#this took me longer than I expected... and I probably should have expected it given that dragon | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

Visit Blog

Explore Tumblr blogs with no restrictions, modern design and the best experience.

Fun Fact

There were a total of 171.5 billion posts on Tumblr in 2019.

#this took me longer than I expected... and I probably should have expected it given that dragon

moon-rivr · 6 months

Text

treat her better

pairing: miguel o’hara x fem reader

warnings: unprotected p in v (be smart 🤨), semi public sex, oral (f and m receiving), choking, smut, and angst

author’s note: hope you all enjoy <3 other woman pt 2 should be out by tmr or the day after 🫡

word count: 4.1k

Your relationship with Miguel was nothing short of difficult when it started, given that he was so detached from the Spider Society after the loss of his daughter. He was the definition of "all work and no play", coming to his office earlier than everybody else and being the last to leave and always rejecting to go out with the group out for drinks. Apart from distancing himself socially, he always found a way to distance himself from you specially at work, pairing you with someone else for missions. You'd given up on trying to form a friendship with Miguel after constant ignoring from him, seeing it as a pointless task.

One night, however, you were surprised to see him actually show up for drinks with you, Peter, and Jess. you figured that Peter probably had pestered him until he finally snapped and agreed, considering he didn't look all too pleased to be spending some time away from HQ. "Miguel, my man! Come, we'll get you set up with some beer," Peter greeted him, waving him to the table as some people around you all turned to look at the screaming man. Miguel shuffled uncomfortably to the table, the realization that the only seat available was between you and Jess hitting you hard. The scent of his cologne overpowered your nostrils, a little part of you surprised that he'd bothered to put this much effort into coming out tonight.

"Girl, you should find someone to spend time with tonight. I mean, when's the last time you got laid?" Jess asked you as she took a sip of her water, the topic of your dating life coming up sooner than you expected. "And you're sure that sleeping with some random man you met a bar is the best way to go?" miguel asked as he drank his beer, his voice more gruff than usual. "Would be better than the stick you have up your ass," you muttered, trying to ignore the way Miguel turned to look at you. You weren't one to shoot back at Miguel’s retorts but you were growing tired by the way he seemed to judge you for everything. From the way that you handled your missions now to where you met men. Luckily for you, Peter came back from the bathroom and started talking about what Mayday had accomplished today.

After a while of talking, you and Miguel were left alone since Jess was taking care of a crying Peter outside. As the two of you sat in silence, you couldn't help but steal a couple glances at Miguel, noticing how handsome he looked in the black button down he had on. "You should take a picture, it'll last longer," he spoke up after a while, his eyes boring into you as he did. You rolled your eyes at his retort, being reminded of the reason why'd you never be stupid enough to go after him. "God, you're such an asshole," you responded and he couldn't help but let out a small chuckle at how uncreative you'd been with the insult.

"Tell me, do you still think i'm asshole?" He purred in your ear after he locked the bathroom door. Even with his cock inside of you, he still found a way to get under your skin. You pushed your hips against his, eager to find some type of friction but your movements were quickly stopped when Miguel placed his hands on your hips. "So impatient," he whispered, his breath causing shivers all over your arms. You knew what he wanted you to do, he wanted you to put your pride aside and beg for him but you didn't want to relent. "This would be much easier if you just did what I told you," he told you, a small chuckle escaping from his lips when he saw your defenses start to weaken. He rolled his hips slowly, not enough to please you but just enough to have you wanting more. "Fine. Please just fuck me," you muttered through gritted teeth, already hating yourself for complying.

"See, now we're making progress. Unfortunately, that's not good enough. Beg like you mean it, chiquita," he responded, a small smirk tugging on his lips. You looked up at the mirror, wanting to punch his perfect face but you decided to comply once more. "Miguel, please. I need it," you whined, letting out a soft moan as he thrust his hips once more. "That wasn't so hard, was it?" He teased once more before he set a consistent pace. You hated yourself for submitting to him, in a bar bathroom to top it off, but the way he fucked you made you push those thoughts aside. His balls slapped against your thighs as your back arched while you held against the sink, your fingers rubbing your clit eagerly.

"Hey, are you in here?" Jess called out, knocking on the door and your eyes widened. You wanted to speak up and tell her yes, but you were more worried about letting out a loose moan. "You're gonna have to answer her," Miguel whispered tauntingly as he slowed down his pace. "Y-Yeah! I'm here," you called out to Jess, trying to keep your voice as even as possible. "I'm gonna go home, do you need a ride?" Jess asked, being the protective friend as always and you almost felt guilty for being in this circumstance. "No, I'll t-text you when i get home," you assured her, her footsteps retreating after.

Miguel’s hand went up to your throat, forcing you to look up at yourself in the mirror while he fucked you. Your lipgloss was all tainted from the angry makeout session you had with Miguel earlier and your mascara was rolling down your cheeks. "So pretty taking my cock," he whispered in your ear, his thrusts unrelenting as your walls squeezed around him. He squeezed at your throat gently, your cunt gushing all around his cock and he couldn't help but let out a small chuckle. "Should've known mi chiquita's into choking," he teased you, his other hand gripping your hips tightly. You let out a loud moan when his cock brushed up against your g-spot only for Miguel to shush you. "Wouldn't want anyone to hear you, hm? Now go ahead and rub your clit for me," he told you, the hand around your throat tightening up slightly.

Your orgasm approached you quickly, your release coating Miguel’s cock as he fucked you through it. He let out a small hiss as your walls clamped around his cock once more, his cum painting your walls white. He pulled out his cock a couple seconds later, grabbing a napkin to clean himself up without giving you a second glance. You were unsure of why you expected Miguel to act differently after you were done, but you couldn't help but feel upset at how quick he had left. You fixed up your lips and wiped away at the mascara dripping from your cheeks, trying to hide your disappointment as you walked out the bar.

Miguel, to no one's surprise, went back to ignoring you during work. You wished that it didn't bother you as much as it did, but a part of you still felt some type of longing towards him. You came back from your mission, staggering through the Society hallways as you headed toward the infirmary. The one time that miguel had spoken to you recently was to tell you to take someone else on the mission, but you decided to defy his orders. You removed the drenched cloth that you'd pressed against the gash as you leaned against the counter, throwing it in the sink. "I told you to take somebody, damn it!" You heard his voice before he came in, his nostrils flaring once he did. "It wasn't that bad, it's just a cut," you tried to downplay the situation despite the stinging pain you felt every time you moved.

You had finished up with cleaning up the gash to notice that Miguel was still standing there, his face contorted in a deep frown. "I didn't mean to snap at you. It's just I can't stand to lose you," he told you, your eyes widening as you looked up to make sure you'd heard him right. "I mean the society can't stand to lose you, as a collective," he clarified, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. You pursed your lips and nodded, not wanting to make things more awkward than they already were. You were about to leave when Miguel grabbed your arm, stopping you from grabbing the door knob.

"I know I've been acting like even more of an asshole after the bar, and I'm sorry. You don't deserve that. Can I take you out to make up for it?" He asked you, your mouth dropping a bit in surprise. "Like to hook up?" You asked him, unsure of what to make of the situation. "No, like a date. I've been meaning to ask you on one but i've chickened out. You obviously don't have to," he responded, completely taking you by surprise. Even though you had multiple questions running through your mind, the main one being 'why?', you decided to agree on going out with him.

Miguel took you to a restaurant he'd discovered in Queens one day, the atmosphere surprisingly pleasant for what part of town you were in. As the two of you shared a meal, you couldn't help but feel Miguel’s gaze on you once more. "Is there something on my face?" You asked him, a little embarrassed but he let out a small chuckle. "No. I just haven't taken the time to really look at your eyes. They're really beautiful under this lighting," he responds, taking a sip from his Coke. "You should cut them up and put them in a jar. Look at them everyday," you responded, using the same strategy he had at the bar. "I would but they look so much prettier when they're attached to your face," he responded, clearly amused by your statement.

The rest of the night was full of playful banter and teasing between the two of you, never a dull moment. Despite all the ways that miguel had found to piss you off and the constant avoiding he'd done, you found yourself wanting to know more and more about him as he shared. He offered you his coat once you two had left the restaurant, giving you a small kiss on the cheek before you two started the walk back home. "I really liked hanging out with you, chiquita. Would you like to go on another date?" He asked you once he escorted you to your room at the society, a hopeful smile on his face. "I'd love to," you responded, grabbing his shoulder and stood up on your tippy toes to kiss his cheek.

After that, you and Miguel found time to go on more dates and you couldn't help but fall in love with him a bit more with every bit that he shared. He was very easy to talk to when he wasn't agitated or annoyed, and he seemed to remember all the small details that you shared with him. He wasn't one for big romantic gestures, but he conveyed his emotions with every date that he took you on, treating you like you were the only person worth spending time with. Even members at the society had started to comment on how happy the two of you seemed together, Peter claiming that he knew this was bound to happen.

The first time that you and Miguel had sex as a couple was a complete 180 from the dusty, sticky bar bathroom. He'd decorated the room with some battery-powered candles and put some flowers on the nightstand to provide the perfect atmosphere. He laid you down on the bed when you came into the room, taking it slow as he kissed you. His hand up to your cheek, gently stroking it as his mouth completely invaded yours, taking as much as he could. His tongue and yours moved in perfect synchrony, soft moans escaping from your lips as he did. His lips moved down to your neck, leaving a couple open-mouthed kisses before biting down, wanting to mark you as much as possible. He was careful not to inject you with his venom as his fangs grazed through your skin, his tongue soothing the sting that his teeth had left.

He took his time undressing you, letting out a whistle as he saw the red lingerie you had put on just for him. "You look so pretty like this," he murmured against your skin, his hands moving down to your breasts. His hands lightly kneaded your tits through the bra, sometimes squeezing and tugging at them just so he'd feel them pebble up through your bra. He took it off after teasing your tits for a while, his mouth instantly attaching itself to the right one as he began his attack. His tongue ran over the pebbled nub while his hand massaged the other one, letting out a small chuckle at how you were squeezing your thighs already. Your hands instantly flew to his hair, tugging lightly as he bit down on the soft flesh, giving you a couple matching hickeys.

His fingertips hooked on your waistband before he slowly started to slip your panties off, putting them in his pocket for later use. He pressed small kisses on your thighs, spreading them wider as he got closer to your cunt. He bit down on the inside of your thigh, your hand instantly reaching down to grip his hair. "Prettiest pussy I've ever seen," he whispered before he started to slurp on the juices clinging to your folds. You let out a moan as his tongue sucked and slurped at your pussy, Miguel was eating you out like a man starved. You started grinding your hips against his face in hopes to get more friction but he pushed your legs down, keeping an iron grip on your thighs. "Be patient, corazón."

Miguel let out a small groan as your pussy clamped around his finger, barely open enough to take just one. He slowly started pumping it in and out of you, your soft whimpers filling his ears as he did. His mouth went over to your clit, giving it a couple kitten licks before flicking the neglected nub. Once he came to the realization that your pussy had opened up a bit more, he pushed a second finger in and curled them upwards to hit your g-spot with every pump he did. "Mig! Mig!" You moaned out, unable to say anything else as his fingers continued to thrust inside of you. "I know, chiquita. You're taking me so well," he cooed, the vibrations of his voice against your clit sending shivers down your spine. Your toes curled as you felt the coil inside of you tightening up, almost at at the point of snapping completely.

You came all around his fingers, your back hitting the bed once you did. He took his fingers out of your cunt and looked directly at you as he sucked off your juices. You took a couple seconds to come down from the euphoria that you'd felt before getting down on your knees in front of Miguel. He let out a small chuckle at your eager display, his hand coming to your cheek as he stroked it gently. "Qué bonita," he remarked, his cock twitching a bit in his boxers as he saw your doe eyes looking directly at him. (how pretty) You took your time taking off his boxers as he'd done with you, letting out a soft gasp when his cock hit his stomach.

Your tongue slowly swirled around the red tip, your fingers working the precum that had leaked out all throughout the shaft. Miguel kept his hand on your cheek as you started to suck him off, letting out a small hiss as you ran your tongue down the underside of his cock. You tried to fit him in all in your mouth, but you ended up with tears in your eyes as you gagged on it. "Always so greedy," Miguel commented, his hand on the back of your head as he eased you into it. You settled on taking what you could in your mouth for now and wrapping your hand around the base, both of them working in tandem to give Miguel the pleasure that he deserved.

You took his balls in your mouth, struggling to fit them both in your mouth as your hand stroked his cock, tightening up ever so slightly from time to time. Miguel let out soft moans as you did, his grip on the back of your head tightening up just the slightest bit. You flattened your tongue when he asked you to, your cheeks instinctively hollowing as he started to thrust his cock in your expecting mouth. "You were made for taking this cock, chiquita," he moaned as he started to speed up his thrusts, the tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat. You kept your eyes on him as he used your mouth like his own personal fleshlight, the sight just being enough to make him cum.

The cum dribbled down your chin as you struggled to contain it all in your mouth, only swallowing once Miguel allowed you to. He helped you get up from the floor, his hands on your hips as he kissed you, overwhelmed at the combined taste of you and him. "Get on your hands and knees," he told you, his cock already starting to get hard again for round two. You did as he told you, shaking your ass a bit as you waited for him to get on the bed. "Looks like iI'll have to fuck the impatience out of you," he told you before he slowly started to push his cock inside your pussy.

Your hands gripped the sheets as he started to thrust in and out of you slowly, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix every time. Miguel grabbed your hands, causing you to fall down on your stomach, and held them against your back as his heavy balls slapped against your pussy with every thrust. He couldn't help but let out a small laugh as he saw you wiggle underneath, your face contorted into one of pleasure. "Feels good, nena? Yeah?" He cooed, knowing that you couldn't let out anything but moans of his name at the moment.

You let out a louder moan when you felt one of the ridges of his cock brush up against your g-spot perfectly, your pussy clamping and gushing all over his cock. "Right there, Miguel!" You mewled as you cried onto the pillow, unable to do anything but take it. He sped up with his thrusts, fucking you like a rabbit in heat as he made it a goal to keep it at that angle. His other hand went down to your clit, rubbing small precise circles on it as your pussy clamped around him like a vice. You felt your orgasm approaching you quickly, your vision slowly starting to black out as you squeezed around him tightly.

Miguel came a couple seconds after you did, the part of him that wanted to see you swollen with his children and your tits full of milk fucking the cum back into you. He pulled out slowly, both of you letting out a small hiss as he did. He got both of you dressed and cleaned up before he laid in bed with you, holding you close to his chest as he started to draw small figures on your back with the tip of his talons. You felt a small shiver run down your back as he did but you felt assured that he wouldn't put enough pressure to actually cut you with them. You drifted off to sleep as soon as you closed your eyes, Miguel’s body heat providing you with warmth that no heated blanket could ever compare to.

Eventually after that night, your relationship with Miguel started deteriorating slowly. It started off slowly, with him not giving you small gifts that reminded you of him anymore to just flat out cancelling dates with you. You really tried to be understanding, knowing that he has a duty to the Spider Society and the multiverse, but you craved the warmth of just having your boyfriend around. It felt like he didn't need to put any effort now that he'd gotten to be with you, almost like he was reassured by the fact that you wouldn't leave him. The change in your mood was noticed by most of the members at the Society, most of them making up theories as to why you looked so upset all the time.

"Hey girl, what's going on?" Jessica approached you, sitting across the table as you ate your empanada. "Nothing's going on. How's it going with the baby?" You tried to deflect away from her question but the look on her face was telling you that she wouldn't allow it. The two of you stayed silent for a couple seconds, just looking at each other until one broke first. "It just feels like Miguel stopped putting in the effort into our relationship, like it didn't matter once we had sex. And I keep making up excuses for every time that he ends up not showing up to our dates but I don't know how much longer I can keep doing this," you confided in her, her eyes softening up as you finished speaking. This was why you didn't want to share your problems, you didn't want to get that look of pity.

"Look, Miguel may be my friend and all but I've gotta tell you, he's a serious workaholic with no idea how to prioritize what's important to him. If this continues, you'll just end up making more and more excuses for him and you'll end up unhappy. Just wait out to see what happens for a little bit longer before you make any rash decisions though," she offered a bit of advice, rubbing your shoulder as she left. You took her words into consideration, knowing that she had a point but you couldn't help feeling like you were betraying Miguel by ending things.

As you waited in the couch of your apartment, you couldn't help but feel a sense of disappointment when Miguel had failed to show up once more. You were starting to fall asleep when the bright flashing lights from the portal woke you, Miguel’s tall frame looming over you. "Sorry I couldn't make it. I got busy with taking care of an anomaly," he told you and you didn't have in you to argue anymore, so you simply nodded. "It's okay, Miguel," you told him despite the pain you felt in your chest as you looked at him. "I’ll make up to you, I promise," he told you, dipping his head down to kiss your forehead before walking off to the bedroom.

You called off the following days from work, wanting to clear your mind far from Miguel as you considered if this was truly what you wanted from a relationship. While the idea of leaving Miguel behind you was painful, you couldn't help but wonder if you were only sticking around for the memories. If it was because of wishful thinking that he'd come around to being the sweet, loving boyfriend he'd once been to you. You decided to call Miguel over that night to see if you could try to talk things out with him, how your relationship could be better.

"Look, just because you took time off work doesn't mean that everyone has the damn luxury to skip out whenever they want. Now, what did you call me over about?" Miguel asked you once he arrived at your apartment, his attention still on that stupid gizmo. You quickly came to the realization as you really took the time to look at him for the first time in a while that this relationship would never be a priority to him and that you'd been stupid enough to hope that he would change. "Well? I was in the middle of a briefing," he told you, tapping his foot on the floor expectedly as he folded his arms. You kept your voice even as you spoke the next sentence, not wanting to end on a bad note with him by yelling.

"I want to break up with you, Miguel."

1K notes · View notes

maythearo · 7 months

Text

" Welcome back to Night Raven College's 'Ghostly Gossip'! The school's unofficial main online source for the latest news, articles and trending topics circulating around campus! "

" attention attention! we interrupt this broadcast to inform all readers that the ghostly gossip team have at last caught the student responsible for all the (unauthorized) written remarks from previous entries! We sincerely apologize for the inconvenience! (although admittedly, he does not...) "

Navigation:

R. Rosehearts ▪︎ T. Clover ▪︎ C. Diamond ▪︎ A. Trappola ▪︎ D. Spade ▪︎ L. Kingscholar ▪︎ R. Bucchi ▪︎ J. Howl ▪︎ A. Ashengrotto ▪︎ J. Leech ▪︎ F. Leech ▪︎ K. Al Asim ▪︎ J. Viper ▪︎ V. Schoenheit ▪︎ R. Hunt ▪︎ E. Felmier ▪︎ I. Shroud ▪︎ O. Shroud ▪︎ M. Draconia ▪︎ L. Vanrouge ▪︎ S. Zigvolt ▪︎ Silver

Design notes:

This took way longer to post than I expected mainly because of imposter syndrome and constantly thinking I could do more for his entry but, I'll keep this as Ace's main style anyway. It's pretty simple compared to previous designs, but to be fair, devil Ace's personality and shenanigans would stand out enough to compensate for that matter LOL

As I said on Deuce's post, I wanted to connect their designs in some aspects, so yeah! Complementary color pallettes! That's why they both have few shades that stand out of their main monochrome colors, Deuce is blues and greens, while Ace stays around red and oranges!

Fashion-wise now, I initially pictured him pulling a lot more references from 80s men fashion, but ig by the end I accidentally strayed away from that and somehow incorporated a more "modern" influence to it? Man I'm very bad at describing the creative process and vibes of my designs but what else is new 😭😭 ANYWAYS, off topic but I should mention that, as you can see I'll throw in a high heel in any characters that give me the opportunity to do so, this one especially, I had Cleo's "dawn of the dance" heels in the back of my mind while designing, ( I forgot to include in the image above again 😔) which fun fact, was my first Monster High doll I got as a kid, so-!!! That's a shoe style that I'm very fond of KWDNWKSNSK

LORE DUMP TIME, ok so given each characters unique scare-itage, the way the cast interact with each other and build relationships could somehow differ from how they interact in og twisted wonderland! For example, since MH!Ace is THE devil from THE bible (/ref) he probably shares a common background, or have met Vil and Idia before they enrolled in MH!NRC together! That's such a funny thing to think about for me. Who would have thought they'd ever be a trio of great childhood friends?

#.the ghostly gossip #twst #my art #twisted wonderland #twst fanart #monster high #ace trappola #twst au #heartslabyul

1K notes · View notes

beesspacedotorg · 3 months

Text

Romance is Doomed (Lie)

Summary: your parents tumultuous relationship has given you very little hope and expectations for your own. your boyfriend, Seungmin, seems determined to change that ... at least until he forgets an important romantic holiday. 4.2k

Warnings: angst. fluff. Kim Seungmin. porn. insecure reader. edging. no body type or pronouns mentioned. bad (?) parents. I wrote this based on a very sad conversation my parents had, so reader has mommy and daddy issues (double whammy). reader is insecure and at one point starts waxing poetic about being unlovable (????) but Seungmin calls them out on it so dw. This is my first time writing Seungmin so ... he might be a little ooc.

note: I don't really have an explanation for this. my parents made me sad so I wrote a fanfiction about Kim Seungmin to make me feel better. This is incredibly self indulgent, so if you don't like it that's okay. this is literally in my google docs as "This is for me and if you don't like it, sucks" so.

You know that it’s his job, so you can never get mad at him for it, not really. That would be irrational, and crazy, and you are neither of those things- or, not enough of those things to kick up a fuss. Still, when you hear him say it something in your chest pangs and you are left with a weird, hollow emptiness that you have no name for.

“Who’s your valentine?” Everyone is asking him, he’s an idol, it’s his job.

“Stay!” He smiles cutely and it squints his eyes slightly as he does. You can see his perfectly white and perfectly aligned teeth on your phone and you pause the video to switch to a different app instead, but your feed is perfectly curated to show you videos and pictures of your boy and his group, so all you see is him and that damned clip from that damned video.

You’re launched back to a conversation you’d had with your parents. It was in jest, you weren’t serious, but the tone of the day shifted drastically after you’d asked it.

“Mom, who’s your Valentine?” You were drinking the soda you’d just refilled and wincing slightly at the carbonation as you walked towards the car.

“No one, your Dad hasn’t asked me yet.”

“Dad, are you and Mom each other's Valentines?” He’s opening the door as you ask.

“No.” You can see your mom’s face fall, and for the rest of the day there’s a kind of gray cloud hanging over your parents. That moment sticks with you, and every year you think about it.

You and Seungmin are different though, you’re absolutely positive that he loves you. You’re absolutely positive that he cares about you and wants you around, you’re absolutely positive that if he wanted to get rid of you, he would. But he hasn’t, so you trust that he wants you around. But, this is his job. This is his job and you knew what you were getting into when the two of you started dating, so you can’t be mad at him, you won’t be mad at him.

“How are things at home?” You’re on the phone with your mother, you call her once a week. No matter what she’s put you through, she’s still your mother and you still love her, so you call.

“Oh, the usual. Your Dad is being. You know.” She sounds sad as she says it, and the worst part is that you do know. Crotchety and mean and in pain and cruel. So, you do know, and you feel bad for your mom when she says it. She is his wife, and he cannot spare her a drop of kindness.

The call ends, as it always does, with one of you saying something cutting and the other hanging up without responding to the “I love you” at the other end of the line. You look at your calendar. Valentine’s Day is tomorrow and he still hasn’t asked you. Your mom says he might just assume that you two are each other’s Valentine’s because you’re together, you say that it would still be nice if he asked. Your mom tells you not to hold your breath. You tell her that you aren’t planning on it.

It took the two of you a while to get together, longer than it should have, probably. But, as in all things, you are naturally distrustful of the intentions of strangers, or strangers-turned-friends-turned-? so you avoided the topic any time he would try and hint at it.

“I have two tickets to the Giants game tonight!”

“Sick! Those are hard to come by, Seungminnie! I hope you and Jeongin have fun.”

“Well, actually-”

“Hey! Did I ever tell you about this thing I saw the other day?”

When you did finally stop avoiding it, he asked you why, and you told him it was stupid, and he said nothing can be stupider than the time he and Felix managed to over whip the eggs for their souffle pancakes, truly a feat considering the fact that the eggs they were using were cold.

“I like you a lot,” you’d said. “I like you a lot and it feels like the love I have for you is replacing the air that I breathe, and I know, one day, you’ll get tired of me and my sadness and my everything, and I’d rather not have to spend years of my life filling in the hole that you’ll leave with foam that’ll collapse come morning.”

He’d paused for a moment, and you’d looked at the ground.

“I don’t want you to get tired of me and leave. I don’t want to be afraid you’ll leave so I do it first and regret it days later. I don’t want you to get tired of me and stay only to make jabs at me until I am nothing but a pasta strainer masquerading as a person.”

He’d frowned at you.

“Do you really think that little of me?”

“What?”

“Do you think that I would walk away like that? That I wouldn’t put in effort to stay, or to make you stay? That I would hate you so much that I would share a bed with you and hurt you at the same time?”

“No, but-”

“Listen,” he grabs your hands, “I’m not entirely sure why you think the way that you do about these things, and I won’t promise that I won’t hurt you- I’m not that stupid. But I promise that I’ll try not to, that I’ll make it up to you if I do. But you have to promise me something too, okay?”

“What’s the promise?”

“Don’t think of me that way. I’m mean, sure, but I’m not evil.”

“It’s not that I think you’re evil-”

“But I’m the one doing those things to you, right? In your head, it’s me? Whether you deserve it or not, I’m the one doing it.”

“... I see your point.”

“Good, I was running out of emotionally intelligent things to say. If you hadn’t been worn down we would’ve had to rain check this conversation for another day.” You laugh at him and he holds your hand.

“Your whole speech was really poetic, by the way, how long have you been sitting on that?”

“How long have I been alive?” He laughs, because he was supposed to, but he places a kiss on your temple too. And there’s a moment where you think that romance isn’t doomed, and, maybe, neither are you.

The first time you and Seungmin have sex, you spend the whole time worrying if he secretly finds you gross and disgusting. Well, you try to, but at that point, he’s gotten pretty good at telling when you’re writing heavy prose in your head and he then does his absolute best at making you lose your mind with pleasure. He succeeds.

“What were you thinking about?” Is what he says while he’s testing the shower water to make sure it’s hot enough to keep you warm. You’d tried to find a happy middle once, while you were showering together (In the dark, because “your eyes hurt”. You just weren’t ready for him to see you naked.) and goosebumps had broken out across your skin almost immediately, you’d shivered so hard it sent your teeth chattering, and your lips had started turning blue. When the two of you got out and Seungmin noticed, he’d said that you two would just shower together at temperatures comparable to the lakes of hell and he’d get over himself.

You shake your head at him. He won’t like your answer. He asks you this often, when you shrink in on yourself, and when you tell him, he always looks a little sad. But you don’t like to lie, and it’s bad manners to keep things a secret from your partner, so you tell him.

“I was worried you thought I was like, I dunno. Ugly, or something.” He deadpans at you. You worry that he’s mad. He huffs and drags a hand down his face.

“I’ve never come so hard in my life and you think that I’m not attracted to you? I came so hard I nearly blacked out, came so hard I think I told you that I loved you and you think that I think you’re ugly.” You feel slightly chided. He grabs your hand and gently guides you into the shower.

“Just because you feel that way about yourself doesn’t mean that I do.” He’s looking into your eyes as he says it, tucking your hair out of the way because it doesn’t need to be washed yet while he reaches behind you to grab the body wash. You gape at him like a fish.

“Close your mouth,” he nudges your jaw shut gently, “you don’t want to catch flies.”

You have something new to think about.

241302 11:37 am

Seungminnie?

eunming

seunmind

no!

having trouble yoebo?

ah shit

haha! yoebo

-_-

what did you even want

I love uou

yoo

Jesus Christ

YOU

cringe

Your boy isn’t one for romance and displays of affection, you know that. But you’ve had such an awful and weird day that you can’t brush off what he says like you normally would. It’s not even noon and yet everything that could throw you off the wheel emotionally has. Like they all took turns, throwing you off, dragging you back in, and repeating it until you were a nice, buttery consistency.

He’s busy though, work and schedules and being an idol, so you reply with your usual sad face and nothing else and take a nap. Naps always fix things.

241302 11:45am

jagi?

is everything okay?

have fun doing whatever it is then

i enjoy being around you most of the time!

241302 1:27pm

hannie showed me this video

well

he didn’t show me per se

he showed linohyung and i was being nosy

but anyways

it was this cat that was very small

has an outrageous win/loss ratio for hunts

i think you would like it!

it’s called a

sorry i had to ask hannie its name again

the black footed cat he says

241302 4:15pm

hihi

you havent texted all day

are you gaming again kkkk

i was going to come over but i dont want to interrupt

should i just stay and game with yongbokkie???

maybe if we play genshin i’ll see you

we can finally co-op!

241302 5:27 pm

ahh

youre not on genshin :(

are you playing something else

jagi?

hmmm

make sure you eat and use the bathroom kkkkk

you always forget when you get sucked in

You’re jolted awake by a very loud and rough knock on your front door. Also by the sound of your phone ringing incessantly. You answer the phone first.

“Hello?” Your voice is slightly panicked, no one ever calls you save for when it’s an emergency, so you’re half expecting someone to be dying or dead when you pick up. You’re halfway out of bed and scanning your floor for a pair of pants when the banging on your door stops and you register the voice on the other end of the phone.

“Did you change your lock?”

“Did I- Seungmin, what?”

“My key doesn’t work anymore.” He sounds like he’s pouting.

“The building changed it recently. Something about security measures or whatever.”

“Ah. Come open the door.” You’re opening the door as he says it, rubbing your eyes and blinking at him.

“Were you asleep?” He’s toeing his shoes off. He has something behind his back.

“Yeah.”

“Explains why you didn’t answer your texts, then. I got worried.” He kisses the side of your face.

“Seungmin, what on earth is in your hands right now?” He looks down.

“Keys and my phone.” You stare at him.

“The other one, genius.”

“Yes, I like to think I am. Thank you.” You keep staring. He sighs. He hands you a thing of your favorite candy with a note that says “more to follow” attached.

“It’s come to my attention-”

“Was it Chan? Or Changbin, this time?” He glares slightly.

“It’s come to my attention, and I realized this all on my own with no outside help-”

“Sure.”

“With some outside help-”

“Better.”

“That tomorrow is Valentine’s Day, and some people enjoy being asked by their partners if they will participate.”

“Is this you asking?”

“I’m getting there!” He takes your hands the best he can while you’re still holding the candy and the note and looks at you again.

“I am sorry I didn’t ask sooner. I will ask sooner next year and the year after that and the year after that and so on and so forth. But!” He gets down on one knee. You kick him slightly with your foot.

“Unless you’re proposing, you better stand back up.” He stands back up.

“Will you be my Valentine?” You can feel your eyes water.

“If I have to.” You roll your eyes for show. Seungmin stands still for a moment.

“Is that how I sound to you?”

“Sometimes.” He raises an eyebrow. “Most of the time.”

“I am hilarious.” You roll your still-wet eyes as you open the candy.

“That’s not the whole gift.”

“I gathered, there’s a note that says so right here.” He huffs at you, giving you that deadpan stare again. He told you once that you’re one of the few people he’s met who can give and take his sarcasm in equal measures, you told him that was the nicest thing he’s ever said to you, he hit you with a pillow.

He doesn’t answer, instead he pulls you closer by the back of your neck and kisses you. Kissing Seungmin is always an experience, it always makes your head slightly fuzzy and makes your heart stutter in your chest. You think that if it was possible to die by kissing, you would’ve done it the first time you and Seungmin made out. As it stands, you just feel a little unsteady on your feet.

Seungmin pulls away and you catch yourself staring at his mouth, wet and pink and swollen just enough that it reminds you of when he had braces and his mouth was always slightly pushed out. He grabs your hand and leads you to your bedroom, placing his gifts for you somewhere on your dresser before he nudges you onto the bed.

“You’re so pretty, you know that?” His hands are winding around your waist, pushing your shirt out of the way, and he’s kissing you again.

“You’ve told me before,” you say it against his mouth, hands coming to tangle in his soft, fluffy, recently dyed hair and you can feel the sigh he emits from where your chests are pressed together.

“Can I compliment you just once?” You smile, cheeky.

“No. Never.” He grumbles something about you being impossible as he tugs your shirt off, leaning down to mouth at your chest. You tug his hair lightly and he shoots a glare up at you.

“What.”

“It’s not fair that I’m not wearing a shirt and you are.”

“‘It’s not fair that-’ Be patient.”

“I thought this was a Valentine’s day gift.”

“It’s about to turn into a Valentine’s day ungift if you don’t stop.”

“What the fuck is an ungift?” He shoves his hand down your pants to shut you up.

“You always have to be so difficult,” you interrupt his sentence with a choked off moan. “Can’t ever just be good for me, can you? Always have to fight me every step of the way.” You shake your head at him, denying it.

“Don’t lie, you’re doing it right now. You’re lucky today is a holiday, or I really would turn this into whatever the opposite of a gift is.”

The tone shift would’ve given you whiplash if you had enough mental facilities left to think, or if this wasn’t so on par with what you expect from him. Seungmin likes to keep you on your toes, sometimes letting you push without any retaliation, sometimes letting you get away with nothing at all. It seems he’s more merciful today, and you pull him close for a “thank you” peck that soon turns into something more.

“Seungmin, please-”

“Desperate. You’re always so desperate.”

“You’re being mean.”

“Am I?” The hand that’s touching you slows down and you whine at him. “Am I being mean to you?” He tilts his head to the side, falsely curious and fully condescending. He adds a fake pout for good measure.

“I’m sorry. I’m supposed to be apologizing after all. I should be nicer to you, shouldn’t I?” He’s cooing slightly at you, and you know he’s not being genuine, but you really just want him to go back to touching you like he was earlier, so you pout back and nod. He gives you a kiss on your downturned mouth and picks his pace back up.

Soon enough, you’re forgetting that he was ever being devious in the first place and then you’re spilling on his fingers. You’re brutally reminded when he keeps going, when he pins down your hands as they try to push him away, when he bullies his stupidly slender hips between your thighs so you can’t close them. It feels like your nerves are on fire, but at the same time you want more. You’re cumming again and tears spring to your eyes at the confusing sensation of too much and not enough and you can vaguely hear Seungmin mumbling empty platitudes at you through the sharp ringing in your ears.

There’s a brief pause where he shoves your bottoms and underwear off, mad about them being in his way, and then the confusing feeling is back again as his hand returns.

“Seungminnie, Seungmin, I can’t, I can’t.” You’re thrashing around hard enough that you’ve accidentally kicked the comforter off the bed.

“You can. I know you can. Just this last one, okay, baby? And then you can have whatever you want.” You know he would stop if you wanted him to, but you don’t really want him to. You want him to make you come a third time on his fingers and then you want to do it on his cock. His stupidly perfect cock.

Sometimes, when you’re busy waxing poetic about love and Seungmin and life, you think about how the two of you were most certainly made for each other. How Seungmin was made to fit you in all the ways that you were made to fit him and that whatever force brought you together made his cock with you in mind. The way it fits inside you and gives you that almost-too-full feeling without ever being too much always makes your head spin and you clench involuntarily at the thought of it even now. It doesn’t escape Seungmin’s notice, because of course it doesn’t, and he laughs a little at you.

He stops laughing when you come on his hand again, and eases you through it until you're twitching away from him and whining and then he’s kissing the space between your eyebrows and shucking off his own clothes.

You spend a minute just staring at him. He’s beautiful. You think he’s the most handsome and perfect man in the world and he has the audacity to walk around saying that he’s just “decent.” It’s moments like these where you finally understand what he gets all pissy about when you say you don’t like the way you look.

You’re drawn back into reality when you see him wrap one of his beautifully huge hands around his dick and you whine at him.

“What now?” The words are meant to be sharp but he’s too out of breath when he says them, so you brush it off.

“You said I could have whatever I wanted and I want your cock!” You sound petulant, even to yourself. “You can’t- Seungmin!” He huffs and drops his hand from himself and you can see his muscles tense with how hard he’s trying to give you what you want.

“Needy and desperate. You came three times and I can’t even come once before you’re begging for more.” He’s sliding into you as he says it, wincing as you tighten in sensitivity and stilling with the effort of not coming too soon. You nod at him anyways, finally agreeing to the things he’s saying. If he asked you to jump out of an airplane with no parachute right now, you’d probably say yes, as long as he would finally start fucking you.

“Mhm. Want you- want you all the time. Need you all the time.”

“Yeah? All the time?” His hips are sloppy and uncoordinated as he fucks into you, but you wouldn’t be able to handle much anyway with how sensitive you are, so you’re grateful that Seungmin has lost his composure.

“All the time.”

“Guess that makes you a slut then, hmm?” You huff, gathering as much of your shot coordination as you can to weakly hit him in the chest.

“No. Only want- I only want you.” He coos, softening.

“Yeah? Only me?” You nod. “Does that make you my slut then?” You shake your head. “No? What are you then, hmm?” You’re not sure, but you know that you love him, and the force of your love for him shakes every atom in your body if you think about it too long.

“I love you.” It’s all you can say, so it’s all that comes out of your mouth and Seungmin kisses your face because he can’t aim for a specific spot with how the two of you are moving and you know that he understands you because he always does.

“I love you, too. Love you so much. I’ll keep saying it until you believe me.” You let out a slight sob against his mouth and he shushes you.

“Pretty, you’re so pretty, baby. I love you so much.” He’s muttering it against your skin, hips meeting yours over and over until you’re tightening around him with an orgasm that’s almost too much to handle and he’s spilling into you too.

There’s a moment where the two of you just sit there, panting and breathing each other’s air, stuck together with sweat and cum and Seungmin’s dick that’s still inside of you and then your lip is wobbling and tears are spilling hot and fresh down the sides of your face.

“Woah, woah what’s wrong? My dick game isn’t that bad, is it?” You shake your head at him and tug him down for a hug. He lets out a noise as he’s flattened against you and his face is smushed against the bed. He has to move his head to the side to avoid suffocating, so his breath is hitting the inside of your ear and you move your head away because it’s very uncomfortable. He wraps his arms around you the best that he can from your position and when his dick slips out, you whine.

“Listen, I would totally love to still be inside you right now, but I think my dick might fall off, so just gimme a minute, yeah? Tell me what’s wrong.”

“I thought you forgot.”

“Forgot- oh. About Valentine’s? I might’ve forgotten to ask you to be my Valentine, but I didn’t forget about the holiday. I was actually strong-arming Channie hyung into letting me skip out on our schedules tomorrow. I was- I am, gonna spend the day with you.” His voice is low because of how close he is to your ear, but yours isn’t when what he says makes you cry harder.

“Everyone always forgets.”

“Not me. Not me, baby. I have to live up to my title of most dedicated boyfriend, I can’t just forget about holidays.”

“Who even,” your breath catches because of your tears as you start to calm down, “who even gave you that title?”

“It’s not important.”

“Seungmin.”

“... it was Hannie.” You let out another cry, but you’ve calmed down enough that this one is for show.

“I can’t believe,” your breath hitches again, “I can’t believe you’re gonna leave me for Han Jisung, ace of Stray Kids.”

“Yeah,” he turns his face flat. “I am, unfortunately. Sorry to break it to you.”

“That’s okay,” you turn your tear-stained face to look at him, smirk stretching across your mouth, “I’ll just go and date Stray Kids’ best vocalist. Bang Christopher Chan.”

“Yah! You said you stopped having a crush on him!”

“And you said you wouldn’t leave me for one of your members!” He huffs and hides a smile in your shoulder as he moves to the side of you to hug you better.

“I love you. I really do,” he says. He’s moved your head to the side so you’re looking into his pretty brown eyes as he says it.

“I love you, too.” You do, you really do. You hope he can feel it from where he’s touching your skin. You hope he can feel it even when he’s nowhere near you. He smiles at you, and you think that he can. You think that he knows how much you love him and he loves you with the same sort of ferocity. You look at him and you think that romance isn’t doomed, and neither are you.

#bee blurbs #happy valentines day losers #ft.seungminnie #kim seungmin x reader #kim seungmin x you #kim seungmin smut #skz x reader #skz x you #skz x y/n #stray kids x reader #stray kids x you #idk what other tags to add so this is all youre getting #seungmin x reader #seungmin smut

403 notes · View notes

queerofthedagger · 1 year

Text

all this growth and this decay

[Steddie | T+ | 2,9k | ao3]

you will open your wounds / and make them a garden —Wale Ayinla

One of the weirder things in the aftermath of hell dimensions and surviving by the skin of his teeth is seeing Steve Harrington kneel in the middle of a flowerbed, elbow-deep in soil.

Eddie watches him for a little longer than he probably should; the methodical movements of his hands, hair pushed back carelessly, the skin revealed by the loose tank top that, frankly, should not be doing it as much for Eddie as it does.

Sue him; he survived the apocalypse, so he might as well enjoy the aftermath.

“If you’re determined on staring, Munson, at least hand me the hose, will you?” Steve says without turning around, not sounding too bothered about it. Eddie’s still glad that the sticky summer heat hides the flush that rises to his cheeks at having been caught.

“What are you doing anyway?” he asks, once he nudges Steve with the hose and drops down to sit next to him on the warm stone.

Beyond the property, the forest is humming with the August afternoon, everything bright and languid and achingly peaceful.

“If the bushes aren’t taken care of regularly—“

“Not that,” Eddie cuts in with a huff of laughter. “Why are you gardening in the first place? Didn’t exactly take you for the homey type.”

Steve cuts a glance at him, all raised brow and judgmental twist to his mouth. “What, not metal enough for you? Expecting me to chew on Demobats in my free time?”

“Yikes, don’t say that. You know what I mean.”

Steve shrugs, all casual, and scans the rose he has been working on as if it is the most fascinating thing in the world.

Eddie looks at Steve the same way, so perhaps it is a good thing that Steve isn’t looking back.

“Do you know what a pain rose bushes are if you let them run riot?”

Eddie doesn’t; if anyone had asked him ten minutes ago if he thought that Steve Harrington might have the answer, he would have laughed.

Which, really, is probably on him; the last couple of months should have gotten him used to Steve constantly flipping the script on him.

“Still, didn’t expect you to do it yourself,” he says, watching the careful way Steve’s hands push the soil into place.

Steve shrugs, still not looking at Eddie. “It’s nice. I don’t mind.”

It’s the way he says it, quiet and a little tired; or perhaps it’s the way he brushes his fingers over the dark green leaves, his expression oddly pensive. Or, perhaps, it’s all Eddie reading into things—in the end, it doesn’t really matter.

In the end, he watches as Steve waters the rose bushes, careful not to wet the leaves, and chews on the feeling that the explanation he has been given covers only the smallest part of it.

Unfortunately, it doesn’t explain why Hawkins High’s former king suddenly took up gardening; fortunately, Eddie has always liked a bit of a riddle.

---

For the most part, Eddie does not, in fact, think too much about it. Between navigating Hawkins and its continued animosity, the kids, and his ever-growing crush, it isn’t exactly among the top ten things he has on his mind.

He’s reminded of it once October rolls around, the days golden and cool in the evenings.

He spends most of his time at the Harrington residence these days, some nights with Robin, others—most—only the two of them, talking and watching movies and spinning fantastical plans for a future that Eddie still struggles to believe he is allowed to have.

It’s a rainy afternoon, the first real cold one of the season, when he arrives after his physical therapy. Truth be told, the main reason he still goes at all is that Max would never forgive him if he quit, and he still hasn’t learned how to say no to her in the slightest.

The house lies quiet and dim when he lets himself in, which is unusual in itself. For the briefest second, panic wants to climb up his spine, but he pushes it down. Takes a deep breath and walks through the foyer into the living room, and the air still trips out of his lungs with relief when he finds the patio door open, curtains billowing.

The rain has slowed to a drizzle, but puddles are scattered across the porch, and the ground beyond is a riot of colors from the maple trees’ leaves.

On the far end, Steve is kneeling in front of the rose bushes, a stack of cut fir branches beside him.

Eddie grimaces at the gray sky and pulls his jacket closer around himself. In the end, his curiosity wins out, though (or, if he’s honest it’s all concern, but these days any pretense about all the godforsaken emotions Steve causes in him is a welcome one, in Eddie’s books. There is only so much a guy can take before he has to have some serious concerns for his own sanity).

“Hey,” Steve says, once Eddie comes up to him. “I didn’t expect you back this early; you can wait inside if you want, no use in us both getting drenched.”

It’s such a Steve thing to say. Eddie’s fingers are itching to run through Steve’s wet hair, to tip his head back. To make him look at Eddie, perhaps become a horrible, pathetic cliché and kiss him right here in the quiet rain.

“What are you doing here anyway?” he asks instead, burying his hands in his pockets.

“Winter-proofing,” Steve says, as if that makes any sense. “They dislike soil frost.”

Eddie blinks. “Okay but—can that not wait until it’s, you know. Not raining?”

It finally gets Steve to look up at him, a small crease between his brows. The hoodie he is wearing is washed out, fraying at the seams, and he looks tired.

Then again, he always does; it is just rare not to see him pretend otherwise.

“It’s impossible to say how far the temperature will drop tonight. Really though, just wait inside, I’ll be done in a moment.”

His hands are dirty with soil, pink with the cold. There are pine needles everywhere, the smell of them mixing with the rain.

By now, Eddie likes to believe that he has come to know Steve fairly well—hell, it would be quite sad if he didn’t, considering how much time they spend in each other’s pockets.

It’s clearly important, he can see that much. It’s clearly something Steve doesn’t necessarily want to explain, although Eddie is mostly sure that he could needle an answer out of him if he tried.

He’s strangely reluctant to do so, though; the thing he doesn’t understand—about the importance of rose bushes, about Steve’s sudden brittleness, about his own hesitation—is why.

It doesn’t stop him from curling a hand around Steve’s shoulder briefly, squeezing. From saying, “Alright, I’ll warm up some food then,” and letting his hand linger for a moment, for just this little bit more warmth, before going back inside, leaving Steve to his garden.

---

Eddie grows used to Steve’s strange affinity for plants, ironically, when winter washes across the land and most of his gardening gets focused on the various indoor plants that somehow, Eddie hasn’t paid much attention to before.

It’s a thing, though, their presence and Steve’s calm care for them; his herbs on the windowsill in the kitchen, thyme and mint, rosemary and sage and basil. The orchids in the living room that seem fickle even to Eddie, and the ivy climbing up the balustrade of the stairs.

It’s a thing, even when Eddie moves from spending the nights in the guest room to spending them in Steve’s bed, legs tangled together, mouth to skin. When still, some nights, he wakes up alone, knowing he missed one of Steve’s nightmares. How he finds him tending to one plant or another, steady hands and quiet voice.

Eddie will wrap his arms around Steve’s waist, those nights, letting the warm weight of his body leaning back against Eddie’s chest calm them both; he still knows that if he asked, Steve would tell him.

These days, it is more a matter of feeling that he should get it than the charm of a riddle, but something about it remains just out of reach.

---

Spring crawls across the land slowly, spindly fingers pushing back against the seemingly ever-lasting gray. All thoughts on gardening aside, Eddie cannot wait—for longer days, for fewer clothes, for all of his, Steve’s, and Robin’s plans that wear titles like Chicago and two-bedroom apartment.

For now, though, March is still struggling to assert itself, and Eddie is picking up Max from physical therapy. She has been getting better, can walk mostly fine without a cane, and the progress of the last couple of months has made her a little lighter, too.

Still, there is some kinship between them about the months they spent listening to Mrs. Parker droning on about exercises and discipline, about the gritted teeth and pulling scar tissue, and how this godforsaken town has never learned to mind its own business.

They are driving down Maple Street, Bowie playing quietly because it’s a compromise they both can live with. It’s a detour, but it’s Wednesday, which means the market stalls downtown are open, which means they are going to get donuts from that one stall that makes them with enough sugar that they can feel their teeth rot in real time.

Eddie pulls into the parking lot and ignores Max as she climbs out of the van—their deal, after all; he doesn’t help, so she lets him pay. If it works, and all that.

It’s busy, which, of course, doesn’t stop people from staring, but they ignore it. Eddie thinks that if there is one thing he would like to leave behind once he finally gets out of this hellhole, it is for Max to let all the small-town bullshit roll right off her.

Eddie’s never mastered it as well as he would have liked, but he has high hopes for her.

They get their donuts—dark chocolate for him, glazed for her—and huddle around one of the bar tables somewhat out of the way.

It’s when he sees it, one of the stalls at the far end of the market. It’s not been around the last couple of months, ever since autumn made Steve cover his garden with branches of fir, but Eddie remembers it from last year.

He nudges Max, keeping his voice casual when he says, “Hey, mind if we stop at the plant stall for a moment?”

“Sure,” she merely says, her grin knowing, and pops the last bit of her donut into her mouth.

There is a reason she’s his favorite, really.

Truth is, Eddie has no fucking clue about plants whatsoever, and until he started being friends with Steve, he did not much care either. He can admit, though, that there is something pretty about it, and perhaps that’s the point; to make that empty house into a bit more of a home, some self-chosen colors amongst whatever nightmarish monster of decoration the elder Harringtons had let lose however long ago.

He runs his fingers over the petals of some tulips when Max says, “Don’t get cut ones.”

Eddie turns to frown at her. “What?”

“Bouquets; he doesn’t like them.”

Under different circumstances, Eddie may have at least tried to pretend that he didn’t know who she was talking about, but he has been turning over the matter of Steve and gardening for well over half a year now. Steve has never been much help, all Eddie’s assumptions that he could simply ask aside, and no matter how much he has turned it over and over, it always felt like he was missing something obvious. Something that he should get.

So, Max remarking upon Steve’s preferences for flowers, of all things, makes any urge to pretend take a backseat.

“Why not? They are less work, aren’t they? Put them in a vase, give them some water—“

“—Watch them die,” she interrupts with a shrug. She isn’t looking at him. “He likes the work, though; to keep them alive, watch them grow.”

And oh. Oh, Eddie is a goddamn idiot, isn’t he, he thinks as his heart stumbles into a violently painful rhythm.

Steve with his nail bat crusty with blood, always jumping in first; Steve, always ready to be the one to pick the fight, kill the monster, do what needs to be done. Offer up his rose-thorned heart to spare everyone else their shreds of remaining innocence.

Eddie swallows the revelation down like burning absinthe, and if Max notices his sudden unsteadiness, she is kind enough to keep it to herself. He asks the old woman inside the stall for her most long-living plant, barely pays attention to the price, and tugs the dragon tree sapling under his arm as he and Max make their way back to the van.

He has no idea yet what to do with this new piece of information, isn’t even sure Steve is aware of why he’s doing this himself. What he does know is this; if he were to love Steve Harrington for the rest of their days, it still would not be enough.

Fuck him if he isn’t going to try, though.

---

When he finds Steve in the kitchen cutting herbs, of all things, he kind of wants to cry, although it would feel rather selfish, all things considered.

So he carefully puts the sapling on the counter and offers Steve a smile when he turns, raising a brow at the plant first, at Eddie second.

Eddie crosses the distance and wraps his arms around Steve’s waist from behind; slips his hands beneath the worn sweater, traces the path of the scars. With his forehead between Steve’s shoulders, he breathes and breathes and breathes.

“Hey, you okay?” Steve asks when the silence stretches. He turns in Eddie’s arms, knife forgotten and hands heartbreakingly gentle on Eddie’s face. “You’re starting to freak me out a bit here, sweetheart.”

Eddie laughs and it comes out wet, but god. God.

“Difficult to explain,” he says, because damn it, this shouldn’t be about him, this shouldn’t be—

“Try me, then,” Steve counters, mouth quirking.

Eddie loves him so much, it would be enough to grow a garden of its own.

“That’s why you do it, isn’t it?” he says, not making any sense. “The plants, the gardening, taking care of them—something to keep alive, to take care of? To… I don’t know, something good.”

Steve’s brows furrow, his eyes skittering away, through the kitchen, back to Eddie. The afternoon light is soaking tentatively inside, and it has been a long time since Eddie has felt this untethered; he’s not sure why this feels so monumental, only that it does. That he shouldn’t have missed this.

“I’m not sure…” Steve starts, shaking his head, shoulders tensing. “It’s not that deep, honestly, just—“

“Steve.” Eddie’s voice doesn’t break, but it’s a close thing.

Steve sighs. “It’s… Nice. To make something grow for once, you know, instead of…”

“Yeah,” Eddie whispers, his voice rough. He leans his forehead against Steve’s, breathes him in. “Yeah, I think I get it.”

Because he does, is the thing, the same way he has been pouring himself into their relationship, into his friendships with the kids, with Nancy and Robin and Jonathan. The same way he is tired, so tired of destruction and decay; he has no idea how much more true this must ring for Steve.

He still thinks that he should have gotten this sooner, that it should have been obvious, but he doesn’t apologize. Perhaps, in the end, it doesn’t matter, isn’t really about him or them. Either way, Steve seems content enough where he is, breathing slow and even in the dim kitchen, the smell of thyme and sage still lingering.

“So,” Eddie finally says, pulling back just far enough to grin at Steve. “Update for the flat search then, huh? A garden, or at least a balcony; can’t risk having you take up knitting next, my tattered reputation would not survive self-knitted scarves.”

Steve’s laughter is unexpected and bright, his head falling back so that Eddie can trace the familiar spattering of moles. He nuzzles his nose against it, the crook of Steve’s neck his favorite place in the world.

“Christ, but I love you,” Steve murmurs, his voice turning quiet once more.

It isn’t the first time either of them has said it, but Eddie’s heart still jumps and trips all over itself. He takes Steve’s face between his hands, makes sure to hold his gaze. Says, “For what it’s worth, I think we are growing this, too, just fine.”

He kisses Steve before he can answer, but he doesn’t miss when the dragon tree ends up on the windowsill of their bedroom that same night, re-potted and watered with care.

He doesn’t miss the way Steve’s fingers clench into his skin, trembling and desperate, when Eddie whispers, “Good, you are so good, Steve,” a vow pressed into his skin.

Eddie makes a second one—hours later when Steve is long since asleep—that he won’t stop saying it until Steve believes him, too.

#st #stranger things #steddie #steve x eddie #steddie fic #mona's writing

509 notes · View notes

itsawhumpsideblog · 26 days

Text

The Safehouse, pt. 18

CW: for institutionalized slavery, mentions of abuse, treatment of people as things, medical setting, surgery, panic attack, flashbacks, broken bones and treatment of same

Advice from the Box Boy Liberation Movement:

Given the percentage of rescuees who enter a safehouse with one or more injuries or illnesses which will require medical attention, it is probable that you will be accompanying rescuees to medical appointments early in their time with you. Obtaining medical care can present unique challenges for rescuees and it is important to exercise complete patience with them in a doctor's office or hospital setting. Be aware that the atmosphere in such facilities may bring up difficult memories or even trauma reactions. Be prepared to help rescuees through anxiety or panic attacks, even flashbacks.

The surgery took longer than Angie had expected, or hoped and as it entered the third hour, she was glad that she had gone to get lunch right after they took Mikey. Finding the cafeteria, eating the sandwich, and getting lost on the way back had taken almost an hour and a half; a call to Tim and a chat with the rest of the household had taken another half hour. Since then, she had been sitting in the uncomfortable hospital chair, watching the clock and fidgeting. Not for the first time, she opened a game on her phone, played for a few minutes, closed it, and then opened it back up.

Angie tried the TV and found that it was showing an infomercial trying to delude senior citizens into converting their savings into gold bars. She fiddled with the remote, couldn't get it to work, and turned the TV back off. Then she played a podcast she couldn't concentrate on.

She was tapping her fingers on the arm of the chair and staring into space when the door finally opened and Wanda came in, holding some paperwork and smiling. Angie jumped up, fighting down a sudden surge of nervous, excited energy.

"It went great," Wanda said, before anything else. "He did just fine and the doctor said she thinks the procedure was a success."

"Oh, fantastic," Angie said. "That's amazing. I'm so glad to hear it!"

"Me, too. Now, let's go over some paperwork while they finish getting him in a cast and then they'll bring him back here to wake up a little bit. We want him awake and... well, usually we would say talking. But let's go with 'alert' this time. Once he's feeling a little more like himself, we can send him home."

"Sounds great!" Angie could have giggled in sheer relief.

"Okay, so there's no discharge paperwork, as such." Wanda flipped through the papers in the folder. "Not for the hospital, anyway. We've got a form here that should go to your Network contacts, detailing what the surgery was, the cost of it- not that Dr. Silva is charging, but just so their accounting folks are aware- and some discharge instructions." She handed the folder to Angie. "We should be done with him in the next half hour."

"Thank you so much!"

"Of course!" Wanda smiled and let herself back out.

Angie sank back down into the uncomfortable chair in relief, grinning to herself. Then she remembered her other responsibility and picked up her phone.

"Tim?" she asked, when he picked up.

"Yup, I'm here and you're on speakerphone."

"Oh, super, thanks. Hi, guys! I just heard from the nurse. She says Mikey did really well and they're going to bring him back in a few minutes. We'll give him some time to wake up and then we should be on our way home in a couple hours. Just wanted to let you know."

"Did they give you the instructions and everything?" Tim asked.

"Yup, all the paperwork we need. I'll hand it off to you when we get back."

"Excellent, thanks. Text when you're on the way and I'll meet you outside, okay?"

"Yup, will do."

"Thanks for calling, we'll see you soon."

"See you soon!" She hung up, took a deep breath, and sat back to wait.

Mikey was unaware that he had woken up, the first time it happened. He had the impression of being somewhere soft, softer than the garden had ever been before, and warm, too. For the first time he could remember- the first time since the drugs had taken his memory away- there was no pain. He felt like he was floating in a warm cloud and his head was light and sleepy. He let the clouds carry him gently away.

Angie watched Mikey as he lay in the hospital bed, waiting for the anesthesia to wear off and for him to start coming around. He was totally still, which he had been for much of the past week, since his fall, but it felt different this time. He wasn't holding himself rigid, nervous and braced against pain. Instead, he just lay quietly, slightly slack-jawed as he slept. Once, his head stirred and a faint smile lifted one corner of his mouth before he sighed in soft contentment and his breathing slowed and evened as he drifted back off to sleep.

He was still sleeping when Dr. Silva came in with post-surgical information for Angie, outlining instructions for monitoring Mikey's recovery, acceptable activity levels, and a basic plan for continuing treatment.

"He did well," she said at last. "I know we really kept you waiting but-" she shook her head. "There was a lot to fix. He's going to be in the casts for a long time and some sort of brace for even longer. I'm not sure I can say exactly how long it'll be, not until we see how his healing is progressing. We're talking months, though, not weeks. The scarring is likely to be extensive, although we did our best. And his joints will probably always ache a little, especially that shoulder." She sighed. "I really wish it was all better news. But there is some good news, which is that when this is all said and done, eventually he'll be able to use his hands and arms. And he won't be in nearly as much pain, which is the important part. The process won't be pretty, but when it's done, everything will be much, much better."

"Thank you," Angie said. "He would thank you, too, if he could." She looked over and smiled at Mikey, still resting peacefully.

The peace did not last.

When the anesthesia wore off, Mikey woke suddenly and completely, the way he had done when he slept every night outdoors and needed to respond instantly to his Master. When his eyes snapped open, he realized that something was very, very wrong.

All he could see were white walls and a white ceiling with bright lights that seemed to shine directly into his eyes. The brightness stung and Mikey squeezed his eyes shut for just a second, as if, when he opened them, he might find himself somewhere more familiar.

But when he gathered his courage for a second look, nothing had changed. He was still in the strange, monochrome room with the blinding lights and he was lying down. Nearby, something was beeping ominously and Mikey felt his heart speed up and adrenaline dump into his system, like it did when he heard those first footsteps cracking a stick somewhere in the dark at the edge of Master's property.

His mind was still hazy from the drugs and not really awake yet, and Mikey had the terrible, foreboding sense that he wasn't supposed to be there- wherever "there" was.

It never occurred to him to be frightened by the fact that he did not remember having come to the strange, white room. Mikey lacked memories of so much that this new gap in his life was barely meaningful. What was very meaningful was that Master was going to wonder where he had gone.

Then, suddenly, Mikey had a flash of memory of another Pet, tall and thin and dark-haired, bringing him fruit wrapped in a towel, and his stomach clenched. If he was here, what had happened to the other Pet? Was he here, too, or had he been sent... Mikey could not even imagine where else the other pet might have been sent. But he knew it would be bad.

All these thoughts crossed Mikey's mind within seconds, a collection of fears and memories and associations that came to him automatically and without larger context. Then he realized, again, that he was lying down on a soft surface and he broke into a cold sweat.

Soft surfaces were not for Pets. He must not be found here. He had to move, whatever it cost him. The cost would be so much higher if they caught him like this.

But when Mikey tried to sit up, he couldn't. Something tugged at his face- a muzzle? It was blowing cold air into his nose. And he couldn't seem to bend his body to begin sitting, or force his aching muscles to lift him. Mikey looked frantically around but without actually taking in his surroundings.

He dropped one leg over the side of whatever the soft surface was and tried again to sit up and found that was impossible. When he swung his right arm up to try to shift his balance and rise, he was horrified to find that it was restrained, tied up in some kind of cloth, and he couldn't even see his fingers properly, only the very ends of them. When he tried to wiggle them, pain shot down his fingers and they didn't even move.

Even worse, his left arm was immobile. He couldn't see it under the blanket, but it was probably tied to something, strapped tightly down to keep him from doing what he knew a good Pet should do. He strained every muscle trying to sit up, kicked his legs to shift his balance, threw his right arm forward in almost grotesque exertion. But he barely moved.

When the door opened, if Mikey had been able to make a sound, he would have screamed. As it was, his eyes widened, his fight-or-flight response in full activation, and he tried one last time in futile terror to right himself.

"Oh my god," Mistress gasped. "Mikey, what- I was only gone for a second- I'm so, so sorry." She hurried over to the bed. "Hey, hey- careful, you- oh geez-" She put a steadying hand on his right shoulder and finally Mikey's eyes landed on her face.

It all came flooding back to him in a rush, like being struck. The terrible beating they had given him the night his old Master died; the time in a cage; the journey to live with Master and Mistress.

Then, even better, he remembered everything that had come since. A comfortable bed he was meant to use and enough food to eat and a television to watch; Nathan's cheerful company and the joy of being re-united with someone who had become a friend; gentle Francis who told him stories when he couldn't sleep and who held his head when he had fallen and was hurting.

Best of all, he remembered that Master smiled and laughed and spoke softly, and that Mistress talked to him like she enjoyed his company and she had kind hands and Master and Mistress looked after them and never, never hurt them.

Mikey remembered all these things in a flash of knowledge, the same sudden wash of memory that only moments before had caused him such terror, and then he realized that Mistress was standing over him with her hand on his shoulder. If it had been any of his old Masters, Mikey would have been frightened but he found that even now, standing like that, Mistress didn't frighten him at all. She didn't look angry, only dismayed and- maybe even worried.

He looked up at her as if he was searching for answers to many questions and she smiled comfortingly at him. "Do you remember where you are?"

Mikey wasn't sure and didn't know whether to nod or shake his head, so he simply waited and watched her.

"You're in the hospital," she reminded him and now he did nod, a little uncertainly. That might be true- he might remember the morning, if that wasn't a dream.

"You had surgery, to fix your shoulder and your hands and everything. You won't remember that, because you were asleep for it, but it's over now." He nodded again. "The doctor says you're going to be fine- your hands and arms will be a lot better when you're done healing."

He gave her another nod, since she probably expected it, but he wondered if she would explain why they had tied his left arm down. Mikey felt that there must be a reason for it, but something was making his head feel fuzzy and it was hard to think. Hoping she would understand, he raised his bound right hand and looked questioningly down at it.

"Yeah," she said, as if she was continuing a conversation. "I know that probably feels weird. And it's going to be hard, not having your right hand to use, even a little bit-"

Wait. What did she mean, he wasn't going to have his hand anymore? Forgetting the strange stiffness holding his left arm and the way he was restrained from sitting up, Mikey tried to raise himself and looked frantically from his hand to Mistress. His hand was still there, wasn't it? He could see his fingertips, a little bit, under the heavy bandages and surely it wouldn't hurt so badly when he tried to move it if he didn't have a hand-

Mistress made a face that Mikey didn't realize was guilt. "You don't remember what happened at all, do you?" she asked. He shook his head, a little frantically now, starting to feel his heart speed up and beginning to sweat.

"Oh geez. I'm sorry," she said, and he was surprised to find that she actually seemed to mean it. "I'll start from the beginning. So, during the surgery, they basically put all your bones back where they're supposed to be, right? So they can heal and they won't hurt all the time." Now Mikey nodded again as the memory slipped through the fog in his head, of Master explaining this at home last week.

"And now that it's done, they have to hold all those bones and joints and whatever still, so they can heal. So everything will stay where it's supposed to be. Right?" A nod. "And to do that, they put on some casts. The one on your right hand is like what Nathan had on his leg when he first came home. Remember that?" Mikey found that he did.

"They need your whole hand not to move for- I don't know, a long time. Like a couple months, at least. And they did the same thing to your left arm and your shoulder, but that was a lot worse and it's kind of an awkward spot, so they put the cast over your whole arm and then they attached it around your body to hold your shoulder still."

Mikey just stared. So he wasn't actually tied to the bed? But he couldn't move his arm at all. Well- he hadn't really been able to before, either. Maybe in some ways, this wouldn't be so different.

"Do you want to see it?" Mistress asked. She almost sounded nervous and Mikey wondered if he should be nervous, too. Very gently, Mistress drew back the blanket that covered Mikey from his shoulders down, except where he had thrown it off trying to get up.

When he could see it, he stared at his left arm. The cast was blue and covered his shoulder and then went all the way down over his fingers, just like the one on the right. His arm was bent at the elbow so that his forearm was parallel to the floor and angled across the front of his body. There was a band of the same material around his chest, holding his arm still.

"Does it feel really weird?" Mistress asked, and he didn't even bother to nod. Somehow, he felt that she would know his answer.

"Don't worry," Mistress told him, but it sounded more like an offer than an order. "We'll take care of you. You're going to be just fine."

Mikey nodded, but he thought that getting used to this was not going to be easy.

Next Time: Mikey comes home from the hospital, to his housemates' great relief.

Master List

Notes: These keep being longer than I expected, so I'm adjusting the previously listed summary to account for that. A good problem to have!

Tag list: @pigeonwhumps, @cepheusgalaxy, @i-eat-worlds, @honeycollectswhump @taterswhump, @starfields08000 @whumpsday, @fruitypinapple00, @currentlyinthesprial

#bbu #box boy universe #box boy whump #whump #whumpee #the safehouse #pet whump #surgery whump #medical whump

35 notes · View notes

heyidkyay · 10 months

Text

I guess I’ll take this pain, instead of your name |

Part Twenty-Six

A/n: Hey! Finally giving you 26 alongside some answers! Not sure how I feel about this part just yet, it was difficult to write but I hope you enjoy it all the same:) Let me know I suppose!

Summary: In life, things changed. The boys you'd once grown up with were men now, and famous ones at that. The type that toured the world and had millions of adoring fans.

The five of you shared a shit ton of history. But you also shared a lot of mixed emotions for one of them in particular, a certain drummer.

Warnings: Lots of feelings, swearing but should be expected this far in, mentions of toxic relationships

Masterlist

And wouldn’t you just’ve guessed it. Ross was sat waiting on the steps of the villa for me when I finally returned. He watched me as I stepped out of a cab and ambled my way up the long drive, a cigarette pinched between his steady fingers.

It was quiet. Had been since I’d left Alvaro at the hospital.

I’d wandered around for a bit, unable to do much else other than think. He’d really given me a lot to think about.

But then my migraine had started back up again and I’d suddenly felt sick to my stomach, I’d had to have this little old lady, working a stall, phone for a driver for me whilst I’d kept myself from spewing into the bath of a nearby fountain. It hadn’t been my finest moment but I’d made it back to the villa alive and the throbbing pain in my skull had dulled somewhat on the drive over.

Ross was watching still as I walked closer and took perch on the step beside him, thankful for the small amount of shade the roof provided us with, the heat was doing nothing for my remaining nausea. He didn’t say anything for a long while, nor did he offer me a drag or a smoke of my own, which I wasn’t too fussed about. But even if I had been, I couldn’t have brought myself to ask, the sickness still there but getting easier with each deep breath I took.

“Sent the lads out once we realised you were missing.” He murmured to me, eyes trained on the pebbled drive lain out before us.

I’d forgotten about them, the boys, in my hurry to escape. Just needing to unwind, desperate to forget, to get away. Matty had been asleep still, the others dotting about on their own. George… I had no idea, so I simply shook away the thought.

“Knew you’d be back soon enough though.” Ross went on, taking a longer drag when he realised I wouldn’t be adding much to the conversation. “How’s the head?” He then asked me, changing the subject completely.

I swallowed, toying with a loose thread on my cardi. “Nearly chucked up in this pretty fountain down by the old town, gave the locals a right show.”

He didn’t laugh but I saw the corners of his mouth turn upwards, so easily amused by my sufferings. “Probably thought you were hung to hell, out on the piss ’til morning.”

I hummed around a tiny smile, tugging on the thread and enjoying the way it unraveled for me. “How’s the album coming?”

If Ross was surprised by my question he didn’t let it show, merely tilted his head then shrugged a shoulder lazily. “It’s not. Matt’s mind is elsewhere and G is… well, G is being G.”

That familiar guilt throbbed in me again, a reminder.

“Can’t be helped though.” Ross sighed, flicking away some remnant ash. “Can’t force this shit. It comes or it don’t.”

We were swept up by a breezy quiet then, both of us lost in our own heads. I kept finding myself opening my mouth to say something though, once, twice, then three times. There was this heated little knot of anxiety balled in the hollow of my ribs and someone just kept on tugging at it tighter and tighter until I finally begun to feel it fray and splinter.

“I kissed George.”

Ross’s head snapped in my direction at having heard my muted admission, but my eyes were trained still on the lit cigarette he held in his hand as though he’d forgotten it was even there. “What?”

But I knew he’d already heard me.

“You kissed George?” He breathed out once I made no move to repeat myself.

I hummed again, swallowing down past the ache in my throat as I clung to my cardigan tighter. I glanced up at him when he didn’t say anything more, he was just staring back at me with these huge surprised eyes. I’d’ve smiled, it wasn’t every day you got to witness something like that, but couldn’t dim my anxiety.

“You kissed George.” Ross said again and I blew out a soft sigh whilst I let him internalise it. “When?” He asked me, unblinking.

“’S’mornin’.” I mumbled in answer, those fraying threads of anxiety polluting the rest of my body now, like maggots infecting a soldier’s already dirtied wound.

“Jesus Christ.” Ross breathed, shaking his head, and then he dragged a heavy hand down the length of his exhausted face. I suddenly felt like a chastised little kid getting ready to get told off. But Ross was better than that, he never rebuked the actions of the rest of us unless we took it a step too far- ‘Live and learn’ he’d often spout like the wise old man he truly was. “Explains why he had the face of a slapped arse then, don’t it?”

My brows rose but I didn’t push his reply. I didn’t want to know any more.

“What a way to start a holiday, hey?” He then added and we both had to laugh a little at his words, even if they were more depreciating than other. We shared another sigh and I watched on whilst he took one final drag before stumping the butt out, he glanced over to me after.

“I’m guessing the kiss is why you disappeared then?” Ross questioned, head tilted slightly as his eyes found mine. The smile I answered him with was wet and watery, and he could only lift an arm out towards me. “Oh, B…”

I let out a scoff of a cry at his pitiful words and fell limply into his side, feeling so incredibly lost. So stupid.

“It’s okay.” I heard him murmur above my head, both arms curling around my broken self to hold me better together. “It’ll be okay.”

Because it had to be, right?

—

I’d gone to bed after my impromptu sobbing session with Ross. How the man had yet to get sick of me and my onslaught of tears was beyond me- but I was thankful for it nevertheless. Especially when he brought a decent cuppa and a couple of biscuits to my bedside after.

That’d been a long while ago now though, long enough for the biscuits I hadn’t eaten to have gone stale and the tea discoloured and cold. I laid there, still, staring up at the ceiling.

When I was little I used to paint stars up there with strokes of my eyes, imagine dark blue hues and gradient purples surrounding planets and glowing suns. But then I’d grown up and the dark had crept its way in, drowning my pretty stars in its shadows.

I could still picture them sometimes though, mostly back when I’d been curled up in bed with George. I’d see them. Dimmer than the years before, but there, twinkling. They’d long since abandoned me again though. All I saw now was a blank ceiling staring back at me.

I sighed, forcing my eyes away from it and out towards the window where the sun had since set. I questioned how another day had so quickly slipped past me.

The boys had since returned too, I’d heard them stumble in an hour or two ago. Maybe even three. They’d wanted to check in, I’d seen their shadows dance beneath my closed bedroom door and heard their muted arguments. But my guess is that Ross somehow waylaid them, because they hadn’t pushed any further than that. Although, my phone had buzzed a couple dozen times.

It was somewhere on the floor, settled on the pile of clothes I’d stripped out of.

Quiet now though. The villa, I meant. My mind not so much. I still couldn’t work out for the life of me what the fuck I wanted. Scared and too fucking afraid to come to an actual decision. I didn’t want to be hurt again, but I also knew that either way I could be. So, I either push George further away and end up breaking my own heart, or risk everything and just have him do it for me, for the hundredth time.

Too many fucking thoughts. Too big a decision to make.

I wanted to bury myself in my pillow, burrow further away, but I could feel a headache coming on and so, in hopes to avoid it, I peeled myself from out under the safety of my covers and over to the door, figuring that a decent brew might just do the job.

The house was dimmed as I made my way down the stairs, only the outside porch lights were still on, though I could hear murmurs of movement as I passed by the guys’ rooms.

I kept the kitchen light off when I made my way over to the counter, instead opting to use the fridge as a lamp whilst I worked my way around the kettle, nicking one of the many Russian caravan teabags Matty so liked.

It was nice, down here alone, bare feet sliding across the chilled tiles as the evening air crept its way inside through the French doors. Peaceful almost. Once the tea was made I figured I’d make my way out there too and so I did, settled myself under the familiar peach tree I’d taken to seeing as it’d been a few days since I’d had the opportunity to hide out underneath it.

I could see the ripples in the pool from here, as well as the shorts some of the boys had left out to dry, three pairs of them all slung over a sun-lounger, a damp puddle beneath. I sipped away at my tea and felt myself longing more and more for a cigarette, I hadn’t had one since the night spent with George, and even then it’d hardly been a drag.

But what I wouldn’t do for another.

A small sigh escaped me and I settled my teacup down to the side so that I could pull my legs in closer, knees tucked up under my chin as the wind danced over my bare skin.

“What would you do then, hey?” I heard myself whisper out into it, eyes casted upwards towards the so-called heavens. “Probably wouldn’t say much. Just sort my mess out for me, yeah?”

I blew out a tiny wet chuckle, knowing I was dead right.

It was nights like these that I just found myself talking to him, my dad that is. Not often but enough. On days when things felt heavier, harder.

It had been a long time since I’d last done so. That fact alone also reminded me of how much time had passed since he’d been gone. Been gone longer than I’d ever known him. We’d never had enough time. But that was just life, wasn’t it?

I vividly remember the day he passed. I’d felt it long before they’d ever even told me. Sat on the bottom step of the staircase, phone pressed tightly to my ear. I’d felt it. I’d known something had happened. But he’d been at the hospital and she’d been there with him. So I’d phoned, and she’d said everything was fine. But I’d known. I’d felt it deep down. Something had shifted.

It made me wonder now, here in this pretty little garden, how many times a heart could shatter before it stopped letting you put it back together. Too many pieces lost in the explosion. Not enough parts to make it work the same.

My dad’s death had taken a few too many pieces, I think. The rest had just followed.

Now, he wasn’t much of a gambler, my old man, but I knew that he’d bet a pretty penny if he was here right now on my next decision. He’d always had a way of knowing my next move before I’d ever even thought it. Wise in his own way and not the traditional sort. Hated school but loved anything that could keep his hands and mind busy. Could read people better than he could most words.

I was wired in a similar way.

And I couldn’t stop myself from wishing then that he could only hear me so that he’d just tell me what I was going to do next.

It was hard, not having him here.

“You ever think they look back?”

My head jerked upwards like a horse dislodging a fly at the unexpected voice, only to find George stood there by the door, bare foot too with his hands tucked into his pockets. I gaped for a brief moment before I swallowed down my surprise and followed his nod over to where the stars were twinkling high above.

“Maybe.” I replied, unable to help myself.

George hummed and stepped closer, down off the step he was tittering on. I wondered how long he’d been there. “Always loved them though, you have. Remember you dragging me out into the fields late at night to watch them years back. Only ever loved London in the day because at night they were too hard to spot.”

I exhaled the heaviness I felt weigh on my chest. “They give me hope. Let me pretend that things last.”

“What d’you mean?” He questioned, both our voices far too quiet. Too careful. There were lines being tread now.

I shrugged a single shoulder, chin digging deeper into my shin as I stared up at the well-lit sky. “They die, don’t they? Just like us. Give the illusion that they’re permanent, that they’ll never fade out. But they do, we just don’t see it. Don’t realise that they’re all just dying millions of miles away.”

“Biblical that.”

I snorted at his dry response, a soft sound I couldn’t quite help. “Far from.”

He merely hummed again, then took another step closer drawing my attention, I dipped my head once and then looked away when he pointed down to the ground beside me. I focused on keeping my breathing even as he settled there, stretching his legs out before us.

“Where’d you disappear to then?” After you kissed me… George questioned after a minute.

I wet my lower lip and let a hand slip from where it’d been curled around my leg to toy with the tea I’d brought out with me. It’d gone cold.

“I walked around for a bit. Just thinking.”

“Ah.” He replied, a very George like reaction if I did say so myself. So monosyllabic. “Anything good?”

I huffed a small amused chuckle, wrinkling the cup’s dark liquid. “Did I think of anything good?”

“Hm.”

I shook my head, flicking away the wetness I’d gathered on my fingertips. “Dunno. Not really. Just had a lot on my mind.”

“Thing with thinking, is that it’s dead useful, but only sometimes.” George retorted and I glanced over to find him fidgeting with the grass beneath us. “Most days I just wish everything would shut up. Gets too loud and I can’t even escape it, you know? ‘Cause it’s all in my head.”

I did know.

He looked up and caught me staring, gifted me the tinniest of smiles from beneath shadowed eyes and dark lashes. “Seen any shooting stars whilst you been out here then?”

I returned the sentiment, eyes lingering on the curve of his lips, remembering…

“No, but you know me, luck’s never been very fortunate to us.”

George’s gaze drifted between my own. “I don’t know about that,” He said, voice velvety and low. “You seem to do alright on your own.”

I scoffed a quiet laugh. “Yeah, if you could call it that.”

George’s elbow nudged my side. “Come on, look at what you’ve got. A job you love, people you love, smile of an angel.”

I nudged him right back, mostly in retaliation for that last comment. Charmer, just like Nana had always claimed.

“Oh yeah, can’t complain me.” I joked, mind stuck on every bad thing that’d ever been thrown at me. And though I tried not to let it show, he still knew.

He knew me better than I knew myself. And vice-versa. I’d almost forgotten that fact about us.

George was turned better towards me now, his stance a little more open, and in the haze of the moonlight I caught sight of his eye, my head shot out to really see it.

“Oh God,” I gasped mutedly, hand reaching out towards the welt on his face before I could think better of it. “Did I do that?”

George just laughed me off, hand catching mine before I could touch the injured eye, my attention snapped down towards it, though he didn’t release me. “It’s not that bad, just raised a bit, like you said it would. Go down in a day or two.” He assured and I could only mutter another quiet sorry before he was shaking his head at me and smiling. “It was an accident- and even if it weren’t, it’s the least I deserve, innit?”

He laughed whilst I simply scowled. “Don’t say that.”

“What? It’s true, ain’t it?” George replied, “Been so shit to you. Never fucked up more. So I wouldn’t blame you for it even if you did choose to batter me.”

I rolled my eyes. “I don’t want to hurt you, George.”

“Like I did you?” He quipped straight back, hard eyes trained on mine now, “‘Cause it’s the truth. I fucking promised no one would ever hurt you again, all those years ago. Remember that? And look at where we are now. I’ve broken that promise nine times over.”

I let go of a heavy sigh, “G, you haven’t-”

“The fuck I haven’t! I have! I have. And do you know what’s worse?” He asked me, hand still cradling mine, hold soft and gentle. “I have the fucking nerve to sit here and ask you to forgive me, to take me back.” He scoffed at himself and my breath caught when he finally dropped my hand. “The things I‘d do to take it all back.” He muttered deeply, clucking his tongue as he shook his head.

“I wouldn’t want you to.” I told him honestly, my reply surprising both him and I.

“How can you say that?” He looked back at me, his expression pinched.

I shrugged, casting a long glance out over towards the pool. “‘Cause you can’t take it back, can you? So there’s no real point in trying, or stressing about the things we’ll never be able to change. Life is shit, you deal with it.”

George released a shaky breath and dragged a rigid hand over the back of his head. “I really messed you up, didn’t I?”

That made me pause. It was too close to the truth.

“No more than anyone else did.”

The sound that escaped him then shocked me to my core and my head snapped back over to where he was perched beside me, tears in his eyes, mouth strained to keep any other sound like it from falling out. He wouldn’t look at me, just kept on shaking his head. “And that’s what kills me.” He breathed, voice tight, cheeks hollowed. “God. That’s what fucking kills me.”

I didn’t know what to say. I could only stare at him, wind caught on the lump in my throat.

I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen him cry, but I knew it’d never been like this.

“George-” I whispered out, unable to utter much else, but he just shook his head again, rubbing at his eyes.

“Nah, it’s fine.” He sniffed, chuckling at himself whilst he worked his jaw to keep from outwardly crying anymore. “It’s- well it’s like I said, ain’t it? No less than what I deserve. Fuck. I’m just so sorry. So fucking sorry. And I’m not sure if I’ve even told you that yet.”

“You have.” I reassured him in a croaky whisper, I couldn’t tear my eyes away from him. “You did.”

“I want to take it all back. I just want to do it all over.” He choked out, trying so very hard to avoid my gaze, to not let me see him cry. “I want so fucking much, but, there’s not much point in wanting, is there? I can’t take it back, I can’t make it make sense. And I can’t tell you how much I wish that I’d never fucking let you go in the first place. That I’d ever let myself fuck up the best thing I’ve ever had. No fucking point, no use!”

I untangled myself from my position to reach out towards him, fingers catching the side of his face like they had that very same morning. My mind flashed back to him in my bed, my lips against his. I forced his face towards me, coaxing him, “Look at me, will you? Just look at me. I need you to see. Okay? I need you to look at me and see the mess that I’ve become, the mess that I’ve always been, yeah? Because neither of us are fucking perfect, G, and, sure, you might’ve messed up, you might’ve hurt me, but that doesn’t just make me stop loving you, okay? That doesn’t erase our past and make everything that we’ve ever shared just go away. Alright? I need you to know that. I need you to understand that no matter what happens from here on out, that you will always be apart of my life. I need you to know that. I just- I need you to, okay?”

His dark and watery eyes were flitting back and forth, left then right, between my own, blatant shock staring me back in the face. I had to tell him though, he had to know. He had to.

“You hear me?” I shook his head in my hands and he raised his to cover my own, he nodded at me, just barely, and let his fingers rest against mine. My eyes were locked on his, I saw every emotion he’d ever felt flit through those brown eyes, because we were like magnets, George and I, when we collided nothing else on God’s green Earth could pull us apart, and in that moment I wanted it to always stay that way. With him beneath me, the stars in his eyes.

My forehead was pressing against his before I’d even felt myself lean in, knees hooked over either side of him, pressing deep into the soil. His hands stayed with mine, but his eyes were hooked on me so intensely that I had to let my own fall close. His fingers interlocked with mine. I felt his breath tickle my skin.

My heart ached like a hole that had been torn through my chest and it felt as though we were floating, far from the villa and its peach tree, from the Earth and all its noise. Like we’d just gone and switched the entire planet off.

I heard his swallow. And fuck, he was so shaky it almost felt like holding onto my very own earthquake.

“I’m right where you left me, Birdie.” George murmured into the blank space between us, that inch of air that separated us. And those words just rendered me helpless.

And who could really blame me? Blame me for being drawn in again. For reaching out and cupping his familiar face, for trailing a careful thumb over the curve of his cheek to the corner of his mouth.

He made me so irrational. Made me forget. Had me faltering above him, even when I had the upper hand here, made my lips part on their own accord just as his nose lightly brushed my own. I couldn’t waste another second debating with myself, looking for answers that ceased to come; I slid my hand to the back of his neck and let him draw me in further, pausing only slightly for just a second before my lips found his.

It felt like coming home, kissing George. So familiar, with a vague sentiment of relief. The kiss was slow and delicate, probing almost, like we were both still trying to get over the fact that it was even happening. This kiss so unlike the one we’d shared before.

George responded in kind, let his lips fall open even more to savour it, his hands diving to my waist, fingers pressed into my sides.

I’d pictured this, made up so many scenarios in my head over the span of the last year that it was hard to rationalise the how and the why. But it was happening and I couldn’t bring myself to stop it, to pull apart.

George was so tender this time around and I welcomed him in when he ran his tongue searchingly beneath my own. The softness of the kiss had me falling further into his embrace, and he didn’t even bat an eyelid, simply held me up. Like before. His touch grew more needy, fingers digging deeper into my waist when I pressed my chest up against his, teeth grazing lightly over my bottom lip enough for me to let out a soft moan, a moan that he then swallowed whole.

And it was then that I felt so overwhelmed, wanting more. Needing more than just this. But I couldn’t bring myself to shift any closer, to have him lay back, to lose myself in the madness that was him. His hands slipped to my hips, fingertips skimming the edge of my top, touching skin, it was that which made me stiffen, pull away.

I was breathing heavily, as was George when he quickly dropped his hands and allowed me to create some much needed space between us again. My head swimming.

“We can’t.” I attempted to say and he nodded, eyes taking in everything they could of my face. I must’ve looked a right picture as I inhaled shakily above him. “Not like this. I- we need to talk.”

George nodded again, I watched his chest rise and fall, watched him rub his lips together. Gaze trained on me.

“We can’t.” I whispered again, but I no longer knew who I was speaking to.

“We can’t.” He parroted me, seeming to really understand the words now. He inhaled sharply and then glanced down. “But if we can’t, then you’ve really got to get off my lap now, B.”

I followed his gaze and blinked, realising my position. “Shit, yeah. Yeah, sorry.”

George blew out a faint chuckle, watching as I rolled off him. Warier still whilst rearranging himself, as though he was scared to take another wrong step. “No need to say sorry, always enjoy a lapful of you.” He gifted me a kind grin. “But you are right. We should talk.”

Talk. It felt like all we’d done since the night of my birthday is talk. We were talking and talking, saying an awful lot without saying much at all. But I had no idea where to start here.

Thankfully though, he did.

“I ended things.”

The air in my lungs froze as I moved to inhale, never having expected that to be the thing he’d start with. A truth, yes, but one I hadn’t thought he’d admit out loud, let alone to me.

“You did.” I breathed, blowing the stilted air through my nose as I fought not to let the ground shift beneath me. Talk, we were finally talking.

“And I was a fucking idiot.”

I scoffed out a surprised laugh, “You are.”

He smiled at me, but it was hastily replaced by a melancholy I hadn’t much seen on him before.

“I should’ve just spoken to you. I realise that now, but I was so fucking lost, B. Like, I could hardly even think, let alone open up about how I was feeling.” He murmured to me, hands clasped tightly in his lap, I watched them whilst he watched the sky once more. “I was too scared. I was a fucking coward. And when I left, I realised I couldn’t go back. ‘Cause that look you had on your face.” He shook his head, inhaling deeply, “That look…” He blew out the breath. “God, I’d never hated myself more.”

I didn’t say anything in return. Whether it was due to my surprise at the pair of us finally hashing things out, or something other, I couldn’t be sure.

George continued on and I was confused by his next question, “You remember the week before it?”

I just had to nod, “Vaguely.”

It’d been a normal week, him in the studio, me at work. Hadn’t seen much of each other but he still came home each night, we fell asleep together. Like always.

He huffed then sucked in a cheek, chewing on his lip in thought, eyes stuck on the horizon. “I’d leave early morning, walk around for a bit, then end up in the studio and not leave ’til late. I couldn’t sleep at night, so I’d just lie there with you. If I caught a couple hours then I’d be able to plaster on a smile for you, the guys. But my head was properly fucked. Couldn’t stop thinking. Phone wouldn’t stop ringing. Ended up drinking just to get through the days. All ‘cause I felt fucking sorry for myself.”

It didn’t make much sense. But I couldn’t bring myself to ask or to look away, sure that I’d see something in his next movement that would fill me in or maybe hear it in his words.

He toyed with the grass. “Mum phoned me a couple times before that week. She showed up the Friday before everything went to shit.”

I gave a slight nod again as I took it in, understanding a little better now. It explained his mood. How quiet he’d been. I’d reckoned he was just tired, drained from constantly working the way he did. But if his mum was involved, then I had no idea what could’ve gone down. Nothing good though.

“I’d always kept her at a distance since we’d left Manchester.” He went on to say, “We spoke when needed, saw each other when she asked. Mostly for my dad’s sake though.”

But I already knew all this.

“She turned up that Friday ‘cause I’d kept on dodging her calls. No warning. Just turned up out of the blue. And I was mainly just thankful that she’d managed to catch me on the way out, instead of at the flat with you. Didn’t want you to see her, her to see you.” George admitted quietly, eyes flicking towards me for a split second before darting away again. “No clue how she’d known where to find me either, but she’d driven all night- or so she claimed. And I felt as though I owed it to her to hear her out, so we walked on over to that little cafe on the corner of our road and she told me she couldn’t take much more.”

I frowned. “Take much more of what?”

“Me.” He laughed, a hollow sound that made me still. “Had enough of me, of the papers, the headlines. People back home. She was embarrassed apparently. And I could understand somewhat, the drugs she’d never liked, the drinking too excessive, but then she reckoned she’d been told a couple stories, yeah?”

Confused, my frown only deepened. “Stories?”

He licked at the flesh of his lip, my eyes tracked the movement then dropped down to where he was drumming his thumb on his kneecap. He wouldn’t look back at me.

“Stories. Just, gossip, you know. From the locals back home.” George stated, gaze jumping from one thing to the next. But never landing on me. “She’d hurt her hip the year before and so she’d stopped working remotely, decided to ease her hours down so that she could take things a bit easier. Dad seemed all for it when he’d let me know, having her back home. But, that meant she was actually there and I reckon that’s why people took note of her. She hadn’t been around much since the band started but you know how them lot are, they like to talk. To stick their noses in everybody else’s business but their own, wanted word on us lot down in London. If we were really making it big.”

George rolled his eyes then swiped a tongue across his front teeth. It angered him, irritated him when people felt as though they deserved to know the ins and outs of his entire life. He was a private person for the most. And I knew it agitated him more for the fact that his mum had been involved.

“What stories, George?” I asked, heart in my mouth. Because I already knew, didn’t I?

He worked his jaw, thumb still tapping relentlessly away. I wanted to reach out and still the movement, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t bare to move.

“What stories?” I prodded again, firmer this time.

“About Matt and his family, him using. Rehab. If I were the same way. You know.” George replied hurriedly, jaw still tightly wound, and I titled my head at him wanting to hear the rest of it that was bound to come. “She said some vile things, yeah? And, I don’t know. I just, it, they pissed me off. I didn’t want to stay sat there and listen to her rant, just let her go on and fucking on-”

I cut him off. “What else did she say, George?”

He closed his eyes and then slowly turned his head towards me, I saw the guilt swimming in them when they reopened, the pain, the anger. “They told her all there was to know about you. They told her all about you, Birdie.”

Suddenly my tongue was too heavy to sit comfortably in my mouth and my eyes were stinging in time to match the swelling of my throat. They’d told her about me. And I wasn’t stupid enough not to realise exactly what that meant. What had been said. I knew what they all thought of me, what they’d always thought ever since that fucking night. Knew that they still let him walk around free, that they listened to his tales, to his lies. That they whispered about my mum, the neglect, the things I’d supposedly done to have survived living in that poor house. George knew I knew too. That’s why he’d been so reluctant to say. That’s why he’d-

“That why you fucking walked out then?” I spat at him, my anger misplaced but I didn’t care. I didn’t care that he’d been the one to hold me through most of it, didn’t care for his previous claims, because he’d left, hadn’t he? And this was the fucking reason.

George opened his mouth to speak, brow pinched, but I didn’t let him get a word in edgeways.

“What, was it too much for your big rockstar image then? To have a girlfriend as fucked as me? What, were you suddenly embarrassed, George? Did your mum make you finally see sense? Reason?” I laughed bitterly and moved to stand, to walk the fuck away from him and all the emotions he pulled so effortlessly out of me, but a firm hand caught my wrist and I snapped my gaze down towards him. “Don’t grab me like that.”

Immediately George released me and he looked apologetic for a brief moment, but that anger was still there and that only sent my guard up more.

“You know fucking better than that!” He retorted heatedly, “Don’t just section me off with the rest of them, yeah? ‘Cause you know I don’t deserve that. I was fucking there! I never left. I was there through it all. And never once did you ever or have you ever embarrassed me! Not you, not your life, not your fucking story! So just don’t, eh. Don’t go and say shit like that to me. Not when we both know that it’s the furthest thing from the truth.”

“Then what am I supposed to believe, George!” I shouted back at him, tears welling in my eyes, hands fisted to keep from lashing out, to keep from breaking completely. “Because how can I not assume that, when you’ve treated me exact same way they have! When you pushed me out and fucking left without even a warning, without a reason! Tell me, what am I supposed to think!”

“I left to fucking protect you, you daft cow!” George shot back, bewildered with his face so open. “I left because there was no other fucking way to keep you safe from the rest of the fucking world! I left ‘cause she threatened to tell people, to sell it all to the tabloids or whoever the fuck would listen, if I didn’t get my act together, if I didn’t-”

“If you didn’t leave me.” I finished for him.

All the fight seemed to drain out of the two of us then. George’s head dropped in acknowledgment and I pressed my lips tightly together as I casted a blurry glance out over the rest of the garden to keep from outwardly sobbing. If I cried now, I didn’t know if I would ever stop.

“And you listened.” I pinched the bridge of my nose, rubbing at my strained eyes, the headache that had been tittering was a full blown minefield now, exploding across the length of my skull. “You listened.” I repeated and heard the way my voice cracked, how dry my throat felt.

“Of course I listened. There was nowt else I could do! You were fine being in the background, watching us. You didn’t want anything else! If I’d’ve let her leave, she would’ve told everyone. She’s fucking spiteful if nothing else, can’t stand to see me happy, would be better off seeing me skint on my arse and working in a factory than have any of this. This life. She hates it!”

“And what does she think of me now, hey? Must reckon I’m some cheap skank dirtying you up, dragging you down with me.” I scoffed at the very thought, but mostly because it felt much too close to the truth. I had been dragging him down with me and it hurt to realise that he’d probably be better off never having even laid eyes on me.

He pointed a finger towards me hotly which counteracted the way he shook his head so sadly. “Don’t say shit like that, okay? ‘Cause I know exactly what you’re thinking. I know it, because I know you. Not once have you ever, ever made me feel that way. When I’m with you-” George blew out a breathy laugh, “With you it’s like there is no one else. Don’t you get that? Didn’t you see the fucking state you left me in? I was a mess! You were the only thing ever keeping me on track. How can you not see that?”

“George, look at where you are!” I argued with him, “Look at the life you’ve built for yourself. The places you’ve been, the people you’ve met! And yet here you are, still sat with me, a florist who can hardly tie a ribbon, a girl sick beyond help, asking for another chance. You could do better, George, you know it. ”

“Fuck you.” He was angry again, but more sad than angry this time, his nose flared and his eyes were cut towards me. “Nah, honestly fuck you for saying that. For thinking it at all! ‘Cause I’m the one who left you, B. Not just once, no, not just fucking once, but twice. Twice! I should’ve manned the hell up! Pulled myself together and been there for you after that accident. Not walked away when you needed me most and left you in that ambulance! On your own! With fucking strangers there instead of me! Me! I’m not the one who deserves better, Birdie, that’s all you.”

He chuckled, though not one full of humour. One of mourning regret, the kind that seemed to catch you dizzyingly and make it so you couldn’t make any other sound. I stared at him, chest rising and falling with each trembling breath.

“And what life would I actually have if hadn’t been for you, eh? What life?” George added, prodding further, and I saw that he was crying too, silently like me, eyes shinning with unshed tears. “Because if I remember rightly, it was you that gave this all to me. You who walked in and changed everything.”

“How the fuck did I do all this then?” I laughed, more of a broken sob than anything else though, shaking my head at him with a pitiful smile. “How is this all down to me!”

“You don’t see it, do you?” He whispered to me quietly in reply and it made me realise how loud we must’ve been, screaming at the top of our lungs. “You’re the one who gave me the boys, the band. You’re the person who gave me a fucking escape, Birdie. ‘Cause you might claim to be screwed up, B. But I’m exactly that, only twice as bad.”

“You’d have gotten here in the end, G. You’re too talented not to’ve.” I told him in a defeated tone, too tired to continue on with this pissing contest anymore, to scream and shout and claim to be the worser person. He’d left me. And yeah, he’d left me more than once, but who could blame him? Who could honestly put up with the likes of me? “We all make choices and, yeah, the ones you’ve been making as of late have been shit. But we live with them. We learn. You’d’ve made something of yourself, George, with or without me.”

George sighed heavily and forced his head back to stare up at the dark night sky, whilst I wiped helplessly at my tear stained cheeks and the wetness which clung to my chin.

“But I did it with you, B.” He finally spoke before he released another breath and dropped his head down to look back at me. “And I wouldn’t change that for anything in the world. I did it with you. I did it all for you. So that me and you could leave that fucking town. So that I could keep my promise.”

My heart broke just as his voice did on that very last word.

“I love you. And I don’t care how long I have to spend proving that to you. But if it takes me the rest of my fucking life, then I’ll do it without complaint. Because you are it for me, Birdie. I’ve lived without you, and I didn’t like it much. You are the only thing I need.”

I stared at him.

“What about your mum, the fans?” I voiced the hushed question into the otherwise silent garden.

He licked at his lower lip and I watched the way his eyes flickered when he sucked in another long breath. “That’s down to you. I can’t protect you from the world, I should’ve listened when you told me that all those years ago, but I’ve learnt now. And maybe, maybe I’m scared too. Maybe I’m terrified to hurt you all over again, or for you to just give up on me. But I’m asking for a chance, and with it, I’m prepared to give up everything else.”

I cocked my head at him, confused. “What do you mean? Give what up?”

“This.” He told me plainly and I knew, my lips parted and I could only shake my head in return.

“No. No, I’d never ask you to do that, and fuck you for even thinking I would.”

George reached out to me then, hands carefully taking my forearms, an attempt to soothe me. Like old times, I thought. I wondered if he thought the same, or if it was just instinctual.

“You wouldn’t have to ask, B. And I’m not asking you to. I’m telling you now that I don’t care what I have to lose. This? This life? It means nothing without you in it. It means nothing if you aren’t here to share it all with me. I’ve lived it. I suffered through it, felt nothing but fucking regret.” He murmured and it was then that I felt the first few drops of summer rain. “A chance. That’s all I’m asking for.”

“A chance.” I mimicked, blinking at him from under wet lashes whilst raindrops came down heavier around us.

“Just a chance.” He assured me before he wiped the dampening hair from off my cheek, hands resting either side of my face. “That’s all I’m asking for.”

Part Twenty-seven>

91 notes · View notes

sankatsuka · 2 months

Text

My Personal Journey with Project SEKAI: How Haruka Kiritani Changed My Perspective on Life

I recently watched a heart-touching video on Omori, and it inspired me to want to express my own feelings about the special place Project SEKAI has in my heart.

I hesitated to share this because of how deeply personal and depressing it is and would leave a bad taste in the mouths of people who want to enjoy Haruka (and Tsukasa) without the lens of depression. But I really want people to take Project SEKAI's writing more seriously instead of treating it as some trauma complexity competition. It would be nice if this could resonate with some people and give some hope to them.

I don't consider myself a victim of ableism, but my struggle is objectively about ableism - so my personal answer may be triggering and something people would not agree with/be able to live with.

TW for ableism and suicide ideation.

For all my life, I suffered from feeling like everyday was empty and was like dying, but I was never comforted for it and thus came to the delusional view that everyone was the same and going through this. 'All of us are trying to become someone we aren't because the world won't accept us for who we really are, so of course I shouldn't expect comfort,' or so I thought. But there was no story that could clearly express this pain - I have felt it several times in fictional characters I'm drawn to, but it was sadly never the focus of the story. Because of this, I always dreamed of creating a story that could strongly express these feelings so all of us can open our eyes to it and not have to suffer alone anymore, and it's what kept me going for years. That is, until I found Wonderlands x Showtime from Project SEKAI.

When I first read the unit story, I recognized a lot of Tsukasa's behaviours and lit up - this was it. This was the story I had always been looking for.

I thought it was a given everyone would have perceived Tsukasa the same way I did. He was the leader character who was trying to become someone else: the framing of 'chasing stardom = couldn't stand life living as himself' couldn't get anymore obvious than that. These were the feelings that drove me to write A True Star as the seeds were so obviously planted but the writers just weren't sowing them. But the fandom was a wake-up call for me that not everyone suffered the same way and could see it, especially as Tsukasa became more and more forcibly fitted into the comfort sunshine boyfriend stereotype by the fandom. Even the people who were touched by my writing had vastly different views from me. It taught me that people are different and feel things differently, and suddenly I no longer knew what I wanted.

Mafuyu was never relatable for me, because I could never relate to being in so much pain to the point of not feeling guilt when people want to help you. For me, everyday was just dull - I could smile and laugh genuinely along with people, but something just felt missing and it made me feel dead inside. I kept aiming to become good at something so I could feel whole, but the motivation was just never there. But what was most painful above all, was the fact that I felt no one ever took my tears and emotions seriously, no matter how much I tried to express myself. This is what I could only perceive in Tsukasa and WxS at the time, and fuelled me into writing A True Star.

But I started feeling more and more guilty and selfish of my feelings for Tsukasa because of Curtain Call. Given the angst, more fans would probably be wanting to see a focus on Rui instead of Tsukasa. I also believed that the writers should be focusing on Rui, because if it made the fans happy, then they SHOULD write Tsukasa off as his fandom oversimplification so as to not overshadow Rui. Tsukasa's pre-established angst and Rui's apparent angst in Curtain Call just couldn't coexist to me without ruining the message and impact of the other. I decided my feelings were just self-pitying exaggeration and shouldn't be captured, and people who related to me should stop living that way. Because of that guilt, I found myself unable to write and draw the things that used to make me happy. I spent a long time paralyzed because of this, crying and suffering everyday from feeling that the dream I had for the longest time turned out to be stupid and there would never be anything fun for me to look forward to. A day didn't go by without me contemplating suicide. This was why I quit Twitter.

But I still couldn't let go of my feelings no matter how hard I tried to - I wanted to see my dream. I wanted to see it touch the hearts of people, for them to realize how painful it was being this way, that my feelings and those like myself were never an exaggeration.

In that same period of time, when I was begging my body to move and do something productive and not be like this over a fucking fictional character, going to counselling and reading all sorts of self-help articles to get over it - I briefly recalled Haruka's story. I finally understood how she felt: being unable to do what you love as you can't help but feel you're just an unwanted burden to others. Even if there are people out there who enjoyed your works, it doesn't matter because you're a fake and there are other better people out there who have more meaningful things to say than you. But even so, you can't let go. She gave me the answer to my dilemma in Painful Hope: to forgive yourself for being different and needing comfort in your own way. Even if it's not a big deal to others, it most certainly is a big deal to you.

Haruka Kiritani surprisingly broadened my perspective on life. I had never understood her character at the start, thinking she was just the stereotype of a responsible girl. I always thought I was a certain way - exaggerated like Tsukasa, but in reality I was far more simpler and pathetic than that. I just felt overly responsible for everyone's emotions for how painfully sensitive I am to people and my surroundings, that I never thought enough about expressing myself. That if I made someone unhappy, something bad would happen. And the big problem was, I believed I always made people unhappy for being different.

Wanting to be saved by the dream of the entire world acknowledging your suffering and being there for you? I only then realized how delusional it was and how it just made me look farther away from myself and worsened my life. How about using those strong senses to just be present and appreciate every moment of being human and alive instead? Enjoying the happy times with all your heart, letting yourself just feel the pain when someone hurts you, live everyday looking forward to more encounters that would enrich your life... Maybe along the way, you may even miraculously find something that completes you. (I LOVE YOU IF!!! THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR CHANGING ME YURRY CANON AND HARUKA KIRITANI!!!!)

It isn't about discarding your suffering, it's about acknowledging reality: there are so many people living in the world, it can't just be the way you need it to be for your happiness - but you can change. You just have to live for something that you can attain for sure, like facing the pain and emptiness of everyday for what it is and having hope for happier days. (My favourite anime of all-time Gintama captures this sooooo well, delusion vs reality, how both of them are equally important - please watch it. Now don't get me started on how strongly similar Project SEKAI and Gintama are--).

Besides, I wouldn't want people to change for me. I love them for who they are, and I was just blinded running away thinking no one would ever want me around as me. But now, I live trying to face the reality that there will be people who care and want me to be happy. I'll live with the pain of people not caring about me so I can fully experience those happier times when they come. And just because people don't care doesn't mean they're terrible people - the world is huge, there are too many options and choices for people to make.

Even if life is always so painful, there are times it's still so fun. I just can't let go after all.

Haruka Kiritani is the reason I stopped entrusting my ridiculous dream to Tsukasa and I'm not in as bad a place mentally anymore. I was just delusional like Tsukasa was, thinking achieving your dream would change everything and make you finally feel wanted and enough (lol, the meta is crazy). I'm grateful the scenario writers didn't give me what I wanted right away with Tsukasa - because then, I wouldn't have noticed the beauty in Haruka's writing. I'm pretty confident that WxS is definitely going in the direction I dreamed of (the same message I wanted to convey in A True Star), but it doesn't really matter much to me anymore now.

I can't go along with dreams of being saved anymore. I understand wanting them, I really did. But right now, what's more important to me is the love people have for me in the present, even if it's imperfect, flawed and hurts so much. I don't ever want to be saved if it means turning a blind eye to people who want me around and failing to respond to them as I've been doing up till now. I'm still not fully understood, which is why it hurts - but as long as I respond as seriously as I can, things might hopefully change someday. I've always been loved, and I want to cherish that. It's because of that I can no longer muster the emotions and anger to write A True Star anymore.

I slowly started realizing more and more similarities in Haruka too. There was such a small detail in Towards The Dream of That Day (Focus 3) that meant the world to me: the small moment where a young Haruka expresses discomfort with the crowd. Can you imagine that this sensitive girl who gets tired from crowds is now a top idol?

"...But there were so many people, I think I might be a little exhausted."

It didn't even hit me when I read that part, but I had a memory just like that with my own mother which slipped my mind. It's probably happened so many times my family had to take care of me in crowds in the past. But I had been so immersed in the delusion that I could overcome anything, that I completely forgot I was always the shy, fragile young girl to my family.

We have both always been loved and seen by people around us, but we just don't feel good enough that we end up trying to become someone else. It also doesn't help when your family thinks you can grow out of it - but if they love you, they will try to understand and you will feel that love if you're present. This is a big reason why living in reality is now so important to me - to properly respond to my loved ones, so that we can someday see eye-to-eye. And not to forget, to be able to smile and have fun with all my being once again.

More recently, it finally sunk in that I have always been terrible at smiling. I hated taking photographs because I could never get it to look the way I want it to, because no matter how hard I tried to smile, it just couldn't turn out natural. My mother has always pointed it out ever since I was young, but I didn't acknowledge it because I knew I could smile more naturally if I was in the mood - which is true... it isn't even autism, because when I'm talking about or doing something I love, I would be smiling and laughing so hard that my friends and family take notice. Just like Haruka and penguins, and when idol activities and times with her friends are genuinely exhilarating and fun.

A big problem we likely have is a form of neurodivergence that makes the normal world too boring and understimulating for us. And it's really a struggle - constantly being understimulated to even hold normal conversations, and then there's how most of our loved ones wouldn't get it because of how different we are.

And finally, there's Haruka in Precious Memories.

(I... can smile like this too.) (It seems somewhat different from when I'm at work...)

"...Thank you for giving me such wonderful memories, Saki."

How she realized she should cherish and preserve every moment in her life from Saki is so, so important to me. Even with friends, even if she's not always fully happy, she can have times she would find herself smiling so happily without realizing it.

It hammers in the realization I came to because of her character. After all, I ended up like this, unaware and self-hating, because I kept taking my own emotions and people's emotions towards me for granted. I was already happy just spending time around family and friends, but I couldn't fully immerse myself in it because of how hard I constantly was on myself. And the cycle of anger went on as people couldn't understand why I was so hard on myself. This is the power of Project SEKAI, just because she too couldn't move at all at one point - Haruka Kiritani helped me understand myself so much better and navigate life in a healthier, wholer way, embracing both the joys and pains of life. (Well... I still do run away, but I'm working on it...)

Shiho also became an incredibly important character to me because of the message in Stick to Your Faith that supplemented Haruka's character. I never thought to think of it that way, that there were things you couldn't let go of but it's okay to care about people's feelings at the same time. As someone with unique interests and who takes things a little too seriously, it was the words that I really needed to hear. I don't think we are similar enough to share even the same motivations though, but Shiho's values have definitely lit a way forward in my self-discovery. It's embarrassing to be so impacted by a story that isn't serious to most people. But truly, to Colorful Palette, thank you for writing Haruka Kiritani. Honami, Shiho and Tsukasa were all equally as important in making me realize the true weight of emotions and their impact on you. Project SEKAI made my dream come true in MORE MORE JUMP, in a far different yet better way than what I expected. I hope that this post would make people realize that Project SEKAI characters are more human than tropes. I was once blinded by tropes too, which made me miss out on how beautifully written Honami was - it really, really takes time to grow out of it. I'm tired of people attributing angst and depression only to Niigo when that's just a part of life and everyone has at least experienced it once. The sudden shift in atmosphere in No Seek No Find? A song about life and death in Kashika? Utsuro wo Aogu literally meaning 'looking into the void'? The constant themes of escapism in Emu commissions?

Each character is so strongly human in nature, that you can just understand the emotions they're feeling in the moment and why they feel that way. The narrative won't spell it for you, the characters are all unreliable narrators - you need to immerse yourself in both the story and the commissions and understand it yourself. You need to read all the unit stories to understand the writers' approach to emotions. Even if it doesn't make sense to you, it might start to make sense the more you learn about yourself and the people around you - because the writers have put in their actual emotions and experiences into writing and planning the character.

That is the beauty of Project SEKAI to me. I hope someday, instead of a cringey angsty teenage story, people could come to appreciate the human love and care put into its characters.

Finally, I end this love letter to Project SEKAI with one of my most favourite lines in If:

"Singing won't save your life or anything. But I want to sing for your sake."

"Even if this life of mine has no worth, the world is still beautiful. So let's live."

#project sekai #haruka kiritani #kiritani haruka #tsukasa tenma #tenma tsukasa

22 notes · View notes

frozenjokes · 2 months

Text

Mumbomaid (she is writing fanfic) <- could refer to me or mumbo equally

snippet wip below (mumbo uses they/them unless I forget then it’s he/they lmao. Grian is an ‘it’ like god intended)

***

Mumbo had never seen a human before, but this one didn’t look particularly dangerous. Well. They’d keep an eye on it.

Mumbo hissed for good measure, then kept digging through the human’s tools. There was all sorts of great stuff in its dumb, impossible to open bag; shiny sharp things and funny lures (cute!) and what must have been human food (tasted weird, why did they wrap their food in shiny gross stuff?) and bottled water (weird) and there was this awesome floaty thing that Mumbo got a little distracted playing with and other boring stuff like nets and weights and stakes Mumbo had seen thousands of times. But that didn’t mean they weren’t going to take all of this stuff back home with them.

The human was vocally quite unhappy when Mumbo started to take its stuff into the water, scrambling closer to the shore line as Mumbo got farther away. It had been near silent up until this point, but now Mumbo was very aware that humans were some of the noisiest, most annoying animals on the planet. They didn’t pay it much mind, fighting to keep the bag under the water as it seemed determined to float no matter what they did, but the human never stopped yelling, wading in until the water was up to its chest. Mumbo was shocked, turning around and seeing that. Did it even realize how much danger it was in?

Mumbo just couldn’t help himself; letting the bag go meant some of the stuff inside would float out, but he could always just collect it later. He swiveled around and the human finally realized it was in danger, flailing uselessly as it bumbled through the water, but it didn’t get anywhere before Mumbo cut off its escape, his tail curling around its back to keep it from swimming further out.

They swiveled around, the human finally realizing it was in danger at the same moment, but there was nothing it could hope to do before Mumbo blocked its escape, splashing and panicking be damned.

It stilled as Mumbo’s tail touched its back, keeping it gently in place before it tried to swim further out. Its dark eyes were wide and afraid and its breathing was fast and uneven, though it never stopped babbling, only quieter now, as if trying to convince Mumbo it was a good human, that it would stop yelling and being noisy and dumb and would make a very bad meal. Reasonable, all things considered. Mumbo was very much thinking about eating it. It would probably be so loud though, all screaming and panicking and making them feel bad; there was a reason Mumbo didn’t eat much land prey.

They took a moment to look instead, to really take it in. The human was more haggard looking than Mumbo had imagined them to be, with scraggly hair on its head and face as well as its clothes being stained and battered. It also looked a lot less like them than they had expected given how much mers compared the species. Humans were so small and round! Its shoulders were wide and it was so fleshy and pink! Nothing like Mumbo’s own grayer, rougher skin at all. It didn’t even have fins? Land animals didn’t typically, but with all the comparisons being thrown around, Mumbo had expected something! They had similar arms maybe, but only in shape, and honestly, Mumbo’s digits were far longer. And the hair- it wasn’t stiff! It flopped right down when it was wet- what was even the point! With a couple of whistles and clicks, Mumbo attempted to tell the human it should consider having sharper, stiffer hair, because as things were, it clearly had zero natural defenses, but it didn’t seem to understand. Oh well. As much as Mumbo kind of wanted to taste it, they were pretty sure they’d already ruined its day enough. Might as well just let this one go. Maybe now it would know better than to wade into large bodies of water.

(It did not.)

#hermitcraft #grian #mumbo jumbo #hermitcraft fic #gtws eventually #he shows up later

20 notes · View notes

theautismgoblin · 6 months

Text

GUESS WHAT I JUST FINISHED, HOLY CRAP THAT TOOK LONGER THAN EXPECTED.

Anyway, I hope I get to see more of the dynamic between Pomni and Caine in future. It is such an interesting dynamic to me, like at this point I don't even care what it is labeled as. Ship or not, I just want to see more of these two hanging out. Anyway, on to analysis cause apparently I love overanalyzing this show, even if it is only the pilot.

You know how I said I had this theory that Caine is gonna keep a close eye on Pomni compared to the others, well I think I should explain why here.

Pomni unlike everyone else who got trapped had hope given to her the first day, via the exit door, BUT unlike all the others, that hope was immediately shattered. She is definitely not OKAY!!! Like I am fairly certain she is much more likely to abstract now, AND IT IS ONLY HER FIRST DAY!!! Thus the idea that despite Caine not understanding humans well, he will notice this issue. Like he does seem to care for the humans, but he's got no real idea how to show it.

Anyway I feel like it will be through this unlikely friendship Caine would learn about humans a bit more. Like an AI learning, well exactly that actually!!

Another thing I noticed is Caine right after explaining the adventure of the day, leaves. No reason given, just leaves. Now I think there are two reasons this might have happened. Option A: He has figured out from experience that newbies need to get used to everything before he tries to really interact a bunch with them, since those same newbies would be overwhelmed and definitely not trust him. Or Option B: The humans already there don't trust him already, and he's found that it's better to just let them do their own thing most of the time. Either way he is gone almost the entire day.

Though that could also be a nod to how the ringleader in a circus act too honestly. The ringleader lets the performers do their thing without really interfering with the act, unless it is needed. Sometimes the ringleader (if I remember correctly) even leaves the stage completely, though they are in the background.

Anyway back to the dynamic of Caine and Pomni, I really hope my pattern recognition is correct here and it's not just my daddy issues speaking (though knowing me, it probably is), and it is indeed a father-daughter dynamic I'm seeing. A couple folks on A03 even have written some fan-fics about it already, and I really like them. But I hope we can get this series funded, cause then we can see more of the dynamics of ALL the characters.

Anyways HAVE A GOOD DAY!!!!

46 notes · View notes

charmsandtealeaves · 1 year

Text

Lily Evans doesn’t believe in I love you’s

“Did you hear Lily Evans doesn’t believe in I love you's?” It wasn’t exactly a secret. But no one knew why, until she decided to share a bottle of fire whiskey in the astronomy tower with James Potter. Words: 1036 Read it on AO3

“Did you hear Lily Evans doesn’t believe in I love you's?”

“So like she’s never said it to anyone ever? But her and Calum dated for like 6 months! How can you be with your boyfriend and not tell them you love them. That’s just crazy!”

“Maybe it’s a muggle thing?”

****

It was no secret that Lily Evans didn’t say I love you. It was a well-known fact around Hogwarts. Sure the boys she had dated had told her they loved her, but she never once had she said it back. It was the one thing that caused the majority of her break ups. How do you continue to date someone if they don’t say it back? To most Hogwarts girls the idea was ludicrous, but no one out right questioned it to her face. They weren’t that mental. James Potter however was not ‘no one’.

“I can’t believe you don’t believe in I love you’s Evans” James said aloud to her as they sat together on the edge of the astronomy tower window.

He nursed a bottle of fire whisky in his hand, one that he and the head girl in question had confiscated only an hour or so before. Lily took the bottle from his grasp and tossed back a swig. The amber liquid burned the back of her throat as it went down. She coughed lightly as she passed it back to him, keeping her gaze on the dark deserted grounds toward the edge of the forbidden forest.

“I’ve never said that.” Lily commented, pointing a finger at him knowingly.

“Isn’t that kind of the point?” James scoffed, making more tentative sips at the fire whiskey. She rolled her eyes at him knowing full well he probably couldn’t see her that well in the dark. He was supposed to be her drinking companion and letting her bitch about her arsehole of an ex-boyfriend.

“It’s not that I don’t believe in love and I love you’s. I just don’t think I loved him. I feel like if I did I would know right?” She offered.

“I suppose you would. I still think the expected thing to do when someone tells you that they love you is to say the same back. I mean clearly you cared about the bloke enough to be shagging him.” James shrugged. Lily batted his arm playfully.

“You’re such a prick Potter.” She started. She reached for the fire whiskey but he held it out at arm’s length away from her. She huffed in annoyance and he handed it to her reluctantly. “You see, that's the thing Potter. I don’t want to tell someone I love them when I don’t. Especially not because he says it first. I mean really if he loved me that much it wouldn’t matter, he would wait for me to say it when I felt like it. He wouldn’t split up with me and we wouldn’t have caught him in that broom cupboard with his pants around his ankles on the 5th floor.”

She took another heavy swig as James offered her a silent nod of agreement. She wasn’t even that upset about the break up if she was honest. She couldn’t be angry at her ex for jumping on a rebound. She was more just miffed he couldn’t do it while she wasn’t on prefect patrols. Part of her wondered if he’d done it that way just to spite her. Another part of her played the scenario that this had been going on a lot longer than since they had split up that morning.

“I still reckon you should have let me jinx him. Just a little,” James said into the open air. There was a cheerful tone in his voice that told Lily he was joking, but all the same she imagined that given the chance the offer would be genuine.

“I’ll stick to wallowing in self pity and confiscated fire whiskey thanks,” she responded.

James offered her one of his signature smirks. Who’d have thought that pairing of them as head boy and girl would cause them to settle their differences and bond as friends.

“To be honest I only think he said it in the first place because we’d been going out so long and it was just expected you know. I don’t want someone to tell me they love me just because it’s expected.”

“What do you want, Evans?” James questioned.

Lily remained silent in thought. No one had ever actually taken the time to ask her what she wanted. Though deep down she knew.

“You’ll think it’s mad,” she said quietly. She turned her gaze to the bottle sitting in her lap, she twisted the neck of the bottle in her fingers causing the liquid inside to stir.

“Try me.”

“I don’t want someone to tell me they love me because we’ve been dating for ages or because it’s expected. I think that’s why I love you’s don’t mean so much to me. They’re just thrown around so casually. It’s like they don’t have the same value to them any more ya know? Like… I want somebody who’s going to say those things to me because they mean them. I want somebody who’s able to look me in the face and just be like ‘I got you’. Despite everything, despite the fact I’m a muggle born, despite the war. I want someone who loves me for me,” Lily admitted, refusing to look at James as she released her intimate thoughts into the cool night air.

He didn’t say anything for a moment. Then spoke her name softly. She didn’t respond and he shuffled himself closed to her until their shoulders were touching side by side. He said her name softly again, pressing a warm hand to the side of her cheek. She turned her head slightly and looked him in the eye. He looked serious and sincere.

“Lils” He said softly “I’ve got you. Until the very end, no matter what, I’ve got you”

Lily wasn’t sure who leaned in, whether it was her or him was insignificant. What mattered was both their eyes closed and their lips met, soft and tasting like the sharp bite of fire whiskey.

#Lily Evans Doesn't Believe In I Love You's #jily #jily fic #one shot #lily evans #james potter #Charms Library

114 notes · View notes

totally-not-your-babe · 4 months

Text

Too Much Love Will Kill You Vol.1 Chapter 2

Summary: The boys taking the injured bounty hunter back to the Marauder to take care of her.

word count: 1134

Author's note: I know it took me long to update and I'm so sorry for that. Also I really hope I didn't make the boys OOC.

P. S.: There will be longer chapters later.

MASTERLIST

3rd person POV

By the time they got back to the Marauder the woman was unconscious. She lost too much blood, which Tech did not forget to repeat several times, and probably had concussion.

"That's a nasty cut for sure" rasped the sniper when Tech cut the woman's shirt around the injury.

"Could be worse" said Tech without looking up, trying to clean the wound. "It seems to have missed the vital organs. As soon as I can stop the bleeding, I just need to stitch it up, add some bacta gel and hook up an IV. She should be fine" he mumbled, and his brothers couldn't decide if he was talking to them or himself. "…in a rotation or two."

"Two rotations?" Hunter looked wide-eyed at his brother. He hadn't changed his mind about helping Hel, but he wasn't at all sure they could stay on Coruscant for two rotations without being given some mission that would require them to leave the planet. And they couldn't possibly take the unconscious bounty hunter with them.

“She lost a lot of blood and until she wakes up, I can't be sure she doesn't have a concussion. So yes, two rotations” he answered applying bacta on her already stitched up injury. His little brother worked fast Hunter had to give him that.

After Tech get the IV done, they didn’t know what to do. All four of them just stood next to Hunter’s bunk where the woman, Hel, was lying. Her fiery red hair was sticking to her forehead with sweat from the fight, her light pink skin looking even paler than before. Her wiry body was covered in blood, some was hers some her opponents. They couldn’t help but stare at her, they felt like cadets again not much more than a year ago when they first saw a woman who wasn’t one of the long-necks or General Shaak Ti. Hel was undoubtedly a beautiful woman, radiating danger and confidence, deadly as they could see with their own eyes, still beautiful. But it wasn't just her dark, almost black eyes, pale pink skin, mischievous smile that captured their attention. Hunter had felt it in the bar, but he just couldn't point his finger on what it was that attracted him to her.

“When will she wake up?” Wrecker’s deep voice broke the silence.

“Hard to say, maybe faster than we would expect” Tech replied while tapping away on his datapad. “That’s interesting…”

“Want to share it with the class?” asked Crosshair on a sarcastic tone, chewing on a toothpick.

“Just running some tests on her blood. It seems like she is a half breed, one human parent and a… zeltron. Zeltron’s have incredible metabolism, also a second liver which more than helpful if you want to consume a lot of alcohol… Oh…”

“Do we have to pull everything out of you with pliers?” Crosshair was losing what little patience he had left. Tech just rolled his eyes behind his goggles and continued reading without a word to his brother.

“They all produced potent pheromones. I don’t know in her case how strong those can be, given she is only half zeltron, but if we consider that Hunter almost lost his head when she got to the bar…”

“I did not!” protested the Sargent which made Crosshair snicker and Wrecker chuckle. “I didn’t!” he repeated louder but he couldn’t help getting all flustered, the sniper would even bet that Hunter was blushing.

“I said almost.” and Tech considered the matter closed. “All in all, and based on the biological data of her species, she should recover quickly.”

“So, she will wake up soon!” Wrecker looked more than delighted by these news.

“She might, yes. But still, she…”

“Should we restrain her?” came the question from the sniper and all three of his brothers looked at him with a shocked expression on their faces.

“What? Why?” Wrecker was shouting, then looked at Hel and continued a bit quieter, not like he could wake her. “Why would we do that?”

“She is a bounty hunter” he pointed out. “It could be a trap or something.”

“And which plan includes almost dying?” Hunter asked folding his arms in front of his chest.

“Almost all of ours?” Crosshair shot back and Hunter let out a sigh.

“He has a point.” Tech interjected watching the woman in front of him, as if she was about to launch herself at him at any moment. “I mean… You saw her. She is…competent… I mean, really good at killing.”

“We are not restraining anyone.” said Hunter after thinking for a while. “If she attacks us, we will deal with her. I don’t think she would be any real danger in her condition.”

“Don’t want me not to say I-told-you-so if she will be at our throats as soon as she wakes up.” Crosshair throw his toothpick to the ground and with one last unreadable glance at the woman he walked towards the cockpit.

As soon as Hunter opened his mouth to try and dispel Tech’s doubts about her slitting their throats in their sleep, their comms started beeping.

Hel’s POV

I woke up with which I thought was the worst headache of my life. My head was pounding and spinning, I felt like I was hit by a speeder that didn’t even try to slow down before slammed at me with full force. It took me more than a minute or two before the memories slowly came back. The bar and the bounty that didn’t show up, Hunter and his brothers, the trandoshan and his friends, Noelhas and his crew… I was bleeding and then…

Where am I? I tried to sit up as fast as I could but the pain that pierced my side made me take more cautious approach. I held my breath as I slowly sat up and looked around. I was on a ship that wasn’t mine that was fore sure, the low rumbling and vibration suggested that we were flying. But where? Why? I carefully stood up and tried to suppress every sound that tried to escape from the pain. I felt... Weird something was off but I wasn't vigilant enough to figure out what it was. I came to the conclusion that it was just the blood loss and my pounding head playing tricks on me.

I went in search of my hosts but not before I looked for something I could use as a weapon if necessary. Under one of the four bunks laid a not-so-well-hidden vibro-blade, I bent down suppressing a moan of pain and took the blade into my left hand. I was almost fully upright when I heard the unmistakable sound of a rifle being cocked.

“I told them we should have restrained you.”

tags: @techs-stitches @lokigirlszendaya @savebytheodoresnonjosestuff

Please tell me is you want to be tagged!

#too much love will kill you #tbb wrecker #tbb hunter #tbb crosshair #tbb tech #the bad batch fanfiction #the bad batch x oc #the bad batch hunter #the bad batch tech #the bad batch crosshair #the bad batch wrecker #the bad batch fic #star wars fic

20 notes · View notes

blindbatalex · 1 day

Text

a little marcheron treat for your Tuesday morning c:

The sun no longer warmed.

It had been a gorgeous fall day, with clear blue skies and sunshine that made the air feel a good few degrees warmer than it was. But now the sun sat low among the trees, its light as pale and golden as the dying leafs they held, and the chill made itself known.

“Remember the first time we were here,” Brad asked, “just the two of us?”

Somewhere around Arlington Street Patrice had linked their arms together and now they walked through the Common, sharing one breath.

Patrice let out a chuckle.

“You mean the time I had to come fetch your drunk ass and haul it home? I’m surprised you remember it.”

“I wasn’t that drunk,” Brad protested.

“You were passed out under a tree.”

“I was resting my eyes!”

“Uh-huh. You know it took me half an hour just to find you because when I asked where you were, you said–”

The memory was well-worn in Brad’s mind, a stalwart feature of his ‘isn’t Patrice Bergeron the most amazing human being to walk the earth?’ reel he revisited every time he was drunk, high on painkillers or otherwise unable to sleep, but they rarely brought it up, out of consideration for what shreds remained of Brad’s dignity. And still they finished the sentence in tandem, bursting into giggles as they did–

“I’m by a tree!”

He had really said that. He looked down as they laughed. The soles of his feet knew this path, having walked it more times than he could count. His skin knew this air, its biting cold, and his eyes every inch, every plane and valley of Patrice’s beautiful face – the exact way the evening light caught in his brown eyes, his stubble, his royal brow, his eyelashes. These trees around them, the grass and the hot dog stands. The three of them – he and Boston and Patrice – were so intertwined, his bones said one could not exist without the others.

There was, of course, no use in dwelling on any of that. That was not how the world worked.

He smiled.

“I was so sure you were going to snitch on me.”

Patrice shook his head, like the thought was abhorrent to him even now.

Had he done so – and arguably he should have done so – they would have sent Brad down immediately and thought long and hard before calling him up again the next season. But instead, Patrice had taken him back to his own place, tucked him into bed, and the next morning delivered the speech on professionalism and making the right decisions himself. And when they did send Brad down a couple of games later for unrelated reasons, he’d given Brad the firmest hug. Looked him in the eye and said– ‘you will be back’ half a statement of absolute faith and half order.

You will be back.

Come back.

“I never did ask.” Patrice’s lovely voice broke Brad out of his reverie. “Why did you get so drunk that night?”

Brad laughed, not expecting the question. He quickly tried to think of a lie but he had given himself away; Patrice’s inquisitive gaze was now boring into him. Unfortunately at this point Patrice also knew every expression that flitted through his face.

So, out with it, then. The truth.

“Because you were too gorgeous.”

“Oh, come off it,” Patrice huffed and Brad filed his fond indignation away for safekeeping, too.

“No man, I’m dead serious.”

“You got smashed out of your mind, potentially risked a whole NHL career, because I was too gorgeous?”

“Yep.”

“Dude, even for you– God, Marchy.”

He was laughing though, in these little halting bursts, and Brad liked that so he laughed along with him.

To their left a couple were packing away their picnic. They chattered away as they folded the blanket and placed the last of the plastic plates back into the picnic basket. They were in their early twenties. They were clearly in love. This was probably going to be the last picnic of the year; the air would grow colder and colder, scarves would come out, then snow boots, and the ground they now sat on would be blanketed in a thick layer of ice and snow, before it all melted again and spring touched the blades of grass, the tips of tree branches, with its gentle breeze, bringing them back to life.

Patrice stopped them both and turned to Brad, a terrible, helpless look in his eyes.

Perhaps he had figured out the part of the explanation Brad didn’t give – the gay panic and the certainty he felt in his gut that all of the effort he put in to get to where he was would go down the drain in a single breath because surely any one person would see the way he looked at Patrice and clock him – or perhaps he too was thinking of the spring or of the time they wasted.

Brad put his hand on Patrice’s cheek. None of them would do.

“Let’s just enjoy this moment,” he said quietly.

Patrice nodded, forcing a smile onto his face, brave and determined as always. Then he leaned in to kiss Brad and Brad went gladly, meeting him halfway.

The way his lips felt against Brad’s lips, his breath against Brad’s skin, his warmth, his hands as they pressed against his back–

They were so new and they were already a part of him, rooting him in place, whispering–

#marcheron #my fic #hockey rpf #hrpf #maybe one day i will write the full fic #bruins rpf

11 notes · View notes

fang-and-feather · 8 days

Text

Ikemen Prince - Keith x Reader

This is almost too late but was written for @keithsandwich's birthday.

So Happy Birthday!! Here is a small gift for you, dear. If I had more time, I would have tried to include your OC, but this came from a bout of inspiration yesterday and it turned into this. It's my first time writing Keith, so hope I didn't mess them too badly. And hope you enjoy it.

Words: 1143

IkePri Masterlist / General Masterlist

You were startled out of a sweet dream with your boyfriend, by a mild shake on your shoulders, from what you could only see as a silhouette in the dark.

Your scream was muffled by a large hand covering your mouth, and the person leaned closer so you could see his face better.

You relaxed upon noticing it was just your boyfriend - Alter Keith, given his rougher gestures - who put a finger to his lips, asking for silence, and only when you nodded was that he pulled away.

“Get dressed and come.” He told you, straightening himself.

As your eyes adjusted to the dark, you noticed he was already dressed. Your attention turned to the window, to confirm the sun wasn’t even up yet. What could he want you to be awake at such an hour for?

But there didn’t seem to be any urgency, just a bit of impatience, and you trusted him enough that you didn’t need to ask.

He went to your wardrobe and handed you a dress you didn’t even remember owning. A forest green dress, with details in silvery white, including embroidery of flowers and butterflies. It wasn’t too fancy or too simple. Truly a dress for a variety of occasions. You also thought it had a fairy-like vibe.

“When did you get this?” You asked while changing into it.

Of course, the dress fit you like a glove, which probably meant one of them had personally picked it.

You never felt too shy to change in front of your boyfriend, but the way you could feel his gaze, even turned mostly away from him, made a heat spread up through your body, that you couldn’t say if it was of embarrassment or something else.

“Yesterday, during your lessons.”

“Was that why I was held there a little longer than usual?”

“He also had to pick up something in town, so the trip took longer than I expected.”

So they had gotten separate gifts for you? But why was Alter giving his to you already?

You combed your hair before turning to him.

“Does it look like you expected?”

Now, face-to-face with him looking you over as you waited for a response, it really made you embarrassed, so you gave him a playful twirl, to show off a little while avoiding his gaze.

“Better. Now come. I will let him show you the rest of the surprise. But before that…” He pulled you by the hand, the other hand reaching for your waist when you were close enough, capturing your lips in a deep, passionate kiss. “I will settle for only this for now.”

A shame, but you wouldn’t protest when you were curious about what he meant by ‘the rest of the surprise’.”

With an arm still firmly around your waist, it was still Alter that led you out of the castle, as if trying to make sure you two went unnoticed. Not that it was a difficult task. He seemed to know well what he was doing.

A little farther into the garden was when he let his other self take over. Keith immediately pulled his arm away, only to take your hand instead, as he turned to you with a sheepish smile.

“I’m sorry he had to wake up like that. I told him we should have told you in advance about our plans, but…”

You squeezed his hand and gave him a reassuring smile.

“It’s fine. I was a little surprised, but I’m happy to spend time with you. I don’t mind when you surprise me.”

He smiled at you, relieved.

“I wanted to do this in a better place, but things have been hectic lately, so I am sorry if it is not what you expected.”

“Anything you do or give me will always feel better than I could expect, because you always do it with love. And your love will always be the best gift I could have.”

“But it’s your birthday. Of course you deserve more. And although this is not what I hoped, I hope you will like it.”

He led you further into the garden, towards a more secluded area. This spot almost looked like it was in the middle of a forest, with a few tall trees covered in flowering vines. There was just enough space for you to see paths of the lightening sky beyond.

Keith also looked at the sky, before turning back to you, both of you facing each other.

“I wanted to go somewhere where we could see the sunrise, but I didn’t want for it to be inside. Above all, I wanted to greet this new day with you. The day you were born will always be special to me, because I will always be grateful for you.” Looking a little shy, he gently pulled you closer and kissed the back of your hand. “Happy birthday, my beloved. Thank you for loving me.” His other hand cupped your cheek, and you shared a sweet, lingering kiss. “Also, I have a gift for you. It’s not as…”

You knew what he was thinking before he finished the sentence. So, this time you were the one to kiss him, watching with delight as his cheeks turned pink.

“I won’t have you comparing your gift to his, or apologizing for something you picked with love. I know you both thought a lot about what to get me, and I will be happy just because you picked it for me.”

Keith nodded and picked a small box from his pocket, presenting it to you silently.

Inside the box was a beautiful hair clip. A silver butterfly encrusted with jades.

“This is so lovely! Can you put it on for me?” You turned around for him to do that, shivering when his fingers brushed the back of your neck as he worked on your hair. “So? How does it look?”

“Beautiful.” He whispered.

“And both your gifts match so perfectly, it’s hard to think you picked them separately.”

“Because both of us picked them thinking of you.”

You turned around, now with more light shining on his side, framing him perfectly and really letting you see the softness with which he smiled at you. It was really the perfect spot.

“Thank you! For the gift, and for such a delightful surprise. I love you.”

He kissed you again before replying.

“I love you too, my beautiful princess.”

There was a moment of silence, then you noticed the shift in his expression that told you they had switched.

“We love you. Happy birthday.” You were once again pulled into his arms and into a deep kiss. “We wanted to greet the dawn with you, but dawn means our day is just starting. I hope you’re ready, because we’ll show you how much we love and are grateful for you.”

#ikemen prince #ikepri keith #ikepri #ikepri fanfic

12 notes · View notes

deceiver-a-day · 2 months

Text

Rulilas Gontaut

Reimbursing Rulilas Gontaut

• [x] returns the cost to Rulilas Gontaut

• [x] embodies an apology

• [x] acknowledges failure

• [x] provides a new opportunity for Rulilas Gontaut

• [x] relieves you of your guilt

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sometimes children grow up with a different perspective from the most and see the spirits of things. Sometimes only partially. This has given rise to stories of monsters under the bed or in the closet. Some see the spirit of a particularly uncomfortable shirt, an unloved toy, a cat’s stealthy vomit, their resentment of something a classmate said or a spirit of their own fear of the dark.

Me? Aside from the mostly friendly spirits of the floorboards, I was tormented by the spirit of my guilt. It was two months before she came. Ms. Gontaut. I had seen her walking the halls at school. The other kids said she must’ve been a teacher for one of the older grades, but none of us really knew. She came over one evening just before bedtime, apparently she had called ahead because my mom seemed to be expecting her.

“Do you know who I am?” she smiled gently while I stood in my pajamas and my confusion.

“Ms. Gontaut?”

“And do you know what I do?”

I shook my head.

“I check for monsters under beds.”

My mom smiled as if this was a joke, but I could see the now-usual sadness in her eyes.

“Mine’s behind the dresser.”

“I check there too.”

After studying her for a moment, “Adults can’t see it.” My friends couldn’t either, but I didn’t want to seem too crazy.

Ms. Gontaut’s eyes twinkled as she offered her hand, “You’ll have to take me to it then.”

After checking for my mom’s nodded assent, I led Ms. Gontaut to my room and gestured to the offending dresser. She paused in front of it before pulling something out of her pocket and cooing and calling as if to coax a dog.

:readmore:

It emerged with its sharp claws which it had used to dig into my heart the weeks previous and with its tentacles which it had used to choke me with sobs, but with its many eyes focused on this strange woman from school and, for the first time, without its fangs bared. As the monster ate the thing from her hand, she began to pet it and looked back to me.

“Have you given it a name?”

“What”

“A name. If you haven’t yet, that’s fine. I need to tell you something,” she gently took something that the monster had clutched in its claws, “You should probably sit.”

I sat on my bed and she handed me the thing she had retrieved. It was Iggles, an old gift from my father that I had lost years before from a time we visited an aquarium. I stroked the purple seahorse.

I’m sorry, I heard my father’s voice in my mind, Oh, Jimmy, I’m so sorry I had to leave you.

My eyes stung. But wasn’t it my fault? After all those angry things I had said that morning…

Ms. Gontaut’s hand was on mine, the other firm upon my monster. She shook her head.

“It isn’t your fault, Jimmy. It was never your fault.” She was studying the monster, interpreting its features.

“But I–” I broke into a sob.

“Maybe you said some words in anger that you regret, but you didn’t cause the storm and you didn’t loosen those rocks. You weren’t even there.”

“But what I said chased him! I saw it!”

She gazed at me with an apologetic understanding. I realized I had never quite seen eyes like hers before.

Ms. Gontaut gestured toward Iggles. I handed him over and she held him up in front of me.

I’m sorry… my father’s voice whispered in my mind.

“Focus carefully on this seahorse’s eyes. It is normal for words to stick with someone for a time; to chase, to torment, to remain, to comfort. But your words did not kill anyone. Followed, yes, but they caused no harm to him. Normally, people don’t even see them. Would you like me to make it so that you can’t see them?”

I considered the option for longer than I would have expected, my eyes supernaturally transfixed to Iggles’s button eyes. Concern about the monster next to us crossed my mind.

“You don’t have to fear this one. It’s coming with me. It will not be lurking around invisibly.”

“O-okay. Yes. As long as you promise they won’t hurt me.”

“Then continue staring at the eyes.”

I’m sorry, Jimmy. I’m sorry I frustrated you. I’m sorry I’m gone. I’m sorry I can’t be there for you. I love you. I love you…

My father’s voice ceased apologizing. The world around stilled a bit and the spell that seemed to keep my eyes locked finally broke. The monster was gone. The floorboards were merely floorboards.

“The weight of the guilt of your father’s death is not anyone’s to carry, especially not yours. If you feel the need to apologize for something you said, you can write it down, maybe. Or tell your seahorse?”

I love you. I love you. I love you…

“I’m sorry, Dad. I don’t hate you. I miss you.”

Ms. Gontaut held my hand for a while. I felt better. Still raw and anguished, but less guilt-wracked…not that I understood it in those terms at the time.

“It will still hurt,” she broke the silence at last, “The world can be like that. But it…the world…can offer happiness from time to time. I will not tell you to shed your grief. Only your guilt. If you need to talk to me at school, stop me any time.”

—from The Memoirs of Jim Alastair Who Broke Florida

#Nobilis #Nobilis RPG #Excrucian #Deceivers #pStates #Rulilas Gontaut #art #microfiction

12 notes · View notes

cakeboxie · 2 months

Text

I had to restart his save since it got corrupted- which means it’s time for a new ref!!

I’ve committed to the fact that this man dresses like an 80s dad in any modern au.

Tries very hard to read as the ideal paladin, good morals, strong sense of justice n what have you. He is unfortunately full of trauma and identity issues, fear of his god is a HUGE THING and breaking his oath accidentally is a perpetual anxiety too.

I’ve also decided he has the shittiest, patchy ass beard. Usually he’s clean shaven bc he doesn’t like having facial hair but he’s not quite adept enough with a dagger to shave with one and tries exactly once to shave (failing miserably, much to Astarion’s entertainment) before giving up until act 3 when he buys himself a new razor.

I really should draw him holding the blood of lathander more but that mf is agonizing to draw man there are, so many layers to it.

I finally remembered to draw his glasses on his ref, yippee.

I’m making him an actual dnd character sheet so I’ll probably attach that once it’s done

I’m side tracked I’m supposed to be talking about his lore huh

Whoops

Anyway, tw for abandoment (passing mention) emotional abuse, death (of a parent + en masse,) mental illness that’s being ignored, chronic pain and illness (also being ignored until he can’t)

His actual like- lore lore is below the break.

Born in the underdark, his mom fucked off with him bc the underdark isn’t a great place to live generally speaking, and she had the means. His dad decided last minute to stay in the underdark.

Taken in by the temple of lathander in elturel bc his mother was chronically ill and not expecting or able to be making this kind of journey on her own with a very small child. Ended up being moved from the temple to a hospital after it was determined that she probably wasn’t getting better.

Charlie ended up being mostly raised by the temple, went to school there and was taught how to read and write + basic math. But spent most of his free time working to pay for his mother’s (and soon his own) medication.

Turns out the of the myriad of issues his mother delt with (migraines, persistent nausea and dizziness, chronic joint issues) were genetic, so by time he hit puberty he was working his ass off to pay for it.

You may ask me “cake, didn’t that aggravate his joint issues?” Yes. Badly. He was not given any other options, the fact that they were alive at all was a godsend (I use the word godsend intentionally, he believes, strongly, that lathander is keeping him alive for some reason beyond his understanding, that is the root of his devotion.)

Did you order mommy issues? Hope so bc he has them in spades. You can only be hear your dying mom say she regrets saving you life as a literal toddler so many times before it starts fucking you up, and she said it (and other delightful(/sarc) things) plenty in the months leading up to when she died.

Shortly after her death, and suddenly needing to work way less (his medication was significantly cheaper than his mothers) he devoted himself to the temple, and was eventually approached bc some kids he went to school with to see if he wanted to join their little class thing. The temple liked to train their folks in groups of 4, in hopes of building strong teams should they choose to stay together.

He agreed, and found out that the temple would pay for his medication in exchange for dedicating himself fully to his training and his studies (and occasionally them using him as a scout, being small, naturally stealthy, and decently quick had its advantages.)

Took his oath with one of the other people he was trained alongside when he was 17, and they were collectively sent to continue their training at the nearby Fort Morninglord.

Things were solid, until he was sent along with a group of seniors to Baldurs Gate as a sort of test to see how he would do on a longer mission before officially joining the Order of the Aster.

He did well, all things considered. Unfortunately between him leaving and returning is when Fort Morninglord got eaten by the shadowfell for some reason. (That’s a canon event btw)

So, with all his friends presumably dead, maybe worse, and all his shit left inside a heavily guarded, very cursed fort. He did the reasonable thing, and fucked right off.

He ended up joining one of the seniors he went to Baldur’s Gate with in going to Waterdeep, while they didn’t particularly need another paladin. The temple of lathander in Waterdeep accepted them both until they were able to find stable employment.

Charlie mainly did small jobs for merchants, working as a guard for high value stuff, moving cargo on/off boats, mostly physical labour. It didn’t pay particularly well, but he could afford a little room above a tavern, and his medication.

That’s where he was, and how he lived for almost 130 years until he got wormed.

May or may not be blindly devoted to Lathander bc of… all that. literally any bad thing to occur to him is swiftly written off as a test of his faith, surprising to damn near everyone he is not one for converting people. (He definitely reads like he would though, it’s the theology special interest, there are few gods he won’t speak extensively on. He just defaults to lathander)

Fr though? Having trouble finding a god to worship? Ask him, he will give you an answer or more accurately- a list.

Yknow when you sprinkle random facts into your characters to make them less flat? Yeah my man collects maps, particularly outdated ones.

The only reason he’s not fucked post-worm is bc it fends off the worst of his usual symptoms. He has conflicted feelings about it (on one hand, being able to put honey in his coffee and not feel like his brain is exploding is nice, on the other, what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck.)

Post game he is left in a… state. He’s gotten used to life with less pain and is absolutely bedridden for a WHILE bc suddenly he’s being hit with his usual pain n symptoms but he’s not used to it anymore so it’s absolutely destroying him.

#cakewrites #cakedraws #baldurs gate tav #bg3 tav #tav #Charlie [tav]#userhaarleps

13 notes · View notes

Last Seen Blogs

mdbillal01968

Untitled

thealahas-blog

Pilya

suicidemessagr

Untitled

hayatbitiyo

Sevgi

hellogood12345

제목 없음