#THE FACT THAT THEY SAID THE STORY BEHIND THE PAINTING
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i'm the best thing at this party | e.m.
up and coming rockstar!eddie munson x girlfriend!reader
(is that a picture of slash? sure, but we can pretend it isn't.)
aka the first time carol ever wrote a fic based off a taylor song.
but in my defense, it was a chase petra cover of 'you're losing me' that inspired it.
this is not connected to my rockstar!eddie x actress!reader storyline, this is it's own oneshot in a separate story.
in the early 90s, when your boyfriend's band starts to make it in the big leagues, you start to come to terms with the fact that he might not want or need a small town player anymore.
eighteen plus. established relationship. angst. hurt/no comfort-ish. open ending.
"and i'm fading, thinkin':
'do something, babe. say somethin'.
lose somethin' babe, risk something. choose somethin' babe.
i got nothin' to believe, unless you're choosing me.'"
The Hideout was hot with all the bodies packed in like sardines; stark contrast to the icy chill of winter outside. Glowing on the screen was The Tonight Show, everyone’s eyes glued to it while Corroded Coffin made their first national televised debut.
No one’s totally sure how their manager Richie was able to finesse this slot – but they went to New York to film earlier in the week and didn’t ask any questions. With Richie, it's better to not ask questions and just let it happen.
Eddie came home with an adrenaline rush so intense that he barely slept for three days. No matter how much you tried to keep him in bed and tire him out.
And sure, it was hard to have him be gone while you drove out to Indy and took a friend to see the new graffiti art exhibit that came in from LA when it was supposed to be with him. It was hard to have him miss a lot of things. His return from the city only started another big talk about it, one you've been having every few months the last two years.
Even so, you couldn’t help but be proud of him, proud of all of them. Remembering that just four years ago they were barely getting fifteen people in here to see them play when you first started dating.
The crowd erupts when the camera comes off of the band on the stage and back to Leno at his desk, the boys in real life all standing on the bar. You look up at Ed and smile, he finally did it, he’s doing it. The contracts are signed, the people saw him, he’s gonna make it. He’s making it.
You duck out of the way when they start to spray champagne over everyone by the bar, “Not my hair, babe!”
The two bartenders pour shots of Jameson and flutes of Prosecco while the show cuts to commercial and it’s not long before you feel the sticky chest of your boyfriend up against your shoulder, “It was good? I did good?”
“Ed you’re…you’re fuckin’ famous,” you grin, “You’re fuckin’ famous!”
You follow while he leads you through the crowd, settled in near the back where the stage doors lead to the dressing room and out into the parking lot. He looks over his shoulder twice before he sneaks you both behind the amps; heart pounding when he leans you up against the painted cinder block walls, noses mashing when he takes your lips in his. It’s feverish, desperate when he pulls at your hips, one arm wrapped around your mid back to keep you steady up against him.
“Lemme – mmm – lemme take you to the green room,” he breathes between kisses, moving your hand toward the bulge in his jeans, “C’mon I wan–”
“The interview’s up!” Jeff calls from on top of the bar.
“Where’s Ed? ED? Come on! The interview’s up!” Gareth calls, the crowd erupting in a cheer of ‘Edd-ie, Edd-ie, Edd-ie!’
“Come on, come on!” you squeal, pulling away to pull him toward the front of the bar again, “You said they were gonna cut it!”
“It’s stupid, babe,” he assures, “It’s so dumb.”
“Ed, you’re being interviewed by Leno, this isn’t stupid,” you urge, “This is like – this is it.”
“It’s literally like two minutes, it’s not special,” he doesn’t move when you pull him along with you, a frown pulling on your lips.
“Eddie,” your voice raises an octave, tugging on his hand – he lets go.
“I’m gonna take a leak,” he shrugs, heading toward the green room while you watch him disappear behind the door. Your brows furrow slightly, but it doesn’t stop you from making your way back to the edge of the bar where everyone’s eyes are glued to the medium sized screen in the corner.
The crowd cheers again while the band is re-introduced, Eddie and Jeff sitting on the chairs with Gareth and Grant standing behind them. You admire the way your boyfriend looks post performance, nearly glittering with sweat but glowing with pride – with accomplishment. You look over your shoulder to see if he’s back from the bathroom yet, but he’s nowhere to be seen.
“So we got a group of some – what looks like – nice, respectable hard core guys,” Jay smiles.
“I don’t know about respectable,” Eddie scrunches his nose back at the host.
“I don’t know about nice, either,” Jeff jokes. You marvel at how relaxed and natural they all look on camera, cracking wise and getting laughs from the audience. They talk about the album briefly, and the front cover which has all four boys in caskets with a red kiss print on their cheeks.
“So, the debut is self titled, Corroded Coffin – but it looks like you all got a coffin kiss here,” he points out, “These from anyone special? You got the girls going crazy.”
The audience erupts in cheers and screams, a bra finding its way flung into the sound stage. You giggle when Gareth and Grant hold it up, making them both blush pink on the screen.
“Well I got a girl at home, so, I don’t hear any screamin’ if it’s not her cheering for me,” Jeff’s smile is bright when the camera focuses on him and he winks into the lens. Sasha, Jeff’s girlfriend, screeches in the crowd of The Hideout.
“You didn’t tell me you were gonna do that!” she beams, and your heart thunders while you watch them kiss on the bar. The promise ring that he gave her back in ‘88 shines on her ring finger, awaiting something much more flashy when that first big rockstar payday hits.
“It’s definitely a change of pace,” Grant nods on the screen, “Definitely wasn’t getting a lot of girls in high school.”
“It’s wild,” Gare laughs.
“And what about you, Munson,” Jay asks, “Frontman like you’s gotta be beating them off with a stick.”
The camera focuses on him, his pink lips and smart grin, a flash of teeth before he starts talking. He’s so handsome, you feel your fingers and toes start to tingle when he opens his mouth.You weren’t expecting to hear your name on national television, or be alluded to. You’d never really prepared yourself for something like this. To be declared to thousands, maybe millions, as a rockstar girlfriend.
You swallow the nervous spit pooling in your mouth, heart pattering while you run through all of the scenarios of the outcome of being ‘announced’ in your head.
“I don’t kiss and tell, Jay,” he smirks.
Oh.
Your hearing clouds and your vision blurs – unsure of what you just heard. If maybe you imagined it, but that proves to be untrue when you feel a few sets of eyes on you. A moment of silent confusion lulls on the crowd at the bar.
You swallow the lump in your throat, fingers and toes cold now while the blood rushes to your heart and head, to your lungs which suddenly forgot how to work. Through teary eyes you look around, drowned out by the cheers of the bar when Jay announces when the album will release. You sniffle, trying to hold it back – but there he is in the back of the crowd now, eyes rounded; pleading, looking straight at you.
The tears spill over and you try to catch your breath as you make your way through the bodies on your way to the front door. You hear Gareth call after you, hearing him stumble over the barstools while he hops off the counter. Another ragged intake of breath shakes through you while you get closer to the sticker covered door, pushing through the first set and then the other into the dark blue night. Your breath puffs white in front of you, coat abandoned somewhere back inside The Hideout while you walk across the street to your car.
You fumble with the keys, blubbering while you get the engine started and the radio blares Al Green’s Let’s Stay Together part way through the song. In the rear view you see him hustle out of the bar to search for you, catching the start of your car and getting to the passenger window before you can pull away.
“Wait, wait, wait,” he strains, his fingers hanging on the edge of the half open glass, “I promise it’s not what you think. Richie asked me to answer like that, it wasn’t on purpose.”
You press slightly on the gas, making the car lurch forward and inch.
“Wait! Please don’t – don’t just go,” he begs, voice breaking with desperation, “We can talk about it.”
You look at him through wet eyes, the street lights haloing behind his head to feign his innocence. He can talk himself out of anything.
“There’s nothing to talk about,” you rasp out quietly, “We’ve done enough talking.”
“I can…please don’t go,” he says again, “Not with you crying like this, c’mon. Don’t leave.”
“I’m gonna go home, Ed,” you sniffle, “J-just go h-have fun inside. S’too cold to be out here.”
“You don’t have your coat,” he states, “Come back in and get it. We can talk in the back, please.”
“I don’t need my coat,” you garble out, “I’m going h-home.”
“Well I’ll – I’ll bring it to you tomorrow morning,” he nods needily, “Okay? Is that okay?”
You let out a shaky breath, fogging again against your windshield, “F-fine.”
Eddie cracks a weak but winning smile, “Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”
“I love you,” he adds. It tastes like ash in your mouth. You pull away before you feel compelled to say it back.
Eddie show’s up in the morning with coffee and your coat, a small carton of donut holes for you both to share. He’s all smiles, seeing you in the kitchenette cleaning out the coffee pot that you now no longer have to fill.
“Morning, baby,” he grins, “I brought your coat.”
“Thanks,” you mutter, keeping your eyes on the droplets of water that race down the side of the glass pout, “You can just hang it on the hook.”
“Are you…are you still upset with me?” his voice is airy, surprised while he makes his way behind you. Calloused hands reach around to pull your back in his chest, nose nuzzling against your cheek. Your stomach rolls, bile inching up the base of your throat.
“Enough, Ed,” you sigh, pulling out of his hold.
“Sweetheart, c’mon,” he huffs, “I told you already. I didn’t want to say that. But you know how Richie is! He just wants what’s best for the band and so do I! Don’t you? I thought you’d understand.”
“Jeff had no problem talking about Sasha,” you do your best to measure your tone, too early to start yelling.
“Jeff has the wholesome thing going for him; plus – you know his family isn’t for him being considered like, a rogue or whatever. He’s already in a metal band,” Eddie explains, like this is a totally normal conversation, “Richie even said this morning that he was getting a lot of calls.”
“Okay,” you nod, sitting down at the small table in your kitchen where your coffee sits.
“And like, a lot of people wanna do interviews with us and get hype up for the release,” he half smiles, sitting down across from you, “I told you, it was…it was a good thing. They were saying y’know like, mysterious bad boy front man is a good angle.”
“Great.”
“It doesn’t…babe, it doesn’t mean we can’t be together,” he leans forward, hand reaching out to touch yours. His shoulders sulk when you put them both under the table.
“Ed I –” you let out a breath, eyes tracing a pattern on the waxed canvas tablecloth, “I can’t even look at you right now. And you wanna tell me we can still be together?”
“What like it’s…some consolation prize?” you choke out, “You made a fool out of me. The looks I got?”
“I know, I know, but it was for the band. You know how I feel abo—“
“How you feel about me?” you hold back a bitter laugh.
“Ed, the last year or so we have kept having the same conversation over and over again. You are so, so caught up in Corroded and making it and getting there and trust me I am so proud of you. If there is anyone on the planet who is more proud than me maybe it’s Wayne, but – this is just like, this is kind of it. We have nowhere to go from here.”
He’s quiet for a moment, his brown eyes rounding and brows tilting slightly when he realizes what you’re really saying, “What do you mean no where to go? Are you not listening? I said we can still be together, just like befo–”
“Before? Before when?” you get up and pace back to the kitchen where he can still see you, “Before when you would cancel dates to go practice? When you missed my awards night for work because you wanted to fill in guitar for a gig in Ohio? When you didn’t come to my poetry reading with the guys like you said you would and instead got plastered at The Hideout after rehearsal?”
“Well I apologized for all that, that was all in the past couple years and I – look, I said I was sorry and you accepted that,” his voice raises slightly, he stands up to full height with defense evident in his stance, “You can’t just throw it back in my face.”
“When you were gone weeks at a time for mini tours, for opening for bands on the East Coast – god, all the work I took off to make sure I was there for you? When you canceled our three year anniversary dinner, without my knowledge, because you got a call for discounted studio time on the same night,” you manage to get out, the tears inching toward the edge of your lash line, “And I sat there at the table in my new dress and everyone looked at me the same way they looked at me last night. Poor girl. Must’ve got stood up. What an idiot.”
“Yeah well that studio time is why we were on fuckin’ LENO, babe!” he pleads, “Don’t you get that? It’s for us!”
“It’s for you!” you break, the shrill frustration coming out with your voice, “It’s always just been for you. It’s always about Eddie and the guys. I have done nothing but make sacrifice after sacrifice, excuse after excuse to play the part of perfect, understanding, cool, laidback girlfriend but like fuck Ed, when is it gonna be about me, huh?”
He stands there, unsure, cheeks sucking in between his teeth.
“And what’s on the docket for you on Friday? Have any plans?” you ask, your voice softening while you cross your arms over your chest. You lean the small of your back against the counter while you watch him. He clears his throat, hands finding their way into the back pockets of his jeans.
“Um, we have some meetings in the morning in Indy. And then um, we’re gonna take a late flight out to LA. The label’s excited – they’re really excited,” he breathes out, eyes finding the floor and your sock covered feet.
“Oh, that’s interesting,” you nod, voice still measured, “Since we’ve had the tickets for my niece’s winter school concert on the fridge for over a month. I guess I’ll have to tell her that her favorite bonus teacher couldn’t make it.”
“Fuck,” Eddie’s eyes shut, pulling his lips in to run his tongue across them while he thinks of what to say next. Your heart thrums in your chest, throat getting tighter and tighter while you hold back a cry – this was just another thing to add to the list.
“I can make it up to her, I promise,” his raspy nicotine voice becoming garbled with desperation, “I can make this all up to you, too. I swear. I wish you had just told me about all of this.”
“I have, Ed. We are always having the same conversation. I’m tired of having it. I’m so tired of this. Make it up to me? How do you make up for it?”
“I…” he chokes on his words, ringed fingers running over his face and reaching to pull his hair back off his neck.
“Go ahead,” you encourage angrily, “What’re you gonna do? Say something. Fucking, do something, Ed!”
“Baby, I don’t know what to…” he swallows, tears pooling in shiny wells over his eyes, “What do you want me to do? I’ll do it. I’ll do anything.”
You take a breath through your nose and let it out through your mouth, taking the three steps it takes to get to him. Your hands fall from being crossed, reaching up to cup each of his cheeks. Your thumbs run over the apples and drag softly over the stubble left over from the night before.
His eyes shut while he keens into your touch, his rough hands covering yours. Calloused fingertips coasting delicately over your knuckles. You know what you have to do, even if his touch makes you want to do the opposite.
“Go be famous,” you shrug, smiling weakly, “Go be the big rockstar I know you are. Like how you wanted. Go play The Garden and live in LA.”
Your hands slide down his face, tears falling after them, “Go do all that, and just, um – just leave me alone. Please.”
“But I don’t–” he starts, pulling in a sharp breath while a cry leaks out of him, “I don’t wanna lose you.”
“Oh, Ed,” you shake your head while the ache spills over into your own leveled sob, “I’m already lost.”
“No, please,” he begs, trying to catch your hands as they make it back to your sides, “Please, baby, I’ll fix it. I pro-promise.”
“There’s nothing left to fix,” you whisper in finality, “You should go.”
“I don’t want to,” Eddie’s soft pink lips quiver while he speaks, “Please. Please. I can fix it, the next interview, anything, it’ll be all you. I swear I can…I can…”
When your face doesn’t change he knows there’s no way to pull you from your stance, voice trailing off in defeat. You watch as he rips open your storm door and goes to his van, his chest and back shaking with sobs that make the hardware on his jacket cry with him.
A year passes and you are not surprised when you find out that Corroded Coffin has made the cover of Rolling Stone. Wayne bought every copy from the gas station at the end of the road and put them in every mailbox early that morning. You don’t think there’s been a day in the last year that Wayne wasn’t seen beaming ear to ear; his boy finally getting everything he wanted.
Life had gotten easier now that you weren’t regularly expecting disappointment. You went on few dates here and there, just trying to navigate your life after spending four years sharing it with someone else. Some nights were colder than others, but it was better than the frigidness you felt that night at the bar.
You did your best to avoid the tabloids – Eddie was certainly doing just fine navigating his life as a bachelor; some new model or actress on his arm every other month it seemed. Hardrock’s Resident Playboy. It stung the first time you saw it, and a little less each time after – heart breaker to the core; you would know, you were the blueprint.
In the same cold that matched the night at The Hideout a year prior; you sat on your steps wrapped in a robe – morning cigarette between your fingers.
“Morning,” Wayne’s voice is gravelly when it sounds over you, still soaked with left over sleep.
“Mornin’ Wayne,” you smile, taking a sip of the steaming cup of coffee in your other hand.
“Wanted to uh, to let you know that the guys are playin’ a show in the city tonight. I could uh – I could get you a ticket if y–”
“That’s sweet of you Wayne,” you smile tightly, “But I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“He might like to see you,” he shrugs. He hadn’t quite gotten over the break up the way you and Eddie had, convinced that this was the real deal – that he was watching young love flourish into something bigger.
“He’s seeing someone, Wayne,” you take a drag of your cigarette, “Why would he want to see his ex-girlfriend who still lives in Hawkins? He’s got some actress girl now, right?”
Wayne shrugs again, scratching at the back of his neck, “I never know what that boy’s got goin’ on in California outside of shows and gettin’ into trouble. Maybe he is seeing some girl but, y’know, seein’ an old friend could be good for him.”
“He’s still got plenty of friends here he can see,” you let the smoke out to drift off in the gentle wind rustling through the line of trailers and mobile homes, “I don’t think I need to be one of them.”
“Well, they’re gonna have a small after party at The Hideout tomorrow,” he offers, “Even if you just wanna do somethin’ fun. I never see you goin’ out anymore.”
You laugh, “You work at night, what do you mean you don’t see me goin’ out anymore? I go out plenty.”
His eyes linger on you, enough to encourage a thoughtful sigh – you might as well humor him.
“I’ll think about it, okay?” you toss your half finished cigarette onto the browned grass before looking back up at him.
“Okay,” he smiles, eyes sparkling as he makes his way back inside.
You spend the next day deliberating between making it to the bar or not, putting in the effort to get ready and showing up. Why bother? Just to sit awkwardly in the corner while everyone flocks to the boys and tells them how great they are? They already know they’re great, they’re crawling higher and higher up the ladder.
You haven’t even talked to Eddie since the morning he left your trailer, and Wayne knows that. He knows how bad you hurt his nephew because he came over to talk to you a week after Eddie went to California and stayed for good. ‘So why should I show my face there? So I can relive the moment he made a fool of me over again?’ You think while the hot water of the shower glides over your shoulders and down your chest.
‘Maybe it’ll be good to make amends or something, I at least owe it to the guys,’ you figure silently while you slather on some moisturizer at the bathroom sink. And you did – not seeing Eddie meant not seeing the rest of the band. Gareth, Jeff, and Grant were your friends too, and you sort of broke up with them in the same instance. Sasha moved out to California with them soon after – it would be nice to catch up at least. You hadn’t seen her since that night.
‘But why would I want to bother? So I can see that engagement ring on her finger and hear her talk about her wedding plans?’ you swallow sourly while you use a touch of your lipstick as blush on the apples of your cheeks. ‘Remember all the times you thought you and Ed were gonna get married? Hilarious.’
Before you know it, it’s 11:30 and you’re standing outside of the sticky and stickered covered door of The Hideout. Even from where you’re standing the bar is a buzz like a hive, energy inside like a livewire when you get into the entryway, showing your ID to the bouncer at the inside door.
‘Small after party my ass, Wayne,’ you think to yourself when you get in, shrugging off your coat. There was barely room to move and most of the lights were off or dimmed aside from the small stage in the back. By the looks of it, they must’ve played a small set – an intimate ‘home base’ concert for the real hometown fans. You push through some of the crowd, acrid smoke haze hovering over the room. A single bar stool sits empty at the end of the counter close to the wall and before you can think about it, you beeline straight there before someone else can grab it. Not that anyone would be able to see it through the six couples making out to Slayer blasting through the speakers.
The bar tender notices you soon after, coming over to get your order while his two cohorts speedily pour shots and mix drinks. You almost don’t want to get anything just to make the night easier, but opt for a beer instead.
“How much?” you ask over the music.
“WHAT?” the bartender shouts, holding a hand to his ear.
“HOW MUCH?” you yell back.
“ON THE HOUSE. BAND IS COVERING DRINKS,” he shouts back. You take a few dollars out while he pours your beer anyway, sliding it across the bar with a smile. He smiles back, pocketing the ones with a wink before helping another person leaning over the bar.
The TV takes your attention, a tape of their recent interviews and music videos playing on a loop with no sound. The beer is almost comforting as it passes over your tongue, it’s been some time since you just sat in a busy bar – and for the most part, no one here even knows you. For the most part.
A call of your name snaps you back to reality, looking around to see exactly who you thought you would. Sasha. And low and behold a ring sparkles bright on her finger, a breathtakingly big diamond glittering in the neon lights behind the bar.
“Hey!” you call back with a smile, sick crawling up your throat. You watch as she fights the crowd to get over to you, wrapping you in a tight hug while you stay seated on the stool.
“How have you been? You look gorgeous,” Sasha’s tan skin glows back orange in green while the lights change, tight dark curls bouncing prettily around her face.
“I’ve been good!” you nod, your voice hardly sounds like your own, “Y’know just – hanging around Hawkins. How’s LA? How’ that ring?!”
She holds her hand out so you can really see it, her skin is warm in yours while you take her fingers. It’s more beautiful up close, the marquise diamond flanked by two smaller triangles in perfect harmony.
“He did so good, Sash,” you giggle.
“I slapped his arm so hard when I saw it,” she laughs, “I said, ‘Jeff we could’ve bought a freakin’ house!’ but you know how he is.”
“I do, I do,” you nod, “Did you set a date?”
“Probably not for another year or so if we do a big wedding,” she shrugs, “Maybe a little longer? We think it’s smart to actually buy a house first – with this kind of money coming in. And y’know, the industry is, uh, well, it can be wishy washy. What’s in today could be out tomorrow. We wanna be smart.”
“Well thank god he’s marrying someone like you then,” you tease.
“That’s true,” she beams, “Do the guys know you’re here? I can go grab J–”
“No, no, they don’t,” you interrupt, taking her arm gently while she turns to leave, “You don’t have to tell them I’m here. I’ll go find them, I promise.”
Sasha gives you a half hearted smile, “Okay. Well – We’re sitting over by the stage if you wanna come say hi to the guys. Gareth would lose his mind, and Grant brought his new girl with him, she’s so cool. They met in LA and she’s like, got the sickest punky-goth type of thing about her.”
“I love that he’s in love,” you gush.
“Me too,” she nods, “The girls are obsessed with him out there.”
There’s a silence, but it’s knowing – still one person yet to have been mentioned but you both seem to understand it’s not worth bringing it up. Sasha reminds you that they’re by the stage, giving her a wave while she disappears in the throngs of people in the crowd.
Half way through your second beer and a couple of random conversations with people later, you see him in glimpses while people pass by. You can tell by the smirk on his face that he’s flirting, and when more people move and re-disperse, settling, you see glimpses of her, too. Some cute young looking thing, you wouldn’t be surprised if it was her twenty-first birthday. All doe eyed and giggly while he leans over her against the wall near the booths. I guess whoever he’s seeing in California isn’t too important.
He looks good, healthy, you can tell his clothes are tailored now – sort of comical that a tailor would fit and adjust ripped jeans and an old leather jacket. Not that he has to know you think it’s funny.
Eddie leans forward and lets his finger tap her on the nose, a tell-tale sign of his that they’ll kiss later. He’s used that move on you more times than you can count. He did it the night you met, tipsy at a party at Gareth’s – tapped you on the nose, making you scrunch it.
‘Aw, if I knew you’d make a face like that I would’ve booped you way earlier.’
‘What do you mean? What face?’ You scrunch again.
‘That face,’ he bites his lower lip, blush on his cheeks, ‘It’s a cute face.’
You expected it to hurt more, to watch him active in his element; but it doesn’t. You know the motions, you know his tells, he next move. You can see it in the way he leans into her and then leans away – almost kissing her, but leaving her wanting more. You smirk into your next sip, counting down the moments until he puts their conversation on pause to do their rounds and finding her again later. Gotta keep her yearning, you guess. He certainly was always good at things like that.
You don’t see their reunion, you assume it was somewhere near the stage where the band and Sasha were. At the end of the night, the boys play a goodnight mini-set, just three songs. You’d never seen Ed so in his zone in your life, fully basking in the glow of upcoming stardom. Every chord and every lyric punching out of him like the sweat pouring from his hairline and chest. This was what you wanted, what you told him to do.
Go be famous. And here he was. Famous. Just like you said he would be.
Water takes the place of your beer while they play; and you know better than to get up and join the crowd. Much happier sitting at the end of the now more empty bar just listening instead of getting potentially punched or tussled with amongst the bodies.
People take their time leaving when the set is over, shrugging on their coats to brave the cold weather.
‘Thanks for comin’ out to celebrate with us – now get the fuck out so our buddies at the bar can go home before four!’
You savor the conversations and music settling down to a much quieter murmur while you sketch on a napkin. A few people you shared niceties with tap your shoulder to say goodbye, new friends you’ll never see again. On the other end of the bar you hear Grant and his girl order a round of shots. Your head almost pops up at the sound of his voice, but that might bring attention to you that you don’t think you really want. Now that the night is over, you’re glad you came. If anything, just to see that they were making it just fine – and they would have with or without you.
With less people in the bar you can hear Sasha’s laugh in the back where the stage is, and you laugh into your napkin turned sketchpad. Her laugh was always infectious, enough to make the crowd follow suit. You grab a fresh napkin from the pile next to you and start to doodle again while you figure out how to best leave without anyone catching wise that you’re here. Out of the last twenty people left at the bar, a little more than half knew who you were.
The tap of the pen on the bar top while you think blends in with the tinkling of hardware that gets a little louder the closer it gets to you. A squish of leather and drag of a barstool later makes you privy that someone’s next to you. Spiced cologne and sweat sheened skin.
“You come here often?”
Slowly, you turn your head – level with brown eyes you haven’t looked in for a year, just in the glossy pages of magazines you’d leave behind at the grocery store or Melvald’s.
“I used to,” you offer a quiet tired smile, leaning your chin on your hand on the bar, “It’s been a while.”
Eddie smiles back, soft, cautious, “Yeah, same for me.”
You both don’t speak for a moment, adjusting yourselves on the barstools while a few more people head out to leave. The jingle of the door fades out, crunches of the parting patrons’ sneakers and boots in the snow sound outside.
He clears his throat, bringing your attention back to him – the curls of his hair, the slight stubble on his jaw and cheeks. His bottom lip tucks between his teeth for a moment before he turns his chest toward you.
“Can I uh, can I get you a drink?”
#eddie munson#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x you#eddie munson angst#eddie munson fluff#eddie munson fanfiction#eddie munson fan fic#eddie munson fan fiction#eddie munson au#rockstar!eddie munson x reader#rockstar!eddie munson#rockstar!eddie#rockstar!eddie x reader
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in love with my bullies
warning: mentions of smut : throatfucking, p in v bullying, and cursing
sypnosis : the marauders bullied you, tortured you. what will happen when you finally stick up for yourself?
dark!poly!marauders x female!reader
pacing is horrible in this story, ik but i was writing it while listening to music LMAO. did not proofread btw..
once again, here you were.
washing green slime gunk out of your hair in the abandoned bathrooms due to another marauders prank that was only towards you.
somehow their pranks always involved washing something out.
you tried your best to not be bothered or even show any sign of disdain in your face but this had really pissed you off.
it was relentless.
everyday, every hour, every minute, every second. the marauders would continue to bully you for no reason other than you being a slytherin.
but you would think that since there are so many slytherins, you wouldn't be top pick. you were quiet, kept to yourself, and never tried to go noticed in a huge crowd.
yet all the marauders did was pick you out and torture you.
the only one that showed you mercy was peter, he usually hung out with his girlfriend and never paid you much attention.
you thought it would be remus since he had a reputation for being mature and kind-hearted but even he showed you no mercy.
it's not like you could ask for any help, you didn't have a lot of friends that could help and even though you were a pureblood, the pureblood slytherins didn't accept you because of you family not helping the dark lord.
it wasn't easy.
and even though you tried to reason with them, they refused due to the fact you believed in 'blood supremacy' and you thought muggles 'deserved hell' which was complete rumors and you didn't believe that at all.
and now it was time to go back to class and the slimy substance had yet to disappear on your head. you then tried several spells in order to get it out of your hair and one had worked, getting whatever you couldn't.
you performed a drying spell before exiting out of the bathroom. you stepped out to see three out of the four marauders laying on the left of the wall with a smirk embroided on their face.
you scoffed, trying to move elsewhere.
"was that a scoff i heard?" james asked, stepping towards you with intimidation.
you never tried to look scared but you could tell it was painted all over your face.
"just let me go." you said, whimpering a little.
"aww," sirius stood in front of you, "are you gonna cry?" he asked, mocking you.
"i think she is." james replied in the same tone.
you looked over to remus who was looking at the entire situation with a look of entertainment and interest.
"fuck you." you spat, stepping face to face with james.
"don't say something you'll regret." he responded in a dark tone as you moved to step backwards but sirius was suddenly behind you.
you tried to carry a strong look on your face but they could tell you were easily intimidated.
"if you wanna go so bad," remus stood off of the wall and toward you, "all you have to say is please." his pointer finger holding up your chin.
you knew you wouldn't be able to move without doing as he asked.
"please," you whispered, locking in his eye contact, eyes watering.
"please what?" remus asked.
"please let me go." you said.
"good girl," he complimented, "that's all you had to say."
"you just have to be good, bunny." sirius whispered in your ear, feeling his hot breath down your neck, hand holding your waist.
in this moment, you were glad this was an abandoned hallway.
the worst part was, you wanted sirius to touch you more, aching for relief in your core.
you couldn't stop the butterflies in your belly nor the vibration in your entire body, it was as if you could feel all of your sense ten times more especially in your cunt.
your eyes were even getting blurry as if you were stuck in a trance.
you suddenly snapped back to reality to realize there was nobody around you, remus's eye contact, sirius's hand on your shoulder and james's stern tone, all gone.
it was all as if you had imagined it and the only thing that argued with that was the vibration throughout your body.
you had decided to take the rest of the day off, going to your dorm.
you entered your dorm to see your best friend, riley.
"i looked for you everywhere!" riley yelled, hugging you, "i gave them each a piece of my mind before i went to look for you." she looked into your eyes.
"it's fine riles, you know they are assholes." you said, half smiling.
"i'll kill them if you want me to, seriously," she said, knowing she wasn't joking.
you laughed it off, going to fix your bed.
"soooo," riley said, "there's a party tonight."
"where?" you asked.
a moment passed, "gryffindor."
you rolled your eyes, "no."
"cmon y/n!" she sat on your bed, "you can not let your fear of the marauders stop you from going to a party?"
"that's not it!" you said, still fluffing your pillow, "slytherin's aren't allowed at gryffindor parties."
"im pretty sure that rule only applies to the malfoys, dolohovs, blacks, and every dark lord supporter," riley said.
"they still hate me." you replied.
"only the marauders," she convinced.
"and they run that house," you argued.
"no they don't, most people think they are irritating." riley said factually.
"please don't make me go." you groaned.
"for me, please." riley pouted.
"don't do the puppy dog eyes," you groaned as she continued doing it, "fine, i'll go." you said, riley yelling excitingly and smothering you.
"can i still wear this?" you asked through her screaming.
she stopped and looked at you in disappointment, "y/n, i know i am not best friends with a vulture."
you giggled as riley went to her closet and picked out a red dress that was a little too short for your liking.
"this will hug your shape perfectly!" riley squeaked and went inside the bathroom before you could even give a response.
after a couple hours, you and riley were both finally done getting ready. she looked at you in total shock, "y/n, you look so fucking hot right now. and i mean that in the gayest way possible." her mouth open.
your entire face turned blush pink, "not too bad yourself riley." you laughed.
"let's go." riley suddenly rushed, grabbing your hand, practically dragging you to the gryffindor common room.
you couldn't hear anything from outside but you guessed it was a silencing charm.
you heard riley mutter the password before the dark opened and you saw students from each house having the time of their lives and the music was outrageously blasting.
riley grabbed your hand, dragging you through as the door closed.
you looked around to see if you could spot any of the marauders, only finding peter dancing with his girlfriend.
it was like you were a bunny in a room with foxes that you couldn't distinguish.
"let's dance!" riley shouted, making you look at her.
you shook your head but riley rolled her eyes and dragged you on the dance floor.
she started dancing but it's like she could feel your awkwardness as she grabbed your hips, moving your body with hers to the rythym.
eventually, you decided to just let go and try to enjoy yourself.
after about two or three songs, you had told riley that you were going to get a drink and asked if she wanted any but she was already making out with a hufflepuff girl and only swatted her hand.
you laughed, moving over to the drinks table.
you poured yourself some firewhisky when you felt someone roughly grab your wrist.
you turned around to see three of the marauders with james having a hold of your wrist to which you scoffed, yanking your wrist back.
"can you guys seriously fuck off for one night?" you sighed.
"have you forgotten yourself?" remus genuinely asked.
this was the night to stick up for yourself.
"have you?" you argued, "you all are fucking pathetic," you laughed humorlessly to which you could feel their anger radiating onto you, "i pray for the poor bastards who end up being your children if you all can even have any when your too busy sucking eachothers cocks," you insulted, "but if you don't me, i am going to go bed because you have unfortunately ruined this party for me." you shoved past them harshly, leaving the common room.
adrenaline was bouncing off of you, a new high you had never felt before. you were even partly turned on by the whole encounter.
you were even surprised they had let you pass
you speedwalked through the hallway in victory, you felt like you had finally won, that you had finally got a one up off of them.
you had yet to realize that the hallways were dark with a little bit of moonlight pouring through and you couldn't navigate your way due to you leaving your wand in your dorm.
you went to turn back to the common room but bumped into a hard surface to which you looked up to see remus lupin.
your heart skipped a beat as he roughly put his hand around your neck, shoving you into a wall. he was squeezing not enough for you to go unconcious but enough for you to not be able to take full breaths.
"what happened to your voice sweetheart?" he said as you croaked, "what happened to that dirty mouth?" you tried slapping off his hand but he only pushed you further into the wall.
you looked to both of your sides to see james and sirius.
"what do you think boys?" remus asked, "think she deserves to be punished?"
your eyes opened wider as you tried to make a sound but it came out in little squeaks.
"i think she does moony, i think we have given her too much freedom." sirius responded.
"yeah, i think we might have to fuck her into obedience." james said, inching closer.
even you couldn't stop the wet patch in your panties.
"i think that's what she wants, i mean let me check." remus said as confusion painted your face.
you felt him raise your dress up, hand now in your panties as you moaned.
"she's soaking wet," remus scoffed, "turns out to be a little slut after all."
you felt remus start rubbing your clit as you moaned more, his grip on your neck never softening.
you and remus staring at each other as james whispered something in his ear and he nodded.
he suddenly took his hand out of your panties, your entirety angry at his lack of letting you release.
he put your hands behind your back, leading you somewhere you couldn't figure out. there was a haze in your eyes that made it impossible for you to see a thing.
you heard a door close as you looked around, it was james's prefect dorm.
before you could grasp onto your reality, james put his mouth onto yours, bruising your lips as you moaned into his mouth.
you tried catching your breath but james was relentless, not letting you go.
you could feel sirius behind you, sucking hickeys onto your neck, knowing it would leave spots.
you couldn't even spot remus in the room due to all of the pleasure you felt.
sirius was unzipping your dress, letting it fall onto the ground. james was working your bra, letting it fall to the ground as he nibbled on your nipple.
sirius pulled your panties down, lifting your legs out of them.
suddenly, they both stopped touching you which made you whimper.
"on your knees bunny." sirius instructed as you obeyed almost immediately.
remus came into view, stepping in front of you.
"are you gonna suck my cock nice bunny?" remus asked, tipping your head up to look at him using his pointer finger.
you nodded immediately.
"good girl." he complimented which sent you into orbit.
he stroked his cock in his pants, bringing it out. his cock sprung up out of his boxers, pre-cum leaking off of his tip.
you licked stripes onto his tip causing him to groan.
"don't tease bunny." he moaned which caused you took his entirety into your mouth, gagging. he ponytailed your hair from going into your face using his hand.
you were still looking up at him as he threw his head back in pleasure, "so fucking good bunny," he praised you which sent tingles in your cunt, "sucks cock like a fucking champ,"
you looked over to see james and sirius jerking off to the sight in front of them.
before he could come, remus pulled you off of his cock, standing you up.
he took off his boxers fully, laying on the bed, reaching for you to climb on top of him.
you put your knees on the side of his hips as he stroked himself a bit and aligned himself up to your cunt.
you sank down on his cock with a moan, trying to fully adjust yourself. both of his hands were on your hips, speeding you up slowly.
you felt a mouth on your neck, sucking. the pleasure hitting you rapidly.
suddenly, remus pulled your head down to kiss you, his hand gripped on your neck while roughly fucking you.
you felt someone prodding into your ass before slipping inside. you moaned loudly into remus's mouth.
"bunny, don't tense." james said and you knew he was the one prodding. he went slowly but every time he went in, you sank down on remus's cock which made immediate pleasure shoot inside of you.
"you feel so fucking good," remus complimented, sucking harsh bruises onto your skin.
"so fucking good." james murmured.
both of their words praising you made you almost come on sight.
you were so cock drunk, babbling about how close you were. your eyes were watering due to the amount of pleasure you were receiving.
what made you crazier was sirius putting your mouth on his cock, throat fucking you while your eyes rolled to the back of your head.
your spit dribbling off of your chin as tears rained on your cheeks.
remus sucked on your nipple as your eyes rolled to the back of your head.
their words muffled in your eyes.
remus and james had both cum inside of you which caused your first orgasm, moaning loudly, barely able to see due to the pleasure you were recieving.
sirius pulled out of your mouth as you gasped for air, throat being a bit hoarse.
james pulled out of you, delivering a kiss to your neck as a thank you.
your chest dropped to remus's chest as he pet your hair and praised you, "come one more time for me bunny?"
you babbled something while nodding your head which gave sirius permission to slide into your ass.
remus continued holding your head, eyes on his, admiring you.
"i love you bunny." he said before kissing you but this time more softly and delicately.
remus didn't give you the choice whether to say it back or not but you didn't know if he was being genuine or not.
sirius continued pounding into you but you were only able to whimper based on how cock drunk you were.
he praised you, telling you how good you were while remus massaged your puffy clit.
sirius came soon with you as your entire body felt exhausted. remus pulled you off of him as james grabbed a wet towel and wiped your legs and mouth. you winced as he brushed your clit, being hyper sensitive.
remus laid you down into james's bed, putting the blanket over you, kissing your head as you closed your eyes.
you didn't know what you were sure,
that you were in love with your bullies.
#marauders era#james potter#hp#hogwarts#harry potter#singmyaubade#remus lupin#sirius black#tw mature#poly!marauders#poly!marauders x reader#poly!marauders x fem!reader#james potter x reader#remus lupin x reader#sirius black x reader#marauders x reader#poly!marauders x sub!reader#poly!marauders x girlfriend!reader#poly!marauders smut#smut#harry potter imagines#remus lupin fluff#james potter smut#sirius black x james potter#remus lupin x james potter#daddy!remus#daddy!sirius#sub!reader#marauders
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Astronomy Teacher Danny
so dp x dc idea, i don’t know if anyone has thought of this but instead of danny teaching chemistry in gotham( which i really love) because of his fenton/phantom/amity park craziness, he teaches astronomy because space obsession danny is best danny , it could be an elective or a club it doesn’t really matter.
i totally see danny as the fun and sweet teacher that all students liked, he would wear comfy clothes like jumpers or knitted sweaters, have a cup of something warm in his hand as well as an extra thermos and paper cups for his students (tea, hot chocolate, hot lemon), and just be an all around nice person.
damian had join the astronomy club because he had always thought that the stars of nanda parbat were beautiful, not because he was kicked out of the art club for acting ‘condescending’ towards the teacher one too many times or anything, definitely not, but his father insists that he be in a school club to develop his social skills.
damian had not expected to be so enamored by his teacher. on his first day his teacher made everyone push the desks back, layed down a rug/carpet on the floo and placed a projector in the middle( he made it himself) and made them sit around like some kind of camp fire, he handed out drinks, it was tea, he said that his friend sam started growing flower tea and tea leaves and she needed someone to taste test. the he started to talk about what the club will be about.
danny seemed to glow as he explained the origins of stars, their life cycles, how they were formed, how constellations were dicovered and the myths behind their names. talk about platents suns and moons, about the type if life you could find in each planet like the spices you could find on mars( something he shouldn’t have known)[he learnt this from martians in the ghost zone].
he would draw stars and constellations on the board, have them make up stories about stars and constellations just based on their name, play games such as having the projector on and one of the constellations would light up and they get a point if they manage to correctly guess their name then they would get extra points if they could say some more facts about it, and danny always made it so engaging for the kids, it was that one class that every student couldn’t wait to get to because it was just so fun.
damian would totally try to be the teachers favorite by giving him accurate painting of stars and constellations, he would be in competition with that girl that makes dioramas of planets, he would stay up all night researching really obscure space related things so that he could impress his teacher. his family would at first be really happy that he’s getting a new hobby until they hear him asking martian manhunter if he could get such and such spice/plant from mars so he could gift it to his teacher, and now his family is curious about where he learned about this and become suspicious when he tells them it was his astronomy teacher that taught such things in class along with martian/kryptonian culture among other things.
so now damian trys to stop them from ruining his favorite class by being nosy vigilantes.
so this was more of a dp idea than a dpxdc idea, but i might add more later. if anyone wants to use this idea feel free to do so just tag me because i really want to see what other could add on.
#dp x dc#dp x dc crossover#dp x dc au#dp x dc prompt#danny phantom#damian wayne#space obsessed danny#astronomy teacher danny#batfam#damian: no grayson i do not have a crush on my teacher#damian wayne VS that one girl from astronomy class
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CRIMSON RED
Jason Todd x Pain Inflictor Reader
TW: nothing crazy, just swearing and mentions of violence
˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖
All they called you was Crimson.
Maybe because of your signature lipstick and that lace that was always in your hair.
Or maybe because of the blood you drew out of your targets without so much as raising a finger.
A telekinetic pain inflictor. The worst kind of metahuman.
But Red Hood had no reason to worry about you just yet. You tended to keep a low profile and there were bigger fish to fry. And if he was being honest, the sound of you and your abilities were kind of terrifying.
Jason's little mission all went wrong though, given his intel was missing key information. Now he was bound to a chair in a warehouse with a dripping roof. And that dripping eerily echoed as he sat and waited. Desperately keeping his fears and demons at bay.
Being tied to a chair. The looming threat of torture. It all hit a little too close to home.
Two-Face eventually sauntered into view, the rest of the warehouse behind and beside him concealed in shadows. Jason had to grimace every time he saw his face.
"You ugly bastard." Jason retorted, masking his fear with snarky insults and sarcasm. "Gotten work done recently?" He nodded towards Harvey's face with his head.
"Son of a bitch." Two-Face's face contorted with rage. "I would watch my mouth if I were you. You're finally gonna die tonight, and this time you won't be coming back."
Jason swallowed hard, pissed off that he didn't have his helmet to hide the fear-inducing anticipation on his pale face.
"But we'll let the coin decide how this is gonna play out."
So Harvey went on with his odd ritual and flipped his coin. It landed on the tarnish side, and Jason had no idea what that meant. Suddenly, Two-Face was calling out to someone behind him. Someone hidden deep within the darkness of the abandoned warehouse. Jason waited and waited, sweat dripping down the side of his face.
He expected a gruesome looking thug or some other high profile villain. Maybe Penguin, or even Harley.
The sound of heeled boots slowly echoed through out his bleak surroundings, accompanied by a laugh like velvet. You soon came into view.
Crimson mask concealing the top half of your face, the colour matching that string of lace that sat comfortably in your hair. Your usual deep red outfit hugged your body, similar to Catwoman's except for the fact that it wasn't a whole bodysuit. And of course, your stark, scarlet lips were contorted into a sinister smile.
He'd seen you around. But seeing you this close in person was a different story. Jason's breath hitched once you were right in front of him. Truthfully, he never intended to meet you. And now it was so much worse given you would be the one torturing him tonight.
Fuck this mission really went south.
"Here, the coin says you get to toy with him tonight." Two-Face said with a dismissive wave of his hand and scoff as he turned his back. "I have a deal I need to be making soon."
Jason watched as he left, muscles stiff with frustration and venom in his eyes. This was the deal Jason was supposed to be preventing.
As Jason's eyes lingered on Two-Face, your eyes were focused on him. His ivory skin and deep, jet black hair. The aggravated expression painted across his face. That muscular figure.
And that odd looking J scar on the side of his face.
"Red Hood..." Your voice lingered and shivers suddenly went down Jason's arms. "It's nice to finally meet you."
"Can't say I feel the same way." He responded harshly, avoiding eye contact and instead trying to devise an escape plan. Which would, most likely, be futile and stupid.
"Mmm, mean. It's not like you're a saint Red." You calmly pointed out, voice smooth like wine.
And then he looked up at you. "Oh, really? You're one to talk? Ms snaps someones bones and crushes their lungs with a blink of an eye."
Finally making contact, you saw the confliction swirling in those eyes, and for some odd reason something tightened your throat.
Jason didn't miss the subtle furrow of your brows as you neared him. Slowly circling him like a predator.
"Deciding what bone you're going to break first?"
You scoffed, but it was more like a laugh. As you walked behind Jason he began to feel his skin crawl, his heart beat faster. He wished you were standing in front of him again. Staring down at him the way you were.
As you went around him, you noticed the back of his shirt was slightly tugged down, revealing slithers of iridescent scars. Many, many scars.
"What are you doing?" He snapped, but you remained silent until you faced him again. And this time all you did was stare back at him, mind deep in thought. Something stirred deep in your chest. Regret? Sympathy?
"You're just a kid." The words left your mouth in a gentle whisper as you realised he was probably no older than you.
So no, he wasn't a kid. But he wasn't old enough to have his body broken by you. Sure, you butchered people with your mind all the time. But they were criminals. Enemies. Scum. They always had it coming. But him? Red Hood?
You just couldn't do it. It was ridiculous, you knew that. But you couldn't. You wondered where Two-Face was and how he'd react to your odd decision. But hell, you didn't care about ignoring Two-Face's order. Rules and regulations never stopped you before, and what was he going to do?
Jason initially wanted to get even more mad about that statement. Insulted that you just called him a boy when he was in his 20's. But he kept to himself, continuing to watch you closely.
"So what are you gonna do now huh? Cause this game is getting a little boring Crimson."
His attitude made you smirk a little. You suddenly slipped a red-blade dagger from your belt. Jason frowned, wondering why you wouldn't just use you powers, when you cut the zip ties and rope keeping him bound.
Now he was glancing up at you, eyes wide with confusion and suspicion.
"You gonna go or did you actually want me to hurt you?" You asked, brows raised. But already knowing the answer, you were turning to leave.
"Why are you doing this?" He sounded like he was accusing you of something. You turned to look back over your shoulder.
The sympathy was back, but also a few other feelings. Butterflies in your stomach and what not. Shit he was handsome.
"I don't know," you shrugged. "You're kinda cute."
He scoffed before grabbing his helmet from the floor. "Spare me."
Suddenly a sharp pain began in his knees before they turned into brittle leaves. He dropped down onto them and stayed there as the pain began to subside. Then he shot a glare up at you. You were already standing before Jason and looking down at him, that smug smile on your pretty face.
"Mm," You hummed, eyes dancing across his features as you took him in. "Very cute."
Then you turned to leave, and Jason was left blushing and speechless.
Part 2
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#jason todd#jason todd imagine#jason todd x reader#jason todd x y/n#jason todd fluff#jason todd x fem!reader#jason todd x you#red hood imagine#red hood x fem!reader#red hood x reader#arkham knight#arkhamverse#dca fandom#dc comics#dcu#dc universe#red hood angst#angst#jason todd angst
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I Think You're Holding The Heart Of Mine(Part I)
warnings: fluff, mutual pining, office relationship, mommy and daddy relationship
word count: 1.1k
pairings: Nanami Kento x Fem!Sorcerer!Reader
summary: as you're lost in thought about your life as a sorcerer and teacher at Jujutsu High, your work husband comes by to surprise you with lunch. and he suggests going to that little pub you enjoy for dinner...only to have Itadori-kun ask such a shameless question
a/n: This is very much inspired by the thirst and fic that @carnal-lnstinct sent in and wrote! I didn't think this would be a multiple part fic, but here we are! I hope to update this little story regularly.
Part two!
Your mind is clouded as you sit at your desk, paperwork forgotten in front of you. Despite the fact that you’ve settled in well at Jujutsu High, you were wondering where this position may lead you. You were wondering if things would evolve into something more than this. Life as a Jujutsu sorcerer was tough enough as it is, but someone was always there to make you feel more at ease.
It started small too, just him being kind to you behind those stoic glances and authoritative words. You were beginning to tear down those walls and see the true Kento underneath it all. And all this because you had proclaimed he was your work husband. It wasn’t something he truly loved to hear at first, but as you continued to treat him kindly, Kento was beginning to love the special treatment.
Your thoughts are interrupted by a knock at your office door and you look up to see the man in question. He’s got a paper bag full of food for lunch and there is a tiny grin on his face as he sees you. Your heart skips a beat at the way he’s playing into this role more than you ever expected him to. You beckon him closer and he sits down on the chair that faces yours. The bag is placed on your desk and your stomach growls the moment you can smell the many scents of spices.
“I got your favorite, honey.” Nanami loves calling you pet names, but it’s always with that teasing tone.
“Awh I should have known my sweetheart would know just what to perk me up.”
He pulls out the boxes of take-out and hands you a set of disposable chopsticks. Your heart is full of love for a man who you know isn’t actually your husband. But damn, you can’t help but really be in love with him most days. You’d do just about anything for him to slide a beautiful diamond ring on your finger.
The both of you eat comfortably, Nanami inquiring about your day just as a good husband should. You ask about his day, smiling when he mentions Itadori-kun. The first years were so special this year. You knew that Gojo had asked Nanami specifically to take care of the young pink-haired teen, but when you saw just how much Nanami took the young man under his wing, you could tell that there was a strong bond forming there.
“So our little boy is doing well,” you tease the blond man in front of you.
Nanami blushes slightly but keeps his composure, “Itadori-kun shows promise. Despite the brash way he charges into battle, he is a kindhearted young man.”
Just those words paint such a beautiful picture. You can’t help but fantasize about family movie nights with Itadori coming over and snuggling between you and your husband. You coo softly at the way Nanami is describing the young sorcerer.
You finish up your meal, thanking the blond sorcerer in front of you. Nanami smiles, and this one is a genuine smile. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t want to hear you thanking him for dinner as well. He was planning on asking you out, strictly as co-workers of course. He doesn’t want you finding out about the feelings that are building so deeply inside of him. If it were up to him, he would have married you quite some time ago.
“I’ve got this paperwork to finish up, then I’m training Kugisaki-san.” You explain to Nanami, and you watch as he wipes his hands on the wet wipe provided by the take-out place.
“I’ve got to get back to training as well with Itadori-kun.”
There’s a silence that falls between you both. Your heart is racing in this moment. You just want to jump over this desk and pin him to the ground. You want to press kisses all over his beautifully chiseled face until there’s red lipstick prints everywhere. But you do no such thing. The two of you exchange a smile and a glance, and it’s almost the kind that suggests you’re both part of an inside joke that the whole world is excluded from.
“How about after work we head to our favorite pub for dinner?” Nanami suggests, praying his tone isn’t too hopeful.
You smile, “That sounds nice. It would be good to get out. It’s been a little bit since we’ve been out.”
He nods, “Yes, I was just thinking that.”
The two of you get up, and Nanami throws the trash from your lunch into the garbage can that’s next to your desk. As you come around the desk, he wishes he could just take your hand in his and walk you outside to the training ground. Instead you both walk side by side and chat lightly about work.
It’s a mundane feeling for the both of you, but it isn’t boring. It’s sweet and domestic, and everyone knows that you two are pretty much attached at the hip. But yet there always seems to be something keeping you held back from actually making this work relationship into a real one.
You spot Itadori and Kugisaki awaiting the two of you, the pair seem to be gossiping. You always loved the way those two had grown so close, and yet…you wondered if maybe they had something similar going on that mirrored your own relationship with Nanami. You looked at Kento, smirking playfully.
“You sure you won’t be too tired to take your poor wife out to dinner tonight?” You practically purr in his ear.
Nanami shudders, “Please, have a bit more faith in your sweetheart, dear.”
Just the sound of his voice calling you dear has you wondering if you should just confess right here and right now. You want to tell him how badly you have fallen head over heels for him, but you also wonder if that’s just not the right choice. You look at him once more, and you lean in the smooth the collar of his shirt and the lapels of his jacket. His heart skips a beat when you’re this close to him.
“Well, I suppose I have faith in an old man like you.” You rib him, laughing at his reaction.
“You’re three months older than me.” He says, a smirk spreading on his face.
You groan, “Please, don’t remind me.”
You two begin walking over to the first years you’re responsible for. With a final promise to go out for dinner, you part ways. It’s only then you hear Itadori asking your work husband.
“Nanamin, are you sure you and her aren’t actually married?”
#bacon.writes#nanami kento x reader#nanami x reader#nanami x you#jujutsu nanami#nanami kento#Nanami Kento x you#Nanami Kento x reader#Nanami Kento x y/n#nanami x y/n#work husband!nanami x you#jujutsu kaisen#jjk#Nanami Kento fluff#Nanami Kento imagines#Kento Nanami x reader#Kento Nanami x you#Kento Nanami x y/n
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Love Amidst the Noise // Luke Castellan
pairing: luke castellan x fem!reader
genre: fluff (i guess)
summary: you get a little overexcited while talking, and your friends find it annoying. When Luke finds you sad and quiet, he comforts you.
warning(s): none
wc: 654
notes: this actually happened to me in real life, so shout-out to my best friend for his kind words :')
english is not my first language, so there may be mistakes.
・❥・༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶・❥・
"And we visited this museum when my dad took me on a trip to Boston, and the art there was just amazing! So many different types of paintings... all these vibrant colours that matched... and the amount of detail..." You were sharing your winter experience with your friends, feeling passionate about the art. Now that summer break had started and you were back in camp, you were excited to share all your latest stories, but none of your friends seemed to really care.
"Yeah... yeah... we get it! Your father took you to see some old paintings," one of them said, rolling their eyes, and soon afterwards everyone else joined.
"Yeah, who cares about some old paintings that all look the same anyway?" Another one added, and your smile suddenly faded, feeling sad that they spoke like that about something you cared so much about.
"And you've been talking about it for almost an hour! Don't you let anyone else speak?" And with that, you closed your mouth, feeling unwanted; you didn't say anything for the rest of your friends conversation.
Later that day, you were sitting on your cabin's table earlier than everyone else, not being in much of a mood. You started to wonder if everyone thought the same as your friends. You knew that sometimes you talked too much, but you couldn't control it. Did everyone in camp think you were annoying?
A familiar figure approached you. At first, you didn't turn to see who it was, but soon you realized it was your dear friend from the Hermes cabin, Luke Castellan.
He noticed your unusual silence and your worried expression. "Hey, is everything okay?" He asked gently.
"Fine..." You said, avoiding his gaze. And that, with the fact that you replied without using many words, like you always liked to explain the details, made him curious as to who got you sad. Deep down, he was also slightly angry that someone would hurt his best friend like this.
"Come' on, I know you better than that." He smiled softly, reaching across the table and gently holding your hand. "You can tell me everything, you know."
You hesitate for a bit, feeling a lump form in your throat. "Do you ever find me annoying?" You eventually blurted out, surprising both Luke and yourself.
He furrowed his eyebrows, looking genuinely puzzled. "Annoying? Not at all! Why would you think that?"
You signed, looking into his filled-with-kindness blue eyes, giving him a weak smile. He was so gentle with you that it warmed your heart.
You sighed, finally deciding to share the weight on your shoulders. "My friends, they... They always complain about me talking too much and never let me finish."
Luke's expression shifted from confusion to understanding. "You're not annoying, not to me. I love how you light up when you talk, how your eyes sparkle. Your enthusiasm is one of the things I adore about you."
Your heart warmed upon hearing his comforting words. You realized that you had found someone who appreciated you for who you were.
"Don't let them get to you. You're amazing just the way you are, and anyone who can't see that doesn't deserve your energy." He said, moving a strand of your hair behind your ear. You smiled, remembering how fun it was when you explained to Luke the history of each painting, and him listening intensively.
"Thank you, Luke." You smiled, moving closer, sniffing a little, and resting your head on his shoulder after giving him a hug.
"Can you tell me about that painting with that couple on a swing again?" Luke asked, and you blushed, nodding your head and starting to tell him about the famous Cot's painting.
In that moment, the weight lifted, and you felt a newfound strength. As you continued your conversation, you found solace in Luke's understanding, grateful to have someone who valued every word you shared.
#luke castellan#luke castellan x reader#percy jackon and the olympians#percy jackson#pjo#pjo series#luke castellan pjo#pjo x reader#pjo x you#luke castellan x you#one shot
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What really happened in Room 302?
Yes, just like everyone else I am finally doing a small essay/analysis on TCOAAL.
This time I wanted to dive in something that wasn't a big part of the game, but has been on my mind since my first play through of the game and that is like the title states; What really happened in Room 302?
Lets begin.
I wanted to start off by talking about the Lady in Room 302. Who is she?
We really don't know much. Her eye color isn't shown, she looks somewhat average but in terms of others opinions (ie; the Warden's and even Ashley) She is a very pretty woman. Even at a point Andrew says that she looks good. Take a look at some of the dialog below:
I mean, wasn't she?
After this very tasteful conversation these two love-birds have, Ashley heads up to commence the ritual to sacrifice the 2nd Warden, and of course Our Ashley pulls it off with no problems, and back downstairs she goes with full intentions of painting the wall with Lady 302's brains, but it appears someone beat her to the punch.
AND NOW I PRESENT WHERE I IMMEDIATELY BEGAN TO CALL CAP ON MR. DOORMAT EXTRAORDINAIRE AND HIS SILLY LITTLE LIES.
Your honor, this man is absolutely lying.
The first thing that made me question everything about his story here is where she is lying dead. On the damn bed. Your honor, let's enhance this real quick.
That nail gun is a damn good several feet away from where Lady 302 lies dead on the bed. In fact it is in exactly the same position as when we left Andrew alone with her, and look at the sheer distance. These apartments clearly aren't huge but let me just be critical for a minute.
Her mattress appears to be a single style mattress, so lets take in some measurements.
I can settle on the length being 75" or 6.25ft. So the apartment is about 12 feet wide. Not huge by any means, but to go from sitting down on a bed, even the edge, she would have to make quite the lunge while accounting for some random maniac being right next to you with a meat cleaver.
I also do not think she would be the type to risk her life for a daring escape. Look at how absolutely bewildered she is the second Andrew rushes her.
That is NOT the face of someone who is absolutely down to fuck around and find out. She also had a chance to get help while also risking her life, when she is given the radio she could have screamed for help, and while yes she would've died, at this point I would say the risk factor was relatively similar.
Now that I have established my reasoning for why I don't think this lady tried to kill Andrew with a nailgun or even had the chance to, let's go over some of the reasons I think he DID choose to kill her.
No Witnesses.
This is a very boring theory but I have to bring it up no less. I think there is a good chance he just said fuck it, and killed her for the sake of not leaving evidence behind. She saw their faces, heard their names, and they even said they were her neighbor from upstairs. Leaving her behind could've ruined EVERYTHING for them after this point, and based on Ashley's sour reaction to her mere existence, I think he already knew damn well Ashley would want her dead too.
Make my Ashley happy.
This ties back to the point I made in No Witnesses. Ashley took her as a threat, and obviously Andrew noticed. She was not pleased after he called her "Pretty". I think once he was alone, he figured he would off her to show Ashley that he wasn't ogling her or wanting to do anything with her. In fact she meant so little to him, he butchered her right on her bed. To support this, the way Ashley reacts when she returns absolutely floors Andrew, he is calm about what happened but Ashley is still coming up with thoughts that he tried to fuck her, when in his mind, he was probably hoping she would be thrilled that he killed this awful, hell-bound, hussie. But instead she is still somehow mad despite her being now a corpse. He becomes to fed up that even though he did what she would've anyways, it is somehow not good enough for her.
(I will dive deeper into this interaction below with another theory that relies heavily on this.)
The Hussie hit on him.
This one ties into Make my Ashley happy. There is a good chance this obviously sexually attractive woman tried seducing Andrew while they were alone. She had no problem doing it with the Warden's to get better treatment, and I have no doubt this was her go-to get out of trouble free card. This charming young man would surely fall for her good looks right? Right? There's two thought processes that would make this reasonable. 1. He was worried how Ashley would react if she walked in with her clearly flirting with him and how that would make her feel. 2. My personal favorite of these two, he is dedicated to Ashley and was offended by her advances and killed her in a show of devotion to her.
Now that we have the more sane theories out of the way, lets get to the GOOD STUFF.
Andrew's Fantasy.
This theory is more of a mental guess as to Andrew's relationship and views of Ashley. He has been clearly fed up with her more than once up to this point, having arguments, dealing with her shit, and all the trauma he just experienced from starving for weeks, isolation, and having to butcher and eat someone, and then murder a man to save her.
What if once Andrew had a moment alone with someone who was essentially his victim, he decided to truly see how he felt about something.
I believe Andrew may have not seen Lady 302 as Ashley, but just for the hell of it, imagined that she was Ashley. Despite the different appearances, I'm sure he could overlook it in the state of mind he was in at this point, and decided how it would feel to finally kill "Ashley".
The way he kills her just doesn't feel like he said fuck it and wanted the lady dead, she is laid out on the bed, there's no signs of a struggle either.
Later in the game during one of the visions, there is the one where Andrew finally kills Ashley. When she accepts that he will kill her, he brings the cleaver to her throat similarly to how the throat of Lady 302 was cut. The similarities just feel so similar that I had to bring this up despite it being possibly far fetched but that's what makes these fun!
and now for my most absolutely far fetched theory yet.
Don't these two look similar?
This theory is much more far fetched but hear me out on this!
I know this may be a result of Nemlei's artstyle but these two have some stark similarities in my opinion. Both blonde, same eye color based on the greyscale of them, similar hair parting, and a similar face shape.
After all the trauma Andrew went through in the weeks locked in their apartment and then killing several people and eating one no doubt sent his brain to a bad place.
I think after all that hell he endured he may have simply had a breaking point and felt like he saw a ghost or just the stark similarities between Lady 302 and Nina just made something snap.
I want to back this up by making a point to the story telling in the game. Before they go and escape their apartment conveniently before the Room 302 incident, there is a dream about how Andrew and Ashley killed Nina. This could be just the flow of the story telling however, I feel like it was a lead up to what really happened in Room 302. It just feels too perfect to include that scene right before he kills someone who I am assuming is what Nina may have grown up to look like, AND then with this scene occurring once Ashley returns almost feels like a nail in the coffin of this theory.
Nina isn't brought up in the apartment, or once they're in the motel. Nina is brought up during a heated exchange in Room 302 right after Andrew might have felt as if he killed Nina once again, yet just like when they killed Nina, Ashley still somehow thinks that Andrew has a thing for a woman he helped kill, and this absolutely drives him off his fucking rocker.
This exchange floored Mr. Doormat so intensely he finally was ready to absolutely throttle the life out of her. Andrew was finally so fed up with being berated for doing things for Ashley's sake he just wanted it to be done and over with forever.
Andrew once again found himself in the same place Ashley put him in all those years ago, but this time he knows he isn't as vulnerable as he was and uses it to his advantage, but after their little squabble, they leave together to bless our hearts with Chapter 2.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Perhaps this was as plain as the story made it out to be. There is a good chance that Andrew didn't want to leave a witness and said hell with it and butchered the woman in Room 302. But I'd like to believe that with all the hidden details Nemlei has scattered throughout this game that there is truth to one of these theories, hell maybe even a giant jumble of them all together is the true story of Room 302.
But with everything I presented today I hope you all perhaps are too questioning what really happened in Room 302 like I was.
I'd love to hear any theories you guys have regarding this or twists/opinions on the ones I presented here!
Thank you all for reading!
#andrew graves#ashley graves#gravecest#tcoaal#the coffin of andy and leyley#andrew x ashley#ashley x andrew#leyley graves#tcoal#andy and leyley
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GETAWAY CAR — rockstar!e.m. x f!reader
CHAPTER TWO: WHERE I END YOU BEGIN
← prev chapter // next chapter →
✦ summary: in which reader is upset with eddie for kissing chrissy and more about reader's relationship with billy is revealed. (wc: 5.2k+)
✦ warnings — ANGSTANGSTANGST, pining and slowburn, arguments!!!, strong language!, mentions of alc*hol and smoking , eddie is a bit mean, toxic billy!! he's emotionally ab*sive, kinda car accident? but not rlly
✦ pairings — rockstar!eddie munson x fem!reader, past billy hargrove x fem!reader
series masterlist | series playlist
You were sure your entire world had shattered around you. If only you were as cool and collected as you painted yourself out to be, maybe you could get over it.
Maybe you could get over the fact that Eddie was locking lips with fucking Chrissy.
You could feel your eyes water, you don’t even know what you mumbled to the two of them before you disappeared off to the backyard.
Nancy, Max and Dustin were too busy in the kitchen to notice anything, but Jonathan had witnessed it all, he wasn’t too far behind you.
Your hands were clammy as they dug into the back pocket of your jeans, shaking from the anger radiating off your body. It didn’t help when the lighter in your hands caught your attention.
That stupid pink dragon lighter.
The one Eddie specifically painted hot pink right after you told him to do so. And before you knew it, the seething rage consumed you, blood boiling as you threw the lighter in the ground, along with the cigarette on your hand, squishing it with your shoe until it broke apart, tobacco spilling out from the crevices, “Shitshitshit—” you cursed as you stared at the mess you made on the ground.
“Uh-uhm…” Jonathan spoke up, approaching you with caution when you turned around to face him. You slightly huffed as you took another cigarette from your pack, putting it between your lips before Jonathan started speaking.
“You okay?” He asked, the cold look you gave him with the cigarette sitting on your lips was enough for him to throw his hands up in defeat, “Here,” He offered when he reached for his back pocket, offering you a lighter. Murmuring a quick ‘Thank you’ you took it without hesitation, the flame briefly illuminating your face as you lit the cigarette. You knew you were being a bit of a bitch, but you were spiraling, mind fizzling with the thoughts of her all over him.
“I-I’m fine.” You struggled to get that sentence out, tone betraying you and your eyes were looking anywhere but at Jonathan. You took a deep breath, mind filled with everything that transpired in the last hour, and he eyed you with pity.
“’M sorry, Jon,” You muttered, “I know this is your big weekend and I’m already bringing it down with my stupid drama.” He was quick to shake his head, “Don’t be ridiculous,” He reassured you.
“We’re both really glad you’re here, okay? I know Nance could never get through this weekend without you.” He gave you a slight pat on your back, comforting you further.
“But what the hell is she even doing here?” You asked, eyes trained toward the sliding door that had the view of Chrissy still giggling at Eddie.
Jonathan swallowed, physically, “Shit...” He scratched the back of his neck nervously, knowing he was treading on thin ice. “Look, before I tell you this, I should let you know that I don’t think Eddie has any idea of all the shit she said to you during our senior year.” He breathed.
“So don’t go all you on him yet, yea?” You shrugged, face still sour, you couldn’t promise him anything. It didn’t matter if Eddie didn’t know the whole story; he still knew some of the things she did, and it infuriated you that he still dared to have whatever the fuck they had. Your logic went out the window the second you saw the two of them together; it didn’t matter what Eddie actually knew because it fucking hurt. It hurt to see him be so cold toward you and then snuggle up to Chrissy.
“You know that gig Eddie’s band had last week?” You nodded curtly, Eddie told you about the gig approximately ten minutes before locking lips with that little traitor.
"Well... Chrissy was at the gig," Jonathan admitted, a heavy sigh escaping him as he braced himself for your reaction. "And they met there, and they've been kinda hanging out since then..." You had never seen Jonathan this nervous, maybe it was the way your gaze turned so icy and intense, or the way your jaw clenched, or your unhinged behavior for the last five minutes.
“Real cute,” You murmured, chuckling dryly, you took another drag from the cigarette sitting between your index fingers as if it were a lifeline.
Jonathan rubbed his forehead stressfully, “Just talk to him…” Your head snapped at him. “I don’t want to,” You replied childishly, earning a scoff from him.
“Well, I think you’re gonna have to,” He said with a slight snort, causing your attention to divert to where his gaze fell, Eddie was eyeing the two of you as he opened the sliding door, making his way over to you.
“Fuck off,” You muttered.
“Be nice,” Jonathan warned, brows raising as he brushed past you. He greeted Eddie with a slight pat on the back before he rushed inside, leaving the two of you alone.
Your eyes rolled unintentionally when Eddie approached your side. You wanted to tell him to fuck off and go find his girlfriend, but you decided to save your petty remarks for later.
“Got a lighter?” He asked, voice muffled by the cigarette sitting between his lips. You nodded without looking in his direction and pointed toward the ground where you had previously chucked the lighter in a fit.
Eddie chuckled before he reached down to grab it, freezing the moment he did so.
Shit shit shit shit.
Was that?
You actually kept it?
"Uh..." he stammered, still caught off guard by the sight of the lighter. "Pink dragon, huh?"
“Hmm?” You hummed, head popping up in his direction to see Eddie holding your lighter, the one he made for you.
“Oh…yeah.” You replied awkwardly, still unable to meet his gaze fully.
With the flick of his thumb, Eddie lit his cigarette before handing the lighter back over to you. "You—uh... dropped this," he said, a hopeful smile on his face.
You accepted the lighter but promptly chucked it from his hands with an annoyed 'Thanks,' not in the mood for his nice gesture.
“You were right… Pink dragons are cool.” He tried to gain your attention, but you just hummed again.
“Jesus…” He sighed. “Did I do something wrong?” He asked cluelessly.
Was he joking? Or was he just trying to get back at you?
You chuckled dryly. “No… no… You just kissed my sworn enemy, is all.” You narrowed your eyes childishly.
“Sworn enemy?” He quirked a brow. “What are you, five?”
“Yeah.”
“She tried to hook up with your boyfriend five years ago, Pinky… Are you really holding a grudge for some shitty mistake she made when she was a teenager?”
Oh.
Jonathan was right; he thought this was just about Billy. So he didn’t know a fucking thing. But that excuse wasn’t enough to quell the seething rage fueling inside of you.
“You don’t know what you are talking about—”
“If you’re still holding onto things that happened five years ago, then what about me?” He threw his hands up angrily, interrupting you.
Jesus fucking Christ. It boggled your mind how quickly your conversations went from calm to angry now, and it made you realize how bitter both of you have become. How unrecognizable he was to you now because you had made him this way. It was all your fucking fault, and those anxious voices in your head echoed the same sentiment, making you feel smaller with each passing moment.
“What should I fuckin’ do?” He spat.
You weren’t emotionally or physically ready to delve into this now, especially not after seeing him kiss Chrissy. You did want to talk to him eventually, but not like this; there had to be a way to talk about you leaving him without reopening your own wounds. You couldn’t handle that.
“Should I tear you a new one for leaving me all alone in LA?”
“Don’t…” You warned, eyes getting glossy just at the mention.
“Don’t what? Tell the fuckin’ truth." He shot back, frustration and resentment coursing through his words.
“Why do I have to protect your feelings when you were so fucking careless about mine?” He was supposed to sound angry, but you could hear the emotion in his tone, his voice slightly cracking as you avoided his gaze.
“You don’t have any fucking idea what you’re talking about, Eddie—” You yelled back.
Eddie wasn't willing to let it go, “Then tell me!” He demanded, a note of desperation in his voice.
“I didn’t come here to do this! To talk about… Jesus.” You sighed, fingers rubbing your temples to relieve the headache this day was giving you.
"Look, Eddie," you began, your tone softening slightly, "I'm here for Nancy and Jonathan, and them only. I know that's why you're here too. I don't want to cause them any more drama than I already have, okay?" Your voice was calm, but the frustration still simmered beneath the surface.
“You—you’re so frustrating.” Eddie breathed.
“You do realize that the whole fucking world doesn’t revolve around you, right?” He added.
With a heavy sigh, you gathered your belongings and stood up abruptly. “Fine!” You exclaimed.
“I’ll be the mature one.” You heaved a sigh, leaving without turning to look back at him, mind tuning out whatever he was saying to you.
When you returned back inside, you could feel Max and Nancy’s curious gaze on you, and you could practically feel Jonathan's stolen glances as he conversed with the rest of Eddie's band and Chrissy.
Her obnoxious laugh was grating on your last nerve; you were being bitter and jealous, and it certainly was not a good look on you. You bit the inside of your cheek when you threw her a glance, the metallic taste of blood flooding your senses, and before you knew it, her annoying cackle came to an abrupt halt as she sensed your gaze, swallowing physically before she followed you.
Your eyes involuntarily rolled when you felt Chrissy's fingers gently tapping your shoulder. Slowly, you turned to face her. "Hey," she murmured, her eyes avoiding yours as if she couldn't bear to meet your gaze.
“Hey,” You bit back on your tongue; if you didn’t, you’d say a whole lot of things you were sure you’d regret.
“Can—can we talk? In private?” Her eyes met yours now; you could see the emotions they held, but you couldn’t care now.
Why did you always have to care about how other people felt? They’d hurt you just fine; why couldn’t you even do one ounce of the same thing to them? Why was it always you who had to embrace the pain and guilt, while everyone else was absolved of them?
“I—I can’t,” You didn’t mean to stutter, but it was so hard to lie when she was this close to your face that you hurried off to Nancy and Max’s side without another word.
“You okay?” Nancy asked in a concerned tone.
“I’m fine!” You waved her off, the crack in your voice and your glossy eyes were enough proof of that being a lie, but they left it alone, nodding understandingly as Nancy gave you a gentle squeeze on your shoulder.
“I—I think I just need to go home and rest for a bit… That okay with you?” The gentleness of your voice was aching both of them; it had barely been a few hours since you got to Hawkins, and all you had was that pout on your face.
“Of course!” Nancy replied without hesitation.
“You need a ride?” You asked, turning to Max.
She shook her head quickly. “I’ve got a car.” She pointed toward the Camaro sitting in the garage. You clearly missed it for some reason.
“Oh.” You accidentally blurted out, that Camaro was just nightmare fuel for you now, and you wished you had never seen it again. “Right—uh… I forgot you have a license now.” You added with a silly smile stuck to your lips, wanting to change the topic.
“Do you need anything else?” You asked, your tone shifting back to one of genuine care as you turned to face Nancy. She shook her head, a warm smile gracing her lips.
“You sure?” You raised your brows.
“Stop worrying about me!” Nancy playfully exclaimed.
“I’m fine, I swear I’m fine. Mom’s calling me every few minutes to make sure everything is perfect, trust me, she’s taking care of everything.” You nod silently, a smile almost gracing your lips, when she chides you, god, you had missed this small idiotic town.
“Pinky, when I made you my maid of honor... I didn’t do it because I wanted you to handle the wedding plans. I honestly would actually rather you stay out of it, you’re pretty bad at planning.” You let out a slight dramatic gasp at her words, causing her to huff.
“Let me get to my point!” She gave you a knowing look.
“I did it because you are the closest person to me, because I don’t want someone who’s good at planning with me at the wedding, I can do that myself. I want my person by my side. I want you. You’re my family… like a half-Wheeler.” You chuckle, accepting the reassuring grip she has on your hand.
You give her a nod, silently returning the things she said to you, thanking her and telling her you love her, and she understands, accepts it, and translates your emotions without you opening your mouth.
“So, I’m assuming you don’t need anything?” You asked with a sheepish smile, causing Nancy to narrow her eyes.
“Just go!” She orders. “Okay, okay!”
“I’m going.” You huffed, not realizing Chrissy was behind you again.
“Can we please just talk?” She was begging at this point, but the last thing you wanted to do was be in close proximity to her. You sighed deeply, your patience running thin. “I have to go, Chrissy.”
“Wait—just five minutes, please,” Chrissy breathed, the desperation in her voice making you huff and turn around to face her. Your mouth slightly opened as if you were about to cuss her out, and if you didn’t shut it tight, something about Eddie was going to slip out.
But right then, of course, Eddie fucking Munson stepped into the picture, slinging an arm over Chrissy’s shoulder before throwing you a daggering look.
You couldn’t tell if Eddie was doing this to piss you off or that he had genuinely started caring about Chrissy in what? A fucking week?
Your guilt against him was turning into rage, and you didn’t know how to handle it. Each of your hands itched to separate them, make sure he didn’t touch her, and make sure they stayed the fuck away from each other.
But this was about Nancy and Jonathan; you weren’t going to cause a scene, and you were going to play nice, at least until you couldn’t handle it.
“I think you’re fine,” You said bitterly, trying to ignore the jealousy burning your insides, and your insecurities were quick to seep into your skin, making you feel worthless.
“No… wait,” Chrissy called out, but you didn’t give them another look.
“See you at Steve’s tomorrow,” You muttered to Nancy as you passed by her, your tears were burning at this point; if you didn’t go home soon, you were going to explode.
As soon as you ran to your car, of course only one thing had your attention.
The Camaro.
FIVE YEARS AGO.
The sound coming from the engine was loud—so loud that over Billy’s screams, you could hear it roaring, terrifying you further. Max was in the back, holding on for dear life, when you were gripping your seat, attempting to stay calm to avoid scaring her further. Billy’s screams filled the silence of the car, and his thumbs tapped along to the song ‘Wango Tango’ as he hummed to it. He had been angry ever since the two of you had a fight during lunch break.
You thought he would’ve calmed down by now, but the way he was driving told you otherwise. You wanted to scream, yell, and tell him to slow down, but no words dared to come out of your mouth when the speed of the car was still rising. Your grip on the car seat was so tight that you could feel your nails painfully digging through it. You always seemed to freeze when Billy got angry, feeling helpless, as did Max.
“Would you look at that?” He hummed excitedly, pointing towards a van, and your head was quick to cock in the direction he pointed, eyes squinting before you realized who the car belonged to.
You could recognize that set of curly hair and that messy van from anywhere, and your eyes widened. Eddie was standing two cars ahead of you. “Billy…” You called out his name as Max’s head popped up at your shaky voice. Realizing what was going to happen, you stood frozen.
“Isn’t that the freak of Hawkins, huh?” Billy smirked, nudging your shoulder. Your eyes were focused on the road, and as Billy was pushing the gas with all the force he had, you bit the inside of your cheek.
“You always hang out with that asshole at school, yea? Let’s see if he wants to see you after too, huh?” He smirked, with a harsh steer of the wheel, he passed the car in front of him, shaking the three of you.
Your nails dug further into your seat. “Billy, this is not funny.” You screeched while Billy gave you another chuckle, almost as if he was enjoying it.
“Billy.” You spoke up again to get his attention, but he just faked a pout at your terrified face as he kept tapping his fingers to the rhythm of Wango Tango.
“Stop it, Billy!” You yelled this time; your heart was pounding in your ears, and your hands were shaking with fear as you attempted to gain his attention.
The loud noises Billy provided and the roaring engine of the car caused Max to sink into her seat, covering her ears in an attempt to drown out all the voices.
That sight of her alone made your blood boil. You turned to Billy with a roll of your eyes. “Will you stop?” You asked, eyes fiery, but your voice remained calm; you were still afraid of aggravating him further.
“Stop what, baby?” Billy said in a mocking tone, his feet further digging into the gas as the speed of the car rose again. He gave you another playful smirk.
Your eyes squinted in fury; the anger bubbling inside of you was getting harder to ignore, and with just one car ahead you knew he was getting closer to Eddie.
“Stop it,” you said with a stern voice this time, fingers still shakily holding onto your seat. But he ignored you once again.
“Billy fucking stop it.” You warned with your raised voice, heartbeat picking up when he steered the wheel harshly to pass the other car standing between him and Eddie.
This was like some fucked up dick measuring contest to him; he didn’t even fucking care that Max was in the car, possibly having a panic attack in the back.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Your clammy hands pounded against his shoulders in an attempt to get his attention, but he was still mocking you, singing along to the song loudly.
All of it made a buzzing sound to Max; she was used to this by now, from her parents and from the two of you. So she shut all of it off, covering her ears, watching almost in slow motion as you kept on hitting Billy, pleading with him to stop.
He was getting closer and closer, and you nervously bit your lips, legs bouncing up and down since you knew Eddie probably had no fucking idea because of how careless he was when he drove with that metal music blasting through his speakers.
“I told you to fucking stop!” You screeched again, face feeling hot as you repeated it like a mantra. Your whole body tensed as you looked back on the road and saw how close he had gotten to Eddie’s car. He was probably still oblivious, and anxiety gnawed at your insides. You needed to do something, and you needed to do it now.
Your head turned to the side of the road, gaze stuck on how it was mainly grass. Maybe if you could turn the car off the road...
You looked back at Max to make sure she had her seatbelt on and was safe in her seat. You didn’t care if your idea was stupid or careless; your logic went out the window the second you saw how willing Billy was to hurt Eddie in any fucking way.
With a deep breath, you quickly grabbed a hold of the wheel. With no other idea in mind, you forcefully turned it off the road, shaking the three of you in an instant. Your head hit the back of your seat, but you didn’t care. Eddie was safe.
Billy cursed you out and stepped on the pedal with force. The impact was hard on you, but again, you didn’t care; he couldn’t possibly hurt Eddie now.
Billy’s stupid song on the radio was all that filled the car now, and all you could do was groan. Your head was pounding when you tried to face Max, she was curled up in a ball, shaking like a leaf, and that sight alone was enough for the fear jolting through your entire body to turn into rage.
What the actual fuck was wrong with him?
Feeling suffocated, you quickly opened the door. With a quick struggle, you managed to get out, inhaling a deep breath as the fresh air around you provided you with a little sense of comfort.
But it didn’t matter. You were out of his car, and Eddie was safe.
You dropped your hands to your knees, breathing raggedly as you attempted to calm yourself, ignoring the sound of Billy exiting the car and slamming the door shut rather loudly, cursing you out.
Your head perked up in anger, and your eyes were livid as you rushed to his side. He was still in shock when you pushed him by his shoulders harshly. Your tears were now escaping freely when the realization of what happened hit you.
“What is wrong with you?” Your voice was loud, and you were a babbling mess with how much you were sobbing. Billy stood still while he hollowed his cheeks in anger, waiting for your tantrum to be over.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” You repeated, and your hands were quick to pound against his chest again, but before you could make any contact, he grabbed both of your wrists in an instant, causing you to look up at him with glossy eyes.
“Me?” Billy asked, chuckling ironically. “You drove the fucking car out of the road! And you’re fucking asking me what is wrong?” He let go of your wrists harshly as he rubbed his hands against his cheek. A humorless smile played on his lips as he let out a short chuckle that burned with anger and resentment.
“Are you insane, Billy?” You asked; you were still yelling, but now your tone was more composed, and your tears were drying out. “Are you fucking crazy?” You asked, not expecting an answer.
“You were going to get us killed! You… you were going to get him killed!” Your muscles tensed.
He laughed sarcastically, shaking his head in disbelief. “It’s about him, isn’t it?” He pinched his brows together, taking a step closer toward you. “You got mad because it was that asshole Munson kid, wasn’t it?” His jaw was clenched, but this time it felt like his anger had turned to hurt.
“Oh, my god.” You chuckled ironically, your hands hitting your forehead in disbelief. “Are you kidding me, are you fucking kidding me, Billy?” You asked, genuinely this time.
“Billy, you could have hurt us! You could have hurt Max! You scared the shit out of her!” You yelled, and Max’s head perked up.
“This isn’t about Eddie, Billy. This is about you acting like a fucking maniac!” You were shaking with anger.
His voice, once filled with anger, softened into a gentle tone as he realized the impact he had on you.
You were afraid of him.
And a wave of guilt washed over him, the familiar wobble of your lips reminding him of his mom, a sense of déjà vu overwhelming him completely and leaving him feeling small and ashamed. “Are you okay?” His anger had disappeared on a whim now.
Your eyes were fixated on the ground now, lips pursed as you were unable to give him an answer. Billy heaved a sigh, ignoring all of what you had said. “Let’s just… let’s get going.” He murmured; his anger was now washed away with sadness, something you rarely saw Billy in. The realization that you were afraid of him tore at his conscience and ate away at him.
He attempted to softly grab your arm, but you withheld, “No! I’m not getting in that car with you.” You yelled, face souring.
“Baby, just... please.” His voice was soft, it was boggling how fast he could go from scaring the shit out of you to being soft all over again.
The nickname further angered you; he didn’t get to use it to soften you after what he did. “No, Billy, you almost fucking hurt us!” You exclaimed.
You breathed before you continued your rant, “I’m done trying to help you, trying to help you do better, because you’re a selfish fuck who does whatever he wants!” You screeched. “You don’t even care who you hurt in the process, Billy! Look at Max, fucking look at her!” You were screaming the last words, and your sobs had returned, Billy was stunned in front of you.
He took a step back, his eyes filled with regret, and he reached out to gently hold your trembling hands, but you flinched.
He swallowed hard; the weight of his guilt threatened to crush him. He finally saw that familiar mix of fear and vulnerability in your eyes, you always looked at him like that after an argument.
He squeezed his eyes shut to avoid any tears, and to escape the guilt, he couldn’t cry—no, not in front of you. “Just leave me the fuck alone, Billy.” You spat out while Max was still watching from afar.
“I’m… sorry.” Billy let out weakly and you scoffed at him, knowing that sorry would not fix anything that he just did, you turned your back around to start walking away from him. “Please… just come with me, I can’t leave you here.” He pleaded desperately; you had never heard him like this before, and you were doing everything in your willpower to not turn around.
“I’ll… Fuck—I’ll drive slow, okay?” His voice rang in your ears, but you didn’t care; you were going to keep walking away from him and his anger.
At least that was your plan, until Max finally opened her car door.
“Please, just come with us…” She murmured, her tone so meek and afraid that you couldn’t bear to say no to her.
You didn’t want to leave her alone with Billy. You heaved a sigh of breath, her second ‘Please’ stopping you dead in your tracks before you turned around to meet her fearful eyes.
You looked back at Billy with a spiteful look, almost to let him know that this was only for her, then you walked back to the car.
The ride home was filled with a dreadful silence, Billy stole a few glances at you to make sure you were okay, your eyes remained on the road, and Max fiddled with her fingers as she pretended to listen to her Walkman.
When he dropped you off that day, you were sure that was the last time you were going to be with Billy.
But as usual, your promises to yourself meant nothing; you couldn’t help but soften immediately when Billy held you as you sobbed in his arms, his fingertips gently caressing your face as he kissed away your sadness, tasting your salty tears on his tongue.
It was always messy. But everything with him was messy. His calloused hands wrapped around your frame tightly, but still, his kisses were gentle.
The fights always ended with you in his arms, bodies wrapped around each other, as he murmured compliments in your ear, affirming how much he loved you and how afraid he was of losing you.
This was the Billy that only you get to see, and it was different compared to the Billy he portrayed himself to be in public; he was still filled with anger, and he was still an asshole, but he always knew what to say to get you hooked on him, and he treated you with kid gloves whenever he noticed how he had fully broken you.
It was a cycle at this point, each time getting worse as Billy’s anger got more uncontrollable. He would get mad at you, it would turn into a full blown argument, and you would be a sobbing, blabbering mess. When he realized how much he had fucked up, he would finally soften, trying to mend what he had ruined. It was a cycle you didn’t dare get out of, suffocating you further.
NOW.
He would always talk about how afraid he was that he would turn into his father. What a fucking joke, you thought to yourself, wanting to laugh at the irony of that asshole. That haunting memory replayed in your head like some kind of a never-ending nightmare. Your mind was playing tricks on you, and you couldn’t help it. By the time you got home, the only thing you could do was plop yourself on your bed.
Tears streaming down your cheeks weren’t any of your concern; the dusty and mess filled house should’ve been, but all you could do was lay down and let it all out.
You fell asleep like that, laying in a fetal position, sobbing until your tears dried out. And that’s the last thing you remembered before you heard a faint thud.
Thud.
Thud.
Thud.
Thud.
Your head snapped up quickly at the sound, groaning as you curiously headed to the source of the annoying tapping noise.
Something—or rather, someone was tapping something against your window and you were going to give them a piece of your fucking mind—
You approached the window furiously, almost yanking the sheer curtains as you saw that curly head, and you knew instantly.
Eddie?
You opened the window with a roll of your eyes. “Are you insane?!?” You yelled, getting his attention before he threw another rock.
“Thank fucking god! I thought you were dead!” He yelled back, huffing as your face appeared in the window.
“What?”
“I called your landline like a thousand times!” He breathed; He was wearing one of his own band tees, a guitar pick was adorning his neck, and his curls were more defined now. And you hated how the first thing you thought was how good he looked.
“I haven’t been here in five years, you doofus! I don’t think it even works.” You shook your head, and even though the two of you were supposed to be mad at each other, you couldn’t help it when your lips etched into a smile.
You ruffled your hands through your hair, he threw the pebbles he had in his hand to the ground, dusting them off before he turned his attention to you. “C’mon, let’s go.” His voice lowered this time, eyes hopeful and so beautifully brown that you wanted to drown in their warmth.
“What?” You asked, a baffled look overtaking your features.
“I want to take you somewhere.” He shrugged, head hanging high to keep your gaze.
You sighed. “Eddie, what are you–”
He groaned. “Just get in.” He almost sounded demanding, and your brows pinched together before he muttered out a “Please.”
He could hear your grunts before you closed the window, cursing him out as you hurried off for a change of clothes.
You didn’t know what the fuck the two of you were going to do, but it didn’t matter.
Eddie wanted to take you somewhere, and now you couldn’t help the way your heart fluttered. Because it meant something, it meant that this could be fixed. That there was still some hope.
#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson series#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson x fem reader#eddie munson angst#eddie munson x you#rockstar!eddie munson#rockstar!eddie x reader#rockstar!eddie munson x reader#eddie munson imagine#stranger things imagine#stranger things fanfic#getaway car series#getaway car
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𝕮𝖍𝖊𝖘𝖍𝖎𝖗𝖊
✧warnings: Yandere/toxic themes, Cheshire Riki, manipulation ig? mentions of going mad, blood, mentions of abuse, mentioned of being stoned
❁synopsis: Y/n is a very curious girl, and incredibly creative, having grown up in a heartless, cold, boring family, others always ponderred if the mother perhaps had an affair. She's so sweet and cheery and always curious. Her head always in may books, shows, as she feeds off of whatever knowledge gains... In fact she herself started wanderring whether hse was going mad....
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Y/n was stuck in her room, her arms and legs all scratched up and bloody, she sat on the floor of her now, somewhat messy room. There and then she cried. Her eyes landed on the book above her vanity, she got up, limping, tripping over one of her stuffed toys, as she gripped onto the frame of the mirror, her face landing right on the mirror. However to her surprise, she didn't shatter it, or hurt her face, in fact she saw a whole new world.
Perhaps she had hit her head a little too hard and she was now in the afterlife? She immediately pulled away with all her might. Not a scratch on her face. She didn't even hurt herself. Curious, she reached her hand out to touch the mirror again, the mirror rippling as her hand went right. through the mirror. She looked back at her messy room then back at the mirror.
There's a whole crazy world on the other side of that mirror, No boring beings, senseless story books, long science essays that are meant to feed one's knowledge. Maybe behind the silver there's a whole dreamland. Smiling she stepped through the mirror. Boy was she stunned. Shocked, but she loved what she was seeing. "Oi mind your step!" a tulip yelled from beneath her foot.
"Oops- sorry sirmaam maamsir?-" she questioned, as she stared up at the sky "Ooh score tree candy!" she smiled, trying to reach for the gumdrop, only for the tree branch to suddenly go up "awh- can't I have candy mrmissmrrsmx tree?" Y/n asked, assuming the tree would also talk. A smile appeared mid air, and there, a handsome fucking man, smiling mischievously whilst staring down at her. "Well you're one cute lil kitty~" Riki said with a smile.
Since that very moment, everything seemed to be a blur. Y/n woke up gasping for air, there on the ground of her messy room. She had one very vivid, crazy dream, it felt so real yet she barely remembered most of it. She could only make out the figures of actual, human-sized solitaire cards chasing her down, A queen with a heart-shaped head. A white rabbit quite like her pet one, except it's male and it talks.
"Is there a chance I was stoned?" she asked herself as she shrugged, sitting up, there on her wall, surrounding the frame of her mirror, are solitaire cards. Is this some sort of Deja vu? Her shaky hands reached out toward the mirror, touching it. Yet she just left a finger print. It was just a dream. "No it wasn't sweetheart." Shocked, she turned to where that deep, dreamy yet familiar voice was heard. It's the Cheshire man.
"Have I officially gone mad? it's said that too much knowledge makes a human go mad" Y/n asked as the man snickerred, teleporting before her. "Everyone's mad here my darling..." he said "Darling?... no one's ever called me that-" She admittingly said. Riki smirked, walking around her in circles, tutting as he admired every inch of her "What a princess what a princess... why don't you do the honours miss Heart, and be my darling wife?" the handsome man asked as he stared down at her.
"Y/N. WHO ARE YOU TALKING TO?!" a woman screamed from the entrance, her eyes doubling in size as she noticed her daughter talking to thin air. "I KNEW IT. WE SHLDN'T HAVE ADOPTED SOME RANDOM 5 YEAR OLD THAT WAS PAINTING ON BRICK WALLS.... WE CAN'T HAVE A MAD WOMAN IN THE HOUSE. NO ONE'D MARRY YOU." she screamed. Ah yes, marriage. She's nothing but a pretty doll to sell to the richest man that'll treat her like his sex slave as he slept with other women, just so her so called family could have the money they want.
As the woman picked up a sharp dagger to stab poor y/n, she suddenly dropped dead, the very dagger pierced into her heart. "It seems you have no other choice my darling... you have to come back with me. Marry me. Let me love you in the place I call home, and you call your dreamland... if you stay here, they'll torture you cand claim that you killed her...." Riki explained as Y/n stood there frozen. Sure the woman was cruel and unloving, but she's still her mother...
"She isn't your real mother darling...... I know you're real mother... The queen of hearts." The male said, nothing but truth in his mouth. "You know you can trust my y/n... I know everything about you... I've been watching you through this mirror, my poor princess, so creative, curious and darling.... being mistreated in this dungeon.... let me take you home~" he said, opening a portal in the mirror. She had no choice, the guards had discovered the body... so through the mirror she went... into her wonderland.
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a/n: Idk if this is very yandere or if u cld wrap ur head around it, I'll try to be more active for now my darlings as I will be pretty inactive due to a-levels and soon even uni and work etc etc, I'll work through my requests<3
#yandere#enhypen#enha#yandere enha#yandere enhypen#enhypen yandere#enha yandere#kpop#kpop enha#nishimura riki#niki nishimura#enhypen niki#enhypen nishimura riki#riki enhypen#niki enhypen#niki enha#kpop yandere#enhypen scenarios#enha imagines#enhypen imagines#enha x reader#enhypen x reader#enhypen fanfic#ni ki#enhypen ff#engene#enhypen fluff#niki reaction#ni ki enhypen#enhypen niki ff
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stay the night
in which you babysit megumi some nights and toji is sick of you showing up in those tight little shorts
1.3k words, nsfw
“Good evening, Mr. Fushiguro. I just put Megumi down.” You whispered as you held up the baby monitor. Toji hadn’t had one when you first started working for him and had purchased it at your insistence. You had been babysitting for the Fushiguro’s now for a few months, showing up whenever Toji had called. It wasn’t a regular thing, Toji had told you his job was a freelancer (whatever that meant) and his work wasn’t regular. Still, he paid decently and Megumi was a doll of a child, always so sweet and eager to have someone to babble to.
It also didn’t hurt that Toji was an absolute dilf. He had a perfectly placed scar on the corner of his lips that you wanted to paint pink with your lipstick. He towered over you and always had on shirts seemingly two sizes too small that outlined his hard abs and broad shoulders. You were waiting for him to lift his arm one day and have his shirt split down the middle. Long story short, you wanted him.
“Thanks.” He said digging in his pants pocket for his wallet to pay you for the night. He was never very talkative, especially so after he was done work. You had a sneaking suspicion that it wasn’t just with you. You turned around to grab your purse on the couch, not realizing how far your yoga shorts had ridden up. They had moved so far that now your peach colored panties were peeking out underneath.
You heard a faint rustling of clothing before feeling a large, calloused hand grip your waist. You stiffened in surprise and quickly turned your head to look at the man behind you. His hand traveled up in between the valley of your breasts and he tugged you so that your back was flush with his chest. His extremely muscular chest. You could already feel your face heating up.
Toji leaned his head next to your ear to whisper. “You didn’t have to wear those tiny shorts for my attention, you already have it. Do you know how hard it’s been to hold back all of this time? My self control has worn out.” It wasn’t as if you wore those shorts on purpose for this exact outcome… or that was what you told yourself to feel better about the fact that you desperately wanted the single father with an ambiguous job who always came home late.
“If you want to stop, say so now because once I get started, it’s too late.” He groaned into your ear. You shook your head vigorously no, unable to muster up the words to speak. He slots his lips against yours, swallowing your mewls of excitement. Toji nipped at your lower lip, inviting you to open for him. When you did, he slipped his tongue past your parted lips dominating your own.
“I’m gonna stuff you full,” he groaned, kissing up the side of your neck before pushing you hard onto the weathered sofa.
“I can barely wait to come home to my pretty little cockslut waiting for me.” His voice was teasing, one of his hands dipping under the waistband of your shorts, slowly working its way down and pulling both your shorts and underwear down with it.
“Taking care of my kid all day, waiting for me to come home and give you your reward.” He dipped two calloused fingers into your heat and groaned. “How are you so wet already?” He started off slow, but with your encouraging mewls, he began to aggressively scissor his digits in and out of your hole.
“Ah, Toji…” you trailed off as he lifted his fingers out of you, a trail of your essence following them. He guided his fingers to his awaiting mouth, scar stretching to open wide. Sucking hard on his two digits, he slid them slowly from his mouth and let go of them with a pop.
“I would play more but…” he trailed off, but you knew what he was thinking. You couldn’t waste time when you had a toddler down the hall that could wake up any moment. You feverishly unbuttoned the jeans clinging tight to his thighs and pulled down, gasping at the outline of his cock in his silky black boxers. You palmed the large bulge with your hand, feeling the pulsating veins even through the thin layer of fabric. It twitched as you began to run your hand up and down the clothed erection. Toji wasted no time in revealing it to you and let his boxers pool at his ankles before kicking them away. He was long and thick with a nest of black hair resting at the base of him. The curtains do match the drapes.
“Oh my god.” You whispered, but not quiet enough for it to escape Toji’s notice. He shot you a devilish grin before pushing you so your back laid on the faux leather couch.
“Next time, I’ll take my time on you. Maybe shove my face between those thighs and lick your pretty pussy. You’d like that wouldn’t you?” All you could do was vigorously nod your head in response, excessively aware of the fact that Toji had moved the head of his cock so that it was poking at your entrance.
“But what about…ah!” You started, trying to warn Toji that you hadn’t used any protection, but he was already plowing through your wet heat. You tried to quiet your mewls, but couldn’t hold them in as he thrust deep within you. Toji shushed you and buried your head in the crook of his neck.
“You’re so whiny. You’re gonna wake the kid.” You can feel his grin against your skin while he says it, not seeming at all worried about the possibility. In fact, he seemed pleased with himself.
He lifted your leg, folding it against your chest and angled his hips up. You choked back a moan as he hit your g-spot. Toji picked up the pace, thrusting fast and hard into your heat. He felt himself lose all control in the wet, gummy paradise between your thighs. Each thrust felt like he went deeper within you, carving out a space for himself within you. He slid a hand down to play with your clit, rubbing tight circles until you started to feel a familiar tension within your stomach.
“Ah, Toji I’m -“ You whimpered.
“You gonna come for me? Good.” You bit down on your lower lip to try to quiet your noises of pleasure, but he still slaps his hand across your mouth to muffle the noises you couldn’t contain. Finally, the tension snapped like a rubber band and your body flooded with release. He pushed his forehead against yours as he fucked you through your orgasm with deep thrusts that had you nearly shaking with overstimulation.
“Fuck I’m gonna cum.” He hissed, leaning so your foreheads were touching. “I’m not pulling out. You’d be such a good mother, wouldn’t you? You take such good care of my son, maybe I’ll give you one of your own.” Your eyes shot wide open in alarm, shocked that you liked the idea so much. You chanted yes, yes, yes, as you felt him groan and shoot his load deep inside of you. He stayed there for a moment, before slowly pulling his cock all of the way out and pushing his cum back in you. Toji rolls to lay his back on the sofa, grabbing your body and placing you on top of him.
“You’ll have to stay the night. I’m not done with you yet.” He grinned. Somehow, you were completely fine with that. (˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧
#toji x reader#toji x you#toji x y/n#toji fushiguro x you#toji fushiguro x reader#toji fushiguro x y/n#toji fushiguro smut#toji fushiguro#jjk fanfiction#jjk fanfic#jjk fic#jujutsu kaisen fanfiction#jujutsu kaisen fanfic
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[𝐒𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐲] 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄 (Gojo Satoru/afab!Reader)
A/N: This was a 3AM scream into the void that I cleaned up for fun. I said I was gonna do Gojo smut and here we are. So I present to you: Gojo tortures himself for fun.
Contains: Edging, Copious Amounts of Cum, Gojo Whining Like A Whore (:
[1K]
Minors DNI | Ao3 Link
His eyes were so pretty like this.
Those brilliant, limitless blues are caught in a stupefying haze – glazed over and brimming with desperation.
Their depths had darkened with desire as Gojo stared up at your gorgeous body, moving atop his own in a steady, mind-numbingly pleasurable rhythm. He wanted to look away, hide his festering hunger and madness that was flooding into his being but simply couldn't. It would be a shame to miss even a second of the beauty he was witnessing. You were a vision so powerful and captivating it demanded to be seen. Every touch, every glance and noise from your lips captured the attention and held it hostage, leaving no room for wandering thoughts. Only you. You consumed the man’s mind entirely with your lovely body and soul. What did it matter, anyway? There was no need to think of anything else.
Just you and the sweet rolling of your hips.
Gojo's senses were on fire. Mind bordering on the sweet precipice of delirium and bliss. His hands fumbled to hold onto your thighs, squeezing and pulling at the flesh to help you along on his aching cock. A blush seemed to envelop your body – tinting the skin a radiant, glowing pink. The imprints his fingers left behind told a story. Faint bruising, both healed and fresh, functioned as monuments to his continuous acts of desperation. No matter how many times you rode his cock, Gojo always ended up begging for more. He was positively insatiable. Always looking to prolong and endure more of your sweet torture.
Gojo moaned out a strangled curse, halting your movements. "S-Stop, stop, stop—" he breathed out, chest rising and falling as he attempted to regain control of his body. "I'm gonna cum, just stop — not yet, please."
With a voice so utterly fucked out of his mind and broken, how could you neglect such lovely begging?
“Of course, baby, we’ll slow down,” you whispered, grinding to a stop on top of him. Gojo whimpered at the loss of friction but babbled and mumbled a few frantic words of thanks, his voice faltering and stumbling over each syllable.
“T-Thank you, thank you, thank – y-you…” He could barely breathe, feeling your godly pussy tightening and relaxing around his cock. “I almost couldn’t hold it anymore,” Gojo said, digging his fingers into the tender flesh of your thighs even harder in an attempt to ground himself.
He looks at you with a clouded gaze as you tenderly brush his white locks back with your fingers. “Why do you torture yourself like this, Satoru…” The words came out of your mouth with such reverence as you committed the sight to memory. It was beautiful, the way Gojo panted and whimpered at each touch you were willing to give him, like a man starved for connection and love. Affection was the single most addicting substance in the world to him. And the fact that it came from you, an absolute goddess among men, made it taste even sweeter.
“I can’t help it, you’re just so –” Gojo moans, bucking his hips up into you. “So f-fucking b-beautiful.” He’s crumbling. You can see his resolve to drag this out breaking as he begins fucking you again.
You leaned forward, catching one of his shameless moans with your lips. A kiss to silence your needy, depraved boy for at least a few seconds. Gojo's cock twitched furiously within you, fighting the orgasm that was mere seconds away. If he came now, you would get off him and it would be over. Gojo couldn't have that – he was far too addicted to you to let that happen. Oh, but the craving he felt for you was unparalleled. He wanted it so badly. To paint your inner walls his colors and release his seed deep inside you. But not yet. It would be too soon. This was torture of his own design and delaying the inevitable would only make his release all the more satisfying.
Gojo thanked his lucky stars that you were willing to indulge this overwhelming need of his. There was just one problem: his body moved beyond his control, grinding up into your sweet cunt like a man possessed. Desire had truly taken hold of him. He couldn't help it. His cock chased after whatever friction it could get. Your walls contracted with each thrust, embracing his shaft like it belonged there, buried within you, pressing up against your cervix.
How was he supposed to stop fucking you when you felt so goddamn perfect?
You watched his eyes glaze over once more, a mantra of curses and pleas to stop tumbling from his lips. "N-no," he moaned out, glancing at his own, furiously thrusting hips. "F-Fuck, stop – I'm gonna—" Gojo was livid with himself. Fuming at his lack of self-control. He had begged you to stop and you had so graciously granted his wish, but here he was fucking himself into you like a mindless beast. You were so good to him and he couldn't stop.
A desperate, moaning wail spilled from his perfect lips as his cock began convulsing furiously within your tight pussy. You felt his release splatter against your walls, cock pulsing with each spurt and thrust. Gojo's eyes rolled back as he came, his head flopping down on the pillow behind him as his body began to writhe and shake beneath you. Even that wasn’t enough for him to stop moving, though. He bit his own lips in an attempt to silence his blissful cries. A valiant but ultimately futile attempt: every wave of release made him wail and sob in pleasure. He'd waited so long to cum. Now he couldn't stop. Pearly white seed slipped down the side of his cock as he continued to ride the high, coating the part where your bodies joined in slick. The sound of your bodies grinding into each other covered in cum was enough to drive anyone crazy. Even so, Gojo wasn't done. You were full, stuffed to the brim with his cum, but he had more to give, spilling over onto his abdomen and your perfectly bruised thighs.
When he'd finally drained his balls into your complete, the mess was immense, sticking to your bodies and dripping from your hole onto the sheets.
"I'm sorry –" Gojo panted out the apology. "Can we go again? Please, I need more. Just one more time."
One more time, he said. You both knew that was a lie.
#gojo smut#gojo x reader#gojo x you#satoru gojo#gojo satoru x reader#gojo satoru#gojou satoru x reader#gojo satoru smut#satoru gojo smut#jjk x you#jjk smut
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JUST LIKE ICARUS
✩ a chishiya x reader where the sun is a lot closer to him than he realised.
"Do you know the story of Icarus?"
The question catches Chishiya off guard. He turns to you inquisitively, but you are already looking elsewhere; you stretch your arms out behind your head lazily, leaning back against the side of your bed. The sunlight that filled the room was enough to make one drowsy with all its warmth, little specks of light scuttling across the ground like golden ants.
It's always weirdly sunny, when you're around.
"I'm familiar with it, yes." Chishiya says mildly. He briefly wonders whether he should've admitted to it - while it was true he had read the book, it had been completely unintentional. He'd picked up an old paperback of the book in a library once, under the impression that the gold lettering on the cover meant the book held a multitude of literary treasures. On that day, Chishiya learnt two things: that Icarus was an idiot, and that he should never trust the gold lettering on books.
He had come to dislike the story since.
"Really? You know it?" You look at him with wide eyes, your earlier drowsiness thrown off. The expression you are making is glowing with excitement, and he feels as if he should de-escalate the situation before you get any ideas.
"I didn't like it much," he warns. Much to Chishiya's distaste, he had come to know that you were a lover of storybooks, of which he never had much patience for. You blink, falling back against your bed with an audible thump.
"But why not?" You ask, tilting your head to the side. From your lips the question sounds incredulous; it's almost as if you had, in fact, greatly enjoyed the story of Icarus.
Chishiya frowns. He had initially expected you to dislike it too, since the story ended in Icarus' death and you were the greatest lover of happy endings he'd ever met. After tuning many of them out, he had come to know that your personal favourite tales were the ones about love - sappy ones of sweetness and longing that spanned over many lifetimes. He didn't care much for them either, though they wouldn't have bothered him nearly as much if you didn't insist on telling him every single one. So, with that in mind, what reason could you have for liking this tale?
"Icarus dug his own grave," Chishiya shrugs. "If he'd just been careful, he would've lived. He should've listened to the advice he was given."
You snort. "That's why you don't like it? You and Icarus are one in the same, then," you point out. "You never listen either."
It appears you've noticed him tuning you out.
"Well," Chishiya muses, "I can afford not to." He turns his head to shoot you a lazy grin. "The same cannot be said for Icarus."
You press your lips together. "Wow, you are awful," you comment, though Chishiya can tell by the way your shoulders shake gently that you are trying not to laugh. Your attempt to stifle your laughter ends up in vain when your voice disappears towards the end of your statement, dipping your head forward to conceal the grin adorning your face.
Chishiya finds he is smiling before he can stop himself - it's easy to make you laugh. He knows that if you lifted your head, he would see the crinkles under your eyes.
He allows you a moment to compose yourself before asking a question of his own. "But why do you like it?" he says, careful to keep the curiosity out of his voice. You raise your head when he speaks, traces of laughter still painting your lips. "The Icarus story, I mean. Since he dies in the end, I would've thought you'd hate it."
The question seems to surprise you. You frown, your brows drawing together. "Well, I wouldn't say that I like it, exactly," you say thoughtfully. "But it does have its charm. Icarus was happy for a little while." You muse. "Maybe being careless was worth it for him."
"That's ridiculous," Chishiya snorts. Icarus was happy for no less than what, five seconds? No form of death could be worth that. Now he doesn't know why he asked in the first place, because of course you would supply him with an answer like that. "He still died."
"Hey, what've you got against Icarus?" You tease, arms folded as you lean back against the side of your bed. "To be honest, I think his story is a little sad. He was just glad to be in the sun."
"Mm," Chishiya makes a noncommittal noise in response, knowing that if he were to give a full answer it would probably be rather scathing. You smile at this, giving him a little nudge.
"Okay, not a fan of Icarus," you say. Your voice is soft, tinted with amusement. Huh. Chishiya feels a small ache hatch in the centre of his chest - it pricked him in a strange way to see your smile as you spoke. You carry on, unaware of the sudden pain in his chest, that same smile still on your face. "Got it. Ah! Do you know Psyche and Eros? You have to have heard of them! Their love story is unrivaled."
Chishiya is vaguely aware of how he shakes his head, which causes you to clutch at your chest in mock horror. You then launch into your rendition of Psyche and Eros' romance, eyes shining. It seemed that unlike Icarus, Psyche and Eros got their happy ever after; their love was free to last forever, unbound by the constraints of mortal life once Psyche was immortalised.
Of course, this was the ringer for you - a love that lasted forever. Chishiya doesn't believe in forever; he knows everything must eventually come to an end. Perhaps that was where the two of you differed the most; you firmly believed in forever, simply because you insisted that things such as love could transcend all boundaries, resist the tests of time.
He supposes this should only be expected from someone who pitied Icarus, for whom Chishiya has no sympathy for. Despite how careless he may seem to you, him and the boy with the wax wings are nothing alike, because Chishiya is careful. He takes care not to let his mind wander when he sets his gaze on the sparkle in your eyes, the curve of your lips. He takes care not to let the sunlit vision of you sink too deep beneath the surface of his mind. Chishiya is careful, always careful. He knows that the repercussions of getting comfortable with you could cost him everything.
Even without you telling him, he knows the story of Icarus, who flew too close to the sun.
-
Today you are telling him about something new - probably another love story, judging by the delight in your voice.
It's sunny again. Chishiya is sitting with his back against the wall of your room, basking in the golden sunlight that streams through your window. The atmosphere is peaceful, calm. The way Chishiya likes it.
He leans his head forward slightly to stretch the stiffness out of it; he had long since stopped listening to you, and was now trying to figure out how to a rig a flamethrower. And every other step to making a flamethrower, really. It would be a lot easier to dance that risky line between life and death with one, and Chishiya intends to use it as his ticket out of this poolside hotel. He dreams of somewhere he doesn't have to attend meetings on the whim of an obnoxious man in sunglasses.
But where would he get the materials? If he were to ask someone like Ann for spare flamethrowing parts, he would most likely be bombarded with questions. Ann was terrifying in her own right, with her ability to speak so fast. It's a dilemma, certainly. Perhaps he could ask the handyman, Tatta, instead.
He doesn't seem like the type to ask what Chishiya would use them for, and Chishiya believes that is a quality more people should have.
"Chishiya?"
He lifts his head at your mention of his name. "Hm?"
You grin. Chishiya feels that little ache between his ribs again, filling in the empty space between his heart and his bones. It seems to be spreading, which he tries not to find concerning.
It's probably nothing.
"You weren't listening again, were you?" you chide, but you don't seem to mind. The teasing look on your face makes that plain enough.
Chishiya sees no need to lie. "I was not."
"Of course not," you sigh dramatically, flopping down to sit next to him. He smirks at you, knowing that you would roll your eyes in response. He knows you, predicting the way your head tilts away from him slightly, covering a quiet laugh. "Actually, I don't know why I'm surprised. Do you even listen to all those executive meetings you go to?"
Chishiya grins, which means the obvious answer is no - it's a close call between who he respects less, the Hatter or the mournful looking worm he'd spotted on his way back from a game. In fact, he might've even lent the worm an ear if it had deigned to speak - it probably had more worthwhile things to say than the Beach's number one.
You seem to be able to follow his train of thought. "I guess not," you say, a small laugh escaping your lips.
He finds himself thinking that the sound of it is rather nice.
Without warning you lean in closer to Chishiya and for a moment his mind goes blank, but all you do is reach out a hand to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear. "Here," your fingers brush lightly against the side of his face as you do so, the warmth of your skin lingering on his jaw even though the touch was only a brief one. "Now you'll be able to hear me better, hm?"
Chishiya snorts. His eyes flick over to you, that smile he wished wouldn't affect him so much dancing on your lips. Perhaps he should untuck the strand of hair from behind his ear again, just to annoy you. "There's a difference between wanting to listen and being able to listen."
"Hey-" you open your mouth to protest, but close it just as quickly. Chishiya is all but ready to give you a smug look, anticipating the way you would groan and pretend not to laugh - but then you lean in even closer, inspecting his face with curious eyes. He raises his brows in question. He doesn't like how your eyes have widened, mystified, as they rest just below his own eye level.
"What is it?" He frowns.
"You have a beauty mark!" You say, a delighted smile spreading across your lips. "I never noticed! Why didn't you tell me?"
Chishiya's brow furrows. He has to stifle the sudden urge to reach up and cover the little mark below his left eye. Why would he tell you? Perhaps he had fallen into the fool's trap of assuming you had working eyes, since the mark was, you know, on his face. "It must have slipped my mind," he says dryly.
Unfortunately, you take no notice of his wry tone. "It's so cute!" you exclaim. You look dangerously close to clapping your hands in joy, and you are still much too close to Chishiya. He feels the warmth on his skin beginning to burn as you reach out a finger to lightly tap the mark under his eye. "Oh! that reminds me - did I ever tell you the story? Beauty marks are where you were kissed the most in your past life."
Chishiya brushes your hand away from his face. "I can't say I've heard that one before," he says, keeping his tone even. He hopes it will be enough to stop the liquid gold in his chest from spreading.
"I thought as much," you hum, reaching out to poke the mark under his eye again, grinning when he swats you away. "Hey, that means you were kissed there a lot. Isn't that so sweet? You must have been really loved in your past life."
Chishiya's frown deepens. Here is your precious everlasting love again.
It's no secret that he doesn't believe in things like this; he knew better than most that human hearts were feeble things, easily stopped. As the vessel of love, didn't that show how not even the greatest love could last longer than the average human lifespan?
"Is that so." He says flatly. The mark below his eye was merely a fixation of his face, nothing more.
Your eyes dart over his unsmiling expression, the corners of your lips still turned up. "It's okay, I know you don't believe in things like that," you say mildly, eyes sparkling. Chishiya's gaze flickers; he didn't realise you had become so apt at predicting his thoughts.
"You're right. I don't."
You merely hum again in response before falling silent, as if in thought. In the hush Chishiya allows his gaze to wander to you momentarily; it comes to rest on the pensive crease in your forehead, angling lower to where golden shapes are being cast over your face by the sunlight coming through the window.
He's not sure if he can remember a time where you haven't been touched by light.
"Ah!" You do clap your hands now, and Chishiya eyes you in apprehension. That can't mean anything good. "Alright. Why don't we test something out?"
"Test?" Chishiya squints at you for a moment to accentuate his reluctance. "And what would that be?"
"Well...why don't we give you a new beauty mark?" You smile. "You don't believe me, so I'll prove you wrong."
Chishiya has to bite back his immediate scorn. What purpose would that serve? It's not as if you would be able to check if your theory worked, anyway. Even if you were right, neither of you would know what had conspired in this room, dappled in sunlight, in your next life.
He's already forming the word "no" in his throat, well aware that he shouldn't indulge you - but there are little crinkles under your eyes, the look of pure joy you usually wear when telling him your precious stories. Why were you so happy about his beauty mark, he wonders, and why hasn't the ache stopped by now? He should shut you down now, before this gets out of hand.
It is with these resolute thoughts that for some unfathomable, fanatical reason, Chishiya opens his mouth to find the words "do whatever you want," escaping off the tip of his tongue.
Just like that, the precarious nature he had built up around you is dealt its first blow when your face lights up with a pleasant surprise.
"Really?" you say, so tentatively that the pull in his chest becomes so strong it almost hurts. Chishiya has to pull himself together to shrug in indifference. But it's fine. This is but a small allowance, one he will only let slide once.
He still has to be careful.
You delicately put both hands on either side of the blonde's face, turning it this way and that as if inspecting it. He looks at you, unimpressed, as you gently poke his right cheek, designating it as the spot for his next beauty mark. "Is here okay?"
Chishiya shrugs again with his face still in your hands, your hold on him causing a slight difficulty for him to do so properly. "It's your test, isn't it?"
"Okayy, here it is, then."
You lean in and place a gentle kiss on his cheek, then another, and another. The touch of your lips is sweet and light - Chishiya's soft chuckle is audible when you kiss him a fourth time, and he loses count of the ones that follow after you can't seem to help but kiss him once on the lips.
-
Chishiya knows he shouldn't. He is aware that the wax wings fixed to his back are loosening by the day.
But no matter how hard he tries to ignore it, he is compelled to push open the door to your room in his free time, the daylight hours before he leaves for a game. Where he is enveloped by golden sunlight the second he steps in, the way your face brightens like heaven is on earth there with him etching itself into the very corners of his mind. He listens silently to your stories, the lull of your voice. You've begun to kiss him on his right cheek regularly, like a habit, and he can't bring himself to stop you.
He does his best to ignore the thought that perhaps he doesn't even want to stop you.
Chishiya knows that this is temporary. He has to be careful, make sure he doesn't forget. That no matter how many times you kiss him, he cannot stay. He is already flying much to close to the sun - the sudden warmth that consumes him as he does so is so immense that it scares him. Because every time you kiss him like that, he wonders what it would be like to sit there and listen to you tell stories forever.
And Chishiya knows forever doesn't exist.
-
Chishiya declines citizenship in the Borderlands.
Even after playing Kuzuryuu, he had honestly considered staying. No matter where he was, forever still would not exist; he would eventually die in either world. It would be interesting to see what the future held for him here, in any case. Perhaps he could run the Diamond games - there's no question of him being able to take the crown of the King of Diamonds with his intellect. And after all, if he stayed, he wouldn't have to return to the tedious problems of the real world.
But in the end, he finds that something inside him has changed.
Maybe it's because he's slowly bleeding out, which probably doesn't bode well for him. Maybe it's because he's slumped against a car and it's less than comfortable. Maybe Kuzuryuu got through to him after all.
But maybe it's also how you find him there, hidden behind the car, worry painting your usually so sunny face as you rush over to kneel beside him.
"Chishiya?" you whisper urgently. "Are you okay?"
He feels a gentle weight on his shoulder where you hand has immediately come to rest, like it's the most natural thing in the world. You don't even think twice about it; it surprises Chishiya that such a simple movement could feel so comforting, safe. He's gotten used to your touch, no matter how hard he'd tried not to. You're checking his wounds, eyes widening when you realise his hoodie is soaked in blood. "What happened to you? Oh my god, have you been shot? How bad is it?"
Chishiya manages a weak chuckle, even as you begin desperately searching for the bullet wound. You're worried, really worried, whispering something about putting pressure on the wound. Should he tell you he's been shot more than once?
His eyes roam over your face, cast in deep shadow by the darkening sky. Where are the crinkles in your eyes? The look of unobtainable joy that never left your face? It's so strange - ridiculous, even - that all he can think of is that stupid story you'd told him so long ago, the one about the beauty marks. He aches to see you smile again, like you did then, and the all-consuming feeling almost outweighs the blood seeping from his wounds.
"Are you laughing?" you say tearfully. Another laugh forces itself out of Chishiya's chest even as he winces slightly, although whether he laughs out of amusement or exasperation he can't really tell. You give him an incredulous stare, eyes shining with perspiration, before you finally crack a small smile of your own.
That's all it takes for the dam to break and you exhale in relief, the panic leaving your body in the form of a heavy breath. Your whole body relaxes and your hand slips a bit on his shoulder as you slump down beside him. "Chishiya," you breathe his name like it's the only thing keeping you alive, burying your face in your hands. "I was so worried about you."
Chishiya's broken laughter subsides into a grin. He leans back against the car, closing his eyes for a moment, although his look of amusement still lingers over his features. It's almost ironic - you seem more concerned about his own life than he is. And while Chishiya's concern usually reaches the brilliant heights of almost zero, he suddenly thinks that surviving his multiple bullet wounds wouldn't be so bad.
"Why?" he says, opening his eyes slightly to peer at you through half-lids. "If I died, we could test out your beauty mark theory."
You groan, but the sound is half-laugh-half-exasperation. "I can't believe you." Your head falls forward to rest on his shoulder, the fabric of his hoodie muffling your voice. You sound weak, as if you had spent some time calling out his name, trying to find him. He exhales a soft laugh. it was always your voice that gave you away, but now Chishiya only finds it endearing rather than a weakness. Despite the situation he finds himself relaxing.
He could get used to this.
And that's when it hits him.
That Chishiya has already become Icarus, the fool.
He breathes out. No, he's been a fool from the very start. He wants your head on his shoulder, just like it is now. He wants the warmth of your touch. He wants forever, full of your dancing eyes and your buoyant smile. He wants too much, has flown right against the sun so that his wax wings have melted away and he's plummeted into the ocean. Look at where being careful had gotten him; everything he's ever believed to be true is lost in the deep water.
But then you raise your head to graze a kiss on his right cheek between murmurs, your own cheeks slightly wet with tears, and Chishiya finds he doesn't care. He's willing to indulge in the idea of forever, no matter how unlikely it might be that it actually exists. He'll sink deeper into the ocean as long as you're holding on to him.
Fireworks explode around the two of you, marking the end of the world he'd met you in, and Chishiya makes his choice.
"I don't want citizenship," he says, and his eyes slide over to you as the words leave his mouth. He can admit, if only to himself, that he's looking forward to your reaction. "I think."
Your astonished face is illuminated in the light before it splits into that beaming smile.
"I thought you would stay," you whisper, but you're smiling so hard even as glittering tears are sliding down your cheeks again that Chishiya can't help but laugh once more. You reach for his hand and clasp it tightly, intertwining your fingers and his in a way that can only be described as tender and sweet, and he knows he's made the right choice.
"Let's go home," you say, eyes shining, and Chishiya is falling, falling. He wants to go back and live in a world with you, where a love that outlasts even the two of your beating hearts is more likely to be possible. Because even though he doesn't believe in forever, you do.
And Chishiya has never wanted so badly, with all of the heart he thought he didn't have, for it to be true.
-
Chishiya couldn't shake the feeling that something was strange.
He knew exactly where he was before he even fully woke up - the beep of the heart monitor, the sharp scent of sterilisation, the coolness of the pillow behind his head. From all the time he'd spent in residency, the atmosphere of the hospital was unmistakable.
He opens his eyes slowly to ease his transition into the waking world. His body aches with injury, and there is a stinging pain in his abdomen. The thoughts in his head are sluggish, bleary. He's still gaining his bearings, trying to figure out what happened.
A sudden jolt of urgency shoots through him and he almost bolts upright; he is met with the resistance of the tightly tucked in hospital bedsheets, and has to slowly push himself up instead. He looks around, scanning the other beds in the room. There is a strange new ache blooming rapidly in his chest, but he doesn't think it's related to his injuries. Where is...
He blinks. Where is what?
He frowns, freeing one of his arms from the linen sheets to rub his forehead. He tries to summon the thought up again, but it's like grasping at sand. Where is...? He attempts to close his fist over the question, but it slips through his fingers like the grains of an hourglass. What was he so desperate to find just now?
He just can't seem to recall.
The curtain around his bed is drawn with the slight scrape of metal, revealing a nurse with a clipboard. Chishiya is momentarily distracted from his thoughts when the nurse looks surprised to see him awake, her mouth forming a little 'o' of astonishment.
"Oh! you're awake," her expression quickly eases into a professional smile. Chishiya dips his head slightly in acknowledgement, but he is still unsettled. It's the strangest thing. It feels he's missing something, but he just can't figure out what.
The nurse begins to check his vitals, scribbling something down on a clipboard with a ballpoint pen. To Chishiya's newly awoken mind, the scratch of pen against paper is louder than it should be. As she writes she tells Chishiya what happened - the tragedy of the meteorite, how he was one of many victims of the crash.
"Your heart stopped for a full minute," she says, "you went into cardiac arrest. The same thing actually happened to a lot of the other patients here who were injured by the meteorite crash..."
Chishiya stops listening there. The nurse continues to talk, but his mind is already is elsewhere. His heart stopped for a full minute. He wonders, briefly, why it even bothered starting back up again. Perhaps he had some underlying will to live that even he didn't know about.
Human hearts were strange things.
It turns out that Chishiya has to stay at the hospital for a while before he can be discharged. He's familiar with the procedures - although his injuries aren't as severe as the man in the bed next to him, who is bandaged from head to toe, it'll still take a while before he makes a full recovery. Though Chishiya isn't too happy about this, he supposes there's nothing much he can do about it. And while the man stationed beside him is rather boisterous at times he does talk to Chishiya on the occasion, and it's not too irritating. In fact, he thinks they might even be a little bit alike in some ways.
But even as his injuries slowly heal, the ache he'd woken up with still lingers. It's such a strange, implacable feeling. Something inside him yearns for a specific kind warmth, the gold of sunlight that filters through windows. The hospital wards are too silent, too dull. Since when did he begin to long for company? But it's not even that - the room he's been staying in is full of people, yet he still feels as if someone is missing from his side. It's endlessly frustrating.
If his heart was going to torture him like this for surviving, maybe it shouldn't have yanked him back from cardiac arrest after all.
Chishiya's hospital days blur together with the utter sameness of them all. He goes through the motions, the scans, the checkups, all without a second thought.
Until, that is, he catches a proper glimpse of his reflection in the chipped bathroom mirror.
He stops in his tracks, leaning in closer to check whether it was just a speck of dust on the mirror, but no - it's really there. He frowns. That's weird.
He has a new beauty mark.
Has it always been there? There had always been one, just below his left eye. He had never paid it any heed. It was simply there, an affixation of his face. But he finds that there is now another mark, sitting on his right cheek. If it had been there all his life, he certainly didn't remember it. How had he never noticed it before?
He raises a hand to brush the new mark in confusion, his fingertips grazing the skin. As he does this, he recalls something odd - in the very back of his mind, it's almost as if he can feel the gentle press of someone's lips against his cheek.
-
Chishiya is finally going to be discharged from the hospital today.
He will not miss this place. In fact, his parting from the bed he'd known for the last month or so was joyful, to say the least. The ache he had woken up with still hasn't disappeared, but maybe the unsettling feeling that he'd forgotten something would fade once he left.
The sooner, the better.
He is just making his way to reception, having bid an amused farewell to the boisterous man in the bed beside him. Unlike the others in his room, neither of them had had any visitors, so he supposed the least he could do was be civil to the guy.
For once, there is silence in the hospital's white-walled corridors; visiting hours had not yet begun, and while Chishiya had grown to find complete silence somewhat unnerving he welcomes the change. There are no families weeping in the grey couches, no nervous chatter as they waited to be given updates on their loved ones' condition. There is even an abundance of sunlight, drifting in through the windows. It's peaceful, calm. The way Chishiya likes it.
Except when the receptionist's desk is finally in sight he finds someone else is already there, talking to the receptionist. By the looks of it, it's another patient - probably another crash victim, like him. Chishiya slows down, not particularly wanting to wait around for the conversation to finish. He stuffs his hands into his pockets, turning to look at the grey visitor's couches and then back at the receptionist. The patient is filling out forms now, blue ballpoint pen in hand. He spots the receptionist holding a rather thick stack of papers in her hand and frowns.
This may take a while.
Chishiya resigns himself to the grey couches, sinking into the soft fabric of the furniture. At least there's plenty of sunlight, streaming in through the rectangular glass pane overhead. He shoots another glance over at the counter, where the receptionist's stack of paper has diminished by about two sheets. He wonders if he would be chased if he just walked out of the hospital without signing the discharge documents.
With a sigh he leans back into the couch, turning his head to the side. With a note of surprise, he realises that there is a book lying open-faced a few inches away from him - judging by how it's been left open, someone must have left it there in the middle of reading it. With nothing else to do he lets curiosity take over, reaching over to pick the book up by its spine.
The book is a thin copy of an old story, battered and clearly well-read. He frowns slightly when he reads the title, bringing it closer to him to make out the words - gold lettering, the font of deceit. It's the story of Icarus; who wanted too much, giddy upon his taste of the heavens, and paid the price for it. Chishiya had always held contempt for that particular tale. If the fool had just been a little more careful, perhaps he would've lived.
"Oh! You know the story of Icarus?"
The question catches Chishiya off guard. He looks up from the book to see someone standing in front of him, smiling. It's that patient, the one who had been talking to the receptionist, silhouette dappled golden in the sunlight trickling into the room. That must mean the receptionist's desk is free now - but for some reason, he can't seem to tear his eyes away from the patient's expression; sparkling eyes, lips curved sweetly. Those bright eyes study him as he feels a familiar pull in his chest, the ache growing stronger by the second. And then, he hears the soft words:
"You have lovely beauty marks."
And it's so strange, because suddenly he feels a tug at the back of his mind. He feels as if he's heard something like that before, in another room dappled in sunlight. Where he felt warmer, safer than anywhere he had ever known.
Chishiya feels the smile come to his lips before he can stop himself. Perhaps his admin papers could wait a little longer. "Is that so."
#chishiya x reader#chishiya shuntaro x reader#chishiya#alice in borderland#aib#chishiya shuntaro#chishiya shuntaro x you#chishiya x y/n#chishiya oneshot#chishiya shuntaro x y/n#icarus#aib chishiya
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Maybe when you're older
Katniss and Peeta Age: 5-6
“You better give that back Colton, or else.” the dark-haired girl sneered.
“Or what?” the older boy taunted.
“I’ll stick one of my daddy’s arrows in your eyes,” the girl retorted, glaring into his flesh like an angry bear from one of her daddy’s stories.
Th older boy bent down and tugged at her pigtails. Katniss’ face flushed bright red, she felt heat coursing through her veins. She unclenched her tight jaw and threw herself over the older boy’s arm and bit down, hard.
Colton let out a let out a loud yelp, dropped the crayon and scurried like a scared mouse.
“Here,” Katniss said, handing the orange to the blond-haired boy behind her.
“Thank you," the boy replied, attempting his best smile in between tears.
“Don’t cry. I got your crayon back, it’s all okay now.” Her silver eyes softened as she watched long steaks run down the pale boy’s face.
The boy nodded, lifting his shirtsleeve to wipe his wet face.
“Come, you can sit with me and Madge,” Katniss offered with a sweet smile.
The boy beamed up at her and grabbed her shirtsleeve as they strolled down the lunchroom.
After that day the boy and the girl followed each other everywhere like lost puppies. He never let go over of her hand and neither did she.
---
“My daddy took me swimming last weekend, “the girl said.
“I wish my daddy would do anything besides bake all the time. Was is nice? What colour was the water?”
“It was sooo fun. I keep begging daddy to take me again, but he keeps saying something about the Capitol adding more work time. It was so pretty Peeta, so many colours I can’t explain. It was blue and green and clean and sparkly and I just love it, love it.”
“Can I come with you next time,” the boy raised his head expectantly.
“Mmm, I don’t know. I’ll have to ask daddy.” She said, watching the boy intently as he unwrapped a piece of bread. Her mouth watered, she shifted her gaze quickly trying not to give away the fact that she hadn’t had a proper meal in days. But the boy knew her better, he pressed a piece of bread into her hand as her stomach let out a loud lurch.
“Thank you.”
She had watched her parents kiss multiple time, she never quite understood why they did it, but at that moment looking at her best friend’s face an idea crept into her mind.
Katniss grabbed both his hands, leaned up close and pressed her tiny lips against his. They both pulled back surprised, flushed and embarrassed.
---
They sat by side in art class, Peeta was immersed in painting his tree. While Katniss half-heartedly drew scribbles on her notebook, peaking at her best friend every so often.
She leaned in close, brought her hands to his eyelashes and stroked them, The boy pulled back surprised
“You’re eyelashes are very pretty.”
“Thank you.”
The boy turned around and kept colouring his tree a dark shade of green, the girl’s hair brushed against his shoulders as she watched him with droopy eyes.
Peeta turned once again and twirled her red ribbon against his index finger, the girl lifted her head, smiling and unwound her ribbon.
“Here.” She said, scruffily wrapping the string around his wrist.
---
“Daddy, I like a boy”.
“Really sweety? What’s his name?” The tall, dark-haired man asked his little girl.
“Peeta.”
The tall man laughed deeply thinking about Mr Mellark’s deep affections for his wife when they were kids.
“Daddy can I stay with him, he has bunk bed and bread and crayons and everything.”
“Won’t you miss daddy? And what about Prim? How will she fall asleep if you don’t sing to her.” The man pouted.
“Hmm. I can’t leave Prim, you’re right. Maybe when I’m older?” The girl earnestly questioned the silver eyed man.
“Maybe when you’re older.”
#idk what this is#wrote this quickly instead of studying#I don't love it but likee ehh#also I have no idea how 5 years old talk#I hope this is close enough#like I rrly don't know if they the eq to understand social ques#everlark#everlark fanfiction#katniss and peeta#peeta mellark#the hunger games#katniss everdeen#thg fanfic#everlark fanfic#The typos helpkhhh#Just corrected#I can't believe myself sometimes
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love, I really love the way you write!! I wanted to see if I could request something, take your time, don't worry
I would like to ask something super angsty with changbin but have like a fluffy ending, like he is really stressed and gets it out on the reader, like calls her clingy or smth.
love you so much!
take your time 💕
Gym bro
Thank you so much for requesting this!! I was waiting for someone to request for a Changbin story lol😭so thank you thank you!
I hope you like it 🩷
**
“Baby?” Y/n called for her boyfriend while knocking on the door.
He was in his studio writing for their new comeback and he had been in there for hours. It was really bad. He had refused to eat, drink or sleep anything. Making her have to force feed him. Ofcourse he was frustrated and mad but what could she do? She wouldn’t allow to watch him suffer like that.
“Binnie?” She called again due to the fact that he wasn’t replying.
She walked inside the studio. He was on his laptop and it was really dark in the room.
When she tapped on his shoulder causing him to jump and turn but he calmed down when he just saw it was his girlfriend.
“What is it love?” He asked softly while rubbing his eyes. The lack of sleep catching up to him.
“I was wondering if we’re still going to the gym today? You said that we could grab some lunch and have a date after,” Y/n said while running her hands through his messy hair. She had missed him and missed spending time with him. She would grab any chance to just have alone time with him even if it meant going to the gym and stopping at some crappy fast food restaurant.
“Oh, that was today? I’m sorry cupcake but I can’t. I have so much work to finish,” he frowned and pulled her between his legs. His hands rubbed against her thigh as if he was trying to make her feel some sort of way. Break it down gently?
“But babe you’ve been behind that computer for the past 48 hours and when you do leave this room it’s to go to the dorms,” she complained. Her eyes fixing on the computer. He was on a zoom meeting with Chan and Han like usual.
“Okay I’ll tell you what, we can go in like an hour or two. Is that okay?” The frown on Y/n’s lips turned upside down and now she had a cute smile that painted on her face. The smile that Changbin couldn’t help but love. His heart melted whenever he made his girl happy. He just wished he could do it more often.
“Thank you, thank you, thank youuuu!” She kissed him all over his face making the older man chuckle at her reaction.
“I’m gonna go get dressed, I left some snacks on the table for you. Make sure to eat them before we leave,” she got out from in between his legs and gave him a small kiss.
Changbin on the other hand let out a small whine from the loss of contact. He craved her so much. He felt like a zombie behind this screen with no sunlight.
Y/n rushed into the bathroom and got into the shower then quickly put her hair up in a pony tail. She then got into her gym outfit and put her gym bag together before dropping it in the living room.
It had been about an hour and thirty minutes before she went into the studio to check in with her boyfriend.
He was sitting behind the screen, his snacks untouched. She frowned at this but shrugged it off. He was pissed though. It was so obvious it was because he was yelling at his phone. She couldn’t help but eavesdrop.
“What do you mean they’re moving the deadline to this Friday?….I don’t care! It’s a fucking Wednesday Chan, they can’t expect us to whip up 4 songs by the end of Friday!….Ah fuck this, if the songs come out trashy we’re not dropping anything….okay yeah I’ll talk to you later.” He hung up the phone aggressively and threw it on the couch. His hands run through his hair and he let out a frustrated sigh.
“Babe?” Y/n said softly making her way to him. “Are you ready to-“
“Y/n I can’t go. I’m sorry but some of us have actual jobs that require as to actually work. So just hop off my back for a second yeah? And stop being clingy. When I’m done with work is when I’ll tend to you.”
He was pissed, it blinded him. It made him say things that he didn’t mean.
“Oh,” was what she could say. She looked him dead in the eyes. His eyes red and dark. Who was he? Where was the guy she started to date who would always make sure to give her time? Where was the guy who would make her his priority?
She didn’t want all his attention but she wanted to feel like she was still in a relationship.
“I’m sorry for being such a bother, I’ll leave you alone,” she softly said. The tears in her eyes so clear that Changbin felt his body tremble in guilt.
“Just make sure you finish your snacks, you haven’t eaten all day,” she sniffled and made her way outside the studio leaving Changbin to beat himself up.
He was a mess and it was all because of? All because of his stupid management. All because he couldn’t get himself together. Why was she so nice and why did she care so much about him?
“God, why did you have to give me such a perfect girlfriend?” Was all his said before he got up to run after her.
When he left the studio and saw the gym bag that she had packed for him and her laying on the couch with their matching water bottles. He knew he had messed up. It pained him that Y/n was such a sweet soul and he decided to be a bitch.
What made his heart break was hearing her little sobs coming from inside their shared bedroom. He had to make things right, so he pulled out his phone and texted his assistant to make a reservation for the both of them at one of the most expensive restaurants in town and to clear his schedule for the rest of the day.
Ofcourse his assistant was confused at first because they had a lot to do especially at the fact that their deadlines were closer but Changbin didn’t care because at the end of the day he wasn’t going to marry JYP. JYP wasn’t going to raise his kids and JYP wasn’t going to stay with him until he was old and wrinkly. JYP wasn’t going to be the person he would marry so it didn’t matter.
Y/n was laying in their bed. She was still in her gym clothes. Her pillow was being filled with her tear drops. She didn’t mean to be clingy, she just wanted to take care of him and spend time with him. They hadn’t gone on a real date for months and she was so supportive about it but she thought that today would be the day they would finally be able to do things together.
Her body trembled against the soft sheets. She didn’t want to have a panic attack but she couldn’t help it. She loved her Binnie so much that she didn’t want to lose him.
“My love?” She heard his voice but chose to ignore it.
“Babygirl? Talk me please,” he begged her.
“You were mean,” was all she said before breaking down even more.
“I know I was, I’m sorry I snapped at you like that,” his hands automatically land on her waist to pull her in his arms.
“Do you not love me anymore? What did I do? You always work so much. Is it to avoid me?” Her breathing got heavier and Changbin knew what was about to come.
“Hey, shhh it’s okay, breathe baby girl,” he was gentle. Y/n loved it when he was gentle. She also loved it when he was loud and running around don’t get it wrong. “I love you, I love you so much it hurts me. It hurts me that I can’t be a normal boyfriend, I’m always at work or doing work I know and it eats me up. I just want to get everything over with so I can take you out without being worried about what I have to go home too. Please believe me,” his touch was soft as he played with her fingers. She was calming down now and Binnie felt a relief.
“You’re a jerk,” she said quietly.
“Ouch, that hurt,” he said dramatically earning a laugh from her.
“I’m sorry for being clingy Binnie,” she said once she was done giggling.
“No, no, no, I love it when you’re clingy! It makes me feel loved and cared for, I don’t know what came over me inside there, maybe I thought I was talking to Chan or something. I love you being clingy so much, I love it when you cook for me, I love it when you feed me, I love it when you try and get me to do things, it make me feel human again” he was kissing her forehead now and again to give her some comfort.
“Really?” She said looking up at him. Her eyes were so pretty to him even if they were red and puffy from crying.
“Yes really and if you would allow me, Y/n, may I take you out on a romantic date?”
“Is the romantic date to the gym?” She asks rolling her eyes playfully.
“Oh my God, how did you know?” He fake gasped.
“I geuss I know my boyfriend very well,” she shrugged playing along.
“Well sike, no we aren’t going to the gym,” he teased, “We’re going on a real date, get dressed okay? This is my apology gift,” Y/n couldn’t help but smile.
#skz imagines#skz comfort#skz angst#skz x reader#skz drabbles#skz fluff#skz stay#skz x y/n#skz x you#stray kids drabbles#seo changbin#changbin#straykids x reader#stray kids angst#stray kids fluff#stray kids as boyfriend material#stray kids fanfic#stray kids imagines
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Set Me Alight: Part 7 - Paint It, Black
📜Life is messy. And complicated. And writer blocky, with a dash of imposter syndrome... I just want to put that out there... Anyway...
Well, the poll won out. You all want to know what Jake said to Midge. This is solely a flashback chapter. I can't say I'm surprised at who you all disliked in the last chapter, though I hope this one will give you some insight into why Midge has held on to this for as long as she has.
Special thank you to @teacupsandtopgun for helping me to write a certain part of this! You can thank her for the puns! And @sarahsmi13s for taking a peak at it!
❗️+18, Minors DNI, Strong Language, Enemies to Lovers, Original Female Character (s), Short OFC, Bradley Bradshaw x Natasha Trace, flashbacks, Halloween college parties, school, angst, sexual themes (overhearing), drunkness/inxotication. I mentioned angst, right? 💀
#8k <- yes, i know
Part 6 | Masterlist | Part 8
*Halloween Four Years Ago*
Giving orders to a football team to put up Halloween directions was not an easy feat. They were kids in a joke shop, only too happy to take every opportunity to jump-scare each other with a spider, a white sheet or slide out from behind a door and shout boo!
Despite the antics, you were grateful for the help. Nat and you wouldn’t have finished in time. And even then, you suspected Nat probably would have given up halfway through, merely deciding to throw Yellow Caution Tape on the walls and call it a day.
You wouldn’t have stopped - even if it became a doomed effort.
Bradley’s friends weren’t what you expected them to be. True, their appearance fit the bill a thousand times over. Tall, broad shoulders and bulging muscles were all the product of hard work - including Bob, who was smaller than the rest, though not by much. Even their mannerisms, from how they acted childish and goofy to how they winked or playfully flirted, everything you saw played into the stereotypical type that was the classic college football jock.
Then you got to know them—really know them—and hated yourself for ever associating them as such.
You already knew Bradley and had met him on occasion. When he stayed over to be with Nat, he was often up before you, and you’d chat with him over a cup of coffee. He always brought her a cup to wake her up when he could, and it always made you smile.
His story was a sad one. His father passed away when he was only two years old, leaving his mom to raise him alone. While he couldn’t regale you with his memories of him, he instead offered you the stories attached to his father’s things: a button-up Hawaiian shirt in pale pastels, a pair of coffee-brown Ray Ban sunglasses, and even a worn Milk chocolate leather-strapped bag he used to lug his books around campus.
Then, his mom passed away in high school, and his father’s best friend took him up until the point decided to leave for school. Bradley chose his words carefully when he spoke of any of them, offering little, and you wondered if the loss was still too much for him to bear.
Or something else had happened, and he didn’t want anyone to know.
But as you helped him blow up a few balloons for the floor, a song from a later decade played through the speakers, and Bradley lit up, producing a smile wider than the nearby Jack-o-lantern. He launched into a story about how much his parents loved music and how his father would play the piano, which alone made him want to learn.
You asked him if and when he did if he’d play for you one day.
Javy Machado, however, couldn’t be more different from Bradley if he tried.
He was just as meticulous as you when it came to detail. The two of you were discussing the best way to tape Velcro to the kitchen cupboards to stick fluff to the sides and mimic cobwebs when you discovered this fact. He was … quietly smooth and persuasive, with a suave smile that indicated he could charm his way into or out of any situation he wanted without needing to flirt or play it thick.
“Angle it like this, Maeve,” he had explained, stretching the piece out. “Principle of maximum contact area equals maximum adhesive stretch.”
You had raised your eyebrows at that remark, which prompted him to chuckle softly.
"Science major," he shrugged with that smile, making your internal monologue stutter to a halt until you went, "Wait... What?!"
He only laughed at your reaction, amused in a way like he’d been expecting it. But it was that look of genuine interest in his eyes that made you ask him properly.
He didn't know what field of science to specialize in, but Javy made all of it sound amazing. From stars to not dirt—it's soil—to understanding how the world worked, he knew he wanted to spend his life trying to figure it all out. If he could throw a ball around and be part of a team with his friends, he considered himself fortunate to do both.
Even if his passion was so far removed from your own, you may have seen some of yourself in his journey, trying to fit in while doing what you loved most.
Holding up a string of lights against the wall, Reuben Flitch told you he was floating through school, waiting for the day he could finally be free. On that day, he’d take over his family’s business. Comparing him to the fractured story of your brother and sister following in your parent’s footsteps never seemed to cross your mind.
Because when you asked what the business was, his face lit up with an enthusiasm you hadn’t expected.
“My grandparents own vineyards," he had beamed. "They've been in the family for generations. I've grown up with the land, the grapes, and the entire winemaking process."
He told you stories of growing up, playing through the vines and rows of trellises, making you long for the rows of apple trees at Aunt Viv's. He also talked about spending time with his grandfather, learning the process of pressing grapes and his grandmother tending and picking the grapes. He spoke about the people, everyone from the gardeners to the people who bottled the wine to his siblings, with whom he'd played hide-and-seek within the cellars.
He told you a business major was worth it, as much as he loathed it, if he could own the place one day.
You hoped he did.
But Mickey Garica and Bob Floyd were... characters, to say the least. It was easy to talk with them, even laugh with them, as the three of you spread tiny black spiders all over the apartment.
Mickey couldn’t stop asking if you could paint him one day, though you imagined it would be fandom-inspired rather than a realistic portrait. The second you asked him about his favourite universe, he launched into a word vomit of praise for each and every one. He spoke of Lord of the Rings, Marvel, Star Wars, Star Trek, and Batman—not DC—as the character deserved to be separated from the rest.
It made you wonder if the one portrait would be enough. Still, you happily humoured him, saying you needed the practice.
He was in Health Sciences, hoping it would be enough to get his foot in the door to become a firefighter. He talked about it so passionately, about being capable of making a difference and saving lives, that you honestly couldn’t see him in any other role.
And given the opportunity, Bob was so full of sass and witty comebacks to the ones you managed to throw his way, you were surprised he was seeking an Anthropology and Archaeology degree. He seemed to have a natural talent for what Comedians had labelled “crowd work.” You honestly would have taken him for a drama major had he not told you differently.
However, once he explained his choice, you understood why. Growing up, having been a Boy Scout, learning about nature, rocks, and life. He wanted to know more about life, history, and how things were.
A visit to an archeological dig site in high school sold it for him. His eyes lit up when he spoke about ancient civilizations, lost artifacts, and all the mysteries surrounding human evolution. He rattled off facts about Neanderthals and cave paintings, which had you urging him for more.
He happily obliged and was encouraging when you offered a few that you knew of.
All of them were so passionate about what they wanted to do with their lives, even Bradley, who wanted to pursue football seriously as a career; you admired all of them for it with your entire heart.
But Jake Seresin was... you didn’t know. Nor did he, it seemed.
Jake was there at your side every time you went back up that ladder, claiming someone needed to catch you should you fall again. You had rolled your eyes, a slight smirk gracing your face, but you let him all the same.
He wasn’t as open as the others, wanting to flirt with you more than anything else. Somehow, you managed to get him talking about football, and when you asked him why he played, he admitted that his father had gone and played at the school. He had been urged to apply, and his family would support him throughout his entire ride.
“Family money,” he said, his tone light when you gawked at him. You didn’t ask what his parents did, but knowing he came from a rich family, you wondered if he didn't want people to know. You certainly didn't. Nat didn’t know, at least not yet.
It prompted him to add his parents weren’t pressuring him into one career or another; they simply wanted him to keep up with the sport. So, he was buying time and taking electives, trying to figure it out, though he would have to make a decision soon.
And it made you wonder, under that confidence, under that layer of charm and ease on his surface, if he was searching for what everyone else in the group had already found. While everyone else didn’t fit the stereotype, you wondered if Jake was attempting to mould himself into it.
How you wished to tell him, he didn’t have to.
But Jake wasn’t a painting you could tear apart or theorize about. And as you pinned that last streamer to the ceiling, you realized over the course of the afternoon, you’d unwittingly developed a bit of a crush on him.
You weren’t stupid. You recognized the signs the second he caught you off that ladder. The second he handed you that shot. He was laying on the charm, the flirty glances, the playful smiles. Even the slight touches on your waist as you leaned back, pining streamers to the ceiling, were waving the red flags in your head.
Jake was either genuinely interested or actively looking for someone to hook up with tonight.
It wouldn’t be you, that’s for sure—not even for someone so charming and handsome as Jake Seresin.
In the last two hours, the guys took turns getting ready first while everyone else finished with the final touches. They wanted you and Natasha to go first, but you vehemently refused, knowing they’d ruin hours of hard work if left unsupervised.
You also wanted to see this through to the end, but you kept that to yourself. You had revealed enough of your quirky, artsy side to them. You did not need to add to it by gushing over the decorations or how the entire apartment turned out, possibly damaging whatever relationship you'd established so far.
People were weird when it came to shit like that.
Jake and Bradley emerged from Nat’s bedroom just as the two of you were headed toward yours. The hallway was already lit in a deep red from the lights now neatly strung up in the corners of the ceiling. Though the sun was beginning to set, shining warm light through your window, you knew the total effect would be entirely eerie when night rolled around. You couldn’t wait to see it.
Bradley was dressed as Indiana Jones: a white shirt, a brown leather jacket, and a fake whip at his side. His outfit was complementary to Nat's Marion Ravenwood, her costume the classic white dress from the first movie you spent a while making. Though she did ask you to take some creative liberties with the design, the dress was more risque than necessary.
The only thing remotely movie-accurate about it would be the puffy sleeves.
You couldn't help but whistle when Jake stepped out from behind Bradley. Instantly perking up at the noise, he let out a sly smirk and straightened the lapels of his deep black leather jacket.
"Danny Zuko, huh?" you laughed softly. "Guess you've got the whole 'bad boy' vibe down."
Jake smirked at you, copying one of the iconic character's signature moves by sliding his hands into his black leather jacket pockets as he strode by. "Only missing my Sandy. You wouldn't happen to know where I could find one, would you?"
You coyly peered at him over your shoulder as you continued down the hall. Unknown to either of you, Nat and Bradley had stopped to watch the interaction, filled to the brim with curiosity.
"Wouldn't know. I'm more of a Rizzo myself. Too much sass and not enough patience for leather pants."
"To get into them or to get out?"
With a glimmer in your eyes and a smirk on your lips, you pivoted to face Jake completely, still walking backwards. “You're quite the smooth talker, aren’t you?”
Jake shrugged, giving off the vibe of, ‘I can’t help my reputation.’ However, you could see the easy grin on his face, and one side of his mouth crooked upwards, making him appear boyish—just like the character he was dressed up as.
It made your heart flutter inside your chest.
“It’s a shame I’m more into the rough-around-the-edges type,” you teased softly, pausing by the corner.
Liar. Oh, you horrible liar.
Jake’s grin didn’t disappear when you saw him press his tongue to the inside of his cheek, arching an eyebrow. Instead, it turned into a knowing smirk.
“Is that so?” he teased.
You flushed, at a loss for words. Jake's teasing gaze lingered, and the lift in the corner of his mouth suggested he saw right through your lie. Your cheeks burned hot.
Jake's chuckle echoed softly down the hallway as you made your escape, somehow making your heart race faster. You didn't dare look back, but you could feel his eyes on you as you turned the corner and down the hallway to your bedroom.
As Jake retreated back into the apartment, Bradley coughed lightly. He exchanged a knowing look with Nat, who had been watching your retreat. He jutted his head once toward you, and Nat replied in kind with a single tilt of her head toward Jake.
They didn’t need to say aloud what they were thinking. They’d talk about what they discovered later, but it wouldn’t stop them from pressing this interesting development further.
When she reached your room, Nat found you already in your robe, sitting at your vanity, brushing your hair. You had already laid out your costumes on your bed earlier in the day, and Nat raced to hers the second she saw it, making grabby hands at the fabric.
"Ahh, it turned out so great, Maeve!" she exclaimed, grabbing the top and holding it up. You glimpsed at her through the reflection of your mirror, smiling when she hugged it to her chest.
“If I had made it any deeper, Nat, you’d be showing off more than just dangly bits.”
She blew a raspberry at you. You giggled, shaking your head.
“You know, I’ve always wanted to do couples costumes. I never thought Bradley would go for it,” she said after a while, standing next to you and straightening her hair in the mirror of your vanity.
“Really?” you asked, concentrating on not poking your eye out with your mascara.
“How else am I going to shoo off all the girls practically clamouring to get with Bradley? It’s a nice way to do it, don’t you think?”
“Maybe. Not every costume as a twin, though,” you said, lowering your hand to gesture to yourself. You hoped Nat would at least acknowledge the effort you’d made or pep you up for a party you'd originally never wanted to hold.
“What about the Danny wandering around the apartment ‘without his Sandy’?”
You dropped your hand from where you had started fixing up your other eye, glaring at her reflection in your mirror. “Really, Nat?”
“What, you don’t dream of a little Summer Lovin?”
You felt your face flush. As if Jake would ever really go for someone like you. “It’s Halloween, Nat.”
“Exactly. It’s Halloween, and it’s getting colder. Maybe you’ve got chills, and maybe they're multiplying.”
You groaned, dropping your head and smacking it against your vanity.
“You’re sure he’s not the one you want?” she bumped you with her hip, grinning.
“Can you stop with the Grease puns? Please,” you squawked.
Nat laughed, twirling a strand of her hair around her finger as she stepped away. "Okay, okay. But if you change your mind, I think Danny Zuko out there wouldn't mind being 'the one that you want.'"
Fingers wrapping around the handle of your hair brush, you didn’t lift your head from the vanity as you chucked it in Nat’s direction. She laughed hard, and you didn’t need to look to know you had missed her completely.
Nat eventually cajoled you into helping her slip into her dress, adjusting bits and pieces of fabric here and there. You sat back down at your vanity as she twirled once in the mirror, declaring she was satisfied. Then her eyes went to the door, and her attention shifted to Bradley and what waited beyond it.
"Are you okay if I go out? Do you need any help?" Nat's voice was laced with excitement, and her eyes gleamed with anticipation of finally having a party as she smoothed down the sides of her dress.
You shook your head, leaning back in your chair. Nat didn’t meet your gaze. "No, I'm good. I only need to touch up my makeup, and my dress is a slip-on," you smiled. "Go make sure Bradley keeps his hat on."
Nat wiggled her shoulders, biting her lip to mute her squealing giggle. The puffy sleeves of her short dress waved with her, and she precariously tip-toed out the door on her high heels. Once in the hallway, she dramatically yelled, "Come and get me, Indiana Jones!"
You stifled a giggle, shaking your head, allowing yourself to turn back to face your mirror.
Staring at yourself, you searched every part of your face, making sure your foundation, blush, eyes, and lips were just how you wanted them to be. You toyed with a strand of curled hair, wondering if what you had done was enough—if all of it had been enough.
Then your eyes came to rest on your costume, so carefully draped across the end of your bed through the reflection in the mirror.
You're not sure why "Flaming June" happened to be your favourite painting, though you supposed it had to do with the girl in the painting so casually draped across that seat next to that fountain. She was curled up almost like a serpent, covered in sheer transparent vibrant orange, the painting's only bright pop of colour.
The painting was supposedly meant to depict nymphs, sleeping Greek nymphs for that matter, or even Victorian society's obsession with beauty. However, you argued differently in the paper you wrote for it.
You cared more about the juxtaposition of fire and tranquillity in the piece than about whatever cultural influence or social construct it had at the time. That one girl was at the centre of the painting, wrapped in sheer, see-through colour. She was meant to be the focus; that much was certain.
Maybe you thought her dress signified the chaos of the world around her, and all she wanted to do was find a moment of peace.
You’d spent countless hours at the fabric store trying to match the correct shade. Once you had completed parts of Nat's, you spent even countless more at your sewing machine, staying up late to make progress on yours.
And each time she asked you to make alternations on hers, the more drastic you made it to be ‘just that much sluttier', the more you thought about what you could do to yours. In the end, the thin straps holding up your dress, revealing bare shoulders and the long slit between your breasts, ending just before your belly button, was all you could stomach.
You held the dress up, contemplating your thoughts. You could do this. You could survive one simple Halloween party - one simple college rager party.
Right?
———
The second the apartment was starting to flood with arriving guests, Jake realized you hadn’t emerged from your room with Nat.
He had been off to the side near a bookcase, talking with Bradley, hoping to stave off the crowd and the rest of the football team for a little longer. He knew they'd want to talk football and strategies for the season, and Jake simply... didn't.
He wanted a night off. He wanted to relax and have a good time. And talking about football wouldn't be it.
Bradley had said something to Jake, but he hadn’t been paying attention. He was too busy searching the gathering pods of people for your face. Why, he didn’t know. But he was eager to find out.
Bradley snapped his fingers in Jake's face, startling him from his search. "Earth to Jake!"
Jake shook his head, focusing back on Bradley. "Sorry, what?"
Bradley raised his eyebrows under the rim of his fedora. "What's going on in that head of yours?"
Jake regarded him for a few seconds before finally looking down at his drink, bringing it to his lips, admitting, "I'm just looking for Maeve."
As Jake took a drink, Bradley grinned. "She's probably still getting ready. Nat said her costume was based on her favourite panting."
Jake didn't even look up from his drink when he asked, "What's her favourite painting?"
"Why? You looking to make a good impression?" he said, still grinning.
"Fuck off, Man," Jake snapped, taking another swig to finish his drink. Bradley only laughed, now shaking his head. He would have let Jake simmer in his ask, but this was you. He had to give Jake at least a decent running chance.
"It's Flaming June, the chick in the orange dress. It's a brilliant costume idea. She made it herself."
Of course, you would have made it yourself, Jake thought.
"Surely you came across that painting with your 'rich upbringing.' Nat was practically force-feeding information down our throats a few seconds ago to ensure we recognized her costume. It’s some Freddie Luigui piece. I don't know."
"I know it," Jake snapped. "I've seen it before."
Jake was pretty sure he had, maybe once at one of his father's fundraising parties, though he actively searched his mind, trying to remember what it looked like.
Bradley remained silent, slouching against the bookcase and crossing one leg over the other. He narrowed his eyes at his friend and tilted his head.
"Why the sudden interest in Maeve? She isn't one for..." Bradley trailed off, searching for the correct word. Just as Jake was about to ask him what he meant, Nat's approaching heels on the hardwood floor stopped them both.
She stopped at Bradley's side, red solo cup in hand, looping her arm through his. "What are you two handsome boys gossiping about over here?" she giggled at her boyfriend, her chin plopping lazily down onto his bicep. "See any snakes in the crowd, Indy?"
Bradley pulled his face back into a grimace, reciting the famous line. "Snakes. Why does it always have to be snakes?"
Jake rolled his eyes at their banter, placing his empty cup on the table between them. Nat giggled, tilting her head back, indicating to Bradley she wanted to be kissed. He complied without protest, leaning down, pressing his lips to hers in an overly dramatic display merely to piss Jake off.
"Get a room," Jake groaned, mocking a wrenching noise. The couple separated, turning to Jake with amused smirks. "You've heard and seen far worse, dude."
Jake shuttered, the unwanted memory of walking in on Nat and Bradley from weeks ago flashing through his mind. Sharing an apartment with Bradley had its moments - some good, some decidedly less so. It made him wonder if Maeve had to put up with the same shit he did.
“Where’s Maeve?” Jake asked Nat, ignoring Bradley's remark. "I haven't seen her yet."
Nat opened her mouth, about to tell him you were still getting ready, when she caught sight of a flash of orange stepping out from behind the corner of the hallway. You came into view, your head angled down, mindful of stepping on your dress as thin streams of transparent fabric trailed behind you at your sides.
Javy let out a low-toned whistle from somewhere in the room, and heads turned, one by one, as you took your final step into the apartment.
“Damn girl, you clean up nice!”
Lifting your head, you were surprised to see eyes on you. Javy glided forward to greet you from where he had been standing at a nearby table, and you smiled at him, though a little weary. Deep down, you knew his comment was meant to be a compliment. But something coarse, like sandpaper, rubbed against your heart at the remark, lingering longer than you would have liked.
“What? Not bad for a fine arts major?” you joked somewhat deprecatively, though your voice held none of it.
Javy held out his hand, and you grabbed it, allowing him to lift it above your head. With a pump of his wrist, he urged you to spin under his arm several times, letting your dress fan out. You giggled as he urged you, though you wobbled on your heels. The dreaded things were Nat's only contribution to your outfit, and you were severely regretting it.
He let you go, thinking you had your footing on the last, slowed spin. But when you came to a stop, you were on the verge of falling over, your head dizzy, and your legs unbalanced.
To his credit, Javy tried to reach out and steady you, already regretting the step he took back. However, before he could, another pair of hands, one on your hip and one taking your hand, steadied you.
Jake’s hands were firm on your skin, pulling you close as you lost your balance. You fell into his chest, head tilted back, half falling over. And looking up at his face, seeing the amused grin on his lip, you drew in a sharp breath at the sight.
"Letting me make a good first impression?" he quipped.
“By catching falling women?” you laughed breathlessly, bringing your free hand to his chest. If you had let your hand stall slightly longer than necessary, you would have never admitted to it.
“Seems noble enough,” he replied, helping you to stand. Though he might have let go of your hand, he didn’t let go of your waist. “Or do you make it a habit to test the reflexes of every guy you meet?”
You couldn’t resist the playful jab. “Only the ones who seem like they can handle it. And the pretty ones.”
Jake's grin widened, and he even risked sneaking a quick peek at your lips, letting them rest there for a few seconds before his eyes roamed the rest of your body.
"Flaming June, right? Frederic Leighton's Masterpiece."
You blinked in surprise, letting out a small gasp. You honestly expected to tell people what your costume was, not just some girl in some random orange dress. Jake's knowledge of the painting, let alone his identification of it so quickly, was scoring him some major brownie points.
"You know your art," you commented nonchalantly.
He shrugged, "I might know a thing or two. I always had a thing for the classics. By the way, it suits you."
You practically preened under his gaze. "Thank you," you said, a shy smile creeping onto your face. He beamed at you in return.
Yes, you might have a crush on him. But for the first time that day, you figured it wasn’t such a bad thing after all.
—-
This was a bad idea - Oh, this party was such a bad idea.
Believing you were having a good time and actually having a good time were two separate things. You certainly felt one of those things. As the night went on, and with each drink you tipped back, alcoholic or not, regret built in your stomach.
You weren’t sure what you were expecting. Maybe you were seeking reasons where there initially were none, allowing Natasha’s suggestions to slowly chip away at your resolve until you finally gave in. Maybe it was the promise of letting loose, to embrace the spirit of Halloween with all its creative potential.
Maybe it was the promise of making new friends. Of getting to know people outside the art department. Natasha had told you to mingle. She wanted you to mingle, and yet... you didn’t know where to start.
You didn't expect Nat or Bradley to coddle you, but they could have introduced you to a few people besides the core group before things had gotten this bad. You didn't dare approach Javy or Rueben, who played beer pong and chugged beers back like it was nobody's business. They were off doing their own thing, and you didn’t want to intrude.
Mickey and Bob had gone home earlier in the night. Bob proclaimed he had a midterm to study for, and Mickey wanted to go home anyway so he could call his family in peace. You strongly suspected he wanted to watch Halloween movies instead.
Rocky Horror sounded like a wonderful idea right about now.
You couldn’t hang around Nat and Bradley all night, either. And nobody from your art classes would even dare set foot inside a party where nearly half of its guests were from the sororities.
You knew that. While you did extend the invitation, you told them you wouldn't blame them if they didn't come. They had looked at you with such disregard you wondered if they were seeing you through newly polished rose-coloured glasses. And standing up against the wall next to your bookcase, like an insipid wallflower, you could hardly blame them for it either.
You couldn’t introduce yourself in a place where you were the outsider, even within the walls of your own home. Soon after the first few attempts, that realization settled deep into your chest. And you couldn’t help but feel like you had done this to yourself - an attempt to be part of something like this, even if just for a night.
But Jake… Jake was still here. At least, he should be. He had been by your side for the beginning of the evening, talking to you about what projects you were currently working on over another drink—not whiskey—after you had started to hiccup while putting up decorations.
After he recognized your dress, you weren’t ashamed to tell him. You had launched into the ideas and thoughts behind two paintings and one sculpture, an old table that you were trying to turn into an elemental-type sundial. You told him about the zodiac signs you had already burned into the wood after sanding it down and how each was placed in its own little section as it related to its element.
You had reached halfway through your thought process when you realized how lost you were in your explanation. You froze mid-sentence, blushing harder than the colour of your dress.
"Sorry," you had said. "I ramble when I get excited about my art.”
But Jake’s interest hadn’t waned. If anything, it urged him to ask, “How did you find something you're so passionate about? Creating things... making art?"
His question had made you pause, though not over what to say but merely how to say it. “It was my voice when words fell short or my escape when the world grew too loud.”
You caught a glimpse of something in Jake’s eyes—a flash of longing, a momentary crack in his confident demeanour. What followed was a slight nod. It was there, and then it wasn’t, as if he’d accidentally revealed more of himself than he wanted. Then he caught himself, suddenly straightened his spine, and continued the conversation as if that brief lapse in judgment never happened in the first place.
Ten minutes later, he excused himself to get another drink. And you hadn’t seen him since.
You scanned the room for him, hoping to spot that black leather jacket among the sea of people. But it was impossible. Under the dim, eerie glow of the lights, each costume blurred into the next, and the crowd swallowed any hope of finding him.
Reaching for whatever mixed drink Nat had made you earlier off the table, you pushed yourself off the wall, weaving through the throngs of people, figuring you might as well try to see if she knew where he had run off to.
Liquid sloshed over the rim of your cup onto your hand as you dodged a zombie here, a fairy there, and music pulsing like a heartbeat through the packed room. Laughter and snippets of conversations swirled around you as you scanned the sea of faces, both masked and not for Nat.
Glasses clinked, a witch cackled, and the scent of spiced pumpkin mingled somewhere in the mix with the tang of alcohol and body sweat. By the time you spotted her leaning heavily against the kitchen Island, red cup in hand and her laughter too loud, eyes slightly unfocused, you knew the night had taken its toll on her sobriety.
She was too preoccupied with telling a bunch of people a story to notice how you quickly launched the contents of your cup into the sink behind her. You extended your arm when you were close enough, looping your arm around her waist. Her arm came up at the same time, sliding across your back to pull you close.
Nat tilted her head back onto her shoulders, glancing at you with happy eyes. "Maeve!" she whined tipsily.
Given how far gone she was, you were surprised at how accurately she pronounced your name. She bent slightly, still holding her red Solo cup in her hand, to hug you tight, her face smooshing into your neck.
“It looks like you’re having the time of your life,” you snorted. She nodded against your skin, biting her lip in a smile with a happy, drunken snigger. She lazily pulled back to meet your eye, and you smiled at her.
“Have you seen Jake around?”
Nat paused, her gaze flickering around the room as if she'd genuinely forgotten about him, though she didn’t lift her head off your body. "Jake? Oh, I haven't seen him in a bit,” she slurred slightly. “Why? Do you two likeeeeeeeeeeeeeee each other? Is Jake going to make you scream grease lightin’?”
You reached for her red Solo cup and pried it from her hand. “Okay, yup, you're cut off.”
“Nooo,” she pouted her arm a dead weight as she tried to take it back. Her hand hit the bottom of the cup, and liquid shot up, once again covering your hand in whatever type of alcohol Nat managed to mix together. You could only sigh.
“Here comes the fun police,” she muttered under her breath. “I thought you’d be off doing your own thing.”
Well, that fucking stung just a tiny bit.
“I’m not going to be the one who cleans up your vomit tomorrow morning, Nat.”
“I’ve only had,” she held up her hand, widening her thumb and pointer finger probably further apart than she thought, “this much to drink.”
“Ahm...”
Luckily for you, Bradley appeared, having seen what was going on. He looked amused yet concerned as he slid between the gap of the island and Nat to observe his girlfriend babbling nonsense on your shoulder. “What’s happening here?”
Nat made another grab for her cup, but Bradley gently intercepted her, taking her hand into his before she could even grasp it.
“That,” you offered.
“I think it’s time we get you to bed, love,” he suggested, wrapping an arm around her waist. You let him take her, happy for him to bear her weight.
Nat leaned into him, mumbling something incoherent, a mix of protest and agreement. Bradley spared a glance at you, silently thanking you in your unspoken agreement. You nodded, watching as he sandwiched her to his side and carried her off towards her room.
It always seemed like one of you was always taking care of her. At one point or another.
After getting rid of Nat’s cup, you felt the sticky residue of both of your spilled drinks on your skin and felt the urge to run to the privacy of the bathroom to wash it off. Stumbling down the hallway, blusters on your feet finally making themselves known, you let your hands casually slide along the wall. The music from the party faded into a muffled, dull noise as you walked.
You wanted to smile at the lights. The red eerie glow along the top corners of the ceiling only reached not even halfway down the wall, plunging the floor into a dark abyss. You clumsily stuttered through it, unable to see anything below your waist.
It was exactly as you pictured it, and yet you couldn't bring yourself to manage the slightest grin.
The bathroom door was down at the end of the hall slightly ajar, with the red LED light illuminating its edges from behind. You zoned in on it like a wobbly arrow to a target, tired and completely done with tonight and everything about it.
You reached for the curved handle, about to push the door open, when a high-pitched giggle came from behind the piece of wood. You shot your hand back like you had been burned, and with a quick turn of your heel, you plastered your back up against the wall.
You immediately knew what was happening behind that door, and it made you throw up in your mouth just a little.
Ugh, I’m going to have to disinfect the hell out of that bathroom tomorrow.
The next voice you heard, however, made your heart drop into your stomach.
“You like that, don’t ya, sweetheart?”
You didn't want to believe it, but you had to see for yourself. Leaning forward off the wall, you peered through the crack in the door, only to spot a black leather jacket taking up most of your view—the same black jacket you had complimented Jake on earlier that day. It was a stark contrast to the red glowing light above him, and something snapped in your heart and recoiled back as one slender bare leg in beige fishnet stockings wrapped around his.
There was an overly drunken and seductive 'ahm,' forcing you to glance over his shoulder at the girl he was with—her costume was a bejewelled Taylor Swift outfit to match her long blonde hair.
You swallowed your bile and adverted your gaze, pressing yourself back up against that wall, out of sight and hidden completely from view.
You knew this was a possibility; Jake was merely looking for a hookup and nothing more. You had considered it all afternoon. Yet, you couldn’t help but feel utterly hurt at the sight.
"I mean, Nat's pretty clever befriending that girl.. what was her name, Maeve?" the girl snickered.
"I know. It sounds like something out of those weird fantasy books everyone loves." A whimper from his companion followed Jake's breathy and muffled laugh.
At the dig, your hand went to your chest, your heart thudding painfully under your palm. The realization they had been talking about you, about Nat, made tears flood your eyes.
You didn't understand it. Or maybe you did, and you were too blinded by the possibility of someone like him, someone like Nat, Bradley, Bob, Mickey, and Rueben, to beat the fucking pyramid scheme and care about someone like you.
What other explanation was there except the fact you had been blinded by those who proved to be the exception? Blinded by the fucking elementary school crush cause he had flirted, smiled, joked, and maybe even showed some half-decent interest in you. Clearly, the second he figured out you weren’t going to hook up with him, he sought his sights on someone else.
Jake wasn’t trying to mould into the stereotype. He was the fucking stereotype.
"Even her costume," she sneered. "Like, who the fuck dresses up like that for a college rager Halloween party? You're supposed to dress up slutty."
You couldn't speak, staring down the front of your dress to what you had thought had been a risky enough slit. You couldn't even breathe.
"You kidding me?" he laughed lowly. "Bradley was practically screaming at us what she dressed up as. I'd have no fucking clue what she was otherwise. I'd guess some random Greek Godness obsessed with that awful shade of orange."
Your hand slid up from your chest, around your throat to feel your harsh, rough swallow. Only it didn’t stop there, suddenly finding yourself wrapping it around your entire mouth, stifling any noise wanting to escape. Through shaky inhales in and out of your nose, you fought hard to stop yourself from crying over this.
Over him. Over a fucking jock who would say anything to hook up with a girl. Only to get his dick wet.
But you couldn't prevent the tears from welling up in your eyes, or from one finally spilling over, dropping down your cheek only to stall there, or how the hand covering your mouth curled up around your cheekbone, only to stroke away the tear.
You refused to look back at the door through the crack, so you fixed your gaze on the darkness consuming the ground. And as you lowered your hand, you caught the ugly black smear marring your skin.
How could you not? Standing in the glow of that red hallway light, it was the only thing you could see.
The artistic irony hits you like a freight train. Here you were, dressed as the girl in your favourite painting. Her dress had been the only bright shade of colour in the entire painting, and you, standing in the top half glow of bright red LED lights, had failed to notice what had been staring you in the face all along.
Orange was muted by red, and black bled through all. The only thing about you that stood out the entire evening was this tiny black mark scarring the back of your hand—black tears from smeared mascara.
"I would have guessed an orange," the girl snickered, quickly followed by a mewl. "Though she practically blended into the wall, I couldn't see her with the lights."
Lips plucking on skin echoed off the title and out the door, and Jake drew in a ragged breath as he agreed. "She did blend right into the fucking wall, didn’t she?"
Your eyes burned. The girl giggled.
“How long do you think this one will stay? She seems… different, to say the least.”
Jake sniggered. “Seriously, you think Natasha Trace is hanging around that girl out of the goodness of her heart?”
His laugh was so full of malice that it was nothing like the ones you had heard pleasantly filling your ears earlier.
“Everyone knows after what Nat did, she needs an image clean up. Playing the saint, befriending the weird loner art girl, giving her the best friend badge?”
“If she thinks she’s got a place in the big leagues, she’s in for a rude awakening,” the girl murmured. “Pathetic. People like her don’t belong with people like us.”
There was a pause. “It’s just like Natasha, though. She always needs an audience, something to validate her feelings. It’s brillant really.”
Jake's agreement was a silent blow, his next words the dagger. "Nat's smart. She knows how to play the game. Maeve's just...convenient."
Convenience. The word echoed in your mind, bouncing off the walls of your already crumbling self-worth.
“Give it a year. Trace is going to drop her the second the next new shiny person comes along. And everyone is going to forget about the little art girl she used up and discarded. Or she’ll become the most hated girl on campus.”
Without your back up against the wall, his words might have made you crumble into that dark abyss.
“Can we stop talking about her now?” the girl whined. “I thought you promised to get me off.”
Jake chuckled lowly, the sound morphing into a low, predatory growl. “You brought her up, sweetheart. But don’t worry—I’m all yours now.”
You pushed yourself away from that wall, stumbling down the dark hallway to your bedroom out of instinct, refusing to subject yourself to any further torture. But just before your door, you fell into the wall, your shoulder throbbing as you slouched against it.
The world around you swirled, leaving you consumed by one thought—and one thought alone.
That. Fucking. Asshole! How dare he! How fucking dare he!
To hear Natasha be demeaned, your friendship demeaned and used as a stepping stone in pursuit of a meaningless hookup... anger boiled under your skin. You didn’t care what he or what they had said about you, but Nat?
If Jake thought he’d succeed in sweet-talking you, to play you like a puppet on a string, just as he assumed Nat had been doing, he had another thing coming. If he was going to talk shit about your friendship with her, you’d show him just how spineless you could be.
Oh, he’d wish he’d never caught you off that fucking ladder. Wished he had never met you and flirted with you, obviously a ploy to find someone to hook up with. You gagged at ever having a crush on him in the first place.
But as you leaned against the wall, trying to steady your swirling thoughts, doubt wormed its way into your mind.
What if he was right?
What if your friendship with Nat was just a convenience, a way for her to maintain her status or recover from her sorority fallout? You knew nothing of it, nothing more than what she told you. There could be more to the story, things she hadn’t revealed, things nobody else had either.
No, you shook your head, trying to dismiss the thought. Nat had been there for you in ways no one else had.
Jake was just an asshole. Plain and simple.
But then another thought sucker punched you in the gut.
You couldn’t tell anyone else what he said. You wouldn’t be responsible for causing that type of drama within a friend circle, one that long before you ever showed up. They never would have believed you anyway, and Nat… she worked so hard to get out, escape the rumours and gossip, to put it behind her. She didn’t need to know about this.
You had no choice but to carry this burden alone. It was a lonely decision, but perhaps loneliness was a small price to pay for the semblance of harmony among friends—or so you tried to convince yourself.
But Jake. You could no longer give a rat’s ass about Jake. If he wanted to attack Nat, then fine. You hit him right back. That much you could still do.
Whatever had possessed Frederic Leighton to name the piece you currently embodied, “Flaming June,” whatever possessed him to gift that girl with fire in her name, that fire was suddenly born in you.
A flame that sparked and kerosened your soul to burn, hot and bright. It was a wildfire that rushed under layers of skin and ignited every nerve, ending with a ferocity you never knew you possessed. It was born to protect what you had found - Nat, Bradley, Bob, Mickey, Javy and Rueben. And that fucking asshole would never be allowed to put you down, Nat down, like your family did, ever again.
Pushing yourself off the wall, you stepped into your bedroom. Slamming the door, the lock clicked hard into place.
It never opened the rest of the night.
NOW YOU KNOW....
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I'M LEAVING SAMS FANDOM
And I won't continue watching any of these shows..
I decided that I can't enjoy Sun and Moon Show anymore when Davis and EC decided to mock me (and many fans with mental issues) instead of just post something on social media that would clarify everything.
Regardless of their true intentions people were hurt and it doesn't seem like they plan to apologize for this.
They want us fans to feel sorry for the fact that they decided themselves to post these episodes daily and because they're a small team they don't have a time to make their story more clear.
Many people who were self-projecting onto Sun and who made headcanons or just saw him as suicidal did that as a way to cope with their own mental issues and trauma. None of us were forcing anything on Davis and EC.. I definitely wasn't doing that - I don't know them.. I don't even know where they live.. I don't know who they're friends with.. I don't even follow (in a sense that I'm checking their social media) their social media - I only ocassionally see some posts on X from Davis because I followed him but like I said I don't spend my time to see what Davis and EC are doing.. I have my own life, my own struggles to care about and I thought that Sun and Moon Show can be a fun escape for me which turned out to be the opposite..
It hurts a lot because thanks to this show and thanks to Sun's character I finally reflected on myself and my own experiences.. and I was finally able to put together the broken pieces of myself..
They say that we're assuming something about Davis and EC but they're doing exactly the same thing when they portray us as creepy and disturbing fans.
Many people felt disgusted by that episode. And yet they didn't even care to make any clarifications because they don't give a damn.
I'm sorry that I didn't believe those people (who used to be fans of these shows) that Davis and EC don't treat mental issues with respect and that they mock people who have these mental issues.
I'm saying all of this as someone who really tried to defend Davis and EC's decisions many times. Trying to defend the way they portray mental issues. Trying to support them.
And what it left me with? The awful mockery.
I'm sure that they assumed some horrible things about me because of some well known fans in this fandom who were trying to paint me in awful light - that I'm disturbing for relating to Sun in more dark way (I saw Sun's behaviour and thought to myself that he act like me in many situations and the things he went through reminded me of my own experiences hence why I thought that he might struggle with similar mental issues to mine which also include being suicidal - I was passively suicidal for quite some time). These bigger names were laughing at my theories just because they didn't turn out to be true but they didn't care that the topic of suicide is something serious to me. They were bullying me. They also lied that I dragged anyone into discussions about this topic when it never happened. I'm talking mainly about a person behind Twinanimatronics blog. They told this lie when they assumed that I posted something on Tsams Confessions blog - where in fact someone just tried to defend me. And they did all of that behind my back - because they blocked me.
I was spiraling into despair and my mental state worsened when I've seen these awful accusations about me..
This fandom is toxic. Davis and EC can't act like adults but decide to mock fans.. even though the way they portrayed their characters drawed fans who has mental issues because they saw themselves in these characters.. and what they got is awful mockery..
My advice is to avoid Sun and Moon Show and any of these shows especially if you suffer from mental issues and especially if you struggle with suicidal thoughts.
I'm grateful that I met in this fandom some amazing people who showed me tons of support ^^
I can't thank enough to any of them for their support and kindness and lots of care they showed me 💗 Thank you ^^
I'll still keep in touch with my friends who I met through this fandom ^^
#maybe i could write more but i'm tired#i'm tired of all of this#sun and moon show#sams#sams sun#sun and moon show sun#sams moon#sams eclipse#sun and moon show moon#sams fandom#mental health#mental disorders#toxicity
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