss the crack of a frame breaking with a picture of you and them. You doubt he did either.

Bakugo held out his right hand—fingers down, palm up—to the box. You watched him with something in your heart, as he ignited. It was piercing, and brought back memories of special moves you worked on in high school. You'd seen him nearly blow his arm off trying to get this kind of precision, and now you'd see him on T.V., using it for hero work as if he'd been doing it since the day he was born. You remembered gushing about how amazing he was, every single time he managed to do something new.

Yes, Bakugo had used this move to best and save many people.

In an instant, flames shot straight for the box, and suddenly you were engulfed in light. Just like fireworks, the contents popped and crackled, and just like fireworks, you were completely mesmerized. The light from your little conflagration poured warmth over everything you could feel. You were positively glowing.

You bit back tears that no longer needed to be spent on the likes of them. You were the one who wasted away in the company of someone who never really cared about you.

Since then, you'd forgotten about the ones that really and truly did.

You looked to Bakugo, watching the shadows dance menacingly across his face. The ferocity, and damn near animalistic malice singed more than the fire he made did. Your eyes widened in surprise.

As if he felt you staring, he turned.

Fully.

Fully facing you with much softer eyes and an expression you knew that came from being a hero.

It was as if to say you're safe now.

You choked and let more tears fall, feeling a combination of cold and searing in light of the fire.

"Katsuki," you whispered.

For the first time in your life, you watched him hesitate. He stepped forward, looking so vulnerable as he tried to grasp for words. The space between you came to about a hand's length, and the heavy rise and fall of his chest vibrated along your skin. Bakugo's eyes clouded, and your mouth went dry with that feeling again.

"Marshmallows."

You blinked.

"...What?" You weren't sure you heard him right.

"Here," he began, taking your hand in his as he turned around and led you back inside. Bakugo didn't let go, until he set you at one of the barstools, to move past and dig through one of his upper cabinets. After a moment of shuffling, he pulled away to reveal a family sized bag of puffy white marshmallows, and a big bar of chocolate. He tossed the bag of sweets towards you, his mouth quirking into a little smirk.

The warmth you'd been feeling more and more since you'd got here exploded in your chest, and you felt it rise to your cheeks.

"And don't think I forgot—" Bakugo bent down and pulled open a bottom drawer. He fished something out that crinkled and reflected small bits of light, and smacked it on the bar countertop, right in front of you.

The childish squeal burst out before you could think.

"Cookies!"

Bakugo rolled his eyes and desperately tried to bury his bliss beneath an annoyed click of his tongue. He really missed you.

"What a fucking dork," he mumbled not-so-quietly under his breath. He could hide it all he wanted but you caught the smile in his voice anyway.

Bakugo's eyes glazed as he watched you giggle, and he—almost tentatively—grasped your hand again, uncharacteristic gentleness as he pulled you back outside.

You stared dazedly at yours in his—but mostly his—and wondered why the sudden touchiness.

In all honestly, Bakugo couldn't figure himself; but when he did pin the feeling—he might've just been scared to see you go again.

He handed you the collection of sweets, going to bring out chairs to sit on. You touched his shoulder and shook your head, grabbing a blanket you noticed stretched out along the balcony fence. You flicked it outward, laying it as close as possible to the fire—setting the chocolate, marshmallows, and cookies in the middle.

Looking up to meet his eyes, you patted the spot next to you. For the first time—in a long time—you watched Katsuki's cheeks flush. No matter how badly you wanted to be the one to do that to him, you convinced yourself that it was nothing but the cold of the night or the heat of the flames.

The boy dropped down beside you, holding out a skewer without making eye contact.

As a pair, you silently worked marshmallows onto the sticks, and held them over the fragments of your burning relationship.

"Hope we don't get poisoned or something, doing this," you broke the silence wryly, eyeing the disfigured picture frame and the horribly burnt photo inside of it.

"Not a bad way to go, really." Katsuki too, was looking at the fire, and you did your best to not linger on the implications behind that statement.

"Death by marshmallows," you tapped your chin thoughtfully, "I'll take it."

"That's not what I meant."

You looked away from your toasting sweet, and studied him with dinner-plate eyes. The curiosity and... desire, you figured, smoldered, and you were sure he stared back with intensity rivalling yours. The silence—besides the crackling of fire and melting of sour memories—pressed down on you and you were positive you could fall into him, and get lost and it would be okay—

"You're gonna burn your s'mores, dumbass," Katsuki whispered. You were sitting shoulder to shoulder. He smelled sweet.

The smile climbing its way to your face settled in under a slightly disbelieving laugh.

"Right."

Knees hugged to your chest, you drifted not too far from him, and focused on the flames.

"Hey, Katsuki?"

"Yeah?"

Inhaling with more than enough steadiness to still the ocean, you sighed, feeling more weightless than you'd felt in the last two months.

"Thank you."

With every second that burned by, you felt a sort of resolve subside and thicken—less like the cast iron chains that held you back hours and months ago, and more like a promise.

To yourself.

To him.

Bakugo Katsuki shrugged, and as he did so he moved the tiniest bit closer. His voice was quiet when he spoke.

"I'm just glad you're back."

[iwoulddieforkeanureeves]

Ride (Keanu Reeves x Reader)

This one shot gets a bit NSFW towards the end!

Today had been a rough day, a rough day after a series of rough days. You had been overworked, stressed, and wanted nothing more than to get home and go to sleep. You hoped into your little rundown car after work, the sun was just starting to set, as you had to stay late at work to finish something up, because of course your coworkers wouldn't stay to help you. You rolled your eyes just thinking about it. You started your car and took a deep breath, trying to enjoy the pretty sunset as you set off. The long country road you were on was relatively empty. You smiled as the music wafted through the air and the wind ruffled your hair, you had always loved drives like these. The sunset above you, no other cars riding your bumper, just you, the radio, and the road.

Everything was going smoothly until your felt your pedal go limp under your foot as your engine sputtered. You cursed loudly, pulling over on the shoulder with your leftover momentum as your engine died. You let out a small scream, why? Why couldn't you have one nice thing? Just one nice drive, ruined by your stupid car, and your stupid coworkers who couldn't pull their own weight. You threw your hazards on and tried to start your car, to no avail. You got out and slumped your body against the car and began to silently cry, the pressure of life weighing down on you like a brick. You sat there, your body wracked with sobs as you curled up. You tried calling someone to come help you, and realized your phone was dead. You threw it into the car and ran your hand through your hair. What were you supposed to do now? You clutched the fabric of your pants as you felt your sobs get more intense. It felt like some cosmic force was out to get you. Like everything you did, no matter how hard you tried, how much you cared, just blew up in your face.

You were interrupted by the sound of a motorcyclist rolling up behind you, the soft purr of the engine breaking you out of your stupor for a moment. You wiped your eyes and looked up, seeing a tall man with a gorgeous Harley Davidson motorcycle. He was wearing a soft brown leather jacket and dark wash jeans, you could tell he was toned by the way the leather and denim gripped his form. He kicked up his stand and dismounted. Taking off his helmet and shaking out his long dark hair. You knew he looked familiar, but you couldn't place his face. He was incredibly handsome, with dark almond shaped eyes and a salt and peppery beard.

He approached you, you still wiping the tears off of your face and trying to pull yourself together. He slowly bent down, his knees in the dirt as he placed a warm hand on your knee. "Are you okay?" He inquired, his voice was deep and gentle. You looked up, and your eyes went wide as you recognized him. It was Keanu Reeves, you had seen him onscreen, heard about his kind acts, and that he lived in the area, but you had never expected this.

Maybe your luck was changing for the better, you thought as you nodded softly. "Yeah, my car broke down and my phone is dead so I can't call anyone and I don't know what's wrong with it." You explained, he stood up and held his hand out to you. You gratefully took it, as he effortlessly pulled your smaller body up on its feet.

He looked behind you, "That's awful, how about your pop your hood for me and I'll see if I can see what's wrong." He offered as he began to walk to the front of the car.

You hopped back in the car and popped the hood as he asked, you were floored by Keanu. He just helped you, on the side of the road, for no reason. He probably has a thousand other things to do, but he's here. You watched him take off his leather jacket, revealing a simple white v-neck shirt. He handed the jacket to you, and began to rummage around the engine, checking for any obvious problems. You ran your fingers down the soft leather as you watched him, his eyes laser focused as he assessed your car.

He pulled away, sighing, and running his hand through his long hair. "I think it's something electrical, you'd probably have to get it to a shop." He surmised, looking out on the empty road. You realized his hands were dirty, so you found some baby wipes in your car and handed them to Keanu.

You still clutched his leather jacket as he cleaned up, "Thank you so much for doing that, you didn't have to." You blurted out, a bit flustered still by the whole situation.

He gave you a smile, "Oh don't worry about it. What's your name?" He asked as he walked closer to you, taking his jacket back into his arm as he leaned on your vehicle.

You straightened up, "(Y/N)." You said, as you put your hands in your pockets.

He began to put his jacket on, "Well, (Y/N), I don't have my phone on me, so we'll probably have to either ride up to the shop or ride to my place so you can use my phone." He stated, talking with his hands as he presented the options to you.

You smiled, he was a bit of a goof. "Whatever is easier for you, I don't want to inconvenience you." You replied, to which he waved you off.

"You're not an inconvenience, have you ever ridden a motorcycle before?" He asked as he went over to his bike, you followed closely behind and shook your head. He got on, "Its really fun, just get on behind me and hold on tight, and you'll be alright." He said, smiling, his passion for it clearly showing through as you got on behind him. A blush spread across your cheeks as you wrapped your arms around his waist, his warmth seeping into you. You never thought you'd be this close to him.

Keanu started up his Harley, and started back down the long and winding road. The sun had set now, and the air had began to cool. He looked out on the road, feeling the cool air on his exposed skin and your arms wrapped around his waist. When he first saw you sitting there crying, he remembered how it felt when he had lost everything, and he knew he had to help you. You being absolutely stunning was just a bonus, of course. For the first time in a while, Keanu felt a little less lonely, feeling your body pressed against his own as he drove off into the night.

You practically snuggled into his back, the night air whipping your hair around behind you. Keanu was just so warm and comforting. The smell of leather filled your nose as you had your head laying on his strong shoulders. You honestly didn't know what you would've done if he didn't come along, the nearest anything was more than 5 miles away, and you really didn't want to walk for two hours in the dark. He was a hero on and offscreen, apparently.

After about twenty minutes of riding with Keanu, he pulled into his garage, parking his bike. You looked around in wonder at the gorgeous collection of rare and interesting cars and motorcycles. But you couldn't stare for long as Keanu quickly led you inside, which was equally as impressive, but he seemed rather bashful about it. You were surprised he was so humble about everything, living in LA it seems like everyone was stuck up, vapid, and selfish, especially every C-list 'influencer' that came into your work. But Keanu was completely different, he was a gentleman, he was humble, and he was selfless.

You settled into his couch as he went off to find his phone for you to use after telling you to make yourself comfortable. You did so, kicking off your shoes and curling up onto the couch. Without his presence the tiredness and aches from your long shift set into your body.

Keanu came back downstairs, cell phone in hand, he saw you curled up on the couch as your eyelids began to droop. He couldn't help but smile at how cute you looked, he sat down beside you and handed you his phone. "Here." He said, his deep voice resonating in his chest.

You gratefully took it, your hand lingering on his for just a moment. He was so warm, and so soft. You looked up at him, "Thank you, Keanu. For everything." You said softly before going in the other room to make a few calls.

Keanu taped his foot, for some reason he was feeling a bit nervous. He had a sneaking suspicion it had something to do with you, the way your skin felt against his, the feelings of your arms around his waist, the way your hair looked when it was flowing out behind you in the wind. He brushed his hand through his own hair, smoothing it out. He smiled at you when you came back into the room. You returned his smile, and held his phone out to him. He savored the lingering of your hand on his. He stood up, "Are you hungry?" He inquired, making his way to the kitchen.

You were quick on the taller man's heels, "A little, but, I've already overstayed my welcome!" You insisted.

Keanu chuckled, "Would it make you feel better if you helped me cook?" He asked playfully, turning around to face you.

You blushed, coming face to face, or rather, face to chest, with him. You nodded, "It would." You answered, "What's on the menu?" You asked as you leaned on the counter.

Keanu opened the fridge, stroking his beard idly as he mulled over the contents. "How about pasta?" He asked, pulling out a few ingredients and tossing them in his hands.

You giggled at him, "That sounds divine." You responded, taking some of the items out of his hands and laying them out on the counter.

He laid his hand on your shoulder, "I'm gonna go put a record on, would you boil some water?" He asked softly. You smiled at the contact and nodded as he went off. You began looking around the kitchen to find a pot, before seeing them hung up above the counter. You didn't realized how you missed them. You huffed, as they were just out of your reach, even on your tippy toes. You heard the sound of soft jazz begin to flow through the house as you began to prop yourself up on various handles to try to reach the large pot above you.

You had almost grasped the handle when you felt your toes give way as you slipped and began to fall towards the ground. But before you could do too much damage strong arms enveloped you, he helped you back to your feet, leaving his arms wrapped around your body. "I forgot those were so high up there." He said, his voice barely above a whisper. Your face flushed as your hands rested against his chest. You could barely breathe with him so close to you, the smell of clean linen and leather, the warmth of his skin. Keanu's eyes darted between your bright eyes and plump lips. He moved one of his hands to brush the hair out of your face. "Wouldn't want you to harm that gorgeous face of yours." He said, even softer than before.

You went cherry red, this had to be a dream. But the feeling of his body right next to yours was as tangible as ever. You perked yourself up on your tippy toes, your eyes fluttering shut as Keanu cupped your face and softly kissed you. His beard tickled your face as you smiled into the kiss. Your hands began to roam his toned body as he held your hips and deepened the kiss.

Keanu pulled away for a moment, staring down at you with something you couldn't quite place. His dark eyes seemed to glimmer as he grabbed you around the waist and effortlessly sat you on top of the counter and finding his place nested between your legs before beginning to trail kisses down your face and neck.

You couldn't help but let out a small whine as he kissed your neck, and laced your fingers in his long dark hair. God, it was so soft and thick, and his warm lips felt like heaven assaulting your sensitive skin. At your whine, Keanu let out a small laugh, his deep voice radiating in your chest. His thumbs rubbed small circles into your hips as he continued to suck on your neck and collarbone.

You wrapped your legs around him, pulling him closer as you began to return the favor and pepper Keanu in kisses, grinding your body into him as you felt yourself getting hotter and hotter. It must've tickled, he laughed. His laugh sent shivers down your spine. "How about I repay you for all your kindness, Mr. Reeves?" You purred, drawing your hands down his chest and resting on his hips.

Breathless, Keanu simply nodded as you hopped off the counter, rubbing his thighs and playing with his waistband. He whined, wishing for nothing more than to free himself of his ever tightening pants and feel you wrapped around him.

You giggled, watching his face as you teased him and slowly undid his belt buckle. Palming him through his pants, another moan escaped his lips. After freeing him of the confines of his pants, you went to work, wanting to show your gratitude. John had his fingers laced in your hair as you bobbed up and down on him, occasionally whispering your name as he stroked your face and hair.

Before he finished, he pulled you off of him and to your feet, he kissed your neck and whispered in your ear, "God, (Y/N), I need you so bad. Dinner can wait." Before whisking you into his arms and staring down at you with those beautiful brown eyes.

[yogpetshame]

Regarding your notes about parasocial etc: I've been watching the yogs and others for over a decade now. How would one would wean oneself from this affliction? How can I stop obsessively watching the channels daily?

Let’s play a little armchair psycholo.. psychiatrist? I don’t know the difference which is why I don’t get paid to do this.

First: your problems are probably not that severe. I want to start this from a realistic perspective. YouTube is, to some, the new TV, and watching videos every day is not by nature unhealthy.

Some signs that your YouTube habit is unhealthy:

When you fall behind on YouTube videos, you’re not just disappointed - you’re mad. Irritable. Anxious. You even feel guilty.

Watching videos has reduced your interest in other hobbies. Video games don’t count as a hobby here, I mean you’ve passed on going out, seeing people, cleaning, cooking, because you were on a binge.

You rely on the videos to ease your anxiety or guilt. If you have a bad day, you feel you must watch. It’s your painkiller.

If someone comes between you and the Yogs - if Ted tells you he doesn’t like the videos, or that Rooster Teeth is better, or that you should stop watching because he doesn’t agree with the Yogscast’s morals - and it’s enough to endanger your entire relationship with that person.

If you recognize yourself in these, yeah, you should definitely knock it off.

If you just want to stop even though you’re not exactly addicted, that’s still great, you run your life. It’s just important to put it out there that some people may have problem and there is an objective way to tell.

Anyway, on to your actual question: weaning yourself.

I’ve (this shouldn’t be a surprise) dipped in and out of this issue myself with a lot of different channels over time. I’ve never been too far gone but I’ve occasionally looked at my interest in a channel and thought “this gives me no joy, and yet I come back every day for more. Why?”

I don’t exactly have a set of steps for how I’ve broken off from a channel, but here’s some things in a random order that’ve helped before:

Break the habit… for three days.

The goal here, fundamentally, is to stop watching the Yogscast for a period of time. In your case, forever, but let’s start with a chunk of time. I’m not saying that step one is “if you want to stop watching the Yogscast, stop watching them,” but if you have something to hand already that would fill the hole for a few days, try that first. Pick up Outer Worlds. Begin your detox the day you leave on a vacation. Initiate a break in the habit and then continue to reinforce the broken habit as you go along.

Get Hooked on Something Else

This one’s… kind of stupid. And obvious. But if you start watching some other YouTuber whose content is really fresh and engaging, and they have a big backlog, it’s easier than may you think to just start watching them instead and let your older subscriptions gather dust. 

It helps if the category of video is also wildly different to what you’re used to watching. If you’re watching the Yogscast, and you just move to watching Rooster Teeth play the same games the Yogscast plays, you’re just going to compare them to the Yogscast and want to go back. The joy of discovering a totally new person and a totally different hobby will disengage you from their whole orbit.

I did this once with the late StobetheHobo. He was a train-hopper who filmed himself traveling illegally on freight trains. Watching a strange man who uses terms you don’t understand doing something you know nothing about is really, really, really refreshing. What’s a “bull”? Why are we in Montana? Where are these piano covers coming from? Not comparable at all to the Yogscast, and will hook you with the mystery.

Kitboga is another good option. Especially because, like Stobe, you likely know nothing about what he does. You will never have seen the Yogscast make a video where they connect a virtual machine with a tech support scammer and analyze the things they do to brick the fake computer. Plus his sense of humor is pretty similar to theirs, and he’s very deliberate about putting on a good show.

There’s also just Netflix. Or real TV. If you get caught up on something you’ve been passing up for the Yogscast during the times you normally watch them, you can avoid them for a while.

Build up a backlog

If you can muster a couple days deliberately not watching the Yogscast, and a couple more days distracting yourself with something, you’re going to build up a major backlog in no time at all. If you subscribe to just two different Yogscast members, you could have as much as five hours of backlog after passing them up for just a week. If you try to catch up over the next few days, you’ll be pushing the ball uphill as more content keeps coming out.

This has a cascading impact. Suddenly memes on the Reddit don’t make sense. Why read the posts there if you don’t know what people are talking about?

Why spend time looking at Yogscast stuff if you’re so behind? You need to catch up or else you won’t get it.

When are you going to make time to catch up? You’re still four hours behind. Oh, you were really busy today huh? Now you’re back to being five hours behind. Oh no, now it’s seven. Twelve hours. Twenty hours.

Finally, you break. Fuck those videos. Let’s skip ahead. What came out today?

Oh. Now the videos themselves aren’t funny because you’re so far behind on the references.

Congratulations. You’ve made it harder to get back in than it is to get out.