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#probably still mostly runaways

rosencrantzsguildenstern · 2 months

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unpaused my giant queue, shuffled it, and put it at 24 a day which is the fastest it's ever been.. lets see what comes up

#chitra.txt #housekeeping #probably still mostly runaways #its not a queue from LONG ago but its from when i deleted all my old blogs and queued up their content on here #so it got rlly long #but its all stuff im still into

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arysbruv · 3 months

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Are we still friends?

You were a relatively newer student. You normally kept to yourself but you always dreamt of being friends with the main trio, especially with the infamous Suguru Geto. Yet, he always seemed to hate you, even when you openly showed you felt the opposite.

pairings: suguru geto x f!reader

warnings and whatnots: enemies to lovers, mean!geto, reader gets hurt (mentally). modern-ish au. Not based on canon. cliffhanger (will probably become a series)

chapter 1: [currently reading] chapter 2: can we be friends? chapter 3: sorry, not sorry chapter 4: green looks good on you. chapter 5: runaway chapter 6: burn.

You walk inside the loud classroom, for a class that’s only filled with three students, it was unusually loud, mostly because of the inhabitants of the classroom.

You quietly take a seat next to Shoko, who smiles at you nicely. You smile back. She continues on talking to Gojo and Geto. You keep to yourself. Although they claimed to be your friends, you couldn’t help but feel isolated from them. When they hung out, they always ‘forgot’ to invite you. When they talk, they never include you in their conversations. Thus, you’ve stopped trying and became an idle listener.

You start to zone out, your eyes wandering around until they finally land on a familiar and beautiful specimen of a man.

Suguru Geto.

You managed to steal a few glances before his cold gaze finally meets yours. He gives you a glare, narrowing his eyes at you. You quickly look away, flushed and embarrassed.

Shoko and Satoru laugh as they notice this. As per usual, they make light of it and start accusing you of liking Suguru and how you would be good for each other.

“Don’t be ridiculous! She’s not my type!” He says, his voice laced with annoyance and disgust.

You purse your lips, hearing those words drawl out of his mouth.

Satoru and Shoko weren’t entirely wrong. You did, stupidly have a crush on him. It was obvious from your first day that you were head over heels for the long-haired man. You saw him and you immediately felt a rush of emotions hit you. You could still remember it to this day. You could remember how he quickly and painfully rejected you.

You shook slightly as you entered the classroom, giving an awkward smile to the three people in the class. You meet the gaze of one of the boys there. He looked at you curiously, giving you a light smile, though his eyes didn’t show any emotion. You felt a rush of heat to your face as emotions came barrelling down on you. You quickly introduced yourself before learning the names of everyone there. Naturally, you plopped yourself down next to the boy who made you get butterflies in your stomach.

For the next few days, you walked with him as you became closer with the other members of your class. They all talked and laughed with you, accepting you into their friend group. Yet, he never talked. You tried to get him to talk. You did everything! Giving him chocolates, making dumb jokes, asking him for help, walking back with him, accompanying him, helping him but it never worked!

It was lunchtime.

You scanned the area for him, and you saw him sitting alone near the pond. You psych yourself up before walking towards him.

“Boo!” You say, teasingly as you sat down next to him. He didn’t react, keeping quiet as he looked at you oddly. You smiled as he didn’t react to you. You open your bento and look into his.

“So… Suguru, y’know the exams coming up so I was wondering if you’d like to help me study! Maybe tonight or tomorrow night, I’m not picky!” You say, happily taking a bite of your food. He looks at you, his eyes empty.

“Sorry, I’m busy.” He says coldly.

“Oh, when are you free then?” You ask, smiling at him. His eyes look darker today. Was he on edge?

“I’d rather study with you then Shoko or Gojo!” You say, laughing a little.

He doesn’t respond to your quip. You look at him oddly. Even if he didn’t respond, he’d normally chuckle a bit. Yet, here he was, staring blankly into the distance being as silent as a rock! You’d think you’d have a better time talking to a brick wall than him!

“Hey, you okay?” You ask, concern lacing your words

You weren’t sure what was happening but something felt off. You were worried about him. For the last few days, your crush on him had expanded and taken over you. It wasn’t that obvious but obvious enough with all the attention and care you gave him.

“Yeah. M’fine.” He says coldly.

You eyebrows furrow in confusion and concern. You put down your food, looking at him. You keep quiet.

“You sure?”

He doesn’t respond, causing you to purse your lips and think. A small smile spreads on you face.

“I know what will cheer you up!” You declare loudly. You pull something out of you pocket. “Here! These are some of your favourite chocolates right?!” You ask, showing them to him. He doesn’t respond.

“Come on, I know they’re probably a bit warm but like-”

“Would you shut up?” He randomly says, finally looking at you. His face annoyed. “You’re so goddamn annoying. Can’t you see I don’t like you back? So stop trying to be all nice with me just so you can get with me alright? You’re so insufferable.”

You swore your heart broke the day he said that. You looked away, embarrassment filling you and tears threatening to stream down. The sound of Shoko and Gojo arriving reached your ears, and you hear Geto greeting them with the softness that you never got.

How idiotic.

Without a word, you stood up and left. They were confused, but they let you be. Why would they need you? After that day, your friendship was never the same with them anymore. They were nice with you, but it was hard to talk to them. You wished all of it never happened and that you were still friends with them. Yet, you can’t change the past.

Worst part was, you still liked him. Even through everything he said, you still held on to your feelings for him. You tried to let go but it never worked. The best course of action is just to pretend you don’t.

Shoko 🚬: Hey, we’re going out to the cafe around the corner to study. You want in?

Your eyes squint at the text, trying to confirm it’s authenticity. You were surprised. It had been a while since they invited you to anything. You weren’t even sure if you wanted to go or not. You knew he would be there and it would be awkward but you longed to befriend them all again. You can’t just let this one experience ruin it for you.

y/n : Sure! I’ll meet you all there.

You stood at the entrance of the cafe nervously, peering inside. You could see the three of them laughing and smiling together. Studying? It didn’t really look like it. Your grip on your book bag tighten. Were you really doing this?

You suck in a breath, pushing the door open and hearing the bell ring. You scan the surrounding. Shoko immediately calls out to you, waving you over. You smile at her. She had always been the nicest to you.

“hi.” You say nervously, putting your bag down next to Shoko, paying no mind to Suguru who was staring at you.

You ordered a coffee before taking out your books.

“Woah, are you actually studying?” Asks Satoru. You look at him confused. “Crazy, I’m just using this as an excuse to hang out!” He says, laughing loudly. You smile at him and start giggling.

You missed this.

Time went by fast, and before you know it, it was dark outside. You all walked together in a group back to the dorms, laughing and smiling amongst yourselves. It had been ages since you’ve done it. He still hadn’t talked to you much. He never talked to you directly, nor did you to him. It was alright, you didn’t mind. You needed to get over him some way.

As you enter your dorm, and wave goodbye to the others, you fail to notice how his gaze clung onto you.

Geto stares at the closed door in front of him, a million thoughts racing through his head. He had a disdain for you, practically hated you, so why did he ask Shoko if she wanted to invite you to the hang out? Why did he ask? Why did he genuinely enjoy that hang out?

He never liked you. Not in a romantic sense, but he had to admit you were pretty nice as a friend. He missed the time when you were his friend, and one of his biggest regret is that he ruined it on a whim due to a bad day.

He wanted to rekindle the friendship.

Sure, he still hated, no, detested the way you would cling onto him and coddle him, but he couldn’t help but admit he liked seeing you squabble with Shoko. Plus, Shoko needed another girl in the group.

He didn’t really know what to do. On one hand, he couldn’t help but feel annoyed when he sees you near him but at the same time, he didn’t want to be cruel to his friends who wanted to include her in stuff. He could see it in Shoko’s face and hear it in her words that she missed you.

He sighs, unsure of what to do.

He left with a defeated look on his face as he looked down at his phone, typing something out.

Suguru💔: You free tomorrow?

Part 2:

#geto suguru #suguru geto #jjk x reader #jjk #geto x reader #suguru x reader #jujutsu kaisen #geto x you #gojo satoru #jujustu kaisen #jjk fanfic #jjk angst #jujutsu geto #jujustsu kaisen x reader

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im-a-hoping-beetch · 8 months

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Many people seem to get genuinely confused, whenever we, zutara shippers, mention how underdeveloped kataang really is. Usually, they’ll brush it off as us being delusional, bitter and you know the drill. Their main response to that, usually is: “How, could they possibly be underdeveloped, they had 3 seasons!?!”

The thing is they forget that the amount of time isn’t as important as what you do do with it. Cuz, yeah, Aang and Katara did have 3 seasons, but their relationship still managed to feel rushed as hell. Heck, even Bryke, out of all people, admitted to it. Which mostly as to do with a bunch of things that I’ll get into right now.

Let’s start with the fact that, Katara never actually shows any interest in Aang.

Now, many of y’all will probably come for me by citing how the cave of the two lovers or even the Headband have moments of her showing interest in him, but all of them end up falling flat at some point.

The cave of the two lovers:

The argument here, usually is“if she didn’t have any interest in him, why would she kiss him?” or “why would she blush at the idea of kissing him?”. The former seems to forget this is a life or death situation and that we don’t really know for sure that if there were another way to get out if this, she wouldn’t take it. For the latter, I’d like to say that blushing can have many significations such as, embarrassment. Which, here makes sense when considering what she says and overall demeanour, after suggesting to kiss.

Like yeah, a fourteen year old girl blushing bcz she’s embarrassed at the idea of having to kiss, her friend, out of all things, cuz you know… awkward. Can you imagine that (pun fully intended)???

The headband:

This one is going to be a ride, but stick with me. The arguments can range from “What about her jealousy while Aang is dancing with other girls.” to “What about the way she looks at him during the dance.”

Here, is said jealousy being shown:

And said look being done:

Now, yeah, I can absolutely see why these two exemples would be used as a way to prove her interest, but let me remind you that this is the same episode where we have this happen.

Yeah, the same episode where Katara is acting all jealous and giving flirty looks to Aang is also the same one where she pretends to be is… mother. While, I could go on about how it wasn’t the best idea on the directors or whoever was in charge of the episode part if it was their way of giving a glimpse of Katara being into Aang. The issue is, them doing so wasn’t completely farfetched either, because up until now it’s been established that Katara can be very motherly and she acts that way with almost everyone in the gaang. More specifically, the one with who she does so the most is, Aang.

I mean, even the show makes a point of poking fun at their mother-son dynamic on several occasions all throughout the show (ie. the don’t-rub-your-eyes-when-you’re-speaking scene in “The runaway” episode). So realistically, the two exemples shown way above could somewhat work, but only if you decide to completely ignore what episode they take place in, one that hasn’t really helped at stopping the mother-son dynamic allegations kataang has been getting, for years, now.

So, back to the development aspect, I think it has always been stunted from the beginning, because, fundamentally, the ship as always been designed to be Aang-centric. If you’d like more insight on that I’d recommend checking @starlight-bread-blog’s amazing post on the issue. But also, that their lackluster resolution is way much more obvious, cuz both are leads in the show. Katara's existence in the show, isn't solely there to serve as some love inerest for Aang. Shocker, but she's actually a MAIN CHARACTER in the show, meaning that we spend three seasons where we get to learn about her battles, fears and aspirations, none of which seems to involve a relationship with Aang.

Like yeah, the reason why The Ending Kiss™ feels so unsatisfactory is, simply, because, Katara doesn't like Aang (at least not like that). Katara, likes Aang, because the show said so. Now, stick with me, cuz I can already feel some of y'all ready to jump at the screen. Within the show, name a single moment where she ever comes to thinking of Aang in a romantic way. One that doesn't involve any external sources, such as someone suggesting about it or because of the given circumstances she has to. The answer is none. The only time we ever get to see her voice her ACTUAL opinion about it, this is what she says:

That's not even counting how her overall demeanor, from the body language to her choice of words seems to suggest that she's actually trying to let him down gently. Also, may I remind you that at that point THERE'S ONLY 3 FREAKING EPISODES LEFT BEFORE THE BIG KISS™ and this is where there at in their relationship. Plus, within the 3 episodes that are left WE NEVER GET TO SEE THEM TALK ABOUT IT, EVER!!!

This obviously was part of Bryke’s horrible attempt at the will-they-won’t-they trope. Which ended up playing right in their face, cuz like I mentioned they themselves had to come to glaring realization that kataang was rushed. Now, it could’ve been it, the creators realizing their obvious mistake and if they could, trying to fix it by giving us what seemed like the natural progression of their relationship, which was for it to end.

Instead, we got comics!Katara and oooh boy…

Basically, they decided that they would throw away Katara’s meticulously built characterization in order to make her existence revolve around, Aang. I kid you not, when I say that she isn’t allowed scenes, lines and actions that do not revolve around her “sweetie”.

Remember how I said that, Katara likes Aang because the show runners said so. This is an example of this cranked up to a hundred.

Essentially, when you start thinking about where these two are in terms of growth, kataang is the antithesis to development itself. On one hand it validates the regression of one (ie. the dropped chakra plot line), while simultaneously, having to strip any previously built characterization of the other (ie. comics!katara).

On that note, I’d like to remind people, how important Katara is to the story. Without her, the entirety of the gaang would be dead. Without her, there would be no story. Without her, there would be no Aang.

She deserved to have a voice within her own relationship and not for it to be stolen by two grown men who were still stuck in their childhood fantasy.

She deserved better.

#atla #avatar #anti bryke #avatar the last airbender #anti kataang #zutara #pro katara #katara deserved better

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voidartisan · 11 days

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Modern AU: Rebels Era

Kanan and Hera met while she was in college; the official story is that they were volunteering in the same program for homeless and at-risk youth (which is technically true). Hera because it was a cause she was interested in, Kanan mostly because it was court-mandated community service after he was charged with public intoxication and disturbance of the peace.

The real story is that they met at a street race but shhhh

Hera has a degree in automotive engineering and is an off-road racing driver. Kanan works driving buses and bartending part time for his friend Okadiah

They live together but it’s kind of unclear whether they’re married. Zeb thinks they aren’t but Sabine could have sworn that Hera told her that they eloped

Kanan continued volunteering because he found the work *gag* fulfilling. And he’s pretty good at mindfulness stuff, actually (mostly thanks to being raised by Depa). Hera doesn’t have as much time anymore but she still stops by every now and then

Sabine is a teenage runaway who crashes on their couch, but, for legal reasons, doesn’t “live” there (this is a lie) and for these same legal reasons Kanan and Hera technically have no idea who she is or that she ran away

Ezra is a homeless kid who Kanan saw attempting to shoplift directly in front of Kallus and ended up bringing to a homeless shelter because it’s better than juvie, at least. He signed up for the program that Kanan volunteered in, met Hera, and just kind of ended up not leaving after being invited over for dinner

Zeb rents out a room in Hera and Kanan’s place. His occupation is undefined but he has a tense relationship with the local constable (Kallus) and practices traditional Lasan martial arts. He could probably stop paying rent at any time and no one would care until the power got shut off

Chopper is Hera’s immortal, irritable, ugly old cat that she’s had since she was twelve and hates everyone besides her

#is it really the ghost crew if they're not flat broke and hiding from the government?#I think not #star wars #sw #rebels #ezra bridger #kanan jarrus #hera syndulla #kanera #sabine wren #chopper #garazeb orrelios #alexsandr kallus #modern au

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strangersteddierthings · 10 months

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The Response

Part Two of The Interview [Part One] [Ao3]

With no exact time given by Robin, Eddie's left to kill time. He drags himself from the YouTube spiral to try and track down Steve on social media. After two hours, he concludes that either Steve has his (and official Corroded Coffin's) socials blocked, or Steve just doesn't have any. He's a bit baffled that people can even find Steve to send hate mail to him.

He shoots a text to Gareth. Can you find Steve on any socials?

He gets an instant reply.

DO NOT CONTACT!!!

WAIT FOR RESPONSE

DONOT MAKE THISS WORSE MUNSON

Eddie frowns down at his phone but doesn't argue. He probably would make it worse. He sends back 'k' and looks back to the laptop. Watches it auto-refresh but Robin's feed hasn't changed.

God, what will Steve have to say?

It's mostly true, that Eddie hasn't thought about Steve in years. That's been deliberate. Eddie was so furious back then. Robin wasn't wrong about him venting his feelings into a song, but how was he supposed to know Hey Steve would be the song the catch the ear of the people? And yeah, the lyrics are very unflattering.

A lot of their first songs were filled with rage. The whole first album is just their collective high school experiences. Songs about growing up in Hawkins and how shit that was for them, a song about Eddie's complicated feelings towards his dad, songs about dungeons and dragons disguised as fantasy ballads, things like that. And, of course, Hey Steve.

He can admit that years ago he reevaluated the lyrics and found it to be more harsh than was warranted. But he figured there was no point worrying about that. People exaggerate in songs all the time. The song is out, people still plead for it to be played during encore performances. Eddie hadn't thought it was hurting anyone to play it.

Hey Steve had taken Eddie less than two days to write. He did almost nothing for those two days except write. Fuck. He was still just a dumb kid when he wrote it, barely graduated high school. And the reason for writing it...

Eddie had know Steve wasn't out to his parents when he'd asked Steve to essentially runaway with him. Steve had worried about things like money, and living situations, and getting food. It had all sounded like excuses to Eddie back then. Like Steve was picking the safety of Hawkins and his parents' house over going out into the world to be with Eddie freely.

They'd fought about it. The worst fight they'd ever had. Yet, here Eddie is, a decade later and unable to recall anything that was actually said. Just a summary of that conversation exists in his mind, now. Steve wanting to wait. To save more money now that his hours at the grocery store would be changing from part time to full with him no longer being in school and able to work the morning shifts. Wait to get his car fully transferred to his name from his parents.

All things that adult Eddie can now see as reasonable. Jesus Fucking Christ. He remembers he'd given Steve some sort of ultimatum. He was leaving on the last Grey Hound from Hawkins to Indy. Steve could meet him at the bus stop or stay, but Eddie was going, with or without him.

Steve had shouted back. He knows they just got louder and nastier until Steve finally told him that he would be going without him, then, because they were over. Even as angry as Eddie had been, he'd held out hope. But that last bus left Hawkins with Eddie on it and no sign of Steve in sight.

So Eddie did what he did best. Channeled that hurt into anger and wrote a song. Never in a million years did he think that, in the very first bar they played at in Indy, they'd meet a man who wanted to take a chance with them and get them a demo. All they needed to do was get from Indy to LA. Eddie had a van and the motivation. The next year of his life was too busy for him to even think, much less worry about Steve and his breakup.

Well, that was a lie. He thought about it constantly and shoved the thoughts aside as quickly as they came. Easier to do when he had no way to check up on Steve. He left Hawkins with no laptop and a pay-per-text flip phone he'd bought at a gas station. Wayne tried his best to provide for Eddie, and that meant they'd had one cell phone between the two, and Eddie had insisted that Wayne keep it.

By the time he got a laptop and internet, Steve had blocked him on Facebook and Twitter. That was the conclusion Eddie had come to when he finally worked up the nerve to swallow his pride and apologize and couldn't find Steve on either platform. Another thing that had filled Eddie with anger and hurt. Steve had broken up with him and then made sure Eddie couldn't reach back out.

Now he wonders, did Steve block him, or did Steve delete his socials to stop the hate mail?

Eddie feels nauseous.

Fuck!

What's worse is that, before the fight, Eddie had been so sure he was in love with Steve. But how can he say that with how quickly he dropped him? With how he's acted ever since? He could justify it to himself when he was still freshly broken up with and hurting but that faded away as fame took over.

Hard to be sad about not having a boyfriend when there were plenty of people lining up to be with him.

He pulls himself from his head to look at the laptop. A new tweet shows on Robin's screen and he scrambled to turn off the auto-refresher.

It's a short tweet, and Eddie sees she's changed her name as well.

Clicking the link takes him to a YouTube video.

It starts with the camera slightly jiggling, presumably from someone hitting record. It's been set up in a recording studio. A stool in front of a mic that's suspended from the ceiling is the only thing in the frame.

"Alright, dingus, last chance to change your mind about this," Robin's voice is picked up from off screen.

"You can't talk me out of this," says a male voice, and without any thought about it, Eddie's hand flings out and slaps the space bar, pausing the video. His heart is pounding, and he has to take a few deep breaths. That was Steve's voice. Of course, it was Steve's voice, it's his statement video, but hearing it again. Hearing it spoken softly but determined.

Swallowing feels difficult. Eddie's last memory of Steve's voice was screaming. This is... this is the Steve he never thought he'd hear again, and hasn't realized how much he desperately wanted to. With shaking hands, he presses play again.

Steve steps into frame, takes a seat on the stool. He looks in the direction of the camera, and Eddie has to pause again, to take him in. His hair is longer than it was in high school, the ends of it touching his shoulders. He's got it pulled up in a half updo, keeping the hair out of his face. His face is familiar and yet so different. He certainly looks older but not in a bad way. The biggest difference is his nose; it's not as straight as it once was, like it's been broken and healed wrong. His strong, square face is as handsome as it ever was, perhaps more so now. Eddie's eyes are drawn to the two moles on his cheek; his eyes have always been drawn there. It was his favorite place to kiss Steve.

He's wearing light wash jeans and a deep blue Henley. And fuck if it doesn't make him look good.

Eddie unpauses again, and waits to hear the retribution he deserves.

"This good, Robin?"

"Yeah, you're perfectly in frame."

"Good. Uhh, hi. I'm Steve. Robin told me that there was a lot of fuss regarding a certain Corroded Coffin song, and that people wanted to hear from me. Which is wild 'cause like, I'm just some guy and I don't really have much to say-" Steve is saying, with a shrug of his shoulders.

"Steve!" Robin interrupts him, "I just had to help you move because someone threw a brick through your window! What do-"

"Okay! I get it! But that's not Corroded Coffin's fault. They do that whole anti-bullying thing! It's not like they don't address harassment and bullying. I-" Steve cuts off, seeming to remember he's on camera. His face turns pink. "We can argue this later. Uhh, anyway. There is something I want to say to Eddie Munson, so I hope he's watching."

He makes a 'give it to me' gesture and Robin enters frame, handing him an acoustic guitar. "I thought I'd answer using the one thing Eddie understands best. Music. So, uh, I wrote this song with Robin's help. Lyrics are mine but the melody is Robin. The song doesn't have a title but, uh, okay. Here it goes."

And then, Steve starts to sing, looking down at the guitar for correct finger placement more than singing into the mic but it picks him up well regardless.

"Do you think I'd give up? That this might've shook the love from me? Or that I was on the brink? How could you think, darling, I'd scare so easily? Now that it's done There's not one thing that I would change My life was a storm, since I was born. How could I fear any hurricane? If someone asked me at the end I'll tell them put me back in it-" Eddie is sitting down, and still he feels the floor fall out from under him.

"-Darling, I would do it again, ah, ah If I could hold you for a minute Darling, I'd go through it again, ah, ah."

Eddie doesn't hear the rest of the song because of the blood pounding in his ears. This can't be- it doesn't mean- after all this time? After everything that's happened, everything Eddie let happen, unintentionally or not.

His phone buzzes against his leg. He ignores it in favor of restarting the video and listening to the video from the start. He listens to the whole song and it ends without anything else. Once Steve's strummed the last chord, he just stands up, walks to the camera and the video ends.

He restarts the video again, and again, and again. Hears Steve sing How could you think I'd scare so easily and I would do it again if I could hold you for a minute and though I know my heart would break I'd tell them put me back in it.

It's through the tenth, or eleventh, playback that his phone buzzes again and he fumbles to answer blindly, unable to pull his eyes away from Steve on the screen of his laptop.

"Gare- It's not- what did I do Gare? Everything I thought Steve would have to say never came close to what he just sang. I can't- I don't know what to do," Eddie sobs into the phone.

There's a pause of silence before what is very much not Gareth's voice says, "Well, dammit Munson. I was calling to rip you a new one but you're already crying."

It takes Eddie a moment to place the voice, "Robin?"

"Unfortunately, yes," Robin says. "I think Steve's let you off easily, but I also know I kick a hornet's nest with my interview so I think we should work on getting this cleared up, both publicly and privately."

"How did you get my num-"

"Gareth. Keep up, Munson. I'd like us to be able to call off each other's fans. Your PR team and whoever you employee to do that anti-bullying campaign have done a pretty good job so far in telling people to back off, politely. Helps that Jeff has been on top of this from the beginning. Honestly, I think the best decision you've ever made in your life was making Jeff the front man of your band and not yourself. He's much more pleasant to talk to, and so good with people."

"Robin!" Eddie has to shout because Robin keeps saying words and they don't make sense. "What?"

He hears a sign from the other end of the phone. "You are annoying. You know that, Munson? I'll work with Gareth to get this done. I think we should be seen together, publicly. Maybe getting a coffee. So everyone knows we've made up, or whatever it is Gareth and I decide is happening. We should also meet up privately. There's a lot to talk about."

"I'm so confused."

"Nothing new. Now, when are you free to get on a plane to Pendleton, Oregon?"

"Pendleton?"

"Munson!" Robin snaps, "we just established that you live in a perpetual state of confusion. Instead of questioning me, how about you answer my questions. Now, when are you free?"

"Anytime."

"Smart answer. Get your ass to Pendleton by the morning of the twenty-third. I'll work with Gareth for all the other concerns. He's easier to deal with."

"Can I ask one follow up question at least!?"

"You just did but I'll allow one more before I hang up."

"Why Pendleton?"

"It's the nearest airport to our destination. I am not having a private conversation with you in California. I don't want to be caught speaking to you until Gareth and I have a chance to work out the details."

And then Robin hangs up.

Eddie leans forward and restarts the video on his laptop before looking up plane tickets. Fixing things with Robin might be the first step in ever getting try and, he doesn't know, apologize to Steve? Maybe even have a conversation one day.

He doesn't deserve that chance, he thinks, but he's a bad enough person to want it anyway.

#steddie #my fic #the interview #the song steve sings is Francesca by Hozier #i dont do taglists so i linked to ao3 where u can subscribe and get updates #i feel like eddies an unreliable narrator so im adding that tag on ao3 #the boy has got NO CLUE what is happening at any point in time ever #hes just a ball of guilt and regret #also i didn't clarify in the fic because i couldn't find a good way to fit it in #but gareth is not an active CC member‚ he's the PR manager #he used to be in the band but quit to finish college and be a family man #Jeff is the front man so he does the interviews/public appearances/etc #Eddie used to but like rockstar life hit him hard and he had to let someone else take that role

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redahlia-writes · 2 years

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cherry bomb. | steve harrington

Abstract: “I’ve been spending too much time with Robin, probably. I get nervous and I just start talking, and I don’t really think about what I’m saying beforehand.”

You chuckled, shifting closer yet, and brought your other hand to his face as well, cupping his cheeks to make him turn his head slightly in your direction - his eyes moved over your face, from one side to the other, lips and then eyes.

“Do I make you nervous, Harrington?” you asked amused, a grin on your lips as your voice lowered. His breath caught in his throat, the tip of his tongue darting between his lips - you looked down at his mouth then, head slightly tilted, and he was suddenly aware of how close the two of you actually were.

“No,” he breathed out - then, because your smirk grew, he sighed. “A little,” he admitted, voice softer, hand inching up towards your knee.

Words: 8.9K (this wasn’t supposed to be this long, apologies)

Warnings: (f!reader, r has tattoos); minors dni. swearing, mentions of alcohol, usage of light drugs, teasing, flirting, pet names, smut, the smallest hint of praise kink, the smallest hint of sub steve too (blink and you’ll miss it), fingering, dry humping, hickeys, like a lot of hickeys and other lovebites, protected sex (wrap it up people), some fluff unedited

Author’s note: based mostly on the song cherry bomb by the runaways, but also some other bits of the album - if i missed some warnings please do tell me

also on AO3 - masterlist

It was easy to stand out in a town like Hawkins - the smallest hint of being different would immediately bring people to look at the person with sneers of diffidence and a scoff on their lips.

That was particularly true in your case: the girl who’d turned her back on her family, who’d left school just as she was about to finish it, who lived at the edge of the woods in a place that seemed to be held together by duct tape and hope.

The Cherry Bomb of Hawkins, a nickname born when you were still in highschool that had stuck so profoundly some people didn’t even know your actual name anymore - it was just Cherry.

That’s how Steve Harrington knew you - the name that popped in his head when you walked in front of the café he and Robin ended up working at after Family Video sacked them.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Robin commented as she wiped the counter, and the bell at the door chimed as you walked in, lowering your shades a little on your nose.

“I thought she’d left Hawkins,” he murmured, lowering his voice as you reached the counter, glancing up at the scribbled board. “Wasn’t that the whole reason she quit school?” “Dude, quiet,” Robin admonished, then moved at the counter. “Hi, what can I get you?”

“Robin, you work here?” there was a tiredness in your voice, and when you took your sunglasses off, dark circles surrounded your eyes. “What happened to Family Video?” “Ah, we got fired,” she shrugged, leaning in a little bit. Your eyes flickered towards Steve, and he felt his grip on the rag he was holding slip a little bit as you met his gaze with a quick grin. “Long story.”

“You come as a package now?” you asked with a chuckle, and Robin shrugged lightly, giving it no importance. “I need the strongest coffee you can make - and the cheapest,” you said then, leaning with your forearms against the counter.

“Long night?” Robin asked, glancing in Steve’s direction pitifully - he was in charge of making the coffees after that time Robin accidentally burned herself and still carried the scar on the palm of her hand.

“Long shift,” you groaned, following him with your eyes. “I should’ve done like you - a café during the day sounds much nicer than that shitty pub at night,” you said then, tipping your head slightly back.

“You’re still working there?” Steve looked over his shoulder at Robin, the familiarity in her words, the surprise. He was aware they hadn’t been friends for long, but since when was Robin Buckley friends with you? “Hadn’t you applied for other jobs?” she continued, a little worriedly.

“After the mall fiasco everyone started looking for another job,” you shrugged, lifting your gaze towards Steve - he quickly brought his attention back to your coffee, missing the light, amused frown that crossed your face. “Should a spot open here, I’ll let you know,” Robin reassured, a smile in her words.

Steve didn’t see the grateful nod you gave Robin, a tired smile still on your lips, finishing up your coffee - he stepped behind Robin to place it on the counter in front of you, moving the sugar closer before stepping out of the way.

“Thanks,” you pulled the cup towards you with your eyebrows slightly arched, and he nodded only in reply. “Hey, Harrington, cat got your tongue?”

He froze - Steve froze, turning his head to look at you with his eyes widening a little, as if surprised you were even addressing him in the first place. He couldn’t remember one single instance the two of you had spoken, too different in status when in high-school - he just remembered the voices that circulated about you, things he’d heard without caring about it.

“I - no. Sorry, no,” he cleared his throat, and watched you stifle a laugh, eyes glimmering in amusement as he frowned. “You work at a pub, huh? Which one?”

At his side, Robin snorted, moving from the counter as she shook her head - Steve wanted to grab her by the collar of her shirt and keep her there, just so he didn’t have to be alone in that situation. But his hands remained glued to his sides, fidgeting slightly with the rag hanging from his pocket.

“There’s only one pub in Hawkins, you can’t miss it - The Hideout,” you said with a quick smirk, picking up the coffee. “And it stays open only because we’re paid a misery - so if you’re thinking of moving business, always keep a job on the side,” you warned, pointing a finger in his direction.

You were not what he expected - which, really, shouldn’t have surprised him, not with the way the town treated those who didn’t fit in. He glanced in Robin’s direction quickly.

“You got one?” he cleared his throat again, suddenly dry, and you nodded. “What is it?” “You’re a big boy, Harrington,” you hummed from over the rim of the cup, “you can figure it out by yourself, can’t you?”

He was grateful for Robin calling your name - your actual name - or else the next, surely embarrassing, words would’ve sputtered out of him, out of his control, his neck warming up at the slight drawl in your voice and tilt of your head, eyes never leaving him.

“Coffee’s on the house,” Robin called, a glance in Steve’s direction almost as a warning. “But don’t tell anyone or else we’ll surely get fired.”

“Like I have anybody to tell it to,” you grinned, lifting the cup back up to your lips to finish the drink - a dark red halo stained the rim when you placed it back down, tip of the tongue darting out to catch the droplets on your top lip. “Thanks, Robs - Harrington. See you.”

He managed to put his hand up and wave only when the door had already closed behind you, bell chiming in its wake. At the other end of the counter, Robin burst out laughing, one hand on her chest as she leaned back.

“You should see your face - oh, I’d pay to get a picture of it right now,” she exclaimed, clearly enjoying Steve’s lost expression. “She’s gonna crush your heart, Steve,” Robin warned, laughter still clinging to her voice. Then, she held her hand up. “No, not just crush it. She'll rip it out of your chest, throw it on the ground, stomp on it, then get in her car and run it over. Twice.”

“Jesus, Robin,” he found his voice again with a scoff, picking up the cup left behind. “It’s not like that - I was just surprised, is all.” “Yeah, sure,” Robin snorted.

“I didn’t know you had other friends,” he mocked, but Robin’s mood was too good to be impacted by his remark. “Especially not her. When did you two even become friends?” “Around the time you were King of Hawkins,” she announced after a moment of pondering. “Just - forget about it. I’m saying this for your sake.”

Steve didn’t think it was like that. He genuinely thought he’d just been surprised - but had you always looked like that? Had your voice always been so soft, so alluring? Had your laugh always been this contagious?

––––––––––

“This place always looks like a shithole,” Eddie mumbled, eyebrows arched as he looked around the pub. “Why are we here again, Harrington?”

“Steve’s got a crush,” Robin chimed in before he could reply, and grinned in response to his glare. At that, Eddie perched up on his seat, suddenly more interested. “Yeah, yeah - it’s not like that,” she mocked, and shot a knowing glance in Eddie’s direction. “She comes to the café almost every morning - he’s been pining for like a month.”

“Well, you only had to say that,” he clapped his hands lightly, then rubbed them together as he leaned forward, eyes scanning the crowd more attentively. “Who do we need to woo?”

“No one,” Steve warned, pointing a finger first in Robin’s direction, then Eddie’s. “No. We’re here just to see what the place’s like.” “It’s shit, Harrington,” Eddie pointed out, tilting his head a little. “I play with the band here - I could’ve easily told you that.”

“Wait, you do?” Steve frowned, and Eddie scoffed at him, leaning back and crossing his arms. “Yes - and, frankly, I’m a little offended you’d come here for a girl but not to see me play,” he tipped his chin up with a little hmph noise which lasted just a few seconds before his mouth split in a grin, his arms opening as he leaned back in his chair.

Steve barely had the time to turn before you reached the table, almost throwing yourself on Eddie, wrapping your arms around his shoulders as he pulled you onto him with a loud cackle, rubbing your back quickly.

“I thought you said you wouldn’t come here unless it was to play, Munson,” your voice was a little hoarse, a little louder than when at the café, and you pulled back from the curve of Eddie’s neck to look at him, hands reaching up to cup his face. “You’re a liar.”

“I’ve been brought here against my will, Cherry,” he said, a little bit theatrical.

Only then did you turn around on his lap, taking in both Steve and Robin - your eyebrows arched upwards, lips parting in surprise. A little smile made its way over your face, and letting go of Eddie’s face you leaned with your elbows on the table.

“This is a nice surprise,” you hummed, looking at Robin first, then letting your gaze linger on Steve, head slightly tilted. “Didn’t expect this to be your scene, Harrington.”

Steve’s gaze fell to Eddie’s arm wrapped around your waist, clearing his throat a little before flicking it back towards your face - at the look on his face, Eddie did his best to not burst out laughing, meeting Robin’s told-you-so gaze from across the table.

“Yeah, I figured -” he shrugged, muttering something that went lost in the cacophony of the place. You chuckled, hand coming down to rest on the table, mere inches from his as you leaned further forward.

“And here I thought I’d done a good job in saying how much of a dump this place is,” you sighed, then pulled quickly back - much to Steve’s dismay. You tapped Eddie’s arm still wrapped around you, and he let go of you immediately. How often had that happened, Steve wondered, then shook the thought away. “Gotta get back to work, if you need anything just yell,” you announced and got up - then turned around and planted a kiss on Eddie’s cheek, leaving a smudged lipstick stain on his skin before strolling away.

Eddie leaned back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest as he looked at Steve’s expression carefully, doing his best to hold back a laugh. Robin too was looking at him, his gaze trained after you.

“So, you know her too, huh?” Steve hummed, and forced his eyes back towards Eddie - only to find him staring at him already, grinning like a madman. “What?” he wondered, taken aback - only then did Eddie start laughing, long and loud, head thrown back as he struggled to breathe properly.

“Oh, you’re so screwed,” he hiccupped, breath short. “She’s going to eat you alive, you do know that, right?”

“You’re both so dramatic,” Steve huffed, rolling his eyes. “And it’s not like that,” he added quickly. Robin and Eddie looked at each other again, a knowing look in their eyes. “You seem friendly enough, anyway. Both of you, actually.”

“Yes, friendly,” Robin pointed out, her hand landing on Steve’s arm. “She’s a great friend, but you’re too much of a hopeless romantic,” she said it gently, but Steve scoffed again, glancing towards the counter where you were placing drinks in front of a group of clearly already drunk men.

“Robin, I swear -” he sighed, head thrown back in exasperation. “What about you - that was particularly friendly,” he said then, gesturing towards Eddie, who’d just regained his breath.

“Why do you think I’m telling you this?” he said it with a glint in his eyes. “She helped us with our first gig here - had the biggest crush on her,” he admitted, a little bashful. “She ended up stealing half of my clients because, honestly, I would rather buy from her than me, too. We stayed friends, though - help each other out,” he glanced around the pub with a slight grimace. “You need to, in a place like this.”

––––––––––

Always keep a job on the side.

It shouldn’t have surprised Steve - when you gained a certain reputation in Hawkins, you either did everything in your power to destroy it (like he’d done) or you embraced it fully (like it seemed you’d done).

Your house - if it could be called a house the four walls, one door and patchy garden in front of it - was the only thing in sight for miles, behind only forest, before only road. It was similar to Hopper’s cabin, where he’d hidden Eleven for a year.

Had you been trying to hide yourself away?

His knocking was hesitant, and half-way through the second hit he almost considered turning back around and walking away, but by the time he’d brought his hand back the door was already opening, you on the other side wearing pajamas bottoms and a cropped tank top, a baton in hand and your head tilted.

“Harrington,” despite the usual, slightly teasing note that his name held, you sounded surprised, glancing past his shoulder and back at him. “This is unexpected. You lost?” “No, I came to see you,” he admitted, and a quick grin made its way across your face as he lifted the six-pack of beer he had in his hand. “I come bearing gifts,” he added, a little smile on his lips.

“You could’ve started with that,” you said, moving aside and placing the baton down. Steve stepped in, and you lifted your leg in front of him. “Shoes off,” you ordered, taking the beers from his hand. Observing him with your head slightly tilted as he followed your instructions, you let the door close behind him. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Uh, I was wondering if you could help me,” he responded, straightening up and glancing at the baton. “Do you have to use that often?” he couldn’t help but wonder, the edges slightly dented.

“Every now and then,” you shrugged, walking towards the kitchen area - it was small, barely a corner, an empty plate sitting in the sink - and placing the beer in the fridge. “Most people just don’t want to fuck with me - they think I might sacrifice them to some forest deity,” you added with an amused glint in your eye.

Steve was starting to see why you got along with Eddie.

“You live here alone?” he asked with a little frown, taking in the place - it was chaotic, but not messy, with mismatched furniture, a radio playing low music resting by the window, and entirely you. He couldn’t explain why, but there was a little bit of you in every corner of the living room.

“Why, planning on murdering me, Harrington?” you flashed him a grin, stepping towards the corridor that led to a half-closed door. He followed you with his gaze, but remained by the couch, taking in the space furthermore. “Oh, no - I wouldn’t want any forest deity moving against me,” he called a little louder, and heard your laughter followed by a little clattering.

“Does Eddie know you’re buying from his competition?” you called back, and before he could answer you returned to the living room, a shoebox in your hands. “Actually, yes,” he cleared his throat, watching as you settled on the couch, box on your crossed legs. “I’ll have some apologizing to do.”

You looked up at him, eyebrows arched, and Steve froze for a moment.

“Come sit,” you said then, turning towards the free end of the couch. He made his way towards it carefully, sitting by the edge of the cushion and, unable to help yourself, you snorted. “I won’t bite,” you reassured, voice lowered as you leaned towards him. “You’re different from what I expected, Harrington.”

“Thank you?” he frowned a little, unsure, and you grinned again, placing the box in front of him and opening it for him. Buds and pre-rolled joints looked up at him, and he tilted his head a little, taking one up. “Split?” he offered, and you scoffed.

“Trying the product before actually committing to the purchase?” you took the joint from him and shifted forward to grab a lighter from the coffee table in front of you. “No, not really,” he followed your movements, taking a slow breath in. “I just don’t want to go already,” he admitted then, voice lower. You paused, joint held between your lips, and then one corner of your mouth lifted up slightly, a half smirk as you flicked the lighter.

You inhaled, eyes never leaving Steve as your cheeks hollowed slightly, and then moved the box on the table right as you exhaled, leaning in his direction, the smoke curling around your extended arm and hand.

“You only had to say that, Harrington.”

He took the joint from you, fingers brushing for a split second, then watches6 as you sat back, legs kicked up on the couch and legs bent. The cropped top left the tattoo across your ribs exposed, and his eyes lingered there for a moment.

“What did you expect?” he asked, looking up to meet your gaze already on him - it made him feel under some sort of scrutiny, and he shifted a little, attempting to relax back on the couch. “You said I’m different from what you expected - what did you expect?”

“Come on,” you scoffed, legs crossed at the ankle and a slight roll of your eyes. “Steve Harrington, the King of Hawkins,” you said then, an exaggerated, theatrical note in your voice, eyes widening a little in emphasis. “I remember high-school - you could be a real asshole.”

Steve brought the joint to his lips with a half-hazarded scoff, eyes wandering away. He should’ve been used to the bluntness, with Robin, Dustin and Eddie constantly calling him out - yet it somehow sounded different when coming from you.

In the time he’d gotten to know you - the mornings at the café, with your tired eyes and smudged make-up, or the couple of times he’d managed to convince Robin and Eddie to go back to the pub - he’d noticed you never held back. Whether it was with them or a particularly annoying customer at the pub, you had no problem saying things as they were.

And, truthfully, he had been an asshole during high-school.

“I did hear some rumors you had changed,” you continued as he exhaled, tilting your head just slightly. “I just find it hard to listen to and believe in those - had to see it with my own eyes.” “Why’s that?” he asked with a little frown, leaning forward when you gestured at him to hand the joint back, again with the fingers brushing, the delicate jolt running up his arm. You snorted, tipping your head back a little.

“This town certainly has a reputation of not blowing things out of proportion and saying things as they are,” you inhaled, deep and slow, your eyes on him. The cloud of smoke curled up towards the ceiling when you exhaled and returned the joint back to him. “I mean, I’m definitely in a cult, you know? Same as Eddie. We meet on Sundays to sacrifice people at the altar right behind my house,” you announced, a cheeky grin on your face as you rested back.

Steve scoffed lightly, shaking his head.

“Okay, yeah, that’s not - you’re right,” he noticed a faint ring of lipstick around the filter of the joint as he brought it up to his own lips, and his eyes flicked up to your face, to the smudged stain at the corner of your mouth. “How much of the stuff they say is true?” he wondered then, and simultaneously wondered whether it was too much he was asking or not.

You shrugged, hands interlocked over your stomach as he took a drag.

“I decided to leave my parents’ house, and I did try to move out of Hawkins - that’s how I found this place. Oh, and no, I’m not a virgin,” the words made him cough, smoke burning his nostrils and throat as he turned the other way, only hearing your chuckle. “So easy,” you murmured, stretching across the cushion and towards him as you continued listing. “I’m not planning on dying alone, just waiting to not have someone get with me as a challenge. And I did want to finish school - my parents just decided otherwise for me after I left.”

“Oh,” he frowned again, his voice scratchy, trying to make sense of your words. She’s gonna crush your heart. She’s going to eat you alive. “Why stay in Hawkins, then? You clearly hate the place,” he tried then, and you chuckled again - he tilted his head a little, watching you. “Even now, couldn’t you just go?”

“With pub and drugs money? No,” you shook your head, extending your legs across his lap. “I wouldn’t make it very far - I’m not even sure I’d have enough gas to get out of town,” you added, lifting yourself up enough to take the joint back from his hand.

He wasn’t sure whether it was the weed or your being so relaxed at his side, but he felt himself melt back a little, his hand coming to rest on your calf, a sense of ease settling in his bones. His tongue felt looser, too, the knot in his throat he got whenever you were around vanishing altogether.

“Isn’t there anyone you could ask to help? I’m sure -” he paused, watching as you arched an eyebrow through your exhale.

“If I had anyone willing to help, d’you really believe I’d have stayed here?” you pulled yourself up then, sitting with your legs draped over his to hand him the last bit of the joint. His gaze softened, hand lingering for a moment over yours even as the filter started to burn against his skin and you rolled your eyes just a little, leaning to rest your elbows across your thighs, back of one hand resting against his chest and the other supporting your head up. “Don’t worry, Harrington, I don’t need pity. I’d do it again, even if it means remaining stuck here.”

“Still,” he hesitated. Still, couldn’t you have done so much more? Instead, you shook your head.

“Trust me, had you had parents like mine, you would’ve rather lived in a shack - even worse than this one - too,” you reassured, brushing your knuckles across his chest before reaching to get the ashtray for him to stump out the butt.

“Well, I barely know my parents,” he admitted absent-mindedly, gaze turned down to where his hand rested across your leg. “They’re never really home, and if they are it still feels as if they’re not actually there - like they don’t see me, or simply don’t care, or -” he looked up all of a sudden, cutting himself off. “Sorry, I don’t know why I said that. I shouldn’t be complaining - my life’s been so fucking easy so far, it’s ridiculous, I really shouldn’t say -”

“Steve,” the sound of his name on your lips made him snap back to reality all of a sudden, your hand moving from his chest to his neck, then up furthermore to cup his jaw. Your skin was soft and cold, and his eyelids drooped slightly at your touch, hazy gaze turning to your smile. “Relax - it’s not like being wealthy precludes you from having shitty parents.”

“No, it doesn’t,” he scoffed, somewhat amused. “I’ve been spending too much time with Robin, probably. I get nervous and I just start talking, and I don’t really think about what I’m saying beforehand.”

“No,” he breathed out - then, because your smirk grew, he sighed. “A little,” he admitted, voice softer, hand inching up towards your knee.

He’d seen you with Eddie - his arms around you, your hands holding his face, the way he’d play with your hair and you with his rings. He’d seen you with Robin, too - tucking her hair behind her ear, having her sit on your lap, murmuring things in her ear that left her flustered and she refused to repeat. He knew it meant nothing: the touches, the teasing, the looks.

But it was just the two of you, in your house, so close, and he was high on weed and your sharp perfume, and he was sure you could feel his heart doing laps in his chest.

“Maybe I should go,” he murmured, but made no attempt to move from his position. “I’m not letting you drive back right now,” you shook your head, thumbs running across his cheeks as you brought him closer. “You’re high - your pupils are huge.”

“They always get like that when I see you though,” his whispered response as he lowered his forehead towards yours earned a quiet chuckle from you, hands falling to his shoulders. “I have a confession - I didn’t actually come here for the weed.”

“No?” he could hear the amused note in your voice, but didn’t really care, your fingers brushing his neck just above the collar of his shirt as he shook his head.

“I just wanted to see you - without Robin, or Eddie, or anyone at The Hideout, or you just coming back from work,” your hands reached the back of his head, one hand cupping the nape of his neck, the other brushing his hair down a bit as you hummed in response.

And then you were kissing him, pulling him towards you as your lips bruised his and his hand gripped your leg both in surprise and to ground himself. You were there, solid - so soft - under his hand, over him, on him.

When he sighed, lips parting, your tongue brushed into his mouth, and you moved to sit on his lap - never once breaking the kiss but only deepening it, forcing his head back against the backrest of the couch as you shifted a little higher than him. Steve could taste the smoke on your lips and, ironically enough, cherries.

His hands moved from your legs as you straddled his lap, slowly caressing up your hips and waist, gripping a little tighter when you had to break the kiss to breathe, slowly shifting back on his thighs. He then felt your lips drag across his jaw sloppily, down and down towards his neck as he craned his head back a little.

“This wasn’t my intention, by the way,” he breathed out, voice hoarse, forcing back a quiet groan as you kissed his pulse point. “I really just wanted to see you, and be with you, but this -”

“I know, Steve,” you hummed, a little smile in your words. “Relax, it’s okay,” you added, lips brushing the shell of his ear before you tilted your head, resuming the trail of kisses across Steve’s neck. One of his hands left your side, moving to the small of your back as if to push you against him furthermore just as a hiss left his mouth.

“You said you wouldn’t bite,” he gasped, and craned his neck as your teeth sank gently into his skin, offering you more. With a low chuckle, you ran the flat of your tongue across the offended spot, making Steve shift underneath you, eyes fluttering shut.

“I lied,” you admitted, making your way further down, nibbling at his throat as he threw his head back, sighing softly while he caressed your back, reaching underneath your shirt, his warm hand splaying over your spine. He pushed you closer, your hips rocking against him.

“Can I touch you?” he asked, breathless, his fingers stroking your skin tentatively. Slowly, you pulled your head up, angling yourself so you were looking down at him, a little smile on your swollen lips.

“You’re already touching me,” you whispered, and he took his other hand off of your side to reach your face. He cupped your cheek, thumb brushing at the corner of your mouth as if to clean it of the smeared lipstick. There was a tenderness in his touch, such strong contrast with the heaving of his chest, his pupils wide, his lips bruised. “Yes, Steve, you can,” you reassured then, unable to keep yourself from smiling.

He lifted his head then, kissing you right back as both his hands returned to your waist, open-mouthed and needy. He traced the edge of the tattoo across your ribs, delicate and slow, touch shifting until he was cupping your breasts, his warm palms over your naked skin eliciting a gasp out of you.

You shifted above him again, grinding down on him as you slowly rolled your hips to second the movements of his hands, soft sighs falling from your lips. He bucked up his hips, a moan escaping you against his mouth in response.

“Okay?” he let his lips trail along your jaw, word barely slurred out as you nodded, then threw your head back and bit down on your bottom lip, back arching towards his touch as his thumbs swept over your nipples, gaining another moan out of you. “Can I take this off?”

His voice had dropped as he pushed your top up a little, looking up at you almost expectantly and, lip still trapped between your teeth, you nodded again, moving your hands from his shoulders to aid him. Steve moved slowly, his eyes never leaving you, taking in every further inch of exposed skin until you were standing bare-chested in front of him, and his hands were on your sides again.

“Look at you,” a mere whisper uttered as he brushed his lips across your collarbones, up to your throat, nudging your chin up. “God, you’re so beautiful,” he continued, voice muffled against your skin.

You froze for a moment - an instant of tension after you’d buried your hands in his hair, breath catching in your throat at his words. So soft. So genuine. The situation dawned on you so suddenly - Steve’s lips on you, his body underneath you, his touch still delicate. It wasn’t his challenge, being there with you. It was all real.

He felt the moment you stilled, no other noise coming from you but heavy breaths, and he pulled back right away, looking up just as a hesitant smile bent your lips - just barely visible.

“What is it?” he asked quietly, a little worried. “Nothing,” you shook your head and cleared your throat, bringing your gaze down on him as you brushed his hair back - only messing it further. He frowned lightly, and you leaned in. “It’s nothing, Steve, really.”

“We can stop,” he spoke softly, hands remaining still at your sides. “If you changed your mind - I don’t care. We can stop. I can go.”

“No,” you shook your head, cupping his cheeks as you softened against him, the tension leaving you as you looked into his eyes. He meant it. All of it. “No one’s called me beautiful in a while - it’s stupid.”

At that, he frowned, eyes moving across your face, down your neck and chest, your arms and back up to your face. “I don’t believe that,” he muttered, shaking his head as much as your hands allowed. You shrugged, rubbing small circles at the corner of his mouth.

“Hot, desirable, foxy even,” you listed, gaze lingering on his parting lips. “Just that.”

“Well, I say you are beautiful,” he said, tipping his chin up a little. He took your hand from his face, turning his head to rest a delicate kiss on your palm. “Beautiful,” he repeated, voice hoarse, then kissed your wrist. “Lovely,” your forearm. “Cute,” the crook of your elbow. “Pretty,” a breath against your shoulder before beckoning you closer. “Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful,” each time a kiss across the skin of your neck, and you couldn’t help the quiet snort escaping your lips.

It pulled a smile on his mouth as well before he brought his hand behind your head, cupping the nape of your neck and closing the gap between you, the kiss a little slower, a little softer, his other arm wrapping around your middle to hold you against him.

You felt him shift, keeping you firmly as he switched your positions, laying you down across the couch and settling with one leg between your thighs, free hand braced at your side to not weigh down on you. Still kissing you, he traced your side with the tip of his fingers, almost ticklish as you arched against him, tugging at his shirt until his back was uncovered.

He pulled back long enough to take it off and, in straightening his back, his thigh pressed between your legs, causing a whine to fall from your lips as you hooked your fingers in the belt of his jeans.

“Do that again,” you gasped, rolling your hips just slightly as you attempted to pull him closer. Steve’s hands fell to your hips, gripping them and helping you grind against him, the flimsy material of your pants wrinkling at the friction as you moaned again, lips parting, head thrown back with a string of curses stuck in your throat.

Steve watched you, the flush across your chest, your hands fumbling to undo his belt blindly, the pressure against your core making your stomach flutter. Beautiful didn’t even begin to describe it, the curve of your body as you sought more friction against the rough material of his jeans, your eyelids trembling as you turned your head and looked at him through lowered lashes.

Once his belt came undone, and you popped the button of his pants, he lowered himself against you, still holding your hips in place. Your hands roamed his torso, sides, shoulders as he kissed you again, and kissed you and kissed you, desperately trying to capture every single little noise that escaped your open mouth.

He shifted his leg back, a sound of protest muffled against his mouth, quickly replaced by a shuddering breath as one of his hands left your side, moving past the waistband of your pants and underwear, his fingers just barely brushing your skin.

“Can I?” he drawled over your skin, down and down your jaw, neck, chest, the tip of his tongue tracing the tattoo across your sternum before moving up again, his gaze searching yours as the heel of his hand gently pressed onto your lower belly. “Please,” he added, hot breath fanning over your parted lips.

Plush lips, dilated pupils, short breath, Steve looked down at you expectantly, waiting, the warmth of his hand on you luring you closer - you nodded then, bottom lip trapped between your teeth as you arched against his touch, shifting your hips until his fingers brushed the apex of your core.

Agonizingly slow, he dragged his fingers across your already wet folds, slick gathering over his digits. He was kissing your neck then, lips latched onto your pulse point as he moved the tip of his finger back up - you twitched underneath him when he nudged your clit, a whine escaping your lips when he did it again, drawing a small circle over it.

He was attentive to your every response - when he pushed your thighs a little more open with his legs and you arched furthermore against him, chest puffing up and hands finding his arms to hold onto him; when he switched from side to side to small circles over your clit and you spasmed lightly underneath him, panting and keening into his ear; and when he pushed one finger inside of you, and then a second one, and you clenched around him, grinding down against his hand.

“Steve,” was the only coherent thing that came out of your lips along a string of muttered curses, yes, yes, yes and fuck, Steve, God, his fingers pumping in and out of you, thumb rolling against your clit.

He pulled himself up, a low pop muffled next to your ear where a bruise was already forming in the shape of Steve’s lips, and he sat back on his heels, his hair falling ruffled against his forehead as he trained his gaze down on you again.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, his breath labored, curling his fingers inside of you. “So beautiful,” he repeated, watching you throw your head back with a gasp, your neck exposed to him, as if showing off the marks he’d left on your skin.

He moved his other hand from your hip where he held you down to your lower stomach, pushing down as he repeated the motion of his fingers inside of you, pressing against your front wall and making you cry out. The pressure was almost overwhelming, your hand gripping his wrist tighter, grinding down against his hand as his name left your lips over and over again, a chant growing, breathless and whiny.

“I’m gonna -” sentence cut off by a gasp, your thighs started trembling against his in a reflexive attempt to close your legs. “So good, feels so good, Steve,” Steve, Steve, repeated through moans before the air left your lungs fully, and you came gushing over his hand, a long, sharp cry as you shook underneath him, clenching around his fingers.

Steve coaxed your orgasm out of you until it became unbearable and you pushed him away by his wrist with a whispered please, eyes fluttering shut and chest heaving.

Slowly, he dragged his fingers up your abdomen, stomach, between the valley of your breasts, your release still coating his fingers - he kissed your skin clean in its wake, the taste of you on his mouth when he kissed you again, gentle. Wearily you chased him, arm wrapped around his shoulders to push him down, hand buried through his hair as you deepened the kiss, licking every last drop of you from his lips.

“You okay?” he murmured through quick pecks along your cheek, your arms still heavy around him, legs limp at his sides.

“Need a moment,” you retorted, turning your head to try and kiss him again, blindly, sloppily. “You’re so fucking good, Harrington,” he chuckled at your muffled words. “Think I might’ve fallen for you a little there.”

“Alright, don’t mock me now,” he said it light-heartedly, through more tiny kisses, pulling back to look at you each time.

“I’m not,” he scoffed, his hand coming up to brush the hair away from sticking on your forehead. Without his arm supporting him, you flipped the two of you over, straddling his lap with still shaking thighs. “I am not,” you repeated a little firmer, pinning his hands at each side of his head. “You’re good to me, Steve,” you said then, lowering your voice as if anyone could be around to listen while you kissed his lips, once. “Always so good to me,” his jaw -

Steve let his eyes flutter shut, shifting a little underneath you, pants straining as his erection pressed against your lower abdomen, the mere contact making him groan and bite down on his cheeks, a choked out baby leaving his mouth in spite of the layer of clothing between the two of you.

“Giving me free coffee when I need it,” you continued, a little smile in your words as you kissed his neck. “Coming to the pub,” the hollow of his throat as his breath picked up. “Staying up late just to see me to my car,” his collarbones. “Always making sure I’m okay,” his heaving chest before looking up, waiting until he returned his gaze on you to continue in a gentle voice, head tilted. “I do like you,” you admitted quietly, watching as Steve’s neck flushed slightly and he wet his lips, his brows knitting a little. You rested your chin on his chest, gently scratching up and down his forearms. “Is that so hard to believe?”

“No,” he shook his head, then sighed. “Maybe a little - it’s Robin being paranoid, and Eddie being an ass, and you -” he shook his head again, eyes closing.

“I - what?” you frowned slightly, letting go of one of his hands to tap his cheek gently with the tip of your finger - when he looked back at you, you cupped his cheek, thumb brushing the corner of his mouth where a red halo, a stain of whatever had remained of your lipstick, tinged his skin.

“I didn’t think you’d ever take me seriously,” he admitted then - blurted out, really - and your eyebrows arched in surprise. “I came here tonight just because I wanted to be with you, even just for a few minutes - I never expected any of this. Not with you.”

“Not with me?” you chuckled, pushing yourself up a little to move your face right in front of his, tips of your nose brushing his. The shift against his crotch had him groan lightly, jaw twitching at the friction. “You never even spared me a second glance in high-school, what’s that supposed to mean?” despite your words, your hand still cradled his cheek, reassuring.

“That’s not true,” he moved his head, nudging the tip of your nose. “I did look at you. I saw you.”

“Ever thought of trying your luck with me before?” you grinned, the teasing note in your voice making him glance away for a moment.

“God, no,” he sighed, moving his hand slowly until it reached your waist just as you straddled his lap again, rocking slowly against him. “Thought you’d bite my head off.”

“I told you, I don’t bite,” you murmured, tilting your head to brush your lips on his. He kissed you once, twice, hand resting on the small of your back.

“I think I have a mark that says otherwise,” he scoffed in between kisses, pushing you a little closer as you chuckled against his mouth. You let go of his other hand too, which immediately fell to the back of your head as you reached between your bodies, at last undoing the zipper of his jeans before tugging them down - he lifted his hips to help, while simultaneously, moving the hand from your back to the hem of your own pants. “Do you have a -”

“Reach behind you,” hastily, you pulled back and hovered his legs as you helped him out fully, belt jingling as you let the jeans fall to the ground. Eyebrows arched, Steve did as he was told, tilting his head back until he located a small box on the side table and you nodded, kicking off your pants.

“Seriously?” he laughed, watching you smirk and straddle his lap, the ghost of his previous touch still on your thighs. He grabbed a silvery packet and held it up between the two of you, placing the box back down. “In the living room?” he teased, pushing himself up on his elbows.

“I don’t just let anybody in my bedroom, Harrington,” you shrugged, and removed your underwear as well. Steve let his gaze wander across your body - the tattoos, the forming bruises on your hips, the marks he’d left with his mouth. He bucked his hips up involuntarily, forcing his eyes back towards your face as you leaned in and took the condom from his hand. “A girl’s gotta be prepared,” you said then, voice a mere, raspy whisper.

After you removed the last piece of clothing between the two of you, Steve fell back against the couch as you wrapped your hand around his erection, a hiss escaping his lips when you brushed your thumb over the tip, smearing his precum around it and then down his length.

“Jesus - fuck,” he cussed, fucking his hips up into your hand. Seeing and feeling you fall apart on his hand had been enough to almost send him over the edge, leaving him sensitive - one touch and his vision was hazy already.

Baby, sweetheart, baby, falling from his lips at the sound of the wrapping tearing. He moaned when you rolled the condom down his cock, one hand raking through his hair and the other gripping the couch underneath him to keep himself from writhing under your touch.

He was so far gone already.

Steve managed to look up only when he felt your hand wrapped around his base and you shifted up his body again, blurry vision clearing enough to notice the flush of your cheeks and heaving chest, your stomach fluttering as you looked down on him, too, then met his eye - lips parted, panting and sighing as he grabbed your hips, his warm hands already so familiar on your body.

You held his gaze as you slowly, achingly slow, sunk down on him, free hand falling to his chest to hold yourself up, thighs burning as the ache of him stretching you turned into a blinding pleasure.

“Easy,” you warned breathlessly as he pushed you down slightly, a choked back groan at your stillness leaving his lips. You steadied yourself with both hands on his chest now. “Oh my - fuck,” a mewl as you threw your head back, eyes fluttering shut as you bottomed out.

Steve kneaded your sides gently, then ran his hands down your thighs, muscles trembling slightly in the wake of his touch. He didn’t move just yet, heavy breathing underneath your hands as he watched your throat bob, stomach fluttering.

And then you started to move - a slow rocking of your hips, up and down his length. Steve set the pace, his hands guiding you by your hips, soft praises falling from his mouth. Feel so good, so good, keep going, just like that, twitching inside of you each time you let out a moan.

When he shifted, sitting up, you found yourself stilling, both arms wrapped around his shoulders as you clenched around him, gaining another groan from him as he squeezed your hips.

“Alright, baby?” his voice was low, lips trailing lazily across your shoulder, up towards your neck, one of his arms sliding around your waist to keep you down against him while his other hand came to rest behind him.

Burying one hand in his hair you nodded, cheek against cheek as he nibbled the juncture between your ear and jaw, a hum barely passing through your sealed lips that quickly turned into a gasp as he pushed his hips up into you.

Steve moved his head back then, looking up at you as you held onto his shoulder, fingers digging into his flesh as he guided your movements above him, steady, rocking hips that made his eyelids grow heavy - yet he couldn’t tear his gaze away.

“So pretty,” he whispered through his shortening breaths and moans, reaching up to tuck a wild strand of hair behind your ear, then cup your cheek - he fucked up into you again, the slap of skin against skin echoing through the room, the house, your head as you forced yourself to keep your eyes open. “So fucking pretty.”

He felt you falter, hips twitching uncontrolled as your thighs shook at his sides, just as you blindly searched for his mouth, tugging onto his hair a little harsher until you managed to kiss him, deep and breathless, your lips bruising - and again and again.

“I’m gonna come, Steve,” whispered against his skin, voice cracking with a cry and Steve, Steve repeated over and over like a chant.

You pulled his hair, just once, to break away from him and gasp a oh God as you threw your head back, your whole body trembling around his - it tipped him over the edge, too, a groan he suppressed against the skin of your chest, twitching deep inside of you as he came and oh God the soft noises, the praises falling from his lips directly onto your skin were almost enough to make your head spin.

You stayed like that: him still deep inside of you, his head resting on your chest, your heart hammering under his ear as you brushed your hand through his hair and placed your cheek on top of his head, both his arms wrapped loosely around you as you tried to regain your breaths.

“I take back what I said before,” your mouth felt pasty, voice muffled as your cheek remained slightly squashed on top of Steve’s head. “I definitely fell for you a little bit, now.”

Steve laughed, the sound rumbling in his chest and across your skin - the slight shake of his body made you hiss, and he left a quick peck against the hollow of your throat before moving his hands to your sides.

Ever so slowly helped you off of him with a quiet apology. The movement made the both of you groan, and you toppled at his side with a long exhale, back pressed against the backrest of the couch. You vaguely registered him getting up, moving towards the kitchen, and coming back after what seemed to be the blink of an eye - or maybe you’d simply dozed off.

“You okay?” he sat down next to you again, the couch definitely too small for you to be staying side by side, a glass of water in his hand. A grin made its way over your lips tiredly, and you lifted your head as he brought it closer to your face.

“See? Always so good to me,” you murmured once he moved back, his thumb running over your lips to collect the droplets of water. “I’m fine, just tired,” you reassured as he put the glass down blindly, his eyes never leaving you even as he lied down. You shifted half on top of him, enough so there was space for the both of you, chin resting on his chest where you left a quick peck. “Are you?”

“Are you kidding?” he scoffed, his arm wrapping around your shoulders and pulling you closer, carefully locked against his side. “Never been better,” he kissed the top of your head, your forehead, fingers tracing lazy, mindless lines across the skin of your back.

You melted into him, his soothing touch, his now-so-familiar scent, the steadying rhythm of his heart. It slowly lulled you into a half-sleep state, Steve’s body relaxing as well.

“Steve?” you mumbled against his chest, and his hand stilled, head turning just barely as he hummed in response. “Don’t fall asleep on the couch, you’ll get a backache,” you warned, yet nestled closer to his side.

The couch was old - you’d experienced the pains a night on it brought one too many times.

“It’s okay, I’ll just be five minutes,” he reassured, resuming tracing patterns over your skin with the tip of his fingers. “Then I’ll be on my way, let you get some rest.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Harrington,” you scoffed, at last looking up towards him. His eyes were closed, his lips parted - still plump, still rosy, so kissable with his hair falling messily against his forehead. “Stay the night - let’s go to bed.”

He opened his eyes - his long lashes trembling against his cheeks before he did so, a light frown knitting his brow before he turned to look down towards you. He licked his lips, letting his hand move up the nape of your neck, guiding your head back.

“I thought you said no one’s allowed in your room,” he said, only half-teasingly.

“I said not just anyone,” you corrected, shifting up until you could brush your lips against his - just a mere brush, not chasing him, not letting him chase you. “You’re not just anyone.”

“You’re just trying to charge me extra,” he whispered in mock offense, the corners of his mouth twitching as he fought off a smile. “First weed, then spending the night -” “The sex, too,” you pointed out with a grin of your own.

“Of course,” he nodded, gravely, and you chuckled, leaning in to kiss him once, gently, deep. Your hand came up to his face, cupping his jaw, thumb stroking his cheek before you pulled back and met his eyes.

“Stay,” you repeated, and then, lower, sweeter - “Please?”

“Just as long as you won’t sacrifice me to some forest deity,” he nodded, pulling you almost fully on top of him. And with a smile, you kissed him again. “No promises, Harrington.”

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icallhimjoey · 11 months

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idk why but I think it would be funny reader stuck in the elevator with joe and reader freaking out bc the elevator stopped while joe is all soft and trying to calm her down

YES excellent – i merged this idea with another request from anon who asked for a story that starts on the tube, so, here we go... a new five-part series! here's part one! thanks for the request, you're well sexy and the best, love ya for life xo Wordcount: 2.6K

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Between Floors and Feelings

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five

“Rough night?”

You knew what this looked like.

You understood why the person who you'd sat down next to immediately got up and moved a few seats down. Why they avoided the drama of it all.

You understood why the lady opposite you stared at the floor and nothing but the floor, pretending that she hadn't seen you, probably because that would just be easiest for everyone involved, the politest thing to do.

You understood why the handsome stranger at the end of the carriage kept looking over, his big round eyes overflowing with pity for the runaway bride in the dirty dress, mascara stains all down her face and her hair a tangled up mess.

You got it.

You probably would’ve felt the same had you witnessed a girl in a wedding dress sit down in an empty seat, sort of dazed and empty-looking, numb to the stares and whispers – if people even whispered at all; the tube was notoriously quiet, always and forever.

“Rough night?” a boy from a group of four, maybe five, called over, and the rest of them all tried to hide their laughs.

Badly.

It was obvious they’d been drinking and you guessed they were on their way to the next party. Off to find another bar or a club that still let people in after the last tube had gone.

You made direct eye-contact with the kid, and you looked exhausted the way people can only look exhausted after they’ve cried for a good while.

Made sense, since, you know, you’d cried for a good while.

You just looked at this boy, who thought maybe he’d get a reaction out of you, but your lack of expression and unwavering stare quickly made him grow uncomfortable. Made his buddies shove his shoulders as they told him to leave her alone man, suddenly all respectful and well-mannered.

They felt the vibe. None of this was fucking funny.

It was enough to get him to back off, and thank fuck they all got off at Leicester Square – of course they did – and when the doors closed again, you noticed the carriage was mostly empty now.

A glance sideways told you the handsome stranger who’d been sneaking looks at you was still there.

Watching you.

What an outfit to be seen in by someone who had looks that would usually make you sit up a little straighter. Would make you faff with your hair a bit. Would make you stick your chin out and push your shoulders back, just in case he looked at you again.

You absolutely didn’t give a single shit about it now.

Couldn't care less about what you currently looked like.

You knew your face was a mess of streaky foundation with black mascara marks all the way down to your chin and, fuck it, you weren’t even planning on washing it off tonight. You’d wallow in bed and probably would cry some more before you’d fall asleep.

Tomorrow could be the day on which you’d care.

Maybe.

Right now all you’d wanted to do was murder someone, then sleep, and also, empty the rest of your bladder.

Perhaps that was the only thing about tonight that brought you secret joy; the memory of squatting over your boss’s handbag to piss right into it. You had to stop in a scurry when you heard footsteps coming up the stairs and didn’t want to be caught, but, if you had been, ultimately, it wouldn't have mattered.

You had resigned with immediate effect when you'd seen them.

Finding her unguarded handbag on your way out was exactly what she fucking deserved. You knew you'd probably regret it later, but for right now, it was all you fucking had.

The train stopped at Covent Garden, and it took a second for your body to get up to get out. Like the signals your eyes and ears picked up took longer to travel to the right parts of your brain, that then following signals took longer to travel from your brain to the right parts of your body.

You had to lift up your skirt, two fists grabbing at the tulle, to make sure your feet didn't get caught up as you stepped onto the platform.

With the increasingly annoying See It, Say It, Sorted repeating itself for the millionth time within the fourteen minutes you'd been on the tube, the doors beeped behind you before you heard them roll shut.

The platform felt empty, just a couple other people making their way towards the exit, and with your zest for life currently non-existent, the sensation of the wind from the tube leaving felt nice. So, you took a second, just stood there and thought to yourself how long it would take for it to become weird that you weren't moving.

There were just too many things to freak out over, far too much to completely overwhelm you, but it was almost like none of it was real. As if every single survival mechanism your body held within itself had switched on. They all made sure that the only thing you had going inside your brain was a low, constant hum. Nothing else.

It was almost like you weren't even there.

Like the whole evening had been a dream.

Like you didn't even really exist in this moment right now.

Yea. You were definitely dissociating.

You felt like a ghost a little.

One that had to pee, still. That motivated you enough to turn your head, tired heavy-lidded eyes reading the signs to follow them out.

Exit. To the lifts and stairs.

You were nearly home.

Home, where you were definitely 100 per cent going to beeline it straight from your front door right into bed.

Just that thought alone brought you back into yourself a little more, but it was just so you could tear up again. You felt the hot pinpricks behind your eyes and quickly shoved yourself out again.

No more crying, please.

You could just... float down the underground tunnels behind yourself. Follow your own footsteps out of the station. You knew were you lived. You would find yourself there later.

It was fine.

It was after the last theater rush, so for Covent Garden standards, it felt eerily quiet. Not that you were complaining. Waiting for the lifts whilst crushed between a bunch of tourists was the last thing you wanted right now.

But stepping into an empty lift with just one other person stepping in behind you, seeing just a few people step out on the other side, felt weird too.

Especially when you looked, and you saw that the one other person was the handsome stranger from your carriage. He'd apparently gotten off too, and suddenly, you felt embarrassed.

You were wearing a dirty wedding dress. Had black marks all over your face, all over your hands.

He looked fucking stunning. All prim and proper. Vintage-looking tweed green suit. Olive-y green. Gorgeous and well put together, the literal exact opposite from you in your current state. Like, sure, his curls were a little messy, but it seemed part of his look.

As the lift doors closed behind you, the stranger gave you a polite nod accompanied by a tight lipped smile. And you would have returned it, would've made it a kind, well-mannered exchange of acknowledgement, but, you weren't really inside of your body, remember?

All you did was look at him a second, face all blank, and you only slightly noticed that the empathy in his eyes doubled right in front of you before you turned away. You turned and slumped against the side, head resting back, eyes scanning the ads but not really reading anything, and you wondered if these lifts ever got cleaned. If someone ever took a rag and some cleaning solution and wiped down all the panels. By the look of things, probably not.

What if that was your job?

Clean the Covent Garden tube station lifts every day. There were four of them, and you imagined they all could use a good scrub.

You honestly wouldn't mind a job like it. You needed a new job anyway, 't was close to home and you liked the sense of accomplishment cleaning something incredibly dirty gave you. Where you could really see the difference.

You were doing a stellar job at distracting yourself from the current situation you were in. Made sure to stay all the way out of your body. Made sure that this veil that separated you from the real world, that blurred the boundaries between what was real and what was not, made sure that it stayed in place.

You were so close to home.

Wanted to be there right this second.

Fuck, you were so tired.

Maybe your new job could be figuring out this whole teleportation thing. See if you could make that work for yourself.

You didn't realise that your eyes were staring at the man who stood near where the doors were meant to open when you reached ground floor. Just, comfortably locked at the shoulder seam of his jacket.

Even when he turned his head a little for a quick look before he took a small sip from a half empty water bottle, surely because he could sense your two bulging wet eyeballs burn into his back, you didn't move your eyes.

Felt too nice to keep them there.

But then, without warning, there was a sudden jolt. It shocked you right back into your body and you couldn't help the small gasp that escaped you. The lift had come to an abrupt halt, and the lights flickered for a moment before they settled into a dim glow.

Oh no.

“Oh no,” the barely audible sound of your voice surprised you. Your throat still felt thick from crying, and hearing it out loud just reminded you of it more.

“Is it stuck?”

For a second, you thought that maybe, you were wrong.

You made a mistake.

Clearly you weren't really with it right now, so you didn't really trust your senses currently. You didn't really know what was real and what wasn't and found it difficult to differentiate.

But then the guy who was in there with you looked around, and then lowered his head. By the way his eyes moved, you could tell he was trying to listen for something.

“Are we stuck?” you tried again, and his eyes shot up to look at you.

No answer.

Fuck.

A mix of emotions washed over you; disbelief, annoyance, a new good dose of self-pity along with a strong healthy pang of sheer panic.

Cute.

It was kind of exactly how you felt about an hour ago.

If only there was a handbag of someone you really hated to piss into to elevate the situation a little. It helped a lot before.

“I think we're stuck.”

That was exactly the wrong thing to hear and it immediately threw you for a loop.

A panic attack.

The whole ordeal.

Your heart quickened its pace, an unsettling sensation tightened your whole chest and your breathing picked up, became all shallow at a rapid rate. Before you knew it, the box you were now trapped in felt like it was shrinking around you and suddenly you were in a place of imminent danger.

You were inside a mortal trap, a tragedy waiting to happen.

You had to sit down.

But your knees were locked.

You didn't know if the moisture you felt on your face were tears or sweat.

Oh man, it was hot in there. Did this guy feel hot in there too? Jesus Christ, why were wedding gowns so fucking restricting?

You saw how the emergency button was pressed, just once. Sensible. And then this guy waited patiently as he listened to static coming from the little intercom below it.

Well, fuck that.

In your panic you kind of threw yourself at this emergency button and with frantic hands and shaking fingers, you pressed it over and over and over, until two big hands took hold of you and guided your arms down.

“It's OK, don't worry. Help will come,”

Those words meant nothing to you, no matter how kindly they were said.

“Hello?!” you shouted like anyone would hear you, eyes big and darting, and you scanned the rest of the lift for more buttons.

Your phone!

Of course.

You fished your phone out, panicked movements making you nearly drop it.

No service.

Why?!

“Hey, breathe,” the far-too-good-looking-for-his-own-good stranger tried, but you had already slung both arms over your head and got the jitters in your legs, desperately needing to move and so you started pacing.

Two small steps towards the back, two small steps back to where this guy was stood.

“This is just perfect, what the fuck, this is just–” the loud and sudden sob that escaped you made you slap a hand over your mouth.

“Calm down, we're safe, you need to–” he huffed a humourless laugh through his nostrils, all obvious nerves and tense uncomfortability. “You need to breathe,”

And he was right. You did need to breathe. You started feeling light-headed a little, felt your cheeks start to tingle, so you covered your face with both hands and squatted down, making the tulle skirt of your dress take up half the floorspace.

He joined you down there and held out his opened water bottle to you.

“Do you need some water?”

You didn't move your hands as you shook your head no.

“Okay, let me try that again. My name's Joe, I think you're having an anxiety attack, and I think you need some water. Here, have some water,”

“I don't want water.”

It was definitely sweat and tears. You felt clammy and cold but somehow uncomfortably hot at the same time.

“Breathe in, hey,” a finger got snapped in front of your face several times. That didn't do shit. “You're just breathing out, you've got to let air in too.”

And just for a second, the smallest fraction of a teeny tiny moment, everything suddenly cleared up in your mind. Comfort and ease took over and you felt... well, nothing.

Felt like drifting.

You felt everything flush down your body, all the way from your face right into your toes until it was all gone.

Just for a mere second, though.

“I'm fine,” you croaked before everything went slack. You lost your balance, your eyes rolled back and just like that, everything went dark.

“Oh, shit, oh shit,” Joe muttered, moving forward from sitting on his haunches to pressing his knees into the fabric of your dress as he tried to reach for you in a flash.

He got you by the arm, his open water bottle terribly in the way, and his other hand managed to reach around your neck. He got to slowly lower you down, ease you towards the floor entirely unsure of what to do next.

What did he need to do next?!

He was trapped in a tube station lift, on a stop he didn't even need to get out of, with an unconscious runaway bride who'd quite clearly was having the absolutely worst day of her life ever.

What the fuck was he going to do?

Then, behind him, from the corner of the elevator, the intercom static picked up again and was followed by a crackly voice.

“Emergency services, how can we assist you?”

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#Joe Quinn #Joseph Quinn #Joe Quinn x You #Joseph Quinn x You #Joe Quinn x Reader #Joseph Quinn x Reader #Joe Quinn Fanfic #Joe Quinn fanfiction #Joseph Quinn Fanfic #Joseph Quinn Fanfiction #rpf #icallhimjoey #joe quinn x y/n #joseph quinn x y/n #between floors and feelings

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girlswhowantboystobegirls · 7 days

Text

what would some pjo characters listen to?

thalia, luke, annabeth, percy, grover, clarisse, stoll bros edition

Thalia's music taste is canon; she listens to Green Day. I'd like to think she is fond of many rock bands like Radiohead, Nirvana, Rage Against The Machine... her playlist is a rock/punk soup. She may even go and listen to The Cure, Slipknot and all those bands with a certain aesthetic that is linked to an alternative style/community.

One thing about Thalia, though, is that she won't stand music that isn't alt. Lana del Rey, Billie Eilish, Dua Lipa, Taylor Swift are just examples of what she really can't get into. She despises entering a shop in a mall and hearing the "daaaaaance, dance the night away!" no. Please no. If you think Thalia listens to Taylor Swift in secret, I disagree.

I made a post about Luke's music taste before. I like the headcanon that in the Hermes cabin everyone listens to any song, any language, any genre (their shared playlist has over 3k songs, and most of them don't even correlate; special thanks to the Stolls). Luke likes punk and rock too, but maybe not overwhelmingly noisy... The Clash is probably a band he really likes, he also likes more current rock from bands like Los Campesinos... that's a little calmer than Thalia. He already has too much noise around him anyway.

Related to noise, Luke likes good, funky beats (Ivan Meets G.I Joe by The Clash starts playing). It is possible he listens to glitchore and/or scene songs!

Luke would listen to TV Girl.

Annabeth had most of her music taste influenced by Luke and Thalia, she was 7 when she came to camp afterall. Probably her own dad wasn't a parent that would show music to their child all the time. So, yes, Thalia and Luke music taste, mostly.

A thing's for sure, she doesn't understand Luke's liking towards glitchcore songs. Annabeth thinks they are... messy, like they were made immediatly and the lyrics aren't even audible. As an Athena kid who likes music, she often analyzes songs.

I can imagine Annabeth liking The Pixies, Iggy Pop, Ramones, and (she says that it's just sometimes, but their whole playlist is plagued by...) Blondie. Add The Runaways and Joan Jett too, this girl is a bisexual.

I'd like to think Percy isn't really judgemental about music. Does he find a reasoning in the lyrics? Nah. Who cares. Does he think the music is sad or happy? Depends on how fast it is, lyrics are to be listened; not read.

Sally is a really cool mom, and she probably introduced him to many things (I headcanon watching Drag race is one of them). A hint of jazz, some old-school rock punk, The Smiths, The Beatles, David Bowie, Abba... ultimate playlist. Percy probably still listens to many of these artists' songs.

But Percy's personal taste? Hip-hop. The hip-hop you could hear in a skatepark, or just 90s, it's almost the same thing. Eminem, Skee-lo, Ice Cube... he probably downloads playlist full of 90s songs.

Grover likes calming songs. Laufey is probably his favorite artist. Dominic Fike, Mac DeMarco's songs are also in his playlists. He doesn't mind catching up to some popular artists like these, but it's true that he only listens to music when he has nothing to do, not even go and search for Percy.

He can step out of his musical comfort-zone, but he can't listen to heavy metal. Thalia's playlist really scares him, can't even have it saved in his library. Grover needs relaxing music. Gods, he would listen to white noise, rain sounds or whatever's chill.

Clarisse thinks listening to music is a waste of time. She's not really a playlist grinder. But it is true some of her half-siblings tried to introduce stuff to her, it being: Måneskin, Hole, Marina (that one is a very guilty liking of her).

Clarisse doesn't think of listening to music when being alone and with no tasks, she just goes and does something. The fact that you can multitask, do something productive and listen to music at the same time, does not really enter into her perception of productivity.

Expect her to be judgemental of songs people who aren't her siblings show to her.

The Stoll brothers are constantly, forever in a music fight. Both of them have a very wide taste... but between both of them there are big differences.

Travis would listen to Taylor Swift, Mars Argo, Good kid, The Cardigans, Tyler The Creator. Pop, pretty much summarized, and some of its subtypes too.

Connor would be the reason of why the Hermes cabin listens to tons of songs in different languages (hc mentioned in Luke section). Brazilian phonk? Of course. Russian indie bands?? Yes! Argentinian rock??? Yasss. Everything goes into his playlist. Connor probably trusts Spotify's Discover Weekly BLINDLY.

This dramatic difference between their tastes made them not talk about music, because it would probably end up with both of them trying to prove the other wrong. They are very good siblings! It's just that... well... Connor thinks Travis' taste is shit. And Travis thinks Connor's make no sense at all (he can't even understand what they are saying!) But well, they can't look almost the same and have a similar music taste; that would be too much. Siblings can have many things in common, and things that make you want to make the other to cancel their Spotify subscription. It works like that.

I took 1 hour to write this.

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prophecyofwinter · 1 month

Text

Across the Sea and to the East

Aemond Targaryen x Stark!Reader

Summary: Under your uncle’s usurpation of your brother you have been sent away to hide in Lys under House Rogare. You’ve found new purpose with the Lord of Light but you will be called home soon.

Tags: slight slow burn, actual burning, violence, smut, angst, Aegon is his own warning, tags will be added as we go.

Chapter 1 - Chapter 3 (Prologue)

Chapter 2: Aegon the Ever Persistent

“Queen Alicent, may I borrow your ear for a moment?”

Larys Strong spoke up to Alicent when she entered her own chambers to find him there by himself. Rather a disturbed one he is.

Alicent looks around slightly perturbed but approaches nonetheless, taking the seat across from him and taking a deep breath before speaking.

“What is so important that it could not wait until tomorrow?”

“You had told me many many moons ago that if anything about Lady Y/N’s Death made its way through to come to you immediately, so here I am.”

Seven years ago Alicent had to inform young Aemond of Lady Y/N’s passing and he was inconsolable for days until he heard of her funeral and ran away on Vhagar to witness it himself.

When Aemond arrived back he was beyond bewildered, Alicent didn’t even have time to yell at Aemond before he said.

“He did something to them…”

Your uncle had attempted to prevent him from even peeking at your burial, telling him to go home before he gets Winterfell in trouble for housing a runaway Prince. With his little boy strength he pushed through your uncle and his sons to see, nothing, there was nothing in the casket. Any Targaryen-born person would know well enough that even bones would still remain after a little fire like that.

He had been rushed away and all but kicked out of Winterfell.

He begged his Mother to punish your uncle for it must’ve been his fault. She told him she couldn’t do anything as there was no proof he had done anything to you or Cregan.

Alicent mentioned to Larys in passing to tell her if anything regarding you was mentioned through his web of spies.

7 years later, she’d honestly mostly forgotten about that interaction.

“…What is it?”

“House Glover has personally sent two Direwolf pups to Lys for House Rogare.”

“So? Lysandro probably got the taste for exotic pets, or one of his children wanted a dog.”

“Don’t you find it, a small coincidence that Lysandro Rogare adopts a child slightly after the ‘death’ of Lady Y/N? And coincidentally receives two Direwolf pups from Y/N’s mothers house? House Rogare has been wanting to stick their hand in Westerosi politics for years before this.”

“I suppose, but, what do I do with this? I can’t tell Aemond. He’ll run off to Lys like he ran off to Winterfell.”

“It is no matter to me, I simply told what you wanted me to tell. And do not worry, this information is free.”

Larys takes his leave and slowly makes his way out of Alicents chambers leaving her to dwell with this knowledge.

Alicent takes a deep breath to think, closing her eyes and restarting her old habit of picking at her skin, but as a Queen, a Wife, and a Mother. There truly is no real rest.

“Aemond will be thrilled to know won’t he? Let me tell him.”

A joking voice comes from the chair in front of the lit fire, Aegon. That little shit.

“What are you doing here?! Do I get no privacy even in my own chambers?!”

“Whattt, I like coming into your chambers. I like the ambiance, Mother. You know what, I’ll go tell Aemond right now. He should be at the training grounds at this time-“

Aegon was cut off by a cut through the air with a slap. Alicent has stricken her eldest once again, oh how he drives her there so fast. She tries to keep the peace between her children, yet Aegon is always stirring the pot.

“You will not be telling Aemond of any such thing! You will not have him on a wild goose chase after a dead girl! Do not give him hope! You have tormented your brother enough! And for Sevens sake get the hells out of my chambers Aegon!”

For the one time in moons Aegon is sober for an hour, it's when Alicent needs him to be drowned in his sorrows.

Aegon puts his hand on his burning cheek and turns with his tail between his legs to no doubt run to the taverns and whore houses.

Though Aegon always has had a loud mouth, especially when drunk.

—————————

Aemond attempts to sit in peace and quiet as the storm outside rages on. Rain tends to make his eyeless-socket ache, so he blows out all the candles and lays back to let the pain take its course for the night. If no one else bothers him for the rest of the night-

“Aemondddddddddddd!!!!!!”

Maybe if he pretends that he isn’t in his chambers-

“Aemondddddd I know you’re in thereeeeee!!!!!!!! It’s your big brotherrrrrrr!!!!!!!!”

Aegon the ever persistent is what they’d call him if he was King…

Aemond sighed and put his eyepatch on but left his sapphire to soak in a goblet of water. Sometimes he could out wait Aegon if he was drunk enough but the night is still young…

Aemond opens his chamber doors and instantly moves out of the way to let Aegon fall onto the floor in the doorway. Aegon climbs to his feet stumbling here and there but making it to Aemonds chair.

“What do you want brother?”

“I have a little tiny little- um secret from mother, but!- you can’t tell Aemond because mother told me not to tell Aemond so you can’t tell Aemond or mother will get mad at you for telling Aemond, alright Aemond?!”

What in the seven hells is wrong with this boy? Aemond did not like not knowing things, and it would not be his fault for letting Aegon ramble on…

“Alright, I promise not to tell Aemond anything.”

“Great! I would have dieddddddd without telling someone this! I-I overheard mother talking to Larys about that little Stark girl you fancied when we were kids. He told herrrrr that she might still be alive in, get this! Lys with House Rogare! Can you believe that?! Bet she’s a real beauty now… yes…”

Aemond felt his blood rush cold and his body couldn’t move, not once in his life had he been unable to think, unable to speak…

“Aemond? Where did you go? Are you even listen-“

Aemond couldn’t bear to hear Aegon speak another fucking word, he grabbed the elder boy by the face to shut him the hells up.

“Are you sure that’s what you heard Aegon? Are you so certain you’d bet your life that she’s alive?!”

“Well thatsssss a bit of a stretch for a girl that I do not care for but…”

Gods he is fucking insufferable, but if that meant Y/N was alive… he would bear through his drunken rambles… His mother wanted to keep this from him?

“Why did mother keep this from me- I mean Aemond.”

“Well- you know how Aemond got when her Uncle buried her, he ran away and got his arse locked out of W-Winterfell…”

“Ae- Aegon!”

Aegon started falling asleep in Aemonds chair, once he fell asleep it was near impossible to wake him up. Aemond didn’t want his drunken brother throwing up on his floors.

“I’m up! Well, look at the moon, the night is still young I have to get back out, whores won’t fuck themselves. I have to pay them to do that.”

Aegon hoists himself out of the chair, surprisingly keeping his balance and giving Aemond a big pat on the chest. Not before taking a big gulp of the goblet where Aemond soaks his eye-sapphire in.

“Disgusting, your Wine tastes like water… Where did you get ice at this time of year?”

As quick as he comes he’s gone again. Leaving Aemond baffled and dumbfounded but with a new sense of purpose nonetheless.

If you were in Lys, he has to know, he must know, if it’s the last thing he ever does.

#aemond one eye #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x reader #house of the dragon

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riding-the-sunset-bird · 4 months

Note

I don’t know if you’ve been asked this yet, but is there any particular order you recommend doing the moments for each step in?? I’m trying to figure out what moments should be played when since some of the moments trigger events in others depending on what you played first. Or! Do you guys have a preference for which you do personally?

I would say that mine is more of a preference than a recommendation, especially because I'm still doing a deep, deeeep dive into the code to really see which moments influence another (so while I'm going to give this list anyway, I also will probably redo it later after I see which moments influence one another and in which ways).

For example, if you remember the moment in Shopping where you can ask Cove "why is your dad always giving people money?" it's completely different if you've told Cove about the deal in Sandcastle first, going from Cove being puzzled by the question to understanding why the player is asking.

And speaking of Sandcastle anyway, there are some moments that I just skip altogether, specifically Sandcastle from Step 1, none from Step 2 (unless you count Derek's DLC, in which case I'd skip his version of Soiree, Siblings, and maybe Responsible), and Serendipity from Step 3. Most of it is just due to a lack of agency/choice on the player's part and/or secondhand embarrassment that I get from them.

That said, here's the order I personally go in:

Step 1

Shopping

Grown Up

Long Day

Ghost

Runaway

Fireflies

Library

Barbecue

Sleepover

My reasons are pretty basic. Shopping is a good introductory moment for the MC and Cove's relationship, just as Grown Up is a good one for Lizzie and Cove's. The other two (Long Day and Ghost) being before Runaway is because I wanted all the "negative" experiences Cove has to be before it (so the balloon popping, fighting with Lizzie, getting yelled at by the mean old people, and getting scared by the ghost).

Ghost also has to be pretty far down-ish because the opening kinda implies that you've spent a bunch of time with Cove even if it's the first one you play, so I put it as late as possible to try and make it at least slightly accurate.

And for the moments afterwards, Cove (mostly) either has a slightly better/a neutral relationship with his dad (Library with him asking about a prize, for example, even if he ignores him overall, and Barbecue with the two of them watching the fireworks together) which feels appropriate after Runaway.

The last four are mostly just ranked by how much I like them. I know Fireflies is supposed to be super important because of how much it's referenced, but I find it slightly generic compared to the others.

I also think Sleepover is a really sweet ending to yours and Cove's relationship if you manage to make him stay for the whole night, and Barbecue is just before that since you can convince Cove for eat from your spoon. Library - unlike Grown Up - gives you a choice between spending time with Cove or Lizzie so that's just an extra bonus that I feel the player should have after spending enough time with Cove.

If you play Sandcastle, then, hrm... probably before Ghost? Since Cove mentions his dad "doing whatever he wants" in Ghost so if you tell Cove about the deal in Sandcastle then it adds a bit more context to that line.

Step 2

Family

Mall

Growing

Birthday

Dinner

Wave

Escapade

Summerwork

Road Trip

Soiree

This is slightly mixed up because I wanted to pace out the moments where either Kyra/Derek appears so it's not all shoved off in one big section. Family is also first because I wanted to try to start the player off with a better impression of Elizabeth since she's usually very grumpy and by the end of Family she's more relaxed with the player.

Birthday being after Mall is because Cove is less embarrassed about sharing stuff with the MC. Some people might question why it's still so early because you lose the gummy bear toss if you have a Mixed/Studious Cove and a non-athletic MC, so it might be best to give them as many opportunities as possible for the MC to up their athletic points, but the only time to do that is in the intro so it doesn't matter.

Summerwork might seem a little late but I also thought it'd be a realistic place whether your MC was actively working on their work over the summer or was just scraping by without much interest (the drama right before the relaxation of Road Trip also feels appropriate).

Escapade before Road Trip is important because if you asked for Cove's shirt in Escapade, then you get to take it with you in Road Trip, and Soiree's placement is just obvious (especially if you play Baxter's route rather than Cove, so you end the summer with getting to meet/dance with the "mystery boy").

Step 3

Hang

Drive

Boating

Talks

Happiness

Reflection

Late Shift

Errands

Charity

Hang, Drive, and Boating work as a nice re-introductory thing for Terri+Miranda, Kyra, and Liz+Lee+Baxter respectively.

I also tried to space out the multiple moments with potential drama (Talks, Reflection, and Errands), and Happiness takes place right after Talks since you can argue with Cove in that one and it feels very Cove to immediately jump to overdoing it on making you happy after something like that.

Late Shift is only semi-random since I wanted to space out the moments where you interact with Baxter (things would obviously be different if you're going for his route). Cove also picks from the dessert menu in it which leads nicely into Errands where the MC can buy him fudge.

Though Errands is admittedly 100% personal preference because I just really like it so I put it late on the list.

Charity is obvious, though if the player prefers to date Cove in Charity (rather than dating him in the in-between or confessing at the end of Step 2) and still have moments afterwards then it can be freely moved around.

As for Serendipity if you choose to play it, probably before Boating to add to all the introductory moments?

Again, the list isn't final but this is a rough estimate. Most of them are made for narrative reasons rather than moments that are directly mentioned in others so that'll definitely change.

#our life #our life: beginnings & always #olba #type: moment order #type: ask

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meabh-mcinness · 7 months

Note

Anon that requested runaway!SO Narnia prompt here, and my heart squeezed when I saw you put it in your list. Thank you so much!

Saw your post, and I love the idea for it to take place before the 13th Deviculum, it changes Narnia's vitriol towards Iruma so much.

I don't believe that he doesn't think that Iruma's fame (as the Misfits are apparently a household name and in papers) DIDN'T influence his lover leaving him in a bid for freedom! Maybe he noticed that she had been paying attention to whatever news they got of Iruma's antics, like him even attending his first Deviculum.

Makes his beef with Iruma personal, if Narnia even slightly blamed the poor bean's (seemingly intentional) tendency to stand out as what put ideas in her head when she was pretty content to stay before.

(Actually, my first idea about why the SO leapt to the nuclear option of vanishing and not talking it out, prompt happening after-deviculum, was because he knocked her up. And girl got SO scared for her child, since at that point he revealed that he still hated 'dirty humans' and it fed into her pre-existing insecurities about how he kept her secret from everyone he knew, why he never married her in any kind of demonic ritual, and fed her growing misassumption that she was basically a pet that he didn't think was acceptable for demonic society.

Culminating into a major freak out when the SO found out she was going to have a half-human baby.

Like, would he want to keep her child? Would they be raised to never know that their mother was human, with the belief that her heritage made them weak compared to full-blooded demon children? Would Narnia still keep her secret and introduce their child to society as without a mother, without her?

...most of her worries aren't quite true, as imo Narnia *wasn't* trying to treat her like a mistress/guilty secret wife, it was mostly his yandere tendencies and unrestrained demonic territorial possessiveness talking and getting irrationally jealous of possible competition, of anyone else taking up her attention.

Part of it is because Narnia doesn't have many trusted allies (friends) that weren't also co-workers (and thus can recognize a human) and wouldn't set his instincts off! And he got way too comfortable with their current lifestyle, since he was probably an intensely private demon in the first place.

Truly a misundestanding of tragic proportions. Were it Kalego in his position, he could at least be alright to introduce her to Balam, and Balam Shichiro could have gotten a human to eventually open up and communicate about their discontent and gotten things addressed. Alas, this isn't a Kalego story, though it might be interesting to have one where Kalego and the Sullivan household come together over their secret humans, hehe.

But Narnia's SO hasn't been in a good place mentally and emotionally, not for a long time, and worked herself into an irrational panic that culminated into a flight into the night decision.

Sorry, this took so long to get out! I hope I've lived up to your expectations! My beta tells me this made her tear up a bit so I'm hoping it has the same effect for everyone but enjoys it anyways.

The Price of Freedom - request (Yandere!Narnia x fem!reader)Ⓐ

Narnia keeps you trapped on the property to keep you safe from the rest of the Netherworld and while his intentions are good he's doing more harm than intended. After all, humans are social pack animals meant to be able to roam about wild and free. And while there are exceptions to every rule, you are not one of them. So when you see a chance to leave, you take it. Leaving your heart behind but gaining your freedom in the process.

Also, this is a two-parter! The first part is angst but I haven't decided if our little couple here will get a happy ending or not yet. Let me know your thoughts in the comments!

You took a deep breath, glancing over at the slumbering body holding yours. His long hair was fanned out behind him and his pale skin practically gleamed even in the darkness of the room. Soon enough, his alarm would go off, and those dark eyes would open blearily, and he'd grumble while trying to turn it off and pull you closer. Eventually, he'd give in, wake up more with a smile and a kiss for you and get ready for the day. It was a daily routine that had lasted for a few years now, and it was one you loved.

Your heart clenched at the fact that this would probably be the last morning it ever happened.

Your eyes travelled all the lines of his face, taking in every detail that you could, hoping to memorize them to the best of your ability. You had plenty of photos stored away, that you already knew you would take out over and over again until they faded with age and even afterwards, but no photo could ever beat seeing him in person. You were tempted to gently run your fingers over his cheeks and down his hair but knew he would wake up immediately, startled.

He was such a light sleeper due to the years of growing up under the Naberius household that you always tried hard to not make too much noise or movements so that he could sleep in when he could. And as this would be the last time you laid beside him, you wanted to enjoy this moment. To have time freeze over this peace, and not have the negative feelings swirling through your body running circles in your mind. To leave this all behind no matter how much you loved it because you couldn't stay caged in any longer.

But you couldn't. As a human, you held no magic beyond what the power of runes and already magic-infused items could give you, much less the amount of power needed to freeze time itself. So instead, here you lay, trying to absorb as much as possible because the moment that he leaves property lines, you would be getting to work. You had even purposefully made a bit of a mess last night and promptly shoved the both of you to bed so that you would have an excuse on why you were moving things about if he came back early for whatever reason.

You could only hope he didn't come home early.

Today had been forecasted to be nice and sunny until the afternoon rolled around with thunderstorms. If you timed it right, you'd be able to pack everything up, leave and make it to town right before the storms hit, with several hours to spare for the rain to wash away your trail. Otherwise, if the rain came early you would be stuck here until the next time such an opportunity presented itself, and who knew when that would be? More than likely you would have gone stir-crazy before that happened, and who knew what kind of damage you would do when that happened?

Not that this idea was much better. Had this been a more ordinary relationship, you would have easily just talked out the fact you had wanderlust and gone out to visit new places. Instead, as much as you loved Narnia, you could admit he was a bit paranoid and even straight-up territorial about your standing in this world. Always going on about the dangers of this world and wanting to keep you here in this safe bubble of a home he had made for the two of you.

Not that it was without reason. The Netherworld was indeed a harsh place and there were so many dangers just out your front door, much less the rest of this big bad world. And yet the human world was not without its dangers as well, and while you knew many threats had magic which left you at quite the disadvantage, you could at least protect yourself semi-well. Narnia had seen to that with what started as daily training sessions, which slowly moved to once every few days then to a few times a month as you proved more proficient, and he gained harder and harder cases to solve.

At first, you hadn't thought much of it. Even in the human world, it was quite often that schedules could get packed. You would have been fine with it if you had something to do other than roam this tiny amount of land. Instead, you were trapped here like a prized pet in a cage, forever waiting for your precious master to return. You couldn't live like that. Not anymore at least.

Suddenly your thoughts were broken by the sharp tones of his alarm. You couldn't help the startled movement you made, having not fully expected it to go off so soon. This in turn startled Narnia awake. His eyes snapped open and immediately focused on you before swiping the room for any danger.

You gave him a sheepish smile, "Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you up."

Narnia brushed off your apology with a casual wave of his hand and leaned in to give you a soft, lingering kiss. A large pale hand caresses your face and sweeps into your hairline to pull you in closer. It was a sweet morning ritual, one that you cherished. He tasted like roses and dark chocolate with a hint of mint, a flavour unique to him. His lips were warm and inviting, and for a moment, you allowed yourself to forget the impending departure.

Breaking the kiss, Narnia slipped out of bed, his movements fluid and graceful. He grabbed a towel from the nearby rack and headed for the bathroom. You watched him as he moved, his silhouette bathed in the soft morning light filtering through the curtains.

He began his usual morning routine, the sounds of running water and the clinking of toiletries filling the air. You couldn't help but smile as you listened. It was the ordinary moments like these that you would miss the most.

While he showered, you took the opportunity to slip out of bed and start preparing for the day ahead. You retrieved a backpack from the closet and began packing it with essential items: clothes, food, a first aid kit, and a map of the Netherworld. You knew you'd have to travel light, but you wanted to be as prepared as possible for whatever lay ahead.

As you worked, you couldn't help but glance over towards where Narnia in the bathroom would be. You could hear him humming a tune over the splashing of water, likely with a contented expression on his face as he went about his routine. It was moments like these that made leaving even harder.

But you couldn't stay. Your longing for adventure, for freedom, had grown too strong to ignore. And so, you continued to pack, determined to make the most of the time you had left with him. After packing the essentials in your backpack, you carefully zipped it up and placed it under the bed, hidden from plain view. You couldn't risk Narnia stumbling upon it and asking questions before you were ready to explain your decision.

With that task completed, you moved on to the next item on your agenda: breakfast. You headed to the kitchen, quietly so as not to disturb Narnia in the bathroom. You had learned to navigate this small cottage with a gentle touch, ensuring that your movements were subtle and silent. In the kitchen, you gathered the ingredients for a simple breakfast - eggs, toast, and a few vegetables. As you cracked the eggs into a bowl and started whisking them, the aroma of cooking filled the air, a comforting and familiar scent that made your heart ache with nostalgia.

By the time Narnia emerged from the bathroom, freshly showered and dressed, you had already set the table for two. He gave you a warm smile as he approached, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind and placing a soft kiss on your cheek.

"Smells delicious," he murmured, his voice filled with genuine appreciation.

You returned his smile and turned to face him, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. "Just a little something to start your day off right," you replied, trying to sound as normal as possible despite the turmoil in your heart. Together, you shared a quiet breakfast at the cozy table, the two of you lost in your thoughts. Narnia talked about his plans for the day, the cases he needed to solve, and the colleagues he'd be meeting with. You listened attentively, offering words of encouragement and support.

As the time for Narnia to leave for work approached, you couldn't help but feel the weight of impending separation bearing down on you. You walked him to the door, his hand in yours, and shared a lingering kiss before he stepped outside.

He gave you a weird look, seemingly studying you, causing you to pause and tilt your head at him in response with the most curious look you could muster, before he shook his head and went back to making sure he had his things for work. You felt your body relax at passing whatever test that had been. You could thank the fact that years of wearing a mask in the human world also helped you here, even if you didn't much like why you were using it now.

You gave him a smile and leaned up on your toes to give him a kiss. 'Your last kiss' your mind supplied. What a shame you had to pass it off as your regular see-you-later rather than pour everything you had into it like you wanted to. But that would be suspicious, and he would want to stay longer or it might make him think you were in the mood and stay for a completely different reason. As much as you wanted the touch of his body one more time, you couldn't have it. Not without messing up your carefully laid out plan.

"Have a good day at work!" You chirped at him before waving him off with a laugh as he grumbled under his breath about how no day at work without you was a good day. You leaned against the door frame as you admired the large leathery wings that suddenly burst from his back, the appendages giving a few small flutters to stretch themselves out before he took off into the dawning sky with another wave at you.

You gave him another small wave in return and watched until you could no longer see him on the horizon. Even then you gave it a few seconds to see if he happened to turn around. It wouldn't be the first time he'd purposely forgotten something so that he could come back and spend a few more moments with you. Once those few seconds passed you deemed it safe to carry on with your plan. With Narnia gone for the day, you had a limited window of opportunity to execute your plan. You took a deep breath, feeling a mixture of excitement and fear as you prepared to embark on the journey that would take you far away from the life you had known, and into the unknown.

You only had a few hours to tear this place apart, grab everything you could, put it back together again and be on your way to a new life. It wouldn't be easy as you first went back into the bedroom and stripped the bed of everything. Throwing the sheets into the laundry and tossing your personal pillows aside to be packed later. Next, as the blankets washed, you scoured the walls and frames for every photo of you that you could find. There was an almost surprising amount of them, considering both your and Narnia's aversion to photos, but you supposed that anyone would want to have captured moments when they were in a relationship.

Had this been a normal relationship perhaps you would be packing everything up for a completely different reason. Perhaps moving into a bigger home than this little one-bedroom cottage, or even moving things aside until renovations were done to expand this one. However, this wasn't a normal relationship, and you couldn't entertain the idea of it ever being so any longer.

With every delicate movement, you took great care to erase any trace of your existence from the cottage. You gathered any personal belongings that tied you to this place, from clothing to small trinkets, and stowed them away in your backpacks, making sure not to leave behind a single item that might raise suspicion. The cottage itself bore no signs of your occupancy; the walls were stripped of photos, the bedroom was bare other than his belongings, and even the living room was devoid of any of your personal touches.

You took a deep breath as you stood in the now almost empty cottage, a sense of finality washing over you. It really was as if you had never lived there at all. With one last glance around, you knew it was time to leave. Gathering up your bags you took a deep breath as you took in the boundary line from where the property ended and the next one began. You knew from several small tests that there were no wards that would alert Narnia to your leaving. A serious oversight on his part that you were happily taking advantage of. As you stared at the line you couldn't help but think of Samwise from Lord of the Rings and couldn't but wonder if this is how it felt for him to leave his home behind for a big adventure.

Heart pounding and veins singing you made the first step across, then another and another until you laughed at the fluttering of pleasure that coursed through you. The imaginary shackles that had bound were falling free as you walked determinedly onward towards your new life. You wanted to stop and observe every plant and animal you came across, but you had a long way to go still and you could already smell the rain on the horizon.

Yet, deep within you, a tiny spark of hope flickered, for you were on the path to a new beginning, and the possibilities of the unknown stretched out before you like an open book, waiting to be written.

________

Narnia landed more harshly than he meant to in his attempt to get inside from the torrential downpour quicker. Mud splattered as high as his thighs from his hard crouched landing before he straightened up again to move towards the door. He wasn't entirely sure why he was so anxious to get home, but something in his veins told him that something was wrong. He hadn't gotten this far in life by entirely ignoring his instincts, and yet he couldn't think of anything that could be wrong.

Well. Besides the way you had been acting lately that was.

He wasn't blind, he had known there was something off with you. You had been steadily getting more and more twitchy, almost like a caged beast in too small of a kennel. Perhaps you were entering some kind of new phase? Like when birds moulted old feathers to make new ones, perhaps you were going through something similar but a more human body version? Your skin had peeled several times over the years, so perhaps a more involved version appeared when you hit a new phase. Such a thing would certainly make him twitchy.

As he came closer to the door, forcefully coming out of his thoughts, he realized that all the lights were off. This wasn't too unusual. You had a habit of occasionally going to bed early or watching TV late and purposefully leaving the lights off for a better ambience. But after the weird way you acted this morning and the feeling he had all day, it just made him feel more anxious.

Wrenching the door open, he quickly stalked into the living room, shaking his head much like a dog to get the excess water off his hair before tilting his head to the side. He listened carefully for either the low sounds of music or the TV or even just your steady breathing.

Nothing. It was absolutely silent. Heart pounding, he raced through all the rooms, praying that he would find you simply dozing off and would berate him for waking you. You would laugh before comforting him over his silly anxiety, and everything would be perfectly fine.

Only it wasn't. As he swung the last door open into your shared bedroom, water still trailing behind him, it hit him that you really weren't here. As his eyes swept over every inch, he finally registered none of you was here. The photos on the walls were missing, and your half of the closet was empty. Hell, even your pillows were gone, the bed freshly laundered and remade to look like only one person slept in it.

With this sudden realization, he tore back through the house carefully to confirm what he already knew. Everything you owned, every craft you had made, every book he had bought you, was gone.

You were gone.

If it wasn't for the faintest scent of you still trapped in the furniture, it would have been as if you had never even existed. As if you hadn't spent literal years together here in this home, cuddling on the couch or playing board games on the table. As if you had never had mini cooking wars in the kitchen that usually ended with you both laughing and kissing the food off one another or in the large tub relaxing as the warm herb-infused waters soaked into your muscles.

Had someone taken you? Had someone noticed your existence and decided they wanted you for themselves? Taken you against your will and made it look like you didn't exist so that he couldn't go to anyone for help without looking crazy? Or perhaps, since such a thorough job was done, had Border Patrol swept in without his knowledge? Purposefully kept him out of the loop with an important enough job to ensure he couldn't stop them.

But no, Henri would have kept him from leaving and questioned him regardless. Always playing by the rules, Henri did, and that left him, for the most part, predictable. So not Border Patrol then. But who else? Perhaps Baal? He hadn't been as subtle as he could have been in trying to figure out if Narnia was willing to return to origins. Had he discovered you when trying to stake Narnia out and gotten rid of you?

At the thought, a feral growl ripped out of Narnia, and he ran out of the house and back into the rain in the hopes of catching some kind of trail. With it raining as hard and long as it had, all scents and tracks would be long gone, so the only thing he had left was to feel out any foreign magic that would have been used and try to track that. And yet, no matter how hard he tried or how much power he threw into his wards, he couldn't find any recent detection of foreign magic. None at all. Even the local mail demon flying in would have left something to follow.

It was almost as if...but no, that was impossible. There was absolutely no way you would have left on your own. You knew the dangers and never strayed further than a couple of yards from the walls of your home. Even then you didn't usually go further than your flower beds, or food gardens in the back. With a snarl, Narnia turned back and raced back through the house more closely, determined to find even the smallest clue.

As Narnia's desperate search through the house came to an agonizing conclusion, he stood in your shared bedroom, drenched in rainwater, his chest heaving with anxiety and disbelief. Your absence was undeniable, and the once-familiar space now felt alien and hollow. His racing thoughts continued to churn with questions and fears, each one more unsettling than the last. The eerie silence in the house seemed to mock his growing panic.

Unable to accept the possibility of your disappearance, he clutched at straws, desperately searching for any sign of your presence. He scanned the room, running his fingers over the empty hangers in the closet and the vacant space on your side of the bed. The absence of your cherished belongings was a stark reminder of your absence.

With trembling hands, Narnia stumbled upon something that sent a shiver down his spine. A faint but lingering scent of you still clung to the furniture, a trace of the life you had shared together in this very room. It was both a cruel reminder of what had been and a glimmer of hope that you hadn't vanished entirely.

His heart ached as he clung to that scent, unwilling to let go of the memories and the love that had defined their life together. But as the minutes passed, reality continued to gnaw at him, and he realized he needed answers, no matter how painful they might be. Turning away from the room that had once been filled with your presence, Narnia retraced his steps, still soaked from the rain. His determination to find you grew stronger with every passing moment. He couldn't bear the thought of losing you, not without knowing the truth.

Tripping in his haste he fell to his knees next to the coffee table in the living room. With shaking limbs, he started to force himself to get up when he noticed something out of the corner of his eye. Laying innocently on the ground, a folded-up piece of parchment, his name written in your distinctive shaky handwriting. You never did get the hang of writing the demonic characters simply because you couldn't practice properly with the spell forcing you to see the letters in your own language but writing in his.

His emotions churned as he approached the letter, a fragile piece of paper that held the key to your mysterious departure. With trembling hands, he unfolded it and began to read. The words on the page weighed heavily on his heart, each sentence cutting deeper into his soul.

His hands trembled as his eyes scanned the letter quickly, hoping for some clue about where you were, only to grow more despondent the further he read. A pained howl tore from him as he took in what exactly your letter had meant, and he hadn't even realized he had started crying until the letters started bleeding together from his tears. With a choked gasp, he immediately wiped the tears away and tried to fan the letter dry again.

This letter was the only thing he had left from you besides the flowers you had planted outside. He had to take perfect care of it all. Had to keep it well until he could find you again. Because he would find you, no matter what it took. If you wanted the freedom to explore, then you could have it, just as long as you came back home-- back to him. His voice quivered with whimpers as he clutched the letter tightly to his chest, his heart aching with love and longing for the one who had vanished from his life.

To My Beloved Narnia,

As I sit here writing this letter, I can only think of all the moments we've shared together.

From our first meeting to our last embrace this morning, our courtship has been

nothing but a source of joy in my life. Sometimes, though, love isn't enough to make

something work. And I've come to the painful decision that we need to separate, at

least for a while. I will always cherish the moments and memories we shared and I am

sorry for the pain that this may cause you, but I can no longer do this. Humans are

not meant to be caged, no matter how nice that cage is. I need to be free, to be able

to go out and about, meet others, and explore this world, even if it's at the cost

of losing you. I'm truly sorry it came to this, and I will love you always.

Forever Yours

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tanjirou-no-au · 1 year

Text

Upper Moon Hashira

Michikatsu Tsugikuni-Moon Pillar

To everyone else, Michikatsu is the ever stalwart Moon Hashira, the strongest Demon Slayer in the corp, possibly the greatest slayer in generations. If you’d ask him, he’d say you got the wrong brother.

Scion of the illustrious Tsugikuni clan, originators of the Moon Breathing style, Michikatsu grew up in the shadow of his younger twin Yoriichi, and despite his brother’s encouragement, had resigned himself to becoming Yoriichi’s Tsuguko.

Then Final Selection came, an event Michikatsu mostly missed on thanks to an injury on the first day. Yoriichi would continue on alone, slaying every demon he came across and ensuring all of that year’s candidates survived...except for him.

Given everything he ever wanted at the mere cost of his brother, Michikatsu fell into a depressive melancholy he’s never truly emerged from. Despite this, he’s stayed steadfast in his mission, hoping to one day become a shadow of the man his brother would have been had he survived.

Nakime Otokawa-Sound Pillar

Rumours abound of the Sound Pillar’s origin. Some say she’s a kunoichi who escaped under the cover of night after poisoning her clan head. Others say she was street musician, kept captive by a demon to serve as their private musician, only for her to beat them to death with a wisteria rosined shamisen. Others still say she’s a goddess, a kami put on earth to put a long overdue end to the King of Demons.

Only Nakime knows the truth of these matters, though the last story is probably pure fiction. Probably. In any case, Nakime knows the value of a good rumour, acting as the Corps’ unofficial spymaster, gathering intelligence and helping coordinate the Kasugai Crows to assemble reports on their demonic targets.

Outwardly stoic but always plucking out a pretty tune on the nearest musical instrument, her Sound Breathing lulls her foes into a sense of calm before launching into a frenzied crescendo of attacks.

A surprisingly relaxed and friendly woman once you get to know her, dedicated to preventing tragedy, and having the right music to accompany such victories.

Managi Hajime-Water Pillar

Managi had always been an outcast amongst the Swordsmith Village, a “child of water amongst of children of fire,” to quote the elders. He was a craftsman, yes, but his talents favoured pottery over metalworking, and his own fascination with swords seemed less about making them and more about swinging them around.

A chance meeting and persistent pestering of a retired Water Pillar would see him exposed to the world beyond his little village, and Managi embraced it aplomb. New trends, new art styles and new forms of expression all awaited him, from hair dye to painted nails to the flowing movements of Water Breathing.

Though admittedly more than a little vain, the Water Hashira is nothing if not dedicated to his mission, his Swordsmith upbringing and his own perfectionist streak turning him into an utterly thorough Slayer, who will see that both the demon is slain, and any victims cared for in the aftermath.

Douma-Snow Pillar

Born into a cult ruled over by a Demon, Douma’s eyes brought him to the attention of its benefactor and his promotion to messiah. He grew up a kind if...odd boy, one who genuinely desired to help his supplicants. It helped that one, a runaway bride named Kotoha, was actually quite pretty. But alas...nothing good lasts in this world

The cult eventually attracted attention from the Corps, and one botched investigation later, Douma stumbled upon his benefactor, devouring the remains of a Demon Slayer and his beloved Kotoha, with Inosuke nowhere to be seen.

In that moment, something within Douma broke, and he promptly picked up the fallen slayer’s sword, slew the demon with a strength he didn’t know he possessed, disbanded his cult and made his way to the Demon Slayers, all without dropping the small smile on his face.

Douma has proven an incredible Slayer, combining Water & Wind Breathing into Snow Breathing, a flowing, dual bladed style that rips his opponents apart with the ferocity of the arctic winds. But since that that fateful day, he has never again felt the glimmer of genuine emotion.

Perhaps it’s for the best. Emotions are fickle things...liable to get people killed.

Hakuji Soyoma-Firework Pillar

The swordsman Hakuji humiliated did not resort to poison, instead striking a deal with a crimson eyed stranger. Hakuji himself returned not to find loved ones killed by poison, but a dead teacher and a demon, glutted on the bodies of his fellow swordsmen, looming over his beloved Koyuki.

Common wisdom states that Demons cannot be killed without the sun, wisteria, or decapitation by a Nichirin blade. Hakuji paid no attention to the common wisdom, ripping the demon apart with his bare hans, again and again until dawn rose, accompanied by the Demon Slayers.

When he awoke from his injuries to the Oyakata at his bedside, Hakuji reluctantly agreed to lend his prodigious strength to the corp. Once again paying no attention to the common wisdom, he did not take up a Nichirin sword, instead commissioning clawed gauntlets, boots, and spiked joint protectors made of the sun imbued steel.

His Firework Breathing is an invention of his own design, combining the powerful strikes of Flame Breathing with his own Soryu style martial arts, also incorporating more flowing motions to better redirect the force of Demon strikes.

Yuuji & Ume Shabana-Poison & Ribbon Pillars

Children of the gutter, the Shabana siblings’ disparate appearances and abrasive personalities won them few favours, and following a spate of disappearances, resulted in accusations of murder and cannibalism. It was only the intervention of Douma, in the area to kill the real demon, that saved them.

Indebted, they both joined the Corps, intent on repaying his kindness. But Yuuji found that a life of malnutrition left him unable to cut through the bone of demons. He would compensate with a pair of poison laced sickles, modifying Wind Breathing into his his own personal Poison Breathing.

And as a side effect of his research into poison, Yuuji has fallen into an unexpected (though hardly unwelcome!) position as a medic amongst the Corps.

But what her brother lacks in strength, Ume seems to make for, taking to her chosen Flower Breathing like a fish to water and modifying it even further, wielding a flexible whip like sword in concert with her personal ‘Ribbon Breathing’.

She has become a cheerleader among the Corps, encouraging camaraderie between her fellow Hashira and the lower ranked Slayers. Though admittedly, she is a bit of a gossip.

Kaigaku Inadama-Storm Pillar

For most of his life, Kaigaku has run from responsibility. From consequences. From what most would call ‘the right path,’. Outwardly, he might call it survival, but even he knows he’s a coward.

And no event haunts him more than the night he extinguished the wisteria incense that guarded his home temple, trading his own survival for the lives of those within.

Perhaps that is why he fights so harshly, so fiercely, an oncoming storm intent on cutting down every Demon in his path. He refuses to be a coward again, refuses to turn his back on evil and those in need of his protection. His scars are evidence of that.

Beginning his career as a Thunder Breather, he was forced to adapt as he proved unable to perform it’s primary technique. Instead he borrowed aspects of Water Breathing and others of Wind Breathing to embody the ferocity of a raging storm.

Zohakuten Hantengu-Emotion Pillar

The youngest son of avaricious minor crime lord, Zohakuten was the runt of his many brothers, mocked for his small size. Though their mocking might have saved him, driving him away the night a Demon fell upon their family.

Attacked upon his return, the young boy flew into a blind rage that saw him defeat the Demon and leave it unable to move as the sun rose. Later found wandering in a daze by a Demon Slayer investigating the attack, he was promptly taken into the custody of the corps.

Greedy, twitchy, and prone to mood swings, no one would’ve expected the boy to survive Final Selection, much less become a Pillar. But become a Pillar he did, defeating a Lower Moon within two months of the beginning of his career.

Though nominally a Flame Breath user, ‘Zo’ has begun incorporating the techniques and philosophies of other Breathing Styles into his repertoire, stitching together a hodge podge Style that Hashira Tsugikuni seems to recognize from family records...

Taisho Secrets

Nakime is the only Hashira who Michikatsu talks to without the process being like pulling teeth. Some of the Kakushi have even heard Shamisen and flute music coming from their manors on some nights...

Managi gives a pot to every person he’s managed to save from a Demon.

Contrary to popular belief, Hakuji doesn’t despise Douma. He’s brusque with everyone, and though the Snow Pillar unsettles him, he kinda feels sorry for the man.

And likewise, it’s rumoured that Douma’s friendliness towards Hakuji is a front for well hidden resentment, jealousy over being able to save his lover when Douma couldn’t.

Kaigaku has a bit of a soft spot for Zo. He sees a lot of himself in the boy, and wants to help him grow as a person.

Likewise, Michikatsu is fond of the Shabana siblings. He sees a bit of Yoriichi in Ume and sees Yuuji as a better brother than he ever was.

The Kasugai crows love all love Nakime, as she gives them snacks and sings them songs, and they’re all jealous of her personal crow.

Kanzaburou is Michikatsu’s crow here, and the only person besides Nakime he really talks to.

#KNY #KNY AU #KNY Roleswap AU #Twelve Kizuki #Upper Moons #Tsugikuni Michikatsu #Kokushibo #Douma #Hakuji #Akaza #Nakime #Gyokko #Hantengu #Inadama Kaigaku #Gyuutaro #Daki

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sxphora-creepingaround · 1 month

Text

❣ Creeps on Winter/Cold season ❣

Tw: its creepypasta themed, so we already know what's the warnings !! But this one is maybe friendly (maybe) !! MY AU AND PERSPECTIVES !! English is not my first language, feel free to correct my grammars and spellings !! <3

[ ♡ ] 𝔰𝔢𝔭𝔥𝔬𝔯𝔞'𝔰 𝔬𝔭𝔦𝔫𝔦𝔬𝔫𝔰

• Proxies •

𝗠𝗮𝘀𝗸𝘆 : Tim is chill on such a weather, he is probably barbeque-ing on his free time, alone, or maybe with Brian if they are in good terms by the meantime. Overall, he just wants peace and quiet. Like Brian, he is so done with slenderstuff, he needs a rest.

'𝗧𝗶𝗰𝗰𝗶' 𝗧𝗼𝗯𝘆 : he'll hang around, well, he already is. He has that unhinged aura around him. He's the type of guy who sits on snow, makes a random shape, makes a snowball, throw it randomly, and then make another one. Or, he'll hang on clockwork's place, ask her to walk around or snowball fight with him.

𝗛𝗼𝗼𝗱𝗶𝗲 : Brian is quiet but not safe. On his free time, he's still works his ass because he doesn't have anything better to do than watching and stalks his victims, maybe he'll join Tim and barbeque-ing with him, as i stated before. He is most likely doesnt go out to except for some occasions like missions and tasks, chillin' with a warm cup of coffee alone with some peace and no slender-shit stuff until he's back to 'Hoodie' mode.

𝗞𝗮𝘁𝗲 𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗖𝗵𝗮𝘀𝗲𝗿 : she is always been my favorite. I think she'll wanders through the forest for a patrol or maybe sits on the front of the cabin, watches the snow falls with a cup of hot chocolate (if her tongue works). Maybe even sleeps on the cold ground, finds it calming while wearing warm thick clothes. She'll let Toby bothers her with snowballs really.

[ ♡ ]

• Creeps •

𝗖𝗹𝗼𝗰𝗸𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗸 : she would just sitting in front of her place, just like Kate, watching the snow falls, maybe while sketching on her drawing books and listening to musics. She'll accompany Toby if he cames, maybe lays down with him on the cold snowy ground and they'll talk for hours, or a small snowball fight (not brutal).

𝗝𝗮𝗻𝗲 𝗘𝘃𝗲𝗿𝗹𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴 : (my au) she'll sits on her apartment by the window, alot, while writes on her notebook, researching about Jeff's latest kill only to burn her rage, maybe even letting Nina come to her apartment and hangs around with her.

𝗛𝗼𝗺𝗶𝗰𝗶𝗱𝗮𝗹 𝗟𝗶𝘂 : he'll mostlikely bakes and stuff, maybe cleans the house since theres nothing much you could do outside, he doesnt really kill tho, maybe Jeff visits him to be the one who eats all the cookies he made, and then runaway. Liu reads alot, he'll do that too.

𝗝𝗲𝗳𝗳 𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗞𝗶𝗹𝗹𝗲𝗿 : killing spree on every season, killing is his personality really. He's an asshole, he'll stole random scarfs and stuffs, maybe even rob a market while brutally murder everyone who approach him. He'll visits Liu on some random occasion.

𝗡𝗶𝗻𝗮 𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗞𝗶𝗹𝗹𝗲𝗿 : she is a sweetheart, like Liu, doesnt really kill. She's a winter spirit, she'll have a snowball fight with random kids on the playground, makes snow angels, visits Jane to bring her some random things she got, etc.

𝗘𝘆𝗲𝗹𝗲𝘀𝘀 𝗝𝗮𝗰𝗸 : he'll study biology on his freetime, maybe even practicing it on corpses he found. He does everything mostly alone, but if he mets Nina or anyone in the way (possibly Toby or Jeff), he'll come with them eventually, he doesnt really know what to do excepts watches the snow falls.

!! Again, its my AU, feel free to ask about it !!

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aonungyoufuck · 1 year

Note

omg i love runaway so far and im excited for the next part to come out!! can you do something angsty + fluffy ending in which lo’ak says something mean about his twin sister reader but lo’ak being himself he just brushes it off when the reader confronts him

Twins of a tail

Fem Sully Reader + Twin brother Lo'ak

Synopsis: Angst + Fluff. Lo'ak says some pretty heavy things in the heat of the moment. But You take it to heart. Time for a twin talk.

HI anon! thank you so much for liking Runaway. Im working like crazy trying to hit every plot point so im glad! I hope you like how i worked out your request :3

"Oh come on Lo'ak. Its just We dont know anything about the Tulkun. Who's to say he's not this great killer and you just survived out of luck?"

"no You aren't listening either!" He spoke. Hand now at his head as he just couldn't voice his frustration. Least of all yet. "you are suppose to be my twin. Have my back in this!"

"i am having your back on this! But Its just hard to believe"

"how is it hard to believe? Am i hard to believe for you?"

"Lo'ak that isn-"

"I Know that nobody else believes me. Neteyam only believes me once in a while. And i know Those three Even Tsireya wouldn't believe me. But you are my Twin. My sister. The maker to my trouble." He was more than frustrated. Livid? he couldn't tell. He just knew that something about this wasn't sitting right with him

you had changed. Things have Changed drastically since living here.

"And You aren't believing me when i tell you he is no killer"

"Lo'ak"

"I mean really! We move here and suddenly you're this prim and proper lady. You left me. I dont know why and i dont know how but you have changed more than i. And even here i cant seem to make things right. Cant seem to fit in and yet you take their side on this more than you believe myself"

"Lo'ak!"

"Just go back to the others. Ever since we moved here you haven't been more than a stranger"

That hurt more than anything. And you just stood there and watched as he headed off. You wanted to believe him. You Had to believe him. But what was there to really believe? You weren't there and you had to take the word of the People that knew of Payakan.

Lo'ak was hurt and you knew that. There were enough people that he felt like he disappointed. But right now you were hurt too. A stringing pain in your heart.

You knew that you had to talk to him. But you figured you needed to give him time. To think? to cool off? or maybe you were just scared. But you decided not to push it.

You haven't changed... you didn't change.

You just had to put on a role now that you didnt have one. Lo'ak should know. You did no Tsahik training. You had to learn things a new just like him.

You were on new ground. You were on different territory. And yet? did he expect no change at all? You were doing this all for your family. Sure you wanted to have fun. You wanted to get in trouble too. Wanted to be free and wanted to have it all back.

But things had to change. And it hurt more than any to have your brother. Your best friend since before your first breath, have to tell you that You were the problem.

"skxawng" is all you muttered. You were pissed. Probably beyond that. But you decided on heading home and maybe going to bed early.

just to cool your head.

Just to forget the stinging words of your Twin.

------------------------------------------

Lo'ak Had come home a little after Eclipse. Didn't really have the thought of what he had said.

Being him he figured it would work itself out. Getting home seeing you and eating along side with your family. But he didnt expect you to already be asleep. Everyone still awake. Eating and talking. But you were off in the corner. Away from everyone.

"Why is Y/n Asleep? They not feeling well?"

"Y/n said she is quiet angry. Upset and frustrated. Ate earlier and headed to bed" Neytiri spoke. She didn't need an explanation. She knew her kids well. And knew when you were upset. It mostly had to do with something Lo'ak said or done. Tho she would admit. This is the first time she saw you two not stuck together at the tail like you would be.

Lo'ak sighed. Hoping. Praying that what he had said earlier was not the cause of it.

----------------------------------------------

By morning you had the time to think. You always found yourself awake before everyone else. And for today that was okay.

As you had tried to reason and understand why it hurt so much.

Yes Lo'ak was your Twin. Always clinging to each other's tails when ever the change. You swore since your first memory that The two of you would tangle your tails together. A bond so strong that would always be true to each other.

Perhaps thats why you were angry. Or upset? to be honest with yourself you never understood the difference. You just knew you had to talk with Lo'ak.

"Y/n!"

Speak of him.

You turned to look. Not at all happy with how he seemed so happy. "Lo'ak"

"oh come on you're still not upset about yesterday right?"

"Oh i dont know. How would you feel if i told you My twin that you were a complete stranger?"

"i....upset i know but"

"Listen to me Lo'ak and listen well because i dont want to have to repeat myself to you"

And he shup up right away.

" You are My Twin. But above all else you are my best friend. And i dont want to have to argue with you about this. But this isn't home. I haven't changed. You dont think i dont want to have fun too? But things are different and i have to listen to those around me instead of just you. Its not that i dont believe you. Its just If it were true. If what they say about Payakan is true you could have died too. And where would that leave us? Sky people are after us. And things are different here than home. And i cannot and will not let you push me aside and think i am different because you refuse to change too. If all else We are all we have. And i dont want you to push me to Stranger. When all we've ever been was each other's driving force. He may be your Spirit brother. But i am Your Twin sister. So dont you Dare say that i am any less than that. Got it?"

Lo'ak pondered. Paused and thinking long and hard. He hadn't meant to upset you the way he did. And he knew you were right. Knew that Things have changed. And he really didnt think.

How long had you been pushing down the urge to cause trouble? How long have you longed to feel the sky as he once did.

How long had you been pushing it all aside while he had cause trouble in this new found land.

He really didn't think.

"i am sorry Sister"

"i am your sister. And you are my brother. And i hate having to argue with you. But please. Dont ever say i am a stranger to you. Alright?"

He could see the faintest of red on your eyes. Had you been crying? He swore it now that he would do better to understand.

"i understand"

"now come on. Show me Payakan oh mighty warrior"

"shut up you skxawng!"

and it would all be okay. Attached at the tail as you always would be.

#sully family #sully reader #avatar the way of water #atwow #loak x reader #but siblings yknow?#lo'ak sully #lo'ak avatar #lo'ak x y/n #Lo'ak twin sister #atwow angst #atwow fluff #atwow imagines

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