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avatar-anna · 2 months

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Pale Green Stripes

The Professor Masterlist

this takes place during The Professor Series!

"Did you know you're the only person who never tries to interrupt me?"

"What do you mean?"

Harry and Y/n lay on the carpeted floor of her townhouse. Their shoulders touched, but that was about it. Even so, Harry could feel that tiny bit of contact throughout his entire body. The professor probably had a word for that, a scientific term to explain why just the slightest graze—not even skin against skin—sent him into a tailspin that made him have to focus extra hard on what she said.

Y/n's hands knotted together on her lap, a thing she did when she held herself back. It was as if she had to physically restrain herself some way to keep her from speaking out of turn. Harry personally never thought she did, from their first meeting at the bookstore, he'd been fascinated by her, by the things she said.

"I don't mean to...impart information on people the way that I do. It just happens sometimes," she said, her eyes gazing up at the ceiling.

Harry knew he probably should've too, but he couldn't help but look at the professor instead. Her hair fanned out around her shoulders, she wore a string of pearls around her neck and earrings made to look like Salvador Dalí's melting clocks in her ears. Her jewelry was always a mix of something professional and a little quirky, Harry came to realize, as if even at work as a professor at Cambridge University she couldn't help but have a little fun.

Her wardrobe consisted of patterned socks and cherry red Adidas shoes and fun knitted sweaters and vests. Today she merely wore a cozy navy blue sweater and a flowy white skirt, her red shoes were on a rack by the door, but she still wore her ruffled socks with embroidered roses on them.

"I don't mind it at all," he replied honestly.

Y/n blinked a couple times, then said, "I know. I was surprised at first because everyone usually cuts me off. Or walks away."

Harry frowned. He couldn't help but notice how clinically the professor spoke about the hurtful things that had been done to her. By her family, so-called colleagues, the few friends she had at work. He couldn't fathom anyone finding Y/n anything less than wonderful. She was brilliant, yes, but funny, and charismatic, and had a knack for storytelling. Harry never wanted her to stop talking. Ever.

"I like listening to you," he told her, shrugging as best he could given his current prone position.

"That's probably because you never finished school and are trying to make up for lost time."

From anyone else, that would've been a joke, a jab, but Y/n took education seriously, had mentioned it numerous times since they met.

Still, Harry chuckled. "Maybe I just like the sound of your voice. Maybe I just like hearing what you have to say. Maybe I find your lectures highly arousing."

"Edward!"

Even as he laughed with her, Harry couldn't help but feel guilty. He knew he should tell her, he should've told her months ago. His middle name fired out of his mouth before he could think the first time Y/n asked him for his name. A desire for anonymity, that was all it was. He didn't think he'd see her again outside the one time, so he thought it would be harmless. Then they did keep meeting, and he didn't have the guts to tell her, and now he was too deep in the lie to find a way out.

"What?"

Harry had never been shy about his attraction to the professor, even if he'd only seen half of her face due to the mask she wore. There was so much to appreciate about her, so much to admire, and he let his own imagination do the rest. He could've, of course, looked her up online. Y/n had mentioned something about posting educational videos online, but he thought it was only fair that if she didn't know what his entire face looked like that he didn't either.

"Why do you say stuff like that?" she asked, and even without the mask, Harry could tell she was blushing.

"Like what?"

"About me. About—about your attraction to me and how you find me—or think I'm a—"

"Yes?" Harry encouraged. He could tell there was a word or phrase she had in mind but was too embarrassed to use.

"In the 16th Century, the word bellibone was first used. It's derived from French etymology using the words belle and bonne to describe a woman who excels in both beauty and goodness. There's really only one known use in the late 1500s. A poet named Edmund Spenser, though he was from Ireland. It's fascinating how a word can be used once then ceases to exist, don't you think?"

Harry blinked, not totally prepared for the tangent, though perhaps he should've been. Grinning beneath his mask, he said, "I think it describes you perfectly."

"Edward," Y/n said, now her neck was flushed too.

"Does it make you uncomfortable?" he asked. "The compliments? The—" He might as well call it what it was—"flirting?"

"N—No."

"Because I'll stop if it does," he promised. "I just think you should know how devastating you are."

One of the professor's eyebrows quirked up in confusion. "That was an interesting choice in adjective."

But it was the perfect one. Harry knew he couldn't be with Y/n the way he wanted when she didn't know the truth about who he was, and he couldn't risk losing her if he finally told her. Perhaps it was unfair to play at something he knew he couldn't have, but part of him wanted Y/n to know that she was desirable, that she was more than what her intellect offered. Sure, Harry found her intelligence sexy as all get out, but she was also beautiful, and funny, and kind, and he didn't think anyone had ever complimented more than just her brain.

He would spend an entire day complimenting her if he had the time, or if she let him.

But while Y/n was confident in many things, romantic feelings weren't one of them. Despite the obstacles he put in his own way, Harry didn't think the professor was quite ready to hear how much he really liked her.

"Tell me something."

"Like what?" Y/n asked.

"Anything," Harry said, facing her and propping his head in his hand. "A book you read, something that fascinates you, your least favorite student, anything."

She narrowed her eyes at him as she positioned her body to face his. "I don't have a least favorite student."

"I don't believe you," he replied, narrowing his eyes back playfully.

Y/n scanned his face, then up and down his body. It was casual, though Harry noticed that her gaze lingered in places—his arms, his shoulders, his face. He wore a mask, but he tried to suppress his grin anyway. Then, before he could tease her more, her eyes lit up.

"Did you know the stripe pattern originated in the Middle Ages?"

He never knew, but she always prefaced her information the same way. "Did it?"

Nodding to the green striped shirt Harry wore, she said, "Stripes were used to identify social outcasts. Prostitutes, criminals, hangmen, clowns and jugglers; they all had to wear stripes so they were easily recognizable in regular society."

"Clowns?"

"Outcasts and people who were...not society's favorites, like court jesters and such. European governments even legalized the requirement of certain citizens to wear stripes. Though now, of course, stripes are popular due to Coco Chanel wearing a striped shirt similar to French sailor uniforms, which, you know, sailors were also usually the lowest rank of the French navy. Then stripes began appearing in women's activewear in the 1920s, Al Capone began wearing pinstriped suits, and the rest is history. A long, brutal history, obviously, seeing as prisoners were later forced to wear striped uniforms, and prisoners in concentration camps during World War Two, but—there you have it. A brief, slightly detailed history of the stripe."

Harry looked down at his long sleeved shirt, the thin pale green and white striped that lined his arms and torso. "Not sure if I'll be able to wear stripes again, but... that's really fascinating."

"Thought you might like that," Y/n said with a shrug.

Harry tilted his head questioningly. "Why do you say that?"

"You like clothes."

He didn't question how she knew that. With her background, Y/n seemed to know things about him that she just happened to observe. It was a little disconcerting at first, but he came to appreciate that he didn't have to pretend around her. No airs, no personas, none of the things he'd become so accustomed to in recent years. The professor might not have known about Harry's career, but she knew him in ways no one else did.

"Well," he said, playfully sighing at his shirt. "Guess I'm never wearing stripes again."

Y/n's eyes squinted and her mask scrunched a little, the way they always did when she smiled. With an unmistakable glint in her eye, the adorable one she always got when Harry indulged in her. "Wait until you hear about polka dots!"

Harry sighed, a mix of exasperation and amusement making him chuckle a little. "Tell me more, love."

#harry styles #harry styles x professor y/n #harry styles x professor yn #harry styles blurb #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x you #harry styles fluff #harry styles writing #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic

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lucifermonsii · 20 days

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I don't know if you accept making other content other than call of duty, but here goes. Can you make Francis mosses from not my neighbor with a short male s/o, but who is strong. Can you deny this request if you like!

Have a good day/night!

FRANCIS?? I LOVE HIM.

M!Reader x Francis Mosses

Fighting his doppelganger 🤺

Reader is shorter then Francis

You were a short man.

Really.

It was no joke.

Behind the booth you looked fine, sitting down on the chair that has left your butt imprint from sitting on it so damn long. But whenever you were about to get into your both god damn you were small.

One time Francis was walking to the booth to get inside the apartment, the empty milk carrier swings around his hands as he held it. Dragging his feet to get into his apartment already from the long day of delivering milk.

Henry walked past him and eyed him up amd down with his tired eyes, making sure he wasn't a doppelganger before quickly walking away. Francis simply side glanced in return through half lidded eyes before going to the booth, seeing you struggling to find the key to go inside of it as Henry accidentlaly locked it before leaving.

Keys jumbled against one another as they made key noises. Still struggling to find the correct key with your slender hands, eyebrows furrowing as a feeling or frustration began to creep up on you. An annoyed grunt escapes your lips as you still struggle.

Francis raised an eyebrow at you from behind before walking over to you for assistance.

"M/N, do you need help?"

He asks in a tired tone as his voice is kept smooth, looking down at you through half lidded eyes with a raised eyebrow. You slightly flinching from his sudden appearance as you turn around to look at him, only to be greeted with his chest as you were forced to look up at him. Normally you'd look at with from eye to eye but you're not in your booth right now are you?

"Ah- Francis, you scared me"

You said with a short sigh before realising that he could be a doppelganger, glancing up and down at him to make sure that he's not dangerous. Realising that he hasn't done anything to harm you, yet. Probably. You're not sure either way. Just hoping he's the real one is all.

"You're struggling with the keys"

Slight pink dusted on your cheeks as you felt a bit embarrassed that he had to witness how stupid you were at that moment.

"No need to feel embarrassed with it dear.. "

He says before taking the set of keys from your hands and quickly trying to find the key to your booth, slightly bending over and trying a few keys into the keyhole before eventually finding the right one and putting it into the hole and twisting it as it clicked.

"There we go"

He says as his lips were right next to your ear, his heat radiates off of his body as it made you warm from the cold of the night. Goosebumps crept on your back as blush slightly creep on your neck from the sudden close distance.

"Alright thanks."

You said as he took a few steps back to give you space and handed you back your keys before you went into your booth and let him through. Not long after that an obvious doppelganger showed up, Francis Mosses. Honestly with the unusual face he had if wasn't hard to tell he was a doppelganger with those void eyes and pearly white iris along with the wide mouth.

Pushing the big red button you dialed the D.D.D but before you could even dial the last digit Francis (the doppelganger) came bursting into your booth and attempted to attack you, hell you weren't sure how he got in..

Wait.

Hold on–

Did you even close the door to your booth!?

Dumbass.

He came in and leaped out for you, but you quickly flee out of your booth as it's easy to run from his because of how short you were. Luring him out he followed after you and continued to reach for you and grab you, knowing that you can't possibly pussy out of this and had no choice but to fight him.

He charges forward to grab you but before he could you dodged and forcefully hit your elbow to his back making him stumble forward before swept him off his feet and kick him off, sending him flying across the room before his back landed harshly against the wall and falling. But a few moments later he got up and went after you, being even more aggressive as you added fuel to the fire.

☆

A notification made a groan erupt from Francis's throat as he walked over to his phone on the counter and checked the notification, turns out he got a message from his boss saying that his Co worker couldn't fill in for him as she was sick. Making Francis having to work on his half day off, poor guy.

Wearing his uniform and putting on the milkman hat he took the milk carrier and rode the lift to head out. Walking over to text door that led outside grunts and punching sounds were faint from the inside, raising an eyebrow he got curious. Probably a gang fight or something, he wasn't sure. Suddenly, it went silent. As if all the fighting had stopped, he turned the knob and stepped outside, being met with you kneeling over a corpse of him.

The doppelganger now dead as substances as dark as the void bled out of him as if it were blood, your eyes blown wide as you look up at the real Francis who was staring at you in disbelief. Your forearms stained with said substance as your fists were covered with the black goo, feeling embarrassed that Francis had to see the after math of all of this you quickly stood up and adjusted your tie. Only managing to stain your already stained buttoned up shirt, god damn you felt clumsy around him.

"F- Francis! Why leaving so early?"

You questioned him with an awkward smile as you tried to ignore the scene before him, he simply just glanced back at the dead body before looking back at you.

"Work emergency.."

He murmured before eyeing you up and down, you were a mess. Literally. Stained with the mystery black substance from head to toe, some on your cheeks as you wiped it off and avoid his gaze. Feeling a bit shy due to the silence as if he were judging you with that tired gaze of his.

"I'll be heading out then.."

He said before walking away to go back to work.

#x male reader #male reader #moots #francis mosses #francis mosses x male reader #male reader x francis mosses #Francis #thats not my neighbour #gay #the milkman #milk man #i love francis mosses my precious bb that i wanna rail over

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pearwaldorf · 5 months

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I have heard of Hbomberguy and the "why Sherlock sucks" but had not actually watched any of his stuff until today. The recent plagiarism video is long and extremely good:

youtube

The main bulk of the video is about James Somerton, a video essayist who I was only vaguely familiar with. I watched the Our Flag Means Death video he made and thought it felt kind of flimsy, and moved on with my life.

Turns out he's been lifting words from other published sources, many of them queer writers who were paid freelance rates or possibly nothing at all. This is a screenshot of the transcription of the video he did on queer horror (ID in alt):

I have legit never seen this level of plagiarism before. I am honestly surprised these videos sound thematically coherent at all, given the variety of sources he's cribbed them from. (There's a lot you can say about queer horror, and not all of it is going to overlap.)

The thing I don't understand is that given how much work it must have been to compile these sources, he could have done all the fucking reading himself and synthesized it in his own words. He could have just thrown up a Pastebin of links he consulted and nobody would have noticed.

One of the reasons plagiarists steal is because they have no respect for the effort put into the work or people who do said work. A (presumably cis) white man stealing the words from other queer people, many of them economically marginalized and/or of color? I'm going to say that probably figured into it.

I don't know how much he made, but it was a significant fucking amount. That's money he took from the mouths of other queer people who are probably way worse off. That's discoveries of ideas and words people have been denied because they thought they were his.

(Hbomberguy is donating proceeds from this video to as many people who Somerton ripped off as he can track down. It's absolutely not his problem, and I imagine it's going to be a bitch and a half to identify and contact all these people. It is a mitzvah, in both the colloquial and religious sense, to do this.)

And as marginalized people, we know that context (historical, global, personal) is important, sometimes essential. Removal of that information greatly hampers comprehension and understanding in ways we are already limited or denied.

It feels like a deeply personal betrayal because we like to think we (as in people who have this particular trait or share a community) are all above cynical sociopathic bullshit. But [trait/thing] people are people, and sometimes people fucking suck. I regret to say that despite knowing this in my head, my emotions do not always remember.

#plagiarism #james somerton #hbomberguy #pear text #Youtube

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fear-less · 1 month

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₊˚⊹˚ 𐙚 I was a dreamer before you went and let me down

pairing: sirius black x reader

warnings: angst idk, reader is ravenclaw but it’s only mentioned once so it doesn’t matter lmao. also white horse lyrics as the title🗣️🔥

a/n: take this bc i’m writing a long fic rn so this is bad😭🙏

1.6k words ^_^

“Good afternoon, Sirius!” you cheerfully greeted as he and the rest of the Marauders walked by you. He gave you a side glance before facing forward and walking away, not saying anything.

The cheerful smile on your face soon faded. Two months of trying (and failing) to get Sirius to talk to you, let alone agree to go out with you, was starting to get to you.

“What do you want?” Sirius said, not sparing a glance at you.

“Do you maybe want to go to Hogsmeade with me? This weekend is a Hogsmeade weekend, so I thought that you and I could–”

“No.” With that, you quickly shut down, the little confidence you had now gone, your lips turning into a line.

“Alright, well, I’ll be off now. Bye,” you said, trying not to show how embarrassed you were.

Come to think of it, you had done everything you could think of for Sirius to like you back or at least go on one date with you.

“Are you okay, Y/N?” your friend Anne asked, patting your back. She had been there for you since your very first day at Hogwarts. You honestly think you would’ve gone insane without her there with you.

“I’m alright, Anne. I just don’t understand why he won’t even glance at me! I’m not that bad looking, right?”

“Of course not, Y/N! I think it’s about time you get over him! I mean, you said it yourself, he never even glances at you!”

You had thought maybe it was time to get over Sirius. “You’re right! From now onwards, I will get over him.”

“Let’s see how long that lasts,” Anne said, a soft smile appearing on her lips.

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

It was safe to say that it lasted pretty long. Alright, it had only been a few hours, but still! It was around dinner time, and you had stayed a little longer after class putting away equipment and talking to the professor about the assignment.

Sirius couldn’t help but feel like something was missing. He had done half the homework as he felt too lazy to do the rest. All the pranks were finalized and ready to go, so why he felt like something was missing was confusing him.

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

It was now morning, and you had woken up feeling better than ever. Not having someone ruin the little confidence you had the night before really does change a person, huh?

Before you realized it, it was already time for breakfast.

That’s when your eyes caught wind of Sirius Black, laughing with his friends. Oh, his smile was always so beautiful to you.

“Y/N, no, you will not go up to him. Remember what you agreed on yesterday?” Anne said, tired of seeing you all sappy over a boy, especially one like Sirius.

“I know, I know, but come on, you can’t blame me! He’s just so… ughh!”

Anne sighed, slapping your arm. “Okay, but we have to walk past them to enter the Great Hall. Don’t spare a glance at him, and don’t even speak to him!”

And you did just that. You honestly thought he wouldn’t notice. How wrong you were. He had noticed; he thought that you were too tired to go up to him last evening, so you’d probably one-up yourself this morning for missing last night.

But how wrong he was. You didn’t even glance at him! He was shocked, to say the least. “Woah, she didn’t speak to you or even look at you! Hey, all that rejecting really worked, good for you,” said James.

Sirius forced a laugh. “Yeah, about time. She was getting annoying.” How he wishes he could take those words back. He knew you heard them but wished you never did.

You frowned. Did he really not like you that much?! Wow. You guess it was a good thing to stop trying to get his attention.

Anne gave you a side hug, hearing what he said himself. “He’s not worth it. Ignore what he said. If I was him, I’d be glad a very beautiful, smart, kind girl was giving me all her attention!” You smiled at that.

“Thanks, Anne, but I can’t believe he thinks that way of me. But I should’ve guessed.”

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

It had now been a week. A week of Sirius yearning for your attention. A week since you made an effort of talking to him.

Despite the passing week, Sirius found himself unable to shake off the feeling of regret. He realized how much he had taken your presence for granted and how foolish he had been to dismiss your efforts. The more he thought about it, the more he missed your cheerful greetings and your attempts to engage him in conversation.

What really pushed him over the edge was the new guy you were now so close to. He was completely different from him—more quiet, with light hair, smarter, and, more importantly, actually talked to you and seemed to enjoy your presence.

How could you move on in just a week? Move on with a guy completely different from him?

He saw the way the guy looked at you, how your friends would always ship you two together. It was infuriating to him.

What really set him off was when he saw the soft pink hue on your cheeks. That could’ve been you two if he hadn’t been so stupid! Did he really think you would be like James, who has been chasing the same girl forever? Yes, he did think that.

Turns out you were not like James. You had given up in just two months!

"You’re staring," Remus' voice snapped Sirius out of his trance.

"Huh?" Sirius played dumb, not wanting Remus to know who or what he was staring at.

"You know, you could’ve just said yes the times she actually asked you out. I don’t know why you just rejected her. Didn’t you have a crush on her at one point?" Remus questioned.

"I just... I really don’t know why I never said yes. I thought she’d continue to ask me out at least until the end of this year. It isn’t even the holidays yet!" Sirius replied, feeling agitated.

Remus sighed, his gaze shifting from Sirius to you, who was now engrossed in conversation with the new guy. “Well, mate, sometimes we realize things a little too late. Maybe you should talk to her, explain how you feel.”

Sirius ran a hand through his hair, a mixture of frustration and longing evident in his eyes. “Do you think it’s too late, Moony? I mean, she seems happy now, and I don’t want to disrupt that.”

“It’s never too late if you genuinely care about someone,” Remus said gently. “But you have to be prepared for any outcome. She might not feel the same way anymore, or she might give you another chance. The important thing is that you’re honest with her and yourself.”

Sirius nodded, his mind racing with thoughts of what could have been and what could still be. “You’re right. I’ll talk to her, no more running away from my feelings.”

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

Remus’s words echoed in Sirius’s mind as he watched you and the new guy sharing a laugh. He took a deep breath, trying to gather his thoughts before approaching you.

After a while, when you were alone, Sirius walked over, trying to appear casual despite the nervousness bubbling inside him. “Hey, Y/N,” he greeted, offering a small smile.

You looked up, surprised to see Sirius approaching you. “Hey, Sirius. What’s up?” you replied, returning the smile, though there was a hint of wariness in your eyes.

Sirius hesitated for a moment, his heart pounding in his chest. “I wanted to talk to you about something… important,” he started, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

Your smile faltered slightly, sensing the gravity of the conversation. “Sure, go ahead,” you said, trying to maintain a neutral tone.

Taking a deep breath, Sirius continued, “I know I haven’t been the best lately, and I want to apologize for that. I’ve been thinking a lot about everything, and I realize now that I made a mistake by not appreciating you and your efforts.”

You listened quietly, a mixture of emotions swirling inside you. “It’s okay, Sirius. We all have our moments,” you replied, trying to keep your composure.

Sirius shook his head, a flicker of pain crossing his features. “No, it’s not okay. I should have realized sooner how much you mean to me. Seeing you happy with someone else made me realize how much I regret not being there for you when I had the chance.”

Your heart clenched at his words, memories of the morning after flooding back. “Did you really mean what you said that morning, Sirius?” you asked, unable to keep the bitterness out of your voice.

Sirius’s expression faltered, guilt evident in his eyes. “I… I was being stupid, Y/N. I didn’t know how to handle my feelings, and I said things I regret. Please, let me make it right.”

You took a moment to collect your thoughts, feeling a surge of frustration and hurt. “It’s not that easy, Sirius. You can’t just take back everything you said and expect things to go back to how they were.”

Sirius swallowed hard, realizing the depth of his mistake. “I know I messed up, and I don’t expect forgiveness right away. I just needed you to know how I feel.”

The tension between you was palpable as you both grappled with your emotions. “I need time, Sirius,” you finally said, your voice wavering slightly.

Sirius nodded, a pang of regret piercing his heart. “I understand. I’ll give you the time you need, but please know that I’m sincere about wanting to make amends.”

#sirius black fluff #sirius black x reader #sirius black #sirius black x you #sirius black x y/n #sirius black x female reader #harry potter x you #harry potter #harry potter oneshots #harry potter x reader #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter x y/n #marauders x reader #marauders

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crvptidgf · 10 months

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Doctor Blythe

Gilbert Blythe x Reader

[FLUFF]

A/N: thank you to the anon who requested this! sorry it’s taken me so long to get to it

warnings/notes: slightly suggestive content?characters are both 18+

requested: yes

summary: you get injured and go to gilbert for help. however, in order to properly tend to your wounds, the top half of your clothes needs to be removed.

- - -

Your ribs burned and ground against each other as you groaned, standing up as slowly as you could.

You couldn’t even remember how it happened, but all you know is that you fell stomach first onto the ground after attempting to get something out of a tree.

Was it a cat? A piece of fruit? God knows, but all you could think of now was the sting that was quickly spreading throughout your entire torso.

Your breathing shallow and painful, you pulled yourself up fully and stood up straight - or as straight as you could with the pain that was searing through you. Not only that, but the wind had been knocked out of you and you were struggling to breathe.

Looking down at your previously white shirt, you saw a tear near your ribs and a violently crimson colour seeping through the cotton.

Immediately your mind went to Gilbert. After all, he was a doctor in training, and he was close-by.

He’d know what to do - he always did.

Trudging your legs along as fast as you could, you made your way through the forest, cracking and breaking several twigs on your way out. You hoped you wouldn’t get an infection from whatever you scratched yourself off of, but you’d be in good hands once you reached Gilbert’s home.

After a hellish trek to the Blythe residence, you were finally there.

Standing in front of the chestnut-brown door, you felt sort of silly. What if he was busy? Were you interrupting his peace by walking in, all bloodied and probably bruised?

It was too late to turn back however, as he opened the door, a small smile already plastered on his face.

Gilbert’s eyes immediately dropped your hand clutching at your ribs, and his face fell.

“Oh God! What happened?” he all but dragged you into the house.

“I fell,” you stated bluntly.

He held you as gently as he could as he lead you to his room, setting you down in a sitting position on the bed before disappearing into the kitchen.

“How long have you been bleeding?” he yelled from his location.

Your head throbbed as you tried to think of when this occurred. Honestly, your head was a bit of a fuzzy mess at the moment and whether it was from the blood loss or being in the vicinity of Gilbert, you didn’t know.

“Uh- I-“ you tried to get your words out but with every breath you took, your ribs felt like they were separating from each other.

Appearing back into the room, Gilbert set a few supplies down on the drawer next to his bed.

He pulled a chair out to sit right in-front of you, and he hesitantly touched the afflicted area.

“I just need to check-“ he suddenly stopped, and his eyes widened to at least twice their size.

Your heart stopped. You were surely dying, right? Why else would he react that way?

“Well? Spit it out, Doc!” you pleaded.

His eyes averted from you and he picked up some cotton and placed it in a bowl of water to soak.

“It’s just- Is it okay if I remove your shirt? I need to clean the wound-” he said, his eyes looking at anything but you, “and I also need to check for bruising and internal bleeding, since your ribs seem to be broken.”

Broken? Why in the hell did you decide to climb that stupid tree.

“Well if that’s what needs to be done then...” you trail off as you painfully cross your arms to grasp the hem of your top. You’re honestly not sure where all the courage came from. If you were any saner and had more blood in your system, you would’ve been too nervous to even think about being half naked in Gilbert’s room. However, you also wanted to avoid getting sepsis.

Seeing you struggle, Gilbert sighed and pulled your hands away, finally looking into your eyes. He replaced your previous grip on your shirt with his own hands, before whispering a simple ‘can I?’.

Your words felt like they were sucked out of you as you watched the veins in his hands twitch, his muscles tensing with every second that passed. The sleeves that were rolled up on his arms exposed his toned forearms, revealing more of that veiny appearance.

You slowly nodded, careful to not move too much as his hands were dangerously close to your exposed torso.

Gracefully and gradually, he lifted the fabric up your body, urging your arms up so that he could remove it fully. Everywhere that his fingertips grazed caused an electric jolt throughout your body, leaving invisible marks in their wake.

You shuddered as your top was completely removed, and Gilbert’s face suddenly flushed a bright pink. His face remained close to yours, his warm eyes glazed with concern.

You could tell he was as nervous as you were, but your safety was at hand here, so he pushed off the bed slowly and fished the soaked cotton out from the water bowl. Looking down past your chest, and onto the cut on your ribs, his breath hitched. You weren’t sure if it was because he was staring right at your almost-naked body, or if the cut was really that bad.

“Let me know if you want me to stop, okay? This is gonna hurt.”

Not trusting your voice, you nodded again.

He instantly got to work, leaning his head down and gripping your waist for stability. You melted into his touch, letting the warmth of his palm spread throughout your body. Humming gently, you tilted your head to watch him better.

You almost didn’t notice the sting as he cleaned the dry blood from your wound, but unfortunately his pretty curls couldn’t fully distract you from it.

Wincing and gasping, you grabbed the hand that held onto your waist, interlacing your fingers.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, embarrassed at how low your pain tolerance was.

He shook his head. “Don’t be.”

Squeezing your hand comfortingly, he continued the task at hand. After this he smothered the wound in antiseptic, all the while rubbing circles into your hand and shushing your huffs and groans.

“You’re doing amazing, but I still need to check for any internal wounds.” he whispered, careful to not shock you out of your quiet daze.

You just groaned in response.

“Just a little more I promise. Is it okay if I touch you?” immediately realizing his innuendo, he cleared his throat.

“I mean your ribs. To check them.”

Even through your pain you smiled at him, sighing a quiet ‘yeah’. He was so dreamy like this. You always liked him in doctor mode, but it had never been directed towards you.

You were shoved out of your train of thought as you felt his smooth palms roam upwards to your back as he checked the health of your ribs. His breath fanned across your collarbone as he tried to control the speed of his breathing.

He knew it was the wrong time to be so nervous and flustered, but he couldn’t help it.

Gilbert’s hands expertly moved to the front of your ribs, gently applying pressure and massaging them as softly as he could. It would’ve been nice if it wasn’t for the agony that you felt.

You held your breath as he touched a particularly sensitive spot on your torso.

Retracting his hands, he swiped some bandages off his drawer and wrapped your newly cleaned wound up. Wordlessly, he stood up and went to his closet, grabbing a green sweater.

He sat back down in-front of you, and tucked your hair behind your ear.

“I know you’re tired. I’ll help you into this and you can nap here. The good thing is your ribs aren’t broken, just bruised,” he explained as he shuffled closer to help your head into the sweater hole. Grasping your hands, he helped you lead them through the arm holes before pulling the bottom of it over the rest of your body.

“And the bad news?” you said, voice scratchy from exhaustion.

His brown furrowed in worry. All his previous nerves were gone as he now stroked your cheek, reveling in how you snuggled into it.

“You lost a bit of blood, but I’ll do what I can to help.”

Your eyelids shut closed, unable to stay open any longer. “Already done more than enough, Gil,” you praised.

“You’re the one who did a good job today,” he coo’d, placing you down onto the bed, making sure your head was comfortably on his pillows. He pulled the blanket out from under you and tucked you into bed.

Gilbert began to clean up all of his supplies. Yet he made sure to glance at you every few seconds to make sure you were breathing okay.

It didn’t take long for sleep to take over, but not before you mumbled a little ‘thanks Doc’ to which Gilbert blushed and grinned at, turning away to let you have your peace.

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jaeyunlover · 27 days

Text

Is this it?

I can’t even begin to tell you how many warnings but warning smut and being sad I guess * inattentive to attentive*

“Jay where are you going” you asked him as he was getting out of bed “no, where specific” he said bluntly and honestly. Moving your hand around the bed trying to find your phone, you look at the time. Sitting up in the bed realizing it was only 7 in the morning “jay it’s only 7 where are you going” you said half sleep squinting your eyes trying to see him.

“I told you it’s no where specific” jay said putting on his shoes “jay…. But it’s 7 in the morning where could you possibly go?” You questioned him getting upset “Y/N!” Jay said in as a stern voice looking at you.

“Ok” you said rolling your eyes and getting a attitude “I’ll give you something to roll your eyes about” jay said with a straight face walking out the door and closing it. You laid in the bed with a faint smile because of what he said.

Getting out of the bed to start your boring and tiresome day you get in the shower to wash your hair and body. after getting out the shower you wrapped your towel around your body and stood at the sink to wash your face and brush your teeth.

After all of that you do your skin care and head to the bed room to put on lotion, sitting on the edge of the bed you start with your feet making your way up the legs and torso and arms and neck, after putting on lotion you get up to the shared dresser you guys have to see what underwear’s you want to wear not hearing jay walk in he heads to kitchen to put breakfast on the counter and walk to the bed to lay down and watch his phone not really acknowledging you for a second hearing the bed creaking you turned around scared and gasped only to see jay playing on his phone.

“Jay which set should I wear” you asked hold up a pink and white underwear set and an black lace one from Victoria secret “it doesn’t matter no one is really looking” he said with a straight face you sighed picking up a regular set and going to the kitchen “oh I got breakfast you’ll probably have to warm it up” he said yelling from your room. You rolled your eyes once more remembering what jay said earlier you started smirking. Putting the food in the microwave for 2 minutes you walk back to the room and lay on jay “you smell good” he said. “thank you” you said smiling *beep beep beep* the microwave chimed indicating your food was done.

Whining while getting off of jay made Jay stop and look at you fast and you looked at him you guys were just staring at each other. You started leaning in to kiss him but as soon as your lips touched his, his phone rang which made him get up pushing you off a little you sighed getting up to get your food and sitting at the table you started to eat and started dancing a little with every bite you took “not gonna thank me for getting breakfast for you” jay said coming from the bed room “no, you brought it late and it was cold” you said fake pouting “plus where did you go” you asked “y/n..”Jay said staring at you. “Jay?” You said back indicating that, that wasn’t an answer “I told you know where specific” he said getting a little irritated “you-your playing me like a fool you changed jay, and if your seeing someone else say that I’ll get outta your way lately you’ve been leaving without talking to me about it not saying you have to but got damn jay your hurting my feelings” you said are you done? Do that even make sense? I’m seeing someone else? Are you serious….” Jay replies “yes I’m serious” you yelled back “I’m literally standing here with just bra and panties and you haven’t even looked at me like you wanted me” you said with your hands going up and down as you show him “ok? I like you for personality not your body…. Plus your not the only women in the world with women body parts what makes yours different” he said “wow” was all you could say getting up from the table heading to your room putting on clothes and grabbing one of your duffel bags and packing some of your clothes, you stop midway and started crying gasping for air as you wiped your eyes, your breath hicks every time you breathe in, still covering your eye jay walks in the room “y/n” he said feeling bad but like jay couldn’t show his emotions hand in his pockets as he stood in front of you. “Y/n” he said again pulling your hands away from your face and pulling you into a hug “I’m sorry” he said hugging you. You just started crying even harder which made jay feel really bad “y/n I’m so sorry” he said putting his head down on top of yours this was the closest you’ve got to see an non emotionless jay in years but you still need to think and thing’s like that “I’m staying at my friends house” you said like a whisper and pushing jay away , packing the rest of your things.

After finishing you sat at the door putting your shoes on hoping jay would stop you ..but of course he didn’t he just looked at you and you sighed leaving the apartment and headed to your car, after getting in you sighed seeing your breath in the car meant it’s getting cold you turned up the heat and the radio “your listening to lfj radio station we’ll know play blossom by enhypen” (https://youtube.com/watch?v=iA4QNyMjY-I)

“I’m falling falling for yo-” you cut the radio off and started to drive off , it was funny how it became you never knew what made jay become or act so lifeless not even realizing it you reached your destination, driving up in their driveway you parked the car and got out to get your things.

After grabbing your belongings you slam the door shut and walked to the porch *knock knock knock* you hit the door with your knuckles nobody came to the door so you knocked again shivering not realizing when u left that it was THAT cold your adrenaline was through the roof. Hearing the locks on the door break down was music to your ear.

“Can I help you” a tall figure stood over you at the door “uhh who are you? I’m sorry I think I’m at the wrong house” you laughed a little, looking at the address you were definitely at the right address “is Sasha here” you asked confused “heeseung who is that” you hear Sasha in the back ground “some girl looking for you” he said moving out of the way so you could come in “wait did you say heeseung!!!??” you asked her shocked still with puffy eyes and a stuffy nose “yeah, he’s grown up a bitch much haven’t he” Sasha said grinning at him while he was on his phone. “He didn’t remember me?” You said laughing “no he did he just butt hurt you asked him who he was” she said laughing “heeseung” Sasha called over heeseung came walking over like a little puppy and hugging Sasha “so what brings you in today usually you would come happy what happened” Sasha asked “where’s jay?” Heeseung add “i don’t know” you said quietly.

They stopped what they were doing and froze in there track completely in shock “wha-what does that mean” Sasha nervously chuckled “nothing really me and jay are just not seeing eye to eye recently for the past years it’s been getting worst now we barely say anything to each other i know he still likes me or I think but I don’t know” you said ending with a sigh “ah- I’ll talk to him” heeseung suggested “no, he’s a grown man he knows his rights from wrongs” you said a little angry. “Girl I know that’s right” Sasha said laughing which made you laugh a little and heeseung stood there confused (heefused lol)

“Can I stay in the guess room till Friday?” You asked “ummm YEAH BITCH it’s boring when heeseung goes to work” Sasha said “ok thanks you said with a smile “let me show you the room” she added following her up the stairs she began to talk “the room to the left is me and hee room and the one on the right is the guess room” she said “ok thank youuuu” you stressed because you were tired “I’m gonna take a nap it’s been a long week” you said shifting the bag on your shoulder and walking in the room setting your bag down, and plopped on the bed sighing as a sign of release. Reaching in your back pocket to pull out your phone to check if you got any texts or calls from jay but there wasn’t any with that you got up and walked to the bathroom with your essentials to get in a steamy shower to just let all the stress go away

While showering all you could think about was jay , your vision started to get blurry and tears slid down your face. Was this really it for you and jay , why couldn’t you be happy like sasha and heeseung?, where did it go wrong, was it your fault?

Turning off the faucet and stepping out of the shower and whipping your face with your towel and wrapping it around your body and head to the guess room you sit on the bad putting on lotion and then your underwear’s and then your sleep wear.

Gathering all your stuff to throw in the washer you got hungry from thinking to much and stressing about it. “Sasha I’m going to get something to eat, want anything” “no we’re good” Sasha said you sighed as a sign of relief knowing Sasha could eat a whole family meal for herself.

Getting in your car you open the mirror above the driver seat and a photo of you and jay on your first day falls on the floor, you pick it up and looked at it smiling “this … this is what I miss” you said to yourself. Starting the car you drive to see what was open and it looks like nothing so you stopped at the convenience store for something light.

Your grab you some ramen and sausage and something to drink and pay for it ,walking to the back you put the ramen in the microwave ,you scan the store to see if there’s anything else you want *ding ding* the store door opens you didn’t look up to be honest you barely heard it and really didn’t care but you heard a familiar laugh which made you look up and you see Jay with Jung-won and Jake, you ducked down faster the moles in whack a mole, heart racing you realize why you ducking off but you started to think about how unfazed he was of the situation he haven’t texted or called you since you left kinda made you sad *beep beep beep* the microwave goes off you get up and walk to the microwave and grab your stuff and sit by the window pouring your drink in a cup

“Hey y/n” you hear Jake said with a big goofy smile

TBC

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tashacee · 11 days

Note

You said Warriors found Wild the morning after most of them met in Master Mode. How did that meeting go? Please! The curiosity is killing me!

Master Mode: Meet Wild

Warriors needed a break. He didn’t think it was too much to ask, not really. After all; for the past day he’d done nothing but be the responsible one. When he was thrown into a strange forest in a different world, he’d followed his training and got his bearings. When he ran into the sailor for the first time in four years - the kid looking barely a day older and delighted to see his big brother again, he’d grinned and hugged him back, but had also taken charge of looking out for him.

He thought that he’d shown admirable restraint for not attacking the literal living tree man and was glad of that restraint now because Time, as he was called, seemed to be a bastion of sanity in this bizarre world of fairytale creatures and barnyard animals he was now living in.

Still. It probably was foolish of him to think that he could go and take a whizz in peace. He was a Link, after all, and peace just wasn’t really on the cards for him.

Well, he at least got his business done before anything happened. He had time to spare - he’d asked Time to keep an eye on the other heroes while he was gone and the larger hero had agreed. Well. He’d said something that sounded like “bru-ra-hroom”, but Warriors figured that meant “sure no problem.”

So he figured he had some time. He sighed and closed his eyes as he leaned on a tree, breathing deeply and counting to ten in his head. It was okay. He could do this. It was just another weird ass journey. He could do this.

Behind him came the sound of someone clearing their throat, and then a distinct, low, ‘meow’. Warriors jumped, opening his eyes and turning around, fully expecting to see a cat. Honestly, he probably wouldn’t have been very surprised if it was a cat-hero.

And. Well.

He wasn’t WRONG.

Uhhhh.

The person before him was clearly, in some way at least, related to cats. But he was not by any stretch of the imagination anything like the tabby that lived in the guards barracks back home.

This person was at least seven feet tall, with greenish grey fur dotted with tattoos, long, red hair, a tail, snout, and claws, was covered in scars, and was wearing a sarong.

He was awkwardly waving a hand and looked deeply nervous, shifting from foot to foot where he stood still half hidden behind a tree. One wrong move and warriors was sure he would bolt.

The captain sighed.

“Are you Link?” He asked

The cat man blinked. Meowed. And nodded. He looked even more embarrassed.

Warriors ran a hand through his hair. Welp. This might as well happen. He looked over at the cat man and frowned; there were leaves in his fur and his white sarong was mussed and slightly dirty, as if he had been curled up in the undergrowth.

“Have-“ he cleared his throat. “Have you been out here all night?”

The cat man seemed to shrink even further as he nodded. He gestured to the camp and then to himself, shrugging. Huh. So the big scary cat man had been nervous.

…okay that was fair. Diverse as their group was, there were no other giant cat men and there was no telling how they might have reacted to him. Someone might have even shot him in a panic!

Warriors sighed. The poor guy looked like he hadn’t slept and was clearly nervous, his tail pulled in close as he picked at the skin around his fingers.

“Alright. C’mon, you must be hungry. I can’t promise gourmet cooking, but we have food at least.” He reached out and put a hand on the guy’s arm to guide him back to camp.

The cat man purred softly and then made a gesture - was it a sign? Wars didn’t recognise it but it seemed… vaguely like stirring.

“Are you… you know how to cook?” He hazarded.

The cat man meowed again, apparently pleased as he nodded. Well. That was something!

Warriors smiled. “Well, okay, you can absolutely cook if you want. Let’s get you introduced first, yeah? Okay.”

Wars smiled and led the giant cat man into camp, feeling positively saintly. So much for a break: he’d gone for a whizz and come back with another giant brother to add to the pile!

But, well. Seeing how his new brother - Wild, the sword called him - settled in with the rest of the heroes, how he immediately bonded with time and Twillght, how he gave a grateful rumble to Warriors when he passed over a fresh cooked breakfast - the captain couldn’t really say that he minded the interruption.

After all- what are brothers for if not for keeping him on his toes?

#it me #hero’s aspect au #hero's aspect #my writing #master mode #replies

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neonghostlights · 1 year

Text

A/N: We'll Meet Again by Vera Lynn is used in this chapter. I actually love that song even though it's kind of creepy. It fits the vibes. Also, I promise we get more Eddie interactions in the next chapter.

Summary: You haven’t been the same since you woke up in the hospital with memory loss after the earthquake hit Hawkins. When strange things start happening and you feel like you’ve started losing your mind, a group of strangers offer to help. Even though you’ve never met them before, they seem to know you better than you think.

Warnings: Doctors, Weight loss/loss of appetite/food, Psychiatrist/Discussion of Readers Mental Health, Overbearing Parent, Nightmares, Blood, If I missed anything please let me know, Not proofread, 18 + only, Minors DNI

Word Count: 2.7k

Eddie Munson x Fem reader

Series Masterlist

Part Three

Monday, September 1st, 1986

The pounding on your front door matched the rhythmic pounding in your head. You hopped off your spot on the kitchen counter where you had been nursing your mug full of coffee to open the door for your mother. As the door opened you could see her standing on the doorstep with a frown etched across her face.

You followed her eyes as they trailed from your hair down to your shoes. Your mother always did this thing since the quake where she observed you, mentally making notes of what was off or changed since the last time she had seen you. You were pretty certain she probably kept a journal detailing how you looked or acted each time she saw you so she could go back and compare notes.

The soft hum of the engine came from her car still running in the driveway. The sky was cloudy and gray behind her, teasing the possibility of rain.

“Your clothes look looser,” your mom said as her eyes did another critical pass over you.

“Goodmorning, Mother. Happy to see you too on this beautiful morning,” you remarked sarcastically as you waved your arms at the cloudy world behind her. You turned to leave her at the open door as you took one last sip of your coffee and grabbed your bag off the couch.

“I’m serious,” she called after you. “Have you been eating?”

You huffed as you walked out the front door and closed it behind you. She stood over your shoulder as you locked the door. “Yes, I’ve been eating.”

It wasn’t a lie. You had been eating. But definitely not as much as you used to. It wasn’t something you had done on purpose. Food just didn’t hold much appeal after the first initial bites. Honestly, you hadn’t even thought much about your food intake or weight until you noticed the way your clothes started to fit now. Everyday you promised yourself that you would eat more just to push it off onto the next day. You should have known your mom would notice.

Your mother pursed her lips as she observed you climbing into the passenger seat of her car. The car that she has had for three years yet still had that new car smell.

“I have a good feeling about this new doctor,” she stated matter of factly as she started the car and reversed from the driveway.

You gave a half hearted hum before she continued. “I mean, he’s supposed to be the best neurologist in the Indianapolis area.”

“Do you really mean that or are you saying that because you know his parents?” you asked with an eye roll.

Your mom took a deep breath but didn’t say anything else as you reached over and turned on the radio. It was going to be a long car ride to Indianapolis.

The exam room was sterile and white. You currently sat on the exam table in the center of the room. The thin protective paper underneath you crinkled with each impatient swing of your legs.

Visiting the neurologist always made you nervous. You were always a little medical mystery that no one wanted to take the time to solve. The doctors in the hospital had made it seem like it was a cut and dry case of a head injury. But every time you’ve been to the doctor recently they seem to either not know or not care enough to dig deeper into why you weren’t getting better.

Hence why your mother had weaseled you into this new doctor's practice. She really did care and wanted to see you improve. Her way of showing it was just different than what you would expect.

“Can you please sit still and act your age?” your mother wrinkled her nose at the now ripped paper underneath your thighs.

“Sorry. I’m just nervous,” you muttered.

Her face softened at your admittance. It wasn’t often you admitted that your health worried you. You were usually the one brushing things off or always claiming that things were okay.

A loud knock sounded from the closed door before the doctor made his entrance.

Dr. Coleman was younger than you had expected. His charming smile when he walked into the room practically made your mother swoon from her chair.

You fought back the urge to gag.

“Well, hello there,” he said as he took your mother's hand.

“When Connie told me her son was a hot shot doctor I couldn’t believe it! Thank you so much for getting us in so soon!” She exclaimed.

“No problem at all,” he said before he turned to you. “And you must be my patient. Nice to meet you,” he said as he reached his hand out to you. You didn’t miss the way his tone softened greatly when he spoke to you. Like he was trying not to spook a wild animal.

You sent a quick nod as a greeting before he sat in a circular rolling chair and started to pull papers from the file he held under his arm.

“I looked over all of your records from the hospital and your previous doctor. I’m honestly very surprised with what I found,” he remarked. “But before we get into that, how are you feeling lately? What symptoms are you experiencing?”

You cleared your throat, not wanting to answer this question in front of your mom. You could only imagine the drama it would cause if you asked her to leave, plus having to deal with the interrogation on the ride home to Hawkins.

“Well, I'm still having daily headaches, memory loss, nightmares, and nosebleeds. I’ve recently noticed a lack of appetite and I think that’s made me lose some weight. Also, I think I’m having hallucinations.”

Your mothers head snapped to look at you. Dr. Coleman nodded like he wasn’t surprised.

“What kind of hallucinations?” The doctor asked as he read over your chart again.

You tried to swallow, your throat suddenly feeling very dry under your mothers glare. “Uh, well seeing things, hearing things, feeling things like I’m dreaming but I’m awake the whole time. And then I wake up and everything is normal.”

“Mhm,” he hummed as clicked off the overhead light and rolled closer in his chair and shined a bright light into your eyes, making you jump. He gave you an apologetic smile as he continued to look at your eyes and then moved on to using his cold hands to awkwardly palpate around your skull.

“Well, I think I have an idea of what might be going on,” he rolled back away from you and turned the light back on. He grabbed some prints of what looked like blurry pictures of a brain and held them in front of you and your mother so you could both see. The pictures were hard to see with the way he was holding them and you couldn’t really tell what you were looking at.

“These are some copies of your last brain scan and your first brain scan from the hospital when you first came in. I looked over the originals intensely and there’s one thing I noticed between the two of them. There’s no sign of any brain damage or injury in either of these. I’m looking at a perfectly healthy brain in both scans.”

“So what does that mean?” your mother asked as she put a hand to her own head.

“It means I think the initial diagnosis in the hospital was wrong. Looking at your records nothing indicated that you had hurt your head besides loss of consciousness, memory loss, and a headache. It’s my professional opinion that what you’re experiencing is psychiatric in nature, not physical. I have a list of great psychiatrists in the area that I think will be very beneficial for you.”

The room started to spin as you worked harder to get air in and out of your lungs. “I am not crazy,” you gritted out.

Your mother gasped at your tone. “I’m not saying you’re crazy,” the doctor said calmly. “It’s not unusual for ladies your age to feel a lot of pressure and stress, especially with some of the recent events around Hawkins. Perhaps the earthquake or some other event was a breaking point for your stress. The psychiatrists on this list should be able to find the right medication to help you.” He handed the list to your mother who was teary eyed and nodding along to every word he said.

“I am not stressed or under pressure. I hit my head in a freak accident. That’s it.” You jumped down from the table, ready to make your escape from the room.

“I know this is hard to hear. But physically the scans are telling me a different story. I wish you both the best of luck,” he said as he backed out of the room and shut the door behind him.

You didn’t spare your mom another glance as you stomped out of the office and into her car.

She stayed quiet as well for the majority of the ride home, sensing that you weren’t in the mood to talk. As you got closer to Hawkins, her need to say what was on her mind won.

“I’ll call in the morning and make you an appointment with one of the doctors on the list,” she said quietly, probably hoping you wouldn’t hear her.

“You can do that but that doesn’t mean I’ll go,” you snapped back. Your mom probably didn’t deserve your attitude, you were acting more like a fifteen year old than a twenty year old but you couldn’t bring yourself to feel bad. You knew you weren’t crazy like that stupid doctor had suggested.

Your mom took a deep breath before she spoke again. “I don’t see how it would hurt to get another perspective.”

She didn’t get it. She didn’t understand what it felt like to feel like this everyday. It was one thing to think of yourself as crazy, but to hear it from another person was too much. It made it too real. From not remembering certain things to the comments that Miss Joan had made in the grocery store that day, it felt like you were being left out of something. All of that on top of the fact that your mom had never actually told you how you ended up in the hospital made you suspicious.

“I’ll go if you tell me what happened to me during the earthquake,” you offered.

“What do you mean? We’ve talked about this before,” she said quickly.

You shook your head. “No, every time I ask any questions you change the subject. I just want to know where I was when it happened. Did you see me get hurt? How did I get to the hospital?”

She puckered her lips like she was physically stopping herself from saying anything damning. When the silence stretched for too long and it became clear that she wouldn’t be saying anything, you took matters into your own hands.

You smacked your hands against the dashboard, ignoring the sharp stinging in your palms. “God damnit, Mom! Just tell me!”

The car suddenly braked, causing you to jolt in your seat before it veered sharply to the side of the road. A passing car horn could be heard as someone honked at your mothers sudden maneuvers.

She sat staring straight ahead once the car was stopped and the flashers were on. Both her hands rested perfectly still against the wheel.

When she finally spoke it startled you. “I don’t know what happened to you. I was out of town for work and I got a call that you were in the hospital. When I asked what happened he said-“ She stopped herself abruptly, clamping her teeth together quickly.

“He who?” You demanded.

“I misspoke,” she said as she put the car back in gear and pulled out onto the road again. “Let's go get you something to eat before I take you home.”

You didn’t ask anymore questions for the rest of the day. If you were going to get any answers, you were going to have to go about it a different way.

You hesitantly walked into the office of your new psychiatrist.

The room was bleach white from the walls to the chairs, giving it a cold clinical feeling. Two chairs sat in the center of the room separated by a low coffee table. The coffee table housed a container of tissues, and oddly enough a record player.

You assumed that maybe the psychiatrist liked to use music during his sessions. You think you have heard before that music helps access certain parts of the brain. You don’t remember where you’ve learned that from.

You sit in the smaller chair that you assumed was designated for patients and place your forearms against the armrest, attempting to get comfortable as you wait for the doctor to arrive for your appointment.

You're surprised when you hear a slight crackling as the record player starts to play.

We’ll meet again

Don’t know where, don’t know when

The haunting tune unsettles you slightly as you shift in your seat, turning to face the door in hopes that it would make the doctor arrive faster.

“Well, hello there,” a man's voice said suddenly. You nearly jumped out of your seat when you realized the chair across from you was no longer empty.

In it sat a man wearing a white collared button down shirt, tucked neatly into white pants. His choice of outfit nearly made him blend in with the rest of his office. His blonde hair was styled and gelled perfectly on the top of his head.

But I know we’ll meet again

Some sunny day

He must be the doctor.

He gives you a kind smile full of bleach white teeth. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.” He’s soft spoken and sounds kind. You immediately feel comfortable in his presence.

“It’s okay,” you croak out. “I’ve been a little jumpy lately.”

His smile widens at that. “So I’ve heard. How else have you been feeling lately?”

You cleared your throat as you glanced back down at the record player that was still playing. You launched into the usual rundown of your symptoms. “Headaches, nosebleeds, nightmares-”

“No, no, no. Not your symptoms. Your feelings. How do you feel?”

Keep smiling through

Just like you always do

‘Til the blue skies drive the dark clouds

Far away

Your mouth was suddenly dry as you tried to think of an answer for him. “Um, tired, upset, confused, a little scared sometimes…”

“Guilty?” He interjected.

You tilted your head at him in confusion. “Why would I feel guilty?”

“He got hurt because of you. He was trying to protect you. Don’t you remember?” The psychiatrist's voice started to change. Gone was the soft spoken tone. His voice sounded deeper and distorted, making your hair stand on end.

You shook your head wildly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He let out a deep laugh. “The sooner you stop fighting then the sooner your suffering will all be over.”

Large black vines slithered out from under your chair, wrapping around your arms and pinning you into place. You thrashed against them in an attempt to get free but the more you moved the tighter they held you.

You watched in horror as the skin peeled off of his face and his hair melted away. Revealing disfigured skin of a monster. His once kind looking blue eyes were now cloudy and reptilian as he examined you like prey.

So will you, please, say hello

To the folks that I know?

Tell them I won’t be long

The walls of the office started to peel and drop away, leaving you in the middle of the world that you had only seen in your nightmares. Red flashes of lightning struck in the distance, Screeching of monsters echoed throughout the space.

You pulled against your restraints in another feeble attempt to free yourself.

The monster leaned in closer. “Don’t worry. We’ll meet again.”

You woke from your nightmare abruptly as you thrashed against the blankets. Blood dripped down your chin as it ran from your nose. You didn’t bother to wipe it away as you tried to catch your breath.

Maybe the doctor was right. Maybe you were crazy.

Taglist: (* means your tag would not work)

@sadbitchfangirl @gaysludge @daisydamed

@mandyjo87199 @josephquinncore @stevieharringtonswife @hazydespair @sheneedsrocknroll92 @mopeymopeymouse

@portaltothevoid @sidthedollface2 @mjharrington @pbs-theundeadmaggott @luceneraium @aliceheart2477 @kaitebugg03 @emxxblog @blue-eyed-lion @boo22sstuff @aysheashea @lfaewrites @madaboutjoe

@sweetmariihs2

#eddie munson au #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson lives #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson series #stranger things series #eddie stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson season 4 #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x fem reader #eddie munson fanfiction #stranger things season 4

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thedawningofthehour · 8 months

Note

didn't you say you were making Draxum's house in the sims? Did you ever finish? :(

So I whined about this on my main blog, but I'm having issues with my computer. The power port, and I've noticed this for a while, gets extremely hot whenever I try to run anything more intensive than Powerwash Simulator, and the past few months it's become harder and harder to get it to charge. (I'm not overclocking or anything-I bought this computer for gaming and made sure it had the specs to run shit like my heavily modded Skyrim and Fallout, it should be able to run Sims) I contacted Acer about a repair and they quoted me over eight hundred dollars. The actual computer was about 1200-1300, for comparison. There's other issues with it as well-there's a chip on the screen that's really obvious on a white background, and they advertised that it would support a second hard drive, but it's never recognized the one I bought. The power port is the most grievous though, and power ports on laptops are notoriously hard to repair.

And this computer isn't old. I bought it last spring. Less than a year and a half-and I've barely been gaming on it because I've been writing this, so I spent over a thousand dollars on a turtles fanfiction machine essentially. (there's been other reasons, depression funk caused a complete disinterest in gaming and after so many mass shootings I've started feeling guilty whenever playing games with guns, but writing is mostly what I've been using this expensive gaming PC for) I only had the one-year warranty that came with the computer, but honestly I can't find it in myself to regret that too much because I have never once had a company actually honor a warranty. It's like safety deposits on apartments or insurance claims-they'll do everything they can to weasel out of doing what they're supposed to.

So back to your question-I currently don't trust my computer to run the Sims. Or anything else. And I can afford to buy another gaming PC right now, but it would be financially pretty irresponsible. I returned the tablet I bought to draw with, and I think I'm going to get one of those two-in-one laptop/tablets so I can use it for drawing and writing. Maybe I'll be able to run the Sims 4 on that-it doesn't have to run great, I use it mostly as a building simulator. Kind of sucks though, Crusader Kings 3 came out with another expansion pack and the new Cities Skylines is coming out this fall, plus I've been getting a hankering to play Skyrim again.

But enough about my computer woes, I do think I have some screenshots I could show...

First floor, I apparently took these during the first round of building because I made a lot of changes. The lab is way bigger now, and I have the rest of the house shell done. The blank space in the back right is where I was going to put in the multi-story room where the turtles find the weapons-which is probably the least completed part of the entire house because holy hell the building controls do not want to work with me.

But in the back left you can see Cass and Gale's rooms! :)

I do like how the main hallway turned out. I know it was mostly destroyed on Creation Day, but let's just say Draxum redid it in the same style. The middle picture, that's the little storage room that hides the door to the part of the house where Gale's room is. If you know the Sims you can tell where the secret door is.

And yes, I know the half-walls under the stairs look ridiculous, I've fixed it since then. I couldn't just extend the half-wall all the way back because it would delete the upper staircase, for some reason.

I'm pretty proud of how the living room is turning out. Could be a little bigger, but the symmetry of the bookshelves are just too perfect. (also the curved walls get fussy, FUCK CURVED WALLS) Needs some clutter on the mantle though.

The kitchen no longer looks like this, I moved around a lot of the pictures and added another layer of cabinets, because Draxum probably has like six sets of fine china he's received as gifts throughout the years and refuses to part with. I added more retro-looking décor, because the last time he remodeled this room was in the sixties and I wanted it to look a little old-fashioned. I also imagine he refuses to get an electric stove, saying his mystic wood-burning stove works just fine. I tried to work a pantry in, but it didn't really pan out. (lol) And the more I think about it, he probably has a legit larder somewhere in the basement, since Draxum is from a time before refrigeration and would have grown up storing food in underground cellars. (and he deffo has like several years worth of food stored away, he's pretty much a doomsday prepper)

This is also incidentally the layout of the kitchen at my old house, hence the weird octagon dining area. Except we had windows. With no curtains. In the woods. It was unsettling to cook at night.

Draxum's study is bigger now, and I think I added a fireplace? He absolutely has eight bazillion degrees and awards and he puts them ALL on his wall. He earned that shit, dammit.

His bedroom's nothing to write home about. It's comfortable, not luxurious. There's no electric lights because he prefers candlelight.

Just imagine that white bathroom counter stained with pink splotches from Draxum's hair dye.

I had BARELY done anything with the pool, but as you can see it is indeed a tank. Draxum was planning to keep a mutant or something in there.

I was actually in the process of redoing the entire greenery lol, but I think I did an okay job on 1.0. Not the mason jar lamps though, I'm not sure what I was thinking there.

Some pictures of Lab 1.0. The ooze-vine-thing looks terrible; I straight up haven't even started to recreate it in 2.0. I pushed back Draxum's alchemy area and gave him an actual medical bay in the back, which is where The Table would have been located.

That's mostly Gale's area on the left, I think it still broadly looks this way? I didn't put in stuff like the robotics table because it just looked silly-and besides, we're not actually playing this build. We know Galois only needs two hands and a welder to make a robot.

I will leave you off with a slightly more clutterfied Gale's room! Oh, but also, I GOT PURPLE CC CURTAINS FOR HIM. :D After I took this picture, but just know he has them now. He has no reason to have them because he does not have a window, but I'm happy for him.

#okay i did not intend to spend an hour doing this #i was gonna post the next chapter tonight but i don't think that's going to be happening no #not much of a surprise it needed a lot of work and i've been dragging my heels on it #doth asks

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ariadynamics · 4 months

Note

Hi Aria! Are you planning on writing more of (want you) more than anyone else?

I've had this ask since April 27, so I'm not even sure you'll see this nonny.

I've been ignoring it for a bit (sorry, nonny) because honestly, I wasn't sure if I was going to be able to write more of the Galex WIP.

Uh, apparently, I've written some? This is EXTREMELY rough and also will likely be heavily edited by the time I'm done. But anon, if you ever see this tho, I hope you like it!

Chapter 5, Galex WIP

There’s something weird today about George. Obviously, weirdness and George aren’t entirely two disparate things. After all, George is weird most of the time. The kind of weirdness George is projecting tonight isn’t new or singular. This feels different, though, and Alex can’t pinpoint why. He can’t think of the exact words to describe why George feels off. Just that George does feel off.

Alex hates it.

Not that George being different is a problem. Whatever, he’s pretty sure there isn’t an iteration of George that he could ever dislike. No, the thing that grates at Alex, the thing that makes him feel itchy and restless, is the feeling of not knowing something about George. Alex can’t stop rewinding his interactions with George over the last couple of days, like a healing scab on his skin he can’t stop picking at. When did things suddenly change?

Was there something Alex had done? Had said?

When did they become the kind of people who kept secrets from each other?

Alex wants to know everything about George. He wants to learn every atom, every molecule, every little thought that crosses George’s huge, giant head.

Fuck.

Maybe he’s the weird one here, not George.

After all, he’s the one who wants to be an inextricable, immovable part of George. That’s weird, right? Admittedly, he’s not the most well-versed when it comes to friends-with-benefits etiquette, but Alex is reasonably sure the thoughts he’s been having all morning about George aren’t exactly buddies.

He can’t help it.

Alex just. Fuck. Alex just wants.

He wants a lot of things. Alex wants to tug at the curls at the base of George’s neck. He wants to beat him on the track and then kiss him stupid while they’re damp and sticky from champagne. Most of all, though, Alex wants George to turn around and look at him. He wants to handcuff George to himself and drag them both away to where they can be alone.

“We can probably spare half an hour or so, right, Alex?” George asks, taking Alex out of his head.

He blinks, hard, when he finally digests George’s words. “Uh, sure?” Alex grunts. “I missed that; what are we doing again?”

“Beach volleyball. We were hoping for a couple of extra people to join us,” the guy with dimples says, shooting them a toothy grin. Alex feels irrationally angry at how white this guy’s teeth are under the Grecian sun.

This guy’s not even that hot, Alex thinks, glum. He can’t place the guy’s accent at all. He sounds like an experimental mash-up between Sebastian and Stroll. Completely, utterly unsexy.

Even if the guy’s dimples can probably bring about world peace.

“I don’t know if it would be fair for us to join,” Alex says. If he sounds a little haughty, well, he’s just looking out for Smiley McSmiley over here. They’re athletes--it would be rather unsportsmanlike of them to play volleyball with a bunch of unsuspecting regular Joes.

The guy raises one of his thick, well-manicured brows. “Oh? Why’s that? You any good at volleyball?”

Alex shrugs. “We’re, you know. Athletic.”

George nudges their shoulders together, and the heat of George’s skin against his makes him shiver. “Way to sell our abilities, Alex,” George grins, shaking his head. “Don’t listen to him. We’re not superstars or anything, but we probably won’t be complete liabilities.”

The guy laughs, throwing his head back jovially, the long lines of his neck in full view. “Good enough for me. I’m Nico, by the way. Nice to meet you.”

“George. And this guy right here is Alex.”

Nico shakes both of their hands before pointing to a clearing close to the beach. “My friends are just over there. Shall we?”

#I have 15 minutes before midnight #this still counts as #wip wednesday #also apparently I've decided that inserting random hockey cameos in very non-hockey fic is my brand now #pardon the typos aetc etc #galex #anon #aria answers #my fic

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rphelperblog · 1 year

Text

Cress Book Quote Rp Meme

book three in the LC series by Marissa Meyer- feel free to edit quotes or change pronouns for rp purposes

“I promise, I will not let you die without being kissed.”

“Don’t tell me it took you two whole days to realize that you are in love with me. I must be losing my touch.”

“You can help me pick out a tiara when we’re done saving the world.”

“Right. I’m sure that poor etiquette is the number one reason for most failed revolutions.”

"I know you can hear me. I'm sorry my friend is such a wing nut. You can just ignore him."

"Do you think it was destiny that brought us together?"

"It starts with kidnapping the groom."

"The sky is gorgeous, intense blue color."

“Have you given any thought to your wedding vows?”

“Delete anything that has to do with love, respect, or joy, and I’ll sign on the dotted line.”

“I believe it is the mark of a great leader to question the decisions that came before him.”

“It turns out you are worth a lot of money on the black market.”

"Do you ever think before you speak?"

“Maybe great, epic romances don't just happen. We have to make them ourselves.”

“Wow, when you research, you really research, don't you?”

“So I’m going there, and I’m going to start a revolution.”

“If you honestly believe that then you really don't recognize true value when you see it.”

"Oh. Um. In a constellation, the brightest star is called the alpha. I thought maybe you meant that she's…like…your brightest star.

“Maybe there isn’t such a thing as fate. Maybe it’s just the opportunities we’re given, and what we do with them. I’m beginning to think that maybe great, epic romances don’t just happen. We have to make them ourselves.”

“You know, when I was a kid, I was tricked into thinking that princesses wore tiaras and hosted tea parties. Now that I've met a real princess, I must say, I'm kind of disappointed.”

"Is she blushing? She sounds like she's blushing."

"That is the best idea ever. Count me in.”

"Can we get back to these soldiers that are being rounded up, please?"

“Could you describe all those threats again because I feel like I missed something.”

"Very wanted criminal of me too.”

"Are you having a mental breakdown right now?”

"Maybe there's a little bit of a hero in me after all. But… really. Only a little.”

“Yeah, hold that thought while I go disable the speaker system.”

“Oh, for all the stars."

“Never underestimate the stealth of a criminal mastermind.”

"I prefer damsel in distress,"

“You’re not looking.”

“We are experiencing a level-one security breach and all elevators have been temporarily shut down. Please enjoy a hot cup of tea while we wait for clearance.”

“Oh, yeah, she’s great. I mean, half the people in the world want to kill her and the other half want to chain her to a throne on the moon, which is just what she’s always wanted. So she’s fantastic.”

“You know, if it was a bad kiss, you can just say so.”

“Everyone is trying to impress everyone else. Trying to make themselves out to be smarter or more confident than they actually are.”

I hate to break this to you, but I am sweaty and itchy and haven't brush my teeth in two days. This just isn't a good time for romance.”

“I like to maintain an air of mystery.”

“That’s not at all what I … Wait. Did you think it was a bad kiss?”

“We were going to die, you know.”

“Because the palace walls have been bleeding for years, and no one else sees it.”

“Don't try to push your swoony psychodrama on me.”

“It would be like those epic love affairs that exploded into existence and burned white hot for all eternity. The type of love that time and distance and death couldn't seperate”

“All right, damsel. Send over those coordinates.”

"I think I am in love with you."

“Maybe there isn’t such a thing as fate. Maybe it’s just the opportunities we’re given, and what we do with them.”

“We are obviously soul mates. Now please, stand up.”

“You’ve probably told lots of girls you loved them.”

“Well, yeah, but I would have reconsidered if I’d known you were going to hold it against me.”

“It was kind of nice to know that they were both wrong."

“For my next trick, I will win a staring contest with the moron in orange sunglasses.”

“Good. Because I need you. And those are not words that I throw around every day.”

“Although. . . somehow, I always pictured the princess . . . I don't know. In a dress.”

“She was a girl. A living girl, smart and sweet and awkward and unusual, and she was worth far more than they could ever realize.”

“I serve my princess. No one else.”

“I am not happy with this turn of events."

“Well, it’s annoying and we’re running out of time. Come on.”

"You'd rather take your chances with her?"

“Then stop going comatose on me!”

“He’s just gone inside to be heroic. I’m sure he’ll be glad to know you’re here. I believe he’s under the impression that you’re out in space somewhere.”

“It always came back to love. More than freedom, more than acceptance—love. True love, like they sang about in the second era. The kind that filled up a person's soul. The kind that lent itself to dramatic gestures and sacrifices. The kind that was irresistible and all-encompassing.”

“I just needed some time to figure out who I was … am.”

"Because if I'd ruined that for you, I was going to feel like such a cad.”

“I can’t let anyone else die,”

“What do you suggest? You clearly know all about this political revolution stuff, so please enlighten me, O wrinkled one.”

“The only way through this is to fight.”

“She deserved it, the snake. After keeping my little golden bird locked up in her cage for so long.”

“I just think I’m not the best person to demonstrate all the goodness humanity has to offer. I don’t want you to be too disappointed when you realize that.”

“That you’re lonely, and I’m irresistible?”

“He did, in fact, look like a romance hero, all muscles and edges and chiseled bone structure. He also looked miserable.”

“Our country was built on a foundation of equality and togetherness, not prejudice and hatred.”

“When Rapunzel saw the prince, she fell over him and began to weep, and her tears dropped into his eyes”

No more secrets. I don't know if I can survive any more big reveals from you, so if you have anything else to tell me, out with it. Right now."

this is sweet, but aren’t I the first guy you’ve ever met? Come on, up you go.”

“She would have freedom, and friendships, and purpose. And she would be with him.”

“Because if there was one thing she knew about heroes, it was that they could not resist a damsel in distress. And she was nothing if not in distress.”

“Love. It always came back to love. More than freedom, more than acceptance—love. True love, like they sang about in the second era. The kind that filled up a person’s soul. The kind that lent itself to dramatic gestures and sacrifices. The kind that was irresistible and all-encompassing.”

I'm almost afraid to ask, Your Majesty."

“As it turned out, being human was every bit as much fun as she'd always thought it would be.”

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the-pinstriped-hood · 1 year

Text

I honestly had this concept rolling around in my head while I took a shower this morning. (This was actually a few days ago)

I suppose it's like a dream concept? A little angsty, a little funny but it's all in Bo's head. It's before he proposes to Percy)

Let's see how it turns out.

And idea struck Bo one evening that made his stomach turn: Percy was tying Bo down. That was the whole point of tying the knot wasn't it? But some part of his selfish heart spoke to him.

"Is she really that good enough to put a ring on? There are thousands of women to be waitin' for you to bed them and you pick the most Plain Jane of them all?"

He was sitting in a white void in his pajamas. Nothingness for miles except for a man in an all black suit. Himself.

His selfishness was an old friend. One he admittedly not seen in a while due to Percy.

"You really gonna tie yourself to her? After all these years of partying it up as a single man, bedding every woman you could possibly nab with our rugged good looks and you choose little miss secretary?"

Bo sighed, upset he had to go over this in his own head. "Yeah, of course I chose her. Where in the hell am I ever gonna get another woman like her?"

"You could always leave." Selfish hissed with a smile. "Leave her, Vincent and Lester. Live your life the way you want it. You don't have to be beholden to anyone but yourself. Besides, you've been lookin' out for number one all this time. What's stopped you this time?"

There was a clearing of the throat from the other side of the room. Another vision of Bo this time in a white suit. "His conscience."

"He don't have one."

"Not until Her, she didn't."

This Bo stood from his chair, tired and hair slightly frayed, helping Bo up from the floor. "I haven't had a voice for years until now, you've always been in control." He stared daggers into Selfish.

Bo stared at his conscience. "Percy gave you a voice…"

Conscience nodded with a smile. "The woman you love gives you more than her time, love and physical self. She gives you the tools to do right, minus the murder of course."

The three were in agreement.

"Why would you leave her? For some 15 minute fling in some seedy hotel with some other woman you'd never see again? And do what? Break Percy's heart and the hearts of the family who loves you?" Selfishness stalked over only to be chained up by a wave of the man in whites hand.

"You aren't a part of this conversation anymore. Bo, listen to me. You're gonna get preweddin jitters, all couples do. Do you love Percy?"

"More than anything. I saved her."

"Exactly and she repays you by loving you every day of your life. You know she could do better but here she stays, with you. Because she sees herself in you and vice versa. Ruinin' your life for a single selfish thought is not the way to go."

Bo was silent as White spoke again. "Everytime she looks at you, what do you see?"

"That she believes in me, that she loves me unconditionally. I just don't get it though. Why would she trust me? She watched me try to kill someone and she didn't turn tail and run. I still don't get it..."

"Because regardless of all that she loves you. You're protecting your family. She finds that to be a shared trait. You saved her by not runnin' her over and she repaid you...?"

"By savin' my life in turn."

"Exactly. Any other woman you know would've done what she did? Or turn you in?"

Bo nodded.

"well there you go! Bo, what you have on your hands, is a soulmate. Someone who's soul almost matches yours. The other half that makes the two a' you feel whole. She's not afraid to get upset with you, she's an equal. Wouldn't you rather have someone standin' beside you an' not behind you?"

Bo woke up the next morning feeling extra sure of himself. Whatever came next, he wanted Percy as his partner in crime.

Tags:@rottent33th @slaasherslut @soupbabe @bluecoolr-main @probably-a-plant-thing @damien-mlm @flowercrownedlady @6lostgirl6 @texaschainsawslvt @slasherscrybaby @shonkgobonk @kalid-raven @allthingsblood @angxlslasher

#bo sinclair #house of wax #house of wax 2005 #slashers #percy jones oc #Bo x Percy #the angels of ambrose au

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nightttdreamers · 2 years

Text

Monster Mash / Kenny x Craig

you guys :’) crenny nation rise up thanks so much for the love on my last fic. here’s a silly little crenny halloween drabble i wrote. i might do a style one next, this was super fun

Ao3 link | 2k words | One-shot

It's Halloween and Kenny McCormick has decided he wants to tell everyone that he and Craig are dating through a couple's costume.

Craig’s never been the best with words. His parents like to say that he flipped them off before he even knew how to speak, and he’s not even sure if that’s a joke. Expressing himself hasn’t really been a problem, he’s done fine so far without being particularly eloquent.

But right now, he really wishes he could find the words to tell Kenny McCormick how beautiful he is.

The blonde is kneeling in front of him as Craig sits on the floor, back against his bed. He has one hand on his chin, angling Craig’s face as he puts the finishing touches on his makeup. The two have been sitting like this for nearly half an hour, which means he’s had ample time to just stare .

Kenny’s blissfully oblivious, of course, his tongue sticking out between his lips as he works. It’s not often that Craig gets to see him like this, without his hair or his hood in the way. Usually, if they’re this close, they’re sucking face. But now, Craig is taking his time memorizing every freckle that dusts Kenny’s cheeks, how his nose scrunches up each time he messes up, even the tiny scar that splits his eyebrow.

Craig reaches up, brushing a stray tuft of hair away from Kenny’s eyes, which earns a smile from the other.

“I thought you were totally zoned out,” Kenny says, sitting back on his heels.

“I’m just looking at you,” Craig replies with a small shrug.

Kenny’s already in costume, though his transformation isn’t quite as dramatic as Craig’s. His eyes are painted with black liner and purple shadow, making their blue hue seem sharper. This is paired with a black dress they got from the thrift, then proceeded to cover in rips, safety pins, and other patches of dark fabric until it looked sufficiently goth enough.

“‘Cause I’m the hottest emo psychic teenage girl you’ve ever seen?” Kenny asks, raising his brows as he smirks.

Craig doesn’t have a retort, nor does he want to come up with one even though he knows Kenny’s just teasing him. “Yeah, you are.”

No matter how many times Craig compliments him, Kenny always tries to shy away or change the subject. He stands, reaching a hand down to help pull Craig up. “You should get a look at yourself.”

In the mirror, Craig is faced with a reflection he hardly recognizes. They spent hours hand-painting his black-and-white striped suit, so there was no way Kenny would hold back on the makeup. His fast is ghastly white, offset by the dark rings that line his eyes and the green spots of “decay,” done with tissue paper and glue.

“Holy shit, Kenny,” Craig says, stepping forward to get a closer look at himself. “Where did you even learn how to do this?”

“Youtube,” Kenny replies, looking rather proud of himself as he watches Craig. “Karen helped a bit too. If I’m the hottest Lydia you’ve ever seen,” he begins, coming to stand behind Craig so they can both look at their costumes side-by-side. “You are definitely the hottest Beetlejuice anyone will ever see.”

Craig reaches a hand up to touch his makeup, only to get it smacked down by Kenny.

“Don’t touch! The face paint might still be drying.”

“Right, right,” Craig nods. He still can’t quite believe that’s him in the mirror, but it makes sense now why Kenny was so focused earlier. “I don’t think I’ve had a costume this elaborate since, well, I’ve probably never had a costume this elaborate.”

“I dunno, I like going all out for Halloween,” Kenny replies, taking a seat on Craig’s bed.

Still looking in the mirror, Craig responds. “Honestly, if you didn’t come up with this, I was just gonna wear an old football jersey and call it a night.”

“Is it-” Kenny begins, but then falls quiet. Craig turns to see the blonde sitting on the edge of the bed, toying with the strap of the fake camera around his neck.

Craig waits to see if he’ll continue, but Kenny just shakes his head in the way he does when he’s getting too far into his own head. “Is it what, Kenny?”

“Is it too much?”

They’ve been officially dating for a month now, though only in private. A month of sneaking around, lying about class projects and sleepovers and whatever excuses they needed to spend time with each other without arousing suspicion. Craig hated it. He didn’t need to parade Kenny around as his boyfriend and subject everyone to their PDA, but he couldn’t go on pretending to be indifferent when Kenny was around. Kenny deserved more than that.

The halloween costume was Kenny’s idea. Not just who they were dressing up as, but the idea of doing a couple’s costume. Craig had been talking about telling their friends about them for a while, and Kenny said that this was how he wanted to do it, telling everyone at Wendy’s Halloween party. Not quite what Craig had been thinking, but as long as they didn’t have to hide anymore, he’d do anything.

“No, of course it isn’t, babe. We look fucking awesome,” Craig says, which earns a smile from the other. It’s not quite as bright as Craig would like it to be, but it’s better than nothing. “Can I kiss you or will that fuck up the makeup?”

Kenny laughs, which makes Craig feel a bit lighter. Instead of responding, he simply stands and plants a soft kiss against his boyfriend’s lips. “That’s all you’re getting, Tucker. I’m not showing up to this party with white paint smeared all over my face.”

“I’m tired of not being able to kiss you all the time,” Craig replies, which, predictably, flusters Kenny. There’s a light flush to his cheeks, though he maintains a cocky smile.

“I mean, no one would notice if I showed up with white paint smeared all over my-”

He’s cut off when Craig pulls him in for another kiss. Kenny always has some kind of joke or smart comment to make, but nothing shuts him up quicker than Craig’s lips on his. After, Kenny looks up at him, his face feigning annoyance though he’s clinging to Craig in a way that says otherwise.

For a moment, he has half a mind to ditch the party and let the two of them stay here instead, watching scary movies and eating Tricia’s leftover candy. But, they haven’t spent hours on their costumes for nothing.

“Wanna head?” Craig asks.

Kenny opens his mouth, then closes it. “Actually, that’s too easy of a joke. Let’s go.”

One thing that’s been an adjustment in the time they’ve been dating is what Craig likes to call, “Passenger Princess Kenny.” Though he doesn’t have a car of his own, Kenny loves going on drives, which means that Craig sometimes serves as his chauffeur rather than his boyfriend. There’s snacks in his glove compartment, loose sheets of Kenny’s homework scattered on the ground, and the spare hoodie he keeps in his car goes missing about once a week.

But, on this drive, there’s none of the typical shenanigans that go on when Craig drives. Well, not none , Kenny still immediately takes control of the aux and then blasts the heat like it’s his own car, but it’s different. Every time Craig tries to break the silence, Kenny brushes him off, giving a half-hearted response that won’t lead to any real conversation.

They end up not even speaking for most of the drive, letting the corny Halloween mix Kenny made for them play instead. This might be the fourth time he’s heard Monster Mash play tonight, and it probably won’t be the last. As they pull onto Wendy’s street and park, Craig lowers the volume a bit.

“You ready?” He asks, looking over at Kenny, who’s fidgeting with a safety pin on his dress. The blonde doesn’t respond, and when Craig turns to face him, he can see that he’s been gnawing on his lip as well. “Kenny?”

“I feel like this is a bad idea,” he blurts out. “I don’t know, I thought it would make it better, rip the bandaid off, but now I just feel stupid.”

Craig exhales. He figured they’d have to go through this, it’s not like he isn’t nervous himself either. Still, knowing this would happen doesn’t mean he knows what to say. “I don’t think it’s a bad idea,” he says, reaching out to take Kenny’s hand in his own. “It’s better than just telling our friends and letting the South Park gossip mill do the rest, right?”

“People are still gonna talk, Craig,” Kenny says, looking up at him. “It doesn’t matter if we tell them or if they find out, everyone’s gonna talk about it.”

“Don’t you think I know that?” Craig asks, a soft smile on his face. Obviously, he’s been at the receiving end of gossip in South Park, no one’s forgotten that he was basically peer pressured by the entire town into his first relationship with Tweek. At least it made his actual coming out, then subsequent break-up with Tweek a few years later a bit easier.

Kenny reaches up to rub his eye, something he always does when he gets frustrated, but Craig stops him.

“Your makeup, dude,” he says, fingers lingering on Kenny’s wrist for a second.

“Thanks,” he says softly, opting to rub his temple instead. “Fuck, I can’t believe that I’m about to come out to everyone in eyeliner and a dress.”

“I wouldn’t want it any other way,” Craig says, prompting an incredulous smile from the other. He knows just what to say to help Kenny detense. “I’m serious. I want everyone to see how fucking amazing my boyfriend is and how hot his legs are in this dress.”

Kenny laughs, hiding his face in his hands. “You have to stop saying shit like that!”

“Like what?” Craig asks, prying Kenny’s hands away so he can see the embarrassed look on his face. “Like you’re the best person in this entire garbage town? I want everyone to know how bad they suck in comparison to you.”

Kenny snorts which in turn makes Craig begin to laugh too. “You can’t just say that all deadpan!” He takes Craig’s hands now, leaning over the console to get closer to him. “I’m gonna tell everyone that you’re literally the cheesiest most gayest romantic sap in the fucking world.”

“Do it,” Craig says without hesitation. “I don’t care.”

Kenny’s tongue darts across his lips. “You mean that?”

“Babe, I’m wearing a full face of makeup and a hand-painted suit. But I don’t care. Fuck, I’d be Lydia and wear the dress if you asked me to. South Park is full of idiots who already think a lot of dumb shit about me. So, no, I don’t care if they know that I’m super fucking gay for you. Kenny, you’re the only one I care about.”

It’s quiet except for the Monster Mash still playing, which Craig is growing to hate more with each passing second, and the sound of Kenny’s breath, heavy in his chest.

“Are you gonna kill me if I make a joke about how dick-whipped you are for me?”

Craig flicks him right in the forehead.

“Ow!” Kenny whines, far too dramatically considering how gentle Craig was. “Bad joke, bad joke, that’s on me. I’m sorry,” he leans back in his seat, watching as their classmates head into the party. “I’m not as good with, like, words and shit as you are.”

Craig stifles a laugh. “Seriously? I’m terrible with that sort of stuff.”

“But you always know what to say,” Kenny says doubtfully.

It’s something he’s never heard before. Usually he gets ‘Craig, use your words,’ or ‘Stop mumbling, speak up.’ All he’s wanted the time they’ve been together is the right thing to say, some way to tell Kenny exactly how he feels.

“I’m just being honest,” Craig says.

“You’re really good at that, then,” Kenny says, eyes once again fixated on his lap.

“I’m not. It’s like my brain shuts off when you’re around and the only thing I can say is the truth,” Craig says, making a perfect example of himself. “How do you think I got through asking you out? I was just honest.”

“Okay, then,” Kenny begins, taking a breath. “Here’s me being honest. I care about you a lot too. And I love how real you are, and I love that you always make me feel fuzzy and sappy and all that gay shit, and I love that you’re my boyfriend. And I don’t want to hide that anymore. So, if everyone’s gonna know, we might as well look super hot and give them something to talk about.”

Craig smiles. It’s his turn now to blush, though it doesn’t show nearly as much as Kenny’s does. “Then let’s do it.”

He turns the car off and they get out, crossing the lawn. They both come to a stop as they stand outside the door, simply staring at the slab of wood.

“Well,” Kenny says, reaching out and taking Craig’s hand. “Here’s to a Halloween I’m hopefully gonna be too drunk to remember.”

Craig gives his hand a squeeze. “Here’s to a Halloween they hopefully won’t forget.”

#crenny #south park crenny #CRENNY NATION DO U HEAR ME I AM HERE!!!#craig tucker #kenny mccormick #craig tucker x kenny mccormick #south park fanfic #one shot #halloween #spooky season #do u guys think its cringe how much i tag be honest

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ffion451 · 1 year

Text

Chapter Five: Waking Light | The Centre Cannot Hold: KTH (m)

Chapter characters/pairings: Taehyung x reader | AU/Genre: non idol au, angst, smut (see warnings below) see series m.post for fic summary etc.

Rating/Chapter warnings: ⚠️🔞 M - Adults only! 🔞⚠️ Suggestions of drugging, possible dubcon (not detailed and not glamourised) Foul language, references to alcohol and being drunk, a little smut.

Word count: 6.7K

<<< Chapter Four | Chapter Six >>>

The water turns a lazy shade of pink, circling the white porcelain in dizzying spirals. Under the cold water of the tap, your finger begins to numb. You begin to space out a little, your mind seemingly floating away from your body. Barely feet away, Minho watches as your eyes lose focus; your breathing shallows and becomes ragged; a sickly pallor paints your face; your lips turn white. Finally, your face relaxes and he springs forward.

“Oh fuck -” he yells as he rushes forward, dropping his paintbrush in his haste. Just in time, he catches you in his arms as you fold in on yourself.

Somehow, you don’t faint, but you very nearly do; you come to yourself with you head on Minho’s lap as he holds your hand next to his head, your cut finger wrapped in a tissue that’s clamped in his fist.

“What just happened?” you ask groggily, as Minho peers into your face from above you, looking concerned.

“Maybe you almost fainted because you’re an idiot that watched her blood flow out of her instead of stemming it,” he says in exasperation and worry.

“Ah…” you half-smile as he eases the pressure on your finger, allowing you to take over as he helps you sit up.

“I did try to tell you those paint cans were sharp, but would you listen?” he complains as he lean you against the workbench, before disappearing for moments, rummaging in the corner before he returns to you.

“Show me,” commands Minho; you look at him, wondering how he’s managed to pull out an entire first aid kit from the mess that is his studio so quickly. He notes your disbelief with a laugh, “Hey, this isn’t my first rodeo, you know…”

You tentatively lay out you hand to him and Minho speedily examines the cut, it’s clean, but deep. He’s quick to wrap your finger in a clean cloth, applying pressure to staunch the oncoming flow. Shortly after he deftly applies antiseptic and bandages you up, “All done,” he says soothingly.

You thank him as he leads you away to you to the comfy sofa in the corner of his studio.

“So…” he says, looking at you carefully, “Did you think about what we talked about?”

You think about playing dumb, but what would be the point? Minho knows you, so you may as well be honest, “About Taehyung?”

“Yep,” he says, still studying you.

“Are you asking me this now because I’m weakened by blood loss?” you joke.

Minho presses his lips together and nods, “Yes, I am,” he admits shamelessly, “So, are you going to let him monopolise you tonight?”

“Is that really what he does?” you ask honestly, but his face gives you all the answer you need, so you ask the thing that really bothers you, “Tell me the truth - have I been a bad friend since I started hanging out with him?”

Minho rolls his eyes; he’s exasperated but not annoyed, “You are not a bad friend, of course you’re not,” he reassures, “But it’s been what, five or six months since he took over your life now? When we’re all out he’s stuck on you like glue. Before you met him you said you were thinking about dating again and now no guy can get within 10 feet of you…”

You smile, “I don’t see a queue forming,” you joke: Minho’s not lying, you had been thinking about dating again, but every time you think of it you feel nervous and shy. That nasty voice in your head, the one you try to silence, always seems to pipe up, pointing out that probably nobody would want to date you anyway.

“Stop that!” he says firmly, “Plenty of guys would want to if they could get near you. I know he’s your friend, and I don’t dislike the guy, but he is possessive of you. It worries me. It worries all of us,” he admits.

“I see,” you say in a small voice, processing his words, “I don’t want anyone to worry. I hadn’t even noticed.”

“It seems to me that he doesn’t want other people around you - it’s like all your attention has to be on him and don’t get me started on this thing with him and Jimin…” he trails off.

You nod in agreement, “I don’t know what it’s about either, he just hates him.”

Minho nods, “I’m not sure about either of them, to be honest,” he admits, “All I know is that there’s something going on there that runs deeper than either of them are letting on and that’s their business. All we care about, all I care about, is that you’re not in the middle of their mess because they both seem to have an agenda when it comes to you.”

You nod. You’re tempted to joke to ease the tension, but you can feel the depth of Minho’s concern and you want him to know that you’re listening, “I’ll be careful.”

“Will you try to spread yourself out a bit tonight? Talk to other people? Show Taehyung that you have your own life outside him?”

You know it’s true and when you look into his eyes you see nothing but warmth and concern. Never, in all the years you have known him, has Minho ever given you a reason not to trust him. “I will,” you promise.

Minho believes you, but he wonders how well your resolution will stand up against the force of nature that is Taehyung.

⍟ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⍟

The next morning, Taehyung can’t bring himself to open his eyes. His mouth is dry, the texture like cotton wool. He runs his tongue over his teeth, but there’s no saliva, and everything tastes furry and disgusting. He winces but immediately regrets the small movement - his head pounds in reaction, the ache growing in his temples threatening to split his skull apart.

His hangover hits him even harder as his eyes flicker open. He’s sprawled on his front at the edge of his bed, but as his vision focuses on the familiarity of his surroundings he’s glad to see that he made it home at least. He lets out a low groan as he reaches for water from the bedside table. It’s only then that he feels and hears movement beside him.

He feels some relief, both from the water and your presence, At least you two got home safely together, he thinks. He always prefers it, he worries about your safety otherwise.

He’s about to say good morning to you and offer you water, when the breeze in the room tickles over his bare skin - more specifically - it tickles over the bare skin of his ass. He realises he’s completely naked with a sickening lurch of his gut. Panicked thoughts flood his mind, subsuming the relief he’d felt milliseconds before: Fuck, fuck, fuck - did he fuck his best friend last night?

His mind races, but before he can get his thoughts straight or process how he feels about what it could mean for the two of you, an arm wraps around him. His mind stops as words are croaked out by dry lips into his his shoulder blade, “Good morning.”

His blood runs cold and he’s ready to be sick, his only thought: What have I fucking done?

⍟ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⍟

Your eyes flutter open, you’re hungover but you feel more dehydrated than anything else, though you’re more than a little peeved at being woken up by movement beside you.

You feel disorientated and you realise you’re not in your bed as you look around you trying to place exactly where you are. The low groan from beside you as you pull yourself awake tells you instantly where you are and who you’re with: relief spreads through you.

Beside you there’s a desperate glug of water and you smirk that at least someone else feels like you do and is suffering too.

You roll on to your side, but your greeting of “Good morning,” almost dies on your lips, your voice an almost unrecognisable croak.

⍟ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⍟

Taehyung scrambles out of bed desperately excusing himself: he has no idea how to deal with the situation. “I’m sorry,” he says pathetically, not even able to make eye contact.

He stumbles into the bathroom, runs a flannel under the hot tap, soaps it and throws it with a hand towel on the bed.

“Please, just go,” he says, full of shame as he shuts himself in the en-suite and turns the shower on. He doesn’t get in: instead, he simply waits, listening to the water flow and is grateful when he hears his bedroom door open and then close minutes later, leaving him alone to process his thoughts.

Finally, he gets in the shower, and as the warm water runs over his skin, he knows what’s coming: he barely makes it out and to the toilet before his hangover hits his stomach and he starts to hurl.

⍟ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⍟

You feel sick suddenly, and it’s not just the hangover, as memories from last night rush back to you in a sickening flurry. You wince when the flannel hits you in the face.

“What the fuck?” you growl out in your croaky voice.

“I’m sorry,” grumbles Aera, “it’s for your head, it’s nice and cold,” she smiles feebly, passing you another bottle of water.

“Ah thanks,” you say in relief as your pounding head is soothed by the cold comfort of the flannel, “I feel like shit.”

She smirks, watching as you gulp the water down your parched throat, “Yeah, you and me both,” she agrees with a weak laugh.

She climbs back into bed with you to rest her pounding head.

A group of you had come back to crash at hers after a night of heavy drinking. As you’d staggered back to their house, Minho and Aera had decided through secret looks and mutual understanding that you’d sleep in with her. Both of them are more than happy to have you and Jimin to stay over but they’ve not quite made their mind up about him. They simply don’t know him well enough and because of that the thought of leaving you in the spare room, drunk and alone, with him on the sofa made them both uncomfortable. Minho was far more comfortable with Jimin in the spare room downstairs, knowing he would act as a guard from his position sprawled out on the sofa and you and Aera could sleep soundly upstairs.

Minho is a trusting guy, but he takes your safety, and Aera’s, very seriously. Jimin seems a nice guy, but there’s something about the intensity of the way he looks at you that unsettles both him and Aera. Last night in particular set off alarm bells for Minho; you’d been as good as your word, making sure Taehyung didn’t take up your every moment. Petulant and offended, Taehyung got absolutely blind drunk and largely left you unattended; the speed with which Jimin exploited his absence to zone in on you and monopolise your attention in his place concerned Minho deeply. When you’d arrived back at their’s though, Jimin raised no objections and the night passed quietly leaving all of you to be awoken by your hangovers and the sunlight of the bright morning.

Eventually, dressed only in Aera’s shorts and an oversized tee of Minho’s you clamber from the bed and head to the kitchen, where the three of you stand, zombified, staring at the brewing coffee.

When the coffee is poured, you all stare at the fourth cup, before you relent, “I’ll wake him,” you mumble and shuffle to the spare room.

You knock the door softly, “Jimin?”

“Come in,” comes the soft voice. You’re grateful to see he’s pulled on a t-shirt as you enter and you shiver slightly from the breeze from the open window as you pass him his coffee.

He takes it from you with a smile, “Thanks,” he then takes yours from you while he throws you his pink fluffy coat, “Don’t freeze.”

You smile, zipping up the jacket as you sit on the edge of the bed, “How do you not look like shit?” you ask.

He grins; you’re not exaggerating, he looks fine, practically glowing in the morning sunshine.

“I drank a fuck load of water before we left, and, well, no offence, I can actually handle my drink,” he smirks as he hands you back your cup.

You frown teasingly, “So by implication, I can’t?”

He snorts, “Can you?”

“No,” you laugh, “I really fucking can’t!” you admit as you sip your coffee.

The two of you laugh together a while, talking about nothing in particular, and then you join Aera and Minho, drawn by the smell of breakfast cooking.

A little later, and the four of you are all quietly munching toast, all feeling different stages of tender and the tension from the night before seems to have dissipated. In the literal cold light of day, Jimin is relaxed and there’s nothing uncomfortable about the way he behaves towards you: without the intensity of the sticky heat and dark of the club, he seems like a different person.

Convinced that fresh air is the best remedy for your aching heads, Minho shepherds you all up the stairs to the roof terrace. The city is beautiful in the morning light, a hazy glow rising from the streets into the blue sky. You all take restorative deep breaths, fresh coffees in hand.

Sat beside Jimin, a grin pulls at the corner of your mouth as you look at him; his eyes smile, dancing in the morning light as he looks out over the city. He couldn’t look more innocent if he tried, but that’s the point: he’s not trying, he’s just being genuine. Why does Taehyung hate him so much?

“I have to get a photo of this,” Aera exclaims, a cheeky glint in her eye. You’re quick enough to notice it, but apparently your brain isn’t yet quick enough to understand it. You wonder what she might be up to.

She makes the four of you squish in frame for the selfie, the bright sunlight behind you and the steam rising from your mugs making a pretty snapshot that she looks at with another cryptic smile before pockets her phone and joins in the conversation.

You all sit together for a while recalling the madder moments of the night; you lean against Jimin for support as you recall Jihoon’s frighteningly enthusiastic but horribly drunken attempt to breakdance after Jimin had wowed the crowd with a somersault. You scold Jimin for doing that when drunk, and he takes your telling off well, agreeing it was daft and promising to be less of a drunken show-off in future with an endearing giggle that makes you warm even more to him.

There’s nothing flirtatious about Jimin in this moment; you wonder if you are making the same misjudgement of him as you did of Taehyung at the beginning. You feel relaxed talking to him and you enjoy his company. Of course, you’d be lying if you weren’t still a little uneasy about him but you realise now that most of that comes from Taehyung, who hates Jimin with a passion. Taehyung is really open with you, he’s told you so many personal things, from the boy who bullied him in high school to why he doesn’t feel good enough to really sing in front of people despite his gorgeous voice; Taehyung doesn’t keep secrets, except for why he hates Jimin. He won’t even give you a flavour of what exists between them, he just asks you to trust him and so you have, and do.

Nonetheless, you’re a grown, intelligent woman and you make your own mind up about people. You like Jimin and you can imagine being his friend so you let him in a little. You still respect Taehyung, so you’ll stay on your guard and be careful but you’re happy to get to know Jimin better.

Minho watches Jimin carefully; he wants to ask him outright what the issue is with Taehyung, but that would mean bringing up Taehyung, and looking at you, relaxed and happy, he can’t bring himself to do so right now. He’s not stupid; you might not be willing to admit it to either him or Aera, but he knows you you have feelings for Taehyung. After last night, bringing him up will only case you pain. He’d seen how hurt you were last night, watching him hook up with some random woman right in front of you. What a prick, thinks Minho.

Aera’s temper runs hotter than her boyfriend’s: when she thinks of Taehyung’s behaviour last night a litany of swear words and insults cross her mind. When she snapped that pic of the four of you, she had an idea and she finds herself unable to resist the opportunity to cause some discomfort to Taehyung. Aera loves you, you mean everything to her and Minho and she can’t watch someone hurt you, especially as she knows you won’t do anything about it. She suspects that Taehyung likes you as more than a friend - to her it’s the only rational theory for his possessiveness. Still, it’s only a tiny suspicion as he’s so hard to read that she can’t work him out. Nonetheless, accidentally or not, he hurt you last night and if there’s a chance for a small stab of revenge on your behalf then she’ll take it. It’s not that she doesn’t like him, she actually really does, but she will not let him hurt you without consequence.

She smiles again at the photo she took; you and Jimin are sat closely together, cheeks touching as you squeeze into the frame, broad smiles on your faces beside her and Minho - the picture looks like two very happy couples in the morning sun. She captions it with ‘the morning after the night before 😳😜’ and posts it with a small grin of triumph on her face. Suck it, Taehyung, she thinks as the photo appears on her feed.

Minutes later, in your bag downstairs, your phone vibrates and your screen lights up repeatedly as message after message floods in a frenzy.

⍟ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⍟

A little later in the day, you shower and change into some fresh clothes of Aera’s before you head home. You’re in her room, pulling a soft tee she’s loaned you of hers over your head as she sits on her bed, chatting with you. She can’t help but point out that your phone is constantly vibrating, it’s distracting her to the point of madness. You tense up, you’ve been ignoring it purposely: nobody ever calls you as insistently as Taehyung does and you really can’t deal with him right now.

Your feelings for Taehyung remain unspoken, but you know Aera will understand if you’re vague. You suspect she realises you have an almighty crush on him and is kind enough not to bring it up until you’re ready to talk about it.

“Ugh,” you try to say lightheartedly, “Can you turn it off for me? I don’t have the energy for anyone right now.”

Your back is to her so you don’t see her eyebrows knot in concern for you, but she forces a soft laugh out to reassure you, “Totally, I’m on it.” She ignores the series of messages, all from Taehyung, and slides the phone off with a sense of satisfaction that her well-aimed arrow clearly hit it’s mark: Suffer bitch, she smiles, more convinced than ever that Taehyung has feelings from you, if his panic is anything to go by.

⍟ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⍟

A couple of hours later, you feel better for having eaten and scrubbed yourself clean, yet you’re still groggy with a hangover as you clamber out of your Uber and make your swift way to your front door, eager to get into your own clothes.

You enter your to find Ellie, your housemate, on the sofa. She looks at you amused, but irritated, “Where have you been, bitch?” she cries out, waving her phone at you.

You make a guilty face, “I’m so sorry, did I worry you? I turned my phone off. I just…” your voice trails off, unsure how to explain why.

Her voice is softer as you collapse beside her on the sofa, “I knew you were ok, Aera text earlier. But let me guess, your phone is off because there’s a million missed calls and a gajillion texts from Taehyung?’

You tilt your head to look at her, “I assume so,” you muster, but then you start to panic, “Wait, how do you know?”

She raises her eyebrows and you twist to look at the doorway in panic, glad to find no additional shoes there.

“Calm down, dude,” she laughs, “I’d never let him ambush you!”

You relax, but only a little, “He has been here then?” you stress the word.

She nods, rolling her eyes, “About an hour ago, panicking that you’re not answering him. I told him you were fine, he obviously wanted to stay and it was a nightmare getting rid of him. Seriously, he is so fucking stubborn. So, yeah, judging by the state of him and his persistence he’s fucked something up…” she invites.

“Fucked someone, is more like it,” you say sadly.

Unlike Minho and Aera, it’s impossible to hide anything from Ellie when you see her every day, she knows all about your crush on him and her face relaxes sympathetically.

“Babe,” she says gently, pulling you into a hug, “Best be prepared, he had that look he gets where his jaw sets, if you don’t call him I think he’ll probably show back up.”

You don’t say anything, you just sniffle into her shoulder pathetically.

“I doubt it helps,” she says as you put a cushion on her lap to rest your head on, “But he was in a real state. Either because he regrets hooking up with someone, or, more likely, because he’s half fucking mad with jealousy.”

You scoff, as you lay on her lap, “Jealous of what? Me not catching an STD from some desperate…” you trail off. You don’t actually know anything about the girl he hooked up with so you really ought to keep your mouth shut. You hate being unnecessarily mean. Still, you reason, calling her desperate is fine though because she literally threw herself at Taehyung and kept herself glued to him through the night.

She smirks, “Maybe that, but I was thinking of something else,” she teases, toying with your hair.

“Like?” you prompt.

“You fucking Jimin perhaps?”

You sit bolt upright, “What?!” you splutter in shock, yelping as she accidentally yanks your hair because of your quick movement. She untangles her hand from your hair as you rub your sore scalp and, phone in hand, she shows you Aera’s post: the four of you look good despite your hangovers, and cuddled up to Jimin, whilst wearing his coat, you two definitely look more than friends. You realise that Taehyung’s added 2 + 2 together and come up with 69.

You’re a little sad for him, but also, childishly, a little glad too. You’d felt pathetic last night trying to avoid looking at him with that girl and so having him believe you’d had fun of your own was comforting. The only guilt you feel is that it’s Jimin, his nemesis. Nevertheless, the petty side of you makes a mental note to thank Aera for enacting revenge on your behalf.

After a meaningless chat with Ellie to take your mind off the drama with Taehyung, you strip out of Aera’s clothes and put them to wash before sliding on a comfortable but pretty underwear set: you know nobody’s going to see it but when you feel as rotten as you do now it gives you a small boost. You’re still running hot from your hangover so you grab an oversized but thin tee to throw over the top that just about covers your ass and decide to crawl back to bed, still not able to consider facing your phone.

⍟ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⍟

In Seojin’s, a coffee shop that’s also a sort of deli and restaurant opposite your house, Taehyung sits. He seethes silently, a whole series of emotions roiling in him like waves in a tempest. His leg jigs up and down rapidly as he thrums with tension. Fed up, Jihan presses his hand onto Taehyung’s knee to make him sit still.

“Can I go now?” Taehyung whines.

Jihan rolls his eyes, “No, you can’t. Behave.”

Taehyung grits his teeth. Half an hour ago he’d watched you climb from an Uber from the window. You looked tired, yes, but you were also glowing and fresh. Where has that glow come from? He needs to know. He is still texting you regularly, but no messages are being delivered: your phone is clearly off or you’ve blocked him and he is beginning to lose his mind.

He’d called Jihan to meet here for coffee immediately after Ellie had closed the door on him. Over the course of the coffee he told Jihan the events of the night before. Jihan isn’t the absolute closest of Taehyung’s friends but he is a steel trap of information, he never gives any secret away, never judges and never gossips. He also is fond of you and Ellie, even if the initial attraction between the two of them had fizzled out so he was the perfect person to call for help.

Jihan knows Taehyung had feelings for you that he hasn’t dealt with yet, but hasn’t managed to convince Taehyung, who won’t hear anything about it. All Taehyung ever says is that your friendship is all he wants from you and that he won’t complicate it, or risk it, for anything. Jihan is fairly certain that Taehyung’s feelings run deeper than friendship and perhaps deep enough for something more than friendship, but he respects Taehyung’s reticence on the matter and doesn’t push him to admit more than he’s ready to.

Taehyung tells him everything: he tells him about you pulling away from him last night to spend time with your friend, seeing Jimin ‘all over’ you; the drunkenness; the jealousy; the flirty girl; the pathetic attempt to make you pay attention to him that went too far; waking up this morning to the woman beside him, his dried cum still over her chest; the shame; the calls to you; Aera’s post and the fear, jealousy and rage of imagining Jimin close to you, with you, on you… Taehyung feels sick and it’s not just the hangover.

Jihan cannot understand how Taehyung doesn’t realise the jealousy was and is sexual; he’s baffled that Taehyung attributes it to his bizarre secret feud with Jimin and a possessive protective ‘friendship’ with you.

More than that, Jihan is fair. He likes you; you’re kind, thoughtful and you’re a good friend to Taehyung. He thinks it’s unfair on you that Taehyung refuses to deal with his feelings, so he plans to enjoy torturing Taehyung for another half an hour on your behalf before he’ll let his desperate friend head to your house to harass you again.

⍟ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⍟

A knock at your door wakes you from your dozing, it’s Ellie holding out a cup of tea and you smile gratefully as you sit up in bed.

“Want the gossip on Taehyung?” she smiles, before you have a chance to reply she’s speaking again, “Trust me, you do!”

You nod submissively an she grins, holding out her phone as she comes to sit beside you. The photo she shows is of a smiling girl and you scowl.

“So, this is definitely the girl from last night then?” she asks and you nod, scowling a little.

She then explains how this smiling girl, Sunmi, is in the social circle of one of Ellie’s coworkers. Hyejin, the coworker, and Ellie get on very well, though they’re both always so busy with their friendship groups and dating so they never really socialise outside of work, in work though, they’re really close and share a lot about their lives.

Hyejin knows that Ellie knows Taehyung, for a while she and his friend Choi Minho were fuckbuddies so she knows the group. Evidently, the events of last night were too juicy to wait until their usual Monday morning debrief and so Hyejin has sent Ellie a series of screenshots of a group chat she’s in that includes Sunmi.

You didn’t know Hyejin personally, but you know from Ellie she is savage and loves the messes of others. Who doesn’t, really? At least Hyejin is honest about it, you admire that, as does Ellie. Hyejin apparently doesn’t like Sunmi much either, and thought the events of the night were too funny not to share with anyone in her general acquaintance who might know any of the people involved - savage and messy indeed.

Ellie relates the story to you: the girl from last night, Sunmi, has been crushing on Taehyung for ages and you are her number one enemy, apparently: ‘the bitch coming between her and her chance with Taehyung’, by all accounts. You have to admit, at that insult, you wish you’d been meaner about her earlier.

In the rest of group chat, Sunmi chronicles the fallout from last night as lays bare her humiliation to her friends seeking sympathy.

Finally, last night, Taehyung was hers. She’s been pursuing him for months and he’s never even noticed her. Finally she finds out at the bar that the bitch that’s always with Taehyung is not actually his girlfriend. She learns that they’re just friends and not even friends with benefits: it’s as though all her Christmasses have come at once and she is elated.

Riding on the euphoria of the revelation, Sunmi threw caution to the wind as Taehyung approached the bar and she went for it, persuading him into a series of shots that she doubled.

The night went well, he was wasted and desperate to find his best friend but she’d gone already, so he let Sunmi take him home. When they got back to his, he was horribly drunk, she’d had to take his clothes off for him but he obviously had no intention of fucking her so she’d sucked his cock until he was finally hard, while he kept his eyes closed until he came on her tits moaning incomprehensibly but definitely something sounding like a name: a name that was not hers.

Ellie wriggles her eyebrows as she tells you that part, a name that apparently began with a garbled first and last syllable that sound suspiciously familiar to you: you can only gape,open-mouthed in shock.

She continues, telling you how then he passed out in bed, and this morning, when the girl had tried to initiate something she found that she was gently, but obviously, being told to get dressed and leave before he got out of the shower: Sunmi is devastated; Hyejin thinks it’s all hilarious; Ellie is disgusted; You’re just sad.

You look downcast at Ellie, “I feel so shit for her.”

Ellie scoffs, “I don’t - he obviously didn’t really want her, right? She shouldn’t have sucked him off. To be honest, she was taking advantage of him a bit, you shouldn’t pity her. It was wrong.”

You continue to express your sympathy, though concern for Taehyung begins to creep in.

Ellie finally says, “The name though? That he moaned?”

You give her a firm look, “Just sounds Ellie, not a name.”

She knows she’s being shut down and nods at you in tacit agreement to let it drop when there’s a knock at your front door and your eyes fly to each other. You pull a soft hoodie on top of your flimsy tee and you shrug your shoulders as she makes for the door.

“If it’s him, let him in, please,” you sigh, “Gotta face him eventually, right?”

She smiles sympathetically as she closes your door and heads downstairs to deal with Taehyung.

⍟ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⍟

Moments later, there’s a soft tapping at your door and you call out “Come in,” as you pull the duvet up over your bare legs.

When he enters you take in every aspect of him, all his muscles tense, his eyes both angry and concerned and his breath shallow.

You try to sound nonchalant, “Hi,” you smile vaguely.

“Why aren’t you answering your phone?” he growls. His voice is deep. His anger simmers. He sits beside you on your bed, his eyes boring into you.

You stand your ground with a small frown, “My phone died at Aera’s, I’m too hungover to deal with it,” you lie, “I knew you’d been over so I thought I’d text you later when I woke up properly. Ellie told you I was fine.”

He scoffs, “Really? What you did last night was fine, was it?”

As you look at him you’re aware he completely believes you slept with Jimin but you decide it’s easiest to play dumb and you keep your tone light, “What are you talking about?”

“Jimin,” he hisses.

“What about him now?” you fire back, starting to get annoyed with him and allowing that edge to show in your voice.

He takes your tea from your hand and places it on your bedside table before he leans over you. He pulls your hood down onto your shoulders so he can see your face, unobscured.

“Did you fuck him?” He blurts out: he knows he has no right to ask but it’s too late, the words are out and he’s desperate to know.

He does quail a little under your unimpressed glare, “How is that your business?” you ask; your tone is ice cold now.

He sighs as he collapses on the bed beside you, on his side, looking at you as he toys with the thick cords of your hood, trying a softer tactic, “He’s not a good guy -”

You cut him off, “Whatever your issue is with Jimin that you are so damn secretive about is your problem, Taehyung,” you say firmly, snatching your cords from his fingers, “I think he’s alright. I get along with him.”

Taehyung’s eyes narrow and he takes the cords in his fingers again, wrapping his large hands over yours whilst he does so, playing now with both the cords and your fingers, “You didn’t sleep with him,” he states, sensing the truth from how you’re behaving. He runs his finger gently over the bandage on your sore finger, pressing a quick kiss to it.

“I didn’t, ok? Satisfied? I don’t fuck around like you do,” you confirm.

Taehyung feels the sting of your words and regrets his actions hugely but the guilt and shame are subsumed beneath the sheer relief that Jimin hasn’t had his grubby little hands on you. He excitedly bounces on the bed and straddles you over the duvet, pressing his lips your forehead.

“Good girl,” he rumbles against your skin before pulling back, and looking you straight in the eye, noticing how tense you are, “I know it’s none of my business, I know, but I don’t like him and I don’t want him near you babe,” he mutters. He is surprised by your reaction and the speed of it: you tear your hands from his and shove him up and over to one side to get him off you.

It’s a mistake though because, in your anger, you hadn’t though about how the strings to your hoodie were still in his hands and so you’re pulled over with him. The duvet is now squashed between the two of you and you, in only underwear from the waist down, are now exposed and on top of him.

Before he even knows what he’s doing he’s holding your struggling body against him, one arm around the back of your head, fingers woven through your hair, cupping it and holding it into his shoulder all at the same time while he kisses your crown. The other arm is around your middle, fingers skimming the top of your underwear with increasing deliberateness.

He apologises again and again into your hair as you call him a string of insults, he can make out ‘cocky bastard,’ ‘no fucking right,’ ‘total shithead’ in the mix and he keeps apologising until you desist in your struggles and tire yourself out. As you calm down, he apologises for abandoning you, for being drunk and he even suggests his drink must have been laced with something.

You’re so concerned by that suggestion that you stop fighting him immediately and sit bolt upright, straddling him. He can’t stop himself from laying his palms on your smooth thighs either side of his waist as he lets his fingertips slide gently over your skin. He is so glad of the duvet bunched between you because he is rock hard now and if there were fewer layers between you he wouldn’t be able to resist grinding on you.

You cup his face, “Are you serious?” you ask full of concern, taking no notice of the way he touches you.

He nods, “I never get that drunk, you know me… I don’t remember anything much, not even leaving the club…”

Your stroke his face gently, sweeping the hair off his forehead, checking for a temperature, “Do you want to get tested?’ you ask softly.

He nods but when you call the police for advice, they suggest that maybe too many hours may have passed but you go anyway, holding Taehyung’s hand throughout. After the tests the reality seems to hit him and his flippant attitude disappears into quiet worry. He stays with you the rest of the weekend and he’s still in such a state on Monday that you both call in sick to work.

Later in the day, when the results come back it shows tiny, trace amounts of a very strong sedative. He’s determined to take it no further, and to tell no one, you’re not sure but you know you have to support his decision and so you do. He does agree that the police can warn the bar that such things are happening in their premises.

When he’s processed it, he cries, and you hold him close. He clings to you as though his life depends on it and you lay together for hours. When he does let you move, he’s inches from you as you cook and clean the dishes, needier than you’d ever known he could be.

He suspects Jimin of spiking his drink rather than Sunmi and though you’re not sure, you decide that it’s maybe best to keep a bit of distance from your new friend, even though you get along so well. Taehyung doesn’t ask you to, he’s learnt his lesson from interfering, but you reassure him anyway, desperate to ease any burdens you can when he’s so distraught.

Would you feel differently if you knew he’d been the person at the bar to tell Sunmi that Taehyung was available? The one that told her Taehyung doesn’t give two shits about you? The one to encourage her to go for it? But you don’t know that: neither you nor Taehyung does.

This situation turns out to be a key moment in your friendship with Taehyung, from then on, no matter how close you are to Ellie, Minho, Aera, Jihoon and your other friends Taehyung and you become two halves of a whole. Barely separable, rarely ever crossing a word. If you ever disagree, it’s usually quickly resolved and only a couple of times is it ever serious - like the time he’d had to break into your room.

<<< Chapter Four | Chapter Six >>>

#bts fanfic #taehyung smut #taehyung x reader #bts smut #taehyung x you #bangtanwhq #btswritersclub #no minors please #triggering themes

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