#but they never look past their groups they’re in their own world but they’re trying to be polite still i can’t get mad | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

licorice-tea · 3 months

Text

The Bane of My Existence

Pairing:Trafalgar Law x reader

Content: some spoilers for Sabaody arc (nothing major), enemies to lovers! strawhat reader, reader and law are both stubborn and argumentative smh, reader is more optimistic though, law is awkward and not great at understanding his own feelings <3

Word Count: 1.6k

A/N: part 1/2 for a little enemies to lovers fic! one of my favorite tropes but I almost never write about it... also I've been rewatching bridgerton and was very inspired by the relationship between Kate and Anthony, which is where the title comes from too! (can you guess what part 2 will be called?) anyway, enjoy and lmk your thoughts! :)

Part 2

Sabaody Archipelago is easily one of the coolest places you’ve visited so far. Not that Alabasta, Skypiea, Water 7, Thriller Bark weren’t cool too… but you’re a people person! And to get to see such a diverse mix of groups from all over the world converging here, on one island Archipelago, brings a genuine smile to your face. It truly does remind you of a theme park: from the attractions to the oversized trees and bubbles.

In fact, you’re so caught up in all the splendors of the carnival-esque grove that you don’t realize you’re being watched. Or, followed, rather.

The Heart Pirates, yet another crew from some vague corner of the world, have been tracking you for the better part of an hour now. Except, they’re only following their captain, who happens to be following you.

Hes not entirely discreet about it though, because at one point Bepo asks, “Um… Captain, why are we following them?”

Shachi responds unprompted, “Yeah, I’ve never seen their bounty poster so… what’s up?”

Law scowls, “I’m not following anyone.”

Though he is low-key following you, Law couldn’t give a good reason as to why. You walked past him and his crew on your way to meet up with the rest of your crew- the Strawhat Pirates- and he’d just sort of trailed after you once you’d gotten a safe distance ahead.

“Really? Because every time they stop for directions, we slow down. And we’ve turned at all the same spots, too… So it really does seem like we’re follo-“

“I am NOT following them.” He lies through (literally) gritted teeth.

Now, Trafalgar Law is in now way shape or form a believer in love at first sight. He’s never been in love period… but the feeling he gets from seeing you is something new and foreign. Like, he really wants to talk to you… he just doesn’t know what for. Law is still trying his best to come up with reasons to stop you and ask for your name when you overhear the brief argument between him and his friends.

With a quick glance over your shoulder, you spot a group of at least 10 on your trail. They’re in the middle of conversation, so they don’t notice you taking notice of them.

Your first instinct is to look around for your crew; but of course, they’re scattered across the groves of Sabaody Archipelago by now - as are you. “Sigh. I might just have to handle this in my own.” But, wait- who said they wanted to fight you? Maybe you should just approach them first, wouldn’t that give you the upper hand in some way? (It wouldn’t, but you can’t think of anything better than to try and charm your way out of a possible jumping with your friendliness and perfect smile.) So, you roll back your shoulders and take a breath before strolling back over the grass to your pursuers.

“Why would I be following some rand-“

“Because you have a crush on them!”

“Oh they’re cute, Captain, you should ask them to join!”

“Gasp! Yeah, then you can get to know-“

They all go silent (save for some quiet gasps) as you step toward the semi circle they’ve formed around one man- the only one not wearing a white uniform, who they call “Captain.” You tap him on the shoulder and he whips his head around.

“Excuse me, I was wondering if you could help me?”

The man just stares at you for a moment with a frown. You fear that you might’ve been wrong about his intentions, until he blinks and mumbles, “Uh… Sure.”

Your smile returns- of course you weren’t wrong! Plus, he’s kind of hot, but you’d catalog that thought and come back to it on some lonely night in the future. “Great! I’m looking for grove 41, it’s where some of my friends are.”

You’d learned back in Water 7 that sometimes, it was best not to disclose who exactly you’re traveling with, nor the location of your ship. (At least, not when you’re infamous pirates.)

“Grove 41? I’m headed there too.”

The polar bear wearing who is also wearing a white uniform clears his throat.

“I thought we were heading to Grove 1, Captain?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to get in y’all’s way then-“

“Nah, I think Captain would love to show you the way.”

“Shachi!” The captain sneers. “We’ll meet back up at Grove 1 after I show them the way." Then, he looks you up and down. It's quick and analytical rather than flirtatious or intimidating. "Don’t cause me any trouble.”

You smile. “Wouldn’t dream of it. I’m y/n, by the way.”

“Trafalgar Law, and this is my crew, the Heart Pirates.” He gestures around the semi circle, then turns to face them, “You guys go take a break or something. I’ll be back shortly.”

“But Captain, we want to go with you!”

One of the men with red hair- Shachi, you’re pretty sure, elbows the polar bear.

“Hey!…” He looks down at Shachi then gasps like he suddenly had a revelation; “Ohhh. Sorry Captain, we’ll see you later!”

Law rolls his eyes. “See you soon.”

There's something about his dark hair and grey eyes that charms you, right off the bat. Or maybe it's his relaxed, confident demeanor. Possibly even his idiosyncratic style of clothing, and how he (and all of his crew) wore the same logo; so very organized and professional. But no matter the exact reason as to why, you find yourself quite happy to be in his company.

Alas, he’s not a very talkative man, so you make up most of the conversation with questions and your own introductory information. “-and that’s how I got here, to Sabaody!”

“Uh huh. And who did you say your crew was again?”

“I, ahem, I don’t travel with a crew.”

“Right.” He laughs dryly.

“What is it?”

“You’re a bad liar.”

“I- I’m not lying!”

“Look, you don’t have to tell me what crew you’re a part of,” Law explains, “but don’t lie and say you’re not a pirate at all.”

“Well… it’s generally not a good idea to tell strangers that you’re a pirate. Not even nice ones, like you."

Ignoring the butterflies in his stomach that unexpectedly appear when you call him nice, Law's burning curiosity is fed by your roundabout half-answer. “Ah, so you are one? What’s your bounty?”

“That’s not really any of your business.” Though you believe his intentions to be purely based in curiosity, you're second guessing allowing this man to lead you away on an island grove that you have never visited, nor know anything about. Still, your crew is nowhere in sight or hearing range, which worries you given just how loud they usually are.

“I’m paying you a favor by leaving my crew to escort you to where I’m assuming your ship is located- it’s the least you could do.” Law’s tone is more prickly than before.

“Well, I don’t need an escort, and you’ve already walked me halfway there and pointed me in the right direction.”

“Fine- then I’ll leave.”

His sudden change in mood from what you interpreted as shy to borderline aggressive throws you off. And so, having a similar moody temperament and stubbornness (though you’d never admit it after seeing it so clearly in him), you return the sentiment. “Fine by me.”

You continue walking forward while Law turns back, until he calls over his shoulder. “And by the way; you’ll need to find your way through the lawless zone up ahead if you want to get to Grove 41.” If condescending was a person, it would be him. You’re sure of it. “That, or I could’ve shown you a much safer shortcut.”

You pause, turn to face him, roll your eyes, and continue walking.

“What, you’re still not going to ask for my help?”

“Don’t need it!” Which, you really don’t. You’re plenty strong, but your bounty is small enough to not be worried. “I’m not scared of a law-less zone, if anything I think I’d welcome it.”

Your mocking words hurt his ego in a way he hasn't felt in years, taking him down several pegs.

You don't even stick around long enough to listen to him rebuke everything about you, from your high and mighty tone to your vain attempts at lying, ending his one sided argument with a very classy middle finger your way. So, Law grumbles all the way back to Grove 1 to find his crew, and hopes to never see you again. Meanwhile, you find your way to the other Strawhats. Your adventure with them continues, and you don’t have much time to think of your earlier encounter with a handsome pirate and possible-friend turned enemy (if you could even call him that.)

Law doesn't know if his ego (or wildly beating heart) could take another second in your presence- it just might burst if it had to endure any more of your witty comments or sly looks. It would, however, be an interesting theory to test further, should you ever meet again.

The prospect is both horrifying and thrilling to him at the same time.

#fanfic #one piece x reader #one piece #one piece x you #x reader #law x reader #law x you #law fluff #straw hat pirates #trafalgar law #law

331 notes · View notes

kkpwnall · 1 year

Text

just a little rain

((edit: now on ao3))

“Alright you little gremlins, pick up is 3:30 sharp. If you’re late, you’re walking home in the rain.” Steve holds his umbrella over the kids’ heads as they pile out of the beamer and under the awning at the entrance to the school.

“Wheeler! Don’t forget your lunch!” He holds the paper bag out, and Mike trudges back, grumbling a ‘thank you’ under his breath that sounds more like ‘fuck you’.

One hand on his hip, he watches until they’re all safe inside, pushing and shoving and cackling way too much for first thing on a Thursday morning.

He turns back to the beamer, looking to kill time until the store opens at ten. Across the parking lot, Steve spies Eddie still in his van, struggling with his leather jacket like he’s trying to hold it over his head and open the car door at the same time. Steve jogs over with his umbrella held high and taps on the window. Eddie jumps about a mile in the air, but relaxes when he sees Steve grinning at him.

“Can I walk you to class?” Steve teases when he opens the door.

“Ooo only if you’ll carry my books, Stevie,” Eddie snarks back. But Steve just takes the book bag from his hand and slings it over his shoulder. Eddie stares at him, a pretty pink flush brightening his cheeks.

“Can’t let the rain flatten these gorgeous curls.” He wraps one around his finger and tilts his head so he’s smiling at Eddie through his lashes, holding the umbrella over both of them.

Eddie’s frozen, just for a moment, his eyes wide. Then he frees himself from the tangle of his jacket to lean into Steve’s space with a wicked grin. “Better watch out, the girlies are gonna get jealous if they see Steve Harrington trying to make me blush.”

“Good,” Steve leans closer, his voice low and deep in his throat as he gives Eddie his most charming troublemaker smile.

Under the guise of needing to stand close to keep them both covered by the umbrella, Steve puts a hand on the small of Eddie’s back as they walk towards the school. But instead of heading directly for the shelter of the awning, he gently steers them to one of the cramped little alleyways back between buildings. Once they’re out of sight and under cover, he tilts the umbrella to hide them just a little more, and kisses Eddie against the bricks.

He’s unhurried, thorough, as if they have all the time in the world. He’s always wanted to kiss and be kissed in the rain, there’s something so quintessentially romantic about it, hidden away from all the elements of the outside world in their own little bubble. With Eddie. Eddie, who he never wants to stop kissing, who he wants to kiss in every timeless and cliched and sensual way known to man. And then invent a few of their own.

It’s a tricky bit of maneuvering, trying to keep the umbrella up and the rain off and get his hands on as much of Eddie as he can reach. But Eddie’s anything but passive. He pulls Steve in by his ‘stupid polo’, one hand sliding up to the hair at the nape of his neck, tilting his head just so. His other hand tugs at the zipper of Steve’s windbreaker, slipping inside to pull him closer by his waist. A gentle swipe of Steve’s tongue is all it takes for Eddie to whimper into his mouth, a small nothing of a sound that Steve devours.

Now that Steve’s had a taste of early morning Munson, he doesn’t want to stop. The heady mixture of a fresh spritz of old spice filling his nose, the taste of cigarettes and coffee and strawberry pop tarts on his tongue. Steve settles his free hand in the small of Eddie’s back, spread flat against the warm, soft skin under his shirt.

A group of girls rushes past the alley they’re hidden in, talking loudly and giggling. Eddie freezes as they walk past, and Steve takes the opportunity to kiss along his jaw, down his neck. The girls are gone as soon as they appeared, eager to get out of the rain, but Steve doesn’t stop his thorough exploration of every part of Eddie’s neck that makes his breath hitch where Steve’s lips touch. Eddie’s hands grip hard at his shoulders, fingers flexing like he can’t decide whether to pull him closer or push him away.

“Don’t you - ah - have better things to do than - hmm - robbing the cradle?”

Steve laughs into his neck. “You’re older than me, asshole. And the store doesn’t open for another 3 hours, I’ve got nothing but time.”

Eddie’s fingers tangle in Steve’s hair, holding his head to Eddie’s neck as Steve grazes his teeth along the strong, trembling tendon.

“Doesn’t change the fact that you’re dating a high schooler, sweetheart,” Eddie pants.

“Mmm,” Steve hums, sucking gently at Eddie’s pulse point. He pulls back just enough to look at Eddie’s flushed face, his eyes a little dazed. “You’re right, we should fix that. What do you say, my place, six o’clock? We can…” his eyes travel back down to Eddie’s swollen lips, “study.”

Eddie laughs against Steve’s lips as he swoops in for another kiss. Bright and carefree and safe under the privacy of the downpour and the umbrella. Steve deepens the kiss, pulling out all the stops to make Eddie swoon. Little nips and licks and sucks on his lips, gently laving and massaging and soothing with his tongue. Pushing Eddie against the wall with his hips. Rocking slowly against him.

The warning bell rings and Steve finally steps away, grinning. “Don’t want to be late for class, Eds.”

“God you’re the worst,” Eddie says breathlessly, but he pulls Steve toward him again by his jacket.

One of Eddie’s hands falls to his belt, pulling him closer. Steve slips his free hand into Eddie’s back pocket as Eddie bites at his lower lip. He captures Steve’s gasp in his open mouth, swiping his tongue against Steve’s with a gentle firm pressure.

It’s over all too soon when Steve nearly overbalances and stumbles from the sudden lightness on his shoulder. Eddie grins at him, shouldering his heavy book bag, and looking far too pleased with himself.

Steve pulls him in for one last kiss, still holding the umbrella to shield them from the rain and prying eyes. It’s a soft, almost chaste kiss. ‘Good morning’ and ‘I missed you’ and ‘I love you’ in the tender press of his lips. He cups Eddie’s cheek with his free hand, relishing the way Eddie relaxes against him, tilting his cheek into Steve’s palm with a sigh.

“Have a good day at class, love,” Steve says with a wink.

Eddie reaches out to straighten Steve’s windbreaker, zipping it back up and pressing both hands to his chest. He ducks his chin and looks up at Steve. His wide, innocent eyes immediately betrayed by the mischief in his sly grin. “Pick me up at six?”

*title from ‘the rain song’ by led zeppelin

1K notes · View notes

canmom · 6 months

Text

Exordia - advance review

So. I finished the book!

This is not everything I will write about Exordia. That will come when the book is like, officially out, and I feel comfy spelling out the ending and quoting passages at length.

This 'advance review' is split into two parts. The first part is quite abstract, so I'll copy it here.

If Baru took an elliptical path towards its subject matter, by defamiliarising and rearranging the material of history… Exordia just gets straight in there.

How to describe Exordia? Maybe you could call it philosophy-driven science fiction, a thought experiment about ethics. Maybe you could compare it to Arrival, but shot up with black humour (it’s a book that could make me laugh and cry, sometimes at the same time) and real tragedy (at the core is the genocide of the Kurds in the late 80s, and the many betrayals and failures of American imperialism). It’s got a lot of action and military details, with a good few spies and soldiers as central characters, but broadly it’s one of the sharpest eviscerations of the US military and its role in the world I’ve encountered in Western science fiction.

The first two thirds or so lay out the driving, fascinating ‘what the hell is this thing’ mystery lined with all manner of juicy body horror and drama—yet the core high-concept premise is laid out almost immediately, you know what's at stake. The last third… escalates.

It’s full of the usual meaty Seth themes, iterating on the ideas first laid out in Baru. But it’s a distinct flavour of its own. That escalation is… well, I can’t describe in detail, not while the book isn’t even out, but it’s nuts. Not just for the scale, but for how convincingly it sells concepts that if I described them straightforwardly would sound completely ridiculous.

Equally, it’s a study of a markedly diverse group of characters thrown together from all over the world, each constructed with very evident care and nuance. It goes places that so many writers would probably feel ‘damn, that’s probably way too thorny for someone like me to write about’—and yet somehow, it manages to handle it gracefully each time. Certainly, you can perhaps inevitably tell when Seth is writing from direct experience and when they are (as they used to say back in the ’10s) Writing The Other, if only through what they assume you know and what they need to explain as much as everything—and yet there are always all these telling details (the scientist cursing out R) that make these characters come alive with convincing presence and humour.

(Of course the autistic-ass lesbians are my faves. It’s not as overtly a Lesbian Book as Baru was, but there’s a strong current of gay shit.)

A few other reviewers mention Crichton, but I haven’t read Crichton, so… I’ll have to make other comparisons. But then the thing is it’s very self-aware about existing in the fabric of science fiction. This book is set in our world, not in the near future but the recent past, in the late Obama administration. A lot of the things you might compare it to (including a couple I’ve mentioned, Arrival, Crichton) will be invoked as explicit, in-character allusions as these very sharp, funny, modern people try to make sense of their crazy situation. Sometimes it feels like Tamsyn’s use of memes as texture, but it never gets overbearing. The rhythms of Seth’s prose have been refined by Baru into a powerful suite of devices to make you cackle and go, noooo, Seetttthhhhh…

It’s a fascinating blend of hard-ish scifi, with the big ideas carried by surprisingly accurate higher-mathematical technobabble, and what you could probably best call occultism: narrative and ethics and gods and mythology. Seth always tends to deflect when praised for their ability to hop between a dozen different disciplines and pull them together into one unifying story, saying that they’re just good at looking up summaries, or that they had help from the right people. Maybe so, but it works, it passes the smell test, and Seth’s real genius is their remarkable ability to tie all these big grand ideas back into the world of character and emotion.

Since this is an advance review… I gotta be careful how much I say! Usually I assume you’ve read it if you’re going to and dive straight into the spoilers and long quotes, but here I feel like I should take a little care to avoid describing too precisely the exact beats of the story. (Rest assured I will give it the thorough treatment when it comes out in full).

But, I feel like I want to say something a little more substantial. So here’s a description of the mechanism. If all you want to know is whether you should read this book, hopefully I’ve given you plenty of reasons that the answer is god, yes, do it. If you want to know more, read on.

#baru cormorant #exordia #fiction #sff #seth dickinson #advance review

148 notes · View notes

yawnjzznn · 7 months

Text

i like you; c. yj

pairing: yeonjun x reader (high school au)

summary: your relationship with yeonjun has stayed in the friend zone for years. you both have gone through many relationships to try and forget about the other, timing never doing you guys any justice. things only start to stir when you ask his enemy to date you for show.

wc: 4.1k

note: might make a part 2 smut

warnings: angst(?), argument, comfort ending, not proof read

the suns shining way too bright for it to be considered a good day today. you squint as you walk to school, clutching on your strap bag weighing down on your shoulders.

you’re walking alone today, and maybe it’s because you chose a gloomy playlist or maybe because your eyeliner today didn’t turn out good— you feel lonely.

or maybe it’s because you weren’t sitting in the passenger seat of yeonjun’s car, singing along to whatever song he had on queue.

yeah, maybe it was that.

or maybe it was because he had got into another relationship— abandoning you again.

but you know he’d come back to you— that’s how it always was. his relationship would last a month, maybe two at best, and then something wouldn’t work out and he’d come right back.

that was the same case for you, and he’d always be there waiting.

but it was getting tiring, waiting for him all the time.

his relationship with Shin Seulbi seems to be going well, because it’s been a little over two months since she’s asked him out.

it’s annoying to walk past him, annoying that you guys keep falling out and caving back in.

you’ve known him for so long. you were 10 when you met him and now you both were on the last year of highschool, finally making it to 18.

there seems to be a string connecting you guys because no matter what happens, no matter how big of an argument or relationship— it would always end with a text from either you or him, asking to hang out as if nothing happened.

anyway, you finally reach school, grumpy as you walk up the stairs, heading straight to your classroom that is until you bump into your friends, yunjin and winter.

they’re looking at you, looking a little panicked as they rush you down the stairs, back to where you’d just come from.

“what’s up?” you frown, staring at the two, confused and dazed.

your friends eye each other quietly, a worried expression painting their faces before yunjin decides to speak up, “nothing. the hallway is just so crowded we got pushed around.”

“okay?.. that’s fine.” you laugh, a bit dumbfounded. you can sense it’s a little further— maybe even more personal than what they’re making it out as. and you’re curious to see what they’re trying to protect you from.

you walk up the stairs, ignoring their cries behind you. what could be that bad that they were going out of their way to shield you from?..

maybe you should’ve listened.

maybe you should’ve let them distract you.

because as you enter your floor, a sight immediately catches your attention. yeonjun.

he’s not with Seulbi, matter of fact he’s propped himself up against a wall— surrounded by a group of girls that were quite literally swooning over him.

you frown before turning your head behind to where your friends awkwardly stood at.

“what the hells going on?” you asked, feeling uncomfortable and suddenly extremely hot.

“he broke up with Seulbi and now he’s looking for another girlfriend..” winter mumbled, sinking her teeth into her bottom lip.

you feel as if your world just crumbled, as if the walls are caving in on you but for your own pride and dignity, you force a smile as wide as you can, letting out an airy laugh, “it’s fine! you guys shouldn’t be freaking out like that. obviously it’s fucked that he’s talking to those girls but i’m getting tired of him anyway.”

they don’t seem to believe you with the way they’re staring, but for your comfort they just smile— the same way you are.

“we were worried.. cus those girls fucked you over last time.” yunjin mumbled, scratching her head, a hesitant tone lacing her words.

“fuck them.” you roll your eyes, “i’ll just go talk to baek kyon. see how he likes that.”

they both gasp, eyes blown wide.

“really?.. are you sure?.. i mean— like him? out of all people?.. don’t you remember they almost got into a fist fight?..” yunjin slapped her hand over her mouth, baffled.

“it’s fine.” you’re so excited at the idea already. you walk further into the hallway, yunjin and winter beside you, talking about how evil your plan was.

and when you walk past him, your eyes lock for a second. the shortest second.

he holds the same expression he’s had for the past few minutes, while you stare blankly.

the way you both just go by makes it seem like you had never known each other— and it’s weird to feel like this because he’s always bounced back to you.

however, you’re more angry than sad so it’s easy to walk up to baek kyon who’s sitting in the back of the classroom, talking to his friends.

“can i talk to you?” you ask, folding your arms and tilting your head.

he stares at you, puzzled. everybody knows your best friends with yeonjun. besides the whole relationship part you guys are— no, were inseparable.

out of curiosity, he smirks, then sits up, “go ahead.”

his friends are eyeing you like crazy— maybe even more shocked than baek kyon is.

“alone.” you said.

he raises his eyebrows, looks at his friends who sends teasing nods, then looks back at you, “fine.”

he lets you lead him to the janitors closet on this floor, staring at you eagerly and curiously.

you decide on going straight to the point: “can you date me? like fake date me?” your voice is confident and stern, but on the inside you’re freaking out. if this doesn’t work, and it gets out— it’d be the most humiliating experience in your whole entire lifetime.

“what?”

“you hate yeonjun right? he’s always doing better than you, always gets higher grades and better at sports? don’t you wanna finally get back at him?” you persuade, leaning against the cupboards, folding your arms.

your heart is thumping out of your chest at the thrill of this horrible spontaneous plan.

“i am better than him!” he huffs, frowning, “and i’ll beat him soon.”

you force out a laugh, “you know grades and all of that doesn’t matter to him right? he doesn’t care about you. he won’t care if you beat him. but he’ll care if you date me. that’s the best way you can bother him. maybe more than he’s ever bothered you.” you’re so convincing even you’re starting to believe yeonjun will be upset at this.

but honestly, you don’t know if he even cares about you that way.

you’re not even sure of his feelings.

baek kyon rolls his eyes, groaning when the bell rings— indicating class has started and you both were late.

“well if we walk in late together it’s already gonna be problematic so might as well..”

you don’t show it but you’re so relived, letting out a breath you never knew you were holding. you can’t help but smile to yourself, finally feeling less tense.

“great! there’s no limits for me. if you want to hold my hand or kiss me it’s fine with me.” you mumble while opening the door to the closet, leaving with him trailing behind you.

“yeah, there’s no limits for me too.” he nods, “but i really hate you, so please don’t try and talk to me. just hang around me and look pretty.”

“i hate you too.” you spit out and open the door to your classroom.

the whole class turns their head at you, unfazed until baek kyon walks into class, walking by you— then sending you a playful wink for the class to see.

you can hear yunjin’s gasp and can’t help but mentally giggle at yourself.

“.. what just happened?” winter whispered to herself, as shocked as everyone else was.

everybody and their mothers knew about the beef between baek kyon and yeonjun— and they knew of you and yeonjun. so seeing you walk in late with baek kyon might’ve been quite the shocker..

the teacher herself is a bit stunned, staring at you with wide eyes, “you both are late..”

“sorry.. i was in the washroom.” you giggle sheepishly as you walk to your seat.

“and you?” she turns her attention to him.

“i was also in the washroom. sorry.” his excuse holds no real truth and he makes it a point to say it without care.

“.. don’t let it happen again.”

you turn your head to look at him to find him already staring at you with the most mischievous grin ever. he then cups his hands over his mouth so that only you can see what he’s mouthing: “choi. yeonjun.”

you blink, accidentally letting your eyes trail over to where yeonjun sat— and he’s staring at you, hard.

he’s leaned back on his seat per usual, a folded leg kicked over the other— hands shoved in his pockets. his eyes are half lidded, an annoyed but fuming expression obvious on his face.

you lock eye contact— again. he chuckles to himself— like some weird maniac. you can see his tongue poking at his cheek, and you know he only does that when he’s angry.

you feel content and stare back at baek kyon, mirroring his smile.

“what the fuck was that?” yunjin who sits infront of you turned around, shocked but a smile compliments her face.

you giggle, “the love of my life.” you hope yeonjun overhears you since he doesn’t sit so far away.

she raises her eyebrows before turning back around, giggling to herself.

the class ends pretty quickly, and finally break is here. everyone scrambles around— leaving the classroom, moving to their friends..

while you walk over to baek kyon, a mischievous giggle leaving your lips when he shoos his seat partner away so that you can sit by him.

his friends surround you both, asking millions of questions— spinning your head.

“guys stop. you’re giving her a headache.” baek kyon cooed jokingly, grabbing your cheeks and squishing them.

your eyes twitches in genuine annoyance, making him laugh but he doesn’t stop touching your face.

“oh my gosh this is evil and gross. i’m out of here.” one of his friends say and the others agree, walking out of the classroom all together.

he finally lets go of your face, and you watch as his eyes move over to where you recognize. he doesn’t look away from yeonjun as he leans closer to you, whispering by your ear, “laugh.”

you do what he said and giggle, slapping his shoulder teasingly.

this was humbling, but if it’d get yeonjun’s attention you’d do it any day. you enjoyed the glares he sent throughout the class. sure you were “dating” his rival and maybe that was why he was mad but the small chance of him being jealous has you desperate.

baek kyon’s arm stretches to your chair, leaning his arm on it while he started to talk about the most stupidest things in a quiet tone.

you nod along, gasp, and smile at some of his pointless words.

eventually, you get caught up with what he’s saying— forgetting to react in an exaggerated way.

he’s forgotten about it too, judging by the way he’s explaining it to you now— voice no longer timid to stay mysterious.

“and the guy almost bumped into me!” he scoffs, his arms flying around to keep up with his words.

“actually?” you can’t help but let out a genuine laugh at his reaction to his story.

break ends right after, and class just zoomed by today— unlike yesterday, when 7 hours felt like 7 months.

as you’re walking downstairs to go home, you come across yeonjun, again.

this time he’s alone, not surrounded by girls.

this time he’s looking at you— just you.

you avert your eyes away, picking up the pace, almost jogging at this rate outside of school.

you’re not sure if he’s behind you, or if he’s still in that same spot— but now you feel much more comfortable in the open.

much to your dismay, you’re stopped dead in your tracks when a hand grips your shoulder, pulling you back.

couldn’t he wait until you had at least left the school gates?

with a huff, you turn around, shrugging his hand off.

yeonjun who always held a carefree look to his face was now the opposite, bothered and rough.

“yes?..” you mumble, awkward.

your heart is leaping through miles, eyes scrambling to find a view to set your vision.

“what do you think you’re doing?”

he’s so clearly annoyed with that tone lingering in his words. he’s got a frown on his pretty face and a mean look in his eyes.

“what? i’m going home,” you let out a sarcastic laugh.

“are you dumb? you know what i’m talking about.”

“yeah i do. but it’s really not your business.”

you gaze at him through your lashes, feeling a odd sense of satisfaction at his bothered expression and faltered confidence.

“can you stop slutting around for once? can’t you stay single for one fucking day?”

your satisfaction died faster than it had came— and now all you felt was anger.

“me? slutting around? for real?” you laugh, though your hands are fisted into balls and you feel your face getting warm from the overwhelming rage.

“why? is that too far fetched for you?” he raises his eyebrows, a mockish and cocky smirk painting his sun kissed face.

he’s back to his confident self again, and you’re sure it’s because you’re giving him what he wants by showing your emotions.

so you sigh, trying to look as care free as you possibly can, “think what you want.”

you turn your back on him once again— and this time he lets you leave the gates.

you hope he’ll grab you again— hope he’ll say something that’ll change the situation.

but instead you hear his voice behind you, and another girls.

he’s already talking to somebody else and not even ten seconds had passed since you had walked away.

maybe this time it was different.

maybe it really was over for you two.

—

a month has passed since you last talked to your best friend, choi yeonjun.

in present time you surround yourself with new people, baek kyon and his friends.

it’s much easier this way for you, to be around someone you don’t truly care about. no one in this group you’re sitting with can harm you because you think little of them.

however that comes with a hefty price, to not get hurt meant to not have genuine fun.

your eyes occasionally drift over to yeonjun who seems to be doing much better than you are.

he’s comfortable on his seat, laughing to whatever beomgyu just said.

“don’t look over.” baek kyon mumbles, his hand grabbing your chin, tilting your head back to him.

“look at me. don’t look at him.”

it’s getting exhausting now. the way he’s always ordering you to not look at yeonjun.

you deadpan and pull your head away, scoffing, “i’ve told you not to cross the line.”

you make it so that only he can hear what you’re saying, but with the rolling of your eyes and grimace on your face no one needs to hear anything to know you’re upset.

“yeah well you’ve also told me he’d care if i dated you. he doesn’t.”

“then we should stop whatever this is.”

“if you want to then go ahead. i’m just worried you’ll have nobody once you leave me.”

you turn to look at him, dumbfounded.

“do you like me, baek kyon?”

you catch the crack in his mask once your words reach him. he’s taken aback, a little displeased, hurt, all of that for a second before he goes back to his normal, unfazed, self.

“are you crazy?”

“no right? so stop acting like you do. it’s weird.” you shake your head in disapproval.

“whatever.”

the class ticks by and finally break has come. unlike yesterday and the many days before, you decide to leave the classroom and take a breather.

you’re in the washroom downstairs, the one nobody uses because of a rumour of some ghost haunting it’s walls.

you’re sat on the sink, hugging your legs, phone in one hand and lipstick in the other.

you’re a little too busy ranting to your online friend you don’t realize the intense presence of yeonjun until he calls your name.

you avert your eyes up to look at yeonjun who’s presently propped himself up against the wall by a stall. he’s staring at you as if youre a new colour he’s never seen.

such an odd and unreadable expression contours his face, making you frown.

“yes?” your voice is shaky, uneasy and untrusting.

“having fun with your boyfriend?” he asks, tilting his head to the side, folding his arms.

“he’s not my boyfriend.” you mumble, averting your eyes back to your phone.

“yeah i guessed so. a little birdie told me something interesting about you two.”

your stomach sinks to the floor. immediately you can feel the blood rush to your head in embarrassment to what you’re assuming this is about.

even if you do try and keep your composure, your red cheeks and splitting eyes is easily read by yeonjun who grows more confident than he already was.

“so it is true?” he raises his eyebrows and drops his hands to his sides, taking a step closer, another step, until he’s infront of you, leaning against the sink.

“who told you?”

“honestly a wild guess.” he shrugs ever so casually.

“yeah well i actually fell for him.” you try and look shy about it, act all innocent and truthful.

“oh really? ‘s that why you’re here instead of rubbing yourself all over him?”

“what a girl can’t get a break? my heart can’t handle him. is that your business?” you laugh mockishly in his face and hope it’s enough to get him to believe you.

but you’re so clearly wrong. you know you are when he’s looking more haunting than before.

“i can see right through you. you’re a bad liar when it comes to me.”

he’s staring at you dead in the eye, so serious it makes you want to curl up in a ball and cry.

you hate when he stares at you like this. when he stares at you as if you’re a wall, his expression so blank and emotionless.

so you let out a defeated exasperated sigh, “okay. so what? does it matter to you? you’re so caught up talking to other girls. you’re the one that didn’t talk to me first.”

you only tell him this with the hope that this would help you guys reconcile.

he deadpans, “i didn’t talk to you once and you think it’s the end of the world? fuck y/n i didn’t know you were so petty. you’re so childish.”

every ounce of need to befriend him again disappeared. you stared at him, half shocked, half hurt.

“whatever yeonjun.” you mumble and jump off of the sink, attempting to walk past him but a firm hand grips your shoulder.

you almost cry out of relieve that he’s grabbed you. you don’t know how much longer you can go without talking to him.

“don’t walk away from me. i’m not done.”

you turn around, “then hurry up. baek kyon’s waiting for me.”

“you don’t have to fake your relationship with him anymore. i already know.”

“we’re still friends. plus i think he might actually like me, and i don’t mind the attention.” you shrug, making it a point to make it look like you were getting ready to exit out the room.

“you’re so fucking annoying! fuck.” he snaps, hands dropping to his sides.

he takes steps closer to you and in the blink of an eye he’s looking down at you— sending a sharpe glare that has you backing up a few steps.

“can you be logical? why are you acting like this?” you huff.

you’re intimidated— scared almost. even as friends, you always sensed his intensity, but now? now you understood why some people went out of their way to avoid his gaze.

“acting like what?”

you roll your eyes, “you’re acting like i’m an object that belongs to you. you’re not even making any sense right now.”

“okay?” he laughs, annoyed. another step, and another, until your back hits the wall.

you stare at him through your lashes, eyebrows furrowed but your eyes are glued onto his.

“so what if i’m not?” he continues, tilting his head, “are you not mine? everything you’ve done until now is for me, you did this for my reaction— so don’t act like you’re not enjoying it.”

his words has you stumbling and struggling to bite back a witty comment— but it’s true. and since it’s true there’s nothing you can do but to stretch your arms out and push him away to finally give your heart a break.

“yeah but i didn’t think baek kyon would actually be a good person.. i like him even as friend. maybe more than i’ve ever liked you.”

you stare at him from the corner of your eye as you’re leaving to grab the door handle, heart stinging at your own awful lie.

you don’t catch the hurt flashing his face with your back turned, opening the door—

“do you mean that?”

“i don’t know. but he doesn’t abandon me for girls.” you start, for the second time turning to look at him again— ignoring the pain so obvious in his demeanour, “he doesn’t talk to me only when he has something to gain from it.”

“is that what you think?”

“are you that dense to realize it’s true?”

before he can say anything else— the bell rings, indicating that break was over.

yeonjun says nothing and walks over to you, grabbing your wrist tightly and pulling open the door, dragging you out.

the hallways are empty— and for your own pride you want to tell him to let go, to stop bothering you but you silently let him drag you to the parking lot and shove you inside of his car.

he hastily gets in the driver seat, shoving his car key inside the hole and starting the car— ignoring the painful and awkward silence.

“where are we going?” you sigh, leaning your head back onto the headrest.

the seat is reclined in an angle you don’t like— and the headrest is a bit too high for your head.

it’s all adjusted to fit another girls body, not yours.

he ignores you, eyes trained on the road, one hand gripping on the steering wheel while the other rests on his knee.

“yeonjun where are we going?” you repeat, frustrated. you look at him— stunned to see the changed look on his face.

it’s different from before.

now you can clearly read the sadness in his face, and that’s just enough to make you turn back to the road and stay silent.

he finally parks his car at a parking spot nearby an outdoor pool— a place you both loved during the hot summers.

the trees are shadowing the car just enough, blocking the sunlight.

“you’re so stupid y/n. i like you. all the other girls don’t matter to me.”

he keeps his head straight and doesn’t look at you.

but you’re looking at him as if he’s said the most bizzare thing ever.

“what?”

“i said i like you.” he repeats, more stern and clear.

he turns to you, annoyed, “don’t you realize the pattern? i date those girls everytime you talk about a new crush you want. i do that because i can’t stand hearing that. i don’t want to be near you just to hear talk about how some guy called you cute, or pretty, or whatever.”

you’re absolutely in denial hearing him say that. a part of you even thinks maybe this is a prank but the sincerity in his voice and the desperation in his face screams otherwise.

your heart skips a beat and now you feel stupid for ignoring everyone’s teasing telling you he liked you.

“i don’t know what to say..” you mumble, dumbfounded.

“tell me you like me back.”

“how do you know if i even like you that way?” you tease him, a giddy smile on your face.

“cus you’re blushing right now.”

“i don’t like you.” you mumble.

“really?” he raises his eyebrows, clearly unbelieving.

“yes. i hate you matter of fact. can’t stand you.” you continue, folding your arms and rolling your eyes.

“say that again. a bit louder this time.” he tests.

“i like you.”

“yeah. that’s what i thought.”

#yeonjun x reader #txt soft thoughts #yeonjun angst #yeonjun soft thoughts #yeonjun soft hours #txt x reader #yeonjun x you #yeonjun imagines #yeonjun scenarios

221 notes · View notes

graceshouldwrite · 10 months

Text

4 Ways to Get Back Into Your WIP

You know when you might have taken a long break, worked on other projects, talked to other people about it, and basically did EVERYTHING to get yourself back into it, but it’s not working?

Even though you still want to LIKE your WIP and work on it?

These tips are based on my own experience dealing with that feeling. I went through something like that for around a year, but now, I’m getting past it and returning to my main WIP more excited than I’ve been for a long time!

1. List out WHAT you don’t like and fix it

COMMON CORE ISSUES:

Plot + Subplots?

They might seem too (among other things):

lackluster

complex

unnecessary

confusing

You might not know how to:

develop the plots

make them believable

add the scenes you want without giving the book 800+ pages

choose scenes to cut to fit the word count goal...

Characters?

A BIG ONE: some writers try to force themselves to like X character for whatever reason (e.g. based them on a specific aesthetic, felt forced to add specific rep, etc), but they just DON’T.

Or, maybe:

you don’t know how to develop your characters

their group dynamic is too difficult to write/doesn’t make a lot of sense

your character voices, personalities, or appearances might not be distinct enough

Prose?

You might:

want to add more humour (prose is too depressing and atmospherically dark)

want to add more gravity (prose is too comedic and romantic)

want to shift from past to present tense, want to tell story from another POV, etc.

Organization?

OFTEN, the book’s just TOO COMPLEX with all the characters, subplots, etc. and it’s too intimidating to try to sort out all the mess that’s your WIP

SO…

The lists I gave you are most of the big, common issues. Once they’re sorted into SPECIFIC types of problems, don’t they get less intimidating to look at?

I know you might think, gee, Grace, these problems will take [insert comically large time frame] to solve.

Well, if you genuinely want to like your project again and work on it, DO IT.

Slowing down your WIP finish date is worth it if it helps you get back into it. If you never get back into the project, you’ll NEVER FINISH IT. Late > never.

Heck, you might not even be too late—you might find yourself back in the passionate fever you were when you started it, and be in the headspace to write furiously :)

I think you know how to solve these broken-down problems. Some require more sheer line-editing, while others require big executive decisions (e.g. getting rid of a character or rewriting an entire subplot/the plot). But, it will be worth it when you start to love your project again.

2. Remember why you started it

Before each project, write a STATEMENT OF PURPOSE at the beginning of your doc to remind you why you’re writing this story in the first place. If you didn’t do this, it’s not too late to start one now!

It could be something as close to heart as “I want to express how unrequited love feels,” or something as grand as like “I want to write a tragic allegory of the political and economic state of the world that explores human nature” (I am projecting in both of these examples, but you get it).

Something SPECIFIC is a lot better for this than things like: “I told X this story idea and they liked it,” or “I promised to write this for X,” or “I want to tell this story just cuz.” These latter examples probably won’t fill you with passion.

3. Listen BEYOND your WIP playlists. Look at images BEYOND your WIP aesthetics

Many people think revisiting your old playlists / boards help, but that often contributes to the staleness!!!!

Instead, by purposefully expanding your scope of consumed media, you open yourself up to more inspiration and ideas of where you want to take your project. New images and new songs will give you new ideas on atmosphere, mood, scenes, and so much more.

4. Compare your WIP to a similar book you like

You know THAT BOOK that comes to mind whenever someone asks you which book is your favourite/impacted you deeply? Think of how your book will impact readers in the same way. All the emotional turmoil and mental enlightenment That Book gave you is what YOU will give to the readers who resonate with YOUR book one day!

The author of the book you’re thinking about went through drafts, edits, and maybe even wanted to give up at some point, (LIKE YOU!) but pushed through it. Now, their book is on the bestseller list/on a bookshelf/a classic (whatever appeals to you)! Don’t stop before YOUR book is there, too.

∘₊✧────── ☾☼☽ ──────✧₊∘

instagram: @ grace_should_write

A LOT of this comes from personal experience; I had this mental tussle with my main WIP a while back, so I hope this helps anyone else dealing with the same problem :)

Hope this was helpful, and let me know if you have any questions by commenting, re-blogging, or DMing me on IG. Any and all engagement is appreciated <3333

Happy writing, and have a great day!

- grace <3

#writers on tumblr #writing #writing tips #booktok #writer #writeblr #novel #writerslife #writergram #wattpad #creating characters #wip #ya fantasy #plot holes #characters #writing ideas #writing a book

323 notes · View notes

hom3landr · 1 year

Text

Morning Musings

Enjoy my five am ramblings because I woke up and couldn’t go back to sleep. No plot, just tooth rotting fluff.

It’s one of those perfect mornings, where your nose is just a little bit chilly in the early air but the rest of your body is bathed in the cozy heat of a shared bed. It’s still dark outside but if you look close you can see a faint orange hue on the horizon, about to overtake the city in a wave. There are no press conferences or contractual appearances today so you indulge in the sweet lazy satisfaction that comes from knowing you can easily slip back into slumber for as long as you wish. You’ve always been that combination of early waker but late riser. You’ve never been able to sleep in but you don’t mind because it means you have ample time to observe him.

He barely needs to sleep at all with all the V that runs through his veins. You didn’t even know he could sleep during the first year of your dalliance. Neither of you have yet acknowledged that whatever this is has long evolved past the fuck buddies arrangement you made ages ago. It was only after you found him catnapping on the couch one day after a particularly rough interview that you realized there was a difference between needing to sleep and needing to sleep. So you began coaxing into bed with you, not for sex, but to encourage him to rest and allow himself that comfort. Once he began to let his guard down, you discovered that he can sleep like a rock, all those years of denying himself such a basic need has left him powerless to escape its clutches.

You don’t mind. Especially if it means you get to hear his cute little snores that he doesn’t realize he does. You won’t tell him, he’d only get sour and insistent that he would never. It’s almost like your own little secret. It’s such a inconsequential thing but you feel like it belongs to you and nobody else. No matter what happens, you can keep that tucked away inside you like a candle on a stormy night.

You reach out and gently brush a lock of his hair back into place. He looks so innocent and boyish in sleep. All of the sharp cunning and cruel edges fade away until he appears as harmless as a kitten. It would be hard to recognize him as the indestructible man who always has a tinge of iron in his scent no matter how much he showers. Your fingertips gently brush the gentle skin of his cheek and wonder what could have been if Vought hadn’t dug its talons into him. You doubt he would be as cruel but it amuses you to think he’d keep that sharp wit. Maybe, without intent to maim.

He practically purrs at your touch although he remains deep in slumber. He always seems to know when your hands are on him. You give a light scratch at the closely shorn hair of his undercut, enjoying the way he huffs and snuggles deeper into his pillow. You would keep him like this all the time if you could, and you’re willing to admit that the reasoning is entirely selfish. You chuckle at the thought of you saving the world simply because you know how to cuddle. Surprisingly, the soft noise causes one blue eye to crack open hazily.

The way he looks at you takes your breath away. All of that sly malice and creeping paranoia, all of that decades old pain and fresh indignity, all of Homelander, is gone from his gaze. He has that look of contented shyness that comes from someone enjoying something they aren’t entirely sure they have the right to but that they shamelessly indulge in nonetheless. He looks so young, with all of that baggage briefly stripped away. You wonder again what he could have been if he had been raised properly. You’re especially fond of the image of him as a little league coach, telling a group of downtrodden kids after a loss that they’re heroes for trying. It’s a ridiculous fantasy, but you feel like you’re entitled to a little silliness.

“G’morning” he slurs out, voice still gravelly from sleep. He wraps an arm around your waist to effortlessly tug you against his chest. He buries his face in your hair and inhales, huffing your scent like it’s some kind of drug. It’s always so interesting to see how his senses inform his behavior. He’s incredibly tactile, always wanting to cover you in his scent or drown himself in the sound of your heartbeat. It intimidated you at first, how attuned he was to you. None of your other lovers even noticed if you cut your hair, much less be able to warn you before a migraine hits purely because your scent would reflect the disturbance in your brain chemistry. You worried that such an intimate knowledge of your body would push him away, but he revels in the fact that he knows you better than any human grunt could ever dream of.

It’s easy to lose yourself in these moments and forget the work that goes into this relationship day by day. You are not immune to his petty jabs or his sour temper. He’s never hurt you physically but his ruthless tongue has left you sobbing in the bathroom more times than you can count. He’s testing you, trying to find the breaking point where your love will no longer be enough to withstand him. He’ll never find it but it doesn’t make the battles any less exhausting. It’s why mornings like this are so precious to you. These moments are why you let your heart be bruised over and over.

You love him, probably more than you’ve ever loved anything. You think he knows even if he doesn’t trust in that knowledge.

He shifts, rolling on top of you in one smooth motion. Your legs spread instinctively, expecting him to slip inside for an early morning romp. It tears your heart in two when instead he uses it as a way to snuggle in even closer, to have as much skin to skin contact as possible. You remember when every touch was a calculated effort to get in your pants, because it’s the only way he had ever received reassurance or comfort from touch. You’ve noticed lately that he’s started to enjoy contact for its own sake, not just as a means to an end. You aren’t deluded enough to think you can fix him, or that the love of one person is enough to erase an entire lifetime of emotional neglect. So you don’t try. You simply love him for the sake of it.

It’s for this reason that he allows himself to be vulnerable, even if he doesn’t realize it. There is no agenda. There’s just two people who are no longer alone. Sometimes, that’s enough.

#homelander #homelander x reader #x reader #homelander headcanons #I'm going to meow meow-ify this horrible man #and you can't stop me #but...he's committed atrocities?#I hear you ask #too bad I'm giving him morning snuggles anyways

479 notes · View notes

avastrasposts · 11 months

Text

The Pilot and his girl - ch. 12

I don't have much to say about this chapter except I hope you enjoy it! We're moving further into the TLoU world and exploring it with the guys from Triple Frontier and our reader. Word count: 6.6 k

Warnings have their own post and they contain spoilers

Chapter 13

Start from the beginning: The Pilot and his girl

You count the hours, the minutes even, throughout the day. You pack and repack your own backpack, trying to squash any thoughts about leaving without Frankie.

From the window in your living room you see less and less people. You hear helicopters in the air and your heart clenches, thinking about Frankie, what if he managed to get to a helicopter? He’s on your mind every second, every sound from inside the building makes you jump and twitch, hoping to hear him stick his keys in the lock and open the door.

A few hours after Pope leaves, someone bangs on your door, it makes you jump up from the couch and grab the gun he left you with.

“Hey, anyone in there?” You recognize the voice of your neighbor from across the hall, a middle aged man who sometimes chatted to Frankie about the army, he’d served too. You think his name is Barry. He’s nice enough and doesn’t seem dangerous but you heed Pope’s warning and stay quiet.

“Frankie, if you’re in there, I’m getting some of the people in the building together and heading out of the city. Someone heard on an amateur radio receiver that they’re going to evacuate the city and then fucking bomb it. You’d better shift yourself and your girlfriend before that happens.”

You hear the man shuffle for a bit outside the door, banging on it again, before his steps retreat down the stairs.

They’re not possibly gonna bomb the city, are they? Why would they?

You carefully go to the window and look down onto the street, trying to not be seen. After a few minutes you see a handful of people exit your building, you recognize several of your neighbors as they head down the street. All seems quiet until suddenly, just before they disappear out of view, three people run from an alley, at the group. Through the closed window you only hear a distant wail but you see all too clearly how the group breaks up as the three running people attack violently. You sink to your knees, only your eyes peering over the windowsill, as you watch in terror as the three strangers tear into two of your neighbors. The rest of the group runs flat out and disappears behind a corner, and before long, they’re followed by the three attackers too.

You sink down against the wall under the window, breathing hard. Panic is rising in your chest as your nails dig into your palms.

Please, please, Frankie, come home, I need you to come home, I need you, please, Frankie.

You close your eyes and picture his face in front of you, his dark, unruly curls under that damn near permanent cap, his warm, brown eyes, the way they crinkle at the corners when he smiles and the dimple you always want to fit your thumb into, his scruffy beard, the patches that never want to fill in. You let the image of him fill your brain as you slowly breathe in and out, willing yourself to calm down, to control the panic.

Nothing is going to get better if you panic, just breathe.

You stay there, sitting on the floor under the window, until your legs go numb and you move to the kitchen. You have no appetite but you make yourself eat a couple of sandwiches. Anything non-perishable has been packed into your hiking backpack, Frankie’s is also full of necessities for staying at the cabin for a while.

You don’t want to stop to think about what you’d do with his backpack if he doesn’t come back. Part of you isn’t sure you’d leave if Frankie doesn’t, despite what you’d promised Pope. Maybe you’d just stay here until something else happened, maybe they would bomb the city, maybe you could just die here. The very thought of going on without Frankie is too hard to phantom, you can’t see past waiting here until he comes home.

You sink down on the couch, not bothering to wash the dishes. Pope had filled up your bathtub with water but told you to only use it for drinking. He had assumed the water would be cut off the same way electricity had and he was right, you hadn’t had running water for a few hours now.

It’s morbidly funny when you think about it; yesterday afternoon you’d been doing dishes, doing laundry, cooked some food, watched tv, like nothing was amiss. Now you were on the couch, a gun in your waistband, no water, no electricity, no phone, your neighbors’ dead in the street and society seemed to be crumbling around you. It took less than twenty-four hours for your world to collapse.

At some point in the evening you almost doze off, the adrenaline’s wearing off and your body refuses to stay awake. With the last bit of energy you push the couch out from the wall a little and lie down with a pillow, hiding behind it. You figure, if someone breaks in while you’re sleeping, they won’t see you at a glance.

…

The loud crack from the door startles you awake, as you blink, trying to orient yourself, you hear heavy boots on the floor, several pairs. You freeze in place behind the couch, quietly turning your head so that you can peer underneath it. Two pairs of black combat boots walk into the living room, one pair peels off to the kitchen.

“Clear in here,” the voice of a man, “check the rest of the place.”

“Yes, sir,” comes the reply and you hear footsteps head off down the hallway towards your bedroom. You can hear doors opening, the closets wrenched open. As you listen you wonder if you should make yourself known, maybe they are evacuating people, but something makes you stay quiet. If Frankie had been here you might’ve gone with them, but not without him.

The two men retreat from your apartment, shutting the now broken door, and you hear them move up a flight of stairs. You remain hidden, listening to the sounds of your apartment building. The soldiers are moving around upstairs, at one point you hear the sharp snap of a gun being fired, and then nothing. Eventually you hear several people move down the staircase outside your apartment and downwards, your building goes silent. Carefully you stand up from behind the couch and cross to the window that looks down onto the street. The sun is just coming up, fires are still burning in the distance, creating a haze over the city. You can see armed military men standing around a school bus, and as you watch, a few people from your building are ushered onto it. The doors close and the bus drives away.

You go back to the couch, go over yours and Frankie’s backpacks again and then check the time. It’s almost eight am, Sunday morning now. If you’re going to go to the cabin, you need to make a decision soon. You pace back and forth between the kitchen and the living room, you can’t make up your mind, stay or go? If you stay, you might die, your door is broken, hanging off the hinges and it won’t be safe to sleep here tonight. Or they might actually bomb the city and you die anyway.

If you go, if by some miracle, you manage to get onto the dirt bike and get to the cabin, will you ever see Frankie again? If that’s the case…you touch upon the dark thought that’s been at the back of your mind for hours now, it burns when you glance over it.

What if you never see Frankie again?

The thought makes panic rise in your chest, like acid, it pushes up your throat and you grab hold of the edge of the kitchen counter, your fingers dig into the unyielding surface. No, that is not the way this is going to go, he’ll come here or to the cabin. He will find you again and you’ll see him when he does.

Your mind is screaming at you to stay here, where it feels safest, in yours and Frankie’s home. But a small voice at the back of your head reminds you of what Pope said, If he’s not back by Sunday morning, he’s not coming back.

The thought of Pope, going to get Lucía and getting her to safety, pushes you out of your stupor. You take a deep breath, your mind made up. If Pope gets to Lucía she will need you too, Frankie would want you to get to her too, keep her safe when Frankie can’t. Pope will look after you and you will look after Lucía for as long as you can.

You need to leave him a note, hope that he finds it, and has a way to get to the cabin. You go to your small home office, the manuscript you’d been working on neatly stacked on top of your laptop, it seems like a lifetime ago. You take a large bright post-it and stick it to the middle of the kitchen table where it can’t be missed.

P went to get L. Meet you at D’s cabin. I love you always, stay safe.

You walk back into your bedroom and rifle through your closet. You’re still in the jeans and hoodie, Frankie’s hoodie, you were in on Friday. If you’re going to leave home you need to be smart about your clothes. Hiking pants, your thermal undershirt, the hoodie, thick socks, your hiking boots, more layers stuffed into the backpack, your waterproof windbreaker on top. You close the backpack and leave it in the hall and go pick up Frankie's bag.

You hear the footsteps on the staircase as you turn back to the hall.

They're slow, deliberate, and you quietly set the backpack down again and duck behind the couch, crouching down. The hard metal of the gun digs into your back, reminding you of its presence, and you pull it out, holding it as Pope showed you.

The footsteps stop outside your front door, and through the silence of the building you hear the metallic click of a gun being cocked. Holding your breath, still crouched behind the couch, fear creeps up your spine, making your skin tingle. The quiet footsteps move into your apartment and down the hall, you hear the scuff on the floor as someone steps into the living room. They stand still for a few seconds, you try to make your heartbeat slow down, it’s so loud you’re sure they can hear it, but the unknown intruder carefully moves into the kitchen. After a beat you hear them pick up the post-it from the table, and breath out a low “Fuck.”

But you’d know that voice anywhere, you rush to stand up, “Frankie!”

He turns on the spot, his gun up and trained on you in a split second, before he lowers it and moves towards you. You scramble out from behind the couch and stumble over the coffee table, he catches you as you grab onto him, your gun falling to the floor. His arms go around you, pulling you tight, tight, to his chest and you bury your face into his jacket.

“You came, you came,” you weep into his chest as you feel his lips press against your hair, his arms are squeezing the air out of your lungs as he sobs, you can feel him shake as it rips through him.

“Always, hermosa, always,” he whimpers into your hair as you feel his hands search up and down your back. “And you waited, you shouldn’t have waited, but, fuck, I’m so happy you did.”

He presses himself against you, grabbing onto you, you can feel his fists close around your hoodie, pulling you into him as he all but folds himself around you. Your arms are wrapped around him, you’re inhaling his scent and you can hear his heart race under your ear. He moves a hand up and cradles it around the back of your head, pulling you away a little so that he can bend down and press his lips to yours, kissing you desperately as you sob against him. His lips are rough and chapped, but it’s the most welcome feeling in the world. His scruffy beard scratches against your chin, his breath is hot on your lips and you can feel the tug of his fingers as they tangle in your hair.

But you can taste salt and blood on his lips and it takes a few seconds for your brain to register the iron flavor in your mouth. When it hits you, you pull back and look up at him.

“Frankie!” you exclaim and reach up to touch his bruised and cut face and he flinches, “What happened?”

“A bus hit the truck, it flipped over and I got cut, probably by the windscreen.” He pulls you closer again, his hand around your neck, caressing your hair as you bury your face against his jacket. “I was knocked out for a few hours, I think, when I woke up it was the middle of the night and it was fucking mayhem on the streets.” You draw a deep, trembling breath, grabbing onto him tighter.

“I managed to get out of the truck and into a basement of a restaurant for cover, I hid in a fucking broom cupboard. I passed out again and woke up the next afternoon, been trying to get back to you all night.”

He sighs and you feel him rub a hand across his face, pulling off his cap, still on his head, and run a hand through his hair. “I might have a concussion too, my head is fucking killing me.”

You look up at him again, searching his eyes this time, he looks tired, wiped out, and slightly red eyed as you gently trace his face with your fingertips. He takes your hand and presses kiss to your palm before he wraps his fingers around it.

“Let me clean your cuts and get you some painkillers,” you say, bending down to pick up your gun from the floor and he lets you lead him to the bathroom and sit him down on the toilet seat, but then he wraps his arms around your middle and pulls you close again.

“Are you ok?” you hear him mumble against your chest.

“I’m a lot better now that you’re here, Frankie,” you caress his sweaty curls, “and I’m not injured.” His hands have bunched up the back of your hoodie as he tilts his head and looks up at you.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here, I should’ve fucking left work the second things started going to shit, we should’ve gotten us out of the city on Friday night.”

“How could you have known? I still don’t know what the fuck is going on, it all happened so fast,” you put the gun on the counter and wrap both hands around his soft curls and kiss his forehead, you see his eyes slip closed as you press your lips to him.

“Where did you get the gun?” he asks as you straighten up and take out the small first aid kit, the large one is packed in your backpack.

“Pope. He rang on Friday night and when I told him you weren’t home yet he decided to come here.” You gently dab some antiseptic onto the largest cut, just over his eyebrow, carefully cleaning away the dried blood, Frankie doesn’t wince, just lets you pat the cut with a cotton swab.

“He tried to get me to leave but I told him I couldn’t leave before you were back.” At this Frankie silently puts his hand on your cheek, stroking it gently while you continue to clean his cuts. “He’d looted two guns and a rifle and left me one. He’s gone to get Lucía to the cabin.”

Frankie gives a small nod, “I saw your post-it, were you about to leave, hermosa?”

You stop your cleaning and look down at him, your hand still on his face, “Pope said that if you weren’t back by Sunday morning…you probably wouldn’t come.”

“He wasn’t wrong, I almost didn’t make it,” Frankie clenches his jaw, his hand balling into a fist. “But I’ll tell you later. For now, I need to get to Lucía too, if Pope doesn’t already have her at the cabin, I’m going to get her, I have to.”

“I’m coming with you, I’m not letting you go without me,” you immediately say and Frankie nods.

“I’m not letting you out of my sight again, cariño, you’re coming with me.” He stands up and looks at his face in the mirror, he’s got three deeper cuts, two on his forehead, one on his cheek, just under his eye, that was lucky. His head fucking hurts but he takes the two painkillers you hold out and downs them with water and pushes the pain to the back of his mind. He needs to focus now.

“Ok,” he says, looking over at you, “we need to pack what we need and get out of here as fast as possible. The only problem is we have no transportation but maybe I can hot wire a car in the street.”

You dig into your pocket and pull out the keys to the dirt bike. “Pope said there were two dirt bikes in the garage, he took one and left the other for us. It’ll probably be easier to get out of the city on them.”

“Yeah, that’s a good idea, the traffic was getting bad when the truck got totaled.” He walks into the living room with you behind him. “I thought I saw my backpack here, you packed it?”

“Pope did, I packed mine too,” you sit down on the couch and pull your bag over, opening it up and putting the painkillers inside. Frankie crouches down by his pack and quickly goes through it, getting up to add a few extras before closing it up again.

“Fill your big water bottle, and drink as much as you can before we leave,” he tells you. “There’s not much water between here and the cabin and we’re not stopping if we can avoid it.”

You do as you’re told and when you get back from the bathroom you find Frankie standing by the bookshelf, holding a photo of you, him and Lucía from a few months ago. You’d had it printed and framed for him and you know he has a copy of it in his locker at work too.

“Are you bringing it?” you ask in a low voice. He looks over at you and sighs.

“I’m not sure when we’ll come back here again, I thought maybe I should.” He looks back at the photo in the frame again before he flips it over and opens the back cover, sliding out the picture.

“Pope said it’s the world is falling apart, do you think he’s right?” you ask, moving over to him as he carefully puts the photo into his pack.

“I hope not, cariño, but…” he looks at you, he has a deep furrow in between his eyes, a worried look, “it’s not looking good, I saw some things I can’t explain out there, if you have something you don’t want to lose, you should probably bring it now. “

You turn and hurry back to the bedroom, quickly grabbing the picture you have on your bedside table. It’s your favorite of Frankie and you, from a BBQ at Will and Hannah’s place. Frankie’s looking at the camera with a big grin, his arm hooked around your neck, leaning into you as you press your lips to his cheek with a smile. You’d stolen his Standard Oil cap and put it backwards on your own head, Frankie’s dark curls are their usual unruly selves without the cap. You hurry back to the living room and slide it into one of the outside pockets of your bag.

Frankie’s waiting for you while you pull the zipper closed and hoist the bag onto your back. As you step forward to him, he pulls you close, his hand grabbing onto your waist. He leans his forehead against yours, and you wrap your arms around his neck as you feel his warm breath skate across your skin.

“I love you, I will always love you, no matter what happens,” he whispers.

You nod and take a deep breath, it feels like you’re savoring the last moment of calm before you step into the unknown, which you are, really.

“I love you, Frankie, I will always love you too,” you whisper back to him and he dips his head to your mouth. His lips are soft under the cracked skin, he still tastes like himself and for a second you imagine it to be just another normal Sunday morning kiss before you head out to run some errands.

But then he pulls back and takes your hand, moving towards the broken door. As he carefully pushes it open he drops your hand and takes out his gun and you do the same.

Definitely not a normal Sunday morning.

…

The apartment building seems empty as you quietly walk down the stairs with Frankie in front. He tells you to put your hand on his shoulder so that he knows you’re behind him. Your gun is in your hand, safety on, you don’t trust yourself enough to keep it off.

Frankie motions for you to stop a few feet behind him as you reach the garage door, it’s still locked. He pulls out his flashlight and keys from the side pocket of his pack, and presses the key fob to the door. The beep seems to echo through the quiet building and Frankie's waits, listening for any movement.

“Thank god for batteries,” he whispers before he cautiously presses down the handle and pushes the door open. It squeaks on its hinges and he pauses again. You see him raise his gun as he slowly moves through the open door, quickly swinging it left and right to cover both sides, holding his flashlight in the other hand.

When nothing stirs in the darkness of the garage, he motions you over to hold the door open as he moves further in. The dim light from the bottom of the stairwell illuminates a few cars and Frankie’s back as he cautiously makes his way over to where motorbikes are parked. He disappears out of view for a few seconds before you see him come back, he’s got an old motor oil canister in his hand.

“I’ll prop the door open,” he says in a low voice as he gets to you, “and we have an exit if opening the garage door doesn’t work.”

The garage door is electric, opened by pushing a button on a remote that Frankie keeps in his truck. The remote, and the truck, are obviously not here, so he plans on pushing the door up by hand, hoping the lack of electricity will make it easier to move.

You follow him through the dark garage, to the dirt bike propped up against the wall. He hangs his pack on one side, and yours on the other. “Keep your gun out, safety on, cariño,” he murmurs, before grabbing the handles of the bike and pushing it towards the garage door. You hold the bike up as he grabs the chain on the side of it and tug, sighing in relief as it glides smoothly up, only a low rattle as it opens onto the street.

“Push it up, I’ll cover you in case someone comes,” he says in a low voice, crouching down and moving up the slope to street level as you dig your feet in and push the bike. It’s slow, the bike is heavy with your bags on it but you’d rather have Frankie cover you than the other way round.

You get it onto the street and prop it up as Frankie grabs the handles and waits for you to settle on the bike. The street is empty of people and you can smell smoke in the air, not wood smoke, a more acrid scent of burning rubber and something else. Sun light streams through the haze, the many fires in the city starting to bleed together, as they burn unchecked. You can see a minivan on fire further down the street, next to where your neighbors were attacked. Their bodies aren’t there anymore.

Frankie leans in and gives you a quick kiss, “Once I start up the engine, people might come running and I’m gonna need to drive fast and dodge, so hold on to me very tight, cariño.”

Your eyes are wide and fearful as you nod, gripping tight onto his jacket as he straddles the bike in front of you. The dirt bike’s engine roars to life and you flinch, it’s horrendously loud in the silent city. You see Frankie’s eyes flick to the side view mirror and you look behind you, ice fills your veins as your heart all but stops. A stream of people are stumbling out of the alleys behind you, they’re moving with jerky movements, all focused on the noise of your bike, mouths stretched open in screams that you can’t hear over the roar of the engine.

“Hold on!” Frankie yells and you tighten your grip on him as the bike lurches forward. As you turn forward you see people coming out onto the street in front of you too, Frankie dodges left and right in quick succession to get past them and the bike flies down the street. You squeeze the seat of the bike between your legs and bury your face in Frankie’s back as the bike tilts back and forth. The wind whips around your ears, the roar drowns out any other noise and you try to only focus on Frankie in front of you, leaning your head against his broad back as you keep your eyes shut. His jacket smells of engine grease, the outdoors, the last BBQ at Will’s place. You inhale and grab it tighter.

The bike stops tilting back and forth and Frankie slows down a little bit. You carefully look up over his shoulder and see that you’re out on one of the big highways that cut through the city. It’s full of cars but the bike easily slips between them. With a sting Frankie realizes that his truck never would’ve made it through. Glad as he is that Pope thought to swipe the keys for the dirt bikes, he misses his truck, the safety of the cabin. He doesn’t think he’ll ever see it again.

The highway cuts through the city, every now and then the strange people stumble out, attracted to the noise of the bike, but he speeds up and puts them behind you. The road climbs up, an overpass over another highway, and he slows down to pass between a big eighteen wheeler and a bus at the crest of the overpass, just clearing them.

The wild looking man lurches out into the street, right in front of the bike, Frankie doesn’t even have a split second to swerves to the right, before the man’s hand flies out and grabs hold of your arm, ripping you from the bike as the bike topples over and skids over the ground. Frankie tumbles onto the asphalt, the dead man's grip stalling the engine, and the silence is deafening as he slams onto his back.

You can’t scream, the wind has been knocked out of your lungs by the force of the impact on the asphalt, and now the man is on top of you, only your arms between him and his deranged face. You fight to get your legs up under him, to kick him off, but his flailing limbs, his shoes scraping along the ground as he fights to get to you, pin you down. Your eyes are fixed on his mouth, you’re trying to scream for Frankie, but you can only take short, shallow gasps, as you see…something…move inside his mouth. Something is moving over his tongue, past his teeth, white tendrils reaching for you.

A gunshot echoes above you and the man is jerked backwards, slumping over to the side as you scramble back, grazing your hands on the rough surface. You kick him away from you, his mouth is still open and the white tendrils are still, flopping out onto the asphalt.

“Get up! Run, run!” Frankie yells behind you as you hear the screech of several people from between the bus and the eighteen wheeler. You whip your head to the noise and see four of them running for you, it takes everything in you to not freeze on the spot, Frankie’s frantic yells behind you. You scramble to your feet and run as fast as you can towards Frankie, he’s crouched behind a car, gun trained at the people behind you, the dirt bike still flat on the ground. As you get to the car he grabs your arm and throws you behind it and takes aim. Lying on the ground you watch him fire six rapid shots and the screaming stops. He holds his aim for a beat, his face focused and unblinking, then he quickly grabs you and pulls you to him. His hands grab your body, scanning you for injuries, yanking back the collar of your hoodie and running rough fingers over your skin.

“Did he bite you?” he almost yells, “Did he bite you?”

“N..n..no, I don’t think so,” you stutter as Frankie grabs your arms and pushes the sleeves up over your elbows, twisting your arms in his hands, searching the skin for any break.

“Frankie, wh..what’s going on?” your voice almost breaks, his fear is contagious as he frantically examines you.

“Get up, cariño, we need to keep going. More are on the way.” He pulls you to your feet and over to the bike, picking it up and quickly making sure your bags are secure. You get on and he swings himself up in front of you. The engine roars to life again, you wrap your arms around him and hang on as the bike speeds up.

Your hands are shaking as you lock them around Frankie’s waist, the adrenaline that coursed through you after the attack is giving way to shock and as Frankie speeds through the city you start to feel the pain where your body hit the ground. Your hands are throbbing, stinging from where they scraped across the asphalt, you’re sure you have a bump on your head and on the outside of your thigh there’s a welt growing. You desperately want to be back in your apartment, curled up in bed with Frankie, on Friday morning, before all this. You bury your nose in his jacket and swallow down a sob.

Frankie is more cautious after the crash, his heart is thumping as he swerves back and forth between obstacles, slowing down to scan for people. He sees them running towards the bike in the distance but soon loses them as he hits the main highway. He wants to stop, pull her off the bike and assess her injuries more carefully. Hold her tight and tell her he won’t fuck up like that again, that he’s trying to figure out how to combat what ever is happening to people.

The man over her, her silent fight to keep him off her, he swallows back the groan that forces itself up his throat, he could’ve lost her right there, not even out of the city. He tightens his grip on the handlebars; keep her safe, get to cabin, get Lucía if Pope doesn’t already have her.

Keep them safe.

…

As they leave the city there are less people, forty five minutes out into the open countryside, you haven’t encountered anyone since the suburbs. That’s until Frankie spots the makeshift roadblock up ahead, two nervous looking soldiers up front. As Frankie slows down they train their rifles on both of you, and he angles the bike so that his body covers yours. He turns his head and looks at you over his shoulder.

“Keep your head down, cariño. If they shoot, throw yourself behind the car on the right.”

You give him a quick nod and make yourself as small as possible behind him.

“Halt!” one of the soldiers yell, Frankie can see the single chevron on his arm, a private, green as can be by the look of his baby face and nervous grip on the rifle. Frankie stops the bike right by the car, about a hundred feet from the soldiers. The road block has hastily been erected, a big truck across the road, cars on either side, but they have gaps between them enough for the bike to easily slip through.

“Get off the bike!” the other soldier yells as Frankie and you come to a full stop, “Turn off the engine and get off the bike!”. He’s a private too, and looks just as green.

“We just wanna pass, we’re heading to our house,” Frankie yells.

“Get off the bike!” The first soldier calls back and you see him aim down his rifle at Frankie.

“We have orders to shoot anyone infected and you look infected,” the second soldier snarls, “get off the fucking bike and toss the keys.”

“Infected?” Frankie says, “What do you mean infected? Is that what those crazy people are?”

“Just get off the fucking bike,” the solider yells, raising his rifle too, “Final warning!”

“Get off the bike,” Frankie says to you in a low voice, “Get off slowly and get behind the car, crouch when I start shooting.”

“Frankie..” you whisper and he nudges you, “Do as I say, cariño, get off.”

You reluctantly obey and carefully swing your leg over the seat of the bike, stepping behind the car. He glances over at you, making sure you’re behind cover, before he slowly moves his hand as if he’s pulling back to get off. As he swings his leg over the bike he pulls his gun from behind his back and fires. You drop down behind the car as the soldiers' rifles rattle to life but it’s over in a few seconds, Frankie’s shots don’t miss, theirs go wide.

“Get on, fast,” he grabs your arm and pulls you up and you swing yourself onto the bike again, behind Frankie. The two soldiers are sprawled on the ground, blood pooling around them both, as Frankie revs the engine. Suddenly you hear two men yell, and you both turn to see two more soldiers sprint out from behind the big truck.

“Hold on!” he yells at you and gives the bike full throttle, the tires of the bike spinning as you clutch him tight. The sharp noise of gunshots zip around you as Frankie aims for between two of the cars, barreling through them and the sharp inhuman cry from the strange people, infected, goes up from somewhere behind you.

You hear the gunfire but it’s no longer directed at you, as you throw a quick glance over your shoulder, you see a large group of the infected, launch themselves at the two soldiers. The noise of the engine drowns out the sound but you see their screams as they’re overrun.

You turn back and press yourself against Frankie’s back, he weaves between the cars, finding a gap and leaves the highway. Crossing over a field, aiming for the mountains in the distance.

…

You’ve left the highway far behind you, bee lining for the cabin across as much open country as you can, avoiding farms and towns. You’re almost there when smoke starts to rise from the bike. Frankie hastily stops the bike and kills the engine as you both get off. You quickly pull your backpacks away from the smoke as he inspects the bike.

“Fuck, it got shot, a bullet through the engine block,” he points to the hole where smoke is pouring out, it’s less now that the engine is off. “Better it, than us though,” he sighs, looking over at your taut face. Your eyes are rimmed with worry and dark circles, your mouth, usually so quick to smile when he looks at you, is pulled tight with tension as you stare at him. It breaks his heart to see you so scared and he takes your hand in his, trying to give you some comfort.

“What do we do, Frankie?” you ask in a quiet voice, eyes drifting to the remains of the bike.

“We hike, we’re about two hours on foot away,” he points up the trail you’d been on with the bike, a sparse forest around you. “This trail connects with the trail that leads up to the waterfall, we’ll come down the back way to the cabin.” He hoists his backpack up and you copy him, settling it on your back.

“I really hope Pope is there with Lucía, and Will and Benny too,” you mumble, as he takes your hand again, his gun in the other, and starts walking up the trail.

“Yeah, me too, cariño, I sure as fuck hope they all got out.”

The hike is quiet, no people, no infected. The trees give you shade even though the late September sun isn’t very warm. You stop along the way to drink and fill your water bottles, the ice cold water in the stream reminding you of your trip to the waterfall on the Fourth of July. It seems surreal that the world, where a trip like that was possible, could crumble in all but twenty four hours. You have so many questions to ask of Frankie but he’s on high alert, his eyes swinging back and forth through the trees, his grip on your hand tight, you daren’t say anything until he seems to sense your mood and looks over at you.

“We’re almost there, hermosa,” he stops and puts his hand on your cheek, “are you tired?”

“Yeah, but probably no worse than you,” you lean into his touch, closing your eyes briefly.

“We’ll rest and take stock at the cabin, sleep there tonight before we decide on our next move, try to figure out what the hell is happening too.” His thumb strokes across your cheek, brushing over your bottom lip and for a moment his eyes soften, his face turning into that warm, sweet smile you’ve always loved him for. It’s only for a moment, something rustles the leaves above you and his gaze snaps up, on high alert again.

“Let’s keep moving,” he says, taking your hand again and moving down the trail.

….

It takes another half an hour for you to reach the cabin but as you approach, you wince, there are no cars or trucks parked up front, no dirt bike either. But as you get closer you can see the tracks from one at least, a sign that Pope has been here.

Frankie approaches slowly, telling you to hang back, hiding behind a tree. Nervously you watch him approach the porch and the front door. He slowly pushes down the handle, finding it locked. There’s a key box hidden under the porch, a code needed to open it, and Frankie quickly puts it in and finds the front door key inside.

Quietly he unlocks the door and motions for you to come to him. You walk across the grass as silently as you can, Frankie’s finger is over his lips. Motioning for you to wait by the door, your gun out, Frankie carefully ventures inside. He moves through the familiar surroundings, checking the kitchen and the three bedrooms before coming back to you.

“It’s empty, no one is here,” he sighs. “No sign of anyone else.”

Chapter 13

Taglist: @pimosworld @i-own-loki @casa-boiardi @littlenosoul @stormseyer @mxtokko @javicstories

182 notes · View notes

elfqueen006 · 7 months

Text

The Lifeguard part 3

Sunny Day Jack x Reader

---

Tags/CW: summer camp au, camp counselor au, horror, slasher, rivals to lovers. Angst. Humor. Murder. Graphic violence.

Minors DNI

“The new food isn’t bad, but I really don’t get the appeal of changing a brand that’s been fine on its own for decades,” Jack said, twisting one of his fries between his thumb and forefinger.

You put a massive glob of ketchup on your burger, “You really can’t chalk it up to anything other than making money,” You said. You take a big bite out of your burger, excess grease and condiment remaining on your lips as you messily chew and swallow before wiping your mouth, “Speaking’ of which… how much do I owe you for the meal?”

Jack waved you off, “No charge.”

“Don’t gimme that – I’ve got more than enough-”

“I don’t need it.”

You stare at him a moment before shrugging, “Whatever. I’m fuckin’ starving.”

“Don’t exaggerate,” Jack said.

“No really,” You replied, taking another bite of your burger, “I skipped breakfast.”

“Why would you do that?”

You shrug, “Couldn’t eat. I texted Skylar all last night and I still haven’t heard back,” The warmth drains from Jack’s cheeks and the feeling of lead weighs on his chest.

He wets his suddenly dry lips, “Really?”

“Really,” You then scowled,” I know the bitch sees my texts though because she leaves me on ‘read’.”

Bile rises in the mascots’ throat. And he doesn’t know if it’s because of how casually you can call someone you deemed a friend a ‘bitch’. Or if it’s because he’s the reason you’re feeling so bitterly. Skylar wasn’t the one who left you on read, he did. Why did he have to go through her phone?! But in hindsight he supposed that this wasn’t entirely a bad thing. This gave you the impression Skylar was alive and well. Though he didn’t know how well someone could be after being found out you screwed someone else's boyfriend, but hey, he could probably assume if she were alive, she’d feel very guilty.

But Jack knows he’s being too quiet and asks to appear inconspicuous, “Have you heard from Ian at least?”

You shake your head, your frown deepening, “He isn’t even reading his texts…”

“You have any idea where they went? Or where they would go?”

“Nope.”

He sighs, letting disappointment seep into his features. Some of it is real. He’s disappointed this all had happened. It doesn’t even seem real, this past week. He’s hoping by tomorrow, he’ll wake up and Skylar will be smiling at him as she leads the kids on a trail to the ziplines, or that Ian will be trying his best to rangle his group in until you come in and his face turns red at the sight of you in the lifeguard’s leotard…

You’re swirling a fry in a pool of ketchup when you say, “I hope they’re dead…”

Jack choked on his drink, “What? ”

“You heard me.”

Jack ran a hand down his face, “No… no you don’t, Y/N.”

You hum, “Kind of,”

“No."

After a moment of silence you spoke, “I still can't believe it. Ian… you know we went to elementary school together. Since then we’ve been inseparable. And he’s never lied to me!” You slumped back in your chair, looking up at the fluorescent lights in the ceiling. “When he and Skylar met at that…fancy acting school I felt something in my gut telling me it wasn’t right but I just chalked it up as petty jealousy… How could he do that to me?”

Suddenly Jack feels as if he's the one who’d been cheated on. All this time he thought he had a chance with Skylar, but she had her eyes on someone else. Someone taken no less. He lets out a forlorn sigh. You shake your head and lean on the table, “Sorry. I know you liked Skylar so… this probably makes you feel pretty shit too.” You said.

“It’s fine,” Jack replied, smiling softly, “It’s not your fault.”

—

On your way to the campsite, little to no words were exchanged. You leaned over, resting your arm on the side door. You watched the buildings and civilization pass you by. It was like leaving your world behind, never having been much of an outdoorsy person.

Jack advised you to strap in, but of course, you hadn't listened.

“It isn’t that long a drive,” You said. “And the car doesn't even have a roof so I don’t know how much safer we’d be in seatbelts…”

As you said that, the car hits a hump in the road. You jolt in your seat and catch yourself on Jack’s forearm. “You were saying?” He said.

“Heh…”

You pushed yourself upright, but a hand lingered on Jack’s arm. It was surprisingly firm and toned. With a decent amount of hair. They always looked so plush from afar, especially with all the hugging he’d do. He was a big teddy bear to everyone he met. Well, everyone except you.

“Y/N…”

You blinked out of your thoughts, his arm flexed as you subconsciously squeezed it. You retracted your hand, “My bad, you've got a lot of muscle for a mascot.” You said, chuckling slightly.

Jack gave you a look. You put your hands up in defense, "Not trying to sound weird! It's just that, I dunno… I didn't expect a guy of your…position… to work out like that or anything…"

He turned his attention to the road once more, thumping his fingers on the steering we'll.

"...I did some jobs back in the city before this." He said.

"What kind of jobs?" You asked.

"Moving. Heavy lifting. That sort of thing…"

You simply hum in reply before looking back out at the fields. Crossing a certain point in the road you spot the shed and point at a familiar figure, "Hey, isn't that Bill?"

Jack's head just about snaps off his neck as he spots the head counselor looking around the shed. Bill spots you two in the Moke and beckons the driver over. Instead, Jack speeds up and continues towards the campsite.

You brace yourself in your seat, "H-Hey! What's your rush?"

"I'm just trying to get you to camp safely." Jack replied. His eyes were erratic.

"I appreciate that, but didn't Bill need you or something? It could've been important!"

"Just let me do this very quickly!"

Soon enough, you made it to the campsite; Jack making a hasty pull over as you stumbled out of the cart.

"Um, thanks. For the free food and everything." You said. Jack grunts a reply and speeds off in a cloud of dust. You sigh. That guy is truly a piece of work.

Jack's stomach churns when he drives back to the shed. He pulls up on the grass. He hops out of the vehicle and strides up to Bill with a practiced and fight smile. The old man has his arms folded with a stern look on his face.

"Just what was that earlier? I know you saw me!" Bill scolded.

Jack rubbed the back of his neck, an easygoing yet guilty look on his face, "Sorry, sir. But it was so late out now that I wanted to make sure Y/N got back safe." He said.

Bill's brows raised in surprise, "You were out with Y/N ?" He asked.

"Just for a bite to eat," Jack replied, "She didn't like what the cafeteria had and it turns out she skipped breakfast so…" He shrugged, doing his best to seem like the well meaning boy scout persona he built up for the past five years.

Bill however, didn't seem so convinced. A subtle smirk in his features. The implications made Jack a bit sick.

"You watch yourself now, Jack," He said, "the girl is taken after all."

Was.

Jack waved his hands defensively, "I-it's not like that at all sir! I was just doing a favor. It's not good for the counselors to go unfed as well as the kids!"

"Mmmhm. What'd I say? She's growing on you!"

Jack rolled his eyes. "What was it you wanted to see me about..?"

Bill snapped his fingers, "Ah," He led the young man back around the shed. He gestured to a long mound of dirt. Jack's palms sweat inside his gloves.

"W-what is it?" Jack asked.

"No idea… it certainly wasn't here before," Bill replied, "I came up here to put away the last of supplies."

"How'd you find it..?"

“I remembered I sent Ian and Sky up here. They didn’t show after that. I thought if I looked around here I’d find something they left or…” His voice trails off and he shrugs. Jack stares intently at the mound. Almost hoping that if he stared hard enough, he could will it away, or maybe cover it in grass with his mind. Of course no such thing happened.

Bill toed at the dirt with his shoes. The dirt easily moving made Jack’s heart skip. “Do you have any idea where they might’ve gone?” Jack shook his head unblinkingly.

The old man simply hummed. Then he knelt down and dug his hand in the soil. Jack’s eyes widened, grabbing him by the shoulder. “Bill, I really don’t think you should do that! What if it’s an anthill or a nest of some sort?”

“I’ve been working here for twenty years and I’ve never seen a nest like this, Jack. Someone put something here…”

“Sir-”

“Go on and get me a shovel, boy.”

The words glued Jack to the spot. He couldn’t get his legs to move, because he was sure if they did, they’d take him down the road and away from the camp. Away from his life. Bill raised a brow, “Can ya hear? Go on then.”

He swallowed the lump in his throat and shook his head. Tears stung the corners of his eyes.

Bill narrowed his eyes. He got up himself and brought the shovel from the shed. He dug the blade in the soil and chucked it over his shoulder. He then dug into another chunk. And another. Until he hit something solid. Jack’s blood ran cold. He couldn’t breathe.

Bill moved the excess dirt away until he saw the familiar yellow fabric of the counselor uniform shirt.

"Wha-"

He was taken down in a blur of blue, the shovel falling out of his hands. He wrestled against Jack's strong frame, attempting to buck out of his grip. Jack's arms came up around Bill's neck in an attempt to choke him. The old man managed to maneuver his arm just a bit over his face and bit into his bicep.

Jack yelled in pain, kicking Bill off, who fell into the arms reach of the shovel. Bill looked between the weapon and his assaulter before scrambling over to it. Soft fabric took hold of his ankle in a tight grip before pulling him back and Jack crawled over to grab it.

Stumbling to their feet, Bill lunged at Jack, managing to grab ahold of the shovel neck. He attempted to wrestle the object from the larger man's grip, who never broke eye contact, his eyes bloodshot and wet with tears. Finally, with a hefty pull and shoving the old man with nothing but pure force, Jack was the one with the weapon and prepped for a swing, holding it over his shoulder.

Bill's eyes widened, "Joseph, don't-"

Jack swung and Bill's head snapped backwards with a sickening crack. He stumbled backwards, his hand grasping aimlessly for anything to keep him upright before tripping over the dirt and falling onto his back.

The former head counselors head lolled to the side. His pale blue eyes stared up at the night sky, mouth hung open; forever in a state of shock of how he ended up where he was.

Jack’s hands clenched on the shovel, trembling with irritation, fear and everything in between. He sucked in a breath and yelled at the body. He wanted to say "I warned you not to look" "I'm sorry" or "fuck you". But all that came out was a broken wail.

He kicks at its leg repeatedly, screaming. He stomps the torso. He whacks the head with the shovel, inciting another gruesome noise, likely from bones breaking and flesh ripping.

It's only until the body is contorted in a such a manner - splayed out as if there wasn't a single bone in its body - that Jack relaxes. The damage has been done. And he gets to digging, taking care to make sure the hole is deeper.

#sdj x reader #sunny day jack x mc #sunny day jack x reader #swwsdj x reader #sunny day jack #sunny day jack fanfiction #the lifeguard #horror #slasher au #summer camp au #camp counselor au #yandere #my fics

76 notes · View notes

evan4ever · 1 year

Note

Hi, please could I request an angst story about Frat Kyle x fem reader where he opens up to her and vents about his mom? thank you.

Don’t Let Me Fool You

Kyle Spencer x reader

Warnings: angst, talk about Kyle Spencer’s mom in little detail so slight hint of SA from a parent, just a sad fic for our baby Kyle

—

You gave yourself one last look in the mirror, sliding your hands over the cute dress you had picked out to wear for the party that one of your friends, Kyle, had invited you to. You went kind above and beyond to look cute, hoping to catch Kyle’s attention in a more-that-friends kind of way. You couldn’t deny that you had feelings for him, but he was so busy with his frat and college that you couldn’t ever read him, you couldn’t tell if he felt the same or not. You had high hopes that tonight, maybe he’d see you and that was all it would take.

Deciding you liked your look, you left your bedroom and walked down the academy stairs where Madison stood waiting at the bottom, arms crossed and a dissatisfied look on her face. “Took you long enough. Is that… what you’re wearing?” You instantly looked down at your dress, it was simple, black and off the shoulder long sleeve. It hugged your curves nicely, though now you were second guessing yourself at Madison’s comment.

You cleared your throat and nodded, her only scoffing lightly and nodding to the door where she began walking to. “Let’s go. We’re already late. There’s a fine line between fashionably late and just late, we’re close to that line.”

You rolled your eyes but followed behind her, getting inside the front seat of her vehicle and bucking your seatbelt while she didn’t bother to, only starting the car and heading to the party. You were always annoyed at how invincible she thought she was, because yes Madison — your tiny fragile body could absolutely withstand a couple thousand pound vehicle clashing in you. Your eyes rolled again at the thought but stayed silent for the drive. You just wanted to see Kyle, that was where your focus was.

You exited the vehicle as soon as she parked it and began for the door hearing her call after you but choosing to ignore her and make your way inside the large, loud, people filled house. You slipped past the crowds of talking people while your eyes continued scanning each group and each passing person for Kyle. Now I’m the middle of the living room and still not seeing him, to decided a drink would be nice, hopefully tend to your nerves. You made a straight shot for the table full of liquor beer and other soft drinks to mix them with, deciding on a simple vodka cran and began pouring yourself your chosen drink, not realizing the outline of the body now next to you.

“Don’t you wanna mix it up sometimes?” You jumped as you felt them talk into your ear so you could hear them, quickly turning and letting out a sigh of relief when you noticed it was Kyle. “Sorry! Didn’t mean to scare you.” He smiled putting his hands up in defense.

You were quick to return a smile and shook your head. “I love vodka crans” you shouted over the music. His smile only grew, nodding at your statement.

“Yeah they’re good, but have you tasted crown and sprite?” He encouraged as he began pouring himself a drink of what he had just said. You watched, smiling more to yourself than him, as he finished making his drink and sticking two small straws in. Your eyebrows shot up as he moved the drink to you, offering a taste. “Come on! I promise they’re good. I’d never lie to you.”

You gazed at him a moment before giving in and taking a straw in your mouth, sipping on the drink that happened to be delicious. You looked at him in amazement and he nodded proudly. You weren’t a huge drinker so you never really knew what was good and what wasn’t, something you had shared with Kyle who always insisted on you trying his to introduce you to a “whole new world” as he put it.

“That is really good!” You shouted as he brought the drink to his mouth and took his own sip, still nodding.

“Told ya. Can’t go wrong with crown.” He grinned, your head shaking at his goofiness. He was always so happy and positive, something you really enjoyed about him. “Come on! Let’s go find somewhere that’s not so loud?” He suggested and you happily obliged and followed him through the house closely in order to not lose sight of him among the many people. You had no idea where he was taking you, but you didn’t care. Anywhere with him is where you wanted to be.

He led you up the stairs where another less crowded living room was. Only the muffled sound of the music playing downstairs was heard and slight chatter among the maybe 3 other small groups that stood somewhere in the room. You already felt better and less overwhelmed and Kyle sensed your new, less tense state. He plopped himself down on the sectional couch immediately patting the spot next to him. Your cheeks quickly heated up at the gesture but you turned and sat before he could notice.

“These parties can get pretty crazy” he admitted, setting his drink on the side table. You nodded agreeing, taking a quick large sip from your cup before handing it to him to set next to his

“Yeah, I’m definitely not used to it.” You chuckled, tucking your hair behind your ears and looking around the room while Kyle watched you with a content grin.

“I’m glad you could make it. I was getting worried you were gonna bail on me.” He raised his eyebrows, nudging your side playfully. You giggled lightly and nudged his arm away playfully in return.

“I’d never bail on you!” You squeaked, acting offended he’d ever say such a thing. His hands shot up once again in defense before dropping and shooting you a happy smile. You tilted your head so you could see him better, returning the smile. “Promise you can always count on me.”

His smile dropped slightly at your words and you wondered if you said something wrong, clearing your throat and looking away from him. “I mean.. I just..” you began stuttering for a way to save yourself wondering what you should’ve said instead. “You know, as your friend. You can always count on me.” You nodded finally looking back at him as you practically friendzoned yourself. His eyes were staring at your shoulder, eye furrowed deep in a seemingly frustrating thought. You quickly furrowed your own in concern, lowering your head to meet his eyes in an attempt to bring him back to earth. “Are you alright?” You whispered out. “I mean… did I say something wrong?” You finally asked.

His eyes flickered from your shoulder to meet your own eyes and his eyebrows shot up as he realized he had zoned out for a moment, quickly shaking his head. “No. No! Not at all” he grinned again and you took a breath in and let it out in a relieved sigh. “Sorry. I was just thinking. I have a lot going on at home.. right now.” He cleared his throat looking away from you and grabbing his drink, taking a sip from the side rather than straws, and chugging it rather than a sip. Once it was empty, he sat it back down and let out a chuckle.

You only watched with wide eyes as he finished his what was once full drink in one go, now wondering what was heavy on his mind. You had a mental argument with yourself on whether you should ask or not, worrying he’d feel uncomfortable but worrying about his own well-being.

“Are you.. is everything.. okay?” You stuttered your sentences again but held the question firmly, gazing at him while his face scrunched up and softened before smiling again.

“Yeah yeah. No everything’s fine. Great, really.” He nodded answering your question, though very unconvincing. He was no longer meeting your eyes and you couldn’t take yours off him.

“Kyle..” you sighed quietly, “hey, you can talk to me. Really. If you want. I’m here for you.” You assured him, urging him to continue if he wanted. His body tensed up at your words and you watched as he looked around scanning the few people in the room, your eyes following his in wonder.

“Not here” he sighed out, standing up and turning to you, extending a hand to help you up. You took it and he pulled you from the couch, handing you your drink and giving you a weak, noticeable nervous smile. You decided to stay silent and let him lead you where he wanted, wanting him ti be comfortable if he decided he wanted to open up to you.

He led you down the hall and into a bedroom, closing the door and locking it. Your eyebrows furrowed at the action now getting a little nervous yourself. Not at Kyle’s intentions with you but about what was on his mind that was so big that he wanted not a single soul to hear him when he told you. You stood off to the side and only kept your curious eyes on him while he leaned against the door, his eyes closed and head up towards the ceiling. He opened them a moment later and let his head fall to the side to look at you, sending you a tight lipped smile.

“I uh, I don’t know how.. I mean.. we should sit.” He pushed himself from the door and sat on the nicely made bed, you following and sitting next to him and resting your hands on your thighs, looking down at them waiting for him to start. He let out a breathless chuckle, your head turning to him and your eyes landing on his face while he looked around the room. “You probably don’t need to know this and I’d really hate to put a weight on your shoulders.” He nodded, avoiding your gaze.

“Hey.. I meant what I said back there.” Your hand reached out of instinct and rested on one of his, his eyes falling on them and holding his gaze there. “You can tell me anything. I’m here for you Kyle.” When he said nothing and you could see how nervous, scared even, he was, it only worried you further. “Please, talk to me?”

He blinked a few times to keep his tears back, finally letting out a forced cough and looking away from your hands and to the window. You stayed quiet allowing him to collect and ready himself to open up. He knew he was about to tell you the biggest secret of his life, not necessarily his, but his moms that he had to keep. It scared him to think of how you might react, but he trusted you, and he trusted that you were there for him like you had said.

“My mom…” he lets out an awkward cough again and clears his throat, “my mom does things…” he turned his face towards you, his eyes meeting yours. You instantly realized he was holding back tears and quickly moved towards him, taking him into your arms, him allowing himself to fall into your embrace and wrapping his own arms around you, his head falling into the crook of your neck. You held so much worry at this moment that whatever you decided to do you didn’t question. You knew he needed you, and he needed this. “She does things to me.” He finished his sentence and you immediately tended up at his confession, your stomach turning with the realization of what he’s meaning and making you want to throw up, though you contained yourself and held him tighter instead while your mind replayed the words he said over again in your mind. Your eyes settled on the dresser as you sat holding him and wondering how to comfort him correctly.

You heard him sniffle and shake his head against your neck.

“She.. she does whatever she wants to me and I can’t stop her.” He let out a loud uncontrolled sob, now pulling away from you. You quickly grabbed his face before he could move too far and made him look at you, not hiding the concern and worry your face held.

“Kyle…” you breathed out and shook your head. “Kyle no, no you can stop her. You can. You don’t have to allow her to do anything to you.”

“I can’t.” He shook his head and pulled away from you, standing and pacing back and forth in the room, his hands running through his hair while you sat and watched. “I can’t. She’s.. shes my mom you know?” He laughed harshly at his own words. “She loves me and I would hurt her if I made her stop. I just let her do it and wait for it to be over. I’m not a bad guy, I swear.” He defended himself and your eyes widened when you realized he was worried that you’d think he actually liked it or wanted it or engaged in it.

“No you’re not. You’re not a bad person at all Kyle but you don’t have to keep letting it happen.” You said now standing and facing him, attempting to take ahold of his shoulders but he only pulled himself a way again and moved away from you. Your eyebrows dropped at his action. “It doesn’t make you a bad person to not want someone to misuse you.” You said slowly, hoping you could gain his trust again. He looked over at you, his eyes red and his hair messy. You could tell from where you were that he was sweating from being so worked up.

“She’s my mom.” He stated again but you shook your head and took a step closer and standing in place sure not to get too close yet. He was so scared and flustered right now, the last thing he needed was you to be overbearing. He was trusting you with this information even though it scares the hell out of him.

“Doesn’t matter. She’s not allowed to hurt you. Touching you and doing inappropriate things to you is hurting you, Kyle.”

“She’s my mom!” He repeated himself louder now in her defense. You understood that he felt obligated to defend her but it was only hurting your heart more. You knew you needed to tell him in a way that wouldn’t make her a bad person either, even though she was. She was still his mom, and he loved her even though she was fucking him up.

“Okay” you put your hands up in defense now and he took notice in it, his eyes meeting yours again. “You’re right. She is your mom. But Kyle.. this isn’t normal, okay? Your mom needs help too, just like you do for her doing these things to you. A mom shouldn’t want to do them to her child, right?” You asked hopeful and he slowly nodded, you nodding with him. “Yes. Right. So you have put your foot down in order for her to get the help she needs. Or you have to go to someone to get the help for her. Is that.. I can help you, if you let me.”

He looked away from you as his mind thought over what you’d just said. He of course knew deep down that what his mother was doing to him wasn’t okay, he he didn’t know what to do. If he helped himself, it would hurt her, and he didn’t want to hurt his own mother even though she was hurting him. It was brutal battle inside his own mind that he fought every single day.

“There’s no way to do it without people finding out.” He spoke lowly still looking away from you, your head tilting wondering what he was meaning. “I’ve built a life for myself. I’m a good kid, a great student and athlete. I mean what if getting her help ruins all of that for me!” You jumped back as he grabbed the trophy that was set on the dresser and threw it hard on the ground out of anger and hurt, the trophy breaking with a loud thud. You swallowed hard and looked back up to him. He stood now with both of his hands on his face as he completely broke down, sinking to the floor.

You slowly took a few steps towards him and lowered yourself to your knees, resting a gentle hand on his back in an attempt to comfort him. He sobbed some more and you just let him, knowing he needed to feel this to get through it. Coming to terms with knowing you need to do something if you want it to stop is a hard barrier to get over, and that’s what he was doing. The best thing you could do for him was be there while he felt it.

“God this is so..” he shook his head that was in his arms that were resting on his knees, “so fucking stupid. I can’t believe she would do this to me. I can’t believe I’ve let her for so long.”

“Why have you?” You whispered out genuinely curious and hoping he didn’t take offense to your question. When he didn’t raise his head or even move, you sighed believing you weren’t going to get an answer and deciding it was best not to pry.

“I’m moving after this year of college. I was gonna leave her and hopefully never see her again and forget all about it. But it’s hard to forget what it’s been your entire life.”

You looked down at him in surprise when he answered you, blinking a few times and nodding, rubbing his back some more. “It’s never a bad thing to seek therapy. We all need it sometimes.” You spoke gently and he finally moved his head to the side to allow himself to look at you. You could tell how swollen his eyes were already, your hand moving to caress the side of his face. He smiled lightly at your kindness, his head falling into your gentle hand. “You are not weak if you go to someone who can help you heal. It’s probably the second strongest thing you could do.”

“What’s the first?” He questioned, now sitting upright so he was level with you. You didn’t bother moving, allowing yourself to be close to him so he could really see how genuine you were being. Your head tilted to the side as your hand continued caressing his cheek in comfort.

“Making sure she doesn’t hurt you anymore.”

—

@evanpetersmood @witchsbitchestime @demxnicprxncess @yes-divine-ruler @shjjpm @evanpsrealwife @iruzias @jangsuzchap

254 notes · View notes

goldribboncottage · 5 months

Text

Hazel Callahan Fanfiction, Part 2

Continuation of the first part! Hazel and reader go to the bar. Again I do not know how to use tumblr so I don’t know how to like make a link for the first part but it’s on my page. Enjoy!!! I think the next part is aalllll Hazel POV.

You haven’t seen Hazel all day. You had planned to ask her about a ride as soon as you saw her, but you weren’t even sure she was in town, let alone the house. You entered the screening room, resolving to stay home and use Hazel’s absence as an excuse. Your night would consist of you, a giant bowl of popcorn, and cheesy romcoms. Instead you find her, bundled up in one of the giant recliners, an 80s movie playing.

“Oh- hey! Sorry, I didn’t know you were in here. I can go.”

“No, no” She sits up. “Stay. I’ve seen this a million times. I can go.”

“Have you been in here all day?”

“Um, yeah, actually. I was the one who wanted to turn this room into a screening room. It was just an unfinished basement when we moved in. It’s usually where I hang out.” She explained.

“Oh. That’s really cool! I was actually looking for you earlier- my friends are going out tonight and I wondered if you’d give me a ride?” You felt awkward asking a near stranger this “Well actually I guess, your friends, you’ve known them longer. Brittany and PJ? And some other girls too? I promised B I would go, and she wants you there too. They all do. We all do”

Hazel smiles, laughing at your discomfort. You didn’t notice her dimples yesterday but they’re on full display now.

“Yeah, I’ll drive you, but you have to give me that popcorn. House rules” She jumps up and grabs and handful.

“No wait! It has peanut M&Ms! Are you allergic? Oh god please don’t be allergic.”

“Y/N. Chill. No allergies here. I’m a big girl. You’re my sisters nanny, not mine.” She smirks, taking an M&M and catching it in her mouth. “So when is this thing? Do I have time to finish my movie? Or do you want to start a new one?”

“You can finish it, I’m gonna go get ready. Meet me at the front door at 8?”

“Yeah” She bows awkwardly at you, presenting you to the door. You laugh at her and leave, heading upstairs to get ready.

You were so fucked. You didn’t know this girl existed a few days ago, and now you’re basically drooling over her dancing at the bar.

Hazel looked good. Really good. She wore straight leg leather pants and an oversized green sweater tonight, her hair fluffy and flying wildly as she jumped around.

When she greeted you at the door earlier you were thrown off by how attractive she was. God, she looked good. She played music you had never heard but enjoyed on the drive over. You didn’t talk but she glanced over at you a couple times. You didn’t know what she thought of you yet. Hazel was hard to read, but she seemed friendly.

The air is heavy at Bottoms tonight. The lights shine purple-pink on the dance floor and light up Hazel’s laughing face. You caught yourself staring again and turned around in your stool, ordering another vodka cranberry. It was going to be difficult to shake off this feeling and keep things professional. PJ slides up next to you and tries out another pick up line.

“Hey Y/N, is it hot in here or is it just you?” She wiggles her eyebrows and smirks.

“It’s definitely you PJ, I’ve been waiting so long for this to happen.” You slide out of your stool and step closer to her. “I can’t believe tonight’s the night I finally realized”

She’s frozen where she stands, looking terrified. “Realized… what?”

“That you’ve got absolutely no game, and I’m surprised you still try.” You brushed past her and went to join your friends on the dance floor.

Brittany smiles and wraps you in a hug. Isabel and Josie were dancing together near the group but clearly in their own world. Hazel nods in greeting, going back to dancing.

Her dancing style was definitely different than anything you had ever seen. She looked so comfortable with herself yet her movements were awkward. Snapping her fingers, bopping her head. Somehow she made it work though. It was endearing.

Isabel had managed to wander off and bring back green tea shots for the group. Hazel looked starstruck when you made eye contact with her as you took yours. It was your fifth, maybe sixth drink of the night. It had been a while since you’d gone out and sleep regression with the babies made a rough work week for you.

Feeling bolder, or maybe just drunker, you grabbed Hazel’s hand and started to move with her. She seemed uncomfortable at first so you dropped it, but she quickly picked it back up and showed you how to do her little dances. It was silly. You danced the night away, drinking and laughing with your friends.

At least that’s what you remember. Hazel tells you a different story when you wake up the next morning.

#hazel callahan x reader #hazel callahan #bottoms movie #hazel bottoms #bottoms fanfiction

46 notes · View notes

vroomlesbianvroom · 7 months

Text

If the Wizarding World had Ofsted, Hogwarts would have been closed down in at least Harry’s first year.

Also, either Dumbledore was in fact manipulative and the mastermind behind almost everything wrong in Harry Potter or he’s senile as fuck. Either way he never should have been Headmaster.

Every single year this man is mentally deranged at that school, he should have been fired in first year at least. (I go into more detail if you click read more).

Philosopher’s Stone

He has Hagrid introduce Harry to the wizarding world - normally it’s a Head of House - Hagrid then very suspiciously collects the Stone (he must have known Hagrid was not the man to be subtle here)

He makes a big spectacle of not going to the third floor corridor - he could have just said it’s closed this year and put some wards up to stop children but in fact all he did was lock the door and then teach them how to unlock it

Students must not go into the Forbidden forest at any time unless it’s a punishment in which we’ll send you with just Hagrid and then you’ll split into groups anyway. What a smart idea

How did no one notice that Voldemort was on the back of Quirrells head? You’re telling the best wizard in the world couldn’t work it out

Three first years managed to get past that little questy maze but it was supposed to stop one of the strongest wizards in the world

Speaking of the maze, it’s all things that they’re good at or have learnt - Devils Snare, chess, the troll they’ve already caught, flying, and a little riddle - Voldemort definitely couldn’t get passed those everyone knows the Dark Lord is shit at chess

When Harry has just killed a man, Dumbledores like it was love. No that is a traumatised child.

Chamber of Secrets

Not a single teacher (or any of her four brothers) noticed that Ginny was possessed for almost an entire year

Some creature is going around and petrifying students and the teachers only plan is to set a curfew and cancel quidditch

Hermione Granger, a twelve year old, manages to work out the creature but Dumbledore can’t - the man had 50 years to work it out

Lockhart is obviously a hack and somehow gets the job anyway

Ron and Harry then manage to work out where the chamber is located but no one else can - they’re not exactly the most observant of children

Harry also talks to a diary that talks back - can someone teach these children that that’s not normal, please stop?

Prisoner of Azkaban

This is possibly the book where Dumbledore’s the best behaved

He does allow a thirteen year old to use a time turner to attend extra lessons - yeah, just let her possibly rip apart time and her own existence that’ll be fine

He also must know that Sirius is innocent and does nothing to help him

They also continue doing quidditch even with the soul sucking creatures floating above them

You need a parental consent form to go to Hogsmede but not to fly on a broom and be around deadly soul sucking creatures that makes complete sense

With the ministry they put dementors in a school full of children but they don’t continue looking after the year ends

Goblet of Fire

This has to be Dumbledore’s worst year

Harry gets signed up to the deadly tournament without his consent and they don’t even really try to get him out - I refuse to believe that a minor could sign a legally binding contract without any form of consent - I also refuse to believe that someone else can get you in a legally binding contract

If they could, why didn’t they just do that with Voldemort

Dumbledore doesn’t notice that his old friend is acting a little bit strange and is in fact a death eater in disguise

You’re telling me Harry can’t go to Hogsmede without the Dursley’s permission but can enter a deadly contest Willy nilly

He allows minors to be fight dragons, be tied to the bottom of a lake and be teleported to Voldemort without even trying - no one checked the cup before putting in the maze

Moody is allowed to teach the unforgivables to children and practise one on them

Order of the Phoenix

This year he’s not awful just a prick

Voldemorts back and Harry’s having creepy nightmares/visions and Dumbledore just keeps running away - just talk to the boy

How did no one in that school notice that Umbridge was using a blood quill on students - how shit are these teachers

Please just explain to Harry’s what going on - this is what we’ve been building up to this whole time

Half Blood Prince

This is when he fully stops caring about any student other than Harry

He knows the whole time that Dracos been forced to take the dark mark and has to kill him and he doesn’t even try and help the boy

He knows he’s dying and gives Harry very little information about the Horcruxs and also uses him to find out information about how many there were

He knows Harry’s a horcrux the entire time and just doesn’t mention it coz he needs Harry to die when the times right

Dumbledore is either mental and needs a hug-me jacket or he’s evil and needs to stay away from children. He could have prevented so much pain and suffering. He could have stopped Tom Riddle from becoming Voldemort in the first place.

He grooms Harry to fight Voldemort and die when the times right and doesn’t even seem to care. Right when Harry needs him, he’s no where to be found.

This is only what we know from Harry’s perspective I imagine it’s a lot worse from everyone else’s.

#harry potter #anti dumbledore #dumbledore slander #anti jkr #fuck jkr

58 notes · View notes

kore-links · 2 months

Text

So anyways I’m making my own links meet au

Here are the designs! I’ll go onto more depth about my AU if someone asks but it’s called kore links Teheheh

First: strong headed confident leader (most of the time at least) who’s loyal to a fault with a ‘no funny business’ attitude. Try’s his best to keep the rest of them in check in his own way. Keeps his secrets to himself and himself alone.

Twilight: a kindhearted farmer who despite his looks is an absolute sweetie. He’s the one who actually keeps everyone in check and is like an older brother figure to all of them. Many sleepless nights have been had via nightmares from his adventures and a longing feeling that there’s still a bit of her out there.

Kore/koreidi: a so named high priest/priestess of farore aiding the group on their quest with strange magic and odd abilities. It’s quite odd how she knows everything about everyone else but nobody knows a smidge about them or his past, Half of the time the links don’t even know if they’re traveling with the same person or not. They’re quite rambunctious and eager to see the world but also focused on the task ahead like the sands of time are slipping away from her…odd isn’t it?

Warriors:a level headed captain of the royal army who also just so happens to be second in command to the tallest and the oldest. Cocky at times as a front to others to hide the fact that he HATES how he looks, Not because he’s ugly, but because he’s the reason a war started in the first place. Will never show it but he is one flirt or cat fight away from flying off the handle. All in all he’s a good leader when he needs to be.

Sky: the sleepiest hero by far and surprisingly the one with the most education experience. In by no means should you take him for granted in any way, he may like a nap but his sword skills are unmatched even by the standards of the very first hero! Quite sassy when needed but kind and courageous! The core of what a hero should be!

Wild: a quiet yet resourceful person who tries to not think about his life before the calamity , but it’s always lurking in his mind and there’s always an urge to find links to his past (AHaHAHA). He lost his arm after his last adventure, however purah did find some spare shikah tech that they hadn’t destroyed to make a new arm for him! He’s very close to his zelda and gets insecure talking about his scars. He doesn’t know why, he can hardly remember how he got them. Guess it’s just another reminder of how he failed.

Hyrule: The sassiest hero by far! He’s somehow a hoarder and has nothing on him at the same time. However sassy he may be his resourcefulness is absolutely what makes him such a good fighter! He’s great at puzzles and surprisingly is one of the more strategic links when it comes to dungeons! He’s also quite the magic user- but prefers to keep that hidden! If they ever knew about the fairy thing…yikes!

Wind: a fun loving pirate who loves his family dearly and is better on water than land. As much as a goofball he might seem his big brother attitude and his brave nature makes him a force to be reckoned with! Also surprisingly an astronomer at heart! All in all a brave young hero with the courage of someone 100x his size!

Time: a mischievous little creature who’s main goals are to prank steal and prank more. Despite this however he’s a sweet boy who’s willing to help his friends no matter what. He’s a little confused on his age at the moment but he’s sure he’ll figure it out…eventually! As chaotic as he is he loves giving justice to those who deserve it and will do exactly that!

Ravio: the definition of “I got lost but I’m not complaining”. Ravio is a random researcher kore/koridi found who tagged along in their search for the heroes. He’s a shy man who is a coward of cowardice was a human but when it comes to those he loves a bit of courage seeps through him (though he is practically useless when it comes to fighting). Ravio is, as kore puts it : “a purple deku nut who’s either as brave as a lion or as oblivious as a rock” endearingly of corse

#links meet au #link #kore links #omg I’m so nervous #digital art #so scketchy Ik don’t mind it #I still need to make banner/cover art for this comic lol

27 notes · View notes

klaineccfanficlibrary · 4 months

Note

hii do you have any fics where kurt has to fight for / woo blaine after a fight/breakup/conflict ?

HI - we have so many great reconciliation or reunion fics that have been written. I can't always remember which are Kurt trying to woo back Blaine, but here are some examples which I hope are what you are looking for. ~Jen

Passed down like folk songs by dizzywhizz

A story of Kurt growing up, meeting his best friend and losing him and finding him again, discovering himself in the process.

~~~~~

A Song For Cordelia by MelissaMotown [PDF] [EPUB]

Kurt never called Blaine after the break up, despite Isabelle’s advice. It was not out of spite, or because he didn’t believe she was right, but because his heart didn’t know how to forgive. Five years later, when their paths cross once more, Kurt and Blaine decides to be friends again - just friends. But where the heart goes, the man follows…

Part Two: One of the Good Guys [PDF] [EPUB]

Part Three: Carry Me Home (never completed) [PDF] [EPUB]

~~~~~

A Week in the Hamptons by Afvampd Read at: [PDF] [EPUB]

Faced with a “live or die” situation in his career, Kurt Hummel, a small fashion designer in New York City, decides to take a breather and escape the city for a week in a retreat organized by his best friend. Thinking he has left his nightmare behind, he heads to Southampton, but what awaits him there is a far bigger nightmare; the love of his life who broke his heart 6 years ago. One week stuck in the same house, will Kurt regret having left the city, or is this nightmare really a blessing in disguise?

~~~~~

The Luckiest by wordplay

Blaine broke Kurt’s heart 3 months before high school graduation. Now, four years later, their group of friends reunites at a lake house to marry off two of their own. With luck, Kurt and Blaine will also be able to finally mend something that’s stayed broken for far too long.

~~~~~

Someone Like You by @iconicklaine

Kurt and Blaine keep up their very own version of “When Harry Met Sally” for years, a friendship fraught with sexual tension and longing, until the agendas of Adele (yes, THE Adele), a bored NY socialite and a super-sweet hetero couple bring our boys together. The only problem is… they’re both in committed relationships.

~~~~~

It’s A Wonderful Life by DireDyre

Kurt never forgave Blaine for cheating, they never got back together, they moved on, married other people, started other families but ten-years-later when Rachel invites them to a party they realize they never moved on at all.

~~~~~

Since Sense Sensory by @gleefulpoppet

One rainy night, nestled at a patio table of a small café, Kurt broke off his engagement with Blaine in a moment of heated frustration that had been building for weeks. That was 12 years ago, and they haven’t seen each other since. Suddenly, they may find themselves reunited in a place they never expected. If you had a second chance with your first love, would you take it?

~~~~~

Stick Season by BlurglesmurfKlaine @jinglejavey

After Finn dies, Kurt leaves everything he knows behind without a trace. His hometown, his family, his boyfriend. When his dad has a medical scare, he returns to Lima, one year after breaking Blaine’s heart with no explanation.

A non-chronological series of one shots and drabbles set in this universe. Based on the Stick Season album by Noah Kahan

~~~~~

With Every Broken Bone by @spaceorphan18

After finding that living together is proving to be too difficult, Kurt Hummel breaks off his engagement, and finds himself alone in the city that summer. As his life heads in a new direction, Kurt's forced to look back at the past, and re-examine his future, where he learns a little about himself, a lot about love, and that second chances are always a possibility.

Set at the end of season 5, a canon-compliant story that examines the question -- What was Kurt's journey between season 5 and season 6?

~~~~~

Hush, Hush The world is Quiet by starsandcologne

AU Prompt: “Have you noticed how exhausting it’s been ever since you moved back in?” Blaine’s ears rang. But instead of reacting in anger that night he just quietly apologies to Kurt ending the argument. After that Blaine becomes a virtual ghost in their apartment. Its not that hard considering he’s had plenty of practice growing up. It just hurts that his Dad was right all along about him being a nuisance. Luckily he knows how to fix it. Live by the motto “Don’t be seen, don’t be heard.”

~~~~~

Reprise by Calliope_Melpomene Read at: [PDF]

During Kurt’s senior year at NYADA, a life-changing event causes him to take a leave of absence and what was supposed to be a short stay turns into years. His life certainly isn’t what he expected, but he’s not exactly unhappy. His name is not lit up in lights on Broadway, but he’s involved in community theater and LGBTQ groups in Columbus and has friends who love him and casual lovers. But turning 35 has made him restless and he’s longing for the life he had before. Burt talks him into taking some classes at Ohio State University to finish his degree and start focusing on himself again. What Kurt finds on the OSU campus is much more than he bargained for.

#klaine fanfiction #fic finder #reconciliation #reunion fic

33 notes · View notes

heartfullofleeches · 2 years

Note

howdy, can i request yandere exorciste x ghoul(the mythologic one not the anime xd) reader? btw i luv your blog, keep it up 👍

Yandere male x gn Ghoul Reader

Word count:1.5k

Warning: animal death

“This the place?”

The air is heavy with the smell of smoke; embedded in the seats of a yellow car stopped on a desolate road. The engine remains stationary, ready to peel out of there as soon as possible. A single bill of currency slides between the gas separating the front and back compartments.

“Yes, thank you. Keep the change.”

The passenger exits the vehicle as soon as a hand tugs on the other side of the paper. It speeds off before the door handle can click shut; leaving the man in a cloud of smog on an already foggy night. Brief case in hand, he faces the building behind him. A two story house; lone on its block – cut from the outside world by steel gates and walls of stone. A winding path creates a further difference, green fields covering the plot. The man presses a button on a panel at the front gate, alarm buzzing before there’s a click- and someone speaks.

“Hello?”

“Good evening. I’m Johann David, here for the -"

“Yes, I know. I’ll let you in.”

The gate pops open without so much as a creak. Johann enters and begins his journey up the hill. The concrete is wet; grass freshly watered. Patches of dead earth were sprinkled through the field. No light left the house except for ones on its porch and from the window closest to the door. Johann knocks, door opening a crack as an eye peers out at him. The home owner looks him up and down as if assuming he wasn’t who he claimed, before deciding he seemed fine and pulling the door open fully.

A man stand at the door, face grim and eyes heavy with lack of sleep. A woman clings onto his arm, just as exhausted – if not closer to passing out right there. They both look to the man at their door, trying to keep their eyes from the scar that peaked from his collar.

“Thank you for coming, Father. We didn’t know who else to call.”

Johann flashes a reassuring smile. “It may be for the best. May I enter?”

The couple stands aside and allow him to come inside. Each holds a flashlight in hand.

“If you don’t mind me asking, why are all the lights out?”

“It… doesn’t like the light. It moves around a lot more when they’re off. You should be able to hear it better… Can we walk while we talk?”

“Certainly..” Johann joins the pair in walking down the nearby corridor. “So what makes you believe that this is something that requires my… area of expertise?”

“We’ve seen it before.. It’s not like any beast we’ve ever seen. It’s almost.. human.”

“And why didn’t you call law enforcements first?”

“We tried.. At first they didn’t listen, and when they did they left us on our own.”

“Can you describe what it looks like?”

“It's so fast I could barely catch a glimpse. It has grey skin… These.. black teeth. It lets out a terrible snarl. Oh god.. Our daughter used to feed the small animals that crossed our land, and we havent seen any in weeks. ”

The woman breaks down crying, her husband soon to comfort. In the time, Johann surveys the walls they past. Floral wallpaper was home to many forms of art. Framed china, small statues, vintage paintings. One sticks out to him amongst the others. A hand painting of a small family consisting of a father, mother and their young son. The parents hold pastured smiles while the boy's lips remained thin. He seemed to be looking elsewhere – far beyond the painting. A blue ring hung around his ring finger, few sizes too big for his hand.

“Where did you get this?” He questions.

“Huh? Oh, we found it in the attic. I guess the past owners left it behind.”

“I see..”

“We’re here…”

The group finally reach their destination. A wooden door when an aged handle, standing at the end of the hall. The husband passes his flashlight off to Johann, his eyes never meeting his – afraid of the reality they’d face if he didn’t return. Fearing the guilt of leaving another man to die.

“There’s a window down there, but use this if you need it… For our safety, we will lock the door after you go down there. We hope you understand. “

“I do.”

He unlocks the door; foul smell blowing from the depths below. They all recoil from it – the scent of rot and death. Taking his final breath of fresh air, Johann takes his first steps into the basement. He hears the turn of a lock behind him, taking more without a second thought. His eyes adjust to the darkness by the time he reaches the end of the stairs, clutter and debris filling his line of sight. He grips the cross around his neck and begins his search for the beast.

The area is large, made a maze by the rows of shelves blocking a clear path. Johann turns on the flashlight, keeping it low to the ground. Spots of red begin to dot the white concrete. The smell worsening with each step past them. The clashing of teeth hiss in the air. He remains unbothered; keen on finishing his mission. He comes across the window the couple spoke of, and it was there that he saw it. The creature from his dreams.

A rabbit’s blank, beady eyes stare up at him; it’s brown coat dyed in the crimson of its blood. The creature looms over, eating at its exposed organs. It’s skin was a blueish grey, clinging to the bones of it inhumanly long limbs. It’s long tongue slurped at the blood like a starving man. Johann's heart races. He removes the cross from his neck, and places it on a shelf – barely able to speak.

“Face me…

The creature whips its head in his direction. It lowers its body closer to the ground, growling. It begins to sniff the air, relaxing; as if it recognized something in the man before it. It grins madly, wiping blood off its black fangs with the back of its hand.

“Hello… Father. It seems you’ve finally earned the title.”

Its voice was still the same.

“Please. Call me, Johann.. Y/n..”

You tilt your head, eyes lowering in recollection. “It’s been a while since anyone’s called me that. Doesn’t matter, much. I won’t be them for much longer.”

You stand up. Despite your recent meal, your ribcage was protruding from your flesh. An abnormality even for even with the state you were currently in. Johann grimaces. He can’t bear the sight.

“How long has it been since you’ve eaten human flesh?”

You think for a moment. “Since my parents died. Or right after you left. I can’t remember. Getting pretty hungry though. Maybe you can be my first victim.”

Johann looks away. He never wanted to leave you. Not even after the truth of your parent’s horrible actions came out. Not even when you visited him that night; when you should have been in your grave. Losing you was like losing a part of his soul, and when he got you back he was like a miracle from a cruel, twisted God.

“I never stopped loving you, Y/n. I gave into my family's wishes because I knew I could see you again some day if I took this path.”

“So you could kill me?”

“So I can make up for the mistakes of the past.”

Johann pulls a ring from his pocket, and its twin. Heirlooms from both of your families, exchanged when you became engaged as a young age. You were always meant to be, and you both looked forward to the future; broken only by the sins of your kin. They had a fear of death, doing anything possible to achieve everlasting life – no matter how many fell for the cause. You became a test subject, and the only one to make an unwilling deal with the devil.

“You can’t be serious. All the pain I’ve caused.. all I will cause. Just send me to hell where I belong.”

“The only pain that lingers is the pain of not having you at my side. Y/n I am willing to give anything to have you once more, even at the cost of my life.”

He kneels before you, like a sinner at prayer; rolling the sleeve of his shirt up and offering you his flesh. He clings onto your cold skin, pleading up to you.

“Y/n, please. I love you. I don’t want to lose you again.”

You sink to his side. His eyes lock with your blank ones; beautiful as jewels to him. You take him in your arms. He goes limp. Finally at peace. Finally able to close his tired eyes and rest. He feels you lift his arm. He feels your teeth in his flesh, but he remains still. Tear free the strings of his heart and he would still remain. The one demon he would never free from his life

“I’m going down there.”

“Honey, no!”

“It’s been too long. I’ll be back.”

The husband unlocks the door. He enters the empty basement and searches for the priest. He finds him in the arms of the demon, arm speared by its fangs. Despite the flesh being torn from his limb, he smiles in absolute euphoria.

“The exorcism is almost complete..”

#yandere male #male yandere #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere scenarios #yandere imagines #yandere story #tw yandere #yandere scenario #yandere insert #yandere writing #yandere works #yandere oc #tw: animal injury

699 notes · View notes

foryoupeko · 7 months

Text

I saw someone asking why I labeled something as Peko/Buki even tho I'm a Kuzu/Peko shipper. Other then the fact multishippers exist, I didn't consider that as a Kuzu/Peko comic. Ibuki expressed more interest in Peko than Fuyuhiko.

Call me asexual but I don't think just because Fuyuhiko was close to Peko's hip, it should be considered explicit shipping.

So just to be clear on my stance, I am okay with you ppl labeling my art as any ship but there are some boundaries.

Don't label it with problematic ships like incest or age gap.

If the art is clearly about one couple, don't make it about another. But if it's just a group of ppl chilling then you can find whatever couple you like.

I personally hate Mahi/Peko but I know I'm gonna draw things exploring Mahiru's crush on Peko so that's on me if ppl interpret it that way. Just don't be weird, because I have no quams with never drawing Peko and Mahiru within 5 feet of each other. I've drawn Case 2 ten times and I've only drawn Mahiru once.

I made a list of Peko's relationship with others if you wanna know my stance on her ships.

Hajime -I will never let people forget Hajime has a canon crush on Peko. Besides that, Hajime is Peko's first true friend. Outside of Fuyuhiko, Hajime is the only person Peko feels comfortable confiding in her secrets. He doesn't judge and is very kind. Meanwhile Hajime goes to Peko when he needs a cool headed and rational opinion.

Chiaki - Queerplatonic, they snuggle a lot. Chiaki is chill and her games makes it easier for Peko who has no experience talking to people have things to relate to. Peko understands when Chiaki is emotionless for the most part and then burst into excitement when it's something she's passionate about. They developed their own little language in those situations.

Nagito - Nagito likes to take advantage of Peko’s kindness and clings to her. Peko doesn’t mind hanging out with Nagito but stares dagger into him when he’s being too forward with others (he doesn’t read social cues so he’s not gonna catch it). Nagito thinks of himself as a diet Fuyuhiko. As long as Peko provides support, he'll look out for her.

Teruteru - He's super turned on by Peko but gets flustered when she genuinely cares about him (turns out he does not have a mommy kink). Peko enjoys Teruteru teaching her about cooking so the two eventually bond over that.

Imposter - Peko’s best friend on the island. They both relate to not knowing who they’re supposed to be. At the same time, they don’t see each other as just victims. They’re both people trying to grow and become better. When these two are together some say they're TOO COOL (actually Ibuki is the only one that said this)

Mahiru - Mahiru has a giant crush on Peko. At first she believe she knows what’s best for her and tries to takes her away from Fuyuhiko. Once she accepts Peko doesn’t want her help, she tries to be happy for Peko and Fuyuhiko.

Hiyoko: Is jealous of Peko so she lashes out at her a lot. Originally it was for looking mature/sexy and gardening Mahiru’s attraction. But after she learned of Peko’s past, she’s jealous that she didn’t have her own bodyguard to protect her from the multiple assassination attacks she went through.

Ibuki: Queerplatonic, they kiss A LOT. Ibuki loves seeing Peko awkwardly cheer for her at concerts (imagine Pearl from Steven Universe type of awkward) Peko made Ibuki realize that quiet is okay. Because only when it’s quiet, she can hear Peko’s heart beat speed up. I think they would be a cute fling but these two come from two different worlds. Ibuki is a party rocking planet and Peko is a silent moon. Maybe if the stars aligned they could've made it work. But that doesn't mean you can't appreciate eclipses.

Mikan: Mikan’s ability to read micro facial expressions helps her interpret a lot of Peko’s hidden emotions. Peko likes Mikan but Mikan mistaken Peko’s quietness with secret resentment (she can read that Peko isn’t mad but sometimes mental illness makes you ignore facts). Mikan is had to get close to and Peko doesn't have the social understanding to truly know her.

Gundham: He has adopted her as his own. He feels the need to protect this person on par with his traumatic backstory. She must realize this too, that’s why she keeps flocking to him and his four dark devas. Meanwhile Peko only understands 50% of what he’s saying but she’s trying. Sonia (and Gonta in non despair AU) has to interpret sometimes. Giant Big Brother and Little Sister energy.

Sonia: Sonia is the extrovert who adopts an introvert. Sonia wants to hang out with all her classmates and one of the few who doesn't see Peko cool demeanor as disinterest. Sonia is the only one who can relate to Peko's isolation and only she knows the kind of loneliness that can come with being around others. Peko doesn't realize this on her part and it hurts Sonia. But Sonia doesn't stop trying.

Kazuichi: Scared and aroused by Peko. I head anon one time his trash picking robot accidentally took Peko’s sword and it exploded. Kazuichi was so scared to admit it to Peko but once he did - Peko was more concerned about him than her sword. He’s convinced she’s in love with him and begs Fuyuhiko to ask her out for him. Peko bluntly declines.

Nekomaru - Nekomaru passionately talks with Peko about a lot of things. At first it was Kendo, then it was training, proper diet, and it spiraled into Nekomaru talking excitably about his day. Peko is a good listener but even she can go deaf from all the yelling. Ibuki bails her out sometimes. I think Nekomaru and Sonia are the only people who know how to push Peko out of her comfort zone without overstepping. Ibuki can be too excited in getting Peko to do new things. Hajime and Chiaki doesn't see a problem with Peko doing her own thing.

Akane - The girls bond over being asexual together. No talk about love or mushy stuff. They talk with battle! At least according to Akane. Peko is hesitant to train with Akane because she believes only someone strong like Sakura could handle her blade. Akane takes that as an open challenge and tries to blindside Peko until she takes her seriously. Akane does have to learn boundaries at one point. Maybe the person who grew up in constant danger doesn't want to keep looking over her shoulders in case her classmates attack her.

Fuyuhiko - Ultimately, though everything, this blog will always be a Kuzu/Peko blog. Growing up, Fuyuhiko developed a crush on Peko but never acted on it. Only after a chance conversation with Sakura about what being in love is like, Peko realized in middle school she is in love with Fuyuhiko. By that point their relationship is strained. Fuyuhiko is constantly telling Peko he doesn't need a tool and pretend they don't know each other. Peko doesn't want to be forgotten by Fuyuhiko, this person she spent everyday with. She planned on asking him out, as equals, but then Twilight Syndrome Murder happened. There was no time for love when there was so much hate in his heart. Eventually after everything, the two realizes they need each other. Fuyuhiko only pushed Peko away because he thought she couldn't grow as a person if she was constantly worried about him. Peko realizes she can still care and protect Fuyuhiko as a fellow warrior by his side. These two understand each other so well that they don't need to talk. But this also leads to terrible miscommunications.

#danganronpa #sdr2 #peko pekoyama #i'm not tagging ever ship #this wasn't supposed to be this long #the sonia one surprised me #i was like whoa #where did that come from

35 notes · View notes