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fugitoidkry · 2 years

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*peers at tags on rush edited books post* publishing industry essay? im very interested in what you have to say esp. iron widow

Long rant below (there are spoilers as well)

I think the problem basically lies in an imbalance between aesthetics vs. understanding that is seen in the transition from 'I have an idea' to 'OK, now let's give that idea a body'.

This can be seen, for example, in the trite formula in which this type of books is recommended nowadays, but which is only a natural response to the fact that, if you stop to think about it for a sec, it is difficult for you to separate the aesthetic of the story (the labels with which the book has been sold to you; which is an easier and faster way to stand out in the market and sell too) from how this story has been constructed and what the story has been trying to tell you.

When I speak of 'understanding', what I mean is that, speaking of Iron Widow, if the publicity for your book sells me the expectation that I am facing a story that drinks a cocktail between The Handmaid's Tale and Pacific Rim, then I'm hoping to read and see how you innovate and develop it beyond the aesthetic, the appetizing. Because whether you like it or not, by describing your book and selling it in this way, you are creating in the reader ideas of what can be expected in this story if they know the sources from which you have been inspired.

The problem tho is that there is a significant lack of understanding in what made those books work in the first place (the books you are taking inspiration from). The problem is that you gotta do a work of critical analysis on what influenced you and in how you will translate and subvert those themes on your own story. Meaning: you take the basic concept of The Handmaid's Tale of having a world ruled by an oppressive patriarchy view in all its forms and you frame it in a sci-fi genre which by choosing this specific genre you are gonna find yourself, as the author, in a demand situation bc sci-fi by itself deals a lot with questioning the system, it demands to work on your worldbuilding and how it is gonna get affected by the ideas and morals you develop.

You need to get how the mechanics/the roots of the narrative elements (the plot, the narrative voice, the characters, the pacing, the idea) of The Handmaid's Tale were presented, how they were developed and how all those elements combine in a way that feels natural. But Iron Widow doesn't do that. If The Handmaid's Tale works well is because the protagonist comes from a world where she was free and her rights were respected vs to the completely opposite of that that is her current world, so of course there is gonna be a cognitive conflict and a moral one from the very beginning because the context of the book itself presents it in a way that makes sense for the protagonist to be against it. Another example of this would be The Hunger Games where the plot is the opposite from Atwood's: the protagonist already lives in an oppresive world and has known nothing else beyond this. So there is an evolution that is built slowly across three books on the perspective of the protagonist from a 'i only care about my family and surviving myself, and not so much if the world is shit' to the fighting and revolution.

Iron Widow from the very beginning has a protagonist that even tho has lived her whole life in an oppresive world, in a extremely poor village and has barely resources to get to know the outside world and/or get to know other people's perspective, is in any case 100% feminist and ready to fight the world. There is no conflict between how she was raised and how the world works vs a change on her perspective*, and when there is some conflict is resolved in one paragraph (and i am not exaggerating on this). This is makes you feel and think that is because of what i have said above: because when suddenly working on your own book after taking inspiration from another, you didn't think how to develop that world bc you didn't understand in the first place how it worked for the other books (and how it works in real life, for the matter) and how the protagonist responded to the conflict themselves because there is not a formula that summarizes how all of us react to trauma and pain and oppresive systems (but there is definitely a coherent way your character reacts based on the developing of the narration).

*in part it is because this progress is made off screen but we never actually get how she worked her prev mindset which I find interesting bc there are many instances in the book where other characters (like the protag mom and grandma or the other female pilots) are hinted to have problems with the world views and might be willing to give a step to changing (just like the protag at some point in her life was I suppose) but bc the only characters that matter in this book are the main trio and the rest are.... Awful characters I guess, that challenging prejudices never happens

It then makes you have a more aesthetic vision (where you tik all the boxes: oppresive world, badass queer protagonist, etc) of the book rather than giving the narrative space to grow and deal with crisis.

Another thing of lack of this understanding, is that sometimes it also gives you the feeling that the author has a plan for certain elements to happen in the book, but they are either not well developed or forgotten (and this makes you think of the 'where are the editors? didn't they like ask them about it?'). For example, the prologue of the book: i like the prologue of the book or at least 'the idea' of the prologue. I've read reviews where people have criticized the prologue in a bad way, and i honestly can understand why they do and i will explain now. The thing about the prologue is that is narrated by the person who killed the protagonist's sister. Which, by itself, i think it is a cool idea if there was a follow up to that.

There are books like The Lovely Bones by Alice Sebold or Manhunt by Gretchen Felker-Martin (still reading this one) where they have multiple narrators and some of them are from the perspective of extremely awful person (in one case a ped*phile, and in the other a TERF). The thing about those books is that they are trying to make a point on how dehumanization works. Which, once again, is not the case for Iron Widow.

In its case, the perspective of the murderer only comes into the prologue, but it becomes ineffective and it shows a lack of planning by the author not only because of that, but because the narration frames the death of the protagonist sister in an objectified way. The sister is not a person, is not a character with agency, a character we get to know and empathize bc a) when the book starts she is already dead and b) we don't even get flashbacks or smth about her with the protagonist or smth. It is a motivation for the protagonist to go in a revenge arc, but nothing else. In the end, if you pretended to show how aberrant the behaviour of the murder was in the prologue, it should have then be showed by the protagonist and the narration themselves, there should have been a coherent frame between voice narrator and narration when portraying the sister and this whole situation to make a point. But there is no point.

There is a disconnection from what it seems the author is trying to cover, what the narration is leading to and then not doing so, and the motivation of the protagonist (whom to make matters worse is in first person so this lack of harmony between elements seems even bigger. For example, how the poly relationship is developed in this story, which feels underwhelmed and rushed after all the promotion and stuff about it, because part of that relationship building is happening in the background where Zetian, the protagonist, is unaware of it occurring. We also just needed more actual interactions between the main trio that felt more personal than based on the action for that to click better. I also think, and this is more of a personal thing, that I would have liked more if this was a slow burn that happened across the following books rather than happening in the first book).

There is a saturation of ideas; in one book, and because of how they sold the book, there is this feeling that they have to cover all those things they promised the readers (the badass protagonist, the queer + poly relationship, etc) or otherwise it would be fake advertising; instead of leaving the book to take its time to develop these characters rather than showing them like an already final product and developing ideas slowly instead of rushing in the big plot points. There needs to be a harmony between the voice of your narrator, the pacing, the way you present your characters and the world, the structure and the ideas you want to tell and the ideas you've drunk from, or otherwise your book just stays in a nice concept in theory.

(imma say tho that this is also the first book that the author published so maybe things will improve in the future. But then again there are books in the YA genre who fall into these same problems even when the authors have had previous writing experience)

#i don't know if i made sense or this is like all over the place because my brain is now in exams mode but i try #i could have like criticized many other things but i didn't want this to be too long #i tried* fuck i am dying

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thecatspasta · 2 months

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Inspired by @arrgh-whatever's post on helping ppl with BPD

Edit bc I forgot to add this: Being vulnerable means smth different for different ppl, something that could read as being vulnerable to you can read as just another Tuesday for someone else

[ID: a simply-drawn comic, narrated by a person coloured-in in pink.

Panel 1: The pink person narrates: "So there's a lot of "signs your ex is a narcissist and how to deal with them" and it's not very accurate. So here's how to actually "deal" with a narcissist from someone with narcissistic personality disorder."

Panel 2: This panel has the heading: "1. Supply." The pink person narrates: "People with NPD have very fragile self-esteem, and supply is what keeps us from having a mental breakdown. Supply can be many things, but often attention and praise are effective. Stuff like "Wow! That's super cool!!" can go a long way." A person is shown saying this to another person, who smiles.

Panel 3: This panel has the heading: "2. Criticism." The pink person narrates: "Oh boy. So narcissists take things as personal very easily. It's because if anyone contradicts our delusions that we have built our entire self-image on, it feels like you are attacking us as a person." There is an example shown, where one person says "hey, you were a bit too rude back there," but the other person hears "You're an awful dick no-one likes." The alternative manner of phrasing is suggested as "Hey, you were a bit too rude. You're cool, but some people took it poorly." The second person in this example thinks "I'm still a cool person. It's not my fault, but I can do things to be better." The narrator continues, "We don't really understand the concept of a harmless mistake."

Panel 4: This panel has the heading: "3. Boundaries." The pink person narrates: "With narcissists, setting down strict boundaries is very important. 1. Knowing we have hurt you because you didn't set down boundaries can really upset and annoy us because the delusions that we can do no wrong and know you best get broken. 2. If you let us break boundaries, it can lead us to see you as "weak" and devalue you. Communication is key."

Panel 5: This panel has the heading: "4. Anger." The pink person narrates: "So people with NPD tend to be prone to anger. This is a defense mechanism, because to us, it's either facing the inaccuracies of our delusions and having a mental breakdown, or blaming something else. We do not mean to lash out; we just don't have the skills to cope properly. You can help by: 1. Letting us express out emotions without judgement; 2. giving us praise or attention; and 3. Distracting us from what angered us." Each example of how to help is accompanied by a small cartoon.

Panel 6: This panel has the heading: "5. Other NPD things!" The pink person narrates: "'Love bomb, devalue, discard' is actually: we are genuinely obsessed with you and want you to recognize us as cool, we lose that obsession and move on, we feel threatened in some way and lash out. We can't really handle being seen as vulnerable. We take sympathy and empathy as pity and pity as you telling us we're weak. Not acknowledging we're being vulnerable and acting as if nothing is wrong can be helpful in these situations. People with NPD have a very warped view of reality. We do not mean to hurt you and often do not realise we have. Remember, this won't work for everyone, and talking is very important."

/end ID]

Ty to @aromanticsky for the id

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jiniret-writings · 9 months

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Warm Blankets Pt. 3

Genre: angst, fluff

Pairing: Platonic!skz x 9th member!Reader

Warnings: strong language, self-doubt, arguing, feelings of unworthiness (If I missed any warnings, please let me know)

The actions of the members in this story do not represent how they are in real life. This is all fictional and should not be taken seriously.

Pt. 1 || Pt. 2 || Pt. 3

Earlier That Day

Tensions were high. With comeback so close and so many concerts and events to prepare for, Stray Kids barely had any time to rest. Your days were filled with practices, recordings, and even more practices. Four hours of sleep was your new standard, and even that seemed like a blessing sometimes. That morning was no different. You had woken up at 6am for an early vocal lesson, wanting to do something in your area of comfort before going for your practice with Chan.

You had been given a duo part with the Chan: something you had never done before. It wasn't that you weren't comfortable dancing with Chan. It's just that you never had a solo dance, always preferring to stay in the back for dance breaks. Vocals were your strong suit and you were more than happy being mostly heard and somewhat seen. When you were given the duo part, you were shocked. Seeing your expression, he just smiled at you and patted your head. "You can do it. I know you can," he said. You felt proud that he believed in you enough to give a part like that to you, so you practiced as much as you could, focusing on not just the moves, but making sure they were as perfect as they could be.

For the past few days, you had reached a place where you could be quite proud, but that morning something felt off. You went to your vocal lesson feeling nervous and tense. Your coach noticed and walked you through exercises to expel some of the tension, but you still harbored a feeling of unease. Still, you shook it off and walked to the dance studio. In the end, what mattered was how well you'd be able to dance and follow through on the moves. The choreo this comeback was more intense, but you were also more determined.

The choreo you had with Chan was short, but detailed. And that was where you were having trouble. You weren't a bad dancer, but it didn't come as easily to you as it did for others. It took time for you to really nail some parts. And that day, no one had the patience.

"No, you need to move them together, y/n. Together," Chan stressed, moving his arms and legs together in formation. You huffed in frustration, tired of running this same part over and over. Still, you listened and replicated what Chan did in what you thought was the right way, but he just sighed heavily in frustration, covering his face with his hands and shaking his head.

"I don't get it, okay? Maybe we just stop for today," you groaned, leaning against the wall. Chan just glared at you from where he was sitting on the couch.

"We can't just stop, y/n. You should've had this perfected two days ago."

"Well I don't, and clearly it's not happening now. Maybe if I take a break-"

"We don't HAVE time for breaks!" he yelled, suddenly getting loud. You gawked at him, surprised by the sudden outburst. You clenched your teeth, not wanting to yell back.

"Yes, we do. At least I do. Hyunjin has the practice room reserved after us. I can just ask him to--"

"He has his own practice! He can't babysit-"

"Babysit!?!" You couldn't hold it anymore. You got off your spot on the wall, going to stand closer to Chan. "I am not some CHILD that needs to be watched or whose hand needs to be held!"

"You're sure about that? You can barely extend a leg-"

"I'm trying to--"

"You're not trying hard enough."

"Bullshit! You're just looking for things to criticize about me!" you yelled, having had enough. You were tired and frustrated. You muscles hurt. Your brain hurt, and Chan nitpicking every muscles movement was not helping in any way.

"It's not like I have to look too hard, yeah? You're floundering around!"

"What's THAT supposed to mean?" you asked, taking a deep breathe and closing your eyes, calming yourself.

"YOU-"

"No"

"-IMPOSSIBLE TO-"

"Chan, we are-"

"-AND HOW CAN YOU-"

"THIS ISN'T GETTING US-"

"IF I KNEW YOU'D ACT LIKE THIS, I WOULDN'T HAVE FOUGHT FOR YOU TO BE IN THE GROUP!"

--a breathe--a hand on your arm--and silence

At the Studio with 3RACHA

Thanks to Hyunjin's text, Han and Changbin knew it was a no nonsense type of day. They both arrived at the studio early, having brought some snacks and drinks to get them through. They made sure to bring every essential they would need to make sure they had everything they would need and wouldn't need to take unnecessary pauses for anything. Han even brought heat packs and a blanket in case it got too cold.

The studio was tense. Chan was much more quiet during the session, only nodding or shaking his head for the most part. The track was complex. It was a ballad, but there were tons of small audio elements that helped it give off that "mala-taste genre" feel. Still, he wasn't satisfied.

Han and Changbin each took turns messing around with their soundboards and looking through their libraries, adding and taking away elements that were either too much or not enough. They even set up the mic so they could make more practical sounds, hitting couch cushions together or unlacing their shoelaces to get sounds that were unique and possibly get the sound-bites.

Chan was huffing more than usual, and as they separated to write lyrics, Han started texting Changbin:

Han: Channie-hyung sounds like a dragon Changbin: Don't you dare tell him that Han: I know! Just, do you know who he fought with? Changbin: I called Hyunjin and said it was y/n. Han: NO Changbin: Yeah, they're at the cuties dorm now Han: I wanna be at the cuties dorm Changbin: Han Jisung Han: yeah yeah I HEAR HIMJDBCJ Han: Nvm, false alarm ;)

When Chan walked into the hallway, he started pacing. Nothing was coming easy to him. Everything sounded wrong, looked wrong, felt wrong. His skin was itching and his hair felt so heavy he wanted to shave it off. He started pulling at his clothes lightly, trying to find a way to release this aching discomfort he felt in his abdomen.

And the fight

He didn't know why or how he could've said those words to you. With every step, he replayed that last moment over in his head: the words leaving his mouth, the way your face morphed to shock, Hyunjin pulling you away, your eyes filled with tears...

He had never seen that look on your face. It was betrayal. Pure, complete betrayal.

He remembers the first time he met you. You had entered the company just the day before, hope shining in your eyes. He had been a trainee for five years at that point. He knew the routine: new trainee's came in with hope, they practiced with all they had, and the with each passing month and each passing evaluation, the hoe drained. Each comment from staff or the teachers or even from the other trainee's left them tired. And in the end it either became too much and they left, or they debuted. And then the trials really began.

But you were a fighter. He met you on your second day at the company and you were filled wit so much excitement. You were in a group vocal lesson and your voice was far from mature. You needed work and the vocal coach did not hold back on their criticisms of you. But instead of letting it get to you, you pushed. You listened to the feedback nestled between their biting words and you implemented it. It had been a while since Chan saw that specific vocal coach nod their head in approval at someone they so brutally tore down only an hour ago.

You could've had a big head. Chan knew when he talked to you that you could have an ego the size Jupiter, but instead he was met with someone so incredibly sweet and such a joy to be around. You two had lunch together that day, and from then on, Chan knew he'd fight for you.

He couldn't have thought that he'd fight you like he did today. Sure, you've had your smaller arguments and your disagreements here and there, but it never got to the point where any of you said anything terribly hurtful. You loved each other, you were family. But the look in your eyes when he said the words that he knew would hurt you the most? His chest squeezed so tight he almost forgot how to breathe.

Chan shook his head, walking back to the studio with a bottle of cold water from the vending machine. He knew he needed to apologize, but he didn't know how. When he walked back in the studio, Han and Changbin looked at him with soft eyes. He could've cried.

He sat down and stared at his laptop. Next to him, Han and Changbin shared a look. They couldn't just sit and let this stew on any longer. Changbin had filled Han in on everything that happened, and they knew the sooner they addressed this, the better for everyone.

"Hyung," Han started, closing his laptop and leaning forward. Chan glanced up at him before looking back at his work.

"Yeah?" he answered, much softer then anyone expected. He was still looking down, but his hands had stilled.

"There's so much pressure on us to do well and there's so many deadlines to meet..." He paused, looking at Changbin, who got the hint.

"You snapped at y/n, and that was a dick move."

Chan's head snapped straight up at that. Changbin took that as a good sign and kept going.

"You need to apologize. And soon," he said, getting straight to the point. Chan just looked at him shocked, unable to get any words out. He knew he had to apologize, but did you even want to see him? Wasn't it too soon? Changbin and Han looked at him expectantly, wanting him to say something. Anything.

"I," he cleared his throat, rubbing a hand along his face. "I want to, but..." he stopped. But what? But they might not want to see me. But they might need some time alone. But they might want to take a break from everything but they might want to leave the group but they might want to disappear. Chan's thoughts fed him every scenario and conversation that might happen.

Finally, he looked down at his hands. "But they're with Hyunjin now, and probably with some others, and they might want time to cool off before seeing me," he said finally. He knew Hyunjin wouldn't leave you alone, so at least he knew you had someone with you.

"You don't have to talk to them now. Just apologize. And let them curse you out, it might make them feel better," Han said, giving Chan a small smile.

"Let them know you're here. And that you're sorry and didn't mean anything you said. You didn't mean it, right?"

"Of course I didn't mean it," Chan said. It was the one thing he was sure of all day. It didn't hit him immediately. But when he was watching you and Hyunjin walk away, it was like the words kept repeating in his head, mocking him.

If I knew you'd act like this, I wouldn't have fought for you to be in the group!

He shook his head, and he felt two hands on his back. Han and Changbin had moved right next to him and were looking at him with understanding and care. I don't deserve them, he thought. He laid his head on the table for a few seconds and took some deep breathes. He deserved to be punched and yelled at and told to go fuck himself, but instead he had two of his members comforting him.

"You can wait until tonight. The others are with y/n/n now. But you should apologize before they go to sleep," Changbin said softly. Chan nodded and smiled at the two. They patting his back and went to go sit down. He'd fix this. He had to.

At The Cuties Dorm

When you fell asleep on Felix's shoulder, he gently stroked your cheek with his finger, wiping away the faint tracks your tears left behind. You nuzzled into his finger and clutched onto his arm tighter. Cute he thought.

Minho and Hyunjin walked back to you all and, seeing your sleeping figure, lowered the volume of the TV and looked at your bedroom door. Looking at Felix, he just nodded and moved aside so Minho could pick you up and move you to your room. Felix went to your shared bathroom and took all of your skincare products to your room, setting on your bedside table.

"Besties don't let each other sleep with makeup on," he said quietly, balancing everything in his arms. It was something you would say whenever you all got back from a late-night schedule. You never let him go to bed with his makeup on. So if he was too tired to take it off, you'd finish your skincare routine before going to Felix and doing his. And so you two had a routine: if one was too tired to take their makeup off, the other would do it for them.

When Minho tried to lay you on your bed, you refused to let him go. Your arms stayed clutched around his neck, and your face nuzzled deeper into his chest.

"Okay," he whispered, crouching down to try and place you on the bed again. "I'll get in with you, okay? But I need to put you down first." He kept his voice low, not wanting to wake you any more than you already were. You groaned lightly but your grip loosened. As soon as you were on the bed, he got in next to you. He put arm around your head and you hummed in contentment.

As soon as Felix set everything down, he turned on the little bedside lamp and got to work, getting rid of any makeup still left. They thought you were still awake but that train of thought was interrupted by a small snore. Minho and Felix looked at each other and laughed quietly.

"Long day," Felix said. Minho nodded, just patting your hair and keeping it out of your face. Minho knew about the hate comments you were getting and how much they were actually bothering you. He walked in on you crying in a practice room and your phone had been open next to you. You put up a strong front in front of everyone, but it hurt.

Ever since, when things got bad, you would hand him your phone. It was a silent message: I need a break, I'll be practicing all day. And he'd just nod, give you a hug, and let you go. This time, a small hug wouldn't do. Comments from random strangers on the internet hurt, but comments from the inside burn.

He looked down at you now, peaceful expression on your face, and sighed. He knew Chan would come to apologize and that it would hurt again, but to heal a burn you have to let it sting first.

Almost like the very thought of him summoned him, the doorbell rang. Minho looked at you again, not wanting to let go. But he gently moved his arm from under your head, gave you a small kiss on your head, and went to the kitchen where he saw Chan standing in front of everyone.

Han and Changbin came with him. Minho couldn't see his face, but the grip Changbin had around Felix's shoulders seemed like he was trying to hold the younger member back. His suspicions were confirmed when he came closer and took one look at his face.

"y/n/n is asleep," Seungmin said, leaning against the counter. He didn't look mad, just tired. In fact, they all did (except Felix who was never able to hide his malice). It had been a long...this pressure had been building for too long.

Chan looked at your bedroom door, left slightly open by Minho. All the determination he had on the walk over had left him. All the anger and stress was gone and replaced with intense regret. "Can I?" he asked, nodding towards the door. Jeongin nodded at him, standing on the other side of Felix and putting a hand on his shoulder. He had dropped the glare but disapproval was coming off of him in waves. Chan understood the feeling.

Walking in, he took one look at you and took in a deep breathe. You were curled up on your side, clutching a pillow to your chest. Your breathing was even and every few seconds you'd let out a little snore that made him laugh. Chan put a hand on your cheek and you immediately nuzzled into it.

He teared up and took another breathe. "You are so talented," he started whispering. "You work so hard and try so hard in everything you do. Without you, we aren't Stray Kids. I am so so sorry I made you think something that wasn't true," he continued whispering, not wanting to wake you up but still wanting to get the words out.

But you were awake, having woken up but the sliver of light let in by the open door. You didn't open your eyes, afraid that you'd lose your courage the moment you looked at the person who was like your big brother.

"It hurt," you said quietly. Chan's voice caught in his throat and the pressure in his chest grew. "I know you were stressed and frustrated but it hurt. A lot."

"I know, y/n/n. I know, and I am so sorry. I never should have let my frustration hurt you like that," Chan choked out. He wanted to hug you but he held back. He leaned down, getting on his knees beside the bed so he could be at eye level with you. Your eyes were still closed but you could feel him looking at you, closer than before.

"I never meant to say it. I swear, fuck, I swear on everything that I am that I didn't mean those words for even a second." Chan was crying now, but he said every word as clear as he could. The thought that you thought of yourself as less-than deserving to be in the group and that you were hurting because of him made him feel like pulling his heart out. "This group wouldn't be compete without you. Every day I see you work I am so proud of the performer and the person you've become. I-" his voice caught again, and the tears came much harder. He turned his head away, wiping relentlessly under his eyes.

A few moments later he felt a hand on his arm. Looking over at you quickly, he saw you. Your eyes were open and tears were coming out at the same speed his was. Your lips were wobbling and when you opened your mouth to speak, the only thing that came out was a choked sob. Chan's own sob mirrored yours.

You jumped out of bed and crouched right next to Chan, hugging him tight. At your touch, Chan cried harder, pulling you close and holding a hand to your head.

"I didn't want to disappoint you but I-"

"There's no 'buts' y/n/n, you could never disappoint me. You did so well today and I was just too in my ass to see that," Chan said, holding you tighter.

"You really were an ass," you sobbed out, crying louder. "But I forgive you just please be patient with me."

"I will. I promise I will. I'll be patient and help you through whatever you need and we'll take breaks. And when it gets frustrating, we'll separate and come back after a few minutes and I promise to never, never, talk to you like that again."

The two of you stayed on the floor, crying and apologizing and making promises that you knew would be kept even when the sun rose.

Together

Felix had a real talent for baking. When the two of you emerged intact and together, they knew all was well. Felix was the first to break, giving you both a hug and punching Chan in the arm, holding back so it wouldn't hurt too much.

"We warmed up the cookies and brownies, and I added some sprinkle hearts on the cake," Felix said, walking back to the kitchen. You smiled, taking Chan's hand and following him.

"There's nothing late night sweets can't heal," Changbin said. Han just nodded along beside him, cheeks stuffed. You smiled, squishing one of his cheeks, unable to resist. He half-heartedly tried to bite your hand, making you laugh louder before sitting down next to him, putting a head on his shoulder. He responded in kind, putting his head on top of yours.

"Hey, is that a rat on the cake?" Han asked, trying to discern the shape Hyunjin drew. The artist in question gasped.

"Excuse you! A RAT?!? My cat is not a rat!"

"If you made Dori look like that I'd punch you," Minho added.

"Hyung!" Hyunjin whined.

You giggled and tried getting up to get some cookies but Han pulled you back. "Nuh-uh, you're not moving anywhere," Han said, putting a cookie to your mouth. You rolled your eyes, but chewed, sitting back contently. Chan put a plate of cake and brownies in front of you, ruffling Han's hair, earning him a bite too.

The next hour was filled with stories from the week, laughing until people started falling off chairs, and good food. When the night started catching up to you, you looked at the time and saw it was 4am. Everyone was laughing at a joke Changbin and Seungmin were telling and you smiled.

My members, you thought again, feeling warm inside.

You went off to your room, laying in your bed, letting the laughs lull you to wonderful dreams, but it wasn't long until suddenly Hyunjin yelled, "Where's y/n!" and suddenly you could hear eight pairs of feet running to your room. They rushed in, looking at you in bed, and you were smiling tiredly.

"I'm sorry, I was just tired," you said softly. Changbin cooed at you, coming over and flopping on top of you. You grunted, feeling squished, but it wasn't too bad.

Until the seven others followed, piling on top of you one by one. You sqeaked, surprised by the sudden added weight of eight guys. Everyone was moving around, trying to find a way to get comfortable until finally, they all settled down. Hums of contentment and happy sighs were heard all around.

Knowing it would be useless to fight it, you just relaxed and closed your eyes. And with your members wrapped around you like a warm blanket sleep and sweet dreams came easy.

Thank you so much to everyone who has read this little series and showed it love. Every comment was so sweet and I am genuinely so thankful for everyone who read this! I hope you liked the finale as well! Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated. And as always, have a great morning, afternoon, evening, and night!

-Jini

Taglist: @armystay89 @lauraliisa @changbinisabigboy @lusimpss @laylasbunbunny @neyangi @hibs8 @lovelmh @viagiraffe @briqnne @unfwairs @silentreadersthings @strawberry31 @emily505 @beomgyu-stan-present

Divider made by: @cafekitsune

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teamatsumu · 3 months

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primal. (miya osamu x reader)

word count: 2586

warnings: a/b/o dynamics, fem!omega reader, porn with minimal plot, swearing, typical omegaverse jargon (scent, heat, rut, slick, knot)

tags: @keiva1000 @kindnessspreads @msbyomimi @sleepyxxhead @priv-rose

This was getting ridiculous.

Three whole days Osamu had not spoken to you. And for what? Because of a stupid argument you had about his new menu? In your mind, if he didn't want constructive criticism, he really should not have asked you for your opinion.

(You tried to ignore the gnawing guilt you felt that maybe you had been too harsh.)

But still, was it worth being this upset about? He hadn't replied to any of your messages. His phone was going straight to voicemail, and to top it off, even Atsumu hadn't heard from him. The blond twin had told you to just give him some space, and that he was ‘going through it’. But you scoffed. What exactly was he going through? All this over a controversial menu item? You didn't know Osamu could be so unreasonable over something so stupid.

Which is why you were standing at his door now, knocking for the last ten fucking minutes, while he didn't even bother to respond or open up. Your knocking had now progressed to vicious pounding, and you didn't give a shit if the neighbours heard. You were pissed. Osamu was being a baby and not communicating with you and you would make him talk if it was the last thing you did.

“Open this fucking door, Osamu!” You shouted for the tenth time.

“Go away!” Finally. Now that Osamu had gotten tired of your incessant pounding, he had finally responded. Triumph coarsed through you.

“I knew you were in there!” One more smack on the wood. “Open up. Now!”

“I'm tellin’ ya to go away.” His voice sounded strained. Your eyebrows furrowed a bit.

“What's up with you?”

There was some shuffling, and then a pained groan. Your muscles stiffened in alarm.

“Samu?” You could feel your anger drain away, replaced by worry. “Are you okay? Open the door!”

“Just go away. Everythin’ is fine. I'm not mad at ya. I just need ya to…. get away.”

You couldn't ignore the pain in his voice anymore. You tried the doorknob again to no avail. “Please let me in. I'm getting worried.”

Silence again. You leaned against the door, your panic only building. “Samu, please.”

Your anger was non-existent now. It didn't matter to you whatever stupid fight you two had gotten into. Your paranoid mind was racing and all you could think about was a million different ways that Osamu might be hurt. If anything happened to him…

Your heart imperceptibly broke.

You had known Osamu since high school, when him and his brother would melt your brain with their unnecessary fighting and competition. He was young and naive then, with that godawful gray hair that he thankfully abandoned after high school, and an attitude so fiery it left most other people in the dust. You couldn't understand why you were so attracted to him at first glance, but then he presented as an Alpha mere months after you first met, and your attraction to him became quite clear.

More than anything else, Osamu was your close friend. He understood you in a way his twin didn't, and you liked to think you were a good friend to him too. You kept your feelings for him pretty tightly wrapped up in your heart, afraid that an Alpha like him wouldn't want you. He was desired widely by many, many omegas. And he had always turned them down. If all those prime omegas weren't good enough for him, you didn't stand a chance.

So you lived with him as your friend, because you would rather have that than nothing at all.

You knocked on the door again, more softly this time, knowing he was right on the other side. “Samu, please let me in. Let me see.”

There was a thunk. You assumed Osamu had leaned his forehead against the door. “Omega…”

It clicked in you, like gears fitting into place. Your heart raced. You shuffled closer to the door until there was no more space left. You sniffed carefully.

There was his scent, heady and musky, sandalwood and something you had come to associate only with Osamu. A scent you had loved for so long it made you want to buckle to your knees. It was strong, heavier than any time you had smelled it before. It made your eyes cross, your breath pause. Something in your core stirred.

“Your rut?” You mumbled. You knew he heard you.

Osamu groaned low in response. Your thighs clenched.

Over the years, you observed that Osamu's ruts were rare. Maybe once every three months. He would always disappear a few days beforehand, and didn't reappear until it was well over and done. Atsumu said that since his ruts were so spaced out, they would always hit really hard. So you tended to leave him alone until he reached out first, talking normally and as if nothing had happened, picking up where he left off.

In your anger and with your fight fresh in your mind, you didn't realize that Osamu had likely gone off the grid because of his rut, and not because he was ignoring you. Now you were standing here, mere inches from an Alpha in full rut, with your own core tightening and something wet slowly dripping down the crease of your thigh. Your inhibition was slowly dissipating the more you frantically tried to breathe his faint scent. Your omega purred and whined.

“I could help.” You dared say. “I could help you, Alpha.”

Another groan, low and desperate, and you felt like it was rattling through your very soul. You bit your lip hard, hand twitching to move between your thighs, but you remained frozen. Osamu didn't move away from the door. His pants grew louder, and then he whined.

“Are you sure?” His muffled voice came, almost broken with desire. He wanted- needed- you to say yes. You nodded vigorously even if he couldn't see you.

“Yes!”

Some thudding, clicking, and then he pulled open the door. Your breath caught at the sight of him.

He was gloriously shirtless, and his loose sweatpants were doing nothing to hide his problem either. His erection was obvious, straining and standing against the struggling material of his pants. It would look almost comical if you weren't horny out of your fucking mind right now. His bare torso shone with a thin layer of sweat. You bit your lip so hard you were sure you drew blood.

“Holy fuck, you smell good.” Osamu's nose, more sensitive with his rut, twitched. His eyelids fluttered, and he took in a deep breath. You stared at him some more, wondering if you were dreaming.

“What are ya standin’ there for? C’mere, Omega.”

He tugged on your arm, until your body was making contact with his. Your hands rested on his chest, and you could feel how rapidly his heart was beating. He leaned down until his face was mere inches from yours. His breath hit your lips, made them tingle. Your core clenched painfully. His scent got stronger.

“Ya sure ya want this?”

You didn’t even have the strength to nod, feeling lightheaded. You only tilted your face up until your lips brushed his. “Please.”

A breathy curse, and then he was kissing you. His arms wrapped tight around your back, like he was scared you would disappear, one hand gripping possessively over your hip. You suspected it would leave a bruise.

You wanted it to leave a bruise.

He left you breathless when your lips parted. He tugged you in further and shut the door with a loud bang, before pushing you back against it. The manhandling turned you on to no end, the thought that you were someone Osamu was about to use to satisfy himself. Your already aroused mind went wild at the notion and you arched into him when he crowded you against the door, lips meeting in a frenzy. He bit and licked your mouth raw, invading your mouth like he couldn’t bear to be apart from you. You dug your nails into his biceps, reveling in the feeling of him, of finally having him the way you wanted. Your panties were soaked through by now. Your inner thighs held the signs of your desire.

His lips traveled down your neck next, licking and biting, inhaling and exhaling as he scented you. His cock pressed into your hip and you let him satisfy his need to leave his mark on you, basking in his scent that mixed with yours and how he laid his claim on you, albeit temporarily. His hands gripped hard at your sides, pushing your shirt up to run over bare skin.

“Wanted this so bad.” He rasped, biting dangerously close to your scent gland, you leaned into the sting. “Every rut. Ya know how many times I’ve jerked off to ya?”

His accent was thick, his words slurred. You were sure he was completely gone by this point. You gripped his hair hard.

“Wanted you too, Alpha.” You whimpered back. “Touch me, god, please.”

Osamu lifted you up then, two strong hands grabbing your asscheeks and carrying you across the room to where his couch was located. You wrapped your arms around his neck, taking the opportunity to lap and nip at his neck, scenting him back. Your drenched walls fluttered around nothing, crying and weeping for a nice, thick knot to fill you up.

You had a suspicion you wouldn’t have to wait long.

When Osamu dropped you on the couch, his hands immediately tugged on your clothes, pulling off your jeans and panties in one go. The fabric clung to you with how wet it was, and the air was cool on your burning skin. You used the moment to pull off your top until you were bare before him. Osamu kissed your calf, traveling up quickly with a few kisses laid on your skin. Your thigh, your stomach, the valley of your breasts, your jaw. He had tugged his sweats down already, and you felt something hard poke at your dripping entrance.

“Can’t wait, baby.” His voice trembled. “Need ya now. Need to knot ya so bad I’m gonna explode.”

And then he was sliding into your slicked up but unprepped pussy, carving his way through your spasming walls until a sharp pain went through you. You gasped at the glorious stretch, at your walls recognising an Alpha cock and opening up to accommodate him. Your wetness ran down your ass, likely soiling Osamu’s couch but you doubted he cared. He was cursing and whining in your ear, spine bending forward at the relief of finally sinking into a wet, ready cunt. His face was flushed a deep red, sweat building on his forehead. He sank into you to the base, your toes tingling with the sensation of being so full.

“Hold on, omega.” His last words. They almost sounded like a threat. Your breath caught.

Then he was gripping your hips and holding you down, before fucking into you hard and fast. You gasped at the sudden pace, legs pushed even further open as his cock repeatedly bullied itself into you. Your jaw went slack at the sensation, how he hit you so deep, sloppy noises filling the air along with your cries and his moans. His skin slapped hard against yours, leaving the inside of your thighs red and tender. His cock hit every spot just right. You felt your toes curl.

Osamu watched your reactions, nearly delirious himself, barely holding on by a thread.

“Feel good?”

You nodded frantically, fingernails scratching over his shoulders and arms. Osamu leaned down on his elbows, tongue poking out to lick at your lips every now and then.

“Tell me how good it feels. Tell me.”

“I-” You gasped and jolted with the force of his thrusts. Tears built up in your eyes and spilled down the sides of your face. “Can’t- can’t talk.”

“Yes you can.” His hand wound into the hair at the back of your head, tugging hard until you arched into him. “Say it. Say ya love my cock.”

“Love your cock.” You managed to wail, clamping down hard on him. He cursed and leaned down further, pace not even faltering in the slightest. His lips sealed themselves against the skin of your neck and he sucked hard.

“Tell me how bad ya want my knot.”

“Want it so bad.” You parroted, losing every coherent thought and just going along with what he was saying. Osamu continued to pound into you like he wasn’t even talking, like he wasn’t rearranging your guts or turning your legs to jelly. Like the base of his cock wasn’t rapidly swelling and catching on the rim of your hole.

Osamu pushed himself deep into you before stilling completely, and you nearly weeped in frustration.

“Tell me why ya deserve my knot.” He gritted, eyes meeting yours. Little golden flecks shown in his irises, and his incisors elongated below his bottom lip. He was deep, deep in the clutches of his rut. Combined with his messed up hair and flushed cheeks, he looked wild. Uninhibited. Dangerous. Your pleasure hit its very peak, teetering just over the edge, begging for that last push. You sobbed.

“Wanted you for so long.” You gasped and cried, tears pouring from your cheeks. “Wanted you to fuck me and knot me and give me your cum. Please, Alpha, please. I’ll be so good for you.”

Osamu groaned. Something in his eyes softened. He hooked a hand under your left knee and tugged it up, folding it against your torso. His cock pulled out before pushing back in, slowly picking up his pace again. You moaned loud, feeling your pit tighten up again.

“Why don’t ya cum fer me nice and hard, baby? Get me wet with your juice and then I’ll fill you up. Promise. I’ll shove this fat knot into your tiny little cunt. Just cum fer me, little omega.”

And you did. You arched into him, eyes rolling and arms seizing as you came harder than you ever had in your life. Electricity zipped through you and all air was punched out of your lungs until you felt that your very soul was leaving your body. You didn’t even register when Osamu groaned and stuttered in his pace, or when his knot swelled until it was bullied into your thoroughly fucked out and sore pussy. White hot cum filled your insides as he locked into you, hips flush against your own.

Strong arms wrapped around your waist as Osamu’s comforting weight settled on you. He licked and lapped at your neck softly, breathing into you until you were nothing but his scent, his touches, his marks. You panted and tried to catch your breath, legs trembling with aftershocks of the event. You could barely lift your arms to run over his bare back, but you managed. Osamu hummed at your soft touch.

All was silent beneath you two as the fog of his rut lifted. You could feel him slowly cool down, get pliant against you. You could almost sense his apprehension.

“Do ya regret it?”

You smiled slightly, staring up at the ceiling. “I meant it, Samu. I’ve wanted you for so long.”

You could feel his own smile against your neck, his embrace around you tightening. “Me too.”

Your skin buzzed with warmth. While Osamu breathed softly against your neck, you let yourself drift into a quiet sleep.

#miya osamu x reader #miya osamu smut #miya osamu x you #miya osamu x y/n #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #haikyuu smut #hq smut #a/b/o #a/b/o dynamics #a/b/o verse #omegaverse #alpha beta omega #alpha osamu #haikyuu a/b/o #omega reader

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piratecaptainscaptainpirates · 7 months

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The more I think about season 2, the more grateful I am.

In a lot of ways, OFMD's writers, cast, and crew were given an almost impossible task. S1 was brilliant and took everyone by surprise by how successful it became. I am still shocked every time I rewatch by how smart and efficient the writing is, how intelligent the social commentary. S1 is a masterclass in good television.

And for s2, expectations were incredibly high. OFMD found massive word-of-mouth success in a way I've never seen with any other show, and they suddenly had a big, incredibly passionate audience - the renewal was because of massive fan support, and that must have translated to an incredible amount of pressure in the writer's room. Plus, as if that wasn't enough on its own, they're having to deal with budget cuts and Max slashing them down to only 8 episodes to tell a 10-episode story. This is an incredibly daunting task.

And yeah, I've been critical. OFMD is my favorite show, no contest, and it's easy to be critical of the things we love. We can all see that the pacing was off this season, especially in those last two episodes. Some arcs felt rushed; some side characters didn't get enough screen time to set up what they're doing this season. Jim and Olu especially suffer for that. It's inexcusable that this show's budget was slashed the way it was and I'm sad for what we could have had.

But, on the whole? Holy shit, this season was incredibly successful! Despite an incredible amount of fan pressure, the writers told the story they wanted to tell. They never lost sight of Ed and Stede's story, and were smart about allocating screen time so our leads' arcs never suffered too much for it. There's so much creative problem solving - when they realized they'd need to be smart about which side characters to keep on screen, they turned Buttons into a bird in a way that underscored season themes of transformation and change. 10/10, no notes. They even remembered their audience and left us on a satisfying note for all our characters - we get to end with Ed and Stede, happy and together, starting their new life.

They had an impossible task and they did a fucking commendable job. Character beats and humor are balanced amazingly well. Ed and Stede feel so much more fleshed out this season. Just like in s1, OFMD will never be a show where you can catch everything with one watch - there's so many little jokes, hidden gags, small details to discover with every rewatch. And every single actor is giving it their all in every scene! You can tell how much this show was a labor of love for everyone involved.

I'm proper fucking impressed. Here's hoping they get a renewal and a better budget for season 3!

#ofmd #ofmd s2 spoilers #our flag means death

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gatitties · 1 year

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Care and comfort

─ Yandere!bonten x motherly!reader (platonic)

─ Summary: you were just trying to help someone and you ended up being the obsession of a criminal organization

─ Warnings: obsession, stalking, toxic behaviors, kidnapping, slight mention of drugs and stuff related

Part two / Part three / Part four / Part five

You turned on the light in your kitchen, almost tripping over one of the stools because your eyes were still half closed, you had fallen asleep correcting the last report that the newspaper where you worked had sent you. You had noticed that you hadn't even had dinner before, so you made a quick meal before heading back to work, but before you could touch your laptop you heard a crash at the front door, as if someone had collapsed and slammed against it.

It's not that you lived in one of the worst areas of the city, but it was strange that something happened in the wee hours of the morning, you walked slowly, opening the door, or trying to, because the body of a man was blocking the entrance, a few minutes of struggle was enough for the unconscious body to fall to the other side, leaving you to open the door completely and contemplate the man.

He had one of those mullets that were fashionable among young people, several earrings, some scars on his mouth and stains of what appeared to be vomit and blood, okay, you did not want to interfere with anyone who seemed to be a drug addict, but on second thought, it was better to help the man than to have to give statements to the police as to why there was a dead body at your door.

You dragged him home and laid him on the couch, laying him on his side so he wouldn't choke on his own vomit if he ever did, though after further scanning you decided he needed a good shower. You did not feel self-conscious in doing this job, you are of an age and you have worked in many things, among them you had a position taking care of the elderly, all kinds of care being more specific, so no, you did not feel uncomfortable having to wash this man.

You changed his clothes and put his striped suit in the wash, leaving him back on the sofa, you continued with your work, reading and quickly correcting the errors you found, the night passed quite quickly and you fell asleep once you were completely done your work, sending it to the head of the newspaper.

The next morning you woke up with a gun pointed at your temple and that man's pretty eyes staring back at you, good way to start the day indeed.

"Who the hell are you?"

"Are you young people these days so ungrateful? It was you who passed out on the doorstep of my house at two in the morning."

He lowered the gun, seeming to remember some parts of his night, he sat still a little bewildered and with his head elsewhere because of the drugs taken yesterday, he looked at you in silence now noticing his change of clothes as well as the smell of his hair, it was not the smell of his usual shampoo.

"Did you…?"

"Yes, oh, don't be ashamed, it's been a long time since I stopped being interested in that kind of thing, at a certain age the only thing one looks for is economic stability and peace of mind, are you going to stay for lunch?"

He blinked contemplating your calm form, he didn't know if he was still under the pressure of narcotics, but he didn't reject your proposal, Sanzu was anything but embarrassing, however he felt like a little boy next to you being cared for by the mother he never had.

For your part, he was not the first brat you helped, you had married friends, with grown children or adolescents who did not stop getting into small problems, you acted like the aunt who drinks wine and criticizes everyone at family gatherings, for your attitude, they found it easier to access you when they had problems they didn't want your friends ─their moms─ to know about, you always had their backs unless it was something that was detrimental to their health, then you wouldn't hesitate to call your friends to give their children a lecture, even as adults.

That same attitude was the one that made Sanzu visit you more often than he would like to admit, although most of the times he left scolded for coming home drunk or drugged, you never closed the door on him, how could you? You weren't heartless enough to leave him lying in the street when he came desperately asking for help with some of his hallucinations.

Your kindness led him to an obsession towards you, you were like his little lifeboat, his conscious part about all the madness in which he was involved, he began to watch you from afar, observing your interactions with strangers and friends, it bothered him, it bothered him that you were just as kind to others as you were to him, he wanted all your attention just for him. He was also worried about you, he had seen the worst part of the rotten world in which he lived, someone with a soft heart like you could not survive against the predators of this society.

Of course, Bonten executives were not stupid, usually most of them lived in the headquarters, they had private properties where they spent a few days or weeks, but most of the time they were in that headquarter, especially Sanzu, that's why they started to noticing his absence more and more, it's not like he had to explain himself to anyone ─except if Mikey asked him to─ but his behavior was strange, didn't he arrive drugged? It seemed like a bad joke, clothes without a bloodstain? he was definitely doing something outside their radar.

Not that the others cared much, but the Haitani brothers were a bit nosy, like gossips who want to know why their partner seems happier when he comes back in the morning after a night of 'fun'. They discussed it a couple of times with the others when Sanzu wasn't around, and they all agreed that his behavior was unusual, so they began to investigate what he did in his leisure.

This led to an ordinary person like you being watched by two executives of the largest criminal organization in the country. At first they thought that you were a whore with whom he had fallen in love, but investigating more about you, they discovered that you were a lady with an established daily life, there was nothing about you that stood out and yet you seemed so interesting.

"Sanzu please, I need to finish correcting this report, I promise you that later you can have all the hugs you want."

"No."

He tightened his grip on your waist, burying his face in the crook of your neck, you were trying to do your job but Sanzu found your hugs too comforting after you once found him crying ─from being drugged─, killing people leaves obstacles in any person and as much as he loved it, certain deaths of innocent people always ended up flying over his thoughts like ghosts that tormented him from time to time.

The sound of the doorbell made you stop typing, moving the man slightly away to go to open, you were not expecting a visitor which was strange to you, Sanzu felt a chill when you opened the door, meeting the eyes of the youngest of the Haitani directly, he got up quickly without even letting you ask what those guys wanted, he pulled you back before Ran could drag you with him.

"What the fuck are you two doing here?"

"Make sure you don't have too much fun, are you so in love that you forget the meetings?"

They started a little discussion while you looked blankly, you and Rindou looked at each other in silence while the other two talked, you greeted with a brief nod, thinking they were Sanzu's coworkers.

Luckily just when the discussion was getting more heated, a 'ding' coming from the oven threw everyone off concentration, taking advantage of this you got out of the man's strong grip, walking towards the kitchen to see that the cookies you had been working on before were ready.

"There are plenty of cookies for everyone, Sanzu you can invite your friends."

"They are not my friends!"

"That's very kind of you, we'd love to meet our friend's friend."

So you ended up having lunch with the three men in an awkward silence between them, due to the tension of which you preferred not to take into account, Ran and Rindou were quite nice and understood that you were not a love interest, nor did you want it, nor did you seek it. Alarm bells of boys without a mother figure going off again, of course you caught their interest more than before, they knew your background but not your personality, and they ended up falling into that obsession towards you, as if there was something that made them gravitate towards you, was it because of your simplicity? for your kind words? They didn't know it, but they were jealous that Sanzu could snuggle up against you and they would have to keep more of their distance.

Now you had three of Bonten's executives constantly visiting your house, whether it was asking you for small favors or advice on nonsense to asking you to make them cookies or food in general, they just desperately wanted your attention, like babies crying out for their mother.

This cycle of obsession only made the others begin to suspect that they were up to something, whether it was harmful to Bonten or not, Takeomi was the first to notice, Kokonoi the same, he noticed how the brothers spent a certain amount of money, which they didn't used to do that often, followed by Kakucho, Mochizuki and lastly Mikey.

So it led you to be kidnapped by Mochi after doing enough research on you, because they didn't take much notice of it at first when the brothers first noticed. You were tied hand and foot, a blindfold was removed after consciousness returned to you, you found yourself face to face with a man with immense dark circles and eyes full of lifeless, on his right side another man with a large scar on his face, on his left side another man with a small scar on his left eye.

You felt something cold touching your temple, again you had a gun pointed at you, held by the same boy who had kidnapped you, you turned your head also noticing another man with long white hair.

"Who are you and why do you have my executives after you?"

"Executives…?" you looked at everyone carefully, connecting the dots when you saw their tattoos "Oh- so that's why they never wanted to tell me what they worked for… are you some kind of organization? Like arms smuggling, money laundering or something?"

You took the situation calmly, that your life was hanging by a thread right now was not one of your biggest concerns, you had lived a full and happy life up to now, you had no regrets, you were mature enough to understand the point at which you were, the more the years go by, the less afraid you are of the things that used to terrify you when you were young.

"GET YOUR DIRTY HANDS OFF MY MOTHER!"

Everyone was surprised to see how Sanzu entered kicking Mochizuki so that the weapon flew out of his hands, away from you, the Haitani brothers followed closely untying you quickly while all those men had a discussion of looks, the dense silence was broken by your giggle, you were trying to control yourself as much as you could but it was impossible.

"My God, Sanzu, you just called me mom!?"

The boy's face was completely dyed in pink tones, all the attention was now focused on you while you let out a laugh at the slip that your child had, something made the hearts of others clench in pain when they heard your laugh, no matter how bad it sounded, whether it was asthmatic, uproarious, or silent laughter, it was like real music to the ears of all the executives at Bonten, including the leader. As if you had flipped a switch in the mind of their rotten minds, they now had a new interest in you, as if you had further triggered an obsession you were unaware of with the first three you met.

They began to understand why those three felt attracted to you, it was as if your mere presence was intoxicating for them, as if just listening to you or looking at you calmed their broken hearts, many alarms from boys without a mother figure, of course that was a triggering reason, all these men longed for that kind of love that they could hardly experience.

Now you had the criminal organization after you, not in a bad way, more like a bunch of men acting childishly because of your limited attention. One thing they were clear about without the need to speak, you were not going to leave their sight for a single moment from now on.

#tokyo revengers x reader #reader inser #fem reader #platonic reader #yandere platonic #bonten #bonten x reader #sanzu #mochi #mikey #ran #rindou #haitani #kakucho #kokonoi #motherly reader #yandere bonten x reader #yandere platonic bonten x reader #old reader

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shiraishi-kanade · 2 months

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An Shiraishi is always trying to be someone else: a short and messy analysis on how Vivid Street (unintentionally) messed her up

You know, I kind of have my own issues with the "Wishing to the Blue Sky for Your Happiness!" event, but a lot of my criticism of it boiled down to "huh, it's kind of weird how they gave An this insecurity out of nowhere, she didn't struggle with being herself before. Seems to be a reach just so Shizuku could have a role."

But that was before the Vivid Old Tale, and boy I'll admit I was very wrong.

The relationship between An and Nagi are... Very interesting, to say the least.

But there's no doubt that An absolutely idolizes Nagi. Sure, there's been this line about An always wanting to he a musical like her father, but we also know that for the most part, it was Nagi who taught her to sing, as well as Nagi who acted as An's mentor figure in a more emotional way.

In a way, An won the lottery. She was born into a family that loves her, into a community thay loves her, and just so happened to be talented and passionate about something that community values most. However, that talent has left her little to no space to actually... See herself as someone outside of it.

Now, none of this is actually necessarily negative by default. Having high expectations to one's children isn't necessarily bad either; with the right approach, it can make them grow and want to grow. We've also seen this happen with Touya in his childhood, which us another neat parallel.

But, unlike Touya, An has been very comfortable in her role, precisely because of her talent and being able to reach the very high bar raised for her. That comfort just... never made her reach out to something other than the place and the future she was already familiar with, because she never needed to. She was Ken's daughter and she was talented and everyone in town loved her and she promised to be the better than her dad and everyone took her seriously. What else could she possibly need?

In a way, An had her dole cut out to her before she was even born.

And then there's Nagi.

Yes, Nagi is An's role model. But there's more to that than just An looking up to her.

More than just being taught by her, An actually picks up Nagi's mannerisms, forms or speech, and even moral values (pretty much the entire point of Vivid Old Tale).

An saw, too, how much Nagi meant for the people of Vivid Street. She wanted to mean as much for them, too; rather, she already did mean as much, but she needed to be someone to justify being loved. It's not necessarily a conscious thought process but more of a subtle one: if you notice your community loves some traits of you more than the others, or values some aspects of you more, you start to lean more and more into them in order to fit in and be accepted.

For An, those particular traits were being talented, being Ken's daughter, but also... Being very similar to Nagi.

Them acting "like sisters" has been highlighted over

and over

and over again, even by people unfamiliar with Nagi, well into An's teenage years.

And it's not exactly... A complete coincidence on everyone's part. At one point, Nagi openly states she wants An to be like her, to be able to see things from the same perspective. At least to some extent, some of the actions Nagi takes to make that happen are completely deliberate.

So An tries to be like Nagi. This is both a conscious effort on her part and something that just... Is sort of a hidden force that shapes her into who she is. If you watch Nagi and compare even the way she talks with people of the town to the more mature, somewhat-grown up but not quite there yet An we have today... There's so many similarities it's uncanny. An is still much more hot-headed and impulsive, but that caring, considerate side of her shines through even more than before.

An doesn't try to deny or hide that, too. In fact, she's actually pretty proud of it.

(Whether Ken lied to her to make her feel better or if that expression was just a reaction to being reminded of Nagi passing away & the masquerade that followed after that, we'll never know.)

But here's the kicker: there's so much of Nagi in An it's hard to pinpoint where Nagi-san's traits end and An's own personality begins, if it even does. Because of how early has everyone decided on An's future, and because An never did anything to even hint at wanting to do something different (which she didn't! Sometimes people want to continue their family's legacy and that's completely normal and fine - again, she just got really lucky, both with her talent and supportive surroundings), An subconsciously kind of accepted that being like Nagi is... Just who she is.

That comes with taking on Nagi's part in the community, too. In the same way Nagi took care of everyone in town by helping them out at events, so too, does An - just to a much lesser extent, by going out of her way to keep in touch with everyone, going to events, and helping at a cafe, too.

But An doesn't purposely mold or change her personality to be like her role model, too. This is important: An doesn't wear a mask because she doesn't need to. In her mind, she already is like Nagi, or at least, she's on track to be, without doing particularly anything different. Because they're just so similar they're so close and practically behave like sisters, and because An grew up singing in the town exactly like Nagi did, and because she loves the town just like Nagi did - what else could An possibly need to do except get better at singing and get more grown up?

You know, to reach that mature and down-to-earth side of Nagi that we often see in the past?

That side?

Yeah.

Now the Shizuan event's conflict isn't so out of place, is it?

But anyway, back to the point.

Because of Nagi wording things the way she does and because of people on Vivid Street making such a point of their similarities, An naturally assumed she would eventually become like Nagi. This is why, even aside from Kohane's improvement, aside An's abandonment issues, Kick It Up a Notch is a giant slap to the face for An, as well as her wake-up call.

Kohane taking on Nagi's mantle before An was able to, or potentially ever could, isn't just about singing - it's an attempt at An's entire sense of self, just as well as her place in the world, and on the smaller sense, her hometown, too.

Because if An is not Nagi, she doesn't belong.

Because An never knew how to do anything but sing. Because becoming like her family, like Nagi, was the only option she ever imagined for herself ever since she was a child.

And if An is not Nagi, then who the hell is she?

[this post was very much inspired by @the-one-that-weeps 's An analysis post, who kind of put this much more eloquently than I could! Go check them out.

All translated lines that aren't taken from the wiki transcripts are by lozybug on YouTube!]

#jay rambles.txt #jay's character analysis #project sekai #prsk #an shiraishi #vivid bad squad #i spent like a solid 3 hours writing this

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nothing-tolose · 1 month

Text

Foolish One.

warning: reader being so dumb bcs she always ignores every signs and dreaming too much <3

if you have criticism and suggestions to me, you can just knock my dm or send it to inbox <3

a/n: this whole fic was messed up like REALLY REALLY MESSED UP please bear w me ;) have fun anw

wc: 6K

daily click

Cards are on the table. It's way past midnight, yet the living room is bathed in light, and laughs from your friends all over the room. Here you are, having a sleepover for four nights with your friends and now playing UNO cards with them. None of you all can sleep, that's why now you were sitting on the dining chair, with three cards on your hand.

"Ellie! It's your turn!"

You glanced at Ellie, who was sitting across the table, as Sophie called out her name. God, you couldn't help yourself but screaming inside your heart as you saw her smile on her face. Those freckles on her face, green emerald eyes, and the scar on her eyebrow, she literally got your attention.

You knew that you were already fell in love with her, ever since you saw her on Aimee's instagram story 3 months ago. Head over heels even. But one thing you can't help it from yourself everytime you fall in love, you were too afraid to reach her out. Of course, your friends giving you a lot of advice so you wouldn't be afraid to start a conversation with Ellie. You already tried on their advice, such as texting her through direct messagw but always ended up you delete it before you could even send the text.

So many negative thoughts when you tried to reach her. What if she doesn't like me? What if she call me a freak? What if she hates me? A countless what-ifs lives rent free on your mind. And it explains why you weren't close enough with Ellie, you were too afraid and too shy to start a conversation.

You knew all about her from your friends. They'd tell you what's her interest, what she likes and hates, what she afraid of, and so much more. You do realize that you can't just got her news only from your friends, so you've been following her instagram account by your not really a suspicious fake account named @/16candlesf00l. Thank God her account isn't a private account, and thank God she didn't block your account!

You've also been following her TikTok with another fake account since she was pretty famous there with around 8,000 followers she has, and that makes you can easily leave comments on every video she posts without worried about she's going to confused, you usually leaving comments like, "Oh, you're really pretty!" and other flirty remarks. Then one day, you comment, "Did you cut your hair?" and she responds with just "Yeah." Despite her brief reply, you respond enthusiastically with "Should we get married?"

A single word, 'Yeah,' had already sent you into an hour of rolling on your bed, giggling, and playfully kicking your feet against the pillows.

She didn't reply to your comment after that, and you didn't mind. At least there was a bit of interaction with you, right?

"Hey!"

Snapped back to the reality by Cassandra's tap on your shoulder, she leaned in and whispered to you, "Girl, I know you're head over heels for Ellie, but how long are you going to just stare at her, huh?"

"What-" You cast a quick glance at Ellie, unable to believe what Cassandra had just said. Yet there she was, looking back at you with that slight smile on her lips, her fingers idly playing with the cards in her hand. It was clear she had been watching you for at least a minute or two.

You quickly turned your head left and right, let out an awkward chuckle to Cassandra. Oh really, you lost your words.

"Uh- Cass- I.. Uhm, what color-" You stuttered, you started feel like this situation was fucking embarrassing especially when Ellie still looking at you, not moving even for a second. Cassandra and the others waiting you pull out your cards.

And for God's sake, you really wanted to hide yourself in a closet right now.

"Hey, why did you stuttered? It's blue, go pull out your card, babe!" Cass slapped your back (not in verbally way obviously. Immediately you pulled out your card, you didn't see the number first but the color.

You saw Ellie suddenly get up from her chair, she handed her cards to Chloe who's already won the game first, "Chloe, can you play my cards for me? Em—" she stopped, clearing her throat before she continued, "I have an emergency, I'll be back later,"

Chloe just nodded without giving her a glance, hands taking the cards. Meanwhile your eyes were never leaving her gesture leaving the dining room to backyard porch.

3 hours passed after the moment where you got caught by your friends for staring at Ellie for too long. Everyone was asleep, except you. It was really really boring because you're being the only one who can't sleep, meanwhile everyone is drowning in their own sweet dream.

The silence in Sophie's bedroom was so quiet that the ticking of the clock feels so loud here. You get up from the bed really slow and careful as you didn't want to disturb Cassandra's sleep, as she was a light sleeper. As you made my way out of the bedroom, you cast anxious glances at Cassandra, concerned that the door might creak loudly upon opening.

You turned your heels towards the backyard porch, then leaning your back against the fence. Your hands grabbed a cigarette and lighter from your pocket. As you took a drag, you sighed, your mind replaying the moment from two hours earlier. After revealing your cards, Ellie had turn aside her gaze, yet you couldn't shake the feeling that she was stealing glances at you every few minutes.

Okay, maybe you're really delusional.

"I thought I'm the only one who couldn't sleep?"

You fixed your position and looking around to find where the voice came from, an that's when you spotted Ellie from the house, pulling on her gray hoodie as she stepped to you. Did she just talking to you? Like, for the first time ever?

Jesus, 'No fucking way,'

You chuckled, "I guess my eyes weren't in the mood for sleep," you said. She joined you, resting her arms on the railing right beside you. "So," you said as you turned and tossed the cigarette into the trash bin below the porch, "What keeps you awake from sleeping? I mean, it's three in the morning and everyone else is asleep except us."

"I don't know," she shrugged her shoulders, and you tilted your head, "You don't know?"

"Yeah, I just… I don't even know what I'm doing before I realize it's already 3 AM. I guess I was thinking about something, getting lost in it, and then I forgot it once I realized I'm still awake," As she spoke, her smile broadened and she turned her head towards you, her gaze firmly fixed on yours.

You nodded in response. You couldn't look at her directly for fear of blushing, even as you sensed her gaze from the corner of your eye. Deep down in your mind, you found it hard to believe what had just happened. The girl you had a crush on since three months ago, the girl you always adored from afar because you were too shy and afraid, the girl you've been flirted on her TikTok post comment section are the same girl who just talking to you a few seconds ago.

The atmosphere turned really awkward when neither of you continued the conversation. The only sounds were from the insects on the ground and the occasional car passing by on the street. You humming, for at least the situation wouldn't be too awkward if you do that.. maybe.

Ellie opened her mouth, "How did you met Sophie?"

"Hm?" you glance at her and gasped the next second, "Oh, Sophie! I thought you were speaking some words," you fall silent, hummed, and let out a little chuckle from your lips, "I've known her since the first year; she was my first friend at school before she introduced me to Aimee, Cassandra, and Chloe. We've gotten along ever since… until today. And.. what about you?"

"Sophie has been my friend since childhood, we were on the same school when I was 7, her dad was my father's fishing buddy for years and we were on the same neighborhood. Now she's more like my.. older sister," she stopped, before pull herself away from the railing, "But whenever I'm with her, it feels as though I'm speaking to an old woman who lives for a long time. She told everything to me, the dos and don'ts, and even offers five minutes of advice whenever she thinks I need it!"

You groans between your laugh, "Really? No way, she did the same thing to me all the time! She's truly the mom, isn't she? Oh, you know what? One day I was scammed by someone claiming to sell tickets for my favorite singer's tour. I ended up losing about 200 bucks, they blocked my numbers and didn't say anything! And she—"

"Wait, 200?!" Ellie interrupted, her tone a mix of surprise and shock. You nodded and chuckled as you saw her mouth fall open. "That's… quite a lot," she added.

"I know! Jeez, I was so dumb at that time, and Sophie was the first person I told, and she really scolded me for an entire day. She keeps bringing it up in the middle of any conversation, as if I didn't hear her the first time," you paused for a moment, taking a breath before continuing, "She even said things like 'I told you so, I damn well told you!', 'If only you had been patient, you wouldn't have been scammed', and 'With that money, you could've bought your precious expensive book,' ugh, I wasn't born for those words!" you imitated Sophie's voice, laughing lightly as you did.

You both laughed, the conversation continues as you both found a lot common in each other's interests when you mentioned your favorite comic book. You swore she's the sweetest when she's talking, eyes always locked on you, the funniest jokes she tossed, it all raises your hopes too high. Two hours flew by, until you started feeling sleepy and decided to head back to the bedroom, but when you were already laying down, the sleepy instantly gone.

You were talking to yourself in whispers before you asleep, mind keep thinking about Ellie and there was no any signs to stop thinking about her. So many wishful thoughts and imagines if you were dating her. Yet, no matter how long you could keeping her in your mind, there's always some voices showed up in your head and saying such things like;

'You really never learned from your past,'

'There's so many girls out there who maybe caught her attention,'

'It'd seem so sad if you're the only one who fell to her and she's not.'

'Aren't you afraid if she end up with someone who's not you like how the last time you fell in love?'

And you really hate those voices, trying to block them all out without giving a single damn to it. Instead, you tried to believe that things will work out with Ellie, unlike the last time when you fell for Robin—the girl who started dating someone else the day after you confessed your feelings to her.

No, you're not going to end up the same like that. Not now, not with Ellie.

"What if she confesses her feelings to me?" you mumbled, biting your lower lip as you began giggling and buried your face in the pillow, "God, I'm so fucking delusional!" although you said that, you couldn't stop for imagining if she were tell you about her feelings, going on a date to somewhere, chilling at her house or yours, and discussing about every novel you both likes.

It was so.. cute, you thought. However, you didn't realize that you were projecting those images as hopes onto yourself and it'd lead you to breaking down if you weren't aware.

You push the pillow away from your face, shifting into a side-lying position. A smile remains ever-present on your lips. You breathe in and out slowly, then closed your eyes, it's literally five in the morning and you haven't sleep.

"Have a good sleep, Ellie,"

Ugh, you did not.

Two months down the line. Returning home from Sophie's holiday house was quite late, a full day after everyone else had left. You had the option to ride with Cassandra or take up Ellie's offer, but you were waiting for your mom, who had promised to pick you up. She didn't show up for four hours, then she texted you that she would be a bit late, and you ended up waiting her until the next afternoon.

You've called her phone countless times, but she never answers. You can't turn to your dad for help either, as he's been in Greece for three months. And your brother? He would never waste his time just for drive ten hours from his place to Sophie's home and then take you to your apartment.

So, how did you managed to get home?

Ellie came back the next night after Sophie mentioned you to her. You were overwhelmed with guilt for having declined her offer to drive you home the day before, especially since she returned just to take you home, facing a five-hour drive. She knew you weren't really in a mood after waiting literally a night for your mom who texted you that she couldn't pick you up after you were already with Ellie. She knew that. That's why she made a stop at convenience store, bought a lot of foods and drinks before taking you to the closest beach for some relaxation.

You've been getting along with Ellie. Ever since the day she made sure you got home safely by driving you home, there hasn't been a day without texting, talking, and even meeting up with her. And indeed, for heaven's sake, she made you fall deeper for her, more than ever. The way she acts around you, the way she talked to you, the way she is paying her attention at you every time you tell her your story. She really keeps your hopes still high.

She always asks you to go out at least three or four nights a week, and you've never said no. After all, it's not a waste of time when the girl you have a crush on—the same one you always comment on her posts—is asking you out. Every time you went out with her, she was incredibly sweet, as if you were girlfriends. But sometimes, she'd leaving you too soon, she would be saying sorry because she had an emergency. And it wasn't just once. But you didn't mind at all since she still brought you out to any places.

Ellie would purchase everything for you; even when you babbled thoughtlessly, she would disappear for a bit and come back with an item you had mentioned in her hand. You have always warned her against purchasing such items without your consent-literally all the time, and although she agreed, she never heard your warning.

"I swear to God, Ellie. I just told you an hour ago to not buy me some things I babbled about!"

She smiled, "Oh.. really?" you scoffed, couldn't hide the smile from your lips, "You're smiling."

"Shut up, Williams!"

A couple weeks had gone by, you started to questioning yourself about what were you to her? Girlfriend? Or were you just trapped in situationship? The worse, you were only a friend to her. You couldn't find the answer. It seems like she might have the same feelings towards you. She made you flustered, made you felt like you were the luckiest person alive. On the other hand, she never mentioned what relationship you both are in right now. You couldn't even tell if you were deserve to feel hurt or not.

Despite everything, you know how to pretend you're fine when you're hurt, right..?

Now go back to the present, you found yourself resting your head on Ellie's shoulder, half-watching the netflix show on the TV. Instead of watching the show, you were busy on your own thoughts. Confused. Who are you to her? Just friends? Situationship? You knew it too well, it felt like you can call her as yours but in reality you were not.

"Everything's alright?" Ellie interrupted your thoughts as she spoke. You nodding your head in response, lied. And unfortunately you weren't good at hiding expressions. She can feel that you were far from alright.

"Are you sure?" she asked, paused the show. Then she pinched your cheeks, leaving you laughing and grabbing her wrists as you pleaded with her to stop, "You know, you can tell me if there's anything wrong. I'll help you," she added, her fingers stopped pinching your cheeks now.

You chuckled, "That's so nice of you, Williams. But trust me, nothing's wrong now."

You keep resting your head on her shoulder, your gaze wandering around her apartment. Three minutes later, you find yourself sinking back into your daydreams. About someday, when you both are older, these moments would be the things you always laugh about over the tea every morning while Ellie watching the news.

"It was so funny back then,"

"Yeah! Oh, remember when you drove me home but the you stopped at the beach!"

You huffed, realizing once more that it was all just a dream.

"Ellie," you called her name all of the sudden, with you playing with your fingers, "Yeah?"

"Do you ever... believe that if we were patient enough to wait someone we had a crush on, they'll coming to you?" you don't know, why the question was suddenly came out from your mouth.

She hummed at first, and laughed, "No.. I guess. Because, what if you were already waiting them patiently but apparently they weren't the one for you?"

You went silent, she tilted her head to you, "Why did you asked suddenly though? Did someone caught your attention for a while and you're waiting for them?" and you nods.

"Who?"

'It's you, dumbass.' you secretly rolled your eyes.

"I won't tell you," you sigh out, "I've been waiting them for these past 5 months, and for God's sake, she's too hard for me to reach!" you slammed your hands into your thighs, inviting her laugh.

"It's almost half of a year, and you still waiting?" you nods to her question, biting your lower lip and avoiding her gaze. You heard her letting out a heavy sigh, "What if they never come to you? As if their love were never gonna come either?"

You froze, losing all your words. Why was she asked you like she knew you were talking about her?

Thereafter her phone buzzed leading Ellie quickly flipped her phone like she doesn't want you to curious, "I'm going out for at least ten minutes, you don't mind?"

And who are you to said no and pleaded to stay here? You were her guest on her house, nothing more like that. In the end you answered okay, almost whispered.

You were spying her through the corner of your eye as she walked out onto the balcony and closed the door. You could see her from inside when she walked back and forth with a big grin on her face, occasionally laughing. You really wanted to know what was going on, what the conversation was about that made her laugh so freely. But you knew your boundaries; you weren't supposed to ask her personal questions.

At one time she talked too loud you could even hear it from where you sit, "You'll come back? You're kidding, right? I swear to God, Emma, I missed you so much!"

Wait, who's Emma?

Ellie looked so excited on conversation with someone she just called Emma. From what you've heard through friends, Ellie didn't have many friends, and they mentioned only Jesse, Dina, Aimee, Chloe, and Sophie when you first confessedyour feelings about Ellie to them. So.. who's Emma then?

What if she were Ellie's girlfriend? No, there's no fucking way. Five months ago your friends said she was single, so that.. can't be. You immediately get rid all your negative thoughts about the girl Ellie mentioned on her phone call.

Enough staring her too long and overthinking. You shrugged your shoulders, act like you didn't care at all, 'I shouldn't think about this.. No. Please, please, please, try to think how sweet Ellie when she's with me..'

You changed the show into the romance one, you cannot stop smiling, you dream up if those romance scenes you watched right now was you and Ellie. The thought from you think about when you were couldn't sleep at Sophie's holiday house came back, 'Will Ellie ever open up about her feelings for me?'

It was so dumb. Do you ever think like that? The answer is yes, but who cares?

Your phone buzzed, and as you glanced at the screen, a notification was displayed.

911 sophie

hiiiii babe let me tell u i'm at aimee's rn

You

helllooooo what r u doing w her?

911 sophie

aimee was about to inviting you to her house tonight, and the others too. but her phone was DEAD RN she's planning on making a whole fucking meal like.. for 6 people??!! anyway wya???? she told me to buy some foodstuff at supermarket but i'll be fucking bored if im alone since she cant go out she's too busy with her other food creation or idk whatever she called it sooooo do you want to accompany me say yes i'll pick you up RIGHT NOW

You chuckled as you saw her text. Aimee was definitely too focused on what's her doing right now. You could tell how bored Sophie was there.

You

does she invite ellie too? anw pick me up pleaseeee ms. torres;))) at ellie's house love u!

Your gaze went to Ellie's, seems like she already finished the call. It's been 4 hours since you got here, and maybe it's enough for today even though you haven't finished the show you're currently watching.

911 Sophie

yeah she invited ellie too why? huh you were at what??? ellie?? GIRL HOW

You

mmmm i'll tell u later ;p JUST PICK ME UP ALREADY

911 sophie

OH CMON okay i'll be there in 10 xo

You paused the TV show and rose from the couch, reaching for your sling bag on the floor. At the same time Ellie, had came back from the balcony, you could tell how good her mood is by her smile.

"Where are you going?" she asked, noticing that you had already slung your bag over your shoulder. She made her way over to you, her fingers were scratching her back neck.

"I… Uh… Sophie asked me to go out for buy some foodstuff.." you pointing your thumb to behind before falling silent for a moment. "Is… is it okay if I leave now?" you ask, feeling a wave of regret wash over you immediately after, cursing on yourself for even questioning why she wouldn't be okay with you leaving.

'God, I'm so weird!'

"Oh… Okay," Ellie glanced back before turning her head to stare at you, "I was about to leave as well. Where will she meet you? And maybe I can drive you—"

You cut her off, shaking your head, "Actually… she said she'll pick me up here in ten minutes." Ellie nodded in response, her mouth forming an 'O'. She made her steps into her bedroom after she smiled at you and came back with her wearing her green jacket.

Your other side was sooo curious. Where is she going? Why did she smile so happily after the call? And what made her so excited during the call earlier? Will she be with someone, or will she be alone? You don't know, and you want to know. You really want to know. Curiosity inside you feels like started to eat you up. You immediately shook your head, pushing away your curiosity. You started talking to yourself in a really low voice, as if you hadn't said anything, "I should stop doing that."

"Ellie, I…" you were staring at her as she hummed, her gaze was met yours, "I think I'm gonna wait on the front porch." You were about to make your way to the front door, but her hand grabbing your wrist stopped you. "Ellie?"

Your eyes locked on hers; her expression was different from a minute ago. It was... guilty? Sad? You couldn't even tell. What's going on now? Was this related to her call minutes ago?

"I just... want to say sorry,"

You tilted your head. Seriously, what's going on?

"So, did you mean she was saying sorry to you without explain everything?"

Now, you were in Aimee's kitchen with Sophie, picking up the conversation that had been put on hold hours earlier. Aimee was in her bathroom, and here it's only you and Sophie whereas the rest on the dining room. You did tell her everything what happened today, once you asked her who's Emma, but Sophie wasn't sure if she know that girl because Ellie never told her about Emma. You already asked Aimee too, and all she said was, "I think I've heard that name.. I don't know." they literally left you all disappointed.

"I was about to ask her why she was apologizing to me, but I couldn't because you came to pick me up," you said, rolling your eyes at Sophie, which was followed by laughter from both of you.

"Whoa, so it was my fault, young lady?" her tone was changed along with the tip of her lips moved down shaping like upside-down 'U', "Maybe she did something wrong and you didn't notice it. Don't take this seriously because I'm just trying to speculate."

You scoffed at Sophie, "I don't know, Sophie. As far as I remember, she didn't do anything wrong that would make me mad or upset," you said, turning your shoulders down and positioning the knife between the apple slices you had cut earlier.

"Try to ask later, babe. I'm pretty sure she'll tell you later," Sophie placed her hand on your shoulder, before she moved to your left side. You gave her a disagreement gesture, huffed so loudly, made her expression was changed in seconds.

"She haven't talk to me since she arrived here, Soph," head down as you resting your hands to the counter surface, "What?"

You huffed once again. Indeed, Ellie hadn't spoken to you or even glanced your way since she arrived. It was as if you had done something to pissed her off, but you hadn't. She didn't text or call you like she always did after you left her apartment, the last message was when you told her you were already at her house. You were too desperate to find an answer or even to asking her. She seemed like a different person, completely changed from when she last spoke to you hours ago.

You both went back to dining room, sitting right next to each other while Ellie was sitting in front of you. She didn't give you a single glance, as if you weren't there. It's not like what she did when the night at Sophie's holiday house back then. She checked her phone every 10 minutes like she's waiting something important.

Your eyes were never left her gestures during the dinner. Even when your friends tried to talk to you, you just answered them briefly because you weren't in the mood to talk. Twenty minutes later, Ellie excuses herself and leaves everyone else, including you. She takes her steps to the kitchen. You see her hiding her smile by biting her lip.

Does she even realize you're here?

"Is everything okay?" asked Chloe, sitting next to you. "You seem a bit off, and I noticed Ellie haven't been talking to you either. Is there something wrong between you two?" she moved her chair so she can move closer to you.

"We're fine," you claim, but it's not entirely true. You might be pretending, yet you're actually okay with Ellie since you've never argued before. Chloe grunts, sensing the dishonesty in your words.

"I know you're lying. C'mon, you can be honest with—"

You shake your head, you don't want this conversation to continue too far. Enough for tonight. "We're really fine, Chloe. Believe me."

Chloe nods, she's back to her position, "Okay then. But still, tell me—no, I mean, please tell us if something's wrong with you two, we can help."

You excused yourself to the bathroom, but Ellie's voice in the kitchen halted your steps. You never realized what are you doing in front of the bathroom door, until you found yourself leaning on the wall right next to the kitchen where you heard her voice. She sounded so happy, laughs between her words, saying jokes that she had already told you.

The ache in your heart was undeniable. Who could she be talking to on the phone? Emma, perhaps?

You bite your lower lip, your hands wiping away the tears that threaten to fall from your eyes. You enter the bathroom and sit on the toilet, head bowed.

"Why does it hurt so much? I'm just her friend, right?"

Right, you had no right to be jealous or hurt when Ellie never thought about you being her girlfriend even though she treated you like one.

The next day, neither Ellie nor you started the conversation on messages like you two always did every morning. It felt so empty to you as you woke up and didn't find any signs of Ellie texting you.

You did your morning routine as usual without giggles and smiles. Everything went too quiet. You didn't mumbled or even talking to voice notes that you'e always sent to Ellie.

As night fell, time passed quietly. You didn't venture out, choosing instead to isolate yourself from the world, turned on the do not disturb mode on your phone even though Ellie hadn't sent any messages. The conversation remained where it was left off yesterday morning.

You couldn't resist the urge to text her, yet it all seemed no use when you deleted every word you were about to send.

You walked back and forth in your bedroom, hand holding the phone as your fingers scrolling through TikTok. None of the videos you watched, all you did was scroll and scroll, not really in a mood though but you were bored. Really bored.

Fingers stopped as you saw the profile picture, recognizing it too well, more than your own profile picture. It wasn't a video, but photos with a song called 'The Perfect Pair'. You knew who the figure in the photo was: auburn hair, sitting in the driver's seat, wearing the same jacket you saw yesterday, and the gray baseball cap she always wears.

Your eyes caught the other figure: long wavy ginger hair, sitting in the passenger seat, her hand holding the person you recognized before. God, your heart was beating faster than you could pant.

Slowly you sit on the floor, leaning onto your side bed.

You saw the caption, 'Soft launch' with some hashtag she always put in there. And the user she tagged, @/user3291emms.

That was the time you felt like something crashed your heart and broke into hundreds pieces. You know if you were too curious, you'll get the consequences. You opened the comment section, there was she commented on her own post, 'Welcome back to Boston, sweetheart.'

You feel like you're the most foolish girl who ever lived. Suddenly, you remember something that you had forgotten when you had a conversation face to face with Chloe.

"I heard from Dina, Ellie had been talking to someone for a while, the girl named Emma or something."

You didn't listen to Chloe that day because you were too busy adoring Ellie, who was playing her guitar far from you. You cursed yourself, mind repeating all those moments you always thought it meant nothing to you and her. All those moments became signs that Ellie wasn't the one.

The moment when she excused herself in the middle of UNO games, the moment when she always left too soon after she took you out, the moment when she was on the call on the balcony and she got too excited. The moment she was about to go, she was going to pick up Emma from the airport. And when she left the dinner party earlier than others, she was going on a date with Emma.

You were crying so hard, you put your phone right beside you while you buried your face between your arms.

"How could I not see the signs?" you spoke between your tears.

The voices in your head were right; you never learned anything from the past. Now, the voices were telling you why did you always ignore the signs. Because you were too busy loving someone, which led you to forget the worst-case scenario if they weren't loving you as you did to them.

Maybe you'll finally learn your lesson.

You sit there alone on the bench, at the park that Ellie always used to take you. Eyes never leaving two figures from afar, they seemed having fun on their own. Ellie hugging Emma tightly, giving her a lot of kisses while laughing at something. Thoughts of imagining if Emma were you came, which immediately you push away.

Ellie never texted you again or called you, or even talking to you, and you were trying to get used to it. Every single day, you tried to resist the urge to check the messages that had started to be abandoned.

You smiled slightly, you stood and picking up your bag, ready to leaving the park soon. Taking a small step into the exit.

You didn't know, Ellie noticed your existence right after she's done hugging Emma. Her eyes locked on your gestures, she didn't move even for an inch. As you get up from the bench, she did the same thing like she was about to take her step to you.

Oh, she did it anyway. Your wallet dropped without your knowledge. Ellie told Emma to wait for a minute and hurried over to you. She picked up your wallet and noticed the Polaroid of you and her from when she took you to the beach before. Something stirred in her chest as she wondered why you still held onto the Polaroid despite her having hurt you by avoiding you like a completely stranger.

"Hey, your wallet dropped," she tapped your shoulder twice, before you turned around.

You were surprised, Ellie was right standing in front of you. After all these months of being a stranger to each other, she showed up suddenly. You cleared your throat, took the wallet immediately, and put it in your bag. "Thanks," you said.

Everything went quiet again between you two, none of you were talking or leaving.

You felt like the goodbye was screaming in the silence. You seeing the visions of the past, maybe you just got her longing glances while Emma got her rings. You huffed, doesn't know if this was the last time you'd see her or not.

"Ellie," her smile disappeared as you called her name.

"Is it okay if I tell you that I still love you even though we haven't talk since Emma came to Boston? I'm sorry, Ellie. But I couldn't bear my feelings," you confessed to her, all those words just out from your mouth.

With furrowed eyebrows, she averted her gaze before fixing it on yours. "And would it be too late if I told you that I haven't been able to stop thinking about you for these past few months, even after avoiding you? God, I wish I could have told you sooner."

Your eyes widened. Just before you could say something, she left, leaving you all alone with her words lingering in your mind until God knows when.

a/n: i made this because i just found out that the girl that i had a crush on for months already have a girlfriend <3 (i've been crying nonstop) ANYWAY big thanks to taylor swift for the names <33333

#⋆˚࿔ nothingtolose 𝜗𝜚˚⋆#ellie williams angst #ellie williams x reader angst #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x you #ellie williams #ellie williams x female reader #tlou2 #ellie tlou2 #lesbian #ellie williams fanfic #ellie williams fluff #ellie the last of us #ellie x fem reader

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genderkoolaid · 3 months

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something ive noticed as a very effeminate trans masc that dresses pretty androgynous & has been on hrt for many years is that the status of being a "dangerous man" can and will be placed on you (ime most often by cis white women) whenever expressing any kind of negative feelings. if i told friends of mine - even queer ones - that something they did hurt my feelings or made me upset, i was suddenly a dangerous man or a (man)ipulator or whatever - even if i didn't raise my voice. the very fact that i am unhappy combined with my proximity to manhood makes me a supposed threat in their eyes.

a couple years ago i had a group of cis girl friends. they would constantly pull me into women's bathrooms n such so i wouldn't be left behind saying its fine its fine bc im one of the girls (gender neutral) but then as soon as i was upset about something i was suddenly a dangerous man who needed to stay out of women's spaces,,,, despite the fact that of the 4 of us, the girl who joined after me was the one spreading this shit around my friend group so... how was i encroaching on womens spaces if i was there before her and i was invited in? luckily one of my friends told me that the other two were plotting to kick me out of my friend group on the sole basis of my proximity to manhood so i at least knew why they were suddenly treating me like shit

its just.. i cant understand why people dont think trans mascs and trans men are discriminated against when they literally said it was my "toxic man energy" that made them want me out WHILE ALSO being the ones convincing me to go into womens spaces bc they wanted to go somewhere and didnt wanna have to leave me behind & like i said im extremely effeminate and faggy and also NONBINARY so i dont understand what "man energy" they were talking about other than the fact that im on testosterone and thinking testosterone = man is just transphobic no matter how you try to twist it

but my taking testosterone was never a problem or made me evil or scary when they wanted me to go with them into women-only (&nonbinary too i guess unless youre amab (and they can tell) or been on testosterone for too long) spaces, it was only a problem when they wanted 1. a reason to criticise me relentlessly, borderline bullying or 2. a reason to dismiss any of my concerns or criticisms of their treatment of me

all of that, to me, is transandrophobia point blank. i dont know what else you could call it other than transphobia, but transphobia doesn't address any of the very blatant and obvious connection of how my transness affects their perception of my proximity to manhood and how that affected the situation

God that sucks. I'm sorry you went through that.

You make a very good point. This is why I don't want to define transandrophobia/ATM as just transphobia and misogyny directed at transmascs. I still think transunity theory is a really valuable way of looking at transphobia & its important to me that we are vocal about how masculine tropes are weaponized against trans people by cis people on the regular because of how we are positioned in relation to gender. Too many people think the that the only thing wrong with saying trans people have "dangerous male energy" is that its misgendering. So trans people who choose to associate themselves with manhood are left in the trash by the people who should know best how much being made out to be a Dangerous Male Invader hurts!

#m.#ask box #experiences with transandrophobia

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agi-ppangx · 10 months

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💭rivals to lovers (100 followers special)

"i thought you wouldn't come to my exhibit," you heard hyunjin as he approached you. you didn't look at him, too stared into one of his paintings. you attended yet another of hyunjin's exhibitions in your local art gallery in the span of six months. he was thriving, it was almost as if the inspiration hadn't left him for once. you felt bittersweet about it. on the one hand you were truly amazed by his artworks. hyunjin's attention to detail always made you speechless and as an artist yourself, you examined his works and tried to incorporate the same details into your paintings. on the other hand however, you were jealous, so incredibly jealous - you wished your paintings were better, you wished for more exhibits, you wanted to amaze people as much as he did or even more. and even though you were appreciated by local art critics and media, you'd always felt as if your art was lacking something. that's why you and hyunjin were waging a silent battle among yourselves for the favour of critics and art lovers. after all, you also used to have exhibitions in this gallery in the past.

"it's always nice to know what i'm up against," you murmured, studying the canvas in front of you. "i always assumed you didn't like my art," he then said, taking one step closer to you and pointing at the painting. "i've never said i didn't like it," "then what do you think about it?" you took a moment to gather your thoughts. "it intrigues me, i appreciate it. you always know when to stop, it's like there are so many untold feelings and emotions within you, waiting to be set free," you answered his question. it was genuine - you've always thought hyunjin's art was exceptional. "you should write poetry, yn" he giggled under his nose. you missed the slight blush that appeared on his cheeks. "is it your attempt to make fun of my art?" "no, i'm just saying that you're really good with words," "and i'm even better with a brush," you replied confidently, finally turning to him and looking him in the eyes. you examined his look - he was grinning and you noticed his hair was way longer than the last time you saw each other. you wondered if they were as soft as you imagined. "how've you been lately?" hyunjin's voice helped you to come back to reality. "i've been quite good, thanks for asking," you replied simply, not wanting to get into details. he smiled, but something in it felt off. "that's great. did you paint anything? i haven't seen your works in a while," hyunjin then asked, it seemed as if he wanted to get into details. you shrugged your shoulders and once again turned to face the painting. you haven't seen your works in a while too. "i'm taking things slow for now," you mumbled, not wanting to admit to him how unmotivated you'd been in the last couple of months. hyunjin hummed at your words, a faint "mhm" left his mouth. you expected him to leave you for now, but instead you heard him speak after a while. "hey, why don't we go to dinner together?" you froze in your spot. a dinner with hyunjin? "my treat," he added, you could quite literally hear him smirk. you looked at him, but not as confidently as before. you studied his expression, his soft smile and friendly gaze made you oddly calm. after a moment you cleared your throat and spoke. "okay, let's go."

hyunjin drove you to one of the restaurants downtown. it wasn't anything extremely fancy, but it looked like a nice place. you sat across from each other, hyunjin's piercing gaze never leaving you. it felt weird, to say the least. you'd never really spent time with him outside of the gallery. quite frankly, hyunjin intimidated you. he was well known for many people in the city, mostly for his artwork, but also for his personal charm, which seemed to do the work. you always observed him from afar, too scared to get close to him. what you didn't know is that from the first time you met, hyunjin couldn't stop thinking about you and he would always make sure to approach you when he noticed you in a crowd. "now tell me, how've you really been lately?" hyunjin broke the silence between you two. you raised your eyebrows and scoffed. was he really curious or did he only want you to admit that you were struggling? "i told you i'm doing just fine," you mumbled in response. "oh, come on, you really think i'm gonna believe you? when was the last time you painted something then?" he proceeded to ask, sounding defeated. it made you dumbfounded, you'd never heard this tone from him before. "if you invited me here just to make fun of me then save it for yourself," you scoffed, but the tears were already weiling in your eyes. you looked down, too embarrassed to meet his gaze. hyunjin exhaled shakily, shocked by your words. he never wanted to make fun of you. sure, he was happy his paintings were appreciated by people and this whole rivalry thing was fun when you actually tried to make a better exhibit than him. and since you hadn't had any in months, he started to get worried for real. "you just seem… very off lately. as if your body is present but you aren't. and it hurts me to see such a talented person lose their spark," hyunjin whispered. "why do you even care?" you scoffed, wiping a single tear that fell down your cheek. god, that was humiliating. yet your heart was beating faster and your cheeks were getting hotter at the thought that hyunjin may genuinely care for you. he was staring at you, his smile long forgotten. you exhaled loudly. "it feels as if everything i do is pointless. i don't know why i feel this way, but it can't seem to stop. and when i sit in front of clean canvas i'm scared i'll ruin them," you uttered, more tears spilling from your eyes. hyunjin didn't waste any time, he gave you a few napkins from a dispenser and then took your hand in his. it startled you, but you didn't back off. "you've never ruined any canvas, yn. i heard people talk about your art, i read articles about it. art can be scary - but you can use your fear as your weapon and create something extraordinary with that. it's just so heartbreaking to see you like this. yn, please don't give up" you looked him in the eyes, completely astonished by his words, and squeezed his hand. "damn, hwang, you're so sappy," you giggled, wiping the last tears from your rosy cheeks. hyunjin laughed at that, feeling relieved. "hey, um… there's also something i wanted to talk to you about," he muttered suddenly, getting shy.

two months later you were standing in front of a painting in your local art gallery. two people sitting across each other, both of them in front of canvas. in the bottom left corner was your signature. it was your exhibit.

someone approached you and even though you didn't take your eyes off the painting, you knew exactly who was standing by your side. "i thought you wouldn't come to my exhibit," you recalled hyunjin's words and he softly laughed at that. "oh, i'm just looking for my rival's weaknesses.” you stole a glance at him, taking his hand in yours. “we both know that you’re my only weakness, hwang.”

feedback and reblogs highly appreciated🫶🏽

#skz #stray kids #stray kids fluff #stray kids headcanons #stray kids x reader #skz au #stray kids imagines #skz comfort #stray kids scenarios #stray kids comfort #skz hyunjin #stray kids hyunjin #hyunjin fluff #hyunjin x you #hwang hyunjin imagines #hyunjin #hyunjin scenarios #hwang hyunjin #hyunjin x reader

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bluejay757 · 8 months

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Lets talk about Simon and Betty

spoilers for episode 8

So a lot of people are throwing around some strong accusations about their relationship, some I can see where they're coming from, and a lot are really reaching.

As for the ones that I think are reaching, a lot of people are saying that Simon and Betty were a professor/student dynamic, except they weren't. Simon wasn't teaching a class he was a guest lecturer, and Betty, having read his work was interested. She was excited to meet him because she liked his research. Simon was constantly mocked in his field, if you actually read the newspaper clippings from "I remember you" you'll see that even after he found the enchiridion, he was made fun of. People were literally laughing at him and throwing things at him while he was giving his lecture. Betty likely was mocked too, it makes sense she was so excited to meet him, because this was her chance to meet one of the few people that actually shared her interest. She did not yet have a crush on him at that point in time.

I think after she got to know Simon on a personal level her fascination of him changed, as she no longer viewed him as a "celebrity" (I use that term loosely for a lack of a better word, I can't imagine his books sold that many copies, what with him being a laughing stock and him being genuinely surprised that Betty had read his work), but rather a colleague and equal. She even said that after their trip together she had grown to admire him as a person, so it's not like she had any kind of feelings for him prior to that. Now that's not to say her feelings towards him were completely normal, but there definitely wasn't a power imbalance between them.

A lot of people are saying Simon was selfish for making her stay behind, but he didn't make her. She chose to stay behind. She could have still gone on that trip, and continued to write to him and talk to him on the phone, but she chose to stay with him and go on different adventures. You're forgetting that Simon and Betty went on expeditions together all the time, it's not like she gave up her career for him, that would be a whole different story, but she made the decision to continue working in her field alongside him.

Also Simon couldn't have gone on that trip if he did want to because he wasn't offered to go, who ever it was that gave Betty that opportunity, wasn't anticipating on her bringing a friend, he also didn't have anything with him but like his wallet and keys you can't seriously expect him to go to another country with no luggage, no plane ticket, no money, no nothing. A whole part of Fionna's character arc is realizing that life's not a fairy tale, she was expecting something out of a romance novel and got a story straight from reality. Realistically the two options were for Betty to stay or to leave Simon. And I don't think her giving up her trip to Australia was a sacrifice, because there were other trips and opportunities after that, she traded that one trip for an entire lifetime of them, (or at least it would have been if war didn't break out)

And if you're gonna call Betty impulsive, call her impulsive because she went on a trip around the world with a man she had never met, not because she walked through a creek barefoot lmfao.

I'm not saying that Simon and Betty were perfect but there are other reasons to criticize them.

As for the actual problems with there relationship, none of them are their fault. Betty going literally crazy trying to bring Simon back was because of Magic Man and Patience fucking with her brain, a human being cannot handle the amount of magic she was given and it drove her to insanity. And Simon now, with risking everything to bring her back, she's literally fused with a chaos god and is going to live for eternity in that state, did you ever think maybe he wants to get her out of that for her sake? That maybe he wants closure and to say goodbye? Since he never got that chance. No it's not healthy for Simon to drive himself as far as he did to bring her back, but Jesus fucking Christ can you blame him for not wanting his fiance to suffer for literal eternity? They don't need to break up, they need therapy. I don't think their relationship pre-mushroom war was unhealthy, and I don't think it ever would have been unhealthy without Betty becoming Magic Betty.

Their relationship flaws are more so their own individual flaws that have bled into their relationship as opposed to ones caused by the relationship itself, that's an important distinction you have to see.

#petrigrof #adventure time #fionna and cake #simon petrikov #betty grof

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sidekick-hero · 4 months

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Love from the other side

(steddie | rated: M | wc: 6.2k | tags: Vampire Eddie Munson, Nurse Steve Harrington, Mild Gore, Blood Drinking | AO3)

"Steve, we've got a major crash on the Interstate. Multiple vehicles involved. You're on triage duty. Patients will be arriving in five minutes,” Robin, the head nurse in the ER, tells him in a calm voice. She's Steve's best friend, but even he's sometimes surprised at how calm Robin can be in critical situations. He's seen her fret over the prospect of asking out a girl she likes, and her freak-out before her first date with Nancy is now something of a legend between them.

But ask her to handle a crisis and she's cool as a cucumber.

Steve sighs and nods. That means it's going to be a long night. He's already been on for ten hours, two more and he could have gone home to his cat and his warm, soft bed. But they're understaffed as it is, and with so many new patients in unknown condition coming in, he'll be here for at least another five hours. Maybe more.

He makes his way to the triage area of the ER and braces himself for what's to come.

When he finally makes it home, the sun has already risen and he's dead on his feet.

He stumbles through the front door of his apartment and is greeted by Garfield, his tabby cat, who continues to weave through his legs as he takes off his shoes, almost tripping him. He meows pitifully at Steve.

"Yeah, yeah, you poor thing. You'r treated worse here than in a shelter. Warm and cozy and dry with a human to open your tins and feed you."

Garfield meows again, this time more demanding, emphasizing the urgency with which he wants food.

Throwing up his arms, Steve relents. "Fine. Heaven forbid I get to change into something comfortable first."

As soon as he places Garfield's bowl in front of him, Steve is all but forgotten as the cat digs in. "You're welcome," he says to his beloved little freeloader, not expecting a response. He's talking to a cat, after all, but it still helps make the apartment feel less empty.

And there's no one to judge him for it. Not since Robin moved in with Nancy and he had to find a one-bedroom apartment that he could actually afford on his own.

It's not that he begrudges them their happiness, far from it. But coming home to an empty apartment and talking to his cat instead of another human being got old pretty quickly. Worse than that.

It has become lonely.

"Pull yourself together, Steve, and stop whining," he chides himself, still talking out loud.

Steve sighs. He can see himself ending up a hermit with twenty cats who never leaves the house. Deciding it's best to just go to sleep before his thoughts turn any more self-pitying, he bends down to scratch Garfield's head and tells him, "I'm going to bed."

Garfield continues to ignore him as he sips the milk Steve has placed in front of him.

Steve is off for the next two days and spends the time mostly sleeping, doing laundry, and stocking up on food after realizing he didn't even have a slice of toast for breakfast.

He also goes over to Robin and Nance's for dinner, since he's not a hopeless hermit yet. Between the three of them, they go through three bottles of wine and end up swapping stories and inside jokes until his stomach hurts from laughing so hard.

It doesn't make coming back to an empty apartment any easier.

His next shift is another night shift, and it's surprisingly quiet for a Friday night. So far, the worst he has had to deal with is a nasty cut on a drunk frat boy's forehead after the guy fell through a glass door. Steve's still surprised he didn't hurt himself worse. Head wounds bleed like crazy, though, so he looked like he had been attacked by a serial killer when his equally drunk buddies carried him to the emergency room. Seeing that only one deep cut needed stitches, while the other, shallower cuts on his arms and face would be fine on their own, had put Steve in a surprisingly good mood.

So good, in fact, that he carelessly remarked to Carol, the other nurse on duty with him, "Looks like a quiet night for once."

You could have heard a needle drop in the silence that followed his statement, and Carol looked ready to murder him. He had just violated the most important rule in any hospital.

Never, under any circumstances, say the "Q" word.

"Fuck. Oh God, I didn't mean..."

"Too fucking late, Harrington." Carol huffed before stalking off, probably to complain about him to her boyfriend, who was also the hospital director's son.

Less than twenty minutes later, all hell broke loose.

A dance floor at a local club had collapsed, resulting in several dozen serious casualties, all arriving on stretchers, crowding the triage area as Steve worked on autopilot. Assess, prioritize, assist.

In the midst of the chaos, another ambulance arrives and he goes over to talk to the paramedics about taking the patient to St. John's instead because they are at capacity, which really means they were past capacity an hour ago.

One look at the patient tells him there is no time for that,

The man on the gurney was only a few years older than Steve and had a gaping wound on his neck. He was white as a sheet and there was too little blood around a wound that looks like it hit a major artery.

"What the fuck?" He can't help but ask and the paramedic shrugs with a puzzled look on his face.

"I don't know, man. Found him like this and whoever called it in left before we got there."

Rolling their new patient in with hurried steps, Steve wonders if there was anything they could do. The wound needed surgery, and they needed to get blood and other fluids into the man as quickly as possible. Judging by the slow and shallow breathing and the sluggish pulse, his system has already started to shut down.

They lost him before they even got to the operating room. Steve doesn't even hear about it until hours later, when everyone who had been on the dance floor has finally been taken care of and a bone-deep exhaustion replaces the adrenaline-fueled energy in his body. He's not proud of it, but he's too tired to spare the news more than a brief burst of sadness.

Over the next weeks, seven more patients with gaping neck wounds come into the ER while Steve’s on shift, all drained of too much blood to make it past the first ten minutes under their care.

Whispers about a killer roaming the streets of Hawkins have started circulating as the number of victims rises steadily and Steve has started to sleep with a baseball bat under his bed. Just in case.

It’s early Tuesday night, four hours into his twelve hours shift, when another one comes in, this time a young girl around Steve’s age with long strawberry blonde hair and a pretty face. On her neck Steve can make out a gaping wound, just like the others had shown.

But this one is bleeding, profusely.

And the girl is awake, looking up at Steve with wide, terrified eyes.

“Hey, you’re safe, it’s gonna be okay, we’re going to take care of you,” he reassures her over and over as they make their way inside, ushering her to get surgery immediately. When he gives her his warmest reassuring smile she even tries her best to smile back.

Steve hopes she makes it.

She does. Against all odds, considering that the last two dozen victims with similar injuries have all died, she makes it.

Her name is Chrissy Cunningham, and when Steve reads the name on her file, he remembers her. She was a year behind him, a cheerleader. They never really talked much, but he remembers that she was kind and talked to him after everyone else on the team and the cheerleading squad had stopped doing so.

He's glad that she survived, and he promises himself that he will check in on her as soon as his shift is over.

If it hadn't been Chrissy, if it hadn't been someone he knew, he probably never would have met Eddie.

At the end of one of those weird in-between shifts at four in the morning, Steve changes into a pair of sweatpants and his favorite hoodie before heading over to the observatory area where they had to put Chrissy for now because a whole wing of the building is under construction due to some asbestos in the walls. She's already in stable condition, only needing fluids and antibiotics because they have no idea what bit her, so they're letting her sleep it off for now and hopefully find a room to put her in the next day.

The halls of the hospital are quiet at this time of night, especially outside the ER, and it's almost eerie. It feels like no one is here but Steve and the thought makes him shiver. All this serial killer talk is really getting to him, he thinks.

Reaching the area separated only by screens, he sees a figure standing by her bed. He can't make out much, but it appears to be a man, judging by his height, and he's leaning over the bed, talking softly to Chrissy. The man, if it is one, but the deep timber of his voice makes Steve think it is, is not wearing scrubs, but jeans and a hoodie, and Steve is pretty sure he's not hospital staff.

Suddenly, he remembers that something - or someone - must have inflicted the injury on Chrissy's neck.

"Hey, who are you, and what are you doing here?" he shouts as he runs over to the bed, and the figure turns to face him.

It is a man, with wide, dark eyes in a pale face framed by equally dark, messy curls.

"Shit, shit, shit," the man curses and bolts, moving faster than should be humanly possible. One moment he's staring at Steve like a deer in the headlights with his big bambi eyes, the next his shoulder slams into Steve, knocking him to the ground as the mysterious figure disappears from view.

He pushes himself upright and rises from the ground with a determined effort, because even though the guy doesn't look like it, it feels like he's been hit by a brick wall. When he regains his footing, he shakes off the impact and makes his way over to Chrissy to check on her.

She's awake, but too weak to sit up, though she tries.

"Shh, hey, don't strain yourself Chrissy, it's all right, he's gone. You're safe," he reassures her, a hand on her shoulder to keep her from moving too much and aggravating her wound.

"No," she says, her voice barely above a whisper, shaking her head slightly. Just when he wants to reiterate that yes, he's really gone, she continues. "He's safe. He saved me."

"What?" Steve asks, taken aback by her statement. He can tell that even the few words she has spoken have taken a toll on her, draining what little strength she has regained, but he can't help it, he needs to know what she means.

"He...saved me. Pulled him...off. Off me. Would have...killed..." she trails off, her eyelids fluttering shut and Steve lets her be.

Pulling up a chair, he sits down next to her to keep watch, just in case her savior decides to come back.

The next day Chrissy is more lucid. She's also in her own room and has already given a statement to the police when Steve comes in for his shift.

It doesn't matter though, he still has to ask her what happened, needs to know who the strange man was who continued to haunt Steve's dreams after he came home sometime in the early morning.

"I don't know who he is, Steve. He just showed up while Jason...while he," she is visibly shaken by having to remember the events of last night and Steve thinks he should tell her that it's okay, she doesn't have to tell him. But he doesn't. It feels like she needs to say it as much as he needs to hear it.

Steeling herself and taking a deep breath, Chrissy continues, "While Jason was biting me. Mauled me, really. I think he would have torn my throat out if this man had not shown up. He slammed into Jason, ripped him off of me, and they both went down. There was a struggle, I could hear it, but everything hurt so much I couldn't move my head. It went on for a while, I don't know how long. Time was really weird. And then the guy was looking down at me, telling me to stay still, that he was going to call an ambulance, and that I just had to hang in there. He pressed something against my neck and it hurt so much, but the pain kept me there, y'know? So I wouldn't float away and never come back. He told me to stay with him and I did. Until we heard the ambulance. Then he told me he was sorry, but he had to go. And then he was gone and the paramedics took me away."

Chrissy looks very pale after telling her story, the dark rings under her eyes more pronounced than when he first entered the room. But before he can let her rest, he has one more question.

"What was he doing here?"

To Steve's surprise, the question makes Chrissy smile. "An apology, because this is no way for a lady to be left in the lurch."

Steve has no idea what to do with this information, so he just takes Chrissy's hand and squeezes it gently.

"You'll be out of here in no time, Chrissy. We will take good care of you, I promise."

"I know. Thanks, Steve."

He turns and walks away, leaving her to get back to sleep, knowing that it will be a long time before he will be able to do the same.

What the fuck is going on?

They find Jason Carver, or what is left of him, the next day. It's all over the news. No one knows why he attacked his girlfriend or who killed him. The reports leave out a lot of the gruesome details, just saying that he was torn to pieces when they found him.

Steve, of course, can't let that be all. He has to know what happened, so after his shift he sneaks down to the morgue to take a look at what is left of Jason, a guy he only knew in passing, since Steve had already left the school when Jason became captain of the basketball team, taking Steve's old position.

What he finds is a body that is badly mangled, just like the news said. There are deep wounds, chunks of flesh missing, his right arm torn from his shoulder. Though it's hard to swallow, it's not the first time Steve has seen a body destroyed almost beyond recognition. What makes him recoil from the dead man in front of him is the fact that Jason Carver's body is already decomposing as if he'd been dead for several days, maybe weeks, instead of not even 48 hours.

Steve leaves the morgue even more confused - and frightened - and heads home with the image of Jason's tattered, rotting body burned into his eyelids.

Over the next three weeks Steve sees four more victims with the same torn throats and bloodless bodies. None of them can be saved like they saved Chrissy.

He doesn’t see the mysterious man again.

It's late June when Steve's life changes forever.

The sun has only set an hour ago and the air is still warm as he walks home from his shift. Robin and Nance's car broke down the day before, and they live on the outskirts of town, so Steve gave them his car until theirs is fixed in a few days. The weather is nice and he doesn't mind walking the three miles to his apartment.

He's almost home, maybe ten minutes away, when he hears someone whistle.

There's a man standing at the entrance to an alley a few feet ahead of him, and since he's the only one around, Steve assumes it must be him whistling at Steve. The guy is hot, there is no way around it, about Steve's height with an athletic build and a haircut that reminds him of the 80's, his blond hair styled into a mullet.

"What's a pretty guy like you doing out here all alone?" The man asks as he gives Steve a slow look. It's supposed to be seductive, Steve thinks, but it just comes off as sleazy. Which is a shame, because the guy has a pretty face, long lashes, full lips, delicate features. Steve's also going through a bit of a dry spell lately, but he's not desperate enough to hook up with a slimy sleazeball like that.

"None of your business, really," he replies, walking a little faster than before. Something doesn't feel right, he thinks, feeling the hairs stand up on the back of his neck.

"Aww, don't be like that, sweet thing. I just wanna talk, I swear." Steve is almost past the guy when their eyes meet and he feels himself freeze. "Why don't you come closer so I can smell you better?"

Even as he thinks, "What the hell is wrong with this guy?" he feels his body turn toward him and his feet propel him forward. He feels himself panic, but it's a distant thing, like an itch under his skin that he can't reach no matter how hard he scratches.

When he's in front of the stranger, so close that their chests almost touch, the man leans in and sniffs Steve's neck like a dog at a slab of meat. He hums deep in his chest and Steve feels the wet touch of his tongue against his skin. It's enough of a shock that he can get his body to react, to fight back, but it's no use. The moment he moves, the man growls menacingly at him.

With his feet still rooted to the ground, Steve feels like he's underwater, his senses dulled and his limbs heavy, weighed down by the tons of water around him. He fights it with all his strength and it takes all he's got to put his hands on the man's chest and push him away.

It's not even close to a hard push, but the man clearly didn't expect Steve to fight back at all, so he stumbles back a bit anyway. Unfortunately for Steve, it only makes him angrier.

"Looks like you got some fight in you after all. Too bad I don't like my food to fight back," he snarls, and before Steve knows what's happening he feels his back slam into the wall behind him, darkness surrounding them on all sides.

He struggles against the hands holding him down, but it's no use, their grip steely and unyielding.

The once pretty face has turned into something twisted and ugly, a grotesque imitation of a human face, and when the thing in front of him opens its mouth, all Steve sees are teeth. Long, sharp teeth.

Steve screams, but not a sound comes out of its mouth.

As those teeth sink into his neck, the face of the man who saved Chrissy's life pops unbidden into his mind. Steve has seen it in his dreams more than once, and it's strangely comforting to think of it now, in what Steve is sure will be his last minutes alive. As if this is all a fucked up dream and Chrissy's mysterious savior will come for him, too.

White hot pain races through his body from where the thing that looked like a man sunk its teeth into him and it's only that pain that makes him believe what he sees next.

One moment he's in mind-numbing agony, almost wishing for death to come and end his suffering, and the next the oppressive weight of that thing is gone, its teeth no longer in Steve. With nothing holding him up, he crumples to the ground, his head dazed and his body shaking like a leaf.

To his right he hears the sounds of a viscous battle. Growls and snarls, flesh hitting flesh, flesh hitting brick, the sound of bones snapping. He's too weak to even turn his head, and part of him is glad for that.

The fight seems to go on forever and Steve feels himself slipping in and out of consciousness. His heart has stopped pounding and his pulse has slowed to about 60 beats per minute, which is good. Not too slow, his system is still going strong. It was cardiac arrest after immense blood loss that had killed the other victims, but so far that doesn't seem to be Steve's fate.

At least not if the wound on his neck that is still slowly bleeding is taken care of soon.

He doesn't dare press his undoubtedly dirty palm against it yet. Hell, he's not even sure if he can lift his hand that far. But something has to be done about the bleeding, sooner rather than later.

As if his savior had heard his thoughts, there is a final, stomach-churning sound of flesh and bone ripping, followed by silence, the fight finally over.

And then there he is, as if his mind had conjured him, the man who saved Chrissy. The man with the big brown doe eyes and the pale skin and the messy curls. There's blood on his face now, and... other things Steve doesn't want to think about.

Steve is safe now, he feels it deep in his soul. He doesn't know how he can know that, how he can trust a complete stranger to keep him safe, but he does. His eyelids flutter shut, the tension finally draining from him completely.

A cool hand on his cheek and a warm, deep voice, tinged with what sounds like fear, pull him back.

"Hey, no, no, no. Steve, you need to stay here with me, okay? Stay with me, sweetheart."

"You know my name," Steve mumbles, fighting the heavy rocks that weigh down his eyelids as he looks at the pretty face in front of him. His eyes dip lower and there's more blood on the man, his clothes torn and his skin exposed. "You're hurt."

"You're very observant, Stevie. Come on, we gotta get you to the hospital. You'll be as good as new in no time." He smiles at Steve and Steve is helpless not to smile back. There's the tease of a dimple forming in his cheek and Steve lifts his hand with Herculean effort to touch it. When the man notices the gesture, the dimple forms fully, deep and alluring. A cold hand catches his before it reaches its target and Steve whines in protest.

The man chuckles fondly. "Here, lemme help you," he says, bringing Steve's hand to his face, the dimple still waiting for Steve to touch it. The skin is soft under his hands and cold too, like it's a winter night and not the end of June.

"I'm gonna pick you up now, Stevie. It's faster than waiting for an ambulance. Just close your eyes and we'll be there before you know it."

Steve feels himself lifted from the ground into strong arms and instinctively turns his head into the man's chest, enjoying the vibration of his soft laughter at the gesture against his cheek.

Then they're moving, and fast. One second he wonders how someone covered in blood and other unspeakable things can smell so good, and the next the lights of the hospital burn bright and painful in his blurry eyes.

"He needs help, now," he hears the man say to someone, his voice firm and demanding. It makes Steve shiver in his arms. And then he's placed on a gurney and his savior leaves with the whisper of cold lips on Steve's forehead.

It's only much later, when he's recovered enough to form coherent thoughts, that Steve realizes two things.

He doesn't even know the name of the man who saved him.

He never heard a heartbeat as his head was pressed against the man's chest.

Steve is released two days later and Robin insists that he stay with her and Nancy for a while. There's really no arguing with his best friend when she's got something on her mind, so he doesn't even try. He's too tired anyway.

His sleep is shit, plagued by nightmares of sharp teeth and blood and bodies being torn to pieces.

He also dreams of the mysterious man, and while these dreams aren't nightmares, they're still confusing, even unsettling, because they leave him feeling hollow. Like he has lost something. Which is ridiculous, the man was never his, he doesn't even know his name.

As he spends the next week at Robin and Nancy's, being pampered and doted on, he has no idea how close he is to learning the name of his savior. That and much more.

After finally convincing his best friend that he can manage on his own, that he needs to go home, that Garfield misses him even with Robin or Nancy stopping by to feed him, it is both daunting and a relief to see Robin's car drive away from where he stands in front of his apartment building.

The nightmares haven't stopped, and he admits that the prospect of being alone in his apartment scares him, but he can't live on his best friend's couch forever. Besides, even there, the nightmares would wake him up shaking and panting, waking Robin and Nancy more than once in the middle of the night. Alone in his apartment, he won't wake anyone with his whimpering and screaming.

Garfield is already waiting for him when he comes through the door, weaving through his legs and meowing at him. Surprised at how much he missed the tabby menace, Steve leans down and takes him in his arms, burying his face in the soft fur.

"Hey baby, sorry for leaving you alone for so long. But Aunt Robbie told me that she and Nancy took good care of you, playing with you and petting you. Probably spoiled you rotten, huh?"

Garfield meows again and pushes his head under Steve's chin, rubbing against him and purring like crazy. Steve smiles into his fur, thinking that he's glad to be home, even if it's still empty except for the purring cat in his arms.

He puts Garfield back down and makes him something to eat before heading to his bathroom to take a long, hot shower and change into something more comfortable. When he pushes open the door and steps inside, he is too stunned by the sight that greets him for any real reaction other than a sharp intake of breath.

On the floor is the man who has taken over most of Steve's dreams and many of his waking thoughts as well.

The man lies still and Steve can see dark stains on his clothes and he just knows it's blood. It could be someone else's, but somehow Steve is sure it's the man's own. Within seconds, he's on his knees next to the unconscious (please just be unconscious) figure, his knees smarting from the way he just fell onto them on the hard and cold tiles.

The man is on his stomach, his face turned to the side, away from Steve, so he moves to turn the man over. He's surprisingly heavy, a dead weight under his hands (no, no, no, not dead, just unconscious, his mind chants), but Steve is nothing if not persistent, and he finally manages to turn the man onto his back.

"Oh God," Steve groans as he can finally assess the damage. There are wounds all over his body, deep gashes on his thighs, his torso, his arms, even his face. "What happened to you?"

"Ten against one. Not...fair," the man replies, his voice barely audible and his eyes still closed. Steve has to lean in to make out the words, but him talking also means the man is still alive, though Steve isn't sure how much longer.

Taking the man's wrist, Steve looks for a pulse to see how far his system has already shut down, but... there is no pulse to be found.

He remembers not hearing a heartbeat when his cheek was pressed against the man's chest, so he presses his ear to where the man's heart is, waiting for the sound of its faint beat.

Nothing.

Steve leans back and searches the man's eyes, half-open now and clearly alive.

"How... you can't be alive. You don't have a pulse, your heart isn't beating." He is stammering, but it's a lot to take in. It shouldn't be possible. It's not like he wants the guy to be dead, but for all intents and purposes, he should be.

Bloodied lips pull back into a faint smile. "Sweetheart, not even the most beautiful sight like you could make my heart beat again. Although it really tries for you."

Despite everything, the way this guy flirts with him while he lies in his own blood brings a crooked smile to Steve's face.

"There, that smile? If it could, my heart would be beating out of my chest right now." Steve can tell the man is trying for levity, but he's fading and fast.

"As charming as you are, you're also bleeding all over my bathroom floor. With no pulse or heartbeat. And I don't even know your friggin' name! So forgive me for asking, but what the fuck?"

"Sorry for the blood on your floor, I tried to patch myself up, but I must have passed out. Embarrassing, really. Didn't think you'd be back so soon. I'd get out of your hair, but... well, you know. I don't think I can move." The words start to slur halfway through, and those beautiful brown eyes keep disappearing behind heavy eyelids. Steve has to do something, quickly, before his savior dies.

"Eddie," the man croaks, his voice barely audible. Steve wouldn't have heard it if it weren't for the intent way he stares at him.

"What?"

"My name. Eddie."

"Eddie. Okay." Steve nods his head, the hand still wrapped around Eddie's wrist grabbing his hand instead, squeezing it gently. "Eddie, we need to get you to the hospital now."

It looks like Eddie tries to shake his head, but gives up halfway, exhausted. "No. They can't help me."

"But they can! Someone needs to sew up your wounds, and you've lost too much blood, you need a blood transfusion and fluids and - why are you laughing?"

"You're right, I need blood, but not the way you think."

The image of sharp teeth flickers behind his eyelids, a gnarled face snarling at him. The feeling of those teeth buried in his neck, white-hot pain shooting through his veins.

"What... Eddie, I don't..."

Eddie's face turns toward him, his nostrils flaring as he takes a deep breath, as if smelling the air.

"Come closer so I can smell you better."

Two different voices growling and snarling, not just one.

Strong arms lifting him off the ground as if he weighed nothing, carrying him nearly three miles. "It's faster than waiting for an ambulance."

"You're not human." Steve whispers. It's not a question.

Eddie answers it anyway. "No, I'm not."

"You're... You're a..." He can't say it, can't even think it.

"A vampire, yes." Eddie says it for him and everything falls into place. The neck wounds, the drained victims, the sharp teeth and the inhuman strength and speed.

"You want my blood." Steve has no idea why he's stating the obvious instead of running as fast as he can, but something tells him he's still safe with Eddie.

"So observant." Eddie chuckles, but it sounds wet and weak. "Yeah. But I won't take it, don't worry, Stevie."

In his mind Steve goes over the things he knows.

Eddie is a vampire. A vampire who killed another vampire to save Steve’s life. To save Chrissy’s life.

Eddie is dying. He may already be dead, but it looks like vampires can die again. Permanently.

Eddie wants his blood.

"Would it help you? My blood, I mean." That's the only thing he's not sure about. The most important thing, at least.

It looks like an inhuman - invampire, Steve thinks - effort, but Eddie manages to shake his head firmly.

"Steve, no."

"Would. It. Help?" Steve insists.

Eddie, the stubborn asshole, presses his lips together and refuses to look at him. That's answer enough for him.

Still holding Eddie's hand in his, he lifts his other hand to Eddie's mouth and presses the inside of his wrist against the closed mouth.

"Come on, Eddie. Drink." Another shake of the man's head only strengthens Steve's resolve. "Eddie, please. You saved my life. Let me do the same."

The stubborn ass continues to refuse, so Steve does the only logical thing. He stands, grabs his razor, and slides the blade across his wrist, just deep enough to draw blood from the otherwise shallow wound.

He presses the wrist back against Eddie's lips and this time he feels the man tremble.

"Please drink. I want you to. Let me help you." Moving his wrist and smearing his blood over Eddie's full lips, Steve pleads again, his voice breaking. "Please, Eddie."

It's the last please that does it, and the next thing Steve feels is the white-hot pain of teeth sinking into his wrist. Still smiling through the pain, he squeezes Eddie's hand. "That's it, you're doing so good. Take what you need."

And Eddie does. He drinks and drinks and drinks until the world goes fuzzy and black spots start dancing in front of Steve's eyes.

"Eddie," Steve slurs before everything goes dark.

When Steve comes to, he's in his bed.

His wrist is wrapped tightly in a pristine-looking white bandage, and he's wearing his pajamas. He has no idea how he got here or what happened, everything is kind of blurry. Steve tries to sit up, but almost immediately the world starts spinning and he groans in protest.

That's when the door to his bedroom opens and his mysterious savior walks into the room with a bowl in his hand.

Eddie, his mind supplies. His name is Eddie and he was dying the last time Steve saw him.

"Are you okay?" Steve asks him, his voice full of worry and he gets a sad smile in return.

"Stevie, I'm the one who should be asking you that." Eddie sits down next to him on the bed but doesn't touch him. He looks tense and Steve wonders why. Though most of what happened is a blur, he remembers holding Eddie's hand and Eddie calling him beautiful.

"I'm fine. A little dizzy, but fine. You were the one bleeding all over my bathroom floor. What happened, how are you even standing, how long was I out?"

Eddie reaches out and takes Steve's cheek in his hand. "You saved my life, Stevie. That's what happened. And you almost got yourself killed, you self-sacrificing idiot. So even though it saved my life, I have to ask you, beg you if I have to, to never do anything so stupid again."

Steve puts his own hand on top of Eddie's hand on his face and looks him in the eye as he tells him, "You saved my life first and risked your own as well. So I guess the pot is calling the kettle black here."

He's rewarded with a dimpled smile. "Fair point. Now that we're even, can you promise me you'll never do anything like this again?"

"I dunno. Can you promise not to try to save me again if I'm in danger?" He knows it's a low blow, but if it helps him get his point across, he's not above playing dirty. Besides, part of him really wants to know. The needy part, the scared part.

"You know the answer to that," Eddie says, brushing his thumb across Steve's cheekbone.

"Isn't that a little unfair?"

"Yeah," Eddie whispers, and Steve realizes he's so much closer than before. "But I don't care if it keeps you safe."

Steve feels his heart thunder in his chest, his eyes darting from Eddie's to the other man's lips and back again. Licking his own lips, Steve asks, "And why is that?"

Eddie's lips are only a breath away from his own, and he tastes his answer as much as he hears it.

"You know that answer as well."

Before Steve can say anything else, Eddie's cool, smooth lips seal over his and every thought in his mind is forgotten. There's only Eddie.

Later he'll ask about the other vampires. About all the dead people in the emergency room. He'll ask who Eddie is, why he's running around town saving people, and who hurt him so badly.

But all that can wait, at least until Steve is done drinking down the delicious sounds falling from Eddie's mouth.

This is a little birthday gift for my dear friend @yournowheregirl. Alice, I know you love vampires so I tried my best to give you some. Time ran out on me but I still hope you like it 💜

I hope you had the best birthday ever because you deserve nothing but happiness.

Edit: I forgot while posting to say that this is heavily inspired by a wonderful podcast I highly recommend, Not quite dead. Give it a listen folks!

#steddie #steddie fanfiction #vampire eddie munson #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #Nurse Steve Harrington #my writing

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valeisaslut · 9 months

Text

the morning is the muse-mdni (+18)

clic to read pt.1!

⚢ pairing: Shane McCutcheon (The L Word, 2004) x Reader 𖥔 ݁ ˖

ෆ synopsis: after the heated events of the night before, Shane and y/n try to make it pass as a one night thing, but feelings get in the way. It's your turn to realize that Shane is someone quite difficult to avoid 𖥔 ݁ ˖

⭑ word count: 2.12k 𖥔 ݁ ˖

♱ content: smut (nsfw), dom! Shane, sub! reader, oral sex (r!receiving), fingering, cum eating, jealousy, cursing, Shane and y/n are smokers, pet names, etc. MDNI!! 𖥔 ݁ ˖

꒱࿐♡ ˚.*ೃ Hii! first of all, thank you all so so so much for all the support in my first fic! I honestly wrote it more for myself than for it to be popular and i didn't expect all those kind beautiful messages and so many people asking me to write a pt.2! So here it is, I really hope you like it as much as i did. Sorry in advance if there are some misspelling or writing mistakes, english isn't my first language and I will be happy to receive constructive criticism! 𖥔 ݁ ˖

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

The dim and warm morning light seeped through the curtains of Shane's department, reaching your eyes and waking you from your slumber in a slow manner.

As you languidly opened your eyes, you started scanning your surroundings, not immediately comprehending your present location. However, in a matter of seconds, the flashbacks of the previous night hit you like a bus and a slight blush painted your cheeks.

The first thought of your sleepy head was to make sure of Shane's presence in the bed, so you rolled up to the other side, only to discover her absence.

You looked around the room, slightly confused but not really surprised. It was something that you could expect from a one night stand.

"Shane...?" you mumbled softly, still giving it a chance to dismiss your internal thoughts.

"maybe she just went and expects me to leave before she comes back" your inner voice echoed.

You were only in your panties, so you sat up and stretched your arms, letting out a soft sigh. You were ready to get dressed and start your walk of shame as soon as possible, but a sound coming from the kitchen stopped you in your tracks.

You felt footsteps coming towards the room, so you covered yourself with the sheets again. The door creaked open, revealing Shane's long and slim figure. She had two different colored mugs, one on each of her hands and a cigarette dangled from her lips.

She was wearing only a white tank shirt and black panties, her jet black hair all messy and her eyes were slightly black from the remnants of smudged makeup (that she didn't correctly remove after your shared shower).

Without a doubt, she was the hottest girl you had ever hooked up with.

"hey, you already up" Shane said, with an even deeper than usual morning voice, she came closer to you and offered you the cup "I was making myself coffee and I made some for you too, if you want it"

"oh, thanks" you said as you took the coffee and leaned back on the bed, sipping it and letting out a soft sigh of pleasure "I really needed that, thank you again, you really didn't have to"

Shane looked at you while taking a long drag on her cigarette, the morning light perfectly illuminating your face and your locks with a serene aura. Then her gaze went a little lower, discovering your bare body covered only by the almost sheer sheets.

"my pleasure" she responded to your gratitude with an alluring manner, giving you her very renowned Shane smirk.

You looked down at your cup, chuckling when you realized what was written in it.

"Best. lesbian. ever."

"nice mug you have here" you said, turning it around to show her the quote, making her laugh too "i'm gonna need the address of the place where you got this. immediately"

"I have no idea 'cause I actually didn't bought it" she responds to your request "it was a joke from my friend, she gave me that as a birthday gift last year"

"the quote is true tho" you remarked, still chuckling as Shane drew nearer, giving you a cute peck on the lips. "hell yeah it is" she purred, planting another kiss upon you, her passion and eagerness growing with each passing moment.

You reciprocated with the same initiative, as Shane put out her almost finished cigarette on the ashtray that laid on the nightstand. Both of you left your mugs too, quickly forgetting the coffee.

You sat up on your forearms and Shane crawled up over you, placing one of her hands on the mattress while the other one moved to your nape, deepening the kiss.

You placed your hand on Shane's waist, caressing the soft flesh as her kisses went lower, nibbling upon the sensitive skin of your neck and licking the already dark marks from last night.

Her hands traced lower, softly gripping your breasts and she separated from the kiss to attach her mouth to your nipple, sucking on it and squeezing the other.

She slowly moved towards your legs, her body getting closer until she was on her knees in front of you. As she did that, she gave you a look full of lust, her lips kissing and her hands gripping the supple flesh of your inner thighs.

With each second passing, the dampness in your panties grew more, yearning to be pleased. As a reflex, you attempted to close your legs, but her strong grip kept them firmly in place.

"be a good girl and spread your legs" she deeply whispered, and you complied without complaint. Her voice slightly muffled by her lips grazing your thighs, getting closer and closer to your sensitive spot.

You audibly moaned as her tongue touched the drenched fabric of your undergarments, licking a long stripe and sucking your wetness. Her teeth grasped the waistband of your panties, slowly drawing them down your legs with her mouth.

The sight was absolutely alluring, and turned you into a whimpering mess. Her hands squeezed your flesh once more and her mouth met your bare pussy, eliciting a resounding gasp from your lips.

She began to suck loudly on your clit as your head fell back in ecstasy, your eyes darted shut as you firmly grip her hair.

"Fuck! don't stop" you moan and as if that weren't enough, her deft fingers found their way to your sensitive nipple, teasing and twisting it.

“you like that, baby?” she whispered, her deep voice muffled by your pussy. The room was filled with the sultry wet sounds, causing you to writhe beneath her touch.

“oh god Shane” your moans only seem to heighten her desire, making her more eager, almost pussy drunk. She eats you out like she is a woman starved, and you are her last meal.

A broken "fuck" escaped from your lips the moment when her hot tongue started intercalating between fucking you and flattening against your clit, knowing that it was over for you.

Somehow, she delves her fingers into the mess and the overwhelming stimulation quickly drove you to the edge, making you cum all over her mouth with loud and broken whimpers, one of your hands gripping the sheets and the other roughly pulling Shane's hair.

A shiver courses through your spine when she used her tongue to clean up every last drop of your release, her fingers still inside of you, moving slowly to extend your high as much as possible.

After you calm down from your high, Shane hovered over you and pressed sweet kisses on your open, breathless mouth. She removed her fingers and sucked them clean before helping you pull up your panties again.

"i love the way you taste" Shane whispers in your ear, and you swore you could hear her smirk. You were just about to reply, but you both stopped your movements at the loud sound of knocking on the door.

"cominggg" Shane lazily said, putting on the first pair of pants and socks she found laying on the floor. She walked out of the room and the next thing you heard was the door creaking open.

"hey Shane, sorry to wake you up" a womanly voice says "I just dropped by to ask you if you could give me back my bra from yesterday, it's my favorite"

"oh, hey Laura.. uhh yeah, jus gimme me one second and I'll look for it" you hear Shane say as you felt her footsteps coming near the room.

You can't help being embarrassed, it makes you feel kinda ridiculous laying naked in a bed that yesterday was filled for another girl, so you start putting your clothes on and grabbing one of Shane's cigarettes, lighting it and taking a drag.

"It shouldn't bother me so much. it was just a one time thing. with a stranger. It doesn't mean anything, so why do I feel like this? god im so fucking stupid" your mind echoed while you got dressed as fast as you could.

Shane walked into the room, not even looking at you and just focusing on finding that piece. She opened a drawer and took out a pink, lacy, probably D-cup bra and just walked out. Your mind couldn't find a moment where you had felt more uncomfortable than this.

"found it, there you go" you heard her say "thanks babe, call me later" the girl replied.

"sure.... see you around" Shane responded, and you can quickly feel her closing the door and her steps coming closer again. You took a drag of your cigarette and grabbed your purse.

"hey hey, you are going already?" Shane confusedly leaned on the door frame while you were putting your clothes on, her eyes still lingering at your body.

"um, yeah" you responded while your mind struggled to make an excuse and tried to sound the most unbothered it could. "I forgot I have... a deadline today, so yeah.... i'm out, sorry"

"oh, ok" she said, kinda weirded out by your sudden attitude, but still understanding. You took another long drag, trying to figure out your next words.

"hope I see you around, some of these days" you say as you turn around to put out your cigarette in the ashtray. Your words were genuine, but at the same time you didn't know if you wanted to see her again. Your head was a complete mess.

"yeah, me too" she got closer to caress your check and give you a peck on the lips, smiling at you. You swore you saw her eyes slightly glint, but didn't give it too much importance.

You both said your goodbyes with a bittersweet taste on your mouths and as soon as you were on the elevator, you took out your phone and called your best friend Alice.

"Hey Al, wanna go to the Planet for coffee in like, 10 minutes?"

"so yeah, all that happened" you and Alice were sitting at a small table outside, both with coffees in your hands.

"well, that explains the hickeys all over your neck" she said, pointing out the dark fresh marks decorating your neck and collarbones.

"oh my god, are they THAT obvious?!" you responded covering your neck with your hands, completely embarrassed.

"I noticed them as soon as you walked in, you are gonna have to invest on some good concealer or a scarf" you laughed at her remark, but your laughter stopped the moment you saw Shane walking in.

"fuck, that is the girl I hooked up with last night!" you whispered to Alice, pointing at her under the table and trying to hide your face. Al turned to look at Shane's direction, and then turned again to look at you with wide eyes and a shocked expression.

"Shane?! You arrived from New York one fucking week ago and Shane already fucked you?? this is so fucking ridiculous, its like she has a radar for every girl she hasn't fucked yet!"

"shut up, Al! shit, she's coming, act normal" you said, freaking out.

"hey guys, didn't expect to see you here" Shane said, greeting you with a confused look on her face. Then, her eyes fell to your neck, noticing the dark hickeys and smirking.

"um, yeah... I just decided to grab a quick coffee with my friend on the way, Shane, this is Alice- " you nervously said.

"yeah, I know, we are very close" Shane says "unfortunately" Alice replies.

"well, see you both around, wish you luck with your deadline y/n" she says with a kind of sarcastic tone and turned around to go with Marina, Shane's shot of espresso already in her hand.

"what a tiny and crazy little world" you say, trying to process everything that happened in just an hour.

"crazy, yes.. but not tiny" Alice responds with a smirk on her face, already thinking of linking you to Shane and expanding her board.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

clic to read pt.1!

guysss please let me know if you want a part 3 and I will happily write it! I already have a lot of ideas. Hope you enjoyed and I'm very grateful for every repost, like or share you want to give.

(sorry again if there's any spelling or writing mistakes)

#lesbian #lesbian pride #lgbtq #shane mccutcheon #the l word #shane mccutheon smut #shane the l word #l word generation q #shane l word #sapphic smut #saphic #wlw love #shane x reader #shane mccutcheon x reader #lesbian shot

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