#the sibling cliques

[nejitenotp]

kiri and lo'ak are besties, fight me

[optionalblue]

Let's talk about Blurryface for a moment.

Blurryface is Tyler's depression, self doubt, and anxiety all swirled into a character. This character is known to be the kind of villain of Tyler's story. In a sense, we all have a Blurryface.

We as conscious beings, have anxiety for a reason, to protect us from potential danger. Sometimes, anxiety overreacts. In this case, we try to ignore it. Sometimes we even say that anxiety is bad, or hurting us, etc. The anxiety inside of us is probably not supposed to get ignored, because the more you do, the more buildup you have of that danger feeling.

I imagine this also applies to Blurryface. If we ignore him, all it's going to do is make him louder. We can say that he's evil, we can say whatever we want, but that doesn't do anything but make him rebel against us, releasing all that pent up anxiety.

This may be just me, but I try to remind myself within my anxious moments that it's ok to feel like this. Instead of ignoring it, I acknowledge it. I take my time and listen to whatever blurryface has to say, and then assure him that everything is ok.

With self doubt, it's probably a lot more complicated. With my siblings though, if they're telling me mean things, I just listen to whatever they have to say, and then move on. I don't let the thoughts get to my head, because they're silly.

It may go sort of the same with Blurryface. If he's telling you you'd be better off dead, try and give him the attention he needs without letting it into your head, and then move right along.

Of course, it takes time to learn about yourself and what helps to calm down the anxiety, it's different for everyone. I've just found that personally, trying to listen to the blurry in my head and then moving on instead of just ignoring it makes a difference.

Kind of moral of my story, I truly don't think Blurryface is evil. I just think he needs a certain amount of love and attention that we can learn to master.

[maddie-grove]

This is actually how I found out about “Uptown Girl.” My parents both like Billy Joel, but they didn’t own any tapes or CDs of his. And “Uptown Girl” didn’t get a lot of play on the radio stations where I grew up until a year or so after I read that book. Based on the book, I was expecting more of a ballad? Rather than an uptempo gender-reversed “Rag Doll” by the Four Seasons?

Does anyone else remember the Meg Cabot (of The Princess Diaries fame) YA novel where the heroine is an artsy girl who impulsively foils an assassination attempt on the president (a George W. Bush proxy because it was 2002-ish) and the would-be assassin is doing it to impress Christie Brinkley, eighties supermodel and Billy Joel ex-wife? And he’s listening to “Uptown Girl” on the street corner to pump himself up? And she wrote a sequel where the heroine has to decide whether she wants to go all the way with her new boyfriend (the president’s hot son) and/or publicly oppose his dad’s pro-abstinence sex education initiative?

[canthelpit0]

Cry Baby

Pairing: Matt x crybaby!popular!reader

Wordcount : 3.3K+

Summary: you were popular. The jester of the group. But atleast it was something. Nobody knew just how much you’d been struggling, until your secrets were exposed in the school cafeteria.

Warnings: swearing, angst, crying, mentioned of depression, Matt’s PoV, sensitive!reader, mentions of SH, SH mocking, humiliation, exposing secrets, fake friends, hurt/comfort, pet names (baby), use of y/n

(A/N: I wrote this based of this song. Bcs I was listening to it and had this scenario in my head, so I wrote it down.)

You had always been a bit of a crybaby.

You’re the oldest sibling. Your mother thought she couldn’t have any children, but she had. You were a blessing to her.

So after you were born you were never put down. Someone was always with you. To keep you from crying, entertaining you. Caving to your needs.

But once you got to kindergarten, it seemed that all those times your parents hushed you and made sure you didn’t cry had bottled up.

You didn’t speak a lot. You didn’t like socializing with people. You kept to yourself and that’s how you liked it.

You had severe attachment issues to your mom though. Because of her always being with you to soothe you, her not being there seemed like a nightmare.

So when she dropped you off at kindergarden, every day, you would cry, begging your mom to stay.

Eventually you got used to it, but you quickly found a friend to cling to.

Emma, was your one and only friend. The only person you talked to.

It was pretty much the same in elementary school. You’d trod around and talk to people. You were a bubbly social kid.

But you were also easy to break.

You didn’t have a lot of friends. All friends you had were only people you’d hang around in recess.

Emma stuck with you though.

Until, middle school.

In middle school you’d, for some reason, fallen into a depressive mindset.

Emma and you were in your awkward middle school phases. And in that time she’d become really rude.

And one day during a fight she told you how much she hated listening to your sobs.

You’d been vulnerable around her. You had trusted her.

And she’d broken that trust. By telling you that every time you had seeked her comfort she actually didn’t want to give it to you.

Your heart’s too big for your body.

You two stopped talking after that day. Until four months later Emma apologized for her words. You, being an empath, excepted the apology and went back to being friends with her.

Little did she know that her words rang through your head while you cut yourself.

A few months after you became friend again, she moved. She moved out of the country. You never saw her again.

So for high school you had taken it spoon yourself to mask your depression and ‘get over yourself’.

You started to dress more basic, learning to do your make up, hair, skincare. And basically everything to hide your miserable state the best you could.

Somehow it worked.

You had good facial proportions, and just a little bit of work you looked like a basic mean girl who is full of herself. But that was exactly the point.

Somehow, once High school started, you managed to get into the clique of the popular girls.

You were always so upbeat, cheery and talkative. No one could ever guess that you’re the most depressive mother fucker in a 50 mile radius.

Though as much as you would like the power of being the leader of the group, you were not. You were more like the jester of the group than anything.

You had held your mental breakdowns to a minimum. Holding back as much as you could. You only had Few panic attacks nowadays. And if you had one in school, you always had a touch up make up bag there.

Now it was senior year. You got ready like usual, not knowing that today would alter your life and the way people perceive you.

Matt’s PoV

I watch in horror.

Y/n is one of the popular girls in our school.

I’m not too popular. But I’m well known, all due to the fact that I’m a triplet. And due to the fact that Nick and Chris are really extroverted people.

Both of them are currently not with me.

Chris is sick at home. While Nick is in the library with some of our female friends.

I sit at my table with the lacrosse team around Me.

The entire cafeteria has their eyes focused on y/n.

She was arguably the prettiest out of all the popular girls.

But right now she was crying, Biting her lip. Her head tilted forward in shame at the claims her group was throwing at her.

The leader of the popular girls, Kelly, was accusing y/n of stealing her boyfriend at first, yelling right in her face. She yelled right back at Kelly though, not scared to stand up for herself.

But Kelly being the leader of the group, all the other girls sided with her.

I never understood why people would talk, or would argue, about stuff like this in public places. It was humiliating.

I was getting second hand embarrassment just watching.

The insults were getting more and more personal by the second.

Nobody was doing anything, captivated by the scene unfolding in front of them. Some people have their phones out filming for, ..who knows what reason.

I drown out most of the insults-

“IS THAT WHY YOU FUCKING CUT YOURSELF?” Kelly yells right back in y/n’s face.

The cafeteria had already been quiet. But with those words even the quiet conversations stopped. It seemed like everyone’s attention snapped back to the scene.

It was the passerby effect in full force. No one was doing anything, too shocked. Not even the teachers that were present said anything.

It was so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

My ear start ringing, my eyes staying glued on y/n.

To me, it was obvious that something about y/n was off. She was polished to perfection. To a concerning degree. Nobody was that perfect.

So the revelation didn’t necessarily shock me. But the fact that Kelly was heartless enough to air y/n’s business out like that.

“I don’t.” Y/n’s words cut harshly through the quiet cafeteria. Her words are insistent like she was telling the truth.

She was a great liar, yet everyone would believe Kelly over her. Even if it was a lie.

“Oh but you do.” Kelly scoffs looking at the people y/n used to call friends. They all nod at Kelly’s statement.

“You have those scars all over your wrists.” Kelly points out nodding down to y/n’s wrists.

It’s like everyone takes a collective look down at her arms to see if something is actually there.

Me being so far away from their table I can’t see it clearly. But I really don’t want to anyway.

I watch as Y/n lets her head fall forward letting out a small laugh, shocking everyone in the cafeteria including me.

Y/n’s hands are trembling and shaking. She purses her lips looking back up at Kelly who looks at her with superiority.

Y/n picks her head back up and leans her head up to readjust her hair. Her hands ball into fists before she crosses her arms, trying to keep her composure.

Even from being a few tables away from the scene i can clearly see the tears running down her cheeks.

She huffs a laugh through a sob.

“Some friends you fucking are” she says harshly her glare focused on the girls around Kelly that she used to call friends.

The cafeteria is silent again for a moment the only thing heard being y/n’s soft sniffles

“Crybaby” one of the girls huffs under her breath, but its loud and clear in the silent cafeteria.

“Fuck you Rebecca.” I hear y/n’s voice snap at the girl. Despite crying her tone was still sharp.

“What’re you gonna do about it, gonna go home and cut yourself some more?” Another one of the girls in the group scoffs.

Y/n lets out another miserable chuckle hearing the comment.

I purse my lips remaining seated. I probably look miserable right now. I don’t want to be watching this. Hell I would like to stop this, but I can’t.

Before y/n can fire back though more and more comments from all the girls pore out. And the more: “you gonna kill yourself?” “you gonna cut yourself?” remarks they make the more humiliated y/n looks.

By the end of their relentless comments and bullying y/n is crying sobbing. And as someone with anxiety I can see the inevitable anxiety attack, in the way her entire body shakes.

With a strong “fuck you all” to her former friends y/n turns in her heels and leaves.

The cafeteria is quiet for a moment before the room breaks out in conversation, everyone gossiping about the scene they just witnessed. Debating how much of what was said was true.

I feel sick to my stomach knowing I had watched a girl just get torn down by her own, so called friends, like that, and didn’t do anything.

I mumble an excuse to my friends leaving the table. They don’t even seem to care emerged in their own conversations about the ‘gossip’.

I speed walk out of the cafeteria to find y/n.

There are only two places I can think of her being at. The girls bathroom, wich is probably not the case since she looked like she wanted to get as far away as possible,

Or her car.

She’d parked next to my van today. So I run out of the school to my car, to see hers still parked next to mine. I glance into it and she’s not in the drivers seat.

I get closer, catching my breath. I look through the window of the backseat seeing her sitting there curled up in on herself.

I knock on the car window catching her attention. Y/n’s beautiful teary eyes meet mine through the tinted glass.

She presses on a button on her car keys, the car unlocking.

Immediately I open the car door and slide in. My gaze soft as I look at the hyperventilating girl in front of me.

I close the door behind me. I gently take the car keys out of her hands. She was clinging to it like her life depended on it. I lock the car again and then lean to the front of the car and toss her keys on the drivers seat.

I turn back to y/n, she had her legs up to her chest hugging them while she continues to sob.

“Matt” she breaths out my name so tenderly.

We weren’t friends. But we shared one class in which we partnered up sometimes.

“Sh, you’re okay y/n” I breathe out. In an instant, my arms wrap around her smaller frame pulling her into me. I hug her from the side, her sobs wracking her body.

“No, no it’s not okay.” She lets out an irritated sigh, her breath hitching as a sobs Tores through her body again. “I just lost all my friends.”

I purse my lips holding her head. I cradle her into my chest. She didn’t deserve to have her stuff aired out like that, but all she was worried about was loosing her fake ass friends?

“Oh baby.” I sigh out. The nickname slips through my lips so effortlessly I didn’t even notice.

I keep her head cradled into my chest while I feel tears start to form in my own eyes.

“They ruined it.” She chokes out again, her voice shaky.

I breathe in heavily. “They ruined what?” I ask gently.

“My reputation”

I pause. My lips quiver at the sound of her cries. I try to blink away my own tears.

“That’s all you care about?” The words leave my lips before they register. I know she cares about all the things others say to her. She just seems like the type to.

“Matt, I spend so much time,” she sobs through the few words she said. Pausing to cry some more at the thought of it. “So, so much time, perfecting myself.”

I hear her pause again, and by this point I can’t hold back my own tears. I let out a soft sob crying with her as I hold her even closer to myself.

“I didn’t want anyone to know. It’s none of their business” her words are soft. But the more she talks the more quiet she gets.

In a way she was like me. Masking her sorrow like that. She always just seemed too perfect to be true.

Perfect hair, perfect makeup, perfect face. Great humor, nice, kind, popular.

But nobody ever questioned it. She had everyone fooled. She was a great liar. And even though I had my suspicions she never gave me a reason to believe I was right.

I just thought I was delusional for reading into things.

But I was right.

As much as I wish I wasn’t.

“I’m so sorry.” I whisper. I try to breathe hard as to not sob like she was. I wanted to comfort her not cry with her.

She pulls away slightly. I look at her. She still has tears running down her cheeks, not looking like it’d stop soon. She looks up at me through her tear stained lashes, her mascara only slightly smudged.

Her lips quivers as I see another wave of sadness wash over her. “Why are you crying?” She asks her voice shaky. She lets out another choked sob.

Her hands cup my cheeks as we both cry looking at the other. “Please don’t cry,” the sight of my tears only seems to make her more sad.

But seeing the way she looked crying, I only wanted to cry harder.

She still looked perfect. Though her makeup was smudged slightly, her hair messy, her perfect features stained with her tears.

I gently grab her wrists slowly pulling her hands off of my face. I pull up the sleeve of her longs sleeved shirt and flip her arm to look at her wrist.

My gut clenches at the sight of the tiny white healed marks. They were barely noticeable anymore.

I had noticed them before when we had partnered up for some project. But out of respect I didn’t say anything. Besides they weren’t that bad, thin, white stripes messily across her wrist.

For all I knew it could’ve been her cat. I don’t have a cat, and neither have I seen self harm cuts before, so I wouldn’t know the difference.

I purse my lips. I let my head fall forward slightly my eyes closed. I feel sick to my stomach knowing someone as perfect as y/n was, or had been cutting herself at some point.

I hear a choked sob fall from her lips. I feel her intense stare burn through my scalp.

I pick up my head again, my eyes immediately looking to hers. She was crying again. Making me also shed a few tears again.

I bring her wrist up to my face leaving a gentle peck on it.

She watches me. The sight only making her cry more. She closes her eyes briefly.

It wasn’t like she’d expected me out of all people to shame her for her scars. But she also hadn’t expected him to just kiss them.

“You didn’t deserve that sweetheart.” I whisper under my breath. I pull her back in leaving a firm kiss on her forehead before cradling her head back into my chest.

She breaks out into sobs again her arms going under mine and hugging me tightly.

She was clinging to me tightly, her sobs wrecking her body, and also making me cry.

I gently pat down her hair,as she keeps crying, trying to soothe both of us.

“Y/n.” She pulls back slightly, her arm still wrapped around me. “Do you still..” I trail off not wanting to say it. Because if I say it, it’ll be too true.

Her lip quivers as I see her glossy eyes shed tears again. She lets out a gut wrenching sob again pressing her face into my chest again, mumbling “I’m sorry”s over and over again.

I sigh sympathetically, rubbing her scalp. I knew from experience, that after crying so much, your head would hurt so bad. And even though she was still crying I wanted to soothe her.

“Honey.” I say gently pulling her away from me. Our eyes meet briefly before she looks down in shame. I gently grab her cheek again making her look back up at me.

“Where do you cut?” I ask softly. I grimace at the words leaving my lips. I calmed down not crying anymore, but my eyes staying glassy.

Her eyebrows are scrunched together as she slightly pouts. Her eyes were still glassy, threatening to break out in sobs again.

“I don’t do it often..” she whispers under her breath, trying to over herself. Her eyes close briefly shame written all other her face.

“Where.” My tone is still low, but more firm, demanding an answer.

“My thigh.” She lets one of her Chanda fall from around me resting her hand on her very upper right thigh.

My eyes soften even further. My tears had dried in my face by now, but I felt just about ready to cry again.

I shift slightly. Her hand that had still been around me going to the bottom of my shirt and keeping a firm grip on the fabric.

I put my hand on her waist my touch featherlight, not wanting to overstep. “Is this okay?”

She purses her lips. Her eyes stay locked on mine as she tries to read what I’m trying to do. But she ultimately nods.

I put both my hands on her waist and pick her up from next to me putting her on my lap. She lets out a shaky breath her eyes going wide.

“Is this okay?” I enquirer my tone staying low.

Her bottom lip wobbles again. She closes her eyes briefly. “I don’t wanna go anything.” She breaths out her voice small and almost afraid.

My own eyes widen for a second looking back at her. I just realized how bad this looked without context. But I’m not a dick. I want to comfort her, not get in her pants.

I take my hands from her waist putting them on my thighs. Yet she doesn’t make a move off of me. Her hand stayed bunched up on my shirt.

“God, I don’t mean it like that.” I breathe out. “Just, me comforting you would be easier like this?” I says slowly.

Her gaze goes up to meet mine again, her lip quivering holding herself back from crying again.

She leans forward resting her face on my collarbone. She puts her other hand on my chest too as she starts to sob again. my right hand goes to her back rubbing it gently. While my left hand goes to her thigh massaging where her scars presumably were.

Her crying makes me tear up again. So we just cry together. My hand rubbing soothing motions into her back, and my other hand finally going up to cradle her head into me further.

I whisper encouraging words. Until eventually her cries die down, and so do mine.

She pulls back slightly, her eyes red rimmed and puffy. The tip of her nose and her cheeks red. And her lips as puffy as her eyes. She is a pretty crier, but the sight still makes me feel remorseful.

I put my hand back on her right thigh gently rubbing circles on it. My other hand going to cup her cheek. She leans into my touch relaxing more. She looked more tired than anything now.

“You can always talk to me, you know that.” I breath out, finally feeling like the lump in my throat was gone.

Her hand cups my wrist keeping my hand in her face. I start to rub her cheek gently looking at her pretty face.

“You can stay with me, Nick and Chris. Alright?” She nods slightly in answer.

I move my hand from her cheek to her hair rubbing at her scalp slightly. “You want me to take you home pretty girl?” I ask softly.

After all we were still in the school parking lot.

“Please.”

Masterlist

A/N: I actually cried writing this. the first part was actually literally me. and i also used to cry a lot, and cut, so this just made me cry while writing, bcs i relate to it so much. i love you all, stay safe & clean <3

‼️please don’t copy my work/idea‼️

Taglist: @muwapsturniolo , @sturnad , @iluvm4ttsturni0l0 , @evie-sturns , @me09love , @fratbrochrisgf , @spideylovin , @chrissgirlsstuff , @stunza , @whicked-hazlatwhore , @sturniooolos , @ecliphttlunar , @orangeypepsi , @klaus223492 , @char112244 , @sst7niolo , @slut4chriss , @mattsturniololoverr , @th3-3d3n-g4rd3n , @st7rnioioss , @t1llysblogs , @nonat-111 , @blahbel668 , @rockstarchr1s , @sturnsintrouble , @nayveetbhh

[kalpeavaris]

The Trio's here!

Similar to how plotpoints have been re-written for the Furry!AU these three also serve altered points in the story c: All three are similar to College Students, studying in different classes but still sticking together as a clique!

Thad & Lizzy are siblings (don't ask me how this works okay, it's a Furry!AU lol) and Doll is their best friend. Together they kinda "run" the show at their College but in a positive way. Lizzy still is fairly snarky and has a big mouth if she wants to, always a roast on the tip of her tongue but also quite smart and capable of handling herself. She studies to be a labratory worker!

Thad's studying to become a physical educator/personal trainer while Doll's becoming a weapons engineer! She's infected by the Solver's sickness due to her mother having a cured version, so the Solver cannot mutate her like it does with other beings so it kind of wants to see her dead. No use - no life in it's eyes.

Thad and Lizzy grow increasingly concerned for Doll as she suffers from the Solvers attempts at tormenting her and when she disappears the two siblings are the first to search for her, eventually working together with Uzi, Nathan and Vera.

[imfoive]

Trophy Husband - Chapter 5

Hyunjin x Reader (fem.) Genre: Arranged Marriage au!, Marriage of Convenience-ish, Romance, Angst, Frenemies-to-Lovers, NSFW (mdni) Warnings: mentions of cursing, drinking, crude language, somewhat proofread WC: 6.0k A/N: Last chapter of the year! I hope the slight insight into y/n melts away any frustrations the previous chapter left. Our bickering-couple will see you again in 2025! Feedback, Reblogs, Likes are greatly appreciated! Happy reading! ── MASTERLIST

Synopsis: Two individuals with polar opposite lifestyles are thrown into an arranged marriage for the benefit of both their families, or so they claim. One is a frivolous playboy, living off familial wealth, while the other is an overly controlling workaholic. Navigating their marriage with a business-like approach, their relationship is marked by a whirlwind of bickering, banter, and societal pressures. Amid misunderstandings, they uncover layers of unexpected qualities, eventually discovering a sweet love neither saw coming.

Missed a chapter? - Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4

CHAPTER 5 ───────────────────

As a child, Y/N Yeom had always been compared to a bird, lost in her own world. 

Soaring freely, high above, doing as she pleased as her parents’ only child. One of the perks of having no competition with a sibling. 

She chased her imagination, colorful dreams unfurling in her mind.

It was something her parents bragged about. How independent she was. How ambitious she was. How proud she would make them.

It was something her parents would come to regret as she entered her teenage years. The extracurricular activities they had piled onto her as a child, aimed at making her well-rounded and talented in many fields, from dancing to piano to art, would soon return to haunt them. 

Especially when the Yeom heiress declared she wanted to be an artist.

Her mother had laughed at it. 

A sound that still echoed in Y/N’s mind. It had been a laugh muffled by her fingers, her face a alight with amusement as she stared back at her young daughter, clearly finding the idea more humorous than anything else.

“Don’t say such silly things Y/N”

Words that still rang in her memories.

Her carefree world began to shatter.

Then came the hiding. 

The pretense of attending tutoring classes designed to prepare her to follow in her father’s footsteps, while she secretly slipped into the art program she had forged her mother’s signature to join, started swiftly.

For the most part, she had gotten away with it. That was, until her art teacher called her parents after she won a competition. One whose name she couldn’t even remember anymore.

Her father was furious when he found out. Perhaps she would have been too if she was in his place. Although, she believed she wouldn’t have allowed her child to hide their passions in the first place.

She wouldn’t have laughed at their dreams.

Y/N started growing bitter. Her carefree world shattered even more.

She had always been sort of an outcast amongst the other children in her social circle, although self-appointed.

They seemed to lack their own dreams, their own passions. Happily following the plans their parents had drawn out for them, while she struggled to even hang up her art pieces with pride. 

The first time Y/N had properly seen Hwang Hyunjin was back in school. The academy they attended was full of children of the elite, cliques of those who loved to flaunt their good looks and their parents’ wealth. One of which the second Hwang son was also in, though she never truly cared enough to acquaint with him, let alone keep his name memorized.

If she tried to recall when his name had become a familiar one in her memories, she would probably say that swim championship he had won for their school. A first time win after six years of their academy losing. Only for Hwang Hyunjin to hold the winner title for his entire academic career.

She had always been acutely aware of his existence, hearing his name here and there throughout school, catching glimpses of the supposedly handsome Hwang Hyunjin in the halls, at events her parents dragged her to. Types of events where she would hole away at some random empty room after initial greetings. 

The first time Y/N had taken a proper look at him was in one of these events, in her search for an empty room she would spend the evening in before it was time to leave. She had stumbled upon Hyunjin, the handsome second son of the Hwangs.

Handsome he was, his gaze snapped to hers the moment she entered. Their eyes locked for the first time as she stood frozen in the doorway, catching him in a …compromising position. 

His lips had been locked with the school president’s. But at the sound of the door, the two broke apart almost instantly. Hyunjin wiped his mouth casually, while the school president, usually prim and proper, sputtered, her eyes darting between his and Y/N’s equally stunned expressions.

   “Ah—Sorry...” Y/N had muttered awkwardly, closing the door behind her as she blinked at the odd combination she had walked in on.

The school president cornered her in halls the following day, pleading eyes already giving way to her request. To not tell anyone she was with Hwang Hyunjin, the apparent “black sheep” of his family, a detail Y/N hadn’t known until that moment, though it wasn’t something she even cared for.

She had her own problems to deal with, and who the school president was or wasn’t making out with, didn’t even register on her radar. She barely even remembered the event, let alone have time to run around and spread gossip.

Still, Y/N promised. And then, just a few weeks later, she found herself witnessing another scene, some other cheerleader pulling the “black sheep” of the Hwang family behind the bleachers.

A sight that would become more familiar than his existence itself.

────────────────────────

The shower water running down her skin should have felt relieving. Should have helped her loosen up, the hot scorching water that always managed to help her relax after a long strenuous day, tingling yet soothing. But as Y/N stood beneath the shower, the one place she usually found peace, her mind refused to settle. Instead, she found herself staring at the water swirling down the drain, her thoughts drifting back to what had happened between her and Hyunjin.

Back to the memory of her trophy husband, kneeling before her, his piercing gaze locked onto hers with a mixture of astonishment and something more. Something darker, more desirous.

And suddenly she was heavily aware of Hyunjin just outside, in the bedroom where he had trudged into after feeling lightheaded.

It seemed he really had exerted too much energy, the alcohol in his system, the confinement between her legs, the exhaustion afterwards. All overtaking him almost instantly. Y/N had even helped him into the bed. 

He had muttered things under his breath, a chuckle escaping through his mumbles as he had tried to keep his eyes open. Yet, ultimately he had lost that battle and soon his breathing had grown shallow.

Y/N had stared down at his passed out form, gnawing at her bottom lip as her eyes trailed over him. Ultimately retreating in for a shower to clear her head.

Yet the shower didn’t seem to clear anything at all.

Instead she felt even more conflicted. 

The scraps of Hwang Hyunjin she could find in her memories resurfaced as she tried to recall as best as she could. Yet every single one of them seemed to be of him with a pretty girl on his arm.

But now here he was, the pretty man on her arm.

The bathroom door had opened with a soft click, Y/N peeked out to glance back into the bedroom, her trophy husband’s body still tucked under the duvet as she had left him. The bedroom was lit dimly, the bedside lamp casting a soft glow, allowing her to look down at Hyunjin’s serene expression as she approached his passed out form.

Y/N instantly thought back to earlier in the evening. As if her mind hadn’t been replaying every moment of it in a loop ever since. The feeling of his touches, his gaze, his tongue, still burning against her skin, in her memories. 

Perhaps that was how his playboy nature worked.

His bold actions, his whiskey-laced breath. 

The way his tongue darted out to lick his lips, the sultry tone in his voice.

Which Hyunjin had it been this evening?

The playboy Hyunjin who knew the arts of pleasure?

Or…

She pictured the flush on his cheeks. The heat that radiated from his skin against her. 

The desperation in his wide gaze, his slightly shaky fingers tugging at her dress as he asked for permission.

Perhaps it was her husband Hyunjin.

The gallery director clutched at the bathrobe tightly, slowly crouching down to get a closer look at his face.

The ever so pretty Hwang Hyunjin. Her playboy husband, so serene, so angelic even in his sleep.

Her eyes traced his features, resting on his lips. The ones that had her chasing that orgasmic feeling that she hadn’t felt in what seemed like forever. 

His lips, that would curve into those smug smiles whenever he taunted her, irking her slightly, amusing her mostly. 

His lips, so kissable.

Y/N leaned in, her mouth pressing against his. A soft kiss, a simple peck maybe.

His breath felt hot against hers as he slept, a low sleepy moan escaping his mouth as she pulled away, peering back down to take in his sleeping expression. He shifted slightly, brows narrowing in a frown before relaxing. A sight that made her stifle a smile, fingers pushing away the stray hairs that fell over his face. 

The room quieted again after Hyunjin settled once more, his crouching wife observed this side of him.

She had always been the first to fall asleep. Always exhausted, easily slipping into her dreams once her head hit the pillow. Sometimes she would watch Hyunjin from her tucked in spot. The dark-haired man, who seemed to always be doing this or that on the other end of the bedroom. 

Sometimes reading on the recliner, sometimes standing out on the balcony. Oftentimes he would shuffle under the sheets once her eyes fluttered close. Her lids, heavy, yet aware of his presence beside her.

Oftentimes she wondered what he would do if she asked him to embrace her.

Engulf her in his warmth to soothe her of her day’s exhaustion, unaware if his arms would even have that effect.

Though, after tonight, maybe her assumptions weren’t too far off.

She often wondered what it would be like to make this man hers.

To allow him into her heart. The shielded, guarded organ that seemed to harden against love.

Or would she simply become his plaything? The one he would turn to whenever he needed to let off steam.

Hyunjin inhaled deeply in the midst of his shallow breaths, a low noise that was just loud enough to draw her attention back to just the two of them in this room. Y/N finally pushed herself back on her feet, glancing down at him once more.

Did she trust him enough? 

He hadn’t done anything that would have broken her trust, went against whatever clauses they’d laid out, whatever contracts they’d signed. Yet, there was that nagging voice in the back of her head.

The one that whispered to her.

That he was putting on some act, behaving himself only for a moment before he craved attention. Before he got bored of sitting still.

He’d done it before. Or atleast, from what she had read and heard in the past.

After some new scandal of his, he would disappear. Lie low for a couple of months before he was once again dancing in nightclubs. Even prior to their marriage, he had been engulfed in some incident. Something about a bar fight. The news that she read about after her father had thrown the marriage arrangement at her, left her tasting bitter.

Her husband turned in his sleep, sinking deeper into the mattress, his face turned away from hers.

Y/N reached out. Perhaps to push back some more stray strands of his hair, perhaps to lean down and press another kiss to his lips. But she faltered, the quiet hum on her cell phone vibrating against the dresser echoed in the bedroom, the sound had her already striding over, knowing well that these late night calls from her secretary were always urgent.

Knowing well that she had always been the kind to prioritize her work. Her ambitions.

That she would never be a perfect lover, let alone be a perfect wife.

The gallery director fidgeted with her wedding ring, inhaling deeply as her eyes glanced over the glass doors of the meeting room. 

Her secretary had called her late last night, finally arranging a meeting with a potential sponsor for Y Gallery’s upcoming project. 

Y/N had rushed out frantically, glancing back at her husband once, before she had to start preparing for this meeting in the early hours of the morning. But now that she was done, and had nothing to do besides wait, her mind trailed back to Hyunjin.

Back to her trophy husband who seemed to be ever so peaceful in his slumber. She wondered if he would remember what he had done last night?

A part of her cursed herself for not ensuring he was sober enough before agreeing to his ministrations. Although he didn’t seem it, the way he had almost collapsed afterwards had her worried slightly.

Her eyes shot to her cellphone, the discarded device that had a cascade of messages and notifications from people she didn’t care enough about to respond right away.

But no message from Hyunjin.

It made sense. It was still early in the morning, and over the months of being married to him, the gallery director had learned that her husband loved to sleep in. Especially on days after he had a few drinks.

She wondered if she should message him. Tell him to take it easy in case he wakes up with an aching head. Tell him to call her so she could ensure he was alright.

Hear his voice.

His groggy sleep-laced voice, memories of it running through her mind. From all the times he had muttered things as he made her coffee on those days he claimed she had roused him awake.

Y/N blinked at his contact. At the words she had typed out, staring at the letters almost as if they were foreign.

They felt foreign.

Types of words she hadn’t sent in what felt like forever.

Words of concern. Of worry.

Messages a wife would send her husband.

The knock on the glass door tore the gallery director out of her trance, her instant social smile spreading over her face as she stood. Arm extending for a shake.

   “Thank you so much for taking the time to meet me today Madam Kim.” Her voice dripped with confidence.

The gallery director’s husband rustled under the sheets, his brows furrowing in a frown, eyes still shut tight but awake nonetheless.

The silence in the room stretched and for a moment he simply just laid there.

But then as the gears in his brain began to work, the memories of the night prior surged down on him, replaying through his mind in a loop.

Hyunjin’s eyes shot open, slowly he propped himself up to glance around the empty room. His body slightly ached for some reason, and his mind was foggy as he scanned his surroundings. 

There was no sign of Y/N. 

No quiet rustle of sheets, no trace of her presence. No loud clatter of her attempting to be quiet but failing miserably.

The space felt oddly hollow, and an uncomfortable silence settled in as he fully sat up, trying to make sense of everything. Of the time, of the day. 

His fingers traced his lips, tugging at his bottom lip as he tried to distinguish whether whatever he was thinking about right now, whatever he had done, had in fact happened or had it all been a dream.

Hyunjin made his way out of bed, figure crossing the rooms to peer out in hopes to find a glimpse of her, or a clue that would soothe the anxiety that had begun to bubble within him.

The living room was silent, a familiar stillness that settled in at this hour. Times when Hyunjin would head to the gym and the entire house was empty. Yet, the silence felt eerie to the man who had just awoken, his hair rustled messily as he glanced around the room. 

A loud sigh had escaped his lips. The anxious feelings started to subside as he was almost to that conclusion that it had been all a dream.

Almost.

Hyunjin’s eyes flickered to the counter. His brows relax at the sight of the mug of forgotten tea.

The drink that had long gone cold, still in the spot last left. Right across the front island, where he had tasted his wife. 

Not a dream.

Hyunjin gulped, the dry feeling in his throat refusing to subside. And all his anxieties began crashing down.

The second son of the Hwang family had had his fair share of one-night-stands. Sometimes waking up alone, sometimes leaving alone. It had never bothered him enough for his mind to linger on it any longer than he needed to. Forgetting it all almost with the new day.

And although whatever happened between the business-couple wasn’t even close to things Hyunjin had experienced in his one-night-stands, it still pricked at his heart in a way he didn’t think it would.

He knew the kind of person his wife was. Knew her priorities, knew that she would be working at this time, especially on a work day. But he didn’t expect to wake up alone.

Didn’t expect these anxious thoughts to course through him when he was welcomed by silence. 

Perhaps that’s what love was. 

These foreign emotions that surged through him right now had never been present after his past…overnight escapades. The lingering feelings that never seeped into his thoughts the next morning were heavily weighing down on him now.

He must be overthinking it all, he had to be.

Like a love-sick fool who felt abandoned.

Hyunjin had never thought himself to be the clingy type. In fact, he despised the women who often clung to him, professing their adoration for him. Attraction, love, things that made his brows twitch in irritation.

Yet here he was feeling clingy. Being clingy. 

His fingers drummed on the steering wheel of his car as he sat outside his wife’s gallery, gaze wandering over the building. Doubts clouded his mind as he second, third-guessed his actions. 

The sudden knock against the glass of his driver’s side window made him jump, head whipping around to pull down the tinted glass. 

One of Y/N’s gallery employees looked down at him, eyes full of curiosity.

   “Ah, Mr. Hwang, it’s you.” 

Hyunjin forced a smile, attempting to hide the uneasiness that stirred within him. To not appear as suspicious as he thought he looked, sitting out here in the outdoor parking lot wracking his brains. 

Nervous, anxious, but painfully missing his wife.

   “...She left so early, so…” His excuse trailed off, trying to settle the nervous twinge in his tone with a clear of his throat.

The young woman smiled with her nod as she straightened, glancing back at the glass building of the gallery.

   “Director Yeom had an early meeting that ended not too long ago. But now, she’s holed up working. I’m slightly worried...” The employee sighed, her brows furrowing with slight concern.

Words that are just enough to push away all of Hyunjin’s second-guessing. 

The trophy husband was already stepping out of his vehicle.

   “Let’s get her to take a break then.” He mumbled with a gentle smile, nodding at her before he was already striding ahead.

The gallery director herself had indeed been holed away since the early morning. Reworking a proposal that she suddenly needed to do after her meeting. As a gallery owner, the majority of her work was centered around securing investment and funding to keep it running. From managing visitors, renting out parts of the pretty space for events and shoots, to attracting rich patrons and people who had enough money to spend on her, her hands were always full.

But she wanted to do something different this time around. A gala, where proceeds would go towards sponsoring aspiring artists. The rich would get a chance to flaunt their wealth, and the starving artists would get a chance to showcase their talent through her gallery.

Y/N would like to think the meeting went well.

Most of the people who were attracted to her gallery outside of everyday visitors, were the wives of the wealthy businessmen in their circle, familiar faces that Y/N had grown up around. They loved to show off their wealth. Purchasing pieces and hosting events at her gallery had become a popular trend of some sorts in the recent years. Maybe it was to do with the fact that Y/N was going against her family and doing something she was passionate about. The high society women lingered about to either scope out the gossip that surrounded that or maybe they were truly infatuated with the wonderful artwork she had collected and exhibited in her gallery.

Madam Kim was one such prominent woman in their high society. The madame of one of the country’s leading law firms, her late husband is still a respected figure even now, years after his demise. 

The gallery director had initially wanted to propose a potential partnership with Madam Kim’s daughter-in-law, a woman who was an appreciator of art, and a regular patron of Y Gallery. But when the director had reached out, she had gotten a response from the matriarch of the family instead.

Y/N wasn’t complaining. Madam Kim was one of the more tolerable individuals of the elite class, humble in her ways, yet still had an immense influence on the other women and wives of her social circles. Maybe she had gotten lucky.

Or maybe not. The extra work that Madam Kim had requested was starting to take a toll on the gallery director whose eyes were starting to sting. Tell-tale signs of an oncoming migraine already throbbed at her temples.

The knock on her door faltered her machine-like fingers typing away with a frenzy, her eyes shooting over her glasses to take a glance at the incoming visitor.

She expected to see her secretary, perhaps with the drafted email the gallery director had been awaiting. But instead, the long dark locks of her husband’s appeared in her line of sight, and she stiffened at the sight of his figure entering her office.

For a brief second, the two of them stare at each other, simply just taking in each other’s presence, eyes floundering over one anothers face after not having seen it in what almost felt like years. Hyunjin’s eyes flicked to her desk, at the bottle of pain pills that rested by her glass of water, a sight that made his brows furrowed with a frown.

   “Have you slept?” He questioned with a sigh, the concern on his expression deepening.

Her eyes followed his to the same pills. She had taken two in attempts to soothe that headache that pounded at her temples, but of course it hadn’t worked. Instead she decided she would push through this workload before taking a power nap.

   “Not yet.” Her response wasn’t surprising, making her husband groan slightly, his arms crossing over his chest.

   “Have you eaten?” He continued, already understanding what her response was from the silent stare she shot him.

Y/N wanted to break into a laugh, to point out the creases that settled between his brows as he looked at her with an upset frown, clearly displeased by her answers. 

She wanted to break into a laugh because he was one more question away from becoming a nagging spouse. 

Instead she stifled the urge, sighing as her eyes darted to the bright screen that burned her eyes, before they settled back on his form just a few feet away.

   “I’ll eat soon. I promise.” She muttered.

   “Ten minutes.” His words followed immediately after her apparent hollow promise, making her tilt her head in slight confusion.

   “You have ten minutes before I force you to eat.” He added, his brows narrowing.

His words caught her off guard, a tone of his that she had never heard before. An expression that looked foreign too, as he stared with her pointedly. Yet she didn’t hate the sight of it. Rather, it sparked something else in her. That familiar challenged sensation erupted within her. Mixed with something else. Something she couldn’t really describe without thinking about him on his knees again. 

   “Force me to eat?” Y/N repeated, raising an eyebrow.

She leaned back into the cushion of her chair, her fingers lacing together in front of her. The gallery director watched her husband uncross his arms from over his chest, sliding them into the pockets of his slacks before a teasing smile tugged on his lips.

   “Spoon-feed you if I have to. Airplane and all.” His words were laced with a mischievous edge, watching as she squinted for a second, before finally breaking into that laugh she tried her best to stifle.

The contagious sound made her trophy husband mirror, his eyes creasing as his chuckles followed.

His anxieties faded almost instantly at the sound. At the sight of her.

   “Give me ten minutes. I’ll bring you something to eat.” 

Y/N opened her mouth to protest. Maybe to refuse or maybe to lie about not being hungry. But Hyunjin doesn’t allow her to, pointing a finger at her with a commanding tone.

   “Ten minutes. Sit tight.” He shot, already heading out the door.

Ten minutes. She pressed her lips into a soft smile, staring at the empty spot her husband had been standing in.

True to his words, ten minutes later the gallery director’s husband returned. Nodding at her secretary who sat outside her office, his grin radiated almost as he carried whatever nutritious breakfast he could scour for his wife, though it was long past breakfast time. 

But when he entered the room, he was greeted by silence.

He had expected to hear more rushed typing, the sound of her fingers working against the keyboard was a sound so familiar to him, he was slightly stunned by the quiet.

His gaze shifted to settle on the gallery director. The sight of her slumped figure, passed out on her arms over the desk, both fascinated and awed him all at once. 

She lasted ten minutes, barely. Unable to keep her eyes open. He was slightly impressed when he had entered earlier, it was clear she was exhausted, yet would have pushed herself further if he hadn’t distracted her.

Hyunjin sighed, gently placing down the bag of takeout on the coffee table before walking towards her. His eyes skimmed over her desk, at the cluttered surface that resembled her make-shift workstation that was their living room table.

He picked up the crumpled balls of paper, pushing it aside before he pulled out the chair on his side softly, taking a seat across. He leaned against the leather, getting comfortable as he simply gazed down at the exhausted woman who would have sworn she wasn’t sleepy, wasn’t exhausted if asked. But here she was now, softly inhaling and exhaling.

His eyes drifted to her laptop, the screen still glowing brightly, clear that she had fallen asleep not too long ago. 

Gently, Hyunjin reached out, fingers pushing back a stray lock of her hair, a fond smile tugging on his lips as he watched her breathe softly. His gaze shifted to the notepad beside her, amidst the crumpled papers and stacked sheets of ink. 

The open notepad was covered with a jumble of words, arrows, and little annotations in her meticulous handwriting. Despite the confusion of the notes, a few familiar words caught his attention, prompting him to slide the laptop in front of himself. With a nod to himself, he leaned forward and began typing. His eyes flit over the screen once to linger on her form.

   “The things I do for you.” He muttered under his breath, patting her hair softly before diving into the task at hand.

The sound of the press of keys had been a distant sound, yet as she stirred away, it had grown louder.

The gallery director’s lids fluttered open, staring at a sight that should have been strange, yet it didn’t feel so. Maybe she was still dazed from her impromptu nap, refreshed eyes still adjusting as she took in the sight of her husband absorbed between the laptop screen and her notepad, his fingers meticulously working against the keyboard.

It should have been a strange sight. Seeing Hwang Hyunjin working. On something that he claimed not to know about, claimed not to care about. But it wasn’t strange at all.

Instead, her heart clenched, the shielded, guarded organ of hers, suddenly racing in her chest. And all she wanted to do now was reach over and kiss him. 

A incoming notification on her laptop broke the comfortable silence that had settled in her office. An email from her secretary sitting outside, the notification of the email draft Y/N had requested popped up on the screen. It instantly drew Hyunjin’s attention, his eyes scanning the subject-line almost instinctively.

   “Artist Armin…” He muttered, reading to himself.

Y/N’s brows narrowed, a wave of bitterness spreading over her tongue as she slowly sat up. Movements that have Hyunjin look up to her. His gaze softening at the sight of her awoken state.

   “Is it written ‘A-R-Min’ or ‘R-Dot-Min.” She asked, her tone slightly groggy. 

Hyunjin glanced back at the screen, at the notification that lingered on the corner.

   “A-R-Min.” He replied, looking at her with slight wonder.

Y/N inhaled deeply, before letting out a slight groan.

   “It’s supposed to be R-Dot-Min.” She grunted almost, reaching over for the laptop so she could send the corrections to her secretary.

   “I’ll do it. You eat.” Hyujin pressed instead, pulling the device closer to him. 

An action that made her arch and eyebrow.

   “Really? You want to be my personal secretary now?” A smile had spread on her lips.

Hyunjin shrugged, his smug smile returning on his face.

   “What does the compensation package look like?” He chuckled, already ready to type the email to her secretary.

Y/N stood, stretching before she headed towards the bag of food, slightly hungrier than she was before her nap.

   “Anything you want.” Her words are more casual, distracted fingers pulling out her breakfast and lunch.

Her words make Hyunjin pause, fingers hovering over the keys.

For a moment, he wondered if asking for a kiss right now, maybe even daringly asking if he could lift her onto her desk, would be enough compensation. But he caught himself almost instantly, clearing his throat before grabbing the laptop to join her by the couch.

   “R-Dot-Min, right?” He confirmed once again.

Y/N’s hands stilled against the container of food, tasting bitterness all over again.

   “Yes.” She almost spat.

Her gaze drifted off, her thoughts suddenly elsewhere as she ate.

Hyunjin watched her movements, the way her fork disappeared into her mouth, the way her lips wrapped around the bottle of water. It made his own throat dry, his thoughts swirling, and he had to bite back the urge to say something. He didn’t want to sound like some pervert who couldn’t think of anything beyond wanting her all to himself, but suddenly, he couldn’t help it. Those thoughts lingered, darting through his thoughts.

He dropped his gaze, staring at the shiny surface of the glass table between them. He had to remind himself to control himself. To stop thinking like some fuckboy after her body. The trophy husband gnawed at his lower lip, trying to steady himself, his mind.

The gallery director watched as she dropped the empty container of her now-devoured food, wiping her lips. Her eyes lingered on Hyunjin, sitting across from her, his teeth tugging at his bottom lip, before he glanced back at her.

   “Who’s R.Min anyways?” Hyunjin cleared his throat, sending the email corrections to her secretary.

Y/N fell silent at the mention of the artist, the one Madam Kim wanted to collaborate with simply because her grandson had liked his work. 

What do lawyers know about art, anyway? 

She had groaned to herself during the meeting, though outwardly she had smiled, offering her radiant social grin and empty compliments, promising to follow through and try her best for a collaboration.

   “He’s a painter.” She answered curtly, rising to her feet.

Silence settled between them once more as Hyunjin set the laptop aside. The sound of another email pinged, cutting through the quiet, and both of them glanced at the screen.

   “Your secretary sent the email to R.Min.” He read aloud, eyes drifting over her.

A flicker of irritation drew over her expression, arms crossing as she muttered something under her breath. Likely a curse, though Hyunjin couldn’t quite catch it.

   “Enough about that artist—Do you remember what you did last night?” Her voice was sharp.

Her blunt question made him stiffen, his eyes widening slightly as he watched her from his seated position, suddenly wanting to melt into the leather. He swallowed a few times, unsure of what kind of answer would ease the irritation still lingering on her face. The scowl shot towards him, ones he thought he would have gotten rid of after he had pleasured her last night.

   “I do…” He finally sighed, his gleaming gaze flickering from his fingers to her face.

   “Why are you nervous? Do you regret it?” She asked.

Another question that made his eyes widen, this time more from the fear of her misunderstanding than anything else. 

   “No!” He almost exclaimed, licking his lips to calm himself down.

She blinked, slightly taken aback by his loud response. The pressing expression, the piercing gaze that he stared up at her with.

Her eyes traced over his rigid form that looked up at her. 

Nervous. Passionate perhaps. 

Kissable.

The gallery director only needed two long strides.

Three steps and she was towering over him, her figure already leaning into him. Hyunjin reflexively drew himself back as she inched closer, until he was pressing flush against the leather of the sofa, trapped almost. He inhaled sharply, stunned eyes darting between hers to grasp exactly what was happening, why she was suddenly so close.

Could she hear his heart about to explode in his chest?

Y/N can’t help but stare in fascination. This up-close view of her pretty husband was even more breathtaking than last night, his open eyes boring into hers. She could see the nervous twinge in his gaze, something she hadn’t truly expected from the ever-so-cocky Hwang Hyunjin. Yet, seeing it now, she couldn’t help but smile at how cute he looked beneath her.

Her fingers ghost over his lips. The ones she had gotten a feel of after stealing a kiss in his sleep. Although she would never, ever admit she had done so. He shuddered almost, even without her touching him yet.

   “I-is this a dream?” He found himself muttering instead.

Her brow arched at his words.

   “You dream of me?” She countered, her tone laced with a teasing edge, a hint of amusement.

Hyunjin swallowed hard.

   “No.”

He was trying his best. To cling onto that fragile thread of sanity left in him. To not appear desperate, craving her touch, her lips. Ready to melt underneath her.

Y/N let out a breathy laugh, her gaze dropping to his lips for a split second before locking with his eyes again. Clearly unconvinced.

   “I don’t kiss liars.” She murmured smugly.

Hyunjin swallowed hard. The thread snapped.

His hands shot out, slipping behind her hair to rest again the nape of her neck, tugging her toward him. 

His lips crash against hers. Desperate, frantic. 

All control shattered, his sanity slipping away as he pulled her closer. 

Closer. 

Into himself, wrapping his arms around her, settling her over him, onto his lap.

Melting underneath her. ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ to be continued.

── ask to be tagged! (18+) - @jellyleggz, @binniesbabe, @bookswillfindyouaway, @lemonn015, @scarlet789, @onlyhyunjin, @freekyfangirl, @candyquokka, @jehhskz, @stayjinnie, @suzyhhj , @minh0scat, @qwonyoung23, @d34thon2legs, @dessianna1, @kpopjackie, @rundontwalkshesaid, @sheerfreesia007, @thecutiepieme, @danihwang882, @hyunebunx, @seeeeking-skz, @hanadulsetaad, @velvetmoonlght, @alrm02, @tirena1, @hityoulikebahng, @tsunderelino, @cybergracie, @notevenheretbh1, @piscesrising01, @alisonyus, @hyuneyeon, @broken-glowsticks, @modesttiger, @gnabnahcbby, @shhyucm, @hanniesdegree, @lenfilms, @sushiinmidnight, @chrisbangsass, @fixation-dump, @minluvly, @loxgirl2004, @aeri-skzver, @ellemir2404, @mariahxrrera, @t1eekn0wsaurus, @aprilmaejune77, @amenabiii [CLOSED]

[meanbossart]

What is your take on Astarion's relationship with his siblings?

I have put unreasonable amounts of time into thinking about what the dynamics were like during Cazador's reign in that house. I mean, imagine sharing the same tasks, bedrooms, and general experiences of abuse and duress with the same people FOR TWO HUNDRED YEARS. That's absolute madness. If any of you have had experiences with co-living with family under stress for any extensive amount of time, you know very well the levels of emotional 4D chess-ing that tend to take place as a result. You end up distributing so much frustration and anger around and often onto the very same people you will ultimately seek comfort from - this is that situation but blown up to impossible proportions.

So, "strained" doesn't really do justice as a descriptor here. I believe the family had a dynamic, ever-evolving hierarchy within itself, years-worthy of time where the spawn shifted alliances and made "cliques" within themselves - rebels would evolve into pushovers and trusted friends would turn into snitches. You had endless amounts of drama within the group and flies on the walls would witness them cut each other's heads off one day and sob into one another's laps the next.

Naturally I think all of them were resistant to the concept of being a "family" at first, but it's pretty much impossible to not develop family-like ties throughout that long of a period. Following Cazador's death, I believe there would be further splintering within as some want to maintain said ties and others are eager to cut them - seeing both their siblings and the relationships themselves as yet another painful reminder of what Cazador imposed upon them.

I think Astarion falls into the latter category. If he had his way, he would never see, speak, or think of his brothers and sisters again. And while the sibling nomenclature is a deeply-rooted habit, he doesn't think it holds any legitimacy whatsoever (whether or not that's the case in his heart is another matter).

Dalyria (the moon-elf physician, whom I have come up with a story, personality, background and motivations during several long showers that might not necessarily line up with yours, so, if anything of what I'm about to say seems pulled out of a hat, it's because it was) is the opposite. She has grown attached to the constant presence of her siblings and taken a mother-goose role upon herself. With the Exception of Leonard and Violet (more on that later) she has decided they are her responsibility and wishes the group would stick together.

I like to think that there's a lot of history between those two in particular. Obviously, the interactions between Astarion and his siblings are very brief, but It's enough to run with. Dalyria shows a lot of concern and understanding towards him and even pleads when he threatens Petras' life - again, I think she did a lot of trying to pragmatically keep the peace among them and genuinely grew attached to a few - Astarion being the main one of said few. You even get the smallest hint of a on-and-off intimate relationship with the way he derisively calls her by her nickname.

Also, Astarion very occasionally showcases enough emotional maturity that I could see him latching onto the one other person around who seems to have her wits about her, but he's still flawed enough that Dalyria can think of him as a younger sibling that needs her care. Not to mention that, to me, she demonstrates a penchant for moral superiority and a dash of a machiavellian outlook, based on her diary and her completely unapologetic initiative to kill a child on the small chance it would lead her to a cure - not any child either, but Leonard's child. I can totally see Astarion sympathizing and gravitating towards someone like that.

Which brings us to the rest of the siblings - I would wager that, at least by the end of it all, Leonard and Violet were the odd-ones out. As it tends to happen within any tight-knit group, when one succeeds by stepping over the others (even if the reasons for it are justifiable) that brews a lot of resentment and eventual exclusion. Leonard not only did that, but he apparently still held onto hope of future and family outside the Szarr house; wheter or not everybody wanted out, I think a us-versus-them mentality is unavoidable under those circumstances, and Leonard was looked down upon by the others in their respective ways for what he was trying to do.

Violet just seems like she had gone a little cuckoo to me. We get very little about her, but when I think of an adult woman playing childish pranks on her roomates while you are all stuck in what's essentially a human trafficking ring... I think of a person who's either just a very silly breed of evil or who has lost touch with reality, and the latter is more interesting, imo. I think no one liked her, not only because she was a nuisance but also because she became completely emotionally untouchable. I think both Violet and Leonard are spawn who did not survive long after they were all freed.

I'll stop here before I ramble on for another 8 paragraphs about Aurelia, Yousen and Petras (Oh Petras, my beloved), but, yes, suffice to say that I believe it was kind of complicated LOL

EDIT: Not me calling Leon "Leonard" this whole post. Sorry buddy, you look like a Leonard.

[capricorn-season]

Homophobia in drag

When I was a young boy, I loved spending the night at my grandmother’s house. There, I could stay up as late as I wanted, and in the morning, there would always be Cinnamon Toast Crunch for breakfast. But the best part was raiding the closet in her basement, which was full of the gowns she had worn in the 1960s and 1970s – frilly pink and purple confections made of lace, chiffon and silk. I would put them on and watch The Golden Girls, sophisticatedly sipping Coke from a wine glass.

When I was nine, my dad bought a video camera, a giant monstrosity that my siblings and I struggled to balance on our shoulders while we filmed home videos. Alone, I’d prop the camera on the coffee table and record myself modelling various outfits, explaining to the camera why this plaid shirt went with these cargo shorts, or why this teal Starter jacket complemented these acid-washed jeans so perfectly. I captured on camera the dance I had painstakingly choreographed to Marky Mark and the Funky Bunch’s ‘Good Vibrations’.

As a kid, I followed my two older sisters around like a shadow, mimicking their mannerisms – the way they tucked loose strands of hair behind their ears when they were concentrating on their maths homework; the way they jutted their hips whenever they were talking to cute boys. Like them, I was a naturally athletic kid. My favourite sport was lacrosse, but I much preferred to play with the girls instead of the boys. The boys were quick to push and shove, and they loved to whack each other with their aluminium sticks. Girls relied more on their speed, their reflexes and the skills they’d honed to keep the ball securely cradled in the shallow mesh of their wooden sticks.

I grew up in a fundamentalist Christian community – most people would call it a cult. From kindergarten to the sixth grade, I attended the community’s tiny school. Because enrollment was so low, there was no in-crowd, no separate cliques of jocks and geeks. In retrospect, I’m sure my classmates and especially my teachers noticed my gender-nonconformity – all of my home videos prove that it was glaring – but it went largely ignored. All that mattered was that we were good Christians, that we loved Jesus and evangelised God’s Word to as many people as possible. When I learned about homosexuals in Bible class, or about AIDS (which we were told God had created to punish homosexuals for their sins), I didn’t think for a moment that I was one of them. Sure, my first real crush, when I was 11, had been on a boy – Elijah Wood, an actor about my age whose performance in the 1994 B-movie, North, had captured my heart. But at the time, before sexual maturity, I mistook the longing I felt for Elijah with the more sanitised desire to simply keep his company and be his best friend. I indiscriminately absorbed all of the lessons I learned about homosexuals, as if they were and would always be irrelevant to my life.

The summer after my sixth-grade year, my family left the community and we moved to a neighbouring town. I began seventh grade in a large public school, where there was definitely an in-crowd. My new classmates wasted little time informing me how unacceptable it was for a boy like me to behave the way I did – the way I enunciated my s-words, the way I brushed my auburn hair, which I had highlighted the previous summer with Sun-In. They called me a faggot, delivered me notes that said everyone knew my ‘dirty little secret’. They asked me frequently, ‘Are you a boy or a girl?’. Well, of course I was a boy, I would respond, trembling.

Meanwhile, I was beginning to sexually mature; I was soon developing crushes that inspired more than just a desire to keep a boy’s company. With horror, I realised that I might actually be what the kids were calling me – which, I knew in my bones, guaranteed me a tragically short life and a one-way ticket to hell. That, after all, was what the old form of homophobia entailed. Self-loathing.

To survive the onslaught, I defeminised myself. I lowered my voice, started wearing baggy jeans and sweatshirts, cut the highlights out of my hair, and replaced my Mariah Carey CDs with Nirvana. Soon, the fear and the anxiety became too much to bear, and the only refuge I found was in alcohol and drugs.

In high school, with each passing year, my drug use got worse. After graduation, I lasted one semester in college before dropping out. Two months later, at the age of 19, I had my first of several stays in a local psychiatric ward. I was delusional, addicted to drugs and suicidal.

It was during my second stay in the psychiatric ward that I was introduced to a 12-step programme, which was how I would eventually get sober in my early twenties. It was slow-going in the beginning of my sobriety to accept my homosexuality. I began to reconnect with the young boy I had once been, the boy whose interests expanded beyond what was typical for males. I experimented with bronzer and mascara, and got French manicures and pedicures.

Engaging in these behaviours felt liberating for a while, but eventually the novelty wore off. In fact, they started to feel performative. I realised I didn’t need those things to be my authentic self. My ideas, my voice, the way I treat other people – these are the things that make me the person I truly am.

In 2011, when I was 28, I fell in love with a man. The following year, I joined the fight for marriage equality. After we won that campaign, I knew I wanted to become a gay activist. I wanted to help create a world in which feminine boys and butch girls could exist peacefully in society. A world in which gender-nonconforming people were accepted as natural variations of their own sex. Minorities, sure, but real and valid nonetheless.

The trans question

In 2017, at the age of 33, I enrolled at Columbia University, New York to complete my undergraduate degree. There, I was shocked to discover how gay activism had evolved since marriage equality became the law of the land. The focus was now entirely on personal pronouns and on being ‘queer’. My classmates labelled me ‘cis’, short for cisgender. I didn’t even know what it meant. All I knew was that they called me ‘cis’ in the same cadence that the seventh graders had called me ‘fag’.

Soon, I learned about nonbinary identities, and that some people – many people – were literally arguing that sex, not gender, was a social construct. I met people who evangelised a denomination of transgenderism that I had never heard of, one that included people who had never been gender dysphoric and who had no desire to medically transition. I met straight people whose ‘trans / nonbinary’ identities seemed to be defined by their haircuts, outfits and inchoate politics. I met straight women with Grindr accounts, and listened to them complain about the ‘transphobic’ gay men who didn’t want to have sex with women.

All around me, it seemed, straight people were spontaneously identifying into my community and then policing our behaviours and customs. I began to think that this broadening of the ‘trans’ and ‘queer’ umbrella was giving a hell of a lot of people a free pass to express their homophobia.

At Columbia, I took classes on LGBT history, but much of that history was delivered through the lens of queer theory. Queer theorists appropriate French philosopher Michel Foucault’s ideas about the power of language in constructing reality. They argue that homosexuality didn’t exist prior to the late 19th century, when the word ‘homosexual’ first appeared in medical discourse. Queer theorists proselytise a liberation that supposedly results from challenging the concepts of empirical reality and ‘normativity’. But their converts instead often end up adrift in a sea of nihilism. Queer theory, which has become the predominant method of discussing and analysing gender and sexuality in universities, seemed to me to be more ideological than truthful.

In my classes on gender and sexuality in the Muslim world, however, I discovered something else, too. I learned about current medical practices in Iran, where gay sex is illegal and punishable by death, and where medical transition is subsidised by the state to ‘cure’ gays and lesbians who, the theocratic elite insists, are ‘normal’ people ‘trapped in the wrong bodies’. I privately drew parallels between the anti-gay laws and practices of Iran and what I saw developing in the West, but I convinced myself I was just being paranoid.

Then, I learned about what was happening to gender-nonconforming kids – that they were being prescribed off-label drugs to halt their natural development, so that they’d have time to decide if they were really transgender. If so, they would then be more successful at passing as the opposite sex in adulthood. Even worse, I learned that these practices were being touted by LGBT-rights organisations as ‘life-saving medical care’.

It felt like I was living in an episode of The Twilight Zone. How long were these kids supposed to remain on the blockers? And what happens in a few years, if they decide they’re not ‘truly trans’ after all, and all of their peers have surpassed them? Are they seriously supposed to commence puberty at 16 or 17 years of age? These questions rattled my brain for months, until I learned the actual statistics: nearly all children who are prescribed puberty blockers go on to receive cross-sex hormones. Blockers don’t give a kid time to think. They solidify him in a trans identity and sentence him to a lifetime of very expensive, experimental medicalisation.

I wondered how different these so-called trans kids were from the little boy I had been. Obviously, I grew up to be a gay man and not a transwoman. But how could gender clinicians tell the difference between a young boy expressing his homosexuality through gender nonconformity, and someone ‘born in the wrong body’? I decided to dig deeper into the real history of medical transition.

Medicalising homosexuality

What I learned validated all of my worst fears. I learned that for decades after their invention, synthetic ‘sex hormones’ were used by doctors and scientists who sought to ‘cure’ homosexuality, and by law enforcement to chemically castrate men convicted of committing homosexual acts.

I learned about actress and singer Christine Jorgensen, one of the first people in the US to become widely known for having ‘sex-reassignment’ surgery in the early 1950s. Jorgensen may now be celebrated by the modern ‘LGBTQIA+’ community as a trans icon, but he seemed more concerned with escaping his homosexuality, which he said was ‘deeply alien to my religious attitudes’. As Jorgensen put it, ‘I identified myself as female and consequently my interests in men were normal’.

I learned that of the first adolescents to be treated for gender dysphoria (or what was then called ‘gender identity disorder’) with puberty blockers and cross-sex hormones in the 1990s and early 2000s, the vast majority were homosexual. And I learned that these studies inform current ‘gender-affirming care’ practices.

Soon, I met detransitioned gay men who had sought an escape from internalised and external homophobia in a transgender identity. They continue to suffer severe post-surgical complications, years after their vaginoplasties.

I began to fear we had reached a point of no return a couple of years ago, during a conversation I had with a supposedly ‘progressive’ friend. I told her that, if I had been a young boy now, I likely would have been prescribed puberty blockers and gone on to medically transition. ‘And you don’t think you would’ve been happy as a transwoman?’, she asked me. Her question left me speechless. I couldn’t find the words to state the obvious: that I am a gay man, not a transwoman; that statistics tell me my medical transition may not have been successful; and that I would suffer severe medical complications. In any case, if I had transitioned, I wouldn’t be living an authentic life. After all, isn’t that what this is supposed to be about? Living authentically?

Sylvester, an androgynous disco icon of the 1970s and 1980s, was once asked what gay liberation meant to him. He answered, ‘I could be the queen that I really was without having a sex change or being on hormones’. Perhaps I belong in an earlier era, when newly liberated gays and lesbians rebelled against the medical and psychiatric experiments they had long been subjected to. Perhaps my early aspiration of expanding what it means to be a boy or a girl was nothing but a pipe dream. In Europe, there is hope that these medical experiments will cease, and that gay and lesbian adolescents will be spared from a lifetime of medicalisation. But in the US, nearly eight years after same-sex marriage became the law of the land, it is full-steam ahead with these homophobic practices.

For voicing my concerns about gender-affirming care for minors, I have been called a transphobic bigot. If that’s what speaking out against the medicalisation of homosexuality makes me, then so be it.

[theglamorousferal]

Amity Park and Gotham are sister cities.

After a reveal gone right to the town (redeemed Vlad included) and the townspeople finding out that they were ecto-contaminated enough for the GIW to apprehend them, the parents send the kids over to their sister city so they can be out of the way while they throw a coup against the GIW.

They end up staying at Drake Manor as Tim basically only uses it as storage at this point and was willing to rent out the large house. He notices weird quirks among the kids. He notices that they seemed to stay in their own little cliques for the most part, but had a sort of antagonistic sibling relationship with members of other groups. He noticed they still all spent time with each other and seemed to have each other's backs. He showed up early one Saturday and found them all in neat rows practicing martial arts, led by one of the kids. They were all working together. He knew there was something going on with them, but hadn't had a chance to figure it out yet.

Danny clocked pretty early on in their interactions that Tim was a vigilante, he knew the signs. He didn't say anything at first, not until Tim arrived at the Manor at 2:30 in the morning, obvious signs he hadn't slept in a few days, rambling to himself about someone being alive and stuck in time. Now, Danny wasn't going to expose himself, but hearing that he realizes he can help. So Danny talks to Tim, find out what he knows, and Tim is so relived that someone believes him that he ends up crying, sobbing because he's still just a kid who's father figure is missing and nobody else believes him and finally, finally he has someone who is listening.

Just, I want Tim being accepted by these chaotic children and them helping him find Bruce in time.

[fairyk133]

💓My Bully OC, meet Ruth Beauté!💓

School Titles:

“Class Representative” , “Fields Angel”, “Sheriffs Daughter”

Clubs:

Soccer, Mock trial (I know Bully game doesn’t have it, it’s my oc lemme alone.)

Cliques Relationships:

Jocks(10%): Lowkey, even though she is on the soccer team and she’s the best player —along side her friend Jason, both being called “The Field’s Angels”, she does not fw with the jocks at all. She views the jocks— mainly the football players as toxic masculinity, smelly abusers, especially Damon, and Ted Thompson and Casey. This goes for the same with Juri and Luis. She knows how Mandy acts towards others and it mentally disgusts her, and the fact Mandy messed with her friends feelings. Chrissy Martin and Pinky are the only cheerleaders she likes or can see as decent to be around.

Greasers(78%): Ruth may biologically came from a wealthy family, but she was never a stuck up spoiled girl growing up, Even after her illegal departure and emancipation, she never really valued money, even before. She likes hanging out with Vance, they got the same music tastes, and is liked due to her tutoring and sharing the same interests with the greasers. Almost at the end of the year she finally got properly adopted, by Miss Rodriguez, a (cop/sheriff) she told them and made sure to never snitch on them when they commit a crime. She gives pity to Johnny for how Lola treat him, so Lowkey she doesn’t have hardcore respect for him or Lola.

Preps(90%): Ruth gained respect towards many all of preps because of fashion sense, and work etiquette. She relates to Tad, and generally talks to him, Gord and Chad had crushes on her but Parker ends up dating her at the end of her violin solo when she was found her upset outside. (Ooooo lore) She can’t stand Derby because he one time paid the teacher in Mock trial to make sure he won on his side. When she first met them, she was a little disgusted. By the fact they were inbred. Some of the preps began to notice she’d wear real pearls and looked decent for a so called “middle class lady”. Derby mock her southern accent, she technically gets along with everyone except for him.

Bullies(50%): As much as she hates bullying she tolerates Tom and Trent along with Ethan. Her and Ethan do get into a few scuffles, but they act like siblings. Endgame you will see her pulling on Ethan’s ear and yelling at him, Having minor interactions with each other. In the middle of the year, she met Tom bumping into him and she felt attracted to him, but that attraction solely died when her friend randomly said that she liked him and she immediately canceled out her feelings for him. But —it didn’t work out between them and sooner at the end of the year, they ended up dating one another. She doesn’t like Russell very much. She sees him as illiterate due to her being very judgmental, Troy’s voice annoys her and seems him as mentally slow , just like Russell.

Nerds(89%): Ruth first meets Algie whimpering and crying about the jocks messing with him, she decided to help him during Halloween party. She dressed up as Billy from Ghostface and lured in/seduced Casey into the woods, leaving him there, she hid herself by dressing up as the actual Ghostface, holding a axe and showing Casey Algie’s fake dead body in the woods, making Casey scared and falling into a deep ditch, only for Algie to get up and Ruth taking off her mask to reveal the joke, and they walk off back to the party. She can tolerate the rest of the nerds probably because she sympathizes with them, but the only nerd she does not like is Ernest. She sees him as a pervert, a weirdo, and he doesn’t really like her either because of her cold mean wannabe Blair Waldorf attitude, and sees her as an academic rival.

Clothing-

School Uniform:

She wears a rosary that’s secretly a pocketknife/dagger, if taking off the silver half, which is at the bottom of the cross, the rosary was gifted from the past love innterest when she was in an a girls Catholic school. Short skirts and nails are in, but she is very old-fashioned and decides to let her nails grow naturally long and her uniform skirt reaches down to her upper ankles, but to keep it young so she doesn’t seem too much of a prude, she has a mid slip on the side of her skirt, her nail colors are usually in the color of burgundy, dark magenta, or Mulberry. She wears black kitten heels to make herself seem more mature and elegant, wears a silver rose ring on her right hand middle finger, non-manufactured real pearl studs, a blue or white headband to keep her micro braids out of her face. When looking at her ankles, you will see a pearl anklet.

Winter attire:

Mentality:

[xetlynn]

Hey :) Loved the Claggor Imagine called "Preheat" and wanted to request the same scenario for Mylo (season 2). Like what would he be like if he got caught making out with the reader 🤭 Thank you for your work and have a lovely day

arcane imagines- mylo

a dance

[arcane] [main page]

Prompt: the two of you take a breather from dancing outside, one thing leads to another…

The music was blasting, full volume. The people were chatting, all consumed by their own little cliques around the building. You were dancing by yourself. Feeling the beats that the dj played. Not caring that you were alone and your friends had left you to go talk with people. 

As you turn your body you accidentally bump into someone. “Sorry!” You giggle, but then you stop dancing for a moment once you realize who it is. “Mylo!?” You shout over the music, his face is flushed.

He was trying to get your attention all night. And now that he has it, he feels like he’s going to throw up from the butterflies forming in his stomach. “H-hey, [Name]! Crazy seeing you here.” He awkwardly says but not exactly loud enough for you to hear. 

“What!?” You put a hand to your ear, indicating that he needs to repeat himself. He mentally curses at himself, leaning in closer to you. “I said, crazy seeing you here!” He yells and you grin. “I told you I was going to be here, silly!” You nudge his arm playfully, swaying side to side with the music. 

“Plus, isn’t this your dads bar!?” You ask, tilting your head to the side. His face was burning and his heart was thumping in his ears. “Yeah, hah.” He scratches the back of his neck. “You like to dance, silly?” You grab his hand, forcing him to now join you. “I have two left feet if we’re being honest!” He admits sheepishly and you scrunch your nose with a smile. “Just freely move your limbs. Who cares what you look like while doing it!” You say as you look like an utter angel with your dance-moves. 

Perfectly syncing in with the music. He timidly, and rather stiffly follows what you’re doing. His siblings watched from afar with amused, surprised reactions. Amused because he looks like an idiot with how he’s dancing. Surprised because he’s actually doing it with you. 

After a couple minutes you start to feel really sweaty and gross. You purse your lips, looking at Mylo. “Want to go outside?” You suddenly ask him and he furrows his brows. You point to the front door. “Outside?” You repeat, his mouth goes into the shape of an ‘o’ and he just nods his head saying, “okay.” 

You start to walk, maneuvering through the people, you look back to see Myo just standing there. “What are you doing?” You squint back at him, throwing her hands in the air. He points a finger to his chest and you let out a sigh before nodding your head. Waving at him to come with. 

He hurriedly pushes through people, joining you outside the bar. It’s quiet, only hearing the faint noises from inside. “You’re a goof, Mylo.” You hit his shoulder lightly, laughing as you sit down on a bench. “Heh, guess so.” He joins your side, fidgeting with his hands in his lap. 

“You’re cute too.” Your lips tug upwards as you look at him. His eyes widened, not able to muster up the confidence to look at you in the face. “You know that, right?” You slid closer to him and he felt like his heart was going to explode. A smirk was plastered on your face. “S-stop.” He mutters and you hum. 

“Sorry, I thought you liked me too.” You press your lips together, scooting back to your original spot, only a few inches from him. His head snaps to you. “No, no, I do! A lot. Like really, you don’t get it.” He rambles and you bite your bottom lip as he speaks. “You genuinely make me nervous. I don’t know what to say or when to stop talking. I sound like an idiot half the time I speak to you.” He exclaims and you put your hand over his. “Mylo.” You start. 

“Sorry, doing it right now, huh?” He fumbles, feeling extremely awkward. “Myloo.” You were toothily grinning at him, “Yes?” His face contorted. “Can I kiss you?” You boldly ask to which he nods eagerly, not a peep leaving his mouth. 

You don’t even waste a second as you pull him into a kiss. His mustache tickling the top of your lip. 

Your hand falls to his waist, pulling him closer to you. Deepening the kiss. Mylo grabs a hold of your hips, squeezing you. Your mouths were in sync with one another, he was amazed by how soft and perfect your lips were. Feeling them for the first time and it was better than he ever expected them to be. 

You retreat for a singular second, only to smile before going in for more. He was a silly man, you enjoyed that about him. Listening to him bicker with his siblings but caring for them all in the same. How he acts confident but whenever he spoke to you he was sweet. And awkward. Stuttering and stammering. It was cute and you wanted more of him. 

What the two of you didn’t see was the doors of the bar opening, Claggor, who has been searching for his brother and you since the two of you went missing from the dance floor, stands there. Gawking at the two of you in shock. Before carefully going back inside and running to Powder, Vi and Ekko with the news of Mylo making out with his long-time crush. 

Powder snatches Ekko’s hand, racing outside. Vi and Claggor a few feet behind. “No way this is real.” Violet snorts. “I swear, they’re eating each other's faces.” Claggor puffs. “Can’t wait to mess with him later.” He adds, Vi nudges him in agreement. 

Powder slams the door open, startling the two of you. You jump back in your spot. Mylo’s hands are still on your hips. “You two were actually making out!?” Powder’s jaw slacks, looking back to her boyfriend who had a proud expression. 

“What?” Mylo asks with a still frightened look. He was dazed and not exactly comprehending what was happening. “Claggor wasn’t lying, huh?” Vi peaks her head out the door behind the couple. You eye them with knitted eyebrows. What was going on? “I told you.” Claggor sighs. 

“Good job.” Ekko puts his thumbs up. Mylo gives him a “what the fuck?” look. “How much did you pay her to do it?” Powder inquires, hands on her hips. “Dude! I didn’t pay her anything!” Mylo defends himself as you giggle. “Seriously?” She leans to the side to look you in your face and you curtly nod, covering your mouth as you try not to laugh harder. “But you’re so pretty.” The blue-haired girl juts out her bottom lip, not understanding the dynamic. “Hey! I am right here!” Mylo exclaims. 

“Right, I see you.” Powder then shoves him by the head, sitting between the two of you. “So, do you like… like him? Or what? Because I totally understand if you’re under the influence and this wasn’t like a sober thing.” Powder questions you and you burst into laughter. “I’m sober, I like Mylo. He’s a cutie.” You answer, glancing over to the boy you were just making out with. 

His face heats up, smiling from what you said. 

She goes to interrogate you even more but Ekko and Vi grab her. Pulling her away. “What? I had more questions!” She groans. “Nope, you’re done.” Vi disagrees.  “Sorry about her.” Ekko pushes her back inside the bar as Vi nods. “Yeah, she doesn’t know when to shut up.” Violet breathes out. 

“It’s okay, don’t worry about it.” You wave it off and she goes to follow the couple inside, Claggor waiting as he holds the door open.  “But for real… Mylo?” Vi cocks her head to the side. “Vi, c’mon.” Claggor drags her inside. 

The two of you hear them still talking and you snicker. Mylo’s shoulders slump. “Sorry about that…” He blinks. 

“It’s okay! What are siblings for?” You beam. “To embarrass me in front of the girl I like? I don’t want them anymore.” He replies and you let out a laugh that sounded like music to his ears. “Awe, well, I like you too. Which I've already said.” You peck his cheek.

[hazbin-a-helluvamagines]

Heyyy I'm sooo happy that you're back ! I hope you're doing ok now ! Make sure to take good care of yourself.☺️

if it's not too much, can we have some Verosika and fizzarolli headcanons with a lil sister reader (platonic obviously)

"Little Sis" ; Fizzarolli, Verosika Mayday

Look. You're probably the only one he actually kept around after the whole incident with the circus and following him into his employment with Mammon.

You get to see him at his absolute worst, when he's struggling with Mammon, the abuse, the exploitation, you get a front-row seat to every breakdown and panic attack.

And he had the desire to keep you out of that life. Forever. So he'd never let you attend any performances or shows where Mammon was present.

You could see him at Ozzie's, see all the cool songs and tricks he could do, but other than that? He didn't want to risk Mammon scouting you as potential talent. He thinks he'd go insane if something ever happened to put you in the position he's in.

"But Fizz, why can't I ever see you at the Clown Pageant?"

"Y/N, it's... It's not a nice place. If it were, I'd let you, but... please. For me, don't argue with me. I don't... want you seeing what I do there."

Of course, reluctantly, you agree. If it's that important to him, he must be being truthful that there are things you'd just rather not see there.

But after Fizz quits? He shows you all the videos online of Ozzie protecting him. :)

Speaking of!! You get to meet and chill with Ozzie! A total gentleman towards both you and your big brother, and you can see the way Fizzarolli's face flushes whenever Ozzie holds his hand or makes a sweet compliment.

Honestly, Asmodeus is one of the few people who's been able to make your brother smile and laugh throughout the duration of his absolute misery.

And of course, it's important for Asmodeus to meet his future sister-in-law!

You've spent your entire life making him happy. And now that he's free, he can finally return the favor. :))

Verosika's sibling? I doubt you're not part of her posse, and therefore, famous alongside her and her clique. Both in Hell and on Earth.

She calls you "sis", "bro", or "sib", depending on what pronouns you use.

"Hey, sib! Coco and Apple and I are going shopping, wanna come? Last one in the car's a fucking virgin."

She's a pretty irresponsible big sister, honestly. She'll swear, make innuendos, and take you places you probably shouldn't be. But the second someone actually tries some shit on you, it's over. Those heels of hers are rather painful when embedded in someone's dick, after all.

You were with her through her breakup with Blitzø, and you, like Fizz's sibling, also got to see her at her worst. Baggy hoodies, runny mascara, ice cream, filthy hair, depression... The works. She never meant for you to see her like that. It was jarring, and she knows it, to see someone so confident and sweet become so broken and petty.

But on the plus side, she ended up giving you a ton of things because she wanted to try and salvage all the relationships she already had, with you, with her posse, hell, probably even with your guys' parents.

She's also super protective of you. As a succubus in Hell, she knows better than almost anyone else how touchy and unwelcomely handsy others can be with your kind. So she always makes sure to have some pepper spray on her, at the very least, plus teaching you the whole 'keys between the fingers' trick.

"Okay, so you stick each of these keys between your fingers... Yeah, like that! And then you punch 'im in the dick. And if it's a lady? Ditch the keys, purple nurple her."

It's honestly a bit eerie how well-versed she is, but hey, it's Hell, a girl's gotta protect herself somehow. And she'll be damned if her little sibling can't do it, either.

You have your spats, but deep down, the both of you love each other. Nothing could change that.

I hope you enjoy never sleeping, though, because damn, her karaoke nights last forever- At least she can sing, I guess-

[rafesbunny]

brothers best friend- r.c 🎀

topper was your older brother by two years, he was well known round the island and you less well known. people knew you for being toppers younger sister and that was about it, you didn’t have anything extraordinary about you or what you did. you never got in trouble, had okay grades at school, didn’t wear short skimpy clothes or too modest clothes. everything about you was just okay. that wasn’t to say you didn’t have any friends or anything, you had a small circle of girls and would hang out with them at your house, or one of your boats, or at the beach. you didn’t go to parties unless it was midsummers, one of your dads business parties or a party your older brother would throw when you’re parents were away for the weekend. and it was one of those weekends.

your parents had decided to have a vacation for just the two of them for a few weeks, leaving you and topper home alone. he took this opportunity to throw a massive party. everyone was there, one because it was a party who was going to say no? and two because topper was popular on the island and people wanted to be in his group, his clique. topper had a lot of friends, his two best friends though was kelce and rafe. rafe was the leader. he was cocky, rude, and could get away with anything he wanted. you never really spoke to him despite him being your brothers best friend. if you saw him at your house you’d say hi maybe even ask how he’s doing but that was it. you were a shy girl, so talking to scary rafe took a lot of courage, you were sure he hated you, only responding with little grumbled out heys and never stopping to ask how you are. he doesn’t care for girls feelings even if he’s fucking them, but unbeknownst to you he did like you, you were sweet, polite, not too much.

it was nearing the end of the night, and the house was still packed of drunken people, there were girls crying, boys doing lines, and couples hooking up everywhere. topper always gave you a tough time about not getting involved in social events and hiding in your room, so to avoid this you invited some of your friends over. you also decided to get dressed up, put something on that isn’t a baggy shirt or a maxi skirt. you don’t know why you bought this, but last year you got this little black dress that showed off your body in all the right places, and complimented your hair, eyes, skin, and nails simultaneously. you and your girls were sitting outside, where it was quieter, on sun beds, all with a drink in their hands except you. you knew something was bound to go wrong and you knew you needed to be the responsible sibling who fixes it, even if you were the younger one.

inside the house, it was filled with people and the music was blaring, and rafe stumbled over to your brother, “yo man, gonna head off. see you tomorrow” but before he could walk away topper told him, “yeah not gonna let you drive rafe, you’re too fucked up” at every party rafe wouldnt drink much but he would deal and take lots of coke. he could always handle himself but it still scared topper to think something might happen to him, he would never explicitly say this to rafe as he would get called “gay” or something, but he was his best friend after all. rafe tried to protest, “it’s fine, i’ll walk-” but still topper would not let rafe leave, “look, go outside by the cars and i’ll get my sister to drive you”. while mumbling something about he can look after himself, rafe made his way to your car.

surprisingly, you had a nice night, not to say you were going to be going to more party’s any time soon, but it was nice seeing everyone have fun and talking with your friends. however, this good mood you were in quickly dissipated when you saw your brother walk towards you, knowing something had happened, “can i talk to you quickly” he asked after clearing his throat to get your attention making all your friends go silent, slightly intimidated by him. silently you got up and followed him to a quieter spot, “y’know i hate to ask you for favours-” he was quickly cut off by a raise of your eyebrow, challanging what he had just said, knowing he was no stranger to asking you to cover for him, “shut up. anyways i really don’t want to have to ask you this but can you please take rafe home?” you sighed, but thankful for staying sober tonight, you agreed, “yeah whatever, fine.” topper smiled and ruffled your hair endearingly, “thanks, be safe okay? call me if you need anything” although rafe was his best friend, topper knew how rafe could be towards girls especially when coked up.

a bit annoyed you had to leave the fun to babysit a coked up- nearly grown up- man, you dragged your feet over to your car where rafe leaned up against the drivers door, clearly not happy with your brothers request either. you said nothing as you walked closer to him, only giving him a little smile, and classic rafe didn’t smile back, but he didn’t move either. it wasn’t like he didn’t notice you, in fact he was staring right at you. maybe you were imagining it but you swear he was looking you up and down, you brushed it off unsure if your eyes were deceiving you. you both stood their awkwardly for a bit waiting for rafe to move so you could get in the car before saying, “rafe i need to get in the car”. perhaps it was the lighting, but was rafe blushing? “oh yeah…sure- sorry” he stumbled over his words and his feet making he way to the passengers side, letting his eyes linger on your figure a second too long that made you notice. “god, topper was right not letting you go home” you joked, getting into your seat and buckling up. rafe copied your actions but didn’t acknowledge your comment, he was annoyed at himself for getting to out of it to even be able to do a five minute walk down the road to his house. what kind of a man was he? “you look good tonight y/n/n” he mumbled, as if he was embarrassed to compliment you. you weren’t surprised someone made a comment on how you looked tonight, no one has ever seen you like this before and not to toot your own horn but you did look stunning. but the fact it was coming from the big bad wolf of kildare was slightly shocking. “thanks rafe, i never wear these kind of clothes, it’s weird, but i think i like it? i don’t know” you continued to ramble, completely blind to the way rafe wasnt listening to you but instead staring at the way your eyes has a sparkle in them and looking as if they brightened up your face despite it being pitch black, and the way you still had a big smile on as if being taken away from your friends to babysit a very capable man wasn’t a burden at all. he continued to ‘listen’ to you for the rest of short journey and didn’t realise when you were parked outside of his house. lightly chuckling at rafes lack of awareness you informed him, “we’re here rafe” and quickly he snapped out of trance and abruptly got out. but before making his way to the front door he circled to your window, knocking it with his knuckle, commanding you to roll it down. when you did what he wanted he said, “see you around, yeah kid?” and you went back to the girl too scared to talk around him, offering him a gentle nod as he walked away. “he was acting so weird, he must’ve been really high” you thought to yourself, pulling out his drive way. “fuck, what’s gotten into me” rafe thought while unlocking his front door. topper would kill him if he knew he was starting to harbour a crush on his little sister. what was he going to do?

[thestartarot]

North Node Aries / South Node Libra

My own observations, take what resonates.

18 y/o over due to sensitive topic nature, thank you.

Soul color: Red

Your destiny point: independence in all relationships and feeling accepted for who one truly is, a firm grasp on who you are, be meaningful, and have confidence to feel comfortable in your own skin.

How to overcome: stop worrying and letting your life get so defined by what people think of you or how someone decides to validate you. Find an actual sport to help with issues of insecurity brought on by competitiveness and learn when to walk away from confrontation.

Childhood: An Aries NN is always interesting in the dynamic of the home. A lot of repressed conflict here. Most likely, a lot of arguing in the home (between siblings, between parents, maybe everyone) and often times the fights were intense and the resolutions were passionate and heartfelt. This placement has an undeniable sense of feeling mistaken from all angles, feeling unusual. Because of this, the placement will go to great lengths to seek validation from family and friends. In addition to the validation needed at home and with friends, the media plays a big role in validating this placement and often what we are taught to be “standard” is actually unobtainable and sometimes impossible. There were probably a vast amount of different social groups and cliques growing up. This placement certainly didn’t want to lose out in popularity so may have been the most popular in school or may have been everyone to everyone, losing themselves in the process.

Also, there are moral issues here, embrace what is different and cool and genuine to you or stay in the crowd? This placement stays with the crowd, there’s more protection and the friends are a way to escape the confines of the home where it’s easy to not feel like enough with everything going on (sports, grades, finances etc.) This placement may have also had to mature early, maybe even having jobs at young ages.

Adulthood: This placement may still be in contact with same friends from high school or college because community are the social checks and balances Libra south node loves. Media is a big influence in this placement. A BIG shift from repressing what makes them feel uncomfortable or insecure in childhood to a lot of self help and self discovery in adulthood. This placement will learn to part ways with what no longer serves them, after a couple of mistakes learned the hard way, usually. Then, the Aries NN will go on to keep digging to discover themselves and where they may have gotten lost in childhood. This placement may put an emphasis on finding the one answer or the one thing that will make all of these uncomfortable feelings go away, but really it’s the Libra’s south node obsessions and perfectionism that is causing this placement so much heartache.

Libra, being an air sign, intelligence & debate are happy places for this placement. Loves to argue for their ideals, beliefs, and community. The placement feels validated in arguments by their own research and intellect and the people who support them. Conflict can grow too comfortable here.

Imposter syndrome could be strong here.

How to overcome: The nodes are axis points of fear, things we need to overcome to see the bigger picture. In tarot, these nodes are represented by The Fool & The Emperor or Empress. In particular to this placement, true healing comes from walking away from a fight, laughing at the ridiculous standards being imposed by media, choosing their own image and story, and having faith. This placement will actually have a lot of growth in the breakup of relationships and self determined individuals will use the trial by fire to keep moving in their interests and truth. This sign is fundamentally unique, a trailblazer, and a little quirky. This placement needs to believe in themself and get in touch with the fundamentals of who they are.

Also, Libra needs an outlet for all of that competition so go be the best at something (strong encouragement for competitive sport) and don’t worry what others think!! You got this!! You are enough and you were born with sound mind.

— Casper

[rubiewrites]

Thinking about this one Five Hargreeves x reader fanfic I read on AO3 around a year ago where him and his siblings are the new kids at this private school and Y/N was the hbic basically with her own clique (dave, lila and sissy) and five and Y/N were academic rivals. It was enemies to lovers and tho it was unfinished, it left an impact on me.

A bit specific? Yes. I need help finding it. Please.

[doodle-pops]

¨*:·Guess The Cat’s Out The Bag | Getting Caught Dating¨*:·

Headcanon: Amrod, Argon, Angrod, Galdor

˖˚₊·͟͟͟͟͟͟͞͞͞͞͞͞➳❥ Amrod — because he’s a master of pranks and grew up sharing and holding secrets for his twin, the both of you being a secret relationship is tight lip, locked and seal. That is if his twin hasn’t caught on the abnormal behaviour of his twin whenever you’re in the room.

The straightening of Amrod’s posture and the quietening of his voice whenever you set into their circle to reintroduce yourself and greet the nobilities. Amras could see how his brother’s hand shook and the starry, softer look in his brother’s eyes the longer he observed the older male.

A bright was plastered across Amrod’s face the minute you stepped into the room and made your way elegantly to his small clique. The swoosh in the fabric of your clothes and hair made you appear like a deity in his eyes, his grin accidentally stretched further across his face. Both you and his brother caught the moment and while you stared in horror at his slip up, Amras stared in suspicion.

Approaching the twins, you slightly bowed and extended your hand to greet them both, resisting the urge to turn your full attention on the social twin. Even you couldn’t hide the sparkle in your eyes the longer you locked eyes with him. It was as though Amras has vanished from your little circle along with the other guests in the room and all that mattered where you two. The little flustered look you gave him, eyes darting between his face and your glass was interrupted by the clearing of a throat.

“I don’t mean to break up the romantic love scene between you two but, how long have you been together behind my back…brother?” Amras voice rung through the air with a smirk in his voice as he faced his brother’s horrid expression.

Stuttering and stammering, Amrod felt his pressure rising as he darted around, hoping no one else saw and whispered through his teeth, “I-If you spill a word about us, you’ll wake up swimming with the geese in the pond.”

“Amrod,” you warned to calm him down and placed your hand on his arm, “no need to threaten your brother. I’m sure he’ll keep it a secret.”

“Yes Amrod! No need to threaten your brother, he’ll keep it a secret!” Amras teased and eyes shimmered over the rim of his wine glass as he wiggled his brow.

“Though, I am tempted to tell everyone…you did keep a secret from your favourite brother. You hurt me.”

˚₊·͟͟͟͟͟͟͞͞͞͞͞͞➳❥ Argon — he should know better than to keep something hidden in his family especially when his siblings were Aredhel and Fingon. He grew up in their footsteps, mostly his eldest brother, so he was his confidant and advisor, he knew Fingon would be saddened that his baby brother kept such a precious secret from him.

But even Argon struggled on his own to keep your relationship under the radar. Hearing your name would make him giddy and blush, and butterflies would erupt in the pit of his stomach. Your presence would make him malfunction, so keeping your affair under the rug was a failure from the start, but a joyous attempt for laughter sake.

The twinkling of the twilight canopy loomed overhead as you and Argon laid on the slightly warmed blanket in the fields and viewed the constellations. Your fingers eagerly pointing out all the stars and calling them out in the attempt to discover the most and beat Argon, since he had the winning streak. For someone who got distracted easily, he sure had a fixed attention span when something or, in this case, someone caught it.

A mixture of soft and loud laughter rumbled throughout the undisturbed night’s air when he rolled closer to your side and whispered something humorous in your ear, followed by a kiss to your cheek. It wasn’t often he was open to affection sight everything was kept under radar, and you both had a good enough reason for such. Not a single one of you suspected the soft padding of footsteps behind you.

“So, this is why you couldn’t stay for family night,” the accusing voice of Fingon startled you both, urging you to scramble apart and off the blanket. Behind him stood Aredhel with a mischievous smirk on her face, ready to tease her baby brother. “B-Brother…it’s not what you think!”

Everyone except Argon, even you, were appalled by his line of defence, it was pathetic. “It’s not what we think?,” both exclamations came from Fingon and Aredhel before the elder spoke out, “you two were kissing and giggling like teens.” This time, he turned the heat on the tease. The obvious grin on their faces told Argon that he was in trouble from them both.

“J-Just don’t tell amillё and atar, I’ll be pestered worse than you two already plan on…”

Shrugging their shoulders, it was Aredhel who teased, “I actually don’t mind, Finno and I are going to bet on how long you two can keep it a secret.”

“I hate you two.”

˖ ˚₊·͟͟͟͟͟͟͞͞͞͞͞͞➳❥ Angrod — his idea of keeping something a secret stays a secret, so you don’t need to worry about the cat being let out the bag. He’s coherent with his actions which means no one is going to figure out you two are a thing. The most that might happen is the speculation of your relationship due to your friendship you shared as a means to linger close by.

However, they were moments that went by where the both of you weren’t being careful with your actions and everyone got the message. Let’s just say that the teasing was never ending for his huge slip up in that moment. He couldn’t help himself and lose focus when you were sitting so beautifully across from him, shinning in all your glory.

His eyes were locked on you the entire time during the dinner his parents regularly held quarterly. Dressed in your lighter house colour since you were of Telerin descent, pearls and the colours of the sea were your garments. The mistake you made with your outfit was dressing too perfectly to the point Angrod’s eyes remained locked on you at all times. Even while his brothers were chatting with him, he kept his eyes focused on your pretty figure.

“Angrod! Oi, I speaking to you!” shouted Aegnor before giving him a rough shove to make him snap out of his enchantment. Though, it was his eldest brother who was observing how he was quiet the entire night and only engaged in conversation with you. Being the outspoken person he was, Finrod forgot his filter in that moment and allowed the cat to escape the bag.

“Are you and Y/N together?” The entire table fell silent minus the coughs from you two at the abrupt question that blew your cover. “You’ve been staring all night at them brother. More than friendly…”

“I agree, there’s a bit of…affection behind those eyes. Care to tell us something we don’t know, or already suspected?” This time, Finarfin decided to join in on the teasing after observing your interactions all evening. Nothing missed his eyes and Angrod should have known better.

Clearing his throat and making a quick dart in your direction, he cast his eyes at his plate and awkwardly chuckled. Speaking up, he spoke too quickly, giving himself away, “N-No, there isn’t anything between us, just friendship.”

At first, there was a silence that fell over the table before the cheeky announcement from Finrod. “I told you he’d deny it. Pay up, you all lost the bet!”

“Wait! You all placed bets?”

“Yeah, but all you had to do was admit you were together and not lie. Now I have to pay both father and brother,” quarrelled Aegnor, “thanks a lot idiot.”

˖ ˚₊·͟͟͟͟͟͟͞͞͞͞͞͞➳❥ Galdor — the only reason this lovely quiet Lord would keep his relationship a secret would be to prevent the prying and mischievous eyes of his best buddies from making things clustering. Galdor had heard enough from the other Lords’ lovers that they were snoopy, and that was the last thing Galdor wanted. He wanted to love you on his own with any intervention.

All day he was in his study, busy with filling out orders for the upcoming spring festival and ensuring that his produce was healthy and in stock. You didn’t have to be in the room to know that he was tired and frantic hence your reason for visiting during the later hours of the evening when most of his work cleared up. Standing behind him and massaging his shoulders, you couldn’t help but lean in to give him a chaste kiss which escalated.

As sweet and chaste it was, you wanted another and leaned forward to capture his lips in another round of light kisses. You could feel Galdor melting into your touch and tell that he craved them just as much as you did. Turning to face you causing the kiss to deepen, there was the sound of the doorknob twisting and in walked Lord Ecthelion followed by the Egalmoth with awkward stares on their faces. As intruding they were, it was strange to witness their friend being romantic when he claimed he was single.

“So, which one of us won the bet?”

“I don’t believe any of us won. We all bet that he really didn’t have someone.”

“The both of you are aware that I can hear you right?” Snapping their head over to an irritated Galdor they lifted their hands to show their surrender, however, Galdor knew one would speak. The smirk on Egalmoth’s face spoke volumes since he was known for his gossiping tendencies.

“If word gets out, I’ll find you Egalmoth.”

“You want to keep it a secret? Why? We could be celebrating and getting drunk in your honour.”

Huffing, Galdor stood from his chair and rounded the desk to stand with his arms folded across his chest. “Because I will poison your food supply, that’s why. You are the worst at keeping secrets; I don’t trust you.”

“You want to bet that I can keep it a secret?”

“If you lose, I’ll really poison your food supply.”

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