#I should face some real life problems shouldn’t I

[flowercrowngods]

this wouldn't leave me alone, so have my thoughts on a steve-centric "who did this to you?" steddie concept inspired by @imfinereallyy (i hope this is okay, even though it's uhhh nothing like what you mentioned)

When Eddie gets to the boathouse, he immediately notices that something is off. The door is cracked open but he can’t hear anyone talking or moving stuff around. No one ever comes here — it’s been his hideout spot since the ripe age of thirteen when he’d had hist first real fight with Wayne. 

No one comes here. But now the door is cracked open and Eddie stares at it for a good minute as though that would make it come to life and tell him who’s inside so he won’t have to look and deal with whoever decided to steal his spot. He’s really not in the mood to start any shit today, or to be called all sorts of names — most of which aren’t even half as true as people fear. 

His first instinct is to leave, find somewhere else to hide from this miserable world today, when he hears it. The sound of sniffling, followed by wet, heavy breaths. 

Oh. It sounds like someone’s crying. In his spot.

Maybe it’s some girl who got her heart broken, some dude who lost the last bit of faith in his family, or some kid who— 

Ah, fuck it, he’ll just come back later. Not his problem. Definitely not his problem. And it’s definitely not guilt or worry that gnaw at him as he turns on his heel to leave. 

But then there’s a groan. A pained groan. Someone’s in pain, and crying in his spot, and Eddie really shouldn’t make that his problem. He shouldn't. Nopbody cares when he's crying and in pain either! But fuck if he won’t be thinking about it for the rest of his life if he turns his back on whoever it is. Maybe they need help. 

They most certainly sound like they do.

With a heavy sigh, Eddie is already at the door before he can think about it too much. 

“Hello?” he asks the darkness, and immediately the sniffling stops. 

Silence falls, but only for a moment before whoever it is has to draw shaky, wheezing breaths that make Eddie swear under his breath. 

“Listen, I know you’re here.” He’s taking slow, deliberate steps, his eyes roaming he mess of boats, tools and tarp he knows so well.  “And I’m not trying to start anything. Tell me to go away and I will. But I have a first aid kit in my car and, uh, you sound like maybe you need it.” 

There’s no response, but the wheezing breaths turn into whimpers with every second that whoever it is tries very hard not to make any noise, and Eddie’s heart starts to race in his chest. He can feel worry and panic starting to rise. And overshadowing it is an overwhelming sense of dread.

What the fuck is happening? 

He tries to be careful but his mind is racing and his limbs are starting to feel like lead. His wary steps become heavy and clumsy, and then he accidentally boots something that makes a terrible, horrible noise, breaking the eerie silence. Eddie cringes and is about to apologise, when finally there is movement in his peripheral vision. 

And then he sees him. There, hidden in the shadows between a boat and the far wall, his face breaten and bloodied, his eye swelling around a nasty bruise. Wait, do bruises bleed? Should they look black like that? Is it a cut? Something worse?

Even after years of constant bullying and goading in middle school and high school, he has never actually seen someone look like this. With their face completely smashed in. It makes him freeze for a horrible, horrible moment before he saps out of it.

“Fuck,” Eddie breathes, hurrying over as fast as he can, stumbling over tools and tarp as he does. Something falls to the floor with a loud clunk and it makes the boy flinch again. Eddie curses. “Sorry, shit, sorry!” 

He makes it to the boat rather quickly, crouching down in front of the boy a few feet away so as not to spook him, not to crowd him. And then his heart only plummets further, because he knows this one. 

Steve Harrington. The boy who’s come to school with many a black eye over the past two years — but never this bad. The boy who’s been looking like the world might be about to end each time he rounded a corner in school; ever since things started happening around Hawkins. Since the Holland girl died and the Byers boy disappeared. 

It fascinated Eddie, the way Steve fell from grace. The way he turned quiet, and showed up with healing bruises. There are stories woven around it, because teenagers like to gossip and word spreads fast, and Eddie always listened with rapt attention as Harrington turned into a bit of a myth. A legend. A ghost story.

But fascination is not what he feels right now, seeing Steve like this.

His eyes are unfocused and Eddie knows about the danger of head injuries. He knows about the consequences of blood loss, he knows that Steve will be warm to the touch even though he’s shivering already, and… Fuck!

“Shit, Steve,” he rasps, not daring to speak louder lest he spooks the boy. Of all the reasons he’s had to be afraid of talking to Steve Harrington, this one might be the cruellest. "I..."

He takes in his wounds, his bruised and scraped knuckles where his hands are wrapped around the knees he’s pulled to his chest, and his split lip that he keeps biting. 

Eddie swallows before he asks, “Who did this to you?” 

But Steve just shakes his head clumsily. Sniffles again, and then his breath comes in wet heaves, and Eddie worries for a moment that he’s going to throw up now. 

He doesn’t. 

Steve’s just staring. Eddie isn’t even entirely sure he can see him, or maybe he did and then forgot, or maybe he’s fading. Eddie should do something, he should get help, he should— 

“Steve,” he says, and dares to touch him when he doesn’t react. 

A light touch to the knee shouldn’t make anyone flinch like that, but Steve’s whole body jumps, and then the shivers and the wheezing get worse. It almost sounds like a whimper, and Eddie curses again. Feels like crying now, scared and helpless as he is.

“Fuck, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, okay, I— Jesus, okay.” He swallows hard, trying to think, willing for the panic to subside and a plan to form. “You’re okay. I... I’m gonna, I’m gonna grab the first aid kit. I have it in my car. It’s not, it’s not far. And a blanket. So you'll be warm again. I’ll be right back, okay? Don’t move, don’t…" He gestures wildly, caught between reaching out and pulling away. "Don’t move.” 

Eddie takes a wavering breath and moves to stand on numb, tingly legs, nearly missing Steve’s, “Can’t.” It’s barely more than a whisper, hardly even a wheeze. It’s like he’s just breathing out words because everything else is too much effort. 

Right. Right. This is messed up and Eddie’s panicking, but Steve will be okay. Because things like that don’t happen, not here, not today, and not to Steve Harrington. 

Except this is Hawkins. Where Will Byers disappeared and Barb Holland died and many people are missing and weird shit just ends up happening everywhere even though they’re all just kids. They’re just kids. And Steve’s not even conscious enough to realise that right now. 

Eddie all but runs outside, sprinting to his van with a speed that would make the coach swallow his stupid whistle if gym class only mattered right now. It doesn't. Nothing matters, because Steve is... He's hurt. And there's no one else around to help.

Grabbing the first aid kit, a bottle of water and a thick blanket he always keeps spread out in the back of his van, he makes it back to the boathouse in no time. 

He wasn’t even gone for three minutes, but still he sighs in relief when Steve is still awake. He even looks up. Blinks. Frowns in what can only be confusion and makes Eddie's heart fall.

“Munson?” 

Fuck, that’s not a good sign. That’s messed up, it’s fucked up, it’s— Focus, Eddie! 

“The one and only,” he says, voice shaky and his smile not fooling anyone. He wraps the blanket around Steve, whose eyes are unfocused again, though he tries so hard to blink it away. 

Brave boy, stupid boy. Head trauma isn’t blinked away. Though Eddie is inclined to let him try. Maybe he’ll find a way. 

“Here.” He hands the bottle over to Steve, who grabs it with clumsy hands. He can hold it, but he can’t get it open — again, not a good sign. 

Eddie opens it for him, then turns to his first aid kit. It seemed like a great idea five minutes ago, but he’s petrified now. It’s too dark in here and he can’t really see the wounds, he doesn’t know what to use, what’s in there, he doesn’t, he can’t, he— 

The bottle, empty now, is handed back to him, bumping into his hand, tearing him away from his spiralling thoughts. 

“Thanks,” Harrington breathes, and there’s a small smile visible in the darkness. Eddie just nods and takes it with hands that are still shaking.

“I wanna help you,” he says, like it isn’t obvious. “But I don’t know how. You gotta tell me where it hurts, Steve.” 

A beat. “Everywhere.” 

Eddie sags, falling back to sit opposite Steve, frantically rubbing at his face. “Shit.” 

“Yeah.” Steve chuckles, but it sounds so wet with tears and pain, Eddie never wants to hear it again. “Thought I could do it.” 

He’s talking. That’s a good thing, right? He can’t pass out as long as he’s talking. That’s how that works, isn’t it? So, Eddie asks, “Do what?” 

“Doctors told me,” Steve sighs, his voice slow and slurring. “Told me to... to stay out of fights. Stay out of them. Said I had to make sure my head won’t—“ 

He makes a motion with his fist, and Eddie thinks he’s simulating a punch, disoriented as it is. It makes his heart fall. Is that what happened? Someone beat Steve to a pulp? Again? Just like that?

Eddie is so stuck on that thought, trying to piece together the puzzle, that he almost misses Steve’s mumbled speech. 

“Y’know, th— Said I’ll go blind. Or deaf. Or just… die.” He says it to matter-of-factly that Eddie’s heart stops for a second.

What the fuck happened to Steve Harrington? Not just today, no. What happened to him?

What happend to make him look up at Eddie Munson, out of all people, with glistening eyes so endlessly scared, and say, “I don’t wanna die, Munson. I never… I didn’t. With the monsters or the torture. I can't—” A wheeze, a keen, a whimper, and Harringtin pulls at his hair, uncaring that he's making things worse.

Meanwhile, Eddie is stuck on his words. Because what. 

“Can’t, can't die now ‘cause Tommy thinks he’s so… He’s… He’s just sad, man. Griev'n' and confused. But Billy’s gone, an'— And now I’ll…”

Steve looks at him now, his eyes shining with tears and something that Eddie’s written poems about and created characters around. This expression, like the world will end. And inspiring as it is, it fucking breaks his heart now. 

“They said my brain is hurt, Eddie.”

Eddie swallows the hurt and the fear and the complete overwhelm he's feeling. Steve is telling him things that Eddie doesn't know how to handle.

“You won’t die, Steve,” he says in as gentle a voice as he can muster right now, because that's the only thing he knows.

And he won’t, right? People don’t just die. Not from taking a punch, not when they just graduated high school, not when they’re Steve Harrington. Right? 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Okay,” Steve breathes. “That’s good.” 

Eddie wants to hug him in that moment. He never knew that this was possible, wanting to hug Steve Harrington, wanting to wrap the blanket around him even tighter and keep him safe and convince him that he won’t die. 

And then the rest of what he said catches up with Eddie and leaves anger in its wake. 

“Hagan did that to you?” 

Steve nods. “Started going off about Billy.”

Eddie’s blood freezes at that name. "Hargrove?” 

Another nod, though Steve doesn’t look too happy about moving his head, and he groans quietly. “They were friends. Tommy is angry. Grieving. Con— Confused. He was just saying shit, like it’s my fault. And it is. Kinda. But Tommy’s, he, he’s... Just saying shit. And then he punched me. A lot. And he didn’t stop. And now… is now.” 

“Yeah,” Eddie breathes dumbly, carefully bandaging the glaring wound at his temple, needing to start somewhere. “Now is now.” His blood is still frozen as he tries very hard not to listen to Steve. Nothing that Harrington says has any right to matter anything to him; they live in two different worlds. If Harrington confesses to murder while severely concussed under Eddie’s watch, then there are no witnesses to drag either of them through the mud for it. Eddie is just gonna forget about it. Or try, anyway. “But you’re… Shit , Steve, you’re really hurt.” 

Steve blinks. Pauses. And Eddie thinks he’s lost him. But then, “Yeah. I’m always hurt.” 

And that, in this little voice, is like a gut punch. Because Eddie knows something about always hurt. “What?” 

“What?” 

There is ice in his veins as he asks, “Who’s hurting you, Steve?” 

Steve looks at him, opening his mouth once, twice, like he’s about to say something and Eddie holds his breath. But then Steve’s eyes droop and he shrinks in on himself a bit more. 

“Jus’ everyone, sometimes. God you don’t… You don’t even know.” 

Know what, Harrington? Eddie can barely breathe anymore.

“’M tired, Eddie,” Steve mumbles, closing his eyes. “Don’t wanna hurt anymore.” 

“Hey, hey, no!” Eddie reaches out, catching Steve’s head and preventing it from colliding with the floor as he’s slumping and falling over. 

And just like that, the panic is back, frantic but determined this time. He’s going to get help; there’s nothing he can do with his lousy first aid kit, not when Steve keeps going in and out of consciousness like that. Not when he can barely see anything or clean the wounds properly.

He’s going to get Steve to a hospital and allow them both to forget this ever happened. Because Steve Harrington and Eddie Munson don’t breathe the same air or share traumatic stories in a boathouse like this. 

He’ll get out of Steve’s hair the second the hospital doors close behind him, and get out of whatever trouble someone like Harrington could be in. Eddie doesn’t even want to know. He doesn't want to be part of his ghost story.

But as he’s scooping him up and helping him out of the damned boathouse, clumsily preventing him from stumbling over his own feet or tools or tarp or planks or whatever fucking shit is littering the floor of this godforsaken place, he can hear Steve speaking quietly. 

"Where‘re we going?"

And even though a second ago he was determined to take Steve to a hospital, there is only one place on Eddie's mind right now. Only one place he knows where he won't be scared anymore.

"Somewhere safe," he says, tightening his hold on the boy even though his hands are shaking now, too. He looks over his shoulders the moment they're out of the boathouse, stupidly worried that whoever did this to Steve – Hagan, apparently – would still be around, would follow them and do the same shit to Eddie.

"Safe?"

"Safe."

"Okay," Steve sighs, like he believes him. Like he trusts him. Hell, they've never even spoken before, but something inside Eddie breaks at the little sigh, at the way Steve goes slack in his arms. And even more at the little, "Thanks."

If Eddie's eyes are filled with tears and the hands around the wheel are clenched so tight to hide the way they're shaking, then Steve is not conscious enough to comment on it.

(addendum 7 december) onwards to part 2

#steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington x eddie munson #steve harrington #eddie munson #this is somewhere between s3 and s4 obviously #but also i just re-read the op post and realised that this is nothing like what they wished for so uh. sorry? never trust me with prompts y #who did this to you #hurt steve #steve harrington whump #pre-steddie #sorry op maybe i'll try again and get it right this time but uh. yeah #dio words

[aventurne]

ALWAYS AND FOREVER❞ - aventurine

summary: you’ll always choose him, always and forever

warnings: reader is gn, fluff

notes: yippee less than a week to go to his release!!! wanted to write something a bit happier today :)

taglist(open): @akutasoda , @ryuryuryuyurboat , @toorurs , @yvnaology , @tragedy-of-commons , @staarri , @rainswept , @karagatan02

the air is cold, biting down to the marrow of your bones as you stood by his side. the city is alight with endless partying and a twisted sense of freedom; escapism is what you’d call the people who ran here thinking they’d be able to find solace from the troubles of the real world. running away never really solved the problem; perhaps it only escalated it.  

AVENTURINE is quiet, contemplating what he should do. rarely would you ever see the gambler hit a wall he couldn’t tear down with his bare hands—an opponent he couldn’t beat. he’s been like this for some time today, ever since he got back from a meeting. you yearn to touch him, but you’re not sure about his reaction, so you don’t. his life does not treat him fairly, you’ve seen him battle its effects with sorrow.

“something on your mind? you can tell me what’s troubling you.” you finally have the courage to say that to him, offering a comforting smile, and your words hang in the silence. his eyes shift away from the city, locking onto you, who squirmed uncomfortably under his blank look.  

he cleared his throat, quickly adverting his gaze. it’s weird to see him as just...him. not a gambler, not a stoneheart, not an avgin, but as a person like any other but with a broken heart. it makes you feel sick to your stomach to know that you didn’t know him as well as you thought and that maybe he doesn’t tell you when he’s hurting. “it’s hard to realise that you care about me; i’m not used to someone choosing me.”  

“so i’ll choose you. i’ll choose you every time, in every life, in every universe.” there is no hesitation in your reply, like your initial question; it is only your burning determination that fuels you. you’d fight for him in every life and in every timeline.  

“that’s a difficult thing to stand by, darling. you shouldn’t make bets that you can’t win.”AVENTURINE murmured lowly, not willing himself to look at you. you can’t tell what he’s feeling now, and it irked you so much.

and you swear that you can feel his hand tremble when you take it in yours, your fingers intertwining and fixing together like missing puzzle pieces. it’s not much of a comfort, you were at a loss for words and actions when it came to him, who stopped your heart and brain.

“well…then it’s a good thing that i’ll always choose and love you, til the end of time and forever.”  

“forever is a long time, but somehow i think that’s not enough.” he laughed slowly, the tension in his shoulder leaves every so slightly, and he feels lighter, giddy even. the beam on his face isn’t a forced one; it’s a soft one only for your eyes to see.  

“it rarely ever is.” your voice rumbled in his soul, and you placed your head on his shoulder, your hair tickling his neck like the touch of a butterfly. he doesn’t reply, nor does he shake anymore, placing his head on top of yours. silence is all you need, and it fills the space around you comfortably for you both to stay in this little bubble of peace for just a moment.  

his heart breaks? you’ll fix it for him. his body hurts? you’ll kiss it better. he isn’t okay? you’ll hold AVENTURINE until he heals. no matter how long it takes, always and forever.

© AVENTURNE 2024. DO NOT COPY, REPOST, SHARE, TRANSLATE OR REUPLOAD MY WORKS ONTO ANY OTHER SITE WITHOUT MY PERMISSION

#🗞️ - honkai star rail fics #—stellaronhvnters. #・ nouveau livre ˎˊ˗ #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x you #hsr x reader #hsr x you #aventurine x reader #aventurine x you #honkai star rail #hsr aventurine

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

WIBTA for pursuing cosmetic surgery against my husband’s wishes?

I have been quite insecure my entire life. From what others tell me, I’m decently pretty, but I put a lot of time and energy into my appearance every day only to be disappointed and embarrassed with the results. I figure that with only minor adjustments, I could save a lot of time and happiness.

I told my husband about it, and he was immediately concerned. He said he loved my face, and he would miss “the real me” even if it was only a little change. He thinks I’m letting my insecurities get the best of me and I’d never be happy again. But having already tried and failed to reduce these feelings for years, it seems more effective to try surgery. I’ve done my research and wouldn’t go to some quack.

Here’s where the problem is: my husband makes significantly more than me, I don’t have much in my own savings so far and we’re still building our wealth. He says I absolutely cannot take from our shared funds to pay for it, even though we could spare it and according to our agreement it’s my money too. He says he can veto that because he contributes more and he thinks it would harm me. I got upset, snapped that it’s not the fifties and I should have a choice in my own life, and went to bed. We are still cooling off right now.

I think I shouldn’t have said that and I don’t think he was in the wrong necessarily. He has my best interests at heart but I don’t think he understands how much time I’ve lost feeling miserable about how I look. We normally strive to agree especially on matters of money, but he was the most adamant he’s ever been, so I don’t think he’ll budge. I think I have a right to spend on myself sometimes, and he should be willing to let some money go for my happiness. I don’t want to cause distrust between us over money, but I want this so badly.

So, WIBTA for using our money for cosmetic surgery even if my husband doesn’t agree?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

[solecize]

  ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ  𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄 | 𝐣𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐤𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: every summer on your grandpa's farm was real-life magic to your younger self, who left a piece of her heart in amber valley when the years went on and the town became nothing but a faint childhood memory. soon enough, you become rocked by his death and realize the dead end in your bustling city world. this leads to you making an abrupt decision.

despite knowing nothing but designer purses and the corporate ladder, you uproot your entire life to take over your grandfather's old farm in the town you were desperately trying to remember - alongside a familiar face from your youth that permanently finds his way into your heart.

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: jungkook/reader 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒. inspired heavily by stardew valley, friends to lovers, childhood friends, cowboy jungkook, small town alternate universe, slice of life, grief, growing up, mutual pining, jungkook as a parental figure 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓. 3.8k 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒. no warning except main characters being dumb and some SERIOUS tension

part six: the dreams and the sunday market ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ   ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ   ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ previous. next. masterlist

xv. the dreams

you were dreaming of kissing jeon jungkook.

  it was akin to a recurring nightmare, the way you woke up in cold sweat after picturing his beautiful lips on yours in your sleep. ever since the night where the two of you shared dinner, the image haunted you and chased you even in your lack of consciousness. it didn’t help that your day always began at five a.m, leaving you waking up, distraught, and no sun to warm your surroundings. 

  today in particular was not looking to be on your side. you slept through your first two alarms after getting lost in the dream of kissing jungkook on a beach in front of luscious palm trees and golden sand. even worse, it was the day of jungkook’s return to the farm.

  in the hours between your awakening and jungkook’s arrival, your nerves casted away your grogginess. you wondered why you didn’t decline his offer to finish the gate, but remembered he made it clear he didn’t have feelings for you - there should be no problem, then.

  since he was coming in the evening, you had an entire day ahead of you. somehow, you couldn’t stop thinking about him. it was maddening, as if the thoughts of jeon jungkook settled beneath your skin and chased your every move. it was a gloomy day with light showers, but the thoughts kept you warm and you didn’t like it one bit. 

  by 5 p.m, you were wrapped up for the day. it shouldn’t have taken so long, but with your late wake-up and the plaguing image of your childhood best friend, you found yourself sluggish. you decided that you were going to proceed like you’d done in the weeks prior.

  the last thing you wanted to take care of was inspect the garage once more. you’d been meaning to test out the old tractor inside to determine if you could sell it off or not, but it was a problem when the door was stuck in the same place. now, you were outside, wrestling with the garage, once again.

  “i guess this does have to be fixed. . .” you mumbled to yourself, remembering jungkook’s words.

  then, you heard your name being called. it startled you, since you hadn’t had any visitors in quite some time, considering jungkook’s absence. however, you knew that voice from a mile away and weren’t surprised when you turned around, taking notice of him approaching across the fields, coming face to face with the man in question.

  you hastily wiped the beads of sweat on your temple. “hey,” you said when you saw jungkook, who likely wandered to the fields when you didn’t answer the front door.

  “hey, y/n,” jungkook replied, setting his toolbox down by the fence he was to work on. today, he was wearing a black button down over a white t-shirt with jeans. his hair had grown slightly longer since you first arrived to amber valley and you liked the way it fell over his eyebrows. 

  as you always did, you graciously thanked him. “i really appreciate you coming to help me out.” even though he essentially shut down any possibility of you being able to come to terms with any feelings you had. you didn’t say that part out loud. 

  “stop that, you know i just want to lend a hand,” he waved you off and you wondered if that was what you knew. you weren’t sure if that was what your silent agreement with jungkook truly involved, with his persistence and your strong will - two things that were not easily challenged, but crumbled at one another.

"you still fighting with that old thing?" jungkook chuckled softly, looking at the garage door behind you.  

you only rolled your eyes. "i thought i could get it."  

he shook his head, continuing to laugh, and then glanced at the watch on his wrist. “oh, i guess this is the first time i’ve come by in the evening. you’re done work for once.”  

you didn’t realize this fact either and tried to fight a silent panic - you usually had a task that you could pretend to be busy with, in order to distract yourself from jungkook’s presence. then, you began what to wonder what was wrong with you? it was just jungkook. were your vivid dreams really chasing you into acting strangely? and was he not quieter than usual, or were you overthinking things?

  jungkook eventually excused himself to get to work and you decided that you needed to push your barrage of thoughts and questions away. instead, you entered the kitchen and proceeded to make dinner as usual, except a bit extra for your handyman of a friend.

  when you peeked outside after finishing, you saw that jungkook was drilling something into place. he’d taken off his button down shirt at some point, tying it around his waist. you cleared your throat loudly to get his attention, but it didn’t stand a chance against the sound of the drill.

  “jeon jungkook!” you yelled, but he still couldn’t hear you. it was only when you brought your hands to your lips and let out a loud whistle when he finally caught your eye, turning the drill off promptly.

  jungkook shook his head in disbelief, walking towards you with a laugh. “namjoon was right, that is a really loud whistle you can do.”

  “i made dinner,” you said, hiding your nerves. in reality, you knew little could go wrong, as the two of you were sharing meals together for weeks. unless, of course, if he tried setting you up with a friend again.

  “you know, i took you as someone who would be shit at cooking, but you’re pretty good,” jungkook teased, as he left his tools on the ground and walked towards you. “and thanks, of course.”

  you rolled your eyes. “i’m good at everything.”

  “lies. there’s a bunch of things i’m better than you at,” he mused, as he opened the door back inside for you. 

  the half-serious bickering made you drop your shoulders in ease, settling back into the same comfortable atmosphere that you always shared with jungkook. this was still the brat that used to whine if you got a better guitar hero score than him.

  the two of you soon settled into some local gossip. jungkook began telling you about how your grandpa used to constantly predict that the lee family would divorce sooner or later, which was apparently now in progress. you wondered how close he really was to him.

  “i wish we gave him one more summer with the three of us,” you said, as the two of you moved in fluid motions around the kitchen. the movements were natural and almost domestic, with jungkook knowing where all of the plates and silverware was and made it his job to set the table. meanwhile, you began getting the food ready.

  he nodded. “i think he would have liked that. he’s probably happy that we’ve become friends again.”

  the image of your dreams last night flashed before your eyes when jungkook said the word “friends” and you chose to ignore it. 

  instead, you responded, “i’d like to think that we never stopped.” your voice was quiet, unsure of the statement that you just offered. 

  it was nice, the way that you and jungkook managed to pick up your friendship after thirteen years as if nothing happened in between. and, even then, over the past month, the two of you slowly began to grasp the lives you led in the time apart. the people you grew into. somehow, it still clicked.

  jungkook paused, in the middle of bringing out plates from the cupboards. “you know, me too,” he said. “too bad you stopped responding to my letters.”

  this made you also freeze in place, eyebrows furrowed at his remark. “what do you mean? i didn’t stop responding,” you turned around to face him. “you’re the one that stopped replying.”

  “i’m pretty sure i was the last one to send a letter, bunny,” jungkook chuckled, but you sensed some bitterness. “i sent you a letter one spring and then when june rolled around, your grandpa randomly told me you weren’t coming back.”

  you shook your head, lips parted. “i never got a letter.”

by now, you finished setting food on the table. it was a full american-style breakfast, with chicken and waffles, scrambled eggs, and a platter of fruit from the farm. you made a jug of iced tea and set out some water. jungkook’s eyes trailed to the table and his eyes were unreadable.

  “that’s too bad,” he spoke slowly, as if remembering something. “breakfast for dinner?” then, jungkook shook his head, as if shaking the thoughts off, and proceeded to set the rest of the table.

  your eyes widened. “sorry, do you not like it? i thought it would be a good change - “

  “no, it’s not that! thank you, it looks delicious. i love breakfast for dinner,” jungkook smiled. it was as if he flipped a switch and you were itching to know what he was thinking before.

  “if you’re not up for it - “

  “you’re annoying, come sit down with me,” jungkook interjected again, but was playful and rubbed his hands together, ready to dig in.

  you punched his shoulder, which you knew did little damage, but he yelped anyway. sitting down across from him, jungkook began serving the both of you and you didn’t object when he plopped food on your plate for you. it was the same routine that you had before and frankly, it was nice.

  “i just didn’t think it would you’d never come back to town again,” he commented and you were confused, until you remembered what he said earlier. 

  you found yourself biting the inside of your cheek. “me neither. i don’t know what hapened, i used to love it here. . “ you trailed off, looking around your surroundings and out the window, where the silver of the amber valley sky looked down on you. “i did try looking for you at some point, but you aren’t on social media.”

  jungkook shook his head, pouring two cups of iced tea. “not really. and especially not after i started taking care of jiwon.” he passed one cup to your side, which you quietly thanked him for. “i think i saw you one time online, in early high school, but you looked different and i wasn’t sure.”

  like every teenager, you had a phase of experimenting with your look and went through different kinds of hair colours and makeup styles. now, in your twenties, you’d grown tired of constant change and like your city life, settled for mundane and simple. just before his passing, your grandpa once remarked that you began to look like yourself again.

  “we would’ve still been best friends in high school. i’d keep you around to copy off your homework,” you joked, cutting into a waffle. you weren’t kidding when you told jiwon about how smart jungkook was, as he’d always been since you two were young. though you were academically gifted yourself, you’d held jealousy for the way jungkook learned every hobby you liked at twice the learning speed.

  “aw, i was your best friend?” jungkook banterd, which made you kick him underneath the table. “i’m joking. we’re best friends forever, isn’t what we put on the tree?”

  “oh my god, don’t remind me of that!” your cheeks went hot, as you recalled that memory that jungkook was referring to.

  when you were about nine years old, you and jungkook had the genius idea to carve your names into a random tree by the town square. while doing so, you were caught by mayor kim walking by, who made a big deal out of you kids “defacing” town property. when he scolded you and told your grandpa though, the latter got a kick out of it. 

  the rest of the conversation was light, which was exactly what you needed. in spite of this, jungkook’s remarks about your letters echoed in the back of your mind. you made a mental note to look into his claim - though the said letters from your childhood likely lived in your dad’s apartment, where you had spent your middle school to high school years at.

  midway through the dinner-slash-breakfast, you caught the way jungkook’s eyes were fixated on you and didn’t move. you gave him a questioning look and he sighed.

  jungkook said, “there’s jam on your face.” his tone was pretending to be disappointing, but holding back a laugh.

  “oh, where?” you began wiping your cheek, which turned out to be dry. you continued swiping around, still missing.

  he groaned. “it’s literally right there. by your nose, bunny. come on.” 

  after looking like he was about to simultaneously lose his mind and burst out laughing, his chair creaked loudly against the wooden flooring and jungkook stood up. he made strides around the table over to you and bent down to meet you at eye-level. you jumped at the sudden movement and the fact that jungkook’s face was inches away from yours. he was so close that you could count every single one of his long eyelashes if you tried.

  “it’s right. . .here.” at some point, jungkook ripped away a piece of paper towel from your side and you nearly flinched when you felt his touch on your cheek. 

  he gently wiped away the spread with a tilted head and a crease forming in between his brows, seemingly looking everywhere but in your eyes. you were so close to him that you could hear his steady breathing. you wondered if he was close enough to hear the army marching in the middle of your chest. it was hard for you to breathe yourself when your entire body froze at the contact.

  you managed to let out a whisper, fighting the shiver creeping up your spine. “thanks.”

  jungkook’s lips looked exactly like they did in your dreams. “no problem.” his voice was low and you swore you saw his eyes flash to your own lips, before looking up at you.

  you weren’t sure how long the two of you were still for. the only thing in your ears was the sound of your heart, which was amplified over the ticking of the grandfather clock several feet away. nobody dared to move until the ringing of a cell phone, which caused both of you to jump.

  it was jungkook’s. the phone was sitting on the dining table and it rang because you knew he always kept his phone off vibrate for his sister. when you saw a picture of jiwon and jungkook making silly faces at each other flash on the screen, you cleared your throat and scooted backwards, knowing that jungkook was going to immediately take the call.

  “sorry, one sec,” jungkook eventually snapped back into reality when he saw his screen. he picked up his phone and trailed into the living room to take the call.

  it was time for you snap back into reality, too. you felt stupid and like you wanted to bang your head into the table in front of you. there was no way he was going to kiss you, you’d witnessed one too many reruns of this fantasy in your dreams. you just spoke about how great your friendship was.

  best friends forever. you repeated that in your mind, along with jungkook talking your ear off about how great you and taehyung would look together.

xvi. the sunday market

on the last sunday of each month, the valley closed up most of its main roads for pedestrian access only and the community came out to hold a market in the town square. local busineses came out to sell their usual and offer up fun, seasonal products to buy. your grandfather usually set up a stand, but you found yourself a little too shy to be doing it alone for your first month in town. thankfully, you were wedged between jimin and hoseok, right in between their booths. 

  “honestly, i’m glad you’re with us, y/n. at least we can all smell like fish,” hoseok hummed, as he began unfolding a tablecloth.

  to this, jimin rolled his eyes and continued shuffling through some flyers in his hand. “we’re not even selling fresh fish this month.” in front of him was instead a variety of different seafood products, such as artisanal spread, marinated seafood in jars and sustainably sourced caviar. 

  meanwhile, you were proud of what you scrambled together last minute. cartons of eggs, jugs of milk, yogurt, and quick-growing crops like microgreens and radishes. you took your job very seriously and wanted to make a good impression on the townsfolk.

  “thank you, y/n! hoseok, can you put some sunblock on for once? sheesh, you’re going to get burnt!” hoseok’s mom, mrs. jung, was one of your first customers that day and happily took home some fresh basil and eggs. her sneer at hoseok was clear as day, even underneath her floppy hat, snapping at her son from right beside you.

  hoseok groaned. “mom, i’m almost thirty. stop!” and still, he reached into his bag and pulled out a bottle of sunscreen. 

  mrs. jung ignored him. “bye, y/n! bye jiminnie!” she blew a kiss to jimin, which made hoseok grumble.

  you laughed at the interaction, as you fanned yourself with one of jimin’s flyers. it’d been less than an hour since the market began and it was still early in the morning, so the square was sparse. you could even look down to your left and still see seokjin’s booth on the other side of the market, beside the mayor’s booth manned by namjoon. 

  it was now the end of june and marked your first month in town. the skies were clear and bright, a sight that you promised yourself you wouldn’t take for granted. every morning, you woke up before the sun did and by the time the morning came up to greet you, you were filled with vibrant energy for the day.

  “hi unnie! you look like you’re in a good mood today!” it was jiwon, holding onto peanut with one hand and her teddy bear in another. she was stylish for a kid her age, wearing jeans and a trendy graphic t-shirt that you suspected was jungkook’s influence.

  taking a cautious scan of your surroundings, you let out a quiet breath of relief when you saw that jungkook wasn’t around. he was definitely nearby, though, you had a feeling he wouldn’t let jiwon roam around with the puppy with anyone else.

  you greeted, “hi jiwon! you’re up early.” it was about nine in the morning and if you were a kid, you would not be a morning person during summer vacation.

  “yeah, oppa made me come with him,” she yawned extra loud, clutching her leash close.

  to your right, jimin cleared his throat. “where is jungkook?” he asked.

  “he’s avoiding y/n,” jiwon sang, like it was a normal thing to say out of the blue.

  your ears turned pink. you thought the two of you were good. it’d been over a week since your dinner with him at the saloon. now come to think about it, since your last encounter, jungkook had yet to make another return to the farm to finish whatever gate he was repairing - you stopped keeping track at some point, just letting him come over and continuing to hope that he found something new to fix. 

  hoseok pinched his nose. “jiwon, you can’t rat my boy out like that,” he whispered, side-eying you, even though you could clearly see. 

  to add fuel to the fire, you noticed the way jimin was scoping his surroundings. his eyes narrowed over to a corner, where you finally saw jungkook talking to mayor kim. when you did so, he looked over and made eye contact with you for the briefest of seconds, before darting away. before you knew it, jimin began hollering.

  “hey! jungkook! come here!”

  “what are you doing?” you hissed, taking a step towards jimin’s booth. “i thought we made a truce, park jimin.”

  “trust me, i’m helping you out.” jimin’s cheeky grin made you take a deep breath, holding back profanity for jiwon.

  you weren’t sure if the boys knew anything about what was going on with you and jungkook. hell, you weren’t even sure what was going on with you and jungkook. ever since he began detatching, you’d become confused and kept second guessing if you said or did something wrong. maybe coming by his house randomly was weird, but he did the exact same thing. the way he randomly suggested taehyung as a date for you also sent mixed signals.

  jungkook and mayor kim looked towards your direction, taken aback. then, jungkook gave the latter a polite smile, before walking in your direction. great.

  “did you need help with something, jimin?” the tight-lipped smile and tone coming from jungkook indicated he didn’t want to help with anything at all.

  jimin’s smile remained on his face, as he shook his head. “have you seen y/n’s, uh, cilantro? so fresh.”

  you turned to jimin, dumbfounded, but also irritated that you got roped into the conversation. meanwhile, jiwon batted her eyelashes, looking back and forth between you and her brother. her innocent demeanour was almost convincing, but you knew you were dealing with a jeon here. 

  “oh, hi. i didn’t see you there, y/n,” jungkook said. 

  bullshit. your tablecloth was bright yellow, compared to jimin and hoseok using the same white for their booths. you were wearing red lipstick and a sundress. he definitely noticed you. this made your jaw tense, annoyed that jungkook was acting different out of nowhere.

  “yup,” was all you could say, a dry tone settling in your voice.

  jungkook raised his eyebrows. “late night or something?” he asked, as if your voice indicated fatigue.

  “no.”

  “your eyebags say otherwise.” usually, jungkook teased you with a certain playfulness, but he instead matched your dry tone.

  hoseok immediately interjected, “oh, haha! ha - uh, haha!” he forced laughter out as if pushing with brute force, looking at you and jungkook strangely. the question in his eyes read what’s wrong with you two clear as day.

  you shrugged and luckily at that very moment, a small family began walking in your direction and approached your booth. on the other hand, jungkook suddenly became fascinated with the infused syrups at hoseok’s table and found the energy to talk his ear off about the ingredients. you missed the way jiwon shot a dirty look at jimin, as if this was his fault.

  “why are they acting weird?” jimin whispered to the smaller girl, as if buddies gossiping on the playground. 

  jiwon only rolled her eyes and huffed, walking away with peanut. she murmured things under her breath about adults being useless, wondering why she had to wake up early all to witness a dumpster fire between you and jungkook. she walked away, muttering to herself something about how she was determined to prove she was the only one with brains around here.

  𝐓𝐀𝐆 𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓. @sstrongstyletyle @wobblewobble822@taiwan0618 @seokout @firelcrds @xwniazx @shellyyy177

#jungkook fanfic #kpop fanfic #bts fanfic #bts scenarios #bts x reader #bts imagine #bts au #bts series #jungkook imagine #jungkook au #jungkook x you #jungkook x reader #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #bts fluff #bts angst #kpop imagine #kpop scenarios #jungkook scenarios #jungkook x oc #jungkook x y/n

[izvmimi]

All Roads Lead to Love? - Chapter III

cw: alcohol mention. quirk use. medical scenes. bad fashion. Please see additional masterlist warnings! Masterlist

Izuku stares at your number on his phone and his stomach turns as his thumb hovers over the call button. 

Then he looks up. Shoto hasn’t said a word in the last ten minutes, content with finishing up the last of a sandwich and scrolling through his phone. Shoto has a bad habit of responding to every thirsty comment he gets and Izuku doesn’t bother telling him not to at this point. That’s PR’s problem and they get paid handsomely for it.

“How bad is it if I call a girl who might have a boyfriend?” Izuku says it wincingly, as if the very idea pains him.

Shoto doesn’t look up. “I mean if you’re just saying hi, it’s not illegal. Otherwise it’s harassment.”

Izuku should know better than to expect tact from him. Izuku pushes his phone away from him and replaces the emptiness of his right hand with a handful of fries to stuff into his mouth. Shoto looks up and raises his eyebrow at him, then shakes his head.

“I thought you and Ochaco broke up.”

“We DID.” Izuku insists, annoyed. “Over half a year ago?”

Shoto shrugs. “I mean it’s not like it’s obvious, the three of you still hang out all the time.”

Izuku frowns. This is true, but it’s been less so in recent times, and the media storm related to it is brewing, he feels, when the distance, now more obvious, gets spun into netizen debate but he’s hoping to shield himself from it.

Perhaps he shouldn’t bother you just for that reason alone. Especially if you have someone. You won’t have him. Not in this life, not in the next.

“It’s about ___,” he finally admits. Shoto looks slightly confused for a moment and Izuku practically growls at him before he recalls.

“Oh.”

Sighing, Izuku leans back into his chair and lets his shoulders slump. Perhaps he’s creepy to still feel this way about you, but there’s not much he can do about it. He was doing so well too until he saw you yesterday, and… 

That fucking guy. 

Izuku runs his hands through his hair. Life is too cyclical for him right now.

“How are you and Mo-?” he asks instead but Shoto shrugs, interrupting him before he can ask any other questions.

“Fine.”

Sometimes talking to Shoto is like pressing oil from a stone, but Shoto suddenly asks Izuku a follow-up question.

“You know, if you’re still pining for that long, does it really matter at this point if she has a boyfriend?”

Izuku looks shocked, but Shoto is dead serious. He blinks.

“Just tell her how you feel anyway. That way she can tell you no to your face and you’ll get over it.”

Izuku feels something in his heart rend, but Shoto’s insane advice has a shocking amount of weight to it.

As usual. He just has to work up the nerve to listen to it.

—

A couple of weeks pass. You’ve found yourself staring at Izuku’s number in your phone far more than you have in years, wondering if you should tell him what happened and knowing that it would make you sound crazy. How do you even start such a conversation?

Hey I know I haven’t spoken to you for real in years, but some kid with a quirk made clones of me that suggest you’re my soulmate? Oh by the way, I loved you back then but just never told you? Anyway, break up with your girlfriend, a literal angel, because I’m bored.

You call one of your friends, not the ones who went to UA with you and told you not to suppress your feelings, but another one who will tell you you’re ridiculous and to focus on the very available man in front of you, if you must insist on rekindling old flames.

And she tells you exactly what you want to hear.

“This is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.”

You sigh, absorbing the hit, but you’re thankful. “I know.”

“If he fumbled you then, he fumbles forever,” she says, unabashedly. You can see her now, painting her toenails with one hand, and petting her cat with another. It doesn’t matter to her that fate says otherwise, just the lack of effort on either part.

Don’t let us convince you how to feel, you remember an alternate version of you say.

It’s the wake-up call you need.

That evening, you meet up with Akira impromptu and he fulfills his promise of your favorite sushi and wine. Drinking more than usual to forget whatever your clones have to say, you find that Akira’s lips are somehow more comforting now that you’re older, and his hugs are tighter, and while you don’t end up sleeping together by the end of the night, the thought of laying under him in the near future brings a warmth to your chest that feels like the beginning of newly rekindled love.

—

“Are you this embarrassed to be seen with me?” Inko snickers, walking just a couple paces behind her son, whose broad shoulders are hunched over as he shrouds himself in a hoodie, a hat and sunglasses. He looks somewhat ridiculous like this, with the effect of making his already very noticeable frame stick out more, and the fact that he’s dressed head to toe in merch that doesn’t exactly match color scheme-wise (Froppy socks and Red Riot shoes, and Pinky’s iconic tie-dye pattern are not exactly easy on the eyes) doesn’t help.

“I just want to get in and out without incident,” Izuku murmurs quietly. Inko laughs and pats his back as he continues to push a shopping cart past the crowded hallways. He wishes his mother would have chosen a better day for grocery shopping because he woke up grumpier than usual today, which is really saying something, but these runs are important for her. She misses him and this is just one of the ways he can remind her that above all else, she’s still his son.

“That’s not like you.” She rubs his back gently and Izuku’s mouth twists to the side.

It isn’t, but it is him at the very moment. All he can think about is the fact that he feels like he should call you and he has no idea what to say, and the idea of you desperately finding ways to hang up on him makes him sick to his stomach. He’s tired and overworked. He’s seen at least one article speculating on his romantic life since this morning, now that Iida and Ochaco were found cavorting on a beach, and he’s starving. 

The last one is a problem he can fix. Realistically, the first one is too but all he can think of is rejection and the label of creep. 

Izuku Midoriya, current #1 Hero and absolute creep.

“I just need a break.” Polite enough to grab two cans of vegetables from the highest shelf, a couple for him and his mom, and one for the lady that seems to be reaching but too embarrassed to ask for help. She thanks him and he says not to mention it, then lets the cart speed off before she can think too hard about who he looks or sounds like. 

Deku is very popular with older middle-aged ladies.

A little further down, he stops so that Inko can catch up with him. She’s still in high spirits and he resists the urge to shudder when thinking about how well her and Toshinori’s date last night went. He’d picked her up from his apartment and that may have been a little too much for him but he’s accepted this arrangement for now.

If his mom is happy, then he is.

They chat more about everything then nothing, while Izuku keeps the conversation away from how good his mentor is as a lover, then earning a moment for himself to scroll through the news on his phone while his mother chats up the workers at the fish market. He’s too engrossed, analyzing the scathing review of property damage with Dynamight and Red Riot’s combined recent save, until he looks up and sees Inko walk in a sudden opposite direction. Curious as to where she’s going but not moving yet, his eyes follow her, but when he realizes where she’s waving to, he almost shits his pants.

This can’t be serious.

It’s you again. You look just as surprised as he is, your mouth slightly agape, a pomelo in your right hand over at the produce section. Suddenly, he is acutely aware of exactly what kind of fashion disaster he is, and looks around, calculating the chances he can hide without being noticed by anyone or being called out by his mother. It’s not like you are particularly dressed to the nines either - you’re in an oversized hoodie too (Izuku wonders if it’s yours or Akira’s for a moment), the hood drawn close around your unmade but clean face, and yoga pants, sneakers that at least match unlike his clashing shoes. Although you look slightly uncomfortable the longer Inko talks to you, he can tell it’s less about not being kind and more shyness. 

He spends more time observing you than making an escape route, and Inko finally betrays him by pointing over to him. You look like you’ve gone ashen when you see him, and it smarts; he offers you the smallest of awkward waves but Inko takes your wrist gently and pulls you over to him jovially. 

And now you’re face to face again. He swallows hard, feeling the palms of his hands get sweaty as he grips the shopping cart handles. He has no idea how it’s gotten like this, and neither do you. You’re stiff as a board, eyes wide like a deer in headlights.

Just why do you dislike him so much? He wonders, but he has no time to lament, lest he make this worse than it already is. 

“You know, I still have a picture of you two in my house!” Inko says, cheerfully. “I’m surprised you guys don’t still hang out often.”

Your stomach turns, and both of you don’t realize that you’re thinking the same thing -

Because they didn’t like me back, back then.

Desperate to make small talk, you say, “Oh, do you come here often?”

Izuku blinks, trying to comprehend your own ridiculous question you regret asking, but only makes it worse.

“To the grocery store? Oh yeah, haha, need to eat too!”

He laughs a little too loud, and in attempting to convince himself and you that he’s funny, slaps the handle of the shopping cart, which subsequently tips backwards which he scrambles to resettle. You and Inko both look shocked, and by the time he’s guided things back into carts, Inko is laughing nervously too. By now, Izuku has garnered more than a couple of stares from nearby customers, and quickly bumping him out of the way, she picks up on his odd behavior and rescues him.

“Ha, well it was nice to see you again, hun, I hope things have been well! Say hi to the family for me,” she waves, and quickly pulls Izuku along with her.

You remain planted watching him, wondering what trick the universe is playing on you. 

Of all the grocery stores in Japan, your search for one specific food item brought you to Izuku, no matter how badly you try to avoid him.

—

“Can I ask a stupid question?”

Camilla looks up from where she’s perusing through a rack of work blouses then looks back to you.

“None of your questions are stupid. Shoot.”

You let your hands leaf through a stack of folded jeans, then pace a little as her eyes follow you, mulling over the words to use under your breath. After all, you haven’t explained the multiverse thing yet although you’re usually open about most things, for fear that she will hit you with an ‘I told you so’, even if she’s generally very kind about it. But you do still need to know.

“Do you still have people from way-back-when that you’ve liked?” you ask. Camilla gives you a look, then walks over and takes your face dramatically in her hands.

“Once again, I am begging you to stop going on dates with that weirdo,” she says. You find yourself laughing. She wasn’t too keen on the second date, and not the third, and while she didn’t explain in detail, she’s observed Akira enough over time (since they were both in the Support class) to not be particularly fond of him at all. 

“I mean he really isn’t that bad.”

“He’s boastful and a womanizer,” she says again, now turned back to laying shirts onto her chest. “How does this look?”

“Oh, it’s cute,” you approve, noting how nicely the turquoise in semi-sheer material appears against her complexion. 

“Great,” she takes it and pushes it into your arms. “This is for you. Glad you like it!”

Camilla’s tricked you again. You came out here intending not to leave with more clothing and yet…

“Let me be fair. Akira gives the energy of an unserious person, but perhaps he’s changed over time. I could be wrong.” She softens her stance, putting her hand on her hips. You snort for a moment, but you can easily see why she thinks this way - he is a bit airheaded for your liking, and the sudden declaration of re-interest in you does seem brusque. But the truth is you’re not tied up with anyone else, so it doesn’t really matter if you allow yourself to have some fun.

On top of that, you’re not really thinking about Akira in this particular case. 

Sucking in a deep breath, and considering that you might immediately regret it, you decide to tell her what happened just weeks ago. By the time you’re done explaining, her hand is over her mouth, but then she smiles practically to the back of her teeth, and you realize you’re in trouble.

“Now that’s what romance novels are made of.”

“Camilla…” you start. She giggles and twirls a bit.

“Why are you questioning it? We saw the way he looked at you-”

You grimace. “He did not.”

She rolls her eyes. “Listen, if a man looked at me like that, I’d truly not sit here and argue with my friend about it.” She’s wandering between racks of clothing again, and you find yourself following her naturally just as you have for the past hour.

Your lips press into a thin line. “It sounds like a good story, but truly if he wanted me back then, he would have had me by now.”

As it comes out, you immediately regret it. Lead forms in your stomach as you think of what you just admitted, and Camilla is now digging through skirts that you’re not sure are for you or for herself.

“So clearly the problem is him. .That’s something we can sort out soon enough, now can’t we?”

In seconds, she’s zapped your phone right out of your pocket, flying directly into her open right hand.

“I’ll call him,” she sings.

If the panic that overcame you at that moment could revitalize a human being, you’d have resurrected an entire cemetery at once. 

“… You wouldn’t,” is the phrase that comes out of you weakly, in a hush. Camilla grins, unlocking your phone (you consider that you probably shouldn’t have given out your passcode as recently as last week’s sleepover), and scrolls through your contacts briefly before settling on his name. She considers it for a moment, truly, but the deep frown on your face and your approach to her make it sufficiently clear that you’re not above wrestling your phone out of her very hands in the middle of a department store. Twisting her mouth to the side, she decides to throw the phone back to you.

”Coward,” she murmurs.

You slip your phone in your pocket, considering changing your passcode that very second, glaring at her. 

“Stay out of my business,” you snap, but then you break out into giggles, partially out of relief. She laughs too, and pulls out another dress, glimmering in the overhead light, a soft purple chiffon number.

”You’re coming with me to the next gala and you’re wearing this.”

”I don’t think Mirio will appreciate losing his date,” you muse. She’s already off looking at the rows of pumps and stilettos, giving you a throwaway glance, but not without a sparkle in her eye.

”I think sunshine boy has enough admirers, and you’ve spent enough time hiding in the shadows.” She beams as you take it from her hands, adding to the pile of things you already have to try on.

You huff in pretend annoyance but you can never fault your friend.

“I’ll consider it.”

—

3 months since your first meeting passing faster than you know it, your most involved pediatric patient returns, and right on time.

“How’s little Kazuo doing?” 

You’re excited to see him, and he looks better than you expected, the young boy kicking his feet comfortably, his blue eyes shaded this time by a toy replica of Can’t Stop Twinkling’s iconic red shades offered to him by Junko. He takes the time to remove a lollipop from his mouth and looks at you with a big grin, and it warms you inside out. 

“Good!” he says. Mrs. Minamoto smiles at him as you ruffle his hair gently then look at her to confirm that this is true, and she does.

The quirk stabilizers have been working wonders, she says, and you decline testing his quirk currently, not because you really don’t want to see another legion of Deku wives/girlfriends tell you that you’re making a wrong decision with your life, but because the child looks like he’ll do best undisturbed today.

“Any breakthroughs?” you ask. 

“No incidents,” she affirms. “No strangers, doppelgangers or weird unexplained objects, thank goodness,” she adds, and she appears genuinely relieved which makes you glad for her.

“Good!” You take a few notes down on your legal pad then clasp your hands together.. “Do you think you’d be comfortable with a spacing regimen?” 

She looks resistant immediately, which is understandable, and you quickly recant your suggestion. Rolling back in your wheeled stool to your computer where you’re documenting, you click a few buttons to renew the child’s prescription for another 3 months.

“We can give it time. So far we haven’t found anyone in the database reports with a quirk remotely similar to this, as you already know from our written communication, but if you’d like we can take some time to let him experiment with his abilities at small intervals, or we can continue the stabilizers until we can set you up with the appropriate coaching program.”

She picks the latter, as you expect.

“I… I just think he’s too young to be twisting and turning the universe like this,” she says. With this, she pulls her son closer to her, who looks comfortable yet concerned with his mother’s reaction.

“Absolutely.”

You mean to be compassionate. After all, her son has already messed with your life as you know it, so perhaps a bit more time for things to normalize is warranted.

Mrs. Minamoto lets out a sigh, then taps her heels on the ground. You look back at her after signing a few electronic documents to approve medications and next time visits. 

“Is it wrong for me to stop him from using his ability?” she asks. “I don’t want to stunt him… I just…” she trails off and you shake your head.

“All you’re doing is giving him time to adjust safely. We’ll work on this together, okay? It’s a huge amount of power for such a tiny person, so let’s give him a little bit more time to grow into it.”

Mrs. Minamoto looks teary-eyed and you offer her a reassuring handhold. 

“It doesn’t hurt to give a little more time to reflect and plan. After all, what’s destined to happen will happen regardless.”

Kazuo’s sea-green eyes focus right on you at this moment, and for a moment you wonder if he’s challenging how much you believe in the words you so easily say.

—

“Oi, we’re heading out.”

Katsuki’s speech is partially slurred, and Ochaco giggles politely as she waves him and his date out, her own naturally pink cheeks red herself, just as quite a few others in this private room. She nudges Iida who is staring off very slightly into space, his own look somewhat dazed even though he looks like he’d be much less of a lightweight, and Izuku notices how quickly Iida returns to reality from her touch, then waves in turn. 

“Make sure to text when you get home!” Iida and Ochaco both practically say in unison.

Perhaps they are made for each other, he thinks for a moment. By now, the two are official with the group of Heroes they frequent in and no one bothers to ask him any more questions, and he’s thankful for it, but it’s still awkward to be invited to these group outings that feel more like dates these days, particularly since the girl who’s seated next to him has long since given up on conversation and is now blatantly swiping right on a dating app, hoping to get lucky somewhere else before the night is over. He’s not bothering paying her any mind more than is polite; after all his mind is elsewhere. Izuku watches Katsuki whisper something into Runa’s ear as he adjusts her jacket onto her shoulders, and she laughs and taps his shoulder back.

Izuku wishes he could broach the subject of you, one of her best friends, but Runa has been preoccupied for most of the night with talking to Katsuki, and he knows better than to interfere with Katsuki getting the attention he craves. A smaller part of him wonders if he could just ask her to bring you with her next time, but that’s an insane request, and while Runa once was partial to teasing both him and you more than a little often in high school, she does her best not to bring you up whenever he has the chance to speak to her. 

Almost as if you’ve told her explicitly not to. 

It’s nearing midnight, and Izuku calls over their waiter to foot the bill this time, having made arrangements early on with the group to manage the table. His ‘date’ orders another drink without looking up which Izuku doesn’t even bother to be annoyed about, while Shoto and his girlfriend, nicknamed Mochi, also look to be getting ready to leave, him sticking so close he’s practically wrapping her in his peacoat. It dawns on him that he might actually be stuck as the last person in the room with the most uninterested person in the world but thankfully Ochaco and Iida seem to remain steadfast in keeping him company.

“Thanks for paying, Izuku,” Ochaco says a little bit later, rubbing gentle circles on Iida’s back. Iida is now practically facedown, but still gesturing something with his hands in agreement. 

He smiles.

“Of course.”

“Thank you for coming out too,” she says again later, when Texter has found a match and makes her way out and Izuku is once again the third wheel to his two best friends. Iida has stepped out to use the bathroom before leaving, and he and Ochaco stand outside in the frigid night under the moonlight. It’s the first time they’ve stood like this together in months, but the silence between them was less uncomfortable than it was pensive then.

Izuku again continues to pretend that he hasn’t had a terrible night, but he knows Ochaco can tell. After all, Ochaco is one of the few people that knows him better than anyone, when his mind is preoccupied with something else, when he’s uncomfortable, when things are wrong. Just because she chose to ignore that feeling of being in the wrong place when the right person was standing next to her the whole time, does not mean she doesn’t know his heart intimately.

“Has everything been okay?” she asks.

Izuku offers a nervous laugh. “Yeah, don’t worry, I’m not sad or heartbroken or anything,” he replies. He’s assumed incorrectly that he knows what she means, and when he turns to look at her, she’s frowning.

“I didn’t mean it in that way,” she murmurs. 

Izuku knows she’s being honest.

“I know whatever is making you feel less you has nothing to do with me, or rather…-” she looks away for a moment, back towards the entrance of the restaurant - “us, but I just want you to be happy, okay?”

Izuku nods, his throat suddenly dry.

Iida arrives soon and with hugs, the two set off, and Izuku walks home alone, checking his phone the entire way, looking twice at the text he considered sending you just to say hello, liquid courage in his veins still not enough to press send.

…

“What are you looking at?” Akira asks. He’s grinning, gold eyes as  bright as the candles flickering on your dining table, and you turn off your phone, flipping it over and pushing it out of sight as you reach for the breadbasket.

“Runa’s out with friends and wanted to show me a pic.” The pic in question shows the group of your classmates at UA, including a couple of unidentified characters, and it looks like a group date. You take in the features of the girl who sits next to Izuku, beach-blonde and bright-eyed, staring a little too long, then focus back on Runa who is taking the selfie, Katsuki taking up far more of the picture than you wish he would but expect him to.

“Ah, your friend that hangs out with all the top Heroes, right?” he asks. You twist your mouth to the side, as you look up at him then click your screen off.

“Yeah. I mean, she too is a top hero…”

He shrugs, then returns to his cut of steak. Without looking up, he adds, “I’m surprised you distanced yourself from them after all this time, but can’t say I’m not thankful for it.”

“What do you mean?” you ask. Akira looks up at you, as though surprised that you’re even challenging him on that notion. You’ve had many a discussion on how detrimental heroes are to society, even after the meta war had almost ended Japan as you knew it, but you couldn’t imagine he still held those views all this time. Hero Society has settled, although it has morphed and changed. Heroes remain celebrities but they’re no longer gods among men in the way All Might was.

Well, at least most aren’t.

“I just think for regular people like us, it’s better not to stay so entangled with that archetype, you know,” Akira adds. You’ve been through this train of conversation before, and your lips press into a thin line but you hold your tongue for now. Regular people like us. Like you and him.

“I mean, think of that asshole Deku,” he starts. 

There it is.

“Akira, can you pass me the butter, actually?” You won’t let another night be ruined by the mere mention of his name. He passes it, but you can tell he’s annoyed by your interjection.

“As usual, you immediately defend Midoriya,” he presumes. You try to remain polite enough not to roll your eyes, but you’re really being tested, and are suddenly no longer able to hold it in.

“It’s been over a decade,” you remind him. “Will you get over whatever your preoccupation with him is? He hasn’t mattered to me in so long, but if you want to speak to him and talk through whatever feelings you have harbored all this time, hopefully I can find a way to hook the two of you up.” 

As the words come out, you start to regret your overreaction, but it’s just a couple months into this budding relationship and the thought of a repeat of Akira’s high school insecurity while you’re on your way to your 30s is unbearable.

Especially knowing that perhaps this time, there’s a good reason to.

Akira gives you a meaningful look, then takes a bite of his steak, chews and swallows, keeping his eyes on you the entire time. You take a sip of your sparkling water, keeping eye contact as well. It’s not meant to be a challenge but you want to convey that this particular conflict is over and not to be revisited. The message is clear.

“As long as it stays that way.”

#izuku x reader #izuku midoriya x reader #daydreams: bnha #mimi writes: arltl #mimi's notes

[vanwritesfan-fiction]

The Five Naughty New Years

A collab between @vanwritesfan-fiction and @w1ldthoughts

A series that follows Jack and the readers relationship through five years of celebrating New Years together in the naughtiest ways.

Year Three

Warnings: language, smut, references to dom/sub relationship

Written by @w1ldthoughts

Jack was throwing this extravagant New Years Party at his home in Louisville tonight. It was going to be this lavish Gatsby themed affair with you starring as Daisy Buchanan. He’d been looking forward to tonight for a while and of course had spent the last few weeks planning out every single detail.

You just wanted to get to the champagne and the sultry dance you had planned for him at the end of the night with “Young and Beautiful” by Lana Del Rey playing in the background. You stood in your closet contemplating which shoes to wear playing with the new ring on your finger while Jack was in the shower.

Ever since you’d gotten engaged it had become your new coping mechanism, the shiny rock on your left hand still took a little time getting used to. But it also symbolized the next chapter of your life. This party Jack had planned would also serve as an engagement announcement so there were some nerves, but mostly just excitement.

You settled on a pair of shiny gold block heels and headed into the bathroom, taking off your clothes and stepping in through the glass doors already beginning to disappear in the steam.

His back was turned to you until he heard you shut the door behind yourself. “Baby, what the hell are you doing in here?” You laughed, looking him up and down before responding. “You always say that we should be more environmentally conscious. So I’m taking your advice and showering with you so we can save water. What’s the problem with that?” You ask innocently, flashing him your sweetest smile.

“I know what you’re doing and we do not have time for that right now. Urb is gonna be here in 20 minutes.” I only need about ten to get what I want, you think to yourself. “I am not doing anything, Jackman. We both need to shower before people start showing up so…hand me my soap. Please.” He handed you the bottle and you began to rub the soap all over your body, making sure that your hands lingered on your breasts and you could’ve sworn you heard his breath hitch.

“Do you need me to wash your back?” Jack asks after clearing his throat.

You nod, handing him the bottle. The water was a comfortable temperature, but his hands on your skin made you feel like you were on fire. While you rinsed off, you turned around and enveloped him with a kiss and he grabbed your wrists, guiding you against the shower wall, deepening the embrace.

Your lips fit together like puzzle pieces, hums and moans of desire painted the room until he abruptly pulled away, cupping your face in his large hands. “Now you know sneaking in here like this would usually get you punished,” he smiles, “but I’m feeling generous today so I’ll try to be gentle.” He turned on the side shower heads without stepping away from you, just so you could feel his erection growing in real time.

Taking one of the shower heads off, he turns down the water pressure and places it in between your legs, the water sending rippling vibrations between your folds. You threw your head back with a moan and you grabbed his shoulder to steady yourself. He continued to tease, letting you know he was going to finish what you started.

The sounds you were making were embarrassing but you had no control over your own body at this point, it all belonged to Jack and when he slowly sank into you, all you could do was clench around him.

You almost cried when he pulled out, holding his dick in his hands. And you knew exactly why he was doing it. “Jack, baby I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have made a show earlier with the soap. I thought you needed a little motivation but I was wrong. Very wrong, so please. Please just—” All of the air in your lungs left your body at his sudden thrust back into you, gripping your hips as he pushed in and out of you with ease. He lifted one of your legs and held it at his hip, the new position hitting a spot that he knew would send you into a new stratosphere.

“So…fucking…sensitive.” He grunted, as your hold on him tightened. Both of you knew there would be marks in the morning.

Jack continued to fuck you through two orgasms until you saw stars and needed him to carry you out of the shower. Maybe you wouldn’t have enough energy for that sultry dance tonight after all.

Tag-List:

@jacks-daycare

@livsters

@katiaw2

@xangelonmyshoulderx

@thatonegirlthatlikesthings

@j0hkiya

@bell3e

@isisosidixj

@caroline334

@lightsoutstyles

@hufflewhore128

@jackscurlyhair

@jackharloww

@brixo

@beautiifulpeople312

@bernelflo

@taniapri

@ageofthebarbarians

@honeyharlows

@aga21

@iheartharlow

@neon-lights-and-glitter

@w1ldthoughts

@jackslilsecrett

@harlowcomehome

@fantasywritersstuff

@exoticr0ses

@iknowdatsrightbih

@itsyagirljaz

@hoodharlow

@bobthe-turmpetman29

@wittyjasontodd

@purecinnamonextract

@fluidsentiment

@comehomeimissyou

#jack harlow #jackman thomas harlow #jackharlow #jackman harlow #jack harlow x reader #jack harlow concepts #jack harlow imagine #jack harlow fanfic

[brooooswriting]

Prompt list

My first prompt list and I’m honestly not quite sure how this works. But send me a prompt and a character (you can find the characters I write for in my guidelines) :) I’m happy about request and recommendations

1. “I’m not stupid, who is s/he?

2. “I’m not flirting with anyone”

3. A: “We have a problem”

B: “no, you got a problem. I got you”

4. “If I could, I would kiss all your scars away”

5. “You’re so cute when you’re half asleep like this”

6. “I don’t want to think about what life would be like without you”

7. “Do you want to stay tonight?”

8. “I killed him and I’d gladly kill him again”

9. “Don’t panic, but I think there’s someone in our house”

10. “How bad is it?”

11. “Cmon, I’ll carry you”

12. “I can’t get up”

13. “I threw up”

14. “You’re burning love”

15. “I can protect myself”

16. “Don’t touch me! GET OFF”

17. “You look beautiful”

18. “You left me. I stayed, I waited”

19. “You have the most amazing eyes”

20. “How’d you this scar?”

21. “We have time”

22. “You can still use your legs, so don’t say that I was jealous again”

23. “If even one of them touches you again, I’ll make sure they aren’t able to ever again”

24. “I’m overreacting?”

25. “Don’t cover my bite marks, or I might just have to add more”

26. “Wow, you really thought you could trust me?”

27. “You belong to me”

28. “I dare you”

29. “You can’t restart life once you make a mistake”

30. “You should be with someone who values you”

31. “I do not like (x), I like you you idiot”

32. “(X) doesn’t understand what they’re missing”

33. “If I was your girlfriend, I’d …”

34. “Can you picture me and you together?”

35. “My grandma thinks we are dating”

36. “Can’t sleep again”

37. “It’s past midnight, why are you still up?”

38. “Let’s get you some sleeping pills”

39. “She’s not your property”

40. “There is us, there never was”

41. “Keep lying and I’m out”

42. “Is this all I was to you?”

43. “You thought this was real?”

44. “All they ever did was take advantage of you. Why can’t you see that?”

45. “Tell me a story”

46. “It’s time to move on”

47. “I’m gonna take a shower, you should join me. You know, save water”

48. “Calm down! You’re scaring me”

49. “I’m done trying to fix you”

50. “I see your face everywhere… don’t you understand that?”

51. “I wasn’t enough for you, you made that clear”

52. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake to. Go back to sleep my love”

53. “Can I borrow your hoodie?”

54. “It kills me to imagine you with somebody else”

55. “You don’t own me”

56. “Can you come and get me?”

57. “You’re freezing, let’s go inside. I don’t want you to catch a cold”

58. “I don’t want you to be disappointed”

59. “It’s cute, this thing you’re doing”

60. “You should eat something”

61. “Who did this to you?!”

62. “You look like you need a hug”

63. “I love you, but you need to shut up”

64. “They’re coming. Kiss me”

65. “I’m flirting with you”

66. “I’m just so tired all the time”

67. “Would you like to take a nap with me?”

68. “Can I braid your hair?”

69. “You’re not your past”

70. “That’s not what I meant and you know it”

71. “You can cry, there’s no shame in it”

72. “You don’t do that with me”

73. “You’re not making sense dear”

74. “You feel like home”

75. “Is s/he really just a friend?”

76. “I promise I am trying”

77. “I can fix it, I will fix it”

78. “I can’t breathe around you”

79. “Don’t give me space. That’s the last thing I want”

80. “If you were any less threatening, you’d be a dandelion”

81. “I just adore you”

82. “Did I do good?”

83. “Let’s run away then”

84. “You shouldn’t trust me”

85. “What if you get hurt?”

86. “I like to do it for the plot”

87. “You are ticklish, that’s so cute”

88. “Can you warm me? I’m freezing”

89. “If you steel the blanket I’m gonna put my cold feed on you”

90. “This is low, even for you”

91. “I promise it didn’t mean anything”

92. “How much cold medicine did you take?”

93. “Get behind me”

94. “Touch her one more time and I’m gonna kill you”

95. “I want a family… with you”

96. “You’re more than a one night stand”

97. “Say that one more time and I’ll whoop your ass”

98. “My family likes you more than they like me”

99. “Every day feels like a burden”

100. “I may be a hero but I’d end the world for you”

#reader insert #brooooswriting #jenna ortega x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #sam carpenter x reader #melissa barrera x reader #scarlett johansson x reader #wanda maximoff x reader #elizabeth olsen x reader #hailee steinfeld x reader #kate bishop x reader #yelena belova x reader #florence pugh x reader #margot robbie x reader #vada cavell x reader #tara carpenter x reader #carol danvers x reader #Tessa Thompson x reader #brie larson x reader #valkyrie x reader #writing prompt #prompt list #maria hill x reader

[pinkandpurple360]

Thank you, I think you just nailed what it is about Stolas that bothers me.

Like, you said how Asmodeus encourages Fizz to build a support system outside of him. He calls up Blitzo despite literally talking shit about him the episode before, just because he trusts Fizz’s forgiveness and knows he needs support, both physically and emotionally, that only Blitz can provide. And he doesn’t seem to mind that Fizz has interests outside of just their relationship, like performing (unless it’s Mammon). Not to say that Ozzie or the relationship is flawless (none are), but at Oz seems to genuinely just want Fizz to be happy. If by some bizarre twist Fizz broke up with Ozzie, I think the big guy would be sad, but ultimately would rather see the guy who taught him love be happy without him than be unhappy with him.

…Meanwhile, Stolas acts like Blitz solely exists to be his taboo imp lover. Stolas has never shown any interest in Blitz’s actual work, his hobbies, his family, his friends, his past, anything. He literally dirty talks to him while he is literally getting shot at. He doesn’t ever actually listen to him, and if the recent alleged Full Moon plot leaks are anything to go by, he’s never going to. This isn’t even getting into the coercion. Even if that wasn’t a factor, I feel like if Blitz were to move on (which let’s be real, he’s trying to) Stolas would mope and blame Blitz for all of his problems, and believe he is entitled to Blitz’s affection. That’s why I’ll never be able to get behind the ship no matter how much it’s stuffed in our face. It’s built on not only literal SA and class exploitation, but an incredibly unhealthy idealization and victim complex.

Oh wait, did I say would? This is literally canon.

Exactly because I know Asmodeus is very protective but who wouldn’t be? After seeing mammons behaviour I completely understand. And giving fizz someone else to provide safety was an act of kindness, uh, even though fizz wasn’t too happy about it🤭 he seems to notice how important Blitzø is to fizz more than fizz does..might be a bit of a shock to come later…I just love how he doesn’t force fizz to be with him, he’d always give him that choice.

EXACTLY anon. The coercion is a massive problem, but this ship is so incompatible that it’s still deeply flawed without that factor. “They’re both bad at communicating!” Is something shippers say to imply they’re clumsy in love and so similar to each other..when..no..poor communication is why relationships fail, why they end up abusive, and why they shouldn’t continue.

Stolas never cares that it’s a bad time, he uses blitzø as his security in LooLoo land despite not even needing it. To fuel a fetish of being saved by him, which in western energy nearly got him killed. When he learned Loona had to get a vaccination, he didn’t give a damn. He wanted IMP to drop everything and come to his aid, when he didn’t even feel in danger until the phone call ended. “I believe he has me bound by blessed ropes, limiting my ability to free myself I’m afraid. 😏 so I think you should come save me 😌”

While explaining about the blessed rope, and not having his grimoire in the human world, he’s smiling in both scenes. Think about it, his supposed weakness plot devices give him an opportunity to manipulate the situation again, to spend time with Blitzø against his will. In seeing stars he used violent intimidation tactics to get the three to bend to his will and do him favours. You can see the dark character he truly is with this pattern of behaviour.

There’s a lot of talk that Stella is mad about the cheating with an imp, but consider that seconds before he sees Blitzø at the party, Stella pisses him off by talking about how bad their sex life was. He then decides to jump in bed with said imp, which is even what he refers to him as. ���Sir, we caught this nasty imp” “come with me, imp.” That’s a race play fetish right there.

Also yeah holy crap. Blitzø says he’s being used as a sex toy and stolas….cries? then kicks him out of his house? What a little bitch… “I will make amends” no you won’t liar 💀 then Blitzø will apologise to him and fawn over him like he used to for Fizzarolli? I feel sick..

#stolitz critical

[trojanteapot]

The writing blindspots in Infinity Train with respect to race

To get this out of the way, I love Infinity Train! It’s one of my favourite shows! I started writing fanfiction because of this show, and it still inspires me every day. 

I really do think that Infinity Train as a whole is a very thought provoking children’s show and I applaud it for exploring darker themes relevant to psychology and psychological well-being, which are topics often overlooked not just in children’s media but for adult media as well. However, I do want people to acknowledge some of its shortcomings, especially because it is a show that is dealing with such heavy and complex topics, and also positions its human characters as coming from a world which is pretty much a stand-in for our own.

Now I know that the storyboard artists for Infinity Train were quite diverse, but I don’t really know if it’s the same for the writer's room. The reason why is that as a POC viewer, it really does seem obvious to me from the way that the POC characters were written pre-season 4, that their race was mostly an afterthought.

Okay and to be perfectly clear, this is NOT A BAD THING. This is just a neutral thing. Obviously we don’t need every single story with POC characters to have to be about their experience as a specific racialized person. There are experiences that are shared among everybody no matter what race they are. I am not saying that you need to do super in-depth research into every single cultural nuance of every ethnic minority before writing them. It depends on if you really want to delve into how their heritage or traditions or specific life experiences inform their character arc. Not every character arc is about that. And it shouldn’t be!

With that being said, I do think that perhaps the writers should have tried to consider asking themselves very basic surface level questions on how being non-white would inform the problems and conflicts their characters would face. They don't need to know the ins and outs of each culture for each of their characters, but they could have just asked “How would I feel/react to others if people made weird assumptions about me based on my race? How differently would my parents raise me if they were afraid of prejudice or discrimination?” I think they should have reflected on that before setting in stone the backstories for their POC characters, especially with respect to Grace.

Part 1: GRACE'S PARENTS

So I am not Black myself, but I have had many conversations about Grace with one of my friends in fandom who is Black, and we both do get the sense that Grace’s race was very much just an afterthought to her characterization. To be clear, this is NOT because she has very wealthy parents. I am well aware that there are Black Americans with generational wealth. However, knowing what we know about affluent Black people in the real world, how Grace’s parents treated her makes absolutely no sense.

For example, among extremely wealthy people of any race, networking and knowing the right people is of the utmost importance. This is why so many rich people send their kids to prestigious private schools so their kids can get a heads start on knowing the progeny of other one-percenters. If you look up famous people with famous kids, chances are you’ll see a list of all of the very exclusive private academies that they all went to (looking at you, The Strokes). This is the case for wealthy people of all backgrounds, not just white people. And honestly, I imagine that the pressure is at least double for the kids of wealthy POC parents to get to know the right people as early as possible to be able to open as many doors as possible, in order to mitigate the inherent disadvantage of being a racialized person.

But what did Grace’s parents do? According to her, they never sent her to school of any kind, only having private tutors teach her, and her ballet instructor only made her join the other kids in her class once for a recital or something? This is, for lack of a better term... buck wild.

In addition, her parents are American diplomats. Diplomacy is an extremely people-oriented position. If anything, her parents would want her to not only be in the best private school, but to be the best student in school, to know the best people, to join the school clubs that all the other diplomats’ kids are in, and train her from a young age to be a social butterfly. Yes I know that diplomats will often leave their home country and be stationed somewhere else for long durations, and yes their kids could be taken out of school then, but some diplomats just enroll them in a different institution in the visiting country, or not take them out of school at all. This is what the IB Program was invented for, actually. Her parents being diplomats does not justify never enrolling Grace in school. In fact, it makes it less justifiable. 

The fact that they did the extreme opposite of that is so illogical to me that I wonder if perhaps the writers just cobbled together a whole bunch of tropes that they think apply to rich people without actually checking if any of it makes sense, doubly so for rich people who are non-white.

I think the reason why is because they wanted Grace’s parents to stifle her growth and her natural social skills, but on the Train, she can be who she truly is. I definitely agree that Grace finding herself and being able to truly blossom into the girlboss she is on the Train is a great plot point from a characterization perspective. However, I do not think that it should be because she was being stifled by her parents. The solution is staring the writers right in their face, but they can’t see it because it’s a blindspot for them.

What they should have gone with is: Grace's inability to become a social butterfly and a queen bee in her daily life is because she is a dark-skinned Black girl!!!

Her parents have extremely high expectations for her socially. They could have pushed her to make friends with kids she didn’t like just because they wanted to be on better terms with their parents for networking or diplomacy purposes – which they could have shown with that one girl from her ballet class. Missed opportunity! But no matter how hard Grace tries, she will never be seen as the perfect girl because of other people’s assumptions about her just based on her race. 

Once she’s on the Train, Grace then uses her people skills and finds that they’re a lot more effective there, because it’s no longer Earth’s society, it’s a different world, literally! Plus this even allows her to be a little bit more mean, a little bit more honest, something she wouldn’t be able to get away with in the real world without being punished for it harder than her white peers. We already see hints of this with how she interacts with Simon, a white guy who is the same age as her. 

CAVEAT: The dialogue where Grace reveals that she never went to school was something that she told Hazel in a private conversation. So it could be that she did go to school, but lied about it to seem more relatable to Hazel, who had never been around other kids before. Lying is in character for Grace because she would pretty much do anything to get on somebody’s good side. But the way that they had her voice actress deliver those lines, and the way that her expression changes when she talks about how lonely she was indicates that she was telling the truth. To be charitable, I suppose we can land on the reading that Grace told Hazel a half-truth. She did go to school, but she was frequently taken out of class or skipped semesters because of her parents’ jobs as diplomats. So her loneliness in that instant is at the very least truthful. Your mileage is going to vary on this interpretation of course.

This points to a weakness that I can sort of see in Infinity Train in general, where they push societal problems into purely the realm of personal failings. “It’s not because of society that Grace couldn’t succeed, it was solely due to her abusive parents” being just one example. 

Never forget this monologue from a Black father to his daughter in Scandal:

Part 2: JESSE'S ARC WAS PRETTY GOOD THOUGH

The thing is they actually did write a POC character having to deal with a problem that was society-oriented quite well, at least in my view. Although, I am still pretty sure it was still coming from a race-blind method of writing the characters. Otherwise I feel like Jesse’s status as an Indigenous American would have come up more than a grand total of one time. That they could do this well for Jesse makes the fact that they didn’t do the same for Grace quite disappointing. 

Jesse’s main issue that he had to overcome was he kept caving to peer pressure and had trouble saying no to others for fear of disappointment. Now, this problem is universal, and it’s not solely something that is specific to Jesse’s race or ethnicity or cultural background. In fact, I am quite certain that they wrote Jesse as a character without even considering that this problem he faces is relatable to POC experiences. But I definitely know a lot of POC in my life who do take on more responsibilities than they can manage, or feel a higher pressure to fit in with their peers. Hell, I’m that POC in many cases! It’s kind of like background radiation to us as minorities that we just have to do more emotional labour in order to be seen as equals. That’s just the reality of the situation. You can understand and relate to Jesse’s problem without being Indigenous/Native American, but at the same time it feels like a natural problem for him to have, because he is non-white!

I will admit that a personal blind spot of mine is I don't know and haven't had the chance to speak to too many Indigenous people, so there could be aspects of Jesse's arc that don't really make sense. If you are somebody who knows more than me, please feel free to correct me! I would love to hear how you felt about Jesse's characterization and arc as an Indigenous person!

Part 3: SEASON 4, THE ASIANS 

Alright now it's time to tackle stuff that I actually could have any ounce of authority talking about? Which is how they wrote Ryan and Min-Gi in Book 4. I myself am Asian-Canadian. Specifically, I am a first generation Chinese-Canadian but I've been in Canada since I was six so I find a lot of the experiences of second generation Asian-Canadians more relatable to me. In addition, my partner is fourth generation Japanese-Canadian, so his dad would be the same generation as Ryan's dad. (I also am really really into rock music, but that's besides the point.)

What they got right:

So first off, I could tell that they really did consult Asian people in writing this season, so good on them! The difference in how Ryan’s parents raised him in contrast to Min-Gi’s parents felt very natural and realistic to me. Ryan’s family is more westernized and has assimilated more into broader Canadian culture. 

The fact that Ryan has an English name and not a Japanese name immediately shows that. Min-Gi’s parents not choosing an English name for him is a bit of a surprise; very few Asian immigrants go without an English name back in the 20th century. Even nowadays it’s extremely common for us to go by English or Western names that we, or our parents chose, instead of names in our native language. But there are good reasons to not choose an English name. Perhaps Min-Gi’s parents wanted him to have a closer tie to his Korean roots, or perhaps if they travelled back to Korea to visit family it would be easier for them. 

Also, Min-Gi’s parents not supporting his dream of becoming a musician and want him to get a stable job in… I think it was finance? Definitely true back then as it is today. I’m not entirely sure how Ryan’s parents feel about his life choices, and we’ll get into that later.

The character arcs for Ryan and Min-Gi are excellent. This dichotomy of wanting to do the good, responsible thing that your parents want for you because they want you to have the best chance at a good life, and doing what your heart tells you to do, is an extremely relevant character arc. It’s a life decision that is not just an Asian thing, but something anybody can relate to. However, in East Asian cultures that were generally influenced by Confucianism, which includes both Korean and Japanese culture, upholding your duty as a child to not disappoint your parents in any way is something that Asian cultures are prone to emphasizing to a great degree. We see this in other media centered on the Asian immigrant experience as well, such as Kim’s Convenience, Turning Red, and Everything Everywhere All At Once.

What was a bit puzzling to me:

So I'll start off with the thing that definitely raised many many eyebrows if you were an East Asian or Southeast Asian watching the show: Why were Min-Gi's parents so friendly with Ryan's parents when they're Korean and Ryan's family is Japanese?!

So like, not to bring politics into it but… World War II happened. It affected, you know, the world and stuff. And in the Pacific Theatre (god I hate that term), the Imperial Japanese Army… invaded Korea?? Among many other countries??? And did a bunch of war crimes?????

Like, Japan was invading other countries well before WWII even started… This is common knowledge… for Asian people that is.

Yeah I know what you're gonna say. “But Ryan's family is Japanese-Canadian!! They wouldn't have done those war crimes! They would have been sent to internment camps!” Yeah dude, I know! My partner is Japanese-Canadian, remember?! And even if I didn't know him, we learned about the internment camps in history class. It's pretty common knowledge among progressives in Canada and the US. George Takei did a whole musical about it. 

But that's not how racism works. I can speak from personal experience that the scars of WWII trauma in Chinese and Korean communities run deep. Even my own parents needed a bit of convincing to be okay with me dating my partner, and my parents were born two decades after WWII ended. My partner said that one time when he and his grandmother got into an elevator with an elderly Korean woman, and at first she was friendly, but once she realized they were of Japanese descent, the elevator ride became deathly silent afterwards. 

So when you have Min-Gi’s parents, who were probably born during or slightly after WWII, immigrate to Canada, and then be like… totally okay and hunky dory pals with Ryan’s parents just because their kids were born the same day in the same hospital…? I mean sure, anything can happen. But it definitely speaks to how abnormally accepting, forgiving, and welcoming Min-Gi’s parents are. 

To be clear, this isn’t something that pulled me out of the experience, personally. Yes, it is strange, but it’s not impossible for a Korean family to be super okay and friends with a Japanese family. Maybe it’s because their small town has very few Asians and so they have to stick together due to solidarity or something. Maybe Min-Gi’s parents are the type of Christians that believe in the inherent goodness of everyone and giving everyone a chance. Maybe they are just extremely progressive and see Ryan’s family as Canadian more than Japanese (highly unlikely), or they know about the internment camps and that was enough to get over their biases toward them (also unlikely). I dunno, anything can happen.

The other thing that bugged me was that they really didn’t explore Ryan’s relationship with his family to the same depth as Min-Gi’s relationship with his family. 

They already set up the contrast of like, you have an immigrant who is more connected to their cultural background, and a third generation descendent who is less connected, and more alienated from his cultural background. That kind of stuff can really weigh on you as somebody who is a minority. You feel like you simultaneously aren’t Canadian enough because you aren’t white, and that you’re not enough of your cultural background because you had to assimilate, or were forced to assimilate. 

Yes it makes sense why Ryan would throw himself into his music, and be disconnected from his family. But they didn’t take the time to really explore why he is that way. Ryan barely talks about his family except randomly mentioning that they don’t care what he does with his life. I don’t even know if that really makes sense that they don’t care what he does? Maybe Ryan thinks they don’t care, but his assumption is wrong? Either way they don’t explore this point that much. Even if his parents were more assimilated they would still care if Ryan had a non-standard job, such as being a musician. There is a gap between Ryan and his family/parents that was alluded to, but not explored. Feeling like you come from two worlds but not neatly fitting into either is so quintessential to the immigrant experience of Canadians (and also Americans) it’s a shame they only paid lip service to it. 

I mentioned in a different post that Ryan would be monolingual while Min-Gi would be bilingual, and how this could cause tension between them. I imagine Ryan definitely feels inferior to Min-Gi in that sense of loss and disconnect with his heritage, just as Min-Gi is jealous that he feels he doesn't have the freedom to pursue his musical career in the same way that Ryan can. This is all stuff that can take a psychological toll on people, and is something which the Train as a metaphor for therapy should have been primed to tackle. But unfortunately we didn't really get that.

There is a term among the Chinese Diaspora known as “Hollow Bamboo (竹杠)” or “Rising Bamboo (竹升)” [more info]. It's an insult tossed at kids of Chinese ethnicity from judgemental adults for being unable to read/write Chinese or who cannot speak Mandarin/Cantonese/other Chinese languages fluently because they've been “too westernized”. They say we “look Chinese, but are hollow inside, like bamboo.” I don't know if there are equivalent terms for other Asian diaspora/immigrant communities but there must be. This term is controversial, and in my own opinion very unfair, because it blames the kids for this loss of cultural identity when there are so many different factors at play that makes them lose it, all of them outside of their own control. 

Again, I think this is a blindspot from the writers just not understanding how much this loss of cultural identity is such an integral part of the experience of being an immigrant, and that it's not only felt in first or second generation Asian-Canadians, but also third or fourth generation, and beyond. It's scary to go out there and redefine what your culture means to you, and how to pass it on to the next generation.

CONCLUSION

So there you have it, a summary of the strengths and the weaknesses in Infinity Train as it pertains to writing about racialized characters. Just want to restate that a lot of what I pointed out is pretty minor in the grand scheme of things and I do overall think the writing is solid. I am not going into this to say that I expected the writers to do a good job, because generally my expectations for media and pop culture to portray POCs respectfully is quite low. At least they didn’t fall back on tired stereotypes, which is a low bar to clear, but it is where the bar still is these days.

If on the off chance Infinity Train does get uncancelled and renewed for more seasons, I hope they take these lessons and craft better narratives for their POC characters. Maybe hire some more non-white writers while you’re at it!

#infinity train #infinity train book 2 #infinity train book 3 #infinity train book 4 #infinity train book two #infinity train book three #infinity train book four #writing poc #writing black people #writing asian people #writing indigenous people #poc representation #black representation #asian representation #indigenous representation #grace monroe #jesse cosay #ryan akagi #min gi park #rymin #analysis #character analysis #media analysis #cultural identity #olivia pope #rowan pope #immigrant parents #long post #raceblind writing

[daydream-cement]

Hello! I just love your Larissa Weems fic and oneshots. Like I am obsessed. You’ve gifted us with mind blowing smut and I thank you for it. Is it okay to have a fluffy comfort oneshot where reader is a student and doesn’t really have great parents. Like their parents doesn’t support her or something and for some reason Larissa is like a mother figure of some sort. I’m imagining this happens when the parents visit school. But you can totally change that if you have something better hehe.

It Will All Be Okay

Larissa Weems x student!reader

Author Note: Be gentle with this one guys. I based a lot of this convo off of a real one I had with my own ‘school mom’.

You sat on the steps of the grand entryway crying. Parents Weekend had just ended and everything about it had completely sucked. Your mother had come to visit you alone when you father decided that a last-minute work ‘thing’ was more important. The only trouble with this is your father was the emotional buffer between you and your mother’s personalities. In fact, you were a lot like each other. That was the problem. 

You were so similar and stubborn that never in your life had she supported you different decisions. You had finally shared with your mother your dream job, yet it wasn’t good enough for her. She wanted you to go into the family business- swindling people of their blood at a fake blood bank. It almost felt offensive to you that this was the business of your vampire family. It felt so stereotypical.

So you successfully spent the whole weekend fighting and now that your mother was gone, you felt entirely brokenhearted. Why couldn’t she support you like you needed?

“Are you quite alright?” The voice of your principal rang out behind you. You felt so embarrassed. You shouldn’t have been crying out in the open in the first place. You kept your head low, wiping away your tears with the end of your sleeve.

Your lack of a response didn’t deter Principal Weems. You heard her heels click down the steps until she was seated a step down from you so she could see your face best, “Tell me what’s wrong, y/n.”

You sighed, but when you began your sentence you began crying again. This time to the point in which you couldn’t speak. You covered your face from her, not wanting to let Principal Weems see.

Larissa moved where she was seated once again, moving up to sit right next to you. Her arm wrapped around your shoulders and she pulled you into her. You accepted her hug readily, shifting yourself so you could put both your arms around her. The comforting hug caused a shakey sigh to release from your body, finally feeling a sense of safety. 

Weems heard your sigh and spoke once again, releasing you from the hug, “Doesn’t it feel good to cry a bit. Now tell me what’s wrong.” 

You explained it all. The dream job. The classes you have been taking to prepare you for it. Finally you told her about your mother’s less than desired reaction and her insistence on making you work for the family blood bank.

Larissa gave you a gentle smile, seeming like she completely understood what you were going through, “My parents wanted me to go into the family business too. ‘Shapeshifters work in law enforcement,’ she used to tell me. But I loved schools and teaching. Plus, it’s like being a police officer around here, you kids can be so crazy.”

You give a breathy snort as a way of laughing at her joke. Principal Weems seeming to understand the pain you were in. She continued on, “Regardless, parents sometimes place a burden on their children. Sometimes it’s because they didn’t accomplish something  or sometimes their scared of you doing something new.”

“But why should she be so scared of what I’m doing?” You retort, getting a tad angry thinking about the multiple discussions you have had with your mother over the past weekend.

“Probably because she loves you. Humans are weird.” Larissa tucked a lock of hair behind your ear and looked down at you intently. Both of her hands moved to your cheeks, her intensity made a couple more tears fall, “Everything is going to be okay.”

The way she said it made you believe it. With that, Principal Weems helped you to your feet, placing both hands on your shoulders when you were standing. She leaned down and pressed a kiss to the top of your head when she enveloped you into a final hug. 

“Better?” She asked, pulling away from the hug.

You took a deep breath and released it slowly, nodding at Principal Weems, “Better.”

“Okay, now run along. I don’t want you missing dinner.” Her hand was on your shoulder as she gently pressed you to head towards the cafeteria.

You nod, hopping down the steps, now in a far better mood.

“Oh, and Mx. L/n, I know someone who works in that career field. Perhaps I can put you in touch?” Weems called after you.

You stopped and spun around, a large smile on your face, “That would be great! Thanks, mom- I mean, Principal Weems.”

“Anytime, dear.”

#wednesday netflix #larissa weems x reader #larissa weems #fanfic #oneshot

[plisuu]

Happy Friday and welcome back! How about for Connor x Bull and "I'd rather deny my feelings than have to explain them" 👀

I've been sitting on this prompt for a while and finally have words for my thoughts! I didn't think anyone could be dumber than Connor and Cullen but I think these two really take the cake. wc: 950 @dadrunkwriting “So. You and Cullen huh?”

Connor looked up with a start from the laces of his boots as he tucked the tail ends of them into worn leather.

“Do we have to talk about this now?” he asked, trying and failing to appear as nonchalant as Bull did, who still laid lounged out across his bed, fully nude and head propped up on one elbow.

“No time like the present, boss. And if we’re gonna keep doing this, we’re gonna have to talk about it.”

Connor sighed in quiet resignation. He and Bull had been casual—as casual as Connor was capable of, at least, with his desperate and constant need for reassurance, trust, and consistency. Bull was accommodating, but Connor was acutely aware that this was an arrangement, something that they both pretended didn’t exist beyond the bedroom, with set boundaries and rules.

“Fine. What about me and Cullen?”

“Are you guys a thing?”

The question gave him pause. Were they? Nothing official, certainly. It was just a flicker of feelings, a connection through the things they had suffered, stupid stories shared over ale and deeply competitive chess games when they weren’t busy yelling at each other over the war table. They were no more of a ‘thing’ than this was, so he shrugged.

“No, not really."

Bull eyed him carefully, watching him shuffle around the room, gathering pieces of clothing that had been haphazardly discarded earlier that evening.

“That’s not what it looks like.”

“Oh? What does it look like, then?” Connor tried not to sound defensive, but the words came out harsher than he intended. He was always a little more on edge when it was time to leave, when he had to walk out of Bull’s room and pretend like nothing happened, that he was okay with it, that he didn’t want to simply curl up and sleep tucked into Bull’s side. That wasn’t the agreement they had though, so he tried to shove the feelings away, where he wouldn’t have to face them.

“I dunno. You seem close. Just wanted to know if you were serious about him,” Bull replied, pushing himself upright.

Another pause. Why did it matter? Connor shrugged on his coat halfheartedly, trying to smooth out some of the wrinkles from being left in a crumpled heap on the floor. He was almost certain Bull was seeing other people, so why couldn’t he? So what if it was serious? And even if it was, he was in no position to ask Cullen for the kind of release he found beneath Bull’s hands.

“Would it be a problem if I was?”

“Depends.”

“On?”

“If you think we should keep doing this. If it’s still working for you.”

Connor felt his anxiety rising, panic creeping its way into his chest and making it difficult to breathe. He tried to swallow it down. What did he expect? Of course he was going to have to face this at some point—to ignore it would be selfish, cruel, keeping Bull trapped in their arrangement. He knew that Dorian was becoming more and more of a prominent part of Bull’s life, someone he could be with in public, someone that could offer a real relationship, something more than secrets behind closed doors. It only made sense that Bull was looking for a way out, a way to end things gently, so he could move on.

“If you don’t want to do this anymore, just say so.”

He couldn’t parse apart the look Bull gave him, and he felt his frustration begin to bubble over into tears that he tried to hide as he turned to the washbasin, splashing his face with the cold water. He shouldn’t be crying. This was supposed to be casual, for fun, for stress relief, there wasn’t supposed to be emotional entanglement. It wasn’t supposed to feel like drowning. It wasn’t suppose to feel like he was grasping for something to hang onto and gasping for air he couldn’t reach, like the falling feeling in the pit of your stomach when you expect the next step and it isn’t there.

“That’s not what I’m saying,” Bull grunted. The bedframe creaked under his shifting weight as he stood. “I just figured you’d want something more stable, and if Cullen is gonna be that person for you I don’t want to get in the way of that.”

“I don’t…” He didn’t want to break this off. It felt like the only thing keeping him anchored, the only thing that kept him sane through the torrent of emotions and sudden onslaught of responsibility and expectations, freeing him from the immense weight of it all, if only for a moment. It was selfish, he knew that, but he wanted to be selfish, just a little longer.

“I don’t want to stop,” he finally whispered.

“Then we won’t.”

The heat of Bull's chest pressed against Connor's back, and a gentle yet heavy hand rested on his shoulder, as if anything more might break him. He wished Bull would do more, wished he could do more, but knew he shouldn’t ask—he was already asking so much. He set his hand over Bull’s, resisting the urge to lace their fingers together, to press the warmth of it against his cheek, and nodded.

Bull only sighed in response. Connor wanted to imagine it was relief, that Bull wanted this as much as he did, and he closed his eyes against the guilt that was reflected back up at him in the basin—of himself, disheveled and half-dressed, and of Bull hovering over him quietly, patient in even this.

#dragon age #the iron bull #iron bull x trevelyan #iron bull x inquisitor #connor trevelyan #my writing #dadwc #why is connor so messy #and sad #quick someone teach him how to communicate before he explodes

[mirisss]

Utterly in Love with you

Yoon Jongwoo x afab! reader

Warnings: petnames (baby, my love), kisses, neck kisses, Jongwoo being a little jealous, I think that’s it. 

Wordcount ≈ 935

Please reblog!

This was inspired by a few minutes of a live of theirs I saw. Specifically, Jongwoo being cuddly with Yedam.

Like imagine being Yedam 😩🥹

(Y/n)’s POV

Jongwoo has always been very open with skinship, whether holding hands, hugging, having his arm around my waist, or kissing. He doesn’t care if we’re out in public, hanging out with friends, or home alone. Jongwoo always tells me whenever I point it out to him that he just wants to show his love for me. I love how confident he is and I love how he wraps his arms around me, it brings me comfort and makes me happy. But it also makes me a bit shy when he does it in front of others. 

“(Y/n)-ah,” I was sitting on the couch talking with Jay, one of Jongwoo’s closest friends, who has also become one of my closest friends. Jay and I had been talking for about 15 minutes or so, caught in a discussion over which Harry Potter book was the best. And I guess Jongwoo had taken notice of the lack of attention on him from my side. He sat down beside me, saying my name, but he received no answer as I was busy arguing with Jay on whether or not The Order of the Phoenix was or was not the best book. 

“Baby?,” Jongwoo whined as he poked my cheek. “Not now Woo,” I said before I returned my focus to Jay. “Mmm, (Y/n), my love?” Jongwoo draped his arms around me, now embracing me in a back hug. He rested his head on my shoulder as he continued whining. 

“I guess we’ll have to continue this discussion some other time,” Jay said as he chuckled. “No, come on, you scared of realizing I’m right?” I teased back. “Nah, I’m definitely right, but I’m actually scared Jongwoo’s going to tackle me with the way he’s glaring at me,” Jay continued laughing as he moved his gaze from me to my boyfriend before he got off the couch going to talk with some of our other friends. 

“Jongwoo, Jay is your best friend, you shouldn’t glare at him, or anyone else for that matter,” He was still hugging me from behind as I lectured him. “Mm, but he shouldn’t steal all your attention,” “Yoon Jongwoo, you have my attention 24/7,” “I didn’t just now, Jay had it,” “Idiot, yeah I was talking to Jay for 15 minutes,” “Mm, but I’m your idiot,” 

Jongwoo eased his grip on me, allowing me to turn around so that we were facing one another. He was smiling even though he tried to pretend to pout. “Yes, you are my idiot. My clingy, handsome, talented, idiot,” I leaned in and gave him a quick peck on the lips. “Hey, I want a real kiss,” “Mm, you’ll have to catch me then,” I said as I quickly stood up from the couch and began running away with Jongwoo hot on my heels. 

“Seongmin, help me,” I ran over to Seongmin and Yedam, hiding behind the taller of the two as I laughed, the two boys laughing just as much as they saw Jongwoo running over. “We’ll hold him back, run for your life (Y/n),” Yedam said as he and Seongmin tried to hold Jongwoo back. I continued running, trying to find a good place to hide, I ran into the kitchen and found Tag sitting on the counter eating some pineapples. “Hey Tag, do you know of a good place to hide?” “Running from the teddy bear or what?” “Correct!” “You should hide in Jongwoo’s room, he wouldn’t think of looking there,” He helped me sneak out of the kitchen and into Jongwoo’s room. “Thanks, Tag,” “No problem, I’ll do anything to mess with him,” 

It took about 5 minutes until Jongwoo opened the door to his room, panting from running around. I wasn’t hiding as I sat on his bed, he smiled widely when he saw me. Jongwoo literally pounced at me, jumping into bed, and tackling me in a tight hug. “You owe me a kiss,” “Kiss me then,” He leaned in and gave me a long passionate kiss. Ending it by kissing me on the nose. 

“I’m sorry, I know I’m clingy and annoying,” “I love your clinginess, Jongwoo. I also like messing with you, like running around like this. And you’re not annoying, you’re cute,” “How about we stay in here and watch a movie? leaving the others to continue the party,” “That sounds perfect, but only if you promise to cuddle with me,” I said in a teasing tone. “Wouldn’t have it any other way,” Jongwoo leaned down once more, giving me another kiss. He then got up to start the TV and put on a movie. Hurrying back to continue cuddling with me. 

Jongwoo sat down with his back against the headboard, pulling me closer so that I sat between his legs with my back rested against his chest. Jongwoo instantly put his arms around me once I had sat down in a comfortable position. We sat like that for a good 20-30 minutes, before Jongwoo began kissing my neck and blowing on my ears. “Jongwoo!” I exclaimed as he tickled me with his breath. “I love you,” He said as he proceeded to plant more kisses on my neck and intertwine our hands together. I turned my head to look up at him, his signature lovesick smile on his lips as he looked down at me. “I love you too,” I smiled back at him as he leaned down, planting yet another kiss on my lips. 

#yoon jongwoo #yoon jongwoo x reader #yoon jongwoo fluff #yoon jongwoo x afab! reader #one pact imagines #one pact #one pact oneshot #one pact x reader #one pact fanfics #one pact fluff #jongwoo #jongwoo x reader #jongwoo x (Y/n) #jongwoo x Y/N #yoon jongwoo x (Y/n) #Yoon Jongwoo x Y/n #one pact x (Y/n) #one pact x Y/n #fluff #mirisss #mirisss.favorites

[gnrbitch]

Grunge Days pt.24- About a Girl

Warnings:

————

1992, Day after

“Hellooooo” Duffs voice rang through Y/ns place.

Y/n furrowed her eyebrows as she exited her room, looking down the staircase to see Duff.

“Duff?” Y/n asked “What are you doing here?”

“Tour got pushed back till next week” Duff said

Walking down the stairs, Y/n gave him a quick side hug, “Oh”.

“Aren’t you gonna ask why? It’s a real good reason” Duff spoke, walking over to her couch and sitting down.

Y/n rolled her eyes “Why is your precious tour being pushed back?”

“Well since you asked” Duff smiled, looking at her as she sat down at the other end of her couch. “Slash pressed Kirk”

“What do you mean Slash pressed Kirk?” Y/n furrowed her eyebrows

“He wouldn’t say, he just wanted to fight i guess” Duff shrugged “Suddenly he doesn’t like him”

Shifting uncomfortably in her seat, “Right” “So what happened?”

“Okay so...”

“Plans all seem to be going the way they should” Guns tour manager said “Anything you wanna add?” He said, looking over the Metallicas manager.

“Nope. You guys are ready to start the tour” He said

“Alright nice!” Lars said, putting his palms on the table “Dont you guys think this calls for some drinks”

While everyone was agreeing and overall showing their excitement for the tour, Slash couldn’t help himself but angrily stare at Kirk.

And considering the fact he already had some alcohol in his system, he was making it very obvious he had some issue with Metallica’s guitarist.

“Slash man we’re leaving” Matt said, tapping Slash’s shoulder.

“He’s too busy trying to kill Kirk with his eyes” Lars laughed

“Shut up Lars” Kirk rolled his eyes “Me and Slash are cool”

Slash scoffed, getting up from where he was sitting “Are we?” He sarcastically asked.

Everyone (Duff, James, Lars, Kirk, and their managers) in the room were confused, Slash had always gotten along with Kirk, and he even considered himself a fan of Metallica. So what was his issue?

Kirk furrowed his eyebrows as he looked at Slash, who was slowly walking towards him “Are you saying we have a problem?”

“We could have one” Slash said, shoving Kirk

Kirk, bounced back a bit, then he shoved Slash back “The fuck is your issue?”

Without even thinking, Slash punched Kirk in the face.

By the time Kirk tried hitting Slash back, they were both being pulled away by everyone in the room.

“Control your fucken guitarist man!” Lars yelled as him and James pulled Kirk out of the room.

“What the fuck was that!” Guns tour manager angrily said, looking over at Slash.

“Fuck off” Slash spat, walking out of the room, and out of the building.

“So then they talked with Metallicas manager and he said that theyyy said that they were still willing to do the tour” Duff ranted “Only if Slash chills out though”

“Fuck” Y/n grumbled to herself “Have you talked to him?” She asked

“Who? Slash?” Duff said, Y/n nodded her head at him “Yea i have, he’s been in a shit mood though” Duff rolled his eyes.

“Okay” Y/n said, not really knowing what else to say.

“I know it’s cause you messed with Kirk” Duff said “I may be drunk- But i’m not an idiot” He hiccuped.

“We really shouldn’t be talking about my sex life” Y/n cringed

“Yea well- I’m just letting you know” He said “I’ve learned to mind my own business”

“Lucky” Y/n said, wondering if she should start doing the same… or if she should go find out herself.

————

Tagged: @hoodiesandicedcoffee @kirksfunkopop @eddiiiieeee @killazilla777

#slash #axl rose #guns n' roses #duff mckagan #guns n roses fanfic #izzy stradlin #slash gnr #slashfanfic #guns n roses imagine #slash fanfiction #gnr fanfiction #gnr fic #guns n roses fic #guns n’ roses fic

[specialagentlokitty]

Giles x reader - don’t go

Part three:

Giles was marking off the days you had been gone, keeping track of them.

He had tried reaching out to your through spell Willow had used to contact you the last time, but you weren’t in one spot.

He would appear just in time to see your wolf form running through the trees.

Weeks were turning into months, and there was no word from you.

“I’m sure she’s okay Giles.” Tara smiled.

“Yes, I’m sure she hasn’t been hunted and killed yet.”

Everybody glared at Anya before turning back to Giles who was stood behind the counter of his shop reading your letter again.

“I feel she should have been back by now.” He said.

“I mean she said she needed time to think… maybe she’s just somewhere.. you know.. thinking..” willow smiled.

Giles smiled a little back, and folded the letter up, putting it back in his pocket and walked over to help them with their new demon problem.

Your paws slammed though the water, and you slid to a halt as you looked around the forest.

You had dealt with the e rouges over a month ago, now you were wondering, trying to figure out what you were doing.

You were near the town you had left, when you dealt with the wolves you had found your way back there just wondering the edges.

You carried on wondering again, making your way to a deeper part of the stream and you crouched down to look at the reflection of yourself.

Your amber eyes beamed back and you huffed a little as you stretched.

You wanted a peaceful life, one where you didn’t have to keep running from everything, where you weren’t scared.

You wanted to be human, things were easier for them, less worry about hunters and werewolves and all that sort of stuff.

But at the same time, you loved this. The wolf, the wild, the power you had and everything that made your stand out.

Maybe that’s why you were running.

You began your wondering once more, you made your way towards the town, turning back to your human form.

You wondered through the streets, hands in your pockets and you paused, not really sure where to go.

Your feet seemed to lead the way, and you to where they wanted to go, and you stood outside of the magic box looking in.

They all seemed to be having fun, and you smiled a little bit.

You turned around and began to wonder once more, going to find somewhere to get some actual good food and a hot drink, something you had missed.

Sitting down, you nibbles on your fries as you stared at the table deep in thought.

You felt somebody tackle you and you yelled in surprise, punching them in the face.

“Ow! (Y/N)!”

“Oh shit, sorry Xander!”

He laughed a little, sitting opposite you, Anya, Tara, Willow and Buffy all crowded you with their own food.

“How long have you been back? Where did you go?” Anya asked.

“Yeah why did you come see us?!” Willow pouted.

You laughed, shaking your head at them and picked up another couple of fries to eat.

“I just got back today, I was just wondering I suppose.”

They carried on barraging you with questions, and you answered them, sometimes avoiding telling them the real answer.

After a few hours they all left aside from Buffy, she wondered the streets with you.

“Shouldn’t you be heading home?” You asked.

“I’ve got to patrol soon, but can I uh.. can I ask you something? And get like a real answer?”

You glanced at her.

“Of course.”

Buffy stopped walking, sitting down on a bench so you did the same thing.

“How long have you really been back?”

You sighed, looking down at your hands.

“About a month if I had to guess, I’m not too sure. I’ve been at the edge of town.”

She nodded her head.

“Why didn’t you come back?”

You leant back, tilting your head back to look at the stars that were barely visible.

“I.. I’m not sure really… I just..”

Sitting yourself up you turned your head to her.

“This may seem weird, coming from well, someone who’s in their 30s, but have you ever felt so conflicted about something all you want to do is runway?”

“Well, I actually did runaway once, so yeah. I do.”

You went quiet.

“You know he waits for you, right?”

You looked down at your hands again.

“Buffy.. what if I.. what if I’m not the right person for Rupert. I mean he’s a human, I’m a werewolf, what if he gets hurt or realises that I’m a threat or something?”

“Are you like having a midlife crisis? Because vampires and demons I can deal with but not this.”

You laughed, grinning a little at her.

“No! I’m not having a midlife crisis! I just.. I don’t know. I don’t know what to do.”

She jumped up and pointed at you.

“Oh my god you’re having a midlife crisis!”

You swatted her hand away, and stood up.

“No I’m not!”

“You totally are! Oh my god! And Giles is the reason!”

She seemed to think about what she had said and gave you a disgusted look.

“Ew that’s gross, he’s old.”

“What the hell does that make me?”

“Not as old?” She grinned sheepishly.

You laughed softly, shaking your head at her and you smiled, putting your hands into your pockets.

Buffy smiled back, and she crossed her arms.

“Just go and see him. Talk to him.”

“I don’t think I can that’s the point, I get all nervous and scared and I’ve never really thought about anything other than you know? Werewolf stuff.”

“(Y/N), he keeps a stupid little calendar book and he marks off the days you’ve been gone, he carries that latter you gave him everywhere and when he hears a dog howl he gets all excited hoping it’s you.”

You furrowed your brows a little.

“He is madly in love with you, just go see him. Go talk to him, I mean he’s Giles, he’s nothing but understanding.”

“He has to be since he’s the watcher of a heathen like you.”

“Hey! I’m trying to be helpful here!”

You grinned a little.

“Get your werewolf ass out of here and find him.”

You raised your hands.

“Alright, okay I’m going. I’m going. Safe hunting.”

“Good luck!”

You left, and wondered the streets again, thinking about the conversation you had just had.

It had given you some perspective at least, but you were still slightly conflicted.

Then you stopped, looking at the sweater you wearing and smiled a little to yourself.

The little reminder of Giles you had stolen when you had run off.

You made your way back to the shop to see it was closed, and you knocked on the door, waiting for a response.

When one didn’t come, you began to wonder away, and you made your way towards his house.

You had missed this, the weird town teeming with supernatural. The people. Your weird band of misfits that you seemed to have adopted as your own family.

But most importantly you missed Giles.

While you were running around in the wild hunting down the people who had hurt him.

It made you realise you couldn’t picture a future without the man in it, he had just stumbled unto your life literally with him walking into you while he was reading.

Since then he was stuck on your mind, and your fates intertwined together, getting all tangled and twisted.

You didn’t want a life without him, no amount of running around freely, no amount of werewolf perks or anything would change that.

Everything was clear now.

Your walk started slow, then turned into a jog which turned into an all out sprint.

You jumped on to cars to cross the street, jumping on to someone’s roof, you began using that as a way to get there faster.

And it was.

You jumped down at his door and you knocked a few times, bouncing on the balls of your feet.

He didn’t answer fast enough so you tried the handle, finding it unlocked you walked in and he poked his was walking down the stairs.

“You know leaving your door unlocked isn’t safe, any werewolf could just walk in.”

Giles stopped at the bottom of the stairs and stared at you, and you smiled sheepishly.

“(Y/N)… you.. when..?”

Giles walked over, taking your face between his hands and he crashed his lips on to yours,

You grabbed his shirt, leaning up into the kiss, pulling him closer.

Pulled yourself away and he smiled softly as you.

“You came back…”

“I said I would, right?” You asked softly.

Laughing slightly, Giles nodded his head, pressing a quick kiss to your lips before he moved away.

“Though word of advise, you do have a smell.”

You slapped his arm and moved away.

“Sorry Rupert showers aren’t actually common in the forests. Though I really want a shower so I’m taking yours then we can talk.”

“I’ll get you some clothes.”

You followed Giles upstairs and he got your sweater for you and some sweatpants, handing them over and you wondered to the shower.

You got out and made your way back down the stairs, dropping yourself on to the couch.

“I’ve missed couches and showers.”

Giles chuckled, and you turned around to look at him in the kitchen.

“Well, it’s good to see you’ve missed the important things.”

You grinned at him.

Giles looked at you, offering you a small smile before he looked away and his smile fell.

You jumped over the couch, walking into the kitchen, leaning against the doorway.

“Rupert?”

“Why did you run away…?”

You sighed, turning your gaze away to the floor instead.

“To be completely honest, I was scared, I was confused.”

Giles turned to look at you.

“About what?”

“About everything.. a.. about us..”

You walked over to the counter and jumped on it, swinging looking at your hands.

“My whole life I’ve always been taught that my whole life was to run a pack, rule over them, and I didn’t want that, so I passed the role on. Because I did that people got hurt, then hunters came here and they hurt you all, then there’s.. there’s you..”

“Me?”

“You make me feel normal, cared for. I’ve never had something… someone like you I guess.”

Giles turned fully around to look at you, crossing his arms over his chest.

“You are my everything, you’re my light in the dark, you’re the hand that guides me. I left and all I could think about was running back here, running back to you. I was scared about the future, my future, but I realised I can’t tell what it’ll hold, but I know I want you in it.”

You sighed again.

“It’s clear, I am meant to be wherever you are, I want to be wherever you are Rupert. And I promise I’ll always come running back to you. I want a future with you… if you want that…”

Giles took your hands in his and you looked up at him.

He wore a gentle smile, and he gave your hands a gentle squeeze.

“I want you in it, every hour and every minute.” He whispered.

“Really?”

“You gave me no choice but to love you my dear…”

He leant down, pressing his forehead against yours, you could feel his breath on your lips.

You leant up, connecting them and he smiled into it.

It was a gentle kiss, soft, and warm, pouring everything from the months you were gone into it.

When he pulled away you frowned, resting your head in his chest instead making him chuckle.

He placed his hand on the back of your head, gently messaging your scalp, and you wrapped your arms around his torso.

“So, is there anything werewolf wise I should know?”

You looked up at him a little confused.

“Like what?”

“Well, how tall are you like that? Triggers? Do you control it? That sort of stuff.”

You hummed a little, patting his chest to him him move back and you jumped down, walking into the living room.

“This might be easier outside.”

So you took him out there and you stood on the steps, with a leap you jumped and changed, paws hitting the ground and Giles took a step back.

You stretched, and stood up, wondering over to him, eyes connecting with his.

“Well.. I uh.. I would safely say large..”

He reached out and hesitated.

“May I?”

You sat down, letting him place his hand on your head, smoothing his hand over your hair and you locked eyes with him.

He saw your tail swish a little bit which made him chuckle.

“May you turn back?”

You moved away, changing back and you walked over to him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders.

“Well I can’t say I have ever uh.. ever had a relationship with a werewolf before.”

“There’s always a first try?” You grinned.

“Well I’m glad, now come inside it’s cold and I.. I understand you may not get cold but well.. it’s cold.”

Giles lead you back inside and you sat down on the couch with him next to you, turning on the tv and he picked up a book while you flicked through the channels.

You noticed him shiver and you shuffled over, moving his arm so you could tuck yourself into his side and he wrapped his arm around your waist.

He looked away from his book at you.

“Are you cold?” He asked.

You looked up.

“No, but you are.”

“What..? How did you know?”

“I just know these things.”

You yawned, and stretched yourself out, and he adjusted himself so you could lay on his chest, and he covered the pair of you with a blanket.

Giles set his book aside, placing a hand on your back.

“(Y/N)?”

You hummed a little.

“You.. you won’t just runaway again will you?”

“No, unfortunately for you.”

He chuckled, running a hand up and down your back.

“Well, I suppose I consider myself rather fortunate then.”

He tightened his hold on you and you smiled, closing your eyes as you listened to the sound of his heartbeat.

This was all you had ever wanted, something exactly like this and you didn’t want to run away from it again.

You felt safe, and loved, and for once you had somebody to call your own, somebody who really loved you for you.

And when he planted a gentle kiss to your head all you could do was beam a little bit more.

You tucked your head under his chin, and you closed your eyes while he kicked his legs on to the couch, resting his chin on your head as he did the same thing.

Right now was all that mattered, you in his arms, not going anywhere anytime soon

#buffy the vampire slayer x reader #buffy the vampire slayer x you #buffy the vampire slayer imagine #buffy the vampire slayer #Rupert Giles #Rupert Giles x reader #Rupert Giles x you #Rupert Giles imagine

[rainbow-beanie]

I don’t think people talk enough about the aftermath of Danny’s fight against evil!Danny (aka Dan) in ultimate enemy. like dude had just learned that he has an evil double from a future in which he became the most powerful ghost around, who had rid himself of his humanity in order to not feel the immense heartache he felt after his entire family and friends died in an explosion, with which his teacher was talking to his parents about the fact he had copied a very important test. Which had greatly stressed him out, cause it was about what you would want to do when you grow up, and what job and career he would want to pursue in life (this test subject did NOT age well at all)

Now here’s some problems with this, 1: Danny is FOURTEEN YEARS OLD and shouldn’t be worrying about what kinda career he would want as a living when he’s not even old enough to drive a car. This test would have at least been appropriate if he was, say seventeen or eighteen, like around the age he where he would possibly be looking for a job. I understand that times were different when this episode was made, but rationally speaking this test was for sure made for older students, and I don’t think Danny should have been given this test.

2: HE’S HALF GHOST! Like yeah if you could brush off what I had said above and be like “beanie, that’s probably what the school worked back then, no need to get so uptight about an early 2000’s cartoon.” In which I’d say, yeah, I probably am taking this a little seriously, but try telling everyone else in this phantom that who have made wonderfull art and au’s and fics centered around some small crumbs of info from the show and say “you’re taking this too seriously.” And you’d probably get the internet equivalent to a pie yo the face.

Anyways back to what I was saying, sure the school doesn’t know about Danny being a halfa (and neither does every other character besides Danny’s friends and his sister) but my point is that the test asking “what job/career do you want to pursue in the future?” Wouldn’t have possibly made Danny think about the fact that Danny’s basically half dead, and any job or career he would have would be pretty difficult when he constantly has to keep his ghost half a secret for the rest of his life, and that’s even implying he can even age after the incident with the ghost portal (which as we know with Dan, he in fact can keep aging, but even then I think he can only age to a certain point until his ghost genes tell him to stop, like around his late or early twenty’s)

So that’s A LOT of existentialism to give to a child from one simple test, and to further put salt into an already open wound, one of the characters even said that if “you fail the test then you’d have to work at nasty Burger” like what the actual fuck?? Like I know these teachers want their students to succeed in life, but realistically speaking if this type of situation happened in real life (and it most likely did, bless the poor souls that had to endure that.) that’s how you get people taking their own life. Which I know is pretty dark, but you try being happy and chipper after hearing about the possibility that if you failed this ONE test you would be nothing but an ugly stain in the job industry, I would actually cry if I was in that situation.

In short, the test Danny was given was a big part as to why evil Dan was brought into existence in the first place, and the events that happened to have Dan to become who he is is both funny and extremely depressing.

#Danny phantom #Danny fenton #Dan fanton #in other news I have also had Danny running around my head like a chicken with its head chopped off #same with wukong. but without the chopped off chicken head part #he would be completely fine. while juggling around his Decapitated head #as one does

[m1ckeyb3rry]

Endure IV: Fall

Series Synopsis: You and Eren Jaeger have been best friends since the age of two, but the two of you are destined for an inevitable tragedy. The world you have been born into is cruel; it is one where friends are traitors and enemies are allies, one where you find yourself doubting everything you've ever known. In this life, mistakes are fatal, and you must be careful, lest you make one too many.

Chapter Synopsis: You and Eren get into a fight, but you soon come to regret it when everything goes wrong.

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Eren Jaeger x Female Reader, Armin Arlert x Female Reader

Chapter Word Count: 4.9k

Content Warnings: swearing, canon-typical violence, sexual abuse (non-explicit), major character death, angst, original characters included

“Eren, wake up,” you said, shaking the boy, who had been napping underneath his favorite tree for the past few hours. He blinked sleepily, furrowing his brow at you and reaching out to take a piece of hair in between his fingers.

“Y/N, did you cut your hair again?” he murmured, tugging on the curl and watching it spring up. You gave him a confused look, helping him stand.

“No, I haven’t cut it in a few weeks. Were you asleep for so long that your brain turned to mush?” you said, beginning to walk back towards the town of Shiganshina itself.

“Well, I just had a really long dream...but I can’t seem to remember what it was about,” he said. You turned back and looked at him before cocking your head.

“Why were you crying?” you said, reaching out to wipe the traces of his tears from his cheeks. He seemed as surprised as you were at the fact.

“I...don’t know. I didn’t even realize I was crying,” he said.

“You should ask your dad to look at that. What if you have a problem?” you said in worry as he collected his meager stack of firewood. He snorted in amusement at that.

“I don’t have a problem. It was probably just a sad dream or something,” he said.

“Oh, that’s true, it could be. But there’s nothing to be sad about in real life, so cheer up!” you said.

“Nothing to be sad about? We’re trapped in these walls like cattle in a pen! I’d say that’s something to be sad about!” he said.

“If you choose to look at it that way, sure, but what can you do? We can’t enlist in the military until we’re twelve, and besides, you know Mikasa and our parents will never let us,” you said. The Ackerman girl had latched on quite fiercely to both you and Eren in the year after her rescue, and wherever you went, it was almost certain that either she or Eren himself would be watching over you, like some sort of guardian angels.

“Whatever. And Mikasa can’t tell me what to do! She’s not the boss of me,” he said, “As for you, maybe you shouldn’t become a Scout. It’s dangerous.”

“Eren, wherever you go, I will follow, because we’re friends, and that’s what friends do,” you said, “You can’t convince me otherwise if you try, so don’t even think about it. I’m going to see that damn sea with you, and that’s final.”

“We’ll see. Mr. Hannes, are you drunk again?” Eren shouted as you passed the gates to see the members of the Garrison partying as usual. Mr. Orion was noticeably absent; he had mentioned that his cousin, who was in the Cadet Corps, was visiting him for the week, so he had taken off to spend time with her.

“EREN!” Mr. Hannes said in glee, ruffling the boy’s hair before frowning when he noticed the dried tear tracks still present on his face. The blond man glanced between the two of you rapidly, drawing some conclusion as you stared at him patiently.

“What?” Eren said.

“You were crying? Did Y/N reject you or something?” he said. Eren turned bright red and shook his head vehemently.

“No! I wasn’t crying! It was just raining earlier!” he said.

“I didn’t feel any rain,” Mr. Max, another Garrison captain and a friend of Mr. Orion’s, said.

“I don’t think it rained earlier,” Mr. Hannes agreed.

“It was where we were gathering firewood,” you said smoothly, to save Eren from further embarrassment, “Now come on, Eren. You have to get the wood to your parents, and I need to go babysit my brother.”

“Hold on a second! Why the hell are you guys drunk? You need to be prepared in case of a titan attack!” Eren said, his hands on his hips. You gave Mr. Hannes an apologetic look.

‘Sorry,’ you mouthed, grabbing Eren by the arm and dragging him away. He sputtered in protest, but you ignored him, continuing to gently lead him towards your house.

“What was that for? They deserve to be called out for what they’re doing!” he said, stopping abruptly. You looked up at Eren sadly, and the fire in his eyes dimmed.

“Do you think it does any good to yell at them? It’s probably a good thing they can sit around and be lazy, anyways. That means the world is safe and things are fine,” you said.

“It’s stupid! They’re soldiers, they should be vigilant and ready to fight at all times! I don’t care if the titans haven’t broken through yet, they have to be sober, at least while they’re on duty!” he said.

“Not everyone thinks like you and I, unfortunately. That’s just how the world works, and we have to deal with it. Do you think it’ll be any better when we’re Scouts?” you said.

“Huh? What do you mean?” he said. You were interrupted by the tolling of the bell that signified the Scouts’ return. Eren lit up and raced off to see the returning heroes. You ran after him, doing your best not to lose him in the crowd.

Reaching a stack of crates, Eren clambered up before helping you to stand beside him so that you could see over the crowds of people.

“These are real soldiers,” he whispered as the gates opened and the Scouts began to file in.

If these were real soldiers, then you never wanted to join their ranks. They looked utterly broken and defeated, the weights of their fallen comrades sitting on their shoulders and chaining their feet. Their eyes were hollow with loss, their cheeks gaunt with grief. From beside you, Eren gave them a delighted smile. A man locked eyes with him before looking away, and Eren looked put out at this.

“Can we go, please? I don’t like watching them,” you murmured, reaching for Eren’s hand. He swatted you away.

“Come on, Y/N, two more minutes, it’s almost over. Although, if you don’t like watching them, how will you feel when you have to join them?” he said, a knowing expression on his face. You gaped at him before pouting and shifting your gaze to your feet.

“Yeah, guess so. Okay, we can stay,” you said, though you made sure to keep your eyes firmly on your friend and not the excuses for humans that had returned from the other side of the walls. They were nothing more than shells, now, any semblance of spirit or soul long vanished. They may have survived the titans, but would they survive the guilt and grief that came with watching their friends die?

“Moses! Where is my Moses?” a lady shouted, breaking out of the crowd to kneel in front of the Commander, who seemed shocked at her boldness. You squeezed your eyes shut. You knew what had happened to her Moses. There was only one possibility.

“Open your eyes. This is what you want to follow me into,” Eren said, and you marvelled at his duality. Nothing could dissuade him from the dangers and perils of Scout life, yet he was perfectly willing to try and convince you to stay a civilian. You obeyed his command, though, cracking your eyes open and watching the grieving woman as she begged for her son.

You could not bear it, and so you turned to Eren, admiring his side profile, his sharp nose and long lashes. This was how it was, wasn’t it? The death and destruction were an afterthought. You had no grand and heroic ideas of the outside world. You only saw that it made Eren happy, and didn’t you owe him as much? You watched Eren as he took in the Scouts’ return, watched as that strange light of wonder and borderline madness danced in his jade eyes, and you drank it in, allowing it to sustain you.

Because Eren had never been normal. He was born into this world as something other, something greater than all of you as a whole and yet no more than any of you individually. He was not strong like Mikasa or smart like Armin or kind like you. He was just Eren, and yet he was special in spite of that, or was it because of his averageness that he always pushed forward, determined to prove himself as someone worthy of the attention of the extraordinary people he was surrounded by?

It didn’t matter to you. He was who he was, and whether he was a god or a boy made no difference in the way you saw him. First and foremost, he was Eren Jaeger, the one who played with dolls and had tea parties and killed people for you.

“All that’s left of him was his hand?” Eren muttered, and you were broken out of your reverie to see the woman crumple to the ground, sobbing, as the remains of her son were procured. As Eren had said, the only part they had managed to salvage was his left hand. You winced at the gory sight.

“Eren, please. I don’t wanna stay,” you whispered, tugging at his hand. He scoffed at you, his eyes boring holes into your soul.

“This is why I told you you shouldn’t join the Scouts! Seriously, Y/N, you faint when you see a mouse or a particularly large spider. How do you think you can fight titans?” he said. Your eyes filled with tears as you stared up at him, but for once, he did not soften, continuing to glare at you.

“This is the reality of it all, okay? I’m ready to face it, but obviously you’re not. Just do us all a favor and stay in the walls where you belong,” he said, the words particularly venomous.

“Where I...belong?” you said. He despised the walls. He called the people that lived in and accepted them ‘cattle.’ He was calling you cattle.

“You heard me. Come on, let’s go. It’s too scary, right?” he said, hopping off of the crate and pulling you down with him, heading towards your homes.

“Why aren’t you scared?” you said, following after him like a kicked puppy, your proverbial tail between your legs.

“Because I’m brave, and I know that there needs to be sacrifices made for humanity to leave the walls. You can’t run from death. You have to accept it; only then will you be able to truly be a soldier. But the truth is...I don’t want you to have to do that. I want you to live in the walls with our parents and be at home, waiting for me when I come home from fighting,” he said.

“And what if I end up like poor Moses’s mother? What if all that is left of you one day is your left hand? How would I be able to live with myself, knowing that I might have been able to help you had I been there?” you shot back.

“You helping me? The idea is laughable! I’m always the one saving you, don’t forget!” he said.

“Because you said you would! But if you don’t want to, then fine! I don’t want your help anymore! I don’t want you to ever protect me ever again!” you said, immediately regretting the words, though your fury tided you over, pushing back the guilt you felt.

“Good, because I’m done trying to save you! You’re just stupid anyways, you keep getting in trouble and thinking I’ll always be there to fix things! Surprise, I won’t, alright?” he said.

“Fine!” you said.

“Fine! I’m going to go hang out with Mikasa and Armin!” he said.

“Whatever! I’m going to go hang out with Merry!” you said, storming off.

How could he have said such things to you? True, you were not completely innocent in this, but in the end, he had been the one to push you, the one to insult you, the one to crush every semblance of a dream you had ever had.

“Stupid Eren,” you muttered, slamming the door behind you and angrily wiping away the tears that had stubbornly fallen from your eyes. Merry did not even come to greet you, so you began to look for him, ignoring the way your vision still blurred.

“Y/N! You’re back!” your brother exclaimed in excitement. He was seven now; not nearly as clingy as he was when he was small, but still enough so that he got on your nerves quite severely. You were not at all in the mood to deal with him, and you told him as much.

“Leave me alone, I don’t feel like talking to you. Where’s Merry?” you said. Your brother, who was used to your frequent rejections of his offers to be friends, shrugged.

“Upstairs, probably. Sleeping in your room,” he said.

“Okay,” you said, shoving past him and heading up the stairs.

But Merry was not in his usual spot on the foot of your bed. Determining that he was probably outside, you sighed and left to go find him.

On the way, you ran into Oskar, who was running away from something, though what it was, you could not be sure. When he saw you, he skidded to a stop and ran his hand through his hair.

“Hey, Y/N,” he said, attempting to lean on the wall of his house, though he missed and nearly fell. Catching himself and scrambling to his feet, he winked at you.

“What do you want, Oskar?” you sighed. His crush from when you were seven had never really gone away, though he had matured in how he expressed it. Now, instead of teasing and torturing you, he tried to be suave and flirt with you. He was, for the most part, unsuccessful, a fact that Eren never hesitated to point out.

“I was just running from Mikasa...I mean, I was leaving from a fight with Mikasa, Armin, and Eren! Surprised you’re not with them, the four of you are usually inseparable,” he said.

“Eren and I got into an argument. Nothing major, but I don’t really feel like hanging out with him right now. I’m looking for Merry,” you informed him. Oskar grinned.

“Yeah, is that so? Let me help,” he said.

“If you want,” you said. You didn’t really like the blond boy, but a second pair of eyes would be helpful in trying to locate your dog.

To his credit, Oskar was quiet as you scoured all of Shiganshina for your black poodle. If you could look past his merciless bullying of Armin and the cruel way he had treated you when you were younger, he would almost be someone you could have a crush on, but unfortunately for him, those were two fairly major offenses.

“Is that him?” Oskar said, pointing at a black figure in excitement. You squinted at it before shaking your head, disappointed at the false alarm.

“No, that was a random cat. Let’s just go home, he’ll show up for dinner, probably,” you said. You were tired; fighting with Eren earlier had taken a lot out of you, and searching the entire district for your dog had not helped any.

“I had fun hanging out with you. You’re actually pretty cool when you’re not with Eren and the others,” Oskar said as you reached your front door. You gave him an impassive look.

“‘Eren and the others’ are my best friends. You really shouldn’t insult them if you want this to be a regular occurrence,” you said, motioning in between you. Oskar’s eyes widened in surprise before he beamed.

“This could be a regular occurrence?” he said.

“Goodbye, Oskar,” you said, slamming the door shut on his face. There was a warm sensation on your leg, and you looked down to see Merry licking your calf and wagging his tail.

“Merry? You were at home this whole time? Naughty boy, why didn’t you come when I called you?” you said, picking him and admonishing him. He tilted his head in confusion, and you shook your head before kissing him on the nose.

“I feel kind of bad about yelling at Eren, but I was justified...I think,” you confessed to your dog, who did not do anything beyond twist into a more comfortable position in your arms.

“Thanks, buddy, you're a great advice giver. Well, I guess I shouldn’t have expected much more from a dog. It’s like Eren said: I’m just stupid,” you said. Merry licked you on the face before his ears perked up and he let out a loud whine.

“What’s the matter?” you said. He wriggled out of your arms and raced outside, pausing at the front door. You followed after and scooped him up again before looking at what had caught his attention and freezing.

The biggest titan probably in existence, larger than even the walls themselves, peered over the gate to Shiganshina. Its enormous face was skinless, with red muscles and tendons fitting neatly together in an intricate puzzle that matched the drawings of the human muscular system that Dr. Jaeger had shown you when you were younger.

You heard more than saw when the wall was breached. The skinless Colossal Titan must have drawn its leg back before kicking through the stone in one swift blow. And in that moment, all of humanity was reminded of the horror of being at the titans’ mercy as the large, ghastly things began to stream into Shiganshina.

It has been said that there are only two base reactions that humans can have when faced with fear-inducing situations: fight or flight. Eren always chose fight. Armin always chose flight. But Dr. Jaeger had confessed to you that he believed there to be a third reaction: freezing. And freezing was what you did best. As Shiganshina fell around you, you stood, motionless, hugging Merry to your chest and watching as the beasts devoured and destroyed as they pleased.

Your parents came rushing out to meet you, your brother being carried by your father. When they saw you, your mother let out a sob of relief.

“Y/N! Oh, Y/N, you’re okay! We have to get out of here, you understand? Come on, let’s go!” she cried.

“Eren, Mikasa, Armin...will they be okay?” you said in a daze.

“Your friends are probably dead by now. They were out playing when the wall fell, which means they were closer to where the breach is. We can’t worry about them. I’m sorry, I know it feels cruel, but that’s how this world works,” your father said.

Dead. Mikasa would never sit and let you braid her hair for hours again. Armin would never tell you about the sea again. And Eren. Why, why had you let your last conversation ever be a fight? He had most likely died thinking you did not want him around anymore. It seemed that in some horrible way, you had gotten your wish indeed. He would never be able to protect you again. The universe had a sadistic sense of humor.

You did not cry. You stared at your parents, the grief more of an overwhelming fog that blanketed your mind in a comfortable haze than a sharp pain. That would come later.

They were urging you to run as far as you could. They were trying to get you to come, but when you tried to follow, they paused in horror before your mother shoved you aside, behind a building you recognized to have once been the Zimmermans’ house. The entire thing was crushed, and you noted that Oskar’s body was there, destroyed by a rock. It seemed he had not even made it to see the titans entering the district. How funny that only minutes ago, he had been flirting with you and helping you look for Merry.

Caught up in your thoughts about Oskar, you almost missed seeing your family get eaten by titans, but the piercing scream your brother let out was not the type to be missed by anyone. Your father had dropped him as he was raised to a ten meter titan’s mouth, and the small boy had most certainly broken a leg upon impact with the ground. Well, better off a broken leg than in a titan’s mouth, the way your father was now.

You buried your face in Merry’s fur to avoid screaming out loud and drawing the attention of any nearby titans as your father was devoured within seconds.

“Help! Please, anybody, help us!” your mother shrieked before a different titan leaned down and squeezed her in its large, pale fist. Tilting its head back, it tossed her into its mouth almost casually, graceful in a terrible way.

Your brother looked around desperately, searching for some measure of aid. He locked eyes with you, and an expression of shock passed over his face. He reached out in your general direction, but he was too far.

“Y/N —” he began before the titan that was now finished with your father swept him up and smashed his tiny form into a wall, silencing him forever before eating him. You squeaked in terror, knowing that you were next, knowing that there was no way you could hide forever, no way you could outrun the two titans.

“Hey! Uglies!” a girl shouted from the rooftop beside the two titans. She caught your gaze and nodded reassuringly at you, though you had no clue what she planned to do. She seemed to be about fifteen years old, with short, strawberry blonde hair and bright hazel eyes that glimmered with determination as she glared at the two titans, who had turned to regard her hungrily. She had no ODM gear or weapons, but she was fearless in her stance, staring down humanity’s biggest enemies without even flinching.

As they reached towards her, she jumped onto one’s hand and ran up its arm before using a piece of wood to strike it on the nape. It crashed to the ground, stunned by the hit to its sensitive spot, though you doubted it was down forever. The girl leapt in the air and performed the same move to the second titan, with similar results. Pleased with herself, she raced over to you.

“Oh, gosh, I can’t believe I just did that! Are you okay?” she said.

“My family,” you said in horror, “I think they’re dead.”

“You think? So there’s a chance they’re still alive?” she said.

“No,” you said, shaking your head to clear it, “I saw them get eaten. They are dead. Oh, oh, they’re dead, they’re dead.” You began to cry. Everyone you loved was dead. You were all alone now, and most of them had died thinking you didn’t even like them. Why hadn’t you been nicer to your brother? Why hadn’t you told your parents you loved them more? Why had you fought with Eren? Now, you would never even get the chance to make right the wrongs of your past.

“I’m really sorry, but those titans aren’t going to stay knocked out forever. We can deal with your grief later, but for now, we have to get out of here. I’m Petra Ral, by the way. Once I graduate, I’m going to be a Scout, but I’m still a cadet at the moment. I was visiting my cousin Orion, that’s why I’m in Shiganshina, but I’m not a fully trained soldier yet. I doubt I’ll be able to take on any more of those stupid things if they come near,” she said, helping you to your feet. You yelped as there was a sharp tug at your scalp.

“My hair is caught!” you said in alarm as the titans began to stir. Petra gave them a wary glance before scrutinizing your ponytail.

“Here, I got it,” she said, undoing the white ribbon that held your hair in its ponytail. With that, your hair was freed from the wreckage it had gotten tangled in, and as the ribbon fluttered to the ground, Petra picked you up in her arms and began to run towards the evacuation ships.

“You can stay with my family! I have a little sister your age!” she shouted as she sprinted, though her pace was slow, burdened as she was by your weight. Right. You didn’t have a family anymore. You were going to have to rely on the Rals’ hospitality. Tears welled in your eyes again, and you pressed your face against Petra’s shoulder. Everything about her was warm, from the shade of her hair to the temperature of her pale skin to the comforting scent of caramel apples that wafted off of her.

Petra hugged you tightly as you boarded the last ship leaving Shiganshina, Merry sitting on your lap solemnly, as if he recognized the gravity of the situation — and perhaps he did, for he had realized something was wrong when the walls were breached before even you had.

Being on the last boat to leave, you and Petra were given the privilege of seeing a large being that you could only describe as the Armored Titan running through the gate to Wall Maria, destroying it completely. He turned, and for a brief moment, you locked eyes with him. The glowing gold was piercing, and you felt trapped staring at it. Would he come destroy the ship now? You stared at him in fear, but he only turned and ran back the way he came.

He and the Colossal Titan were anomalies, never before seen in the history of humanity, but in one single day, they had completely and utterly changed the future. Wall Maria was gone, deemed uninhabitable as thousands upon thousands of titans streamed into the once-occupied territory. Most people managed to escape into Wall Rose. Other villages were not so lucky, for news did not always travel that fast, and that was where the devastation was the worst.

The Rals were decently wealthy; not enough that they could avoid sending their eldest daughter to war, but enough that they were not impacted by the Culling, as it was so affectionately known. It was during this Culling that 20% of humanity was wiped out; for the resources in Walls Rose and Sina alone were not enough to support the entire population. On King Fritz’s orders, all able-bodied adult refugees were sent out to reclaim Wall Maria’s territory, though from what Petra told you, it was more of a wholesale bloodbath. She had become a Scout, just as she had told you she would, and she was good at what she did, somehow managing to endure the worst of what humanity had had to face and always coming out the victor.

Living with the Rals was nice. Petra’s little sister Tullia was a lovely girl, with dark blonde hair that she kept in two braids and pear green eyes. She was sweet and supportive and she took care of Merry for you when you didn’t feel up to it. You wished you could be her friend the way she deserved, but for the first few months, all you could see when you looked at her was Armin and Eren and Mikasa and how they were dead.

Still, eventually you began to open up in small ways. You let Tullia braid your hair, even though you immediately undid it, preferring to keep it loose nowadays. You listened to Petra gossip about her crush on a man named Levi without complaint, even chiming in with soft-spoken questions about the color of his eyes (the most burningly brilliant shade of mercury) and the way his hair fell (in a neat, perfectly parted dark curtain).

One day, you worked up the courage to ask Petra if she could inquire about the fates of Eren, Mikasa, and Armin. She had frowned and said she would do her best.

That night, when she returned with a biscuit for you, a rare luxury now that Wall Maria had fallen, you knew that the news was nothing good. You had not told her or Tullia about your friends quite yet, for it felt like poking at the edges of a wound, but they could both sense that the trio had been important to you.

So when Petra sat you down and said that there was no sign of a girl named Mikasa or any boys named Eren or Armin, you had been expecting it. Why, then, did it feel like they had died all over again?

The Ral sisters did not push or inquire. They just sat with you, Merry faithfully in Petra’s lap, not moving a muscle. You fell asleep like that, all four of you curled up together on the couch until dawn, when Mr. Ral woke you all up gently for breakfast.

It was on that day that you finally began to heal. Eren, your best friend, was gone forever, but you knew he would not want you to wallow in your misery and sadness. You had to be happy. You had survived, but now you had to live.

As your friend’s beloved moon rose in the velvet night sky, you opened the window and whispered to it a promise.

“The outside world, right? You’ll never get to join the Scouts, so I’ll do it. I’ll find the sea for you...Eren.”

#eren x reader #armin x reader #eren x y/n #armin x y/n #eren x you #armin x you #canon au #reader insert #endure #m1ckeyb3rry writes