#this is intended both in a literal sense like I was actually fainting

[deathshallbenomore]

thank you for coming to my hypotensive episode, hope y’all liked it when i almost fainted :)

[gloomyteddybear]

the slang for journalist is vulture

oneshot

tw: emotional manipulation, guilt tripping, stalking;

roseville gazette may be bordering on yellow journalism but it was the only local press that actually went into detail of the ghostface murders, as short-staffed as it is (considering the fact that literally one guy photographed, wrote, interviewed, edited the whole beat--- maybe he used to be freelancer they managed to chain down), it was surprisingly informative on the subject matter, in other news? pun intended, it was comparatively bland in such a way that literally any other corporation would do the job.

but they don't cover the case, who the victims are, how horrific their deaths are, who are the main suspects, what are the patterns (they seemed random but oh-so meticulously planned), they only post obituaries and move on to cake recipes. to your average roseville citizen, who doesn't wish to buy another subscription, which press are they going to choose? entertainment value or a possible survival guide?

despite the short staff, they paid well and had a great newsroom, once upon a time each department had it's own working space and have little to no interruptions but due to the few people that are left--- both physically and metaphysically--- they now practically had their own private office to do as they please with the place.

though, you wished you had your own, too.

you were shadowing a guy named jed olsen, technically you were his fellow journalist. but with the few experience you had bossman decided that you two needed to 'share' an office (it felt more like jed's than anything), to "see a professional in action and get a feel for what you need to do." he said.

he's nice.

the only experience you got is as a lackey. sure, you helped, but it was minimal, he let you handle almost nothing unless under a lot of scrutiny (the guy is a perfectionist) or just flat out did everything himself, he's an over-achieving workaholic.

he was overbearing, but only in the literal by-the-letter sense, over bearing as in he puts too much on his plate.

he wasn't an asshole--- he was frustrating, sure, but he always made sure to let you sign your name in the proverbial group project, he brought coffee too (it was always a bit off from your actual taste, but you didn't want to be ungrateful) and was always nice. so, you simply did the 'seeing a professional in action' bit more than the 'get a feel for what you need to do', twiddling your thumbs as you watched him work.

were you any more lazier and/or more lacking in the empathy-good-for-lasting-healthy-relationships mindset, you'd be cheering and hollering at the opportunity.

you saw his eyebags from staying overnights, though. the faint swaying whenever he stood up, almost spilling or dropping whatever he held, rants growing more... well, affected by his lack of sleep, to put it nicely.

so, you did everything in your power to at least, somewhat share the burden, bring snacks or energy drinks, keep his desk organized just the way he liked it, stay out of his way, listen to his movie-nerd ramblings.

it was all fine and dandy--- you put a styrofoam cup on coffee on his table like clockwork--- until it wasn't.

you heard squeaky plastic get hit and fall "huh--- fuck! this?!... oh god, no... no no no! shit! shit..." he pleaded.

you leaned over to see... coffee spilled all over his photos and notes.

he blew up, face red and gritted teeth, "god, damn it. all... all those fucking sleepless nights--- the amount of crunching i did, gone! from a fucking shitty ass coffee! how the fuck am i supposed to meet the deadline! fuck!." he yanked on the longer strands of black hair in his scalp.

then he deflated, face in hands, "oh god... what am i going to do? what do i tell boss? how much is this going to affect..." he murmured

he pauses in his rant, eyes peeking through the gap of his fingers, glancing at your expression and immediately straightens up; he sighs, rubbing his arms and playing with the threads of his long sleeves, "it's fine nevermind, i should've told you that this table is wobbly. i'll- uh, i'll tell him that i... we couldn't meet the deadline, it wasn't your fault, i bit off more than i could work so... you ended up not having much to do---"

before he could continue putting fuel into another apology-fest you stopped that train of thought right in it's tracks, "wait wait--- no, you... how about you leave early today?"

"you want me to leave?!" he croaked, grip on the collar his shirt growing noose-like.

"no no! uh," you fumbled, "how about you... go get yourself a nice, deserved break huh? uh, i don't think boss would hold it against you, how about a walk? fresh air? get yourself something nice---" you crushed a bill into his loose hands, ignored his looks and pushed him out the door.

you put your hands at your hips, looked at the mess and sighed.

the wet pages were still on his desk, you carefully separate and spread them, the ones that were less likely to crumble were hanged in the developing-room. the ones that were too blurry you had to transcribe onto a neater page, the ones teared to bits were carefully jig-saw'd.

---jed didn't return, you did get some info on why during breakroom gossip, seems like he took your advice and clocked out early. funny how your schedules been reversed, the first to leave being the one to stay 'til nightfall for work they never contributed to---

pictures and notes neatly arranged all across the pages, many of those photos came varying and evolving in quality, not as in blurry or framed poorly but in what type of camera they were shot with. the drying marks and negative film pointed towards them being raw polaroids, though a few were made with instantfilm. at first, it seemed like nonsense, some type of art project in abstract figures but there was a clear pattern.

lanes fencing around a car, roads filled with a cluster of potholes, harsh angles and perspective shifts turning corners; a window peeking into someone's habitat, a spare key under varying hiding places, then a person hiding under their blanket in their sleep.

you rolled a thumb against the pad of your finger, it was weirdly slippery-- watery? that's weird... a bit stickier. is it still fresh out of the developing room?

you hear it before you no longer see it, just as you were about to investigate further, the telltale de-crescendo of all appliances losing their power and the following silence means only one thing--- the main switch is off. whoever it is, you know where they were.

don't go turn it on. trap. breathe in.

you stay put, crouching underneath a table. one minute, five, six, ten.

you round around a corner towards the fire escape--- stairs clanking with your descent, you skip a few steps, you run outside.

floodlights drenches your vision--- a voice yells your name and a wailing car horn and you instinctively scream, a door slams as a body moves to shield your eyes from the flickering headlights. a black car, in the night, of course you didn't see it in your panic, wouldn't even notice if it were parked right in front of you.

olsen comes out, he looked surprised and--- had the gall, to sound exasperated, "you were about to walk right into my car."

"wait, why are you here?" he answers with a fumbled "i can explain---"

"i told you to take a break and the first thing you do after curfew, is come back here?! i swear jed, do you want to get stabbed?!" you shriek.

'honest and easy-going my ass!'

he relaxes but still has the decency to fake a grimace, "maybe i could give you a ride home?" he offers.

"why would i need a ride? i have my own---" jed points towards the direction of your car, the excess flash of the headlights bouncing around the pavement show your slashed tires.

"i call shotgun."

"there's only one passenger aside from me and it's you."

"you don't know that, some guy tried to break in earlier--- what if they're a passenger princess with a shotgun?"

the rear-view mirror was angled oddly, reflecting only your person and not the road behind.

"good point." he agrees.

he didn't question you about the break-in.

[turningsoft]

Richie Tozier & Will Byers Werewolf Metaphor Post

@pinkeoni's old What's up with all the werewolves? post and its further discussion made me think of a lot. Seriously, it's lengthy.

I wanna preface this by saying I don't actually believe everything is connected or intentional, as it would be a huge reach. However, it's rather interesting to draw connections even where there were intended none. Proceed at your own peril.

As we all know, the Duffers originally wanted to write Stephen King's IT remake. Naturally, we also know they took some inspiration from King's various work, so for me it was a really small leap from werewolf references in Stranger Things to Richie's werewolf in IT.

Richie Tozier Was A Teenage Werewolf

In the book, Richie goes to see a horror double-feature, which includes movies I Was a Teenage Werewolf and I Was a Teenage Frankenstein (both 1957). Let's read the excerpt from the novel.

The Teenage Frankenstein was suitably gross. The Teenage Werewolf was somehow scarier, though… perhaps because he also seemed a little sad. What had happened wasn't his own fault. There was this hypnotist who had fucked him up, but the only reason he'd been able to was that the kid who turned into the werewolf was full of anger and bad feelings. Richie found himself wondering if there were many people in the world hiding bad feelings like that. Henry Bowers was just overflowing with bad feelings, but he sure didn't bother hiding them.

Now, this quote contains a lot of information to suggest that Richie at least empathizes with the character, but we don't actually see him relating to Tony until Richie comes face to face with Pennywise — for the first time, or so he thinks. During this encounter, It takes the form of the Teenage Werewolf and chases Bill and Richie out of the house on Neibolt Street. His appearance is described in great detail and mostly doesn't contradict the original movie, except for the werewolf's silk jacket.

It was black with orange piping — the Derry High School colors.

And a bit further on:

It was the other thing that made him feel as if he might faint, or just give up and let it kill him. A name was stitched on the jacket in gold thread, the kind of thing you could get done down at Machen's for a buck if you wanted it. Stitched on the bloody left breast of the Werewolf's jacket, stained but readable, were the words RICHIE TOZIER.

In the movie it's Tony's signature jacket that allows others to recognize him in his werewolf form, so it only makes sense to assume Richie's scared because he's forced to recognize himself in the monster. The implications affect him so deeply that he considers giving up his own life.

Bad feelings

It provides a bit of insight into Richie's head and makes us question what exactly he considers “bad feelings” within himself, if not anger (he doesn't seem to be an angry person). Some speculate it has to do with growing up and becoming an unstable, hormonal teenager in the future. Others link it to his possible undiagnosed ADHD, self-hatred and the ever-present fear of being ostracized for his differences, both visible and not. Being a queer person in the 50's would also fit the narrative pretty well. For those who are interested, I strongly recommend reading expanded analysis on the matter here (werewolf as a symbol in IT), here (bisexuality viewed as “monstrous”) and here (Richie's fears explained).

Not his fault

Obviously, none of the aforementioned reasons justify putting such strong labels (monster, werewolf) on a literal child. Richie seems to understand he's not at fault for whatever makes him a target, but he also believes in a strong possibility someone can inflict this inhuman identity upon him. Despite already being bullied, he fears his situation can take a turn for the worse. And despite having a wonderful support system, he somehow knows it's not enough. If someone or something decides to “fuck him up” and exploit his vulnerable state, they will, so he cuts down on the amount of vulnerability. Heavily. I can't believe I'm still not talking about Will Byers.

Hiding stuff

As ironic as it sounds, Richie Tozier is canonically good at hiding. Other people find it difficult to make up their minds about his personality and actions — the most famous instance being, perhaps, this quote.

He had known Richie Tozier for four years, and he still didn't really understand what Richie was about.

Richie uses his Voices and “numbers” both as a shield and a weapon. He shows raw emotions only when he considers it absolutely safe. He takes “refuge in absurdity”. To reiterate @/jasperathrifteddoll's werewolf symbolism post, Richie 1) is confusing; 2) tells half-truths; 3) puts up facades; 4) “through his concealment of his inner thoughts to the reader, seems almost aware of his status as a book's narrator”.

All of Richie's fears are connected to or based on public perception. “But he knew well enough” has earned a meta post in and of itself.

Will Byers Has Werewolves In His Closet

So what's the meaning behind this werewolf costume in the Trick or Treat, Freak episode? Maybe it's a manifestation of one of Will's fears, or maybe there's no hidden message. After all, even if Stranger Things and IT are connected, I Was A Teenage Werewolf has nothing to do with ST… Unless we consider it left a huge legacy and inspired The Cramps to write a song of the same name — the one that introduced Eddie Munson to the audience in S04E01. Frankly speaking, I don't think this was an easter egg the writers were actively trying to include, but it doesn't take away from the parallel. It's still fun to compare Will and Richie, especially because on a surface level they're so unlike.

To execute Stephen King's werewolf metaphor, one would need:

a character with enough emotional baggage,

who is afraid of being perceived as a monster,

especially as a result of trusting an authority figure,

who breaks his trust and exploits his vulnerable state,

potentially making him dangerous in the process.

Let's see if Will ticks all the boxes.

Bad feelings

Will's otherness is easy to pick up on. It's either “being a sensitive artistic kid who grew up to be gay in the 80's” or “being a child who was abducted to a horrific dimension and is now attached to it”. Arguably, we don't even have to choose: these two plots are closely related and can become one through the AIDS metaphore. Not to mention the whole “growing up poor with an abusive and neglectful father” thing. Simply put, Will Byers has plenty reason to experience “bad feelings”. On a rare occasion, we can hear about his struggles firsthand.

Bad feelings = self-hatred

So far, Will has internalized a variety of epithets:

“Zombie Boy”

“Freak”

“Stupid”

“Mistake”

We can see each of them affect him to some extent.

In season 2, during multiple heart-to-hearts with Jonathan, Will expresses his desire for everyone to stop treating him different, like there's something wrong with him. Meaning, he himself doesn't think there's something wrong. He stubbornly insists: “Yeah, I am. I am [a freak],” but he's quick to be offended when Jonathan agrees. It reads as a defense tactic, not his own opinion. After all, when you pointedly address yourself in a hurtful fashion, shouldn't those words stop holding power over you?

When drawing the Zombie Boy, Will essentially tries to reclaim this identity in a way that's true to him — by using art. He doesn't want to passively accept the label, he wants to strip it of its negative connotations. But then again, when a kid deemed as dead comes back to life, it's a pretty dumb reason to bully him. Will probably knows it's dumb, so he fights back. His homosexuality, though, is a harder pill to swallow.

There's no denying he feels guilty for his attraction to Mike (well, boys, but Mike specifically). Guilty and other things as well, a mixture of shameful, jealous, hurt, confused and angry. In seasons 3 and 4 he learns that even the tiniest portions of his affection and his sincerest attempts at salvaging a friendship can be neglected or misconstrued. It cuts deeply.

Then there's, of course, the van scene. Will says he feels like a mistake sometimes. Not all the time, he clears up. Mike makes him feel better for being different, and yet Will cries after the speech, knowing full well his differences don't make his life any happier or simplier, or better.

Bad feelings = past trauma

Still, all of it pales in comparison to plain old trauma and its prolonged effects. This anon ask and @/heroesbyler's answer have summarized it better than I ever could. Here's a quote that I can't not mention:

His trauma is one of the most if not the most multifaceted in the entire story, and also he literally is the main character foil to the big villain. Saying that Will hates himself for being gay is such a gross oversimplification of what we see. It's haunting to know that people want to project a stereotypical situation to his nuanced one.

Additionally, there were theories that Will is a victim of CSA, and I'm not only referring to the ones about Vecna/MF/UD allegories (these I very much agree with) but those about full-on CSA by Lonnie. While I'm still on the fence about it, I acknowledge this is also a possibility.

To sum up, our boy Will has been through a lot. Emotional baggage? Check. Susceptibility to “monstrous” labels? Check.

Not his fault

Up until this point I was being ambiguous about whether my theory is applicable to S2 only or other seasons as well. I have to admit, right now the werewolf costume guy is no more than a little foreshadowing of the S2 plot. However, given the fact that S5 is promised to take inspiration from S2, some of its key elements or plot points may be reused, albeit probably in a different fashion. Additionally, new information might be revealed, meaning that the metaphore has potential to grow into something bigger in the future.

For now I'll focus on the S2 events mainly and compare them to I Was A Teenage Werewolf.

___

Movie: Tony Rivers embodies a typical delinquent from the 50's. He's a troubled rebellious teenager with anger issues. He exhibits such violent behavior that he's advised to seek psychological help.

IT: Richie doesn't fixate on the anger part and instead uses “bad feelings” wording to convey broader (or perhaps, entirely different) meaning. Ultimately, we're led to believe that it doesn't matter what character traits Tony possessed. What's more important is 1) he had psychological issues; 2) he was advised to seek out professional help.

ST: Will has a lot of unresolved trauma from his experience in the UD, which manifests in “bad feelings”, so-called flashbacks and coughing up demonic slugs. He's advised to undergo medical supervision/scientific surveillance at Hawkins Lab.

___

Movie: Dr. Alfred Brandon embodies the classic mad scientist archetype. He conducts experiments on people by using hypnosis and medication in unconventional ways and claims it's for a greater cause. He draws out Tony's traumatic childhood memories during their sessions. Brandon has an assistant, Dr. Hugo Wagner, who comes across as compassionate and humanistic.

ST: Dr. Martin Brenner is affiliated with multiple scientific projects that conduct experiments on people by using sensory deprivation, psychedelic drugs and various abuse/manipulation tactics. He, too, claims it's for a greater cause. Also works with traumatic childhood memories, e. g. the whole NINA project. If twelvegate is proven true in S5, these parallels will become positively unhinged. Brenner repeatedly works with Dr. Owens, who on the outside seems more sympathetic towards main heroes.

___

Movie: Tony finally accepts Dr. Brandon's help after a Halloween party gone wrong. He decides to trust everyone's opinion, goes through the procedure and ends up becoming “possessed by wolves” (= made into a werewolf).

ST: Will accepts the fact that he's spiraling and needs help on Halloween night. He decides to trust Dr. Owens, Joyce and Bob that his visions are just PTSD-related episodes. He follows Bob's advice and ends up possessed.

Ultimately, this is the moment when Will's trust is broken. Although it's definitely not Bob's or Joyce's fault, a collective authority figure represented by Hawkins Lab fails Will. It fucks him up big. And one can argue, Owens' incapacity to protect him wasn't a simple negligence but an extension of Brenner's politics. @/runninguplenorahills suggests the following:

If Owens knew about Brenner being alive and deliberately kept that information to himself (which he did), and if Owens knew about Henry and everything that happened (which seems to be the case too)……. Well….. doesn't that make Owens' inability to help and protect Will in s2 a deliberate choice?

Regardless, it isn't Will's own doing that turns him into someone dangerous — it's the Lab's fault.

___

Movie: Dr. Brandon and his assistant argue about the necessity of transforming Tony because it might be harmful or even fatal to him.

“But you're sacrificing a human life!” ”Do you cry over a guinea pig?”

ST: Dr. Owens argues with other scientists over attacking the UD vines/tunnels and potentially harming Will in the process.

“And if it kills the boy?” ”Then quite frankly, Sam, it kills him.”

___

Movie: In his werewolf state, Tony kills a bunch of his classmates, a random dog, Dr. Brandon and his assistant.

ST: While being possessed, Will leads the soldiers into a trap and gets them killed because they've upset the MF. Owens ends up injured, and Bob gets killed. We can view them all as Brenner's “assistants” to different extents.

All in all, I'd say the metaphor fits. But wait, there's more!

Hiding stuff

Once again referencing @/pinkeoni's posts, there's a long history of Will hiding his feelings. Fascinating how the conversation that basically establishes this trait of his, aka his exchange with Joyce, happens in S2 and specifically in relation to his not-actually-PTSD episodes. But the motive of hiding, be it in a literal or a figurative sense (as in hiding parts of himself), is integral to Will's character. It is continually present troughout seasons and is supported by in-show elements and costume design choices alike.

Billy Hargrove And Henry Bowers Are Overflowing

Parallels should be drawn between Henry and Billy, too. This section is small, but nonetheless I like it — it's a finishing touch to the story and a cherry to top it all off.

Richie completes his train of thought by contrasting Tony and Henry Bowers, accentuating how the latter “didn't bother hiding” his bad feelings, e. g. his anger, bigotry and violent outbursts. The same could be said about Billy. Both of them killed people under the influence (Flayed!Billy, Pennywise-inspired!Henry) and definitely were capable of assault regardless. For both of them a relationship with one's father seems to be an instigation of their descent into madness, although Billy hates Neil, whereas Henry appears to have a more complex, effectively love-hate attitude towards Oscar.

It's also noteable that Billy is a foil character to Will, who is mirroring him in many ways, while Henry and Patrick may be seen as foils to Richie and Eddie when it comes to handling “their same-sex attraction”. And by the way, if sexuaility and attraction is consired “bad feelings” within Will's mind, one particular part of this post becomes all the more relevant. To quote and paraphrase, “Billy wears his sexuality proud and openly”, yet Will's sexuality is suppressed — another case of hiding versus overflowing.

I'd love to TL;DR this post into something concise and coherent, but I fear I'd just end up repeating my points and wording. I'd rather say I have more thoughts on Richie and Will's similarities, so there's gonna be a short post about it sometime down the line. Thank you to anyone who decided that this was worth reading!

[folkloristico]

Spoiler!

I was responding by explaining how I reimagined the Dragon Flame lore, but it was turning out to be a terribly long info-dump, so I just had to cut that part out—and I still ended up writing a lot. Sorry about that!

Basically, roughly 1200 years prior Bloom’s birth, a civil war forced the Court of Domino to find another way but childbirth to pass on the Dragon Flame to another guardian.

They succeed, but the ritual they come up with is complicated. That is because, when transmitted naturally, the Dragon Flame grows with its guardian, but to inject such an amount of power into a person all at once would kill them.

The solution is to seal the Dragon Flame under many locks; there isn’t a precise number, it mostly depends on the situation. Based on how many locks you intend to create, there are people—I haven’t figured out their names yet—who help the current guardian to keep the power under check while it’s being transmitted to the next one.

Nobody has ever succeeded to pass it on at will alone.

Until Daphne.

The war is particularly hard on her. On one hand, she is the guardian of the Dragon Flame—Marion still has fire magic and shares a link to the Dragon Flame, but what remains in the past guardians is just a trace, a faint glimpse of it. Daphne feels it should be her, more than anyone else, to be fighting Valtor and the Coven. But on the other hand, she knows Marion and Oritel won’t let that happen.

Having both been raised by strict parents (Marion’s mother and Oritel’s father were especially shitty), Marion and Oritel try to not make the same mistakes. As a result, they tend to overcompensate, and Daphne can sense that. She’s a smart, receptive child. She doesn’t want to see her parents more hurt than they already are, so she always tries her best to not let them down. She tends to keep everything bottled inside of her. She almost never fights back, never complains.

But she knows to her bones that the war is getting close with each passing day, and she cannot let the Dragon Flame fall into the wrong hands. She starts researching any other way she may pass on the Dragon Flame to someone else (her newborn sister is her first guess) should anything happen, and she tells no one. (Griffin suspects something, and in the first draft I have Daphne openly asking her for help, but I’m considering whether I should cut that part out.)

The Coven attacks, and Daphne actually manages to pass on the Dragon Flame to her sister. Then Domino is destroyed, Bloom gets sent on Earth—you know how it goes.

When Domino is revived, everybody is happy and ready to party, but the sentiment doesn’t last long as reality soon kicks in. Daphne is made corporeal soon after that thanks to Bloom and Griffin, but Marion and Oritel find her… changed. She’s tired, both physically and mentally.

She and Oritel get into a fight when Oritel says something condescending and he’s literally shocked at Daphne’s response, she’s never acted like this. Like—Oritel realizes—a young woman her age.

Returning to life is hard on anyone, of course, but Daphne seems to be suffering in a different way than any of them. She has missed so much, like anyone from Domino has, but it’s not only that. She feels incredibly old and young at the same time.

When Oritel discovers how exactly she was able to pass on the Dragon Flame to Bloom, he is… many things. Shocked. Incredulous. That’s what their fight is about, and it’s like the pressure of constantly keeping any emotion under control snaps in Daphne all at once. 

Marion’s role in their conflict is complicated. Upon being revived, she barely feels like herself. It’s like she’s constantly on the edge of breaking into a million pieces, much like Daphne (and Oritel, too) is. Daphne’s current status is worse than she’d thought and she’s devastated. She feels like she has failed Daphne. It scares the hell out of Marion to think that she has tried so hard not to follow her mother’s example, only to retrace her footsteps backward to the same result—building a wall between her and her daughter.

Of course, having the Bloom situation to figure out doesn’t help. Instead of one, Marion is left with two daughters whom she can’t understand.

All of this happens around the same time Marion has offered Bloom to invite Mike and Vanessa to Domino, but it was before Oritel and Daphne’s fight, when Marion thought things were starting to settle down. There’s a lot of angst, but also some degree of second hand-embarrassment because they’re just standing there like 🧍

(I was actually planning to have Bloom walk in the middle of the fight, but having Marion being the one who does is even better. I love how the second part of my SotLK rewrite is basically family drama and suffering.)

[uesp]

Theory: Todd is the sleeping Godhead that we all talk about. Also he achieved absolute CHIM

You're definitely free to come up with whatever theory on that you like, but if you're genuinely curious, I would say you're a bit off from the intended takeaway.

Trying to figure out who the Godhead is a bit of a self-defeating exercise. In fact, to get a bit ahead of the point I'm going to make, it's often easier to describe the One by what he is not. If you're looking at the rare in-series mentions of the Godhead (most of the uses of "godhead" are actually referring to more generic godhood, which is also a more modern form of "godhead"), you come up with two mentions of the Godhead, and only one of them describes the Godhead at all.

The eyes, once bleached by falling stars of utmost revelation, will forever see the faint insight drawn by the overwhelming question, as only the True Enquiry shapes the edge of thought. The rest is vulgar fiction, attempts to impose order on the consensus mantlings of an uncaring godhead.

From Waking Dreams of A Starless Sky

The Godhead is uncaring. And that is basically the depth of actual text on the Godhead. If you go with sources that did not appear in the game, you'll do a bit better, but not really to any satisfying degree. So how do we get a satisfying answer? We escape the confines of the rare and deliberately esoteric mentions of this part of the lore and look at its real-world inspiration. Speaking for myself, the best summary of this part of the lore I ever read is:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gnosticism

Sincerely, after reading that and its associated articles, I went from "wow this is all a bit complex" to "alright, this is surprisingly straightforward". To tangent slightly, while there are numerous fan writings that try to explore these concepts, and I do enjoy a lot of them, I find that some of them often have trouble expressing what it all actually means because they often restrict themselves to the trappings of TES. We're going to remove those trappings, and see if it helps.

If you want more help, here is how I mentally tie some TES lore topics to its real world counterpart.

The Godhead is the Godhead (Monad)

CHIM is Gnosis

CHIM has been described as the secret syllable of royalty. It is best understood as a state of being which allows for escape from all known laws and limitations. It is the process of reaching some sort of epiphany about the nature of the universe and one's place in it, leading to a simultaneous comprehension of the full scope of existence as well as one's own individuality.

Gnosis is the common Greek noun for knowledge. It is best known from Gnosticism, where it signifies a spiritual knowledge or insight into humanity's real nature as divine, leading to the deliverance of the divine spark within humanity from the constraints of earthly existence.

Amaranth is Emanationism

The Tower touches all the mantles of Heaven, brother-noviates, and by its apex one can be as he will. More: be as he was and yet changed for all else on that path for those that walk after. This is the third key of Nu-mantia and the secret of how mortals become makers, and makers back to mortals.

Emanationism is an idea in the cosmology or cosmogony of certain religious or philosophical systems. Emanation, from the Latin emanare meaning "to flow from" or "to pour forth or out of", is the mode by which all things are derived from the first reality, or principle. All things are derived from the first reality or perfect God by steps of degradation to lesser degrees of the first reality or God, and at every step the emanating beings are less pure, less perfect, less divine. Emanationism is a transcendent principle from which everything is derived, and is opposed to both creationism (wherein the universe is created by a sentient God who is separate from creation) and materialism (which posits no underlying subjective and/or ontological nature behind phenomena being immanent).

Anu and Padomay and their derivatives are Aeons

Lorkhan is the Demiurge

Lorkhan, the Missing God, is the Creator-Trickster-Tester deity present in every Tamrielic mythic tradition. He is known as the Spirit of Nirn, the god of all mortals. Names for versions or aspects of Lorkhan include Lorkhaj (the Moon Beast) in Elsweyr, Lorkh, the Spirit of Man, the Mortal Spirit, or the Sower of Flesh to the Reachmen, Sep in Hammerfell, Sheor in High Rock, Shor in Skyrim, and Shezarr in Cyrodiil. He convinced or contrived the Original Spirits (et'Ada) to bring about the creation of the Mundus, upsetting the status quo—much like his (figurative) father Padomay is usually credited for introducing instability, and hence possibility for creation, into the undivided universe (or the Beginning Place).

In the Platonic, Neopythagorean, Middle Platonic, and Neoplatonic schools of philosophy, the demiurge is an artisan-like figure responsible for fashioning and maintaining the physical universe. The Gnostics adopted the term demiurge. Although a fashioner, the demiurge is not necessarily the same as the creator figure in the monotheistic sense, because the demiurge itself and the material from which the demiurge fashions the universe are both considered consequences of something else. Depending on the system, they may be considered either uncreated and eternal or the product of some other entity.

The word demiurge is an English word derived from demiurgus, a Latinised form of the Greek δημιουργός or dēmiurgós. It was originally a common noun meaning "craftsman" or "artisan", but gradually came to mean "producer", and eventually "creator". The philosophical usage and the proper noun derive from Plato's Timaeus, written c. 360 BC, where the demiurge is presented as the creator of the universe. The demiurge is also described as a creator in the Platonic (c. 310–90 BC) and Middle Platonic (c. 90 BC – AD 300) philosophical traditions. In the various branches of the Neoplatonic school (third century onwards), the demiurge is the fashioner of the real, perceptible world after the model of the Ideas, but (in most Neoplatonic systems) is still not itself "the One". In the arch-dualist ideology of the various Gnostic systems, the material universe is evil, while the non-material world is good. According to some strains of Gnosticism, the demiurge is malevolent, as it is linked to the material world. In others, including the teaching of Valentinus, the demiurge is simply ignorant or misguided.

I think that by seeing these concepts side by side it will help make sense of it all. You can definitely research this further, and argue that specific parts of the lore are more directly related to other concepts, but from my limited understanding of theology/philosophy, this is a framework for understanding what the lore was based on, and the ideas that might otherwise go unconnected. If you can do better than me here, by all means, be better than me.

But this takes us to the secret question within all of this: How does this effect the setting? The answer to that is that it really doesn't. Knowing that the setting of The Elder Scrolls is the material world created by the Demiurge, separating its inhabitants from the Godhead, doesn't really change anything. After all, you can literally say the exact same thing about our world. The presence of these concepts in The Elder Scrolls setting should change how you appreciate it in roughly the same way that this school of thought existing in our own world changes your view on our setting.

If you thought this was interesting, I certainly agree with you. If you think this is all a bit too much, and don't want to think about it anymore, you won't be missing out on much by ignoring it going forward. If you want to explore different theories on this, you’re definitely free too, I hope you enjoy exploring your own thoughts on this subject.

[noyaism]

No Manners

Pairing: Tsukishima Kei x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 5k

Warnings: enemies/rivals to lovers, public sex, hate sex, heavy degrading, edging, choking, overstim, teasing, size kink, power dynamics, sir!Tsukki, dacryphilia, humiliation, spanking, slapping, exhibitionism, sadism, masochism, dumbification, creampie, this shit is pure filth (let me know if I missed any warnings!)

Song Inspo: No Manners - Superm

If there was anything you prided yourself on, it was being the smartest person in any given room you walked into. School had always come so easily to you, no subject too hard, no concept you wouldn't understand. That was, until you got to college. University was a beast unto its own, and it showed you that maybe the genius you had always believed you possessed could indeed be threatened. 

While you found yourself at the top at almost every single class you took, your economics class was your Achilles heel. It irked you how the information just didn’t seem to mesh with you. It made you feel so inferior, and that wasn’t something you were used to. It also wasn’t something Tsukishima Kei was used to, however, thanks to you he was feeling a new sense of inferiority that was completely foreign to him. He, like you, was used to being at the top of his class, nobody coming close to him academically. Then, he got to university, and unfortunately for him you two shared a major, and took the exact same classes. It was odd enough in the first semester, and when it ended he was so glad to finally get away from you, and to regain his status.

Then the second semester came and once again, you both signed up for the exact same classes. This time was different, though, because finally, Tsukishima held something over you; you couldn’t understand economics to save your life, and it came to Tsukishima as easily as everything else did. 

Understandably, the two of you had developed a bit of a rivalry. It would come around every so often that Tsukki did better than you on a test, scored higher in a lab, and it drove you insane how he would rub it in, so when you did better than him, you did the same. The two of you were starting to hate each other’s guts. However, you were on the verge of failing your economics class, and there wasn’t going to be anyone better to help you study than Tsukishima. When you asked him to help you study he straight up laughed in your face, entertained by the fact you were actually coming to him for help. It was such a stroke to his ego, he couldn’t possibly say no. 

You two scheduled a study session for the following Friday evening. You met in one of the study rooms up on the third floor around five, intending to stay for a couple hours. Tsukishima had arrived a little early, as you walked in you saw him with his notebook and laptop out on the table, writing down some notes. You took a seat next to him, getting yourself ready to begin. As he attempted to explain all these concepts to you; rambling on about monopolies and price ceilings and deficits, none of it was clicking. You asked him to explain things time and time again, and he was getting visibly irritated the more you seemed to not be getting things.

“You agreed to help me study, Tsukishima. You can't go on and complain now that I don’t get it, you knew I didn't.”

“Yeah, I got that part, but I wasn’t expecting you to be this utterly dense.” 

You folded your arms across your chest, letting out a small huff under your breath.

“You're such a dick.” You muttered, not thinking much of the remark. It was an unequivocal fact that anyone who ever came in contact with him had to know, which you yourself already knew quite well, but you hadn't expected him to be this bad personally. You thought since you were undoubtedly better at him in any other subject you would at least be spared of his ill mannered remarks, but it seemed to be the opposite; he'd get on you because you were so much better at him in everything else. It was the one thing he held over you, and he was going to make the absolute most of it. 

“What did you call me?” He asked, snapping his head in your direction. 

“I called you a dick, because you are. I get it, okay? I don’t understand the material, it’s above my intelligence level, I’m the dumbest bitch in the world. Cool, fine, awesome. If tutoring me is that much of a pain I’ll just go, alright? Enjoy the rest of your evening.”

Utterly fed up, you tossed all of your things into your backpack and got up from your seat, starting to storm away. Tsukishima watched you as you went for the door, only momentarily, before getting up and following behind you. You barely got the door unlocked and open before a forceful push of a hand from above shut it, and you turned and looked up at the man, confused as to what it was he was doing.

“We aren’t done studying.”

“Yes we are. I can’t take your shit anymore, I’m done.”

“No, we’re gonna stay here and work on this until you get it,” He lowered himself down to make more direct eye contact with you.

“Got me?” He finished, once the two of you were level. You let out a chuckle, shaking your head a bit. This situation was unbelievable, and he was totally impossible. You weren’t sure how much clearer you could possibly get, but you had no problem reiterating yourself.

“No, I don’t. Makes sense that I don’t, right? ‘Cuz I’m ‘utterly dense’, as you said.”

“And incredibly mouthy, apparently.”

“Only when dealing with assholes like you.” Tsukishima let out a chuckle of his own after that line, straightening himself up and looking down on you once again. You hated when he did that, but it wasn’t like he had much choice, he towered over your much smaller frame. It personified your current situation almost too well. 

“You know, someone should put little girls like you in their place.” He fairly quickly retorted.

“And someone should knock tall elitists like you down a peg.” You scoffed. 

“I’d love to see you try.” Tsukishima took a couple steps back from you after speaking, as if to quite literally challenge you to do something. You weren’t a violent person to say the least, but at that moment you would’ve paid good money to punch the man before you in the face, and it seemed you were going to get the opportunity for free. How could you possibly pass that up?

You dropped your backpack onto the floor, lurching forward at Tsukishima before it even hit the floor. To your utter surprise he caught you before you got too close, his hand wrapped around your neck. It was nowhere near a tight grip, but it left you breathless, and forced you to look up at the blonde. There was this smirk on his face, like you had done exactly what he wanted you to, like he now had you in the palm of his hand. The look in his eye was so devilish, nobody had ever looked at you like that. You almost didn’t know what to make of it, almost.

“Now now, dumb little whores like you don’t get to touch me.” The pure filth that fell from his lips confirmed exactly what you rationalized from his gaze. It was all you needed.

“Fuck me, now.”

Tsukishima needed no further instruction, moving his hand off your throat and down to your thigh, pulling your leg up and prompting you to wrap yourself around him. He caught you midway through your small jump, and in an instant your lips crashed together. You couldn’t shake just how angry he made you, and he couldn’t shake how sexy you looked when you were mad. That little body of yours held so much aggression in it, and since he was more than willing to let out the beast in you, Tsukki was just as willing to tame it.

In fact, he would take great pleasure in doing so.

Tsukki walked back over to the table you two were sat at, placing you down onto the cold, manicured wood. The exchange of your lips was filled to the brim in the most carnal, lustful intent. The two of you fought for dominance with it, neither of you having even the slightest intention of backing down. Tsukishima was already more than frustrated with you, and your attempts to gain control of the situation weren't helping. 

With a swift move he pulled away from the kiss and brought a hand around your neck once again, this time giving it a fairly decent grip. His face looked so calm, like this was nothing he hadn't done before, but his actions told a completely different story. How he managed to keep his expression so composed while taking full control of you made a shiver run down your spine, and the heat between your thighs grow exponentially. 

“Listen; I’m the one in charge here, y/n. What makes you think a tiny, powerless slut like you could ever even attempt to control someone so much bigger, so much stronger than them, hm?” 

“I-I dunno…” You stuttered out, much to Tsukishima’s liking. 

“You don’t know, that's exactly what I thought. Well then, let me teach you where your place is.” While his left hand maintained its place around your throat, his right hand snaked up your thigh and under your skirt, his fingers ghosting over your clothed sex. The faint contact made you whine, you couldn't stand how badly you needed him to touch you. Your eyes pleaded for him to do something, and he basked in the glory of making you so weak so quickly. He then obliged, rubbing small, slow circles onto your clit.

“Your place is right here; being dominated by me. You will feel pleasure only when I allow you to. You will cum only when I allow you to. You will be obedient, and you’ll love every second of it. Am I understood?” 

You nodded your head with what free range of motion you had, your hips bucking in the direction of his fingers, trying to gain more pleasure in the only way you currently could. 

“Use your words, and address me only as sir.” He instructed, moving his fingers away from you. It was bad enough his moves were teasing at best, but denying you of any contact completely was infinitely worse.

“Yes, sir. I understand.” 

Tsukishima let go of your throat, using both hands to undress you, leaving you in nothing but your panties, which were horribly stained with your eagerness. It stroked his ego immensely, looking at the girl who plagued his mind, who made him feel so inferior so many times, naked in front of him, so ready to be ravaged by him. So exposed, so pathetic, but so undeniably sexy. 

He pulled up a chair, taking a seat in between your legs. His fingers danced over the skin of your inner thigh, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. You felt so needy all you could do was whine, not a single beg or plead coming from you. He hooked a finger onto the side of your panties, pulling them over to get a good look at you. Your pussy glistened under the fluorescent lights, coated in wetness you had never experienced before. It was like a work of art for Tsukki, who took a minute to admire the piece before he pulled your underwear off of you entirely. 

He took his left thumb and ran it down the length of your sex, dipping between your folds before coming back up to your clit, finally starting to please you again. A moan slipped from between your lips, filling the quiet of the room. Tsukishima brought two fingers from his opposite hand up to your lips, and without needing instruction you allowed them entry. Your tongue swirled around his digits, a slight hum ringing from your throat as your oral fixation was satisfied. 

His fingers left your mouth with a small pop, and they were brought down to your core. They prodded at your entrance, teasing you by the anticipation of entry. You wanted it, wanted it so bad it was much more a need, and at that point you weren’t too proud to beg for it. Just as your lips parted Tsukishima pushed them into you, a whine coming from you instead. You fell back onto the table, your back arching off the wood as his fingers worked wonders unknown on you. With an upward curl he brushed up against your g-spot, your hips bucking upward in response. The pads of his fingers massaged the rough patch of flesh momentarily, making your legs shake as helpless little curses fell from your lips.

As he began pumping his fingers again he also sped up the rate at which his thumb circled your clit, and it became quite clear to Tsukki that your orgasm was approaching, and was doing so fast. You could feel the knot in your stomach getting tighter and tighter, it was almost unbearable. You heard his voice say something, but your head was spinning you could barely make it out.

“Answer me, slut. I’m not repeating myself.” Was all you could make out, but considering you didn’t know the question, it was an impossible feat. Just as your orgasm was about to arrive Tsukishima removed his fingers from you, his thumb ceased all movement, and you were left with a ruined orgasm and your hips bucking into the air.

“You’re not cumming until you can answer one of my questions correctly. That should be good enough incentive for a stupid, needy little bitch like you, right?” You propped yourself up on your arms, looking at Tsukishima in utter bewilderment. You couldn’t believe what he was saying, or that he was going to make you answer questions in order to cum, but you had to admit he wasn’t wrong. It was a pretty good incentive.

“Y-yes sir.” 

With a quick smirk Tsukki sank his head down between your thighs, his tongue dipping into your pussy, savoring your delectably sweet taste. His his hands held the backs of your thighs, giving himself unrestricted access to your sex. His tongue flicked over your clit every so often before lapping up your juices again, until he finally gave the bud uninterrupted attention. His lips latched around it, starting to suck as his fingers entered you once more. Your back arched sharply, and your hands moved to tangle into his hair, tugging on the blonde strands. Before you could even process what it was you had done, Tsukishima was hovering above you, slapping your cheek before taking a rough hold of your chin.

“I told you not to touch me, did I not?” You nodded your head frantically,

“You d-did, sir. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, you will be. Off the table.” 

You followed your instructions, and as soon as your feet hit the ground Tsukishima pulled you onto your knees, and held your chin in his hand once again, forcing you to look up at him.

“I don't think I need to tell you what to do here, do I?” You shook your head lightly, your eyes full of wonder as you looked at him. 

“No, sir.”

“Good, then show me that you're actually good at something.”

You shimmied in between Tsukishima’s legs, frantic hands fiddling with his belt as you tried to get his pants off as quickly as possible. You didn't know what was causing you to be so eager, but something in you urged you to act as quickly as possible. As you pulled his pants and boxers down his erection sprang free, the pure size of him catching you off guard. You were no inexperienced woman, this wasn't your first time seeing a penis, but you had yet to deal with anyone of his size. It was a bit intimidating, if you were to be completely honest. 

As you were told, you weren't allowed to actually touch him. You presumed if you used your hands at all it wasn't going to end well for you, but to that you could fairly easily oldige. You licked a long stripe from the base of his length up to his tip, your tongue pressing along a vein that ran that same course. You circled his tip before sucking on it, letting out a satisfied moan around him as his precum leaked out onto your tastebuds. 

You started to take him further into your mouth, each bob of your head adding another inch until you had all of him. Your eyes watered as you felt him in the back of your throat, and you gasped as you came up for air. Tsukishima looked down at you, smirking as he saw a tear run down your cheek.

“You should do more of that.”

“More of what?” You asked, tilting your head in confusion.

“Crying for me.” 

Tsukki took hold of your hair, forcing his cock into your mouth and once again making you take the entirety of him. He held you there, letting out a groan as you choked around him. He brought you up for air and marveled at the tears running down your face, and the desperate look in your eyes. It was art for him and him alone to scrutinize, and he was most certainly a fan of the piece. Before you could fully focus your attention he was in your mouth again, his hips pushing up off the chair as he fucked your face. You gagged around his length, the sounds remarkably gratifying for Tsukishima to hear. 

He brought you back up for air one final time, holding your head up so the two of you made eye contact. He chuckled at you, admiring your current state. Spit dribbled from the sides of your mouth, tears spilled out of your eyes, and you were perilously trying to catch your breath.

“Messy little girl. You're looking more and more like the stupid little slut I've always known you are. Cmon, say it for me, tell me you're a stupid little slut.” 

As if his words weren't degrading enough, this request was surely the icing on the cake, the cherry on top of the sundae. He had you exactly where he wanted you, powerless and obedient. Just a small little toy for him to play with how he pleased. He wasn't satisfied with your lack of obedience, and slapped your cheek once again, roughly grabbing your face after.

“I wasn't giving you an option. Say it.” He demanded.

“I-I’m a stupid little slut.” You complied, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I can't fucking hear you.”

“I’m a stupid little slut!” You repeated, much louder this time. Tsukishima let out a satisfied chuckle, nodding his head. 

“That's right, and who's stupid little slut are you?” 

“Y-your stupid little slut, sir.”

“That’s right.”

Tsukishima pulled you up off the floor, laying you out on the table. He pulled his shirt off, your eyes combing over every little detail of him. You knew on top of being a student he played volleyball, so he had to be fairly muscular, but you weren't expecting what you got. He had a body even Odysseus would be jealous of, making you the ever loyal Penelope.

Tsukki lubed himself up with your wetness, as you were far from falling short of it. No man was ever this rough with you, ever this dominant. It turned you on more than you would like to admit, but there was no need to with Tsukishima. He could tell from the look in your eyes, the tone of your voice, the way your hips slightly bucked as you sucked him off. 

Without warning his tip began to prod at your entrance before starting to slip in. It was no easy feat, though. You were incredibly tight, and even then you hadn't taken anything even close to Tsukishima’s size. He took things slow, watching as every inch of him stretched you further. You whimpered at the sensation, it was intoxicating beyond what your words could even describe. A groan slipped between his lips as he bottomed out, light curses following it. The way you tightened around him made it so hard for him to control himself, but he knew you needed a moment, and he wasn't trying to hurt you.

Not at the moment, at least.

You nodded your head lightly as you felt adjusted, giving him free reign over your body once again. Tsukki grabbed your hands, pinning them above your head before he began to move. He slowly started to pull out, and with a sudden snap you were once again taking all of him, a soft scream coming from you. He did this a couple times, watching how your body jolted. Feeling how your thighs tensed up next to him. Each of these thrusts hit your cervix, sending you reeling each time. 

He picked up the pace, starting to pound into you at a relentless pace. You wrapped your legs around his waist, keeping him close and forcing him to go as deep in you as possible. Tsukishima brought one of his hands down to wrap around your neck, the other still holding your wrists in place. He gave the sides of your neck a squeeze, the lack of circulation rushing toward you just as he hit you with a particularly hard thrust. A light scream fell from your lips, the pleasure in that moment so crazily overwhelming. This routine continued; harder thrusts while he actively choked you, very slightly less hard ones as he gave you a moment to breathe correctly, all the while denying you of your high.

“You better not cum, slut.” He warned as he felt you once again starting to get just a bit too tight around him.

“W-wanna cum....so bad.” You weakly replied, tears welling in your eyes as you spoke. Once again, just as you were on the precipice of release, Tsukishima denied you again, pulling out and leaving you empty. Tears fell from your eyes as you uselessly whimpered and protested, all of it only earning you another slap to your cheek.

“Really thought I’d let you, huh? Dumb little bitch.” He said as he turned you over onto your stomach. He filled you up again, but before he moved any further he began raining spank after spank onto your ass. You could only assume it was punishment, but it felt far from it. The pain was nothing but masochistic pleasure for you, and sadistic pleasure for him. Each stung more than the last, and thus each felt even better than the last.

Your senses were so overloaded as he started to thrust into you again that your brain had turned to utter mush. Coherent thought was so far behind you it was like it was never something you could’ve done in the first place. The only thing you could process was pleasure, and to enhance it you lifted one of your legs back up onto the table, the other continuing to stay hanging over to keep yourself up. This new angle let Tsukishima hit sinfully deep in you once again, adding to the utter brainrot you were experiencing. Words no longer were an option for you, only whines and whimpers, a stray profanity at the very best.

Tsukishima grabbed a fistful of your hair, picking your head up off the table. He made you look in the direction of the door, bending down to speak into your ear.

“Look, you left the door unlocked. Someone could come in at any moment and watch you getting fucked like the little whore you are. But I’m sure you'd like it if someone saw us, wouldn't you?” 

You couldn't bring yourself to form any sort of coherent response, and Tsukki very well knew that. He chuckled at your attempt to reply, which was just a rhythmic whine as if you were trying to get some words out.  

“You're not very quiet, either. Stupid sluts like you like having everyone know how good they feel, don't they? I’m sure someone's come by to spy in, hearing how utterly pathetic you sound.” 

His words only made you whine and whimper more, your head in an absolute daze from the sheer amount of pleasure you felt. Tsukki let go of your hair and your head fell down, and you got a good look at yourself in the mirrored wood table. Your mouth was hanging open, your hair a tangled mess and drool slipping from the corner of your parted lips. He had fucked you so past dumb you didn't even know you could be this far gone, and all the while you still had no clue if you would be allowed to cum.

Your hips pushed back against his, meeting every one of his thrusts and forcing him deeper. Each time he re-entered his tip made quick contact with your cervix, the repeated feeling driving you absolutely crazy. Your eyes rolled back as you let yourself fall onto the wood once again. You took everything he gave you, all the while holding your orgasm back. Each time he felt you were a little too close he pulled out, you couldn't even count how many times you'd been denied release, you were sure the number was shameful. You could tell this was getting harder on Tsukishima as well, the twitching and pulsating of his cock inside you letting you know he was having trouble holding back as well. 

You saw no use in begging at this point, and you couldn't have mustered the words for it even if you wanted to. You simply whined and whimpered with every thrust, your body jolting forward each time. Tsukki held on tight to your hips, keeping you in place as he pounded mercilessly into you. In your daze all your senses had dulled, but you could hear just enough for Tsukishima's next four words to be heard, almost as clear as day. 

“Cum. Do it now.” 

In an instant you finally let yourself topple over the edge. Your voice was so hoarse you couldn't scream, rather you let out something between an incredibly loud moan and a whimper, your back arching and your legs shaking vigorously. Tears spilled from your eyes as your body was overrun by an orgasm unlike any other you had experienced. The feeling was only intensified by Tsukishima cumming inside you, depositing a sizable load inside of you. Your vision was blurry and a little white around the edges, and your chest heaved as you let out shallow breaths. Soreness set into your body as you took time to regain yourself, almost ten minutes passing before either of you even thought to move. 

Tsukki pulled out of you slowly, admiring how fucked out you looked, your small body sprawled out on the table. He figured moving would be hard for you, so he gently let your leg down and peeled you off the table, sitting down in the chair behind him and sitting you on his lap. Your head fell on his shoulder, your eyes still a little glazed over, but for the most part it seemed you had come to. 

“Are you feeling okay?” You nodded your head lightly, your breath finally leveling out. Your throat was pretty scratchy, and you knew your voice would be raspy, so you just didn't bother speaking yet.

“What have you learned today, then?” 

“A good couple things.” You croaked out, wiping a stray tear from your cheek. 

“Oh really? Enlighten me.”

“Well, I learned that economics is just something I'm never really going to understand. I also learned that you are a complete and utter asshole, even worse than I thought. Finally, I learned that you are a way more experienced man than I thought you were, and maybe I don't hate you as much as I was letting on.” 

Tsukishima laughed out lightly, giving you a bit of an approving nod.

“Good, I’m glad I at least taught you something. Maybe not what I originally intended, but learning is learning. I think with a couple more study sessions you’ll start to understand the econ material, though.” 

You didn't say this out loud, but the thought of getting to spend some more alone time with Tsukishima actually wasn't the most terrible thought in the world. It seemed clear enough to you that the resentment between you two was clearly something much, much different than that, and so you were open to the thought of exploring what it actually was. Maybe not in as much of an erotic way as you just had next time. Not that you would've minded if it escalated to that point. 

Although, you thought, if Tsukki was going to fuck you like that every time, brainrot from class material was going to be the least of your worries. 

The both of you made yourselves presentable again, packing up all your belongings and leaving the room clean before walking out, which you did fairly slowly due to how sore your legs were. You both walked through the library, which was overwhelmingly empty besides a few staff members working hard at hardly working. It was to be expected; it was a Friday night and you were the only two in the world who'd pick studying over any other activity. You stopped just outside the entrance, turning to your side and giving Tsukishima a wave.

“I guess I’ll catch you later then, Tsukishima.” 

“Oh, so no thank you for helping you study? I guess the one thing I didn't teach you was manners, huh y/n?” You chuckled at his comment, shaking your head a bit.

“Guess you didn’t. It’ll have to wait until next time.” You turned on your heel and started in the direction of the train. Before you could get far Tsukki grabbed your arm and pulled you back over to him, holding your chin so softly with his other hand, the action so outrageously condescending.

“Oh no, I’ll gladly teach you right now.”

[thunderheadfred]

❄️Todoroki HC's🔥

Aged-up pro hero Shouto. NSFW under the cut. Minors do not interact.

- - -

General

Might as well be tied with Bakugou for the #1 pro hero spot; they seem to pass the crown back and forth every other year. Everyone knows about their intense frenemies uber-rivalry. Well. Everyone but Shouto.

He's asked to speak at a lot of charity events. If he has time to prepare (and hire a speech writer) he is capable of stirring crowds to standing ovations. But if caught unawares... he gets cornered into hilarious on-the-spot interviews. He's been memed. Mercilessly.

He's an OP character, but unfortunately he rolled -500 in fashion sense. Eventually he wises up and hires a stylist. When he finally cuts his hair a slightly different and even more flattering way, it's a national event. People faint in the street.

Does god-awful sleight-of-hand magic tricks when he meets young fans, even though nobody asked him to. The second-hand embarrassment is palpable. But he keeps doing it. God, why does he keep doing it?

Has hovering arm syndrome in every fan photo.

Super into pop music. Not a fan of any particular group or artist, couldn't tell you the name of a single song. But every time he turns up the volume on the radio it's like... really? THIS? Probably pumps that shit through his hero agency to keep up morale. Has no idea what you mean when you tell him his music taste doesn't match his personality.

Similarly, he enjoys brainless romantic comedies and old silent movies. Doesn't laugh at jokes but loses it over physical comedy. Thinks Buster Keaton and Harold Lloyd are the funniest people who ever walked the earth.

He's long and limber. Runs practically a hundred miles every day just to "relax." Doesn't even get sweaty doing it. A filthy yoga addict. He'll probably live to be 200 years old.

He can regulate his body temperature for quirk use but in everyday life he's always half a degree outside the Goldilocks zone. It drives him quietly insane; he has an epic love-hate relationship with his thermostat.

Has a therapy animal pet. Doesn't matter if it's a dog or a cat or a bird or an iguana or a teeny tiny rodent. It's the best-behaved animal in the country and speaks more languages than you. It has its own room and an instagram account with millions of followers.

Lives in a traditional Japanese estate that doubles as a national treasure. Probably has government-appointed snipers at the gate, and he's just like, "don't worry about it." You are afraid to touch anything. Fuck, don't even look at anything, just to be safe.

Has an outstanding personal chef who only gets to cook five things unless (thank fuck!!) company comes over. Impossibly picky eater. He rotates between a few "safe" foods and suspiciously side-eyes everything else. If you cook something unfamiliar for him it will be the most awkward meal of your life, because he'd never tell you he doesn't like it. But oh lord, just look at his face.

This clashes directly with his love of traveling. Frequently uses his hero earnings to visit exotic foreign locales over long weekends... but rarely tries the food.

- - -

Dating

A grey-ace demisexual disaster. You could count the number of people he's been attracted to on one hand. He falls madly in love every time and always gets his heart smashed to pieces when his crush can't magically intuit the meaning of his frigid longing glances and generically courteous romantic gestures.

Which is stupid, because he gets propositioned constantly. He can't walk out the door without being flirted with. People keep slipping him their phone numbers and he always directs them to his agency like a moron. It's a good thing he will never understand how attractive he is because that's the only thing keeping him from total world domination.

Conventional attractiveness does not compute. Shouto doesn't have a type, doesn't care that he's an eleven whilst you are merely mortal. He will fall for your personality above all else.

Probably falls head over heels because your schedules overlap in a completely ordinary way and he witnesses you doing something endearing or brave or most likely: utterly mundane.

Pick a favorite, because you're his favorite coworker, or his favorite barista, or his favorite random bystander in line at the grocery store. You made him smile once; then he spent the next three months daydreaming about your future together before you accidentally stomped on his foot, initiating your first real conversation.

He's big on healthy communication. HUGE. He goes to therapy and it shows. Will talk through literally everything to the point of delirium. Sometimes his dedication to resolving every issue right away can get overwhelming; sometimes you just need some frickin time alone. But it pays off, because the two of you have practically never have a "real fight." There's just no way for bad vibes to fester.

STILL, his family wasn't exactly... erm... verbally or emotionally supportive, shall we say. For that reason, he might not give you all the compliments you deserve, because it simply doesn't occur to him to do so. He assumes you know how he feels. If you're self-conscious or insecure in the relationship, it might take him a while to notice. But when he figures it out (or even better, when you tell him directly) he will make it up to you with enthusiasm.

Will take you on lavish dates. Spoils you rotten without actually intending to. He's clueless about money. If you wanted a sugar daddy, you just hit the fucking jackpot. But if the word valet makes you uncomfortable, perhaps suggest some romantic picnics instead. He can still go all out with the food and five-star location without making you see cartoon dollar signs.

Chronic Insomniac. Stays up too late watching YouTube every night. His viewing history is an incomprehensible blur of k-pop music videos, serial killer icebergs, and super girly crafty ASMR channels. When he's watching a video, he is unreachable. Please call back later and try again.

He's disgustingly cute when he sleeps. Doesn't snore, but drools. Sometimes the drool freezes and leaves frost trails on his face in the morning. Still sleeps with the giant stuffed cat pillow that his mother gave him when he was like, zero. He'll inadvertently suffocate you with it, and you will welcome death with open arms because awwwwww!!!!!

The first time he tells you he loves you will be after your traditional Japanese shinto wedding. You won't hear it again until you start a family. Honestly, it's a good thing he doesn't say it often and is always holding you when it happens. It's a knee-buckler.

- - -

Icy-Hot

I don't even need to say it. Shouto is as old-fashioned as they come. You will never open another door or pull out another chair for yourself as long as you live. He will ask before he holds your hand. He will ask before he kisses you. He will stop and check in if you so much as breathe funny during sex.

If you don't orgasm at exactly the same time while staring into one another's eyes, he'll consider himself a failed lover. God forbid you want him to pound you into the futon... cause you are going to have to present that scenario to him in writing first.

Physical intimacy rarely leads to sex. He loves cuddling, craves physical affection. He'll sprawl all over you and turn into goo while you hold him close. He's an amazing, astounding, phenomenally good kisser. And that's... nice and all... but sometimes you have to grab his face and say, "Shouto, I'm horny," before he's like so that's why you're currently dry-humping me?

Even if he isn't technically a virgin the first time (or the millionth time) you sleep together, you won't know the difference. He's a blushing violet. Every. Fucking. Time. This doesn't mean he's a bad lay, oh no. But there's always ten minutes of confused bumbling before he hits his stride and remembers oh yeah, I DO know how to fuck good.

Absolutely silent during sex. Focused. Intense. Sometimes you have to push him a little to make any kind of noise at all, just so you know you're pleasing him (oh don't worry, you are).

His cock is Just Right. Not to big or too small. Perfectly proportioned and symmetrical. Somehow pretty. Like a fucking factory prototype. It truly is not fair.

Gets handsy and restless at night, even if you both have work the next day. Seems to crave sex at three in the morning. You've given him more than one exhausted handjob.

Gets offended if you don't cum. Will go down on you for hours. Of course he uses his quirk to tease you. He doesn't typically use it during actual intercourse, but he's all about foreplay, and he'll use every tool in his arsenal.

His sex drive is completely fucking unpredictable. Sometimes he's all over you, other times he's an icy slab. His line of work leaves him busy and stressed on a near-constant basis, so you can't entirely blame his personality for this one. Just give him some time and help him take care of his basic needs. He'll come back around soon enough.

[goldentournesol]

to be true, to not be true (part 1)

Spencer Reid x Reader

Summary: early in y/n’s and spencer’s relationship, y/n fears the growing distance between them, although what seemed to be possible infidelity, is actually much worse–for spencer.

Length: 2.9k

A/N: i wrote this in collaboration with one of my favorite writers on here, Mia over at @mggpleasedontlookhere​. She is so wonderful and hopefully you can see both of our writing styles here! 

masterlist

The sunlight streaming through the windows made the hairs on my skin dance in glee, although it was the soft breeze invading the space that contrasted the radiant warmth. An equilibrium was achieved–a needed balance. The same can be said about the nerves crawling about my stomach and the naive excitement that made me light-headed whenever I was around Spencer. I glanced up at him from where my head lay in his lap. The reflected glow from the TV danced across his features making my heart jolt. My stare caught his attention and he sent me a small smile, his hand leaving traces in my hair. It was his day off and I had no problem spending it in suffocating proximity with him.

“This is nice,” I breathed, leaning back into his soft touch. He hummed in response, almost in contentment, if not for the moment his eyes seemed far off, entangled in a distant thought. It was so brief, I might have missed it. His job took a lot from him and I knew that, which is why I never pushed him. Instead, I let the subtle aroma of morning coffee and fresh linen confine my senses, leaving me oblivious to reality.

Although not a few moments later, the ping from Spencer’s phone burst the fantastical bubble that surrounded us. My eyes lingered on the cartoon characters plastered on the screen but I couldn’t help noticing the way Spencer’s fingers would thump rhythmically against the floor. Adjacent to his palm, rested his phone, revealing several notifications as it came alive. Albeit I paid no mind to their context given I was enamored by the picture of me on his homescreen. A faint smile graced my lips at the observation, feeling a wave of warmth rush my cheeks.

“I wonder who that is,” I teased, referring to the image. Spencer must have misunderstood my point of reference, hastily explaining that new language that Morgan had introduced him to through text messages.

“Spencer, using emojis does not constitute a new language.”

“Considering its context, I would argue it is–I mean look at hieroglyphics!” I covered my face in amusement, running my hands over my eyes. A sharp exhale left my lungs as my chest filled with contagious giggles. It seems that I was too consumed in my fit of laughter to notice Spencer stealthily concealing the device and turning off his ringer.

“First of all, hieroglyphics is a formal writing system-”

“And does that not ‘constitute’ a portion of language? Also, isn’t texting a writing system in itself?” His lips formed into a sly smirk, thinking he’d gotten the best of me.

“You’re right in the way that hieroglyphics is part of the language, however it’s all but the ‘expression’ of that language.” I debated, gesturing to the air as I explained my point. For a moment our eyes met, and I could feel my playful resolve melt away under his gaze. Despite the pause in my confidence, my stubbornness shone through.

“All I heard was that I was right,” he jested, tickling the side of my waist. I jumped at his mischief, collapsing into pleas and begs as he continued his assault at my skin. My stomach churned in delight as my hands attempted to pry him off of me, the premise of our conversation vanishing into air like wisps of smoke.

-

Spencer’s days off were becoming increasingly rare, I’d barely seen him in the last two weeks, but we’ve managed to salvage enough time between cases for a date. The excitement buzzed through my veins as the clock ticked closer to 7 pm. I was growing restless in the apartment, obsessively checking my phone for the time. Spencer is usually right on time, if not early. Dread and anxiety clogged up my throat as I waited for him. For hours, call after call would be sent straight to voicemail. The weather outside seemed to be in tandem with the way I felt. The rain was as unforgiving as the tears that striped my face.

I was never one to hold a grudge. But it happened once, then it happened twice. Slowly, it became a habit and it was impossible to reach him.

I guess date nights on Thursdays were now obsolete.

He came over to my apartment maybe once whenever he was in town and even then he was nearly unrecognizable. His shy, loving demeanor was replaced by explosive irritability and general unease. I wished he’d just talk to me, but he continued to brush me off. He was being distant and strange, his behavior was so unlike him. Knowing him though, he was probably too stressed or busy to get around to doing simple tasks like eating a balanced meal. Spencer can be quite scatterbrained, and I hadn’t seen him in around a week. So, around lunch time, I made Spencer a healthy meal packed with proteins and veggies and decided to pop into the BAU and drop it off. It felt like a good way to cheer him up. Maybe we’d have lunch together at the park he always liked to visit. It wasn’t that far from headquarters. Hell, I’d even eat lunch with him at his desk at this point.

The walk into the BAU was strangely nerve wracking, I could feel my heart in my throat. I had an uneasy feeling in my gut but I took a deep breath and pushed the heavy glass doors open. My eyes scanned the bullpen for my boyfriend but I couldn’t find him. Standing there in confusion, I was only snapped out of my trance when someone bumped into me from behind.

“I’m so sorry–oh, it’s you! Hey Y/N, what are you doing here?” JJ said, closing the file she held in her hands and wrapping me in a one-armed hug.

“Hey JJ! I was looking for Spence, I got him lunch, but I can’t seem to find him anywhere? Do you know where he is?” I said as I pulled back from the hug, she began to say something but was interrupted.

“Woah hey, sunshine! I was wondering why it suddenly got so bright in here.” The deep voice of none other than Derek Morgan came from beside us and he was, of course, donning his signature cheeky grin. I couldn’t help but grin back, even though my chest was nearly caving in on itself.

“Did Spence come in today?” JJ asked Morgan, whose brows immediately furrowed.

“No, I haven’t seen him today. I think he might be coming in late, I’m not sure. He’s been kind of off, lately.” Morgan said, eyes searching my own for an answer.

“He has, hasn’t he?” I exclaimed and the two nodded in agreement, “I’ve been worried about him, maybe all that emoji-talk finally got to him.” I laughed slightly, but stopped when I found Morgan’s expression shift.

“What do you mean? I stopped trying to explain emojis to him like months ago, if the genius doesn’t get it, he doesn’t get it.” Morgan shrugged, unknowingly allowing the literal caving in of my chest to take place. JJ noticed the change in me immediately.

“What’s wrong, Y/N?” She asked in her usual caring manner, but I could barely hear her over the rushing of my blood in my ears.

“Nothing, nothing. Um, if he comes in today, can you just give him this?” I dismissed the conversation and handed over the brown bag with the lunch I made, disguising the sharp exhale that left my lungs. Before JJ had the opportunity to utilize her profiling skills, I gave both of them a cordial nod and left the office.

My steps felt heavier with every collision against the tile, albeit the loud thumping of my heart drowned out reality around me. My mind warped itself around irrational thoughts as my loyalty to Spencer attempted to retaliate against the invaders. The concept of Spencer as dubious and sly fell foreign to me. However, that lack of knowledge only added fuel to the imminent blaze that engulfed my head and stomach.

I swarmed with alternate realities, trying to make sense of the unknown. If Spencer was aware of my method of defining a solution, I would’ve been scolded by my naivety and illogical thinking. Oh to be a scientist–to have a mind like his. It’s a gift yet a heavy burden to carry. Is that it? Was that it? Does he not believe I’m capable of understanding a mind like his? Was I stupid? No. He had shared intimate momentos of his life before, so what was it? What can I not offer…What can I not promise to make him drift away like this?

It must have been me, right? I must’ve hit a boundary the last time we spoke! Or was it his work? No. By the time my thoughts stopped buzzing, I realized my feet carried me to the park I intended to visit earlier with Spencer. An unfamiliar pang hit my chest, sending reverbing waves throughout the cavity. A sort of ache rested in the core of my heart–something I didn’t think I would feel when reflecting on my relationship with Spencer–my Spencer. I guess I was so used to the warm bubble he fabricated that I forgot how cold the real world was.

Was that it? Did I stop being that for him too?

The thought of the slow degradation of our relationship sent a chilling shock through my veins while I swallowed pins and needles. My hand rested on a park bench next to me, letting myself use the wooden beams as support. Looking out into the far pond in the center of the park, I pulled myself to take a seat. The wind began to whistle through the trees, and the lake of glitter–the nickname I gave whenever the sun casted its glow onto the surface–lost all of its beauty. Crickets didn’t even dare to sing their usual melody and birds flew south to their homes. The breaths I took kept going nowhere, dissolving into nothing even though my chest expanded and retracted.

I pulled at the ends of my sleeves, tucking my knees into my chest as the air grew crisp. Questions of infidelity and unfounded justifications collided creating a mass of insatiable curiosity. My head coincided with entropy–it enjoyed the chaos–until suddenly it went blank. Every tether that kept me grounded vanished, my consciousness going into autopilot. I didn’t even realize the burn that resided in my eyelids or the wet streaks coating my cheeks–maybe from the dryness or something more. It was only the small drop of water landed on the back of my palm that pushed me out of the addicting trance.

Another one had landed on my forehead. And another one. And another one. I cringed as I felt the water drip from my head to the crevice of my ear. The clouds began to rumble a somber tune as it began to rain. Plucking myself from the bench, I made no hurry to make it back to the house. In a way, the droplets cascading the skin distracted me–seemingly blissful compared to the former events.

Once again, my feet held a prominent consciousness as it was the only part of me that was stable, leading me to the doorstep of my apartment complex. With what felt like a last ditch effort, I checked my phone for any new messages from Spencer. My heart lurched seeing a new notification pop up. To my surprise, it was from him.

With a deep breath and newfound hope, I unlocked the device, taking a moment to gaze at the picture of I and Spencer on the screen, before proceeding. My shoulders dropped, the tight squirming in my stomach halting. A hopeful smile crept on the corners of my lips, the previous distrust dissipating from my unreliable mind as I read the words displayed in front of me.

“Date night tomorrow?”

-

Tomorrow night couldn’t come quick enough. It somehow felt like I was holding my breath the entire day until I finally saw him. He was apologetic and sweet enough that it quieted my anxieties for a while. If he held any guilt or shame, it wasn’t apparent, or maybe he hid it well. Or maybe I was being ridiculous and reading far too much into things that could be circumstantial. But this was Spencer…my Spencer, the tenderhearted, gentle soul who made way too many corny physics jokes.

Dinner went by much smoother than I expected, but I still felt like there were things unsaid. The words felt lodged in my throat, almost like an itch I couldn’t reach. Either by mindless habit or by sheer deliberacy, we ended up in our favorite park. The very park that I found myself running to in a fit of frustration yesterday. Our feet seemed to know the way of our usual path along the pavement. I wondered briefly if there was a place I stepped in twice without noticing it. There was a lull in conversation and before I realized it, the words escaped me stealthily.

“Hey, Spence?” I started, and he took his attention off his shoes to look at me, “I, uh, I wanted to talk to you about something.” The way the words stumbled ungracefully from my lips had me cringing. He lifted a brow in intrigue and caught my eye, silently profiling me and my nervous behavior.

“Anything, love.” The use of the amorous term caught me off guard and I had to swallow under his intense gaze. I felt myself open my mouth, but the words died on my tongue as the blaring of his ringtone took the place of my voice between us. It was almost as if the scratchy melody startled him because the way he snatched himself away from me to look at his phone was worrisome.

His brows bunched together as he took a look at it, “I’m sorry, I have to take this.”

Without waiting for my confirmation, he pressed the phone to his ear and took a few large steps away from me, as if the space would give him more privacy. I suddenly felt extremely exposed without him by my side.

The emptiness beside me lingered of his scent, almost mocking me, the words constricting my tongue. If I had a second longer, maybe the phone call would’ve been obsolete, maybe for the first time in a long time he would’ve been selfishly mine, even for another moment. I found myself suffocating in the same place I was yesterday like some poetic injustice. Perhaps I’m just a marionette, dangling from loose strings as the universe had their way with me. Frankly that would be less upsetting than watching Spencer slip through my fingers, knowing that it was possibly me who sealed that fate, and not some otherworldly being. It would’ve been my doing, and that’s something I’m not yet ready to realize.

Maybe it was my undying curiosity or growing twinge in my chest every second passed that led me to consult the moral figures weighing down my shoulders. At two opposing extremes, they debated the right course of action–or if doing the right thing was even the course of action to consider. Surprisingly in the end, it was my impulsivity that answered for me, wasting no time to stipulate consequences.

I shook off the twisting feeling in my stomach, pushing myself off in Spencer’s direction. I kept justifying my actions by telling myself that all I would be doing is checking on him, although the underlying motive was nothing under disguise. I whispered the same mantra to myself with every inch closer. I gritted my teeth as the antsy sensation traveled to my shoulders, slowing my steps to contemplate my reasoning.

What am I doing? A harsh exhale of detest left my lungs, leaving a light yet deserved burn in my esophagus. It seemed incredulous to me that I was willing to eavesdrop on my own boyfriend, although it didn’t seem like that minutes ago. I bit the inside of my cheek in shame, turning myself around.

Has this all been in my head? No, it can’t. Then why would he lie? He wouldn’t, but he did. Confusion set deep within me, however it was my guilt that left an everlasting mark. Maybe Spencer had his reasons, he would never deliberately fib–at least the Spencer I knew would never. But what if that’s it? Did I really know Spencer that well? The world around me closed in rapidly, my senses overwhelmed. Did I make him lie? It would make sense considering my recent possessiveness. Did he see that? Did I drive him away?

I bit down on my bottom lip, threatening to break the skin. I ran my hand through my hair several times, taking a few calming breaths to compose myself. No, I can’t think like that. This is Spencer, he’s my Spe–no, maybe he never was mine?

Unable to contain my contradicting thoughts any longer, I shifted around with a newfound determination. Pushing the bile building up at the bottom of my stomach, I prepared to march my way to him. My body set aflame with feigned confidence, hopefully enough to fuel the overpowering desire to know the truth.

To know whether the truth actually lied in the irrationality of my mind

To know whether the truth lied in the coarseness of my behavior.

To know whether the truth  lied in the prospects of Spencer’s job.  

To know whether the truth-

“I guess I’ll see you on Thursday!” Spencer smiled with endearment–a smile I thought was reserved for me. “It’s a date…”

To know whether the truth was that he was no longer mine.

part 2  feedback is always appreciated!

[akakeiiji]

drama! xD the same with Kuroo, bokuto and Oikawa only that this time they really do a hard serve, and s/o full knot gets on the back of the head and faints for a few seconds

THIS HAPPENED TO ME BEFORE UGH I was just walking around the courtyard when a stray volleyball suddenly slammed into my head :’( I fell onto the ground and broke my glasses, it sucked so much aaa

✂︎・・・masterlist

-`,✎ Kuroo, Bokuto and Oikawa's reaction to you fainting after getting hit by their serves

Kuroo Tetsurou

He could feel his heart literally drop at the sight of you stumbling after the ball made contact with your head

He acts on instinct and is immediately kneeling by your side despite being on the other end of the gym

When you don't respond at first the tears were literally about to spill right then and there but you start stirring after a few seconds

He probably seems like the calmest out of the three but he's internally on complete panic mode right now

He tries to keep his composure mostly for you and his screaming club members

He's actually researched a lot about this after getting into volleyball because he knows how dangerous the sport can get im still convinced that he's a doctor now, fite me

He immediately rushes you to the infirmary, holding you up despite saying you could walk

His immediate concern is the possibility of you having a concussion but the school nurse reassures you and your worrisome boyfriend plus the team who are hovering by the infirmary entrance that you were fine

Kuroo immediately leaves practice early and takes you home after that, holding your hand the entire time

He'd be watching you worriedly out of the corner of his eye as you walked home in case you stumbled or showed signs of dizziness

Once you were home he'd immediately tuck you into bed, place a cold compress on the bump on your head and basically become your personal nurse

You'd say it's unnecessary but he'd insist

Only when you two were alone would he open up about the fear he felt when you fainted, he'd be hugging you the entire time, tears prickling in his eyes as he's apologizing profusely

"What if I hurt you? I wouldn't be able to forgive myself."

Oikawa Tooru

He literally saw the whole scene unfold in slow motion when the ball started veering in your direction instead of his intended target, iwa-chan the water bottles laid across the court

He was already running towards you before you fell onto the ground

He'd be paralyzed with fear as he held your motionless body in his arms but you started stirring after a few seconds of frantically calling your name

When you started responding, that's when his tears began trailing down his cheeks, both out of relief and concern

He hates crying in front of people like this but his overwhelming guilt and worry was too much

He brings you to the infirmary immediately, knowing full well how powerful his serves are

He'd have to momentarily leave the infirmary while the nurse was checking you for signs of a concussion because he just felt so guilty

He'd cry quietly in the hallway, blaming his supposed lack of skill and carelessness, as Iwaizumi would comfort him telling him that it wasn't his fault

When you walk out before Oikawa could go back to the, telling them that you were completely fine and Oikawa would immediately wrap you in his arms and bury his face in your hair as he muttered apology after apology

He'd actually do this as well to hide his face because he doesn't want you to see him crying and because he thinks his crying face is ugly

"Promise you won’t ever scare me like that again, please."

Even after informing him that the nurse said you were fine, he'd still continue asking "Are you okay?" every five minutes

He'd cut practice short for the day and spend the rest of the day with you

The whole time he'd be with you, he'd be watching you like a hawk

If you so much as close your eyes for a second bit too long he'd immediately ask if you were dizzy or had a headache, his phone already in his hand ready to call for an ambulance

On the way home, he'd buy you all sorts of snacks and food, an unspoken token of apology

He would try banning you from the gym during practice but you never listened

Whenever you did come by to watch or visit, Oikawa would be so wary he wouldn't be able to focus on the actual game

"You're not getting hurt again, not on my watch."

Bokuto Koutarou

Chaos, pure unadulterated chaos

He'd be by your side in a split second, screaming and panicking

Why weren't you moving? Did he kill you?

He'd be sobbing fat tears, as he tried to coax you awake

When you opened your eyes, Bokuto would be so overwhelmed with relief that he'd just start sobbing even more as he pulled you closer to his chest

Akaashi, composed and ready as usual tho he's panicking too ngl, was the one who told Bokuto to bring you to the infirmary

This brought him to his senses mostly and he'd carry you bridal style to the clinic

The nurse would be so confused at the sight of a sobbing Bokuto bursting into the room with you, sheepishly smiling at her, in his arms

Asides from that everyone in the team came with you two, both in concern for you and to emotionally support their captain 

Even after the nurse informed everyone that you were fine, Bokuto would still be distraught

He'd fall into his worst case of dejection mode yet, just knowing that he put you in harms way tore away at his heart

Even Akaashi, the unofficial Bokuto wrangler, didn't know what to do

He'd cling onto you for the rest of the day, not daring to leave your side and always having some form of skin to skin contact

He wasn't sobbing anymore but he was still sniffling and tearing up sometimes

If he apologized one more time you were probably going to duct tape his mouth shut

He ends up sleeping over at your place that night because he couldn't bear leaving you

He cuddles into you the whole night, he's kind of like a wounded puppy, you have to comfort him the whole time, constantly reassuring him that you're fine and that it wasn't his fault

It would take him a few more days to get back on his groove in regards to volleyball. He just keeps worrying he’ll hurt someone during practice 

But with your and the team’s unwavering support he bounces back like the ball colliding on your head to his usual self in no time

You thought he got over the incident until he gave you a bicycle helmet on the day of one of his matches

“Just in case! What if the ball flies up and hits you in the stands?” 

“Babe, no—”

[bokettochild]

Hmmm if you need ideas I always love cultural difference shenanigans so maybe Twilight and Hyrule or Warriors and Hyrule having jarringly different cultures?

I didn't really touch on cultures much, since I'm still learning a lot about the games in general, but here's three boys discussing the educational systems of their respective provinces!

(Asks are open still, if anyone wants a story, feel free to request it! I will try my best! (Crossovers aren't off the table, but I can't promise I'll write them))

From Ordon to Catalia

“So, you’re telling me,” Warriors states disbelievingly. “That you, the Hero of Hyrule, couldn’t even speak Hylian until mere months before you saved the kingdom?”

The traveler nods, a faint flush dusting over his browned cheeks at Warriors’ question.

Twilight shakes his head, a smile on his face. “Who’da thunk it? Chin up traveler, I didn’t even live in Hyrule when I saved it.”

“What?” Warriors turns to him, royal blue flickering with disbelief as he stares from one country hero to the other. “Seriously? Both of you?”

“Well,” Hyrule tugs at one of his curls, eyes glistening with mischief as he speaks. “I mean, Legend saved like, four other countries, and he wasn’t from any of them.”

“But the first country he saved was Hyrule.” Warriors asserts. “And at least he was sent to the other places or something, unlike you two.” The captain stares from one to the other. “Traveling through the kingdom and just happening to run into the Royal Nursemaid?” He turns to Twilight, disbelief still written clear on his face. “And chasing monsters, if I recall correctly. What the heck, guys?”

He can’t help but take a bit of pity on Warriors, the captain has only ever been outside of his Hyrule’s main areas when time traveling, and the poor man clearly has little to no familiarity with the provinces and kingdoms beyond his own home, save for whatever rich and stuffy nobles talk about when royalty from the other kingdoms comes to visit. But even so, Wars lacks the faintest clue of the world outside of Hyrule’s borders, and that's just a little bit sad.

He leans back on the bed that he and Hyrule are sharing, it’s been a few weeks since they were last at an inn and he fully intends on enjoying the plush beds while they can, even if it is a bit too soft for his own comfort. “We could tell you more about them, if you like?”

At his side, Hyrule nods, smile bright if not a bit wistful. “I’m always willing to share about my home.”

Warriors hesitates, caught between disbelief and curiosity.

“I don’t think even Legend has been to Catalia.” Hyrule muses, but Twilight sees the sparkle in Hyrule’s eyes, he’s tempting the captain in a way the both of them know is sure to work.

“That so?” Warriors muses. “Well, I suppose so. Although,” He turns a cynical eye to Twilight. “I’m not sure how much I actually want to know about farm life.”

“Your loss, city boy.” He scoffs in response, a wolfish smile pulling at his features.

It’s nice, he thinks as he leans back further, letting Hyrule pull his thoughts together and Warriors shake off the surprise of their previous words, to just sit and talk with his brothers. Time and Legend have roomed with Wild so he doesn’t have to worry about the Cub making trouble without him there to watch him, and for the first time in a long tie he can just sit down and talk with his other brothers. He doesn’t know why Time let Four assign rooms like this, but he isn’t complaining if the others aren’t.

“Well, what would you like to hear about?”

Warriors frowns, staring at Hyrule for a moment as the Traveler flushes darker under his curls. Maybe the healer wasn’t as ready to talk as he first thought. “How about, your family, what sort of people are they?”

Hyrule stares at the captain disbelievingly for a moment. “You’ve met my mom, remember? And I don’t really remember much of my dad, he went missing when I was a kid.”

“Oh,” Warriors flushes, a strained smile taking over his features. “Right.”

Hyrule giggles softly. “I’m not mad, Cap, just surprised that you forgot. Although to be fair, not many people probably think about it since I look like a Hylian.”

“Yeah, about that, how does that work?”

“Hylian father, I look more like him in this form. We may be from Catalia, but he was there entirely because he was fleeing the destruction of Hyrule. He met my mom in the Aver Forests, where she’d been wandering for the last few years. Great fairies can leave their pools if they so choose, but they do so rarely. Unfortunately, mom had too because of the increase of monsters in Hyrule.”

“What is the Aver Forest?”

“The biggest, lushest forest in all of Catalia!” Hyrule spread his arms wide as if to indicate how big it truly was. “I’m pretty sure it’s just the other side of the lost woods in my time, since it’s so close to the border. It nothing like Hyrule, but it is, was, home.”

“So, did yer ma follow you to Hyrule?”

“Not exactly.” The traveler replies with a small frown. “She came after Hyrule was made safer again. I can’t exactly leave the country freely anymore, so she came to see me. It’s a good thing too, since getting potions is far more difficult than just bathing in her pool.”

“Are potions really that expensive in your time?” Warriors asks, concern flecking his gentle gaze.

“It’s not about the price,” Hyrule frowns. “It’s more that most people don’t know how to brew them, and finding a person who can is difficult.”

“Ah, supply and demand.”

“Pardon, what?” The traveler looks up to the captain in confusion.

“Supply and demand, you know,” Wars states like it’s common knowledge. “When lots of people want something but only a few people can provide it? It’s the reason shops can get away with charging so much for things.”

Both country heroes stare at him.

“Have neither of you ever heard of it?” The captain blinks at them, leaning forwards on his bed. “How is that possible?”

“Not all provinces have a school, Wars.” He replies, chuckling softly at the surprise on Warriors’ face. “For farming communities we focus on animals and plants, don’t need no fancy education to plow a field.”

Hyrule stares between the two of them. “Alright, this might be a Hylian word I haven’t learned yet, but what is a scewl?”

“A what?” Warriors echoes, turning to face the traveler.

“A scewl?”

“A school?” Twilight translates, brow furrowed until the Hero of Hyrule nods in confirmation, after which he relaxes again. “It's a place people go to learn to read and write, and to count and do equations.”

“And here I thought there weren’t any in Ordon?” Warriors teases lightly.

“Get off it, Cap’. We don’t have schools, but we do have books, I know how to read and if I can learn more than I will.”

“Ah, self-taught?”

“Mostly.” He shrugs. “Hylian’s real different from Ordon-Standard, even if they’re essentially the same.”

“That makes no sense.” The captain deadpans, staring at him blankly.

“I mean, even though they have a lot in common, the way people speak and pronounce things, the vernacular and what not, is quite different that Hyrule proper.”

Hyrule blinks at the two of them owlishly. “What are equations?”

A glance is shared between them. “Math.” Warriors answers. “You know, adding, subtraction, multiplication and division?”

The traveler raises a brow, but he's shrinking in on himself in the way he does when he gets nervous. “What are those? Multipulycation and division?”

Warriors stares cautiously at the traveler, gaze gentle but concerned. “Hyrule, do you not know how to do math?”

“Do you know how to count?” Twilight tries instead.

“Of course!”

“Can you combine numbers?”

“That’s counting, but with bigger numbers.”

“Can you subtract it again?”

“Yes.” Hyrule answers slowly.

“Can you multiply?”

The traveler stares at Warriors nervously. “I just told you I don’t know what that is.”

The captain, bless his heart, looks genuinely hurt. “Good grief, what sort of mentor is Legend? Not making sure you know basic multiplication?”

And Hyrule flushes, but his brows furrow as he pushes himself straight, always defensive of his mentor. “He didn’t know, and he’s a great mentor! He’s been showing me how to grow trees!”

“Legend knows forestry?” The captain starts.

“He has an orchard.” Twilight reminds him, light laughter bubbling in his chest at the understanding that crosses Warriors’ face at the words.

“Right.” The captain turns to Hyrule. “How about this, Legend can teach whatever it is he teaches you, but when he’s done with that for the day, you come find me? Math is a wonderful thing, even if it is a tad complex, and it'd be a shame to let you go without knowing it.”

Betrayal makes itself known as Twilight pulls away from the two. “You like math?”

Horror blooms on Warriors’ delicate features. “You don’t?”

“Arithmetic is the bane of my existence and if I didn’t need to know how to count rupees, I would willingly forget it.” Twilight spits out.

“It’s wonderful!” Warriors defends. “Everything makes sense and has a logical explanation! You can count on it having an answer every time.”

One dark brow raises as midnight blue stare back at the captain, unimpressed. “Except when it doesn’t. Except when you have to graph equations but you can’t because they don’t have answers. Except when there’s two missing numbers and nothing fits in together, except when the numbers decide to become letters and you have to spit up the alphabet along with your equations.”

“How much math do you know?” Warriors raises a brow.

“Too much.” He isn’t even ashamed of the shudder that makes his pelt tickle against his cheeks. “Wild is a literal genius at it, and I can’t even number how many time he's decided to use it to explain some hare-brained scheme. Trajectory and angles and-” He shivers again. “No thank you. It’s like he ate a math textbook and just keeps spitting it back up, every time he wants to do something dumb.”

The captain whistles lowly, royal blue eyes sparkling. “You mean he has theories and reasoning behind all that? Dang!”

The glare shot the captain’s way is nothing short of threatening. “Do not encourage him, or so help me, Wars. I can hardly contain him some days as is, he doesn’t need someone else egging him on.”

“Oh, trust me,” Gloved hands raise in a non-threatening motion. “I just want to pic his brain, maybe he can help me tutor the traveler here.”

And Twilight almost asks him not too, almost begs that the captain not, before realization hits. “You know, that is actually a good idea.” He smirks. “I’m surprised.”

The deadpan look he receives is well worth it. “You wound me.”

“Were your skin not so delicate, I wouldn’t.” He returns, smile stretching wider. “But that aside, if Wild is busy tutoring Hyrule, he won’t be off blowing things up, and if Hyrule gets a better education out of it that's even better.”

“I’ll ask him about it.” Hyrule answers, eyes lighting up in a way that looks innocent, but considering the kid is Legend’s descendant there’s a very good chance that it isn’t fully. “Maybe he can teach me some tricks while he’s at it.”

“No!” The voices ring at once, but it’s already too late, Hyrule is tapping his chin and muttering low under his breath as a wide smile stretches over his face.

“What have you started.” Twilight whispers, horrified.

“I’m sorry.” Warriors returns, just as grim. “I won’t tell Legend if you don’t.”

[thelightofthingshopedfor]

so yeah I’m generally feeling like the only way from keeping myself from getting pointlessly upset about What If is to...assume the premise was kind of misrepresented. they’re leaning hard on the whole idea of “what if one choice by one person was different, look at all these other things that totally would happen then” even though that’s really not what we’re seeing in most of the episodes. (well, clearly, or we wouldn’t have “what if...zombies??” to begin with, so obviously in most cases they’re focusing on alternate scenarios instead of alternate choices and just...describing it badly.) instead I think we really have to assume that sure, we’re seeing possibilities for various main-timeline characters, but a lot of their decisions depend on them already being somewhat different people from their main-timeline counterparts. (putting the rest being a cut because ooooops I went on way longer than I meant to)

heist!Thanos is probably the most egregious example, because he’s only at all believable if you assume he was just...never as bad of a dude, maybe never got that much further than talking about his stupid plan and actually did care about the ridiculous resource argument (as opposed to main-timeline Thanos, who I firmly believe is just as death-obsessed as 616 Thanos and came up with the resource thing as an excuse to himself), and certainly didn’t literally torture Nebula or surely our amazing hero would not be pushing so hard for their reconciliation, right?? (I actually did like the Collector being a bigger villain, though--until now we’ve mostly had alternate takes on him and the Grandmaster that reveal them to be...more or less powerless on their own, which is boring as hell.)

similarly, I pretty much have to assume everybody in the Party Thor timeline is just...a lot more chill, considering Laufey is apparently a good dude but probably the writers didn’t intend to imply some kinda terrible things about the main timeline (I mean. aside from the way that they seem to have fundamentally misunderstood the first Thor movie but okay, okay, I’m letting it go), and relations between Asgard and Jotunheim obviously became extremely friendly after the war given the way Thor and Loki behave toward each other. plus, like, both realms’ crown princes (both apparently only children, without backup heirs?) are carefree party boys, which certainly seems to imply some things about the kinds of responsibilities--or lack thereof--that they currently have and are expected to take up in the nearish future.

anyway, I’m sure it surprises no one to know that I pretty much only care about Loki, and also that my feelings on his appearances have been...uh, mixed. I mean Jotun Loki is a giant precious blueberry and I love him very much even if I’d like to see him being a teensy bit more serious occasionally (I have some very faint hope that he’ll show up again in episode 9, given that Mega-Ultron came to his timeline and it would make sense for Party Thor to call in the Ice Bros for help, although if Marvel does that just so they can kill him...ugh).

conqueror!Loki, on the other hand...I mean, I don’t love it. I would have very much preferred if Loki had actually meant it when he said he wanted to be allies. they could’ve done a very fun, very fanficcy thing with Loki being like “well I guess you’re all okay, you know, for mortals, so if a big threat pops up, buzz me,” and he ends up on the list as an honorary Avenger possibility, and then literally any other villain shows up as the sequel hook. but I can accept a Loki who’s furious and grief-stricken over Thor’s death, to the point that he decides--with the apparent approval of the rest of Asgard--that peacefully taking over Midgard is a decent compromise for revenge instead of just destroying it. and even though the writers probably didn’t intend anything very Loki-friendly in general, it’s even possible to speculate that he’s motivated in part by a misguided sense of responsibility (or just entitlement, but still) toward a realm that Asgard still considers something of a protectorate, and that he figures he can improve things for the silly little Midgardians while making sure the place is better defended from actual outside attack. so if nothing else, I can make enough excuses through headcanons or fix-it fics not to feel like they completely butchered Loki’s character.

...as long as he had nothing to do with causing Thor’s death.

it’s weird to me that I haven’t seen many people talking about this, because it’s something @adreamer67​ pointed out to me right after the episode aired and I was asking for spoilers: the episode really kinda does imply that Hank Pym killed Thor, specifically, at Loki’s request. or, well, somebody’s request, anyway. it’s the bit where Loki-as-Fury and Pym are fighting, Pym kinda gives his villain speech explaining his motives, and Fury-Loki brings up Thor to note that, uh, he just got here and wasn’t even on the Avengers short list! Pym’s like duh, you would have scooped him up if you’d had the chance, which is...obviously true but still a flimsy reason. then a couple lines later, he says, “Thor’s death was a favor.”

okay, a favor to...??? no clue! it’s never brought up again! depending on future What If plans, maybe they’ll return to this storyline in some way (next week when I guess the Watcher gathers up the protagonists from this season to fight Mega-Ultron, or in season 2) or maybe they won’t! who knows!

and like...Loki’s right there, and if the writers just ran with basically a classic 616 version of the character in terms of him being a power-hungry, one-dimensional villain, he’s the obvious culprit. if you have a very shallow understanding of Loki’s character, everything works out great for him: by presumably piggybacking on Pym’s existing revenge plot, he’s bumped off his competition for Asgard’s throne and created a handy excuse to take over Midgard without the rest of Asgard ever suspecting how eeeeeevil he is. in fact, his whole constantly evolving harebrained plan from the Thor movie probably becomes part of a bigger sinister scheme (even though. you know. there is zero evidence of that in the movie), where he intentionally orchestrates Thor’s banishment so he can disguise himself and get some human to bump off his temporarily mortal brother. I can’t really think of any other characters who would’ve even known Thor was there for purposes of pointing Pym in his direction, let alone anyone who would have even a dumb, uncharacteristic motivation.

I mean, yes, I recognize that Loki actually did kill Thor in Thor. but I honestly don’t think that’s relevant, because he was in the middle of an ongoing breakdown due to the revelation of his heritage and on some level he might have feared Thor would kill him for being a Frost Giant if he didn’t kill Thor first. (plus--if he’d really, sincerely wanted to kill Thor, he would have vaporized him with the Odinforce, not backhanded him with it in a way that Thor could have easily walked off at normal strength.) this Loki...could theoretically have similar motivations, except for some damn reason he’s just casually introducing himself as the rightful king of Jotunheim and using the Casket like it’s nbd and not turning blue in the process?? that sure seems to imply that something was hugely different about the Frost Giant reveal--it seems like there are a lot of different possibilities, but the one thing that doesn’t seem possible is for everything from the first Thor movie to have happened in the exact same way. (and also Sif smacks her hand on the Casket while it’s active with no ill effects, and the writers think main-timeline Loki could have used the Casket as a kid without ever suspecting he was Jotun, so like.........ffs where are the people in charge of the MCU’s almighty continuity, like come on.)

on the other hand--

maybe Pym meant...somebody else? for some reason? no idea who, but...somebody. it’s also weird that the exact same writers would write a Loki coldly scheming to kill his brother and use that as an excuse to conquer Midgard and a Loki goofing around like a complete dork while proclaiming eternal brotherhood with Thor despite having always known they’re not related. I mean that’s...just kind of weird, right? and it’s also kind of weird to do that after a gradual redemption arc for Loki in the main movies and then an entire series establishing that he absolutely has the potential to be a hero and driving home in the very first episode that he deeply loves his family and doesn’t hurt people for fun. like...I don’t know why you would do all that work and spend all that money to then go “oh it’s totally cool if this exact same character could also be 100% a villain with no redeeming qualities, what do you mean undermining our own storytelling, don’t be silly.”

it also doesn’t always make sense in the context of the episode, because...Loki is the one who asks Pym about Thor, presumably in Fury’s hearing, and until that point nobody had brought up the fact that Thor was kind of an outlier for a victim. in theory he could be doing it to make sure Pym has no suspicions as to who really aimed him at Thor and therefore can’t expose him to Asgard, but that seems...weird, given that Fury is right there to hear it, and Loki leaves Fury and Pym alive. I mean, yeah, a followup could reveal that Pym ~died mysteriously~ offscreen, but it would’ve been pretty easy to have it actually happen in this episode to give audiences more reason to suspect Loki of masterminding the whole thing. hell, he could’ve “accidentally” killed Pym in the fight and given Fury an excuse that didn’t quite hold water!

so it’s like...on the one hand, I have no idea who else they could’ve meant. but on the other hand, if they really did mean Loki, it is extremely weird that it wasn’t made more obvious. I mean they’ve already more or less got him as the episode’s villain! viewers who see his actions as perfectly in character would also immediately accept that he would kill Thor! it’s not going to be a shocking reveal in a potential followup episode that the villain doing bad things did another bad thing! and if the intention really was to imply that Loki essentially had Thor assassinated, it wasn’t implied heavily enough for most people to notice, given that most recaps understandably seem to focus on Pym being the murderer!

so what the hell, Marvel!!

...anyway as you can see I’ve already spent way, way too much time thinking about this

[heliads]

Pretty Cool

Peter Maximoff is more than a little impressed with the new girl at Xavier’s School.

masterlist

Peter’s listlessly leaning up against a wall outside the classroom. One downside of being faster than everyone is that he has to wait so much longer for his friends to show up. Class won’t start for another five minutes anyway, but he had nothing to do and so he showed up early. Finally, Jean turns a corner and walks towards him. 

“Took you long enough.” Peter grumbles, and Jean rolls her eyes. “Sorry we can’t all have the ability to go the speed of light. By the way, Scott’s not coming because he has to help the Professor with something, so it’s just us for today.” Peter groans. “Oh, come on. The highlight of my day is making fun of Scott, what else am I going to do?” Jean stifles a laugh as she walks inside the room with Peter. 

“Actually, you can check out the new girl in the back. Xavier says she arrived just this morning.” She points to the other side of the training room, where Peter can see the silhouette of a girl. She’s separate from the others, probably because no one knows who she is, but Peter is instantly taken by her. “She’s really pretty.” He blurts it out before he realizes, and Jean laughs. “Perfect. Now I have some entertainment of my own- you drooling over this girl before you even know her name.” Peter sticks out his tongue at her, then quickly speeds away to Xavier’s office. Before Jean can even blink, he’s back.

“Okay, so I did a little research and it turns out her name is Y/N L/N. She’s from some place not too far from here, and she’s really good-looking.” Jean groans. “If you’re going to go snooping in the Professor’s files, could you at least find something more interesting to talk about? How about her powers? Or literally anything else other than her name and her appearance?” Peter waves a hand at her. “I couldn’t get too far before Xavier started to sense my presence in his office. Whatever, I think we’ll find out soon enough- here comes Logan now.” It’s true- the newly appointed professor is walking briskly towards the group of students arrayed in the vast space of the training room. It’s still weird to Peter that Logan’s their teacher, but whatever. He’s the one with the most experience actually fighting people, therefore he has been chosen to train all the students.

“Alright, listen up class. Today, you’ll be taking part in another simulation.” He squints at a screen in front of him and presses some buttons, causing the room to dissolve into the simulation. As the training room creates the scenario, Logan continues speaking. “You’ll have to cross a bridge that’s guarded by two giant automatons.” He gestures at the newly formed bridge. Two massive iron robots stand in the middle of it, each easily the size of a building. Thanks to Xavier’s technology in the training room, the simulations can be any size and have anything in them. This leads to some pretty interesting lessons. “Alright, line up. You’ll go through one at a time.”

As the students shuffle into a group at the back, Jean takes her place at the start of the bridge. Jean always goes first, mainly because everyone else is too afraid to get in front of her, but she says she wants to go first just to make sure she doesn’t copy anyone else’s techniques. The consequences of being a mind-reader are that Jean is always worried that her own ideas aren’t actually hers, and just someone else’s thoughts that she read by mistake.

Jean stares down at the iron giants for a moment, considering her attack. Without warning, she shoots a beam of energy at the first one, causing a fiery explosion to erupt in its chest. She takes to the air, soaring high above it so she can envelop it in even more of her magic. The robot doesn’t stand a chance, and it collapses in a heap of rubble. The other automaton suffers a similar fate, and Jean gently glides to the ground, lightly dusting off her hands.

“Alright, good job to Jean. Who’s next?” Logan’s voice booms across the room as the simulation resets itself for the next student. Peter strolls up the bridge, whispering “Showoff” to a smirking Jean as he passes her. He stretches for a moment, readying his arms and legs for the upcoming attack, then pulls down his goggles and starts to run as fast as he can. Like usual, the world around him slows down, and he races up one of the robots, tearing as many of the exposed wires and computing parts as he can. He jumps easily from one machine to the next, destroying everything he can get his hands on. By the time he finally allows himself to slow down, the automatons are short-circuiting and falling apart behind him. To his classmates, everything happened in just a moment.

“Good, Peter. Uh, can’t really tell what you did, but you did it fast, so good for you.” Logan’s commentary makes Peter grin, and he makes his way to the other side of the room next to Jean. Peter usually tunes out the rest of the class after he finishes with his run of the simulations, but when he sees who’s stepping up to the bridge next, he can’t help but turn back around and stare out of curiosity.

The thing about simulations in Xavier’s school is that everyone goes in a very specific order. Peter’s not sure exactly when this unspoken rule came to be, but it’s a tradition that has never been broken for as long as he’s been at the school. Everyone does the simulation in order of how powerful their mutation is.  Jean goes first, as per usual, then Peter. Both of them have gone on missions with Xavier, so they are automatically the first ones to go. The rest of the students go after them, with the most powerful next and the least powerful last. That’s just the way things are. For this class, the next student to go should be a loud, slightly arrogant boy with the ability to control fire. Admittedly, controlling fire is a bit of an overstatement, as all he seems to be able to do is sporadically shoot out columns of flame that reach a maximum height of two or three feet, but it’s power over fire nonetheless. He always goes next, and that’s just what happens.

This is why Peter is more than a little surprised to see the new girl striding up the bridge instead, walking in front of fire boy to the front of the line. Behind her, the class dissolves into quiet whispers, the same confused look on everyone’s face. New students will go last, that’s just what they do. What is she doing, going third?

To her credit, the new girl seems to be utterly unfazed by the whispering behind her. She eyes the automatons for a moment or two, then suddenly slams her hands down to the ground. Instantly, a wave of ice erupts from the place where her hands touch the ground and spreads rapidly across the bridge. The ice climbs up the robot’s feet, spiraling up its body until the entire automaton is covered from head to toe in ice in a matter of moments. Y/N eyes the robot, then flicks her hand at it. Suddenly, the iron giant shatters in a storm of ice crystals, leaving behind nothing but the faint smell of motor oil.

The new girl turns her attention to the other robot, which has realized her presence and started to charge her. The echo of its massive footsteps echo around the training room, but the girl doesn’t even flinch. She flings her arms forward, sending out shards of ice that are several feet long and sharper than a blade. The automaton slumps to a halt, impaled by the swords of ice coming out of it. As it shuts down from injury, it silently dissolves into just a few pixels that rearrange themselves into the open air of the simulation. Y/N studies the ice she’s left coating the bridge, but at a small movement of her fingers, it rises up and is summoned to her, disappearing into nothingness once it reaches her hand. 

The girl calmly walks off the bridge, leaving the entire class in stunned silence. Logan clears his throat, trying to keep the astonishment from his voice. “Uh, good job, Y/N. By the way, class, this is Y/N. Our new student.” Y/N walks over to where Jean and Peter are standing, and watches as another student steps up to the bridge. Peter, doing his best to sound cool, smiles at her and introduces himself. “I’m Peter.” Y/N smiles back. “I’m Y/N, but I guess you already knew that.” Relaxing, Peter can’t help but keep talking to her. 

“How’s your first day so far?” She leans back against the wall, taking in the class around her. “It’s pretty good. I think I confused people by going third, but I didn’t really know order was such a big deal.” Peter shakes his head to dismiss her fears. “Don’t worry, I think people won’t have any problems with you going third from now on. What you did was pretty cool- uh, pun intended.” She laughs at that, and the happy gleam in her eyes when she smiles is enough to make Peter want to tell a hundred more jokes. “That’s good. I wouldn’t want to cause too much drama on my first day.” 

They keep talking until the end of class, and Peter is more than a little disappointed to hear the bell ring to dismiss them. “Do you need any help getting to class? I can show you around.” Y/N beams at him. “I’d love that, Peter.” They walk off together, talking happily together like they’ve known each other for years, and Peter can’t help but hope that she’s in more of his classes so he can spend even more time with the prettiest girl he’s ever met.

[luvlyrv]

Just Vacation Girlfriends (Seulgi x Fem!Reader)

Genre: Fake dating, fluff

Summary: You and Seulgi enter a precarious fake dating situation, hijinks ensue. Except the hijinks aren't light-hearted, but rather deeply personal and intimate experiences. What are you and Seulgi really?

Word Count: 2k

A/N: Hi, it has literally been 5 months since I last wrote lol, I'm sorry. It's not like I hate writing it's just that there were other things I could and had to do. I apologize for taking so long to upload again, especially for the amount of feedback I got for my first post! 68 followers and 90 notes! I know it may seem like rookie numbers to some but I really want to thank you all. I'm having my winter break now so I should be able to post a lot during this short period. If I'm lucky I may be able to semi-consistently post during the school year as well ;). Sorry if there are any grammar mistakes/wtf moments I'm writing at 3AM and have slept for two hours total for the past 40 hrs, cut me some slack please.

Date: 12/24/20

The chops of your knife against the cutting board were interrupted by your phone ringing. You stop making dinner as you look over your shoulder to your phone a couple inches away on the counter. Your eyebrow perked up as you read the caller ID, it was Seulgi. Of course, you immediately set your knife down to talk to her.

"Hey Seul, what's up?"

"Hi..." Seulgi began to yawn. "I just wanted to hear your voice today."

You can't help but to let out a small smile as you felt your face getting warmer. Luckily Seulgi wasn't actually there to tease you about it.

"Ah, well, here's my voice. Is it relaxing enough, your majesty?"

You can hear a faint and muffled sound of laughter from Seulgi before you hear her tired voice through the speaker again.

"Hm, well I guess that'll do. I'm actually calling to make sure you wanna come with us on vacation again."

"Of course I do, I've been going with you guys for years. I'll make sure it works with my schedule."

"Yeah, I know that and I'll send you the dates, it's just that..." Seulgi let out a long sigh, "there's some other things you need to know."

"And that would be?"

"Pretend to be my girlfriend."

"What?"

"Please, Y/N. It'll just be for a week. I know it's a lot to ask but I need it."

You're speechless for a bit and deliberate on what to say next. Not wanting to worry your friend with your silence you ended up just saying, "Yeah, uh okay, I can work with that... why though?"

"You know how dating is like. Not a lot of time, not a lot of privacy. My parents understand this but they're still worried you know? They worry about how my future will be like if I'm spending basically over a decade just working. Something about it takes time to find the right man, settling, babies, blah blah blah. If you pretend to date me that'll ease their worries and I won't even have to worry about a scandal since it isn't real and only my parents would know anyways. Besides... we're close enough where we can pull this off convincingly, right?"

You take a second to think. It was a strange situation to be in, but as far as you knew you would only have to pretend for the week you would spend with her family. Her family wouldn't be seeing either of you after then, and maybe you could also fake breakup if things get sticky. With Seulgi's last statement... it was true that you've been really close with her and her entire family since you were both little. All it would take would be amping up the friendly touches and banter.

"Yeah, we are. Alright. I guess we should iron out the details about our fake relationship later though. You kind of sound like shit. Rest up if you can."

"Talk to you soon, Y/N."

With that, Seulgi ended the call and you were left with dinner still unprepared and a lot on your mind.

* *

The plan was to go to the airport and fly out to the island with Seulgi, where you could rehearse your story until you would meet up with the rest of her family and go about the vacation as normal. Except for the not so minor detail of you having to be Seulgi's girlfriend.

Seulgi sits by the window as you sit next to her. You try to get comfortable, but you really can't. There's a churning mixture of nervousness in your stomach. Even though it was all pretend, it was hard to imagine yourself trying to make it look real. Although you and Seulgi both felt like it would be easy to pull it off convincingly... there was something you couldn't quite place tugging at your heart-strings.

Your thoughts are interrupted as you hear her sweet voice.

"When did we start dating?"

"Uhm, ah, I know this! It was... er-"

"July 7th."

Seulgi begins to look at you. Her eyes are filled with both a pleading look and a disappointed look. She starts quizzing all the little, and very fake, details of your relationship. You answer them correctly for the most part and Seulgi's mood seemed to improve knowing you weren't completely hopeless. You're starting to get into the swing of things when all of a sudden Seulgi asks something completely unexpected.

"And what's our favorite position in bed?"

You felt your face immediately heat up as your eyes opened wide in shock.

"I- I mean, uh, what?"

"K-kidding of course." Seulgi says this with a smile, yet she seems to shake a little. Maybe she was also surprised with her sudden crude sense of humor. She begins to reach down and grab a small book from her bag. "I think we'll be good for now, just relax until we get there."

You just nod your head in response and slip in your earbuds.

* *

Although it wasn't like you have never spent a vacation with Seulgi, things felt weird.

First was the way her family treated you, especially her parents. The both of you walked into the beach house hand in hand. Her parents were completely unbothered. Later that day when eating dinner, Seulgi decided it was time to announce your relationship. As the conversation at the dinner table seemed to finally be dying down, she set down her fork and began to talk.

"Guys, listen up, I've been holding onto this news for some time now, but I really wanted to do it when everyone could see each other. What I've been wanting to say is... " It seemed to you, that maybe just for a little moment, Seulgi was trying to steel her nerves.

"Y/N and I are dating."

Silence. The two of you were met with utter silence. It wasn't the type of condemning and judging silence, but rather one of indifference. Everyone seemed completely unbothered with this news. The silence was thankfully quickly broken by Seulgi's mom.

"Well, I'm glad you guys have finally sorted your feelings. I'm sure you're both very happy now." Her mom said it with a small but warm smile. Everyone else seemed to nod in agreement. You couldn't help but to ask, "No big congratulations? What about the fact that we're both girls? "

Seulgi's brother laughed a little before talking.

"I mean... sorry. We can act a bit more excited if that's what you want. It really is something to be celebratory about... it's just that you don't usually clap for a fish when it swims, right? You know what I mean? It's just all a bit... expected and natural. As for the 'we're both girls' I don't care, and everyone else probably doesn't either."

To say the least, that was not the reaction that you and Seulgi expected. After dinner the two of you were stuck trying to think about what it all meant. You guys were also both stuck with the fact that you'd share one room and one bed for the rest of the week.

Again, it wasn't like you haven't done things like share a bed with Seulgi before. It was just that the relationship business was getting stuck in your head. Everything normal suddenly felt dangerous. Things like even looking in Seulgi's way felt like it took caution. That night, it was decided that there would be a pillow barrier between the two of you.

By the third night the pillows were all on the floor as the you hung onto each other for warmth, finding comfort in the contours of the other's body.

Things like this kept on happening. You would set up arbitrary rules to feel normal again and destroy them all within a blink of an eye. You just kept on acting on things without intending to.

For example, the other day Seulgi woke up early to cook breakfast. You couldn't help but to feel the absence of her body and warmth and followed her out to the kitchen soon after. Even though you were in a half-asleep state your feet found their way behind Seulgi and your arms snaked around her waist.

You burrowed your face into the crook of her neck. Taking in that familiar and oh-so-comforting scent that is Kang Seulgi. Since when did her scent make you feel at home? Since when did you feel so at ease with her? You had a sneaking suspicion that it has been this way for a very, very long time.

These thoughts didn't matter though, as your body began to move with hers to the soft music she had playing from her phone. She didn't try to resist your touch at all. Instead, it seemed that she melted under your touch, with you seeing her shoulders dropping and feeling her backing in further to your embrace. Before you knew it the serene moment ended when Seulgi finally finished cooking breakfast.

You would frequently hold hands whenever the family was around, yet even though you could spend your free time wherever with whoever, you were attached to Seulgi's hip and she to yours. You two would always end up doing something together, or perhaps you would do nothing, and instead just enjoyed the fact that the other was there while quietly still holding hands.

Holding her hand quickly became your best comfort. Her soft and warm hands seemed to fit perfectly with yours, fitting together just the way you'd want them to. Something about her hands electrified you every time.

The once seemingly distinct line between platonic feelings and romantic feelings began to get blurrier and blurrier with each passing second. This doubt and confusion culminated when going on one of the last outings planned for the vacation.

Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, during the outing a spontaneous couple's event was hosted. Your mouth began to dry up as the host looked at you and Seulgi, urging each other to kiss.

As far as everyone else knew, you've been dating for a decent amount of time now. Enough of an amount of time for them to assume you had kissed already. You looked into Seulgi's eyes in distress. You could feel the host boring his eyes into you. You could feel practically everyone's eyes staring in anticipation.

Seulgi drew her body closer and that was when you knew your fate was sealed.

* *

A couple hours later and you're back at the house now. Laying in the bed you've shared for the past few nights you finally look at her. She looks back at you with waiting eyes. Slowly you reach your hand up from under the blankets and softly laid it on her soft cheek. She responds by placing hers on top of yours.

Staring at the deep brown of her eyes, you take it all in. You feel heat radiating from her body. You watch her body rise and fall with a mix of a calm yet eager breath. The close proximity that the two of you share is something that was typical, yet so different in the moment. With bated breath you finally say the unspoken words. The words that should've been said long ago. The air and sound barely passes through your lips.

"I love you."

The two of you close in, giving the lightest kiss in the world. There was barely any pressure but you could feel her lips touching yours. Even though you've kissed already, this one meant so much more. Even if this was such a small and innocent kiss, it was the shyness of it all, the realization that it means something that made your heartbeat race.

Putting your foreheads together, Seulgi said with a quiet voice.

"It's been like this since forever, hasn't it?"

"Yeah. Let's keep it that way."

In the back of your head you wonder, was this to please her parents or was this to please her?

[a-sirens-melody]

i can’t believe it’s true, i get to love you

It’s finally here!! I’m so excited to share my first drakepad fic. Get ready for 5k words of absolute sap kjskhdg (I’ll reblog with the link to my ao3)

This is part of a series I’m developing too, Let’s Get Engaged! so there will be more of this au.

Enjoy!

***

“Uh, DW? Why are we parked across the street from Mr. McDee’s movie studio?” He heard Launchpad ask behind him. “I don't think W.A.N.D.A said there was any crime here.”

“I, um.” His hands were shaking. “I have something I want to show you.” He double checked the brakes of the Ratcatcher; he didn't need to crash his only ride into the wall as the Thunderquack was already in need of repairs. That sounded like something that would happen to Drake Mallard, not Darkwing Duck. He needed to be Darkwing Duck for just a little longer.

Patrol had been busy tonight, to the surprise of both partners. They'd had to foil seven house break ins, five robberies downtown (three of which had been at the mall), and even got dragged into breaking up a bar fight on the other side of St. Canard. That last one was an unexpected surprise, but at least the stench of alcohol and yelling about… sports? Mothers? Darkwing had no clue what it was even about. He wasn’t sure what higher power he had pleased, but he was grateful for the distraction from the precious cargo he had safely tucked away in his jacket pocket.

He had been planning this for one month, two weeks, and three days. Not that he's been counting or anything. The big moment was almost here, and he felt like he was going to throw up.

Because tonight, Drake was going to propose to Launchpad.

They had talked about this before. Actually, Launchpad was the one to bring up marriage. A year ago, two years into their relationship, the pilot had very bluntly asked him, “so what do you think about marriage?” In that moment, Drake thought that all his head injuries acquired from three years of crime fighting had caught up to him and his brain was truly not working.

After recovering from his mini heart attack, the two discussed and came to the conclusion that both of them really liked the idea of becoming husbands. Loved it, actually. But neither was ready to handle all the planning and stress of a wedding yet. Hell, Launchpad had only been living with Drake and Gosalyn for a couple of months.

Still, that didn't stop Drake from imagining the scenario at least once a month. Launchpad kneeling down with a ring in a pretty box and scooping up Drake to kiss him. Drake getting on one knee instead and offering a golden or silver ring (he hadn't been sure, at first, what color would suit his beloved best) after an incredibly sappy speech. 

What was that he said before about planning for a month? Scratch that out. He'd been dreaming of the moment for a year, but started considering for real three months ago. He asked Launchpad again for his opinion on the matter, just to check that they were still on the same page, and almost died on the spot when his answer was now a confident “yes.” If they lived in a cartoon, Drake surely would have floated off the ground surrounded by tiny pink hearts.

He thought about any and all locations that marked a special milestone in their relationship. The movie studio where they first met, the tower where they constantly met on hero business, the McDuck Enterprises building where they found their first supervillains together and met his future daughter. In the end, the former won because it felt like that was the true start of them. Because of their meeting there, the events of the past three years occurred. That point in time marked the beginning of many changes in Drake's life.

He hadn't spent one month, two weeks, and three days scrambling for a location. That sounded utterly unromantic and incredibly unprepared. No, that was the amount of time he had spent finding the courage to actually ask.

Now the moment had finally arrived. And he was not backing down.

After making sure the motorcycle was properly parked, he hopped out and strode to Launchpad, offering a hand. His boyfriend still looked confused but smiled at the gesture and took it, getting out of the seat. “Such a gentleman.”

“I try.” Darkwing flashed a grin back. Thankfully, his hands had stopped shaking and his voice betrayed none of the frayed nerves within the valiant vigilante.

They continued to hold hands as they crossed the street. Once on the sidewalk, they looked up at the building. It had been closed for the night already, the lights dimmed and the only soul seen was a lone security guard on patrol.

“Man.” Darkwing was drawn out of his daydreams and looked over to Launchpad. “It's been a long time since I've seen this place. Brings back memories, huh?”

Darkwing hummed in agreement. For a while after the failure of Darkwing: First Darkness, the only memories he had of this place were bitter. It was here that his big break as an actor had literally gone up in flames before his very eyes. It was here that his idol Jim Starling, a man he had looked up to the moment he laid eyes on the first episode of Darkwing Duck, had tried to kill him only to be buried in the remains of the set in a sick sense of karma.

But after spending more time with Launchpad, he had grown to see it as a landmark of new beginnings in his life. He hadn't met the pilot here, but they really began to bond when Launchpad broke into his trailer. After trying not to damage several previous pieces of merch, they quit fighting each other and started playing with Drake’s action figures, of all things. As odd as the circumstances were, it was nice. Somewhere along the way, he told the other duck about what he personally called his origin story (yes, he knew it was nerdy, but it felt right and no one was going to make him stop).

And Launchpad didn't make fun of him or call him ridiculous for keeping a beat up lunchbox after all those years. No, he nodded his head and looked on in… admiration. Then he yelled out something about getting Jim to stop fighting Drake and talk together about how they could both fix the movie and. Well. They both knew how that went.

Demise of Darkwing aside, it was the first time in Drake’s life that he had felt completely understood. He didn't have to hide his love of Darkwing for fear of rejection, instead he was encouraged to geek out as much as he wished.

And when the rain machine stopped and the ashes of set pieces and the dream of a starry-eyed boy were all that remained, when Drake thought all hope was lost, what did Launchpad do? He told him to get back up. He convinced Drake that he could become Darkwing Duck for real. He even let Drake autograph his poster, an action which he'd dreamed of doing the moment he started acting.

Three years of what he would call his best (and first) romantic relationship, one alien invasion, one spirited little girl, and another found family full of feisty adventurers later, Drake wouldn't change the events of his life for anything. He’s tried so many times to tell Launchpad how much he appreciates him and the warmth and the love he’s brought, but it always feels like words are never enough. That doesn't mean he won't stop trying, though, as he said, “I knew coming here would change my life all those years ago. I'm so glad I was wrong.”

He snuck a peek at Launchpad and was pleasantly surprised to see his boyfriend blushing. “Yeah.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Never thought the worst movie I'd ever seen could open the doors to the best years of my life.”

Darkwing choked and looked away again, cheek feathers turning pink. “I-I, uh. Yeah. Me too.” He squeezed his boyfriend's hand as he tried to regain his composure. When he succeeded, he began again the speech he had spent hours practicing and pacing in his room over. “I thought all I needed to make my life complete was a starring role in a big movie. That I could inspire other kids like me as a solo hero.” 

He faced Launchpad again, softly smiling. “But you. You crashed into my life,” he raised his hands here at Launchpad’s smirk, “pun not intended. You showed me that I could have a good family, I could surround myself with people that really loved me for who I was. Adopting Gosalyn, meeting the Ducks- I never would've done that if you hadn't pushed me to. Hell, I wouldn't even be Darkwing Duck without you.” He stepped closer and cupped the pilot’s cheek. “And, of course, you will always have a special place in my heart.”

Launchpad’s eyes widened and there was a faint hitch in his breath. “Drake, what are you saying?”

“Launchpad, I-” Just as he was about to reach in his pocket for the ring, Drake stopped.

He still had the mask on. He was still Darkwing Duck.

No, no, he couldn't propose like this. Sure, Launchpad knew Darkwing Duck and Drake Mallard were one and the same and that it was still his boyfriend under the mask and ego but- but it was the principle of the thing, okay!?

He wanted to ask the love of his life to marry him in honesty and vulnerability. And to do that, he had to be Drake Mallard. He had to find somewhere more private.

“Wait.” Darkwing grabbed Launchpad's hand and began to run to the nearest alleyway. “I need to do this with no risk of being spotted.”

“Um. What are you doing now?” His partner asked as he shoved themselves into the dark, quiet alley between what looked like a jewelry store and a hair salon. Launchpad looked confused and- wait, were those tears?

Shit, shit, shit. That wasn’t supposed to happen! That wasn't part of the plan! “Honey! No no no, don't cry, I just wanted-” Scolding himself, he tore off his hat and mask. There. Now Drake Mallard could take out his ring and propose and hopefully calm his partner down. “I wanted to ask if-”

He reached his hand into his pocket and froze.

There was nothing there.

Frantically, he searched his other pocket and checked both of them again. His heart sank as he came up empty handed, and he remembered where the ring was.

He hid the box in one of the boxes of smoke bombs earlier that day. In his panic to get out onto the streets and running through his plan and his words ninety nine times, he must've forgotten to take it with him.

Which meant that his fool-proof proposal plan was no longer fool-proof.

“Dammit!” Drake hissed, angry tears forming. He could've kicked the wall, but he didn't want to scare LP. He tried to ignore the hot shame simmering inside him as he covered his face with his hand. “God, I'm sorry, sunshine, I left something-”

“Drake?” Launchpad's voice was hushed and gentle, the complete opposite of Drake's current mental state.

Drake shushed the voices in his head and looked up.

Launchpad was giving him a soft, knowing smile and his eyes were still watery but he didn't look sad. Actually, he looked thrilled. “Are you... asking me to marry you?”

Even if his original plans were ruined, Drake was still going to see this through. So he took a deep breath, relaxed his shoulders, met his boyfriend's gaze, and said, “yeah. Yeah, I am. At least, I tried to.” He pinched his fingers in between his eyes and huffed a sigh. “Would've helped if I hadn't forgotten the ring. You deserve a romantic proposal, and I somehow failed at the bare minimum.” He suddenly felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up.

“Hey. You didn't fail at the bare minimum.” Launchpad was standing closer now, determination in his gaze. “You took me to the place that marks the beginning of our friendship and gave a really sweet speech about how I've made your life better. The fact that you don't have a ring to give me doesn't make that any less meaningful.”

“God.” Drake shuddered, relief flooding his body. He'd been so caught up in his setback that his actions earlier had completely slipped his mind. Launchpad was right. The ring wasn't the most important part; the proposal itself was. He wrapped his arms around his boyfriend, overwhelmed with emotion. “I love you so much.”

Launchpad pressed his beak to the top of his head in a kiss, and Drake soon felt a familiar pair of warm arms snake around him. “I love you too, babe.”

For a few minutes, neither spoke and simply basked in the presence of their lover. Drake found himself processing the past few minutes more and discovered another realization.

He hadn't gotten a clear answer yet.

He was strongly tempted to bury his head further into Launchpad's chest, but he had another important question. Plus, if he had to ask more than once, he would run the risk of dying on the spot from sheer suspense. “Um, so. I didn't screw up my proposal to you.” Launchpad gave a comforting hum as Drake lifted his face to make eye contact once again. “And it made you happy, but. You didn't really answer my question. So. Launchpad, will you marry me?”

His smile was brighter than the sun. “Yes!” His hands drifted up to Drake's side and picked him up. His fiancé- fiancé, oh god, it's real now, not just a dream- threw him three inches into the air, laughing. Drake smiled and joined in, then cupped his hands around Launchpad's face and pulled him into a kiss once he was safe again in his arms.

Drake heard Launchpad sigh and felt his partner tighten his arms around his waist. Drake opened his beak, deepening the kiss. Launchpad made a pleased hum before doing the same, and Drake's mind went pleasantly blank.

It felt like hours had passed by the time Launchpad pulled away. Drake bit back a whine and lowered his hands to wrap around his fiancé’s neck.

“Okay, as much as I want to keep kissing you, we should probably go back to the tower. I don't think either of us is gonna be able to focus on patrol anyways.” Launchpad flashed a small smirk, but his eyes were still sparkling. “Also, you need to put your mask back on. It would be really unromantic if someone found your secret identity out,” he added, as fleeting as an afterthought.

Drake let out a small laugh. “You're right, that would totally kill the mood. Could you let me down, please?” He was gently lowered to the ground at that and took Launchpad's hand again. “Oh! Also!” He had gotten carried away in the moment, but there was another good reason to go back to the tower. “Your ring is there.”

“Did you hide it and then forget to get it back out when you were getting ready to go on patrol?” Launchpad guessed.

“Yup.” They started walking back to the Ratcatcher, swinging their clasped hands back and forth. Drake felt like the weight of the world had been lifted off of his shoulders. He did it! And Launchpad said yes! Even if it wasn't exactly perfect, he would remember tonight as one of the best nights of his life.

His fiancé suddenly stopped in his tracks. “Wait. I forgot to tell you something.”

Drake turned to face him. Something about that statement made him wary. “What?”

His figurative feathers were smoothed over when Launchpad smiled again. “You're not the only one who was planning to propose.”

Drake's entire face went red, and as he could faintly hear the other duck say, “I'll show you when we get back”, amidst his stuttering.

“You're gonna be the death of me someday, LP, did you know that?” Drake sighed when he had stopped bi panicking. He scrubbed his face with his hand and walked over to the motorcycle, hopping on.

“Better me than a supervillain.” He heard Launchpad walk over and get on behind him, felt strong arms wrap around him in anticipation. “Besides, you love me,” was whispered in his ear.

“Okay, we're going now,” Drake choked out. He was definitely blushing again. He turned on the motorcycle and pulled out onto the road. 

With that, they sped off into the night.

***

Once he parked the Ratcatcher, Drake practically scrambled off and sprinted to the pile of boxes in the far right corner labeled Smoke Bombs! Do NOT Touch!! Launchpad was right behind him, chuckling under his breath.

“Which one, which one…” He muttered under his breath, looking for the one with the marker he had put on it. A minute later, he found a box with a large black X on its side. “Ah ha!”

He stuck his hand in the box…

And immediately set off a few smoke bombs.

“Okay, note to self,” Drake said, coughing, “don’t hide your engagement ring with little delicate spheres full of smoke.” He waved one hand around to clear the air and used the other to very gently pry the ring box out.

“Tada!” He opened it to show Launchpad the dark purple ring he had chosen. “Your ring.”

“No way!”

“Um. What?” Okay, definitely not the reaction he was expecting. He tried not to let his nerves get the best of him again. “Is it the wrong shade? Or would you rather have a normal ring?”

“Huh? Oh, no! It’s beautiful!” Launchpad rushed to reassure him. “I just think it’s kinda funny.”

What? How was this funny? “Launchpad, you’re not making any sense.”

“Here, I’ll show you!” Launchpad pulled a similar back velvet box out of the pocket on his left sleeve. He flipped it open to reveal a ring small enough to fit Drake’s ring finger.

A ring that was the exact same purple as Launchpad’s.

“We got the same ring!” They exclaimed at the same time, meeting each other’s gaze and giggling.

“Oh my god. What kind of soulmate magic is this?” Drake couldn’t believe it. This felt like the sort of thing that only happened in fairy tales or really cheesy rom coms. “Hold on a second. Is this what you were doing that one time you said you were picking up lunch?”

“Yeah.” Launchpad said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I wasn’t sure how to explain a trip to the jewelry store without giving it away. Plus, it was a pretty spur of the moment thing. You know how bad I am at lying.”

Drake chuckled. “You said you were on your way to Hamburger Hippo at ten am. I was definitely confused. Why purple, though?”

“Gold and silver didn’t feel like they fit you, and I wanted a ring that would represent something special to both of us. So, the first thing that came to mind was Darkwing Duck! ‘Cause you love it as much as I do, maybe even more, and it’s what we bonded over first and you’re Darkwing Duck, so. It felt right.”

Drake could relate to that. As fun as ring shopping had been, it hadn't started out as the easiest task on his list. Launchpad didn't strike Drake as much of a jewelry person. He had never seen Launchpad wear any jewelry casually, and the fanciest thing his work uniform required was a tie. Even on the few occasions his partner wore a suit, the cufflinks had been provided.

There was a slight blush on his fiancé's cheeks and his hands flapped as he rambled, and Drake felt positively smitten. Again, what kind of soulmate magic was this? It had to be magic; what other explanation could there possibly be for the way they seemed to think as one? “That’s so sweet of you, LP. Actually, I got your ring for the exact same reason. Except for you being Darkwing, ‘cause. You know. You’re my partner.”

“And you’re my Darkwing.” Launchpad whispered, gazing with the softest eyes and his words pulled Drake under a tidal wave of emotions. His Darkwing, his Darkwing, his Darkwing-

“You sap.” Just as he thought he was done crying. He wiped away tears. His face hurt from smiling so wide and his cheeks felt like they were on fire. “I can’t wait to marry you.”

Launchpad grinned just as widely. “Neither can I. Before we go back home, though, can I ask you one more thing? Two, actually.”

Drake took a deep breath and nodded, fanning his face.

“I know you asked me first, but I really wanted to ask you and I’ve got my ring so-” Launchpad was bouncing up and down on his tiptoes, running his hands over the zipper of his jacket. He looked like a puppy, all frantic energy and big hopeful eyes. “Can I ask too? Please?”

Drake laughed and nodded. “Of course, sunshine.”

“Yes!” With that, Launchpad cleared his throat and got down on one knee. “Drake, you’re so special to me. You’re the first partner I’ve had that really understood me. That loves my favorite show as much as I do, and knows what it’s like to build your personality around it. You’ve been there for me in the best and worst times, and you’ve given me the best adventure I could’ve asked for: living my childhood dream with someone I love and that loves me in the same way. You already know my answer, but I need to know-

“Will you marry me?”

“Oh, Launchpad. Yes.” His heart felt like it was going to burst. God, it was really happening. This was better than any lovestruck dream he had conjured in the past year. Drake ran over to the other duck and flung his arms around his waist. He was once again surrounded by strong warm arms and sighed happily.

“We did it. We’re gonna get married.” He could hear Launchpad’s voice rumble low in his chest. “Can we have a Darkwing Duck themed wedding?”

“Oh my god, yes!” Drake pulled his head back up, eyes sparkling. “We could totally coordinate our suits and the decorations and the cake, oh my god, we’re gonna get to eat wedding cake together, and-” He paused his rambling as a realization struck him. “Hold on. Is it gonna look weird if I have a wedding themed after myself?”

“I mean.” Launchpad blinked. “We’re both talking about the TV show Darkwing Duck, right?” Drake nodded. “Then, I think it’s fine. If anyone comes that doesn’t know you’re also Darkwing Duck, they’ll probably think of it as an obsessed fanboy thing. And everyone that does know, will probably understand.” He squeezed Drake’s hand with a grin. “It’s our wedding.”

“Our wedding,” Drake echoed. Oh my god. They were having a wedding. Together! Because they were getting married to each other! He started flapping his hands to try to let out some of his pent up joy. “Our wedding! Oh my gosh, we need to tell people! And send invitations and start writing our vows but I don’t know if that’s something you have to do separately or you can coordinate somehow and-”

“We’ll have plenty of time to get all that sorted out,” Launchpad responded, taking a hold of Drake’s beak and tilting his head up to look at him. His eyes were warm. “But, sweetheart, it’s almost three am and I don’t know if anything’s even open. I’m excited too, but you gotta take a deep breath.”

Drake did just that. “Right, right. Don’t need to pass out before we get home. That would also kill the mood.”

Launchpad chuckled. “Shall we?” He gestured to the open foyer.

“Wait, wait, one last thing!” Drake’s gaze had caught Launchpad’s hand and there was still a certain something missing. Something he had already forgotten once, and he was not going to make that same mistake again. His partner jumped a bit at his sudden outburst, and smiled in apology. “Sorry, this really is the last thing, I promise. Do you want me to put on your ring for you?”

Launchpad’s eyes widened. “Right, rings. We should be wearing them.” He smiled back, gaze drifting to Drake’s left hand. “Can I put yours on, too?”

“Of course.”

And finally, after months of dreaming and pacing and purchasing, Drake took the hand of the love of his life and slipped on his ring. Launchpad did the same, and Drake could hardly breathe. They held their hands up to the light, admiring the way the rings sparkled.

“So why is it that you’re supposed to put your engagement ring on your left hand?” Launchpad tilted his head to view his ring from a different angle. “Is it for protection?”

“I’ve heard it’s because your left hand is closer to your heart.” Drake explained. He saw Launchpad compare the distance from his hands and his chest, brow furrowed.

“But. How’d they figure it out? I can’t tell which one is closer!”

“Maybe they made it up to sound sappy. I don’t really get it, either.”

“Huh. That’s weird. Anyways,” Launchpad shook his head and offered his hand out. “Shall we go, then?”

Drake giggled and took his hand. “Yes, we shall.”

***

When they arrived at home, the stars were still shining. Drake would always be thankful for the shortcut built into their house in Duckburg. When he and Launchpad had decided to move in together, the most difficult decision had been choosing where exactly they wanted to live. Drake didn't want to leave St. Canard without a hero to protect it, and Launchpad didn't want to move away from his job and his family.

Fortunately, his pilot worked for the richest man alive who had no intentions of letting Launchpad leave if he didn't want to. With Scrooge’s money, they had a secret tunnel constructed that led from their house to Darkwing Tower accessible via two blue chairs in the living room. Travel was instantaneous, so Drake didn't have to give up his city and Launchpad didn't have to give up his job (it also meant he could come on patrols without sacrificing so much sleep. In the early days, Launchpad barely got any sleep driving for six hours total back and forth every night. It was scary to Drake how dedicated his partner was sometimes. Endearing, yes, but scary all the same).

He was going to try to stay quiet as he entered the house, he really was since he was expecting to find Gosalyn asleep in her room. It was a school night, so she should have been asleep.

Sleeping, however, was not what she was doing when he found his fourteen year old daughter awake on the couch in the living room. She was spread out, feet kicked up on one of the arms and scrolling through her phone. The second she heard the chairs activate, however, her eyes darted over to her fathers and dropped the device and scrambled over.

“Dad! Papa! How was patrol tonight?” Her eyes glittered with excitement. She always loved to hear about their patrols whenever she couldn't go. Which was often because she had school on weekdays and needed her sleep. Sleep that she was currently not getting for reasons possibly not unknown to Drake.

He arched an eyebrow. “It was fine. Only had a few robberies to stop, but you probably knew it was a quiet night. Speaking of which,” he crossed his arms. “It's three am on a Thursday. What are you doing out of bed and still awake?”

“I couldn't sleep, so I figured I'd wait for you guys. And I can see,” her eyes landed on his ring, grin growing wider, “that tonight wasn't as uneventful as you said. Not in the sense of crime fighting, anyway.”

She turned to Launchpad and asked, “so how mad was he that you beat him to it?” He started to explain but Drake cut in with some squawking of his own.

“What do you mean, ‘beat him to it’!? How did you even know he was planning to propose too?” He finally asked, pointing a finger at Gos.

“Oh, I asked her if I could marry you.” Launchpad answered. “‘Cause, she's your family and I wanted her to know.” He seemed shy all of a sudden, blushing slightly and twisting his own ring.

Somehow, Drake felt his heart swell with even more love as his breath caught in his throat. “Oh. That. Makes sense. And that's. That's really sweet of you, LP. Oh my god, I'm so happy I'm gonna marry you.”

His fiancé grinned back, silly and sweet. “Me too, babe.”

The moment was interrupted by their daughter gagging and rolling her eyes. She still had a slight smile on her face, though. “God, go get a room. Anyways!” She clapped her hands and turned back to Launchpad. “You didn't answer my question. Did he fling a smoke bomb at you or something?”

“Hey!”

“No, but he did set some off on accident…”

As they explained the events of earlier that night, Gosalyn listened with rapt attention. She only interjected twice, both times, “I told you so,” and both directed at Drake (she had caught him pacing in the kitchen one day and demanded an explanation, to which he told her everything. She told him he had nothing to worry about as “you guys are so in love, it's sickening sometimes”). When they were done, she asked if they had any ideas for the wedding yet. Ignoring their clear choice for overall theme, the answer was no, so they brainstormed possible locations and the beginning of what was sure to be a very long guest list. By the time Gos brought up food, it was four thirty.

At that point, Drake declared that it was too early for this and said they should all go to bed. Gosalyn didn't argue, as the wedding talk had finally tired her out.

They tucked her into bed, kissed her cheek, and said goodnight. Launchpad was already in their bedroom and Drake was following him when Gosalyn spoke up.

“Dad?”

He turned around. “Yeah, sweetie?”

She met his eyes and gave him a soft smile. “I'm really happy for you.”

He smiled back. “Thanks.”

“Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Gosalyn.”

He and his fiancé didn't get much sleep. They spent the rest of the night talking in hushed whispers, showering each other in soft kisses, or simply holding one another.

Because they said yes.

And that small word opened a new door, one they were both thrilled to walk through.

Together.

[wrenhyperfixates]

Of All the Places

Chapter 9

Pairing: Loki x reader Series Summary: Washing up in a small town in Oklahoma was definitely not part of Loki’s plan when he came to conquer Midgard. There is one good thing about it, though: No one recognizes him as the one who just wreaked havoc in New York. So, Loki plans to recover from the battle and move on with his life. The only problem? He’s not sure he can leave you. Chapter Summary: A morning with you and a talk with John make it clear to Loki what he has to do. And, perhaps letting the right people in on his secret wouldn’t be so bad, after all. Chapter Warnings: some very fluffy bits and tons of pining A/N: From here on out, it’s going to get pretty plot heavy, so be prepared. Feel free to let me know what you think :) Updates every Friday.

Tag List: @lucywrites02 @frostedgiant​ @lunarmoon8​ @twhiddlestonsstuff​ @marvelousdaydreams​ @parkastoria​ @lokistan​

✥ Start at Beginning ✥ | ← Previous Chapter | Next Chapter →

Disclaimer: Gif not mine 

Loki regained control of consciousness slowly, each sense returning to him one at a time. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept so soundly without having been injured. The last thing to register in his brain was your weight on his chest. You were on top of him even more than you had been last night, but he did not mind in the slightest. Instead, he smiled softly at your sleeping form, listening to the sound of your deep breathing. His eyes fell to your lips, parted ever so slightly, and he was overcome with desire to kiss you awake. He shook his head a little at the ridiculous idea.

He intended to sneak away and leave you to rest, but you foiled his plans by snuggling closer to him in your sleep, pinning him where he was. Looking down at your peaceful form, he caught a whiff your scent. It made him feel safe, a sensation he’d not been familiar with in a long time.

“Loki,” you whispered in your sleep.

“Yes?” he prompted, his heart beating a wild rhythm.

“Cold.”

“Ah, I see.”

It was silly to be disappointed. He shouldn’t have expected much else, after all, but it was not so uncommon for someone to make a confession in their sleep. He pulled the blankets tighter around you. For good measure, he said an enchantment to warm you up and ward off the cold radiating from his body. You released a sigh of joy and cuddled closer still.

Loki supposed he could go back to sleep, he very much would have liked to in fact, but now that he was up, his mind was racing. Now that he was sure of what he wanted, he’d need a plan to get it. To get you. The only problem existed in the form of his incompetence toward mortal courting procedures. He was vaguely aware that it was usually referred to as dating nowadays, but that didn’t exist on Asgard, so the word held very little meaning to him. A twinge of sadness shot through his heart as he realized Thor would probably know, considering his infatuation with that mortal woman, Jane Foster. Someone that he had been kept away from because of Loki. Now that he had you, his own mortal to love and cherish, he felt it an indescribable evil that he’d done such a thing.

“G’morning,” you mumbled in a groggy voice, too recently out of sleep to be embarrassed by your position just yet. You looked up at Loki and rubbed your eyes. “How’d you sleep?”

“Better than I have in a long, long time.”

“Yeah, hard work will do that to a person.”

“Perhaps,” he said, trailing one hand gently down your arm as the other came to rest on the small of your back. “Or perhaps it was something else.”

“Oh! Well, um, you know,” you fumbled for a coherent sentence, his words suddenly brining you to your senses. “It was probably the work thing. Building a barn, all that dancing. It takes a lot of a guy.”

You nervously laughed and made like you were going to roll off of him, but his arm didn’t budge, holding you in place.

“Well, for whatever reason, I am still rather tired. I would not mind a lazy morning.”

His beautiful grin convinced you to stay, and he couldn’t resist humming a little Asgardian tune as you absentmindedly played with his hair. It was a song Frigga had sung to him when he was just a child, before the malice had rooted itself in his heart. It always reminded him of a simpler, more innocent time. Here, with you, he felt that same feeling he did then.

“That’s really pretty,” you said once he was finished. “What song is it?”

“Something from deep in my memory. I am afraid that is all I can say.”

“Oh, well that’s good that things are coming to you in bits and pieces. Your brother, that book, this song—you’ll remember everything before you know it.”

“And yet, nothing could compare to this.”

“Yeah, this town is pretty charming.”

“I suppose you do not remember the last conversation we had about this,” he tsked. “It is not the town that I am referring to.”

Your eyes went wide as you looked at him. No matter how many times he said something like that, you wouldn’t get over it. Often, he couldn’t believe he said them, either, for a whole slew of reasons. For one, falling in love with a mortal was the last thing he’d ever imagined for his life. Though, now that he knew more about humans, he found it far more believable. And for another, he just didn’t have all that much confidence that anyone could love him like that. Why say such things if the feelings wouldn’t be reciprocated? That was the thing, though. With you, he dared hope they might be.

You opened your mouth to say something, but were cut off by the creaking of the barn doors. A loud meow came from Taffy as she made her way up to where you were, but you knew the cat wouldn’t have been able to open the doors. You and Loki looked at each for a brief second, both mortified and nervous to be found in such an intimate, vulnerable way. As a voice sounded from down below, you hastily broke apart, and Loki immediately missed your warmth.

“Are you out here?” Mama shouted, calling your name.

“Up here,” you said, leaning over the edge. “Loki’s here, too, in case you were worried.”

“Well, of course I was worried, but not ’bout him. Do you know how close I came to a heart attack when you weren’t in your bed this morning?”

“You are aware I’m not five anymore, right Mama?”

“Yeah, well, with your judgement,” she said, eyeing up Loki as he appeared beside you, “you sure seem like you are sometimes. Now hurry along before you miss breakfast.”

Well, the truce was nice while it lasted, but Loki guessed that whatever points he’d won with her from saving Matt were canceled out by his evening with you. Apparently she wasn’t too keen on the idea of you two cozying up with each other. Not that he meant that in a weird way or anything, but last night had been pretty intimate. And that wasn’t even mentioning this morning.

Shooting Loki an apologetic smile for Mama’s comment, you scurried down the ladder as not to upset the woman more. The raven haired god sighed and followed you, casting one last longing glance at the pile of blankets and pillows where you were snuggled together just moments ago.

“Listen here, boy,” Mama menaced in a low tone, putting up a hand to stop him. She checked over her shoulder to make sure you were already out of the barn before continuing. “I won’t be losing another one of my babies to an untrustworthy stranger.”

“I believe I already told you, I would never hurt them, never hurt any of you,” he almost pleaded. “That is not my intention.”

“Just because you don’t mean to hurt someone, doesn’t mean you won’t.”

She stalked out before Loki could get another word in, not that he really knew what to say. She was right, after all, especially when it came to him. How many people, how many families, had he destroyed in his path of life? He’d certainly ruined his own.

The God of Mischief sat down on a hay bale, burying his head in his hands. He felt distraught beyond words, torn between his head and his heart. His mind was screaming to let you be, but his heart—oh, his poor crippled heart!—was begging to never be away from you. And, in the end, wouldn’t leaving lead to pain for you, too? Whether you loved him back or not, he knew you cared in some way.

“Loki, you alright out here?” John called from the barn doors. “Mama said you were coming along, but you-know-who was starting to panic that you’d fainted or something.”

The trickster god smiled at your concern for his well being. It only strengthened his conviction that you wouldn’t totally scorn him if he were to tell you how he truly feels. Still, the thought of actually doing that was so daunting that he hid his face again.

“I am fine,” he said, taking in a deep breath. “Just fine, thank you.”

“You’re not,” John replied as he sat next to Loki. “We’re friends, right man? You can talk to me, too, you know.”

“It would be quite a lot to unpack, I am afraid,” he admitted with a wry laugh.

“I’ve got time.”

“I...” he began, unsure of how much he could say without revealing the truth. “The whole time I have been here, I have felt that I should leave. But now I do not know how I could do that without hurting those I care about. I also cannot fathom staying here forever without telling my true feelings to...” he trailed off, not quite ready to admit it out loud just yet, but when John said your name, Loki confirmed it with a nod. “For the first time in a while, I do not know what my next move should be.”

“Well, for starters, be completely honest with me, God of Mischief and Lies.”

“Pardon?” Loki deadpanned, his mouth dry.

“I know, Loki. But before you run off, I haven’t told anyone.”

“When? Why?” Loki questioned, at a loss for words.

“Remember when I went into the city the other day to get supplies after the tornado?” Loki nodded. He would have gone, too, but there was still too much damage around the farm from the twister for both of them to take off. “I found out then. Some small newspaper ran a story on it, and I put the pieces together.”

“And as for the why?”

“Because you’d literally just saved my son not forty-eight hours before. You didn’t have to do that, but you did. So I don’t care what they say, I don’t think you’re all that bad. Or bad at all, really. Don’t worry, you’re secret’s safe with me.”

Loki nodded slowly, comprehending the information he’d just been given. John really was a friend to Loki, but he was something more, too. He was almost what a brother should be, in Loki’s mind at least. He was like how Thor used to be when they were children. There was one time, before he’d received any kind of training, when Loki’s spell had backfired on him. It had hurt, both emotionally and physically, but he was too fearful of being reprimanded to tell his parents. Thor had sat with him then, much like John was doing now.

“I cannot even begin to thank you,” he finally said. “And I truly promise that I will do everything in my power to protect this family, not hurt it.”

“I believe you, but you have to promise one thing.”

“And that would be?”

“Tell them how you truly feel.”

It was a fairly reasonable request, all things considered. And John had insisted multiple times that you felt the same way about him. So perhaps this story wouldn’t have such a tragic finish after all. Then again, did villains get happy endings? Or maybe Loki wasn’t the villain. It’d been a bit since he hadn’t thought himself one, but in light of everything that had happened over the last month or so, he was starting to see things in a more favorable way.

“Alright,” he agreed. “I will do it, but you must give me time to plan.”

“Deal. And I hope you know, you’re going to have to tell them the truth sooner rather than later. About all this.”

“I do know. And it will be sooner. The last thing I would ever want to do is hurt them.”

“It’s like I said before, Loki, I believe you.”

After thanking him again, they headed to the house, those three words ringing in Loki’s ears. I believe you. It had been a long time since anyone had believed Loki. Maybe he could believe John and accept that you liked him too. Maybe. But he wouldn’t have to guess for long; he knew he’d be finding out very, very soon.

[yehet-about-it]

I Like Me Better | 10 - An Evening Interrupted

~ A Wayv Social Media AU Series ~

< Prev || Series Masterlist || Next >

Synopsis: You’ve just moved into a new apartment with your best friend Yangyang, but you’re immediately faced with a problem: your incredibly noisy upstairs neighbour Xiao Dejun, or to friends, Xiaojun. You spend the first few weeks of your acquaintance hating his guts, but after a sincere apology and a fascinating revelation about his passions and motivations you slowly begin to see past his cold exterior to discover the real him. What will happen as you get closer to this troubled boy and how will those closest to you react?

Pairing: Reader x Xiao Jun

Themes and Warnings: Explicit language, mild sexual content, mild violence and references to drinking/alcohol. Deals with themes of toxic masculinity, insecurity, gaslighting (sort of), and jealousy…

A/N: Sorry it's late today! I forgot to schedule the post for today and it took a while to edit!!

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Word Count: 1.9k Summary: This is literally just Kun being a badass dad friend... Not my best writing, but enjoy! ;)

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You sighed contentedly as you washed up the last of the dishes, draining the sink as Kun folded the dish towel, neatly hanging it on the towel rail. You’d had a pleasant evening cooking with him, making a number of Chinese dishes you’d wanted to try, like hot and sour stir-fried napa cabbage and beef noodle soup. You’d originally wanted to do all the cooking yourself and surprise the boys, but seeing as though now it was just the two of you, you’d thought it probably best to make use of Kun’s culinary skills. Having thoroughly tidied the kitchen and boxed up all the leftovers for Winwin and Yangyang, the pair of you made your way to the living room, dropping down onto the sofa which had become your pride and joy of your apartment. “Ahh I’m so full,” you said, exhaling heavily. “That was so good!” Kun chuckled. “Yeah, it turned out quite well,” he said, shifting the cushions behind him. You internally fist-pumped, secretly a little bit pleased that Kun enjoyed your meal. To be complimented on your cooking skills by chef Kun himself was the highest honour, although you couldn’t take all the credit since he’d actually done half the work. “Mainly thanks to you,” you said, smiling at him appreciatively, to which Kun chuckled dismissively. “Ah, you did most of the work, I was just your assistant,” he said. “A very helpful assistant,” you replied pointedly. “Wanna watch a movie then?” you asked as you reached for the remote control off the coffee table. “Sure, what were you thinking?” “Hmm, I’m not sure,” you said, wearily switching on the TV and xbox. You spent the next few minutes browsing Netflix to find something to watch and once you’d settled on a film you shifted closer to Kun, reaching for the blanket which had been lying haphazardly at the end of the sofa to keep you both cosy.

A few minutes into the movie, you felt the ceiling begin to vibrate and the heavy echo of pounding bass surge into the room. Kun turned to you to give you a look that seemed to say ‘what on earth?’ and you leaned your head back, letting out a frustrated groan realising that yet again it was your neighbour’s ridiculously loud music interrupting what was supposed to be a relaxing evening. “Is it always like this?” Kun asked, frowning. You shrugged. “I mean, it’s not everyday, but it’s pretty much always this loud…” You pouted sinking lower under the blanket. “I didn’t realise it was this bad. I’m surprised you get any sleep at all. I mean how can people be so inconsiderate?” You could hear the irritation in Kun’s voice. You were pretty angry about the constant noise emanating from upstairs, but you were generally quite passive whereas you could clearly tell Kun was starting to get pissed. “Yeah, I don’t know. It sucks, but I guess we’ve kind of gotten used to it now,” you replied. “How are you supposed to get used to it when you can barely even hear your own TV over it? You shouldn’t have to put up with it.” Kun said matter-of-factly. You groaned in response, burying your face in the blanket. “Aghhh I know, but it’s not like I can do much about it, I already tried asking him…” you whined, looking up at Kun in exasperation, but he met you with what can only be described as an unsympathetic look. “Of course you can do something about it! Why don’t you just talk to him again? And actually assert yourself this time? Or if that doesn’t work just talk to the building manager or put in a complaint or something. Honestly, you and Yangyang are hopeless…” He did have a point. There was plenty you could do but you just didn’t have the guts to do it. You were rather non-confrontational and didn’t want to end up in a nasty row with your neighbour after only one month of living there, but it seemed Kun had other ideas. “Ughh Kun, you know I don’t like confrontation. I don’t want to end up with a neighbour that hates me,” you said. Kun sighed. “So you’d rather have to put up with this everyday for the foreseeable future than have some asshole who’s not worth your time potentially dislike you?” You looked back at Kun sheepishly, almost as though you were a student who’d just been caught acting up by their teacher. You knew he was right, and you were being irrational, since Dejun’s music caused you problems daily, not to mention reducing your nightly sleep to an average of 4 hours, but you just didn’t have it in you to confront the issue. There was a pause before Kun pushed the blanket off his knees and stood up. “Well, if you’re not going to do anything then I will,” he said, before taking off toward the entrance hall of your apartment. “Wait what?!” you shreiked, panic bubbling up inside you at the thought of what he was going to do, and leaping to your feet you scurried down the hall after him. Kun swung your front door open as you caught up to him, and marched out of your apartment, turning to go up the stairs to the next floor. Now realising his intentions, you halted at the door, too embarrassed to also make an appearance at your neighbours door. Instead you stayed in the doorway peering round to the stairs and watching as Kun ascended. “Kun!” You squeaked. “What are you doing?!” Kun barely paused to look back at you before continuing on upwards.

As much as you wanted to chase after him and drag him back down the stairs, by the determined expression on his face you knew there was no point, so you stayed put, but after wedging your door open with one of Yangyang’s shoes that was cluttering up the entrance, you moved a little closer to the bottom of the stairs so as to try and hear what was going on. Soon you heard the clunk of a door opening, but clearly the walls were too thick, or something like that, as all you could hear was a faint mumbling, and you could only pick out one or two words. Nonetheless, you decided to stay there and listen, waiting in anticipation for the outcome of Kun’s abrupt disturbance of your neighbour’s evening.

~ Upstairs – Kun’s POV ~

“Yeah?” Xiaojun answered the door wearing a black long-sleeved t-shirt and sweatpants, his dark brown hair flopping softly down over his equally dark eyes. His expression was one of disinterest, Kun thought, which only served to fuel his irritation. “Hi, I’m Kun. I’m a friend of y/n downstairs?” Kun faltered a little in his conviction. Confrontation wasn’t really in his nature, however his years battling to make it in such a competitive industry as his had taught him to take control and make a stand when he needed, so after taking a split-second to recompose himself, he spoke again, this time his voice much firmer. “We were wondering if you could possibly turn your music down. It’s incredibly loud and right now we’re trying to watch TV and it’s quite distracting. And actually y/n said it’s been a problem before.” “Huh. Why doesn’t y/n come ask me herself then since she’s the one who actually lives here?” Xiaojun challenged. Kun growled internally. The cheek of this guy. “I believe she already did, but apparently you didn’t listen, so I thought you might need a reminder,” Kun jabbed, becoming a little passive-aggressive. Xiaojun raised his eyebrows, sensing the frustration in Kun’s voice and scoffed. “What, you her boyfriend or something?” With every passing second Kun grew to dislike Xiaojun more and more, and that remark certainly didn’t help one bit, thus, deciding that he’d had enough of the shorter man’s attitude he decided to throw all pleasantries aside. He was done being nice. “So what if I am?” He said, standing taller, but to Kun’s displeasure, Xiaojun just chuckled darkly looking at the ground before lifting his eyes and smirking at the older man in front of him. “Heh, pretty bad boyfriend if she’s still using Tinder…” Kun clenched his jaw. Clearly that Lucas guy had been talking, making his tactic completely useless, but who the hell did this guy think he was? This level of antagonism was completely unreasonable, and over what? Turning some goddamn music down. “Look,” Kun said. “I don’t want any trouble, but could you please just turn the music down? Y/n’s tired all the time these days because your music keeps her up all hours and she has to get up to go to work early in the morning. Just because you’re a failed musician or something doesn’t mean no one else has jobs to go to.”Kun hadn’t intended on saying the last part of his speech, since he knew himself how hard an industry it was to break into, and it wasn’t really his style to shame someone like that, but something about Xiaojun’s attitude just made him annoyed beyond reasonable reaction and boy did his outburst hit a nerve. “Excuse me?” Xiaojun replied, his voice much louder than before and his posture much more aggressive compared to the casual position he had been in just seconds ago. But Kun wouldn’t be intimidated, and glared at Xiaojun, looking him directly in the eyes to make one final comment. “Just keep it down, or we’ll be putting in a formal complaint”. “Yeah, whatever,” was the only reply Xiaojun gave, before stepping back and shutting the door in Kun’s face. Could’ve gone better, but it certainly got the message across.

~ Downstairs – Your PoV ~

You stood in the stairwell fidgeting your hands and straining to listen to the exchange between the two men upstairs. It had only been a couple of minutes but it was making you tense nonetheless. You were silently willing Kun to waltz down the stairs saying everything was fine but suddenly you heard a voice from upstairs much more clearly. Your eyes widened and you cringed as you heard Xiaojun’s raised voice rhetorically asking “excuse me?!”, realising the conversation wasn’t going as pleasantly as you had hoped. You weren’t sure you wanted to hear the rest of it, but you kept on listening. Luckily for you however, the voices returned to the same muffled humming as before, until you heard a door slam, Kun emerging on the stairs a moment later. “Kun! What happened?!” you whisper-shouted, as though you were afraid Xiaojun might hear you, moving out of the way as Kun strode past you before following him back into your apartment. Kun stopped in the hallway briefly to look at you. “Lets just say I don’t think he’ll be bothering you anymore.” You wanted to ask what on earth had gone on, but clearly that was all Kun was willing to say on the matter, so you simply followed him back to the living room where he flopped down onto his place on the couch. “Come on then, now we can actually watch the movie,” Kun said, stretching his arm out to you as you wandered towards the couch. Obediently, you took his hand and he pulled you down next to him so you leant against his shoulder, throwing the blanket that had earlier fallen to the floor over you both, and with that you spent the rest of the evening watching the film in peace, but with the niggling thought in the back of your mind that your neighbour Xiaojun may very well have just put you on a vendetta list.

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