#(I have been trying to move out but it is not cheap... it's a whole thing)

[alfhildr-the-word-weaver]

I lowkey want one of those "live laugh love" type house signs that says "come freely, go safely, and leave something of the happiness you bring" for the entryway of my house someday. I think it'd be hilarious, but it's also lowkey a nice greeting in its own way, if perhaps mildly ominous... What a nice way to set a welcoming vibe! ;)

[genekies]

tag vent

[andromedasummer]

setting up a linkedin for job searching and connecting with my high school friends and seeing them married and in good paying jobs really hits home just how many years ive lost to mental illness and physical disability

[loveanddeepdick]

sweetheart

obsessed!pervy!roommate!geto x f!reader

cw: roommates with tension to lovers, pervert geto, he’s kinda insane lol.., tracking, obsession, piv sex, kinda angry sex, creampie, possessiveness, panty stealing/sniffing/licking, NOT PROOFREAD IM JUST HORNNNYYY 😜😜

notes:part of my obsessed!geto series hehe, not completely the same as my hcs, but it kinda just combines all of them as best as i can 🫣

┈┈・୨ ✦ ୧・┈┈

“care to explain, suguru?”

you were holding up three pairs of your panties, dangling it in the air in front of geto as he’s standing in the doorway of his room.

┈┈・୨ ✦ ୧・┈┈

you’d moved in with geto nearly three months ago. you thought it was too good to be true, the rent was a little too cheap and the apartment looked somehow nicer in person. you knew suguru, he was close friends with satoru who’d been nothing but kind to you your whole time in high school and now in college as well.

suguru’s aura seemingly changed after the first month of you two living with eachother. you felt his eerie, purple eyes boring into your space and your eyes. you felt the air around you almost tense up when you mentioned guys. it was like he was gripping your soul sometimes.

of course, he knew you were looking back at him as well. when he got out of the shower and his towel was clinging onto his abs. maybe even when he came back from the gym and untied his slicked back hair while his black locks fell onto his muscular shoulders.

one night on your birthday when you both came back from your birthday dinner, he’d given you a special present, a small heart locket. he held his breath as he stood behind you, clicking it into place as he watched how every hair fell from its root in your scalp, how smooth your nape was, how your delicate hand held your hair out of the way.

he had hid a small, unnoticeable tracker inside the locker, tucked away in small details carved into the heart. the way you were carved into his.

he was whipped for you

however, naive of the deeper issues that were lying under your nose, for the past few weeks, you noticed that your underwear had been going missing at a concerning rate. it’d gone from reasonable to unexplainable and it pissed you off. honestly, you wouldn’t have even expected it was geto until he slipped two days ago.

you’d been running around the apartment, checking under tables and in drawers for your missing undergarments that you set out on your bed as you prepared a bath. you groaned before calling out for him

“sugu, have you seen my underwear?” you yelled while pacing the living room, hoping he’d hear you from his room.

“no, i dont even go near your bed”

you huffed, turning away before taking out an old one from the bottom of your underwear drawer until it hit you.

how would he know it was on your bed if he didn’t go in?

┈┈・୨ ✦ ୧・┈┈

there you were, snooping through his closet when you found exactly what you were looking for, your missing panties. you picked up a fraction what was hidden away in his closet and called out for him while you held them up. he came quickly, stopping at his doorframe as he watched you with the stolen undergarments.

you knew he wasn’t stupid, i mean, he had kept it going for so long. maybe he let it slip on purpose , maybe he wanted you to catch him.

“shiiit, looks like your laundry got in the wrong room,” he chuckled, wiping the shocked expression off his face before stepping into the room, “lemme put that in the laundry basket for y—“

“hell no!”, you shrieked, pulling your panties away, “you’re the reason why they’ve gone missing!”

geto bit the inside of his cheek before sighing and throwing his hands up, “you think they just grew legs? yes, it was me. think about it, sweetheart, who else would it be? the boogeyman?”

your jaw dropped at his words while he quietly laughed at his own joke. he’s perverted and corny. you hadn’t expected such a straightforward response from him. did this man have no shame? he stared at you while you were trying to find the words.

“cat got your tongue? i like you, sweetheart,” he lowered his hands as he grinned, his eyes traveling to the little locket he gifted you, “hope you’re not mad at me, i mean, i’ve seen your browser history, m’not the only person with some fucked up kinks—“

you threw your panties to the side before walking up to him. fuck it. grabbing him by his plain black shirt, you pulled him down and crashed your lips against his. he smiled against your lips, leaning into you before you pushed him away again.

“you asshole! you’re so weird, stealing my underwear when you could’ve just opened pornhub,” you huffed, wiping your mouth and chin with your sleeve.

“running away so soon?” he smiled as you turned away. you wished you could punch him in the mouth.

“yes.” you flatly stated as you try to push past him. he caught your wrist, pulling you back into his chest as he wraps his arms around your torso.

“don’t go, sweetheart. i know you want me,” he leaned in, taking a short sniff of your hair before he rested his chin on your head.

“i don’t want—“

“then pull away. i’ll stop everything, leaving you alone, and pretend nothing happened,” he mumbled, pulling away and holding you by your shoulders. his eyes bore into your face as your eyes wandered elsewhere, ignoring his gaze.

“use your words, baby,” he whispered, his hand coming up to cup your face as you unconsciously lean into him.

“i-i do..” you admit, looking down in shame.

“aww, baby, s’okay..” he chuckled, bringing you back into his arms as he squeezed you, “i know, i know.. don’t be embarrassed, i’m sorry for taking your panties,”

it felt like he was babying you but you couldn’t help but reciprocate his actions, slowly returning the embrace. you look back up to him, his eyes already on you as you go on your tippy-toes, capturing his lips.

“i want you, sugu”

┈┈・୨ ✦ ୧・┈┈

geto wastes no time, throwing you gently onto the bed as tugs your pajama shorts off, prying your legs open as he smiles as the small damp spot on your panties. embarassed, you try closing your legs but he keeps them open, clicking his tongue in faux annoyance.

he dips his head in, pressing his nose up against your little clit, rubbing it a little as you whimper. he sharply inhales, whining from your scent before his tongue darts out to taste your slick on your panties.

“s-sugu!” you yelp, jolting from the feeling of his tongue and how shameless geto was being

“shh, shh, jus lemme do it,” he whispered, his tongue darting back out to lick back and forth from your clit to your clothed pussy. he pulled back finally, to admire how sheer your little panties had gotten before he pressed his nose in one last time, whining as he inhaled the mess he caused.

he stood back up, gesturing for you to sit up on the edge of the bed, guiding your hand to his crotch. you look up at him for approval before he nods, your hand cupping his erection before unzipping it, his black boxers doing nothing to hide his huge cock.

there was a small trail of black hair making your mouth water, a stairway to heaven, or maybe hell. you cautiously pulled his boxers down, his hard cock springing out as his tip slapped against his tummy.

geto hissed as his cock finally spring free, watching you wrap your hand around it. he couldn’t believe his eyes, he’d been fantasizing about this for weeks, seeing his little roommate beneath him, seeing you finally accept him in.

the moment you wrapped your lips around his cock, he couldn’t do it anymore. he already felt like he was going to cum in your mouth and he’d be damned if his first time in you wasn’t in your little pussy.

pushing you down again on the bed, he yanked your panties off, giving your clit a small spank as you gasped.

“please, sweetheart, lemme cum in your pussy first. we can do whatever you want after,” he whined, pumping his cock as he lined himself up to your wet pussy.

you nodded frantically, reaching down to the bottom of his abs and trailing to his neatly cut pines above his cock. he groaned, his eyes rolling back as he pushed inside you.

“f-fuck.. yes, baby, fuck, i’ve been wanting this for so l-long..” he groaned, loosing himself in the feeling of your wet heat.

“be—shit! be quiet suguru.. just fuck me!” you cried

his head snapped up, his cock hardening impossibly more as he moved his hips, suguru’s girthy cock pushing all the way up and kissing your cervix. he loved you this way. being able to submit yet put him in his place, he loved you.

“fuck, fuck, baby, you feel so good!” suguru’s head dipped down, his eyes widening almost maniacally as he watches his special necklace bouncing in tandem with your tits.

he reached down, running his hands over your chest and the necklace as he pounded your pussy mercilessly. suguru moved his hand down, running your clit with his thumb as he watched his cock disappear into your pussy over and over again, making a translucent white ring of juices form around the base of his cock.

his tip was dragging over your g-spot in an almost euphoric way as he groaned profanities in your ear. he ran his tongue along your collarbone, licking up to his neck to leave marks on your neck.

“say it, sweetheart, say you’re mine” he pleads with you, his eyes furrowing as he grabs your face gently, making you look at him.

“i’m yours, sugu..” you mumble, drunk on his cock as your drool on his hand.

“use your big girl voice, baby, ‘can’t hear you”

“i’m yours! all yours!” you cry, “f-fuck, sugu i’m gonna cum!”

his pace quickens, continuing to hit your g-spot until all you could see was white.

“cum for me, sweetheart, cum all over my cock.. fuck!”

you unravel on his cock, squirting all over his cock, making him cum as well. his cock shot warm ropes of cum deep into your sweet pussy as he paused, not pulling out just yet. he leaned back, admiring you as he rubbed your clit, letting you ride out your orgasm before giving your tits a small spank as well.

“good girl, good fuckin girl.. you’re all mine now, sweetheart”

[three--rings]

One thing I haven't seen a lot of talk about in the fandom so far is about the financials of this season.

It took us two whole months to get a confirmation of renewal from Max, and I talked at the time that I think there was probably a lot of heated negotiations going on at the time with contracts and that's why it took as long as it did.

I think we see a huge number of indications of the compromises that were made in order for S2 to be made. One obvious one that has been talked about is being making in in NZ instead of LA, to save $.

But there's also the eight episodes instead of ten. And then the cast aspect. One downside of moving overseas was having to fly out and house the cast, not just pay day wages.

We knew immediately about Guz Khan not coming back, losing Ivan as a character. At the time I was sad but I thought it had the air of a pretty harshly practical call. If you went through the main recurring cast and said okay which character will affect the fewest things, has the least character interactions of anyone? It would be Ivan. (With the only competition being The Swede IMO, but he's Stede's crew and therefore a little more central.)

And then this season started and we got first The Swede sidelined and taken out of major scenes. And then I noticed that different members of the crew were simply absent for long stretches, like Wee John isn't around for ep 5 at all. And then Buttons takes flight.

Lucius and Pete aren't at the party for most of it. Fang isn't in the torture scene. Roach and Fang aren't in the bar. Etc. SCHEDULING IS HAPPENING.

The new characters are almost entirely played by NZ local actors, which is great, but also...cheaper.

In other words there are big signs that they did everything possible to give us a giant cast of almost everyone we love from S1, and cool new characters, in the most economical way possible.

And I'm grateful for it. I'm grateful we got S2, and it looks great, and it's well written, I'm having a blast, and we get to spend more time with this awesome cast.

But I also kinda think it needs to be said that the cost-cutting shows. That it shouldn't have been only 8 episodes, the pacing is off. That we miss every time someone from the ensemble isn't on screen.

That despite what they've put on screen looking very good, there's far less costuming budget, there's less elaborate sets, and it's a little disappointing. And it's clear it's not a lack of will or talent or vision but blatantly lack of money.

Look, streaming networks want brilliant shows that people love (that will get them to subscribe) but they very don't want to pay anyone to make them. That's like, the whole moment we're having right now.

Max puts out promos about how great it is to not have unions messing shit up in NZ. Well I have friends who are union costumers in LA and guess what union costumers did amazing last season. This season, well, I guess Stede got three whole shirts, so that's cool.

So I dunno. It's just stuff I think about. I'm not trying to be negative about the show in any way. I'm extremely happy with this season; I love it more than well, possibly any show I've ever been in fandom for.

But I see you, Max. You're cheap. You weren't that cheap when you were called HBO.

[steddiealltheway]

It's El's birthday, and she gets a Polaroid camera. It's from Jonathan but funded with the help of Steve who tells him not to tell her, but after a little negotiating, Steve agrees to say the film is from him and the camera is from Jonathan.

Some people are a little weirded out by the whole thing since Jonathan and Steve were never really close, but Steve had been adamant about how he wanted to help in any way possible with the party. When Jonathan had voiced his concern about how much the perfect gift was, Steve immediately chipped in putting down any protest Jonathan had.

And there El sat with the Polaroid in her hands, gazing down at it with such wonder and joy that Steve couldn't help but know he had made the right decision - even if he was digging into some of his savings from Scoops, but no one needed to know that.

Only, Eddie leans over and nudges him as El is thanking them and moves on to unwrap the next present. Steve turns to him and furrows his brow. What? Eddie raises his eyebrows and tilts his head toward the camera. That's not a cheap gift. Steve just shrugs as nonchalantly as possible, but Eddie shakes his head with a smile and squeezes his knee. You're unbelievable.

And that's the thing about Eddie, ever since the Upside Down, it was like they were inseparable when put in the same room together. He somehow always knew what Steve was thinking and could communicate with a few looks.

And everyone thought this was way stranger than the whole Jonathan and Steve buying a joint gift thing.

Dustin was especially exasperated by the way they would sometimes look at each other and just burst out laughing, yelling at them to stop talking about him in front of him. Steve and Eddie would argue that they had no idea what he was talking about especially since they hadn't said anything (but most of the time it was about Dustin).

After El gets through the rest of the gifts, she grabs her camera and asks Jonathan how to work it as everyone starts to scatter a bit. Steve finds himself on the couch next to Eddie as Robin and Nancy talk about the latest thing Nancy had written for Hawkin's Post.

Steve is telling some random story from work when there's a bright flash to his right. He flinches but recovers quickly when he sees El smiling as the picture develops. She glances up at Eddie and comments, "You have a very pretty smile." Then, she goes on to Nancy and Robin, waiting for the perfect candid photo opportunity, but Steve can only stare at Eddie.

He's staring off at El with a slight blush on his cheeks and a bashful smile. Steve can't help but think about what El said. He had never really thought about that before, but she was right. He has a very very pretty smile.

The party goes on, and Steve can't help but try to make Eddie smile as often as he can which isn't too hard considering Eddie seems to smile at anything Steve says - even his lamest jokes. But eventually, the party is wrapping up, and Steve is in charge of taking Dustin and Robin home.

Eddie says a quick goodbye to Steve and gives him a hug that Steve tries to linger in as long as he can before he fondly watches Eddie pull Dustin into a tight hug that makes the younger kid shriek. He feels like he's bursting at the seams with joy.

He gets tapped on the shoulder and turns to find Jonathan looking at him and waving him to the side. Steve follows him quickly. "I just wanted to thank you again for your help with El's gift, and I also wanted to congratulate you, man."

Steve's brows furrow in confusion, and Jonathan claps him on the arm. "Eddie's a really great guy. And, hey, I talked to El, and I thought you'd want this."

Steve is a bit confused by the random mention of Eddie until he looks down at what Jonathan is handing him. It's the Polaroid picture from earlier with him smiling at Eddie, going on about something as Eddie fully smiles back at him, leaning toward him with his hand on Steve's knee. How had he not noticed how close they were before?

The picture sends a wave of warmth through him and his heart beats a bit faster, but he thanks Jonathan and puts the photo in his wallet. The two linger and Steve kind of thinks to hell with it and hugs Jonathan before saying goodbye. Maybe all the bad shit can just be pushed behind them.

He turns and finds Eddie staring at him with a smile that looks forced and tight, but he when tilts his head, Eddie just shakes his head. Nothing.

Steve continues to look at him but decides to shrug it off. Eddie knows he can always talk to him, but Steve can't help but hope his genuine pretty smile will return soon.

-:-:-:-:-:-

Steve finds himself pulling the photo out of his wallet a lot. Especially when he's having a bad day or feeling down. It's used as a kind of secret happiness drug. All he has to do is pull out the picture and look at Eddie in it to get a burst of joy and energy.

The problem is that people start to notice. And by people, he means the kids.

It happens when they visit Family Video a couple of times, and Steve finds himself longing for Eddie to be there with the group, so he'll hide his wallet behind the counter and pull the picture out where the kids - and Robin - can't see it.

But one time, he finds himself staring at the picture for too long and Dustin demands to know what he's staring at. Steve brushes it off as nothing, and Dustin narrows his eyes at him for a moment before letting it go.

Steve vows to be a little more careful after that, but that leaves him wondering why he's being secretive about this picture of him and Eddie. And what does that mean?

-:-:-:-:-:-

It's a few days later when Steve rushes into the basement of the Wheeler home, trying to get Dustin to leave before he breaks his curfew. Dustin begs him for five more minutes which Steve grants him, but he can't help but wonder if he would've gone quicker if Eddie was there.

Thinking about it leads Steve to wander off away from the kids so he can open his wallet and look at the picture. He instantly gets that surge of warmth that has him biting his lip to keep from giggling. He nearly rolls his eyes at himself since he's acting like a middle school girl with a crush. He takes a few moments to try to fully memorize the picture when it hits him.

A middle school girl with a crush.

He puts the picture back in his wallet immediately and stuffs it in his pocket. He looks at Dustin who is already looking at him. "Whose picture do you have in your wallet, Steve?"

Steve turns bright red and it only further confirms his feelings. Oh god, he has a crush on Eddie Munson and has a picture of him in his wallet which he uses to feel happy. Oh shit.

Steve just says, "Come on, Henderson."

As the others start yelling at him asking who it is, Steve snaps that it's none of their business which only makes them pry further. He ignores them all the way to his car, and once he gets in, he tells Dustin, "Bring up the picture again, and I'll make sure to drive under the speed limit the entire way home."

Dustin glances at the clock and mimes zipping his lips, locking them, and throwing the key away. It only reminds Steve of Eddie.

The rest of the drive is fairly quiet as Steve thinks about the new development. He has a crush on Eddie. That's fine. That is definitely fine. It is all good and fine.

When he gets to Dustin's place, the boy turns to him and asks, "The person means a lot to you, don't they?"

Steve looks at Dustin and catches the seriousness of his look. He nods confirming what he said.

Dustin smiles. "Well, I can't wait to figure out who they are."

With that, he gets out of the car and jogs off to the front door, waving before he gets inside.

Steve drives away after a minute of making sure everything is okay and is left with his thoughts again.

Everything is not fine. And he doesn't know what's happening, so he goes to the only place he knows will help.

He parks his car and gets out, rushing to the side of the house to knock on the window. The light comes on and the curtains open. "Steve?"

The window is quickly lifted up and Steve climbs through. "Hey, Robin."

Then, he promptly has a meltdown of confusion and confesses everything to Robin. He pulls out the picture and hands it over.

Robin takes a few moments to stare at the photo before she hands it back to him. The two sit in silence until Robin finally says, "Oh my gosh, you have a crush on Eddie Munson."

"Yeah," Steve says in response.

And before he knows it the both of them are laughing loudly, trying to muffle it so they don't wake Robin's parents up which only causes them to laugh harder.

Steve says through the laughter, "Am I gay?"

Both of their laughter dies down, and Robin answers, "Probably bisexual."

"What that?"

"When a person likes men and women."

Steve sits in it for a second and nods. "Yeah, that makes sense."

And for some reason, this has them both laughing again. Steve can't help but hold up the picture and stare at it again. He really really likes Eddie Munson.

-:-:-:-:-:-

Two days later, Steve is trying to determine how much longer he can avoid Eddie. It's not exactly avoiding him when they just don't happen to run into each other, but pretty soon, it might turn into purposeful avoiding.

It's just... Steve doesn't know how to act around Eddie anymore. And he knows that when he has feelings for someone he's all or nothing and extremely obvious. And all the kids are a little too smart for their own good.

He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. He doesn't know what he's going to do.

The doorbell rings, and Steve sighs again. Better not be the kids.

He opens the door and is not prepared to find Eddie Munson at his front door.

"What are you doing here?"

"Hello to you, too. I thought I'd stop by, have a little chat," Eddie says with a smile but sounds extremely suspicious.

Shit, he might know.

Eddie tries to slip past him, but Steve steps in his way. All this does is get Eddie way closer to him than Steve can handle at the moment but he manages to ask, "What are you really doing here?"

Eddie's eyes deceive him and Steve clearly sees there's an ulterior motive. Eddie throws his hands up. "Fine! I was sent here on a mission."

Steve crosses his arms and steps back. "A mission?"

Eddie nods with a small smile. His eyes flicker past Steve, and that's when Steve realizes he messed up.

Eddie shoots past him and up the stairs. "Munson!" Steve calls after him slamming the front door close before racing after him.

Steve finds Eddie in his room with his wallet in his hand. Oh shit.

Steve stands in place, trying to feel out where Eddie is going next. "Give it back now. I'm serious, Eddie."

Eddie holds the wallet up high and slowly walks back. "I've been tasked... to find out who is in your wallet." Steve slowly steps forward, hoping to corner Eddie as he talks. "Now, the kids were worried that maybe it wouldn't be an appropriate picture if you know what I mean. So, I graciously accepted because I, too, am curious. Who has caught Steve Harrington's eye and given him a picture to remember them by?"

By now Steve is only a few steps away and ready to take the wallet back. Steve waits for Eddie to open his wallet before darting at him, but Eddie instead does the unthinkable.

He charges at Steve and somehow tackles him onto his own bed. Then, he climbs on top of him, straddling him and holding the wallet up high.

Steve's brain goes slightly fuzzy, so the only thing he can do is yell, "Please, you don't want to know!"

But Eddie opens the wallet and easily plucks out the picture, and all Steve can do is watch as he's trapped under Eddie. "I told you you wouldn't want to know," Steve mumbles, flushing red.

He watches as Eddie stares at it with a blank look on his face. A few moments pass and Steve quietly requests, "Can you at least get off of me?"

Eddie looks down at him and finally says, "No, I'm not going to let you escape." He makes it a point as he fully sits back on Steve's thighs.

Steve runs his hands over his face.

"Where did you get this?"

"Jonathan gave it to me after El's party," Steve answers staring at the ceiling, not wanting to know what Eddie's reaction is.

He feels him shift above him. "And... And this is the picture you've been staring at?"

"Yep," Steve replies immediately.

"Oh," Eddie says in a tone that Steve can't begin to describe.

"Yeah. Oh," Steve repeats back.

A few moments pass and Steve risks glancing at Eddie, but he's still staring at the photo. "Steve?"

Steve sighs, preparing for the letdown. "What, Eddie?"

"So, you know?" Eddie asks nervously.

Steve props himself up on his elbows. "Know what?"

Eddie shakes his head with a laugh. "Come on. You've stared at this picture long enough to read me." Eddie turns the picture around as if proving a point.

Steve feels that same heat as he stares at the photo, he lightly smiles at it. "You look happy. And El was right, you have a pretty smile."

Eddie groans as if frustrated with his answer which causes Steve to fully sit up until he's practically nose to nose with Eddie. "You asked me to read you, and you already figured out my feelings, so why are you mad?"

Eddie groans again and thrusts the picture between them. "You're able to read every look of mine except this one. Come on, Steve. Look."

So, Steve looks back at the photo. At the way Eddie is leaning into him, the hand on his knee, the big smile, the way his eyes are lit up. Then, Steve does something he hadn't thought of before. He looks at himself.

He looks at the way he's staring at Eddie, looking for that approval but mirroring him in his look. Steve looks back at Eddie as he seems to be hanging on to every word he's saying, not even paying attention to his surrounding. Neither of them are because...

Eddie has feelings for him, too.

The realization hits him quickly, and he can't believe he never saw it before. He loves the picture so much not only because of the way Eddie looks in it but because of the way Eddie is looking at him in it.

The picture slowly moves away and Steve breathes out, "Holy shit."

He refocuses his gaze on Eddie and sees that same look. The look that's always been there, but the only one that Steve has been unable to read. Eddie slowly smiles, and Steve can't help but mirror him.

Then, Eddie's eyes flicker down, and Steve knows exactly what that look means. But Eddie looks back into his eyes searching until he raises his eyebrows Can I? Steve nods, and they both surge forward closing the already small distance between them, kissing like there's no tomorrow.

Steve breaks away for air and asks, "Can I get a picture of this, too, for my wallet?"

Eddie laughs and replies, "As long as I get one to match." Then, he kisses Steve again, and Steve feels the same way he does whenever he looks at that picture - bursting at the seams with warmth and happiness.

Luckily when Dustin goes digging through Steve's wallet days later, he only finds the picture of them on the couch and doesn't notice the picture behind it of Eddie winking at the camera as he kisses Steve.

[lebensmudewing]

Men don't care about the facts

I once met a die hard misogynist who also hated men

He refused to date women and made a lot of efforst to not have any kind of relationship with them. To talk to him I had to wait two weeks since he was doing a vow of silence to not talk to any women.

He told me he left an english academia, because a woman started to talk to him and trying to hang out with him. Of course, I don't talk to him anymore.

He was and as far as I know still is, a genuine MGTOW. He just left women alone and minded his business. But he wasn't a high IQ successful six figures as MGTOW swear all men can become if they stop dating women. He usually drove while drunk, didn't had a career or a real job, lived with mom and dad and had a family completely progressive and contrary to his values. He also used to bet.

His misogyny was rampant, inflammatory and sophisticated. But he also seemed to hate men. He had a huge prejudice against men, he said that they are predatory, inherently selfish and violent.

But there was a major difference, he also believed that men are superior, that men are smarter, more beautiful, with mind and soul. So every bad characteristic had to be forgiven, while women had to be tightly controlled and punished.

And he acted accordingly, when I showed him a clip of a woman being harassed, it was her fault. If the woman rejected the man and the man exploded violently, it was her fault for not rejecting him nicely. If the woman tried to be polite and still molested, it was her fault for not being more clear.

He was aware of the constant damned if you do, damned if you don't rethoric and didn't have a problem with it. It was part of the principles, because women had to be punished and put on their place. Logic and fairness were not a problem for him, in fact, I believe that for him women had to endure the mistreatment since they were inferior.

Nowadays, everytime I see men talking about women online I see that man talking. It's always the same, doesn't matter who say it, with what words, the nuances of it. It all comes from the same place and it's the same game. Logic doesn't matter, facts don't matter, fairness doesn't matter.

I feel frustated everytime I see women online trying to educate men and respond to them. I understand the importance of counteract male bullshit stories, but everything seems to operate from men's frame. It's us responding to them, instead of them trying to convince us.

For example, the idea that men are entitled to fuck around a lot of women and demand a virgin bride. Everyone ask, well if all women have to remain virgin till marriage, with whom those men will have sex? And I can't help but feel that this is a loser move.

Men don't care about the maths, they care about what benefits them. If when young they feel like fucking around and then later they feel like settling and don't find the promised virgin wife, then it's not "my behavior was wrong" or "I have contributed to the problem", is a "women are the problem and society has to fix it for me". They are not thinking long term, they think it what they want now.

It is not a lack of math what makes them think this way, for them the pieces of the puzzle are fitting perfectly. Women have to gatekeep, be submissive, not think in their own desires and try to please them. They have a whole fantasy around being a kind of predator or a seductor who has conquered the virgin innocent women and has corrupted her, making her impure and damaged. They want to spend their lifes doing that and then settle with women who could not be conquered before.

Their whole self steem and validation relies on that. If a woman wants it and seek it, then they are not worth as much, since they don't have to put any effort or force. It's cheap and easy. If a woman has been with others before, then he is below those men.

It's perfectly logical for them, actually. When they become fathers, they still see themselves as part of the puzzle. Men who want to conquer his daughter have to conquer him too.

Of course, this take doesn't apply to all men perfectly, but all of them have a version of this idea. It seems inherent to men. Men who are succesful with women are sexist but benevolent and men who are not are hostile and misogynistic. Men who are good with women are good because they are getting validation from them, not because they are moral deconstructed people with strong feminist values.

They can't think of women as people by default, their view on them is conditioned on how they see themselves and what they have obtained from women. Their narratives and ideas stem from this, they don't respond to any external logic, their internal clock is right everytime of the year and your facts and math can't and won't change that.

It is said that if women would start act differently, men will act accordingly. I see more truth on it, but it won't solve everything. Not only because of the male allies, but because men will still act whitin their frame. If all women start to reject men, an unknown number of men will act from their entitlement and could literally kill us before seeking inside or listening to women about what they actually want. If women start to set the standard high and only reproduce with decent men, a lot of men will be excluded and will protest and sabotage.

Their firmware remains the same, they are superior, they worth more, they are entitled to you, you owe them something. It's not possible to reason a man out of that, so stop trying wasting your time and mental health on it. If they wanted to reach out, they would and they don't.

[sulumuns-dootah]

Can I request a headcanon of whb kings and gn mc going to the human world and meeting mc's toxic ex

WHB kings meeting MC's toxic ex

⟡ Masterlist ⟡

A/N: Accidentally wrote this with a male ex in mind, so sorry if you wanted to see female ex U.U

Warning: There's a lot of swearing from the ex :D (I don't normally have the need to warn about this but I did kinda run loose this time)

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Make sure to explain to Satan that ther are laws and he can't just kick people as he wishes to when he's visiting you on Earth

But that doesn't stop him, really

So the moment your ex stops you while you've both just walking down a street and starts angrily going on about how quickly you moved on (it's been more than a year) and exchanged him for some short ass mf, Satan's already dragging him into the nearest back alley and having a "word" with him

There's no guarantee the ex will ever leave the back alley on his own - if even

Ngl, it's kinda hot to imagine :D

       ༺☆༻

Just a calm, normal day of Mammon treating you to a café date

Then suddenly a hand lands on the small table between the two of you

Yep, it's your toxic ex

'Seriously?! You broke up with me just to become some cheap sugar baby slut?'

So... Apparently your ex didn't miss the quiet luxury outfit on Mammon memo and thinks you're after his money

Before you get to speak up to your own defense, Mammon starts laughing

Your and your ex's heads snap in his direction

'Yeah, you think it's funny, asshole? This bitch is a goddamn golddigger!'

Mammon stops laughing and gets up

You can only see the horror in your ex's eyes as the mountain of a demon starts towering over him

"I'd really appreciate if you didn't talk about my fiancé like that. If you must know, they are the one making more money than me."

Mammon didn't even get to finish his second sentence and your ex is gone, vanished

       ༺☆༻

You're in some expensive store, picking out some new clothes for yourself to wear to some event that Leviathan's taking you to as a date

Coming out of a changing room, you do a little twirl to show your outfit to him

As Leviathan's hands smooth down over your curves, appreciating how the clothes complimetn your body, your toxic ex appears

'Hey fucker, hands off my gf/bf!'

Your ex grasps Leviathan's bicep and tries to pull him away from you

Levi only gives you a tired look

"Y/N, why is this cretin touching me?"

As you eyes widen, the shock stops you from making any sound

'You think you're being funny? I'll fucking kill you, dickhead!"

"Ah, I see..."

You and Leviathan agreed to not have him use his abilities so you don't get into trouble and possibly expose Levi as a demon

But this is a special case

So Levi turns to your ex and whispers "Choke"

And the next second, your ex is gasping for air, falling to the ground, meanwhile you and Levi try and get you changed bakc into your normal clothes so you can pay and leave ASAP

       ༺☆༻

A cute dinner date, what could go wrong?

It was kinda hard for Beelzebub to eat like a human and not shovel food into his mouth like he normally would

When your second course arrived, Beel stopped for a second

...?

That's odd...

"Hey mister waiter, this food smells interesting... Can you tell me why does this food smell like - what you guys call - rat poison?"

What. The. Fuck?

You freeze and look at Beel across the table

He's looking at the waiter with that smile of his that tells you he knows more than he's sharing

And then you look at the stuttering waiter

Fuck

That's your toxic ex

"B-Beel, what do you mean rat poison?!"

"It seems to me, our mister waiter gave us an extra ingredient into our food before bringing it here"

Beelzebub gets up and grabs your ex by his chin

The whole situation escalates to the point where your ex gets arrested for attempted murder

       ༺☆༻

On the rare occasion when Belphie isn't sleeping his day away, you both find yourself on some local version of comic con

You both decided to cosplay your favorite characters from a Hentai you both enojoy

It's a bit niche, but you guys were okay with that

But then from one of the booths emerges your toxic ex

'Ah, so I had to fight tooth and nail to at least get to see your tits once, but now you're just gonna whore yourself around?'

Your eyes dart to Blephie, but he's looking somewhere else, possibly dozing off standing up despite telling you he wouldn't

"May-"

You don't even get to say anything when your ex slaps you hard

That gets Belphie's attention and he's more awake than ever before

Normally, he's probably tell Beleth to kill that guy, but he's not there with you

So now Belphie has to be the one to deal wiht this nuisance

"M'kay, I'm giving you three seconds to skedaddle before I turn you into minced meat."

Your ex just starts to laugh, but doesn't get to for long since a black fog surrounds him and makes him disappear for good

Why bother with prolonging his inevitable end? Besides, Belphie is getting tired and you two still have a lot of things to check out

       ༺☆༻

I'm not even gonna introduce a scenario

It's not like you can even go outside with Asmo without having him get hard from something

But

If Asmo had to deal with your toxic ex, he'd go the I fucked your mom way

Which he probably actually did at some point

That would explain that absolute fatherless behavior of your ex during your relationship

       ༺☆༻

You and Lucifer are at a pharmacy, partially because you got a minor scratch on your elbow from *cough cough* but also because Lucifer is interested in what kinda of medicine humans have

And then you run into your ex with a broken hand who immediatelly starts going off to you about how messy you look and how you'll never find anyone again since even getting together with him was a charity on his part

You don't look messy at all

Okay, maybe your hair is a bit messy and and your outfit is a bit wrinkled plus you walk with a bit of a tiny limp, but that's because you did find someone else

You're aboutt o answer swomething witty, maybe even poke fun at your ex fro getting his hand broken, but Lucifer beats you to it:

"Excuse me, if I may chime in as a professional in the medical field, there seems to be a condition with your broken limb. If you keep saying such stuff to my partner, I'm affraid you'll find that your other hand is also broken, if not more of your bones. Should this condition escalate, your condition might turn lethal."

Your ex blinks, trying to process what Lucifer even said, but at that point you're both walking away while you're trying so hard to not burst out laughing

[muldermuse]

An Unlikely Hero (ex boyfriend!Billy Butcher x reader)

this is going to be a multi part series!!! i love exboyfriend!butcher and he is on my mind constantly. if u would like to read more about him here’s some more posts! if you wanna talk about him pls send me your thoughts ❤️ dividers by @saradika ❤️

part one: the first date

OR

the first time you meet Billy Butcher

You swore to yourself that this was the last Tinder date you’d subject yourself to. Last week, you matched and met with Jack who had a Homelander sleeve tattoo and cried to you about how hard it was to be a ‘true American’ nowadays.  The week before that, it was Shay who seemed sweet but kept trying to ply you with drinks and invite you back to his place (he bragged that his ‘folks were out of town’, which would be impressive if you were a hell of a lot younger than you actually are). This week’s date is named Harry and he’s just not right for you. You thought it over texts but as soon as you sat down with him tonight; it was confirmed. It’s not even like you have a great previous relationship as a point for comparison, all romantic love has been fleeting and, with how things are going currently, you imagine it always will be.

It's a few hours later and Harry’s suddenly a lot drunker than you. You’ve moved from the overpriced restaurant to your favourite bar. The drinks are questionable in that they’re both incredibly cheap and very strong. You grab two stools at the bar which is overwise empty, apart from one man nursing a whiskey. You’re sure Harry’s drunker than you because he’s currently sobbing into his craft beer about how he hasn’t felt a connection with anyone since his ex-girlfriend, who left him 3 months ago for a co-worker.

“Like, you’re nice y’know. You seem like a nice girl” you try not to recoil at the phrase “but my ex? She was great. There’s no one else who’s ev-hic-ever been like her and there never will be”. The guy sat next to you at the bar mutters a “fuckin’ ell” under his breath as he gestures towards the bartender for another neat whiskey. His accent is completely out of place in this local dive bar; he sounds European. No trace of an american accent so you consider that he could be a tourist who’s wandered into a bar looking for a cold drink and some respite.

You try not to smirk at the utterance and tune back into what Harry’s saying, “I think we’ve both just gone through the motions tonight, don’t you agree? I can tell you’re not really into me and to be honest, I’m not into you”. You kind of admire his candor because he’s right, you’re not into him in the slightest but the next thing out of his mouth quickly dispels any misplaced respect you held for him. “I’ve been real lonely since she left though…maybe you could come back to my place-hic-she’s uh…some of her stuff is still there but there’s not a lot of it in the bedroom”. He’s that plastered that what he assumed would be a casual hand slide up your thigh becomes a full push, hurtling you into the whiskey sipping man next to you. You fall into his chest, it’s strong and kind of feels like slamming into a wall. 

“Right, tha’s fuckin’ it” the potential tourist speaks and it’s only when he stands up that you realise how broad he is. He’s tall with thick black hair and the beard to match. His outfit is seemingly prepared for a spectrum of weathers with a Hawaiian shirt clashing with a thick overcoat. He’s older than you, definitely older but absolutely attractive. More attractive than anyone you’d seen on Tinder or, probably, ever in your life. “You alright there darlin’?” his dark eyes bore into yours as you nod and cough out a meek ‘yes’. You silently curse yourself, the first thing you say to this strong man makes you sound like a small frightened mouse.

“’M jus’ gonna get rid of your little pal there and then I’ll buy ya a drink- alright?” his hand rubs your bare arm and sends a flurry of goosebumps across your skin. The whole interaction feels more charged than anything you’ve had before with another human, you wonder if he’s feeling it too and pray that he is.

“Oh nice one man, I’ll have uh…another craft” Harry gestures towards the tap, completely oblivious to the situation in front of him

“All you’re fuckin’ gettin’ cunt is a helpin’ hand out that fuckin’ door. Now, I’ll ask ya politely one last fuckin’ time…fuck off” he elongates the 3 letter word. A comically confused look spreads across Harry’s face. “’M on a fucking date here man and she’s coming back to mine, aren’t you?”

“No” you quickly deadpan, shaking your head at the still unnamed man.

“There’s your answer then cunt, off ya fuck” 

“Butcher- no fuckin’ blood on my bar this time man” the bartender shouts whilst idly checking his phone. Butcher? Is that the guy’s name? 

Harry stands up, pushing out his chest which, if anything, only exaggerates how small he is in comparison. “I’ve bought her meal, paid for her drink and I’m go-hic-gonna take her back to my place and fuck her”. He finishes his sentence in Butcher’s face. Whilst you see a flicker of fear cross Harry’s expression; Butcher’s look borders on hysterical. 

“Alright then big fella, I’ll tell ya what’s gonna happen” he slams his hand down on Harry’s shoulder, his eyes now boring into his. “You’re gonna fuck off back to your shitty little home, grab some lube, cry and wank to ya heart’s content about your ex who is probably ridin’ some big fat fuckin’ dick right now-yeah?” Butcher nods as if Harry’s going to agree with him.

Your date goes to interrupt but Butcher presses a finger to his quaking lips before he can start, “what’s not gonna happen, my sad little mate, is that you’re going to fuck her. She’s hadta listen to your fuckin’ whinin’ about your ex all night whilst you’ve fuckin’ insulted this gorgeous woman. So, get out before I throw ya through the fuckin’ window”. Harry’s lost for words, he doesn’t make eye contact with you as you stand silently behind Butcher. You see tears brimming in his eyes as he smacks $20 on the bar top. 

“Fuckin’ old asshole” Harry spits as he shoves past the pair of you.

Butcher smirks at the remark, watching the door swing shut behind Harry before turning to you. “Right darlin’, whatcha havin’?” 

It’s the best date you’ve ever been on and it’s not even a real date. You finally got his full name. Billy Butcher. Your heart races just to say it. He’s from London but has been in the States for a while. He asks all about you and you surprisingly find you’ve got a lot in common. He’s funny, charming and really fucking exciting- you have to admit. By the third drink, the chat goes from conversational to more flirty. 

“The bartender said ‘this time’, do you do this a lot? Love saving a damsel in distress? Are you a hero, Billy Butcher?” you smirk at him and he returns it back to you. There’s lust in his eyes and you see him take your appearance in for what feels like the upteenth time since you sat down.

As he goes to speak, the bell rings for last orders and he takes your hand to help you off the bar stool. You down the remnants of your drink together and he puts his arm around you and escorts you out of the bar.

You don’t want it to end, he lights a cigarette and you thank any higher deity for the extra thinking seconds it gives you. He speaks before you get chance, “Will ya let me walk you home darlin’? Swear on my mum’s life I won’t try any funny business”. He holds his hand out like he’s making a scouts honour. Honestly, you do anything to spend a bit more time with him so you smile, link your arm with his and pull him down the quiet streets.

The air makes you feel drunker than you are. If you were sober, there is no way you’d be giggling like a school girl at everything this man is saying, yet here you are. Your arms are linked and you’re resting your head on his shoulders as you tell him about your horrific dating history. Everytime he laughs and accuses you of exaggerating you say, “Billy Butcher, I would never ever lie to you”. You say it because his name feels so fun sliding off your tongue. You barely see anyone on your walk home and the sound of your shared laughter fills the empty streets.

As you turn down your street, you wish you lived miles away so you could keep walking together for hours. Your stomach drops at the thought that you’ll never see him again. Which, you completely realise, is fucking stupid. This stranger threatened your date to leave but he also made you feel safe and laugh harder than you have in months. You pull his stride to a stop outside your house. It feels like some awful hallmark romcom or trashy romance novel.

You thank him for escorting you home and he turns down a nightcap in your house as “it’s not gentlemanly on the first date”. He shoots you a wicked grin again as he says, “my mum would be spinnin’ in her grave darlin’”.

You try not to let the heartbreak from that sentence show on your expression. “You’re a gentleman, Billy Butcher?”

“The best one around darlin’. I’ll prove it tomorrow when I take ya out for lunch”

A brief flare of anger hits you, “yeah, I hear that all the fucking time. The lunch never happens, I don’t see you again but then we bump into each other at the store and you apologise and say you’ll be in touch which, of course, you never will be”. You regret it as soon as you stop speaking.

Before you can apologise, he grabs a sharpie out of his coat pocket, takes your hand and scribbles down his number. “There, alright? You call me at any time gorgeous and I swear, I’ll fuckin’ answer and come runnin’”

His kiss to your cheek is soft yet restrained. “You’ll forget about me Billy Butcher, I know it”.

“S’not fuckin’ possible, darlin’”. He says goodnight and walks down your street. A plume of cigarette smoke trailing after him.

He keeps his word.

40 minutes later, and after one final glass of wine, you call him.

He answers on the first ring and says your name. He tells you where to meet tomorrow and what time to get there.

You hope he can always keep his promises.

[gyeomsweetgyeom]

[2:14 pm]

(cw: cursing, reader is a lil teensy weensy bit toxic but it's fun!!!)

"Did you still want to go get food?" you ask from your position on gamer!Haechan's bed. The same spot you'd been in for the last, wow, almost 3 hours.

"Fuck off! Get my 6 motherfucker!" Haechan yells, before answering softly, "yeah, of course, baby."

You rolled your eyes, he wasn't even listening to you. He had been listening to you when you showed up 4 hours ago when he was very calmly showing you all the changes he made on his Animal Crossing Island. Then, and this was smart, he slid his Switch over to you and told you to make any changes you'd like. So you spent about an hour on his Switch, placing decorations and buying clothes to send to your own island before you realized he was keeping you busy so he could play Fortnite.

Just like he'd been playing last night when he insisted you call him to talk. That casual, and some might even call it cute, conversation lasted all of 20 minutes before he was screaming so loud, you heard him across the room even when your phone wasn't on speaker. Since he'd been so adamant about playing last night and played for so long, you thought today he'd be over it. WRONG! Apparently, there had been some update or something and that reignited his Fortnite obsession.

"Well, do you want to go out like we planned or do you want me to order something?" You asked, turning to lay on your side.

"Of course, my love- oh you stupid fuck! Get back here!" Haechan groaned as the keyboard clacking got even louder.

You pulled a blanket over your face to muffle a groan of your own. A groan of annoyance an frustration more than anything. You'd give him 10 more minutes and then you'd take drastic measures.

You checked the time, 2:14, perfect. You figured you could have at least a little fun while you waited.

"I think it would make you totally ugly if you shaved your head, but why not do it anyway? What do you think?" You asked with a smile.

Haechan nods, "Totally agree, babe. Someone come get this stupid ass little 10 year old that tried to steal my loot."

"And you should pay for our food! And dessert!" You added.

"Of course, baby! Oh, oh, dude! Dude! Headshot! That was a headshot! Holy shit! That was gold!" He exclaimed excitedly.

"And I was thinking maybe after dinner we can go sell your whole set up. Maybe to the first guy we see for like a dollar even less!"

"Yeah, definitely. Dude, I'm out. Fuck, I lagged. Let's join a new game, I'm tired of playing with these fucking kids," Haechan groans, running his hands down his face.

Perfect, you stood up and quickly moved to his computer, pulling at some random plugs until the screen shut off. You placed your hand over his mouth with a sickeningly sweet smile, "We're going to go eat now. Then, because you agreed, we're going to shave your head, you're going to pay, and then we're going to sell your little computer and the whole set up."

You could feel his lips moving beneath your hand, "But-"

You tsked with a fake pout, "Baby, you agreed."

"I wasn't listening! I don't remember what you said!"

"You don't listen when I talk?" You ask with an arched brow.

He opened his mouth and quickly closed it to take a second to think. He hummed, "I promise, the next time we have plans I won't get distracted by games." You gave him a look as if to ask, and? he cleared his throat, "and I won't try cheap gimmicks to distract you. And I will pay for dinner and for the rest of the day all my attention will be on you and no one or anything else. But I won't shave my head or sell my set up."

You smiled, "I was joking. I just wanted to see if anything would catch your attention. Now, let's go, I'm hungry."

You were both on your out when Haechan asked, "do you think I'd look good with a shaved head? Is that why you asked."

You couldn't even look at him, choosing instead to focus on the sidewalk beneath your feet, "yeah, baby. Of course..."

[drabblejester]

watching a SCARY MOVIE with VARIOUS HSR CHARACTERS!

requested by: the masses

parings: boothill, sampo, sparkle, argenti, march 7th, mr reca x gn!reader (taken as platonic or romantic for all)

content warnings: none!!! just mentions of scary movies :3

comments: happy late halloween and DÍA DE LOS MUERTOS!!!! yahoo!! i hope yall got a bunch of candy my lieges..

BOOTHILL:

You’re sitting down on your comfortable couch (although a certain man takes up nearly all the space), blanket tossed over the both of you. A heavy and cozy wool blanket that Boothill made for you, which is now stifling your shrieks as you watch probably the most horrifying movie you’ve seen before.

You’re easily scared, jumping at every little rattlesnake and spider that crosses your path, so of course Boothill had to put on a movie that brings up your worst fears. Not out of malice, of course.

“C’mon, it’s not that scary. Just a buncha moving pictures.” He says, patting a cold metal hand on your back that makes you flinch and weep. He judges your reaction for a moment, eyes flicking up and down, before he softens up.

“Alright, c’mere you.”

SAMPO:

If anything, Sampo is the scared one. Although you still get freaked out by jumpscares and gore, he’s squishing into your stomach in a curled up position, shaking and losing his composure by the second.

The movie isn’t even that scary! It’s one of those old cheesy horror movies with cheap sfx. But sadly, your wonderful boyfriend is too dramatic for your own good. He cuddles up next to you and wraps his arms around your waist, shoving his face in your torso.

And the moment you try to talk to him about how scared he is, he immediately denies it. “No, nono I’m not scared! Are you scared? Because I’m not! Mr. Sampo Koski never gets sca-AAAAAH!!” A jumpscare happened at the most perfect moment, causing his words to interrupt with a scream. And of course, you laughed at his dismay.

SPARKLE:

You have no clue where Sparkle ran off to. She said she’d be going to the market for snacks, and left you with an incredibly traumatizing horror movie to watch. You’ve already been on your phone and put your headphones in to drown out whatever is going on the screen. Of course she hid the remote too.

Suddenly, the lights in your room are cut completely, leaving you in darkness with nothing but the screen and your phone to illuminate. When you hold your phone to get your flashlight up, your phone begins to ring with an unknown caller. How cliché. You still pick it up, met with a somewhat familiar voice saying, “Do you like scary movies?”

You turn to the window, knowing where this was going, and open the blinds before you get the shit scared out of you by none other than Sparkle, dressed in a bloody Scream outfit. She yells at you and slams her hands on the door, causing you to fall backwards in shock. She laughs at you before coming back inside, tossing a few candies on you before sitting down to watch the rest of the movie.

ARGENTI:

“Fear not, my dear companion! I’ll fight these monstrous beasts in the name of Idrila!” He proclaims, causing you to roll your eyes dramatically. He’s been saying this every time a monster came up on screen. Which has been for a while, since you picked a horror movie with a whole lot of vampires and werewolves and whatnot.

You’re pretty much locked in place with his grip, sitting behind you with his arms around your body. His chin rests on your shoulder as he watches the screen intently, eyes narrowing at every beast that appears. You’re simply hanging out, eating popcorn, and not taking it as seriously as he is.

“Such wretched beasts… I’d never let you fall victim to them.” He says, voice low and thoughtful. You glance at him. “You do know that they’re actors, right?” You question. Argenti looks at you, and then at the screen, furrowing his brows. “I’m aware. But all I’m saying is…”

MARCH 7TH:

Both of you are sitting in March’s room, curled up on the bed surrounded by pillows and plushies, and shielding your eyes from the movie that you put on. You wanted to challenge yourself and March to watch the scariest, most horrifying movie to exist. Which turned out to be way too much for you- and you lost the remote.

You squeal in sync for any jumpscare, gripping at eachother’s arms and mumbling in fear with every added second of suspense. No amount of yummy snacks or drinks could save you now. You hold onto March’s hand hard enough to almost bruise her, and she does the same to you. Both of you are tangled up in the blankets, hiding under a fort of pillows.

“ohmygodsohmygodsitsgonnahappentheresgonnabeajumpscare” March mutters, her grip on your arm increasing by the second. She shakes you around, repeatedly shoving her face in your shoulder and then looking back at the screen. You hold onto her shirt and glance at her and then the screen. You lift up a hand to cover part of the screen before the scare happens, causing March to scream hard enough to wake up every Nameless on the express.

MR. RECA:

You really did think this would be a fun night. How wrong! With a director and film critic beside you, he points out every single mistake in the writing and acting of the movie you put on. It was a horror comedy, since you didn’t feel like getting nightmares tonight. However, Mr. Reca thinks that it’s a total fool’s movie.

“The pacing is simply- Oh, it’s just ATROCIOUS! The SFX could be better too, oh how i HATE CGI!” He complains, keeping one hand on your shoulder while using the other to dramatically gesture at the screen. You thought the movie was alright, not good but not bad. But apparently Reca just despised it.

He stopped eating the snacks you got completely, instead choosing to talk over nearly every scene in the movie. You keep shushing him, he goes quiet for a minute, and immediately keeps talking. And once the movie was over and you were thoroughly tired, he decides that he wants to write a better version of that movie. Before you fall asleep, you see Reca hovering over you, speaking excitedly. “So, what do you say that we REMAKE that movie? You could be the star!” And you drift off to dreamland, still haunted by Reca’s endless yapping.

enjoy the treats my SPOOKY lieges…

[msmk11]

Heyyy, I just saw that you were taking requests for Tangerine x Readers, and I was wondering if you could write something like Tangerine and reader being fwb before the whole bullet train thingy, and she catches feelings but he's super distant (bro has serious attachment issues) so he pushes her away and is a bitchy manchild about it (LOTS AND LOTS OF ANGST but it has a fluffy ending) (smutty too if ur comfortable with it) ofc u can ignore this request if u don't want to, and I'd write it myself but I have zero motivation rn and I js wanna cry and then giggle😭🫶

And I Have To Live With It, For the Rest of My Life

Tangerine x fem!reader

WC: 3.4k

CW: HEAVY ANGST; slut shaming; booze/being drunk; fighting; cursing; lack of aftercare; mentions of sex; Tangerine is a HUGE asshole. Tiny fluff ending.

A/n: Hi love! Thanks for requesting! Sorry this took so long I just needed to find inspo. I’m also sorry for the lack of smut (and fluff tbh,) I just don’t take smut requests. As for fluff, I did want a “happy ending” but it felt cheap to try and go from ANGST to “everything is perfect again” in such few words. Maybe I’m just traumatized, but I have a hard time forgiving quickly lol and I think that shows here.

Everything was really, really good.

So of course you had to go and ruin it.

People say you can’t control matters of the heart and you think that it’s a load of bullcrap. Why not? Why couldn’t you have control over your heart?

And why did you have to catch feelings for Tangerine?

It isn’t part of the deal. Tangerine is a business partner. An acquaintance. A friend. A friend you occasionally fuck.

Your relationship with Tangerine was always supposed to be casual. No strings attached- business was simply business and fucking simply fucking. But then your heart got involved.

What’s one supposed to do?

Certainly not keep going back to the captor of one’s heart.

So of course that’s exactly what you do.

You’re laying in your hotel bed, completely naked, covers pooled around your waist. You and Tangerine just finished having sex and he’s already up and moving about, throwing on his clothes that had been discarded on the floor somewhere in your flurry of lust. Instead of saying anything, you just watch him in all his glory. You admire his tousled post-sex hair, curls askew, the way his back muscles ripple as he bends down to sweep his shirt up off the ground, and the way his fingers deftly button up his shirt.

“Got a meeting to head off to?” You ask casually.

Translation: Please don’t run off so soon if you don’t have to. Stay.

Tangerine’s eyes flit to yours briefly before he bends down to tie his shoes, “something like that.”

“Mhmm.”

You pull the covers up to your neck, suddenly feeling very vulnerable so bare and exposed to Tangerine who’s nearly fully dressed.

“You got a comb?” the brunette asks you gruffly as he straightens his suit jacket.

You nod towards the bathroom, “yeah, in there.”

He gives you no reply, only walking into the bathroom and shutting the door with a resounding thud.

Your stomach clenches painfully and your heart aches. The indifference with which Tangerine treats you hurts so badly. You’d rather him hate you then act like this. At least you’d know that he felt something, anything.

Is it too early for a drink?

The bathroom door opens again and Tangerine walks out, looking as though nothing ever happened. To him, nothing probably has. Nothing of consequence, at least.

“Well, I’m heading out. See you for our debrief tonight at nine.”

Tangerine begins to walk towards the door.

“Wait!” you call out.

You stop him just in time, his hand frozen on the handle. You swear he visibly tenses at your words, “what?”

“Could- could you at least get me a towel? Please?”

He doesn’t even look at you before nodding, “Yeah.”

He disappears into the bathroom for a moment before reappearing with a towel in hand. Tangerine, it seems, doesn’t even have the decency to walk the towel over to you. Instead, he tosses it across the room, almost hitting you in the face.

“Thanks.”

Shame pools in your stomach and you keep your gaze on the towel in your hands.

Tangerine grumbles a reply and then makes for the door so quickly that there’s no chance for you to say anything more.

Your heart sinks at the possibility that Tangerine might know you have feelings for him.

*****

You’ve already found a secluded spot in the hotel lounge and have a drink in hand when the twins appear downstairs. They take a seat across from you wordlessly and Tangerine lifts his hand in the air gracefully, motioning for a cocktail waitress to come take his order. Lemon and him order their drinks, and you ask for a second. It bothers you severely when you catch Tangerine winking at the waitress out of the corner of your eye.

You down the rest of your drink in one gulp and ignore how it burns your throat.

“Right, so the job’s done. When are we getting out of here?” Lemon asks tiredly.

“We,” Tangerine says, pointing between him and his brother, “are out of here first thing in the morning, “I’ve booked our tickets for a 5 am flight.”

“And her?” Lemon responds, pointing to you.

Tangerine barely glances at you, but you can see his jaw tense, “the job’s done. Figured she’s a fucking big girl who can handle getting herself home. Isn’t that right, love?”

Condescension drips from Tangerine’s words and it makes your stomach drop. You refrain from saying what you really want to and instead assume a relaxed persona, “mhmm, always right you are. I arranged for my travel last night.”

You, luckily, weren’t lying, though you had ordered a car big enough for three. More room for you, you guess.

The waitress comes back with your drinks and you eagerly take yours. When she asks if you need anything else, you can tell that she’s really only talking to Tangerine. Still, you tell her yes, asking for a third drink.

Lemon eyes you, “you haven’t even touched your second drink and now you’re ordering a third?”

You shrug your shoulders nonchalantly and lean back in your chair, “I’ve got the money to spend on it now that we each just made what, nearly 12,000 pounds?”

Lemon smirks in celebration and holds out his drink to you, “cheers.”

You clink glasses but Tangerine doesn’t join in, a perpetual frown gracing his face.

“Ya really wanna get fucking sloshed before ya travel tomorrow?” the brunette suddenly chimes in- rather judgmentally, you might add.

“Who said anything about sloshed, Tangerine? I can hold more than you think.”

While your answer is confident, even combative, on the inside, your heart leaps into your throat and pounds desperately. You think you might explode.

“Still, ya certainly don’t have any self-control. Not over ya drinks, your mouth, and most importantly….” Tangerine’s eyes narrow at you, “not over ya emotions.”

Your heart sinks in your chest.

So Tangerine did know about your feelings. Worse? He’s being a right fucking prick about it too. There’s no emotional sensitivity, no respect for privacy, nothing. Serves you right for fucking a cold-blooded assassin.

Unfortunately for you, tears spring to your eyes despite the fury boiling in your stomach, “you wanna talk about control, Tangerine? Let’s talk about how you have so little control over your own feelings that you lash out at others and make them feel like shit, even your own brother, so that you feel better. Let’s talk about how you can’t keep your dick in your pants because you’d rather fuck anything that looks at you than deal with anything real. Let’s talk about how what’s happened between us has made you feel so out of control that you’re willing to go low enough to hash this out in fucking public. You’re a walking disaster, Tangerine, and I feel right fucking sorry for you, I really do.”

You stand up harshly and purposely knock his drink onto his expensive suit. You start to walk away and then turn back, batting your eyelashes innocently, “oh wait, should I get you a fucking towel to clean up? Or would you rather beg me for it?”

You don’t wait for a response and grab a dry towel off a random cleaning rack, throwing it right in his fucking face.

*****

Tangerine glares after you as you storm off.

“What the bloody fuck was that all about?” Lemon protests.

Tangerine ignores Lemon and instead curses loudly before chasing after you. He could not let you have the last fucking word. He catches you right in time, hand stopping the doors of the elevator you’re in.

You look up at him startled, and your shocked expression is quickly replaced with an angry one.

“What the fuck, Tangerine? Get out of here!”

“Ya don’t get to fucking talk to me like that and spill my drink all over me and then just walk away.”

“Why not,” you scoff, “you ran away as soon as you were done using me to jack off. It only seems fair.”

The elevator doors slide shut and the car begins to move upwards slowly.

“Yeah, well that’s usually what happens when ya casually fuck someone. But I don’t think ya have a casual bone in your body- always stomping around being a dramatic attention-whore.”

Tangerine watches your eyes narrow and jaw harden, “there’s a difference between being causal and being a huge dick, Tangerine. I should’ve known you’d be the latter.”

“And I should’ve known not to mess around with a fucking slut like you.”

Your eyes widen in shock and even Tangerine knows that he’s taken things a little too far. While your effort to fight back your tears is valiant, it’s fruitless, and they begin to stream down your face.

“Fuck you, Tangerine. You know, I never expected you to return my feelings, and I’m sorry I crossed a line by falling for you. Swear to fucking god I wish I didn’t. But you- you’ve just crossed an unforgivable line, and I never want to see you again. Have a fucking nice life.”

The elevator doors slide open and you scurry out. This time, Tangerine doesn’t follow you.

*****

After everything that happened with Tangerine on your last mission, you decided to take an indefinite hiatus from work and just focus on yourself.

One of your goals? Fuck your feelings for Tangerine out of you. So of course, you’d been spending a lot of nights out at the bars, seducing all the eligible bachelors of the city into your bed.

You hope that it’s working.

Tonight is no different from the rest- you dressed up in one of your sexy outfits sitting at the bar of some new local pub. You’ve already eyed a muscular blonde about your age from across the bar and motion for him to come over.

He complies and makes his way to you, a cocky smirk on his face.

“Hey gorgeous,” you tease, looking him up and down.

The man takes a seat next to you, “Hullo, love. What’s a pretty girl like you doing sitting at the bar all by herself?”

You shrug nonchalantly, “looking for a handsome man. Like you, I suppose.”

He cocks his eyebrow at you, “you suppose?”

“Always hard to tell in this type of lighting.”

The blonde bites his lip and eyes you, “I can promise you I’m handsome.”

“We’ll see.”

“I’m Matt,” he says, extending his hand.

You respond with your name and grasp his hand. You’re expecting a handshake, but instead he brings your knuckles to his lips and kisses them softly.

“Pleasure to meet you.”

Damn this man is smooth.

“Really, the pleasure is all mine, Matt,” you respond, trying not to appear too flustered.

“Can I get you a drink?”

“Yeah, sure. Surprise me though.”

Matt orders the two of you drinks and you take the time to ogle him. He’s perfect.

But not as per-

Nope.

No, you don’t have time to think about him.

Matt hands you the mysterious concoction and you eye him, “what is it?”

“Just drink,” he nods, “promise it’s good.”

You take a small sip and it’s sweet. It’s yummy, and you take another, larger sip.

“Oh shit, this is good.”

“Told you.”

“Can I know what it is now?”

“No way. Need to hold this above you so you keep coming back to me to ask for another.”

You chuckle and look down, “okay Mr. Smooth-Talker. That was pretty good.”

“I can do a lot more than that,” he says seductively. His hand slides out casually and finds a home on your thigh.

You inhale sharply in pleasant surprise and lean towards him, “oh really?”

Matt leans in towards you too, “yeah, like-“

Just as you’re about to kiss him you hear a loud shout.

“Hey, get your hands off her!”

You startle at the sound and turn to see who could possibly be yelling like a maniac inside this bar. You’re also curious to know who’s the one getting yelled at.

Your stomach drops when you realize that you’re the target. And the yeller?

Tangerine.

“Oh my fucking God,” you curse, resting your forehead in your hands.

Tangerine comes stalking towards you.

“Uh, who the fuck is that?” Matt asks warily.

“My ex….fuck-buddy? Friend-with-benefits? I don’t know, it was complicated. But a piece of shit- that’s what he is.”

“What the fuck are you doing, mate?” Tangerine yells at Matt when he approaches you two. His words slur together and you can tell he’s really, really drunk.

“I could ask you the same thing,” Matt says gruffly.

“I’m not the one getting handsy with someone else’s girl,” the brunette snarls.

You scoff loudly, “Your girl? That’s rich Tangerine. Last I recall I was just a slut you fucked.”

Tangerine’s expression softens just the slightest and you almost think you clock regret in his eyes.

“Look, mate, you’re drunk. So get your ass out of here before I hand it to you,” Matt threatens.

Tangerine is sent back into his rage and steps toward Matt menacingly, “you little fucking,”

“Okay,” you shout, stepping in between them and putting a hand on each of their chests, “that’s enough.”

“Tangerine, go. home,” you growl.

“Yeah fucking right I-“

“Just let me take him,” Matt interrupts.

You scan his tense body, “Look, I appreciate it, but you’re not gonna win. Tangerine here is, well, trained. And I don’t want anything to happen to your pretty face. I’ll take care of him.”

“But he’s definitely stronger than you,” Matt protests.

You side eye Tangerine, “he won’t hurt me.”

The blonde’s eyes narrow.

“Physically, at least.”

Matt finally sighs and steps back, “I’ll be waiting here for you.”

You send him a half smile and then turn to the brunette with a glare, “Let’s. Go.”

Then, you literally grab him by the ear and drag him outside the bar. Tangerine lets out a string of curses and tries to fight back a little before he finally gives up.

When you get outside you let go of his ear and shove him, “What the fuck was that, Tangerine?”

“I was trying to protect you from that git,” he slurs.

“Tangerine, you’re the git. You’re the one that hurt me. It’s you I need protection from.”

Tangerine’s tough guy facade crumbles right before your eyes into one of remorse. He suddenly looks years beyond his age and crumples down onto the sidewalk, back pressed to the wall.

You look down at him with disgust. His hair is all over the place, his clothes are a complete mess, and he reeks of booze.

“I’m calling Lemon.”

With shaky hands you dial his number.

He picks up rather quickly and you can hear the confusion in his voice when he answers, “uh, hello?”

“Lemon, come get your fucking brother.”

*****

Although Matt was everything you could’ve hoped for, your night was ruined after Tangerine left. Luckily, Matt was understanding, and you’d exchanged numbers to meet up another day.

When you’d gotten home from the bar, you’d broken down completely. All of the anger, betrayal, frustration and sadness that had been pent up within you for weeks burst forth like a raging storm. You’d sobbed and screamed and even pitched a picture frame of you, Tangerine, and Lemon across the room, shattering it. The broken glass was a problem for later-you, and you’d ended up falling asleep on your couch, still in your bar clothes.

Loud bangs are what startle you awake hours later, and you curse as you flail off the couch. You hit the floor with a thud and groan. Now, not only is your head pounding, but your back will be all beat up too.

The pounding on your door continues and you curse whoever is making a ruckus this early.

You yank the door open, “what the fuck do you want?”

The last person you expect to see is on the other side.

Tangerine.

“Fuck off,” you spit before swinging the door shut resoundly.

Except the door doesn’t close because Tangerine’s foot catches it.

“Fuck me,” he groans in pain.

The brunette shoves the door back open and you smirk, “that’s what you get for being in places you don’t belong. Now get the hell out of my apartment.”

“Wait, wait. Please, just give me a chance to talk to ya. And then, if ya want, you never have to fucking see my face again.”

You don’t reward him with a response and instead just walk away, sighing.

Tangerine takes this as an invitation and walks inside your apartment, letting the door shut gently behind him. You beeline straight to where you left off on the couch, paying him no mind.

The idiot must not be paying attention because you hear the crackle of glass beneath his shoes and a quiet curse.

Tangerine goes silent and you stiffen, listening closely. You hear the pings of shattered glass being sifted through and then his footsteps as he nears your spot on the couch.

“I forgot about this picture,” he rasps.

“Well you can fucking have it. I don’t want it anymore.”

“Can I- can I sit?”

You briefly glance over at Tangerine and look him up and down. You don’t respond, only nodding.

Though he, like you, is still in his clothes from last night, he looks ten times worse. The purple bags under his eyes are heavy and dark, his hair and mustache aren’t groomed, his button up is missing a few buttons, and his shoes are untied. Maybe it’s bad to say, but you revel in how miserable and pathetic he looks.

“You look fucking awful,” you remark, venom heavy in your tone.

“And ya look like you’ve been crying.”

“Well no shit, Tangerine. Sort of happens when someone you thought was your friend turns out to be a big fucking prick. “

He looks down at his feet and shuffles awkwardly, “I know. I’ve uh, that’s why I came here to talk to ya. To apologize.”

You scoff and look at him with disbelief, “okay now you want to apologize? Only when you’ve fucking hit rock bottom you wanna mend things?”

“Love, no I, I’ve been wanting to since that night in the fucking elevator I-“

“Don’t call me that,” you whisper angrily, lip wobbling in spite of yourself.

“I’m not your love, I’m not your friend, I’m not your anything anymore. We’re done Tangerine, this is over.”

It’s then that the boy you’ve known for almost five years does something you never would have imagined.

He grovels.

He literally gets on his knees before you and grabs your hands tightly, looking up at you with pleading eyes.

“Just listen to me for a second. Please. I want ya to know how fucking sorry I am. Not just for last night, but for everything. I’m sorry I called ya a slut. I’m sorry I was rude, and distant, and an asshole. I’m sorry for fucking you like some piece of meat and then just leaving you behind with no aftercare, no attention, nothing. I’m sorry for being a terrible friend and I’m sorry for not telling you that I love you sooner.”

Tears shine in Tangerine’s blue eyes and he chokes on his next words, “Christ, I love ya so fucking much. And I know I’ve gone and fucked things up now, and that it’s too late. And I have to accept every day for the rest of my life that it’s my fault. I have to live with that. And I will, even though it could kill me. But I don’t know what I would’ve done if I couldn’t tell ya at least once.”

Tangerine’s forehead falls to your knees and his body begins to shake in quiet sobs.

He inhales sharply through his nose, trying to hold back more tears, and looks up at you so sadly. “You’re the best girl out there, and you deserve the best. You deserve to find that with someone. Someone who isn’t me.”

Tears of your own begin to drip from your face and your heart throbs in your chest.

You reach out and cup Tangerine’s jaw so gently it’s as if he could crumble under your fingertips at any second.

“Tangerine,” you whisper.

You search his eyes for any sign of insincerity, of some sign that he’s going to break your heart again. But all you see is true, genuine adoration and vulnerability. Consciously or not, your heart returns to the hands of the one who holds and you pull him in, kissing him softly.

The kiss is sloppy, and salty and wet, but you don’t care, because every peck and sigh and bite is punctuated by what you both know- I love you. I love you. I love you.

[honeygrahambitch]

"Now there are two things we can do." Brian said and looked at Beverly and Jimmy. "We tell Tim that Will is in a relationship or we let Tim be delusional just so we can see Dr. Lecter being jealous right in front of us."

"Tim from the HR department?" Jimmy asked a bit lost. "I go on vacation for once and I miss all the drama."

"Basically, this guy Tim is fruity." Beverly explained. "He's been visiting the lab for all kinds of stupid reasons only to interact with Will or to ask us about Will."

"Why didn't you tell him? He's taken for life."

"That's exactly what I was telling you two just now. We could tell him or we could see what happens." Brian went on. "Imagine being Will and having two men fight for you."

"Are you jealous, Z?" Beverly asked, making Brian scowl.

"No one is fighting for Will, Hannibal has already won."

"He has but does he seem to be the type to accept other people flirting with his hubby?" Jimmy asked rhetorically.

"That's a different story, you wouldn't want to see a man flirt with your wife either."

"Dr. Lecter is consulting on the case today. If we are lucky, Tim will come by. The funniest part is that Will is completely oblivious to his attempts."

*

"The victims not only have the eye colour in common. That was supposed to throw us off." Will said thoughtfully as he looked at the three bodies. "It's something else."

"We ran all the tests. Nothing similar." Jimmy replied.

"I mean, they did have the same blood type." Beverly added. "They are all B negative."

"I suggest you all find something more specific than that, we are not about to tell people to stay indoors if they have green eyes and the B negative blood type." Jack demanded a bit too impatiently. "Doctor?"

Hannibal was reading the case file just as Beverly was handing him the report following their tests. "We will find it, Jack." He replied not even lifting his glance but reassuringly enough for Jack to be satisfied.

The door of the lab opened and everyone moved their glance towards the visitor.

"Oh, hi, sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt."

As soon as everyone noticed it was Tim, their attention went back to the case file. Brian elbowed Jimmy subtly but not discreet enough for Hannibal to miss it. What he didn't miss was also the fact that this man who had just entered smelled really cheap.

"I hope I'm not intruding, I will be real quick."

Jack rolled his eyes. "What, Tim? What is it? Unless you solve this case I don't want to know."

Tim turned his head away from the dead bodies, visibly horrified. "I...sorry, no, not my domain. Unless they are trying to apply for a job here." He said and laughed awkwardly.

The joke made everyone in the room eye him at the same time, in a way that made Tim wish for the earth to swallow him.

"Anyway...I brought Will a coffee."

Hannibal flipped the page loudly enough for everyone in the room to hear it. "There is not sufficient information on the third victim. No medical history." He said as he watched the man hand Will the cup of coffee.

He gave Beverly a questioning glance. If anyone in that lab knew what was going on, she was the one. She shrugged awkwardly.

"We couldn't contact any relative of the last victim yet. That is why a lot of information is missing." Will explained. "Thanks'." He said absently as he accepted the cup of coffee.

Tim smiled widely, making Brian bite his own tongue in an attempt not to laugh.

"I like your shirt." Tim blurted out just like a teen who has been practicing the whole morning in front of the mirror.

Will was not phased, he was so focused on the third body that he didn't even hear the remark.

"I do too, I got it for him." Hannibal replied, making all the eyes in the room go to him. To Hannibal, that was never something to intimidate him. On the contrary. "It matches his eye color."

Brian kicked Jimmy again almost making him lose his balance.

However the most precious view in the room was the way Tim's face paled instantly. Out of pure stupidity, he tried to feed his own delusion and went on to ask:

"Aren't you Will's psychiatrist?" He had to convince himself that handsome man was nothing more than that.

Hannibal appreciated the poor thing for doing his homework. Although not completely.

This time Brian could not hold back his laughter, earning a punch in the shoulder from Jimmy.

Jack sighed loudly in his habitual "why can we never focus on the case" manner and didn't even make an effort to explain anything. "Please return to the HR office if you are done."

Hannibal made a mental note. Tim from HR. It was just as good as a business card. "Not anymore. Fact which makes buying clothes for my husband completely ethical."

Will lifted an eyebrow subtly.

"I didn't know Will was married." Tim mumbled taken aback, his heart and spirit visibly breaking.

"Will didn't know either." Will replied. "But I suppose I'm as good as married, indeed." He added thoughtfully before looking at one particular detail on each body.

"How does this discussion help us solve the case?" Jack asked, the frustration visible on his face.

"It does, in fact. If you check the victims you will notice they each wear the same ring. If you trace that back to the jewelry shop they got it from, we will have a new lead."

"I should have Tim in the lab more often." Jack said, pleased by the new connection.

"I don't think I will ever be able to come by. I don't like being led on." Tim said and left the room, making Brian almost choke.

"Who was that?" Will asked when he heard the door of the lab. "And how did I end up with this coffee?"

[lovebugism]

✶ ┄ FIX IT !

summary: you thought you were over it, the whole steve-and-nancy thing. spoiler alert: you aren't. pairing: steve harrington / f!reader word count: 3.5k warning: angst. gut wrenching angst. with a sort of happy ending. a/n: i'm such a sucker for angst it's gotta be unhealthy at this point. anyway, shout out to all my angsty fic enjoyers. let's read this and cry together <3

Having four roommates and only two bathrooms was worth it if it meant getting out of Hawkins. The apartment was a quaint little thing just outside of Indianapolis — up four flights of stairs with no elevator, cracks in the walls, and a stellar view of an alleyway.

But it was nice to have a place all your own. Sharing it with all your best friends was even better. That was the dream after all, wasn’t it? And being with Steve — that was just the cherry on top of it all.

So you weren’t going to let your mean, green, and envious heart ruin the new life you and your friends were trying to build in this tiny apartment.

You didn’t even think yourself the jealous type. Not until you realized that Steve was going to live under the same roof as his ex-girlfriend. It was dumb and it was irrational and you just couldn’t shake it.

It was probably a whole lot harder for Steve than it was for you, really. Besides, it had been years since they were together. Both of them had moved on, both of them had new and blossoming relationships.

Jonathan was good to Nancy. And to you, Steve was… well he was perfect. More importantly, he was yours. 

So it really shouldn’t bother you.

And it didn’t. Not for a while. 

Not until Nancy and Jonathan broke up out of nowhere and he’d announced to all of you on movie night that he was moving out.

He said that he missed California too much, that Argyle was getting lonely all the way out there, and that he had a spare room at his place. You couldn’t tell if that was the truth or just some bullshit excuse.

Maybe both.

What made it worse is that Nancy hadn’t seemed all that upset about it. Hell, you were more sad about him leaving than she was.

She told you as much during your weekly designated wine night (the one where you and her and Robin got drunk on cheap wine, while the rest of the boys fucked off and got drunker on cheaper beer).

“It didn’t hurt as bad as I thought it would,” she’d confessed with a shrug, only slightly tipsy and cheeks pink with it. “We… drifted apart, I guess. Just felt right to end it.”

You and Robin spent the rest of the night comforting her, anyway.

She loved Jonathan, everyone knew that. It sort of came with the whole shared trauma thing. She had to be at least a little bit sad that her person was gone, but she hid it away from the rest of you like it was her job.

But when the days got really bad, and she found herself missing Jonathan more than she liked, she sought refuge in Steve. Your Steve. 

And it made sense. He knew her better than the rest of you.

But it didn’t mean it hurt any less.

A sick feeling twists in your stomach when Steve accompanies the girl on a liquor store run without her having to ask. You watch with your heart in your throat when he leaves with her in the dead of night — a swirling bubble of jealousy in the pit of your chest with an ache so palpable you can taste it.

You spend the next several minutes trying not to look as sad as you feel while Eddie can’t stop debating on what the two of them might be talking about.

Nancy had been more reserved as of late, carrying a rain cloud over her as she wandered through the apartment like a ghost — he concludes they’re just going out to spill some hot goss. Robin makes him promise to never say those string of words ever again while you quietly dismiss yourself to your bedroom.

Nancy and Steve have been gone for an hour.

Lying in the dark and staring up at the textured, water-stained ceiling, you start to do the math. Fifteen minutes there, fifteen minutes back with traffic — but the streets are usually bare after nine o’clock. Either way, that leaves a half hour spent trying to choose what alcohol to splurge on.

You’ve seen Nancy try to pick out wine, she’s indecisive and a perfectionist to boot. She could spend hours dissecting each bottle to find the perfect one, if Robin wasn’t constantly over her shoulder rushing her.

Maybe that’s why Nancy had declined when the girl offered to tag along with them.

Or maybe she just wanted to be alone with Steve—

You have to physically shake that thought from your head. But even when you shut your eyes, it’s like the image of him and Nancy making out in the back of her Station Wagon is ingrained in the depths of your mind.

You curl into yourself and bathe in the depths of the dark abyss you’ve created in your bedroom, trying to see your way out of your handcrafted turmoil like a bad cold.

When Nancy and Steve return, they come cradling paper bags in their arms like babies.

Robin relieves the latter of the load in his hands and follows the darker-haired girl into the kitchen connected to the living room, no larger than a decent-sized closet.

Steve notices the lack of your presence as soon as he walks through the door. When he’d left, the three of you were pregaming — a feat that often led to Eddie breaking out his guitar and you and him singing terribly off-key to whatever was playing on the radio.

Now you’re nowhere to be found, and he feels it like a missed meal. He feels the ache of your absence like an empty stomach.

“Where’d she go?” Steve asks Eddie, who’s lounging on the couch and taking up the entire space — legs spread and arms thrown over the back.

The curly-haired boy takes a noisy sip of his nearly gone beer. Then exhales rather dramatically when he sits the can on his thigh. It leaves a damp ring on the denim. “Hey, buddy... Just blow in from stupid town?”

“…What?”

Eddie rolls his eyes, already annoyed and knowing more than he lets on. “She’s in her room, dingus.”

“She okay?” Steve wonders with furrowed brows, uncaring of the use of the stupid nickname because there’s bigger things to worry about apparently.

It wasn’t like you to miss a night of drinking. He gets momentarily fearful that you’d gotten sick while he was away, that he wasn’t around to help you if you had.

“Why don’t you ask her?” Eddie lilts with wide eyes, like it’s a bright idea that neither of them would’ve thought of otherwise.

His sarcasm makes Steve roll his eyes, but he heeds the boy’s words anyway.

Through the short hallway and the last door on the right, he finds you in the darkness of your shared bedroom, illuminated only by the orange streetlight that filters through the blinds. You're hid beneath the covers, a little lump on the mattress. 

He idles in the doorway and waits for you to react to his presence.

You don’t.

“Hey, babe,” he greets cautiously after concluding you just hadn’t heard the door squeak open upon his arrival. “You feel okay?”

You mumble something he can’t quite make out. He takes the raised infliction as an affirmative and shifts his weight on his feet because it’s unlike you to be so one-note with him.

“Well, I, uh— I bought some of that wine you like... I couldn’t remember if you liked the blackberry or blueberry, so I ended up just getting both, you know, just in case.”

“Okay,” you respond after several agonizing seconds. Your voice sounds so fragile in the still darkness. Like he didn’t already know something was wrong.

He so desperately wants to pry but chooses to err on the side of caution for now, out of fear of turning the bad, worse.

“You wanna come down and try it with me? If you don’t like it we can always go back—”

“I’m okay,” you interrupt gently, with a tone so soft and coated with so much emotion that it makes his heart sink. You’re anything but and he knows it.

“Okay,” he nods anyway with the hope that he can pull you from this funk you’d managed to fall into. “Do you, uh… Do you want me to stay in here with you?”

He hears your deep sigh and sees the way the wad of blankets rises and falls again. A telltale sign of your annoyance. He knows then that he’s overstayed his welcome.

Your voice remains quiet but loses its kindness when you tell him: “You can do whatever you want, Steve.”

He’s hurt by the way you’re so suddenly short with him, then angered because he didn’t do anything to deserve it in the first place.

“Okay, what’s wrong with you? What did I do?”

You don’t answer. You just sigh again, the same really big, dramatic one that’s more to showcase your irritation with him than anything else.

You’re more than keen to end the conversation right there, but Steve isn’t. Not when something’s eating you away from the inside out and he can’t do anything to help you because you won’t let him. 

“Babe, c’mon. I get it, alright? You’re mad at me. Just tell me what I did wrong so I can fix it.”

“You can’t fix it,” you monotone, stifled beneath the covers.

“I can’t fix it?” he repeats with furrowed brows. “What do you mean, I can’t fix it?”

You use your silence as an answer, as a weapon. It’s almost worse than any silver-tongued reply you could've given him. The quiet forces him to think for himself and imagine all the things he could’ve done wrong that he can’t take back. It feels like quicksand.

Did he forgot to kiss you good morning? Of course, he didn’t — actually, he gets mad at you for forgetting — and you were golden before he left. Eddie probably said something stupid, that was likely. Or maybe Robin made a joke that upset you, that was even more likely. 

He figures it’s something in between all those. Something silly that feels like the end of the world. He can make it better. He always makes it better.

Steve lifts the lump of covers you shield yourself with and crawls beneath them with the intention of pulling you out of the void you’ve sunken into.

It’s not so comfortable, lying in bed in socks and jeans and a collared shirt, but he doesn’t need to feel good right now — you do. He’ll be content if he can just hold you in his arms for a couple of hours, the rest of the night if that’s what you need.

But he can’t even do that.

He reaches for your arm, fingers just barely trailing across the warm skin there, and you jerk away from him like he’s shocked you.

It startles him, how quick you are to avoid him. It has him jerking back too, because you’ve never denied him the opportunity to touch you. He becomes the same sort of storm cloud that you are now, because he doesn’t know what he did to deserve this. Any of it.

“Why are you doing this?” he asks you, less soft than he’d been before.

You sniffle. “I told you I didn’t want you going out alone with Nancy anymore,” you mumble, face still shoved into your pillow. The words are slightly muffled but he can hear the tears that coat your voice. 

“That’s what this is about?” he wonders, not as empathetic as you’d hoped he might be, but genuinely confused. With your back to him, you don’t see the smile pulling at his lips while he shakes his head, like it’s funny to him. “Babe, we were just getting drinks. It’s no different than you going out with Robin.”

“It’s totally different! Because I was never in love with Robin. She was never in love with me—”

“Well, I beg to differ,” he murmurs in a soft laugh.

“It’s not funny, Steve,” you retort wetly and then sniffle again. When you turn to face him, he sees for the first time what he’s done to you.

The orange of the streetlight lamp outside bathes you in a sunset shade of neon — your eyes are glassy with tears that gather at your lashes. Emotions glow at the tip of your nose and your cheeks. Your skin would be hot to the touch if he felt you now.

“Do you know how weird it is for me? To watch my boyfriend and his ex go fuck around with me?” you ask him with a scrunched nose and brows, like your trying to keep yourself from falling apart in front of him.

“It’s not like that and you know it,” Steve scolds. “She just wanted to get alcohol for tonight and had some shit to get off her chest. I mean, she’s been having a really hard time lately—”

“It’s not your job to take care of her, Steve!” you shout before you even realize you’re shouting. You take in a shuddered breath and let it out in a trembling sigh, shining eyes flitted away from him and towards the ceiling as you calm yourself down.

When you start your lament again, you’re quieter.

“You can’t just be this, like, emotional crutch for her every single time something’s wrong. She’ll just get invested in you all over again and…”

Steve watches from beside you, propped up on his elbow, as you trail off. The frown between your eyebrows deepens, a great and inquisitive crevice, while your eyes widen and your mouth falls softly agape — like you’ve discovered something in the midst of your rant.

“Is— Is that what you want?” you ask him then. “Do you, like, need her attention to feed your ego or something?”

He’s too offended by your words to tell you all the ways they aren’t true. “What? No! Why would you say that?”

“Because it’s embarrassing, Steve.”

“What is?”

“Watching you and her together!” you admit through a tightening throat. You rise from where you’d been laying down and Steve follows you, settling in front of you as you wrap your arms around your knees. “When I have to sit here, by myself, while you guys spend time alone. When she always knows what you’re up to, and I don’t—”

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes quietly, because he doesn’t know what else to say.

“—It’s not fair. She’s not your girlfriend, Steve, I am. It’s your job to take care of me, not her.”

Steve deflates like a popped balloon. His chin falls to his chest and his eyes squeeze shut at the weight of your words.

It’s like you’re reminding him that he’s supposed to be in love with you and not someone he cared for a long time ago. Like you felt the need to remind him because you thought he’d forgotten somewhere down the line.

It hurts him too. It feels like you’ve got his heart in your hands and you're wringing it in your grip.

“You’re right,” Steve concedes with a nod. “I just... I guess, I never thought about it like that.”

He feels the same way, too, sometimes. When you and Eddie go all buddy-buddy mode and want to spend time together.

When you’re out all night with him at band practice. When you’re attached at the hip and having sleepovers in his room to talk about everything and nothing for hours until you fall asleep when the sun rises. When you both come down at one in the afternoon the next day for breakfast, giggling about the thing you said the night before.

It makes him feel like he’s missing out. Like you’re sharing parts of yourself with someone else and he isn’t allowed to see it.

And sometimes he gets irrational — keeps himself up all night as he imagines you and Eddie making out on his floor after going through all his new tapes or fucking in his unmade bed while he keeps a hand on your mouth to keep you quiet.

Steve concocts waking nightmares for himself whenever you’re not beside him.

But even then, it’s different. Because he used to do all that shit with Nancy. They fell in love, made out for hours because they didn’t want to stop feeling each other, had sex on a twin-sized bed and tried to keep from falling out of it while they did.

You’d never done that shit with Eddie — or with anyone you’re now sharing a home with. Besides Steve.

Because he’s yours now. And you’re his.

But you can’t stop thinking about how he used to be Nancy’s too.

“I don’t need you to tell me that I’m right,” you murmur with the childlike shake of your head, slow and lazy, as you wipe your wet cheek on your shoulder. “I need you to do something about it— I needed you to do something about it a long time ago.”

“I will, okay? I will. I promise. I’ll fix it,” Steve assures you quickly, with wide and hopeful eyes and a nodding head that makes his hair flop against his forehead.

He can see you losing hope in front of him, like a flame going slowly out. You’re slipping away. He keeps fighting to keep a hold of you.

“No.”

“…No?”

“You can’t,” you sniffle. “You can’t fix it.”

“Baby—”

“It’s not fair. To either of us,” you tell him, looking at him through clumped together lashes and heavy, sparkling eyes. “And it’s not your fault, okay? But I can’t keep feeling this like. It’s not healthy— this isn’t… this is what a healthy relationship is supposed to look like. It shouldn’t feel like this.”

Steve blinks back stinging tears. He brings his hand to his face and rubs the back of it against his burning nose. He feels a bit like you do now, hopeless. You’re slipping away and he is too and you both just keep on slipping, just going going going.

“You’re not even—” he clears his throat when his voice breaks halfway through. “You’re not even gonna let me try?”

You shrug weakly. Tears burn as they gather at your waterline. You revel in the sting because it’s better than the hole ripping through your chest.

“I don’t know. I think… I think it’s too late.”

“Why would you say that?” Steve agonizes with the shake of his head, looking like a wounded puppy as he gaze at you with brown eyes full of hurt. “Don’t say that. Don’t.”

“Steve—”

“No,” he interjects firmly, stopping the spiral before it can start again.

He positions himself so he’s sitting further ahead of you and holds your arms in his numbing hands, ducking down to catch your gaze when you try to look away from him.

“I love you, okay? I’m an idiot and I’m sorry and I'm stupid, alright? I wasn’t thinking. But we can’t just… It’s not too late. I can fix this. I promise I can fix this.”

Your chest aches at his plea, at the way he still doesn’t understand.

It’s not his fault you feel this way, not entirely. It’s not anyone’s fault and that’s what’s so scary. There’s no one to blame the pain on, no root to cut out and put an end to it. You’re frightened that it’s always going to be there, constantly in the way, forbidding either of you from ever moving on.

“Steve...” you murmur through tears while the boy gathers you in his arms. You try to stop him but your voice gets caught in your throat halfway through. Because you don’t want him to stop. Not ever.

He nurses you into his velvet hold, wrapping a pair of strong arms around you to cage you against him. He presses his nose into your temple while he rocks you back and forth. “I promise. Everything’s okay. I’ll fix it.”

He repeats that like a mantra while you keep your head pressed against his chest — everything’s gonna be okay, I can fix it, I love you.

It’s a promise. One that he’d rather die than break. 

You stay there, curled against his chest, while dark feelings ebb and flow in a constant and bitter cycle.

You hope he’s right. That these big feelings are just big stupid feelings that'll pass come the pink and blue sunrise. That everything really is going to be okay and that he really can fix it. 

Because even now, all hopeless and full of doom and gloom, you feel soothed in his hold. You’ve never felt safer anywhere else. You’ve built a home in the peace of Steve’s arms and you want to keep on living in them.

“I’m gonna make it better,” he whispers against the crown of your head. If you’ll let me.

He feels you nod lazily against him. “Okay.”

[beneathashadytree]

MESSING AROUND - JOSUKE HIGASHIKATA X READER

Warnings : just two teens being in love and all over each other, reader is gender-neutral!

Genre : puppy love n fluff <3

Word count : 1.1K words

Additional notes : This came to me in a dream. Love the idea of teenagers being sneaky and lazy teehee

Tip jar if you’d like to buy me a Ko-Fi!

Masterlist

They tiredly rubbed at their eyes. What was this, the tenth, or the hundredth time at this? In all cases, it felt like it was a never-ending cycle that they were doomed to stay in.

“Josuke, would it really kill you to study for an hour straight?” Nudging the textbook on the coffee table, they tried to bring his attention back to the long-forgotten syllabus. “We’ve got a quiz in 3 days.”

“Still plenty of time, if you ask me,” he shrugged, not looking away from the television screen where he was trying to beat his high score (again) in one of his video games. “That’s a whole, uh, 72 hours.”

“If you hesitated while doing simple math, then I fear how you’ll face a few calculus problems.” Rolling their eyes, they sidled up to his back. “Come on. Didn’t Miss Tomoko threaten to smash the console if you don’t get at least a B+? With the looks of things, we’ll be lucky if you pass at all.”

Still without looking at them, he scowled. “First off, thanks for your obvious belief in me.” He could be petty when he wanted to, and this seemed like one of the times he wanted to pout and get snarky. “Second of all, she wouldn’t.”

At that, they arched an eyebrow at him. “Oh really? Did you forget that time she threw the television out of the window to keep her word when you flunked that history test?”

A few moments of silence, save for the sound effects coming from his game, and the furious tapping of buttons. “Alright, maybe she will. But still, we have a lot of time to go through the material.”

“Three days. Half of one you’ve already wasted, mind you.” They sighed, carefully wrapping their arms around his midsection and snuggling up to his broad back. A cheap trick, yes, but how else would they grab his attention without outright snatching the controller from his hands? “C’mon, Josuke. Miss Tomoko asked me to come over while she was out for this reason. I don’t wanna let her down, y’know?”

Josuke audibly swallowed, and they had to hold back a smug laugh. They had him right where they wanted him. “H-hey, who are you dating, me or my mom?”

They snorted, teasingly squeezing his waist. “My supposed-boyfriend’s got me right with him, and he’s been practically ignoring me for two hours. I’d say the answer’s currently neither of you.”

Instantly, the controller flew all across the room, landing somewhere unknown as his character on the screen crashed into explosives and died. Bingo, they wickedly thought to themself as Josuke finally turned around in their arms, his handsome face blocking out the ‘GAME OVER!’ flashing behind him.

Heavy eyebrows furrowed and lower lip jutted in a subconscious pout, he leaned in, caging them against the back of the sofa with his arms. “Dirty move.”

“You fell for it, though.” Grinning, they hooked their arms around his neck, tugging him a little closer. “Can’t believe I had to fight for your attention this long.”

“It slipped my mind that we’re finally alone,” he moaned pitifully, nudging their nose with his. “Next time I get distracted from you, punch me in the balls.” At the sinister look he saw in their eyes, he pulled back for a second, alarm on his face. “On second thought, I take that back. Don’t.”

“Fine, fine, I’ll keep my hands to myself.” Cocking their head to the side, they toyed with a few loose strands of hair at the nape of his neck. It was so rare to see his hair anything other than immaculately styled, so the rare chances that they got to touch the soft strands were deeply cherished—by the both of them, it seemed, if the current redness of Josuke’s cheeks was anything to go by. “Or would you rather I keep my hands on you?”

Their boyfriend buried his face in their neck, partially out of embarrassment, and partially out of a desire to press achingly gentle kisses against their exposed skin. “Mm, I don’t know,” he mumbled, “So long as you’re not too rough with me, I’d prefer that, yeah.”

“Oh? So you like to be treated gently, big guy?” Their voice came out a little breathy as he lightly nipped at that one spot on their neck, and they hoped that it wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing he had them weak in his arms. Just a little more…

More kisses rained down on them, trailing up to their jaw and sucking at the skin there, just lightly enough to tease them without leaving a mark. A sigh escaped their lips, and their hands trailed down his back, gripping at his yellow tank top in hopes of regaining their sanity. Strong arms embraced them tightly, and arched their back into him.

“Yeah, so what?” he mumbled against the corner of their lips. “Got a problem with that?”

At the very last second before their lips met, they turned their face to the other side and pulled away. “Actually, I do. Because we’re not doing anything at all until you finish studying chapters one through four.”

Groaning, Josuke made to reach out for them as they slipped from his embrace and began to walk off. “Babe, you can’t be serious—“

“I am,” they coolly said, as if they hadn’t been seconds away from pulling him ontop of them. “Would you like me to call your mom and tell her you’re fooling around instead of getting your shit done?”

He shuddered, visibly recoiling at the thought and slumping back in place. “Don’t. She’ll probably put a ban on you ever visiting me when she’s out.”

Still a little shaken up and their nerves slightly tattered by the onslaught of intimacy, they hurried to his room, calling out behind them in a sing-song voice. “Well, these calculus problems aren’t gonna solve themselves!”

Collapsing onto his bed, they muffled a laugh as they heard him swearing and slamming his heavy notebook open, grumbling under his breath the entire time. In the meantime, they curled up into his freshly-made sheets and snuggled their head into his fluffy pillow.

“It smells like him,” they whispered to themself, their face flushed as they squeezed the pillow a little. Somehow, having their boyfriend’s familiar scent surrounding them from everywhere warmed them up to their fingertips, and sent their heart racing in their ribcage. “Wish he’d hurry up and join me before Miss Tomoko gets home…”

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[the-dixon-effect]

The way back home

summary: While out looking for Sophia, Y/N is attacked in the woods by a group of men. After managing to fight them off, she heads towards the farm and is noticeably... changed.

word count: 1.5k

pairing: Daryl Dixon x f!reader

warnings: blood, gore, weapons, fainting, usual twd stuff

Your ears were ringing and your vision blurred. Four bodies lay on the ground in a formation that was anything but neat. From head to toe, you were covered in a thick layer of red. Unbeknownst to you, who stood motionless in a bloody trance, you could've easily been mistaken for a character in a cheap horror movie.

You blinked, once, twice. What the hell just happened? You inspected the nightmarish scene and suddenly it was coming back. You had been searching for Carol's little girl... what was her name? Sophia, yes. The last thing you remembered was a dirty hand covering your mouth before you reached for your knife... and the rest was a blur. Upon closer inspection, it became clear that you shot two of the guys with your short-range pistol, one in the head and one in the neck. You scrambled for your knife, which should've been tucked away in its holster, but instead, you spotted it plunged deep into the skull of one of the sickos who came at you. There was a single body left. The largest of the four men bore a filthy grey t-shirt, camo pants and combat boots. You rolled his limp body over to discover a big pool of dark red blood. You had... you had slashed his neck open. Suddenly you felt a pit in your stomach rise to your mouth and- you were about to be sick.

After expelling the only energy you had left in your body, you realised at once what that familiar growling meant, coming from a few metres away. Shit, you thought, you had to get out of here now before the men you killed start trying to kill you again, in a much more gruesome way.

You ran and ran, and could only hope you were going in the right direction. Collapsing beneath a tree, you glanced at your clothes and noticed your loose white tank top was stained completely red. After a little while the adrenaline wore off, and your stomach hurt like hell. Lifting up your shirt, it revealed a nasty cut from one end of your torso to the other. Immediately, the pain spread throughout your whole body and the excessive bleeding was almost unbearable. One of the guys must have slashed at you with a knife in an attempt to get you off of them.

Your thoughts were fading away, and it was getting harder and harder not to pass out right there. Suddenly, you heard a faint voice in the distance.

"Sophia? Sophia!" You could barely hear the voice, let alone tell who it was. Hell, for a second you couldn't remember your own name. A man appeared in your sight, and you didn't know whether to be scared or thankful. Were you hallucinating? As he approached, you noticed that the man was wielding a crossbow... it was- it was Daryl.

"Y/N? Shit, Y/N! Can ya hear me?" you looked up at him, and he could tell just by looking that you could barely keep your eyes open. "Hey, hey, it's alrigh', it's alrigh'. I'm gon' get you back and Hershel's gonna fix you up, I promise."

Hearing Daryl's voice was like a lifeline. Setting down his crossbow on the ground, he helped you up and held you with your arm draped around his shoulder. As you headed back towards the Greene Farm, warm sunlight began to filter through the trees. It felt like your brain was moving at a quarter of the pace it should be, and the sight of the Greene house in the distance, though beautiful, felt like a million miles away as you and the archer trekked towards it.

"Y/N? Oh my God, Daryl, is she okay?" said Andrea as the two of you approached the house. You were a frightening sight to see, especially for certain members of the group that hadn't quite immersed themselves in this brutal apocalypse.

"Rick! She's got a- a nasty gash underneath her shirt. Hershel better take a look at it."

Right in that moment you collapsed on the ground, falling limply out of Daryl's strong arms. The tall grass of Hershel's pasture enveloped your body, and you could no longer hear the great commotion that was taking place. Despite the incredible amount of pain you were just in, sleep was heavenly.

First came a flurry of voices. Then, the white ceiling appeared and several blurred countenances around the room. Strangely, you couldn't remember a thing about how you got here.

"D-Daryl? Where's Daryl?" you asked, innocently. Suddenly, every face in the room turned to look at you. You were pale, very pale, yet you sat upright in the makeshift hospital bed resting on your forearms.

Following a sudden rush of people turning to surround your bedside, you blacked out again.

"Everyone, I would strongly appreciate it if we could give the girl some space," spoke Hershel, calmly.

"Ya think I could stay?" said Daryl.

"Alright, then. Just don't make a big fuss."

This time, you awoke to a cool breeze through the wide open window and noticed only two figures in the room. It looked like... Daryl and Hershel?

Hershel approached you and placed a hand on your forehead, and though you felt extremely hot and clammy, he seemed to deduce that you were going to be fine.

The door swung open and in entered Shane, Glenn and Hershel's youngest daughter, the blonde one... Beth. That was it.

A wave of confusion passed over you suddenly, as if, in a second, somebody has swiftly erased your memory. "Wh- Where am I? What are you doing here?" You sat upright once more and removed the rest of the covers from yourself. Your eyes were wide and a little bloodshot, and your mouth was shaped by a distinct frown.

"Y/N, Y/N, it's alright. Daryl tells me something happened out in the woods. I just need you to tell me the story. It's okay." said Shane, leaning into you.

"What story? What happened?" Tears began to fill your eyes as you spoke and it was like your whole body was consumed in a state of fright. Immediately, you began to hyperventilate as images of mutilated bodies clouded your mind.

"What's happening?" said Beth.

"She's in shock. Everybody out!" announced Hershel.

When you awoke later, you got out of the bed in the back room and entered the living room. Everyone was gathered around, seemingly waiting to find out what on earth had happened to you. Daryl relayed the story countless times to the likes of Dale, Rick, Shane and Maggie. Just like before, they all turned to face you as if you were some lost child, or a deer in headlights. Daryl captured your eyes and noticed how they seemed... different. The same cheerful, good-spirited girl suddenly appeared before him, pale and cold, and with a new thousand-yard stare that didn't go unnoticed by a single member of the group. If they didn't believe how harsh the new world was before, they certainly did now.

"Y/N, sit down," said Dale. His manner was kind yet you couldn't help but feel threatened by anyone who tried to communicate with you.

"Tell us what happened," spoke Rick.

"I- I don't remember..." you declared. Your legs were shaking and you held you face in your hands as you wracked your brain for anything, any trace of a memory of the event that occurred earlier that day.

Bodies.

How many bodies?

"There was... four. Four bodies. Which meant... four guys, I guess?" you looked up at this statement, this time receiving several pitiful looks from around the room.

Shane was about to speak when Rick raised his hand slightly, "Let her talk."

"I don't know- I don't know! There was... blood, there was so much blood," you began, trying to muster up anything you could. "Please can I go back to bed?" At this request, Daryl practically jumped up from his seat to help you and guided you back to the bedroom to rest.

A heated debate had broken out in the front room. How many more of these men are there? Are they dangerous? Is she even telling the truth? For some members, they feared the worst and assumed that this incident would be the first of many to come, involving a new threat; people.

(one day later, at dawn)

You sat with Daryl on the white porch, facing the sunset behind the trees. The trees, in fact, that the two of you had ventured out of the previous day. Although you hadn't known him long, you decided that you enjoyed his company most of all.

"You know, I think I'm going crazy, Daryl," you said, somewhat wistfully.

"Oh yeah, why's tha'?" he drawled.

"I was just walking 'round here, over in the woods. Saw some freak stumbling around. Went to look a little closer, and this sicko was dressed up like some kind of corpse! You know, fake blood and everything. Guess he was just trying to scare little kids or something."