#this is mostly purely for angsts sake

[spamgyu]

urs // Mingyu Series - Part 2

"the best at being the worst... but fuck sake I'm already yours"

DESCRIPTION: she and mingyu were in no place to be in a relationship. she was his best friend's stylist and he was... well he was kim mingyu; something stable was not something that was ideal for the two – not when their careers are both at it's peak. PAIRING: idol!mingyu x stylist!reader GENRE: angst WARNINGS: mentions of alcohol, implied smut, stubborn protagonists, so many red flags you would think this is a football game, features the love of mingyu's life (jungkook) and all his other besties

NOTE: if you read INFRUNAMI, no you didn't. this has the same-ish vibes BUT this is the re-written version. many events, actions, and overall plot has been changed. (even if the intro/first part is very similar)

"Are you really not going to come with me?" Mingyu watched her move about her room.

He had shown up to her place unannounced – letting himself in, using the pin-code he had memorized by heart. This was one of many occasions he had put the four digits into good use; at times paying the apartment a visit even when she was not around.

It was the one location no one dared to bother him; mostly because those who were in on their arrangement knew that his presence at the place shouldn't even exist.

It was his new safe haven; a place where he can hide out when his schedules seemed to have more hours of him staying awake than it did of any shut eye.

Any time he felt a moment of pressure from the public eye or his company, he ran to the one place he that silenced the voices in his head – instantly bringing a sense of calm upon him.

Which has been rare to come these days.

Y/n didn't think he was actually being serious when he had invited her to spend the holiday with his family.

She rarely took what he said seriously, knowing that they were nothing but empty promises – being so busy and all. She knew she was last on his priority list and had always kept her expectations quite low for him.

Maybe it was her fear of disappointment.

"I don't know, dude." Y/n sighed, holding two jackets in front of her – mentally debating which would go best with her outfit. She may be spending the day alone but she still wanted to look well dressed. "I have a lot of things to prep for."

"The leather one." Mingyu nodded over to the jacket in her right hand. "Just do it after."

Setting the canvas outerwear in her left hand down, y/n slipped one arm after the other into the oversized jacket Mingyu had suggested – glancing at her reflection in her full body mirror.

He was right, leather did look best.

"I can't. Our flight leaves 5 am." She frowned. "I'll stop by when I'm done."

"Your mom will never let you hear the end of this, you know that right?"

Mingyu had only met her mother once, and it was purely by accident. While visiting last year, Y/n had taken her mom to the company building to show her around – wanting her mother to see where she spent most of her days if she wasn't hopping from one plane to another.

The three of them had managed to get on the same elevator that day; Y/n having no choice but introduce her mother to one of her so-called friends.

Which wasn't much of a lie... technically. They were friends...and a little more. But her mother didn't need to know that.

And of fucking course, Mingyu didn't take long to warm up to the older woman.

Two minutes to be exact.

All he had to do was flash his usual smile and use that tiny voice he used when he was around anyone that was older than him – her mom falling right into the trap that almost anyone had fallen into.

Including Y/n.

Mingyu completely disregarded his original plans of having lunch alone that day, choosing to sit with the two in the company's food hall – bonding with her mother about Y/n's need to always put her job over her personal interest.

In Y/n defense, her job didn't feel like a job. She thoroughly enjoyed what she did – the nearly seven figure salary was just cherry on top of the deal.

"Which is why she won't know." Y/n pointed before picking out a lip gloss from her collection. "It's not like she can check anyways."

Mingyu knew she was right, letting out a frustrated groan. "Come on, I already told my mom you were coming."

The smile on her face fell. "You're joking."

Just as Mingyu had only met her mother once, she had only met not only his mom but his whole family once. And just like Mingyu, she had managed to get along quite well with them – especially his mom.

The older woman was nothing but kind to Y/n despite crashing their rare-to-come family time during the holiday last year. The older woman couldn't help but happily dote on the girl upon learning that she was in the country all alone, all while her mother was back west.

Happy knowing that he was slowly swaying her decision, Mingyu's smile grew larger. "How about I help you do what you need to do so that we can head over together?"

Y/n pursed her lips, considering his offer. She did need some assistance with pressing a few garments and compiling her styling kit – and she did miss having a home cooked meal.

"Fine, but no funny business."

"Well," He let out a soft chuckle. "When you put it that way, now I kind of want to do some funny business."

"Work is work." Y/n reminded him.

They never took their ... business elsewhere. It was far too risky.

Especially at their company building.

・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．

She hated how she could never resist him.

Somewhere in between steaming the rack full of designer pulls she had managed to secure for her talent's upcoming schedule, and their useless banter, Mingyu had managed to get his hands on her.

It started with a simple squeeze at the hip as she tried to ignore the lust full gaze that he had been sending her since their arrival – within minutes he had her pinned against the wall, his lips hungrily attacking her neck.

No matter how much she wanted to stand her ground, keeping to her word, Y/n had given in.

Like she always does.

"What happened to no funny business?" Y/n sighed as she tilted her head to give him more access.

"No one's laughing." Mingyu mumbled against her jaw, a free hand slowly creeping up her shirt while the other hooked on to the belt loops of her jeans – pulling her closer against his body.

"You're annoying."

She could feel her whole body begin to grow hot under his touch, arching her back off the wall as he moved from her neck to her lips – his tongue plunging into her mouth.

"Hey– whoa!"

The sound of the familiar voice broke the spell he had put her under – Y/n pushing off the boy that towered over her to see their friend standing at the door with a bewildered look on his face.

"At the office? Really?" Jungkook cried.

She had completely forgotten that she had asked him to swing by for one last fitting.

Closing her eyes, Y/n let out a loud groan; in both embarrassment and frustration.

They had never been caught once. They've always been careful – which was quite easy considering they were always in the privacy of their own bedrooms.

If it would have been any body else that had walked through the doors, she would have been sure she would have been fired in an instant. Despite having a bullet proof contract that left her almost invincible to any termination.

She was a well known industry stylist after all.

"We weren't doing anything." Mingyu shrugged, walking over to the leather couch – shrugging off the incident as if it was just any regular occurrence.

All while Y/n would rather have the ground swallow her whole.

"Sure, dude." Jungkook rolled his eyes. "Do I need to come back or....?"

"No, we're good." Mingyu answered for her, pulling his phone out of his pocket.

She wanted to strangle him.

Letting out a deep breath, Y/n grabbed the outfit she had set aside off the rack – handing it over to the boy who now had a quite amused look on his face.

He always did enjoy teasing the two; more Y/n than Mingyu, since he was always able to get a reaction from her.

His best friend on the other hand, he didn't seem to care. Dismissing his attempts to poke fun at the secret very few of their circle were in on.

"Say a word, and I'll leave pins in your clothes." She gritted her teeth.

Using his free hand to metaphorically zip his lips, Jungkook turned his heel and headed for the foldable partition set up at the corner of the room.

"I ran into Hana the other day." Mingyu announced – for his friend of course.

Hana.

His ex-girlfriend.

The girl that Y/n wasn't supposed to know about.

What Mingyu didn't know was that she knew all about the girl, all thanks to his blabber mouth of a friend who had spilled all there was to know about the two's past.

During one of their many days of being overseas, Jungkook and Y/n had landed on the topic of Mingyu – a time before he was made aware of his two friend's special kind of relationship.

Hana was his first love; and from what Y/n has learned... his only.

Hana was once a trainee at the company along with the thirteen boys – a girl that Mingyu had grown up with. They have had a long history, having known each other even before he became the idol he was today – she knew him better than anyone else.

As Jungkook claimed, "She'll always hold a piece of him."

"Of course you did," Jungkook snorted from behind the bamboo divider. "I'm ninety-nine percent sure those run ins aren't coincidental."

Y/n pretended to busy herself with packing the remaining items on the rack – all while her mind ran a million miles per hour.

She was curious but she knew it was also not her place.

And definitely not the right place and time to pry.

"Looks okay?" Jungkook stepped out, his arms stretched out as he spun for the girl.

She pulled her lips into a tight smile and nodded. "Does it feel okay?"

"I think you may need to hem the pants." He shook his leg. "Can I keep these after?"

"I mean, I don't think Diesel will say no to you." She chuckled, crouching down to examine the length of the jeans – making a mental note to bring her sewing kit.

"Can I keep the jacket?" Mingyu quipped, eyeing the leather moto-style leather outerwear was sporting.

There was no doubt that this item would soon be a well desired piece by everyone once it was made available for purchase – and free clothes were free clothes.

"Sorry, I work for him. Not you." Y/n shrugged. She knew there would be no issues if they kept the garments that the brand had generously loaned the artist – much like many other brands that scrambled to place their items on the biggest boy group of not only Korea, but the world.

"I'll give it you dude, don't worry." Jungkook gave his friend a knowing look, earning an eye-roll from the girl.

Aside from Hana, the only other person that held Mingyu's heart was Jungkook. The two having an irritable bromance that gave Y/n a headache anytime they ganged up one her.

Which occurred far more often than she liked.

"Okay go change." Y/n stood from her spot, lightly pushing him towards the partition.

"You guys got plans after this? My mom made enough food for half of Korea."

"We're heading to my parents."

"We?" Jungkook coughed, sticking his head out to glance at the two.

Y/n silently sent over a look, telling him to pipe down – thankfully Mingyu didn't catch on to this.

Because he was far too busy typing away on his phone.

"What the fuck?" Jungkook mouthed to her.

"Y/n was going to spend the whole day here." Mingyu locked his phone, looking up to see his friends silently communicating. "You two good?"

"Yeah, Kook is just being annoying."

Despite having the brains, Mingyu was quite oblivious when it came to her.

There were so many telling signs, so many bells and whistles that rang for everyone – and yet, he had no clue that the girl he had roped into having a friends with benefits deal with, had feelings for him.

Who could blame her?

Not only did he look like a reincarnated Greek God, fucked like one as well; but he had all the traits any girl would dream of in a man.

He had been raised quite well.

She had fallen for his stupid smile, the one that showed all of his teeth; infecting those around him.

His stupid laugh that were practically music to her ears whenever she heard it, making her want to crack jokes continuously just so she could hear more of it.

His stupid acts of service that just came so naturally, unable to help herself from becoming putty in his hands whenever he did anything to make her day that much easier – opening bottled water, adjusting her clothes whenever they were not sitting correctly on her frame, wiping away the crumb that stuck to her chin, placing a pillow where his body once laid before slipping into the darkness of the night.

The list could go on.

To Mingyu, these actions were nothing. These were things he would do to those close to him.

But to her, the girl who had accepted the barest of bare minimum from previous lovers, it was everything.

Y/n had fallen for a man she shouldn't have. Not only because of the rules they had set, the stupid fucking rules, but also because she knew he would never give her the time of day.

She had lost count the many times he had expressed to her that relationships was not anything he dreamt of; not now and definitely not anytime soon.

His group was finally reaching the success that they had worked so tirelessly for – the endless sleepless nights, the many injuries, the tears... they were finally paying off.

A relationship wasn't something he could afford, nor did he have energy for.

"I like this. It's low maintenance." He claimed.

Low maintenance.

No daily texts or calls, no checking up; they came and go in each other's lives like the wind – passing by when they pleased.

And for a good while, she was on the same page as him. She too couldn't afford a relationship – not when she was as busy, if not more, as the seven men she worked for.

They were both on two different planets, universes even, but they shared similar worries.

Similar struggles.

But as her schedule started to slow down, with each boy slowly stepping away from the limelight to fulfill their civic duties, nights had become lonely and she began to yearn for the one thing she had been pushing off for years.

"Ready to go?" He stepped in front of her, a soft smile on his lips.

All while she was deep in her thoughts, buzzing about the room in auto-pilot, all the task she had needed done were finally complete – Mingyu taking notice of this as he stayed out of her way, choosing to converse about God-knows-what with his best friend.

Blinking her thoughts away, she mirrored his expression. "Yep."

Mingyu handed her the jacket she had slipped off once they had arrived, reaching over to pull her ponytail from under the garment as she adjusted her top.

There he goes again with doting on her...

"Stay safe, guys." Jungkook snickered as he headed for the door.

"We're going to my parents!"

"That wasn't what I meant but– hey, that too." He winked before slipping out of the room.

Y/n knew she shouldn't have agreed.

She should have made up a stupid excuse.

But just like all other times, she had given in.

Unable to resist him.

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#the way it's been 10 million years since i updated #anyways...... aha hello #spamwrites #spamgyu urs #mingyu scenarios #mingyu x reader #seventeen fic #mingyu x oc #seventeen imagines #mingyu fic #mingyu angst #mingyu #kim mingyu #mingyu x y/n #mingyu series

[rosepascal]

Put On a Brave Face | Joel Miller x Reader

summary: Joel Miller almost loses you the same way he lost his baby girl.

warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, blood/gore, standard tlou stuff, reader gets shot, graphic descriptions, kinda softer!Joel so a little OOC

a/n: I got this idea and honestly idk if i like it that much but im posting this anyways. Also this is for the besties who would be absolute crybabies if they got shot bc that is 100% me lmao. I get a papercut and im in tears fr.

The universe must really hate Joel Miller. For all the shit it’s put him through, it just has to add more. It’s not his fault, something that you really really hope he understands. He heard the gun fire but it sounded like white noise. He didn’t feel any pain so he knew it didn’t hit him.

A blur of gun fire and the men around him are dead. Jackson was mostly a safe place but lately there’s been a gang of people who were attempting to infiltrate the commune.

They were easy work for Joel, he wasn’t thrilled that you tagged along on patrol but he trusted you and if he had to have someone he’d pick you to watch his back.

If only he paid a little more attention.

It was like a punch straight to the gut. You felt a sudden pressure as you shot at the bandits. You were too busy focusing on keeping Joel safe to notice you had been hit by a stray. When the chaos stopped is when the pain set in.

Everything feels fuzzy. Like something ain’t quite right. And everything was hot. It’s the middle of winter but it feels like your whole body’s on fucking fire. An ache starts to burn in your stomach, you set your hand on it without thinking. Only to be met with a red stained hand.

“J-Joel?” His world stops.

Panic claws at his heart as it beats louder and louder in his ears. He turns around to face you. Sweat runs down your face, a small smile on your lips as you try and stay calm for both your sakes. His eyes fall to your stomach and that's when he sees it.

One of the bullets from their gun went clean through you. The blood, there’s already so much of it.

“Joel.” You whimper as you fall to the ground. Staying upright becomes the least of your worries as it becomes harder to breathe.

You’ve lived through twenty years of this shit and yet this is the first time you have ever been shot. Those who survived always said it’s either nothing or the worst pain in the world. Joel’s been shot before.

You were there once. The bullet went into his arm and it was awful trying to get it out. He was strong as hell though. Kept his calm and walked it off a few days later.

You always admired how strong Joel was. Not just in the physical sense but he always seemed to be calm even in the worst situations. Maybe it was all a show. But right now you wished you could do the same.

You wish that you could look up at him and tell him you were okay and crack a joke but you can’t. It hurts so bad, it’s burning and pain is tearing through your whole body.

“I got you baby.” Joel falls next to you. He tosses his gun to the side and wraps you in his arms. One hand under your back to try and get you upright.

“It’s okay, it’s gonna be okay.” He wants to puke. A sob crawling its way up his throat.

“It hurts!” You cry, clawing at his shirt. Fingers digging into the soft fabric of his flannel.

“Joel!” It breaks his damn heart to hear you cry out in such pain.

“I know, fuck I know baby.” Jackson isn’t far and right now it’s your only hope.

“I’m sorry.” He mumbles as he stands you up and irritates your wound. Your scream makes him flinch. It’s raw and full of fear and so much pain.

Why couldn’t it be him? Why did it have to be you?

“Please, please I don’t want to die Joel.” The words tumble out of your mouth without thinking.

“Please please.” You bury your face into Joel's chest as he half drags and half carries you to the gates of Jackson.

“I don’t want to die!” You wail loudly and Joel tightens his grip on you. It’s pure agony. Every minor step or bump sends waves of pain through you.

“You’re okay, we’re so close, baby, just a few more steps.” Joel closes his eyes as you cry out for him.

It’s a sickening sense of deja vu. Bleeding out in his arms by a bullet he didn’t see. He needs to focus. It feels cruel but he has to zone out. The gates are so close and that’s all that matters.

“Help!” Joel screams till his throat is raw as he gets closer. The gates open too damn slow as someone rushes out to help. Together they bring you inside the walls and rush you to the doctor.

“What the fuck happened?” Joel tenses up when he sees Ellie running towards him. A panicked look on her face. Worry written all over her face when she sees you being carried in.

“Joel?!” She tries to run in but Joel grabs her arms.

“Stay outside.” He commands, not wanting Ellie to witness you in such a bad state.

“Fuck no!” She tries to push past him but he’s stronger than her. Your pained scream makes Ellie stop fighting, tears welling up in her eyes.

“Don’t worry.” he says unconvincingly as he turns and runs into the room. You’re lying on a table, your shirt already torn so they have access to clean the wound. Joel rushes to your side and grabs your hand.

“I’m here baby.” He brings your hand to his lips and lets you squeeze it tight. The medic opens a bottle and looks at Joel before pouring some of it onto your stomach.

“FUCK!” You seethe and try to squirm away but someone holds you to the table.

“Make it stop! Please!” Sobbing, you squeeze Joel's hand as tight as you can.

“Joel please! It hurts so bad!” Your vision is blurred by the tears and the tiredness that your body feels right now but you can still make him out.

You can’t leave him, you can’t die. It hurts more than the bullet did as they start to patch you up. Spots of black cover your vision and you start to cry more, you just want Joel to hold you and make it better. Your eyes flutter closed and you feel a hand tapping harshly on your cheek.

“Stay with me baby, come on.” Joel opens your eyes and in pure panic snaps at the medic.

“DO SOMETHING!” Joel is an intimidating force but right now he’s utterly helpless.

“We’re doing everything we can.” The medic says calmly. Keeping your eyes open becomes too hard, you just want to sleep.

“No no, come on. Wake up!” His voice fading out as darkness and peace consumes you. 

- - -

Two centimeters. According to the medic you were two centimeters away from dying. The bullet entered and nearly missed a major artery. If it had hit you there then you would have been dead in minutes.

You’re lucky to be alive.

It doesn’t feel lucky. It feels like shit. You’re stuck at home while on recovery and with Joel as your caretaker that meant you couldn’t even leave. After the doctor left he took one look at you and you know there’s no argument here.

When you woke up Joel was there. He wouldn’t tell you much. Just that you were shot and that you were okay. He doesn’t think you remember much of anything after the bullet hit. But you do. Somehow you remembered everything up until you passed out and all you could feel now is guilt.

You wished you were stronger. That you didn’t scream and cry for him to help you even though you know he couldn’t. There’s nothing he could have done and you made it worse. You weren’t in the right headspace but it felt cruel to beg for him to save you after everything.

After...Sarah. He doesn’t talk about much. He opened up to you once in the middle of a sleepless night. You don’t know every detail but from what he told you, you put a few pieces together.

Shot by a soldier with a bullet that should have hit him instead.

A situation that felt too similar to this one. How could you do that to him? How could you look him in the eyes after all of this? Being in recovery meant you couldn’t do your chores so Joel took them. Great, first you remind him of his dead daughter and now you’re making him work even more. At least Ellie was here. She rarely left your side. 

“A book just fell on my head, I only have my shelf to blame.” Ellie looks up from her pun book with a smile. It’s just after dinner and Joel still isn’t home. So she has taken it upon herself to be your entertainment.

“That's four outta ten.” You say and she rolls her eyes.

“No way that one was funny.” She flips the page and reads another one.

“Okay okay, you wanna hear a joke about pizza?” Resting your face on your hand you nod.

“Sure.”

“Nevermind, it was too cheesy.” You snort and she laughs.

“Alright, that one is pretty good.” She punches the air in success. You notice her eyes keep darting down to your side where the bandages are.

“You know Maria told me about the school sleepover, bunch of kids your age are going.” You say and Ellie shrugs. It makes you feel guilty that Ellie’s here and not out with people her own age.

“I don’t know, not really my thing.” She’s lying. You know she is. That girl she’s grown quite close to will be there and you don’t want to stand in the way.

“I’ll be okay Ellie, I want you to go and have some fun.” She looks hesitant but after a little bit of pushing she caves. Hugging you tight before leaving.

Sighing you try and get comfortable on the couch and wait for Joel. He comes back late. You must have fallen asleep because next thing you know you’re being shaken awake. Joel's tired eyes stare at you, only meeting them for a second before looking somewhere else.

“Where’s Ellie?” He asks.

“Sleepover.” You answer sleepily.

“You shouldn’t be sleepin’ on the couch. It’s not good for you.” You hold back a laugh as you recall the many times you’ve found Joel passed out on the couch. You try to sit up but you move too fast. Squeezing your eyes shut as you feel a sharp pain in your stomach.

“Careful,” He places a hand on your back to steady you. Silently he guides you upstairs to bed. He’s given up the extra pillow and blanket to make you as comfortable as possible.

“Coming to bed?” You ask hopefully as he helps you in. He shakes his head and your face falls.

“I will soon.” He kisses your forehead before turning out the light.

He hasn't slept easy since the incident. He knows you’re alive. In his brain he sees you breathing and talking but sometimes when he closes his eyes he can only see you lying on that table.

He comes to bed a few hours later. Being as quiet as he can so he doesn’t wake you, but you aren’t asleep. The guilt has been eating you alive for days now. You put him through so much and now you feel like dead weight. He’s pulling away to protect his heart and it’s killing you. You know he’s asleep when he starts to snore. He swears he doesn’t but he does.

Carefully you throw the blankets off, resting the extra one back on him. The floor underneath creaks with every step. Sleep isn’t coming and you need a drink. Opening the cabinets you see the bottle of whiskey all the way in the back of the top shelf.

“Dammit Joel.” You huff as you blindly reach to the back.

It’s just out of reach and you feel anger start to seep in. It shouldn’t be this hard to get a glass of whiskey. You should be able to do this without anyone's help. Pain starts to blossom in your stomach as you put one knee on top of the counter and stretch the stitches. When you finally wrap your fingers around the neck of the bottle you feel your foot slip.

Glass shatters on the ground around you as you land hard on your back. You let out a whimper of pain as you sit upright and look at what you’ve done. Shards of glass surround you and the amber liquid pools on the floor. Heavy footsteps come running down the hall. Joel looks frantic as he holds his gun out, looking around for intruders. When his eyes land on you, you look down in shame.

“What the hell happened?” His voice booms and you feel like crying.

“I-I’m so sorry. I just. I thought I could..” Without thinking you reach to clean the glass.

“Stop!” He kneels down and grabs your hands before they can touch the glass. He doesn’t say a word as he cleans the shards of glass. You could feel how angry he was.

“Wanna tell me what was so important?” He crosses his arms and stares down at you.

It’s like you're a little kid being scolded for stealing a cookie. You feel angry and sad and so guilty and your stomach really hurts. Digging your nails into your knees you start to cry. Small sniffles snowball into sobs that make your whole body shake.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” It’s all you can say as you bury your face into your hands.

“Baby..” Joel’s voice is softer than you’ve ever heard it. He falls to his knees and wraps his arms around you. Tears shining in his eyes as he feels you tremble in his touch.

“I-I’m so sorry.”

“Shh, what are you sorry about?” He rubs your back and closes his eyes.

“I remember everything Joel, W-When I got shot. Fuck the things I said.” You bury your face into his chest as a fresh wave of tears fall. They just won’t stop.

“What are you talkin’ about?” He gently pushes you back so he can see your face. Wiping those tears from your cheeks.

“I shouldn’t have..I made it so much worse.” He’s confused. Really confused.

“Baby, There’s nothing to be sorry for,” He runs his thumb across your bottom lip, heart cracking as he looks into your broken eyes.

“I begged you to save me when there was nothing you could do.” He grimaces at the memory of your painful cries, but you were dying and you were scared. He could never hold that against you.

"I wanted to be strong for you but I couldn’t a-and I hurt you." You rip his hands off of you and curl into a ball.

“It's not your fault baby. None of it.” He rests his hands on top of your knees. It baffles him that you think any of this is your fault.

“You were in so much pain. " His voice cracks slightly and it gets you to lift your head.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you baby.”

“Joel…” You start but he silences you.

You never should have been in that position in the first place but it's not about him right now. He gently pulls you into his lap, hugging you tightly. He closes his eyes, feeling your heartbeat.

“I shoulda noticed sooner. I..." He stops himself from going down that path.

"You’re so strong baby. You fought like hell and didn’t give up.” You don’t say anything. The guilt is still there but it won’t go away anytime soon.

You’re living in a fucked up world and you’re just two fucked up people trying to survive. And somehow you survived.

“Can we go back to bed?” You ask softly, tired from the crying.

There's more to say but its too late now. Tomorrow Joel will tell you over and over that it's not your fault. He'll tell you every damn day until you believe him. He’ll pray for your forgiveness for putting you in danger, for letting you get hurt and you’ll read him like a damn book and tell him it’s ridiculous. Maybe then you’ll both realize their’s not guilt to be had on either side.

Watching you bleed out on that table, it really did remind him of the day he lost Sarah. That fear and pain never really goes away but right now he can hold you in his arms and feel your heart. He can see your eyes and hear your voice. That’s all he needs right now. He’s not going to lose you. Ever.

So god help anything that stands in his way.

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller angst #joel miller fanfiction

[zhongrin]

a favor granted, a favor returned

◇ characters ◇ zhongli

◇ tags ◇ fem!reader, smidge of angst, violence, platonic/familial zhongli & guizhong, zhongli in his rex lapis days

◇ a/n ◇ inspired by @nohrenvia’s ask where the reader died and got brought back to life. disclaimer: i’ve only heard lil bits and bobs of the tales of guan yin from my mom who was a buddhist so apologies if i made her uh awkward?? but anyway it’s supposed to be just an imaginative depiction of her! you can think of her as an oc i guess??

𝑚𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 ⬙ 𝑡𝑎𝑔𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡

ʀᴇx ʟᴀᴘɪꜱ was a god.

a god who was merciless, strong, yet still wise at times. one could say he was a simple brute who - fortunately for his people - was continuously influenced by the good nature of his friends. he gained wisdom through his connections, life lessons through his experiences, and humbleness through his fellow adepti comrades. unbeknownst to himself, he had shaped a safe haven for the lonely and saved many from tragic ends, all by his own hands.

but that was not to say he wasn’t ruthless. his hands were drenched in blood and his fangs had sunk into many fleshes. he had killed, hell, slaughtered, all in the name of peace and protection for his people.

it was mostly thanks to his closest companions that he hadn’t strayed far from his original path.

and so, it would be an understatement to say that the impact of guizhong’s passing was enormous.

the gatherings that were once bright and lively were silent and solemn. the banquet lasting into the night was not filled with laughter but soft sobs and drunken slurs. one less glass of wine on the table. an empty, untouched plate. the amount of food normally wiped clean within minutes getting colder as the hours ticked by. a hollow gap in between what was supposed to be a tight-knit group of friends.

on that day, they all lost a family member. from that day on, their hearts went numb.

no one stopped him when he wordlessly set out to subdue an unknown encampment that had just settled near guili assembly. guizhong’s people were his people - their people. it mattered not that she had passed. he would protect every single one of her followers; it was a promise he made to himself as he watched her body disappear at her parting rite.

besides, at the back of his mind, he desperately wished to feel something. anything. he was so sick of the weight in his steps, of feeling like nothing mattered.

perhaps the adrenaline spike from a battle was what he needed.

spear slashing, stones unearthed, screams of the innocent vagrants. his limbs moved on autopilot, pure muscle memory guiding him into a deadly form of art; a mesmerizingly morbid dragon dancing in the moonlit night, rains of blood as its background and song of the souls ascending to the higher celestia as its music.

yet still, the regret remained; and this time coupled with shame, because what would guizhong say if she saw him now?

“i know you’re part dragon and all, but killing for the sake of killing will never give you the satisfaction you want,” a smile as pure as the freshly bloomed glaze lilies spread over her face, “i can’t say that my hands hadn't taken any lives either, but why don’t you at least try killing only for the sake of protecting people you care about, huh?”

it wasn’t long until a deity - presumably one who was leading the group - appeared and kneeled in front of him, along with her attendant, who was shaking like a leaf.

in comparison, her master looked calm. saddened upon the death of her people, but still eerily serene nonetheless. she took one look at him, and the tears gathering in her eyes fell.

was she crying for her people?

or was she crying for him?

… no. impossible.

“a mercy for a favor,” she said, unshaken.

a natural outcome. there was no need for any explanation on his part. this was the age of war for the archons’ seat. there was only one reason a god would invade another’s territory.

kill or be killed. such was the law of teyvat at this time.

she smiled wryly when he continued to glare at her mutedly, “you’ll need it one day. i know you will.”

he scoffed, “and what, prey tell, could a lesser god like yourself give me, rex lapis?”

“you really need to dial down that arrogance, you know! it’s so off-putting!” laughter as clear as the chimes of a bell followed her scolding as everyone else agreed with her.

instead of cowering in fear or showing distaste for his haughty tone, she fell silent as she gazed into his eyes. briefly, he wondered what was it that she saw.

could she tell the pain he hid behind the mask of cold indifference?

could she fathom the loss he felt?

“i will save you, just as you saved me today.”

could she tell how lost he was?

“are you insinuating i will fall in battle? your insolence is surely guided by your lack of knowledge. do you not know of my-”

“there is no one in teyvat who would refute your infamous reputation, warrior god. all i’m merely saying is that not all battles can be won by brute force and pure strength.”

“preposterous. i have not lost a single war waged against me-”

“but are you not dangerously losing the inner battle within your mind, right at this very moment?”

his jaw set.

those eyes… those straightforward eyes that seemed to stare into his very being.

those familiar eyes…

... perhaps this woman too, was a dear sister to someone.

“we all might be enlightened beings, but that doesn’t mean we’re not fickle!” mischief colored her bright eyes as she wiggled a finger in front of his nose, “so make sure to use that power of yours to the fullest potential, yes, mister lord-of-contract?”

“what is your true name?”

“miao shan. my name is miao shan.”

“very well then, miss miao shan,” his eyes, cold as slate, stared her down as the gold veins on his arms glow brighter in the darkened night.

“let’s make a contract.”

“did you hear? about the woman who came back to life?”

“oh, i know her husband! he works in the funeral parlor as a consultant!”

“what an extraordinary miracle…”

“or maybe it’s just another case of a quack doctor. aren’t those scammers still running around to this day?”

“no no, it couldn't have been! dr. baizhu himself was the one who tended to the woman on her last moments.”

“then, it really is a miracle?”

“archons… he must’ve saved a god or something in his previous life, haha!”

“….”

“miss miao-”

the attendant gasped upon receiving a warning look from her lady, “m-my-apologies, i-”

“that’s alright. just be careful next time, hmm?” the woman chuckles, turning away from the gossiping crowd of tables to sweep over the streets, “mortals these days have quite the active imagination, don’t you think?”

“pardon…?”

a glitter of gold. familiar amber eyes, stern glint softened with love, edges crinkled with salvation. blood-soaked hand riddled with scars washed with tender adoration, caressing feathers onto the newly born adeptus’ skin.

“…. nothing. let us depart. my business here is finally finished, after such a long time.”

“certainly… lady guan yin.”

as i have saved you, just as you had saved me, i will consider our contract fulfilled, rex lapis.

© zhongrin | 2023 ◆ no repost. reblogs much appreciated. feel free to reach out to submit suggestions, feedback, comments, or if you just want to talk!

◇ taglist ◇ @thestarsofenkanomiya | @genshinparty | @abyssmal-skies | @hamdehlesmis | @depressivecomforts | @sophiethewitch1 | @why-am-i-here-someone-save-me | @sunnshineflxwer | @heartonthemoon | @yuutasbabe | @percyval-archives | @carbs-need-more-love | @rebeccka | @queen-belial | @stygianoir | @silentmoths | @niktwazny303 | @dustofthedailylife | @herdrops | @diebischesther | @marina-and-the-memes | @angryhope | @mixed-kester | @shuangxo | @fiannee | @lordbugs | @anonymousficreader | @shizunxie | @ladylofspades | @sup-zfam | @ansy-tea

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #rin writes #zhongli #zhongli x reader

[pinkrelish]

𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞.

bestfriend!eddie x fem!reader

✶Back in town, and back to your old ways, Eddie asks if you want to hang out for old times' sake, and you can't resist. It feels so familiar, sharing a blanket in the back of his van. Your relationship almost seems on the mend.. until he gets a little too high and admits something he shouldn't have.✶

NSFW — hotboxing in eddie's van, porn mentioned, lots of flirting, fluff with angst, hurt/comfort, 18+ overall for eventual smut

chapter: 5/15 [wc: 6k]

↳ part 01 / 02 / 03 / 04 / 05 / 06 / 07 / 08 / 09 / 10 / 11

AO3

Chapter 5: Sausage Pizza

He could always find you.

“Bingo,” Eddie said, spotting your car at the rec center.

Pushing open the double doors, he made a right, past the basketball court, to the end of the dawn blue hallway where the shadows led him to a stretch of orange light coming from the last room. Smacks from the spring floor echoed like thunder in the lonely building. Rhythmic beats in sync with the music playing over the speakers, drowning out the squeaks of Eddie’s Reeboks on the polished tile and the jangle of chains adorning his jacket as he crossed his arms in the doorway.

It was as if nothing had changed.

The gym was painted the same dingy shade of white and decorated in Hawkins-green-and-gold banners hung on the walls, along with plaques and trophies. In the corner adjacent to where Eddie waited, there was a simple power rack and bench mostly used by the basketball team before they bought their own on school grounds. Extra pompoms lined the wall. Otherwise, there was room for one gymnastics apparatus each, save for the two balance beams in the back. And at the center of it all, you stood on the raised blue floor, a hand on your hip. Head down. Moving your lips in what he could assume was a self-deprecating comment.

Your midnight purple leotard was covered in chalk, glittering with each heave of your shoulders on your way back to the corner near the power rack. Inhaling deep through your nose, out your mouth. Zeroing in on the opposite corner where there was a padded mat hanging off the side.

You were in your element.

The world stilled for you. Dust motes filtering in from the high ceiling windows avoided your charge. Pure power. Muscles and grace working in coordination to perform tumbling feats Eddie didn’t know could be achieved at heights which slackened his jaw.

Twist after twist; a dizzying amount, as proved by your landing. Not having enough room for the last turn, your move was cut short. Getting your feet under you by a prayer to break your fall and launching backwards, slamming onto the mat.

Coughing, you rolled and groped at your thigh, reaching, digging your nails in as you caught a breath and hissed it out.

How he didn’t notice your pain earlier spoke volumes of where his wandering attention lied. Your right knee was wrapped in layers of sports tape; a few of your fingers and your ankle, too. New and old injuries supported by temporary bandages to stave off the inevitable. Maybe he should’ve stepped in to convince you to give yourself a break, but you were already pushing yourself up and shuffling to the corner you began at.

Like a ceremony, you drew yourself to your full height. Your hands were made into fists at your side, bouncing them off your thighs as you went into your zone. And then, at once, you smacked your legs and slapped yourself across the cheek. A ritual he recognized when you needed an extra boost of adrenaline.

You attacked the sequence again.

“That’s it,” he whispered.

Impressed was an inadequate word to describe the feeling residing in his chest when you stuck the landing. Not a step or hop out of place. Feet together. Chin up and proud. A shine of accomplishment in your eyes, staring ahead at the wall painted with a mural of your former high school, replacing it with a vision of a standing ovation.

“Wow!”

His enthusiastic clapping had you clutching your heart. “Jesus Christ, Eddie!”

“Sorry, I couldn’t help it,” he said amidst a laugh. “And hey, you’re not actually doing a routine to a song about falling in love with Lucifer, are you?”

“How long have you been standing there?” you asked, turning off the stereo and walking over to him. “Actually, better question, how did you find me this time?”

He trained his gaze on your face as you chose to stand less than a foot away, head craned to look up at him. He hadn’t even answered and your hands were on your hips. “I just know.” He paused. “Plus I saw your car on the way to school.”

You read the clock above him. “Didn’t school start an hour ago?”

“Right on time, baby.” He flashed a smile and spun his keys on his finger.

Rolling your neck side to side, you imbued your disappointment in your sigh, “You’re impossible.”

“I try.”

Things weren't what they used to be. A casual string of tension entwined itself in the knowledge he was supposed to graduate two years ago; however, thirty-nine business days made a difference. The anger ebbed. It didn’t seep into his thoughts quite so ferociously, turning them hostile for the purpose of inflicting you heartache equal to his own. The scar was there, under the surface, but the silence was no longer tainted with stages of grief. It was an acquaintance. Always existing beside him. Closure; hand in twisted hand with his addictive impulse to keep you in his company.

Not realizing he’d spaced out while talking to you, you drew a circle on the floor with your toe, glancing at him from under your lashes. “Is it weird seeing me in a leotard again?”

“Miles better than that annoying tracksuit you were wearing.” He curled his lip in light-hearted disgust. “Swish, swish, swish. I hate the sound of that fabric. Grates on my nerves.”

Kicking something just out of his view sounding an awful lot like windbreaker material, you forced out a loud giggle. “Ha-ha, yeah! Totally! So annoying.” Your laugh petered out to the tune of his raised eyebrow. “Anyway, uh, they’re demolishing the trailer today.”

“It was a little hard to miss all the equipment blocking my driveway this morning.” He nodded along to what he was saying, waiting for you to steer the conversation in an emotional direction, and when you continued to mirror his nodding, he asked, “Did you want to watch them do it?”

“Not really.”

“Are you busy later?”

“No.”

Now or never, Munson. “Wanna hang out? I can pick you up after band practice, at around 7.”

“Sure, would love to.” You narrowed your eyes. “Do you need me to tell you I’m staying at the Motel 6, or do you like, already know that because you keep tabs on my whereabouts at all times?”

His smugness was the champion of your annoyance. “Could’ve found out for yourself if you didn’t tell me,” he said, making his exit. Digging the sharp edges of his keys into his sweaty palm. Rolling his lips inward as he locked his gaze ahead, chastising his brain for doing this to himself.

~~~

Calm. You could do this. Calm, like you’re on the balance beam. No fear. No hesitation. One motion linked to another. Dressing in jean shorts and a tank top, all cotton. Not because he said something about your tracksuit, but because this was just as comfortable. Totally. Comfortable and not at all like you were trying too hard. Calm. Unlike your dumped out suitcase spread across the floor. Wearing this was your own choice. Totally calm. Definitely calm. Until his van came to a screeching halt outside your room.

Eddie greeted you as his usual self, headbanging to the end of a song before thinking to turn down the volume–not because people were glaring at him, but because he wanted to ask you a question.

“What’s in the duffle bag?”

You set it between your feet. “None of your business.” Reaching over your shoulder, you buckled your seatbelt, pulling on it to make sure it was extra tight. “And if you would be so kind as to keep in mind I’m trying to survive until Nationals, that would be lovely.”

Your sarcastic, saccharine smile was matched by his identical one. “I wouldn’t dare to drive recklessly with you in tow.”

Liar.

~~~

“Where are we even going?”

“You’ll see,” he said, grinning over the steering wheel. Not at all concerned with you cursing his ability to avoid mailboxes at this speed. “Just a few more minutes.”

Cresting hill after hill, narrowly missing a curve of trees, Eddie shifted his van into a lower gear and stomped on the clutch and break, veering into the grass. He gripped the back of your headrest to see where he was reversing. Upper body twisted. Hair everywhere. A wondrous line of anatomy from the hollow of his throat, where he cut out his shirt’s collar, to the soft underside of his jaw, flaunting his pulse. Nerves alive. Singing, sending a zing to your core when he flexed his hand. Alluring pressure just behind your neck. And what a shame it was when he took it away.

“You okay?”

You arranged your face to one of neutrality. “Y-Yeah, fine.”

Not entirely convinced, he made a doubtful “mhm,” and stood up. Having to hunch over against the roof as he wedged himself between the seats to reach the back doors, unlatching the lock and throwing them open to a sprawling field of flowers flowing like kaleidoscopic rives to the horizon of Hawkins. Your awe was evident, stumbling over yourself to take it in.

He used his foot to shovel loose wires and guitar pedals out the way. “We’ve been here before, do you remember? It was dark, after I got my license in December, so the flowers weren’t in bloom. I thought you’d like to see them and the sunset. No one really takes this road to leave Hawkins, so we don’t have to worry about being bothered.”

“Holy shit,” you gasped at the swathe of pink clouds basking the untouched meadow in an ethereal glow. “Who knew this shitty town could be beautiful.” You followed Eddie to where he had spare blankets stashed, helping him unfold one and spread it out. Going through the motions as a thought occurred to you.. One which clenched your stomach.

Tumbling the words out in the most casual manner you could summon the courage for, you asked, “Do you take all the girls up here?”

Obscured by his shaggy bangs, his eyes held a mischievous edge to them as he regarded you. “I’m not exactly the lady killer you think I am.”

“Guys, then?”

Blossoms did not unfurl for sunshine. Flora did not emerge for spring. Shy buds did not fan their petals to drink the rain.

Flowers bloomed for Eddie’s snort.

“Can’t even deny it. My van’s usually packed with equipment for our shows, I only cleaned it out for you. Gareth’s passed out back here more than any girl has.” He grabbed a lightweight throw blanket and shook it out, laying it on top of the makeshift bed he made. “But uh..” he faltered. “Why I brought you here.. What I wanted to do, that’s just–uh–that’s just a you and me thing. Kinda sacred, I guess.” He was no longer paying attention to you. “Old times’ sake.”

“Just band equipment, huh?”

At the opposite end of the van, Eddie peered at you from where he was crouched, lifting his head to get a better look at what you were giggling at in your hands.

Dragging your finger from your neck to your sternum, tugging your tank top down with it, you shifted your wry tone to a deep, sultry octave. “Home alone for the weekend, 18-year-old Missy orders a hot, and savory medium size sausage pizza.”

“Stop!” He lunged.

You spun around and used yourself as a shield to keep the VHS out of his reach, snickering at the picture of a guy’s cock flopped onto the aforementioned sausage pizza. “When Josh shows up with more than she bargains for, and she can’t remember where daddy left her allowance–”

“Jesus fucking Christ!” He was draped over you. Chest to back. Arms wrapped to confine your squirming, scrambling for the porn you had locked in a hug. He was strong, but you were stronger.

“–She pays the only way she knows how!” you squeal and smack the VHS out of the sleeve, erupting into silent convulsions of laughter, water at the corner of your eyes, going limp in his embrace upon seeing the tape had spools of movie left on either side. “Oh my God, you didn’t even make it to the end.”

Prying it from your devilish grip, he flung it out the back of the van like a frisbee, landing somewhere amongst the flowers.

You clapped your hand over your mouth. “You’re not gonna return it? But you’ll have to pay full price to replace it.” Slumped into the curve of his body, you struggled to see his face, but his burning cheeks were hard to miss. As was his arm loosely hanging around your waist.

He noticed as well and ensured there was space between you. But not too much. Looming over you. Formulating a response, bouncing a single finger pointed at you, eyes narrowed, mouth open. Rising chest pressed to your forearms. You stared transfixed on it all, still suffering from the burn of his arms digging into you as if they were still there. Cold-to-the-touch leather on your naked skin. Dissipating warmth along your spine. The taut ruggedness of his jeans rubbing against yours. His grunt in your ear. His hair sweeping your clavicle.

Fuck. This one interaction could last you a lifetime.

Eddie warned you, “If you ever bring this up again.”

“Wanna know a secret?” You appealed to him with pure innocence, bringing your shoulder to your chin in a shrug. “They don’t eat the pizza in the end.”

His eyes followed you as you sidestepped him to the passenger seat. “You’ve watched..?”

“Were we having a picnic or something?” You held up your duffle bag and sat on the bed of blankets, blinking at him with doe-eyes.

Muttering choice words, Eddie found his handcuff-shaped belt buckle to be uncomfortably tight and adjusted his pants on his way to grab his metal lunchbox. He sat in front of you, a hand on the latch. “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,” he said, impish grin growing when you grabbed the zipper of your duffle. “One.”

“Two.”

“Three.”

He threw open the lid. You ripped your bag down the center, tilting it to show him.

Both of you fist pumped and yelled, “Knew it!”

“Just like old times, huh?” he teased you, pulling out copious amounts of weed, a glass pipe, lighters, and rolling papers.

You, on the other hand, set out an array of snacks–cookies, packaged cakes, chips, cheese crackers–and water bottles for the inescapable cottonmouth. “We know each other well, don’t we, Munson?”

“That we do,” he agreed softly.

He began setting up the fun for the evening, heeding your suggestion to start off with bowls first. “The NCAA doesn’t start testing for street drugs until next year. Might as well go out with a bang.” That would not be a problem, for you had a long night of celebrations ahead of you, made apparent by his smirk and unending supply spread out on a black book he used as a tray. Deft fingers working with an expert’s finesse. Grinding and rolling. Bringing the papers to his tongue to lick the adhesive, careful to not make eye contact when he did so.

Finding another goodie at the bottom of your bag, you asked him a pointed question, “Are you excited for Dio’s new album?”

Eddie’s instantaneous smile was infectious. “Just two more days.”

“And what if.. say, you got it two days early?” His eyes grew watching you pull something from behind your back. “Turns out, if you flirt with the cashier enough, he can find a copy in the back. Here, it’s yours.”

“You’re kidding me.” He snatched it and tore the cellophane off, holding the tape to his face like it was the second coming of Christ. Rushing to turn the radio on and put his gift in the tape player, he delivered his gratitude with an unassuming ache, “You know just the way to my heart.”

Painful words spoken to you in a playful inflection.

“Yeah,” you mumbled, “Guess I do.” Calm. Smothering the twinge of hurt until it no longer throbbed at the unfair accuracy of his statement. You took the packed pipe and sat at the edge of the van with a lighter. Resting your feet on the bumper, willing to do just about anything to avoid looking at him. Though, you could feel him approaching behind you, headbanging to King of Rock and Roll while you stared at his jerking off material laying atop a patch of white wildflowers.

After your second hit, you passed it to him as he sat down gratuitous inches away from touching you. Just like old times, indeed. Keeping his distance. Establishing some invisible wall to ensure you never accidentally brushed your leg alongside his like you did at the diner, or, God forbid, graze his hand in any meaningful way that couldn’t be excused as reaching for the same thing at the same time.

It was as if you never left.

“So,” he started, igniting the lighter and tilting it to the bowl, putting his lips to the pipe and pulling smoke into his mouth, filling his chest with the drug and exhaling towards the sky, “Penn State, huh?”

“Penn State,” you repeated absentmindedly.

“What’s it like?”

“It’s fine.” You shook off the remnants of his rejection wearing you down year after year. “Classes are tough. Gymnastics is okay.”

“And your knee?”

“It’s fine.”

“You say that a lot.”

Taking the pipe from him, you emptied your lungs, depriving yourself for the sake of a longer hit. Composing yourself for the rant this man was about to endure. “College fucking sucks. I love my classes and professors, but it’s like everyone can tell I’m not supposed to be there. Like I’m a charity case that got in by an athletic scholarship alone and not because I’m educated, or whatever. I just feel so fucking stupid all the time, like I’m missing something, and I can’t figure out what it is. Everyone treats me like there’s some sign over my head telling them I’m not actually smart. I mean, my grades improved after I moved, but they all use vocabulary words I’ve only ever read, and when I try to use them, they laugh at me because I didn’t pronounce them right. They joke about things that go over my head. They don’t use ‘fuck’ every other word. I never made real friends.. I couldn’t find someone who likes the same things as us.” Another toke and you were fed up with the universe. “The girls on my team are nice, but we never hang out. I don’t fit in with them. I think it’s because they can tell I’m poor. My scholarship covers a lot, but not everything. When they ask me out to the movies, I have to turn them down because I work that night. Or if they want to eat out after a meet, I’m alone in the hotel with my stupid Cup Noodles, panicking over if I can rely on what gas I have left in the tank to get back to the dorm.. Oh, that’s a positive, I guess. I live in a dorm and my roommate watches wrestling with me.”

Eddie paused with the pipe to his mouth and handed it back to you, sensing you needed it more than him.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to dump all that on you, I just don’t really have anyone else to talk to.”

“At least you don’t have to worry about your mom anymore.”

“Too true,” you said, lifting the lighter in a cheers and handing it to him as you blew smoke the other way. “It’s not all awful, I promise. I’m just bitching. Things will get better once all her bullshit is over with, and I’m done cleaning up her messes; I have faith. Even so, my GPA is pretty good and I’m one of the best on my team, so that's something.”

“I’m not surprised after seeing you earlier.”

You squirmed under his unrelenting gaze pursuing your muscles. Enamored over your biceps, the flex of your thighs as you swung your legs, catching him stopping more than once to admire just below the patch on the back of your jeans. He hadn’t noticed he’d been caught staring, and your modesty went out the window at being the subject of his compliments. “I’m not one of the best.. I am the best.”

“That’s..” You strained to hear him. The flick of the lighter muffled the rest of the sentence.

Too shy to ask him to repeat himself, you pestered him to fill you in on his life. “What’s been up with you?” He gave you a condescending look.

“Do you really want to know about my pathetic life here in Hawkins, going through my third senior year of high school?”

“I want to know everything about you.”

Regardless if he could read the honesty in your statement or not, he answered you apathetically, voice raspy from smoke, “Not much has changed. Dad’s still in jail, obviously. Mom’s probably sucking off some guy behind a McDonalds in Ohio. I skip class when I want, sleep at my desk when I can’t. With you gone, there’s no one fun to hang out with, or pass notes to anymore, so it’s fucking boring. And I guess other than that I play gigs at the Hideout. Not a whole lot of turn out, but I think the lineup of me, Gareth, Jeff, and Lloyd has potential.” He gave you the last hit of the pipe. “You’d like us if you went to one of our shows,” he ended with a suggestive tone.

“You tryin’ to drag me back to this forsaken place?”

“Just something to think about,” he said, nonchalant. “When were you leaving?”

“Saturday morning.”

It was as if a lightbulb burst above his head.

Eddie laid back and stretched for the Advanced Dungeons and Dragons Player’s Handbook, sending a cascade of joints across the blanket, leaving you to be rendered speechless by the trail of hair on his stomach leading to the top of his jeans.

“Have you ever played?”

“Huh?” Thank Satan weed dulled both your senses. “Oh, hey, I remember when you got this.” You set the book on your thigh and flipped a few pages, landing on one illustrating the different races you could choose. “Never played it, no.”

“We have a little DND club at school. No big deal, just me and the guys, and a few freshmen. Would you wanna.. tag along, y’know, if you want to and you’re not busy. I mean, you don’t have to, but we meet every Friday, and I could just swing by and pick you up after school tomorrow. All you have to do is fill out a character sheet. I have one with all the stats laid out for newcomers and a spare bag of dice around here.. Somewhere.” He began scouring his empty, yet disorganized van. “Got ‘em! And here’s the sheet, I’ll put them in your bag. If you want to play. No big deal if you don’t. No pressure.. Uhm, I’m the Dungeon Master.”

“Do I have to call you ‘sir’?”

There was no missing the subtle spark in his eyes when you voiced the title.

“You don’t have to,” he said. “But.. If you want to.. Hey, is it hot in here? I think it’s kinda hot in here.” He was a stuttering whirlwind. Stripping off his leather jacket and vest, tossing them on the floor, and gathering the joints before he stepped on them, unnerved by the way you stared at him. “S-Shall we?”

“Since when did you get tattoos?”

~~~

With the van doors shut, a soft glow from the dashboard lit the side of your face against the backdrop of early night. The B-side of Dio’s Sacred Heart played from the speakers in the front, considerably quieter now that an opaque fog hung in the air. Heat of your bodies fogging the windows. Eddie tapped your knee to rouse you to another joint he prepared. You graciously accepted it. Starting on his own, he watched your eyes fall closed again, swaying to the music; cherried end of your drug getting lost to the smooth guitar solo you bounced your head to.

“How come we never do shrooms instead of smoking pot for hours?” you asked.

“Dunno,” he answered. “Never tried them. We can next time, if you want.”

“I think you’re just trying to trick me into coming back again.”

Exhale by exhale, dense smoke filled the van, and still, he could feel your stare across from him, searching for a reason to flee. Or to stay. “Is it working?”

“Oh, yes, very tempting, Mr. Munson. And throwing DND into the mix? Oh, ho, ho, you spoil me.”

Laughing at what little he could see of you puffing on your joint like a cigar, putting on an old Englishmen’s accent, he yielded, “I get it, I get it. It’s just awful hanging out with me again. Terrible, even.” The tape clicked and the music ceased. “Over already?”

“I’ll turn on the radio,” you said, back to normal.

It could’ve been minutes or seconds later, you were both on your backs–a fresh joint in hand–sinking into the blankets as if you were made of bricks. “Or maybe putty,” one of you spoke out loud, and the other laughed. Side by side. Not touching, but almost. Letting the high wash over you both. Liberated from the past. Existing in bliss. Writhing in the giggly phase of feeling good, but not good enough. Wanting more. Needing more. Another hit. Still not enough for him to commit to rolling onto his side and capturing your euphoric smile for more than the split second required to tap the ash from his joint. Taking a longer drag than necessary before affixing his bleary eyes on the gray expanse above. Embracing the tumultuous journey of forgiveness.

“You’re not a failure,” you whispered in his dream.

“I’m not exactly an achiever.”

“I think you’re perfect,” you faded in and out, swimming in his head.

“I just wanted to be different from my old man.. I wanted to graduate. To be something. To make something of my life.”

An ethereal, everlasting ring like chimes. “You will, Eddie. I’ll make sure of it.”

His guards were evaporating. His armor was shed. Your hand rested upon his bicep and the thinness of his t-shirt unthreaded itself to bow before your split knuckles covered in scabs from your artistic endeavors worth far more in merit than his inked skin deserved. Your sweetness was on him, touching him. Eliciting his arm hair to stand on end. Thrilling the part of him that couldn’t indulge. Ways he could confess, in wholeness, that would scare you off.

“Eddie.. They’re playing our song. Isn’t that amazing?”

Wish you were here.

Wish you were here.

Click.

Play it again.

Click.

Play it again.

If he had more time, more time. More time. Time. Time. Time. If he had more time, he would’ve confessed. Then you wouldn’t have left him. Maybe, if you knew, you wouldn’t have left him.

If he had more time, if you hadn’t left, maybe he wouldn’t have been a coward.

Wish you were here.

More time. He needed more time. And you wouldn’t have left.

Thirty-nine business days was not enough to heal a broken heart.

––1981––

It took two pebbles thrown at your window for you to open it this time.

“Shh, she just went to sleep,” you said as he crawled in. Placing one foot on your bedside table and stepping down, holding his breath, listening for your mom to make any movement in the living room.

When nothing alerted her to Eddie’s presence, you set the lamp back where it was and moved your blanket, motioning for him to sit next to you on your bed.

“I thought my toes were going to have to be amputated from frostbite, you took so long to answer,” he moaned and groaned, sifting through his backpack for the book he brought, setting it on his lap with a pencil and sheet of paper.

You rolled your eyes. “Oh, whatever. I told you the season finale was on tonight.” Hunched at the edge of your mattress, you engrossed yourself in your show, forgetting he was there.

Doing his own thing, he opened to a page in the Player’s Handbook and continued his sketch of a chimera. That is, until his pencil was ripped from his hand.

“Are you–kidding me?” You flopped onto your back in utter dismay at the man laying in a pool of his blood on the TV. Eddie would’ve asked if you could continue living life after the plot twist, but you were already arguing with the screen and turning the dial off. “They killed my favorite character,” you supplied as an excuse for your tantrum.

“Uh-huh.”

“I already said sorry.” You handed him his pencil and paper.

“No, you didn’t.”

“Shush.”

Picking up the comforter, you first snuggled yourself inside its cocoon, then he experienced the warmth of it draped over his shoulders. The weight of your arm around his neck. Patting him. Shifting closer, closer. Becoming one in the dip of your mattress. Body against body. Dressed in a thick sweatshirt that belonged to his father, and yet, he could feel you intimately. Cheek on his shoulder. Hand on his hand. Skin to skin contact.

…

It had been two years since he touched you. Two years since he showed you any sign of affection.

He wondered if you could hear it–what he was always hiding. Whispers of truth transpiring in your fingers turning his palm upwards, examining the burn mark he earned from neglecting a pot holder when making dinner. More than friends. More than friends. These treacherous misgivings. You were supposed to be friends. Best friends. And he wanted more. Needed more. But he couldn’t. What if you rejected him?

What if he confessed and you rejected him, souring your friendship?

He couldn’t risk it. You were everything.

He couldn’t risk touching you. Snatching his hand away. Recoiling from how near your lips were to kissing his. It must’ve been an accident. An act of subconsciousness. He got too close. Too close to ruining what he cherished above all else.

For now, he’d keep his epiphany in his lungs, never to escape his throat, nor his betraying tongue. He’d keep his confession locked away. Maybe, in time, he’d mature and learn to make the first move. Or perhaps you would do it for him; then, there would be no guessing. No risk of failure.

––1985––

Thirty-nine business days was not enough to heal a broken heart.

Dozed off, or in a daze, you opened your eyes to the sting of smoke. A nub of a joint nestled between two fingers. Groggy from whichever state you had succumbed to, you surveyed your surroundings, and blinked at the strange sound coming from next to you.

An opaque screen separated you. Extending your arm, fingers outstretched, you found your companion, and your stomach sank.

Eddie shook with another sob. Hand covering his face. Shoulders curled in, gulping in air as soon as it was choked out.

You were suddenly very, viscerally, sober.

“Oh shit,” you exhaled. Clumsily getting to your feet, you opened the back doors to let smoke out, and oxygen in. Radio off. Peace. Quiet. A breeze to cool the sweat on your neck. Sifting through the swirling images in your mind palace to focus on the one in front of you.

You knelt beside Eddie, encroached into his personal space, the length of your folded legs against his arm. “Did you get too high?” You doted on him. Rubbing your hand in circles on his chest–a gentle pressure–encouraging his hand from his face so you could assess the damage.

Tears pooled at the outer corner of his eyes, flowing into his hair as he looked up at you. You caught them on your thumb and index, devoted to alleviating his distress. His bottom lip trembled. There were too many emotions passing in his gaze. Confusion, panic, the ugly sheen of bitterness.

“It’ll be okay,” you assured him. “It’ll pass.”

Stroke of your thumb. Circling your hand on his chest.

“There’s water right behind you,” you whispered. “You’ll be okay. I’ve got you.”

Eddie clenched his teeth. In the span of a suppressed breath, his expression changed to pure resentment. Loathing. He spoke, and it echoed. It infiltrated your mind’s home. Haunted you from the walls. Chased you as you ran.

“I still hate you for leaving me.”

“Oh..”

The years of rejection piled. Another burden on your shoulders. A swipe of your palm from pec to pec, bunching the graphic on his shirt, shifting the guitar pick necklace stuck to his throat. An agonizing gesture. Tender touches. Running your fingers through his hair. Thumb tracing the edges of his face; cheekbone to temple. Soothing him. Feeling his shudder beneath your hand. Becoming the reason he closed his eyes and underwent another sob.

I still hate you for leaving me.

Pec to pec. Best–friend. Best–friend. Over his heart. Best. Friend. All you could ever be. Afflicted by each word he threw at you with perfect clarity.

You knew Eddie. And you knew he wasn’t as high as he appeared to be. He was far too coherent compared to other times when he couldn’t string a single sentence past the first word. This wasn’t him babbling nonsense. This was intentional. Intentional and therapeutic for him to slide into a place where he was vulnerable. And you would take care of him in this place where he could utter the truth. Your friend. Suffering at the hand of unaligned fate; experiencing the lurch in your muscles–bones–sinew to feel him again after all this time. His smile, his admiration, his skin on yours. Incomplete without his affection, but you stole it. For just this moment. To cope.

“You can hate me. You can be mad at me. It’s okay. I’m not going anywhere.” I can take it, Eddie. Years and years of watching him develop crushes on other girls while you sat beside him in complete loyalty. Waiting for your turn. And it never came. But that was okay. I’ll be strong for you, Eddie. You were attuned to the misery you hid beneath a mask. You’d be there for him again, even when you caused his pain, and you’d make it better. “Sit up and have some water. I’m still here.”

Guiding him up, you allowed yourself a passing second of extra shamelessness in the spare moonlight. Combing his hair back from sticking to his wet cheeks. Grasping him below the elbow, where his flight of bats soared. Squeezing your hands up and down his biceps. Telling him everything would be okay scant centimeters from his lips. Foreheads almost pressed together. Enveloping him in a shroud of dear kindness without the relief of hugging him.

“When you’re ready, we can move you to the front. I’ll drive you home.”

Willing his eyelids open, he mumbled, “Back to the motel.. I can drive by then.”

~~~

“Are you sure?” you asked, parking outside your room. A somber end to what started as a fun evening, now scarred with his heavy sigh.

“Yeah, I’ll make it home.”

You stepped out into the middle of the night. A void feasting on the noises you dared to make, shivering at the goosebumps crawling up your legs in the stark loneliness, shuffling the treads of your shoes across the cracked concrete where weeds grew, grabbing your bag and ignoring how sad he seemed in your periphery. “See you tomorrow.” He didn’t say it back.

You closed the motel door behind you. Calm. Waiting. Hearing him switch seats and shift the van into drive. Listening for the rumble of the engine to fade up the street, and then you collapsed face-first onto the bed, drained.

“Why is my life so shit?”

Taglist: @xxhospital-for-soulsxx @myfavoritesareproblematic @henhouse-horrors @tlclick73 @sidthedollface2 @i-will-duckyou-up @qnsfwthoughts @captainonaboat @eddiemuns0nl0ver @godcreatoreli @harrys-tittie @eg-dr3amer3 @trixyvix88 @venomsvl @lacrymosa-24 @sashaphantomhive @sharp-and-swift 

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #stranger things #eddie munson x y/n #eddie x reader #eddie x y/n #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson smut #stranger things fanfic #stranger things x reader #stranger things x you

[munsonify]

〔 staring into the eyes of the devil 〕

〔 summary. when stood head to head with eddie munson, the man who was labeled the ‘freak’ of hawkins high, y/n couldn’t help but wonder why anyone would think so lowly of him 〕

〔 pronouns used. they/them 〕

〔 content warnings. angst, mentions of death, talks of vecna’s curse, swearing. 〕

〔 word count. 851〕

———————

———————

“And I just- I keep running, man,” Eddie exclaimed with a shaky voice, drawing out the word ‘keep’ as he shakes his head vigorously. “It’s not a good look.”

Everything about his demeanor gave the impression that he was scared. He was crouched down nearly to the point that his behind was in the dirt, hands shaking as he messes with his rings. As if his face wasn’t dirty enough, Eddie kept running his dirt covered hands against it nervously.

This wasn’t the first time something fucked had happened in Hawkins. Maybe Eddie was too caught up in his own fantasy world to notice, or maybe he never looked close enough. He was never sure how long things like this had been going on in the shithole they called a town, and he was even less sure on if he wanted to know.

Eddie wondered how the people surrounding him had ever gotten themselves into this demented mess. As he scanned the group, he analyzed every last one of them. There was Dustin, who seemed to be all but the type to have the guts to deal with what he has. He was a kid, almost too giddy and pure to have seen what he has.

Nancy was even more confusing to him. A Straight-A student with a picture perfect life and family had somehow been caught up in a mess bigger than her hair in the morning. A girl like her would only be worrying about how her skin looks in Eddie’s eyes, not whether something supernatural was out to get her.

He always had a feeling something had been going on with Steve. Eddie would noticed how the man would come to school with black eyes that couldn’t have been from another person. It was hard not to notice, his presence made a way to him by every other person in the school. King Steve showing up bruised was hot gossip. Yet, it still amazed Eddie that he managed to dig himself this deep into a mess.

Eddie didn’t know much about Robin. She’s in the school band, he knows, because he’s made it a point to avoid every and all band nerds at all costs. He found that she wasn’t as bad as he had thought, pushing aside his guilt for the time being. He had bigger things to worry about.

What really stumped the man was Y/N. Smiling, wide eyed Y/N who didn’t have a single bad bone in them. Eddie never saw them step out of line. Sure, they could if they wanted to, but he figured they had a good reason not to. It was different from Nancy; he had watched her snap before, mostly because of Steve. Sure, she was the poster child for most mothers wishes, but she had her moments. Y/N, on the other hand, had no outbursts.

The two had talked a few passing times, mostly in class when he’d, for the third time that week, he’d forgotten a pencil. He chewed on the pencil more than he’d used it. Y/N never bothered to ask Eddie for the pencils back, nor did they bother to ask where they all went.

Y/N kept to themself, and as unsure as Eddie was about their capabilities, he seemed to malfunction a little as he watched them stare at him. It may have been because he had been staring at them first, but it made him self conscious anyways. They were staring right into his eyes.

They had a good reason, really, and staring into his eyes was intentional. They studied every last inch of his light brown eyes, especially as Eddie talked. All throughout high school, Y/N had wondered why people disliked him so much. They knew about the game he had played, as they’d familiarized themselves with it for Dustin’s sake. They knew of the heavy metal and his band, along with his side hustle.

Yet, as Y/N stared into his fear-stricken eyes, they wondered why anyone would think this man is harmful. Eddie looked like a hurt little boy crouched down. He looked alone and scared without anyone to turn to. He didn’t seem vicious or harmful, not in the slightest bit aggressive.

Y/N was snapped out of their trance as Eddie moved from his thoughts and started to speak. His voice was as shaky as his hands, but they could tell he was trying to keep calm.

“Henderson isn’t cursed, is he?” He asked nervously. “He doesn’t have many bones in that chubby body of his, but I’ll be damned if he gets hurt.”

“No, he’s all good,” Steve assured as he turned to look at Dustin, who was pacing back and forth with his compass in his hand. He then glances over at Max worriedly, who seemed unbothered but Steve’s eyes on her. No one dared to mention she’d been cursed.

Through all of this talking, Y/N eyes stayed glued onto Eddie.

Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson, who somehow, didn’t seem like a freak at all. He seemed horrified by his fate.

#munsonify #corneroffanfiction #eddie munson #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson imagines #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #stranger things #stranger things 4 #eddie munson x gn!reader #eddie munson x gender neutral reader #eddie munson angst

[darksxder]

rush it

pairing: frat boy! chad meeks-martin x fem! bff! reader

summary: you only rushed a sorority for chad’s sake, but you can’t imagine regretting it after the game of capture you get to play one fall night

warnings/tags: requited unrequited love, bittersweet (alleged by tae), skimpy bunny costume, angst and tension filled fluff, friends to lovers, deserves a second part honestly

word count: 2.1k

a.n. : I think this was subconsciously inspired by @ethansluvbot’s pfp of regina george in her bunny costume, so thank you fr!

sdt: @belle82devart

dt’s: @ethansluvbot , @midnightaemond & @spiderlover03 

If someone had told you that you would be where you are right now, maybe a year ago-hell a few months ago, you would’ve laughed in their face. Might have even flushed pink when they detailed your outfit. The fact you were dressed like a bunny, or perhaps the Kappa Deta Pi’s version of a bunny that mostly resembled Regina George’s costume rendition at Halloween.

And you were just about as skittish as an actual bunny as the fluffy white pom-pom attached to your ass rustled in the grass. Currently, you were crouched behind a bush, heart nearly beating out of your fucking chest as you heard the hoots and hollers of the various boys around.

You weren’t the only bunny. 

There were plenty of girls hiding around campus or dashing across the trails and parking lots of Blackmore University dressed as bunnies. But every man on campus, or at least everyone trying to get into a frat was a fox. Mind you they just had orange paint stripes over their bare chests, no confection or ball of fur needed to be attached to their ass.

Which only infuriated you on account of feminism and not because you had a bad habit of looking away whenever someone was shirtless. Totally. It made keeping watch difficult. And every five seconds your eyes went blurry with the glitter Tara forced into your eyes inner corner. A thick, pure dazzling white she poked there with her finger after she lined your eyes with dark brown gel eyeliner. Then go so far as to add a pretty bright pink blush to your nose and cheeks, and spread a clear gloss to your lips.

Just that and then you were off, out of the sorority, sprinting across the Blackmore University campus, and running for your furry little life. Immediately feeling your quite exposed ass cheeks freeze in the biting fall wind.

You were just thankful you could keep your knee-high boots, as they were heeled yes, but black leather, thus very warm. They even covered the majority of your stocking-clad legs. The large bunny ears glued right into the headband snug on your head were so tight it was giving you a migraine, especially when you had to double back for them twice because you ran too fast against the early September wind.

You had two hot pink flags on each side of your hip, and no one had touched yours yet. you were free.

You wanted to say you weren’t trying hard or you never usually took these types of childish games seriously but it would be a lie. You take EVERYTHING seriously and your heart is racing so fast on account of the fact you’ve fallen into that cloying and tempting trap of pretending it was real. Like you were truly being hunted like you might die, and it wasn’t too far-fetched with the masked murderer going around NYC. But you tried not to think of that. To think of anything else as you finally saw him.

Chad.

He was nearly gasping as he slowed from his dead sprint, his tanned and built chest rising and falling harshly. The tilted orange stripes were dull when you first saw them on his brown skin, but now they proved stunning in the moonlight. You allowed one glance, a second to note the soft light casting deep shadows across his muscled abdomen, leading your eyes to his sharp v-line dipping past the hem of his dark blue jeans. The sight was past your eye line but not your mind. And sweat was running in perfect droplets down his chest, the veins in his hands prominent as he clenched them, as his eyes darted from tree to bush to tree and bush. Looking for you.

Your heart pounded harder as he stopped dead still, right in front of your bush. A good twenty feet away. But he made you. Thinking of options you noted you could run, but something told you it wouldn’t do you much good.

But if there was one thing that you loved more than escapism through these types of games, it was fucking winning these types of things. So with your hands sliding down your hips, you checked to see if your flags were still there. And with a soft touch, you picked up a rock and chucked it into the bush across from you and watched as his head swerved towards it. As soon as his attention left you, and you no longer felt that hot iron brand to the side of your face, you dashed.

Some might say running in heels was difficult, especially in the platforms you were in that almost made you taller than Chad. They are correct, as you find it is indeed difficult. Especially on grass.

In a mere second, you hear this man catch up to you, your tired heart jumping at the thundering footsteps quickly echoing yours. With one of his strides, being three of yours, truly damning your advantage of being a past track star.

And when thickly muscled arms wrapped around your waist and pull you up like it’s nothing, you scream. Even though you know it’s Chad. Because he wears the same cologne and you saw him spot you. But mostly because he picks you up like it’s nothing always, no matter how many times you say you’re ‘too heavy’ for him to do so. It was the way he was gentle and firm, not yanking you into the air. Instead, it felt like he was helping you there almost.

But the fact his warm sweaty arms were around your bustier-clad middle had your pulse racing as fast as a rabbit's run.

“Gotcha'” he purred near your ear, laughing as he heard you squeak.

“Chad, put me down!” you lament, voice tired, obviously disappointed too. You had been so fucking close to winning. Hadn't seen another bunny in hours. But you just heard him hum out a 'no'.

His hand is now on the back of your plush thighs, your tits pressed firmly against one side of his back, painfully smothered against the strapless push-up set, the underwire digging into your sensitive flesh.

“Chad my boobs will fall out!” you squealed, face beet red, fists pounding sadly at his spine. To no avail. He didn’t even so much as flinch and you knew it was because you never actually hit him hard, you couldn’t even imagine it.

“Sounds like a good time for me. Wanna switch sides so I get a good view?” he asked, voice deep and teasing. But the smug drawl was cut off as the lip of your boot slammed into his bare ribs. And you were laughing into the starry night sky as he huffed out a harsh breath, gripping your thighs higher, almost fully folding over.

“Can’t hurt a man for trying, or I would’ve said that eventually if you didn’t quickly prove that you would indeed hurt a man for trying.” He rasped, voice fake pained. Back in the teasing sing-song tone that made your eye twitch.

Then he ripped the flags off your hips, pausing for a second as if to soothe the area there, hand firm and warm against your cold rear, your face flushing at the soft caress. And you just gave up. Honestly, truly, gave up, as he carried you across the vast freshly cut fields and through twisting trails, hell half the quad as other partygoers watched and laughed at the sight. But it wasn’t mean-spirited like you expected, it was almost camaraderie, but you still felt a bit like a child in time out. Helped by your huffing as you rubbed at the glitter in your eyes, sick of the burning it caused you. Hating the pain in your spine from the slumped-over posture. But as Chad reached his dorm and dashed up the stairs, to the very obvious approval of his frat mates, if their whoops and smirks were any consolation, you stopped whining about it.

Just taking the bouncing of your tits and head against his back in stride. Soft and feverish cheek smushed to his shoulder blade, just focusing on the ground beneath you, tracing the tattoos you could reach on his back.  It’s almost an unconscious action if you could ever touch him and not be fully aware of it. But you couldn’t.

You had been in love with him for years, and although he was an affectionate person, his touch never ceased to give you jitters. No matter how many years passed, it had been thirteen. It never failed to make your stomach flip so quickly and suddenly you’d think you were on a rollercoaster that just dropped 3 stories in height.

“So, are you planning on skinning and eating me?” You muse, one hand propping up your cheek, elbow purposefully digging into his muscled shoulder hard. He laughed a beautiful sound that had your cold thighs squeezing together.

“If that means I get to see you naked, then yeah.”

“Chad!” You yell, going to kick out at him again before he flipped you back over to his chest, cradling you like one might a bride, your boobs pressed harshly against the side of his chest, nearly spilling out of the small cups.  

“Okay, so you caught me..” you roll your eyes hard, trying to play along, knowing he wouldn’t drop it without your playing it up. “Whatever will you do with me now, Mr. Fox?”

He snorted, hoisting your ass under one arm and fiddling with his dorm keys in the other, his own heart skipping at your gasp at the action, your soft and perfect arms thrown casually around his neck in a vice grip.  

“I understand why they took away your barking privileges when you played Nana in Peter Pan that one year. Your acting sucks.” he laughs, smiling down at your scowling self, trying desperately to take you seriously with the soft white bunny ears on your head. But it was difficult, what with them being all fluffy and big, with a hot pink center, the right one folded over slightly for optimal effect.

“Whatever. I wanna go home and shower, Chad. Been running from sweaty dudes all night.” Your eyes fall to the carpeted floor, now actually glad he was carrying you, not wanting to get your nice leather boots sticky with whatever marred the boy's dorm carpet. You could only imagine. And instead of taking the bait to tease you, flirty personality stroked, he went quiet.

“You are home,” he said, voice soft, no ounce of teasing there and your gaze shot to him. And you felt yourself swallow hard, blinking back tears you would have sworn came from the glitter.

“Is this your not-so-subtle way of asking me to stay over?” You tease, heart, pounding a mile a minute, feeling sweat trickle down your neck, sticking your hair to your shoulders as you tilted your head up at him, curious and waiting. Soft and sure, gentle. No judgment there. From the warmth in his eyes, he knew that.

“Yes. And figured I earned it since I caught you. Plus you’ve been working too hard lately. You need rest.”

The tears fall now as his words swallow you whole, making that tension building for weeks, bunched in your shoulders subside. You could only sniffle and nod, understanding the truth in his words. The reality. You had been running yourself into the ground with club applications, sorority pledges and rush, all of it too much.

“You’re right. Just this once,” you nodded slowly and sincerely, “I’m surprised too.”

Chad rolled his eyes so hard that you laughed through your tears. “Okay. Am I sharing your bed, or camping out on the floor? Or is your roomie home, the cute one?”

He scoffed, hand pressed to his bare striped chest in mock offence. “I am the cute one, not Ethan Landry.” he bit, pushing open the door and stepping inside over the frame with you still in his arms. It felt a little like you had just been married, but you dashed that thought down before it could truly take hold.

“Sure. whatever you wanna believe..” you coo, eyes narrowed in mockery.

He just shook his head, glancing up at the clock on the far wall. “He’ll be gone 'till two am. Can get out a movie, shower and get to bed before then, huh?”

Nodding, you flushed deeply as he handed you a basket he kept on his desk. Eyes widened as you took in its contents. It had your glasses container (your spare), contacts, tampons, pads, Burt’s Bees chapstick (wild cherry) and your favourite makeup wipes. You smiled wide at him.

“This is giving relationship.. like you really like your bestie.”

He shook his head quickly, cheeks heating under your teasing tone. “No.”

“Ehhh I don’t know, this is giving no commitment issues actually. it’s giving I want you in my dorm and life so much, I made a special box of your stuff for you.”

“It’s giving all that?” he mocked, glancing at the tiny basket cradled in your lap, but you just nodded firmly, lips pursed in surety.

“We’ll then maybe it’s accurate…” he whispered, breath soft.

And you felt like you had been punched, mouth agape in shock for a mere moment before you pulled it together as your head spun. “Then let me shower before this glitter makes me fully blind.” You groan, throwing in the last bit because you know he’d give his ever so clever and original ‘you’re already kinda blind’ without it.

And you hate that you loved him for it. Hate that you loved him period. Hate that you wanted him so much it ached, that it made tears spring to your eyes when you thought of it at home in your dorm.

Knowing that after your shower in his bathroom, you would steal his shirt and boxers and crawl into his twin-size bed, the laptop screen lighting up the room as he pulled you in closer by the waist, his face half in the bend of your neck and half watching the screen. Bare chest pressed against his oversized shirt he lent you. It made you so excited you might actually scream. But you knew from the many past experiences so similar to this one, that it was hard to fall asleep like that. When you were surrounded in sheets that smelled like him, generally surrounded by him, with his bare arms around you. In those moments it was hard to deny you wanted him. And you needed to because he was your best friend.  

Nothing more.

#chad meeks martin #chad Meeks Martin fic #Chad Meeks-Martin fanfiction #scream chad #scream chad meeks-martin #chad meeks-martin x fem!reader #scream 5 fic #scream 6 fic

[aita-blorbos]

AITA for trying to kill my students?

Title sounds bad but hear me out.

I (90?M) have three students (20M, 18F, 16M). The older two are pretty normal people that I just kinda found somewhere when they were kids. The youngest was dropped off at my door about four years ago, having suffered clear brain damage. He was brought there by an on-again, off-again friend of mine (also 90ishM) who claimed that what happened to the kid was somehow his fault. I told him everything between us was forgiven and that I’d handle it.

Now, the thing about the kid (let’s call him ‘V’) is that what my old friend did to him was essentially trying to turn him into a living superweapon. Basically, the original V’s heart got split in half into pure light and pure darkness, with the V I know being the light half. He’s still like mostly himself, we think, but he got all the darkness within him surgically removed and it became a new entity. Dunno where it went, but if I ever see a being of darkness, it’s on sight. Personal m.o.

Anyway, if those halves ever come together again, the weapon will be forged, and with it, the power to end the world. Something about bringing about the great apocalypse which will blanket the world in darkness and lead to a new blah blah blah something about uncovering the mysteries of creation idk. But like my friend (let’s call him ‘X’) totally pinky promised he wasn’t gonna try to do that anymore after it failed the first time, and I believe in my friend.

But just to be safe, I’ve kept V from going off into the outside world for these past few years, in case X or anyone like him ever found the kid and used him to try to forge the weapon. Like who knows if his counterpart might be out there somewhere, trying to re-merge.

All three of my students are homeschooled and I don’t let them access the Internet, nor have they ever really left this place since coming here, so they’re pretty sheltered. I have much stricter rules for V in particular, and I’ve managed to keep him from ever finding out who or what he is, since he can’t remember a thing. He complains about being treated like a child all the time, but that’s just teenage angst, you know? I’m doing what’s best for him.

Anyway, to make a very long story short, V found out about the half-of-a-superweapon thing. He finally came back after having run away from home (which I did not give him permission to do, mind you), looking upset, so I tried to comfort him. But then he confronted me about his newfound knowledge, which he learned after running into X, who was in fact unfortunately trying to pull off his plan again. I admitted to having hidden this knowledge from V for his own sake.

So here’s where I might be TA. I knew what he was all these years, but I still tried to protect him and let him live his life as much as possible while simultaneously protecting the world from him. But at this moment I figured I couldn’t do that anymore, and so the only way to prevent him from becoming the superweapon was to preemptively destroy him. Believe me, I didn’t want to, but I didn’t see much of a choice. It was for the greater good of protecting the world.

So I tried attacking V, but my oldest student (let’s call him ‘T’) showed up and interfered. He wouldn’t get out of my way, and I didn’t get a chance to explain my reasoning to him. So I told him that if he didn’t listen to me and let me do this, I’d have to kill him too. It’s worth mentioning that V himself then said he agreed with me about him needing to die. But T kept resisting me and started using the power of darkness, which was absolutely terrifying, (I have severe darkness-related trauma, btw), and then he sent V through a portal to protect him. So then I tried attacking T. All darkness everywhere needs to be destroyed, at any cost. It’s a serious threat.

So, AITA? I tried to attack and kill two of my students for the greater purpose of saving the universe.

#aita #am i the asshole #unreality

[fickleminder]

no hope, no love, no glory

Okay, this is pure angst for angst’s sake, and it takes place in the replaced!MC AU. Please scroll past if that’s not your cup of tea :)

- So remember how the premise of this AU is that MC basically falls out of favor with the demon bros (and maybe also the Purgatory Hall gang and Royals, depending on your take) as a result of the new exchange student? One aspect I haven’t seen yet is the consequence of falling out with Mammon

- Suppose MC gives up on trying to mend bridges and goes back to the human realm. They try to resume their original life before the Devildom, reconnect with friends and family, get a job, move on, etc. But they slowly realize that something is wrong when their finances start going to shit

- For some reason, they just can’t seem to hold down a steady job. Maybe the company has a freak incident and goes bust, or perhaps weird stuff keeps hindering MC’s ability to perform at work

- Any investments they make goes down the drain, and after a certain point no one even wants to hire them anymore

- MC does their best to survive via side hustles, tutoring kids, doing deliveries, cleaning homes, but they barely make enough to put food on the table, let alone keep a roof over their head

- In the end, MC’s extended family takes pity on them and takes them in. They become the charity case that is cared for out of familial obligation. MC tries to give back by helping out with babysitting duties and house chores, but there’s only so much they can contribute

- Fast forward several decades, when the demon bros finally come to their senses

- They search the human realm for MC and find them in an elderly home for patients with dementia. It isn’t the most comfortable place to spend their final days in, not with their relatives’ limited budget having to support themselves and MC, but at least they would have basic care

- With some pulled strings and memory-wiping magic, MC is transferred to the country’s best home with top tier nurses

- The brothers visit everyday, bringing gifts and flowers to cheer MC up, taking turns to spend time with MC, who doesn’t recognize them anymore. MC mostly listens as they talk, and doesn’t respond other than to recall bad memories or lament over their failures in life

- But for a while, things are okay. MC is back in their lives again, and whether they know it or not, they have seven demons who would give them the world if they asked

- Then the fated day comes

- Everyone had hoped that MC would go peacefully, but something goes wrong and they start convulsing on their bed in pain. The nurses do their best, but nothing is working outside of putting them to sleep for good

- Delirious, MC starts calling out for the brothers, crying for help. Their pacts are going haywire, but no matter how much the brothers try to comfort and soothe them, MC isn’t registering their presence at all

- It wasn’t supposed to be like this. They were supposed to be happy, surrounded by loved ones

- Instead, MC dies afraid and thinking they’re alone, with tears on their cheeks and the name of their first man on their lips

#writing #obey me #obey me fanfic #obey me mammon #obey me replaced mc au

[yeokii]

SOUR GRAPES - PSH (teaser)

SYNOPSIS! This sour feeling in love isn't something you should have, is it? Who knew love could be so painful? After spending your entire life crushing on someone, that person fell in love with someone else. Hearing those words come out of his mouth, "I see you as her sister," all hopes were crushed. All of these sweet, tooth-aching memories had turned sour and bitter. With no hope to continue with these feelings, all you have to do was move on. While you're healing from heartbreak, guess who decides to return.

ty my twin @hanniluvi for writing the synopsis 🙏

GENRE! literal angst with like little to no fluff

PAIRING! non-idol! sunghoon x fem! reader (ft. Jake)

WARNINGS! cursing, reader is insecure (ig?), reader's sister is very bitchy, mentions of kissing, more tba . . .

WC! (teaser) 400+

A/N! saur um... anyways!

RELEASE DATE! in the beginning of april maybe??

PLAYLIST! here

It’s not like this was destined to happen? You were human — maybe the perfect human in this case — and you lived a very normal life. Nothing was bound to occur. You had decent grades, pretty visuals, and a perfect family. That’s what everyone would want, right? Maybe it was what you wanted and you did have it. You had no complications in your life whatsoever other than finishing your school projects before the due date or choosing which coloured scrunchie would go best with your outfit or planning on what snack to eat next while watching the bad, cheesy netflix originals. 

That was the life you had. Everything felt so normal until he walked in the door. Your 16 year old self did not know what to do when he stepped inside your house, bowing to your mother who was smiling widely at him and complementing his youthful looks.

You stood still there with a glass of water in your hand that you poured before to drink which you had completely forgotten about. You forgot about everything. Your mother’s words were not heard anymore nor was the background noise that was coming out of your tv which you were watching earlier. You didn't know why, but you looked at him with pure adoration in your eye. You wondered to yourself if he was sculpted by the hands of good and that he was rather handsome for a 17 year old.

“Hi, I’m Sunghoon.” He said to you, smiling.

And from that day onwards, your heart grew. It definitely wasn't the size it was before and it surely didn't feel like it. Your cheeks would grow more red every time you talked to him. Why? – because you had the biggest crush on Park Sunghoon. 

It came with a bit of ups and downs, well mostly it was on the negative side rather than the positive yet you continued to ignore it just for the sake of your growing heart. At first, you wondered – this was just infatuation, right? Wrong. At some point it was, but that turned into the little thing you were scared of the most. You didn’t even feel like saying, too scared about the consequences you would face. It wasn’t your fault your heart would beat twice the amount whenever he glanced at you for a second. It was your fault that you always seemed to forget everything when he was around and it surely wasn't your fault that you fell in love with him. It just simply was not your fault.

TAGLIST! [OPEN] 

send an ask/dm to be added to the taglist!

bolded = cannot tag :(

@differentchildwombat @hsgwrld @en-chantedtomeetyou @strvlveera @hoonvrs

PERM TAGLIST [OPEN]

@flwoie @zuyairus @bubblytaetae

#k labels #kflixnet #sunghoon #enhypen #enhypen imagines #sunghoon x reader #park sunghoon #enhypen x reader #imagines #kpop imagines #sunghoon angst #enhypen angst #angst #fluff #enhypen fluff #sunghoon fluff #park sunghoon x reader #sunghoon imagines

[silverflamedqueen]

Stages of Regret (Chapter 1)

This will be heavy on the angst. If you’re looking for fluff, and quick romance. Turn back now. It’s going to get worse before it gets better. This was shorter than I would’ve liked it to be. But, I wanted it to end on a certain point. 🙈

Nesta Archeron’s days off were spent visiting her favorite bakery. Where she would indulge in warm, fresh chocolate croissants. Days off meant no schedules to adhere to. As well as no one to look good for. Which meant pajamas all day sometimes. She could possibly read a book, or hang out with her friends. More importantly though, it meant she got to spend time with her favorite person. She wasn’t an overly chatty individual. Mostly she just listened to Nesta talk. Every now and again adding to the conversation.In her own special way. Her friends across the hall, Gwyn, and Emerie adored her the second they met her. Often begging to spend time with her. They said she was good company, and Nesta couldn't help but agree. It all made her happy.

But, at times, deep within herself. It also brought about a bitter feeling. Thoughts of what could’ve been. Had she not been such a coward. What could've been, had she let go of her damned pride for once in her life. It was too late for that now though. Without a doubt, there was no going back. Too much damage had been done. The bridge was burned to cinders. So she looked toward the future she could look to. Ignoring taunts, the shadows whispered in the darkest parts of her mind. This was her life now. She chose this. Owning it was the only option.

So with croissants in hand, she chattered absently. As she rounded the corner to her hallway. Noting how it was getting hot outside. Which was only met with the sweet smile and laughing eyes of her companion.

The sight of a man idly leaning against her doorway stopped Nesta dead in her tracks. She recognized those hazel eyes. As they bore into her, piercing that armor she worked so hard to forge. He always had that effect though. He always would.

For the past year, she’d seen those same eyes .They haunted her, serving as a reminder of what she did. What she couldn’t take back. He shifted his stance. Pushing off the wall.

“ Nesta” he gruffed, no hint of the love they once shared. She wasn’t surprised. So she steeled herself. Standing straighter, she adjusted the bag on her shoulder “ Cassian”.

She didn't know why she expected to hear him call her Nes. Maybe it was wishful thinking on her part. The affectionate name had always calmed her. Not that she’d ever admit to it. But, No matter the tone, whether it be joking, gentle,or loving. It always made her feel special. It was just for her. He never called her by her full name, ever, until now.

Nesta’s mind wandered to the Christmas party. That had changed everything. Had it really been a year and a half since she heard that name last?  She recalled Rhysand, her sister Feyre’s arrogant fiance. How he’d poked at her and Cass’s relationship. Any civility between the two of them. Was purely for Cass and Feyre’s sake. Anytime they were alone together. No words were exchanged. Both were content to sit in silence. Morrigan, Rhysand’s cousin, joyfully inserted her opinion that Elain would be a more palpable option for Cass. Something that even pulled a chuckle out of Amren. Who had once been a friend of sorts to her. In the end though she was never hers. Amren was Feyre's friend. She felt foolish for thinking otherwise.

Azriel though had never uttered any grievance towards her. In fact, he often gave her small reassuring smiles. When she had become the topic of interest. In a less favorable way. She even saw him give Rhysand, his brother, a disapproving look. At the comment made about her and Cass’s relationship.

After that comment though. The digs kept coming. Nesta had sat herself in a stuffed armchair as they all berated her. One comment, in particular, had hit her hard. Made by Morrigan, no surprise there. A wish that she’d just go away. To his credit, Cass gave her a look. But, she needed more than that from him. She knew most of them hated her. Thought she wasn’t good enough for Cass. It was an unspoken fact. Hell, she herself believed it. But, Nesta finally had enough when Morrigan pouted and draped her feet across her boyfriend's lap, wiggling her toes. A clear indication of wanting a foot massage. Her boiling point was fully reached when Cass indulged her whim.

With that, she had stood up, and made her way to the front door. Throwing it open, causing a resounding thud. As it hit the wall. Silence fell quickly after that. Cass had tried to intervene afterward. She even heard Feyre call out for her. She was too angry, too hurt to care. Cass had fretted about the cold weather, and her lack of a coat. Begged her to stay. To just talk to him. But, she heard none of it. If They wanted her gone. Then she’d do just that. 

However, a kink was thrown into her plan a few days later. One she didn’t see coming. One that scared her to her very core. If she was being honest.

Nesta showed up at Cass’s door the next day.  She needed to talk to him. Wanted to talk to him. She missed him. She missed his morning cuddles. She missed the way that he denied using her shampoo, that idiot. Resolve was fresh in her mind. She was ready to talk to him. To figure out how to move forward together. Her hopes were slashed though when. His door opened only to reveal a sneering Morrigan. A waste of space she had called her. Before slamming the door in her face.

   Nesta got a new number, broke her lease, quit her job, and moved across town. In the span of a few days. She assumed everyone was giving her space, by not showing up. When they did though most would be in for a much welcome surprise. She’d finally be out of their lives.

Her new job paid better for sure. For the first six months, she worked behind the bar. Learning different pouring techniques, and the proper way to mix drinks. After that, she started working the floor.  Balthazar, her boss, was adamant that all his employees get to their cars safely at night. Made this ridiculous buddy system. But, it worked. She was appreciative.

Her new apartment wasn’t much. A simple one bedroom. She’d made it a home though. Soon after moving in she met her neighbors. Gwyn, a spunky redhead. Who worked from home. She barely left her apartment. When she did leave. She’d dart over to another apartment.

Emerie owned a family shop. Something said family wasn't too thrilled about. But, she seemed unbothered by it. All of them had bonded over smutty books. Soon forming a genuine friendship. They cured her loneliness.

The clearing of a throat brought her out of her thoughts, and back to the current situation at hand. Cass’s face now looked elsewhere. Hazel eyes, met another pair of  Hazel eyes. The one year old on her hip was intrigued.  As she stared in wonder. Pain flashed across his face. “ How old is she?” he asked. Nesta knew what he was asking. She thought It’d be obvious. From the tiny tuft of light brown hair atop her head, to the piercing hazel eyes. She was a perfect mix of both of them. At least Nesta thought so. “ If you’re asking if she’s yours, she is”. She hadn’t meant it to come out so blunt. So, she tried to soften it. “ I had no right to keep her from you, I’m sorry”. His eyes met hers for the second time today. The pain still evident in them. He leaned back on the wall. “ Can we have a discussion inside?”. Nesta had feared this talk. She knew that eventually her past would catch up to her. “Of Course”. She said, a slight shake in her tone. As she opened her door.

#nessian fic #nessian #nesta archeron #nesta x cassian #acotar #acosf #nessian angst

[chaosandgunpowder]

Hi, hello, hey!

This feels weird. 

Okay, strap in. In case anyone’s forgotten I don’t really do brief, but I can summarise if needed.

So:

I’m alive, I’m okay, and I wrote something (yay) It’s not ch11 Plausible Deniability (sorry, sorry, sorry)

I’ll hide the rest under the cut, I don’t want to clog everyone’s feeds with my inane rambling.

For the lovely comments and asks/messages I’ve had, thank you, thank you. This update is for you especially. For anyone that’s asked me, I’m doing well, and so is mini-chaos (almost a full, actual mini-person capable of causing as much chaos as expected, and that blows my fucking mind).

Unfortunately, I (maybe naively) didn’t really anticipate just how much of my brainspace would be taken up with going back to work full-time after mat leave, (to a new job, as well, because, yes, I did get it!) and juggling working, a new job and impending toddler-hood just didn’t leave me with any emotional (or physical) energy at all - I took a much-needed but unwanted step away for a while for the sake of my sanity. 

But I’m still chugging along, and as of this month, now I feel like I have my shit together, and a routine that leaves me space for it, I’m also writing again (big yay). 

Which brings me to the PD update. That sounds super serious, it’s not. It’s just reassurance to anyone still interested and waiting; I’m not done. It’s not abandoned. It’s not cancelled. I still intend to finish it. I still have it plotted to fuck, on file and permanently in my brain.

Though when I sat down a couple weeks ago with coffee and the biggest smile to actually do some writing, I was a teeny bit anxious. I really wanted to work off all the dust on something unimportant, because if the first 5-10k I wrote after a big-ass break was pure, unadulterated rusty bullshit, I really really didn’t want it associated with PD. That shit is my soul. 

So I am sorry if anyone’s disappointed that what I have for you is not that. Know that it isn’t PD because I’m too dedicated to the integrity of it. 

Luckily, I don’t think my little writing exercise is entirely rusty bullshit, anyway. I do think it’s honestly mostly 10k of pure, unadulterated filth with a sprinkling of pining and angst on top, but I don’t hate it, and so I’m doing final edits today (I’m, in fact, just taking a breather between edits so that I come back to it with fresh eyes). 

It’ll be up sometime tonight if it sounds like anyone’s bag, and if not, no big. After it’s up I’ll be easing back into ch11, though I know better than to make date-based promises, they just stress me out and make me somehow less productive.

I’ve gotten such lovely asks while I’ve been taking this break (seeing them made my fucking day, even if I apologise that I wasn’t in the headspace to be able to reply). I don’t know if any of you are still around to see this, but I hope I’ve answered many/most of your questions on how I am/whether I plan to update etc, in this giant ass essay, but a hearfelt thank you to everyone who’s come into my asks with wellwishes and funny shit (you especially, anon who dedicated so much time to lifting me up even if you didn’t know you were - thank you.)

Right. Enough of this procrastination shit. Back to business. 

Catch you tonight with a link. Much love, Chaos. 

#well this feels wildly self indulgent #but I really did want to update everyone that’s reached out to me

[vullcanica]

𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐎𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 - 𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐒 𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

slowburn or love at first sight (there's NOTHING better than months of plotting and rp coming to a head. you and a partner losing your shit like you didn't personally write the bastards making a first move. good stuff.)

fake dating or secret dating (both but something something realism. queer ships especially)

enemies to lovers or best friends to lovers (enemies to best friends to also lovers. looking at you caro...)

oh no there’s only one bed or long-distance correspondence (alt rp like letters or texts has had me in a chokehold in the past. only one bed is a very basic forced interaction trope)

hurt/comfort or amnesia (the amount of dynamics i have based on this..)

fantasy au or modern au (i like AUs, sue me)

mutual pining or domestic bliss (one followed by the other)

smut or fluff (not that interested in writing smut (with a few exceptions) ngl to you, tenderness is where it's at)

canon-compliant or fix-it (i write mostly oc's 🤷)

reincarnation or character death (obv, with the amount of muses i have who are connected to undeath somehow. character deaths are too final and man, writing them as a fitting end to a narrative and a character is TOUGH. it's also contrary to popular belief, by and large, not the worst thing you could do to a muse. so as a tool for tragedy it's mid sometimes.)

kid fic or road trip fic (?? ...it's a fanfic tropes meme i'm filling out for roleplay. idk.)

arranged marriage or accidental marriage (purely because the former implies political dynamics which are always fun to explore)

college romance or middle-aged romance (god, let people be in love in their 50s. i don't just mean middle aged couples married for a few years, i mean older adults finding love. it's always such a hard hitter)

time travel or isolated together (the SUPERIOR version of only one bed, but make it forced co-existing. better yet? forced co-existing for the sake of survival)

neighbors or roommates (again. co-existence. more chances for shenanigans)

sci-fi au or magic au (i love robots/androids/cyborgs too much not to have a bias but lbr, most of my stuff on here is some flavour of fantasy because it's way easier for me. wish i wrote better sci-fi but alas.)

angst or crack (pure unadulterated pain is the main tenet i operate based on. trite bullshit is good too though)

apocalyptic or mundane (slice of life just be cute as hell sometimes)

Tagged by: @vhgr like a looong time ago, hii

Tagging: you !! steal it

#(dash games.) #me realizing i am simply indecisive...

[urfavnegronerd]

dreaming of you- selena

trope: angst because i'm missing someone real hard rn so now its everyone's problem

published: july 20, 2023

warnings: sadness, possible errors (i edited it by myself so i did my best), tried rly hard to use regular punctuation, i haven't used y/n in a fic ever so for now we have a good ol character name that u can substitute if you'd like, alternates from past to present tense but let me know if i messed that up a bit so i can fix it for the sake of clarity, religious themes if you squint (a church, a saint and a prayer, nun too crazy mostly just honoring someone), i think that's it

pairing: oc (amari, gender neutral) x miles (1610 or e42, either works)

wc: 1.7k ish

cielito- little sky (at least that's how my family uses it), amor/ mi amor- love/ my love

Late at night when all the world is sleeping, I stay up and think of you

Time is fleeting, the days turn into months into years and however long. The concept of time is funny because doctors will tell you that you have a new dermal layer about every month. So my body has forgotten and forgotten him. It’s strange because he– Miles, is always in the back of my mind, tucked away quietly for me and only me.  

It’s been three years since Miles’ passing. 

and I wish on a star 

If I were to talk about Miles, I would tell you about his voice and how smooth it would sound 

“Amari,” he calls, reaching out for me. I hum a response, distracted by the calculus assignment in front of me. if I had known, I would have given him a proper answer. 

“Are you busy?” 

“ ’s just a little bit of calc” I mumble. 

“Oh. Do you need help?” I shook my head in response, too prideful to ask that of him. I felt him slowly and gently pad his way over next to me, the carpeting absorbing the sound, and put his head on my shoulder. His curls tickled my pierced ears, the scent of his hair overwhelming my senses. The smell of pomegranate and honey, something so soft and kind to me, to my nose, to my body. If I could go back, I would smell his hair over and over again, to keep that part of him with me, always.  

“I just wanted to feel you, Mari,” the mumbles into my shoulder sent butterflies into my stomach, the same way they always did. 

After I would tell you about his voice, I would tell you about his mind. 

Miles had the most beautiful mind, a painting of beauty in a warzone. A small rose, reaching up from the cracks in the concrete, fighting nature with pure willpower, a colorful muse in the bleakest of places. His mind was the birthplace of such beauties, and treasures, treasures that I will keep tucked away in my head. For me and only me. Something to tell the world, to tell Brooklyn, that Miles Morales was not invisible. He was the opposite. He was vibrant and kind.

“Amari, baby, do you like this with drips?” he asked looking back at me, standing on his tip-toes, his hands smeared with yellow spray paint, trying to reach an impossible spot with no one's shoulders to stand on. I look up from my book, perched on a tattered couch somewhere beyond the train tracks. The light he would use to paint throwies and murals was blinding, he would squint with his whole face starting with his nose and traveling to his eyes, brows, and forehead. 

“Yeah. I like the drips a lot baby,” he smiled something goofy, something whole-hearted and warm, no doubt the byproduct of the love he had in his home. In his heart. 

Miles was soft, too. 

He would lie on his back on the floor, staring at the sky on the rooftop and listening to music. He turned his head to me and stared. He stared at me like I was the brightest light he had to look at, like out of all the constellations I burned the brightest. At that moment, he was Galileo and I was the sky. 

“Cielito,” he whispered, taking the wired ear bud out of my ear and gently turning my face towards him. “I’ve never looked at someone as beautiful as you, knowing how much they love me. and I like you so much that I can hardly breathe Amari, and it's like I have this thunder in me, in my veins. You make me nervous. but also calm, calm from lovin'. Mari, I love you.” 

Instinctively, I blush, bringing the sweatshirt up and over my mouth. Smiling something fierce, I laugh and press my forehead to his. 

“I love you, Miles,” I whisper, staring into his eyes. I had never once been so sure about something in my life. But I was sure about Miles, I was sure about his hazel eyes and tightly wound curls. Sure about the way he looked at me like I was the only thing he could see. I was sure about the comfort and calm in his eyes, a small pearl in our Brooklyn neighborhood. 

I was sure about the way he kissed me next, sure about how softly his hands held my face. Sure about the small and rough callouses on his wrists, and how no matter how rough the world saw Spiderman, he was soft. comfort, warmth, and all of which are attributes of a home. And the more that I think about it, he was home. 

That somewhere you are thinking of me too 

I slam my hand on my alarm with a vengeance, and a seething ache in my heart arises as I look around my room. Sage green walls once clad with photos and posters, now stare back at me, tangled in bed, empty. All signs of a life that were once reflected on these walls are gone. Boxes litter my floor, and shelves once full of trophies, plaques, books, and jewelry, are empty. The only remnant I have of this room being full of warmth is in my head, tucked away neatly next to the memories of Miles. Rubbing the sleep from my eyes and tugging off my bonnet, I shimmy into cargo pants and a too-big hoodie. Miles’ hoodie. Folding up my pajamas, taking the sheets off my bed, and neatly folding them, I push the rest of my life into a box half full. 

I can’t tell if it’s anger or sadness that fuels me, but I push the boxes into one corner and sit on the edge of my now-stripped bed. I stare at the fire escape, the cool metal being the home to several sleepless nights, endless secret kisses and so much more. Memories of a life that’s been loved. 

A surge of emotion hikes in my chest, something that I don’t want to deal with, at least not yet. I pull on an old and battered pair of hightops and hike down the fire escape one last time. One last stop at the bodega down the block for flowers and a bag of sweet plantain chips, lightly salted. One last time to shove my metro card into the reader. 

Waiting for the train, I look up and see the sticker Miles stuck on the ceiling rail. I don't think Jefferson had the heart to take them down after he passed. Memories of a boy was loved beyond belief. Tugging the hood of my sweater over my head, I enter the train and grasp the cool metal. Something to ground me at this moment that feels surreal. Something to hold on to, an island in a hurricane.  

Stepping off the train, a shiver runs down my spine. The air hangs thick, despite the cool summer weather and a feeling of sorrow creeps up my throat again. Pushing it down, I walk. Walk past the small costume shop and endless coffee chains and then I stop. The church hangs ominously over me like it’s betting on me to turn back. To run from this nightmare, this anger, this pain in my chest. 

Shakily, I step forward, swerving behind the building and into the graveyard. Miles is next to Peter Parker, and I huff at the irony of it all. Clutching the chips and carnations in my hand, I walk to the heavily decorated graves. Emotions tug at my chest and prick my eyes. I finally let it leak from my tear ducts and streak my face. 

“Hi Miles,” I look at his headstone, half expecting him to respond in his slight Brooklyn drawl. I half expect him to reply Hi, Mari clear as day, like he used to. He doesn’t. 

“I leave for school today. It’s far, in Rhode Island.” 

I pause, my face contorting violently before finally letting out a choked sob. 

“You know, your mom keeps telling me that you wouldn’t want to see me like this. That I should let it out. And I feel so angry about it. Not at Rio, of course. Angry because who the hell gave you the idea that you could leave? Leave before Rio got to scream at our graduation. I’m not angry at you Miles, not in the slightest. You tried,” 

My voice breaks.

“So hard. You fought so hard, and I’m so proud of you. I just thought I should stop by before I leave. I brought you bodega flowers, and the chips you like. You don’t have to eat them.” 

I clean his grave up a bit, grabbing dead flowers, deflated balloons, and any sort of unsightly thing off his grave. There are a few unlit prayer candles left, no doubt from Rio’s extensive visits, almost all of them being Saint Micheal. Jabbing my hands into all my pockets desperately, I pull out an almost-dead lighter to light the five remaining candles.  

“May eternal rest be granted onto him,” I light the first candle, “let perpetual light be cast onto him,” the second, “for my faithful and departed soul, Miles” the third, “o lord” the fourth, “let his soul be at rest” the fifth, “and let him know that I love him.” 

I wipe my eyes one final time, kiss my three middle fingers, and gently press them onto the cold and gray granite.  

“Always good to see you, Cielito.” 

I stare at his headstone one last time. 

“I love you, Miles. You don’t have to say it back, mi amor.” 

The only thing pushing me to go back home is the fact that I have a long drive ahead of me. I would stay curled next to his headstone for the rest of my life. It kills me to think that he’s alone down there, probably cold. During his funeral, I remember placing his headphones on his chest before the casket closed. His hands were ice cold, the makeup made a poor attempt at covering the small and delicate freckles that littered his cheeks. The finality of it is forever etched in my mind. 

Somewhere, I hope he’s listening to music. 

I climb back up my fire escape and tumble into my now-empty room. Sitting on the floor, I fold my knees to my chest and stare at the walls. 

and there's nowhere in the world I’d rather be, than here in my room, dreaming about you and me.

fin <3

a/n: i didnt finish the get-down on Netflix, but zekes line where he confesses his love to mylene makes me cry every time, i had a really intense astronomy phase when i was little so i loved writing the galileo line it might show up in future fics idk. leave comments, constructive criticism and pointers!! and send reqs! love you goats 🩷

-rae

#across the spiderverse #into the spiderverse #black people #fanfiction #writing #writers #writeblr #black writers #poc writer #black fanfiction #miles morales #atsv #across the spider verse #miles molares #trending #explorepage #viralpost #trendingnow #viral #trend #e42 miles #miles g morales #college #light angst #miles morales angst #gender neutral oc #urfavnegronerd #creative writing #write #on writing

[trelkez]

It's been a week since Ted Lasso 3.09. I have typed and deleted a number of things about it without ever committing to Thoughts or Feelings, but the new (63 minute??) episode drops in a few hours, so ... I guess ... let's get into it.

Because here's the thing: This episode changed me. I'm a Ted Lasso Doylist now. This episode cracked the fourth wall for me, permanently cracked it, forcing me to let go of in-universe meaning.

The tipping point was something relatively small: Isaac pulling his hand away from Colin's in the team cheer.

That moment has nothing to do with Isaac the character. It's entirely for the audience - a misdirect intended to make us think that Isaac is homophobic, that he doesn't want to get gay on him. That moment looked me in the eye and winked, and I said, quote, "nothing means anything!! I give up!!" And I did. Reader, I gave up.

They could have told Colin's coming out story any number of ways (and I wish they had), but I get what they were going for with this one: straight friend handles coming out poorly, makes it about them. (They managed this pretty well with Ted!) The problem is that they stopped at "straight friend." Does the story make sense for Isaac? Not really, but that doesn't matter, because Isaac is only there to provide conflict and narrative misdirect. The story doesn't really have anything to do with him; he's just fulfilling a role in it.

Ted Lasso has done an admirable job of leaping right past "is this believable?" to build an accepting, loving, emotionally vulnerable football team overcoming despite the odds. No one in that locker room is a homophobe? Great. Coming out makes you a better player? Sure. "The real football strategy is the friends we made along the way"? If you insist.

Have you ever tumbled rocks? You wear off the edges, erase all the surface cracks and texture, polish to a shine. AFC Richmond is one big rock tumbler. Roy gets emotionally vulnerable with the press now. Jamie Tartt is an actual cinnamon roll now! Isaac, who started out as a bit of a bully falling in line with Jamie 1.0's bullshit, has become a caring leader and a moral pillar of the locker room.

By the midpoint of the show's third season, the main cast has been so thoroughly healed and uplifted and bonded to each other that conflict (if it's serious conflict, and not "what do we do on our night off") has to be external for it to ring true. The "is Isaac actually a homophobe?" story doesn't land because we know he isn't. We know full well the show isn't about that, so the brief attempt to convince us otherwise for the sake of drama doesn't work.

Take Trent Crimm, for example: now that the AFC Richmond rock tumbler has taken him from Trent Crimm, The Independent to goofy nervous Trent with the rainbow mug, would it be believable if he betrayed the team in any serious way?

(I have a whole separate post about that, but - another time.)

The show has tried to address this problem at various points this season. Jamie has become too good, too pure to be a focal point for locker room drama, so they brought in Zava. Roy and Keeley aren't super believable in conflict with each other (as we saw in season 2), but that's fine, because now their relationship is abruptly over and Keeley has fresh relationship drama with Jack. All of Rebecca's divorce angst growth from seasons 1 & 2 is spontaneously undone so that Rupert can drive the action as a uniting antagonist. All of Ted's divorce angst growth from seasons 1 & 2 is spontaneously undone to bring in conflict with Dr. Jacob.

Those plotlines mostly don't speak to where their characters have been. Jack's class solidarity turn veered right into victim blaming, and it never once felt like that was something the show was going to address; it only happened to tell the audience that Jack is Bad Actually. Now we're watching Keeley sit by her phone waiting to see if Jack is going to - what, forgive her?

Remember when Roy was an asshole to Keeley about her sex tape? Yeah, me neither. That was a wildly out of character moment added for spice, and the show has dropped it and moved on, so I have too.

I haven't even gotten to how extra true all of this is for Nate yet, but if I started in on that I'd miss the baseball game I'm going to tonight, and unlike season three of Ted Lasso, I actually care about sports. I'll save that for later.

¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Nothing means anything, and I have given up on in-universe meaning. Maybe tonight's episode will change my mind! It has an entire hour and three minutes in which to do so.

#ted lasso #episode reactions #ted lasso meta

[rosalind-hawkins]

A, E, and L for the fanfic ask game

Ask game link here if anyone else wants to send in an ask!

Apologizing ahead of time for me going on too long on the first one.

A: Of the fanfic you’ve written, which is your favorite and why?

This is really hard to answer because I've written a lot, and a lot of it is old and not good quality anymore. Even older stories I like a lot despite thinking they're bad.

My very first Mumbleshipping fic, just called "Mumbleshipping" and only existing on FFN, is one of my fics that I reread the most, not because it's good, but because the process of writing that story brought me so much happiness. I was learning a lot and used that fic as a sandbox for a lot of headcanons and scenarios and indulgent drama. It was pure fun.

My Joukai fic "Booty Call" is one that I love and reread a lot too. It's a story told out of order on purpose, and that's so fun to me, and I would love to read a story like that that I didn't write myself: snapshots of a relationship/conflict in many different stages, out of chronological order. I'm still mostly proud of that one.

And "Rock Bottom" is my favorite AU of course, though not my favorite fic. Season Zero needs to be completely rewritten, along with most of Season One and the waterfront duel in Season Two. But however bad and overdramatic the premise and the first fic is, this AU and these versions of the characters are so close to my heart. I've carried this AU with me for years, dedicated notebooks to it, charted out tournaments, created decks, WRITTEN ENTIRE DUELS IN DETAIL. And yeah, I skipped over Monster World the first time because I was intimidated, but I will go back and fix that eventually. This is my baby as much as it makes me cringe, and the day I stop loving it is the day I stop writing.

E: What character do you identify with most?  Is there a certain fic of yours that captures these qualities particularly well?

Probably Ryou, especially when I had more anxiety issues since I've always headcanoned him as, but I project onto Kaiba a weird amount given how unalike we actually are. I don't know that there's a specific fic that best captures that, though in the Minorshipping fic Missing/Food of Love, I did go so far as to give him my eating disorder, which is a very early example of my Duke Devlin cooking headcanons, and the beginning of Duke becoming a comfort character for me.

L:  Which of your fanfics was the most emotionally challenging to write?

Oof, that's a tricky one, because I write a lot of whump/angst, which is not easy for me as an empath, but I do specifically remember Desperate Measures being a rough one to write. It was inspired by a similarly dark Protectshipping/Tendershipping fic, except theirs was so dark that I actually had to stop reading it for the sake of my own mental health. The other difference is that my fic steals an NCIS episode plotline and adapts it to Yugioh characters, because I'm really weird like that.

#answered ask #ask game #thanks for asking! #sorry for the long answer #i will absolutely talk your ear off if you ask the right kind of question bc i was never allowed to talk about my interests to my family :/

[olivyh]

TWST TRUE VILLAINS: Survival of the Fittest

TW: General horror, cannibalism, murder, mentions of bugs, major character death, angst

Again, this series is 18+!!! Please do not read ahead if you are uncomfortable by the aforementioned warnings’

They trudge through the mirror to Savanaclaw- a dorm described by their friends to be one of pure violence. Fights breaking out every second, turf wars beyond what Yuu can understand. Apparently the dorm is home to mostly a species referred only as beastmen- people with both animal and  human traits. According to Ace, there used to be students of other species- other humans, mer...

They wonder why Ace never told them what became of those other students.

Yuu gasps as the dry air of the Savannah seems to suck all the moisture out of their mouth, insects buzzing around them incessantly. The constant buzzing is nearly enough to drive them mad. They feel a pang hit their stomach when they see the giant elephant skull that sits outside the dorm, as if as a warning. 

They stare into it's empty eye sockets, watching small animals and bugs crawl around it, feeling a stab of pity for the creature. For a moment they're brought back to the night before, the sound of their friends' heads rolling towards them echoing in their mind as screams resonate from within the dorm next to them. They hear shouting followed by chanting, and some deep laughter mixed in with taunts. 

They turn to the dorm, stomach sinking as their mind races, wondering if it would be best to turn back now. They keep a vice grip on the paperwork in their hands, taking deep breaths to soothe their breathing as they wipe frightened tears off their face with the sleeve of their- of Deuce's- worn blazer.

Yuu remembers the night he gave it to them when they said they had no uniform of their own, the boy's kind smile burned into their brain as they try to remember him as just that. As they try to remember Deuce as the kind boy who loves his mother, the boy who tries his very best to make her proud. The goofy boy who sometimes is a little dumb, the trait only serving to make him more lovable in the Prefect's eyes. They try to remember Ace as the boy who would tease them mercilessly, the boy with the most infectious laugh they know, the boy who would stay up late teaching them little card tricks and magic tricks to stop them from feeling homesick. Who would do anything, take as much time out of his day just to get them to smile.

Yuu wonders if they were doing that for their own sake, in awe at their boys' bravery and compassion. Despite going through hell at their own dorm, they did everything possible to make Twisted Wonderland bearable...

They could only hope that the boys weren't used to paint the roses.

Or as a new ingredient in one of Trey's cakes.

Taking a shaky breath, they walk through the gates of the dorm, the cool stone and the shade providing a temperature drop that sends a shiver up their spine. A bead of sweat forms on their temple as they walk past piles upon piles of bones, some of them turned into morbid statues, others with things carved into them, little messages, warnings, even.

The strong, metallic scent of blood and rotting flesh hits their nose the second they walk into the common room, making them gag and cover the bottom half of their face with their hand, holding their breath as they choke back the bile that threatens to spill out of their mouth. Growls and snarls bounce off the walls around them, despite not being able to see any of these beastmen. 

"Find Leona..." They whisper, voice catching as they feel as if they were being watched. "Find Leona."

They hear a growl and are thrown onto their front, a stab of pain coursing through their body as they land on their arm awkwardly, hearing a sick crack as they scramble to get away from the person on top of them, claws digging onto the flesh of their neck and hip- where they were being pinned down. 

"Please-" They choke out as the person puts more pressure on their neck. "P-please...!" They thrash until they feel the weight being lifted suddenly, dragged back a bit by the claws still embedded in them before they can scramble back to their feet, blood seeping through their clothes and soaking their collar from the wound on their neck. Their arm throbs as they sob quietly, running as quickly as their wobbly knees would allow them. 

They're grabbed again, pulled into a dark closet as they scream and cry against the hand over their mouth, thrashing about as they cry out for help, for mercy, anything. 

"Be quiet," A gruff voice whispers in their ear. "I won't hurt you, I promise, please calm down."

"W-who..." They gulp. "Who the hell are you?"

"My name's Jack. Jack Howl-" He pulls a cord and the light above them in the small, dusty closet comes to life, revealing piles of bones similar to the ones outside, these ones with pieces of flesh still attached. Sinew and muscle torn away, left behind to rot and provide a home for hundreds of maggots. They cover their mouth with their hand and sob, fear coursing through their body as their legs threaten to collapse beneath them. 

This is hell, they think, slamming their eyes closed as their head throbs. 

What could they have done in their past life to deserve any of this? To be forced to face death every day, their only saviors doomed over something so trivial- over a mere tart. And now they were going to be eaten alive in this dorm-

"Hey," The boy calls out to them, catching their attention once more. "It's alright, you're alright." They look over his features. He's a very large teen, nearly having to duck even in the large closet. His eyes glow a dim yellow and his fluffy ears atop his head twitch as his tail sits still, dangling behind him loosely. "But you won't be. You need to leave."

"I-I have papers..."

"I can take them. Please leave, you don't understand how weak you are here. You're at the absolute bottom of the food chain- you- you knew Deuce, right?"

"Don't talk about him right now. Please."

"I- your jacket has his scent. He was a friend of mine," The ears atop his head press flat against his skull as he scratches the back of his neck, looking away. "We were in track and field together."

"That's nice..." Yuu mumbles, unable to come up with anything else to say. 

"What I'm saying is, he cared enough for you to give up his blazer- even knowing it could have gotten him in trouble with Rosehearts. So for his sake, leave now."

"I-I will..."

"Who's leavin' now?" The door swings open and Yuu gasps, nearly screaming as they're face to face with a scrawny, freckled boy with hyena ears atop his head. He snickers at their shocked expression, holding his arms up in a surrendering position. "Woah, didn't mean to interrupt..."

"Ruggie-" Jack begins, worry and hesitation lacing his voice. 

"I know, I know, no need to get your panties in a twist, Howl," The boy- Ruggie- laughs again, a high pitched almost-giggle that makes Yuu want to curl in on themselves and disappear. And the way the boy looks at them as if they were a cut of fine meat, even going as far as licking his lips as his stormy eyes narrow on them... "C'mon, I'll take you to the dorm leader."

"I'll go-"

"Do ya really wanna do that?" Ruggie cuts Jack off, sending him a malicious grin. "Remember last time you saw Princey?" Jack visibly shrinks on himself, even with the size difference between the two. "C'mon, Newbie, follow me."

They nod to Jack, who, as he walks past them, mumbles something about being careful. They follow the hyena through the dorm, unconsciously sticking closer to him as more growls and screams echo from the rooms. 

"Oi," A gruff voice sounds from behind them, and they turn with a gasp, seeing the tiger beastman approach the two of them. 

"Betcha were wondering how I made it this far?" Ruggie whispers in their ear, making them yelp and try to squirm away from his tight grip on their broken arm. "I'm not the biggest guy here, I know that, but I got tricks!" He snickers again, watching the tiger approach. 

"Ruggie," They whimper, trying to turn and run away as the tiger creeps towards them, baring his sharp, bloodstained fangs. The boy keeps them in place, practically offering them to the hungry beastman. "Ruggie!"

"Laugh with Me!" They feel Ruggie shift ever so slightly, watching his large hand wrap around the railing as he leans back so far they worry the blonde was going to topple over. The tiger copies his movements and soars to the ground, hitting the stone with a sickening crunch and entire body going limp. Yuu stares in shock, their entire body gone cold as if they'd just been tossed into the waterfall.

"...Why?"

"These assholes know better than to take what's Leona's- gotta keep up some semblance of control around here," Ruggie shrugs, walking with the dazed, horrified prefect as they continue their walk. "And... it is a little funny. Did ya see the look on his face? And your face right now, it's like ya've seen a ghost or somethin'."

He even has the audacity to yawn, as if he didn't just murder a man, throw him to his death upon the ground. "Besides, I got in with the dorm leader. I help him, bring him food... and he gives me the scraps, and keeps me alive."

"And if you don't?" They ask hesitantly, watching the boy stiffen before relaxing again. 

"He'll eat me, or at least he says he will. I'm not much, skin n' bones, y'know?" He chuckles. "Won't be very tasty."

"R-right..." They finally approach a door and are shoved in roughly before it slams behind them, a firm click ringing through the air. They scream and turn, slamming their uninjured fist on the door. "Ruggie! Ruggie please!"

They begin to sob as they hear the rustle of fabric, pressing their forehead against the cold wood of the door as their knees give out, sending them to the ground. They hold their injured arm close to their chest as panic rises within them, making them whine loudly with every scrape against their knees and gust of wind against their now scabbed wounds. 

"Shut the fuck up," A deep voice makes their breath catch in their throat as they clumsily turn around, shaking as they stare up at the lion beastman who hovers over them, sneering. Their eyes trail down from the bloodied lower half of his face, all the way down to the half eaten arm that he holds in his left hand, sinew dripping with blood and loose muscles practically falling off the pearly bone.

They close their eyes and muffle another cry with the back of their hand, curling in on themselves as they brace for whatever the man might do to them. 

"God, could you be more pathetic?" They can only keen in response, legs beginning to cramp from the strain of holding them so closely to their body as their arm screams in pain with each jolt. "Get your sorry ass up."

They pause, looking up at the man, whose eyebrows furrow on his forehead. "I said get. Your ass. Up. Now." They scramble to their feet. "Put that shit on the desk." They have no choice but to do what the man- Leona- says, placing the bloodied and tear stained paperwork on the messy desk, trying to ignore the blood that pools on the plate that sits atop it. "Finally." 

Yuu turns to see the man reclined on his bed, lounging and staring at them lazily, tail laying still on the bed behind him. He raises an eyebrow and they look away, ducking their head and scampering off towards the door. 

"Where are you going?" He growls. 

"B-back to-"

"Wrong. Sit." Leona demands. They move back to the desk and sit in the chair, leg bouncing nervously as their clasped hands in their lap shake as a bead of sweat drips from their temple. "Do the paperwork."

"I-" For a moment they think about asking him how he thinks they'll be able to do it, but they decide against it, quietly scribbling down the information they know. For a moment it feels normal, as if they were simply doing their homework with a peer. 

At least it would be, if Leona was considered a peer and he wasn't actively breathing down their neck , claws digging into their shoulder as he mutters some of the blanks they get stuck on, barely audible, as if testing them to see if they were listening. Once they're done they sigh a breath of relief, praying to whatever deity was out there that they would be allowed to leave this dreaded dorm. 

A stab of pain in the crook of their neck snaps them out of their haze and they yelp, reaching up to pull the lion's fangs out of their flesh. More tears prick at their eyes as they try to shake him off, letting out hoarse cries to counter his amused chuckles. He releases them with a sickening pop, licking away the blood. 

"Ruggie should know better," He scoffs. "Fuckin' hate the taste of humans. Especially magicless ones like you." For a moment they feel... embarrassed? Ashamed? They shake their head, finding it ridiculous how he somehow managed to make them feel as if they were at fault. 

"I'll get going..."

"You wanna get out of here alive?" He asks them. They nod, watching him circle them lazily. "Do what I say, and none of those desperate fucks will lay a claw on you."

"What... do you get out of this?" 

"Ruggie's been slackin' lately, and I don't like doing shit," He sighs, eye twitching in annoyance. 

"But-but he said..."

"That I won't eat him? Only if he does his job well. He's a hard worker, just not cut out for this hellhole."

"Don't hurt him," They mumble, hands shaking at their side and mind racing. 

"Why do you care so much?" Leona towers over them as he walks closer, grinning. His bloodied fangs glimmer in the afternoon sunlight and make them repress a frightened mewl that rises in their throat. "Besides, begging won't do much."

"Won't-" Before they know it, the door behind them is opening and Leona is no longer in front of them, having struck quicker than they could react. The only thing they hear from the hyena is panicked yelps followed by a crunch that makes stunned tears roll down their cheeks. 

"Oh no," Leona stands, feigning hurt and dropping the body to the floor, the boy's droopy grey eyes dull and wide open, blood pouring out of his open mouth. "Guess ya have to stand in now, Herbivore."

"How... why..." They cover their mouth, unable to look away from the hyena's eyes. Ruggie's condescending laugh echoes in their mind, making them dizzy as they feel their legs grow weak, half expecting the boy to sit up and laugh at their terrified expression.

But there is no laughter, and the boy is not smiling. 

And he will never smile again. 

"Snack for later. Listen, in this place, the weak die and the strong survive," Leona steps on the boy's thin arm with a crunch before walking over to the quivering human, scoffing at their expression of terror. "Which one are you?"

"I don't," They stammer. "I want- I- I- Oh God..." They sob, turning and running past the lion, tripping over Ruggie's corpse and sprawling across the floor. They barely miss the lion's booming laugh as they sprint out the door, no doubt leading any predator their way. They run through the mirror chamber, collapsing before they can make it any further. 

They break into loud sobs, their gasping breaths and screams of terror resonating throughout the hall. 

Four dead bodies. 

They haven't even been in this world for two months, and they've seen four dead bodies. For a moment they wonder about the hyena they didn't have time to know... why was the boy so thin? Why was he working for Leona when he could have been killed so easily? Why didn't he kill them himself? Would he have been their friend, had he not met such a grim fate so early on? Or was he just saving them for later?

Despite his actions, they can't help but feel the ache in their heart for the poor boy. 

"Come on," A familiar voice picks them up to their feet, keeping an arm around their waist as they sob into his shoulder and limp back to Ramshackle. 

"Jack," They gasp. "Jack- I- Ruggie-"

"I know," His voice cracks for a moment and he looks away. "I know."

"Leona- is- is he going to- am I...?!"

"No, not as long as you stay away from that place, understood?" His words remind Yuu of Ace, making their tears double as they're placed on the dusty couch. Jack returns with a small box and motions for them to remove their blazer as he patches up the now silent student. 

They're in such a daze that they don't even realize when Jack had packed up the box and put it away, numbly rubbing over the bandages with their uninjured hand. He helps them put their now casted arm into a makeshift sling, guiding their head to rest upon the pillows. 

"Get some sleep," He mumbles, before turning. 

"What if they followed us?" They can only mutter in terror. 

"I-" Jack gulps, crouching in front of the teary eyed student. "Here, take this."

"Your bandanna?"

"Yeah," He sighs, looking down. "Beastmen have enhanced senses, we can tell what scents a person carries with them, knowing who they're associated with-" Like Deuce and his blazer, they think for a moment. "And I'm- listen I- I killed people too. It's how I'm still alive in Savanaclaw. I had to prove my strength and with this, you'll be associated with me." They can only nod and hold the bandanna close to their chest as they drift off, the wolf beastman opting to sit in the reclining chair across the room. 

They awake to an empty dorm and another folder on the coffee table, on the top it reads 'Mostro Lounge'. They send a picture to Jack using the phone Ace had given them at the beginning of the year, for emergencies. Apparently it was his from middle school, some of his old photos still saved in the camera roll. 

Yuu can't bring themselves to look through it.

Jack responds quickly, telling them that it's in Octavinelle. They thank him and silently head off, throwing Deuce's bloody blazer around their shoulders once more, tying Jack's bandanna around their uninjured bicep like the ribbons many of the students wear, and putting Ace's phone in their pocket- deciding that they could no longer get away with keeping it in their room back at the dorm. 

With a deep breath to steady their nerves, they make their way towards the mirror chamber.

#twisted wonderland #twst #twst true villains #savanaclaw #twst angst #twst horror