#the general will have no life when he comes back

[robynlilyblack]

Little sickling

Remus Lupin x fem! sick! reader

Summary: Remus runs his girlfriend a bath when she’s unwell

Warnings/tags: swearing, mentions of eating, being unwell, medication, remus’ furry little problem, treating wounds, nudity, and, talks of sex and attempts at seduction, established relationship, living together, implied reader and remus not being very well off, remus lupin being the sweetest boyfriend

A/n: 3k words, I have been so sick the last couple weeks, I apologise for any errors, this fic is 100% self serving, enjoy ♡

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Remus smiles to himself as he walks home, bag of essentials in one hand and flowers in the other. He didn’t know what to expect when he got in, this morning he had left a very adamant you who swore, and he quotes, that she ‘was not getting sick’. As much as he wanted to believe you, your subtle coughs and sniffles were not subtle enough, hence the bags filled with supplies to make easy stews and soups for you to eat, fresh tissues for that sniffly nose, medicine for those headaches, cough syrup that he’ll likely have to bribe you into taking, and lastly, some flowers, though are mostly to make you smile

He doesn’t mind the extra effort, in fact, it brings him an odd sense of joy knowing he’ll be able to look after you for once. Ever since you’ve known him you’ve been looking after him, and now that you both were living together, far from the wizarding world, you’d have to bear the brunt of it all on your own with his friends off living their own lives. It wasn’t that they didn’t care for him anymore, no, he had encouraged them to go live their lives, and while you were supportive of that, he still feels guilty sometimes that he’s locked you into such a life

He breathes a sigh of relief at the sight of your shared home, even if the gutter was hanging off again…least the plants are getting a good water

As he reaches the front door, he places down the bags and flowers softly, rubbing his achy hand from the weight before using them to open the rather stubborn door you both should really fix. With one hand turning the key and the other pulling the door towards him the lock clicks and he can push it open. His theory you were sicker than you were letting on is confirmed when silence greets him on the other end. Usually you’re like a happy little bunny meeting him at the front door, all excited and practically bouncing as you run up to give him a hug. But today he finds a dim hall, only illuminated by the soft light of the living room as the door has been left ajar 

He moves the bags and flowers inside before locking the door behind him and calling out “Love?” but he receives no answer

Abandoning the supplies for a moment he walks towards the light, his smile coming back as he pushes the door open and realises why you were quiet. You’re caught red handed in getting up from the small fort you had created on the couch, smiling shyly as you practically have to wrestle out of the sheer magnitude of blankets you had hoarded

“Hi” you croak a little, embarrassed as you continue to shuffle out 

He wishes you would stay seated and let him come to you, but he doesn’t argue, and instead closes the gap “Hey” he coos “How are you feelin’?” 

You pout as you approach him “Meh” is all you can muster before your head falls instinctively into his chest

He chuckles, opening his jacket fully so you can slip your hands in to steal his warmth as you always did “Poor baby” he kisses the top of your head, bring his arms around you before looking over at your makeshift bed

Frankly it’s a disaster site, from the multiple blankets and pillows thrown together in no particular order, to the loo roll being used as tissue paper. He over looks at the coffee table next, noting some medicine on the table, a good start, followed by some old tea, half eaten toast, along with a couple forgotten books you clearly tried to read but then opted for generic tv instead when you couldn’t concentrate

Out of everything there was only one thing he was going to give you a little row for…

“No water?” he looks down at you

He has to put on his best poker face now as you look up with the most guilty little face

“I had…some” you reply, face giving away your play while your hands falls to begin playing with the rim of his jumper

“Tea doesn’t count…neither does juice or coffee” he adds when you open your mouth to object 

You lower your head to guise your shame “I’m sorry Rem” you mumble 

He can feel the pout through his jumper “I’m not mad, promise” he pulls you back gently, giving you a reassuring look before he eyes you “So…are you going let me look after ya this time?”

You don’t try to pretend like this morning nor argue against him, just nod. Gone is the stubborn girl who swore she was okay and was going to get so much done on her day off, and what remains is a very tired and sick one that just wants coddled by her boyfriend

“Good girl” he moves you back towards the couch “Let's get you hydrated first” he tells you as he encourages you to sit down “When did you last take those?” he gestures to the packet of pills 

Your eyebrows scrunch before you look over towards the clock “Around 11ish, maybe 12?” you shrug softly, giving him a sorry smile for not keeping better track “Is it really 6 already?” you say mostly to yourself before coughing softly

He just kisses your forehead, saying he’ll be right back as he returns to the hall, hanging up his jacket before collecting the bags and taking them into the kitchen. He quickly puts some things that needed to go in the fridge away before grabbing a clean glass and filling it up with some water. While he’s here he grabs a spare vase from under the sink. Usually he would make you a bouquet but today he opted for the quicker version, allowing him to place them in directly and waste no time in returning to you, flowers in one hand, water in the other

You’re right where he left you when he reenters the living room, and he can’t help but find your idling adorable. Rocking your feet back and forth, hands under your thighs as your head looks around the room, eyes wandering like you hadn’t fully decorated the place yourself

“Love” he gently calls, gaining your attention, his smile widening at your little scooch towards him as he joins you on the couch, placing the flowers on the table in front of you along with the water

“You got me flowers?” you cheese, cheeks barely containing your glee

He nods, his heart flipping like he was a schoolboy again at your silly smile “Like em?” he asks even though he already knows the answer

“Very much” you reach out, thump and forefinger softly playing with the petals before you kiss his shoulder “Do they smell as pretty as they look?” you wonder, struggling with your stuffy nose

Remus’ smile sinks to a sympathetic one, arm sliding around your waist “They do” he confirms “And you’ll be able to smell them sooner once you’re hydrated” he pivots the conversation, picking up the glass and handing it to you 

You accept the tumbler with a small eye roll, cupping it as you take small sips, leaning into his side, while Remus’ arm moves upward, hand finding the top of your head, giving you little pets. You cough periodically while you rehydrate, and Remus kisses the side of your head every time you do, after your most recent he nuzzles his nose in a little. You let out a couple of soft hums, the first from the closeness, and the second at the loss of contact when Remus shifts away 

He feels your confused gaze as he walks over to your desk, grabbing the smaller bin as he begins to clear away the coffee table

“You don…” you start but he just gives you a look “...have to do that…” you whisper the rest to yourself but he still hears you 

“I want to” he says simply, placing the bin down beside the table before leaving the room, taking away the old tea with him

When he returns he finds you struggling with your blankets “Let me make you a proper bed, this ones just sad” he teases, ushering you to get up

“You’re sad” you retort quietly, hiding your little smile at the idea of a getting Remus style bed couch

He lets out a breathy laugh that sinks to amusing admiration at your little waddle over to the nearby armchair, water in tow. As he moves all of the blankets to one side, throwing away any tissues that had fallen into them, he notices you bring your feet up to sit on, warming them up after being exposed to the cold floor. 

He picks up one of the spare blankets “Up” he gestures for you to lift up your arms and when you do he drapes the soft material over you “Good girl” he throws you a wink before turning back to the couch, unable to contain his smirk as he hears your little wriggles beneath the blanket at his choice of words

He begins his work, layering the fluffiest of the blankets down, tucking it into the edges of the couch cushions. Next he piles the random assortment of pillows you had hoarded to cradle you, while he takes your favourite blanket and drapes it over, folding it at the top so you can slip in. It’s then he adds the final touches, bringing through a pitcher of water and fresh box of tissues, before flicking on the softer lamp

“There” he says, looking proud of his creation

He looks towards you for confirmation, finding you smiling sweetly at him before sipping your water again, doing your best to hold back the coughs that threaten bubble over

“Doing alright love” he kneels down, hand finding your thigh through the plush material

You nod but then wear a slightly embarrassed smile 

“What’s wrong? You want the bigger blanket” he rubs your legs, worried there's a draft he’s not noticed

“Rem…do I smell?” you blurt out, pursing your lips a little “I feel stinky” you confess, nose all scrunched

He does his best not to chuckle, especially as he notices a stray hair that’s falling forward like a depressed little unicorn

“Hmmm” he leans forward “Let me see” he begins to dramatically sniff around you, basking in your croaky giggles before he widens his eyes “Oh my!” he pretends to faint from the smell, head falling into you lap

“Rem!” you huff, shoving him a little before you cough again “Remmy!” you shake him again, your tone in time with the shakes but your coughs get the better of you and it soon turns into a small fit

“Oh…hun” he feels guilty as he lifts his head, shifting to sit on the arm of the chair as he rubs your back softly “Slow breaths, you’re gonna be okay I promise” he assures noticing your slight distress as you struggle to catch your breath

When your breathing stabilises you lean into him “And you say I’ll be the death of you” you meekly chuckle, earning you a kiss to the head

Once he’s sure you’re okay Remus stands “Come on” he helps you up “I’ll run you a bath…” he tells you before adding the next part with a grin “...it’ll help you feel less stinky” 

You roll your eyes before your expression drops, realising he said ‘you’ and not ‘we’ just now “You aren’t going to join me?” you say, reaching what must reaching a record breaking amount of pouts in one day 

He shakes his head “Sorry love, not this time” he flicks his thumb across your cheek before taking your hand again “That alright?” he starts to lead you

After a semi grumpy ‘hmph’ but allow him to take you upstairs. As you enter the bathroom he sits you down at the end of the tub, feeling your eyes as he goes into the cupboard to fetch you a towel, catching you leaning forward to continue watching as he heads into the bedroom to fetch you fresh clothes, and by clothes a set of his old pjs

“I brought you some underwear if you want it” he gestures to the delicates, well…more delicate as he’s already correctly assumed you probably wouldn’t want a bra

“Thanks” you smile at him, standing to give him a proper kiss but he turns his head at the last minute causing you to miss, catching his cheek instead “Remmy!” you scold in the quietest little voice as not to induce another coughing fit

He chuckles “Sorry little sickling” he pats your head “Can’t have us both sick” he explains “Be tragic”

You cross your arms “I’m not a sickling” you grumble, looking away for a moment before you attempt to broker “One” you plead, but he doesn’t budge “Please…pretty please…chocolate on top?”

It kills him to deny you, especially when you look at him like that…and offer hi chocolate, but he could only have one sickling in this house at a time, and far to often does he take up that mantle

“Bath first, then you can try negotiating little sickling” he uses the nickname again, revealing in how it annoys you in the cutest way

After one last attempt with those eyes you give in, shoulders slumping as you mutter a small ‘fine’d’, moving around him to begin underdressing. Remus takes that as a cue to take your place at the tub, sitting closer to the tap as he runs you your bath, fingers softly flicking under the running water as he waits for it to heat

“Rem honey?” you attempt gain his attention after a couple minutes

I know that tone

“Reeemmm” he can just imagine the poses

He hangs his head a little, smirking to himself, he had to admire your attempts. Still, he lives to annoy you even if you were to quote future you ‘mortally wounded’, so he leaves you to stew a little, focusing on placing the plug in the drain, and pouring some of your favourite smellies and salts in. It’s only after you let out another ‘hmph’ that his body pulses a laugh, failing to hold it in as you must resemble a bunny thumping when their mad or want attention, in fact he’s surprised he didn’t hear your foot stomp

“Lov…” he turns around, words leaving him as he can’t stop the loving smirk at your figure “No” he says half heartedly

“Please” you bring your arms a little closer to your sides, accentuating two particular assets

Remus meant when he said the sight of both of you sick would be tragic but he’s losing that battle with how good you look as you try to seduce him into giving you a kiss…or the getting in the bath with you…or both, probably both

“Rem!” you whine, scrunching your face before your eyes light up turning around, wiggling

He takes a moment to admire the jiggle before he stands, wrapping his arms around you, causing you to turn and face him, a winning smile on your face but it falls as he tilts his head, giving you a downturned smile

“Did it work even a little bit?” you sulk

He chuckles, fingers raking through your hair, being careful of the tugs that have formed “If you weren’t sick love I’d be afraid of flooding the bathroom with how quickly you would have gotten dragged over there” he nods across the hall, causing you to shyly smile “I promise you’ll get all the real kisses you want once you recover” 

“Plus interest?” you pose, rocking on your toes as you bite your lip a little, and he’s suddenly aware of the double meaning in your tone

Merlin he could fall in love with you all over again

“Plus interest” he agrees with a chuckle, giving you a big smile and kiss to the top of your head before turning back to the bath before it really does overflow

Leaning back over the tub he turns off the tap, pulling the sleeves of his jumper up as he checks the temperature and gently mixes in the soap. Once he’s happy with the water to bubbles ratio he wipes the soap that clings to his forearms and reaches out towards you

“Ready love?” 

You nod, taking his hands and letting him guide you carefully into the tub. A hiss escapes your lips as your foot touches the water, taking a moment to adjust to the temperature, while Remus, ever the gentlemen, Remus keeps a steady hold on you as you sink in fully, and once you’re settled he gently gathers your hair, securing it out of the way before it has a chance to dip into the water, he would help you wash it later

“The steam will help clear your sinuses while I make us some dinner” he tells you as he kneels next to the tub, the backs of his fingers finding your cheek for a moment “I got you”

You lean into it, getting shy under his care “You’re too sweet” you bring your knees up to your chest

Remus’ lips part at the use of his monthly catchphrase being used against him. You were always to patient when he was a grumpy old sod before his transformations, and so sweet and gentle after them, making him warm food, tending to his wounds, kissing everything better

Time to return the favour

He brings his lips to the corner of your own, lingering there before he uses your own words against you “Just treating you the way you deserve” he plants another to your temple then stands “I’ll be back soon” 

You give him a small nod, coughing gently “Thank you Remmy” you smile, practically melting into the tub “I love you”

“I love you more…” he blows you a kiss before he leaves, but just before the door closes he adds “...my little sickling” 

“REM!”

Thank you for reading ♡

[itsnesss]

𝐚 𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐤𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐛𝐢𝐧 | minho (xo,kitty) × fem!reader

summary | during a weekend getaway, unspoken tension between you and minho comes to a head despite his relationship. a stolen kiss leaves you conflicted, torn between your feelings and doing what’s right

warnings | fluff, infidelity, tension, kisses, emotional conflict

word count | 1.6 k

author's note | it would help me a lot if you liked, commented and reposted so that more people read what I write and don't forget to follow me, thanks ᡣ𐭩

The invitation arrived unexpectedly at night. You were about to finish your tasks when your phone buzzed with a message in the group chat you shared with your friends.

Min Ho: "Hey, losers. This weekend, I’m inviting you to my dad’s cabin. Before you start making pathetic plans, confirm who’s coming. It’s going to be epic."

You stared at the message, surprised. Min Ho didn’t usually organize things like this… or at least, he didn’t invite everyone. Yuri was the first to reply.

Yuri: "Of course, we’re coming! Although I can’t believe you’re being generous. Is this a joke?"

Juliana: "I’m in! I wouldn’t miss it!"

Q: "Count me in."

Then, a message from Stella, his girlfriend, appeared.

Stella: "It’ll be fun. 💕"

For a moment, you hesitated. There was something about the idea of spending a weekend with Min Ho that made you feel… nervous. For months, there had been this strange tension between you two: glances that lasted longer than they should, little jokes only you understood, and an electricity you tried to ignore. But he had a girlfriend. And you weren’t that kind of person.

Still, you finally typed: "I’m in."

Min Ho: "Good choice. See you Friday at 5 PM. Don’t be late.

The weekend came quickly. Everyone gathered in the KISS parking lot, where Min Ho waited with his cars. Stella took the passenger seat, and you ended up in the back, squeezed between Yuri and Juliana. During the ride, Min Ho drove with a confidence that was as infuriating as it was attractive, throwing sarcastic comments that seemed aimed directly at you.

"Ready for the best weekend of your life?" he asked, briefly glancing back at you with a smug grin.

"I don’t know, Min Ho. You’ll have to try really hard to impress me," you replied, crossing your arms.

The "cabin" turned out to be a luxury villa in the middle of the forest, with huge windows, modern furniture, and a lake view straight out of a postcard. "Welcome to paradise," Min Ho said, spreading his arms wide.

The afternoon passed with board games, walks by the lake, and laughter. Stella was more interested in her phone than the group, leaving Min Ho free to talk to you more than he should have. His comments seemed harmless, but there was something in his tone and the way he looked at you that made your heart beat faster than usual.

When night fell, Yuri suggested using the outdoor jacuzzi. "It’s the perfect way to end the day!"

"I hope you all brought decent swimsuits," Min Ho said, throwing you a teasing look.

"I hope you talk less," you shot back, meeting his gaze.

The jacuzzi was surrounded by warm lights that gave the garden a tranquil atmosphere. Everyone got in, laughing, and for a while, you managed to relax. Min Ho, as always, dominated the conversation with exaggerated stories, but his eyes kept finding yours. That invisible connection you’d both been ignoring was there, growing stronger by the minute.

One by one, your friends began to leave the jacuzzi. Yuri and Juliana were the first, saying they were cold. Then Q, who yawned dramatically before saying goodnight. Finally, Stella said, "I’m going to bed, love. Don’t stay too long," planting a kiss on Min Ho’s cheek before disappearing into the villa.

Now, you were alone with him. You tried to focus on the starry sky, but the silence between you was too heavy. Finally, Min Ho broke the ice.

"Why do you always do that?"

You turned to him, confused. "Do what?"

"Pretend like nothing matters to you," he said, leaning against the edge of the jacuzzi as he stared at you.

"I don’t know what you’re talking about, Min Ho," you replied, crossing your arms.

"Yes, you do," he insisted, with that infuriating smile that made your heart race and drove you crazy at the same time.

"If you’re looking for a fight, find someone else," you retorted, turning your gaze back to the water.

But he didn’t back down. "I’m not looking for a fight. I just want to understand why you act like you don’t feel the same way I do."

Your heart skipped a beat. "Min Ho, you have a girlfriend."

"That doesn’t answer my question," he said, leaning a little closer to you.

You looked him straight in the eye, trying to stay calm. "Because it doesn’t make sense, Min Ho. We’re different. You’re… you. And I don’t want complications."

"Complications?" he repeated, as if he couldn’t believe it. "Is that what you think I am?"

"No," you admitted softly. "But all of this would be. I don’t want to be the reason someone gets hurt."

For a moment, Min Ho didn’t say anything. He just looked at you, a mix of frustration and something else in his eyes. Finally, he spoke. "Do you know what your problem is? You always try to do the right thing, even when it’s not what you want."

"And that’s a bad thing, according to you?" you replied, raising an eyebrow.

"No, but…" he began, then stopped. He sighed, as if he was about to confess something important. "I’ve been trying to ignore this for months. But every time I’m near you, it’s like nothing else exists."

His words left you breathless. You wanted to say something, but the words didn’t come. And then, before you could think about what you were doing, his lips were on yours.

The kiss was slow, intense, and full of everything you both had been holding back. His hands gently cupped your face, while the world around you seemed to disappear. But just as you were starting to lose yourself in the moment, reality hit you like a bucket of cold water.

You pulled away abruptly, your heart pounding. "This shouldn’t have happened," you said, moving away from him.

Min Ho looked at you, confused. "Why not?"

"Because you have a girlfriend, Min Ho. Stella trusts you. I can’t be that person."

"And what about what I feel? Or what you feel?" he asked, his voice softer this time.

"That doesn’t matter. It can’t matter," you whispered, your eyes filled with a sadness you couldn’t hide.

You quickly got up, wrapping the towel around your body. "I’m sorry, but this isn’t right."

Without waiting for a response, you walked back to the villa, leaving Min Ho alone. His words, and the warmth of his kiss, echoed in your mind as you walked away. This shouldn’t have happened. It couldn’t happen. And yet, a part of you wished things were different.

[vaspider]

Spider, can I ask you and your followers for some input in a situation? I want some unbiased opinions, especially from parents of adult kids (bonus if your adult kids are disabled). I've tried to be as unbiased as possible and include both sides. I am aware that you're under no obligation to actually answer, but I'm hoping that if you're not able to provide any input, then one of your followers might be able to.

TLDR at the end.

The context:

Basically, I am an adult in my late 20s. I haven't lived with my parents since they threw me out at 19 for being diagnosed with autism and they were told that I wasn't capable of living independently without years of occupational therapy. I was homeless for 13 months. Like literally two days later, they dropped me off at work, confiscated my house keys, and said to find somewhere else to sleep because I wasn't coming back home. (My parents insist that I wasn't actually homeless because I already had my current job and was able to afford to stay at a youth homeless shelter. I say "what the fuck do you think Homeless Shelter means??") After that, I was able to get a government grant for chronically homeless youth that allowed me to get a room in a student housing complex. It's not dorms, but it works like a dorm. I do have a private room.

My bedroom of my apartment is a mess. My bedroom has always been a mess. I have AuDHD and multiple disabilities, including extreme fatigue so that's not unexpected. During lockdown, it was especially bad. I had to move out of my last apartment in 2021 because one of my roommates was a bigot and my building wanted a new tenet so they could charge more rent, so between the two of them, they forced me out for being a "safety concern" due to the mess (the roommate did things like lie and say I didn't bathe, even though I was literally still wet from the shower). My parents ended up helping me pack up my stuff and move to a new place. I've been here for a few years and my roommates here have always been okay with the mess because it stays confined to my room.

(Also I wrote this at like 5AM and I'm half asleep but I wasn't going to be able to go back to bed until I ask someone unbiased. So please excuse any typos, and I hope everything makes sense and nothing came out as gibberish because sometimes by brain refuses to Word Good.)

The problem:

My mother decided when I moved in that my dad was going to be inspecting my bedroom in order to make sure it's clean. He's been putting her off but she's been on his ass about it for three years so he's finally caved and said that next time he's here to bring me something (I cannot drive due to disabilities), that he would be inspecting my room.

I do not want my room inspected. I've been very clear about that since day one. Yes, my room is a mess, but I'm also a grownass adult. My parents say that since they've given me some money for my rent over the past few years that they're entitled to inspect my room. I say that it's a violation of my autonomy. My room is my safe space. My mother is an obsessively clean person so growing up, my room wasn't really mine, and everything had to be to her standards whether I liked it or not (including things like what color I paint my furniture that I owned).

My parents do not care about my boundaries, and would say that since I've proven incapable in the past (re: because I'm disabled, not that they'd ever admit it), that they're trying to protect me by keeping me from being kicked out again.

I am skeptical about this and believe it's more about controlling me (see: throwing me out for having autism and just generally being extremely controlling my entire life). My parents have refused to stop giving me money for my rent every now and then (I have a job and pay at least the majority of my rent, but there are some months where business is slow and I don't get many hours, and no one wants to hire me because I act Autistic and use a cane) and I end up short. I have resolved to do everything I can to not need their help, including having my sister pick up my prescriptions, in order to avoid my parents coming over and inspecting my room.

Also, my building already does quarterly inspections and they've always been okay with my room, but I know my room won't be to my parents' standards. I don't have any local friends that I could ask for help cleaning up, but like, I'm a Spoonie. I clean my toilet and then have to go lay down because I'm getting dizzy. I am not making much progress myself.

The question:

Are my parents right? Have I shown that I cannot be trusted to keep my room clean, thus entitling them to come inspect it to make sure it's not a mess. They will definitely yell at me and have threatened to withdraw what support they do give me if my room is a mess or I refuse to let them inspect it? Or am I right to put my foot down and enforce my boundaries?

Side note, my parents have a history of being abusive and controlling. That's something I had to prove to the government to get my grant. They would insist that it's not abuse. Some of it was quite bad but I'm not going to get into it here.

TLDR:

I'm an adult with disabilities who has my own apartment. My parents think they're entitled to come inspect my room to make sure it's clean. I say that it's my apartment and I say no. They have threatened to withdraw what support they do give me if I refuse. Are my parents being unreasonable, or am I the one being unreasonable for refusing?

Your parents have no right to inspect your room. You are an adult. This is your apartment, not theirs. Your mother is wrong. Your parents are being invasive. I think they think they're being reasonable bc they care about your well being, but they aren't respecting your autonomy.

Sometimes, being a parent means you gotta let your kids not do things the way you would or even not do things the way that is best for them. It's hard, but it's necessary.

If you still lived with your parents and your lack of cleanliness was affecting their lives, it might be different ... but this is just your parents being fucking weird.

[totallyjustabunchofhocuspocus]

You know, I think what I find most frustrating about this season of 911 is that, like, EVERYTHING we've been complaining about is such an easy fix.

Bobby and Athena having an ultimately aimless storyline rehashing their marriage issues without actually resolving them? Pick up that thread of Athena being thoroughly unimpressed with the people that are slipping out of the academy and give her a really juicy storyline of deciding if she can do more good on the streets or as an academy instructor training the young blood. You're gonna tell me Angela wouldn't act the HELL out of a woman who's been defined by her identity as a cop trying to decide if it's time to pass the torch and train the new generation? Also gives us a plethora of new side characters and storylines in her academy classes that by the nature of the beast don't have to be permanent or super fleshed out.

And then have her and Bobby navigating what they feel when he's still active duty and throwing himself on the front lines when she's stepped back. Is she jealous? Does she worry about him more or less? Is HE jealous of her new role? Is he considering a similar role for himself now? Who does he start grooming to take over the 118. Is Hen the natural choice or is Buck ready? How does that make THEM feel?

Oh, Madney have another accidental pregnancy (dumb as fuck, they could've made it so much more dramatic without it being stupid if they'd just said Chim had gotten snipped after they reunited and it failed. Drama without including the very real fact that it is highly irresponsible of them to even risk pregnancy when her ppd got THAT bad.)? Actually explore how they be careful and cautious without going into it with the mindset that Maddie is broken. Is she AFRAID of the joy and ease she's experiencing, waiting for the other shoe to drop? Is Chim struggling with striking a balance between being OVERprotective and missing the red flags entirely like last time? How do the changes in their relationships with their parents come into play? Hell, let's get spicy and have Chim maybe express a desire to have his children be more connected to his culture and how a biracial family would really explore that.

Hen and Karen are shoehorned into a palatable portrayal of divine motherhood for all their scenes? Okay, fine, but shake it up. Give Karen a promotion opportunity that would require them to move, or for her to be home less just when Mara's finally settling in. How do they deal with that? Does Hen want to start climbing the ladder (heh) in the LAFD? What if she's NOT the pick Bobby has in mind for replacing him? Does she fight for it, or think about going somewhere else?

Buck is once again in the position he ALWAYS ends up in, alone and abandoned by everyone he thought he could count on as permanent, heartbroken at once again watching a relationship slip through his fingers? This one's the easiest. Make him fucking follow through on the realization he supposedly had in his coma dream. He's enough. His life is worth something, and he is the one who decides what happens in his life. He's all alone? Fine, then have him make the decision to fight for another chance with Tommy or walk away from it permanently BY HIMSELF. No friends telling him what's best for him. No well-meaning platitudes that the universe will send him someone special. Just him having a goddamn Ryan Gosling/Rachel McAdams scene all by himself. What does he want? It's not that simple.... WHAT DOES HE WANT? And then fucking go for it.

Eddie is three post traumatic stress disorders in a trenchcoat pretending to be a functional human being? I mean, what else is new? But also, like...this one is also easy. Make him address it. Preferably with intense therapy, but I'd even accept him doing it by himself. Make him confront the fact that him doing what he thinks he has to has fucked up his life and his relationships in every way possible. Examine how much he turned out like his father despite clearly wanting NOT to. Accept that he loved Shannon very much, but they were doomed from the start because he couldn't let go of his fears of what would happen if he wasn't "the provider" and so when Shannon's own issues also came into play, the center couldn't hold. Fix his damn relationship with his son.

And, of course, against the backdrop of all of this is the serial killer storyline. Sure, let's have fun with it. My pet theory is that they are faking all of us the fuck out with the killer going after Maddie and Buck is either going to date the serial killer (or an accomplice) on a rebound and get kidnapped himself, or this is all tied into that black book storyline. Spend a few episodes setting all the good, juicy, emotional character stories we've been BEGGING for up, with a few fun call stories for flavor, and then knock the lead up to the finale out of the park with our firefam coming together to save the kidnapee (and yes, I'm a shipper at heart, so fuck it, let's have Chim call our favorite hot pilot in for transport services again, for a BuckTommy reunion in the back half...even better if Buclk's the kidnapping victim, cause then it's not even a favor, it's Tommy riding to the rescue).

Hell. I'll even throw in a fucking Brad explanation and have him be involved in the black book and that's why he's been so unstable and angry and refusing to let Bobby disappear.

Just. There's so much potential being left on the ground to rot. They could still carve out something amazing. It would be EASY. It's all right there. Even the most bloodless, half assed attempt at some of this could be turned into something awesome by this cast.

It's just frustrating.

(ETA, I don't think it's irresponsible of Maddie to ever get pregnant again or want more kids, I think it was irresponsible of them to leave themselves in a position where ACCIDENTAL pregnancy was a risk. No, ppd doesn't mean you're broken or shouldn't have kids, but Maddie's experience looked way more like post partum psychosis)

[marybatson]

BILLY BATSON WEEK 2025

It’s that time of the year again! 2025 marks the 85th Anniversary of Billy Batson as Captain Marvel debuting in Whiz Comics #2, the first official cover-dated issue released February 1940.*

A brief history In December of 1939, children at newsstands were picking up a particular issue with the cover of a flying man dressed in red, effortlessly lifting a car overhead. Bill Parker, senior editor at Fawcett Comics during this time, had developed a new kind of superhero: Billy Batson is a young orphan boy who transforms into a powerful champion named Captain Marvel at the drop of the word “SHAZAM!” He fights crime against notable villains together with a memorable cast of heroes he calls “family.”

A few years past their heyday, Fawcett Publications endured troubling legal problems that put their sales in jeopardy, eventually settling their dragging copyright case with National Comics Publications (predecessor of modern-day DC Comics) and putting Captain Marvel to rest indefinitely. The Captain’s return to comics happened in late 1972 under DC Comics, a run which the original artist C.C. Beck had worked on for only a year. Ever since, Billy Batson and his counterpart have appeared in many different iterations in many different comics, one of the only memories still enduring from a time already passed.

NOSTALGIA

The role of an archive is to make nostalgia obsolete. [...] Every comic book page is, like a work of scholarship, an act of recovery, or at times a dream in which nothing is ever lost, as past, present, and future make room for each other and exist in harmony. Studied carefully, a fanzine or a comic book, like Billy’s Historama, might reveal several lifetimes to us, one generation after another of names, faces, and stories. The art of nostalgia is figuring out which one to tell next.

— Captain Marvel and the Art of Nostalgia, Brian Cremins

This year’s overall theme is NOSTALGIA. Take this as you might, for however you interpret nostalgia—perhaps a reflection on your own personal narrative with Billy Batson, or an exploration between him and his own massive history, be it in-universe or with real life pop culture. You might even disregard the day-to-day prompts below and dedicate yourself to nostalgia thematically for the entire week! How you’d like to work with it is up to you.

Day 1 ☆ February 23, 2025 HOLY HISTORAMA

The Historama, similar to a crystal ball, is described as Shazam the Wizard’s “super-television screen,” of which he may use to see the past, present, and future. In later iterations, it presents itself as a book or object that displays any scene through time and, possibly, space. On this day, you might center the Historama itself, or explore any scenes of Billy’s history from any time or place.

Day 2 ☆ February 24, 2025 THE BOY OF ARTHURIAN LEGEND

Bill Parker, when asked to describe his inspiration for Captain Marvel, once said, “Specifically I got it from the Stories of King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table, stories with which I had been familiar and read as a child.”

At its core, the story of Billy Batson as Captain Marvel was a story about old wizards, spells, myths, and secrets—elements which children center their greatest fantasies and perhaps still carry with them throughout adulthood. Use this day to commemorate Billy Batson as a fulfilled fantasy, maybe as a knight facing dragons in some faraway world or a space-wandering sailor, the wildest childhood dream come true.

Day 3 ☆ February 25, 2025 SWEET HOME FAWCETT

This prompt is simply Fawcett: Fawcett Comics and their previous publications, possibly outside of Captain Marvel and friends, or Fawcett the city as depicted in the DC Comics iterations, home base of Billy and Captain Marvel.

Day 4 ☆ February 26, 2025 RETURN OF THE CHAMPION

Across his storied history, Captain Marvel has faced many setbacks in his journey back to comic book stands: previous lawsuits and settlements, harried DC Comics events, logistical decisions made behind closed doors. However many times he’s put on the back burner, Captain Marvel still manages to return in a triumph. We will see him again in fleeting appearances, celebrated homecomings, maybe a long-awaited reunion...

Day 5 ☆ February 27, 2025 THE WORLD HE LIVES IN

It is of note that, while Fawcett Comics held onto its hero as long as they could for the first few years, the DC Comics universe is where Billy and the Captain have held their home—for over fifty consecutive years. Use this as a day to reflect on Billy’s past DC universe adventures, from teams he’s been on to events he’s partaken in.

Day 6 ☆ February 28, 2025 A MARVELOUS FAMILY

Billy Batson’s not the only one with a candle to blow. Mary Marvel debuted in 1942, while Captain Marvel Junior had appeared much earlier, in 1941. Their contributions to the stories of Captain Marvel have been monumental in immortalizing his place as a beloved hero with weight and history. They are also deeply adored by Billy himself. Have this day to celebrate family, for each Marvel Family member who has added to the menagerie over the years, or to simply center Mary and Freddy and their own achievements.

Day 7 ☆ March 1, 2025 HAPPY BIRTHDAY, BILLY

Happy Birthday Billy Batson! Give him a cake. Give him a balloon. Give him a present. Tell him how much you appreciate him. He is eighty-five years old. He looks timeless! Is the secret the amber from the Sivana suspendium?

This is a free day, open for anything.

How to participate On Tumblr (and elsewhere, if desired), use the hashtags #billybatsonweek and #bb85week simultaneously so that others might see and engage with your work. Late entries are always, always welcome. I’ll be sure to reblog all entries inside the tags for archival reasons, so please don’t hesitate to tag my blog!

The Archive of Our Own story collection is linked here.

On previous weeks Feel free to browse entries from previous years for inspiration, or reuse the old prompts altogether!

2022 Prompts Post / 2022 Entries

2023 Prompts Post / 2023 Entries

2024 Prompts Post / 2024 Entries / AO3 Collection

*FOOTNOTE: Captain Marvel/Billy Batson celebrated his genuine 85th Anniversary December 2024, a date which acknowledges his original on-the-shelves debut in December of 1939. The cover date used in this character celebration week corresponds with what DC Comics used in their 75th Anniversary year count.

[lieslab]

I'm stuck with a phobia

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎ ꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

Pairing: Og8 X gn reader

Summary: You're struggling with your anxiety when your boyfriend comforts you.

Genre: Comfort/hurt

Word Count: 5.3K

Anxiety resources

Trigger warning: General anxiety, testing anxiety, anxiety surrounding hospitals and doctors/nurses, brief mention of insecurities, social anxiety, and over-stimulation.

A/N: To whoever requested this, you requested 3racha members specifically, but I didn't want to leave the other members out, so they're all here. Each scenario is different and most are based on different scenarios that can cause anxiety/anxiety attacks. Some of these are a little more serious than others, but I think you get the gist.

_ _ _

Chan: 

You couldn’t remember the last time that you weren’t in a constant state of anxiety. Anxiety always draped over your shoulders like a shawl you couldn't rip off. A suffocating scarf that grew tighter and tighter around your throat. 

Your heart bucked against your chest, a weak attempt at trying to dislodge from the anxiety in your body. It never worked. It tried and tried and tried, but your sternum was far too strong. 

Despite being there, you learned to live with it. You learned to try to ignore the heavy thumps and distract yourself with simplicities; anything to get away from the feeling of your soul being caged. Usually, you could distract yourself, but tonight was different. 

It uprooted from nowhere. A current of anxiety pulled you into the depths of your head and suddenly, still half-asleep in the middle of the night, the what-ifs were coming back. What if you weren’t good enough? What if you weren’t a great person? What if Chan’s love for you was all a lie? 

Beside you, Chan’s eyelashes cast shadows on his sleeping face. Soft lips pressed together and, for once in his life, that furrow of concentration didn’t hang in his brow. That grit of determination was gone. For tonight, he wasn't just a leader. He wasn’t a member; he wasn’t anything other than Chan, your boyfriend. 

You tried to be quiet as you shifted the blankets and attempted to leave the bed. The squeak of the bed frame and the dip of the bed stirred his sleep. Your name left his lips and a hand stretched out to touch you, but you were already standing up. 

“Baby?” His half-lidded eyes open. Darkness swarmed his vision and you froze. He blinked and blinked and blinked, trying to cast shapes to the shadows. “Baby?” 

“I’m right here,” you finally whispered. “Go back to sleep. It’s too early to get up.” 

“Where are you going?” 

“To get a glass of water.” Your voice came out groggy and unconvincing. 

He reached up, rubbed his eyes, and his mouth stretched into a yawn. “What are you really doing?” 

“I’m anxious and I can’t sleep. It’s never ending and I’ve been trying to sleep, but over the past few hours, I kept waking up. I’m not sure what it is, but it won’t go away. Go back to sleep, I’m going to-” 

His arms stretched out in your direction. A silent and simple command, come here. You hesitated and didn’t budge from your spot. “You should go back to sleep. Seriously, Chan, you have to be up early tomorrow.” 

“You either get in my arms or I follow you to the couch.” 

He was so stubborn. You didn’t know if it made you hate him or love him. So stubborn, so determined, such a pain in your ass. A constant nag and a forever reminder that you weren’t alone. 

You sighed, stepped back, and crawled back into the bed. He wrapped his muscular arms around you and pulled you closer. The scent of his body wash was faint, but the woodsy masculine scent still lingered. 

“Close your eyes.” 

You let your eyes fall and sighed again. He pressed a quick kiss to the side of your head before softly beginning to sing. The worry in your heart melted away instantly. You began to relax and let his sleepy voice lull you back to sleep. 

Dating a singer had more perks than you’d like to admit. 

_ _ _ 

Minho: 

“What is wrong with you?” Minho asked. 

The two of you were sitting in his living room and watching a movie. Halfway through, you shifted in your chair and became fidgety. You shrugged and waved him off, not wanting to distract him. 

His eyes narrowed at you, but he didn’t prod. Knowing you, you probably just needed to adjust your spot or something. You were never great at sitting still for long periods of time. After a few more minutes, you shifted again. Your nails curled into your palms and the sharp edges bit into your skin. 

You shifted to comfort yourself a few seconds later. When your knee started bouncing, Minho grabbed the television remote and paused the screen. “What are you doing?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Don’t do that. Your thing-” He gestured towards you. “You’re anxious or something. Your knee is bouncing and you can’t sit still. Why are you anxious?” 

“Because I’ve never seen this movie and what if my favorite character dies?” You slumped back in the seat with a frown. “Don’t you have a heart? How are you not anxious about this?” 

“So anxious, to where you can’t stop moving?” 

Your hand went up in defeat. “I can’t help it! I’m always like this when I don’t know the ending of a movie. I’m trying not to look up how it ends, but I want to. I can't stand the suspense!” 

“Hold on.” 

You watched as Minho slid across the hardwood floor and disappeared into the kitchen. Upon his return, he presented you with Dori's familiar black and brown coating. His feet dangled helplessly as Minho approached. 

“Have a cat.” 

“What is-” 

“Hold on.” 

Your eyebrows furrowed, but you grabbed Dori anyway. You shifted, trying to keep him comfortable. Small paws pressed into your lower stomach. He tried to pull away from you to lie on your thighs. 

Your head poked up at the sound of incoming footsteps. When you looked up, an unhappy Soonie glared at you. You pressed your lips together, trying not to laugh. “What is this?” 

“Have a cat.” 

“Minho, this is-” 

“Wait.” 

You tried not to laugh as he disappeared again. Dori shifted and Soonie’s head went back with a loud meow of distress. You reached up and gently patted his head, trying to calm him down. 

Footsteps patted your way for a final time and when you looked up, the sleepy eyes of Doongie were staring back, full of obvious annoyance. Minho pressed him further, nearly pushing into your nose. “Here, have a cat.” 

You let him place Doongie on your chest. He reached out and used a finger to tap the top of each of their heads. “One cat, two cats, three cats, and-” 

You glanced up and, to your surprise, he tapped the tip of your nose. “Four cats.” 

“I’m not a cat!” 

“Four cats.” 

You grumbled and complained, your anxiety long forgotten about. Doongie shifted, nearly falling off your chest. You quickly grabbed him and leaned back so he wouldn’t roll. “There are too many cats in my lap.” 

“Nuh-uh.” 

You opened your mouth to bicker, but your words halted. Minho shifted Dori and Soonie, so he could squirm into your lap with them. Your eyes widened as he sat across your lap. “What are you-” 

“Five cats.” 

“Lee Minho!” 

“Sorry, I only speak cat.” He picked up Dori’s paw and waved it in your direction. Garbled meows in various pitches fell from his lips. All you could do was stare at him blankly as he took Dori’s paw and gently booped your nose with it. 

Clearly, growing up as an only child with three cats has drastic effects on the human psyche. 

_ _ _ 

Changbin: 

You decided when you were a kid that quizzes were your worst enemy. Ever since you were in elementary school and colorful motivational posters plastered the walls, you knew you’d always hate tests. Tests. Quizzes. Finals. All of it. 

As you grew up and enrolled in college, things didn’t change. Your kitchen table was full of opened textbooks and sticky note reminders. Highlighters swept over topics in notebooks. A headache had been pulsing behind your left eye since you started. 

You were drowning in academics. Even worse, you were drowning alone. Changbin was out at a photoshoot and you were on your own until sometime late tonight. It was perfect in your head. You were two weeks away from finals and now you had plenty of time to study. 

You were trying your best. You did what you could, but the more you pressured yourself into studying more, the more the content wasn’t sticking. There was too much stuff for each subject and not enough space in your head. Everything you just spent two hours drilling into your frontal cortex; it was gone. 

You scanned the pages of the textbooks, reading the words, but never truly soaking them in. Words and words and words and words. Some are more complex than others, but it was all the same. You were so focused and anxious about forgetting and failing; it was the only thing taking up space in your head. 

You shoved everything away from you in a fit of rage. A textbook snapped shut and hit the floor with a loud thud. Your neatly stacked vocabulary cards that were in alphabetical order, they slipped over the edge too. The twenty minutes you spent organizing them were all for nothing. They scattered in every direction and brought tears to your eyes. 

Your face found your hands and that’s where they stayed. Elementary tests were far different from college tests. Twenty percent of these finals went to your final grades. Your final grades were important, especially in the classes you really struggled with. The difference between passing and failing was huge. 

“Honey, I’m home!” Changbin called out. “I’m home and I brought food! Have you eaten anything?” Footsteps echoed from the living room and moved closer. 

You didn’t bother looking up. On the verge of bursting into sobs, you stayed buried in your hands. Changbin’s eyes went to everything covering the table. “Woah! What’s all this?” 

He placed the plastic bag on the side of the counter and approached you. “Hey, what’s wrong?” A comforting hand found your shoulder. “Why are your note cards and textbook on the floor? Did something happen?” 

You pulled your face away from your hands with tears in your eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m stressed and anxious. As you can see, I’m trying to study, but nothing is sticking.” You sniffled and wiped away a tear. “Why are you home from the shoot early? Did something happen?” 

“No, we finished early. Apparently, we all behaved well and behaving means getting work done earlier. That’s not the point. Do you have tests coming up?” His fingers started at your crown and gently tugged back your hair. 

“Finals. They’re two weeks away and I could use the head start, but-” You gestured at the mess, “it’s not going so well.” 

“I can see that. How about-” He gently grabbed a fistful of your hair and leaned your head back to face him. “We clean this up and we eat. After dinner, we’ll pick one subject and start there. I’ve heard that if you can successfully teach what you’re learning to someone, it means you’ve mastered understanding it.” 

Your lips tugged into a pouting frown. More tears filled your eyes and you reached up to wipe them away. Changbin followed your reaction with his own frown. “Why are you crying?” 

“Because you’re sweet and sometimes I feel like I don’t deserve you.” 

“Nonsense, everyone deserves their own Changbinnie.” He reached down and placed a soft kiss against your pouty lips. “Go clean up and I’m going to stack these on the counter.” 

“I love you.” 

“I love you too. Now hurry!” He pulled away and shooed you. “The food is going to get cold and you know how I feel about cold food. Bleh.” 

_ _ _ 

Hyunjin: 

“Sweetheart, you can’t stay in the car the entire day.” Hyunjin hung against the wide open passenger door with an amused smile. “You know I’m stronger than you, right? I could just simply lean down and tug you straight out of there.” 

You threw him a weak side eye. This morning, you woke up feeling awful. Since it was his day off, Hyunjin had been taking care of you the entire evening. Every few hours, he had been taking your temperature. When it spiked three degrees in ‌a few hours, he insisted on taking you to the hospital. 

The only issue? You hated hospitals and doctors. Not once in your life had you ever trusted a nurse. In the middle of your fever, your anxiety sky-rocketed. You begged him not to take you, but here the two of you were now. He parked right beside the emergency room door, but you refused to get out of his car. 

“What if I go in there and they only give me twenty-four hours to live?” You hoarsely uttered. 

“Then we better get in there to make sure you have twenty-four hours and not twenty-three.” 

“What if they tell me I have cancer?” 

“Sweetheart-” 

“Or what if it’s worse than that? What if I have a broken bone that I’m not aware of? My foot has been hurting since I rolled it a few days ago and maybe it healed wrong. What if they have to break it again and it goes wrong? What if it gets infected and I lose my entire leg?” 

He called your name, but you didn’t respond. You were too busy voicing your concerns out loud. “What if,” you continued, “they find out I’m really sick and they have to give me a shot in the butt?” 

He blinked, completely surprised. “What if they what?” 

“You heard me, Hyunjin! What if they have to give me a shot in the ass? Why can’t we just go back to that sweet pink medicine that was stored in the fridge? Why do doctors cause misery?” You threw your head back against the seat and continued whining. 

You knew you were being dramatic, but between your high fever and your anxiety, you were spiraling. Just thinking about going in and being poked and prodded in your state.  It was unfathomable. 

“Or, I know this sounds crazy, but what if you just go in, they diagnose you, give you some medicine, and we go back home?” 

“Why would they do that? They’re evil doctors,” you whined as your head slumped to your chest. You were exhausted and trying to fight with Hyunjin, it was getting harder and harder to stay on topic. Your body ached and wanted to nod off. 

“They’re not evil and I’ll be right there with you the entire time.” He reached down and scooped you into his arms. “Do you think I’d let them hurt you? No way.” 

You groaned as your head shifted against the warmth of his chest. “They’re gonna kill me, probably. Kill me and rip my limbs apart. They’re going to feed me my feet and they’re going to-” 

He snorted and squeezed you tighter. “Sweetheart, what are you talking about? Doctors wouldn’t do such an outrageous thing. They want to help you, not feed you your own feet.” 

“I forgot you’d eat my feet.” 

“Huh?” 

“You ate Minho’s foot in that one photo.” 

“Honey, I think you’re delirious from your fever.” 

Your eyes drooped and the emergency doors swung open. The scent of disinfectant hit you and your eyes slipped shut. You mumbled his name, but he didn’t stop walking to the front desk. He started explaining the situation to a nurse. 

That didn’t stop you from trying to explain how you needed your feet as you succumbed to sleep. 

_ _ _ 

Han: 

“I’m anxious,” you uttered as you laid on the living room floor. Your limbs sprawled out and your gaze caught the spinning ceiling fan. Wooden panels whirled around so fast that they were a giant blur. 

“Me too.” Han agreed as he laid a few feet away from you. “I don’t know what I’m anxious about. What are you anxious about?” 

“The future, I think. How does it happen? What if it goes wrong? What if I make the wrong mistakes? What if I fuck it up?” 

Han’s eyes widened and his adam’s apple bobbed with a gulp. “Okay, cool. Now you have me anxious about the future, too.” 

“What if we break up?” 

“What if we’re together for the rest of our lives?” He countered. 

“Woah, are we prepared for that? For this forever? I want to say that I am, but forever is an awfully long time.” 

“Isn’t it a good thing?” 

“Listen, I’ve been a victim of your farts.” 

He reached over and playfully slapped his hand on your shoulder, causing you to laugh. “Shut up!” He whined. “Yours are ten times worse than mine.” 

“Nuh-uh!” 

“Yeah-huh!” 

“Prove it!” You challenged. 

“Stage one, denial.” 

You burst into a fit of giggles and he followed. Your hands curled up over your stomach as you shook. For a few brief moments, you pushed the anxiety from the front of your head. You sucked in a deep breath and let it out. 

“But really,” you continued, “how do you stop your anxiety?” 

“I ignore it by watching anime. How do you stop yours when it’s bad?” He shifted so he could stare at you. You didn’t move from laying on your back. His arm moved up to prop his head. 

“I do whatever I can to escape reality. Most of the time, it’s social media or shoving my nose in a book.” 

“Sometimes I bother one of the guys. Life feels better when I’m with them. Even if it’s just one, I feel less stressed. We’re always laughing together so…” 

“I understand, it’s a really special bond that you have with the other group members. I’ll admit that it makes me jealous. It just sounds nice and what you have, it’s so authentic and real, you know? You don’t just have one good person, you have seven. I’m sure you have more than that, but-” 

“It really is special, isn’t it?” He smiled to himself and shifted back onto his back. 

“Yeah.” 

“Sometimes when I’m really stressed, I go visit Minho. Every now and then, we’ll go to his parents’ house to see his cats. That’s my favorite way to ease anxiety.” 

“If only you had a pet.” 

He nodded in agreement and the two of you sat in silence again. Tangled in your own thoughts, your eyes went back to the spinning ceiling fan. You watched it spin around and around and around and-

“Holy shit!” You jerked upright with wide eyes. “Han Jisung, you idiot!” 

“Huh?” 

“You have a dog!” 

“I have a dog?” 

“Bbama!” 

“Obama?” He echoed, feeling more confused. “The former president of the-” His eyebrows furrowed until he gasped and slammed a hand over his mouth. “Oh my god, I have a dog!” He shoved himself to his feet and grabbed your arm. “Come on, we gotta go visit Bbama!” 

“Obama,” you mocked him as you followed. 

He turned around and stuck his tongue out at you. Yours poked out and caused him to huff. “Shut up,” he finally grumbled. “So I forgot I had a dog! Sue me!” 

“Bbama might.” 

_ _ _ 

Felix: 

“It’s not funny!” You childishly stomped your foot and placed your hands on your hips. 

Across the way, there were tears in Felix’s eyes. The two of you had been posing in front of Hyunjin’s camera and trying to take cute photos together. The last one came out with your eyes in two different directions and half-closed. 

Hyunjin was trying not to laugh, for your sake, but Felix was losing it. For the past two minutes, he’d been on the ground with a hand on his stomach. Just when he thought he composed himself, laughter broke back out. 

“Baby, p-please,” he weakly uttered. “I’m sorry, I-I didn’t mean to-” His words cut off with more laughter. 

You didn’t want to do this because of this reason. The two of you were supposed to go official with your relationship and you wanted a cute photo to announce it on Instagram. Hyunjin offered to take it, but none of them were coming out right. 

You were anxious, worried that the photos would all come out ugly, and here you were actually living that scenario. Your cheeks were red with humiliation, but it didn’t seem to bother Felix. He was still cracking into fits of giggles. 

“It’s not funny,” you mumbled again, feeling more and more miserable. “I told you this was a bad idea.” 

Felix shook his head and blonde tendrils went flying. “No, i-it wasn’t a bad idea. This was the best idea. I just wasn’t expecting that angle. It was one poor photo and-” 

“It feels like every photo has been a poor photo. I’m not doing it right. I don’t know how to pose like you do. I’m not used to-” 

“Hey,” he shoved himself off the ground, “it’s okay, really.” 

“No, it’s not. You keep laughing at me. I feel like we’re wasting Hyunjin’s time. So much of his time that he just disappeared to go find a snack while we recouped.” 

“Hyunjin is a growing man. You couldn’t help that if you wanted to. I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings, I just-” He reached forward and gently cupped your cheeks. “I love you so much, you don’t understand it.” 

“I don’t like being laughed at, even if it’s just a silly photo. I’m always afraid that-” 

His head shook. “I’m not laughing at you. I mean, I am, but I’m laughing at the pose you ended up in. Think about it. Wouldn’t you laugh if Hyunjin snapped a photo of me in that same pose?” 

“I guess.” He narrowed his eyebrows at you. “Okay, I guess if the roles were reversed, I’d probably laugh a lot. I look like an idiot.” 

“Exactly.” He pressed on your cheeks and caused your lips to press together. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me and I love you so much.” 

Your cheeks went red and your lips grew into a smile. He grinned and leaned forward and then- 

Flash! 

Felix jerked away with a groan and you blinked rapidly, trying to gain your vision back. His hands went up to rub his eyes. “Hyunjin?” 

“I got it! This is the perfect photo! Oh, you guys are just so cute!” He squealed as he stared at the screen on his camera. “That speech? Disgustingly cute. This photo? Fan wars are going to be caused.” 

“Hyunjin,” Felix warned. 

“What? I’m just saying.” He shrugged and spun the lens towards the two of you. “What do you think?” 

As you stared at the photo of Felix’s twinkling eyes, a smile on his face, and your own blushing smile; you knew he was right, it was perfect. _ _ _ 

Seungmin: 

“And this.” Seungmin grabbed an item from the shelf and placed it in the grocery cart. “And this. One of these,” he picked up two more items and dropped them into the cart. “Three of these and-” 

Your arms curled around yourself tighter. To Seungmin, grocery shopping was a necessity. To you? It was, but specifically, when the store wasn’t thriving with customers. Showing up around five on a Friday evening was the worst thing you agreed to do. 

Seungmin had the list and he was carefully marking items off one-by-one. You were behind him and stressed out. The moment you walked into the store beside him, you swore you could feel the pulsing and stressful energy of the crowd. 

People were rushing in and out of the aisles. Some were getting pushy while waiting for their turn to look at a specific product. Seungmin didn’t seem to mind the chaos. Maybe he did and he just tuned it out somehow, but you? You didn’t work like that. 

You were feeling stressed and wanting to cry. More and more people were slowly entering the front of the aisle that you just came down. You swore you could feel the annoyance of some. It didn’t help that Seungmin kept stopping every few feet to check off an item and calculate the prices of everything. 

“Seungmin?” You spoke up nervously as you glanced over your shoulder. 

“Hm?” 

“Can we please leave this aisle?” 

“Hold on, let me add these two numbers together.” 

You sighed, but continued waiting. Your brain screamed and begged you to get out of the aisle, but you stayed close to Seungmin. You shut your eyes to focus on your irregular breaths and when you opened them a few moments later, Seungmin was gone. 

Your eyes widened and you stepped forward, but before you got far, a cart hurried past you. You jumped, side-stepping, and trying to get out of the way as a random woman sped by. Your hands curled into fists and you pressed yourself against the colorful cereal boxes, trying to make yourself smaller and take up less space. 

Out of the aisle, you glanced around, but Seungmin was missing. Cursing beneath your breath, you hurried to the next aisle and glanced down at it, only to find it void of the light blue hoodie he was wearing. 

You searched and the more you searched, the more your anxiety grew. The overhead lights were too white and too bright. The chattering of people grew louder and louder. Your own heartbeat hammered against your ears. 

A lump built in your throat, but you forced yourself to swallow it. You hated crowds; you hated the congestion of people, and more importantly, you hated that feeling of suffocation that sat upon the top of your chest. It compressed your lungs and made breathing barely operable. 

Blinking rapidly, you tried to focus on the task at hand. Walking around felt nearly impossible. Too many people had carts and weren’t paying attention. Someone was texting and another one was making a phone call. Someone else stopped in the middle of an aisle and pressed buttons on their phone. 

“Excuse me,” you uttered as you walked around them. 

You squeezed your eyes shut at the huff that left their mouth. “Some people have no manners,” they grumbled. Unaware that they did anything wrong, they hurried away, only to stop in front of the opening of another aisle to pull out their phone again. 

You wandered around again, trying to find Seungmin, but to no avail. Your hand reached into your back pocket to grab your phone. Just as you considered talking to him, you pulled your hand away from your phone. He shut his phone off at the beginning of the trip, not wanting to be interrupted. 

Frustrated and too upset to function, you checked a few more aisles, but you couldn’t find him. You began to head towards the door, assuming you’d just wait in the car until he got back. You walked and walked and walked until a car bumped into the back of your ass. 

You wheeled around and there stood Seungmin. His grin fell when he took in your teary eyes. “Hey, what’s wrong? Why are you crying?” 

“There’s too many people. I couldn’t find you and I’m so overstimulated. I thought you were a stranger and I just-” 

“Breathe,” he reminded you as he stepped out from behind the cart. “I’m sorry. I thought you were behind me when I left the cereal aisle. I turned around and you were gone. I was grabbing items in another aisle and I figured you’d find me. I didn’t think-” 

“It’s not your fault. I can’t help my social anxiety, it’s just so busy. Some woman was so rude to me. I just want to go wait outside. I feel overwhelmed and it’s becoming a struggle to breathe.” 

“Do you want me to go with-” 

Your head shook. “Finish shopping and I’ll wait for you in the car. I’m sorry, I wanted to help you, but-” 

“Don’t apologize. It’s not your fault. I should have considered how busy the store is at this time of the night. You go to the car and I’ll be there as soon as I can, okay?” 

“I love you.” 

Not caring that he was in the middle of the store, he leaned up, grabbed your cheeks, and pressed his lips against yours in a soft kiss. A sweet unexpected gesture that tasted like spearmint and your salted tears. 

“I love you too. Now get out of my store,” he grinned. “No adult supervision. I’m going to get dino nuggets.” 

_ _ _ 

Jeongin: 

Jeongin had seen a lot of stupidity over the years. He saw it in his fellow idol members. He saw it blatantly stamped all over the idol industry. It was rare that the stupidity came from you, but today was different. 

He shielded the top of his head with his arm to block the rain from his vision. The keys jingled in his hand and his shoe squeaked on the entry to your shared home. He grumbled and ripped off his damp coat. 

The rain hadn’t stopped pouring for what seemed like hours. A constant downpour that was steadily sprinkled with thunder and lightning. Earlier, the power to his company’s building went down after lightning struck a nearby power cord. He finished the rest of his schedule via a backup generator. 

He kicked off his shoes and called your name. He expected you to be taking a nap. On certain evenings, you did. Some days, you stayed up late, came home, and indulged in a few hour nap. He grew used to the routine, but you weren’t on the couch. 

He headed to your shared room and, to his surprise, you weren’t there either. You had to be home, he knew that. Your phone was there on the nightstand and face down. Your shoes, he put his own right next to them. 

He called your name, but you didn't respond. Just as he was about to call your name again, there was a flash. Through the glass sliding door, the balcony lit up and there you were. Squatting on the ground, huddled around yourself, and soaking wet, you sat in a small ball. 

His eyes widened and he rushed forward. He tugged on the balcony door, only to find it locked. He cursed, flipped the lock, and swung the door open. “What are you doing out here? Get inside now!” He called out over the loud sound of heavy rain. 

Your eyes half-opened at the sound of your name. You glanced over to find a worried Jeongin. He grabbed your forearm and tugged your dripping and shivering body back inside. His eyes scanned you up and down. 

“What happened to you? What did you do? Why were you locked on the balcony?” 

“I was anxious,” you mumbled. “I went out to get fresh air and I must have slammed the door shut too hard and the lock flipped. When I went out, it wasn’t raining.” 

“But it’s been raining for hours!” 

“Has it? I just woke up freezing cold a few minutes ago, I think. It’s not too bad after you get used to being soaked.” 

He sighed and grabbed the end of your shirt. “Arms up.” 

You didn’t fight him tugging off your shirt. “You’re such an idiot,” he mumbled. “You’re going to catch a cold by wearing these soaking wet clothes. You’re going to wake up with a fever and sniffles.” 

“On the bright side of things, I don’t feel anxious anymore.” 

“Because you’re too cold to feel it.” He sighed and grabbed the warmest blanket he could find. “From now on, if you go out onto the balcony when I’m gone, crack the door.” 

“Okay.” 

“What were you anxious about, anyway?” 

“I don’t know. I’m too cold to remember, but this blanket is so warm. Have I ever told you I love you?” 

“Sometimes I think I should reconsider my offer.” 

“That’s not nice.” 

“You can’t tell me you don’t feel the same way at certain times.” 

“Only when you wear ugly shoes.” 

| ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ |

Taglist: @lia-linny @seungnishi @stellasays45 @emilyywhyy @rockstarkkami @flightlessackerman @danihwang882 @inlovewithstraykids

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[marvelrivalsimagines]

Relationship Headcannons

Characters: Iron Fist, Luna Snow, Squirrel Girl

Prompt: One requester asked for Iron Fist and Squirrel Girl general relationship HCs and another asked for Luna Snow relationship HCs, so I put all three character headcannons into one post :)

Author’s note: When it comes to relationships HCs there’s so many things you can talk about! I know I didn’t cover every aspect of these relationships in the HCs but I also didn’t want this to get annoyingly long lol. I hope everyone enjoys this, especially the requesters!

Warnings: Brief mentions of chronic pain in Iron Fist’s section

While Lin has an outwardly laid-back attitude it would be a mistake to assume that this means he takes everything in his life casually. When Lin commits to something he dedicates his entire body and spirit to it and this includes your relationship. Any challenges your relationship might face, whether it’s an argument between the two of you or the time stream entanglement itself, Lin is ready to do whatever it takes to keep you in his life. 

Aside from his dedication to fighting for your relationship Lin is also dedicated to fighting for you. While there’s a lot to adjust to in his new role as the Iron Fist helping people and standing up for others is something Lin has always believed in. With him around you have the most supportive cheerleader who’s there for you in moments where you may be struggling. Whether you need someone to just listen to you vent for a moment or you’d like him to step into a situation to help you out Lin is more than willing to help. Real “they said no pickles on their burger” energy. 

When it comes to PDA Lin is comfortable with almost anything. While other people might shy away from PDA due to embarrassment, Lin is just too caught up with you to ever turn down a kiss or a hug in public. While he might get a bit red in the face if you really go over the top with your affections, Lin appreciates every moment of your attention that he gets. 

Lin’s main love language is physical touch. As mentioned before, Lin has no problem with PDA so when the two of you are alone you both can really indulge in each other's touch. It’s just something that comes so naturally to him; placing a hand around your waist as you both stand in the kitchen or wrapping the both of you up in the same blanket before starting up a movie. 

Lin was living a normal life before becoming the Sword Master and then Iron Fist. While he is up to these new challenges life has suddenly thrown at him, it can sometimes be a lot to take in and can cause Lin to be overwhelmed or stuck in his own head for a bit. So aside from the affection he gets from your physical touch, it can also be extremely grounding for him to be hugged or held by you. It pulls him out of his worries and back into the present with you. 

Lin also deals with chronic pain from the fragments of his sword that are embedded in his hands. He’s come up with his own routines to try to alleviate that pain, and methods of coping with the pain when it is particularly bad. It may take some time for Lin to feel comfortable with being vulnerable enough to show you just how much this affects him. But, if you offer to help him whenever you notice he’s experiencing more pain than usual, and especially if you take the time to learn how he manages his pain and help him in those routines, Lin swears he’s never felt more seen or loved. 

While it’s impossible to completely alleviate his pain, for Lin it’s more about knowing that someone truly cares for him, and that while he puts his body on the line to save others you’re thinking about how to help him. The fact that you’re willing to put aside this time in your day and put all of your focus into this moment just to try to temporarily help with some of his pain makes his love for you grow even stronger. 

When it comes to date night and spending time together Lin has a preference for more relaxed activities and places. As the protector of K’un-Lun he spends his day, figuratively and literally, running around the city and fighting crime. For as much energy as Lin has, even he comes home tired most days after his duties as Iron Fist are finished. And there’s nothing better for sore muscles than cuddling with you on the couch and putting on some cheesy comfort movie. 

After an especially rough or tiresome day Lin would, figuratively, cry tears of happiness if he came home to a home cooked meal made by you. It doesn’t have to be anything complex or worthy of a michelin star, just knowing that you were thinking of him like this while he was gone touches his heart. As a hero spends his days protecting others, it means a lot to be cared for in return. 

In terms of a date night out, I can see Lin being the kind of person who’s more adventurous with his food tastes. He’d enjoy going to a restaurant with you that’s advertising some new food that’s either really spicy, is a type of food you don’t get often where you live, or has some unusual ingredients. He’s going to be joking around the entire time hyping up his excitement to try this new food. And when it finally gets to the table he’s going to play up his reaction to try and make you laugh. 

Lowkey I also think that Lin is the kind of person who eats his food really fast. Like you go out to dinner with him and while you’re just three bites into your food he’s already done. Then he’s looking at your side of fries like “Are you gonna finish that? 😳”

Having his significant other also be a hero would be fun and exciting, but it also might cause some worries for Lin. Lin would really enjoy training with you, learning about your skills and powers, and potentially thinking of ways he can learn from you by incorporating some of your tips into his own fighting style. He would also really enjoy being able to open up to you about some of the struggles of being a hero, like the pressure you put on yourself or how to cope when things don’t always go right. He’d really appreciate that his partner can truly understand these struggles. I can also definitely see Lin starting a relationship with someone he first met as a hero, probably a hero he’s looked up to simped for for some time. 

But at the same time, Lin has some insecurities about his title as the Iron Fist. Lin knows he’s earned this title and that he's just as much of an Iron Fist as those who have come before him, but there are still so many heroes who question him and compare him to Danny Rand (cough cough that Moon Knight voice line). This causes some worries to creep in; did you ever interact with Danny as a hero? Do you ever think about how Lin compares to the previous Iron Fists? 

If you’re fighting alongside each other in a fight, Lin is of course concerned for you but trusts you to be careful. His fighting style is highly mobile so he takes a ‘best defense is a good offense’ approach with the goal of taking out enemies before they become a problem for you. And even with that, he would still do his best to check in on you during the fight to make sure you’re doing okay. 

As much as Lin hates to see you hurt in any way, it’s comforting for him to get to patch up any cuts or bruises post fight. He cringes at the sight of your injuries, but the physical contact really assures him that you’re still alive and well.

Dating Luna Snow, or as you get to know her, Seol Hee, is surprisingly chill. No pun intended While it might be easy to think that the life of a K-Pop superstar would be all mansions and fast cars, it’s important to Hee that she never loses touch with the people around her. After all, the entire reason she wants to be both an artist and a hero is to help people. So when she comes back home to you from a sold out show, all she really wants to do at the end of the day is enjoy some time as a ‘normal person’. 

That’s not to say that there aren't certain benefits to dating a world famous super star, if you want to embrace that. As much as Hee enjoys the stage and the limelight she’s also experienced some of its drawbacks such as drama obsessed reporters and the ruthlessness of public opinion online. Going public about your relationship together would potentially pull you into all of that and Hee would never force you into that kind of life if it wasn’t something you were ready for. 

Whether you choose to embrace the attention or would like to keep the relationship private, Hee supports the decision and respects you no matter what. Either way, you’re getting a love song written about you. The only difference is if the rest of the world knows that the famous Luna Snow only has you in mind as she sings the lyrics. 

Levels of PDA would also depend on if your relationship is public, since kissing the pop star out in public would expose your relationship pretty quickly if you’re trying to keep things private. But even if your relationship is known to the public, Hee is pretty reserved when it comes to PDA. She’s comfortable with hand holding or a quick kiss to the cheek, but anything beyond that she’d like to keep in private. 

It’s not that she doesn’t enjoy your touch, she just enjoys keeping the physical intimacy between the two of you completely private. She would rather enjoy your touch at home where neither of you have to worry about how others may be watching or perceiving you and you can both be carefree about your love. 

Hee’s main love language is quality time. As both an international superstar and a super hero her schedule is filled to the brim. She rarely gets time to herself and sometimes when she does get a break from her pop stardom, she can be suddenly called into action as a superhero for an emergency. Hee has really learned the value of time, and her free time is especially precious to her. So it’s really a testament to how much she loves you when she chooses to spend that free time with you!

For as long as Hee has to wait to see you sometimes, she’s surprisingly open to do anything with you. For her, as long as she gets to be by your side it is definitely time well spent. Even if you just want to relax at home and do separate things, Hee is happy as long as she gets to enjoy your presence next to her. 

Again, with her down to earth nature, even the small, mundane things are special to Hee. Washing the dishes becomes a cherished memory as the two of you work together, teasing each other as Hee playfully splashes water on you or carefully places some of the bubbly soap suds on the tip of your nose. It’s your turn to tease Hee as the radio you turned on for some background noise starts to play one of her own hits, and you’re treated to a silly and lighthearted lip sync performance by the artist herself. 

Aside from the domestic nights at home, Hee does really enjoy the date nights the two of you plan where you both leave the home. She has a preference for beautiful, intimate date spots like dinner in a private booth at a restaurant or an evening of clothing shopping at local boutiques. 

Restaurants are one of the few places where Hee will flaunt her wealth a bit. What good is all the pop star money if she can’t use it to spoil you a bit? She ensures that both of you get to enjoy a private and gorgeous setting so you can simply focus on eachother, and maybe the picturesque skyline in front of you. She also might not say it out loud but Hee loves taking any excuse to see you dressed up in tailored formal wear. 

Speaking of, if the two of you go on a shopping date Hee absolutely loves taking you into the dressing room and making you try on endless outfits she’s picked out for you as you both have been walking through the store. As a pop star her sense of fashion is fine tuned to perfection, no matter what your personal style may be. Even if you have sensory issues with clothing, she tracks down the perfect piece that both accommodates your needs and compliments your figure. 

During the course of all of these dates Hee takes so many pictures of you so she can keep reminders of you while you may be away from each other. Her favorite photos of you are the candid ones where you look the most like yourself, though she also likes to occasionally ask others to take posed photos of the two of you together. She especially likes to do a lot of these ‘photo shoots’ right before she knows she’ll be especially far away, like if she is going to perform a concert in another country or if she knows her super hero duties will keep her away for an extended time. 

If you are also a superhero Hee is determined to make everyone realize what a power couple you two are. Hee works as both a pop star and a superhero because she wants to instill hope in people, so that people have something to keep them going in dark times. She would love to work alongside her partner to show the world that with both the strength of your powers and the strength of your relationship the two of you can conquer any threat and protect the hope that keeps humanity going. 

Hee would especially get a kick out of your superhero dynamic if you are the masked, quiet, and mysterious type of hero. Despite knowing the real you and that you’re much more complex than those three adjectives, the slightly mischievous side of Hee can’t help but play up the dynamic of the bubbly pop star and the brooding hero that others have placed you two into. The fans just love it!

If the two of you are fighting side by side, Hee is of course worried for your safety but she also has a lot of confidence in both of your skills. I mean, this is the woman who sassed Namor to his face while they were both standing right next to the ocean. She’s very confident in her own skills, and she knows that you’re great at your job as well. 

You’ve most likely fought side by side multiple times together, so it’s natural for the two of you to try and stick together during the fight. But if the two of you get separated for whatever reason, Hee makes sure to keep her eye on you in case you need any sort of help or healing. In a situation where multiple people on her team need healing, you’ll always get it first and she doesn’t really hide her bias. 

Doreen approaches your relationship like she does with everything in her life - with lots of excitement and optimism. With her there’s never going to be a time where you’ll doubt if this relationship is something Doreen truly wants. Even when she comes home from a long day of beating up super villains she still finds the energy to dedicate to you and your relationship.  

The relationship also tends to center around enjoying the now. Doreen is always in the moment, finding interest and excitement in what’s happening around her that day. With her optimistic outlook she doesn’t spend much time thinking about what might happen in the future. While it’s great to be with someone who reminds you to enjoy every day it also might be up to you to bring up important long-term topics, like if you two want to move in together. She’s not avoiding commitment or trying to duck out of tough conversations, she just finds it hard to worry about what you guys might be doing tomorrow when she has you in her arms right now!

Doreen is perfectly comfortable with PDA and if you’re comfortable with physical contact in public then Doreen will be initiating it a lot. She wouldn’t do anything crazy like make out with you in public though. Doreen enjoys the sweet honeymoon phase types of physical contact with you out in public, like resting her head on your shoulder or placing an arm around you while talking to other people. She especially loves to hold your hand out in public; on the crowded streets of New York City she’s gotta make sure you’re always right by her (and tippy’s) side! 

Doreen would also be the kind of person who enjoys giving you a quick, chaste kiss on the cheek or lips if you’re both enjoying some down time in public, like if you’re at a restaurant or just standing and waiting at a crosswalk together. But if you give her a kiss in public, you’ll get to see a flustered and blushing Doreen. No matter how long you two have been together, a quick, unexpected kiss in public has the power to completely derail her train of thought which is quite a feat. 

Doreen’s main way of showing love would be through her words. She loves to talk and that translates to a near infinite amount of compliments. Doreen’s compliments may not be poetry, but you can always tell that her words are genuine and come straight from her heart. Her lack of a filter can be a problem sometimes but when it comes to her sweet words for you it’s cute. 

Aside from getting lots of compliments you’ll also get every thought that comes to her brain. You’ll be doing some activity that doesn’t require 100% of your attention, like cleaning your room or cooking some dinner for the two of you, and Doreen will spend the entire time talking to you about the most random things. From what she spent her day doing, any hero activities she got up to, and the drama amongst the local wild squirrels; you’ll suddenly be an expert in it all with how much detail Doreen goes into while she’s talking to you.

And Doreen isn’t 100% aware that she does this. She’s not purposefully trying to distract you from what you’re doing or talk over you. If you have anything to add onto her stories she’ll be more than happy to hear your comments and jokes. In fact, knowing that you’re paying attention to what she’s saying and showing that you care about her thoughts just makes her fall even more in love with you

But back to why she talks so much. It’s just that Doreen loves you so much and she feels so comfortable around you that she can finally let all those hyperactive thoughts stored up in her brain out! She loves you, feels comfortable with you, and has a lot of thoughts about a lot of things so of course she’s just gotta let it all out around you. 

Doreen admittedly might struggle a bit if you sometimes need some silence, like if you’re overstimulated from the day or have a migraine. But she’s genuinely trying her best and is sincerely sorry if she’s too loud. As long as you communicate to her that you need some quiet Doreen will try to keep herself busy by either helping you out with whatever might be causing your need for silence or just doing her own thing until you’re ready to hear about what totally weird thing Tippy found in Central Park 

Because of Doreen’s seemingly endless energy she has a preference for dates where you two get to actively do something together, like maybe a trivia night at a restaurant/bar where she gets to show off her smarts or a quirky local business like an axe throwing place. 

There are lots of weird, interesting spots in New York and as a superhero who keeps her eyes peeled at all times Doreen knows about a lot of these places. So when it comes to date night Doreen is always full of suggestions. It’s honestly kind of impressive how she can almost always come up with some new place or activity that you two haven't done together yet. 

Out of all the places you two frequent together Doreen’s favorite recurring date spot is Central Park. There’s nothing Doreen loves more than to pack a homemade lunch with you and walk over to the massive and beautiful park to enjoy each other’s company and some nice weather. Some warm sunshine, squirrels chasing each other through the trees, and the comforting feeling of you resting up against her. What more could she ask for? 

That’s not to say that Doreen wouldn’t enjoy a quiet night in as well though. Squirrels get tired too, and sometimes a movie on the couch with some takeout is just what you need after a long day of beating up bad guys. 

If you’re a hero like Doreen she sees this as an opportunity to spend even more time together. She would love to go out on patrol together with you and it would honestly be a lot like hanging out with Doreen regularly. Her cheerful attitude really helps keep things light when you're fighting the insane villains of New York. 

If you’re in a major fight side by side, Doreen won’t baby you or try to tell you what to do but she’ll be trying her best to stick by your side. Just in case something starts to go wrong she wants to be by your side to make sure the two of you make it out okay. Doreen wouldn’t be able to forgive herself  if something happens to you while she could have intervened. 

Reassuring Doreen that you won’t be reckless and that you’ll always be looking out for each other will make her feel a lot better. While neither of you can guarantee the outcome, she just wants to know that no matter what happens during the fight you promise to come back home with her and Tippy.

[awkness]

Written in the Stars

Platonic Yandere Older Brother & Younger Selkie Genderneutral Reader

Your home life is tense at the best of times, with your mother fickle and moody and your father more concerned with her than his children. It would be complete misery without your brother, Cillian, who looked after you the way your parents should have, a bright light in your gloomy days.

But as family secrets come to the surface and your life starts to unravel, you're forced to wonder if your brother is any better than the parents that raised him.

Content Warnings: confinement, forced marriage (not between reader), unhealthy relationships, abandonment issues, mentions of mental illness, child abuse, child endangerment, isolation, death, and general yandere shenanigans. Let me know if I missed anything

Word Count: 10.5k

Authors Note: I played it pretty fast and loose with this one so I have no idea when exactly this takes place, but it's somewhere before the industrial revolution in Ireland. So if you're wondering why there's no modern technology, that's why lol also this turned out way longer then it was supposed to, I have no idea why, it was supposed to be a quick 2k story and then it just got away from me. Whoops. Also the mother and fathers story is loosely based on traditional fairytale of fish wives and selkies. I remember reading a couple and thinking "wouldn't it be messed up if they had children?" And. Well. You can tell me how messed up it turned out lol

You're sick. You were born sick, and you always will be. It's all you remember.

Your first memory was of little four year old you wandering out of the house. Father was fishing, Cillian was tending to the animals and Mother was resting because of sickness as per usual, so there was no one to stop you. No concerned caregiver to bustle you back into the house and scold you for your carelessness as you pouted for being denied your will.

You simply walked out the front door.

You had no understanding of what you were doing. Just a unceasing tug propelling you out and way from the house until the air smelled of salt, and you could hear the faint crashing of waves steadily growing louder.

Then there was the sea.

Your memories get fuzzy then, as your mind grew clouded by pure, blinding need. But you do remember the feel of grass slowly turning to sand under your bare feet. The way the rolling of the waves enveloped your mind completely, your eyes unable to move away.

Then your feet hit the cold of the water, and you snap awake, looking around, finally aware of where you are, and how far away from home it was. Confused and on the verge of panic, you try to call out for your brother only for your eyes to be pulled back into the blue, and all thoughts are gone, and you feel a deep, primordial comfort, the same comfort you imagine children feel when being embraced by their mother.

You step forward.

First, it's up to your feet, then your knees, then your waist. The salt water saps away at your body heat the deeper you go, but you don't mind it, you don't mind anything at all. After all, you're right where you're meant to be.

The salt water is almost up to your chest when you're swept off your feet and taken away from the water. You begin to thrash and cry, a horrible, searing pain in your chest at being separated from the sea, like a part of your being was torn from your body. Your cries are so loud, you don't even realize that it's Cillian who took you away until he turns you toward him and starts yelling at you.

The specifics of it are lost on you, but it's not hard to guess, given the circumstances. What you do remember is his young, acne covered face contorted in unfamiliar anger that you've never seen before or since.

It might have frightened you more if it wasn't for the immense pain and loss you were feeling.

But yelling wasn't enough for him. He starts shaking you by the shoulders and demands why you were there in the first place. You were still crying, nothing but running snot and big, hot tears, but you managed to wail an answer, even if it wasn't the one he wanted.

Put me back, put me back. I'm supposed to be there. It hurts. Put me back.

The shaking stops, and so does the yelling. There's nothing but your loud, desperate sobs as you beg to walk back into the sea.

Without warning, he picked you up and began to make the trip home.

You started to thrash again, increasing loud "NO NO NO"s running out of your mouth as your soft, weak body tries to slip out, but his grip is iron. He only squeezes you tighter until you eventually tire.

You spend the rest of the trip shivering in his arms, finally able to feel the cold again.

When you arrive home, he ushers you into your room and tells you to change out of your sea-soaked clothes as he heads towards another part of the house.

You obey, more out of habit then anything else, your mind still numb. When you finish, you sit and wait until he comes and grabs you, taking you into your parent's room.

Mother was sitting up in bed.

Cillian placed you beside her, and for a strange, uncanny moment, you stare into her unblinking, dark eyes. It's all you can do.

This moment last so long, you think she has fallen into one of her stupors. But she blinks, and the spell is broken. With her same blank face, she pats the bed. You tentatively comply, taking your place next to her.

"Cillian has said you've been to the ocean. Is this true?"

Her voice is soft, sweet, slow, and so foreign on your ears.

You nod, refusing to look into her eyes again.

"Tell me, what was it like?"

Your little mouth twist into a grimace. Something deep in you tells your mind to keep silent.

Your brother steps in.

"They were going to drown, Ma! They said-"

"Hush, Cillian."

She didn't spare him a glance, eyes trained on you.

Her hand snakes over your face, her cold flesh cupping your face as she turns your head to face her. Her eyes burrow into yours, and you can't help but feel small and weak. You have no more will to resist.

"Why did you go down there?"

"It was calling me."

"What was?"

"The sea, it was singing to me. I needed to go to it. I couldn't help myself"

For the first time in your life, you saw your mother smile.

It was a disturbed smile. The kind that didn't reach her eyes, that looked more like bared teeth then a sincere display of joy.

"I knew it. Your father tried to hide it, but I knew the moment you were born. You're just like me."

She let you go, and without another word, laid down, with her back turned to her children.

The entire thing disturbed and confused you, and you immediately looked to Cillian for explanation and reassurance.

Instead, you saw him frozen, a look of terror on his face as he stared at Mother's form.

But then he caught your eye, schooled his features into something more neutral, and carried you out of the room, out of the house, and into the sheep pen, where you wordlessly helped him take care of the animals until your Father came home.

Father was much more laissez-faire about the whole ordeal. Cillian explained everything to him, nerves alight after Mothers declaration, and to your Fathers credit, he listened patiently, never once interrupting the younger boys nervous speech. When Cillian was done, Father turned to you, and in a disturbingly casual manner, explained to you that your mother had passed on her sickness to you.

When you asked when it would go away, he laughed until Cillian yelled at him to stop.

That was when you got the news that though it wasn't as potent as your mother's illness, it was still permanent. You would live and die with this affliction.

You stood there dumbly as your father idly ruffled your head and told you that there were worse things to have. You think he was about to tell you to get ready for bed before Cillian exploded on him.

It was obvious you had no place in the conversation anymore, and you tried to make your way to your room before Cillian snatched you and took you to his room, his face red with tears.

You slept in his bed that night.

The following day, you were no longer allowed to stay in the house and play like you usually did. Instead, Cillian made you follow him wherever he went, not letting you stray from his line of sight. When your father came home that following day, he brought with him a bell at Cillians' request, which you were made to wear at all times, even as you slept.

Slowly, more symptoms began to manifest. At times, your mind would fog over, unable to focus on anything for periods of time. The sound of waves would ring through your ear, though you were nowhere near the shore. And occasionally, dreams of the sea would haunt you. Beautiful, painful dreams that would leave you crying in your wake, which in turn woke up poor Cillian. But ever the loving brother, he would go to your side and sooth you until you fell asleep again. In the case of especially distressing dreams, he would sleep with you, and no nightmares would dare plague you when Cillian was with you.

And, on very rare instances, you would feel it again. That same tug that changed your world, that demanded you return to the ocean where you belong. Your mind would switch off, and your feet would move of their own accord towards the shore. But you would misstep, or trip, or some other mishap would occur, and the bell would ring. The spell would break just long enough for you to run back towards Cillian and tell him what was happening before you slipped away again. He'd take you in his arms and mutter soothing words, keeping you close until the episode passed.

But those were few, and grew fewer as you grew older. Most days, the worst of your symptoms were brain fog, which was not pleasant but much better than walking towards a cold death in the sea.

No, most days were rather enjoyable. You would wake up to Cillian making breakfast and wait to eat until he finished serving your mother, who only ate in her room. Then you would follow him around as he did his errands for the day, sometimes helping, sometimes busying yourself with your own task. If he got done early, he would read to you or help you with your writing. He used to try and help with your arithmetic, but it became obvious that he wasn't good enough with numbers to teach you. Then, if your mind was clear, you would help with dinner and sneak bites whenever Cillian wasn't looking. Dinner would then be ready, and Father would usually be home by then, give you both polite greetings, and then he would take two plates and make his way to his room to spend the rest of the evening with Mother, as you and your brother spent the evening with each other until bed.

True, there were times when it felt like you were being smothered by Cillian and his constant worry and argue that you didn't need the constant monitoring. Sometimes, these arguments would get the both of you irritated beyond reason with each other, having you both oscillating between petty bickering and the silent treatment.

But those were few and far in between. Most of that time was marked by the games you would play with him when you should have been working, by the silly songs he taught you when you got bored of watching him work, of the gentle coaxing he would give when your mind wandered from you. Those moments when he would take you into the field in the middle of the night and teach you about the constellations, or help you make flower crowns, which he would gladly wear until they withered and fell apart. Those days he'd grow morose about one of the many worries he had, and you would comfort him the only way a child like him could be comforted: hugging him until he felt better. Or those dark moments when you were reduced to tears by your despair at your illness, afraid that one day it would grow worse, and you would end up like your mother. He would hold you tight while crying himself and reassure you that it would never happen. And if it did, he would be there to care for you and keep you safe until the end if his days.

But this wasn't meant to last. As the years went by, Cillian was slowly coming into his adulthood and needed to find a way to make a living for himself. Father had talked to him about teaching him how to be a fisherman, but he wholeheartedly rejected the idea. Instead, he went to town and asked for an apprenticeship with the local carpenter.

The first few weeks, he brought you with him, claiming it still wasn't safe for you to stay at home without him.

Though you loathed the thought of being treated like an unruly toddler and not a child old enough to keep house by themself, the thought intrigued you. You couldn't remember the last time you got to see the village, and the mere thought caused butterflies in your stomach. New places, faces, sights, and smells... perhaps you would enjoy this.

Unfortunately, reality had different plans for you.

It became obvious that you and your brother were not welcome in the village. There was never any violent confrontation or hurtful words thrown your way, but instead a lack of interaction. The other children avoided your presence, and the villagers avoided you and your brothers gaze, only speaking to you when polite conduct forced them to. You could swear you heard them gossiping about you, talking about "cursed blood" and something to do with the sea, yet every time you came up to them, they would act like nothing was said.

The carpenter himself was much kinder, but his time was spent teaching your brother his craft, and you were left to your own devices, more lonely than ever.

After the first few days of begging, Cillian finally relented, and you stayed home with Mother.

The following weeks were painfully uneventful, with you taking over Cillians chores and adjusting to the new workload. Your brain fog made it difficult, causing complications, frustrations, and occasional minor injuries, which Cillian would fret over when he got home. Not that he needed those to worry, as every day he came home, he would rush through the house, his face frantic with worry. He only relaxed when he found you, and you reassured him that nothing had happened, and you were okay.

By the fourth week, you couldn't tell him that anymore, because Mother had begun taking trips outside of the house.

It was the middle of the day, and you were doing some cleaning around the house when the door to your parents' room creaked open, and Mother came out. You called out to her, but she ignored you, steadily making her way out the front door and towards the shore.

You trailed after her a safe distance away, unsure of what else to do. You were always slightly wary of her, as her presence was always a disquieting one in your home. But a vague sense of familial duty kept you from letting her wander unaccompanied.

When the shore finally came into your view, she was already on it, knelt down in the sand, in the company of an adult brown seal.

Upon this image, you felt it again. That pull towards the sea, weaker than before, but just as familiar. You tried to stop, but your feet began to move against your will. Terrified, you used the last of your free will to clench your fist, digging your nails into your palms until they punctured your skin. Only then, the spell broke, and you were able to run back home, uncaring of what would happen on the shore.

An hour or so later, she came back, a faint smile on her face as she lazily wandered back to her room.

Not long after, your brother came home, and you told him everything.

His face sunk further and further as you spoke, and when you finished, he looked like a man twice his age. He took your hand gently into his, and all but begged you not to follow her again.

"To lose Mother would be sad, to lose you would be unspeakable. I couldn't forgive myself if something happened to you."

He then made you promise to not tell Father anything that happened, and you readily agreed.

But then Mother went to visit the beach the next day. And then the next. And the day after, and the one after that, until it became common place. The visits also grew longer, to the point where you and Cillian were worried she wouldn't be home when Father returned from fishing.

That day didn't take long to come.

She had left. You had worked. Cillian came home. You both cooked dinner. Then Father came home, grabbed dinner for both him and Mother, and headed towards his room.

Then the plates shattered on the floor.

He rushed out with the eyes of a madman and interrogated the both of you on where Mother was. Cillian answered for the both of you, saying she had felt in good spirits and had gone on a walk. Your father lost it on him, struck him across the face, and let out a string of curses before marching out the front door, leaving Cillian on the floor and you crying in his wake.

You did your best to help nurse Cillians swelling face as he did his best to console your silent weeping.

Little time had passed before you heard Fathers stomping and yelling once again, with the stern voice of your Mother mixed in. You both quickly took shelter in Cillians room before they made it through the door.

The arguing continued as they went inside and into their rooms, the walls doing little to muffle their voices. It lasted for ten minutes, twenty, thirty, and then an hour, with no signs of stopping. You held onto your brother as you both tried to wait out the storm happening in your house until Cillian decided that enough was enough.

He gently nudged your shoulder, then looked towards his bedroom window, and then back down towards you.

"You want to leave?"

You practically jumped at the opportunity.

He climbed through the window before helping you down, taking your hand and leading you towards the field where the sheep grazed. It was summer, so the night was comfortably warm, a full moon lighting your way. Your bare feet carefully tread the grass, making sure not to step on any burs or briars hidden in the greenery.

He stopped at a small flower patch that the both of used to love lazing around in before he had to take his apprenticeship. Cowslips, wild garlic, and wood sorrels dotted the area. He laid down and looked towards the sky, and you followed his lead, laying down next to him.

"Do you remember any of the constellations I've taught you?"

"Of course!" You say, a little indignant. How could you forget those nights of stargazing?

You search the sky, easily finding a few.

"Lets see, there's Aquarius...Capricorn... and I think that one's Gemini?"

You point in the direction of the cluster of stars, and he brings his head closer to see where your fingers led.

"Yes, that's the one. You know, some people believe the stars control your fate. Something about being born in a certain time of year connects you to certain constellations, and they determine everything about your life, even when you die."

Your brows scrunched together in confusion. You knew you were pretty sheltered, only having your brother, your father, and various books for news of the outside world, but this seemed rather confusing.

"What are you talking about?"

"Well, I don't know too much about it myself. Some spinster stopped me in the street a few days back and asked me if I wanted my fortune read to me. I didn't know what she meant, so she explained to me how everything about our birth, when and where you were born, determines what will happen to you. She offered to tell me about mine if I paid her."

"And what did she say?"

"Nothing, her fees were too expensive, so I left."

"Boring."

He let out a chuckle. "Maybe."

The conversations then lapsed into silence, your eyes lazily gliding among the stars until he spoke again. His voice was hardly above a whisper.

"I wouldn't have asked for it, even if I had the money. Something about the whole thing didn't sit right with me. I mean, if your whole life is written out the moment you're born, what's the purpose of it all? All your struggles, all your accomplishments, completely meaningless. And those that are destined for a horrible life, what's the point in living, if it will only end in disaster?"

You turn over to look at him, his face almost imperceptible in the faint moon light as he stares up at the sky. His hands restlessly fidget with his sleeves as he starts talking again.

"No, I can't believe that. It's too cruel. Our feelings, our thoughts, our actions, they matter. We're more than our birth."

He turns to look at you, his eyes soft and a faint, an almost apologetic smile on his lips.

"I guess what I'm trying to say is, I know a better life seems impossible now, but it'll all be okay in the end. I promise."

You nod back with a smile. It's always been easy to believe the things your brother says, even if you know otherwise.

You both turn back up towards the sky, watching the stars until Cillian got up and told you it was time to head home.

The next morning, things only got worse.

It all started with you waking up in Cillians' bed, confused and disoriented, before remembering that you had refused to creep back to your own room, too afraid to run into your own parents.

Next, you noticed the sun was higher in the sky than it was usually when you woke up. Blearily, you realized you slept in late.

So you decided to wake your brother, still sleeping on the floor, and inform him of the situation. After a few minutes of calling his name, you finally decided to shake him awake. He grumpily protested the whole ordeal and was about to go back to bed until you informed him of the time.

He then threw off his thin blanket, sprang up off the floor, and opened to door with you following behind.

Until he stopped.

You peered from behind your brother and saw your father sitting at the table.

Shouldn't he be away by now?

He gave a smile to the both of you.

"Good morning, children. Why don't you take a seat? I've already prepared breakfast."

For a moment, Cillian didn't move, and neither did you. Briefly, you contemplated turning around and taking refuge in his room again, but then he started to cautiously make his way forward, and you reluctantly followed.

You and Cillian took the only two seats left, both located close to Father. You distantly wondered where Mothers chair had gone.

Your brother started to place food on his plate, and you grabbed a slice of buttered bread, immediately taking a bite out of it. The sooner you could leave the table, the better.

Father grabbed nothing. He simply watched the both of you, the same smile from before still plastered on his face.

It was only now that you could make out the dark circles under his eyes and his unkempt hair. You could also see he was still wearing the same work clothes from yesterday. You don't think he slept a wink.

After a tense, quiet moment of watching the both of you eat, he turned towards your brother and began to speak.

"Cillian, my boy, are you still going into town today?"

He avoided his gaze as he replied.

"Yes, sir. I can't afford to skip any lessons."

"But you're already late. Surely, you couldn't do any more harm by skipping today?"

"I can't, sir. It would be disrespectful to miss an entire day without reason."

"I expected as much. I suppose it can't be helped."

Father gave a thoughtful hum before turning towards you.

"Well, I guess that leaves you, then."

You froze as your heart rate picked up. You briefly caught Cillians eyes, and saw your own panic reflected back.

Father continued on, like he hadn't noticed.

"I need to ask a favor of you. Your mother has been getting worse, as the both of you seem to know already."

He pointedly shot your brother a look before returning his gaze to you.

"And she needs her rest. Unfortunately, she does not want to rest. That's why I've taken it upon myself to make sure she does."

He gestured over towards the door of the room Mother lay, and you saw the missing chair propped up securely against the knob.

"All you need to do is make sure she stays inside. Don't let her out for anything. Not for food, or water, or even the bathroom. No matter what she says or does, you do not open that door."

He then reached out and placed a large, cold, and loose hand on your shoulder. It took everything in you not to shake it off.

"Am I understood?"

You nodded rapidly. "Yes, Father."

His smile grew wider and he gave your shoulder a pat before retracting his arm.

"Good. Because if she isn't in there when I come back, I will be very disappointed."

With that, he slapped his legs before pushing himself off the chair.

"Well, I'd best be off now. Take care, I'll be back as soon as I can."

He grabbed his coat, put on his shoes, and headed out the door.

After the sound of his footsteps subsided, you quietly got up and headed towards your parents' door.

Your hand had only come to touch the chair before Cillian grabbed you and pulled you away.

You wrestled out of his grip and turned to face him before his hands landed on your shoulders as he gave you a slight shake, his hands warm and unmovable.

"What do you think you're doing?" He hissed.

"What do you think you're doing?" You countered.

"Keeping you from making a mistake. Did you not listen to Father at all?"

"I did, and that's exactly why I'm doing it. You know this can't be right, Cillian, he can't keep her locked up."

"Of course this is awful, that isn't the point." He spat out.

You recoiled as far back as his hold would allow.

That seemed to make him pause he decided to close his eyes and take a deep breath, his features softening a touch. His voice was less harsh, but just as urgent as he spoke again.

"I know you don't want to be a part of this. I don't, either. But we don't have a choice here. With Father becoming more... unpredictable, it's better to play along with whatever he wants. Just until I can save enough money to get us out of here, okay?"

"But what about Mother?"

"I don't care about Mother, I care about you. Your safety goes above everything else."

You turn away, your eyes growing wet.

"I don't like it."

"You don't have to like it, you just have to listen."

You wipe your eyes. He lets out a sigh and loosens his grip.

"Why don't you stay out of the house for today? Focus on tending to the sheep and chickens, or tend to the garden, or whatever you want. It'll be easier on you if you don't have to hear her, okay?"

You didn't move.

"(Y/N), please, look at me." He said quietly.

Against your better judgment, you did.

His face was fallen, his eyes starting to water like yours were. An unwilling feeling of guilt formed in your heart.

"Promise me you won't let Mother out." He pleaded.

You nodded, even though the thought of going along this made you sick.

He gave you a genuine smile.

"Thank you."

Cillian left soon after, and you tittered about in the house, trying to keep yourself busy. You thought about going outside the house and focusing on taking care of the animals like he suggested, but your guilt wouldn't allow you to leave Mother.

You had quickly come to regret that decision as not even an hour after Cillians departure, Mother tried to open the door.

Simple attempts at opening the door had rapidly grown more frantic until she was pounding on the wood. The sound encompassed the whole house, and you could only stand and stare like a trapped animal, torn between your duty to your mother and your duty to your brother.

And then she stopped.

And the whole house was quiet.

For some reason, you found the silence profoundly more disturbing than her hysterical attempts to break the door, and you half longed to hear them again.

As you debated calling out to her, the silence was broken by the sound of glass shattering.

The only glass in the room was her window.

You rushed out of the front door and ran around the side of the house to where the window was, only to see her exiting through where the glass used to be. He dress was torn, and her arms and legs were covered in minor cuts that dotted her in red.

"Mother!" You shout. "Are you okay-"

She turned towards you, came to an abrupt halt, and stared.

Her dark, dead eyes bore into you, leaving a weight on your chest you had never felt before. She knows, you thought. You didn't know what she knew or if there was anything to know, but it was the only thought in your head as she looked at you. She knows. And it made you wither before her.

She turned away and headed towards the tool shed. You followed her at a distance.

She emerged from the shed with a shovel and walked towards a small group of trees, of which she stopped in front of the old, brittle husk of what used to be a mighty oak.

And she started to dig.

It was obvious she was struggling. She had done little manual labor in her life, mostly content with wasting away in her room most days, so she had little muscle. She huffed and puffed, and even as far away as you were, you could see her arms shake with every shovel full of dirt. A foot into the ground, and you could see her hands start to bleed, the delicate skin tearing against the rough wood of the shovel.

But her face had stayed just as determined as it had been when she started, and her pace never slowed. As you watched, you could swear that not even hell could stop her.

You stood there and watched her toil knee-deep in the dirt, wondering what could drive such a woman to go to these lengths when you heard the sound of metal hitting metal.

With frantic movements, she began to shovel faster, then abandoned the tool altogether and desperately clawed at the dirt with her fingers.

Then she began to pull.

One tug. Then another. And another.

And then one final tug, and it was free. She staggered back, a metal box as big as her chest held firmly in her hands.

She wasted no time throwing it to the ground and undoing the latches that held it closed.

She took out something and stared at it for a moment before carelessly tossing it to the side. Out of her grasp, you could see it was a fur of some sort. Though you couldn't tell what animal it belonged to, you could see that it was rather plain looking, definitely not worth burying like it was some valuable treasure.

Yet why did it seem to tug at your heart, trying to draw you closer?

Your attention was torn from the fur as the sound of crying filled the air.

It came from Mother, now hunched over a larger, more beautiful fur, her face buried deep as he let out more heart-wrenching sobs. It was the most emotion you've ever seen from her.

You felt like a voyeur. This moment wasn't for you, yet you couldn't leave, transfixed by such both the fur and Mother.

It took moments for the crying to subside, at which point she slowly got to her legs, and she draped the fur over her shoulders like an oversized shawl.

It was like this you could see it better. It was white, and the fur sparkled in the sun like a jewel. It was also obvious that this was the fur of an adult seal.

Her head turned towards you, and you held her gaze, only for a moment, before she turned away and walked towards the direction of the sea.

As she made her past the horizon and beyond your line of sight, she didn't once turn back to look at you.

And you were glad she didn't.

You didn't know how long you spent watching her leave. Even after she disappeared from your sight, you still watched the last spot you saw her. You knew she wouldn't come back, and you hoped she wouldn't either, but that didn't stop the expectancy from growing inside you. There was more coming, and you just didn't know what it was or where it would come from.

Eventually, your mind snapped back to the present, and you became aware of your surroundings again. The sun had climbed quite a ways across the sky, telling you it was afternoon now.

With little else to do, you made your way to the discarded fur.

The closer you got, the more your heart trembled in your chest, and your skin itched in anticipation. It was so similar to the way the sea called to you, but more intense, and completely irresistible.

When you finally knelt down and grasped it, the world melted away along with the fog around your brain, and your mind gained a sense of clarity and sharpness you had never experienced before. And a beautiful, overwhelming feeling of completeness washed over you, like this fur was a long lost part of you, and you were finally, blissfully whole again.

This is what Mother felt when she touched her fur, wasn't it? It must be, because you started to to cry just like she did, face buried in your fur- no, a small voice in your mind said, your lost skin, as you tried to take it all in.

What relief, what clarity, what pain it is to be complete again. Who knew such an immense joy could bring so much hurt?

You only stopped crying when you heard a yell in the distance.

"(Y/N)! WHERE'S YOUR MOTHER?"

It was Fathers voice.

You whip your head to see the figure of your father coming towards you, only to stop as your body twisted towards his, revealing your second skin bundled in your arms.

His shocked expression quickly twisted to something dark, ugly, and angry.

He started walking towards you again, his movements similar to the confident prowl of a wolf coming across a stray lamb, far away from the safety of the herd.

And you felt your heart kick up, exactly like a lamb's would.

Without further thought, you draped your skin across your shoulders like Mother had, scrambled towards your feet, and sprinted away.

Father's heavy footsteps followed.

Past the sheep fields, beyond your property, from well trodden footpaths to completely untamed land, you dashed across the land with your father steady in pursuit, unable to escape his sight.

You didn't realize you were headed towards the ocean until you saw the sand of the beach and the deep blue of the sea.

Logically, you knew that the beach was a dead end. There was nothing there to help you down there, and you couldn't swim. But something inside you urged you forward, saying you would be free, if only you could reach the water, and after everything that happened today, you were inclined to trust it.

As your feet hit the sand, Father began to shout, all threats and insults.

When your skin met the sea, the sharpness in his voice disappeared, replaced with a desperation so unbecoming of a man once to confident.

When you were up to your waist in the salt water, and the rolling waves threatened threatened to knock you off your feet and sweep you out to sea, your father started to plead. To beg you to come out of the water and help him find Mother. He had momentarily lost his temper, he didn't mean to frighten you so. He's not mad any more, he's sorry, and only wishes you could come out and tell him where Mother went. To help him figure out a way to find her and to bring her home. If only you would get out of the water.

You didn't bother to look back.

You dove into the rolling waves, and something fantastical overcame your body.

Your clothes fell away from your body, and your seal skin filled with a strange energy, latching onto your human skin and merging until they were one. Your arms shrunk into flippers with dull claws, and your legs and feet merged into a sleek, powerful tail. Blubber formed around your body and neck, and nestled you in warmth. Your hair receded, and your head shrunk, with your nose and mouth forming the short snout of a seal.

Soon, you were darting through the water, further and further away from the cries of your father, and deeper into the blue.

You swam so far and for so long that when you finally came to the surface to breathe, you could no longer see the shore, with no recollection of which direction you came from. All round you was nothing but a yawning stretch of unbroken blue.

The sun had finally set, transforming the water into the same inky darkness of the sky, and you had still not found your way back to land.

You had tried to head back in the direction you thought you had come from, only to find nothing. So you tried another direction, then another, and another, only to wind up more lost than before.

Frustrated, you had given up for a time and decided to explore what lay under the sea, both in childish curiosity of what the world was like under the water and in foolish hope that you would find your mother, and she could guide you back.

Instead, you found dozens upon dozens of colorful fish and bizarre plants that you could scarcely dream of. You would follow these alien creatures as they scuttled and swam about with a sense of whimsy and awe, captivated by their strangeness. It was the most fun you had in a very long time. If only land could have creatures like this, it would be a much more beautiful place.

But soon, you had lost yourself in your exploration, just like you had lost yourself in the sea. When you finally stopped and resurfaced, the sky and sea had darkened, to the point you could hardly tell which was which.

It was only then you felt the effects of being at sea for so long. Though your blubber did much to keep you warm, the sea was always cold, and a chill had crept deep into your skin. Your stomach gnawed in hunger, and a great weariness started to overtake you. How much longer could you keep swimming?

You grew panicked, head whipping around in despair as you tried to find something, anything to lead you home.

In confusion and fear, you turned your head towards the sky, and it was there you found your answer.

The north star.

It was the first thing your brother had taught you when he took you stargazing. He would still quiz you on it every once in a while, just to make sure you remembered how to find it.

You can still hear his voice like it was yesterday.

"As long as you can find the north star, you can always find your way home."

A renewed feeling of energy washed over you, filling your weary body with resolve, and you pushed yourself towards home.

On and on, you fought against the choppy waves trying to push against your own struggling body and pull you further into the ocean, with nothing but thoughts of home to push you forward.

But after an unknown amount of time, you came across not the shore, but there, upon the horizon, the silhouette of a man upon a fishing boat, harpoon raised, as sharks circled him... no, those weren't sharks.

They were seals.

And that man you your father.

You abandoned your current course to swim closer, trying to understand what was happening.

As you crept up on the ship, you finally heard Fathers shouting over the rough waves.

"DAMN ANIMALS!" His voice was venom.

"WHERE IS SHE? I KNOW YOU HAVE HER! WHERE IS MY WIFE?!"

The seals began to nudge the boat, throwing him momentarily off balance. However, he quickly gained his composure.

"MY LOVE, COME BACK TO ME!"

There was no response.

"I'LL DRAG YOU BACK, ONE WAY OR THE OTHER, AND I'LL KILL WHATEVER BEAST GETS IN MY WAY!"

He regained his footing and raised his harpoon as if to attack, his face alight with manic anger.

But beyond his sight, you saw a beautiful white seal barrel towards the side of his boat, with no sign of stopping. In a flash, her body collided with the wood, and the ship was overturned, throwing Father into the dark sea before he could scream.

It was only a moment before he resurfaced, harpoon gone, struggling to keep his head above water.

"DON'T, PLEASE-"

A seal broke off from the circling pack, bit down on his leg, and dragged him down, disappearing beneath the surface. You tensed, afraid that the seal hadn't let him go, but he broke through the waves in a manner of seconds, choking on salt water.

He struggled against the current, coughing his lung out as he tried to make his way towards his capsized ship.

Then another seal did the same, taking him underwater but holding him down just a little longer. When Father resurfaced, he began to exclaim in fear, begging for mercy, and then for Mother, before he was dragged back down again into the inky abyss.

And then it happened again.

And again.

You caught sight of the same white seal who had brought this fate upon him. She had positioned herself slightly away from the rest of the herd, content to watch from afar. Perhaps she thought her part over, or perhaps she was merely waiting for her turn again.

Slowly, she turned her head towards you, as if she knew you were here all along.

She didn't say a word as she looked at you, but you knew what she was trying to tell you.

You don't belong here.

And perhaps she was right.

You turned away from the brutality happening in front of you, and found the north star again. With your bearings, you continued your journey home.

When the shore finally came out of the horizon, you could have jumped for joy. You pushed your tired fins to the max, wanting nothing more than to finally return to land.

As you came closer, you could make out the dark figure of another person, frantically walking along the shore line, calling out to the sea.

"(Y/N)! (Y/N)! IS THAT YOU?!"

It was Cillian.

You felt such a sense of relief upon seeing him, you could cry.

You tried to call out to him, but it only came out in the strange barks of a seal.

He ran towards the water, only stopping as it reached his waist, your abandoned clothes clutched it his hands as he continued to shout your name like a madman.

You pushed and pushed, willing your aching body to go faster and faster until you were upon him. His arms were held wide, and you leaped into them as he caught you with ease.

Then that strange, magical sensation happened again.

Your skin warped and twisted, growing and then separating itself into two, your seal skin wrapping around you like a robe. Your tail and fins turned back into arms and legs, with the rest of your body following suit. All the while, Cillian still held you, red rimmed eyes in awe over what he saw.

And just like that, you were human again.

He took your face in his hands, one cupping your cheek as the other stroked your hair ever so gently. His hands were cold from being out for so long, and they shook slightly, whether from adrenaline or exhaustion, you couldn't tell. Yet you found yourself leaning into them anyway.

His face was red, and his eyes were wet and puffy. His chin wobbled as much as his voice, unable to contain his emotion.

"I thought you were gone. I came home, and you weren't there, and I couldn't find anyone. I looked everywhere, and when I found your clothes, oh God, I thought I would never see you again. I thought I would be alone."

His voice broke down into wordless sobs, his hands letting your face go only to wrap you into a crushing embrace. You found yourself beginning to cry with him.

"I'm here now." You told him, your own voice faltering from your tears. "It's okay, I'm here."

His sobbing only picked up, sounding like those rare occasions when he cried as a child.

"Oh, my baby. Thank God, thank God."

You stood there, held fast in his arms, as the ocean waves pushed against the both of you, sapping the warmth out of your body, but you couldn't bother to care. You thought you could stay like that forever, safe and sound in his hold.

But his hold began to loosen, and he looked down at you, face haggard and tired.

"Let's go home."

You nodded and took his hand as he led you out of the sea and towards land. But you felt like your body was made of lead, and you kept stumbling, almost falling back into the water. That's when Cillian decided to pick you up, arms under your knees and back in a princess style hold. You didn't protest, exhaustion leaving you too weak to reasonably object. Instead, you lay your head on his shoulder, arms securely holding your second skin around your body, as he took you out of the water.

As you exited the beach, the cold had finally caught up with you, and you began to shiver violently.

Cillian looked down at you, face pinched in concern, before focusing back on the path ahead, picking up his pace.

"I know, I know. We'll be home soon. We'll get you dressed in dry clothes, and I'll get a fire going, and you'll be warm before you know it. Just hang on."

You nodded, pressing yourself further against him, trying to share his body heat.

The journey dragged, the cool night temperatures making your symptoms worse. With each breeze, your shivering would pick up, and he would hold you tighter, as if he could solve the problem by only keeping you closer.

By the time you made it home, your fingers, toes, and nose were numb.

He tried to set you down carefully in front of your room, but his shaking, tired arms had you plopped on the ground more roughly then he intended, leading to him profusely apologizing and checking if you were okay.

You looked up to him and saw the way his fatigue wore on him, from the droopiness of his eyes to the sag of his shoulders and the way his wet clothes hung off of him. You wish he wouldn't apologize so much.

"Change into something warm, and I'll get the fire going, alright?"

You nodded and then went in your room to change, clumsily slipping on your normal nightwear. Still shivering, you then grabbed the blanket off your bed and bundled yourself with it before taking your wet seal skin and walking out of your room.

When you went back to the living room, Cillian was in dry clothes kneeling next to the fireplace, having finished loading the logs into the chimney. With a few strikes of the fire steel, a small fire began to grow on the wood, bringing a welcome heat with it.

You carefully hung up your second skin near the fireplace so it could dry and then sat down next to your brother, watching as he tended to the small flame, making certain it wouldn't go out. After a few minutes of carefully feeding it small, dry branches, it had taken to the bigger logs and grown to a healthy size. With a noise of contentment, he pulled the metal screen over the fireplace opening and leaned back, a drained expression falling on his face as he took a moment to soak in the heat.

Then he turned to you with a small smile.

"Feeling better?"

You nodded, your shivering having gone down some.

"But I'm still cold."

He opened his arms and waved you over. You didn't hesitate to go to them, taking your blanket and wrapping it over his body as well as yours as he wrapped his arms around you. Your head leaned against his shoulder, and his chin rested on your head.

And for a while, no one spoke. You sat snug in his hold, the warmth of the fire, the reassuring weight of his arms, and the steady rise and fall of Cillians chest, you were easily lulled into a state of half consciousness, bringing you a sense of peace.

But then your brothers voice, rough and low, spoke.

"Why did you leave?"

It took you a moment to process the question, mind fuzzy and slow from your exhaustion.

"Father was chasing me. I didn't know where else to go."

"You didn't have to stay gone for so long. You knew I would be home soon."

"I got lost."

With those words, his chest hitched, like he couldn't breathe. You hastily tried to reassure him.

"But when night fell, I used the north star to guide me home, just like you taught me. It all turned out okay in the end."

He shifted, his hold growing tighter.

"Don't you realise how lucky you were? If the sky had been overcast and you couldn't see the stars, what would you have done? How long would you have lasted at sea without its guidance? What if you had swam into a shark, or God forbid, a fisherman..."

His arms grew suffocating, to the point of pain.

"Cillian, please." You whimpered.

His grip immediately loosened, and he looked down on you, apologies spilling from his mouth once more.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to, it just- it scares me. You scare me. And I hate how frightened you make me. You can't go back there, (Y/N)."

What could you say? You felt guilty about making him so upset, but you couldn't promise to not return to the ocean, either. Yes, your first trip in the water was terrifying, but it was also freeing and beautiful. You wouldn't feel complete without being able to go there again.

You chose to stay silent.

He pressed you gently back into his chest and began softly rocking you, one hand around you and the other carding through your hair.

Eventually, you drifted off, the soft crackle of the fire and the gentle sway of Cillian's hold following you into your dreams.

The next thing you know, you're swaddled in your bed, sunshine streaming through your windows.

It takes you a while to get up, the ordeals from yesterday still weighing heavy on your body. But eventually, hunger pangs form in your stomach, and you force yourself to leave the safety of the blankets to get food.

With your blanket wrapped around your body like a cloak, you slowly shuffle out of your room and towards the kitchen. You dully make note of how high the sun is, meaning you had slept well into the afternoon. You hope Cillian let the animals out before he left.

Once in the kitchen, you cut a slice of bread and stand there, chewing on it slowly, eyes half lidded as not one thought crosses your mind.

Then it hits you, a delayed wave of dread washing over you.

Your skin.

You had left it near the fireplace, right? You were fairly certain of it being wet, and you had wanted it to dry. Therefore, near the fireplace was the most logical place.

Uncertainly, you take the few steps it takes to get to the living room, and can find no sign of it.

But you remember putting it here. At least, you think you remember.

It occurs to you that, upon separation from your skin, that mental acuity you had gained from it was now lost once again, and your brain fog has rolled back in with a vengeance.

You look around the fireplace, turning over baskets and boxes and whatever gets in your way, before expanding your search to the living room, then the kitchen, then your room. You even dared to look through your parents' room and Cillians room for no other excuse than your rising panic at not being able to find that vital, beloved part of yourself.

All higher reason left you as you left your house to trace back your journey from the beach on the wild belief that you could have dropped your skin, despite knowing that it had stayed wrapped around your body the entire time.

The further into your walk, the more the pit in your stomach grew, climbing its way into your throat until you threatened to choke on it, tears leaking from your eyes all the while.

It was only upon not being able to find the skin anywhere on the beach that you collapsed down on the sand, your wailing a companion to the roaring of the waves.

It was there Cillian found poor you, face a red, blotchy mess of snot and tears. He knelt beside you, out of breath from running to find you. He tried his best to calm you down despite looking panicked himself, but you had worked yourself into an unmanageable state.

After a desperate few minutes, you had slowed down just enough to wail out, "I can't find my skin."

His mouth formed a grim line, face becoming unreadable. Without another word, he picked you up and carried you home once more.

You didn't bother fighting it, only continuing to cry until it tapered off to pathetic little whimpers, and then total silence.

You barely registered that you were home, that Cillian had placed you upon the floor, near the dwindling fire where you collapsed. You stared into the small flame, not being able to comprehend anything. The world had become too much, weighing heavy on your mind and body to the point that you didn't have a will to care about much anymore. Except, of course, for one thing.

After an unknown time, Cillian sat down next to you, apple in hand. He made a gesture as if offering you the food, but there was only one response on your lips.

"Do you know where my skin is?"

He turned away from you and faced the fire again, taking a bite of the fruit, and you stared at him as he chewed. Chewed, chewed, chewed, and then swallowed it all down.

He nodded.

"Yes, I know where it is."

You felt your eyes light up, a surge of hope coursing through your body.

"Where is it?!"

He didn't turn to look at you. His face didn't even so much as twitch.

"Cillian, please, where is it? Where's my skin?"

"It's somewhere safe."

"That's isn't an answer." A heat began to form in your voice. "Where is it?"

"What are you going to do with it, when you get it again?"

The question took you off guard, making you sputter for a moment.

"What do you mean?"

"Are you going to try and leave again?"

Your patience gave way to your anger.

"I didn't leave you, I was trying to run away from our crazy Father, who would have done God knows what to me if he caught me. And I didn't want to be stuck out at sea for hours on end! And I came home, didn't I? I want to be here, why isn't that enough for you?!"

His finally turned towards you, face twisted and sharp.

"You came back this time." He spat. "But what about the next? What's to keep you from deciding to stay in the sea if I can't be there to stop you? Just look at you! A day hasn't even passed, and you're already running back towards that accursed beach."

Heat rose in your cheeks, and your voice rose.

"And so you steal from me? You take a part of myself and hide it from me? How dare you! How dare you do what Father did!"

The veins in his head began to pop up at your words.

"I'm nothing like him, Father was a monster!"

"Then prove it! Give me back my skin!"

He stared at you, eyes wild, huffing like he had just run across the property. You held his gaze, just as angry and stubborn, unwillingly to back down.

He jolted up, then stalked across the floor and exited the house with a slam of the door.

You could only look after him in silence.

After Cillian left, you had slunk off to your bed, not knowing what else to do except to lie down and wait.

Eventually, you fell into a fitful sleep, not even able to find reprieve in your dreams, where you saw your mother taking your skin and running as you desperately tried to catch up to her. But no matter how fast you ran, or how hard you pushed yourself, you fell further and further behind until she was nothing more than a speck in the distance.

A hand came to rest on your head, and you jolted awake with a start, heart racing and eyes wide and unseeing, until a voice called out to you.

"It's okay, (Y/N), it's okay, it's only me, Cillian. Calm down, you're safe."

In a few short seconds, your eyes focused on the figure sitting on the edge of your bed in front of you, and it was indeed your brother, face composed in a reassuring smile.

You took in your surroundings, noticing it had gone completely dark, with only a candle placed on your nightstand to offer any light. There was no sign of your skin.

"I didn't mean to scare you, I just wanted to wake you up. It looked like you were having a nightmare."

You slumped back in your bed, and frown easily forming on your face.

"I was." Is your meager reply.

"I'm sorry about that. Do you want to talk about it?"

You look away from him, frown deepening.

He sighed. "You're still mad at me, aren't you?"

Silence.

"The first time you wandered off, trying to return to the beach, Father had taken me aside, and told me a story of a young, lonely fisherman who had come upon a beautiful, naked lady dancing on the beach. The fisherman had become enchanted with this strange woman, believing to have fallen in love at first sight. After having watched her for some time, he came to spot a stark white seal skin near the lady. It was then he figured out that the woman was not a human, but a selkie, a mythical creature with the ability to change their form from seal to human. He knew he had to have her and crept closer and closer, until he was able to snatch the skin away. She pleaded for it's return, offering anything to have it back. He had said he would, but only on the condition she became his wife. She relented, not having another choice. Of course, Father had then revealed that this was the story of how he met Mother."

You sat there, staring at him in shock.

"You knew that Mother and I were selkies, and you said nothing?"

"No, that's not it. I didn't believe a word of what he said, I thought it was the delusions of a sad man trying to find a reason for why his wife was so ill. I didn't start thinking of the story until Mother went visiting the beach, and even then, I wasn't sure until I saw you transform in front of my very eyes."

He sighed once more.

"But that wasn't all. Father had said that though I was human, you were a selkie, and that he had taken your skin as soon as you were born and hidden it away with Mothers. He believed that if you never had the chance to transform, the illness from Mother would lessen, and eventually, you would turn human. I thought he was mad, but now that I am able to think... he was right, wasn't he?"

You felt your heart drop to your stomach.

"Your illness wasn't as severe as Mothers. You were able to live normally for the most part. Sure, you couldn't always focus, and your mind would wander, but it was getting better, wasn't it? In a few more years, you might have turned human. Unfortunately, Mother stopped that from happening, but it can be done again."

He placed a hand on your shoulder, cold and iron tight, with a sickening smile stretched on his face.

"You'll be rid of this disease, and you can be human, like you were meant to. And I'll be here to take care of you until it happens."

You couldn't speak, couldn't move, could scarcely breathe. You could have cried, but all the tears and anger had left you earlier that day, leaving you to mutely stare at your brother, your only family, the only one you trusted, who you thought would protect you from the horrors of the world you lived in, in a complete and all consuming horror you have never felt in your life.

A moment passed, and you managed to find your words once again.

"Cillian." Your voice is quiet. A gentle breeze could drown it out.

"Cillian," you try again, "please. Where is my skin?"

His face falls and shoulders sag in disappointment.

"I know it will take you a long time to adjust, but I promise, this is for the best."

You shake your head, but he only brings you in for a hug, holding you gently as if you would shatter at a moments notice. You have no energy to fight back.

"Please. Give me back my skin."

He only shushes you, rubbing circles into your back as you continue to plead for the only thing that could make you feel whole again. You stay there until your voice goes silent, your body slack, and your eyes shut. Until you fall asleep in the arms of your brother, under the roof of your father, and under the stars that sit unmoving and unforgiving in the darkness of the night sky.

[leiatalon]

The Eternal Library Romance Character Descriptions:

Part of the writing process is getting to know the characters as the story progresses. I let my characters lead the way. It's one of my favorite parts of being an author.

I've been painting in more details of the game and glossary, and wanted to collect the romance character (RO) descriptions here for you.

Expanded descriptions for the ROs in The Eternal Library:

COLLIN has broad shoulders and green eyes that show bits of gold like sunshine peeking through dense forest. His dark-brown hair is seldom tamed, wild and wind-blown much of the time. Favorite activities are sparring, reading, and hunting in the forests of Crost.

The third-eldest prince, he's a scholar, warrior, and reformed trickster. The least-favorite son, he avoids his father when at all possible, until responsibility is thrust upon him. Collin needs your help to save the kingdom. He's hungry for a relationship with someone who can take him as he is: confused, with insufficient magic and generations of guilt on his shoulders as the descendant of a long line of tyrants.

DORIAN's indigo eyes shimmer with silver. Dragon ink tattoos wind around his wrists, with the hint of more beneath his collar. He wears his dark hair long, but doesn't hide the subtle point of his ears that mark him as Fae.

Bonded with a dragon, his mission is to represent the Kitherin in Minare's court and keep Princess Khanna safe until she and La'rast can be married. Dorian becomes fast friends with Prince Collin, and is the first Fae to openly walk the halls of Minare's castle in centuries.

SEVITAS is stocky and cocky with eyes the color of dark whiskey and the skills to back up his confidence. His face boasts several scars: one across his left eyebrow, one on the same cheek, and another on his chin, showing gray in his otherwise dark beard. His biceps bulge beneath his tunic. So many weapons hang off his frame you're hard pressed to count them all, but the whip clipped to his belt is impossible to miss. Seasoned warrior.

As royalty from Forellia, ANGELINA's sky-blue eyes and golden hair come from Fae blood in her ancestry. She might not have magic, but she can escape nearly anything and look elegant doing so.

Second-eldest princess of Forellia. Cunning wordsmith. Quiet rebel. Kind and witty, she craves authenticity but finds it lacking in most people in her life. Spends more time with her horse than with humans.

MARIENNA is tall and lean with sharp eyes, cropped black hair, and smooth golden-brown skin. She carries short swords and a collection of knives.

Sharp-eyed soldier. A battle-wise warrior with experience as a spy. Secretly a sculptor, though she hasn't shared her work with anyone yet.

GEMMA is petite and fiery. She has bright eyes: one green, one gray. Her sandy-brown hair is often swept up in a bun, but a few strands always escape to frame her heart-shaped face.

Friend and coworker. Castle staff, cleaning crew. Humble optimist. Loves to laugh. Has all the gossip. Once hurt and humiliated by Master Trent, she avoids him at all costs. Gemma has a subtle magic to her. Nurturing. Cheerful. Kind.

You can befriend all of these characters without engaging in romance.

This is a slow-burn romance with optional spice at the end.

This game is best played choosing a single RO for each playthrough. There is one polyamorous route with Collin and Dorian, but all other romances are monogamous and best enjoyed when you focus on one character at a time. ❤️

There will be more opportunities to spend time with each of the ROs as additional chapters are released!

Be sure to Subscribe to my Patreon! 👑 There is a free tier, so it costs nothing to become a member!

THE ETERNAL LIBRARY (Romantasy IF WIP)

What if Cinderella and the prince grew up together?

What if the king was the evil one?

What if the missing piece wasn’t a glass slipper, but ancient memories buried in your soul?

Play the ETERNAL LIBRARY DEMO for Free!

[abbysimsfun]

Sims In Bloom: Generation 2 Pt. 131 (The Gold Medallion)

Heather and Spencer were both grateful when the antidote arrived by morning. Spencer met a local merchant near the cantina for the medicine while Heather stayed in bed to rest. Once she drank it she felt better, if still a little nauseous, but after lunch the girls decided to venture to the museum.

They set up a few dig sites and found a few relics, but when the sun got too hot, the women changed into sundresses.

Finally, the sun was so hot they gave up digging and took shelter inside the museum. Walking through different rooms to view the priceless artifacts on display, Heather stopped when her phone beeped with an incoming text.

Suri keeps talking about getting married after her Aunt Elsa's death and I think she's going to propose to me. What should I say?!?

(I know that's not what the pop up says, but if I make these canon, they can't all be the same scenario as a ring in a bag!)

Heather was surprised to learn Hazel and Suri were already thinking about marriage, and she didn't feel equipped to offer advice one way or another.

This is a big decision and you should decide this for yourself, Dandelion. Love you.

She thought her answer more than sufficient, but Hazel was clearly upset and texted back quickly.

I thought I could really rely on you for life advice, sis. If I knew what to do, I wouldn't have to ask.

Heather frowned. That definitely could have gone better.

"Hey Heather, come in here. Come look at this."

She put her phone away and found Spencer in a stone-walled room, standing before a diamond-studded gold medallion inside a glass display. A plaque on the wall revealed the medallion's inscription - found deep inside the Selvadoradian jungle decades earlier, the medallion was inscribed "A gift from Malcom A. Landgraab to Lady Victorine Goth."

Spencer chuckled. "A Lady Goth and a Landgraab? That's a wild combination."

Heather froze. "Lady Victorine Goth and Malcolm A. Landgraab? How old is this necklace?"

"They think it's from the early 20th Century," Spencer read. "Malcolm A. Landgraab was a rancher out west, and Lady Victorine Goth was Lady Ravendancer before her marriage, one of the world's most powerful spellcasters who published a book of spells. But both were married to other people and there's no evidence they ever knew each other."

"Other than this necklace," Heather mused. "I should ask Mortimer Goth about it. Maybe he knows something about them."

"Do you think it'll have something to do with the curse?"

Heather shrugged. "Hopefully there's no curse, but if there is, and it does have something to do with it, I have to know more for Ash's sake."

Despite taking the antidote, Heather still felt feverish and fatigued. They headed back to the rental so she could take a nap, and Spencer took the time to analyze some of her new artifacts.

By dinnertime, Heather was feeling peckish, so they returned to the square for a nice evening in town with the locals. Heather remembered Conrad's fear that they could run into members of Los Tigres de Selva, but she was feeling well enough to really enjoy herself and didn't want to waste the opportunity.

The night was warm, so they both dressed accordingly. On the way into the square, Spencer made an offering to the statue of Madre Cosecha, a Selvadoradian custom.

"She helped settle this place during a time of great famine," explained Spencer. "A true hero. Hopefully she can help keep us safe on our temple dig tomorrow."

Heather smiled. "We should stock up on more supplies, anyway. She would want us to protect ourselves and I don't need another spider bite."

They enjoyed arepas under the lights and chatted proudly about their kids. "Violet gets into everything, and she's got her older brothers wrapped around her grubby little fingers."

"She sounds a lot like Lavender. One minute she's sitting quietly looking through a book, and the next minute she's tearing through the bookshelf. And Ash has me convinced I could design an adventure game featuring stray cats. I even reached out to a philanthropist who loves to help game developers as a hobby named Cal Anthony, Jr. Suri actually recommended him - he's married to her mother's cousin, Olivia - but he said this was totally doable and he'd be happy to mentor me anytime. I think I might actually do it. I even have a name - Furever Friends: Stray Valley. I couldn't decide which I liked better so I added a colon to use both!"

"That sounds amazing, Heather. I'm sure my kids would love to play a game like that! How are things with you and Ash's dad these days?"

"As good as they've ever been, probably. Even when we dated. It's sort of strictly professional between us, but Ash comes home happy from spending time with Malcolm's family, so I can't complain. I guess they just got a new puppy, too."

"The kids won't stop trying to convince us to get another dog," Spencer moaned. "I think we're hoping to change their minds with a hamster, if anything."

When they finished eating, they moved to the cantina, where Heather decided to autonomously mix drinks at the crowded bar. Spencer danced the Selvadoradian rhumba in the courtyard while she talked Omiscan mythology with the locals. She was an expert in Selvadoradian customs after all her time spent in the temples and among the people, and she never tired of talking about the secrets of Selvadorada's past.

Their night continued until Heather began to feel feverish and fatigued again. Though the antidote had seemed to work, the women didn't want to take any chances and called it a night.

As long as Heather was feeling well enough, they had a temple to explore before returning home. ->

<- Previous Chapter | Gen 2 Start | Gen 2.1 Summary

Gen 1 Start | Gen 1 Summary

Landgraab Curse you say?! More on that, here, if you want to know more.

A massive shout out to @opalsimmer and @berrysims-lp, whose sims Lucia, Silas, Neve, and Terrell first saw this medallion inside the Selvadorada museum! I recreated it in my game with @opalsimmer's help and intend to explore this mysterious Landgraab/Goth lore. (Uncovering some family secrets, of course!)

And thank you @oimygiblets for letting me make Calivia Forever canon even though your story takes place about three decades before mine!! And @opalsimmer and @matchalovertrait for naming Heather's video game! 🙌🙌🙌

[et7432]

Not Without Permission

(Klaus Mikaelson)

(Klaus Mikaelson x Reader)

Summary: Elena and Damon leave (Y/N) behind at the last untouched safehouse in Mystic Falls, the one place where the Originals can't just waltz in. It's a temporary peace, and they need her to stay put while they go after an ancient artifact that could change everything. Before they go, they make it crystal clear—no one gets inside, no matter what. The stakes are too high. But when a familiar, dangerous face shows up at the door—Klaus Mikaelson himself—(Y/N)’s calm is about to be tested. Charming, persuasive, and never without a few tricks up his sleeve, Klaus doesn’t take no for an answer. Will she keep the door locked, or will the deadly allure of the Original hybrid be enough to crack her resolve?

I pouted quietly, as I watched Damon and Elena leaving without me. It was my way of masking the yearning for adventure that I couldn't join in on.

"Listen carefully. Your house is the only place in town that the Originals cannot enter. No one can enter without an invitation, no exceptions - not even if someone is bleeding on your doorstep," Damon warns.

"I understand, Damon. Safe haven, magical barrier, invite-only."

Elena struggled with another duffel bag and hauled it to Damon's car trunk.

"It's true, (y/n). We can't risk it."

"Then let me come with you." I walked down the porch steps. "I've been researching those artifacts for weeks. I could be of assistance-"

"No." Elena slammed the trunk. "You need to stay here where it's safe. Plus, don't you have that history report about the 1920s due?"

"Seriously? You're using homework as an excuse while you're out hunting for ancient magical objects?"

"I'd rather do homework than hunt for ancient magical objects that could get you killed," Damon called out as he climbed into the driver's seat.

Elena gave me a quick hug. "We'll be back before you know it."

I watched them get inside the car, frustration boiling within me. The engine roared to life, and Damon rolled down his window.

"Remember - don't open the door for anyone!" His voice carried across the lawn.

"Of course, dad!" I replied sarcastically, putting all my teenage angst into those three words.

The car disappeared down the street, leaving me alone on my supposedly safe front lawn, feeling like a useless researcher stuck in some supernatural time-out.

The desk lamp cast a harsh glow across my laptop screen. The cursor blinked against the white document - mocking me with its steady rhythm. Only my name and the date stared back: "(y/n) Matthews, October 15th."

The cicadas droned outside my window, their endless chirping a symphony of late-night procrastination. I drummed my fingers against the desk, scrolling through my research notes for the thousandth time. Prohibition. Speakeasies. The Jazz Age. My brain refused to string two coherent sentences together about any of it.

I glanced at my phone. 9:47 PM. No messages from Elena or Damon.

"The 1920s represented a period of..." I typed, then deleted it. Too generic.

"In the wake of World War I..." Backspace, backspace, backspace.

The cicadas grew louder, their sound bleeding through my closed window. I pushed back from my desk and paced the room, my sock-covered feet silent against the hardwood floor. My history textbook lay open on the bed, its pages filled with black and white photos of flappers and Model T's.

"This would be so much easier if I could just interview an actual person who lived through it," I muttered, throwing myself back into my desk chair. The leather creaked under my weight. "But no - stay home, (y/n). Do your homework, (y/n). Do the responsible thing, (y/n). Don't get killed by thousand-year-old vampires, (y/n)."

The flashing line on my screen taunted me. I couldn't help imagining what adventures Elena and Damon were having - undoubtedly more exciting than watching an empty screen mock my progress.

I slumped forward, letting my brow make contact with the smooth desktop surface. Overhead, my study light buzzed softly, a constant electrical hum that matched my brain's static.

The peaceful stillness of the night shattered as three sharp knocks echoed through the house. My heart pounded in my chest.

More knocks followed, each one deliberate and measured. I knew it wasn't Damon's impatient pounding or someone in need of help.

I descended the stairs cautiously, avoiding the creaky spots I had memorized long ago. The atrium light cast eerie shadows across the hardwood floor.

"Who is it?" I called out, trying to mask the uncertainty in my voice.

"Good evening," came a refined voice from beyond the door. "Forgive the late hour, but I'm searching for Elena Gilbert. I was told she might be here."

As soon as I heard his words, the hair on my neck stood on end and a shiver ran down my spine. I immediately recognized that voice.

“Well, she’s not here,” I said firmly, glad my voice didn’t waver. "And even if she was, she wouldn't want to talk to a vampire like you."

The man's chuckle turned into a low growl. "You have no idea what you're talking about," he hissed through clenched teeth.

"I know who you are." I stepped back from the door, though the barrier spell made the distance unnecessary. "And I know you can't come in."

A low chuckle drifted through the wood. "Clever girl. Elena mentioned you. Haven't I seen you before a few times? - the studious one, always with her nose in a book. Tell me, what are you reading these days?"

"Nothing that would interest you." My fingers gripped the banister behind me, steadying my shaking legs.

"On the contrary, I find human persistence fascinating. The way you dig through dusty tomes and piece together fragments of the past..." His voice moved along the porch, closer to the window. "Speaking of the past, I hear you're writing about the 1920s. I could tell you stories that would make your paper absolutely..." A tap against the wooden door. "Riveting."

My throat went dry as I realized the truth - he had been alive during those times. He probably danced in speakeasies and roamed the gas-lit streets. But how did he know about my writing? Was he watching me earlier, lurking and listening to my conversation with Elena and Damon?

"I have no interest in your stories," I said, trying to keep him talking. I knew Elena would want to know that he was back in town, but my phone was upstairs on my desk, out of reach.

"No? Shame. I particularly enjoyed Chicago during Prohibition. The music, the fashion... the absolute lawlessness of it all. Your textbooks couldn't possibly capture the true spirit of the era."

Each word dripped with casual menace, reminding me of every story I'd heard about his victims. The countless lives he'd ended with that same conversational tone.

"Why are you really here?" I forced steel into my voice, channeling Elena's courage.

"Direct. I like that." Another tap, this time back at the door. "Very well. Since Elena's not answering her phone, perhaps you could pass along a message?"

My hand trembled over the doorknob. Every survival instinct screamed to run upstairs, but a deeper part of me knew - if Klaus wanted to deliver a message, he'd find a way. At least the barrier spell would protect me.

I twisted the knob and pulled the door open.

Klaus stood on my porch, hands clasped behind his back. The porch light caught the angles of his face, casting shadows that made him look more a statue than man. His lips curved into a smile that didn't reach his eyes.

"Brave little thing, aren't you?" He cocked his head. "Most humans who know what I am wouldn't dare."

I rested on the door frame. "The barrier spell works both ways. You can't get in, and I can't accidentally step out."

"Clever too." He took a single step closer, stopping just short of the invisible line. "Though I must say, opening doors to monsters - even with magical protection - shows questionable judgment."

"You said you had a message." I lifted my chin, fighting to keep my voice steady.

"Indeed." His eyes locked onto mine, and I fought the urge to look away. "But now I'm far more intrigued by you. Standing here, trembling yet defiant. Tell me, what makes someone choose to face their fears instead of hiding from them?"

"Maybe I'm tired of hiding." The words spilled out before I could stop them. "Maybe I'm tired of being the one left behind to stay safe while my friends risk their lives."

Klaus's smile widened, showing teeth. "Now that's honesty I can appreciate."

I swallowed hard, regretting my outburst. Every story I'd heard about Klaus started with someone letting their guard down, sharing too much.

"The message." I squared my shoulders. "What do you want me to tell Elena?"

"Straight to business?" He traced a finger along the door frame, stopping at the barrier's edge. "And here I thought we were having such a lovely chat about your academic pursuits."

"It's late, and I have homework to finish."

"Ah yes, your paper." His hand dropped to his side. "Though I suspect your mind's no longer on dance halls and bootleggers."

"Klaus." I forced myself to sound more direct. "The message?"

His expression shifted, playfulness vanishing like smoke. "Tell her I found what we discussed in Chicago. The item she's searching for? It's not what she thinks. And if she continues down this path..." He leaned forward, close enough that I could see flecks of gold in his eyes. "Well, let's just say some treasures are better left buried."

"That's cryptic, even for you."

"Consider it a courtesy warning. I do so hate to see wasted potential." He stepped back, adjusting his jacket cuffs. "Whether that potential belongs to Elena or yourself remains to be seen."

Goosebumps appeared on my skin from his words. "I'll tell her."

"My thanks for being such a reliable messenger bird." He gave a slight bow and turned his back to me walking away.

Klaus's silhouette started blending into the dimness of nightfall along the asphalt street, an impulsive need shot up my spine making my heart hammer against its cage; an acknowledgement of shared knowledge perhaps? Against all better judgement and advice whispering urgently for silence in my ear, I called out to him,

"Klaus!"

"Wait." As I called out his name, Klaus froze in place, his body still and tense as if carved from a block of cold, white marble. His face revealed a struggle, with furrowed brows and clenched jaw as he wrestled with conflicting emotions.

Finally, he took a deep breath and turned on his heel, his determined steps leading him back to my home.

The sound of his shoes crunching against the gravel path echoed through the quiet evening air as he strode purposefully towards me. Klaus was back on my porch as close to me as he could get this time without touching the invisible barrier.

"Yes?" His tone was casual, but his expression remained unreadable as he took in my call. Curiosity laced his low baritone voice. Despite the tension in his posture, he exuded a sense of grace and anticipation with a slight turn of his head and a raised eyebrow.

"I was wondering... if you could tell me about the 1920s?" I gesture helplessly. "But you'd have to stay on the porch, obviously."

His lips curved into an amused smile. "Curiosity wins over caution? How delightfully human."

"You can sit." I backed away from the door. "Let me just-"

I darted to the living room, dragging one of the heavy wooden chairs from our dining set. Its legs scraped across the floor as I pushed it through the doorway, over the threshold.

Klaus caught the chair with one hand, positioning it with casual grace. "Such hospitality."

"Can I get you something to drink?" My heart hammered against my ribs. "Not... I mean, obviously not blood, but..."

"Scotch, if you have it." He settled into the chair. "Your father keeps a decent collection, as I can tell."

I froze. "How did you-"

"The cabinet right at the end of the hallway," He looked straight ahead. "I make it my business to know these things."

I found myself walking to our alcohol cabinet, hands shaking as I reached for the crystal decanter. The amber liquid caught the lamplight as I poured a generous measure into a glass.

When I returned, Klaus looked almost relaxed and at ease I had never seen him this way before. I felt ridiculous but I couldn’t take any chances with the untamable original. I quickly but the glass down on the ground and grabbed an umbrella by the front door using it to push the glass past the barrier.

“Really love? A bit overly cautious?”he accepted the scotch leaning down picking up the glass.

“I don’t think it’s possible for someone to be too cautious around you Klaus,” I rolled my eyes.

I paused in disbelief as the reality set in that an old vampire let alone an original was willing to assist me with my school paper. "Hold on, I need to grab a few things," I mumbled under my breath before quickly climbing the stairs to retrieve my laptop and phone.

I also snatched a thick blanket, anticipating the chilly air outside at this time of night.

Making my way back down the stairs, I bundled myself in the warm blanket and settled in the doorway, tucking my legs under for added coziness. With my laptop balanced on my lap, I turned to face him.

He sat across from me with a playful smile on his face, his words laced with flirtatiousness. "You are a most intriguing creature," he declared, his dark eyes sparkling mischievously.

My gaze traveled over his handsome features, admiring every detail - from the sharp angle of his jaw to the way his hair fell across his forehead.

Feeling a blush spread across my cheeks, I cleared my throat nervously. "Sh-should we get started?" I stammered.

"By all means," Klaus responded, raising his glass in a small toast before taking a sip of the scotch. "But where would you like to start? The Roaring Twenties were quite an eventful decade, after all."

I chewed at my bottom lip momentarily, scanning the information I had already collected on my screen. "Gangsters and speakeasies," I finally said. "Prohibition and the rise of organized crime."

His mouth quivered upwards slightly into a smile. "A fascinating period indeed." He leaned back in his chair, looking every inch the relaxed gentleman. Yet, there was an ominous stillness about him that contradicted his comfortable appearance.

He began to speak, describing the decadence and vibrancy of the 1920s with a vividness that only someone who lived through it could possess. His stories were filled with tales of moonshine and jazz, of raucous parties and hushed backroom deals.

As he spun his colourful narratives, I found myself increasingly drawn in by his storytelling, my homework temporarily forgotten. His voice wove a tapestry of the past so tangible that I felt as though I could almost touch it.

"There was this feeling in the air," he tried to explain with a far-off look in his eyes. "A desperation...a recklessness. It was as if everyone knew they were dancing on the edge of a cliff - but they were too caught up in their own enjoyment to care."

Then he shifted gears and tales of extravagance turned grimmer as he began narrating about the violent underbelly of the age - amoral gangsters with Tommy guns ruling cityscapes through fear and intimidation, corruption permeating every layer of society.

His violent accounts of the past made my blood run cold reminding me exactly who – or rather 'what' – Klaus really was - an ancient supernatural creature capable of unspeakable horrors, who had lived through centuries of human history, who had seen - no, done - the very worst humanity had to offer.

Yet, for all that he was and all that I knew him to be, in that moment, as he sat back in that old wooden chair recounting a bygone era with an almost nostalgic air about him – Klaus seemed startlingly human.

Hours passed and the moon climbed higher in the sky. The cold crept into my bones, stiffening my fingers against the keyboard. But I had too many questions and Klaus seemed more than willing to answer them.

A sense of camaraderie began to settle between us, one that made me forget for a few minutes about the inconceivable dangers associated with his kind. The night felt less threatening with Klaus’ presence - his tales from the past bridging the divide as we sat together under the chilling autumn wind sharing stories – his so supernaturally old and mine so humanly young.

As the night began to fade, a tinge of sadness crept into my heart, knowing that this evening was coming to an end. The weight of reality pressed down on me as I faced Klaus. His striking eyes, glowing like liquid gold in the dim light, were fixated on me once again. His eyes held a vast depth of knowledge, and for a moment, I was entranced by their mysteries.

"Is there anything else you'd like to know?" he asked, finishing the last sip of his scotch.

My eyes still locked onto his and I shook my head slowly, a soft smile playing on my lips. More than anything, I wanted to indulge in this moment just a bit longer.

"No," I replied, fingers absentmindedly tracing the edges of my laptop. "That...that's enough for now."

He chuckled softly, draining the last remnants of the amber liquid from his glass and placing it softly on the porch floor. Rising up from the chair, he stretched subtly, the muscles rippling under his attire creating a muscular silhouette against the glow of the approaching dawn.

"Very well then," he said, stepping towards me. He extended his hand to help me up from the cold wooden floor. As I reached out to accept it, a spark seemed to dart between us, potent and electrifying. I recoiled my hand before grabbing his realizing that he could pull me out from the protective barrier. I saw him frown for a moment but he recovered quickly as if it didn’t bother him.

“I should leave now, little creature,” he says almost endearingly.

"Wait." I scrambled to get him to stay in some way a little longer. "What about the message for Elena?"

"Ah yes." He paused at the edge of the porch steps. "Don’t worry your pretty mind about Elena’s business.”

"You're not going to explain what you meant about the item she's searching for?"

"Some discoveries are best made firsthand." He turned back, shadows playing across his features. "Besides, I've given you plenty to work with - both for your paper and for Elena."

My fingers clutched the laptop tighter. "Why help me at all?"

"Perhaps I enjoy nurturing young minds." His voice carried back through the darkness. "Or perhaps I simply appreciate anyone willing to look beyond the surface of history's official narrative."

My lips parted, ready to speak, but before I could even form a word, Klaus had vanished into thin air without uttering a simple 'goodbye'. The absurdity of the situation made me laugh, despite everything that had just transpired. I chuckled softly under my breath as I stood alone staring out at the vacant street from my front door. 

I remained motionless for a while, hearing the cicadas pick up their song again, questioning whether the strange meeting had been real.

His empty scotch glass remained on the porch, catching moonlight like a diamond in the rough. I stared at it, mind racing through every detail of our conversation. Klaus's words about speakeasies, the hidden rooms, the secrets, crimes - they painted a vivid picture of the 1920s . But something nagged at me.

I pulled my phone out and opened my messages to Elena.

"Klaus was here. Said he found 'the item' you were looking for claims it's not what you think. Warning you about buried treasures?" My thumb hit over the send button.

The response came seconds later: "WHAT? Are you okay? Stay inside!"

"I'm fine. He couldn't cross the threshold." I glanced at the empty chair. "Elena, what's this item he mentioned?"

"Don't worry about that. We're turning around and heading back home now."

"It's late, I'm safe. He's gone." I looked at my laptop proud of the notes I'd taken. I set it aside on a table by the front door.

Elena's response buzzed through. "Be safe. We'll talk in a little bit. Lock everything."

"I will. Don't worry so much." I picked up the blanket ready to close the door. 

But the empty scotch glass still sat on the porch I couldn't resist the urge to clean up.

"I really should bring that inside," I thought to myself, stepping over the threshold to grab it.

My fingers had barely closed around the glass when the air shifted. A rush of movement slammed me back against the house wall, knocking the breath from my lungs. Klaus's hands pressed on either side of my head, caging me in.

"Careful, love." His breath ghosted across my cheek. "Crossing thresholds can be dangerous business."

My heart thundered against my ribs. "You were waiting."

"Watching." His eyes traced my face with an intensity that made my skin prickle. "To see if temptation would overpower your better judgment once more."

"I just wanted the glass-" My voice sounded weak even to my own ears.

"Fascinating." His thumb traced along my jawline, the touch feather-light yet electric. "Your heart's racing, but you're not trying to run."

I pressed my palms flat against the wall behind me, desperate for something solid to ground me. "Maybe I know it wouldn't make a difference."

"Oh, it would make all the difference." Klaus's other hand slid down to rest at the curve of my neck, his fingers cool against my pulse point. "The chase always adds such... excitement."

"Is that what this is to you? A game?"

"Life's a game, love. The trick is knowing which pieces to move." His thumb brushed across my bottom lip, and my breath caught. "And when to take risks."

The wind rustled through the trees, carrying the sharp scent of autumn leaves. Klaus's body blocked most of the porch light now, casting us both in shadow.

He spoke softly, his accent flowing over the words like smooth silk.

"What fascinates you more - the monster or the man?"

"I-" The word stuck in my throat as his fingers traced patterns on my skin. "Both. Neither. I don't know."

"Now that's honesty." He shifted closer, until barely a breath separated us. "Most humans choose one or the other. They either crave the darkness or desperately seek the light." His nose skimmed along my cheek. "But you... you see both, don't you? The artist and the killer. The teacher and the terror."

One of my hands found their way to his chest, but I couldn't tell if I meant to push him away or pull him closer. The fabric of his jacket was soft under my fingertips, hiding the immortal strength beneath.

My head was spinning, my thoughts scattered as Klaus's proximity overwhelmed me. I wanted to push him away, to run inside and lock the door behind me. But at the same time, I couldn't deny that a part of me was drawn to him, intrigued by his words and his touch.

"You shouldn't be here," I managed to say, my voice trembling.

Klaus's lips curved into a predatory smile. "But I am."

I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself. "Why? Why do you keep coming back?"

He leaned in even closer, his lips brushing against my ear. "Because you intrigue me."

I shivered at the feeling of his warm breath on my skin. "What do you want from me?"

"What do I want?" He pulled back slightly, studying my face with those piercing blue eyes. "I want to show you what real passion is, love. To open your eyes to a world beyond your mundane existence."

I couldn't deny the spark of curiosity that flickered within me at his words. But I refused to give in so easily.

"I know what passion is," I said stubbornly.

"Do you? Has anyone ever made your heart race like this?" Klaus's hand trailed down my neck and over my chest before resting on my waist.

I swallowed hard as he leaned in again, our faces so close that our noses were almost touching.

"I can make you feel things you've never felt before," he whispered against my lips.

His words sent a shiver down my spine, but I couldn't let myself succumb to him just yet.

"Who says I want that?" I challenged, trying not to let his nearness cloud my judgment.

"You do." His voice was low and confident. "You crave excitement and danger just as much as you fear it."

I wanted to deny it, but deep down I knew he was right. There was a part of me that longed for something more, something beyond the endless cycle of work, eat, and sleep.

"I'm not like you," I insisted, searching his eyes for some grain of understanding. Yet all I saw were galaxies of blue teasing me with unparalleled enigma.

His laughter echoed through the night, as soft and alluring as forbidden velvet. "Oh darling, nobody said you had to be." The fingers at my waist tightened slightly, pulling me inescapably closer. "All you need to be is... open."

"Open to what?" I whispered, my voice quivering, my heart hammered wildly against my chest.

His lips crashed into mine, fierce and demanding, with a passion that spoke of centuries of longing. The glass slipped from my trembling fingers, shattering on the wooden planks beneath us. My hands found his jacket lapels, pulling him closer as the kiss deepened, my fingers curling into the expensive fabric. His fingers tangled in my hair, tilting my head back as his mouth moved against mine with desperate intensity, every touch igniting fire beneath my skin. My heart thundered against my ribs, matching the fierce rhythm of his immortal strength pressing against me. I could feel centuries of loneliness and desire in the way he held me, his touch alternating between gentle reverence and possessive need. The wooden porch railing pressed into my back, grounding me in this moment that felt suspended between reality and dream.

His hand slid down my spine, leaving trails of fire in its wake, each touch a dangerous promise that made me shiver. I arched into him, gasping as his teeth grazed my lower lip, the gesture both tender and predatory. The rough wood siding pressed against my back, splinters catching at my sweater, a stark reminder of reality that did nothing to break the spell of his presence.

"Such sweet surrender," Klaus breathed against my mouth, his accent thicker with desire. His stubble scraped my skin as he traced kisses along my jaw, each one deliberate and claiming. "And here I thought you were the cautious one, love."

My fingers clutched his shoulders, seeking anchor in a storm of sensation, feeling the immortal strength beneath his expensive jacket. "I am cautious."

"Evidently not." His laugh vibrated against my throat, dark and rich like aged whiskey. "Though I must admit, your recklessness is... intoxicating."

The word snapped something in my brain, cutting through the haze of desire like a knife. Intoxicating. Dangerous. Deadly. Every warning Elena had ever given me about Klaus crashed back like a tidal wave - stories of his cruelty, his manipulation, the trail of broken bodies he'd left across centuries.

"Wait." I pressed my palms against his chest, feeling his heart beat slow and steady beneath my hands. "Stop."

To my surprise, he did. Klaus pulled back just enough to meet my gaze, his eyes dark with hunger that wasn't entirely vampiric, predatory desire written in every line of his immortal face. "Having second thoughts?"

"I'm having all the thoughts." My voice shook, betraying the chaos in my mind. "Every single one I should have had before I stepped outside this threshold. Every warning bell that should have rung hours ago."

"And yet here you are." His thumb traced circles on my hip, each movement sending shivers down my spine. "Making choices that would terrify your friends. Defying every careful warning they've whispered behind closed doors."

"They'd be right to be terrified." I swallowed hard, feeling the weight of my own recklessness. "You're..."

"A monster?" His smile held no warmth, just centuries of dark promises. "We've established that love. Multiple times tonight. Or have you forgotten our earlier conversations?"

"No, you're..." I struggled to form coherent thoughts with him still pressed against me, his presence overwhelming every sense. The scent of aged whiskey and leather clouded my mind, making it impossible to think straight. "You're Klaus. You don't do this - whatever this is. You have schemes and plans and..." I drew in a shaky breath, acutely aware of how his touch seemed to burn through the thin fabric of my shirt. "You don't get distracted like this. You're always ten steps ahead of everyone else."

"Perhaps this is part of a scheme." His fingers skimmed up my side, leaving trails of fire in their wake. The predatory gleam in his eyes made my heart stutter. "Or perhaps you've simply caught my interest. A thousand years on this earth, and still you manage to surprise me."

"That might be worse." My voice came out barely above a whisper, heavy with the weight of what those words could mean. The thought of being truly interesting to Klaus Mikaelson was more terrifying than any calculated plot.

His laugh was genuine this time. "Smart girl." He stepped back, leaving me cold in the autumn air. "Though not quite smart enough to stay inside, it seems."

I wrapped my arms around myself, looking down at the shattered glass as I shifted uncomfortably on the porch. "You orchestrated this whole thing." The realization settled like lead in my stomach.

"The history lesson? Yes. The kiss?" His eyes glinted dangerously in the porch light pleased. "That was all you, love. Crossing thresholds, chasing after crystal glasses... Such impulsive decisions."

"You could have just taken the glass with you when you left." Even to my own ears, the argument sounded weak, defensive.

"And miss this delightful demonstration of poor judgment?" Klaus brushed a strand of hair from my face, his fingers lingering a moment too long against my cheek. "Where would be the fun in that?"

My phone buzzed insistently in my pocket - probably Elena again, wondering why I wasn't responding. Klaus's eyes flickered down to the sound, a calculating expression crossing his features.

"You should answer that. Your friends are quite protective." He took another step back. "Though I doubt they'd approve of tonight's... extracurricular activities."

"Don't." Heat flooded my cheeks as my hand instinctively touched my still-tingling lips. "This was a mistake."

"Was it?" He crouched down, picking up a large shard of broken crystal, his movements deliberately slow and graceful. "Seems more like an education to me. History, chemistry..." The glass caught moonlight as he turned it between his fingers, creating dancing patterns on the porch walls. "A practical lesson in crossing lines."

My phone buzzed again, the vibration seeming to echo in the tense silence between us. Klaus straightened back up to his full height.

"Your friends are getting impatient." Klaus stepped closer, his boots crunching over broken glass. "Though I must say, their timing leaves much to be desired."

I backed up against the door, heart pounding. "I should go inside."

"Should you?" His fingers traced the invisible barrier at the threshold. "We both know that's not what you want."

"What I want isn't always what's best for me."

"Now that's where you're wrong, love." Klaus's eyes locked with mine, intense and magnetic. His gaze held centuries of dark promises, sending shivers down my spine. "Sometimes the most dangerous choices yield the sweetest rewards. Why deny yourself?"

"Because I actually want to stay alive?" My wavering voice revealed my hesitation.

"No." His smile turned predatory, revealing just a hint of fang. "You're curious. Drawn to the darkness, even as you pretend to fear it." He gestured at the door behind me, his rings catching the porch light. "A couple of words, (y/n). That's all it would take. Invite me in."

Heat flooded my cheeks, and I gripped the door knob. "So you can what? Add me to your list of conquests?"

"So we can explore this... chemistry between us." His accent wrapped around the words like silk, each syllable a caress. "Don't pretend you haven't felt it building all evening. The way your heart races when I'm near, how your breath catches at my touch." His words hit too close to home, making my pulse stutter traitorously.

"Klaus..." The name came out as barely more than a whisper.

"Say yes." His hand hovered near my face, not quite touching, but I could feel the heat radiating from his skin. "Give in to what we both want."

My phone buzzed a third time, insistent and grounding. The familiar vibration cut through the spell he was weaving around me. I closed my eyes, fighting against the pull of his presence. "I can't."

"Can't?" His voice carried an edge of danger. "Or won't?"

"Both." I gripped the doorframe harder, using the rough wood to anchor myself. "My friends trust me. I won't betray that."

"Loyalty." Klaus spat the word like poison. "Such a human weakness." His fingers traced the invisible barrier again, testing its limits. "And yet, it's precisely that quality which makes you..." He paused, searching for the right word. "Fascinating."

"I'm not fascinating." The words came out sharper than intended. "I'm just trying to survive in a world that keeps getting more complicated by the day."

"You underestimate yourself." His hand dropped to his side. "Most humans would have slammed the door in my face hours ago. But you..." His eyes raked over me, intense and calculating. "You stayed. Listened. Learned."

"Maybe I just needed help with my history paper."

"We both know that's not true." Klaus stepped back, his boots crunching over broken glass. "You're drawn to power, to knowledge. To danger." He smiled, all predator. "To me."

My phone buzzed again, the sound almost angry now. Klaus's eyes flickered to my pocket.

"Answer it." He gestured dismissively. "Before they send a search party."

"They might anyway." I pulled the phone out with trembling fingers. "Elena's not exactly the trusting type these days."

"Can you blame her?" Klaus's eyes glinted with dark amusement. "After everything that's happened in this town, trust becomes quite the precious commodity."

The screen lit up my face as I checked the messages. Four texts from Elena, each more worried than the last.

"Tell me something." I looked up from the phone. "Was any of this real? The history lessons, the stories?"

"Every word." Klaus picked up another shard of glass, turning it in the moonlight. "Though I admit, my motivations weren't entirely... academic."

"You could have just asked me out like a normal person."

His laugh echoed across the porch. "Normal? Love, I haven't been normal for a thousand years." He kicked the glass shards. "Besides, where's the intrigue in that?"

My phone buzzed again. Elena's name flashed across the screen, this time with a call.

"You should answer that." Klaus nodded toward the phone. "Your friend's persistence is admirable, if somewhat inconvenient."

I swiped to accept the call, keeping my eyes on Klaus. "Elena?"

"(y/n)! Thank god. Are you okay? Why weren't you answering?"

Klaus's smirk widened at Elena's panicked tone. He mouthed 'tell her' with a challenging raise of his eyebrow.

"I'm fine." I turned away from his taunting expression. "Just got caught up in my history paper. Lost track of time."

"You're sure everything's alright?"

"Perfectly fine." The lie tasted bitter on my still-tingling lips. "I'll see you tomorrow at school."

Klaus's low chuckle carried across the porch as I ended the call. "Such a convincing liar. I'm almost impressed."

"Don't." I slipped the phone back into my pocket. "This doesn't change anything."

"No?" He crossed the distance between us in two fluid steps. "Then why lie to your dear friend Elena? Why not tell her I'm still here?"

My back pressed against the door frame as he leaned in, his breath ghosting across my cheek. The scent of whiskey and leather overwhelmed my senses.

"Because she'd try to save me." The words came out before I could stop them.

"And you don't want to be saved." His fingers traced the curve of my jaw. "Say it, love. Invite me in."His words hung in the air between us, heavy with promise and danger.

His touch left fire in its wake, each caress stoking the flames higher. My skin felt too tight, too sensitive, every brush of his fingers sending sparks through my nervous system. The rough wood of the house wall dug into my back, the only anchor keeping me from drowning in sensation.

"Please..." The word escaped before I could stop it, breathy and desperate.

"Please what?" His tone is dangerous and seductive. His thumb traced my bottom lip, pressing lightly. "Be specific, love."

Each feather light touch from his hand felt like a jolt of electricity, sending shivers down my spine and causing my muscles to tense in anticipation.

Each circle he traced made me arch closer, seeking more contact.

"I..." The words tangled in my throat as his lips found that spot behind my ear that made my knees weak. "God, Klaus..."

"Not quite the invitation I'm looking for." His teeth grazed my skin, drawing a gasp from my lips. "Try again."

The rational part of my brain screamed warnings, but it was drowning in a sea of want. His hands, his mouth, his voice - everything about him demanded surrender. And I wanted to give in, wanted it with an intensity that frightened me.

"Come..." My voice shook as his fingers tangled in my hair.

He chuckled deeply, his hot breath rolling down my neck. "Come what, love?" His voice was a soft purr, dangerously coercive. He was playing with me and we both knew it.

"Come...in." I finally managed, the words barely making their way past the lump in my throat. His lips drew into a triumphant smirk as he pulled back, meeting my gaze with an intense hunger in his eyes.

"That wasn't so hard, now was it?" He asked, his voice dripping with satisfaction.

Before I could respond, he swept me into his arms, crossing the threshold of my front door with an ease that should have alarmed me. Instead, a reckless thrill wound its way around my insides, replacing fear with something far more intoxicating.

“You are mine now,” he growls, slamming the door with a loud thud that emanated through the house. The weight of finality fills the room. It was a declaration and a warning, both rolled into one.

Everything had changed; nothing would ever go back to the way it once was.

[ender1821]

shinyduo/gempearl post-SL is sooo funny because before SL they were the typical "friends who like to do pranks with and against each other, partners in crime, really adorable sometimes" and then SL happened and they became OBSESSED with each other (really obvious from pearl's side since gem was more subtle) and innuendos started to appear left and right. now after WL they are not only obsessed they are also 10x times freakier and flirty. it's gem's fault a lot of the time but pearl enables it and digs herself into a deeper hole so she gets a wack too.

i am pleading to the sky for the fated shiny duo alliance to happen this year because 1) i am sure gem's possessiveness would get multiplied by 20 even if she tried to not show it and that'd be really fun + pearl would like it 2) their dynamic is so complex that they could be anything (codependent or healthy or possessive or die for each other or kill for each other or-) and 3) the aftermath of them teaming would be funny asf and the streams would be horrendous

thank you for coming to my ted talk 🙏

the freakier being in bold and italic is really getting to me for some reason lmao. anyway

you are right in the shift of them pre and post-SL, like, they are STILL giving cute partners in crime but also they’re. so. abnormal about each other??? thats not to say they weren’t flirty/making innuendos before the life series but god did all of that get worse after. also, it has kinda been shown how Gem is the one saying most of the questionable things, but Pearl definitely contributes a lot as well. lets not forget the pickles

of course we’re all manifesting for them to properly team up. its not even subtle at this point they both know that. the only things stopping it from happening really are luck and Gem’s homophobia (/j) cough. i mean. they would definitely get time to resolve what they failed to address back in WL if they’re allied together and can have time to talk. it could also make things worse but we’ll be seated either way. and then we’ll be questioning our existence again when the streams inevitably come

BUT. imo the alliance i really want is them + any other player. yep. i want a third wheel. it can literally be any other player because i think having someone else to affect/witness their dynamic is always entertaining, allows for exploration of new potentially fun dynamics between Pearl/Gem and another player while still offering plenty of opportunity for them to be. weird (/aff), and generally just gives the team a new spin instead of just Murder Camel 2.0. like. i’ve put way too much thought into this so there’s a whole ramble under cut about some of the potential trios and why i think they could be cool for a new life series

Jimmy: originally my life series s6 team predictions was pearl/gem/jimmy </3 mainly out of wanting more pearl + jimmy interactions, but i think having gem there helps just keep the team together. i thought they would be a nice team for jimmy in terms of support (think the SL scene where jimmy finds out he’s not the first out and they’re the ones there cheering him on) but well. thankfully we still had bamboozlers… anyway gem’s ego will get even worse if she had this team, and don’t we all wanna see that

Lizzie: PLEASE. impossible minecraft sent me to the point of no return because now i’m BEGGING for more pearl/gem/lizzie interactions. please. the girlies. we just need more gem + lizzie interactions in the life series imo, and we’ve already seen what happens when pearl + lizzie are together. i can’t tell you for sure if i think any betrayal will happen in this team but it would be really funny if there was, mainly just so lizzie and gem can bicker while pearl is just. There like a sad puppy. it’s cool if there isn’t though, i can see them thriving straight to the finale. cmon. think of the yuri

Ren: hey. hey. remember that one ren stream? you know the one. the wedding. do you see where i’m getting at. do you see the dynamic. it’s so funny to me ok. and we haven’t even mentioned the times where ren has mixed them up. i think it would be a horrible time for him to have to deal with these two and that’s so entertaining. if i picked jimmy because i thought he would have a nice time then for ren it’s for the complete opposite reason. make him suffer with these weirdos

Martyn: HE is the one who’s going to make them suffer. HE will be the one to make it worse. and it will be hilarious. let the man get some form of revenge for them terrorising him back in SL. they’re going to be insufferable and it’s going to be great. you might as well start the “hump duo” counter now …also i may just have a personal preference of wanting to see more pearl + martyn and gem + martyn interactions

Cleo: i mean. cmon. this one doesn’t need that much explanation. the people want a pearl/gem/cleo team

Impulse: same as cleo— SOUP GROUP ASSEMBLE!!!

Etho: pearl + etho interactions are great. gem + etho interactions are great. boom. gem gets to bully them both, then they either make a really successful trap or perform the greatest fumble ever! i see nothing but wins here

BigB: nosy neighbours… what if we tried again… plus i’m pretty sure there was a temporary gem + bigb team in RL, so why not give them a whole season. i think it would be fun. it’d be interesting to see how this team shifts with bigb’s general play style in the life series. i wonder how the base(s?) would turn out

Mumbo: listen to me. they have the funniest opportunity here to fluster this man to the high heavens. think about SL ep 5. think about it

Scar: so like. remember that 2v1? yeah. crazy, right? no but okay i don’t think if they teamed up there would be that much more emphasis on the 2v1 after all that in WL, but there WOULD be good times. i know this deep in my heart. the pearl/gem/scar interactions would go crazy. i hope they go on a hunting spree

Joel: i think this one is the least likely (on account of the fact that pearl has teamed with him in SL, and then gem doing the same in WL) but there could be beautiful world where pearl and joel build an even bigger and better car and gem just watches and sighs

Scott: insert manic laughter here. Pearlescentmoon you are about to have the worst time of your life ever

[alacants]

okay c'mon you can't mention "darth carlitos" in the tags and not tell us more about it

ok i have consulted my collaborator and reconstructed most of this idea. and learned an important lesson about both hubris and note-taking.

so this is part of a broader fic idea known as "into the carlitosverse", where the night after the cincy meltdown, at the peak of sincaraz divorce era™, carlos gets a glimpse of other possible universes where it could, in fact, be worse. these come to him in order of increasing badness, with darth carlitos being the sixth and final vision.

(other universes cut for space reasons but available upon request. i wrote up all THOSE notes just fine, apparently.)

the divergence point is, what if jannik is the one to tell carlos he has. Feelings… and carlos who has internalized from his coach that you don't, you can't, do that on tour shoots him down in cold blood. (juanki premise repurposed wholesale from this fic.) which just like. totally crushes jannik. since getting the nerve to put himself out there was a huge deal that entailed facing up to personal fears about like, vulnerability and and what kind of a life he wanted to live as a tennis player and what he wanted to prioritize in the now vs the future, a very difficult existential struggle he managed to work though because he was so sure carlos would say yes. AND THEN.

(it's kerrigan/lowdermilk's say the word. just realized that.)

jannik then proceeds to completely fall apart from indian wells through wimbledon. gossip thrives on tour and now carlos has a reputation as kind of a dick! like. damn he was really leading sinner on huh. obviously the story grows in the telling lmao but it's undeniable that people like jack draper and the entire italian davis cup team have alcaraz on fucking notice. (ops had a lot of fun taking this to increasingly wild lengths like. darren's super worried about jannik, which trickles back through lleyton hewitt, and now alex de minaur is giving carlos side eye?? and katie backing up jack's story which tbh no one actually believed means the gossip spreads through the brits, too, etc, etc… you can guess where this ended up…)

as a result of jannik's mental collapse carlos' 2024 dominance is even more dominant than it was irl. and the more you win, the more people are going to look for reasons not to like you.

carlos obviously thrives around people! he wants to like them and to be liked by them! so. this sucks. and he kinda knows it's his own fault, but also… is it?? it's not FAIR. so like. fine! if no one likes him any more, fine! he's here to play tennis, not make friends. ← a blatant lie.

wimbledon: jannik goes out r1. carlos is REALLY on the shit list with matteo when they meet in the wimbledon semifinal. it's so bad that after the match matteo doesn't shake carlos' hand and like, holy SHIT. now not just the players' grapevine but also the public rumor mill goes into overdrive. are they beefing because carlos had a couple time violations that weren't called during the match? is it because of the lopsided 6-1, 6-3, 6-2 scoreline? or is it because of the rumor that's been floating around that carlos alcaraz is a player?? DID HE STEAL MATTEO'S GIRLFRIEND OMG

how quickly public opinion can curdle. the crushing guilt + generalized unhappiness + unfairness of it all means that carlitos starts going a little unhinged when things go wrong during matches. as in he starts smashing racquets. with increasing frequency. there's also a lot of yelling at his box. there's juanki looking increasingly more haggard as the season goes on. possibly ferru is called in to help at this point but carlitos doesn't listen to him. team morale is shit at the olympics and davis cup. carlos loses the olympic final to novak and nearly fires juanki (there but for the grace of ferru, etc). then, after jannik heroically pulls himself together and scrapes out like, 3000+ points from just the na/asian hard court swing to make the atp finals and thrashes everyone in his group to make the semifinal - he plays carlos. and then jannik wins that match. carlos feels something almost like relief, almost like desperation. he goes to the net, goes in for a hug... and jannik pulls back and very politely shakes his hand. and carlos does his cool down, media rounds, goes back to the hotel and fires juanki on the spot.

……………………and then he wakes up!

tbh i don't know how an actual fic would end, other than the affirmation that yeah things really COULD be worse… it was originally set after cincy because at the time of this convo that felt like the nadir of divorce era (olympic hangover, court meltdown, wada reveal, etc) but this setting is flexible and can be adjusted to accommodate whichever disappointment is freshest.

WAIT ok. i have it. post-ao qf, rumors are swirling about coach break-up. carlitos is visited by visions of the multiverse. he wakes up with this horrible sinking feeling that this is a sign maybe he DOES have to think about a new coach, bc the most important thing about his relationship with juanki has always been the off-court stuff but what if he ultimately has to choose between his coach and his personal happiness. he reluctantly pulls juanki aside for a talk and is like "so… about… my feelings… about jannik…." 

and juanki is like "uGH icb you're making me say this, i don't like it but [grits teeth]. since it's important to you then i. support. you."

and carlos bounds away more convinced than ever that some things are more important than court tactics and probably hits jannik up in dms. the end.

[realityinsuspense]

one step closer | chapter 4: day off

--summary: "me and him? in one apartment? yeah, right. nothing is going to happen" ~~ two strangers living together. not talking and just going about each other's lives. that was your plan. that's how you've always done things, and you've gone far doing so. so when you have to suddenly move into a new apartment with your new roommate, you expect almost nothing. almost.

--pairing: mingi x fem!reader

--genre: strangers to lovers, fluff, a little angst #mingi is cold and standoffish, #eventual mutal pining

--a/n: oh. my. god. hello to anyone still out there reading and happy 2025! this chapter has been a loooong time coming. had lots of life stuff going on, holidays, writers block, and overall perfectionism held me back from updating any sooner. as i re-read and proofread my work, i get quite tangled up in characterization and how i want the story to flow, which then holds me back because i suddenly want my work to be 100% perfect. but that in itself also holds me back from improving in general. thank you for your patience, and i ask for your grace as i navigate and continue to grow as a writer. thank you, love you, mwah! enjoy!! <3 (and again, there is a taglist, just let me know ^-^)

words: 6.8k

~

chapter 4: day off

12 years ago

The late spring air began to cool as the sun set, a light breeze kissing your skin. Summer was approaching. It was your favorite time of the year, and you usually couldn’t contain your excitement: longer days, vacation trips, and even something as simple as getting ice cream at the convenience store with your friends. You guys would hang out at the park nearby, sitting at the benches—laughing, talking. This summer was supposed to be special—your last summer break together with your junior high class. It was the last year before the start of all your high school days.

As the dusk settled in, you took that seat at the same park bench next to your best friend. Like you guys always did. But this time you were not laughing.

“You’re moving away?” You whispered almost to yourself, your eyes focused on the unwrapped ice cream cone in front of you.

You could feel Jongho’s gaze, but you were suddenly afraid to meet it. For the first time in your life, you were afraid to look at him. You didn’t want the news to be real.

“Yeah,” He said, turning to look at his own ice cream cone as well.

“In the middle of the school year?” You ask. It’s pointless; he’s already explained it, but you still wanted to try. He only nodded in response.

“Well… when are you gonna come back?” You murmur.

Jongho sighed heavily. “I don’t know if I will, or… I don’t know.”

Jongho was moving away with his family back to his father’s hometown. He was going to transfer to another school, and you and him were not going to finish high school together like you guys said you would.

You felt selfish for wanting to say he betrayed you. It’s not his fault. It’s for family, and family is important. You knew that. But it felt like your heart sank to the bottom of the floor after hearing the news. You grew up together. Jongho was your next door neighbor. He was your first best friend. And even your first crush.

“I can’t believe this…” You say softly.

“It’s at the end of the summer though, y/n,” He tries to comfort you. “We can still hang out like usual.”

“But still!” You exclaim, finally turning to him. You feel your eyes well with tears, and poor Jongho has this worried expression on his face. “What am I gonna do when you leave?”

Jongho then pulls you into a hug, and that tugs at your heart strings. You let yourself cry into his shoulder.

“I’ll still be your best friend even when I’m gone, okay?” He whispers, his voice shaky. You wonder if you crying is causing him to feel bad. Or that maybe he wants to cry too. It’s not like you’ll be the only one who will be missing him. He’ll miss you too.

“Promise?” You finally pull away.

“I promise.” Jongho smiles gently, and your heart flutters once more.

present day

“Someone take that pitcher away from him,” You hear Yeosang mutter to your left. “One glass of beer and he’s already gone.”

You chuckle and glance over at the other end of the table where San is talking a bit too loudly with other coworkers. They’re all smiles and laughs.

It was a different Friday night—a company dinner. This meant free food and free drinks. You down the last of the golden liquid in your glass.

You don’t usually drink often, so you decided to take this opportunity to let loose. It’s been a long week. Just like any other week, you suppose. But you felt that you haven’t had a real chance to just relax and have fun ever since you moved. It’s been nonstop stress and work. So why not? And if it has to be at the work dinner, then so be it. You were at least with your friends.

“Hey! Pass the pitcher over here too, don’t be selfish!” You project from your end of the table. San’s blushed out face is all smiles when he walks over with the pitcher of beer.

“Another drink already y/n?” San teases as he pours more into your glass. He turns to Yeosang. “And you?”

Yeosang shakes his head. “I think I’ll stop for now.” You take a small sip at first, then take deep gulps, the bitter taste burning your throat.

“Guys, just imagine this, but even better during my birthday party!” San says happily, then scurries off to the karaoke stage where your other coworkers have gathered and started singing. The music rings loudly in your ears.

Yeosang waves him off. “He keeps bringing that up. At this point I’m not gonna show up.”

You laugh in response. “He really is the life of the party.”

“And what about you?” Yeosang raises an eyebrow at you and glances at the already half drunken glass of beer. “You usually don’t drink this much at the company dinners.”

“Oh you know,” You chuckle sheepishly, slightly embarrassed at Yeosang’s observations. If there was someone that had the potential to become a detective, you’d swear it’d be him. “Just-” ”Let me guess,” He interjects. “Work. Life. Your roommate. Hectic isn’t it?” Bingo.

“You’re right,” You nod and finish the rest of your drink. “Just for tonight.”

“It’s okay, I’m not judging. Just worried, you know?” He says. You smile at his thoughtfulness and concern.

“Yeah,” You say, starting to feel a little buzzed. “I’m sorry I keep bringing him up. I… I feel like it’s all I talk about these days.. I swear I’m still interesting!” He laughs. “Don’t be sorry. I know roommates can be complicated. And maybe…he’s actually good guy or something.” Yeosang shrugs then takes a bite of some meat and rice.

“Maybe,” You say to yourself before you follow suit and take a bite of your food. Yeosang reaches for an unopened soju bottle sitting across from you, opens it, and proceeds to pour some into two shot glasses. “Really?”

Yeosang smiles and nods. You both raise your glasses. “Yup. To good guys! Cheers!”

You and Yeosang carry on your conversation amidst the loud conversation and music playing the background. You also chatted with some of your other coworkers who also joined in on your side of the table. This is kind of fun, actually. You decided you didn’t need to overthink anything in this moment.

After lots more rounds of meat and rice, alongside more beer and soju, you were stuffed. And you were definitely feeling the full effects of the alcohol. You did it. You reached your goal. As the night progressed, more people gave toasts and slurred speeches, and then it was finally time to go home.

It was nearly one in the morning, but the flashing lights on the street indicated that people were still out and about. The places closed late here, you noticed. San was completely wasted—slumped over Yeosang’s shoulders, trying his best to prop him up with his much smaller frame. The smaller one carrying the bigger one—it was a sight that made you giggle. After loudly expressing each other’s concern, Yeosang assured you they were going to be fine going home and that he’s done this a bunch of times. You also assured him that you’d be able to get home after his offer of sharing a cab. This part of the city was generally safe. And you, too, have done this before.

“Are you sure y/n?” Yeosang pressed. “It’s getting late.”

“It’s okay!” You urged. “It’s totally okay, I’m closer than you guys. He needs to get home asap.” You poked San’s shoulder, and Yeosang chuckled.

“Okay fine, but let me know when you get home!” Yeosang is already dragging San into a cab they managed to hail.

“You too!” You called out happily.

But then again, it’s been a long time since you’ve felt like this.

Feeling drunk felt so freeing, vulnerable, and scary at the same time. Your head was pounding, and your eyes were desperate to close. You were tired, but still so full of energy. You were aware of everything still, just…lighter. And now you were standing out alone, drunk in the night’s cold. Of course, taxis were to come and go, so you just stood at the edge of the sidewalk waiting for one, with your arms wrapped around yourself. Everything felt so heavy, and you didn’t want to move. You swear you could feel your heart thumping violently against your chest. Where the hell are those taxis?

“y/n?” You hear a soft voice behind you. Your first instinct of fear runs through you and you turn around quickly. A couple of feet away, stands someone you swear you’ve met before.

Someone…

“y/n,” He breathes. “It is really you.”

You try your best to concentrate, but your drunken mind is betraying you. You want to go home suddenly.

“Hi…” You whisper out. It was him…

Choi Jongho.

Was it really?

Your old friend.

Is this a dream? What is he doing here? What’s happening? Am I this drunk? Is this really him? What’s he doing here?

Your head was spinning with all these questions, and it didn’t help that you were drunk. You didn’t know what to do—what to feel.

He approached you gingerly, and you unconsciously recoiled.

“I.. I..” I want to go home.

“Are you going home? Let’s get you a taxi.” Jongho says.

“What are you doing here?” You blurt out. You wanted to believe that this was just an illusion. How could he possibly be here right now? And to face you so upfront like this? After everything….

“It’s a long story,” He sighs locking eyes with you, and smiles weakly. “Are you okay?” His face turns into an expression of genuine concern.

You can feel them.

Tears.

They’re coming, and you feel that burning sensation building up in your throat whenever you start crying. But you suppress it and swallow hard.

You hear a few cars pass by, and you glance back to the street. Finally. You quickly gesture for it.

The taxi slowly approaches the edge of the sidewalk where you stand, and you mentally thank the driver for coming at such a perfect time. You wanted to go home. You needed to go home. Away from this.

“I have to go.” You whisper, unsure if he’d heard you or not. You swiftly step into the vehicle, give your address to the driver, and catch one last glance at Jongho’s concerned expression before driving away.

This isn’t real. He’s not actually here. I’m drunk.

I’m drunk.

The ride back home was quick, and you used your remaining energy to thank and pay the driver. Getting up into the elevator required some deep breaths, as you were getting dizzier and dizzier—and all the more nauseous. Great.

“Too…drunk…” You mumble to yourself as you stumble into your apartment. You instinctively drop your belongings onto the floor and quickly make your way to the bathroom. You felt horrible. Maybe this was why you haven’t drank in so long…

That nauseousness caught up to you once you finally reached it, where you crouched and hunched over the toilet bowl, letting it all out. I drank way too much.

Now sitting on the floor, you leaned back against the bathtub to catch your breath. In that brief moment of stillness, your mind tugged at you to move. You were suddenly hyper aware of your physicality and environment. You knew you had makeup to remove, teeth to brush, and pajamas to get into. You had to stand up and get into your bed. You needed to clean yourself up. And your brain managed to give you a lovely reminder that you didn’t live alone. Just the thought of Mingi seeing this entire mess made you fearful. But your body betrayed you. You couldn’t bring yourself to move.

Your head was still pounding so you just shut your eyes and decided to give yourself a few moments. 5 minutes. In 5 minutes, I’ll get up.

The image of seeing Jongho tonight popped into your mind once more. His voice rang in your ears.

Y/n, it is really you.

It’s a long story. Are you okay?

He looked the same, but different. More mature. Stronger. Still just as handsome…

Was that actually real? Maybe. Probably. You didn’t know. And maybe you didn’t want to know.

Suddenly, he felt so far away again.

I’m drunk. I’m drunk. I’m drunk…

—

You gently blink your eyes open to the sunlight streaming in from the windows. Instinctively, you yawn as well. Oh god. For a moment, you simply lay there as you let your thoughts slowly come over you like a wave. What time was it?

Thank goodness you had the day off. Anyhow, you probably would’ve been extremely late. But you were also glad you got the chance to sleep in, as it was quite the night last night. You gingerly sit up on your bed, shedding off the warmth of your duvet.

You feel a slight headache rush to your head again. Maybe I’ll take it easy next time, you think to yourself. It had been awhile since you drank that much after all. You then briefly ponder how San even does it, and wonder how he handles his hangovers. Your thoughts are interrupted by your grumbling stomach.

You notice your phone at the edge of your bed and grab it.

12:08pm **

You ignore all the text notifications from San and Yeosang for now, and decided to order takeout. You were too lazy to make anything in the state you were in—plus fried chicken sounded perfect right now. After putting in your order, you notice that you’re still in your clothes from last night.

Huh.

You could’ve sworn you’d changed and gotten into bed fine, but you could hardly remember. You did remember throwing up like crazy, however. You jumped out of bed and took a look in the mirror—your makeup was still on and your hair looked dangerously disheveled. This calls for a long shower.

After gathering your things and a fresh pair of pajamas, you crack open your bedroom door and peek outside around the apartment. Mingi cannot see me like this, was the first thought you had. The thought of him seeing you like a mess after ordering him around about being clean felt contradictory somehow. But more importantly, you were embarrassed. It’s not like he’d care, probably… But…Where was he anyway? Was he out?

The silence surrounding the apartment told you that the coast was clear, so you quietly rushed into the bathroom and proceeded to take your hot, much-needed, shower.

When you were finally finished, you headed back to your room and freshened up your bedding. You felt so much better already. Five minutes pass when your phone dings, notifying that your order is officially delivered. Excited and absolutely starved, you head for the front door excitedly when you suddenly stop in your tracks to see Mingi in standing by the door. He was holding the door open and grabbing your takeout off the floor. Your stomach grumbled once again.

“That’s mine,” You say. He turns around in response, his face unamused. Guess he was home after all…

He’s wearing his usual loungewear, and his glasses are framed above his head, pushing his hair back.

“No, it’s mine,” Mingi replied bluntly. “You ordered fried chicken?”

“Yes!” You exclaim, approaching him. You attempt to examine the bag.

“Well my name’s on it,” He argues. Mingi tugs the receipt off the bag and holds it up to your face. “See?”

“But the app just told me it was just delivered right now,” You hold up your phone to his face for proof. “Maybe they put both of the orders in there? Can I see?” You lean in to look inside the bag, but Mingi moves the bag away from you. Your sudden closeness made you more aware of your height difference all of a sudden. You take a step back.

“What did you order?” He glances inside the bag, then back at you.

“A six piece, soy garlic. With a side of rice,” You sigh. “And you?”

He narrowed his eyes. “Same… except it was a ten piece for me.” Mingi looks into the bag again, then proceeds to walk towards the kitchen in silence, ignoring you.

“What?!” You follow him into the kitchen.

“Why do they do that?” Mingi takes out both orders from the bag and places them on the dining table. “Is it easier for them to put two orders in one bag even though they’re different?”

“I think it’s because we live in the same place, maybe they thought it was meant to be ordered together…” You respond, staring at the food on the table. “And our orders aren’t even that different.”

“Whatever,” Mingi takes a seat and starts eating. You awkwardly stand there for a moment, unsure of what to do. *Uh…*You guys don’t ever eat at the dining table together. Does he expect you to leave? You suppose you could. You could take your food into your room for privacy, but then again it would just make the room smell like fried chicken…

“Are you not going to eat?” He asks, interrupting your thoughts. Your eyes widen at his bluntness, and you take your seat across from him. You don’t argue since you really were starving.

“I will,” You say and proceed. It was delicious, greasy, and filling—the perfect hangover cure. You guys eat in silence for a while. Luckily, you both distracted yourselves with your phones, so there was no space for small talk, thankfully. You wouldn’t be able to stand it. And he didn’t seem to want to talk to you anyways. What is there to even say honestly, you thought. This is how it should be.

You were in the middle of responding to Yeosang’s texts when you hear him place his phone back on the table.

“You’re welcome, by the way.” He says.

You look up, slightly confused. For letting you sit with him at lunch? For giving you your food? “For what?”

The corners of his lips tug up slightly, but then his expression returns to its neutral, indifferent state. “I think I went up to use the bathroom around two in the morning. Nearly had a heart attack seeing you on the floor. I didn’t know you went all out when you drink..”

Your eyes widen. Oh no…

“Wait, you…” Your words falter as your brain finally connects the dots. It was no wonder you were still in your same clothes and makeup. You usually had the strength to complete those tasks no matter how drunk you were—but I guess you hadn’t been that drunk. The memories of last night seem to gather once more, and you feel your face heat up.

“Yes,” Mingi says after swallowing a mouthful. He scans your face, and his eyes show a slight hint of amusement. “You wouldn’t budge, no matter how long or hard I shook you. I had to flush that disgusting toilet bowl, and carried you to your room.”

“Oh god,” You throw your face in your hands. “Oh my god. That is so embarrassing-”

“It’s fine, I know it was a Friday night just-” Mingi glances back down to his food. “Don’t do that next time.”

“That won’t happen again. I can usually handle myself. I don’t know- I guess last night was too much, I was-” You scramble to find the words, but decided not to put forth any excuses. You sigh heavily. “Thanks..”

Mingi simply nods and finishes up his food. After checking his phone one more time, he stands up.

“Well, now I think you owe me y/n,” He says and slides over his dirty dishes to me. “My dishes, for the next two weeks?”

“Huh?!” You scoff with your mouth half full of chicken. What the hell? You decided to challenge him with his own words. “What happened to keeping to ourselves and doing our own chores?” You did NOT want to involve yourself with another roommate related fiasco, yet here you were. It was as if these conflicts were inevitable, and you two kept clashing at the most random of times.

“Oh I know, but you didn’t. Drunk on the bathroom floor definitely crossed that line,” Mingi says matter-of-factly. It was true. You shivered at the reminder that he carried you into your room. What did he even think of you? You immediately pushed that thought away. **“But anyway… as roommates. I helped you, and now you have to help me. Right?”

Roommates.

“Fine, is that how it’s going to work now?” You sigh in defeat. “Two weeks, and that’s it.”

“Deal.” Mingi smiles a little, then leaves the kitchen.

What just happened?

~

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tags: @hwaskookies @chicksmoothie

[raimispiderman]

Yeah, I feel that people have not engaged with this poll in good faith. Looking through the blog, it seems that people really seem to vote depending on what movies are fashionable at the time, so old Marvel blockbusters are right out.

But no, the Raimi Spider-Man movies don't hate women. The Raimi Spider-Man FANDOM (present company excepted) hates women, and I feel people are conflating the two.

In Raimi Spider-Man fandom, you can barely go a day without encountering a Reddit post or YouTube video calling Mary Jane a whore, a bitch, promiscuous and so on. It's frustrating as hell and I worry that the hatred for her bleeds into general perception of the character and makes people think she's badly written. But she's not, because here's the secret: MJ is promiscuous! It's a major part of her character in the films! She likes to be in relationships and, presumably, likes to have sex. Her comic book counterpart was much the same. In the movies MJ darts about from Flash to Harry to John to Peter to Harry again, never finding what she wants to help her overcome the abuse her father subjected on her. MJ is a messed-up, traumatized, self-centered, not always very nice person...

...and the film never judges her. Not once. She is a woman who has a lot of sex, who cheats, and yet at every turn the film demands she be treated with respect. (This, I feel, may be the exact reason why fandom hatred for her is so commonplace.)

The whole ending of the second movie is about Peter treating MJ with respect, in fact.

Norman/Green Goblin does not treat MJ with respect, and loudly implies she's a gold-digger and a whore during the Thanskgiving scene.

When Norman does that to MJ, we're meant to be on her side. The moment is about her and her feelings, not Peter. She tells Harry off for not standing up for her (even though he did!) and storms off. Her rage is validated.

I've always found it fascinating how the Raimi Spider-Mans keep Norman the same misogynist he was in the comics. Look, I made a whole gifset about it! When Norman makes a rape threat towards MJ later - and a rape threat is exactly what he made - that is the point of no return for him. He's punished with a blade through the crotch. (I resent massively that No Way Home walked back on Norman being a monster with or without the Goblin persona, but I suppose there's nothing I can do about that.)

MJ is not punished for cheating on Peter. When Peter pushes her and hurts her in Spider-Man 3, the audience is meant to be APPALLED. I mean, watch the scene!

But maybe don't read the comments.

Peter's hitting MJ is his lowest possible point, and he needs to redeem himself from that point on. Basically: all the male characters in Spider-Man are judged by the narrative when it comes to how they treat MJ.

Peter shoves MJ to the floor? Narrative's gonna make you work to redeem yourself for that one.

Harry grabs MJ by the throat while dosed up on goblin juice? Death. But redemptive death, because we like Harry.

Norman threatens to rape MJ? No penis or life for you.

Eddie/Venom sexually assaults MJ by web-slinging her out a taxi and commenting on her body? Deaaaaath. The Spider-Man films give absolutely no quarter to misogynists and this is all done via the character of MJ. She is the film's moral center - while also being a messy, selfish, impulsive gal. She's not pure. She's not innocent. She has a lot of sex. But Peter and the narrative hold her up as someone valued and important.

The Venom thing brings me to Gwen. Gwen also suffers misogyny (and sexual harassment) at the hands of Eddie. In Spider-Man 3 it's established that Eddie and Gwen went on one date and it didn't really go anywhere. They didn't have sex (Gwen is firm on this point) but Eddie feels entitled to sex from Gwen anyway. (Sorry, Venom fans. Spider-Man 3 is not easy on him). Eddie declares his intent to marry Gwen when she is not around and seems to be practically stalking her. But!

Gwen never once actually tells Eddie to go away. She's unaware of his true intentions towards her and when he approaches her with a camera at the Spider-Man festival, she smiles and poses. The closest she comes is telling Eddie "not tonight" about a date. But in the Raimi Spider-Man films (and this means a great deal to me) Gwen's lack of a firm no still actually means no. Eddie is still in the wrong for stalking her, and the narrative takes great pains to make this clear. Eddie never gets a redemption, and as soon as he starts talking about Gwen and MJ as if they're property, MJ drops a cinder block on his head.

This isn't even getting into Aunt May. Aunt May is frankly one of my very favorite things about the Spider-Man movies and if MJ is the moral center of the story, May is the beating heart. She's a support and mentor to Peter but the movies always make it clear that she has her own issues and problems to deal with. The movie doesn't shy away from her anger. She's allowed to be furious at Peter for his part in Ben's death, but I always thought the best scene with May is at the beginning of Spider-Man 2, when Peter refuses to take a few dollars from her and, just for a second, she absolutely loses her cool with him.

I would like to mention Ursula as well but this post is long enough already. I'll just say I love her and I love how they were able to cram plenty of characterization into her five minutes of screentime. For example, although she has a crush on Peter, she still encourages him to call MJ.

ANYWAY.

I feel like the result of this poll is a result of several things:

People mistaking depiction for endorsement. The Spider-Man movies depict A LOT of misogyny and sometimes this is done well and sometimes it isn't. For example, I do not think the attempted rape scene in Spider-Man 1 was done well, even though I guess it ties in well with the misogyny mini-arc that ends with Norman losing his knob. But hopefully this little essay explains why the movies don't support the views of their most misogynistic characters and actively go against them.

MJ being a really messy character. She's not always a good person and I think people mistake that for bad writing. Nope, she's just traumatized and difficult and (understandbly) selfish. That scene of her father screaming at her and calling her "trash" is in the movie for a reason. Her not being able to accept bad reviews of her acting because she hears them in her father's voice is also in the movie for a reason. Oh, you want more complex female characters? You couldn't even handle her!

The aforementioned misogyny of the fandom bleeding into public perception of the actual work (see also: Star Wars)

MJ needing to be rescued (sometimes from rapists) a lot. I've never thought a female character needing to be rescued a lot is sexist. Yeah, it would be cool if MJ grabbed a tire iron and defeated Norman in combat, but she's not that person. She's not a strong female character - she's a weak female character. And the narrative wants you to respect her anyway.

Spider-Man? (The Sam Raimi trilogy)

Spider-Man (Film Series, 2002)

Explain your reasoning in the tags!

[thecoffeelorian]

True Colors

True Colors (Crosshair x Reader)

Premise: As a few masks begin to crack, the true faces of those that lie beneath start to show themselves one by one...and not even they might be able to recognize the things that they've become.

Word Count: 1,531

Masterlist: The Surprise Guest Series

Story Notes: Heya heya, guess what, folks? There's a very tiny hint as to the Reader's true identity at the end of this chapter, so! Be sure to look for it, as it might be a blink-and-you'll-miss-it kind of moment!

Special Notes: You know that "glorious return" of Crosshair that was supposed to magically fix everything in the squad...? Yeah, it looks to me like nothing but an inglorious cop-out, because what could have been a detailed discussion of all the past plot points was tossed out in favor of cutting corners for the millionth time. More details are here, as well as one of several blueprints for this story as I move forward. Thank you all for your patience.

PS: The Crosshair header was made by @stars-n-spice.

No Pressure Tags:

@crosshairs-dumb-pimp-gf @skellymom @youreababboon @donntmindmejustwandering @ms-grassi

@gigachadcowboy @summerfall21 @thora-sniper @groguandthebadbatch @theclonesdeservedbetter

@sw-2020-1 @lovefrommaxie @housepartyfortwo @ci-avmovies14 @evabellasworld

@cyare-of-the-501st @the-osborn-way @prettychaos1409 @otomefan @foggygentlemenprincess

@soemtlse012731-blog @sithstrings @omglisalithium @aemondvelaryon @mysticalgalaxysalad

@lulalovez @zombiedixon89 @filmandthings @sithstrings @generaljessiedotcom and anyone else who might want to dive in headfirst into this latest installment.

The next thing you know, at least from where you’re standing, Omega’s wrapped both arms around your waist in a hug; Crosshair’s gone frightfully silent; and, some distance away from all of you, you get to witness two grown Troopers get stuck orbiting Tantrum Planet.

“You’re doing what.”

Specifically, Hunter’s durasteel-gray eyes that once refused to make contact with yours are now glaring through you with all the heat of an ion engine, almost triple-hound daring you to repeat Omega’s words out loud.

“You heard her, General.”

By contrast, you’re not about to run off or look away, because now there’s a firm edge to your voice that you haven’t exactly heard before.

“Unlike you, I don’t think she likes the idea of abandoning her fellow fugitives.”

Up until this point, most people had generally been respectful to you, never mind not wanting to give you the slightest impression of your life being threatened in any way. That was one of the few joys you got from your home planet growing up, as well as the first thing you find yourself missing in its absence.

As of now, however, that respect had been tossed straight out of the proverbial airlock and left to suffocate in the vacuum of deep space.

“Don’t you mean kidnappers?”

“I meant exactly what I just said, thank you very much…”

And if this holier-than-thou nerfherder wanted to stare you down, well...then you would be all too happy to stare at him right back, consequences or no consequences.

“…And anyway, since you already know everything about me, when exactly did I kidnap her?”

In fact, it’s not that long before you start glaring back at him, your voice slowly filling with venom.

“Was it before or after she came knocking at my door and asked me for help?”

“Omega wouldn’t ever do that!”

Before either one of you end up coming to blows, however, there’s another Trooper to contend with. Along comes Wrecker jumping into the chat, the look of anger somewhat giving way to confusion. Either he doesn’t have the slightest idea what to think of you, or else he’s already been convinced to hate you ages before you ever did anything wrong.

“We…we told her not t’ talk to strangers. What makes you so special?”

In any case, though, you’re not about to take any puuduu from him, either. Not when you might be five klicks away from finding some manner of political asylum, be it with or without their ‘approval’.

Not when you officially had skin in this little game as of several hours ago, and you’ve got no intention of backing down or making yourself smaller just so somebody else can feel bigger.

“Nothing. I’m just a waiter from offworld…but I do know this.”

And if you haven’t surprised yourself enough today, well…your slow but careful nudge for Omega to go over to Crosshair for safety’s sake certainly takes the grand prize.

“Since we—and that does include Omega, so let me make that nice and clear—heard the Imps start knocking on other people’s doors right before we booked it, it’s only going to be a matter of time before they all show up to drag the three of us back to that lab…or worse.”

Having spoken your peace, you then decide to mirror Wrecker’s posture and fold your arms across your chest, a clear sign that they’re about to have the floor.

“So if you don’t want to end up responsible for punishing two civilians just to stick it to your headstrong brother…then I suggest you choose wisely. Sir.”

You finish your pitch with a polite bow and a hand over your heart, the planet-wide gesture of respect in your part of the galaxy. If it was someone else from your home planet you were talking to, then they’d most likely let out a nervous chuckle, make up a somewhat believable excuse for their behavior or apologize for the harshness of their words, and possibly even declare an unofficial truce between you by offering you a little caf and cake back at their apartment.

This Hunter guy on the other hand…well, he’s starting to look like he’s somewhere between passing a kidney stone and blowing a fuse. No living man, be he soldier or civilian, has ever turned that shade of purple before, and as far back as you can remember, you know they haven’t balled their fists up so tight that their knuckles looked more on the jaundiced side than their usual healthy brown.

Clearly, he has no idea what he wants to do to you first—beat you until you’re the same color and consistency as freshly ground nerf meat; or else die of embarrassment. At this moment in time, either one of these is totally possible, if not also a maximum threat level.

And yet—

“—Don’t we, uh…have an oil can somewhere?”

And yet, the one they call Wrecker, aka “The Big Guy” as you’ve personally just dubbed him, is starting to act like he may have just budged about an inch or two from whatever sinless high ground he might have held a moment before.

Well, thank the Force that somebody is.

“What oil can…?”

In other words, even though Hunter’s still enjoying the view from his own pedestal and probably ready to piss on your heads without so much as a single moment’s notice…he sure can’t keep Wrecker from thinking for himself.

“The one that Tech always kept on board for…for emergencies.”

Like bringing up the name of a fifth squad member for some kind of emotional leverage, for example, if not also making good use of it, too.

“The least we can do is hand it over, right?”

“Not if I order you to stand down.”

“Fine. Go back to Pabu without me.”

Or, dare you even think it, sabotaging all of Hunter’s “plans” solely out of having enough of his shitty behavior.

“As for me, I’m not losin’ any more of my squad.”

In any case, Wrecker’s striding right past Hunter, giving him a hard enough shove to make him stumble and nearly fall sideways…and finally, goes back into the Marauder to go and bring you the much needed oil can whether this stupid “leader” gives his permission or not.

Incredible. Maybe he’s not Hunter’s errand boy after all.

As for you, well…you’re left wondering whether or not Hunter himself can take all three of you out with a single blaster shot, especially if he decides to take his temper out on Omega for bringing the two of you back without asking him first.

“Sergeant.”

“I’m sorry…?”

At least, that’s your thought until he decides to back off instead…for now.

“I’m a sergeant, not a general. Learn the difference.”

And with that, he also turns and goes back inside the Marauder, not a single look backward spared for Omega this time. Funny thing…you had originally thought that she was the designated favorite, and would therefore have some kind of leverage over all future squad decisions. Their initial reunion had suggested that much had occurred before, after all…so what the kriff had changed since then?

“Eh…that went well.”

Unfortunately, there doesn’t exactly seem to be a lot of time to mull this one over. Even though Omega’s speaking up again and trying to stay upbeat, she’s not looking so confident any more.

“We—we should be able to get off this planet now, right? We can go back to the island, and—and then…”

Rather, she’s looking nervous, just a little heartbroken, and—if there’s room to make a fast-food related analogy here—dejected with a shot of annoyance to wash it all down. Most likely, there’s no limits to her personal feelings, especially after what just played out in front of her.

“And then…take a break?”

You, on the other hand, aren’t about to be knocked down by that Sergeant’s issues, because they’re just a fraction of what you would have had to deal with if you’d faced the Empire coming after you. In fact, if he decides to keep his shit up and keep on poking the Krayt Dragon—well, even if he does hate you, he’ll have to think twice before dishing out the same treatment to her.

In other words, you’ve got zero tolerance for bullies, and it won’t take much for you to let the rest of this ‘squad’ find that out the hard way.

“Yeah…yeah, let’s do that. Take a break, I mean…”

This is why you’re slipping a comforting arm around her before letting Crosshair have the other, a makeshift hug for them both to break up the tension of it all.

“As long as you need,” you promise her, your attention solely upon the two in front of you, and not so much upon the ones lurking in the background. Oh yes, let the others stew in their own moody juices for a while, because for all that you care, that’s all that they need to have.

As for you and your traveling companions, a bit of rest is exactly what you deserve right now...and Force help the di’kut who dares to interrupt it.