#me right before all the tragic stuff happened
Note
Could you do a blurb where reader rolls a joint for Eddie for the first time with all her cute papers and stuff and he loves it?
Happy Stoner Christmas!
happy 4/20! 😶🌫️💚
“Well, if it isn’t for my favorite customer.”
You hear him before you see him, and sit up straighter as you look up, torso twisting around to face Eddie.
He’s walking through the tree line that acts as the ‘fence’ to your backyard. Not exactly born into wealth, your home is on the edge of Hawkins and lacks the white picket fence and concrete driveway, with nature and gravel filling in. Just down the street is Jonathan Byers’ home.
Confidence radiates off of Eddie as he approaches the picnic bench you were waiting on, his curls sway a little. He’s rocking a band shirt today—long sleeves rolled up his forearms—and some dark jeans. You try not to squirm under his stare, the wild grin on his face stirring something in your tummy.
You knew you’d end up crushing on him after the first time you went to him for weed instead of Rick. He was cute.
Eddie was so freaking cute and charming and funny. You probably would have been fine if he had just been cute and charming, but the humorous trait was your weakness. You loved funny guys.
Sure enough, by the fourth time he dealt to you—his tongue was in your mouth. And the fifth time, you’d gone to third base. Now, whatever happened when he came around just happened. You accepted it, even if it makes you a little nervous because you know very well you’re interested in more than just the benefits that come with your encounters.
You want him. Like, boyfriend him. It’s kind of tragic, actually, because you don’t even know if you’re the only one of his clientele he treats this way. Eddie can be fucking the rest of them for all you know and it drives you insane because you want to ask—you’re just too chicken shit.
“You say that as if this wasn’t prearranged.” You laugh out and Eddie snorts, dumping his black lunch pail on the leaf riddled bench top next to your scooby-doo lunch box with a metal clang.
“I’m trying to be cute and you’re ruining it.” When you laugh again, Eddie’s eyes squint in triumph, “And I’ll have you know I have been waiting—no, yearning for you to call upon me. Moved my bed over to the phone and everything. Thought you forgot allllllll about me.”
“Me forget about you? Impossible.” You declare in a joking manner, though you truly mean the sentiment. Your mental health might be better if you could forget him. Then you wouldn’t be able to make yourself sick over the idea of him kissing other people.
“You better mean that.” He jabs an accusatory finger, silver ring glinting, in your direction as he settles in across from you, “The usual, my sweet?”
UGH! SEE?! Too damn cute.
“Please?” You’re too busy opening up your own lunch box full of supplies to notice the heated look he fixes you with right then.
Eddie clears his throat, tongue darting out to swipe over his lower lip as he pops the lid of his lunch pail open, pulling out a little baggie with your favorite strain of buds. He eyes it with a glint in his eye before it’s held out to you, dangling from his fingertips.
You look up once you realize it’s being offered, and pinch the top of the baggie as your other hand holds out the folded bills. Eddie flicks them out of your loose grip, and it goes flying to land in your lap while you jump in surprise.
“My bad,” he snickers, his pretty teeth gleaming, “it’s on the house.”
You pick up exactly where he wants you to, “In that case, please accept my offer to smoke you out with my newly acquired goods.”
That feeling in your belly—butterflies—intensifies at the slow and large smile that spreads on his face, forcing his little dimple to make an appearance.
It always goes like this now.
Eddie comes over (or you go to him), weed is exchanged and when you try to pay him for it, he refuses. Then, you invite him to smoke weed with you (and he’ll always pull from the extra inventory he carries around—never from what he’s just given you), the two of you get high and you finally feel brave enough to make a move because you know he always waits for you to do it. Gives you the power to start things, your own comfort, though he takes full control once you get going. He’s always so keen on taking care of you. You’d once thought that maybe he didn’t want you as much as you wanted him, since it was always you initiating things, but the way he’d beg for you, ramble about how much he wanted you, how desperate he was for you and his ‘finally, I thought I was gonna die’s on just your kisses alone, soothed that insecurity.
“I’d be delighted to! But─”
“Nope.” You interrupt, having seen his hand reaching into his pail. “My weed—not yours.”
He raises his eyebrows in surprise and when you don’t back down, both of his hands are lifted in surrender before one is extended to you out on the bench, palm up. Eddie’s waiting for you to give him your grinder and the weed so he can start rolling but you low five his palm instead and he chuckles, skin tingling from the contact.
“That’s not exactly what I meant.”
“I know, but I’m also rolling today, too.”
Eddie scoffs and smirks, fixing you with that heated stare again and you quickly divert your gaze, pulling out your pretty purple grinder and getting to work. You are not gonna let him make you nervous and fumble around, “Baby…”
Oh, god. The way he coos it out, nice and low—you’re instantly taken back to other times you’d heard him say it like that. You’d been bent into all kinds of positions as it was rasped into your ear, the sweat from both of your bodies plastering Eddie to you. Your hand twists the top of the grinder on autopilot as you stare at nothing, gaze vacant.
Eddie knows exactly where your mind has taken you and his smirk widens.
“You can’t roll for shit.”
That snaps you out of your stupor, mouth dropping.
“I can, too! You’ve never seen me put in the work.”
“I have, that’s why I roll.”
And you cringe as you recall the first time you’d try to roll a joint. It had been the second time Eddie sold to you, having only used pre-rolled cones prior. Those only meant you had to pack the wrap in with weed, kind of like a funnel and then twist the end closed before partaking.
Rolling from start to finish was a whole other endeavor and you’d failed so badly, Eddie had rolled around on the floor laughing. You didn’t take any offense, too busy jumping up and down inside at having made the cute, charming funny guy you liked laugh.
“I’ve been practicing,” You pout, placing the grinder down after you’re sure the nug of the bud you’d placed in it was now almost powder-like.
“You tryna impress me, hm?” He hums out, and you refuse to look up, knowing those pretty brown eyes of his are gonna be lidded and it’ll do you in early. You’ll have to jump him right there, “Been practicing to show me what you can do?”
You ignore him, focusing instead on the rolling papers you had.
Eddie places his chin in his hand, watching you intently as you frown in concentration before it breaks when you select a rolling paper, cherries decorating the white sheets. You pull your small rolling tray out and some part of Eddie throbs. You hadn’t had that before.
You quickly scrunch a filter together, folding the rolling paper and placing the filter at the edge of the fold before you unscrew the grinder and begin pinching the green within to sprinkle on the paper. Once it was full, and Eddie notices with wide eyes that you’ve packed it with a significant amount, you use dexterous fingers to carefully roll it together, tongue poking out as you take diligent care to ensure no fall out. Once the green flower is properly contained, you lick the free edge and fold it over the rest of the joint before you pinch and twist the end.
After a few moments of intense scrutiny, you hold it out victoriously, “Taduh!!! For you.”
Eddie takes the joint, turning it this way and that as he marvels. You really had been practicing, it was beautiful. He feels an intense amount of pride bloom in his chest and something else. Always for you, only ever for you.
“Did I do good?” You ask, voice shy as you bite your lip and this time you don’t look away when that heavy stare focuses on you. You wanna faint, but you don’t. He doesn’t say anything for a while and you know where tonight is gonna lead.
“Baby,” There’s that rasp again that makes you want to drop dead and smash your mouth to his at the same time, “I’m gonna need you to come over here now. Don’t think I can wait.”
#I got this request before i made the prompt post shhhhh#Queenimmadolla’s smokesesh#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x reader fluff#eddie munson#eddie munson fluff#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson x you#eddie munson blurbs#eddie munson fanfic
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𝐖𝐄'𝐑𝐄 𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐒 𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐘
pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader
word count: 2.5k words
summary: in which it was a drunkenly suggested idea that actually didn’t sound too bad, and it was somehow easy to turn your friendship into something a little different. the hardest part should be keeping it a secret, but instead, it’s making sure that things don’t change more than they already have
warnings: explicit language, friends with benefits, sexual tension, implied smut, a lil angst
author’s note: first time writing for eddie (finally!) this is slightly based off the song “homegirl” by king princess. specifically the line “we’re friends at the party, i’ll give you my body at home.” more eddie stuff coming soon? eventually? maybe..?
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。
From the beginning, you both had the same understanding of what this was.
Two friends having fun every once in a while. Two friends doing things that two people who were just friends wouldn’t do with one another. Two friends that wanted something completely and utterly not serious because they both had just gotten out of shitty relationships and weren’t in the right headspace to commit to anything.
You and Eddie agreed on it all.
And you two also agreed that you could never tell your friends about what you were doing.
You could only imagine the concerned and confused looks that would’ve been shared amongst them all if you and Eddie sat them down and told them about what had been happening for the past five months. Steve would think it was kinda weird and so random. Robin would say the same thing and also add that you two being each other’s rebounds would only mess things up within the friend group in the long run. Nancy would go on and on about how this was not the way that you two should’ve been coping with your respective break ups, etc, etc.
Neither of you wanted to hear any of it, so with hushed whispers and the linking of pinkies in the middle of the night— moments after you two had drunkenly made out in the bathroom of The Hideout and were debating on whether or not you should move things to the back of Eddie’s van that was parked right outside— this quickly became the best kept secret.
During group hangouts and other social situations, you and Eddie were just friends— nothing more, nothing less— but when you were alone, it was different.
In a way it was fucked up, and on some level you both could recognize that. Falling into each other’s beds most nights was definitely not a good way to cope and deal with everything, just like Nancy would’ve told you both, but so far it was working perfectly fine. And how easy and okay it all was— how it somehow never felt weird or wrong to flip that switch and change your friendship into what it now was— only sometimes confused you.
And just for a moment, as you and Eddie sat in his van outside of Steve’s house, you were hit with that confused feeling that also slightly surprised you. It was fleeting, as quick as it came it was washed away, and then it was forgotten.
“Come on,” You mumbled against his lips before fully pulling away. “We need to go inside before they think we got into a tragic car crash while going to get this fucking ice.”
“One more minute,” Was all Eddie said in response as his lips found your neck.
You savored the feeling for a second before your hands came up to his chest to softly push him away. “Nope, no way. Do not give me a hickey right now, Munson.”
He only laughed and you simply rolled your eyes at the sound as you opened the door and stepped out of his van. You headed to the back and Eddie followed suit, opening the doors so that you two could grab the ice that you’d been tasked with getting forty minutes earlier. You picked up one and he grabbed the other two, and then you pushed the doors back shut with your free hand.
“How you getting home tonight?” Eddie asked you. You knew what his question really meant— Are we going home together?
“Not sure yet. Might stay with Robin since it’s her birthday and she said she’s probably gonna just spend the night here. Or I’ll drive with Nance,” You answered, shoulders lifting in a small shrug.
Neither of those things would end up happening, you knew that you’d probably be leaving here with Eddie in a few hours. But it was nice to tease him right then, push his buttons a bit.
He only smiled at you, easily reading through the bullshit laced within your words, and was completely okay with playing along. “Okay, got it. I guess I don’t have to worry about bringing you home.”
“Guess not.”
You two were already standing in front of Steve’s front door, but you simply held Eddie’s gaze for a few beats longer, the smallest smile playing on your lips, before you pushed the door open and the teasing conversation immediately became drowned out by the music.
Steve waved you both over to the kitchen. “Finally, you’re back.”
“There was some traffic,” Eddie told him and Steve surprisingly didn’t question the excuse— even though there being traffic in Hawkins was an insanely far-fetched statement to make.
You handed the bag of ice in your hand over to Steve, which he put in the freezer and then he and Eddie poured the others in the coolers that sat on top of his kitchen island that had beers and sodas in them.
You were about to walk away— see if you could find Robin, maybe wish her happy birthday for the third time tonight— but Steve slung an arm around you before you could. “I need you to be my beer pong partner.”
“Y’know, Steven, I don’t think it can really be considered as a partnership if I’m the one doing all of the work to make us win,” You said, but still let him drag you to the table littered with red solo cups anyway.
Two rounds of beer pong later, both of which you and Steve— mainly you— won, you were slightly tipsy. Definitely nowhere near drunk enough to do the karaoke that was set up in the living room, like Robin, Vickie, and Nancy. Although you did enjoy their very theatrical and soulful performance of Somebody to Love by Queen.
However, you were just the right amount of tipsy to smile when you spotted Eddie through the throngs of people, smoking weed on the couch and talking to Gareth. A part of you wanted to walk over and settle yourself in his lap, but thank God your thinking was still somewhat logical and you reminded yourself that you couldn’t do that.
Instead, you settled for sitting on the arm of the couch and feet resting on the dark cushion, close enough to Eddie but not so much that it would raise a thousand alarm bells by your friends if they saw you two right then. He looked up at you for a brief second, giving you a small smile that practically melted your insides, and you were the one who had to pull your eyes away from his first.
A silent conversation played out in a matter of seconds— he held the joint out toward you in offering, not even breaking the conversation with Gareth as he did so, and you grabbed it, taking a long drag before handing it back to him.
You were only half-paying attention to what they were talking about, some new horror movie that you hadn’t gotten around to seeing yet. All you could really focus on was Eddie moving a bit and leaning against your legs.
It wasn’t something that was entirely un-innocent— you could’ve easily pictured Robin or Steve or Nancy doing the same thing— but coming from Eddie it nearly drove you insane, and you had a feeling that he knew that. It was always the simplest of touches that made you essentially fold for him, when he’d place a hand on your knee whenever you were in the passenger seat of his van or when his hand would find the small of your back whenever you were at The Hideout and surrounded by way too many people.
And it was especially easy to fold when you weren’t fully sober.
You looked down at him and noticed the smirk on his face and you had to hold back your eye roll. If he was going to tease you, you were willing to do the same back.
You abruptly got up from the couch. “I’m gonna go to the bathroom.”
You didn’t wait for his response before you started walking away, but you hoped that he picked up on the request that was hidden beneath your words.
The first floor bathroom was luckily empty and you flicked on the light as you closed the door behind you and faced the mirror above the sink. You were only looking at yourself for a brief second before the door opened and you turned around to face Eddie.
The same fucking smirk was on his face as he pushed the door closed and locked it behind him and then immediately reached out for you. “C’mere.”
“Mm-mm.” You shook your head as you stepped back away from him. “I just wanted to talk.”
He let out a small laugh at that. “Okay, yeah, let’s talk.”
You leaned back against the sink and looked up at him. “So, what was that movie you and Gareth were talking about?”
He stepped closer to you, closing a bit of the small distance between you two. “A dumb horror movie.”
It was hard to ignore the feeling of his hands coming up to your waist, but you still did so anyway and you didn’t push him away. “Okay, so I shouldn’t go see it?”
Eddie only shook his head no in response. He started slowly rubbing your sides, his warm touch practically burning a hole in the dark high-waisted jeans you were wearing.
“Do you have any recommendations?” You asked as your arms came up to loosely circle his neck. “I wanna watch something I haven’t seen before.”
He didn’t answer your question that time around and instead leaned in to kiss you. But, you turned your head at the last second and he groaned into your neck, which only made you smile.
“We can watch any movie you want right now if you let me take you home,” He mumbled, lips humming against your neck.
“I have a feeling that we wouldn’t be watching the movie if that happened,” You said and held back your laughter at the second groan he let out. “And besides, we can’t leave yet. The cake hasn’t been cut and we haven’t even sung happy birthday. Don’t you remember how birthday parties work, Munson?”
“Your pretty face is making it really hard to remember anything, sweetheart,” He told you, pulling away and a hand came up to stroke your cheek. The cool feeling of the rings on his fingers brushing your skin was a nice contrast to the burn of your cheeks.
Things had been changing recently, a shift that neither of you wanted to acknowledge just yet; maybe because it was hard to tell what exactly was changing. And so, things kept continuing as it was.
You shook your head a little and let out a small laugh. “Always such a charmer.”
That time when he leaned in to slot his lips against yours, you didn’t turn your head away.
“Only for you,” He playfully whispered against your lips.
He pulled back before either of you could even think about making the kiss deeper and he looked at you so sweetly. You suddenly wished that the light was off and it was dark right then so that you didn’t have to see his face.
That confused feeling was back, and you finally understood what it meant. It hit you so abruptly and harshly, it almost felt like you were finally being shaken awake to what was so obvious. You liked him— more than just a friend, more than you ever let yourself think before. And you almost instantaneously came to the conclusion that this, the way you were feeling, was entirely one-sided.
When this first started, it was because both of you were essentially embracing that old saying of “if you wanna get over someone, get under someone else,” and it worked for you. And it wasn’t just the sex, it was the half-awake pillow talk moments after and listening to music in his van as you two sat outside your house when he was dropping you off that meant the most to you, that helped you actually get over your ex and his shittiness. But, you didn’t think that it was the same way for Eddie.
He loved his ex, anyone with two eyes could see that. And he still loved her, more so than he let on, and that felt like something only you could see. The longing look on his face whenever he talked about her to you, the nostalgic smile he’d get whenever he mentioned something good about how they used to be. It was obvious how he still felt.
And just like that, the spell that you’d been cast under in this moment was broken.
You let out the smallest sigh and detangled yourself from him, letting your arms fall to your sides.
He looked at you, confused. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” Maybe everything. “I’m gonna get some water.”
You were pulling yourself out of his grasp and brushing past him toward the door, but Eddie’s hand found yours before you could twist the lock.
Reluctantly, you met his eyes and his voice was soft as he spoke. “You can tell me anything, remember?”
A few minutes ago that felt entirely true, now you weren’t so sure, but you still nodded anyway. “I know.”
“So, what happened in the last thirty seconds?”
A part of you wanted to say it. A part of you wanted to be honest with him.
But, you couldn’t.
Because you were convinced of what the outcome would be if you did— you could already imagine the sad and pitying look that would cross his face and essentially say it all. If you told the truth in this moment, it would fuck up your friendship and it would fuck up what you two had turned your friendship into. Therefore, you came to the quick decision that you could bury it all down for however long you needed to so that you didn’t mess anything up.
You bypassed Eddie’s question and instead closed the newfound space between you two, pushing yourself up on your toes and pressing your lips against his. The kiss was different this time around, it was no longer soft and teasing. It was deeper, more needy and desperate, and Eddie reciprocated in a matter of seconds. He turned you both around so that you were pressed up against the sink again and he immediately lifted you onto it, barely detaching from your lips in the process.
If the circumstances were different, you would’ve fully let him do whatever he wanted to do to you in this bathroom. But, things wouldn’t go farther than this in here; not in Steve’s house, not with your friends just down the hall.
When you pulled away to catch your breath, your lips brushed against his ear as you spoke. “I want you to take me home tonight.”
The smile Eddie gave you made your heart constrict in your chest. It almost made you want to blurt out how you were feeling right then because maybe just maybe he actually did feel the same.
But, of course, you didn’t say anything. You had another secret to keep and you would force yourself to be entirely okay with that.
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。
let me know ur thoughts<333
#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson smut#eddie munson x you#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson fluff#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson x fem!reader smut#eddie munson x female reader#stranger things smut#stranger things fic#stranger things imagine#stranger things fluff
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Subtle-tea (Benedict Bridgerton x Reader)
Summary/Prompt: “You’re only semi-lucid and are sort of reaching for my face, and for various reasons I shouldn’t kiss YOUR face but your hand is right here and I still need to convey affection.”
AKA. You and Benedict drink too much of Colin’s special tea and it spurs you to act upon previously hidden feelings.
AN: Benedict is the bee’s knees, just a silly lil art guy. I got inspired and I’ve got two more Benedict fics coming out rip. But it’s just so difficult to write for Bridgerton cus you can’t write any gay stuff without it being tragic and/or a secret. Oh well, don’t expect me to write much more female reader content of my own volition/not inspired by my friends.
Content warnings: Reader uses she/her, use of Y/N and L/N, is referred to as “wife”
Masterlist // AO3
You had no idea what on Earth was in that tea. But you would have to ask later, because currently you felt as light as a feather and giddy as a giggle, laying on the sofa in the art studio as Benedict was launching himself between two walls, orating about his great desires to create. By far, you were experiencing the greatest emotions on the whim of your artistic associate.
“There’s just so many colours that we are privy to, and we take every single shade for granted!” He declared, his arms wide open to the heavens.
You pointed at him in an accusing manner, “Have you seen purple recently? It’s glorious! No wonder it was the colour of status in the Roman Empire, I too would want it all for myself and my friends.”
“How selfish you are, Miss L/N,” Benedict scolded, “Surely everyone should be given the chance to wear such a colour.”
His anger faded fast. As endearing as it was, it was nothing compared to that grin of his. So naturally you decided to make him smile even more with a ridiculous notion that just jumped into your woozy mind.
“Do you know what would happen if my mother knew where I was?” You said in a loud whisper.
Benedict pouted and nodded, riddled with pantomime guilt as he leant over, “You. Me. In a room. Alone.”
“Unchaperoned,” You said then gasped, your hands clapping against your cheeks in shock, “I would be ruined!”
Benedict mimicked your appal by dropping to his knees before you, “We would have to marry to save your reputation!”
“Imagine me, your wife!” You threw your head back as you flashed your bare left hand to him. Somewhere in the back of your mind, an inhibition screamed at you to stop lingering so openly on something your sober self was set on not happening
But your heart grew gleeful as Benedict grasped your hand gently.
“I shall imagine it!” He declared and lowered his lips, and planted a loud kiss upon your knuckle - right where the engagement and wedding bands would sit. You lowered your chin just in time to see this with your own eyes before Benedict met your gaze again, still beaming with roguish delight, “Oh what a beautiful imagining it is.”
Your legs curled up beneath you on the couch, and you fell over in hysterical giggling. You clasped your hand to your chest and cradled it like a newborn. As you lay sprawled out, Benedict popped into your field of view with his hands either side of your head, tactfully avoiding your hair.
“Your laugh is like music! As your husband, it would be my purpose to make you sing at least once a day.”
“Then kiss me again, you silly man!” You squealed, offering your hand once more.
Balancing on one arm, and completely unaware that this compromising position was aiding in your dizzy frenzy, Benedict kissed the same spot then turned the palm against his cheek. He held it there as he said:
“Look, it’s like you were sculpted to hold me.”
Euphoria ran riot across your body, your heart beating so fast you thought you would die from delight.
“And you were carved to be held by me.” From your vantage point, with newly founded confidence, you tried to pull his lips down to yours, but Benedict resisted.
“We shall not kiss ‘til we are married.”
Eyes wide, you squeezed the back of his neck to keep him close, “Is this a proposal?”
“I do not think we are in the right state of mind to make rational decisions,” and Benedict bumped his nose to yours, causing a little laughter before continuing: “But marrying you is the sanest idea I’ve had all evening.”
#benedict bridgerton#benedict bridgerton x reader#benedict reader fanfic#benedict bridgerton oneshot#bridgerton#bridgerton x reader#bridgerton fanfic#bridgerton oneshot#my writing#r: fem#wc: <1k
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I want you (Cole Walter x reader)
Summary: When the storm hits the ranch and most of the family is at Will's evening party Y/n and Cole are left to talk in the candle light, which could end either beautifully or tragically as they navigate whatever is happening between them.
Warnings: Death, kissing, swearing
Words: 4.27k
(Not my Gif :) )
“I still can’t believe that I let you take me to that party” I said to Cole as he pulled out candles from the top drawer in the living room.
“I can’t believe that you came,” he turned to me briefly, his eyes beautiful even in the shade of this storm and little light, he turned back to the draw, “I’m glad you were there,” he said, quieter this time, I couldn’t help the ghost of a smile that started to lift the corner of my lips.
“Apart from the fact that I vomited on you right?” I tried to defuse the energy that was building up here with a laugh.
“Eh, could have been worse,” he started and turned around to face me again holding two candles, “Alright this is all of them now,”. We took a couple each and laid them around the kitchen and the living room.
“Can you pass me the lighter from the kitchen?” Cole called from the other room, I picked it out from the ‘anything and everything’ draw that every family has in their house and walked to the other room.
The darkness made it hard to see, but the outline of his frame was as clear as day, it felt as if I knew his frame well enough to find him anywhere.
“Thanks,” he reached for the lighter and our hands touch. As cliché as in every book I’ve ever read and every romcom I’ve ever watched. His hands weren’t soft or rough they were the perfect medium, he’s helped George on the farm since he was young and played football but there was still a compassionate side to him, one that he didn’t like to show.
His thumb brushed over my hand, he looked down briefly and I knew I should pull my hand free and step away, knowing the feelings Alex had for me. Even though he knows I don’t share the same feelings back I would still feel wrong to do this with his brother. Then Cole’s eyes came up to meet mine and he opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out.
“If you want to start lighting up the candles, I’m just going to check the kids are asleep,” I explained rushing towards the stairs with one last gentle smile. That was another good reminder, everyone else may be at some fancy party but we were still looking after the younger Walter siblings.
Just as I had expected they were all still asleep tucked away just how Katherine had settled them down. The Walter’s slept hard, nothing wakes them up, not even a ranging storm with killer winds apparently.
After checking up on all of them I head towards the stairs again, but something catches my eye as I go to lower my foot onto the first step. A little packaged box on a dresser in Cole and Danny’s room. I tear my eyes away from it and take the first step. Yet just as quickly as I looked away, I looked back to the little brown box with the blue bow.
I stepped lightly to avoid any squeaky board; the box was sat there surrounded with a mix of both the boy’s stuff. I raised my brows in confusion, I knew I shouldn’t be doing this, that I was invading their privacy, but the inquisitiveness got the best of me. If it’s Danny’s, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind anyway.
From the handwriting on the note at the top I could immediately tell that it wasn’t Danny’s, his handwriting much neater, almost cursive, which I still found impressive. It just said my name, I opened the folded piece of paper and had to read over the short note a couple of times before it registered.
‘It’s both a blessing and a curse to feel everything so deeply’
My mom’s favorite quote staring right at me. The quote I told Cole that day when…
***
We had just finished our shift at the cider stand, Will and Alex had already packed everything up into the van. Alex was less than impressed by the fact that Cole decided to come out of his depression cocoon to come and help and help he did. He auctioned himself away for an afternoon and helped us raise over double of the money we needed for the new auditorium.
“You fancy a little detour?” He asked, looking away from the road momentarily with a half smirk my way, I shook my head but a light smile still found its way onto my lips.
“What are you thinking?” I asked, I couldn’t disguise that I was curious, getting to know Cole was hard. Some days he was rays of sunshine and an open book other days, most days, he shut himself out, hiding behind a carless façade. I was guilty of the fact that I wanted him to sweep me away for a while into his own world.
“It’ll have to be a surprise,” he said, the smile still there when he looked bacl onto the road, I may have not been here long yet but I knew the second he took a different turn. We drove through some more woodlands until we came to a clearing, the sky absolutely clear.
When I stepped out of the car a fresh breeze flushed against my skin, it was refreshing.
“So… what do you think?” he says walking ahead of me. I followed not too far behind looking around taking in the surroundings. The river flowed surrounded by more trees and low rocks.
“It’s really beautiful here,”
“Alright come on then!” He shouted louder as he started to run towards the river
“Cole where are you going!” I called back, stood still watching him.
“Well we can’t go home now!” He turned around momentarily, gesturing me over with his hands. I shook my head and shut the car door, following behind him, my hair flowing in the wind beneath my hat.
When I finally caught up the sound of the gushing river was clearer and there he stood on some rocks, his back to me, jacket on the ground. He reached down to grab something, I stepped onto the same rock, more cautiously than him.
“There, for you,” he pushed the flower he was holding out towards me. I eyed him cautiously, his teasing side coming out, “Come on, I’m being nice,” his head tilted slightly.
I gave in reaching for the purple flower, he pulled it back a little with a laugh and I shook my head slightly, he pushed it my way again but lets me take it this time. In the exact same moment, he steals the hat off my head.
“Hey!” I shouted going to reach for it, he moves away, flaunting the hat in different directions, taunting me with it, “This is not fair,” I claimed moving towards him away. He’s laughing and I’m laughing, and it feels like a weight lifted off my chest.
I stop for a second, Cole stops too a moment later, that cheeky smile playing his lips. In that moment of calm I reached for the hat and his coat that was now next to my feet.
“Hey that wasn’t part of the rules!” He called coming after me this time, I’ve suddenly gained the confidence that I won’t fall into the water.
“Oh sorry, didn’t realize there were any rules,” I answered in the same tone, I moved another couple of steps and turned to start running onto the grass. Cole’s arms found their way around me as he tried for the jacket. I turned my head to face him, our faces centimeters apart. He pulled me closer laughing into the back of my neck.
“Okay okay, draw?” He asked his breath still on the back of my neck
“Deal,” I said taking a step forward as his grip eased, his hands followed the shape of my waist until the comforting touch was gone. He took the jacket and laid it out on the rock, laying down on half of it. I sat down next to him on the jacket as well.
“Do you feel any better now?” He asked after a moment of silence, my eyes focused on the river. The last couple of days have been rough, not only was I feeling homesick for New York, it had also officially been six months since the accident. It was all overwhelming, especially with Erin giving me a hard time.
I let out a breath before answering, “Yeah, thanks for this,” I said turning to look at him, he smiled and nodded, his arms followed behind his head. Whilst I knew a part of him took me here to make me feel better, I knew it was so that he could get away for himself too. We weren’t running from reality exactly, but taking a break.
“You know what my mom used to say?” I said laying down beside him, he turned on his side, leaning his head against his arm so he was looking down at me, “she always said that it’s both a blessing and a curse to feel everything so deeply,” I put a hand over my brows to guard them from the sun, and so I could see his face, hoping he understood what I was saying, I was here if he needed to talk. No matter how much he was hiding behind his persona I knew that he cared.
He nodded and laid back down, taking a deep breath. It didn’t feel like we were there for that long with the sun glimmering on our faces, it wasn’t until a call from Katherine came through that I realized that we’d been here for well over an hour.
“We should probably get back, mom does not like it when we don’t make it home for dinner,” he said getting up and offering me his hand. I squinted my eyes but reached for the help, of course he pulled back his hands ever so slightly. I shooed him away and went to get up myself.
“I’m not falling for that again,” I laughed.
“Oh come on I’m sorry,” he pulled that face where his eyes were the center of the universe it was truly quite mesmerizing. I reached my hand out again grabbing his jacket in the other and passing it to him. I walked a few steps ahead and he put it around my shoulders and we walked back to the car.
***
Underneath all the tissue paper there lays the small, beautiful music box that Parker accidentally knocked over; it was no longer smashed to pieces. I opened it and immediately the little figurine inside started to swirl around and a low song started to play.
I could feel the tears beginning to build in my eyes, my lips shaking. I closed the box and pulled it close to myself, arms around it tightly. The quote was right, these feelings were a blessing and a curse. They made me feel happy and good but on the other hand I feel like I’m betraying one for another.
“So, Y/n are you going to make me this famous hot chocolate of yours?” Cole says from the bottom of the stairs, I push the music box back into the little packages and press the note back at the top laying it back in the exact spot it was before. My heart beating twice as violently as it was before. I try even harder not to make a sound leaving his room.
“Coming!” I whisper-yelled back, in the kitchen now lit up by about a dozen candles it was clear how dark it was outside, I was glad that we managed to clear everything from the yard into the barns before the rain started.
“I’ve got everything prepped,” he said proudly and in the little candlelight it was as if I was seeing his face people for the first time. In the silence, no distractions, and his smile protruding through even the worst of the weather.
“If you take a picture, it’ll last longer,” he retorted, and I looked away with a scoff.
“Yeah, you wish, I guess I didn’t realize how bad it was outside until now,”
“It’ll be alright, it’s predicted to be a minor storm, the ranch has survived much worse. There was this really bad one once when I was about eight. I genuinely thought the wind was going to rip out the foundations of the house, or the rain was going to break through the roof and drown us,” he laughed to himself, pushing the two mugs towards me alongside the chocolate power, milk, vanilla and some other ingredients I asked for.
“I imagine how that could be scary for an eight year old,” I reassure working my magic with my ingredients.
“Don’t worry I’ll keep you safe tonight,” the teasing in his voice clear, he took a step towards me his face beside mine but I focus on the coco powder. It just feels like every time we could be having a moment, something vulnerable and real he disconnects. He’s said he’s a flirt and maybe that’s just that- but then what about the note and my music box?
“Haha you’re just so funny, are you just trying to hide the fact that you’re still scared?” I retort, keeping my composure, pushing his face away with one of my hands, he takes a step back and laughs shaking his head.
“Whatever makes you feel better New York,” he comments watching me heat up the milk.
He holds both our mugs as we make our way into the living room, it’s even prettier in here, he’s started the fire and lit up all the candles around it. I can’t help but give him a smile, there’s a spot perfect for the two of us.
“Go on try it,” I prod after we sit down, he looks down in the mug first and smells it, “I’m not trying to poison you if that’s what you think,”
“Alex would like it if you were,” he laughs lifting the mug to his lip, he takes a big sip and licks the whipped cream off of his top lip.
“Don’t say stuff like that, you guys may fight but you’re brothers it’s bound to happen, but you care for each other and I know he would protect you with all he’s got,” I assure him, he doesn’t say anything back to this, he avoids the subject like the plague even when he’s the one who brings it up.
“This-,” he says instead, looking down at the mug in his hand again, I couldn’t read his face if I tried, one of his brows raises for a split second as if he’s trying to organize all his thoughts about the chocolate. I know that it’s good but, in this moment, I’m metaphorically sat on the edge of my seat, eager to know his thoughts. “Is amazing, sweet and spicy at the same time, who the hell came up with this?”
The second those words come out of his mouth I feel myself beginning to be able to breathe again, the tension in my shoulders dissipates and I reach for my mug, “I did tell you, have some more confidence in me Cole,” I announce proudly and take a sip of the angelic drink.
His eyes watched me, I could feel his stare everywhere on my body, as if he was actually trailing his fingers over my skin.
I put the mug down, half gone already, Cole let out some sort of laugh and shifted closer to me, his hand reached towards my face, and I was frozen. My eyes watching his and his watching mine. Almost automatically my body and face shifted towards him. A smirk quired up on one side of his mouth. He brushed his thumb across my top lip.
“You had a bit of… whipped cream,” he said moving back just enough to show me, he licked it off his finger. Were either of us to move even slightly we could break the distance between us.
I’m scared. Sat here with him like this feels like a fever dream, like any second a sudden move could shatter this illusion, because this couldn’t be real, any second he’s going to pull back with some sort of snarky comment, and I’ll look like a fool.
But he wasn’t moving, and neither was I.
“I saw the music box, you fixed it,” I whispered into the space between us, my voice sounding as though it could break any moment.
“Nothing is ever too broken to be fixed, that’s something else your mom used to say right?” he whispered back, the shadows of the candles and the fire danced across his face.
“I hope you know how much that means to me. Thank you.” I was raw and honest, even with the things between us left unsaid, for the better, he deserved this, “For the music box, for my mom’s quotes, for letting me see the glimpses of the real you,” with each word my heartbeat sped up.
“I would do anything for you if you let me,” He murmured as if speaking any louder would smash this fragile thing happening around us right now. The tip of his finger grazes across my cheekbone, his eyes follow the line. I never feel his touch, just the ghost of it, sending shivers through my body that I try my best to keep from showing.
I scan his face, every beautiful angle and feature that makes him perfect, just the way he is.
I want to. I want to let him in so badly, to let him know every corner of my heart, I want to be fully immersed in whatever this is we’re building here, for him to have me, for me to have him but all that comes out is, “I want to,” because the foundations were building here are rocky and not stable.
His gaze shifts from my one eye to the other then to my lips and again.
“But you can’t because of…” he lets out so quietly I almost miss it
“I don’t have any feelings for him Cole,” there was a shift in his expression at my words, a guilty smile, “but he’s your brother, he’s one of my closest friends and he lives here too, this isn’t just about us, there’s your family,” I argue, but my excuses are sounding weak even to myself.
He moved closer, his knee touching mine, his breath warm.
Without further thought I laced my arms around his neck, running my fingers from the sides to the back pulling him close. A simple kiss, which did not last long enough. It was short, controlled. I pulled back realizing what I had just done. Maybe we just needed it out of our systems.
Still no words were exchanged, we just looked at each other. I knew I needed to move, to get up and out of the room but when his hand found its way to my forearm and pulled me towards him, I just gave in.
His hands explored my neck, cheeks and hair as the kiss became more passionate. I could feel my cheeks glowing a bright red, thankful it would be too hard to see in this light. Finally, he settled them on either side of my face whilst one of my hands found its place on his neck, the other exploring the honey-blonde hair on the nape of his neck.
I don’t know how long we were kissing but when he pulled away to look at me I knew it hadn’t been long enough. Both our chests heaving, me certain that my heart was about to give out. It felt so right I couldn’t let this slip away from me.
I grabbed onto his neck and pulled him towards me again. The kiss wasn’t rough, but it was filled by a burning need. All those months of the back and forth, the uncertain, the toying around the subject and now finally. Finally, I got to feel what this burning passion meant. What I’ve never felt with anyone else.
His hand one hand travelled to my neck, his thumb brushing comfortingly, his other pulling me towards him, I don’t know how much closer we could get until he was pulling me onto him. My legs on either side of his body. Chest to chest. Only clothes between us.
“Cole,” I whispered when his mouth travelled down my jaw to my neck kissing every inch of exposed skin. He paused cautiously, checking with his eyes that I was okay, that he wasn’t taking it too far. I nodded entangling my hand in locks, the hot chocolate long forgotten.
It was a euphoric feeling until my heart stopped when we heard the door open. I pushed off his lap and he helped me up.
“Hey, are you guys alright the lights aren’t-” Alex stopped when he made it to the doorframe to the living room, his eyes quickly found mine, then Cole’s, he hadn’t seen anything, no one would know, but even just seeing us here together, surrounded by candles could give anyone the impression.
“The storm blew out the electric box,” I said, my walls building right back up, keeping this eye contact while I could see the hurt in his eyes was more painful than I could have imagined but I couldn’t look away, then he’d know something had in fact happened. The light came back on with a click in the hallway.
“It’s because of the storm, what happened?” George asked walking into the living room, Katherine beside him, she gave me a weak smile.
“I’m going to check up on the kids, you guys make sure all the candles are blown out, let’s not start any fires tonight,” she added a cheerful tone and a chuckle but the still the tension in the room could probably be cut with a knife. Whether she meant literally or metaphorically I agreed with her, I did not want anything to explode between these two Walter boys.
“She managed to get it to work for a few minutes, but it gave out again, we thought it would be safer to leave the box alone,” Cole confirmed to his dad who nodded in agreement. I didn’t look at Cole as he volunteered to help his dad with the candles in the kitchen.
I thought Alex would say something when we were left alone. It looked like he really wanted to say something, but he just shook his head slightly and ran upstairs. I bit into my bottom lip and closed my eyes. It’s not like I hadn’t told him that I didn’t feel the same way, still the guilt washed over like a destructive wave. I took a deep breath and after a second started to blow out the candles before heading up to my bedroom.
***
I tossed and turned every few minutes in my bed for what felt like hours. I heard someone come out of their room half an hour ago, I assumed it was one of the Walter’s going to the toilet, but the person went downstairs, and was yet to come back up. Something in me knew it was Cole, he probably couldn’t sleep like me.
After another few restless minutes, I let out a huff and sat up in bed. All of the emotions were still buzzing and brewing inside my body. I threw my comforter off me and put on a hoodie and some outdoor slippers. Before I knew it, I was tip-toeing my way downstairs hoping I was doing a better job than whoever had gone down before me.
Walking out the front door I could see the beginning of the sunrise, at what looked like the other end of the world, out there in the fields the first sights of amber and yellow were rising out of the grass in the horizon.
I spotted Cole immediately sitting on the railing looking out at the view. The ranch was truly a magnificent sight, it was breathtaking, how could anyone not fall in love with this place just seeing this.
I stepped on one of the weaker wooden panels which let out a single sound, Cole looked around instantly, but the smile that shone on his face mere hours ago was not there now.
“I won’t break my brother’s heart ever again” he starts solemnly, “But I can’t not want you, how could I not?” he looked at me, the tears in my eyes are again threatening to spill. He hopped down and walked over to me. Nothing more said.
He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me close, laying his head on top of mine. I laced my arms around his torse, holding him tightly in the quiet of the post-storm, looking out at sunrise like it was a painting in a gallery to be looked at for hours.
“Your mom was right when she said it’s a blessing and a curse to feel so deeply” he whispered into my hair and I just tightened my hold on him. She was always right, and hell did I wish she was here now to tell me what I can do to make this all stop hurting.
What’s happened can’t be taken back now, the consequences long-term are yet to be seen and I suppose I’ll just have to take it day by day. Navigate this chaos of events and feelings. Hoping that it’ll all work out.
MASTER LIST
#cole walter x reader#cole walter#my life with the walter boys#mlwtwb#alex walter#jackie howard#netflix#danncy walter#cole x reader
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Chapter 1: From Tradegy to Fantasy - Awakening in Another World
Pairing: Gojo x fem!reader
Warnings: reader's death, language
Genre: Isekai, Romance, Fantasy
Synopsis: Your life takes a tragic turn as you perish in a car crash, only to awaken in a whimsical world of fantasy with none other than Jujustu Kaisen characters as its main protagonists. But as if that wasn't enough, you're about to marry the prince version of Gojo Satoru. How will you navigate through this world of history and fantasy? Does your life take the same sudden twist of fate as that of your favorite characters?
Next Chapter ->
„Are you reading those strange stuff again…What was it called? Manga?”
“I’m only watching the anime because of that hot blindfolded guy.”
You don’t even try to look up from your phone, currently reading the newest publication of the Jujutsu Kaisen manga over some sketchy site online. That hot blindfolded guy…You’ll never understand why some girls are only watching Jujutsu Kaisen because of him, Gojo Satoru. This world has so much more to offer, so much more than this overpowered character not even Gege himself likes.
“It’s not exactly reading”, you mutter, so sunken into the drawn fight in front of your eyes that you simply can’t look away.
“(y/n), come back to reality. We have some classes to attend.”
Out of instinct, you roll your eyes. You’ll probably have to listen to that one professor who always talks about himself and simply reads through his presentation for three hours straight, not even allowed to look at your phone and do something useful instead. Urgh, being an uni student sucks.
“Give me a minute, I’m just finishing this chapter.”
When your friends start walking, you follow them without paying attention. This is it, the fight you’ve been waiting for. Maybe this time someone is able to defeat Sukuna, maybe this will be the day you’ve been waiting for. Fuck plot armour, fuck all the horrible things that happened last, all the beloved characters that had to die. Damn, you still miss Geto to this day. If they would have noticed sooner, he might be still alive-
“(Y/N), WATCH OUT!”
You always wondered about how death must feel like. Getting consumed by darkness, getting dragged into sheer empty space. Does it hurt? Will you die right on the spot and feel absolutely nothing? What about that myth about reminiscing your own life shortly before your death?
The second you looked into those blinding car lights, you knew exactly that you are next, that there is no way you’ll survive the hit that will sweep you off your feet, that throws your body into the air like a plastic bag.
How pathetic to die like this. Getting hit by a car while being glued to the sketches of fictional characters on your phone. What will your parents say, your family, your friends? You don’t want to die like this, but still…
You allow your eyes to rest against your harsh light, your phone dropping to the phone. You can’t escape the hit. Maybe, just maybe, you will wake up in a better world.
If stuff like that even exists.
When you open your eyes again, you brace yourself for an immense wave of pain hunting down your body, for getting greeted by those way too harsh hospital lights. But instead, your eyes open with ease. Instead, you get greeted by the dim light of a golden chandelier in and a well-painted ceiling in all different shades of purple.
“Where on earth…Am I?”, you mutter to yourself.
The second you look down on you, your heart drops to the floor. You aren’t wearing a pair of leggings and an oversized tee like you always do. No, you are covered in the softest white fabric you ever felt from head to toe, an elegant lavendel ribbon tied around your waist. And that delicate jewellery...
Immediately, you yank out of bed and almost trip over the hem of the white dress, coming to a stand in front of a mirror.
This isn’t possible. No, this has to be a feverish dream. Maybe they put you into coma after…
You swallow hard, reality hitting you with full force. You died. As soon as the car hit you, you were dead right on the spot and you knew it instantly. But why does everything feel so damn real? Frantically, your hands wander around the sweaty face that looks back at you in sheer horror through the mirror, stare at the lavendel eyes that don’t look like yours at all. But those facial features, the way your hair falls.
Is it…you?
A violent scream escapes your lips before you’re able to stop it, guts turning so uncomfortably that you feel like puking every minute. This can’t be true. This can’t be your reality now…Just before your feet give in, you grab the cool golden frame of the mirror, allow your spinning head to rest for a second.
“Lady Zenin, are you alright!?”
That distant voice, who is it talking to? Lady Zenin…Like Toji, Mai and Maki Zenin? Maybe you didn’t die but got kidnapped into a pervert cosplay party. Slowly, you turn around, face sticky in cold sweat.
But the man standing in front of you doesn’t look like a creep at all. No, he’s a truly elegant man. Maybe in his 50s, but it is clear that he’s taking care of himself. His eyes look at you worried, his gloved hands stretched out in order to help if you fall.
“Where…Where am I?”, you press out.
This isn’t your hometown. Fuck, this isn’t even your home country, not even your timeline. The stuff in this room looks so old and somehow magical, let alone that dress you’re wearing.
“I don’t understand, Lady Zenin. You are in your room”, the man replies visibly worried.
“What country?”, you probe.
“My lady, we are still in Avaloria…Are you feeling unwell? Shall I call the doctor-“
“In Avaloria. And I’m Lady Zenin…”, you mumble to yourself.
This doesn’t make any sense. You didn’t pay that much attention to geography, but you know for a fact that Avaloria isn’t a real country and that your last name definitely isn’t Zenin. But oh that last name is definitely familiar to you, so familiar that it’s frightening. Suddenly a shiver runs down your spine, dark foreshadowing letting your fingertips shake.
“What is my father’s name?”
You don’t want this answer. No, all you want to do is waking up from this dream, from this nightmare. You aren’t a lady, you aren’t a Zenin. You are nothing but plain (y/n) who adores anime and manga a little too much and still goes to university. You are nothing but a normal young woman.
“Your lordship…Your lordship is called Naobito Zenin, my Lady”, he stutters.
“And my brother’s name is Naoya, huh?”, you huff out.
This has to be a bad joke, right? What is this man, a stand-up comedian, maybe? You cross your arms in front of your chest, force your body to stop shaking. You need to put this madness to an end right now.
“Yes, exactly my Lady!”, the man in front of you literally cries out in relief while the ground is pulled underneath your feet.
No, nothing about this is right. These men, their names…They are nothing but an invention by Gege Akutami, nothing but drawn figures in a book adapted into an anime. They are nothing but fantasy, nothing but fiction.
“B-But…”
Your voice fails as your mind can’t process anymore. Is it really possible that…You were reincarnated into a world like this?
“Are you causing a scene again, sister?”
You don’t recognize the voice speaking behind you, but something inside you tells you that if you turn around, you will be greeted by…
Cold, sharp brown eyes.
Your very own orbs widen in sheer horror. Those dark green roots, the annoyed look on his face, his tall muscular frame. He looks exactly like the manga made him appear. But instead of wearing a kimono, he is dressed in a black uniform with golden and purple details.
“You’re looking like a fucking prince…”, you breathe out.
“Are you trying to upset me, (y/n)?”
“Master Naoya, the lady doesn’t appear like herself today. Shall I call the doctor?”, the older man speaks with low voice.
“Did you have a bad dream?”
He grabs your chin before you’re able to stop him, his cold glare hitting you with full force.
Naoya just touched you. Fucking Naoya Zenin is standing in front of your very own self, his fingers wrapped around your chin, staring at you so intensely that you feel like fainting any given minute.
“Don’t you dare to mess today’s meeting up because of your weird acting. It took father and I months to arrange a meeting with that lousy prince. Let’s hope that he finds liking in you or else I’ll marry you below your status”, he hisses into your face.
“You can’t just arrange my wedding. Who the hell do you think you are?”, you spit into his face out of instinct.
“All the attention must have gone to your head, (y/n). Who do I think I am? I am your big brother, father’s right hand. And you are nothing but a woman. Your only worth is to marry into a wealthy and influential family. I will never understand why the prince of our country found a liking in you. Apart from a pretty face, you have nothing to offer.”
He yanks your chin away roughly, forces you to take a few steps back and almost sends you onto the floor with the sheer force of his fingertips. Your body quivers in anger, hands balled into fists so tight that your knuckles stand out white.
“I don’t need a prince, I know my own worth you fool!”, you demand.
“Who taught you to talk like this? You are a lady, (y/n). Finally start to act like one or I will tell father about your behaviour. Maybe a venesection will cause your mouth to finally shut, what do you think?”
“A vene-what?”
“Urgh, just be quiet and get yourself ready. You will meet the prince as soon as you are presentable. And don’t you dare to disappoint us”, he hisses through gritted teeth.
And then he’s gone in the wind while you stand in the middle of the room, still unable to catch your shaky breath. Who the hell does this guy think he his? Where exactly are you, what world is this? Your head begins to spin so violently that you fear to lose your balance, your whole life crashing down on you like a house of cards.
This isn’t 2024 on mother earth anymore. This…this is something completely different. And that man who introduced himself as your brother made it all too clear that there’s no way you’ll survive here if you don’t play along. Maybe it’s like in that anime you just watched, the one with the girl names Raeliana. If that’s the case…
“Please call in my maids. I wish to be dressed”, you speak out monotone.
“Of course, Lady (y/n).”
You will play along. But there is no way in hell you’ll let him force you into a marriage with some strange prince you don’t even know. Your eyes are fixated on themselves, the new lavender color gleaming back at you being so unknown as well as all those women who scurry around you.
Who is this prince, anyway? If you’re really in some strange jujutsu kaisen verse, it must be another character. Maybe Geto…Oh, that would be nice. But what if it’s Sukuna? You shake your head, haunt away your stinging imagination. No, you won’t marry the king of curses. Actually, there aren’t many men you’d like as your husband.
How is this supposed to turn out good?
-at the salon-
You feel like fainting any given minute, heart pounding so roughly against your well-dressed ribcage that every beat sends a shiver down your spine. If the man standing in front of you isn’t called Geto or Nanami, you don’t want him. And apart from that…Aren’t you too young to marry anyway? Why does your family want to get rid of you so badly?
“It is so nice to finally meet you in person, Lady (y/n).”
Your heart drops to the floor.
That voice.
Fuck. It’s no doubt that it’s him.
“Let me introduce myself properly: I’m Prince Satoru, the future king of Avaloria.”
The second your brother steps aside, you get greeted by bright blue eyes and a cheeky grin.
This is Gojo Satoru, that “hot guy with the blindfold”, one of the last men you’d like to marry even if he’s dressed in a fine suit with red and blue details. Out of instinct, you cross your arms in front of your chest, narrow eyes staring him into the ground. You will never understand the hype behind his smile and eyes when it’s all too clear that he’s a player, a womanizer. A man like Gojo Satoru isn’t the husband you were imagining, not the man you were looking for since you were a child.
“I’m not marrying that man”, you announce into the silence of the room.
Soo, this was the very first chapter of my new series and it makes me beyond excited! So please, if you enjoyed it, it would make me beyond happy if you like/comment/reblog that work of mine and let me know what you think. Thank you guys so much for your constant support, it means the world 🤍
Tags: @m0k0k0 @lees-chaotic-brain @sanicsmut @risuola @fire-loving-siren @sunshine7queen @gatitam @kentocalls
#jjk#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk x reader#gojo x reader#gojo satoru#jjk gojo#jujutsu gojo#gojo saturo#gojou satoru x reader#jjk romance#jjk fantasy au!#jjk fanfic#jjk story#jjk fluff#jjk x you#jjk angst#jujutsu kaisen gojo#gojou x reader#gojo satorou#satoru gojo#satoru gojo x reader#gojo x you#gojo x y/n#naoya zenin#jjk naoya#zenin clan#zenin reader#isekai reader#isekai
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Pairing ೃ⁀➷ Earth 42! Miles Morales x Fem! Reader
Summary ೃ⁀➷ Lovers have secrets of their own, no matter how much they come to trust each other, whether it be a past mistake or an unspoken trauma. For you and Miles, however, your secrets came in the form of hidden identities— one being a masked vigilante, and the other a mastermind.
Genre ೃ⁀➷ Forbidden love, mutual pining, eventual angst♡
Tags ೃ⁀➷ Both are artists, reader is from a very wealthy family, both are living double lives, underaged smoking, reader is female and uses she/her pronouns, forbidden love (ish?), swearing, daddy issues, mommy issues, reader is unhinged, both are mentally unstable, lots of flirting.
Author's Note ೃ⁀➷ Chapters are a bit rushed, sorry bout that 😭 hope u enjoy tho
Chapter 1: Behind the chain
Warning ೃ⁀➷ Profane language, underaged smoking, mention of death, horrible Spanish. Also, I don’t live in America so idrk how people talk there, so please bear with me.
FIC MASTERLIST
Next Chapter
“Hello? Yeah, I’m at practice.”
As your feet hit the ground, the chain link fence shutters from the release of your weight— a sigh escaping your lips as you pull your phone up closer to your ear. The sound of your aunt's nags echo from your phone, bellowing across the abandoned subway and overpowering even the sound of your boots hitting the damp ground. It was shrill, her voice. Like a fork being dragged down a piece of fine china. Activating the flashlight of your phone, you swiftly slip your head out of your hood, the new spot now staring back at you like an empty canvas— devoid of life and color. It’s tragic.
As you trudge down the narrow space, your senses begin to process the stench of the horror movie-like scenery. You could heard the pipes’ leaking going along with your aunt’s ongoing lecture about something you couldn’t recall— somehow distracting you from your search.
But what certainly made you uneasy was the chill.
You hated the cold. You hated the way it’d ice your feet, dry your skin, restrict your clothes, and clog your nose. Though ironically, autumn was the season you found most enjoyable. Most of the nostalgia you bore came from the sight of those scarlet leaves— the smell of pumpkin spice, your mother’s old scarves, and the earthly rich tones of orange and red. It’d been so long, though, since your last happy memory in the season.
Nowadays, the nights are just longer, and the days shorter.
Soon enough, you stop before a tall, white wall, making you gasp as though you’d just won the lottery. Only then you started bidding your farewells to your aunt, who was beyond exasperated with your hurried adieu. Shoving the gadget down your pocket, your backpack falls right off your shoulder with a small thump, eyes still glued onto the blank space.
You make your way towards one of the seats, settling down your stuff while slipping your vape out the crevices of your sleeve and taking a slow puff— the taste of peppermint flourishing through your lips and covering up the stench of whatever was rotting in the railways.
"You're early." A familiar, sarcastic growl emits from the shadows. You turn around as the light from your phone blinds him, making him wince.
“I missed you.” You playfully answered.
The familiar gleam of hazel blinks and stares right back at you, the same stoic stare narrowing from your comment.
“Sure you did.” He huffs.
In the back of your mind, the same phrase bellows.
Well, well, well. If it ain’t Miles Morales.
It was one night, two months ago, when the two of you first met. You were an utter mess, and so was he— and it just so happened that beneath all that rain, the two of you found each other at the right time, at the right place. Supposedly.
The two of you bonded in loneliness and art. It was almost poetic, especially knowing that the two of you were anything but good for each other.
But you believed that that’s what’s great about life— the reckless things, and betting whatever you have on the line, for a taste of something thrilling. Miles knew how to pull on your strings, and the idea of being understood was still new to you. Still, whenever you do find yourself in the comfort of Miles Morales, you can’t help but ask yourself:
Who will we be to each other?
How will we change each other’s lives after this?
You couldn’t quite tell if it was your gut warning you, or your anxiety just being a little shit, but you knew the time to hear the answers was drawing near. You had no idea whether the possibility mortified you or not.
One thing for certain though, was that you knew you wanted him, and you were willing to take the risk to see him over and over again.
Miles took a step closer, his height towering over you like a tree. With a single finger, he maneuvers your flashlight away from his face with a light push.
"Get that shit away from my face."
“Awe, but I wanna see that pretty face of yours.”
“Stop.”
Cat and mouse was your usual dynamic. Though you couldn’t quite pinpoint who the cat was.
He clicks his tongue, moving away from you to head over somewhere else. A few seconds later, the power suddenly lights up and brings the subway back to life. Miles stood by the power switch, staring right at you as if to examine your reaction.
You straightened your lips and raised your brows.
"Well, you should've done that sooner."
He lazily shrugged his shoulders, approaching you once more yet with more meticulous steps. "Wanted to scare ya." He cooly confessed, earning nothing but another chuckle.
"If you wanted to scare me, don’t look so pretty."
Said pretty boy furrowed his brows, making you grin wider.
"Ay, díos. You're..." For a short moment, he thinks of how to complete the sentence.
You hum. "I'm what?"
".. so fucking unbearable."
"Awe, I missed you too." You smiled in a sickly sweet way while placing a hand over your heart. That certain sort of thrill began thumping inside you again, an unfamiliar excitement that got you staring right at him mindlessly with that stupid look on your pretty face. As Miles replied with silence, you shrugged and pulled the mod up your tinted lips— blowing the smoke away from his face. Only then, you gestured it towards him.
"Want a hit?"
"Nah." He dryly replies. "That's your first step to a rehab, y'know."
A low laugh exits your lips, taking another hit while slowly walking around. "With how fucked up I am, I'm bound to end up in either jail, a rehab, or a mental institution— so," You snap your fingers. "I'm just gonna enter all three of them."
Miles looks at you, horrified.
"M’just kidding. Don't you think I look hot while doing it, though?"
He peels the horrified stare away from you, instead choosing to kneel before your backpack, unzipping the damn thing as though it were his.
"What'chu got?" He asks, a certain twang in his voice that lightened you up. You head over in less than a second, grinning stupidly like a little kid in search of favor. You pull the plastic bag out of your backpack, waving it over his face.
"Only the best for you." You wink. "I just kindly borrowed these from my school's art club."
Receiving the bag from your grasps, Miles pulls out the newly bought spray paints. He furrows his brows at the sight of the bold fifteens printed on the bottom of each bottle, a tag left as if to brag. "Kindly borrowed, huh?" He skims over the bottle, evidently impressed. "Fifteen dollars per bottle? That’s a whole heist right there.”
“I literally just snatched it off the cabinet.”
“You must go to some rich kid’s school or sum. You even look the part.”
He gestures over your well-kept appearance. Your clean boots, pressed jeans, freshly done nails, and fragrant hoodie.
And yet you continued to look at him like he was the crazy one.
"... Miles, it’s called neatness. A basic trait." You stand up, stretching your arms above your head, the ache in your bones subtly easing. "If I did have the money, my art would be in an exhibition, not in an abandoned subway."
He pursed his lips, somewhat convinced. "Touché."
As he unpacks the paints, you stay beside him, watching as he goes through the colors and lines them up in order. You shove your hands down the pockets of your hoodie, humming.
"So what'll you be drawing tonight?"
"I ain’t really sure yet… The Subway logo, maybe." He shrugs, an exhausted groan rolling off his tongue as he stands up. "… I ain't got shit. I'm drained."
"Then why'd you come here?"
"Felt bad for ya."
You smirk. "So you did miss me."
He takes a step back, turning his head the other way. "I sure do find your delusional ass amusing." He mumbled, trying to hide the anxiety gnawing at his throat. You hardly notice it, as you were too busy staring at the empty wall, but Miles was uneasy. Uneasy in a way that he was desperate to hide it.
"At least I’ve got an ass." You airily snap back, silence following like an awkward stench. "Did you bring your sketchbook with you, by the way?"
He then proceeds to go through his jacket, eyes widening from the realization. "Ah, shit. I did... Not."
"Awe." You blandly answered, pulling out your own from the pocket of your bag. It was small, convenient, almost like a notepad. "Well, I've got mine here." You toss it over, which he successfully catches. "They're not exactly as good as yours, but you can skim through the pages to find some inspiration."
The pages spin from the flip of his fingers. Tens of concept art, a few unfinished sketches, and some dabbling in watercolor appeared before him in a flash. As he goes through the pages, you take the moment to have a momentary smoke, straying not so far away just so he wouldn't inhale any of it. The nicotine eased you as it normally did, though now that you were looking at this pretty boy before you, you couldn't help but ponder about quitting. Just for him. Just for the sake of him.
Though the feeling the nicotine often brought you was addicting, his presence hit you harder than any other drug, affecting your system in a way that made your stomach whirl. He was like your favorite cup of coffee— the strongest coffee to ever linger in your presence. Strong enough to appear on a drug test.
It was damning.
Dangerous even.
As the page flips again, Miles freezes at the sight. You take the gadget away from your lips, approaching him immediately as he huffs.
"... Huh."
Bursting in neons of magenta and violet was the sketch you made of a certain vigilante.
"Oh, don’t mind that." You mumble. "That's just some random sketch."
He brings the paper closer to his sights, marveling at your talent. The markers and the ink, mirroring the image of a cat on the run. His pretty lips part, mouth hanging agape as he asks. "You know this guy?"
A hero of the streets, some sort of final pillar carrying the weight of New York's safety on his broad shoulders.
"Well, I've seen him— Prowler, from the news. I thought he looked pretty cool."
Prowler, a name all too familiar to you. How could you not know he was? A man hiding behind an iron mask, a digital purple hologram over the metals, making his silhouette mirror a panther’s. The man was all your father recently growled about, the memory of the heavy morning still engraved into your mind. You can almost sketch it out— The stench of his tobacco, the shrill of his angered voice, and the image of your poor housekeeper silently brushing some broken shards into the dustpan. You remember sitting by the dining table, solemnly choking on your breakfast as you forcibly shoved it down your throat.
Eyes downcast and hands shaking.
"You think he's cool?" Miles' voice tears you apart from the memory. He sounded almost elated, like a child in search of praise.
"Yeah, I'd always wanted to be a vigilante, fuck—" The vape rolls off your tongue unconsciously. "Like, my life is so damn boring, but at the same time, I've got too many responsibilities to handle so I can't do the things I like. But hey, that's life, I guess."
"If you've got too many responsibilities, then what the hell are you doing here? It's like midnight r'now, damn."
"I kinda told my aunt I had practice for band."
"You're in a band?"
"…. No." You deadpan. "That's the reason why I'm here, man."
He snapped the sketchbook shut, sighing as he plucked out the red and purple spray paints from the line. "God, you'd be one hell of a headache if I ever had a kid like you."
"Woah, slow down, sweetie, you're already talking about kids and you haven't even taken me out to dinner yet." You tease, teeth nibbling onto your lower lip as you watch him crumble. He straightens his lips, forcefully holding back a smile.
"… Shut that mouth for me, would ya?" He shot back. "Just shut up."
"Oo, make me."
He pops the lid off the red paint, the sound of a nickel ball being shaken up in a metal can soon following. Without even an ounce of hesitation, he curtly sprays the paint over your sleeve, earning a gasp from you. You quickly snatch the neon pink can and start spraying back, the chemical smell wafting over your nostrils as the sound of your giggles echoed down the halls. A minute later and the both of you began drawing your new piece while being drenched in paint.
"Hey, pretty boy.”
Miles instinctively turns to look at you, as though he prided himself in the nickname.
"I need to do the top part, can you boost me?" You ask, voice muffled from the towel pulled over your nose.
Maybe it was the exhaustion, but he agreed without making a sound.
He kneels, tapping on his thigh, gesturing you to take your step. Taking off your shoes, you cautiously climb over, feeling his hands brush against your calves, almost as if he was readying his stance to catch you just in case you fall. Initially, the pose seemed to be serving you well, but when your ankles started shivering, your hand latched onto his head, gripping gently in panic. Miles, who was, of course, caught off guard, began shaking. You finally took a step down.
"Fuck." You whispered. "Can you do it?"
"Hol' on."
"I think you just need to like, tiptoe a bit and—"
"Be patient."
And you did just that.
He stretches out his toes in an attempt to reach for the top, but he fails miserably. Miles then turned to you, bearing the pout of a frustrated child.
"... Ya already know what to do, right?"
"Mm, yeah."
An irrational thought crosses his mind, and it battles against his rationality like a civil war within the confines of his head. A second later, his lone finger signals you to come closer. You do so, and he looks up at the unfinished crown.
"I'm gonna carry you, a'ight?"
"What?" You blurt out. "Y-You don't have to—"
"Just balance yourself." He skips past your rant. "And you better do it well."
Before you could even intervene, he's down and offering you his shoulder. Hesitantly, you position yourself. Looking over at you, Miles skims over your face in search of approval. When your hand shakily makes its way over his other arm, Miles cautiously wraps his palm over the side of your knee, hoisting you up like a trophy he’d just won.
"You okay?" He asks.
"Y-yeah. Just— yeah." You stumble over your words, raising your hand over to start painting.
You could feel it tingling in your bones. Skin deep, rotting within the confines of your flesh, insecurity at its highest peak. And it shut you up. Miraculously, as Miles would say it. Your weight, your body, your own figure frightened you. It would be a lie for Miles to claim that he hasn’t noticed. But he stood tall, hardly showing an ounce of any struggle— which comforted somehow.
He was pretty strong, stronger than you first thought.
As you painted, Miles stood there in silence. Trying his best to focus on his breathing.
But the softness of your palm atop his shoulder, and the growing warmth of his own over your waist. Miles desperately tried to ignore growing warmth burning his cheeks. He resisted the urge to dig into the softness of your waist, and yet it remained like a taunt— allowing only his nails to grip over your shirt, the thin barrier over your skin. It seemed almost vulgar, how his hand was beneath your hoodie, gripping as though you were his favorite plush. How his wrist was pressed against the curve of your hip. Then and there, within the span of five minutes, the silhouette of your body was forever engraved into his senses, his mind, and his touch.
But no one spoke of it.
"... You done?" He groaned.
"In a bit, hol' on."
You thought he'd start complaining about your weight, but he didn't.
You were somewhat relieved, but at the same time, it flustered you.
And when the little scene ended, you and Miles stood there, backs pressed against the wall as you stared at your new masterpiece. You looked over the chemical stains on your sleeves, glancing at him. "This jacket's pretty expensive, y'know. It cost me like fifteen grand."
His face twisted in disgust. "You'd buy a jacket like that? In this economy?”
"It's a capitalist world we live in."
"No shit."
The two of you share a small laugh, evidently exhausted from the whole art process. It wasn't all that much, but it was based on one of your many doodles during class. The cursive that spelled out Stay Out was painted in an intimidating shade of red, its borders tainted in white and black— a crown of thorns resting above the text. It seemed like a warning, an open threat. Crafted by frustration, but upon its finish, you were eased.
"Next time, we should do something that says 'Eat the rich' or 'Vive la revolución.'" Miles suddenly suggested, jazzing his fingers comedically. You click your tongue. "We might get shot, man.”
“With all that smoking you do, you’ll wither away before the bullet even manages to get you.”
You raised your brows. “Okay, and?”
Miles scoffs at your ridiculous reply, but for a moment he thinks about it— some sort of plan in his mind. Sooner or later, he soon gently raises his palm without a word. You stare at his hand confusingly, “What?” you then asked of him. The boy then gestured over his lips with his fingers shaped like a v, imitating the act of smoking. “Lemme try, at least once.”
“… You’re kidding.”
“I’m being for real, ma, just let me try it once.”
You think about rejecting his request, but the curiosity had you fishing out your e-cigarette in less than a second.
“Okay, but if you die, I’m not paying for your damn ambulance bill.”
“Just uber me to the damn hospital.”
Miles then looks at it, glaring holes into the pen-shaped gadget as though he were waiting for it to speak. After considerably taking his time, he plucks it out your palm and starts a slow sip, the collision of the nicotine and the flavor flooding his tongue as the smoke enters his system. When the heat creeps in, however, he bursts out into a coughing fit.
You snatch the gadget away from his grasp as he groans.
“Careful.”
"What the fUCK—, ain't that s'pposed to calm you down?—" He slams his hand against the center of chest in an attempt to ease his lungs.
"… Did you fucking swallow the smoke or what?" You sigh while taking a sip, the smoke smoothly exiting your lips.
"... You know what? You are definitely gonna die early."
"Oh, darling, don't threaten me with a good time."
“Pu—” He coughs a few more times. “Puta, I almost died there.”
You take your palm and began rubbing small circles behind his back. “You shouldn’t do the shit I do, even if I look hot doing it.”
“Ain’t nobody told you that.”
“… Why’d you wanna smoke anyway?”
“I just wanted to know why you keep doing that.” He groans, staring at the pen in your fingers. “I mean— it’s unhealthy as fuck, hardly tastes good, and it’ll kill you the ugliest way possible. So why do it?”
You lower the pen as though your long-lost conscience re-entered your body.. “… I don’t know really.” You mumbled half-heartedly. “I think it’s what calms me down the most…? I don’t know.”
“… You don’t have, like, normal hobbies?”
“The fuck— of course, I do.” You swiftly shot back. “I just don’t have the time to do them.”
“Then what do you do at home?”
You blink.
“What— What do I do at home?” You repeat, thinking of it to yourself. “That’s a good question, what do I do at home?… I do chores, I study a lot. I-I take care the house.” Take care of the house? Yeah, shit I ain’t Mirabel Madrigal. As your mind short circuits, from a mile away, you could already guess his reply.
“I do that too, dumbass.”
You click your tongue. “.. It’s complicated. The time I usually have for myself is when I’m outside, that’s why I lied that I took up band for extra credit.”
You smoothed out the details of your life, picking out a few small details that were definitely not all that important.
"Is that why you're here?"
"Yeah.”
The boy curved his lips into a slight frown.
“I mean,” You shift closer, sighing as you palm the back your neck. “Sometimes, places like these are better than my own home."
"Places like an abandoned subway?"
“You make it sound like I’m homeless.”
“That’s what it sounds to me.”
"... It’s just.." You run your fingers through your hair, eyes glued onto the ceiling above. "I feel more at home in an abandoned subway more than my own house.”
Miles hummed. "… I'd always thought home would be more of a person," He tilts his head. "Rather than a place."
The silence was deafening, but this time, nothing was urging you to fix it— because there was nothing in need of fixing. You were comfortable, weirdly enough, as you never really found comfort in utter silence.
“It’d be nice to be.. Someone’s home.” You couldn’t help but utter those cheesy words. “I think I’d make a great home.”
Miles fiddled with the hem of his hoodie, holding back the words that echoed in his mind.
Yeah, you’re doing great.
Instead, what slips out of his mouth was: “How the fuck are you gon’ be a home? You’re a whole haunted house.”
“Oh, fuck you.” You roll your eyes. “If I’m a haunted house, you’re a rental where all the drive-by shootings happen.”
“Okay, what the fuck.”
“When you go low, I go LOWER.”
In the end, the two of you simply bursted into laughter, sinking down to the floor to take a seat. Another hour passed and so did a hundred topics. They flew by like the autumn leaves, leaving the both of you unconsciously huddling close for warmth beneath the large scarf you brought. Two birds of one feather, one nest. Easy conversations, light laughs, and genuine interest.
Even when the conversation grew darker, the two of you infinitely felt cosy enough to confide in one another. Especially when Miles spoke about his father.
You listened well, yet there was this ball stuck in your throat that you couldn’t quite swallow. A heaviness in your heart, a stiff feeling in your throat. However, your ears were welcoming. His tone was grieving, but his words resonated with acceptance.
"He used to drive me every morning to school... We'd fight over the pettiest things, and god, I hated it, but looking back, it was better then." He buried half his head into his arms. "I'd rather have him annoying me than have him not annoying me at all."
The words hit you like a truck, leaving you defenseless. In a moment, your walls crumble as these words crawl out your mouth. "... Sometimes, when we're with someone, you can't help but wish they'd leave you alone, but when they're gone, only then you'll realize how much you can't live without them."
Though your words were meant for Miles, you knew damn well that they were also for you.
"... There's some truth to that, I guess."
"Does that mean that you'd miss me when I'm gone?" You tease.
Your gentle gazes collide, and eventually, you see that Miles had softened entirely.
"... Maybe."
“.. Maybe?” You repeat his reply. “.. Should I annoy you more then?”
“You’re annoying enough as you are.” He huffs, pulling his knees to his chest. “I hate you so much.”
“Sure you do.”
You lean against his shoulder. “Hate me all you want. I’ll pretend to believe you.”
A light chuckle emits from his lips, but as it fades, he turns his head, burying his nose in the scent of your hair. You were fragrant, and it was addicting. Slowly, he shuts his eyes and basks in your scent.
Then he called out your name softly.
You hum, looking up at him— the inches between you closing in, cold breaths like white smoke intertwining. His cold fingers dance atop your own.
“What?” You whisper.
His lids were heavy, gaze switching between the pool of your eyes and the plush of your lips.
Then and there, you knew.
But something screamed at you in the back of your mind.
We can’t.
Ring. Ring. Ring.
And you pulled away before your lips could even meet.
"Shit." You cuss, clumsily pulling the phone out of your pockets. Your hands frantically scramble to answer the call, the look of Miles' defeated stare stinging the corner of your eye. "Hello?" You began, hearing the chauffeur's voice ask back. "Ma'am, where are you?"
Your fingers press the side of your phone, lowering the volume.
“We're currently clearing up the room right now. Can you please wait about thirty more minutes? Thanks."
As the call ends, you frantically head off to start cleaning up. Trying to evade whatever had just happened— at least, you try to. It invaded your mind and heart, left you breathless and unsteady.
You and Miles began picking up the bottles, shoving it inside the plastic. You then flung the strap of your backpack onto your shoulder, holding the plastic out to him. "You can have it."
Confusion was scribbled all over his face.
"Didn't you steal that from your school's art club?”
You look up, thinking about it for a moment before shrugging. "It’s their problem, not ours." You grin.
Miles shakes his head in feigned disapproval. "Tsk tsk tsk, eres una chica tan mala."
"Don't start, the only Spanish I know's from Dora."
"Que?"
"Queso."
You shove the plastic into his arms. "No hablo Español, lo siento." Was all you managed to form out of the past few weeks you started learning Spanish. You threw a hand in the air, waving him a fast farewell while pivoting your heel to leave.
“Can’t I walk you home?” A suggestion, and not a demand for the first time, Miles insists “It’s dark as fuck outside, and you might get.. Y’know.”
For a moment, you pause to laugh.
“Are you worried about me?”
He nods. “I am.”
“I— wait, what?”
He took a step further. “I am worried about you. It’s ten o’clock. I think I should take you home.”
Miles looked at you in a way you’ve never seen before. It was unfamiliar, or maybe you just weren’t good at paying attention, yet now that it was materializing before you— It overwhelmed you.
It was breaking you open.
You bite your lower lip, shoving your hands in your pockets.
“… I-I don’t know, I don’t think my dad would like that very much.”
“And I’m sure your dad wouldn’t like the idea of his lil’ girl getting hurt.”
There he goes again, towering over you, his cocky eyes never once leaving your face. Lil’ girl my ass, you can’t help but think. I’m tall, asshole. You just so happened to be taller.
“I’ll walk you home.” He reiterates. Now it’s an announcement, not a proposal. “You can tell me to leave when we’re near. I just need to make sure you’re okay.”
“… Miles,” The way his name rolls off your tongue had him weak, and you couldn’t even tell. “.. Okay, fine— But, only up until the Gristedes down the block. Until then, you go home, alright?”
Your voice was too soft, too mellow. It made his breath hitch, made his neck tense in this already cold weather.
“Aight.”
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Symptoms of a System Error: The Manifestation of Myungha's Depression in Love for Love's Sake
Ok I will almost certainly have more thoughts about this when I go back to rewatch Love for Love’s Sake in the next couple weeks, but I’ve been thinking about the finale for the last couple of hours and I want to get some stuff out of my head. Before I get too far in to this, I want to say that I think most of the ambiguity in the show is brilliantly executed in a way that allows people to take whatever meaning they want to from it without contradicting each other, without stepping on toes, and without having to twist or bend the narrative beyond all recognition to make it make sense.
So I want to talk about the use of depression in this show, because the way Myungha exists in the world is recognizable enough to me that these moments of choice, and the system errors were extremely legible. That doesn’t mean my take is the correct one (and I honestly don’t think there is one right answer here anyway) but it’s what I got out of it, so with the needless ramble complete, let’s get to it.
Prologue
gif by @dramascene
I connected rather quickly to Myungha as a character from right near the beginning of episode 1 because of how passionate he was about the character of Yeowoon and how much he hoped for a happy ending for that character. As someone who processes a lot of my feelings, and who understands myself better through media consumption, I was quick to appreciate the fact that Myungha recognizes the parts of himself that speak to Yeowoon and to know that because Yeowoon is fictional, he has a chance not to suffer with merely a stroke of a pen. The Author could have chosen from the beginning to give Yeowoon a happy ending, and did not because he believes that there are people for whom bad things will never stop happening. But from the perspective of a fictional story, the Author should consider who he is writing the story for. Myungha connects to Yeowoon, and it sends one hell of a tragic message for how Myungha’s life will end up if even in fiction the people who suffer have no hope of happiness.
Myungha tells the Author that someone like Cha Yeowoon, someone like him [Myungha] with awful lives can still be happy. Looking back on that statement with the knowledge that Myungha kills himself, sends a very clear message, at least for me, of the hope that he was clinging to and finally lost his grip on. The Author asks if Myungha can change the outcome, and thus begins our story.
Debuffs
Now, I don’t know that I will have much more to say here than what @jemmo said in their very brilliant post, beyond the fact I agree with their interpretation of the debuffs. But I am thinking about the debuffs as it relates to mental health and to Myungha’s independence. One of Myungha’s first missions is to befriend Cha Yeowoon, and we see the difficulties associated with doing so when it comes to the Fondness Level meter and the debuffs that happen as a result. I love what Jess said about the dichotomy there: the debuffs mean that every time Myungha gets close to Yeowoon, something bad happens, Myungha uses that as a reason to stay away from Yeowoon to protect him when in fact, being around Myungha and increasing his fondness for him is the only way to really keep Yeowoon safe.
gif by @dramascene
And here again there is something recognizable to me in this dichotomy. Myungha likes Yeowoon, Myungha wants to be friends with Yeowoon, every time something bad might happen to Yeowoon, Myungha is there to intervene. But Myungha is convinced that the potentially negative events that might occur during a debuff are because of him, and so he avoids Yeowoon as much as he possibly can. To me this makes the debuffs a stand in for depression symptoms. Myungha has convinced himself that he is the cause of the bad moments in Yeowoon’s day. Myungha has convinced himself that Yeowoon would be better off if they weren’t friends, because he only makes things worse. And that is not something he can easily shake off, it’s not something he can logic his way out of, that’s the game, that’s just how it is. And so he withdraws until Yeowoon comes to him.
And honestly thinking about it, nothing bad really happens during those debuffs. The light doesn’t shatter, the boys back off on the bus, Yeowoon doesn’t punch Sangwon. Maybe the reason why nothing at all happens is because Myungha intervenes. Maybe if Myungha hadn’t been there, the light would have broken, maybe if Myungha hadn’t been there Yeowoon would have punched Sangwon. But that is not a lens that Myungha is capable of viewing himself through, that is never an option that crosses Myungha’s mind because he is too focused on feeling like the cause of Yeowoon’s problems.
System Errors
I know there is a lot of confusion or at least uncertainty around the system errors. Why are they happening? Where are they coming from? For me, I think the answer is Myungha himself. The first time we get a system error, it’s in Episode 6, what I think is the day after Yeowoon and Myungha have their first kiss and very soon after Yeowoon and Myungha kiss on the rooftop at school. The first error isn’t subtle, but it’s not explicitly stated. Myungha walks in to a room to take a phone call and walks in to the middle of band practice, falling through the world as he tries to remove himself from the situation until he (literally) runs in to Yeowoon. Myungha goes home that night and gets his first moments in the black abyss, and the first explicit mention via pop-up of a system error. I have not gone through (yet) to track every instance of what happens before a system error pop-up occurs from that point on, but I will say moment that was most legible for me in terms of indicating that these system errors were stemming from Myungha himself were when he gets the notification both times that Yeowoon looks directly at him and tells Myungha “I love you.”
gif by @dragonsareawesome123
That moment was a guy punch for me because I was not able to see it any other way except that Myungha is so incapable of believing that people could actually love him that someone telling him directly and sincerely that they love him cannot exist in his world. He literally cannot compute it, and thus an error occurs. Again from the perspective of depression, or trauma, or what have you, this is familiar to me. It is perhaps the most reflective part of Myungha to my own psyche. Neither of us know how to be loved.
Myungha is called out on this repeatedly, he is nice to everyone, he does so much for everyone and refuses to ask for help himself. I’m the same way, I will bend over backwards as much as I can to help the people that I care about, but it is a rare occasion where I can ask for help myself. I’m not sure if this is the case for Myungha, but for me at least a lot of that stems from needing to make myself useful to people in some way so they keep me around. And so I end up feeling like a commodity to the people that I care about and help, and merely tolerated by anyone else that I do not help but that interacts with me any way. Myungha is called out consistently by multiple people, real or NPC about this similar habit. Myungha does not want to be a burden, Myungha only cares about other people’s happiness, Myungha is not happy himself and has maybe never been happy and so he pours everything he can in to lightening the load for others.
He loves Yeowoon, but to be loved by Yeowoon is different. To experience any moments of joy cannot possibly be real. Maybe I am projecting too much on to the character, but it makes complete and total sense to me that Myungha’s worldview would break down upon having someone state wholeheartedly that they want to be a support system for him.
Cruel Choices
gif by @dramascene
With the enmeshment of depression and video game mechanics in mind, I want to talk about the scene at the end of Episode 6. I love this scene so much for a number of reasons:
It turns the game on a head for me as we slip further and further in to a nightmare scenario
It raises the stakes and attempts to get Myungha to make a hard choice
It forces Myungha to think about what is important to him
It’s ultimate purpose and who is posting the mission is ambiguous/uncertain
I’m going to focus on number four. I think it is a perfectly valid read to see this and all video game mechanics as designed by The Author in an effort to help Myungha change Yeowoon’s story in which case this mission feels particularly vindictive and cruel. @lurkingshan posed the question in a conversation we were having about Love for Love’s Sake, where she wondered why the game could not hold two sources of love for Myungha at once. I love that question because it made me realize how differently this show can be read and how important who you choose to read as the entity in control of this game is for what this scene specifically means and I love so many interpretations of it, I love the interpretation that is was simply cruel, I love the interpretation that in retrospect this was the Author being angry at Myungha for dying, I love the reflection from @jemmo that said this felt like a choice between staying rooted in the past (sparing grandma) or choosing a future (sparing Yeowoon)
For me, I think I am leaning heavily in to the pop ups are under Myungha’s subconscious control, his mind, the missions he thinks are important, the problems he thinks he is causing are what is driving the base game. Because of this my base instinct is to lean in to the depression/anxiety/trauma tent where things have been going a little too well for him lately and he has convinced himself that he is due for something bad to happen. I am happy to once again acknowledge that this probably projection, but I know that my own mental illness(es) does not let my peace linger for long. Myungha is spending so much time with Yeowoon, Yeowoon who grounds him when his world is literally falling apart. Yeowoon who cannot contain his smile whenever he is around Myungha, Yeowoon who is downright desperate to bestow love and support upon Myungha, Yeowoon who has accompanied Myungha to the hospital late at night to be there for his boyfriend in a stressful time, and Myungha can’t have that. He loves his grandmother, he loves Yeowoon, they both love him and so obviously means that something bad is going to happen to them.
gif by @25shadesoffebruary
[As an aside I am thinking about what the Author said in the final episode about wanting Myungha to be able to see himself from the outside, and how I took that to mean Yeowoon is supposed to be a reflection of Myungha and a journey to self love, and how Yeowoon told Myungha that something bad always happens to the people around him in relation to this hospital scene]
Secondarily, I do think being confronted with this choice at all allows Myungha to have a moment of reflection, and is clarifying for him to know that both Yeowoon and his grandmother are important people in his life that he doesn’t want to lose. That’s fucking huge, in my opinion at least. And for all this mission was cruel, it was the first time Myungha refused to complete the mission. He was asked to save one, he decided to save both, and the game could have been cruel and taken his grandmother and Yeowoon away for refusing to choose, but it didn’t. They both got to live, and sure Myungha’s mission to make Yeowoon happy was shortened significantly, but I do think fifteen days was enough time to be successful in his mission if the depression and the grief had not gotten to Myungha instead.
Grief
gif by @my-rose-tinted-glasses
Something about grief that my therapist told me once was grieving people love helping others. And I think that is the case of Myungha here just based on the way he throws himself in to helping as many people as he can, especially Yeowoon. He knows Yeowoon is grieving, he knows Yeowoon is struggling, and he can distract himself from his own shit by helping Yeowoon instead. But once Myungha is confronted with the possibility that either one of the people that he loves could die, the penality for failing in his mission to make Yeowoon happy looms over his head like a knife. Just like Myungha considered himself the problem with the debuff, he knows how high of a likelihood it is that Yeowoon would regress, would isolate, would sink into a massive low.
And it would be Myung’s fault (in his mind).
Especially because Yeowoon keeps saying that even thinking about going on dates with Myungha is making him happy but Myungha’s mission isn’t complete. Myungha has started to get low, he is not as engaged in his relationship with Yeowoon, he’s convinced himself he is going to fail, and is thus setting himself up for failure because he decides 15 days is not enough time to find happiness, but it is enough time to break somebody’s heart in preparation for a devastating loss. And maybe, maybe Myungha would have snapped out of it with enough time to spare initially, but any hope of that being the case was shattered the second Yeowoon admitted that he wasn’t happy because Myungha wasn’t relying on him.
Myungha is so used to be self-reliant there is no way for him to break out of that habit in just two weeks. Myungha knew his death would hurt Yeowoon, but the final nail in the coffin for him was learning that his life was hurting Yeowoon too. And he almost got there, he almost did it, he admitted that he didn’t know how to, but he withdrew at the last second. He has spent all this time, all this energy, all this focus in to changing Yeowoon, he does not have the space to do that for himself.
The Choice
gif by @supanuts
The last moment I will really speak to as it relates to my interpretation of this game being controlled by Myungha as a manifestation of his depression is the author’s pen. Considering the fact The Author asked Myungha if he wanted to try again, I do not think if the Author was controlling this game world that he would have had Myungha disappear from it. Because according to the Gaga subs, the change that Myungha writes is that he wants Yeowoon to be happy, and immediately upon finishing that request, Myungha starts to fade.
If we hold these game mechanics as manifestations of Myungha’s depression, which I do, it makes complete and total sense to me that Myungha would fall back in to the pattern of believing that Yeowoon would be happier if Myungha wasn’t there. Yeowoon has a modeling deal now, he has some modicum of fame, he has friends now, he has supports in place that he did not have before, so what need does Yeowoon have of him, when his inability to let people love him is what is now causing Yeowoon to feel sad.
And I think that massive server error at the end where the world is burning and the universe is melting in to the game is a result of Myungha realizing too little, too late that this isn’t what he wanted. But it can’t be undone. The line he says when he is sinking in to the water about how at the last minute before he died, he regretted it. The game, the drowning here are one in the same to me.
And for me there was just something so beautiful and hopeful from Myungha telling The Author that he wants to try again. We started the show with Myungha telling The Author miserable people can be happy, and we end the show with Myungha and Yeowoon finally getting the happy ending they never thought they would have.
gif by @junghaesin
God I loved this show.
#love for love's sake#lfls#love for love's sake meta#love for love's sake analysis#one thing about this show is that it almost certainly will lend itself well to a rewatch!#and I *love* rewatching shows#wka long post
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OH MY GODDD THE NEW TRAILBLAZE MISSION IT’S SO GOOD BUT ALSO NONE OF MY THOUGHTS ARE COHERENT AAAAA
Major spoilers for 2.1 ahead!!!!
So first off to the people that voted for Aventurine and Sunday in this poll how does it feel to be right?
ANYWAY THAT WHOLE ENDING WAS FUCKING INSANEEEE, Aventurine walking INTO the Nihility????? And he might not ever come back???? Acheron showing off the true extent of her emanator powers?????? Gallagher being the twist villain and also somehow in control of Something Unto Death???? What the fuck?!
My brain is a mess right now I’m just rotating all of the story in my brain and a hundred miles a minute. The next stuff is just going to be me word vomiting my reaction to stuff in a vaguely chronological order.
First off I LOVEEE how Aventurine-focused the Trailblaze mission was. I was kind of assuming it would be a 50/50 split between focusing on Acheron and focusing on Aventurine but it seems like they’re saving Acheron’s backstory for 2.2 or 2.3.
The little appearance of Boothill??? And how he immediately threatens violence?????? Just a silly guy I can’t wait for him in 2.2 I wanna see them fight. Also I wonder if Constance is making empty promises because it’s possible.
Back to Aventurine, DAMNNN I knew his backstory would be tragic but it’s even more gut wrenching than I expected. The reference in his achievements too??? ‘What do you want Sibyl?’ ‘I want to die.’ THE PROGRESSION FROM AVENTURINE STICKING WITH THIS UNTIL THE END WHERE EVEN THOUGH HE COULD POSSIBLY DIE FOR REAL YET HE DECIDES FO CONTINUE FORWARD BECAUSE EVEN IF WE’RE BORN TO DIE THERE’S A POINT IN LIVING LIFE AND PREPARING FOR THAT INEVITABILITY???? OH MY GOD.
Sunday’s also a scary dude. Maybe being an emanator does that to people but when he did that Harmony mindfuckery on Aventurine I was almost certain that he was going to die because of that. I was also SO pissed at Ratio for selling Aventurine out only to learn they were actually double crossing SUNDAY was insane. I’m glad he finally got to be angry about Robin’s death towards the end though, most of the downtime between 2.0 and 2.1 has been me wondering ‘man his sister just died why doesn’t he feel more distressed.’
Ngl I’m probably gonna dedicate a whole post to Aventurine in this update because 90% of the time I was playing the quest I was either thirsting over him, internally sobbing for him, thinking he was gonna die, or waiting to get back to his POV.
Gallagher is one hell of an enigma because Sunday implies that he’s made up of different ‘aspects’ of each Family member who’s died over however long the dreamscape deaths have been happening, yet he has a past with Siobhan and apparently knew Mikhail??? Like what the fuck????? How long has this been going on????
(Edit: so the use of ‘enigma’ was NOT a pun, when I played the trailblaze quest someone goofed up and forgot to add the line where Sunday calls Gallagher a follower of The Enigmata. Yeah that’s a pretty big lore drop to forget to add.)
I do wish it was foreshadowed slightly better though because the most we get is him being very vaguely sad about his past and also like two people going ‘who the hell is Gallagher.’
One thing I didn’t expect to happen was for a ‘Sam is Firefly’ reveal. Like I had seen the leaks before (not out of my own will sadly) and kind of expected for it to be a 2.2 reveal. Either way yayyyy Firefly is alive!!!
I’m sad that we didn’t really have an Acheron and Welt team up, or at least that we didn’t see more of it. It was kind of hyped up to be a whole B-plot but turned out to only be a few scenes. I’m not complaining because we get a little teeny bit of Welt characterisation but I’m still sad.
I like how Sparkle kind of just shows up to either be a nuisance or a conveniently timed piece to move the plot forward. It’s very fitting with being a Masked Fool.
There’s a lot more I want to scream about but it’s all Aventurine related and I’m gonna save it for its own dedicated post.
2.1 is so fucking good 2.2 and 2.3 better stick the landing.
#honkai star rail#hsr#aventurine#hsr aventurine#aventurine hsr#Penacony#hsr spoilers#2.1 spoilers#Penacony spoilers#hsr gallagher#Gallagher hsr#sunday hsr#hsr sunday#Acheron hsr#hsr Acheron#boothill hsr#hsr boothill#firefly hsr#hsr firefly#sam hsr#hsr sam
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(No one has posted this and I need it so I shall cook for myself)
- Yandere!Alastor with a g/n reader who likes toys and art stuff -
Okay so here’s the thing I kinda see about Alastor:
Hes a fucking looney who will do anything and everything to keep you if he happens to fall in love.
But lemme tell you if you break past those walls and manage to ameliorate his aceness to the point that he’s yandere about you then baby you done.
You might as well have signed over your soul to him.
I like to think only one thing in particular would peak his interest at first.
Maybe your drawing outside a coffee shop -
Or reading tarot cards at the park?
Perhaps even reading under a tree, who knows?
But whatever it is, Alastor saw you and he froze.
He never once expected to fall so deeply in love (especially not at first sight) and I feel that when he did finally succumb after a bit of denial, it would be a quick realization and he’d make a decision to seek you out immediately.
He’d closely stalk you for some time but when he gets you, he’d keep you in his radio tower, where no one else goes and where his world really is.
He’d probably kidnap you mere weeks after realizing he’s enamored, it wouldn’t take long before he came up behind you out of nowhere.
He was someone you’d only seen once or twice in passing but found attractive each time, though you weren’t exactly thinking about a partnership.
He wouldn’t be asking you, he’d simply take you.
(You didn’t need to know he’d been admiring you anyway.)
You weren’t someone of great power or who was well known. You simply met a tragic fate and unfortunately ended up here by mistake due to being involved in “black magic”.
It was unfair, in your opinion, to be cast down simply due to your divination talents and history.
Never once did you misuse your gifts yet here you were.
When you come around, you’re in Alastor room in the hotel.
He explains the situation and gives you options.
You ask to go, not interested in whatever he’s offering and he explains that’s not an option so you need to pick another one.
After demanding to leave, trying to open the door, banging and calling for help and eventually pleading and sobbing with him, you realize you aren’t going anywhere.
You wheep and hoarsely beg as he carries you into the wooded area that seems to pocket into another place.
You realize later that it was a path to the radio tower.
There’s a wooden door that leads to his own personal “home” in that tower.
And inside, I’d expect it’s quite nice.
Greenery everywhere, plants and/or herbs hanging from the ceiling and a cozy woodstove. Lovely flowers and pretty trees surrounding the outside, blocking the view of the horrors that hell had naturally.
A earthy, modest but very comfortable and exquisite environment and cottage style house with at least one library on hand.
But he can take all this beauty away quite easily, so don’t forget or step out of line. The view is a luxury he gives based on your behavior; do not tread lightly.
Now, he’s very commanding and strict with his darling, often times dictating what they eat and wear, bossing them around and physically moving them to where he wants.
• “My little doe, you were simply taking too much time to get to me, I was just helping you along.”
• “Oh darling, don’t you know I’m doing this for your own good? Don’t cry, come here: give me a kiss.”
• “No no, little doe. It’s best if you rest right now. Ah, yes, I can see you don’t want to sleep. How about I read to you or turn the radio on, hm?”
But he’s also super old timey and you would immediately be considered his spouse, and he would pamper and treat you with such respect (at least as much as he could)
If he found out you liked dolls or soft toys, well he’d be all over that and try to use it to his advantage.
I feel like it would be a rag doll copy of himself or a porcelain/ball jointed doll (dressed in 1920-1950 attire) as a Victorian styled Queen or what not.
• “You seem so lonely honey bun, so I picked you up something nice. Hopefully it will warm you a little when you think of me.”
• “I can see you fiddle with your hands a lot, mi amor. Here, have a doll to dress and play with for when your pretty hands need a break from the books.”
• “Oh my, it seems a nap is in order for your crankiness. Where is your toy? It’s better for you to have something to sleep with while I’m doing the broadcast.”
But he wouldn’t have bought it for you, oh no, because the only thing he buys you is the most pristine art supplies and most flattering jewelry and clothes —
— he’d have made this himself for you, from his own power.
And he’d use it to keep an eye on you no matter where you happened to be.
Needed a moment alone? Not without the doll he gave you.
Was hiding from punishment? Not without the doll.
If you left it somewhere in a vain attempt for distance, you’d find it on your person the second you reached in your bag or turned around.
And when Alastor found out you left it? He’d be livid.
But you wouldn’t know he was mad by his face, only his voice and the static crackle in the background.
• “Don’t you ever leave that doll again sweetheart. Do you understand me?”
• “This is how I protect you, darling. It’s best for everyone if you follow direction.”
• “Now honey, you don’t want to lose your privilege to wander around the hotel and mingle with the others, do you? Then you best keep that doll close, hm?”
If you possibly took a liking to the doll he gave you, well..
His heart might soar, he won’t lie
How cute and innocent you were, so completely unaware of the horrors he possesses — the doll possesses — if you step out of line
It’s something he really loves about you; you trust him (mostly bc you have to)
And if you took up sewing to make outfits for the doll?? He’d be so over the moon and even conjure up a little wardrobe for them if enough clothes are made.
And your drawings??? Oh don’t even get me started
too late I did it myself here I go
He would parade you around like you were the messiah of the demonic art world
It didn’t matter if you or anyone else thought you were good
You like doing it? Hes gonna over indulge you.
You drew something just for him???
Then it’s getting a golden frame and you’re getting the radio host fame.
He wouldn’t let anyone touch your sketchbook. He’d actually kill anyone who destroys any piece of your work.
He always coos over you, he’s literally obsessed with you.
Admires you while your drawing like you are the most beautiful sight he’d ever seen.
Always begs to see your drawings.
Does everything in his power to help you with inspiration or getting out of art block.
Hangs up his favorite pieces you’ve done around the hotel and talks you up to everyone.
• “My my, who would have guessed my little doe was so full of talent? Ah-ha, well me, of course!”
• “Oh yes, they’re nothing short of extraordinary and excel in everything they attempt. It’s absolutely magnificent.”
• “Quite the looker, aren’t they? It’s no wonder I fell so hard, they made this old withering heart beat once more.”
NOW LETS ADDRESS THE ELEPHANT IN THE ROOM:
What if you broke a rule? Either accidental or on purpose?
*rubs palms together deviously*
I mean it’s hell, so it’s not like you could actually die and he’d permanently lose you, but I could see him considering killing, traumatizing and horrifying you to make a point for when you came back. If you broke the rule on purpose or left the hotel without a damn good reason or asking him, I definitely think he’d ponder on it.
But I honestly don’t know if he’d be able to go that far if he’s to the point that he’s fallen for you.
I definitely think he’d be the kind to chain you away for a bit and ignore you for a while after really scaring you though, having only come in when you cry out for him or need to be attended.
He’d be condescending and emotionally manipulating for sure.
• “Well dear, we wouldn’t be in this predicament if you would have just listened and been good, hm?”
• “No no, you can’t come downstairs. I told you this time out is for two weeks. It’s been only two days darling.”
•“Now that’s not the way one of such class as ourselves behave. Shush your crying, my sweet.”
He wouldn’t tolerate a darling openly defying him, he’d put you over his knee and bruise your behind so quick and wouldn’t think twice.
And getting off punishments easy? Nah.
Good behavior or not, you’re gonna be going through the whole thing every single time. He won’t let you have even an ounce of wiggle room on that.
Your bottom stings after only thirty spanks? He isn’t stopping. He said 50 and he meant it, so buckle up buttercup, this is gonna be a long ride.
You don’t want to finish your plate? Well that’s a nice opinion, quite cute! .. but he doesn’t recall asking you what you wanted, so eat up ~
You aren’t tired? Well, allow him the pleasure of wearing you out and soothing you to slumber.
I think he’d allow the darling to cling to him though, that’s the kind of yandere I see him as. He’d maybe mock you a little at first and seem patronizing but all in all, he finds the need to touch him endearing and he does become fond of it.
I think he’d make you dependent on it, really. He’d always encourage you to cuddle up to him, always making sure you sit or stand directly next to him and that’s he’s always got his arm around you or you hanging onto his own.
He’d be tolerant of your crying. I think he’d find you cute while in distress, so that would be his favorite time to hold you tight. He’d caress your tearstreaks and kiss away the droplets.
•“Sweet sugar plum, you’ve been so emotional lately.”
• “Pretty crybaby, what can I do to make you feel better? Come now, there must be something your husband can whip up for you.”
“Oh, my poor, darling y/n..” he’d tsk, stroking the side of your face and nuzzling noses, “don’t cry, hush now, it’s alright, your faithful and devoted protector is here.”
#yandere#yandere!Alastor#Hazbin Hotel improper headcannons#my brainrot#the radio demon#yandere alastor x reader#I’m tired#gender neutral reader#unhealthy relationships#I do not condone this behavior IRL#Hazbin hotel#Alastor#trigger warning
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So for vtuber AU, several of the girls and/or boys from the academy have already made their debut in your entries.
So I thought what if "Errantry" reacted to the recent re-debut of one of the members of the cabal, which is a short anime
the jepella rebelion
The VTuber: Maiden of the Cabal
Errant: Well, well, well. Look who’s back.
Errant smiled at the camera as he finished the video. He hadn’t expected an old acquaintance from his past to reemerge, it was certainly unexpected, but a welcome surprise nonetheless.
~~~Stream Chat~~~
GoodDoggo: Who is she?
FallenDesire: You know her?
Lucious: She’s pretty.
QueensGuard: Sounds like you know her.
~~~~~~
Errant: That everyone is, FallenEmbers. No wait, Fall4Me, she goes by that now, that’s right. I knew her back when I used to play, The World of Remnant: Hunter’s and Monsters. It was this massive mmorpg that I played back in the day, it’s where I got the name, and design for my, VTuber avatar, The ErrantryPaladin. Fall4Me was, FallenEmbers back then. Hence my confusion.
Errant: It’s nice to see her coming back to the VTubing scene. I heard she was on before, but something happened. Oh, well I’m just happy she’s back, and hope she does well.
~~~Stream Chat~~~
GrimmKitty: So you do know her.
HellJumper1337: Were you friends?
~~~~~~
Errant’s body fell back in his chair as a deep breath of air escaped trough his nose. He looked heavenlyward as he wistfully remembered the old days.
Errant: I did know her, we were friends… of sorts. I met her back when the, World of Remnant: Hunters, and Monsters mmorpg was at its peak. I was still my lonely, Huntsman self while she was a, Huntress in the service of the, Cabal, the in game version. I never knew this when we first met, we just stumbled across one another, and did some missions together. Just because I played alone doesn’t mean I didn’t occasionally team up with other players. Little did I know she was trying to recruit me into the, Cabal.
Errant: Now, you have to understand something about how the, Acadimies, and the Cabal’s organizational structures work before I continue. You see to join a, Academy you as a player had to reach a minimum level of level ten to join an academy. This was to ensure that all new members were relatively skilled, no greenhorns, and the like. Basically, they wanted the new players to know the basic understanding of the game.
Errant: So once you joined a, Academy your characters bio gets the tag of: ‘Student of academy ‘X.’ And, once you reached level fifty you graduate from the academy, and become: ‘Hunter of ‘X’ academy.’ This was basic stuff to tell where people were from. You get different stats bonuses, and equipment based upon which academy you graduated from, not to mention players with certain individual characteristics tended to gravitate towards certain guilds. Giving each their own unique flavour to them all. The Cabal however, didn’t operate like that.
Errant: The Cabal recruited its members. Whether they be from, Atlas, or Shade Academy, it didn’t matter, their members would find you, scout you, and if you passed their tests they would offer up an invitation for you to join. While a graduated Hunter from, Mistral Academy would be said in their character profile, It wouldn’t say you were a member of the, Cabal. So its members could be anyone. This added a rather unique feature to the games overall gameplay. But, as I said; to join the, Cabal you had to display certain characteristics that the, Cabal would find desirable, and then they would invite you to join them. That’s how they did it to me, when FallenEmbers tried to recruit me.
~~~Stream Chat~~~
QuitenDown: Sounds like the beginning of a love story.
HellJunper1337: Yeah, a tragic one.
~~~~~~
Errant: So, whilst on a mission to find some rare metals to upgrade my gear I stumbled upon, Ember. Ahh, I liked to call her that, because it was quicker to say, and I’m lazy.
Errant: So, it turned out she was also looking for the same minerals that I was. And, since the area we were in is an a royal bitch to fight in we decided to team up, and we made a deal: She gets the first ore we find, then I get the next. Simple as that. We made off with a lot of ore that day… Anyway, after that we parted ways, but stayed in contact, we would occasionally join up on missions together, and generally had a blast. And, then she told me the truth, she was a member of the, Cabal, and wanted me to join.
Errant: Honestly I always had my suspicions about her. She always felt distant, and overly cautious around people. Anyway, I… I don’t remember what I said, but I remember arriving at the, Cabal’s headquarters in the, Grimm Lands, where she gave me a tour of the place. I learned how their operatives operated… ha… That sounds weird doesn’t it? ‘Operatives operated.’ Sounds like improper english, but no, it’s correct.
Errant: Uhhh… where was I…? Oh yeah! So, I learned the ins, and outs of how their operations worked, met some of their members… And, then I betrayed them by luring a, Titan Class Grimm into their base…
And, with those few words his chat exploded into a shower of startled, confused, and dare say, aroused comments.
~~~Stream Chat~~~
UWU_Knight: You did what?!
Lucious: Titan Class?!
RighteousPotato: Why would you do that?!
LRDirection: You betrayed them?
KinSlayer: Betraying an evil organization is one thing, but YOU betraying anyone is another thing entirely!
HellJunper1337: Evil, Errant confirmed!
RunnerDowner: Why?!
LouderDesires: Cue the sexy art!
PokéGirl69: Sexy evil smile~!
LitteDragon: You betrayed someone?
~~~~~~
Errant looked at the last comments before he rolled his eyes, and continued on with his tale.
Errant: Now, before I go on about how I did it, first you must learn why I did it. So, the Cabal was mostly jokesters; nothing overly evil, evil, just general bullies who raided supply lines, and caused the occasional, Grimm attacks on an innocent village. It annoyed people, but they added spice to the game. However, that commonly held opinion changed when the, Apprentice Massacre happened…
Errant: For context, we called players who were below level ten apprentices; They’re not at a high enough level to become academy students since they’re still in training so we called them apprentices. So, the Apprentice Massacre was an infamous incident where a bunch of, Cabal members got together, and started hunting down, and killing apprentices for the hell of it. Now this may not sound that bad, but there was a game mechanic where every time you die you’d lose one level. It happens every ten levels; say you’re level twenty seven; and you die eight times, you won’t go down to level nineteen, you’ll stay at level twenty. So, need I explain what happened, when a bunch of, Cabal members started killing a whole lot of apprentices?
~~~Stream Chat~~~
RunnerDowner: No way?
SumPenny: They dropped them to level one?!
KinSlayer: That’s mean!
RighteousPotato: What did they do spawn-camp them?
LunarFlower: I heard about this!
HeadHunter: I was there when it happened, it was brutal.
~~~~~~
Errant: Yeah, over a dozen, Cabal members who ranged from level thirty to forty started basically spawn camping, and killing apprentices in the starting area. There was about… seventy apprentices there, and they were completely outclassed by even the weakest members. So it was a slaughter, they tried to put up a fight, but what could they do?
Errant: However, fortunately for the apprentices, and unfortunately for the, Cabal members, I was there.
He smiled a wicked smile as he remembered that day, and more importantly what he did that day. It was the day that legends were born, and he was the start of them all.
Errant: I was in the area walking to the next area to do some quests I picked up, when I came across the, Massacre. I made a quick message to the Academies, and several, Hunter’s I was acquitted with for back up, and after that I went on a bloody slaughter. The Cabal members didn’t know what hit them! I mean, I was a solo player in my seventies, and it didn’t matter how many of them there were, I had soloed plenty of, Grimm hordes before so this was a cake walk for me.
~~~Stream Chat~~~
QuitenDown: I bet you looked really cool when you did that
Dragondeeznutz: Bet he looked hot too
VulpineRanger: He’s always hot.
GrimmKitty: But he can be hotter!
HolyNevil: True.
GermanLeopard: Good point
~~~~~~
Errant: I looked cool, least that’s what people said I looked like, chat. Back to the story, it was much easier when other players came in, and started protecting the apprentices with me. But, to make a long story short we managed to beat them off, and save the apprentices. A whole lot of things changed in the community after that happened.
Errant: Mostly codes of conduct, recently Graduated Hunter’s now had to mentor, and protect apprentices until they become students. A right of passage if you will. And, people’s general hatred towards the, Cabal, and what they did. People went inquisition on their asses. Specifically the, Atlas Academy, they really went after them.
Errant: …
Errant: Which now that I think about it actually makes sense since it’s, Atlas. If you know the lore, you’d understand.
~~~Stream Chat~~~
HellJumper1337: What did they do?
RangerFang: We went ham on them
BunnyDownUnder: Witch hunt baby!
LunaFlower: They hold grudges.
WinterBitch: Yeah, they’re a spiteful bunch.
~~~~~~
Errant: Yeah, they’re a spiteful bunch. I’m not spiteful, no I’m not spiteful at all chat.
Errant: I am however… very, very… Vindictive~! Ah~hahaha~!
Errant gave off a roguish smile that as he chuckled as he remembered all the incidents he scored his revenge against those that wronged him. His dark chuckle, and devilish smile brought an explosion of heart emojis throughout his chat feed.
Errant: Ahhhh… Good times.
Errant: Anyway, so I had a grudge against the, Cabal because I thought that what they did was cruel. People may tease, or prank apprentices , but what they did pushed the line. So, when FallenEmbers showed me to the, Cabal base I knew what I wanted to do. You see, the Cabal headquarters was located in the, Grimm Lands. And, there is a whole mess of, Grimm there: From Beowulf, Apathy, Beringals, Chimera Grimm. Delta to Alpha Class. And lastly, Titan Class.
Errant: Now, you may be asking: How does the, Cabal operate in the Grimm lands without getting attacked? Simple: They get covered in a Grimm repellent that prevents, Grimm from attacking you. The Grimm will attack you if you don’t attack them. So… I went over to one the nesting, Titan Grimm’s, and I… woke it up.
Errant: Titan Class Grimm tend to… incubate until they reach a certain… No, no that doesn’t really make sense… How do I explain this…?
~~~Stream Chat~~~
Corgimorgi: Waiting for the butterfly to hatch from its cocoon?
~~~~~~
Errant: Yeah, that’s works, thanks, Corgimorgi. It slowly grows in its cocoon until it hatches, and marches off to one of the kingdoms, and unleashes all hell upon them. If rumours arise that one of these were sighted, and, all available, Hunter’s is tasked to go out, and confirm if there is one. Everyone is terrified of these things, the first one that was ever encountered levelled, Shade Academy. It took them months irl to rebuild the academy, and it took them a year to reclaim all the land, Vacuo lost to a surge of, Grimm attacks.
Errant: At the time of the attack, Vacuo had a strength over nearly seven hundred members, and they barely, barely manage to defeat it. They had to call for help from other academies to kill the damn thing! So… How do you think the, Cabal managed to deal with a, Titan Class Grimm with barely two hundred members?
~~~Stream Chat~~~
GoodDoggo: A bloody slaughter.
Gundam#UWU: They most likely got curb stomped!
HellJumper1337: I almost feel sorry for them.
KinSlayer: Did you stay to fight it?
~~~~~~
Errant: Nope! I got the hell out of there after it started attacking their headquarters. I let them burn! It took them days, like a week to kill it too. I know because I poked the bear, and I got Exp from when it died! Went up three levels because of that. I basically crippled the, Cabal for months after this! They couldn’t do a damn thing to anyone, they were so busy trying to rebuild they couldn’t be bothered with messing with anyone else.
~~~Stream Chat~~~
Likelyaghost: So you destroyed the, Cabal all on your own?
~~~~~~
Errant: No… I crippled the, Cabal all on my own. The Scorpion Incident… That, that killed the, Cabal…
Errant went quiet as he remembered a rather uncomfortable event that had transpired years ago. He took a deep sigh to calm his nerves before he continued to tell his tale of years gone bye.
Errant: So that’s how I met, Fall4Me. You know… I never told anyone that I was the reason the, Titan Grimm attacked the, Cabal. Fall4Me never contacted me again after the attack… I wonder why; Did she know I was the cause of the attack? Maybe that’s why she never contacted me… Probably called me a traitor for betraying her trust, and our friendship…
He stared off into the distance as he pondered these questions in his mind. He sighed another deep sigh before he shook his head, and readdressed his stream.
Errant: It matters not… What’s done is done. For that was then, this is now. So chat, to welcome back an old… acquaintance. We’re gonna raid her! Send her my well wishes, and welcome her into the fold chat!
Errant pressed the button, and sent his chat onward towards, Fall4Me’s stream with a smile on his face, and a roguish smile on his face. Thinking of all the good times they had together, and he couldn’t help but wonder, where did is long lost friend disappear to? But, most important of all:
Why is her model wearing an eyepatch?
~~~~~~
Fall4Me’s Stream
~~~~~~
Fall4Me: Hello everyone, I am Fall4Me, and welcome to my stream.
Fall4Me: I am a, Huntress in the service of the, Grimm Cabal. And, I hope you enjoy watching me as we plunge the, World of Remnant into absolute chaos~!
Fall4Me: Here we will have discussions about very things: Music, video games, and various other things that… Hmm? What the?
The howl of a Beowulf echoed throughout the stream to signal a notification. One that she had not expected on her debut stream.
Fall4Me: I’m being raided? By who…?
~~~Stream Chat~~~
HellJumper1337: Hi, Ember!
GrimmKitty: She’s pretty
BunnyDownUnder: Love the eye
FallenDersires: Errant sends his regards!
Dragondeeznutz: Whoo raiding!
~~~~~~
Fall4Me: Ember? Wait, how do you know that na… Wait… Errant? ErranrtyPaladin! H-He sent you?
~~~Stream Chat~~~
HellJumper1337: Yeah, he told us all about you
Corgimorgi: It was a cool story
SummerDaysNightmare: Were you friends, he didn’t sound certain about it?
~~~~~~
Fall4Me: We are… were friends of sorts. But, tell me chat, what did he say about me?
There was an eagerness, and an honest desire to know about how her long lost friend felt about her, and she hoped her new found audience could answer her questions.
~~~Stream Chat~~~
DungeonSiver18: Why listen to us when you can watch him talk about you?
QueensGuard: Yeah, watch his vod!
~~~~~~
Fall4Me: Hmmm~? Now doesn’t that sound like a novel idea~! Alright chat, let us see what our beloved, ErrantryPaladin thinks of us~!
~~~
Fall4Me: Ahh, I remember that day, I was looking for, Gundrite. It’s a rare metal used for upgrading a, Hunters gear. I was looking for the ore to upgrade my weapons; I had a pair of twin swords that I could stick together to use as a bow. I wanted to increase my damage output, and then I stumbled across, Errant doing the same thing. Just as we found our first piece of, Gundrite.
Fall4Me: I thought we were about to have a fight over who got the ore. But, he said I found it first, and it was mine to take. It was… surprising really. I often tend to get into fights against players while looking for rare resources. It surprised me more so that he recommended that we team up to gather more resources together. And, it worked very well. I got more then enough ore. It’s not a surprise really, a level thirty, Huntress, and a level forty, Huntsmen such as ourselves is a very powerful duo to face against.
~~~
Errant: ‘And, then I betrayed them by luring a, Titan Class Grimm into their base…’
Fall4Me: HE WHAT?! He sent that damn, Grimm after us?!
Her eye ignited in flames as she looked on his smiling face as he unapologetically admitted his crime.
Fall4Me: It took the entire, Cabal nearly two weeks to kill the damned thing!
Fall4Me: It levelled our training grounds, obliterated the landing pads, decimated the hospital, and spawn camped the entire, Cabal for weeks! Seriously it’s aoe attacks were so strong that a player would die, then respawn, and then be killed by its next aoe attack! There wasn’t a single one of us whose level wasn’t reduced to a tenth!
Fall4Me: Then we all got branded as, Titan slayers, and everyone knew that a Titan awoke in the, Grimm lands meaning we were easily marked out as cabal members because of that! We couldn’t go into the field because of that!
Fall4Me: We were crippled for months, and we never made it back to half of our original strength. It was hell!
Fall4Me: But, why?! Why would my sweet, noble, Wolf do this to us? Why…?
~~~Stream Chat~~~
BunnyDownUnder: She said ‘my wolf’
FallenDesire: Another one?
LRDirection: But why is he a wolf?
Lixxen: Guy knows what the ladies like
QueensBeedom: It’s his roguish charm
~~~~~~
Fall4Me: Lets continue the video, perhaps he’ll explain why he did this…
~~~
Fall4Me: Oh…
Fall4Me: The Apprentice Massacre. That most certainly explains things…
~~~Stream Chat~~~
Gundam#UWU: Were you a part of it?
Dippernipper: We know you’re evil, but are you that evil?
Beowulf#38k: She’s evil, but will she stay hot evil?
~~~~~~
She laughed a whimsical laugh as she read her chat feed. Relishing in delight at their innocence.
Fall4Me: Oh chat, I am always hot; More often than not its metaphorically, but often at times its quite… Literal~!
Fall4Me gave the camera a sultry gaze before holding up her hand as she flexed her fingers as it was enveloped in flames. She held a blazing fist before setting it out, and resuming with his vod.
Fall4Me: But, no I wasn’t involved in the, Apprentice Massacre. Yes I was a member of the, Cabal, but I was off doing other things irl when it happened. Even then I wouldn’t have partaken in such an action. Because the headache they caused us because of that was an ungodly amount of work to fix.
Fall4Me: Well, we mostly went into hiding, and laid low for a while. I eventually went again to see if I could recruit, Errant to our side. He was a loner, and outcast I thought he would easily join the group. I thought he was genuinely interested in joining us. But, he appears more interested in how to destroy us. And, good gods did he ever manage to do so…
~~~
Errant: ‘So that’s how I met, Fall4Me. You know… I never told anyone that I was the reason the, Titan Grimm attacked the, Cabal. Fall4Me never contacted me again after the attack… I wonder why…’
She looked away nervously for a moment before readdressing her chat as she saw them flood her chat with the similar question of why she talk to her precious wolf after the attack.
And, why did she call him, ‘Her Wolf?’
Fall4Me: Oh… I was just too busy rebuilding the, Cabal to contact, Errant. Besides, I thought he would be upset if I tried to wrangle him into helping fix the mess the, Titan Class Grimm caused. Or, asking him to fix his mess as it were.
Fall4Me: Then the whole, ‘Scorpion Incident’ happened, and the, Cabal was done for. There was no chance of rebuilding the guild since members left; they all left, right, left, and centre. To the point it was only a, Cabal of one. No big battle, no final stand, it just slowly burned out, and poof! It was gone.
Fall4Me: I need to talk to, Errant again, explain some things, ask him how things are going. Reconnect with my friend for old times sake. Would you like to see that, chat?
~~~Stream Chat~~~
GrimmKitty: Yeah! That sounds cool!
HellJumper1337: Friends reunite!
BunnyDownUnder: Lets see where she stands
Beowulf#38k: Idk these two seem like a good pair
Lixxen: Old war stories sounds fun.
Helsreach: I bet he’d like to talk to you too.
RunnerDowner: Do eeet!
~~~~~~
Fall4Me: Alright then chat. Let’s go see what my noble, Wolf is there~!
///
Ahhh… This took days to finish… I just couldn’t finish it. But, it’s done!
I like doing these lore posts, it’s fun to let the mind make stories like these.
Do you guys enjoy these kind of posts, or are they just a bore to you? That’s just something I’ve been curious about.
Till later then.
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thank you thank you thank yooou!! And I don’t mind waiting for good stuff 🤷♀️
Okay so my idea kinda was in episode 7 when George and Lipton is in the same foxhole. So they get “hit” by the dud but the reader is so scared something actually happened to George, so she is running towards their foxhole and George is screaming for her to stay put cuz he’s okay and then she gets hit….or almost…I mean something tragic. I wanna bawl my eyes out.
And of course…feel free to not do it, if you think it sucks🧡 Love your stuff and have a good day !
louder than bombs (george luz x reader)
word count: 1800+
warnings: blood, gore, death, angst (w happy ending), bff! roe, mutual pining, i hint at both renée x roe AND baberoe
notes: used some hcs from this (shameless self-plug), and happy new year to all! i hope that 2024 is your year :)
“So, you and Luz, huh?”
Despite Lieutenant Dike’s request not to (like you'd listen to a coward like him anyway, even if he did have a good point), you and Eugene were sharing a foxhole — one a few meters behind where Skip, Penk, Don, and Luz were standing around in a circle, joking and laughing.
Taking your eyes off the man in question — you'd been staring at him from afar for too long, anyway — you turned to Eugene with a befuddled expression. “What do you mean, ‘You and Luz?’”
He took one look at your face and chuckled around the cigarette in his mouth. “It can mean whatever you want it to mean.”
“You say that as if we’re together or something, Gene,” you scoffed and held yourself tighter for warmth.
“Practically. Seen yourself lately? You blush and smile whenever he talks to you.”
Spluttering in response, you could feel your ears going red. “Well, Bayou, what if I’m blushing because it's zero degrees out here? And what if he’s just a funny guy in general?”
Eugene glanced over to the group of men, and, as if on cue, they were cracking up at George’s impression of the chickenshit lieutenant. “He’s a good match for you, (Y/N).”
“Oh, I'm so glad you approve,” you said, rolling your eyes at your friend. “Gonna read our wedding rites now?”
He put out his cigarette. “He makes you laugh. We could all use some of that.”
You inspected the faraway look in Eugene’s eyes, and you knew he was right. The fatal accident with the goddamned Luger that killed Hoobler recently, the barrage earlier today that sent both Joe Toye and Bill home with missing right legs, the overall misery of this frozen hell. You’d all seen your fair share of blood and open flesh; the company needed the beam of light that was George Luz.
Watching Luz as he was pulled aside by Lipton, you exhaled, nodded, and huddled a little closer to Eugene. “Yeah. Yeah, you're right.” After a few quiet, thoughtful moments, a small smile creeped back up on your face when you thought of something to bring up the mood again.
“You never heard me teasing you about Renée,” you muttered beneath your breath, loud enough for him to hear and correct you on because you had teased him about the Belgian nurse. Before he could, you pushed on, your grin growing, “Hey, what about you and Babe, huh?”
Now it was his turn to turn to you shocked. Your snickering was interrupted by the roaring, deafening sound of a bombardment shredding trees around you.
“Shit!” you cursed, the night sky lighting up with fireworks of yellow and white. Snow and dirt erupted from the ground like spurts of lava from a volcano. Through the ringing in your ears, you heard bellows of “Incoming!” and other indistinct cries.
Turning to the man next to you, you shouted above the din, “Eugene, you alright?”
“Fine,” he shouted back as he clutched his helmet tight to his head. “You?”
“Fine,” you echoed with a nod, though maybe your head had moved on its own with the shaking ground beneath you. You strained your ears to single out cries for a medic; you didn't catch any, and you weren't sure if that was because no one had gotten hurt yet or because they were dead within an instant.
You peeped over the edge of your foxhole. In the flashes of light, you could make out amongst the silhouette of wrecked trees George hurriedly crawling on the ground towards a foxhole with two soldiers in it, yelling for him to come on. If your hearing wasn't failing you, you recognized their voices as Skip and Penk.
“What d’ya see?” Eugene poked his head out of the foxhole.
Your voice was strangled in your throat as you helplessly watched George inch his way toward cover. “I—” you started, before a shell directly hit the two men in the middle of their calls. Frantically, you backed into your foxhole. “Skip and Penk, they’re…”
“What?” Eugene shouted, and you realized you had only murmured it.
“Muck and Penkala got hit!” you cried. The look you gave Eugene told him that there would be no saving them.
You got back up to peek over your foxhole and saw that Luz had vanished. Your heart sank in your chest, right down to the pits of your stomach.
Before your mind could register what was going on, your feet lifted you up and out of the foxhole. You could faintly hear Eugene yelling at you to come back, (Y/N), what the hell are you doing? You hit the ground at the same time a shell did just meters away from you, showering you in debris. Yet, you felt distant from the thought of danger or bodily harm, your raw instinct on overdrive; the only thing that was running through your mind as you dashed through the devastated forest was if George was okay.
Eyes flitting around, you caught a glimpse of him getting into a foxhole with Lip. As waves of relief washed over you, you jumped into a foxhole a distance behind them. A shell impacted nearby and swept the fallen trees acting as their cover towards you. You pulled your knees close to your chest and covered your head, staying like that as the barrage kept up.
Then, for just a second, it was silent. Closing your eyes, you caught your breath. A whistling sound ceased the brief respite, and you peered over just in time to see smoke coming from George and Lipton’s foxhole. Your mind disconnected itself from your body once again; it felt like you were moving in slow motion as your feet took you to them. That smoke clouded your senses, your thoughts — all you could see and hear were the vivid memories of Hoobler’s wound gushing blood and his dull eyes closing shut for the last time; you treating Bill’s still twitching leg while Toye’s shredded one was being bandaged by Eugene only feet away; and Muck and Penkala’s foxhole going up in a spray of dirt and a show of light, abruptly cutting off their shouting.
What were you going to see when you arrived at their foxhole? Bloodstained snow? Mangled limbs? Ruined corpses? Even the thought made you want to sob.
Your heart thundered in your ear, louder than any bombs or artillery the Germans could send at you, but you could vaguely discern George’s voice in your trance.
“Damn it, am I yelling medic? Stay right fucking there, (Y/N)!”
Right as you were shaken out of your own head, your eyes focusing on the two unharmed men as they yelled for you to stay put, a shell hit a tree hardly an arm’s length away from you. The burst launched you backwards, lodging shrapnel into your face and all over your body.
You let your eyes flutter closed as the screaming started.
-
“(Y/N)!” George bawled, witnessing the last shell of the bombardment blast the tree right next to you.
“George, get down!” Lip pushed George down into the foxhole from where he'd been peeking over to helplessly watch your unsteady advance.
George couldn't get the image of you shielding yourself at the last second out of his head. He broke free from Lipton and crawled out of his foxhole to your unmoving figure, relieved to find that you were still breathing out clouds of vapor, albeit unevenly. Your right cheek was cut and bleeding, as well as your arms, legs, torso — hell, was there anywhere you weren’t bleeding from?
He cradled your head to his, whispering that it's gonna be alright and you’re gonna be just dandy, (Y/N), even though he didn't believe those words himself. He lifted his head from yours and yelled for a medic with a hoarse voice, already scratched up from having to shout over the booming to tell Lipton that Muck and Penkala got hit.
George then realized that he had gotten extremely lucky that day; Muck and Penkala had been shelled just before he reached their foxhole, and the shell that had landed next to him and Lipton was a dud. Staring down at your bloodied form, he darkly concluded that maybe he wasn't lucky — maybe he just brought bad luck to everyone else.
Eugene seemed to materialize out of thin air at the panicked calls for a doctor and kneeled over you, ordering, “Set ‘em down, set ‘em down!” George laid you down on the icy ground, and he saw that your eyes were open now, darting around at your surroundings. You looked frightened and pained, yet when your eyes finally settled on him, you seemed somewhat at ease.
“Jesus, what did I tell you, (Y/N)?” Eugene reprimanded, but the concern in his voice was evident. He began picking out the shrapnel from your flesh, and you wailed out in agony. Ripping open a sulfa packet with his teeth, he then shook the powder onto your countless wounds.
In the back of his mind, George knew that your pained whimpers would haunt him forever if you didn't pull through, acting as the price of his "good luck".
“Told me to come back, Genie,” you smiled mirthlessly, which quickly became a wince with the gash in your cheek. The white medic band around your arm was stained the same color as the red cross on it.
Lipton was out of the foxhole at this point and assisting Eugene with bandaging your injuries. “You’ll be fine, alright? Just hang in there.”
George registered that he had only been staring, his mouth opening and closing like a fish. He intertwined his fingers with yours and squeezed your clammy hand, to which you weakly squeezed back.
Grimacing while he injected you with morphine, Eugene said to Lipton, “They’re bleeding bad, Sarge; we gotta get ‘em back to an aid station.”
George’s voice sounded far off from himself. “I’ll radio for a jeep.” As he did so, his hand still clutching yours, he couldn't tear his eyes away from the excruciation on your face. For some reason, he felt guilty.
Though it felt like years to him, the jeep arrived shortly, and the three of them carried you to the stretcher on the hood of the vehicle and gingerly placed you upon it.
Gazing down upon you on that stretcher, your face streaked with crimson, your hair matted with dried blood, George wanted to say, “I still find you beautiful, Bloody Mary," but for what felt like first time in his life, the words weren't there and the wiseass comment just refused to come out right.
What came tumbling out of his lips instead was, “I love you.”
Pausing, Lipton and Eugene exchanged a knowing look and watched with bated breath. Meanwhile, George wanted to smack himself for letting the adrenaline coursing through his veins get to him; this was definitely not what you wanted to hear — rejecting him should be the least of your worries right now.
To his utter disbelief, you smiled, in spite of yourself and the grim circumstances. “I love you too, George.”
Once his brain wrapped around the fact that you needed him as much as he needed you, he implored, "Come back to me, alright?” He gently caressed your cheek, his voice sounding different to himself with the undertone of desperation. “I—I’ll be right here waiting for you.”
You placed a feeble hand over his and turned to press a kiss to it. “I'm counting on it.”
The driver finally grew tired of the delay and urged them to get moving. George stepped away as Eugene hopped in the jeep’s shotgun seat to escort you back to the aid station.
Lighting a cigarette with trembling hands, George watched the jeep dissipate into the blanket of night.
-
Eugene let things sink in for a while; you were grateful for the time to rest as the morphine kicked in. When you arrived, though, you were awake enough to hear him ask again, a rare smirk hidden in his voice:
“So, you and Luz, huh?”
-
taglist: @mads-weasley, @ronsparky, @dcyllom, @malarkgirlypop, @joetoyesbrassknuckles101, @samwinchesterslostshoe, @fxxiva
#band of brothers#band of brothers x reader#george luz#george luz x reader#hbo war#easy company#101st airborne#band of brothers fanfic#band of brothers imagine#hbo war fanfic#band of brothers imagines#rick gomez
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Ultimate Incest Tournament - Round 3
The Locked Tomb fanart provided by @lezbijski thank you!
Propaganda under the cut:
Coronabeth/Ianthe:
They are everything. Fucked up codependent flesh-bending murderous twincest sisters
When you have to cry yourself to sleep every night because your twin sister didn't eat your soul, something incesty is definitely happening
no one is doing it like them. what if I loved you so much I wanted you to eat me and you loved me so much you refused to do so. what if the only threat I had against you was my own death. what if we had only spent three nights apart in our lives. what if I spent my whole existence covering for your lack; what if everyone assumed I was the one who was lacking. what if we were sisters. also what if someone said it wasn't surprising that people thought I was your boyfriend. they r winning at twincest AND gender AND godhood AND codependency
This entire section [Corona - Crown; Ianthe - The Prince] where Ianthe is possessing their dead servant's body and controlling a corpse army: "Crown threw herself out of her chair and went down on her knees in front of the Prince—wrapped her arms around the Prince’s legs and put her cheek on the dead right thigh. The Prince reached out and tangled one hand in her bright, springy curls, and sighed a cold, dead, defeated sigh. When Crown spoke her voice was low and tender, the lowest and tenderest voice Nona had ever heard: “Baby, it sounds awful.” “Corona, it’s death.” “So stick it. Stick all this and come home with me … throw this all in and come to me.” [...] “But we’re closer to the goal than ever before.” “Of course we are, you perfect genius,” said Crown, lovingly, and she took the dead gloved fingers, and she kissed them. Every single dead soldier’s fingers twitched..."
Dave/Rose:
Daverose blondetwin sweep because they were codependent without ever meeting from growing up seeing each other in their dreams
What does it mean to be an abused teenage boy growing up alone and seeing a girl in your dreams every night who is also your best friend. and when you finally meet her you go on a suicide mission together even though nobody was asking you to die with her. and then you are the only two human beings left in the recognizable universe on a cold meteor surrounded by aliens but you’re glad it’s with her. and when you finally touch the girl from your childhood dreams she looks exactly like you. because she’s your sister
I don't have words for how good these snarky assholes are together. DaveRose is brain chemistry changing. They both put up so many fronts, and engage in so much snarky wordplay, and are constantly trying to get under each other's facade. They play off each other so well, witty and sharp, I need them to be together always
We all die & we all die alone are the two cold truths of the universe but dave and rose broke both simultaneously by ascending to godhood together
Their twincest wins because it is just so confusingly tragic? profound? dave leaving rose behind in a doomed world, dave following her to the bomb. they are both so closed & cut off & curt its hard to imagine the depth of these things. but that is their love language: giving up their lives for each other over and over, in a confusing and fumbling and heartfelt love song. i can’t say i love you but i know we’ll die together anyway. because we’re made of the exact same stuff. i’ll find you again at the last moment. that’s love.
THEY DIED TOGETHER, YOUR HONOR
Confirmed canon by the author, (something happened) between them. Parallels of dying by each other's sides in EVERY timeline. They are THE womb-to-tomb. There is nothing platonic about winking at your brother while talking about crushes, that shit is incestuous. Seer/Knight archetype. They will die protecting each other.
do you realize love someone if you don’t follow them on a suicide mission into the gaping maw of a literal fucking sun after they knock you out and psychoanalyze you in your dreams? the blueprint of the “ethereal androgynous blonde boygirl twins” trope. witch/knight dynamics. they find each other to die together in every timeline no matter what (but they’re still emotionally constipated teenagers who bicker and make fun of each other in pesterchum). kids with grown-up powers. perfect little freaks of nature. what if we looked exactly like each other’s eyes
#tournament polls#tumblr polls#incest poll#round 3#the locked tomb#tridentariicest#daverose#homestuck#tw incest
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𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐄
"i'll be there for you" universe masterlist
pairing: bestfriend!roommate!steve harrington x fem!reader
word count: 3.2k words
warnings: explicit language, some mentions of alcohol, parent drama (both reader’s and steve’s parents suck)
summary: in which your parents and steve’s come over for dinner
author's note: this has absolutely nothing to do with the harry styles song but the title of it is just very fitting so yeah<33 i’ve been rewatching a lot of gilmore girls this fall season so i feel like that's helped me get the hang of writing awkward/tense dinners with family lol so this needed to be done
general note: everything in this universe/series can be read as standalone oneshots but to understand the full “lore” it would prob be best to read the other stuff too<333
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
Fall 1985
When your and Steve’s parents first suggested this “early Thanksgiving dinner,” you thought that it wouldn’t actually happen.
The initial idea sounded pretty funny to you— your parents and Steve’s parents would have a full on dinner at your apartment a week before the actual holiday. Yeah, right.
It sounded like the kind of idea that parents that really cared about spending time with their children would have, and that wasn’t how you’d necessarily describe yours or Steve’s.
A month ago, when they told you about the ski trip the four of them were going on during the entire week of Thanksgiving, you expected to just not see them probably until Christmas— and that felt like a bit of relief to you because spending time with your parents wasn’t your favorite hobby.
But then you remembered how, only during the holidays, your parents always had a need to show, or maybe more so “prove” to themselves, that they actually cared about you. So, of course, they wouldn’t let this stupid holiday go, and instead they thought that it would be best if you all did something early and together.
And sadly, none of the immediate excuses that you and Steve came up with worked because your moms had solutions for everything.
When you told yours that the kitchen in the apartment was too small to cook for this kind of elaborate dinner, she simply told you that they’d buy and bring all of the food and you and Steve wouldn’t have to cook at all. She also not-so-jokingly mentioned that she would’ve never trusted either of you two cooking anyway.
And when Steve told his mom that the current dining table you two had was way too small to fit all six of you, she promptly had one ordered and delivered to your door in just a week. It was an expensive dark wood set that could comfortably fit six people, and you and Steve spent hours struggling to build it the day it showed up at your front door. It took up an obscene amount of space, but it did actually look kind of nice.
Now it was weeks later and the dreaded night was finally here, but you still tried to come up with any way to avoid it from happening.
“And we’re sure that we really can’t get out of doing this tonight?” You asked Steve as you folded the blanket that was lying half-hazardly on the couch. “I could call my mom and say that we’ve somehow fallen tragically ill in the last hour?”
“I’m ninety-five percent sure that they’re all already on their way.”
“Shit.”
“It’ll be fine,” Steve said, and then he considered his words. “Actually, it will probably suck, but overall, we will be fine.”
You let out a sigh and placed the now folded blanket back on the couch and then started cleaning off the coffee table, stacking the random magazines in a neat pile and then adjusting Harold’s cage so that it was nicely in the center. Your and Steve’s shared pet hamster was currently nibbling on the food that you had put in his bowl only moments ago.
An abrupt feeling of worry shot through you as you looked around the apartment. The place was clean— probably the cleanest it had ever been— since you and Steve had spent the day doing everything to avoid either of your parents saying anything bad about the place. However, in the grand scheme of things, you knew that it didn’t matter because they’d still hate the apartment. They would hate how you two decided to furnish and decorate it, and they would passive aggressively make fun of the place for however long this dinner would have to be.
“Let’s try not to think about how bad this night is gonna be and just be glad that we’re not gonna have to suffer alone, like usual,” Steve said, practically reading your mind and the look on your face, as he started setting plates out on the new table.
He was completely right. This was the first time that a collective Thanksgiving was happening among all of you. Usually, it was just you alone with your parents in Chicago visiting family members that you never talked to, and Steve was doing the same exact thing except he was in Indianapolis. You’d always end up calling each other at the end of the night from the hotel or family house you were staying at, and you’d tell each other stories about whatever weird family members you encountered or how boring it all was.
It did make things feel a bit better that, for once, you didn’t have to go through this alone and neither did Steve.
“You’re right,” You said with a nod and then smiled. “We’ll be going through this shitshow together.”
As if on cue, there was a knock at the door and since Steve was closer he went to answer it. You took one brief and final look around the apartment before heading toward the door too, so Steve didn’t have to be by himself in this greeting.
“Hi,” He said when he opened the door and saw all of your parents standing there. There was a bright smile on his face and he effortlessly turned on that “Steve Harrington charm” that people had adored in high school— you hadn’t even gone to the same high school as him, but you still heard so many of the stories.
A chorus of Hi’s and Hello’s were heard as your moms entered the apartment first since they were carrying all of the food and your dads followed in right behind them.
“I still hate that you moved into a place that doesn’t have a front doorman, or, at least, a buzzer system,” Were your dad’s first words to you; deciding against saying the simple “How are you?” that you had expected. “You two should get a better lock on your door.”
You laughed a bit. “We live in Hawkins, not New York, Dad. I don’t think anyone is really itching to rob us anytime soon.”
“Anything can happen,” He responded, looking at you seriously. “I’ll bring you a new one when we get back from Colorado.”
You only nodded at his words instead of saying anything to rebut them; you knew that he overall meant well. “Okay.”
Your attention turned to your mom and she pulled you into a hug that felt way too forced before pulling away and giving you a quick onceover. “Oh… Is that what you’re wearing?”
You thought that your outfit was fine; a V-neck navy blue knit sweater that was a bit cropped and a simple pair of black jeans. But, your mom always managed to find something wrong with everything, so this reaction to your current outfit didn’t necessarily surprise you; it did still annoy you all the same, though.
“Oh, um, no I was just about to change,” You told her and forced a small smile.
She nodded at that. “Okay, that’s good, that’s good. You go change while Christine and I get the table set up.”
You started heading toward your room but looked back at Steve first. He was in a conversation with his parents that looked like they were doing much more of the talking than him. As if sensing your gaze on him, his eyes met yours and he gave you a hopeful look and that was enough to make you feel a little better.
It didn’t take long for you to change. You kept your sweater on but traded your jeans for the long black silk skirt that your mom had always liked on you. You hoped this slightly different outfit would be enough to satisfy her, and if not, you were willing to suffer through her inevitable look of disappointment.
You lingered in your room, tidying up your desk for no particular reason and then deciding to remake your bed. It was clear that you were stalling, avoiding having to face your parents again, and as much as you wanted to continue doing that, you also didn’t want to leave Steve to fend for himself. You were supposed to be suffering together, after all.
You immediately noticed the dining table when you walked out of your bedroom. The food was now nicely set out and there were even brown placemats sitting underneath the plates that Steve had already set out. It was all set up in a way that would’ve felt nice and wholesome if either of your families had ever remotely felt like the ones portrayed in most TV shows or movies. But, they weren’t anywhere close to being like that, so this all just felt weirdly forced.
Of course, you didn’t say that, though.
Instead, you sat down with everyone at the table and desperately hoped that the next few hours of your life would breeze by.
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
“From the brochure, the pictures of the cabin look really great. We hope it actually looks that way in person,” Steve’s mom, Christine, said.
You took another bite of the mac and cheese on your plate as you continued to listen to your parents talk about their ski trip that was happening next week, which they had been doing for the last twenty minutes and you fully didn’t mind it. Since the conversation wasn’t centered on either you or Steve, things actually didn’t feel tense or nervewracking. If you could just make your parents talk about themselves during the entire dinner, you would probably end the night with a smile on your face.
“Oh, and there are a lot of bedrooms too,” Your mom chimed in before taking another sip from the wine glass in her hand. “Maybe you two could take a trip up there soon and invite your friends to go too.”
“Yeah, that would be nice,” You said with a small nod.
“Enough talking about the trip, though, that’s probably so boring for your kids to hear about,” Your dad said, and you internally sighed because you knew the exact direction the conversation was about to go in. You felt him look at you. “How’s school been going? The semester is almost over.”
“It’s been good,” You answered, keeping your response short and sweet. You decided not to mention that you really couldn’t care less about the majority of your classes because none of what you were doing in any of them felt like it really mattered.
“Okay, and your grades and everything are fine, right?”
You only nodded in response to his question, hoping that your lack of actual words would signal to him that you wanted to bring an end to this topic of conversation. Of course, that was only wishful thinking.
“That’s good,” Your mom said. “You have to make sure your grades stay like how they were in high school, or even better, for when you transfer to the University of Chicago. We don’t want to have any reason for them not to accept you again.”
You suddenly felt like you were right back in middle school and high school, where your conversations with your parents solely revolved around school; what your grades were, if you were doing your homework and completing assignments on time, and studying for tests. It always annoyed you that the only times they would bother to pay attention to you was when it came to that stuff. Other than that, you were always seemingly an afterthought, never a bigger priority than their jobs.
In a way, this entire conversation should’ve been expected; it was always inevitable. Pretty much anytime you talked to your parents in recent months, the discussion always seemed to circle its way back to that school and you going there in two years instead of right now, like they had wanted you to.
“I’m still so surprised that you decided to not go to the University of Chicago now,” Christine said and you turned your attention to her. It was starting to feel a bit painful to you that the subject still hadn’t changed yet. “When Steve told me that you were going to go to the community college close by, I couldn’t believe it, honestly.”
You noticed your parents share a look upon hearing her words. The mix of disappointment and annoyance toward you that was shared between them in that moment felt palpable.
“I didn’t think it was time to leave Indiana just yet. I’ll be going soon, though,” You said, keeping your voice light and plastering on a fake smile, even though all you wanted to do in that moment was leave the table and hideout in your bathroom for the rest of the night.
You saw your dad smile a little and then you also noticed the look of relief wash over your mom’s face. For some stupid reason, you still felt the need to make them feel pleased with you. And somehow that made you feel even more upset with yourself than anything they had said to you so far tonight.
The only thing that managed to make things feel remotely tolerable right then was Steve sitting across from you, giving you a look that said, “Everything will be okay.” For the time being, you chose to believe him and you simply took another bite of your food.
You were about to say something about how good the turkey was so your moms would start talking about the restaurant they got all of the food from and why they chose it— you were sure that there was some story behind it all— and that would finally bring an end to the college conversation. But, before a word could leave your mouth, Steve’s dad began speaking.
“Well, at least, you’re in college. We can’t say the same for Steve here.” He then looked at his son. “Do you really want to work at a video store for the rest of your life?”
Christine let out a sigh. “Jeff.”
“What?” He shrugged as if his previous question wasn’t completely condescending. “I’m just asking a question.”
“I’m actually starting at the community college next semester,” Steve told his parents and you tried to hide your immediate confusion. “I found out I got in a few days ago.”
“Well, that’s great,” Christine said happily, and Jeff smiled approvingly as well.
You had no idea Steve had gotten in or even applied, and you wondered if he was lying right then to just get his parents off his back, but you couldn’t tell. Something about the way he said it honestly felt pretty real. The only part that didn’t feel real was that you were finding out during this dumb dinner instead of at any other time.
“So, I was wondering,” Your mom began and you braced yourself for the impact of whatever she was going to say. “Why did you two decide to get a hamster? I feel like it makes things smell a bit funny in here…”
A part of you was glad that the conversation finally shifted away from college. But you didn’t think that the passive aggressive comments toward the apartment would begin with Harold.
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
“Well, this night was fucking brutal.”
You let out a sigh. “You took the words right out of my mouth.”
Steve was doing the dishes as you put what was left of the food into tupperwares and then put them in the fridge. Surprisingly, it was a lot of stuff leftover; your moms definitely went overboard with the amount they had ordered. You and Steve already made plans to invite Robin and Eddie over tomorrow to have some of these leftovers.
“I’m actually glad that the dessert tasted bad since it made them want to leave early.”
“It was honestly a bit bittersweet because I was kind of excited for that pie,” You said as you placed the final tupperware of food into the fridge and then went over to Steve. “Oh, and also,” You punched his arm and ignored his immediate “ouch.” “Why the hell didn’t you tell me that the stars have finally managed to align and we’ll finally be going to the same school for the first time ever?”
He smiled a little at your dramatics. “I didn’t wanna make a big deal out of it just in case I somehow didn’t end up getting in. I swear I was gonna tell you tomorrow.”
“So, you did all of that annoying application stuff by yourself?”
“Robin helped me with it.”
“I would’ve been happy to help you,” You told him, and maybe you were being a bit overdramatic, but you actually felt slightly offended that he hadn’t wanted to come to you about this.
The possibility of you two going to the same middle or high school was a far out idea that never happened because you lived in different towns. But, it was still something that was adamantly and wistfully talked about by you and him; how much more fun both of your school lives could be if they intersected in that way like the other parts of your lives did.
Of course, going to the same college would’ve been the most obvious way for it to finally happen, but Steve never seemed that interested in going to college, and up until the last possible second you were being pushed toward Chicago by your parents.
But now things were finally different.
“I know that you would’ve, but I didn’t want to talk about it to anyone, honestly. Robin saw me working on the application one day and decided to help,” He explained and you only gave him a small nod in response. “I didn’t even think I’d tell my parents about it, but when I heard my dad’s dumb comment about Family Video I felt like I had to say it so he wouldn’t keep looking at me like a disappointment.” He sighed. “And it’s kinda fucked up… I really don’t wanna care what my parents think about me and what I’m doing with my life, but I think there will always be a part of me that does.”
You thought back to your dad’s approving smile and your mom’s relieved look when you reassured them that you still planned to go to the University of Chicago; how much you still wanted to make them feel at least a little proud of you even though you knew you shouldn’t.
“Me too,” You said softly.
“I’m glad we probably won’t have to see them again until Christmas.”
You sighed. “Apparently, my dad is gonna bring us a new lock for the door when they get back from their trip.”
“Oh,” Steve said and then smiled at you when it looked like he thought of something. “Okay, what are the odds that he’ll just send someone to put the new lock on the door instead of coming himself?”
You thought about it for a second. “Honestly, I’d say there’s a pretty good chance that would happen. He’ll probably be too busy with work after the trip to actually come and do it himself.”
“Okay, let’s hope for that,” He said as he finished washing the last plate and placed it on the drying rack. “So, since the dessert was a bust tonight, do you wanna go to the diner? I’m sure Mary would never fuck up her apple pie. And then when we get back, we can finish that bottle of wine that our moms left.”
You smiled at his suggestion. “You have a brilliant mind, Harrington.”
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
let me know ur thoughts<333
(requests are open for stuff you wanna see in the universe/series!🫶🏾)
#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington fic#steve harrington fluff#steve harrington smut#steve harrington x you#steve harrington imagine#steve harrington x fem!reader#stranger things fluff#steve harrington#steve harrington series#steve harrington imagines#steve harrington x y/n#steve harrington x reader smut#stranger things imagine#stranger things series
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dunmeshi posting today (spoilers ahead for manga marcille stuff)
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i feel like there is so much to say and analyze about the fact that marcille's biggest--realest--fear is outliving everyone around her... specifically within the world of dungeon meshi that kui has created.
marcille's fear will certainly happen. (maybe not with falin, if her lifespan has been dragonified, but there's no way for us or for falin or marcille to know this yet.) and marcille has already watched every single one of her close friends die--temporarily. sometimes the circumstances have been dicey (or in falin's case nearly impossible) in ways that caused mounting dread and very real fear (in a way that seems uniquely upsetting in a world which has gotten somewhat blase about dungeon deaths--to have casual hope and to lose it), not even mentioning the initial shock, but so far, loss has not been final for marcille in recent years. that makes it hit all the harder when she has to contend with the possibility of falin being Dead For Good (such as when they couldn't find her bones in the dragon's stomach).
the thing that makes me absolutely sick about this is how marcille ends up just... having to swallow that her fear will come to pass. she just has to accept that both the "fix" she hoped for (the possibility of equalizing racial lifespans) is unethical and the "fix" she ALREADY USED (dungeon revivification) is impossible to implement everywhere. she just has to accept that no matter what, even in a world where death and loss isn't always final, she is doomed to experience it anyway or else succumb to the abusive and addictive pull of the demons' "security" like thistle and mithrun. (sidenote: all of the dungeon lords being elves, iirc, is telling and tragic.) I love the ending of dunmeshi and find it so compelling, and yet this is something that sticks out to me as so, so importantly "unresolved" even if I can't fully articulate it. marcille is not over this, and she can't be--while everyone else looks to the future, by definition hers is darker. that's going to take a lot more time to come to terms with. the moral is that whole "eating is the special privilege of the living," right? the moral comes down to "life involves hurting and being hurt, and that is the way of things, no matter how we run from it... but that doesn't have to be soul-crushingly depressing." marcille's friends are aware of the burden she has. they talk with her about her fears and comfort her without minimizing them. they help her feel less alone in what is a completely alienating existence. it's so fucking sad. it's horrifically sad! she got to save falin--but for how long? she got to save falin--but what about the next one? she got to save falin--why is that okay, but she isn't allowed to "have" everyone else? saving falin was only possible because of the help of a demon and forbidden magic, and while it's presented creepily, as readers we're certainly meant to root for falin's return. it's a "good" thing. it's the entire point of the first act, and the entire point of the very last. it's the good ending. it's happy! it's hard-won! and yet marcille needs to learn to accept death.
this dissonance is intentional, of course, and that's what makes it so fucking interesting. of course marcille goes crazy for a second. of course she struggles and obsesses. everyone else, functionally, gets to have what she wants! everyone else gets to "have" the dead now, no strings attached, no abnormal amount of future grief to carry. (for the opposite, past loss, imagine being kabru: being raised from the dead--watching your friends get casually revived--paying for the privilege--and thinking of your long-dead mother, who didn't get this chance, and wondering how easy it could have been.) in the future, when marcille's losses come, the dungeon's rules won't be around to protect her anymore from that cold, dull finality. it'll be real when it wasn't before. and she just has to be cool with that. man. MAN.
#marcille donato#marcille dungeon meshi#dunmeshi spoilers#falin touden#i have extra feelings about this having lost a friend young in real life#dungeon meshi#delicious in dungeon
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Real talk
Im sooooo tired of Vox always being portrayed as the victim and Alastor the only one 100% responsible for their friendship falling apart
Did we all suddenly forgot that Vox is a terrible person too? He brainwashes his audience, he supports Val, he is willing to offer his lowest employees for Val to kill, he's also prob abusive to his employees as well, he stalks pretty much everyone, he has like 5 cameras inside Angel's dressing room, also it's like implied he's jealous of Angel because he gets Val's attention, him being jealous of Angel for being a victim of abuse is pretty messed up if you ask me. Oh he also told Sir Pentious to fucking kill himself and he also gets hard of seeing people in pain and get hurt! (Sure it was Alastor but still messed up)
" he looks so sad at the end of stayed gone when Alastor threatens him I feel so bad for him:(("
Really ? Well maybe if he had just kept his little hate boner for Al to himself instead of feeling to need to start publicly slandering him it wouldn't had happened. Just saying. Also I don't see how people feel bad for him. If anything he looks so extremely pathetic it's laughable I want to kick him
Okay this is kinda out of the point I want to make it's just many people who make him the victim seem to forget he's a terrible person so I just wanted to friendly remind everyone that he's as awful as Al ^^
Anyway
I think, we should acknowledge, that it's a complicated, and probably tragic, situation. What if, maybe, they're both as equal at fault for shit going down hills for their friendship. Vox because he doesn't respect others wishes and cannot take no for an answer, he prob tried forcing Al to move on with recent technology, which Al hates. ((His request to Al to join the Vees also prob meant catching up with the nowdays stuff and new technology, like the rest of them)) and Al because he was prob unnecessary cruel and brutal with his rejection.
I don't think Al was just using Vox like I've seen many people say. He allowed Vox to take a picture of them together. For Al to do that I think it confirms their friendship was genuine. "Ah but it's Alastor so that means it was fake cuz he's an evil manipulative bastard who only cares for him-" You're wrong, but also right lol. He's an evil manipulative bastard, but , he's also capable of genuine friendships with others (( did y'all forget Rosie lol? )). What I think happened is that, time passed , things changed. Vox became obsessed with new technology and tried to force Al to follow in, Al didn't like that, but instead of communicating with eachother and solving their problems by talking it out and respect eachother's wishes, they had an unnecessary argument and fight. They're both to blame for this, they're no victims in the situation and it's okay you can still sympathise with eithers side
Also people who make Al the villain for like not returning Vox's confession and feelings in most One sided Radiostatic videos/fics I've seen-- yikes.. I really hate that I have to literally say to PLEASE don't villiantise the aroace character for being aroace and rejecting confessions. It's extremely ace/arophonic (and yes I get to have a say to this, I'm a replused aroace videos/fics like this genuinely make me feel negative emotions) even if he was extremely cruel with his rejection -- villiantise the fact that he's an asshole- not his rejection.
yes I agree!! this is essentially a consolidation of points I've made before ksdlfglg
like yes, alastor's an absolute shithead but I think there are some people who forget that vox is also... not a good person. I don't think there's anything wrong with there being sympathetic aspects to vox but I feel like there's such a huge amount of fanwork where he's the only one portrayed sympathetically without showing his own bad points in their relationship, and I absolutely hate it when alastor is fully blamed for how vox is now and vox is seen as
yeah
vox got pissy at a rejection, that's not being able to take no for an answer, that's incel behaviour LMAO
feel like there's something to be said about people feeling the need to sympathise with the one with unrequited feelings compared to the one who has to deal with someone expecting romance from them when they don't feel the same. does it have to do with society's expectations about romance that unrequited feelings are more sympathisable?
but yeah I am glad that at least the "complicated" part of the description of their relationship implies to me it won't be as simple as "vox was the poor victim and alastor was just using him", I think it is much more interesting if there's no clear victim and both were at fault in a way
#ask#osrs.txt#I'm gonna avoid heavy tagging because I don't wanna attract discourse#onewaybroadcast#okay to rb if you want though
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I have a request for Jenna :)
Ok so it’s Jenna x reader and reader is just a big softy golden retriever sweetheart and would always ask Jenna if she can get a hug or a kiss or if she can hold her hand and Jenna thinks it’s just like the cutest thing ever just pure fluff basically
a/n: sorry this is so short! The idea came to me mid 'Great British Baking Show" binge. If you want more stuff like this lmk and thank you for this amazing request :)!
Puff Pastries, Anybody? (Jenna Ortega x Reader)
Description: Baking isn't your strong suit.
WC: 507
Warnings: Literally none. Read it now or I'll make you eat the pastries.
“JENNA! Jenna, come look at this!”
From her seat on the couch, Jenna sighs and rolls her eyes playfully as she stands for the umpteenth time, sauntering into the kitchen to witness whatever tragic mess is transpiring in the midst of yet another one of your new hobbies.
The sight she’s met with is somehow even more mind boggling than the time she’d walked in to find you covered in wall paint from head to toe; at least then there was only one messy substance involved. In this case, you’ve managed to turn yourself into a powdery white monster with globs of what look to be strawberry jam strewn about your clothes in random ranges of size. The counter isn’t even visible beneath the layer of ingredients that lay in and out and all around their respective containers.
“Baby,” she laughs in disbelief, “what the fuck happened in here?”
You’re smiling brightly, giddiness shining in your eyes. “I made puff pastries,” you walk around the island with a tray in your hands and Jenna winces as a little trail of flour and god knows what else follows close behind you. She sees it coming before it happens. You lean down and press a gentle kiss on her lips that she returns with a smile. It leaves a starchy taste on her lips.
“Puff pastries, huh? Where did the… red stuff come from?”
You hold the tray out to her like a dog with a stick. “Try it and find out.”
And so, with a shrug, she grabs the most puffed and golden looking still-warm pastry. You put them on the counter and watch her with careful eyes, biting the flour flavored knuckle of your forefinger in anticipation.
A bite. A careful chew. A thick swallow. A cough.
“Uh oh,” you grimace, watching her struggle to keep your creation down and stepping closer to her to rub her back through the coughing fit that ensues. Surely they couldn’t be that bad… right? You grab the bitten offender from her hand and bring it to your mouth, taking a huge bite out of it.
An indescribable texture. A taste akin to a mouthful of seawater. A truly religious experience.
“Jesus fucking christ that’s atrocious,” Jenna remarks as she gasps for air. You reach for her hand while you attempt to swallow the inedible abomination in your mouth and she takes it, rubbing the skin there with her thumb in soothing circles. “I’m sorry, but that needs to be lit on fire and disposed of in like… a nuclear power plant or something.”
You laugh in agreement, tastebuds sobbing like dying soldiers on a battlefield. “Can I have a hug? That was traumatizing.”
Her arms spread out in invitation. She’s warm and delicate in your arms when you engulf her, hands wrapping around your neck loosely as your forearms rest at her lower back. “Sorry,” you mumble, lips pressed to the top of her head.
“It’s okay,” she assures against your chest. “But you better clean this up, I’m watching the game.”
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