#the crappy start up after graduating high school

[willowser]

i have this like one hc that pro-hero work involves a lot of traveling, especially in the beginning. they move here for six months and then there for four and then here for 14 and so on, just to get experience out in the field.

so it only makes sense you and bakugou end things, right at the start of his career.

and it's okay. it is. bc you both love each other and you know that, know that it's not ending bc of any huge, terrible fight that makes you enemies of one another. all the memories you'll carry can stay gold, not tarnished by anything other than the bittersweet distance.

getting used to it takes a little time, that's all; before he was your boyfriend, he was your friend, first and foremost. someone you had inside jokes with and had similar interests you could talk to about for hours, things that you only did with him and no one else. things only he knew. and not getting to tell him exciting news about college or ask if he saw the limited edition, golden age all might nendoroid they're releasing at the end of the year...sucks. it feels wrong, like these are things he's supposed to know, no matter what. things you're supposed to talk about.

you call him five months into his eight month nagoya contract and he doesn't answer. you think maybe he changed his number and didn't tell you, bc he doesn't actually have to anymore. bakugou has always been good about self control, keeping to himself, and it wouldn't surprise you if he's written you off without a second thought—bc this is how it's supposed to be when you break up with someone.

it's not until the next day that you get a text, late in the evening.

[9:26 PM] did you mean to call me

of course you did, but maybe you shouldn't have. hearing the line ring over and over again—it's cemented the realization that he's not thinking about you anymore. that he's moved on and you should too and he probably doesn't want to hear whatever if is you want to talk about. he'll probably just think you're weird. clingy.

yeah, but it's nothing important [9:32 PM]

he reads it immediately and—nothing happens. and you think that's it. hopefully you didn't come off too passive aggressive and now he thinks you're mad that he didn't answer. maybe you should have put an emoji, the little smiling one with the hands to show no biggie ! maybe you should have just said that, or that you couldn't remember the name of that hiking trail you did together two summers ago, but then you googled it and didn't need him anymore. or something.

he calls at 10:03.

your heart is in your throat when you pick up, beating like crazy bc you haven't heard his voice in a while. "uh, hello?"

and he hesitates too; his drawn out inhale doesn’t go unnoticed. "hey."

there's a brief period of silence on the line, some light shuffling on his end. sounds of cars passing, the rare honk of what traffic lingers this late at night. the wind scratches by, audible, and you shiver despite being in your own bed. you imagine him under a dim streetlight, fully outfitted.

bakugou huffs, "you called me?"

"yeah," you blink and sit up, though you don't know why. maybe because this needs your full attention, or because you don't want your voice to get muffled by your pillow. "i was just, uh—my roommate. she asked me if i've ever been to gekikara gourmet festival—"

"oh my god."

it's the exasperation in his voice that makes you laugh, so vivid, exactly as you remember it, and you can picture the face he must be making. "i know, i was like 'oh boy, have i'."

"d'you tell her you puked—"

"—with my head between my knees while sitting on that kiddie slide, yes i did."

he snorts, just the way he did as he patted the back of your head that night, awkwardly, standing beside you with a fist at his side. "told you not to try those fucking noodles."

you agree. "they were making even you sweat, i don't know what i was thinking."

it had been one of your first official dates, and you think all the spicy food didn't help with your restless nerves. it always felt stupid, looking back on it, to be so afraid; you'd known bakugou forever, and the only difference between that night and the many you'd spent before as friends was that he'd kissed your temple, lips red from spice and all. it was just bakugou, you thought. what was there to be anxious about?

and now the silence is making your stomach turn.

"yeah," you continue lamely, "nothing important, it just—made me think of you."

he doesn't say anything. if it weren't for the distant slam of something—a trash can lid or car door—you would think he hung up. he's always had a hard time with his words and you don't really even understand why he called instead of texting. if there was something he wanted to say to you, you aren't sure he could.

"so, i guess i'll let you—"

"y'got a roommate now?"

"uh, yeah." something ugly in your stomach wants there to be jealousy in his tone, and you shake your head to be rid of the thought. because it shouldn't matter. "she's in a couple of my classes. big fan of, like, kpop and stuff."

he snorts again and you can imagine the roll of his eyes, bright with amusement despite the frown on his lips. you love that look on him; so content that it felt out of his character, something he wanted to hide. being the cause of it has always been so sweet. "different apartment?"

"yeah, in a little dorm on campus." he didn't live with you long, just in the time between graduating and when his applications to agencies began returning acceptions. "couldn't afford that place by myself."

bakugou hums, and your eyes swim so suddenly that you have to take the phone away from your head. you wonder if he misses those days as much as you do. the simple life, doing the mundane together; washing clothes in the laundry room downstairs, having to clean the dishes by hand or the dishwasher would flood the tiny kitchen, taking quick showers together so that you'd both get hot water.

it was terrible. it was perfect. the kind of life you could never have, with dynamight.

his voice buzzes distantly and you sniff, wiping at your eyes with the sleeve of your sweater before putting the phone back up to your ear.

"what'd you say?"

"that—" he huffs, "nothin'." you sniff again, unthinking, and he goes completely silent again. no inhale, no exhale.

he's not stupid. he probably knew this would happen and that's why he didn't want to answer. it was hard enough for him to get the words out the first time ("just gonna be shit, for you to be waitin'. eraser told me not to—won't be able to keep any fucking—and i don't wanna be some jackass that just lets you down all the fuckin' time.")

"sorry," you laugh because you feel awkward, because you didn't mean to force what you've been suffocating on him all at once. "i don't know what just happened."

bakugou mumbles, "s'fine."

you think that even if there was something he wanted to say, he wouldn't know how.

"but yeah," you sigh and scrub a hand over your face again. "no biggie, just thought it was funny when she asked and wanted to tell you. it's actually kind of late and i need to head to bed, but i'll—" talk to him later, is what you want to say, but your stomach drops and you know that it's not that easy. not anymore.

maybe it will be one day in the future, but this is the life you have to live, for now. all you can do is hold onto that hope, as your throat tries to tighten again.

"fuck, i—" he breathes, so frustrated that it nearly becomes a grunt, "y'don't know how—just, goddammit, in three months i'll—"

"i know," you tell him, and you smile like he can see it. in three months, he'll come back, to accept another contract, and then he'll be gone again. if there was a way to make it work, bakugou would have found it. of all people, bakugou would have found it. "it's okay," you tell him.

and it is. it is.

#wow whoops made myself cry LOL #no but like imagine dating him and getting like this taste for such a simple life #the crappy start up after graduating high school #when you can hardly afford you water bill and don't know what to do when the air conditioning breaks #trying to figure out adulthood together #and bakugou just won't get that #by the time he's out of school he's already been a child soldier #faced more in his life than most people ever will #he could never live a normal 9-5 with you and that's probably not even something he ever thought he would want #until he couldn't have it #BYE #on the other end he's gripping the phone and clenching his teeth so tight and curling into himself #as if he could submerse himself into your laugh just one more time #BYYYEEEE #bakugou drabble #bakugou angst #bakugou x reader #✿ willow writes #✿ thoughts: bakugou

[sunflower-lilac42]

✧ 𝐔𝐧𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 | the hughes brothers ♔

summary: y/n hughes was always there for her brothers except for the first time they played against each other and she's worried they are mad at her.

warnings: crappy writing; kinda rushed bc i was excited, doesn't 100% make sense

notes: another one because i seriously can't help myself :)

part two (uncovered feelings) | nhl masterlist | main masterlist

Y/n had always felt left out. It wasn’t anyone’s fault and she was used to it by now. It was the story of her life. When she was younger she’d always go to her brothers' hockey games and support them no matter what. She hadn’t missed one and if she had it was only one or two due to something significant going on that she couldn’t miss, whether it was for school or if it was for an extracurricular. 

The same couldn’t be said about her brothers. It wasn’t that they weren’t supportive of her, but rather they were too tired or some other (lame) excuse as to why they wouldn’t go. She wasn’t completely bothered by it but she would’ve liked it if they came just once or twice. She understood they were busy and at least she had her parents, that’s more than some people could say.

So when the day came when the three of them were playing each other for the first time in NHL history, she felt bothered that she couldn’t come. She wanted to come so badly but simply couldn’t drop her schoolwork to go to a different country to watch her brothers play hockey, especially on a Tuesday. 

She was worried her brothers would think differently of her, this was the first time that she wouldn’t be able to go to an important game without a concrete reason except for the fact that she didn’t want to have to deal with flying when she had class the next day. It wouldn’t have been the first time when she was at school she would’ve missed class but she relented missing class if it wasn’t for a good reason. Not that this milestone of her brothers and them making history is not important but at some point, she had to put herself first. 

She couldn’t sit still at all the whole day, anxiously awaiting for the game to start, It wouldn’t start until 10 her time but she wasn’t about to miss this game especially if she wasn’t there in person to see it. In the back of her mind, she had this nagging feeling that her brothers were mad at her. This feeling that they were pissed that she couldn’t be there for an important game. 

It seems that throughout their careers they had always seemed to forget that she was there for everything for them and they weren’t there for almost anything.  Their first game in the NHL, she was there missing school because she had nothing going on the day of/the next day. Their first NHL point, by some miracle she was there too. The first time Jack played Quinn in the NHL, she was there. She was there for everything and all they were there for was her graduation, not that she had complained about it. But when it was senior night for her, they weren’t there. In her last performance/game in high school, they weren’t there. She understood that being a professional hockey player was extremely time-consuming but was it too much to ask for them to be there just once?

They always forgot about the little things. She sacrificed a majority of her after-school hours when she was younger going to their games. It was her choice, yes, but most of the time she was a tiny bit forced to go. She didn’t complain though.

✧༺✎༻∞

Being in college was a different experience for her. She felt free but alone at the same time. When the brothers were at school, well Quinn and Luke, they had the other(s) at home in school. They were never truly by themselves. But now Quinn’s in Vancouver and Jack and Luke are in New Jersey, and she was all alone in Michigan. She was honestly falling apart. 

The days leading up to the game she felt horrid. The three of them got to hang out with each other since both of their teams had off days and she could only wish to be out there with them. She listened to each of their interviews, including her parents, and she was sad. It got so bad and she felt so guilty that she couldn’t do anything but call them in hopes that they would answer. 

When she called it was late, for her, at night and she was hoping that the three of them would be together despite their pregame rituals. Hitting the call button under Luke’s contact, she waited in anticipation for them to answer. 

In Vancouver, the three were sitting at the table in Quinn’s place playing games and catching up and their parents had decided to go out for dinner so they were alone. Luke’s phone sat beside him on the table as he made his move. The phone vibrated against the table but in the middle of the action in the game, he didn’t answer nor did he see who was calling. 

When he finally looked down at his phone to see who called him his eyebrows furrowed and called back but didn’t receive any response, “That’s weird.”

Jack and Quinn look up from their respective seats and tilt their heads, “What?”

“Y/n called and I tried calling her back but she didn’t answer.”

“Maybe it was on accident?” Jack asked but Quinn knew better, “It’s almost midnight in Michigan and she always sleeps with her phone on her desk, there’s no way it was an accident.”

Quinn pulled out his phone from his pocket and attempted to call his sister as well, but like his brother, he received no answer. The three brothers looked at each other worriedly when Jack’s phone rang. It was an unknown number and he didn’t know if he should answer or not. Too worried about his sister, he answered the call without precaution, “Hello?”

His older and younger brother watched him intently, waiting for any tell-tale signs that he had information on their sister. 

“Is this Jack?”

“Depends on who’s asking.”

“It’s Lila, y/n’s roommate. I know you guys are probably busy right now but I think she’s having a panic attack. She was in the living room with me and some of our other friends and she was on her phone but she locked herself in her room not too long ago and she left her phone out here.”

Jack’s eyes widened, “Can you give her the phone please?” Jack put the phone on speaker and pulled it away, turning the volume up and quietly explaining to his brothers what had happened.

They could hear Lila on the other end trying to get y/n to open the door, “Y/n/n, come on open up. Your brothers are on the phone, they want to talk to you.”

She didn’t get a response, so she tried again, “Y/n, we’re worried about you. Please open the door, or at least talk to your brothers.” The door clicked open and she held out her hand. Lila hung up on her end, causing a breif panic to flow through the Hughes boys, but Lila called back from y/n’s phone and handed gave it back to the girl.

Y/n sat back on the bed as she waited to hear her brothers’ voices, “Y/n/n? You okay?”

“No.” She cried.

Quinn ended up taking the lead role of the phone call, proceeding to ask what was wrong. 

“I’m sorry.”

Luke questioned, “For what?”

“I’m sorry I can’t be there for you guys.”

“Hey, it’s okay. We’re not mad at you, we promise.”

“But-”

“No ‘buts’, okay. You’re at school, school is more important than seeing us play. You will have plenty of opportunities to see us play.” Quinn argued with the girl but she wasn’t having it.

“It’s your first time playing against Luke.”

Luke’s eyes held tears, he hated to hear his little sister in tears over him. Sure it wasn’t directly because of him but it had something to do with him, which overall meant he made his sister cry even though, that’s not the case. 

“So what? We play him again later on in the season and we will make sure you come out to see us. No biggie.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, we’re sure.”

The four Hughes’ continued to talk until she fell asleep and when Ellen and Jim came home and saw their three sons abandoned game at the kitchen table and sitting in the living room curled up on the couches near each other and Jack’s phone on coffee table with their daughter’s contact on it, it warmed their hearts.

#sunny lune writes #hockey #nhl #jack hughes #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes x sister!reader #luke hughes #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes x sister!reader #quinn hughes #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes x sister!reader #qh43 #lh43 #jh86 #hughes brothers #hughes!sister #hughes brothers x reader #hughes brothers x sister!reader #sister!reader

[thesuperiorrobin]

Message between the two of you

(I’m like so mad bc I deleted social media and I went back to redownloading it but the app got taken off the app store 😒”

—————————————————————————

Y/n: you have money right?

Damian: no I’m dirt broke poor.

What kind of questions is that?

Y/n: Jesus i was just making sure 😒

But anyway!

Can you do me a huge favor?

Damian: anything for you

Y/n: Can you like buy Apple and then make a single pink heart emoji? Bc these 💕💗💖💞💓 are not like this ❤️♥️💙💜💛🖤

Damian: what’s wrong with those?

Y/n: everything!

Like can you believe they made this 🫀but couldn’t make a fucking pink emoji.

Damian: I’ll see what I can do

Y/n Thank you 😘

—————————————————————————

Y/n: okay so about the math homework

Damian: I’ll send you the answers

Y/n: thx Pookie-bear😘

Damian: you can do it on your own

Y/n: OKAY SORRY

Thank you Mr. Al Ghul Wayne😌

Damian: Pookie-bear is fine with me

Y/n: never thought Id see the Damian wayne type Pookie bear.

Damian: beloved do you want the answers or not?

Y/n: yes please🤲

Thx babes love you with all my heart 😘

—————————————————————————

Damian: open your window

Y/n: no.

Damian: are you still mad at me beloved?

Y/n: no

Damian: your foods going to get cold if you don’t open up

Y/n: ugh fine give me a minute

—————————————————————————

Damian: what the hell is twilight?!

Todd won’t stop talking about it

Y/n: OMG ITS LIKE A CINEMATIC MASTER PIECE.

Hold I have the DVDs. Your front gates and doors better be open by the time I get there.

Damian: Do we have too??

Y/n: you Don’t wanna spend time with your girlfriend? 🥹

Even after you’ve been gone for a month straight 🥹

Damian: my gates and doors are open.

Y/n: good. Be prepared to have your mind blown by this weird, cringy, funny, sad, supernatural films.

—————————————————————————

Y/n: we should get married in Las Vegas

Y’know like elope or something

Weddings in Las Vegas are actually cheap

Just say fuck it and Start a new life after and get new identities. And get away from it all

Damian: that doesn’t sound bad actually

But you deserves more then just a crappy five dollar wedding at Las Vegas out of all places. We’re better then that. 

You, beloved, deserve a grand wedding, with so many people, a perfect dress, perfect decor perfect everything.

Y/n: Can Titus be our ring bearer?🥹

Damian: anything you want it to be. Heck Drake can be the the flower boy. We’ll see our options after we graduate high school—————————————————————————

Do you think Jason’s team Edward or team Jacob

I think he’s team Edward.

Same thing with Damian. Is he a Edward or Jacob fan. 🤔🤔🤔🤔

#damian al ghul #damian wayne #damian wayne x reader #batman x fem!reader #robin x reader #batfamily #damian x reader #batfamily x reader #damian al ghul x reader #damian scenarios

[seonghwaddict]

EYES DON’T LIE — iii. a worthy competitor.

synopsis. you've always resented jeong yunho, and you were positive that the end of high school would've marked the end of your rivalry and hatred. yet now you find yourself in the same crappy hotel as him. assigned to be right next to each other much like the good old times.

pairing. jeong yunho x fem! reader. genre. mini-series, fluff, slice of life, mature, academic rivals to lovers, non-idol au. chapter warnings. swearing.

word count. 2.1k. rating. pg-13

chapter ii. chapter iii. chapter iv.

yunho’s life post high school was blissful, to say the least.

he went to his dream university and just like you graduated as the top student of that year. not long after that he landed a job at a relatively large tech company and after promotion upon promotion, he became the multi-billion-won company’s CTO. He lived lavishly; a shining example of what he was able to achieve thanks to his determination and unwavering passion.

at least until all of that came crashing down.

because the CEO just had to get involved in activities that became the downfall of the company. unbeknownst to him, the CEO had been part of an underground piracy organisation and sold the private information of millions of users to malicious parties. when the news got to the police, well… it was chaos. law enforcement swarmed the headquarters to detain the CEO as well as anyone that was identified on the list of people involved. a mess that he had no part of.

in hindsight, yunho should be carrying more than the company card and a suitcase when traveling for business trips, during which all this news got out. but how was he supposed to know he’d go from a highly respected worker to jobless in a matter of 24 hours?

and so he found himself in a shitty hotel, paying with the few bills he could find after rummaging around in his bag. the company card declined when he tried booking a different hotel—the fancy one the company had paid for forced him to leave after they found out he was affiliated with that company. for obvious reasons, he had been confused until he checked his phone for the first time that day and found hundreds of notifications flooding the lock screen that depicted picture of him and his best friend.

speaking of his best friend.

as soon as got into his his temporary bedroom—aka the hotel room that smelled so odd he opened the window as wide as he could and stuck his head out to avoid the stench—he called the man he’s known since they were toddlers, ranting about the situation. unsurprisingly, he found the situation immensely funny.

“so you’re poor now?”

“no, mingi, i just don’t have my personal card. i’ll go withdraw money tomorrow morning.” yunho propped his camera up on the small desk opposite the bed, leaning back in the creaking wooden chair as he rubbed at his temples, dreading the oncoming headache he was starting to feel. “but i’m jobless, for now.”

mingi pursed his lips, nose scrunching as he looked at his phone screen, watching how distressed yunho looked. “how can i help you, then?”

a shrug was the first response he got. “just-” the rotating chair squeaked as yunho leaned a bit further to stare up at the ceiling for a moment before reverting his gaze back to his phone. “just talk to me about something else, distract me for now.”

“okay then,” the fake blond’s face brightened and a wide grin spread across his face as he sat up and leaned closer. “so, you know my boss hongjoong, right?”

and so the next ten minutes were filled with him gossiping about how his boss seemed to have the hots for a cute reporter. yunho listened, grateful to get his mind off his current predicament, but barely registered any words being said. he occasionally replied with agreeing hums or other reactions suitable for the context, but he couldn’t help but feel the tell tale signs of his body wanting to rest. mingi seemed to catch on as he paused his story and squinted at his phone screen, catching the way his best friend’s eyes drooped with fatigue.

“hello? earth to yunho?”

he stirred awake, snorting in a breath before yawning. he checked the time on his very expensive watch briefly before his eyes flickered back up to mingi.

“you look tired, man,” worry was written all over his face, sure he could already see dark circles forming under yunho’s eyes. “get some rest.”

“yeah… yeah, that’s a good idea.” yunho spoke through his yawn, hand covering his open mouth.

they said their goodbyes and ended the call. yunho sat in silence for a moment. he turned the chair, inspecting the bed. it was sad, small and pretty empty. wishing he was back home on his soft king sized bed, he poked the mattress, frowning at the firmness before pulling back and looking at the pillows. well, pillow. singular. while the mattress felt to stiff, the pillow the opposite. he got up to check the little closet for another pillow that he could stack on top to add some firmness, but to no avail.

after a moment of hesitation, he decided to ask the guy at the lobby if he could possibly have an extra pillow. before head for the door, he stopped in the bathroom, checking his teeth and brushing his hand through his dark hair, a little overgrown and resembling a mullet. he fixed the tie of his suit that he had yet to take off and left the bathroom, his hand wrapping around the door handle of the room and pulling it open.

as he stepped out, his temporary neighbour seemed to have just arrived. turning to greet the stranger, he stopped in his tracks just as she had.

what a perfect end to his day. the cherry on top, really.

truthfully, he hadn’t given you much thought after your high school graduation. (he actually did. a friend of his went to the same university as you and he’d occasionally ask him if he knew how you were doing). but seeing you now, he realised you hadn’t changed much. of course, you seemed to have a grown a tiny bit and you looked more mature, but those eyes—those soft eyes, so pretty, red and puffy through your tears—were undeniably yours. he recognised you before he recognised the state you were in, a sobbing mess. in all the years he had known you, he doesn’t recall ever seeing you cry. seeing you like this, with flushed and tear stained cheeks, made his head spin for a moment.

before he could open his mouth to say anything, you were gone. he watched the door of your room fall shut, followed by a thud from inside the room. what it may have been—a kick to the wall, a punch, an item thrown across the room—he wouldn’t have been able to tell as he stared at the door dumbly. he wasn’t sure how long he stood there, but what else was he supposed to do when he ran into you of all people in this obscure hotel and somehow ended up next to each other?

watching you disappear through that door reminded him too much of the last time he saw you.

though it had been a warm summer, it rained on the last day of school. having checked the weather, he brought an umbrella with him. but as he watched you stand front of the entrance of the school, alone and looking out into the rain without a jacket, let alone an umbrella, with a conflicted frown and nothing to protect you from the rain but the roof, he found himself caring about you. before he realised it, he stood in front of you, holding out his black umbrella and consequently getting a little wet.

you couldn’t help but stare at him, your gaze switching between his unusually sincere face and hand extending the red handle of the umbrella. you shook your head, insisting that you won’t take it, but he cut you off.

“come on, it’s just an umbrella, i have no problem walking home in the rain.”

“no, please, yunho, it’s your umbrella, i’ll figure something out. you’ll get sick.”

after some more back and forth, he offered a compromise. you could walk home together.

and that’s exactly what the two of you did. you walked side by side, squeezed together under the umbrella, droplets of rain occasionally hitting your right shoulder or his left shoulder. despite the weather, it was oddly peaceful. a steady conversation flowed between the two of you, free of any teasing or insults. you weren’t quite sure why he was being so nice, but you supposed it was the last you’d see each other before heading separate ways.

unfortunately, the two of you thought at the time, you lived in the same apartment building. while you lived on the third floor, he was up on the fifth. he decided it only made sense to walk you to your place first. unlike your walk outside, the short journey from the elevator to your front door was dead silent. even when you got to the front door, neither of you spoke for a moment until he cleared his throat, his voice almost… emotional?

“i guess this is it, huh?”

“yeah… i guess… have fun finding a better, funnier, smarter rival in college.”

“nah, i don’t think i’ll even bother.”

“hm? really? i thought you’re all about that competition.”

“yeah, but you’re the only person worth competing with.”

he’d never forget the way your eyes widened comically as you looked at him after that, a blush so faint it was easy to miss in this horrible lighting. maybe all the people saying you’d make a good couple were on to something. still, he knew you’d never see each other again, there was no point in trying anything. his cell phone rang, interrupting the tense silence. it was his mother, telling him to hurry and get home.

“i… uh, i have to go… but i’ll see you around, someday?”

you smiled, a smile so genuine his stomach did a cartwheel.

“i’ll see you around, someday.”

you stared at each other for a moment, stood across from each other in the hallway. he wasn’t sure what to do. should he hug you? should he just turn and leave? you seemed just as conflicted. after a long minute, you both extended your hands for a handshake at the same time. a small laugh was shared as your hands intertwined in a slow handshake, holding onto each other a few moments too long. his thumb rubbed over the back of your hand gently. he gave it a small squeeze before letting go and bowing his head, winking playfully.

“good luck out there, y/n.”

“likewise, yunho.”

and with the you disappeared through the front door, much like you had moments ago. though at that time you didn’t look so heartbroken. eventually he got himself to put one foot in front of the other and head to the lobby for his original mission.

he thanked the lobby man quietly as he was handed two more pillows, his mind still occupied with you. you’d think that whatever he felt for you on that last day would’ve dissipated by now, but that was quite the opposite. despite it having been so many years, seeing you again felt like a punch to his throat.

on his way back to his room, he thought about knocking on your door for a split second. in the end, he concluded you probably wouldn’t want to talk to him. he wasn’t sure what he would’ve said anyway. hey, it’s really nice seeing you again, by the way did i mention that i’ve realised i had a massive crush on you that time we said goodbye and those feelings haven’t gone away?

no, absolutely fucking not.

he nearly slapped himself at the hypothetical monologue, dragging himself to his hotel room. a soft thump resounded as he tossed the pillows on his bed before undressing and getting under the thin covers. the time it took for him to fall asleep was unclear as he stared up at the ceiling. whoever rented the room above him seemed to want to make a joke in the ground, thundering stomps making the ceiling and his open window shake.

had he not stepped out at that time to get pillow and bumped into you, he would’ve probably been cursing and swearing to himself to get out of this place first thing in the morning. but, considering who his current neighbour was, he couldn’t help but think…

would one or two more days really be so bad?

[ lilo's notes . . . ] hii sorry it took so long to update this, i hope this makes up for it 💔💔 we finally get a little gimped into yunho’s feelings!! yippee!! i’m sorry he comes off as a little stuck up near the beginning, but please understand he went from a luxurious suite to a hotel on the brink of falling apart; i think most people would be a little disappointed 🙏🙏 he’s not a bad guy i promise

[ networks . . . ] @cromernet @wonderlandnet

[ taglist | series + permanent . . . ] @yuyusuyu @diorwoo @loveyluv7 @ad0rechuu @h-nji @nakiiko @lelaleleb @moon-gyus @baribaaari @bvidzsoo @kunikku @kyeos4ng @sankatchu @mlink64 @yeosangsbbg @seonghwasbbgirl @likexaxdaydream @dreamingofyeo

#★ — › EYES DON'T LIE ! #cromernet #wonderlandnet #yunho x reader #yunho imagines #yunho reactions #yunho angst #yunho scenarios #yunho headcanons #ateez x reader #ateez #ateez drabble #yunho drabble #yunho fluff #ateez fluff #ateez reactions #ateez imagines #ateez fanfic #ateez angst

[upsidedownmvnson]

much more interesting things | eddie munson

summary: you're stuck in a rut, and starting to hate your crappy high school friends. eddie helps you see that there are better, more beautiful things out there - he just didn't expect you to think that he was one of them

warnings: underage drinking, shitty ex bfs and friends, cheating ex

a/n: i started this and finished it in like 4 straight hours, replies & comments appreciated, i love feedback fr

Eddie sees you sitting alone in a large group of people.

He recognizes most of them from high school, but he can't put any names to faces. He'd only been graduated a year, but it was like he had no memory of that place, or those people. Trina? Tina? That party girl who hosts that crazy Halloween bash every year... and... uh, Carol? Was that Carol sitting there? No idea.

But he doesn't really care, because he's busy noticing you, and the way you pick at the label on the beer bottle, focusing your gaze on your fidgeting fingers. He notices how you're so ridiculously beautiful. He notices the way you mouth every word to the local musician playing a Johnny Cash cover. But most of all, he notices the smile that doesn't reach your eyes. He notices how you keep looking behind you to the door. Waiting for someone? Or planning an escape? He can't quite tell, but he was dying to find out.

Steve smacks him on the arm, whispering something, and Eddie has to tear his eyes away from you. Robin and Nancy shared a look between themselves, and then looked over at the girl who had Eddie's attention. They started whispering amongst themselves.

"What?" he asks, looking over at Steve, not having heard a word he said.

"I asked if you were ready to go?" Steve repeated, rolling his eyes.

He's not. Eddie is so... intrigued by you that he feels the need to stick around. See who you're waiting for, or hiding from, or ... he doesn't know. Eddie's not even sure what he's expecting.

"You go," he answers after a long minute, "I'm gunna grab another drink at the bar."

"We can stay longer," Nancy suggested, smiling at Eddie, and sneaking another peak at you.

"No, it's okay," Eddie smiled, letting his eyes fall back on you. "I'll see you guys tomorrow."

And then they left, saying their goodbyes to their friend and paying their bills, heading off into the parking lot while Eddie took a new seat at the bar. He sat facing away from you, not wanting to be a complete creep, but there was just something that kept him around.

You wanted to leave. This whole idea was stupid, you were stupid for agreeing to it.

A month ago, your best friend had started dating your ex-boyfriend. She didn't exactly ask you if it was okay, she just dropped it on you and expected you to be okay with it. But you were realizing, sitting here celebrating his birthday, that you absolutely were not.

What kind of friend was she, anyway?

You tried pushing passed it, but as you sat their, watching all your other 'friends' laugh and giggle as Tina and Reed climbed all over each other.

It was clear that most of them had known about this little affair long before you had. You needed a drink...

You brought your beer bottle up to the bar, putting all the little pieces of paper you'd ripped off it inside of it. You leaned against the counter beside Eddie, looking over and watching as he chugged a sip of his beer. You watched his adam's apple bob as he drank, but you saw that he was watching you. You thought maybe you'd been him watching earlier too, when his friends were still there.

"Eddie, right?" you said, using him as a distraction. He nearly choked on his beer.

"Uh, yeah," he muttered, "hey..."

"y/n," you said, smiling. It was refreshing, Eddie not knowing who you were. He wasn't one of the popular crowd, and you were honestly jealous of that. You wanted to fall away from them. You wanted to fall from grace.

"I knew that," he said, looking away, the lie clear on his features. But you weren't mad, you smiled.

"You didn't," you said, winking at him. How many drinks have you had? You felt the warmth and confidence radiating.

After showing the bartender your handy fake I.D, you ordered a beer and two shots, pushing one towards Eddie. He picked it up, looking at it for a moment, and then you, waiting expectantly to cheers it.

"You don't have to take it," you joked, "but could you let me know so I can put my arm down?"

He chuckled lightly, goofy grin taking over his cheeks, and he cheers you, downing the shot alongside you. It burned, but you liked it. You chased it with a sip of your beer, the bubbles making the linger sting fade.

You heard your friends calling you name, and you turned to see them giggling and whispering. You assumed it was because they thought hanging out with Eddie was slumming it.

"I guess I should get back," you said, your face showing your honest lack of interest.

"Why do you hangout with them if you don't like them?" he asked, and it was your turn to nearly choke on your drink. You coughed, surprised by the suddenly deep line of questioning.

"Who says I don't?"

He laughed, "you should get back, I'd hate to ruin the party."

"That party was ruined when it started," you mumbled, and he just laughed harder.

"Yeah you're right, I really feel the love."

You laughed, and he felt pride settle into his chest. The smile climbed all the way to your eyes, lighting them with a sparkle that made you even more beautiful than you already were. Eddie feels butterflies in his stomach, and he looks away, softly smiling at the beer in his hand.

Talking to Eddie was... fun, and returning to the table full of fake people with fake smiles was ruining that.

"What were you talking to him for?" Carol asked, boney fingers biting into your skin as she held your arm.

"Uh, because I was waiting for a drink and he was sitting there?" you asked, looking at her with a look like she was an idiot. Because she was - she was an idiot.

"Well, don't. He's bad news, and bad publicity."

"Unlike my friends here, who would never do anything to hurt me, right?" you asked, looking to where Reed and Tina were showing a disgusting amount of PDA. Why the fuck were you still sitting here.

"Don't be like that," Carol snapped, "it's not their fault they fell in love. They both felt really bad about it."

"How long have you known about them, anyway?"

Carol looked down at her lap, and Tommy, sitting nearby laughed obnoxiously.

"Go on, tell her." He kept laughing, especially when she hit him on the arm, because apparently everyone in the world was in on. "But tell her the truth..."

Tommy didn't care about the truth, he'd just had five beers and wanted to stir the pot. The people sitting close to you guys had gone quiet, no one willing to meet your eye, while Reed and Tina stayed oblivious to the whole scene, kissing each other like they were alone in her bedroom.

You chugged the beer in your hand, figuring this was probably the end of the party for you, you wouldn't make it through much more without snapping. "Yeah, Carol," you said, slamming the bottle down on the table, but still somehow, Reed and Tina stayed in their trance. "Tell me the truth."

"Three months..." she whispered, keeping her eyes locked on her lap. the table was silent.

"Nooooo," Tommy sing-songed, "I'm pretty sure I said the truth."

"Shut up, Tommy!" Carol snapped, glaring at him. Those two were not perfect for each other, and should probably break up. You grew impatient.

"What can be worse than my best friend going out with my ex right after we broke up?"

"How about fucking behind your back for two months before that."

Carol wouldn't meet your eye, Tommy was laughing, and Reed and Tina had these stupid, guilty pouts on their face like they expected you to never find out. You felt numb, like you should be more mad but you just... didn't care.

Eddie was right, you didn't even like these people.

Your eyes drifted over your shoulder to Eddie, where he was still sitting at the bar, eyes forward but you knew, you knew he was paying attention. He was nothing like anyone sitting with you at that table. He was perfect.

You slid out from the table, chair squealing loudly in the silence, as every looked at you. Fuck these people, fuck this group, fuck this place, and really really fuck Reed and Tina. You were over it, outta here, and moving on, but not before a glorious, "go to hell," that made your chest feel ten time lighter, like a load was suddenly lifted off of it, freeing you from the chains that these poisonous people kept on you.

You didn't storm out, or start crying, or even rush. You just stood up, put your coat on, and sauntered over to where Eddie was sitting, turned towards you and watching with a huge smile on his face, like he was proud of you, and honestly, you were proud of yourself.

"Wanna get out of here?" you asked, leaning beside him again, making sure those assholes could see you were still wearing a pretty smile.

Eddie grinned from ear to ear, saying "lead the way," before getting up and putting on his leather jacket.

Outside of the bar, you two walked silently for a minute. You still weren't even that broken up about it, you kinda suspected he was fooling around behind your back, and you always knew Tina was a shitty a friend, so this was just, what it was.

"Can I just say that was awesome," Eddie said, breaking the silence.

"You can," you smiled, trying to break your thoughts away from them entirely. "And you should."

"Those guys are jerks," he said, "you're better off."

"I know, right?" you laughed, "It's my fault really, I shouldn't have even shown up tonight. I should've ditched them months ago."

"What even was that? Those guys were all over each other the whole time. I don't even think they spoke to any of you after you sat down."

"How long were you watching, creep?"

Eddie blushed, looking down at his feet. You hit him with your elbow, showing him the smile you wore, assuring him that you're just teasing.

"That guy was my ex," you sighed, "and the girl he was with is supposedly my best friend."

Eddie laughed, "I'm sorry, it's not funny," he said, still laughing. "But that's insane."

"Tell me about it," you huffed, kicking a rock with your shoe. You weren't sure if you were leading, or if Eddie was leading, but you were just kind of walking down the dark sidewalk. You were kinda headed towards the elementary school. It was late, sure, but neither of you had a curfew to worry about. "But anyway it was his birthday yesterday, so everyone wanted to go out to celebrate. They're throwing a party at Tina's after, I think the whole school is going."

Eddie hummed in understanding, not really knowing what else to say.

"I'm surprised you didn't hear all about this," you said, "it was the hottest gossip last season."

"I don't really listen to that stuff," he said, shrugging. "I don't think I even really know who Reed is. I feel like Harrington knows him, maybe?"

You nodded. You liked this about Eddie. He didn't want to gossip, or spread rumours, and he didn't revel in other people's misery. He couldn't name the entire basketball team, but you could bet he knew all his friends birthdays, or like, their favourite snack.

Most of your friends nearly missed your birthday if you hadn't reminded them the day before. You'd been with Eddie five minutes, and your other group already could barely hold a light up to him. You can't remember why you hung out with them before, and you can't fathom why you'd never thought Eddie was cute until now.

"So what brought you to the bar tonight? I thought you guys went to that other spot, uh, The Hangout?"

"The Hideout," he corrected, "that's where my band plays. And Steve wanted to go here tonight. He likes the deep fried macaroni bites that you can apparently only get there."

"Ah, I see, so very important stuff."

"Very important."

It fell silent again, and you worried that you'd made a mistake. Like, maybe Eddie didn't want to be here. Like he felt bad for you or something.

"It's nice out here," he said softly, and you noticed he'd stopped a few steps back, you were too distracted by your anxiety to notice. You turned towards him, copying him by tilting your head back, looking at the star filled sky. It was peaceful, standing here with Eddie.

"Yeah," you agreed, letting the beauty of the night's sky clear your anxieties. You'd been so used to shitty friends, that you didn't know what is was really like to be treated nicely.

You were still looking up when Eddie came back into focus on you. You were beautiful. Like, really beautiful. He was kinda shocked when you first spoke to him, and he was totally floored when you asked him to leave with you, smile covered in sincerity and eyes filled with trouble. He knew the odds of this turning out well for him were slim, but he wanted to see it out anyway. You seemed different than the rest of them, and he was going to give you a chance to be.

Your hair was falling over your neck in a way that tempted him you reach out, and brush it over your shoulder.

Instead he looked at his feet, shuffling a rock around while he shook those thoughts out of his head. Obviously after a situation like that you were in a vulnerable state, and he wasn't going to be some jerk who took advantage of that.

"Safety infraction," he said, pointing at your shoe, and before he could stop himself, he was on one knee, tying your shoelace for you. He realized it was entirely dorky and weird to just start tying someone else's shoes, but it would've been weirder to stop.

But you didn't think it was weird at all. You thought it was sweet, and kind, and... well, it made you blush, the burning sensation was so prevalent you knew he'd be able to see it when he looked back up at you, and he did. Eddie took note of the fact that he'd made you smile, blush and laugh all night, without trying.

He thought... Eddie thought maybe there was a chance here, a chance for something special.

You were something special, and it baffled him that more people weren't aware of this. He was confused about how guys weren't throwing themselves at your mercy and declaring their servitude.

"Thanks," you said, smiling as he stood level with you again, and you noticed the light blush across his own cheeks.

"You're welcome," he said, and the two of you started walking again, letting a calm silence fall between you.

You were closer now, so close you could feel the odd brush of his knuckles against the back of yours, and you could hear his breath hitch every time. You wanted him to reach out and grab it, but he didn't.

"C'mon," you said, grabbing his hand and tugging him across the street, "I want to swing."

But neither of you let go once you were across the street. His hand was rough. Hard with callouses from years of guitar, but it was also warm, strong, comforting. You didn't want to compare him to Reed, you had no right to think of Eddie like this, but you couldn't help it. He was cute, and when you were sure he wasn't a rebound moment, you'd tell him.

Eddie didn't let go of your hand until you made it to the swing set, only releasing his grasp to climb onto the swing beside yours. Immediately, he kicked off, trying to swing as high as possible. You swung gently, feeling the breeze and enjoying the moment. Eddie's hair was flying around him wildly, and when he swung forward, all his hair trailing behind him, you could see the unadulterated joy on his face, and it made you smile. It made butterflies flip in your stomach, like a hundred of them were suddenly released into your chest.

"Watch me!" he shouted, jumping off the swing, only to land a few feet away in a thud, shouting a weird sound when he landed. It didn't sound good.

"Hey," you said, slowly down and getting off the swing. "Are you okay?"

"Oh yeah," he said, laying on his back and giving you a thumbs up. "Don't worry about ol' Eddie, he's resilient." But the squeal he let out when he tried to put pressure on his ankle betrayed him.

"Let me help you," you said softly, reaching down to help pull him up. He leaned heavily against you, resting his ankle down, only to wince. "Maybe you should sit down," you said, guiding him to a park bench nearby.

"I don't live far," he said, "through the yard and cut through the Masterly farm, then we're practically there." He coughed, "I mean, if you don't mind, you don't have to I can probably call Wayne at work, there's a payphone-"

"Eddie, stop, of course I'll help you," you said, smiling when he did, despite the pain he felt, he knew you were different. "Let's get you home."

The walk should've been ten minutes, but it turned into over half an hour, with Eddie's injury, he was walking at a snail's pace. He kept repeating how you didn't need to suffer this with him, but you wouldn't hear it. He was helping you in ways he wouldn't understand, just by being a kind presence, showing you that there are much more interesting things out there, way more interesting than some shitty friends.

The whole time you guys just talked. You told him about how you've been feeling lately, neglected and sad. And he told you about his mom and Wayne, and how he wants to pursue music.

At this point, you were sure it wasn't any kind of rebound thing.

When you got to the trailer park, he got quiet, hesitant, like he expected you to take off at the sight of his home. But you weren't fazed. You just helped him in without saying anything, sitting him on the couch.

"Can I take a look?"

"If you've got the stomach for it," he joked, hitting himself in the forehead when you looked away.

But you just laughed, slowly untying his shoe, trying to take it off without hurting him. He didn't say anything, just watched as you did so. He thought you would drop him inside and head out, bu here you were, sliding off his sock with the most gentle touch he'd ever felt.

"It's swollen pretty bad," you said, "ice?"

"I think we've got peas?"

You nodded, getting off the couch and bringing yourself to the kitchen. He watched you shuffle around in the freezer, followed by the drawers. He said nothing, just watched you tuck your hair behind your ear, relishing in the fact there was this work of art in his kitchen.

You finally found a clean dish towel, and wrapped the peas in it, bringing them over to your damsel in distress.

"Thanks," he said, unable to look away. you focused on his ankle, the purple bruise already covering the large bump on the side.

"I don't think it's broken," you said, "but maybe you should get it checked out by a doctor."

"Do you think it can wait until tomorrow? There's a nurse in the green trailer," he said, bashful, "she usually helps us out."

"Yeah, I think so."

It was quiet for a moment before he said, "do you think you would want to stay for a bit?" You both looked away, both suddenly shy and blushing.

"Yeah," you said, "you should really lay down though, and get some pillows under your leg."

"You can come in there," he said, sounding a little too eager. "Not like, for any funny business," he said, catching himself on his embarrassment, but taking solace in your little giggle. "We can just hang out."

"C'mon," you said, grabbing the frozen peas and helping him back up. You helped him into his room, asking where you could find him a pair of sweats to replace his jeans were, and throwing them over when you got them. You turned around, giving him some privacy. You saw his music, and decided to help yourself and put some low music on.

"Thanks again," he said, clearly struggling to undress and dress while laying down. "For helping me home, and- uh, and everything else."

"No problem," you said, shuffling your weight between your feet. "Can I look?"

"Yeah, I'm good."

While laying there, he looked devilishly good. You felt bad for his ankle, sure, but he'd taken his shirt off, his soft tummy on full display, and his legs were strewn between the white sheets, his good leg tucked under, but his bad leg bare, showing his grey sweatpants. His hair was messy, splayed over his neck and shoulders, and he looked good enough to eat.

"Can I sit?"

Eddie smiled, "of course," he said, shuffling over to make space for you.

It was later than you realized, and you were suddenly exhausted. Or maybe you were just justifying crawling into Eddie's bed at your first opportunity. You set up a few pillows under his leg, leaving none left for yourself, just one for Eddie.

"Take one back," he said, pulling it out from the stack. "You need one too."

"No, no," you pulled it out of his hands and returned it, instead opting to lay into his side, resting your head on his chest. You could feel his heartbeat quicken, and his breathing get faster. He smelled like freshly fallen leaves, cinnamon, and the faint smell of weed. It was intoxicating... "Is this okay?"

"It's perfect," he said, wrapping a hesitant arm around you, pulling him in closer to you, "absolutely perfect."

#eddie munson #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #stranger things imagine #stranger things imagines #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things #eddie x you #eddie x y/n #eddie x reader

[christinesficrecs]

Also, these gems are still on tumblr for your enjoyment. 🧡💙🧡 here, here, here, and especially this one. Oooh, this one too.

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[toruro]

— ✧ scrawled in sand

inspired by hozier’s ‘all things end’

pairing. jeon wonwoo x reader

description: "loving wonwoo was like taking a breath of air. you don’t get to think twice before you inhale, and so you never thought twice about loving wonwoo. maybe that’s why he stitched himself a little too deep, and now you’re wondering when exactly did the thread cut loose."

genre: smut (18+ / mdni), break up au, angst w/c: 2.8k a/n: sorry ig. anywho! this is for @ressonancee my beloved ^^ and thank u @cheolhub for reading over this 4 me and @lovelyhan for beta reading c:

smut tags. fem bodied reader, fingering, pet names (angel), creampie

If there was anyone to ever get through this life With their heart still intact, they didn't do it right

Your friends tell you that you should have seen it coming.

They’re right, in retrospect—you should have seen it coming—but that isn’t so easy. It can’t ever be easy when you love Jeon Wonwoo, and that’s because loving Jeon Wonwoo is as easy as breathing.

You wonder if you let yourself love him too easily. Too much, you dare say, because you’re starting to realize that when you love too much, Wonwoo begins to stitch himself into the very walls that build up your life.

The needle must have pricked on your first day of high school when you saw him for the first time after summer. Loving him was easy then, because he smiled so brightly and patted your head so fondly you could melt into his arms. It must have sunk a little deeper on your guys’ first prom, when he asked you out with a poster and cheap flowers because it was the only thing his crappy life-guarding job could afford. Loving him was easy then, because he pressed his lips to your cheek and held you close.

Loving Wonwoo was taking a breath of air. You don’t get to think twice before you inhale, and so you never thought twice about loving Wonwoo. Maybe that’s why he stitched himself a little too deep, and now you’re wondering when exactly did the thread cut loose.

It couldn’t have been in college, no, because Wonwoo agreed to study in the same city as you in a heartbeat; because you made love for the first time in your creaky little dorm bed after kicking your roommate out; because through those four years, you were still breathing and you were still loving and that thread was so deeply rooted that it might as well have been a part of your soul.

Late nights on campus when you would sit in the library together and pretend you were studying. Pretend, because loving Wonwoo was too easy and one teasing glance turned into another before the two of you would be giggling like school kids until you were kicked out for being too loud.

Scurrying away with your bags stuffed with unfinished notes to makeout behind some building under the dingy yellow light of a lampost, his lips sucked your breath away, but that’s okay because even if you weren’t breathing, you were loving Wonwoo and that was more than enough.

It couldn’t have been when you moved in together after graduation, because that first night Wonwoo danced with you in your barren living room to the staticky radio the landowner left behind, and when he looked at you it was with flames in his eyes. You loved Wonwoo too easily, and so you forgot that all fires die eventually. Sometimes, when you close your eyes, you still imagine you can feel the embers.

You conclude that it must have happened slowly.

To love Wonwoo was to breathe, but you failed to realize that it is not always easy breathing.

You should have listened to your friends. Being high school sweethearts was a high—it was your peak, you realize now. You and Wonwoo were hiking towards a goal—to make this work—and somewhere along the climb you must have gotten lost.

Breathing was no longer easy because the air was thinning, but of course, that happens slowly. So slowly, you aren’t sure you’ll ever find out exactly when that thread snapped; you’ll only ever know when you finally felt its whiplash.

You wake up rather early for a Sunday morning. You’d like to blame it on the empty spot next to you, but you rather enjoy the extra space.

(You feel plenty warm on your own anyways.)

There’s a rustling outside your bedroom, coming from down the hall, and you aren’t quite sure what he’s doing.

(You’re even less sure if you’re bothered enough to find out.)

You glance at the time. 7:17. You figure you might make use of your early waking, slipping from beneath the covers to leave the room. There’s something heavy in the air when you do, and you feel it in every thudding step you take.

(Does he hear the rumbling as deeply as you do?)

“Wonwoo,” you call out, when you walk into the kitchen to find him pressed against the counter, mindlessly scrolling through his phone.

(When was the last time you called him “Won?” “Woo?” “Love?”)

“What is it?” he asks when you stand by the island, looking up from his phone, but the screen still stays on. You want him to turn it off, but then you think again.

(Why should he?)

Wonwoo glances back at his phone when you take too long to respond. You click your tongue and shake your head, turning away. “I forgot.”

(Ask me, ask me, ask me. Ask me if I’m okay.)

Silence follows as Wonwoo leaves the kitchen to grab a bag from the pantry. “I’m going to the farmers’ market now. It’s my turn this week.”

(When did you stop slipping into the car together, Wonwoo’s thumb brushing over your thigh as you sing along to the morning blues? When did you stop holding hands, skipping through the market, grabbing samples, and feeding each other through hushed giggles and soft-lipped kisses? When did you start taking turns?)

“Do you remember what you wanted to say?”

(If you held out your hand, would he take it?)

“Remember to get the tomatoes.”

(Loving Wonwoo is too easy, and maybe that’s why you never really noticed when you stopped.)

You imagine this would hurt less if there was a ring on your finger. It isn’t difficult to admit you married the wrong person, tied by legalities and social burdens pressed down on you.

It’s harder to say you’re bound by a love that once was.

It’s okay, in some ways; you’ve learned to live with it. Most days, you two work your way around the elephant in the room. But today, you’re tired. You’re so, so tired and it’s getting just a little too hard to ignore that the calf has grown into something much, much bigger.

Loving Wonwoo was like breathing, and now it’s hitting you that you’re at a loss for air. When you step through the front door, you think everything might give out.

Wonwoo sits on the living room couch on his laptop, and you aren’t sure what he’s doing, but you think it hardly amounts to any level of importance right now. “Wonwoo? Wonwoo?” you call out and there’s something in your voice—like you’re searching for him even though he’s right there—and Wonwoo just caves.

There’s worry laced into his tone when he calls your name and for a second, you think things have already been mended. The stitches feel as they have tightened and you let yourself dream that this will be your rebound, but then you realize that Wonwoo is only concerned because your eyes are welling with tears and you’re staggering against the wall, limbs trembling and lids heavy. He stumbles a little to get to you, and you think that Wonwoo always used to find it easy to come to you.

(When did things change?)

“Hey, what’s wrong? You’re crying—” When Wonwoo grabs your arm, you kiss him fiercely, not because you feel fiercely, but because you hope it will ignite something tonight.

Kissing Wonwoo is almost as easy as it was to love him. Years and years of his lips against yours and now it’s just like second nature, the way your tongues glide and prod into each other’s mouth. Wonwoo’s lips are chapped, and he tastes faintly of the coffee that sits on the corner table.

(Wonwoo likes to make it on the French Press, for 4 minutes and 15 seconds to be precise, with a dash of milk and 3 cubes of sugar.)

“Wonwoo,” you whine like your throat knows so well—hoarse and desperate just how he likes and tonight it works, because Wonwoo is wrapping his arms around your waist and kissing you deeper. His palms dig into your flesh so hard you want to cry—but you’re already crying—so you press your face into his neck and suck instead.

He groans into you, his hands slipping underneath the hem of your shirt, and so you move on to suck and lick against him again because you once loved the sound of his breathy moans and you’re convinced that if you hear it just once more, it might just make you fall right back in love.

It doesn’t, but you’re not really surprised. His hands are running all over your waist, your stomach, and still, it feels good, at least for now. You know Wonwoo knows how to make you feel good, after all, it was just that he never really did it anymore.

(No hard feelings though, because when was the last time you unbuckled his belt and palmed him through his boxers like you’re doing right now?)

Warm hands creep up, brushing over your hard nipples, pinching and tweaking between deft fingers, and you throw your head back and moan. You’ve always been a bit sensitive there, and as he roughly yanks the buttons of your work shirt loose, Wonwoo uses what he knows to his full advantage.

“Bedroom,” you breath out, tangling your fingers into the short hair at the nape of his neck, tugging softly. If it hurts, Wonwoo doesn’t say anything.

(Has he ever told you if it hurts?)

He nods, limbs still tangled with yours as your feet follow the silent path down the hallways. You stumble through the door together and your back is hitting the mattress before you can even discern what is left and what is right.

(When was the last time your bed felt this warm?)

“Angel,” Wonwoo mumbles into your mouth, pulling away just an inch to slip the shirt off his head. “Angel,” he says more intensely this time, speaking from his throat and oh this will be your undoing, because you are no longer Wonwoo’s angel but for this moment, you two can pretend.

Shimmying your shirt and bra off, you leave it fall on top of Wonwoo’s on the ground before playing back down on the sheets and opening your legs. He’s got his hands at your waistband, yanking the pants right off your legs and something about the way the cool air hits your bare skin makes your ache run a little deeper.

“Wonwoo,” you mewl, reaching for his face so you can smash his lips into yours once more. He doesn’t taste much like coffee anymore. Now, he just tastes like Wonwoo.

(You aren’t sure which you prefer.)

“Oh fuck,” he moans against your cheek when he grinds down into you, bulge pressing against your thigh as your body grows warmer and warmer.

(Is this the fire you so desperately tried to light?)

With your hands caged around his cheeks, Wonwoo looks at you with heavy lidded eyes and you wonder what he’s thinking, what he’s feeling. There was a time where you could tell, but that time has passed and now you’re panting into his neck when he brings his fingers up to your soiled panties.

Rubbing against the nub over the slick fabric, your blood buzzes and your back arches into his touch, legs spreading and spreading until they have no further to go. “So beautiful,” Wonwoo tells you, thumb circling over clothed clit as your tits heave up and down in tandem with your harsh breaths.

(Beautiful, because you are beautiful. You’ll always be beautiful, but being beautiful will not always matter.)

“More,” you whine, thrashing against the sheets when his thumb is no longer enough. Hooking your finger under your panties and tugging it to the side, your core is all shiny and flutter and beautiful when it’s on display to Wonwoo.

His finger is in your cunt before you can plead with him again, because now is not the time to make you beg. It has not been the time to make you beg in a long, long time. One turns into two and soon you’re moaning incoherently as his knuckles plunge into you, caressing your warm walls so methodically one would think it’s ingrained into Wonwoo’s very DNA.

You feel yourself coming close to your end and so you wrap your fingers around his wrist to make him stop. He looks up at you and—oh, those eyes—his lips are on yours again, so your legs wrap around his bare torso as you roll around in the sheets.

If you think hard enough, it feels like one of those blissful mornings. The ones you see in movies, lovers entangled in nothing but kisses and souls as they exist in the world they’ve built up in their head. You imagine that could have been you and Wonwoo, if only you had found your way back home.

Soon, you’re pushing him onto his back against the headboard as he kicks off his pants and boxers, and there you are, climbing onto his lap, pressing your naked back to his chest. Settling the back of your head in the crook between his neck and shoulder, you lift your hips just high enough so Wonwoo can hold the fat head of his tip against your swollen folds, and you brace yourself.

There’s a mangle moan that erupts from both of your lips when you sink down, and for a second, you almost fall back in love. He’s filled you to the brim as you shake above him, adjusting to the size and you wonder if Wonwoo has always made you feel this full. So full you feel you might implode if you get any closer, but still, you dig your heels into the mattress and grind down anyways. If you’re going to burn tonight, you might as well enjoy this while it lasts.

Wonwoo’s throbbing inside of you, hands holding their iron grip on his waist as he helps you lift yourself up and then bounce right back down. You can’t see the look on his face, but you imagine he’s got his bottom lip pulled between his teeth, eyes shut, and eyebrows pinched together every time your cunt envelopes his cock.

“Angel,” he mutters into your ear when you reach one hand up to grab at his hair. One of his own large hands grabs at your tits, squeezing the soft flesh as your hips begin to swivel more and more erratically. Wonwoo teeths at your neck and collarbone, leaving splotchy red marks that you’re sure will bruise the next morning.

(No worries though, they’ll fade eventually.)

“Fuh … fuck,” you cry when your stomach starts to churn and your vision starts to grow bleary. It’s so much—so, so much, and you start to think that your body won’t be able to handle much more when your limbs grow limp. Wonwoo starts to fuck upwards and into you now, and the sound of skin slapping against skin leaves a ringing in your ears.

Just a little more. Just a little more. You’re sure Wonwoo feels it too, and thus his hips jerk just a little bit harder and his grip grows just a little bit tighter.

When you cum, it’s with Wonwoo’s name on your tongue. It’s broken and it’s strangled, but it is there and he soon follows suit, moaning about his beloved angel into your skin from behind as he spills his hot seed into you.

You’re both messy all over—sweat and cum and drool slips between your bodies and you should feel gross, but your body still trembles with the aftershocks of your orgasm and you find yourself reveling in bliss.

You sober up a few minutes later, but still, you sit in a haze.

Nuzzling into Wonwoo’s neck, you search for a fire—a spark of anything, really. Desperately, you rake for a glimmer of heat in his heart, and as you begin to grow colder and colder you drift.

Did you douse the flame? Months ago? Years ago? Or did it fizzle out on its own? You learn that you won’t ever know. Wonwoo probably won’t ever know either, so you figure if there’s one way you’ll spend eternity with him, it’ll be in ignorance.

You’ll start packing your things tomorrow. You’re sure Wonwoo will understand.

For now, he wraps an arm around your stomach and presses his mouth to your shoulder, and the soft brush of his lips makes you shudder. Your friends were right: all good things come to an end, but you figure that if this is how they come to a close, you don’t really mind.

And all things end All that we intend is scrawled in sand Or slips right through our hands And just knowing That everything will end Won't change our plans When we begin again

a/n. reading this over i was like owie why did they do that and then i realized that i wrote this and now i’m kind of wondering why i decided to do this to myself in the first place but it was fun so i don’t rly care

taglist. @xenkimmie @lesdevoeux @cheolism @namjoonbaby @listxn @scuzmunkie @binwons @lskjki @h34rts4chira @kazuhateez @imlilstitious @yogurttea @lynnxworld @jeanjacketjesus @meowmeowminnie @soonhoonietrash @caratlove10 @cottoncheol @synthetickitsune @ixayjun @leejihoonownsmyheart @dahliatopia @gyuswhore @hoeforcheol @5xiang @hajimelvr @miriamxsworld @lixiel0ver @josefines-things @mimisxs @kawennote09 @bbyjjunie @rubyreduji @marzmeltdown @todorokiskitten @98-0603 @hipsdofangirl @nikkixpenguin @minnie-mouser22 @minhui896 (strikethrough could not be tagged)

#wonwoo fanfic #wonwoo x reader #wonwoo smut #wonwoo angst #jeon wonwoo x reader #jeon wonwoo smut #svt smut #svt angst #seventeen angst #📝 writing

[delulu-with-wandanat]

Hey. So how about big sis Natasha and little sis reader. (They live in an orphanage called the red room)

Jock Nat finds out that her nerd little sis is getting bullied by the cheer squad. Protective Nat isn't having any of it ..... even if she has to fight with her best friend, cheer cap Wanda ...... ?

Please and thank you 😊

Sweater Weather

Reader Description: She/her, nerdy, often wears an outer, freshman.

Pairings: Natasha Romanoff x Sister!Reader, Wanda Maximoff x Natasha Romanoff

Warnings: Bullying, mentions of suicide.

Summary: Wanda and Natasha are friends, maybe even more. People love a classic jock and cheerleader trope. However when Natasha finds out that Wanda's little groupie had been bullying her little sister, it puts a strain on their relationship. Will Wanda be able to redeem herself?

⧗ᗢ⧗ᗢ⧗

They always said high school was the best time of your life, at least that's what they said in movies or whatever the hell that guy said in that crappy TV show, 'Highs and lows of high school football'.

Y/n thought it was stupid. The show, and high school. It could be that it's true, that this was supposed to be the best time of her life. Yet perhaps that only applies to the popular kids and the jocks who wouldn't stop reminiscing about the 'good old times.'

The amount of alumni that would go back to her class and just talk to the teacher even though they only graduated like a few months ago was insane. And most of the time Y/n could tell they are one of those popular kids. Y/n could only hope her sister doesn't end up like that when she graduates.

Natasha Romanoff, star of Westview High. Captain of the softball team. And is probably dating the hot cheerleader captain, Wanda Maximoff. Natasha is proud, confident, she strides through the hallway like she owns the school. Contrast to her sisters who stray away from the spotlight, Yelena Belova and Y/n Romanoff.

Well... perhaps only Y/n. If Y/n would put them into high school stereotypes, Yelena would probably fall under the 'Cool' kids category. One where people know her and thought she's fun to be around with, she's funny, sarcastic. People knew Yelena, and Yelena knew people, but only sticks to her group of friends and not all that into popularity. Y/n thinks that's the best type of category to be in.

You fit in with everyone, and everyone just chills with you. Unfortunately for Y/n, she got the worst hierarchy in high school society.

The nerds.

Being a nerd isn't necessarily a bad thing... Well, that's what her sisters always tells her at least. But really it's hard to believe that when she gets cornered by two cheerleaders in the bathroom, how cliche.

"Hey girl!" Shannon, probably the bitchiest out of the whole cheerleading squad. "What are you doingg?" She asked with faux interest.

Y/n doesn't answer and merely kept her head down while she washes her hand.

"Don't be rude!" The other cheerleader bumped her hips while giggling to Shannon. "Oh. My. God. I LOVE your sweater, where'd you get it?"

Christ, they literally are a walking stereotype. Y/n knew they weren't interested in her sweater, this was just one of those teasing that these plastic bitches love to do. "It was my mother's..."

"And was your mom like... an old hag?" Well that was just too far, the only thing Y/n had from her birth mother was this sweater after she died in the house fire. Y/n stayed silent.

The two kept giggling while side eyeing her on the side, occasionally re-applying their make up in the mirror. Y/n quickly finishes up, not wanting to be around them any longer. She quickly left the bathroom but she heard the two giggling and talking about her behind her back.

This has been going on for months ever since she started high school. Honestly, Y/n should be used to it at this point. But that comment about her sweater crossed the line and she needed to leave quick before things escalated.

Y/n spent the rest of the day with her head down, minding her own business and eating lunch alone at the cafeteria. Normally she would sit with her friends, Shuri and Peter, the two other nerds, but they were attending some competition at the moment.

All the while, Natasha was sitting at a different table with her group of friends which was mostly made up of her teammates and the some of the Baseball boys.

"All I'm saying is if you don't ask her out, I will." Carol said with a mouthful of food.

"And I will kick you out of the team, Danvers." Natasha narrowed her eyes at Carol.

"Seriously, just ask her out. The tension is so thick I can practically punch through it."

Natasha merely rolled her eyes, but her gaze ended up locking onto a brunette who was sitting at another table. Green orbs met hers, and Wanda gave her the sweetest smile. Natasha couldn't help but to avert her gaze whilst trying to hide the grin creeping onto her face.

"Ugh, I'm going to barf." Clint said as he fake gagged. Natasha punched his shoulder lightly and he winced.

"Shut up before I show Laura that horrendous hair you had in 6th grade."

"Don't you fucking dare-"

The group fell into an easy conversation, talking about their plans after school. Showing each other funny videos they found while scrolling through social medias. Everything wasn’t out of the ordinary until suddenly they heard yelling from another table.

"Leave me alone!" The voice yelled, normally Natasha would ignore it but when the voice belonged to her little sister, her head snapped to the source.

The cafeteria was silence, some whispers could be heard. The cheerleader table fell into a hushed giggling, occasionally glancing at Y/n's table. Natasha narrowed her eyes slightly and returned her gaze to Y/n. She could see Shannon Carter sitting at the same table with her, wait are they friends or...??

"Was that Y/n?" She heard Clint's voice.

Y/n was quickly got up from her seat, feeling uncomfortable at the amount of eyes on her. She was in the verge of tears, but manages to hold it through until she was out of sight. Natasha quickly got up from her seat, which caught the attention of the rest of the group.

"Where are you going??" Carol asked.

"I'm just gonna check up on my sister." Her friends simply nod, knowing how protective Natasha is over her family.

Natasha made a note to slow her walk as she passed the cheerleader table, with her perceptive ear she manages to caught a few sentence. "She's probably so poor, that's why she has no other clothes to wear." She heard Shannon said. Fashion police much? Especially when she dresses like a basic bitch-

"Maybe it's vintage." She heard Wanda responded with a little bit of an attitude. Wanda notices Natasha passing by and greeted her, only for Natasha to glare and ignore her. She may like Wanda, but no one messes with her little sister.

She navigates her way through the hallway, trying to find Y/n. Damn it where is she?

Think, Natasha, think! Where would she go?

She trusted her instinct and it led her to the music room, surely enough, someone was playing the piano. Natasha peeked through the window and saw a glimpse of a familiar y/h/c hair, she opened the door and her sister was slightly alarmed, but ultimately let out a sigh of relief upon noticing it was only Natasha.

"Hey Nat."

Natasha gently smiled and took a seat beside her. Y/n's hand danced on the keys gracefully, filling the room with soft tunes.

"You wanna tell me what happened?"

Y/n shook her head, and Natasha didn't budged. Natasha simply let her head rest on Y/n's shoulder listening to her play. Y/n finishes and started to play another piece, one that was special to them. Natasha recognize the song as soon as Y/n played the intro. 'Love of my life' by Queen.

"Mom would be proud of you." Natasha said in a soft tone.

Y/n didn't answer, yet she had a soft smile on her face as she played the piano. Their mother used to play this song when they were younger. Natasha, Yelena, and Y/n would huddle around her and watched as their mother skillfully moved her fingers across the keys. They would fight over who could play the piano first, as they all wanted to be as skilled as their mother.

But ultimately, Y/n was the only one who inherited her talents. They didn’t talk and only enjoyed the soft tunes of from the piano for a little while, with Natasha occasionally humming to the lyrics.

When the song ended, the room was filled with silence. After a few moments, Y/n finally spoke up. “I don’t… Feel like going back today.”

Natasha nodded, she knew Y/n had meant the orphanage. They refused to call that dump a home. That orphanage shouldn’t even exist in the first place.

“You want to crash at Clint’s?”

“I’m not that close with him, beside, I kinda feel bad to his parents.”

“I’m sure it’ll be alright, you want me to ask him?”

Y/n nodded and let out the breath she was holding, one less thing to worry about. “I didn’t mean to make a scene, they just went too far today.”

Natasha’s eyes shifted in confusion, she lift up her head that was resting on her sister’s shoulder to face her. “What do you mean?”

“They kept teasing me about the sweater, cause I kept wearing it almost everyday.”

“Well they should mind their own business.” Natasha said with a slight venom in her voice.

“It’s ok, I’m used to it. It’s just because It’s mom’s y’know?”

Wait… “What? What do you mean by used to it??”

“I mean, it’s not a big deal-“

“No.” Natasha said firmly and turned to face Y/n fully. “No, it is a big deal. You’re telling me they’ve been bullying you?”

The younger Romanoff sighed, “You could call it that. But they never went as far as teasing, Nat. It’s fine.” Y/n knew how over protective her big sister could be.

In the Red Room, Natasha would not hesitate to punch someone if they messed with Y/n or Yelena. The other girls at the orphanage was afraid of Natasha because of it. As much as Y/n appreciates it, she didn’t exactly wanted to be known only as Natasha’s puny little sister.

Especially now that she’s in high school, where she could make a name for herself. Unfortunately high school stereotypes chooses you, not the other way around.

“Please just don't make a fuss about it.” Y/n said, hoping to change the subject but to no avail. Natasha was stubborn.

“It was Shannon Carter wasn’t it? I saw her sitting next to you before you left.” Oh well rest in peace Shannon. No point in trying to cover her fake ass now-

“If I say yes will you promise not to do anything?” Natasha gritted her teeth, she was about to protest but Y/n cut her off. “Nat, I'm being serious. I really, REALLY, just want to stay out of drama. Living in the orphanage is already hell, I don't need the teasing to go further because they know I'm your little sister."

Shannon better thank the gods because if not for Y/n, she would've need to book a plastic surgery appointment. Natasha reluctantly agreed to drop the subject. What matters now is cheering up Y/n.

An idea popped up in her head and Natasha playfully bumped their shoulders, "Hey, you wanna skip school?" She asked with a smirk.

Y/n furrowed her eyebrows, "Wouldn't we get in trouble?"

"Only if you get caught. Come on! I'm pretty sure Yelena's skipping too." It took a while to convince the younger Romanoff, but eventually they were out of the school's boundaries in no time. It was kind of embarrassing that her first time skipping school was with her big sisters, but nevertheless, Y/n thought it was fun.

And she wouldn't want it any other way.

Three days later, Natasha had been trying to avoid Wanda and her cheer squad. Because if she didn't, she would've probably punch Shannon Carter straight in the face. Unfortunately for her, fate wasn't exactly on her side.

While Natasha was opening her locker, Wanda approached her with that adorable smile. "Hey." Wanda greeted her shyly. It was strange really, the girl was different when she wasn't around her friends. Natasha found it rather adorable to see this other side of Wanda.

"Hi." Natasha responded with a kind smile, ok she may be a little upset at Wanda. But really, can you blame her? Wanda's extremely cute.

"Uh... I was just wondering if you wanted to go somewhere after practice, maybe get some food or whatever?" Wanda asked with hopeful eyes.

Natasha desperately wanted to say no. Mainly because she didn't want to associate with people who are friends with her sister's bully, unfortunately she is merely a teenager with raging hormones. "Yeah, sure."

Wanda then beamed in delight, "Ok! So uh, I'll see you then." They both then went to their respective class, both with a smile on their face.

Practice was hell that day, I mean fuck, she gets that competition was around the corner but today's drill was insane. At this point, Natasha thinks their coach is just trying to kill them. Thankfully they were done for the day and she's got a date with a hot cheer captain.

Natasha finishes up in the locker room with the other softball girls, they had to change rather quickly as they shared the locker room with the cheerleaders. Though they didn't mind sharing, it just gets a little crowded. Natasha felt a tap on her shoulder and turned around to be greeted by those beautiful green eyes.

"Hey! I won't take long. Meet you outside?" Wanda asked.

Natasha nods, "Sure, I'm just finishing up. Text me when you're done." She responded rather shyly, only Wanda Maximoff could make her all fuzzy feeling.

Wanda smiled at her and returned to her place with her friends. Natasha went back to packing up the last of her equipments. Pants, towel, glove, and- shit where's my shoes?

"Did you guys see Y/n today?" Natasha tensed the moment she heard Shannon's voice.

"About time she wash that sweater." Another cheerleader said.

"Honestly, I bet it smells so bad." Sharron giggles. "It's not like her taste got any better, all of her clothes looked worn down."

"Guys stop it." Wanda said, gaining attention from her friends. Oh ok good to know she wasn't- "It's called being indie." Fucking hell, Natasha clenched her jaw. Trying to hide her disappointment.

The girls giggled and another one spoke up, "Does her parents not love her enough to buy her new clothes."

"I heard her parents died."

"If I was her mother, I would've killed myself too-" Sharron was quickly slammed against the locker by none other than Natasha Romanoff. Causing all the girls to look at her in shock. "What the fu-"

Natasha couldn't contain her anger and gave her another rough shoved, she didn't care that Wanda was witnessing the whole confrontation. "Go on. What else do you have to say, Carter?"

Sharron was lost for words, she could barely utter a word. "I-"

"What more do you have to say about my sister?" Shit.

"S-Sister?" Sharron manages to ask.

"If you so much as glance at her I won't hesitate to permanently damage your face. Got it?" Sharron didn't need to be told twice. The venom in Natasha's voice scared her to her core. She nodded frantically. "Same goes for the rest of you." That was all that Natasha said before hastily taking her leave.

The audacity of these girls.

Natasha stomps her way out of the locker room. She was filled with too much anger and disappointment. One, they insulted her sister. Two, they brought up her parents as well. And three, the fact that Wanda was no better than them. Her friend, her best friend, one she had a crush on, and maybe even love. Was a down right bitc-

"Natasha wait!" Speak of the devil.

Natasha tried to ignore her and made her way out of the school through the field. Wanda manages to catch up to her and pulled her to a stop. Yet Natasha pulled her hand away just as quick, it tore Wanda's heart. "What the hell do you want?!"

"Natasha please, I- I didn't know Y/n was your sister-" Wanda tried to reason. That made her furious.

"And if she wasn't, would it make in any better to bully someone?" Natasha asked. "Just- Leave me alone. I don't want to associate myself with someone like you." Natasha spat.

Wanda knew she was wrong, there's no denying that. But she didn't want to lose Natasha, her best friend. "Tasha, wait please just listen!"

"I have nothing more to say." Natasha started walking away again towards the parking lot, and she made it clear nothing Wanda had to say would make her listen. So, Wanda ran to stand in front of her to stop her track. Guilt smeared across her face.

"Look, I'm sorry. I really am!" She pleaded.

"I'm not the one you owe an apology too."

"I will, I promise. I just- I don't want to lose our friendship..."

Neither did Natasha. She genuinely liked Wanda, their friendship, and... well, Wanda. But nobody messes with her family. "You did that when you bullied my sister."

Wanda tried to defend herself, because yes she maybe have joined the conversation with her friends just to stay on topic, but she never actually teased Y/n. She never outright bullied her, or corner her in the bathroom. All she did was chime in here and there when their friends talked shit about other people. It doesn't make it any better, In any way It was pathetic.

But can you really blame her? She was merely a teenager trying to fit in.

Before Wanda could even explain herself, Natasha held up her hand to stop her. "Safe it. I don't ever want to speak to you."

"No... No, please. Natasha just listen-" Wanda was cut off by a honk of a car. They glanced to see Clint in a car with the window's down.

"Come on, lovebirds! I'm your chauffeur for the night." He clearly missed out on a few episodes.

Natasha quickly approached the car and got into the passenger seat. "Just drive, Clint. Date's canceled."

One of the things Natasha appreciates from Clint is that he understood her better than anyone. And seeing Natasha's distressed face, he drove out of the parking lot without another word. He gave Wanda a quick look of apology before rolling up his window.

Wanda watched as Clint's car drove out of the school boundaries. She felt sick to her stomach, tears pooling in her eyes. Wanda's heart broke into a million pieces. Not only did Natasha hated her, but she also ruined their friendship.

What can she do to restore it?

Hellooo, sorry this took a whilee. I've had many projects to do it makes my brain dead to write anything. Anyway I hope you enjoy this one! I'm planning to make a part 2, hopefully their relationship is not doomed😩

#natasha romanoff #wanda maximoff #wandanat #natasha #wanda x natasha #wlw #wanda #wandanat hs au #wandanat au #wandanat fanfic #wandanat x platonic!reader #natasha x you #natasha x sister!reader #natasha x sibling!reader #moffnoff #natasha x reader #natasha x wanda #wanda maximoff x natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x wanda maximoff #also i don't have beef with sharron carter #her name is just mean girlable

[babybluebex]

*claps hands together* okay SO. listen. even though i know some people dont like it, i am kind of a sucker for “tomboy character gets femmed up and male protagonist falls for them hard” cliche, and imagining that with a fem!reader (or just a kinda fem enby like myself) who’s one of eddies childhood friends SENDS me 😭 ofc no pressure!! your writing is wonderful as always and take all the time you need 🥰

𝐟𝐨𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐢𝐧 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you’re not exactly a girly-girl, but, after corroded coffin is booked to play prom, you decide to surprise your best friend with a dress and a confession. 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: eddie munson (stranger things) x fem!reader 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: tomboy!reader, a LOT of fluff, brief blood mention 𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: eek thanks for sending in this request! i had such a good time writing it!

You didn’t usually give much thought to dances or school functions, or really school at all. All of the events, be it homecoming or the Snowflake Ball or that weird assembly about saying no to drugs, were a complete snooze fest. Even prom irked you. Who would actually want to hang around the gymnasium and drink flat punch for hours and listen to whatever crappy band was hired out for the night? The concept of it never struck any flame inside you, so you never cared about it. 

Until this prom. Until Corroded Coffin. 

“How the fuck,” you started, tossing a crumb at Eddie as he strutted proudly around the lunch table. “Did you manage to get Higgins to hire your sorry-ass band to play prom?” 

“I can be persuasive!” Eddie returned quickly, dodging your crumb with a smile. “Anyway, I also told him that it would motivate me in my schoolwork.”

“How would that…” you began with a roll of your eyes. “Never mind, I don’t wanna know how you smooth-talked that away. So, you’ve got your Saturday booked up. What happened to renting Halloween, like we talked about?” 

“We can still do that,” Eddie told you quickly. “Prom officially ends at 11, then I’ve got the rest of the night for my favorite girl.” 

Your heart swept up into your throat as he passed behind you, his hand lightly trailing your shoulder. You and Eddie had been through thick and thin since meeting, way back in preschool, and he loved you like you were his sister. You, however, had something festering in your heart. 

It had happened back years ago, despite the awful buzzed hairstyle that he had rocked all through junior high. Somewhere between seventh and eighth grade, you had developed a huge crush on your best friend, one that had consumed every second of every day. And now, your last year of high school (and Eddie’s third senior year), your crush had managed to dull down to less all-consuming and more… Loving. 

You didn’t have a crush on your best friend, you loved him. And soon you would leave him for college. You worried if your friendship would survive the distance, but, the one time you had talked to Eddie about it, he had assured you that he would write and visit every chance he got. But, as the time drew nearer and nearer, it felt less likely to happen. He would get a job, you would move, and you’d never have time for each other, and, eventually, he would only be that guy you used to know.

Spending time with Eddie mattered to you, and you were only slightly hurt that Eddie would drop your plans to perform at the stupid fucking prom. He had never gone to prom, nor had you ever heard him express any interest in going, and you groaned at him. “Since when do you even wanna go to prom?” you asked. 

“Since I decided that this is my last chance to,” Eddie said, and he finally settled down in his chair at the head of the lunch table. “I’m fuckin’ done with Hawkins High, and I’m gonna graduate and leave this place in my dust. I don’t have anything to lose. Anyway, it’s a gig. I’ll get paid. We can rent Halloween and buy some snacks. Sounds like a good deal to me.” 

You crossed your arms over your chest. “I’m going,” you told him. 

“Going where?” Eddie asked, and you coughed out a laugh. 

“To prom, dork,” you returned. “I wanna see you guys perform.” 

“Really?” Eddie asked with a furrow of his eyebrows. “Prom isn’t my scene, but it’s really not your scene. Don’t torture yourself just ‘cause you wanna spend time with little ole me.” 

“What do you mean it’s ‘not my scene’?” you asked, and you stole a carrot off of Dustin’s lunch tray. The freshman gasped at you, and you jokingly mocked his gasp before giving him an exaggerated pout. “Prom can be my scene.” 

“You just don’t…” Eddie started. “Getting all dressed up and everything, I know you hate that.” 

“You’re right,” you sighed, slumping back in your chair. “But you never know, I might surprise you and show up. It’s just a Corroded Coffin gig, right?” 

“We’re gonna be playing dumb covers,” Eddie grumbled. “We were given a very specific list of dos and don’ts. No heavy metal, nothing vulgar—”

“So, you’re a cover band for the night,” you giggled, and Eddie scrunched up his face in fake-annoyance before he tossed a pretzel in your direction. It hit your cheek and fell down into your lap, and you grinned as you plucked it up and ate it. “I know how you feel about musical integrity, Eds.”

“Yeah, well, integrity goes out the window when you get paid,” Dustin chuckled, and Eddie flashed him a dirty look. “Well, doesn’t it?”

“Whatever,” Eddie said. “Fuck you guys. If you wanna show up to prom, do it. See if I care.” 

“I will,” you told him, and you stuck your tongue out at Eddie at the same time that he stuck his out at you. “And I’ll watch you care so much.”

Prom, unluckily for you, was only 3 days out. You hated the idea of dressing up for it, just as Eddie had predicted you would. You hated the whole glitz and glamour thing, and the thought of intentionally getting all dolled up with hair and makeup and some big dress and heels made you feel sick. But, you considered, it was for Eddie. You would do a lot for him, this included. 

The problem came with the dress. Dresses were scarce in your closet, let alone something really nice, and you knew that no stores would have anything like what you wanted that was even remotely in your price range on such a short notice. 

On the night, just hours short of prom, you chewed your lip as you held the phone to your chest, debating if you truly wanted to do this, and you rolled your eyes as you got over yourself. It was Eddie— you could show up in a potato sack and he’d still call you pretty. 

You quickly dialed Mike Wheeler’s number, rotating the dial as you tried to remember it. You had only ever called him once before, getting on his ass for being late to Hellfire last semester, but it wasn’t the younger Wheeler that you wanted to talk to. 

His mom answered the phone. “Hi, Mrs. Karen,” you said, hoping to sound sweet and charming. “Is Nancy around? I have a question for her.” 

“Why’re you calling me?” Nancy asked as the phone was passed to her, and you sighed. 

“You’re the only girl I remotely know,” you started. “And I need a dress.” 

“A dress?” Nancy repeated. “Why? Are you going to prom tonight? Don’t you have a prom dress?” 

“Well, no,” you started, curling the phone cord anxiously around your finger. “I, umm, wasn’t really planning on going to prom. But now I am, and, like I said, you’re, like, the only girl I even sorta halfway know. We were in Kaminsky’s class together sophomore year, and Mike’s in Hellfire, and I just… I need a dress. Anything! It could be a church dress, sundress, it could be anything. I just need help.” 

“Right,” Nancy said slowly. “Umm… Come over, I guess. I’ll see what I can do for you.” 

You had never even been over to Wheeler’s house before, and going to see specifically Nancy Wheeler felt odd. You especially felt weird walking into her pink-topia bedroom, wearing your ripped jeans and dirty Converse and flannel shirt that used to be Eddie’s but you had stolen off of him. To top it all off, of course, her only dress options were pink and/or glittery. But you weren’t going to be a choosing beggar, and you decided on one that was the least egregious. A strapless burst of light pink tulle that fell down to your calves hugged your frame, and you examined yourself from every angle in Nancy’s little white wicker mirror. 

“How is that?” Nancy asked, stepping behind you into the reflection. 

“I feel like a princess,” you mumbled, turning again to look at your back. 

“Is that good or bad?” Nancy asked, and you shrugged. 

“It’s…” you started. The dress showed off your dirty shoes and scrunched socks, but you sorta liked the way it looked. You felt pretty. “I think it's good.” 

“And if you let your hair down…” Nancy started softly, reaching out and shaking your hair out of the perpetual ponytail that it was in. Your hair was dented from the ponytail holder as it fell down, and you took a deep breath. “Maybe curled it… A little makeup… Is Eddie your date?” 

“No,” you scoffed, but you looked away from the mirror all the same. “No, his band is performing, and I was gonna surprise him.” 

Nancy suddenly got a smile on her face, like she knew something or understood you, and she said, “You’re trying to look nice for Eddie.”

“No, I’m not!” you said. “I… I don’t know. I just wanna… Look like I’m going to prom, I guess. It’ll shake him up, seeing me in a dress, it’s gonna be funny.” 

“Honey,” Nancy said gently. “It’s okay to wanna look nice for the guy you like. I mean, any girl would want that.”

“I don’t like Eddie—” you tried to say, but Nancy shook her head, her permed curls bouncing around her face. 

“Then why do you wanna look so nice?” Nancy asked. “You could’ve showed up in your jeans.” 

You frowned, examining the dress once more, and you sighed. “Okay, fine,” you mumbled. “I just… I like Eddie, I really like him, and I just… Maybe I do wanna look nice for him, whatever. Don’t judge me.” 

Nancy looked at your reflection for a few more quiet moments, and she finally said, “You can keep that dress. I never wear it.” 

The band was already performing by the time you showed up. Given, you had shown up a little late, but you were sure that Eddie wouldn’t mind. You were sure that, even if you hadn’t showed up at all, he wouldn’t have minded. 

That way, you would’ve missed seeing him in that dumb fucking suit. 

Suit was not exactly what it was. It was a tuxedo, black, with a white shirt that had some frilly bullshit on the chest. You could tell that Eddie was despising the black bowtie around his neck and the cumberbund around his middle, and you also knew for a fact that he was hating every second of having his hair pulled back into a ponytail. You almost wanted to laugh at him. Your hand came up to cover your mouth to hide your laughter, as if he could see you from across the gym. 

Eddie was standing very still as he played his guitar, some gentle-paced love song that couples all around the gym were slow dancing to. You had seen him play guitar before, and you knew that he usually played with all of the energy in his body, headbanging and jumping around. You had wiped blood off of his face before after he had rammed his head into the headstock of his guitar, even. He looked miserable, and you frowned. Poor Eddie. 

You weaved through the dancing couples to make it up to the small stage, and Eddie’s dark eyes found you in an instant. You waved at him carefully, not wanting to draw his attention away from the song for too long, but that failed in an instant. He had already missed a cord and, as his hands floundered to get back on track, he struck a sour note. 

You saw him mutter something that looked like “Fuck it”, and he pulled his guitar up and over his head before he said something in Jeff’s ear. Then, he jumped down from the stage and, smugly adjusting his bowtie, swaggered up to you. 

“Alright, cut that shit out,” you laughed as he approached you. “I can tell you’re not having a good time.” 

“Jesus Christ, am I that easy to figure out?” Eddie asked, dropping his hand from his tie. “I hate this fucking monkey suit.” 

“You look like the kid from Back To The Future,” you giggled. “That tux is hideous, Eds.” 

“Kinda felt like him too,” Eddie mumbled. “My hands stopped playing when I saw you. Holy shit, by the way! You look—”

“Hideous?” you repeated with a shrug. “I know.” 

“Beautiful,” Eddie said breathlessly. His eyes were canvassing your whole body, from your curled hair to your pink-painted lips to your dress, and even down to your scuffed Converse and scrunched-up socks. “I didn’t know you had this in you.”

“Shut up,” you laughed, reaching out and punching Eddie’s shoulder. “If I look beautiful, then you’re downright handsome.”

“I’ll take it,” Eddie chuckled lightly, and the smile dropped off of his face. “You wanna… You wanna dance?” 

“Seriously?” you asked. “Do you really wanna dance?”

“Kinda,” Eddie shrugged, and your heart jumped in your chest. “But not if you don’t want to.” 

“Oh,” you said softly. “Well… Yeah. Sure.” 

You watched Eddie swallow thickly as he took a step towards you, and your skin rippled as he put his hands on your waist. “Have you ever slow danced before?” you asked, and Eddie shook his head. 

“No,” he said. He seemed nervous, and you were taken aback. Eddie, your high-strung best friend, never afraid and always loud, was nervous. Was he nervous to dance with you? Or was he really that insecure about the way he was dressed?

“You do look really nice,” you mumbled. “Really… Seriously handsome.”

“Thanks,” Eddie said as you circled your arms around his neck. “Umm, are my hands okay here?” 

“Yeah,” you told him. After a moment of consideration, you added, “They can go lower, on my hips, if you want.” 

“No,” Eddie said. “I like holding you here.” 

You nodded, trying not to think about his words too hard. Sure, you had hugged Eddie before, loads of times, and he always threw his gangly arms around you and squeezed hard, and he never seemed anxious about it. Your heart was racing inside your chest as you moved even closer to Eddie and rested your chin on his shoulder, letting your cheek brush his neck. Your body fit against his like the most perfect puzzle piece, and you sighed lightly. 

It was now or never. “Eds?” you whispered. His grip tightened on your waist at the gentle nickname, and you started to add, “I—”

Eddie cut you off, though, in the best way he could have. He turned his head and swiftly pressed his lips to yours, lingering for just a moment before pulling away, all too soon for your liking. “Sorry,” he said quickly. “I, umm… I’ve had the biggest crush on you for a long time. A-And you’re about to leave for college, and you look so fucking beautiful— not that you don’t look beautiful every day, I actually sorta prefer your jeans and everything— and I just, I can’t hold it back any more. I love you.”

“Eddie,” you sighed heavily, your voice trembling. “I mean… I don’t know what to say to you.”

“Tell me you love me,” Eddie whispered, and he pushed a lock of your hair behind your ear. “Tell me I didn’t just fuck everything up.” 

You looked at him, entranced by his wide, dark eyes, and you leaned back in, pressing your lips to his again. His hands fluttered on your waist for a moment before he dragged you right up against him, his palms pressing flat to your back, and his lips moved gently against yours as he kissed you. Eddie was kissing you; it was your dream come true. 

As you broke the kiss, you could feel Eddie’s heartbeat flush against your chest, and you giggled softly, looking down at your swaying feet. “I love you, you dork,” you told him. 

“You still down for Halloween later?” Eddie asked hopefully, his eyebrows raising. “Watching a scary movie with your boyfriend?” 

“Yes,” you told him with a smile. “Yes, I am so down for that. As long as you let me hide during the scary parts.” 

“I’ll kiss it better,” Eddie said. “How does that sound?”

“Perfect.”

#bex's requests #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x reader fluff #joseph quinn #eddie munson fanfic #my writing

[kazemi-archive]

I Need To Talk To You

Pairing: Akaashi Keiji x Reader

Word Count: ~1.9k

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

Warnings: Mentions of a breakup, insecurities, crying

Summary: You could tell that Keiji had been acting different. You knew it was only a matter of time before he broke up with you. But you would be damned if you didn’t try to stop the conversation from happening for as long as possible.

You couldn’t tell at what point you started to notice it. The difference. Maybe it was the third night that you fell asleep without Keiji next to you and woke up with him already gone. Maybe it was when you were packing up leftovers for him that you realized that you couldn’t remember the last time you both sat down for a meal together. Maybe it was when he was there, how he seemed to not be there mentally although he was there physically.

You knew it was coming. That it was only a matter of time. The other shoe was bound to drop at some point. Like it always did. Nothing good came for free. Especially nothing as perfect as Akaashi Keiji. You were a fool to think that it would last.

You had been trying to finish dinner for almost an hour now. Your hands were stirring on their own, the salad over-mixed at this point as your eyes zoned over to look at the shelf in the living room that was filled with memories.

A picture frame on the top shelf from your second year in high school, two movie tickets and a dirty fast food receipt taped to the frame. Your first date. Your best friend had snapped the photo. His glasses were in your hand, held behind you as you laughed. He was trying to reach behind you to grab them, smiling down at you fondly. Neither of you had been aware you were being photographed. You’d left the movies soon after, abandoning both of your best friends to go get crappy food down the street. You’d been sitting in that crappy booth with ripped leather seats when he’d asked you to be his girlfriend. The rest of the shelf was adorned with small mementos from various dates in high school.

The second shelf was decorated with different graduation photos. From your high school graduation, photos with friends. His graduation day, you smiling brightly up at him. You smiled softly as you remembered the pride you’d felt watching him walk across the stage. Your college graduation photo with him looking softly at you as you looked back in shock. Bokuto had somehow timed the photo perfectly with Keiji asking you to move in.

Everything around you was him. Everything was his. Your breath caught as you realized that you wouldn’t even know where to go. You tried to pull your focus back to the food in front of you, the second half of the meal staring at you, wildly underprepared in comparison to the salad. You could hear the door handle start to turn and for a minute you worried that you’d been in the kitchen longer than you thought. 5:17pm. He was home on time.

“Hey,” he casually greeted. You refused to turn around, worried about what it meant that he was finally on time. You could hear him toeing off his shoes as you turned your attention back to dinner, adamant on keeping myself busy.

“You’re home early, Keij, how was work?” You asked softly, listening to his steps come closer to the kitchen, his usual intrigue piquing at the food you were making.

“I finished up a lot of big projects today.” You could hear his yawn as he stopped behind you, could feel as he leaned over your shoulder, looking down what you were doing. “Dinner looks good.” You could see his black hair peek into view. You couldn’t look at him, he’d know something was wrong. The same way you knew something had been wrong with him.

“It’s almost done.” You mused and you could just make out how he tilted his head towards me to look at your face. Just as fast, you turned the opposite direction, making for the cabinet to grab more spices.

“Hey,” you hummed in response as you heard him lean against the counter next to him, trying to look at you, “I think we need to talk.”

Your movements stuttered as your blood turned to ice. Here it was. Oh god please no. “Let me finish dinner Keiji, maybe you can set the table?” You brushed past him easily and refused to meet his eyes. He sighed deeply but moved to set the table anyways. Too perfect for his own good. And probably only yours for as long as you could delay this conversation. You could only finish dinner so slowly though, especially now that he was here and you couldn’t space out thinking of the milestones you’d crossed together, all the memories that would have to leave when he did.

The second the last plate was placed on the dining table, dinner officially ready, he spoke up again. “Y/n, I need to talk to you.”

You swallowed deeply and turned on your heel. “You start dinner without me, I’m going to wash the pans before they stick.” The half-baked excuse carried you back to the sink, your hands moving on autopilot to begin washing. Anything to avoid sitting down. You could feel the stiffness in your movements, your body trying to brace for the impact that would be your life crashing down around you.

“Y/n,” Keiji had followed you into the kitchen. You could almost see the way his deep blue eyes were slightly rolling at the childishness of your actions. The eyes you usually loved; the ones you were currently refusing to meet. You knew he could see your avoidance tendencies seeping out through your seams. “Please can we-”

“You know, actually,” you cleared your throat and tried to move past him again, “I totally forgot to run the dryer again, I don’t think the clothes dried all the way.” You were almost fully past him when he caught you by your shoulders. You froze in place, fear crashing through your body like a tidal wave.

“Can you just stop for a second.” He’d raised his voice a volume, eliciting a small flinch from your otherwise still body. “I need to talk to you.” The silence after his statement was thick enough to cut with a knife. “Just sit down and stop for a second.”

You could feel the tears welling up in your eyes and you cursed them, willing the numbness to fill your body, begging to be void of emotion. “Please,” you whispered, looking down so he couldn’t see your face no matter how he tried to turn me, “please don’t make me Keiji.”

You could feel him tense up from the grip on your shoulders, “are you crying?” His voice was softer now, immediately filled with caring and comfort. He sighed and walked you slowly to the dining table, sitting you in your chair. He turned it to face away from the table and with your eyes trained on the ground, you could see as he knelt before you. “Baby, why are you crying?” His hand lifted to catch one of the tears falling from your cheek but didn’t force you to look up yet.

“Just do it Keiji.” You sniffled, voice wobbly and hands shaking. “I just wanted to put it off for the night.” You could feel the sob get caught in your throat as your tears grew stronger. “But I get it, I can tell its been coming so,” you sniffled again and tried to will your eyes to stop leaking, “you can break up with me, I’ll be okay.” You lied through your teeth. You knew that he would know that you were lying but all you could do was try.

“What?” His voice was laced with shock and your face was suddenly being forced to look at him. The first time you’d looked at his face all night. He had a hand on either side of your face, keeping your face in place, his eyes analyzing me as you did the same to him. There were bags under his eyes and a frown pulled on his lips. And his beautiful blue eyes looked almost glossed over. He looked exhausted but there wasn’t an ounce of annoyance on his features, just sadness. “You think I’m trying to break up with you?”

You could feel the tears streak down your face and collect against his palms. “Are-” you were interrupted by your own hiccup, “aren’t you?” You cast your eyes down and watched as his arms tensed but his hands still held you gently. “You-” you sniffled, “you’re never home anymore and when you are-” you cut yourself off and let out a small whimper. “I know you are. Just do it.”

“God, my sweet angel, no.” He whispered, fingers gently wiping the tears only for more to take their place. He sighed and lifted himself up. “Just stay right here for a second.” You could hear his footsteps disappear into your bedroom, followed by drawers opening and then him quickly coming back. “Baby, baby look at me please.”

Your throat constricted as you saw him kneel back in front of you, trying to be eye level with you. “Keiji-” your voice caught in your throat when your eyes finally landed on him again. He was kneeling but this time it was on one knee, a small little box in his hand.

“This is so not how I wanted to do this.” He muttered more to himself than to you. “I had this whole plan. Agonized with Bokuto for hours to plan this whole weekend for us this weekend.” He cleared his throat, a small blush creeping its way up his neck. “I’m so sorry I haven’t been home, I wanted to finish all the projects so that I could leave it all behind for the weekend, just us.” He sighed and looked back at you. You probably resembled more of a fish at this point, tears flooding your face, mouth opening and closing, searching for the right words. “I wanted to talk to you to apologize for being gone, to explain that I planned a getaway trip for us.” You quickly covered your mouth as he pried open the small box, a pretty diamond staring up at you. “L/n Y/n, please I want your name to be Akaashi Y/n. Would you-”

“Yes.” You blurted out, a new wave of tears coming.

He groaned but smiled nonetheless. “You could at least let me get the question out. This is not how I wanted to do this.” You let out a small sob as a smile creeped on your face. “I wanted happy tears only for this occasion and for it to not be done in our dining room while I probably look like I haven’t slept in a week.”

“I’m sorry.” You whispered softly as he gently grabbed your left hand to slide the ring on.

“No,” he whispered, kissing your the back of your hand before leaning up to pull you into a hug, “my sweet angel, I’m so sorry.” He sighed, mumbling into your hair, “I could never leave you, not in my wildest dreams. I never meant to make you feel like that.”

You sniffled lightly into his chest before you pulled away to look up at him. “I like the sound of Akaashi Y/n.”

He chuckled, playing with the ring now adorning your finger. “Yeah?” You hummed in response, letting him press a soft kiss to your forehead. “I do too.”

A/N: I’m happy with this. That is all. I like how it turned out. Love you all for reading 💜

#𓇻 fics

[coraniaid]

Buffy for the character asks?

General opinion/how much I care about them:  What can I say about Buffy Summers? When she was fifteen years old a representative of an ancient mystical order told her that she alone had the power to stop bad things from happening in the world, thereby confirming something she had hitherto only strongly suspected.  She had to keep a fundamental part of her life secret from the world for years but she never learned how to tell a convincing lie because she was too busy thinking up puns.  She had a 95th percentile SAT score despite mostly studying in between fighting vampires in a cemetery every night and cutting classes to sneak out of school and fight yet more vampires during the day.   All her favorite teachers died or never noticed she existed.  She is both a quintessential only child and somebody who would fight a god to save her annoying little sister.  She blackmailed the management of a fast food chain so that they would let her keep doing a minimum wage job she hated with co-workers whose last names she can’t remember.  She burned down her old high school gym and blamed it on mice and blew up her new high school library while she was at her graduation ceremony and she sunk her hometown into a giant hole in the desert and drove away in a school bus.  She died twice before she turned twenty-one.  She is one of my favorite fictional characters in any medium.

A ship I love: I didn’t really talk about why I love Fuffy in my Faith answer, so let me try now.

Of all of Buffy’s shadow selves, Faith is the one who spends the most time actually in her shadow.  She doesn’t get later character development that takes her in a different direction and makes her her own person; she didn’t start out as something else entirely and get reworked later when the plot required it.  She doesn’t even get the illusion of a family and moments of happiness, like Drusilla has in Season 2.  When Faith’s not hanging out with Buffy she’s sitting alone in her motel room or lying in a coma or counting down the months in jail.  She exists to be a version of Buffy who is not Buffy, who is worse than Buffy, who doesn’t have friends or family or any external support.  That’s really all she is.  And she knows it.  And she hates it.  How could she not?  “You get the Watcher, you get the Mom, you get the little Scooby gang … what do I get?”

Because Faith is Buffy – the part of Buffy who never came back after she ran away from home and got kicked out of school; the part who can admit to craving a little more than low-fat yogurt after a night patrolling; the part that never got to make friends with Xander and Willow in Season 1 and never had a Watcher who cared about her –  so on a fundamental level Fuffy is about Buffy accepting those suppressed and hidden angry parts of herself.  But it’s also about Faith accepting the forgotten and ignored parts of herself that are present in Buffy: the idea that she can be a hero, that there are people in the world who care about her, that there are people who she can trust.  It’s about asking what if all of the Season 3 subtext – Faith’s whole arc this season paralleling Angel’s a year ago, and “what are friends for?” and “It’s kind of a Slayer thing”, and Joyce marching in the Slayer Pride Parade – was text, and what if the show existed in a world where the characters could act on it?

And because of how Season 3 turns out, it’s also about Buffy and Faith forgiving themselves, and each other, for doing almost unforgivable things to each other.  Because there were never meant to be two of them, and they’ve never been able to tell each other what they mean, and because “kill me, you become me”, but she tried and it didn’t help.  And it’s about crappy presents and knives to the throat and forehead kisses and shared dreams and hopelessly entangled destinies.  It’s ”She could be terrified.  Maybe [...] she’s sorry and she’s alone” and “You think you matter, you think you’re a part of something, and then you get dumped” and “All my life there was one person who tried to be my friend” and “I tried so hard to help you and you spat on me” and “Willow said you needed me.  Didn’t really give it much thought.”

As much as I wish Faith was in Season 7 more, part of me is glad that this is all we got, because I really don’t think the show could ever have done all this justice. And the little we get is enough to make me a bit crazy.

A non-romantic relationship that I love: I already talked about Buffy and Willow, so I will try to subvert expectations a little here and go with Buffy and Giles.  Not the fandom version of their relationship I like to complain about where Giles is an uncomplicated Good Dad, but the messy and complicated and heartbreaking version where he just won’t allow himself to be that person.  

I mean, I think it’s very clear from the show that Giles really does care about Buffy far beyond the extent he is supposed to as a Watcher (he tries to go and fight the Master in her place! Even though he knows it would kill him!  Even though this is Season 1 of the show and we’ve not yet seen Giles fight a single vampire!) but that everything about his training and his past tells him that he shouldn’t.  Buffy cares about Giles a lot (“You can’t leave me, I can’t do this alone” / “it’s a little like having Mom back”) and it’s clear that she would really like Giles to be more involved in her life (she wants her Mom to invite him around for Christmas, she goes to his house for Thanksgiving, she tries so hard not to show how hurt she is when she confuses his attempts to be dispassionate with genuine disinterest) but Giles is convinced that he cannot be that sort of parental figure for Buffy and it would only hurt her if he tried, and so – by purposely distancing himself from her and not letting her get close to him– he ends up hurting her in exactly the way he fears.

And the tragedy is that I think Giles really does believe the line he keeps feeding Buffy about how important it is not to be “distracted” by “personal concerns”.  When Quentin Travers told him he had “a father’s love” for Buffy, Travers meant it as a rebuke – and that’s exactly how Giles takes it.  He thinks getting closer to Buffy would be bad for her!  He thinks by leaving her in Season 6 he is helping her become self-reliant and a better Slayer!  Of course he is wrong, but that’s what he thinks, and it is consistent with how he’s always thought.  It’s not character assassination or some unjust subversion of his previously established personality: it is a natural and predictable and awful thing for him to do.  And he does it because he cares about her and doesn’t know what to do about that!  He thinks she’s a much better person than he is (“she’s a hero, you see.  She’s not like us”) and he doesn’t want to bring her down to his level!  “If you care so much about [these people], why didn’t you leave town?” Ethan asked him in The Dark Age, and Giles didn’t have an answer!

The NOTP: Going to cheat a bit here (honestly, mostly because it feels a bit mean to keep picking on Xander at this point), and say that the ship I don’t like isn’t with a specific person but rather with an idea that I see applied to all sorts of ships.  Namely the idea – not supported at all by the text – that Buffy’s various romantic interests are Good People who teach Buffy important life lessons and make her a better person or protect her from the dangerous world around her.  I mean, sorry, but this is not how it works! This is a boring fantasy you have projected onto the show in place of what it was actually telling you.  The feminism of BtVS is paper-thin, but give it some credit!

In canon, Buffy absolutely does not learn from her boyfriends.  She does not rely on them for emotional support.  They all cause her more problems than they help her.  She rescues them.  She makes them better.  Honestly her boyfriends all kind of suck.  Because that’s her type!  She likes losers with no friends who are kind of obsessed about Buffy Summers! (Losers just like Faith!)

Buffy textually hates it when Angel talks down to her: we see repeatedly how furious she gets when he treats her “like a kid” or makes important decisions about their relationship on her behalf.  She doesn't mind physically upstaging Riley (“I was holding back a little”) and secretly likes it when he gets hurt because, to quote Dawn, “she says you look even cuter when you’re all weak and kitteny”. The iconic twin shots of Spike and Buffy in The Gift and After Life are deliberately staged so that Spike is looking up the stairs at Buffy and she is looking down at him (“you’re beneath me”, as she told him in Fool For Love).  And as she says later in Conversations With Dead People:  “Their opinions don’t matter.  They don’t know.  They haven’t been through what I’ve been through [...] I feel like I’m better than them.  Superior.”

So, you know, the preferred power balance is pretty explicit here! I don’t think the show is being excessively subtle. And yet people keep insisting that, oh no, Buffy learns a lot from her boyfriends, or that she can’t possibly cope without their support, or writing fanfics where they swoop in to town to rescue Buffy from trouble. But that is not who Buffy is!  She is not some unsophisticated naif or damsel in distress.  She would hate that so much!  Ship Buffy with whoever you want, but let her be Buffy!

… but also, yeah, rewatching the second season really reminded me how awful I’d have found Buffy/Xander and how glad I am that the show stops hinting at that after Becoming.  Sorry, Xander.  You can take solace in being … well, a loser with friends?

My biggest headcanon about them:  Some time after Chosen Buffy definitely goes back to college and gets that English degree she deserves.  I don’t want to think about Buffy living in a gloomy castle in Scotland and still being forever isolated from the world or about her becoming a cop with superpowers or whatever other nonsense the comics insist happens to her after the show ends.  I want her to be able to have some time off and read some poetry and make Willow jealous academically.

An idea for a fanfiction I would like to write/read about them: One day I will finish my Season 7 rewrite in which Drusilla is the Big Bad and Faith gets broken out of prison earlier and Amy and Willow get to have a proper resolution and Kennedy is another Slayer from the start and Marcie and Ethan come back for cameos and people remember that Jesse and Kendra ever existed and Dawn actually gets something to do.  But first I will probably have to start writing it.

Something that makes me think of them: Nothing makes me think of Buffy.  I choose to be like this (for some reason).

#btvs #buffy summers #asks #thanks again!

[kasewichser]

crossing a line (i)

doug remer/joe cooper (?) x gender neutral scolari!reader

wc: ~1.7k words

warnings: light swearing ig, (small & LEGAL) age gap but nothing really happens right now

a/n: this is not only my first time writing for BASEketball, but writing fics in a long time. so bear with me if my characterization is off in any way. and i havent fully figured out who im writing this about, so bear with me on that too! any feedback is appreciated!!

edit: part 2 here

As a teenager, you fell in love with living “out west” somewhere. Wisconsin was lovely, yes, but tales of California filled your eyes with stars. So, you made it your goal to reach The Golden State. At fifteen, you started to work after school, saving up money from your crappy cashier job to afford out-of-state schooling. You even took a gap year to secure enough money. Unfortunately, you couldn't afford a California lifestyle even on a scholarship and with your saved-up funds. Luckily, you had applied for backup schools in the northwest. You chose a school in Seattle because you heard it was nicer than the schools in Oregon that you applied to. And that's how you ended up moving to Washington for school. It had been a hard choice and an even harder goodbye with your brother.

Despite the six-year age gap you two shared, you and Kenny were really close. He, despite his short stature, was always the protective big brother, sometimes to an extreme. And as a kid, you found it overbearing, as an adult you mostly found it endearing.  While you two had kept in contact over the years, you hadn't had a chance to see him in person since you left. At first, it was because school and work kept you busy plus you figured that after the sport he and some old friends of his created, he was pretty busy himself.

But, eventually, you stopped talking to him because you dropped out of school after about a year & a half. The expenses built up, you couldn’t keep up with the workload and it was stressing you out far more than it should, so you dropped out, mid-semester. And the fear of being shamed for that decision had made you never want to return to Wisconsin. You even stopped watching Beers’ games for awhile because even seeing your brother on TV made you feel guilty. You avoided calling him, but would always answer if he called you. When he asked about school, you lie, saying it was going great, but keeping it vague. And as much as you missed your brother, you didn’t want to have to face him. But, as luck would have it, he would call you after the season had ended and arranged your coming home. He’d brought you the plane ticket and told you that you were going to be on that plane. The excitement, fear and guilt you felt was indescribable. You were excited to see him because finally it would mean the Scolari’s were back together, but the fear of disappointing your brother was immense. 

Kenny had picked you up from the airport and the two of you were driving back to his place. The trip was fairly quiet as part of you didn’t want to there, but everything else was quiet as well. The road, the radio, the wind. The silence felt awkward to you, but you just telling yourself that your brother didn't notice it.

“By the way, I forgot to tell Coop and Remer you’re coming...” He explained, flashing his eyes over to you. Your eyes widened a little, recalling the names and the people attached to them. You were eleven the last time you saw them in person, but of course, you watched Beers games all the time. 

When you last saw Airman and Sir Swish, It was your brother's high school graduation. You were standing with your brother when the two came over, calling Kenny ‘Squeak’. You laughed at the nickname. Your brother shot you a disappointed look. You apologized as the two men then turned their attention to you. Coop would be the first one to say something, 

“So, Squeak here’s your brother?” You nodded, with a smile. Coop, you noted, had blue eyes, something you always wanted because you thought they were cool. Remer, whos hair was his most defining feature, then butted in,

“What’s it like having ol’ Squeak here as your brother?” Kenny rolled his eyes and tried to pull you away from the conversation. But you, the stubborn kid you were, refused to move. At the time, high schoolers were so immensely cool to you. You would answer any question they had for you.

“Kenny is so cool. He’s always telling me cool facts. Like, uhm, did you know the president was in a movie?!” You beamed. It's true that you thought the world of the brother, and you said what you meant in good faith but the two older boys started laughing. Once again, your brother tugged at your arm, signalling he wanted to leave. 

“If you guys are gonna be assholes, I’m leaving.” Kenny snapped. Coop and Remer minimized their laughing. Remer then patted your head lovingly, and smiled,

“You’re a good one, kid. You want a cool nickname like your brother here?” You were star struck at the offer and excitedly nodded yes. High schoolers were cool after all. Your brother was protesting but you didn’t care. The two teens looked at you for a moment before Remer spoke again,

“How about Pip. As in Pipsqueak?”

“Nah dude, that's too close to Squeak.” Coop gestured to your brother.

“Thats the point dude.” Remer rebutted. Coop was about to argue back when you spoke up, saying you really liked it. Kenny, Coop and Remer all shared a glance.

“Well then, nice meeting you Pip.”

“You think they’d remember me?” You question after a moment. Kenny shrugs his shoulders as he pulls into a driveway for his shared house.

“Guess we’ll see.” He opens the door and gets out of the car. You follow suit and walk back to the car’s trunk where your luggage is. Ken unlocks the trunk, but as you go to grab your luggage, he hits your hand away. You nod and offer a quick thanks as he pulls them out. You look at the house, taking it in. It’s nothing spectacular but it’s certainly larger than any home you’ve been in. Above the garage is a hoop, presumably for baseketball games between the three men who reside in the home. You’ve fallen behind your brother who’s now waiting on the doorstep, luggage next to him with keys in hand. You rush over to him and watch as he unlocks the door.

It swings open revealing a fairly large and nice room. Guess basketball was more profitable than you first thought. Directly to your right is a living room with a TV, a couch and a small coffee table. It was messy; beer cans scattered across the floor, what was likely day-old dishes on the table. A dust-covered VCR next to a pile of VHS tapes. The living room was clearly lived in, but the kitchen directly ahead of you was a different story; it looked unused. As much as you disagreed with stereotypes, three men living alone having a clean kitchen didn't strike you as odd. Your brother sighed in relief, seemingly glad his roommates-slash-friends-slash teammates were MIA. You pulled your luggage inside across the threshold as you took in the new environment.

“You’re staying in my room. No arguing about it!” You jokingly pouted but nodded. Kenny guided you to his room. It was down a small hallway. When he opened the door, you saw it was fairly basic. He had a few honours from his ongoing career as a professional baseketball star and some photos of the family scattered around, but it was otherwise unimpressive. You threw the luggage on the bed and trying to decide if you wanted to unpack it when a voice from behind startled you.

“Holy shit!” You hadn’t expected to recognize it as easily as you did. You were greeted by the tall and lanky Doug Remer. Of course, you’ve seen him on TV since you watch a lot of Beers' games, but he looked different than your memories. It was like he was a new person somehow. Maybe it was the height, something which once was very noticeable between the two of you, but now so much. There was something just…different, and not in a bad way either. You offered a small wave to the man who gave a huge smile in return.

“Lil Pip, all grown up.” You joked. It was surprising, but the familiarity of being back with him was comforting. It was another reminder of a past you missed. Remer just stood there unsure of what to say. You offered a smile to Doug, and he replied with two finger guns. You giggled before Kenny, quickly butted in,

“Remer, if you try anything, I’ll make sure you regret it.” Always the defensive brother. You scoffed, rolling your eyes. Of course, during one of your phone calls, you’d heard about the playboy that was Doug Remer. Kenny complained all the time about Remer hooking up with random chicks and even making out with a few guys a couple times. But you also knew that sometimes Kenny would embellish stories as a way of “protecting you”.  Regardless, you figured Doug wasn’t stupid enough to pull anything with you, knowing how it would upset Kenny. And after all, any bad blood between the team was bad for the game. Remer, in response to your brother’s threat, raised his hands up defensively and walked off without saying another word. 

“Ken, you didn’t need to do that. I promise I can handle myself.” You said after you were certain Doug was out of hearing range. Your brother apologized but you could still tell it was bugging him. Even though most of the time, the protective act was endearing, this was certainly not one of those times. As you pulled your luggage off the bed (you weren’t going to unpack, that was a lot of effort), you asked your brother a question,

“What would you do if I did hook up with him—or Coop?” It was mostly to see his reaction. It was a fun thought experiment. Kenny tensed up and responded with mostly stammering and confused tones. You laughed, both at the notion AND Kenny’s reaction, and you saw him relax instantly.

“Don’t worry, I’ll behave myself, Ken. Besides, he’s not even that good-looking.”

#baseketball #joe cooper x reader #doug remer x reader #trey parker #matt stone #matt stone x reader #trey parker x reader #joe cooper #doug remer #squeak scolari

[geekygee01]

Won’t you be (mine) - Chapter 1- An Introduction

Series Masterlist

Pairing/s: Steve Harrington x Reader

Chapter Summary: After Nancy chooses Jonathan, Steve resigns himself to a life without love, until you walk through the doors of Family Video. He’s never felt this way about someone before, if this is what love feels like he never wants to let you go. There’s only one thing standing in his way, your fiancée.

Steve had first met you on a boring Wednesday afternoon. It had been another slow day at Family Video, made even worse by the fact that Steve had to open and somehow ended up needing to cover the closing shift too. Stupid Keith, all he could think about was finally clocking out of this nightmare. Although he'd just be leaving one nightmare for another, his cold and desolate home where he'd end up eating some shitty microwave meal whilst watching crappy reruns until he passes out. Only to rinse and repeat the process every other day, except Friday. On Friday night he will go on some unfulfilling date with a girl who's name he won't even remember in a weeks time.

This shift was meant to get better as Robin was scheduled to work the close with him, but all she had done since clocking in was complain about her day at school. There's only so much a person can listen to flute drama in a high school band before going insane.

"Are you even listening to me?!" Robins fingers wiggled right in Steve's face, jolting him out of his thoughts.

"Yes! Yes of course, Brenda is super annoying and can't even play the flute." Steve agreed with her points, trying to calm her down.

"Brenda plays the piccolo and that was the topic of conversation like five topics ago," she rolled her eyes at this so called 'best friend' "if you want me to shutup dingus just say so."

"What? No, I'm sorry, just a lot on my mind. I didn't mean to ignore you Robs."

"What's going on in that head of yours? Too many babes to keep track of?"

"Ha ha Robs, you know I'm not really into that serial dater scene anymore, I just want-"

"Yeah, yeah. You wanna meet your soulmate, I know. You say it every Monday and then come Friday you're off on another terrible date with the first pretty girl that gave you some attention," Robin sniped.

"Okay that may have happened in the past but this time I'm serious. I want a proper serious relationship with someone I could love, and I don't just mean the next pretty girl to walk through those doors-" Steve's rant was cut off by the little bell above the Family Video entrance signalling the arrival of a very pretty girl.

...

You rushed into Family Video, one arm weighed down by a bag of groceries and the other clutched some overdue movies. You walked up to the front desk and dropped your returns in front of a wide eyed employee. Even with the thud of cases in front of him he still didn't blink.

"Um, is he okay?" you asked the familiar female employee leaning on a counter next to him.

"Yeah, he's fine, he's just a dingus. Wait," she stretched herself out and kicked his shin, snapping him out of... well whatever was going on.

"HI!" he shouted "sorry, welcome to Family Video." His face flushed bright red which made you smile slightly, it was actually kind of adorable. "Um how can I help you?"

You glanced down at the movies you'd placed in front of him "I'd like to return these?"

"Right! Yes of course, you're returning these movies that you'd like to return," the girl by his side started laughing and he tried to subtly push her away.

"Yep that's right-" you glanced down at his name badge and froze. Steve? As in Steve Harrington? You tried to match this goofy video store employee with the asshole jock you went to school with, it's like some freaky body snatchers thing was going on. Was this the same guy? The badge didn't have a last name, but it had only been a year since he graduated and now that you thought about it he hadn't changed that much. Its surprising it took you that long to notice who he is, though its not like you ever really ran in the same circles. He probably didn't remember you either, if he ever even knew you to begin with. You wouldn't put it past King Steve to not even realise you existed, even if you did grow up in the same small town and share classes since first grade.

You were quick to empty those thoughts before your silence dragged on too long and got weird "that's right Steve," you smiled up at him and hope he didn't notice your weird lapse.

"Let's see, muppets, E.T and Scooby-doo which are... two days overdue," he looked up from the screen in front of him and you tried to hide your embarrassment,

"I know, I know. They were due Monday but between school and work and family drama it just completely slipped my mind, I am so sorry, how much in overdue fees do I owe?" you fiddled with the coins in your wallet and tried to avoid any form of eye contact.

"Uh, nothing at all. Yep it's a new policy, we don't charge late fees until after three days."

"Really?" you asked dubiously "Keith didn't mention anything about that when I rented them."

"Well that's Keith for you, very forgetful guy. Not sure why they put him in charge, it's a wonder this place is still running," Steve laughed awkwardly.

"Well I guess they must have impeccable employee Steve to thank for that," you smiled, still not completely convinced he was telling the truth. He tucked his hair and bashfully looked away.

"I don't know about all that," he deflected "are you looking to rent another movie?"

"Oh no not today, but I'll probably be back Friday," you smiled at the two workers and started heading for the door "I may just see you then."

It's only after you had left the store and the door had shut behind you that Steve whispered "can't wait."

...

You came back the following Friday to rent some films and Steve stumbled awkwardly through the entire interaction. His plans to flirt and charm had gone right out the window. He's not sure what happens when he's around you, it's like he's a different person.

He tried again the following Monday. And then Friday. And before he knew it it's been a month of seeing you twice a week and yet he's no closer to asking you on a date.

There's a tentative, easy friendship there and Steve enjoys getting to know you, but he just wants more. He wants more from the pretty girl with the great sense of humour. That finds his (and Robins) brand of awkward endearing instead of annoying. He's not sure how he never noticed you before, because to him you're perfect, but he's glad he's met you now.

"Today's the day," he announces "I'm going to do it."

"Do what?" Robin looks up from the magazine she's been flipping through.

"I'm going to ask out y/n."

Robin laughs and Steve is quick to scowl at her. "You've been saying that for weeks and yet you can barely get out one pick up line before blushing and stammering like a fool," Robin teases him.

"This time is different," he insists "now that we're friends it's easier to talk to her, which means it will be easier to flirt and then ask her out."

Robin just rolls her eyes and goes back to reading her magazine. Steve in turn rolls his eyes at her lack of faith and support.

Right on schedule you walk through the doors, sending a wave his and Robin's way. Steve is quick to wave back with a big smile. You briefly peruse the shelves before making your way to Steve, placing two movies down.

"The muppets and the Thing, bit of an odd combination," Steve smirks as he scans your films "you know I've heard The Thing can be quite creepy, might not want to watch it alone." he tries to subtly hint.

"Oh that's for my friend, he's been wanting me to watch it with him for a while and I've run out of excuses, so don't worry about little old me."

"That's great, wouldn't want you getting scared," Steve mumbled dejectedly, pushing your two films across the counter. But he's not backing out this time, you may not have picked up on his subtlety so he will just have to be more direct. "So listen, this might be weird or creepy and if it is you can totally ignore me and we can pretend this never happened-"

You can instantly see where this is headed and are quick to interrupt "I have a fiancee," he freezes and looks at you wide eyed "thank you for the films, now I need to get going because my daughter is a bit of a pyscho without her muppets fix." You quickly rush out of the store before things get too weird, or before you have to see Steve's crestfallen expression.

"A fiancee?" Steve mumbles to Robin, completely shocked "Wait! Daughter?!"

#stranger things #stranger things fanfic #stranger things reader #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #reader insert #robin buckley #eddie munson

[dailyanarchistposts]

Chapter 3. Economy

What about education?

Education has long been a priority of anarchist and other revolutionary movements around the world. But even if people completely neglected the organization of education after the revolution, that would still be an improvement over the patriotic, degrading, manipulative, and mind-numbing forms of education sponsored by the nation-state. Like everyone else, children are capable of educating themselves, and are motivated to do so in the proper setting. But public schools rarely offer that setting, nor do they educate the students on topics of immediate usefulness, like surviving childhood, expressing emotions healthily, developing their unique creative potentials, taking charge of their own health or caring for sick people, dealing with gender violence, domestic abuse, or alcoholism, standing up to bullies, communicating with parents, exploring their sexuality in a respectful way, finding a job and apartment or making do without money, or other skills young people need to live. In the few classes that teach useful hands-on skills — nearly always electives — students are “tracked.” Girls learn how to cook and sew in Home Ec, boys likely to go on to blue collar jobs learn wood-working in Shop. It is safe to say that most boys finish high school ignorant of how to cook or patch up their clothes, and most girls and future white collar workers graduate not knowing how to fix a toilet, mount an electrical installation, repair a bicycle or a car engine, plaster a wall, or work with wood. And in the computer and technology classes, the fact that the students often know more than the teachers is a clear indication that something is wrong with this form of education. Schools do not even teach kids the skills they need for the crappy jobs they will end up working. Most of this, people teach themselves, or learn among friends and peers — that is to say, the school of life is already anarchistic.

The most important lessons consistently taught by schools under the state are to obey arbitrary authority, to accept the imposition of other people’s priorities on our lives, and to stop daydreaming. When children start school, they are self-guided, curious about the world they live in, and believe everything is possible. When they finish, they are cynical, self-absorbed, and used to dedicating forty hours of their week to an activity they never chose. They are also likely to be miseducated about a number of things, perhaps unaware that a majority of human societies throughout history have been egalitarian and stateless, that the police have only recently become an important and supposedly necessary institution, that their government has a track record of torture, genocide, and repression, that their lifestyles are destroying the environment, that their food and water are poisoned, or that there is a history of resistance waiting to be uncovered in their very own town.

This systematic miseducation is hardly surprising, given the history of public schools. Though public schools developed gradually from an array of precedents, the regime of Otto von Bismarck is widely credited with first establishing a national public school system. The purpose was to prepare youth for careers in the bureaucracy or military, discipline them, instill them with patriotism, and indoctrinate them in the culture and history of a German nation that had not previously existed. The school system was one of the modernizations that allowed a collection of bickering provinces, some of them practically feudal, to form a state that could threaten the rest of the continent — and large parts of Africa — within a generation.

In response, a number of anarchist theorists set out to design non-hierarchical schools in which teachers would serve as aides helping the students learn and explore their chosen subjects. Some of these anarchist experiments in education in the US were called Modern Schools, on the model of Spanish anarchist Francisco Ferrer’s Escuela Moderna. These schools helped educate thousands of students, and played important roles in the anarchist and labor movements. In 1911, shortly after Ferrer’s execution in Spain, the first Modern School in the US was founded in New York City by Emma Goldman, Alexander Berkman, Voltairine de Cleyre, and other anarchists. A number of famous artists and writers helped teach there, and pupils included the artist Man Ray. It lasted for several decades, eventually moving out of New York City during a period of intense political repression, and became the center of a rural commune.

More recently, anarchists and other activists in the US have organized “free schools.” Some of these are temporary, ad hoc classes, while some are fully organized schools. One, the Albany Free School, has existed for over 32 years in inner-city Albany. This anti-authoritarian school is committed to social justice as well as education — it offers sliding scale tuition and turns no one away for financial reasons. Most experimental schools are only accessible to the elite, but the student body of the Albany Free School is diverse, including many inner-city kids from poor families. The school has no curriculum or compulsory classes, operating according to the philosophy “‘Trust children and they will learn.’ Because when you entrust kids with their own so-called “education” — which is not a thing after all, but rather an ever-present action — they will learn continually, each in their own way and rhythm.” The Free School teaches children up to 8th grade, and has recently opened a high school, the Harriet Tubman Free School. The school organizes a small organic farm in the city which provides another important learning opportunity for students. Students also work with community service projects such as soup kitchens and daycare centers. Despite financial and other limitations, they have succeeded admirably.

Our reputation with students that are struggling academically and/or behaviorally, and whose needs the system has failed to meet, is such that an increasing number of kids are coming to us having previously been tagged with labels like ADHD and placed on Ritalin and other biopsychiatric medications. Their parents seek us out because they’re concerned about the side effects of the drugs and because they’ve heard that we work effectively with these children without drugs of any kind. Our active, flexible, individually structured environment renders the drugs entirely unnecessary.[42]

The MST, the Landless Workers’ Movement in Brazil, has focused ardently on education in the settlements they have created on occupied land. Between 2002 and 2005, the MST claims to have taught over 50,000 landless workers how to read; 150,000 children are enrolled in 1,200 different schools they have built on their settlements, and they have also trained over one thousand educators. The MST schools are free from state control, so communities have the power to decide what their children are taught and can develop alternative methods of education as well as curricula free of the racist, patriotic, and capitalist values that are part and parcel of public education. The Brazilian government complains that children in the settlements are taught that genetically modified crops pose a risk to human health and the environment, which suggests that they get a much more relevant and accurate education than their peers in the state run schools. MST schools in the settlements focus on literacy and use the methods of Paulo Freire, who developed the “pedagogy of the oppressed.” In São Paulo the MST has built itself an autonomous university which trains farmers nominated by the individual settlements. Rather than teaching, for example, agribusiness, as a capitalist university would, they teach family agriculture with a critique of the exploitative and environmentally destructive techniques prevalent in contemporary agriculture. For other technical courses the MST also helps people get educations in public universities, though they often win the collaboration of leftwing professors to offer more critical lessons of a higher caliber, even enabling them to design their own courses. They emphasize in all these forms of education that it is the responsibility of the students to use what they learn for their community and not for individual profit.

The Movimiento Campesino de Santiago de Estero, MOCASE, is a group of farmers, many of them Quechua, with similarities and connections to the MST. Beginning as a group of farmers fighting for land in the face of expansion by forestry companies from the Global North, they now number 8,000 families in 58 communities active in a broad range of struggles. Working together with the Universidad Transhumante, they set up a Farmers School that helps farmers learn the skills necessary for self-management. The students also learn to teach, so they can help train other farmers. The Universidad Transhumante is interesting in its own right. It is a popular education university, also inspired by Freire, that organized a year-long caravan to 80 cities around Argentina, to present popular education workshops and learn about the problems people face.[43] Outside of the control of the state, education need not be a static, fixed thing. It can be a tool of empowerment, as people are taught how to teach, so they can pass on the lessons they learn rather than being permanently dependent on a class of professional educators. It can be a tool of liberation, as people learn about authority and resistance, and study how to take control over their own lives. It can be a caravan, a circus, as people travel across a country and instead of bringing caged spectacles they bring new ideas and techniques. And it can be a tool for survival, as oppressed peoples learn about their histories and prepare for their futures.

In 1969, Native American activists, organizing under the name “Indians of All Nations,” occupied the abandoned Alcatraz island, citing an ignored US law guaranteeing that indigenous people had a right to occupy any land the settler nation abandoned. For six months, the occupation numbered in the hundreds, and though most left because of a government blockade, the occupation ultimately lasted for 19 months, revitalizing indigenous culture and rejecting colonial control. During the early period, the Indian occupiers organized a school that taught indigenous history and culture from their own perspective, without the racist propaganda that filled the textbooks of the government’s schools. For the duration of their occupation, they used education as a means of cultural renewal, whereas it had previously been used against them to destroy their identity and conscript the survivors of the genocide into the civilization that had colonized them.

#anarchism #daily posts #communism #anti capitalist #anti capitalism #late stage capitalism #anarchy #anarchists #libraries #leftism #anarchy works

[slowflowa]

I’m making a list of light novel I’ve heard, and if anybody has a recommendation please leave it here

LIGHT NOVEL

✓ Genius of a Performing Arts High [ch104] Hiatus.

Summary: After 10 years of dedicating his life to opera ever since he had quit the performing arts high school, he had failed at an interview. Losing his motivations, Jo Yunjae depended on alcohol to live out his days until one day, he had been sent back 20 years in time, to the day before his high school admission.

The reason for his time travel nor the terrible condition his body was in did not matter to him. The one and only, most important thing was that he could still sing, not as the previous baritone but as a long-coveted tenor.

Oh this one has a lot of musical jargons, but you could learned to ignore some of them or perhaps searched up each meaning. But this one is quite unique considering it focuses upon Opera as a theme, although apparently there’s a harem tag (but the mc isn’t really aware of it, more like he sees the others in a fatherly way of sort). It hasn’t been updated for 2 years and currently it’s status is in Hiatus. There is no Manhwa adaptation for it.

✓ If I Fail to Debut I'll Get A Killer Disease [ch423/505]

Summary: A 4th-year student who was preparing for the Civil Service examination, suddenly found himself in an unfamiliar body 3 years ago. As well as a status window displaying a threat in front of his eyes! [Outbreak!] [Status Abnormality: ‘Debut or Death’ Occurs!]

A diary about the transformation of the main character, who was suddenly challenged to be an idol even though he has never been in the industry before due to sudden threat of death. ※Speciality: He used to take and sell idol’s data.

The translation I’ve found only stopped until there. I’ve been patiently waiting for updates and it has been a month since the last one! The plot has a lot of twist on the classic idol take. Currently there’s a newly Manhwa adaptation for it but it’s only in the early stage of 17 chapters or so. If you would like to check it out, the Manhwa name is a bit different from the novel but the sentiment remains the same “Debut or Die”

✓ Superstars of Tomorrow [ch507] Complete.

Summary: Well-known Composer Fang Zhao was in the glorious stage of his career, when the Apocalypse arrived; After finally experiencing the bitter difficulties of a thousand dangers, when the Apocalypse was simmering down to an end, he collapsed; When he opened his eyes, he was reborn in a New World, 500 years after the end of the apocalypse, in the body of a student who had been dumped barely after graduation, who had been cheated of his hard work barely after he started working…

The World of the Future, Virtual Idols PK Real Idols

“Every time background music plays in my head, I feel like there is nothing to be afraid of.” —Fang Zhao

As recently stated, this one has been completed. And there is still no manhua adaptation of it to this day. I enjoy this novel thoroughly, the ride was wild and full of humour! Although the journey started through the works of virtual idol, it doesn’t necessarily confined only there because there’s still the fields of music, gaming, acting, history and military arcs that MC would dominate in would also bring such enjoyment!

✓ Losing Money To Be A Tycoon [ch1670] Complete.

Summary: I really just want to lose money! T_T

Best boss ever, prodigy of the business world, genius creator, visionary of the century.

These are the descriptions used for Pei Qian, President of Tengda Corporation.

Ever since his rebirth, Pei Qian finds himself in possession of a system that rewards him if he manages to lose money.

Instantly, a brilliant idea comes to mind — making crappy games!

“If the game flops, all my investment cost will be lost!”

“How difficult can it be to lose money?”

Indeed… how difficult can it be?

This was an enjoyable ride. I cherished every moment of each chapter I was reading for the entire week. I actually like the concept where they expanded more on the storyline idea of a supposed script for a film or a layout plot for a game because it’s always makes me invested in it and makes me feel like in the shoes of others and what they’re witnessing, the kind of content they’re consuming by the detailed description that I could almost imagine how it would be like. The last couple of chapters makes me so emotional, like this is what it builds up to and the realisation and the decision chosen is just “growth”. There was a manhua adaption of it but it contains rather few chapters from what I’ve heard… I might read it as well as soon as it accumulates more chapters to be read to truly see it all in action, illustrations.

#light novel recommendation #will be updated the more I read something well worthy to recommend #superstars of tomorrow #genius of a performing arts high #if I fail to debut I’ll get a killer disease #debut or die #losing money to be a tycoon

[munvermaniac]

High school

Everyone is in the closet

Jason and Chrissy are dating and have been for years due to familial and social pressure.

It’s prom night the night they’ve been dreading

“I can’t do this Chrissy!”

“Thank God!”

“I love you but I don’t love you that way!”

“Me too!”

“I’m gay!”

“I know!”

An awkward paws in which Jason, assume that Chrissy would also say that she was gay instead of saying she knew he was gay the whole time.

“Wait… you knew?!”

“Jason, honey, I’ve known from the moment you laid eyes on Eddie Munson. Remember, you literally pushed him into a puddle and called him a dweeb.”

“I stand by that, but how is that proof? How did you know since then?”

“The blush? The lingering eye contact? Or the unfortunate erection? Take your pic. It’s all of those anyway.”

And exactly 7 1/2 years later, both Chrissy and Jason are living together, employed in the same place after deciding to go to school for the same thing. They work for the same hospital, they are best friends, though his parents hope that he will get over the gay thing and Mary, her and her mother hopes that she gets over you know, not listening to her mothers every demand and stops eating a healthy amount of food and starts dating the old high school quarterback. Also, despite the fact that Jason is super fucking gay.

But I digress.

It’s one Spring morning, Jason is coming in early to work as Chrissy is leaving. A young man walks in with his hair up in a messy bun. His jeans are skin tight with some holes in them, his shirt is threadbare, his flannel covers his very pointed and broad shoulders. He leans against the counter and grins at Jason.

“Well well well. Never thought I’d see you in a place like this.”

“I…work here. Can I help you?”

“Yeah. You can help ease the lonely nights with your phone number.”

Jason, blushing.

“Dammit Eddy, you literally have a nail going through your palm and you’re hitting on me?”

“Your gorgeous eyes dull the pain.”

“…let’s get that out after we get you checked in.”

“ it’s cute that you’re trying to be professional but you’re blushing because you totally remember how I looked at naked during that last party after graduation like seven years ago.”

“I am at work!” Jason loudly whispers.

“ so can we talk about the time you totally hit this when you’re off the clock?

“… Preferably, when you no longer have a nail through your Palm, yes.”

“Sweet. So it’s a date. You, me, crappy, hospital, cafeteria, food.”

“You’re an idiot.”

(Nurse Jason is just the best and clumsy Eddie is a blessing. And Jason totally hit that senior year thinking that they’d never see each other again and yet, here they are.)

(And if you’re wondering? Of course Chrissy knew that Eddy was moving back into town and neglected to tell Jason. If she told Jason then it would be easy for him to try to get his shit together look as hot as possible and be prepared at all times. And where is the fun in that? I love me my nurse Chrissy, who is an agent of chaos and a total gremlin. )

If you asked Chrissy, she would you that no, she definitely 100% had no idea that Eddie was moving back, and no, absolutely not, she was not the one who convinced him to do it, and of course not, she would never tell Eddie what shifts Jason was working and in which sections, no way.

Ugh god, I just love nurse!jason, it fits him so well with how protective he is.

#munver #eddie x jason #jason carver #jason x eddie #stranger things #eddie munson #nurse Jason carver