#I'm going to implode this is everything I ever wanted and more

[kakusu-shipping]

Mario and Luigi

Shipcest

[seresinhangmanjake]

Super Soft!Simon Riley x reader - You're terrified that Simon's not making safe choices when he's on deployment, so he comforts you. (fluff, allusion to future smut (barely), drunk johnny, cod inaccuracies)

Johnny recounts the tale of their hard-earned achievement—a victory, as they have deemed it—with a number of beers in his system that you’ve long stopped counting. As he sits at your kitchen table, he is looser, giddier, freer with his words, and spares no detail of your boyfriend’s selfless acts of bravery during their last deployment. Acts that got him shot at; one of those bullets finding their home.

You’d be proud of him, if not for the fear that built up over months from recurring nightmares and an overactive imagination—all of which had you losing the love of your life. But that’s not out of character. You think about yourself, you think about your boyfriend, before you think about the lives he saves when he’s away from you. Maybe it’s wrong, or unfair, but you can’t help it.

While Simon’s work is not something he ever kept secret, you don’t need the reminder that the preservation of his life is not always his priority. It can't be. There are other factors that dictate his future. He has a team, people who depend on him. He has responsibilities and orders to follow. Control is often snatched from his fingertips. And so, what does that mean for the two of you? 

You don’t care to think about it. Not tonight. Not at midnight from a friend who should have passed out on your couch hours ago. So you stretch, yawn, and excuse yourself for bed before your brain implodes from any more of Johnny’s ramblings.

Simon knows. He spent the night squeezing your hip each time you tensed in his lap at Johnny’s words, and now, as you stand to head to the bedroom, he holds onto your hand until your fingers slip from his. Deep brown eyes are filled with guilt and apology and all you can offer in return is a slight upturn of the lips that barely qualifies as a smile.

Away from the men, you cry in your and Simon’s shared bed, waiting for him to encourage Johnny to the couch. There's a few more loud laughs, a whine when Simon cuts off his friend's alcohol supply, and then a final groan of acceptance as you hear the springs of your couch squeak under the weight of a muscled body. It’s only when the animated snores of your drunk friend reach your ears that the door to your room creaks on its hinges.

Simon’s footsteps are thumps muffled by carpeting. From your peripherals you see him shed his clothes as he moves to you. Shoes, then t-shirt, then jeans, until he's in his underwear and settling onto the mattress behind you. 

His arm slips under yours around your waist and he tugs your back to his chest, into the cocoon of warmth. 

“Do you know what I thought when I first saw you?” he asks, gruff and thick. His voice rumbles from his chest, vibrating against your spine as his breath brushes your ear. “That my life is over.

“Everything I want, everything I need—none of it matters anymore. All because of one look at a woman who was too busy with her friends to notice me,” he says. “I thought, I'm ruined now. If you leave this bar right this second, I won't be able to forget you. And if you don't leave, I can't ever let you go. I didn't know your name and you had me ready to change my whole world for you.”

You sniffle but don't bother to wipe away the tear that escapes. “That's insane, Si,” you whisper.

“It is,” he agrees, pressing a kiss just under your ear. “But it happened. I let you in and you latched on to my entire existence like this beautiful, little parasite. Just like I wanted you to. My life ended and it became our life. 

“I don't take a single step without considering you. Not here and not there. So if you think I don't try to be careful when I'm gone, you're wrong,” he tells you. “I try for you. I try for us.”

Yet, ‘trying’ means he still gets injured; he gets another circular scar to add to the healed knife slashes and the burned patch on his upper arm. ‘Trying’ is not always about picking the safer of two options, but about optimizing luck, which is rare enough as it is. And that terrifies you.

“What if you step wrong not knowing that it's wrong?” you ask. “What if you think it's right and then you're gone? You can't tell me that will never happen.”

Simon sighs. “No, I can't. But you trust me, don't you?”

Turning in his arms—your nose nearly nudging his—you place your hand on his cheek and run your thumb along his cheekbone. “Of course I do.”

“Then don't mourn me while I'm still here, love,” he breathes against your lips. “Can you do that for me?”

You nod, because you’d do anything for him. 

“Good girl.” Simon smiles lightly and slides his palm from your back down the length of your arm. He squeezes your fingers, then moves further, tucking his hand into the front of your underwear. “My girl,” he whispers and presses his lips to yours.

A/N: i dont usually write different stuff but i felt like it so i did

[mildlyromanticperv]

What did you expect of me?

Karina x MReader. Fluff. Enemies to lovers.

-For christ sake, what a bitch! -Your anger boiling in your heart and your brain tells you, no, yells you to go to your managers office and demand a fair treatment, it's just ourageous that among all the workers in the office you have to stay late every single day of the week to cover the "last project of the quarter".

No matter what you do, how hard you work, how many late nights and how many cups of coffee you drink at a day, it just feels like a prison in here, the office that hired you as the main developer for the website on their new brand "Supernova."

Plus, who names a project "Supernova"? Sounds like with just a simple code here and there you'd make the market implode and then explode in money... If your manager Karina expects for that to happen she's either naively hopeful or a total delusional.

-You, come to my office. -Her cold words stabs your brain, after a whole week hearing her low pitch condescending dictatorial voice you can't bear to listen to it one more time, but you need this job like, DESPERATELY need this job, so there's no talk back to the boss.

-Yes boss?

-We're behind on the project, have you been slacking off again? -Her cold judgemental gaze falls upon your black sacked eyes showing off the immense exhaustion you have tu put up with during the project.

-Look boss, I'm doing my best, I haven't slept well these past few days but I assure you I will have everything ready by next month even if the useless of my coworkers don't do shit. -Your tongye got the best of you and runs wild. -I just need to have a good night sleep, can you let me out early today?

-No, we are all hands on deck and you know that. -She sighs and rubs her forehead in a clear show of stress and disappointment. -Just go back to work and don't screw anything up.

Any person with enough patience would put up with that shit, but not you, not now at least. The condescending tone and the past sleep deprived week has been just too much for you, clearly you're not thinking straight anymore, or perhaps you're thinking clearer...?

-Fuck this.

-Excuse me? -She responds with equal or perhaps even higher anger.

-Fuck this Karina, I'm not doing any more shit today and I'm tired to put up with your fucking demands. Fire me if you want I'm going home to sleep. -You really shuld've thought that better, but what is done is done, you start to pick up your stuff and bracing yourself for the shouting match.

-You cross that door and you're suspended, one week half pay. -Surprisingly enough instead of picking up a fight and shouting her vocal cords off as she usually does, she just stares straight into your eyes with a gaze so cold it could freeze hell itself. -You're not the only developer in our payroll, if I wanted I could fire your sorry ass right now and make it so you never work as a developer never again in your life, so consider this a favour.

Breathe.

Don't let that tone of hers get into your core.

Just, breathe.

-Fuck you. -It's the only thing you get to say before actually leaving.

-One week suspension no pay, and don't you dare call me or text me asking to forgive you. Jackass.

With the anger oozing through your pores you just slam the door and head out. You start your car and praying you don't crash you go from 0 to 100 in just a couple of seconds screeching the tires of your car.

-Please god, take care of him... -She sighs under her breath.

But wait... What?

Take care of him?

During that next week there was absolutely no news from you on the office, things started to be more... tense. You've received a ton of messages from your coworkers basically begging him to come back, but the answer is defenitive: No.

However things don't ever go your way.

*Bzz* *Bzz* *Bzz*

-Hey, we need to talk, come to the office. -Again, that swee... No. Annyoing voice again.

-I'm suspended. -Your answer comes as soon as the thought hits your brain.

A sigh from the other line and a faint whisper.

-This man is going to be the death of me some day. -But then the usual tone returns. -Look, I made a rash decision and we need your intel, you're the one that knows the way around our software.

-I thought you had several developers in your payroll, I bet they can help. -You say sipping through the wine you bought for that dinner for one you've been pushing away so much due to the job.

-I'm asking nicely, and around here you know that's as rare as an unicorn. Just come here tomorrow and finish the project, we're ahead.

-Ahead? What do you mean ahead? You said we we're behind last week! -Your voice comes harsher and harsher, even though your chest is telling you not to.

Not to her.

-I lied to try and make things faster, okay? Just come and we can talk like professionals. -She couldn't come to acknowledge the fact that she just wanted to see you. She couldn't admit that she misses your cologne, your three day beard and your stoic gaze when you're so deep in thought. -I'll send you the advances that have been made.

Right away she hangs up the phone, relieved she didn't break down into yelling or insults. Right away an email arrives on your computer with such incredibly... small advances looks like you carried the entire project all by yourself.

-Why am I not surprised? -You sigh under your breath as you pause the movie you were watching and read what has been done, immediately you start chaning... well, almost everything.

Next day...

You should at least turn off the car, for real, have you seen how expensive the gas is around these days?

"Just go, I avoid her any longer... I- I don't want to..." -It's the only thought that crosses your mind, the thought of seeing her piercing eyes again, the feeling of her gaze piercing and burning through your very soul, the loud beating of your heart as you look at her lips...

Her lips...

If only she wasn't your boss, right?

-So, I checked the non existent advances the useless guys did, and...

-How you've been? Have you slept well? -For some reason her tone wasn't condescending anymore, the worry present on her voice...

Could it be?

-Yes, finally in months I've been sleeping great... -Her eyes, oh. my. god... Her eyes... -Anyways, I have everything finished now, you can present it to corporate. -You say trying to avoid her eyes as you speak sarcastically and look at your watch.

-Big date coming or something? -She asks, doing an awesome job yo hide the jealousy.

-Just wondering how long this will take. -She sighs again, feeling the anger and stress of your cold demeanor.

-Your week of suspension ends today and the weekind is off by legal, so you can go now and I'll see you on monday.

-Sure.

After that you just go back to your usual routine, the weekend goes great and the next week of work comes, with so much less stress that even the busiest day feels like a walk through the park. The time off work led you to watch so much shows, and so much free time, time spent in imagining your life outside of work with that person that would make your days so much happier.

Thinking of love.

What a great future you could have, perhaps you could get married and have kids, after all that's your dream.

In a year you'd ascendo in your job, start earning more, you'd start dating to finally get the chance to let you feel that love you so desperately look for, In a year your boss wouldn't be your boss and perhaps you could date her, in a year you'd buy your first...

Your boss? Date... your boss?

Why would you think that? She's a bitch.

"But she's a gorgeous bitch." You thought, perhaps... only perhaps... You wanted that, you liked your boss...

*Bzz* *Bzz* *Bzz*

Your phone rings with a text from your boss.

-Corporate loved the project, we were given monday to celebrate, so I'll be expecting you monday 7:00 A.M. sharp for the party.

-Got it boss. And hey, sorry for snapping out last week. -Perhaps this could be a beginning, you know you should keep things professional, you keep telling yourself to stop but flesh is weak.

-Yeah, just don't be late. -Her response cold as always after 5 minutes of writing and deleting, she's also in the midst of an inner debate, whether let herself feel what she wants to feel for you or just don't say anything.

But why? Why shouldn't you try? Because she's your boss? There's plenty of people that date with their boss and make it work, you shouldn't keep ahold of the prospect of your happiness just because people might judge, that's the whole point, living for yourself and be happy yourself. Isn't it?

That very Monday at 7:00 A.M. you show yourself at work wearing a new white T-shirt and some loose jeans, your usual wrist watch and a new cologne you bought just for your boss, nothing else is going to stop you.

-Hey, boss. -You came to talk to her made a nrevous wreck not really knowing what to do to get her attention.

-Oh, here he is, the brain behind it all. -She wrapped her arm around your shoulders and pulled you closer to present you to some corporate officers like if you were a prize, like you never shouted before... Like you two were friends... Being so close to her made your every sense enter overdrive and your nostrils welcomed her particular scent, that magnificent smell of lavender and strawberries sent your head over the moon.

The rest of the party went completely normal, talking here, showing off there... Taking glances at your boss every once in a while as well.

Wait, did she looked at you as well?

Was she blushing?

-Hey boss can I talk to you for a sec? -You got closer and whispered into her ear, not long after she pointed you to the balcony where you usually go to have your lunch.

-Make it quick.

-Look boss, there's no easy way for me to say this, but I think I should quit... I... I have feelings for you.

-Is that so? -Her cold demeanor makes you back off for a second, unable to tell the truth in her eyes you stutter.

-I know, I know that I was rude last week and I'm being just way too out of line. -Her eyes shine with a glint never seen before, in her mind the thoughts are divided whether she should speak from her heart, as Karina. Or speak from her brain as Ms. Jimin, regional Manager of your branch.

-You know you're my worker, and this is incredibly inappropriate.

-Don't you feel the same for me? I saw you looking for my eyes before.

-Don't be ridiculous, I'm your boss. -Despite the way she feels work ethics comes first, how can a manager could let a worker speak to her that way?

-I don't care. -It's the last thing you said before leaning forward and placing your hand against her cheek, caressing her soft skin and pressing your lips over hers.

For a second all that exists is you and her, together in a tight embrace holding her waist desperately thinking that if you'd ever let go of her she'd just vanish in the thin air. She responds to your advances letting your body invade her personal space, for mere seconds that feel like an eternity all that she can feel is your hands gripping her blouse until she lets go of any ties and wrap her arms around your neck, tipping into her toe-tips to match as much as she can your height.

-We... We can't... I'm your boss... -Her voice comes out cracking, breathing unsteady due to the raw passion she just felt a while ago. -It's inappropriate.

-I don't care, I'll quit if needed, I just care that I want you.

-I want you too. -She rests her head on your shoulder nuzzling her face in the crook of your neck.

You then caress her soft hair, taking a deep breath of her unique scent that send jolts of electricity along your brain.

-So what now, boss? -This time the words come out strong, lovingly, softly.

-Now we talk to HR, couples need to fill paperwork. -She pulls back and looks into your eyes again. -You always make me do more and more paperwork... -She then whispers in your ear. -Sweetie.

[sunshine-theseus]

Fools | Kyra Cooney-Cross x ND!Reader

Words: 4.3k

Summary: no one understood your mind, until you met Kyra.

Notes: Guys I have no knowledge of how Emirates is laid out, how meeting players off the pitch works etc, so I’m completely making this shit up I’m sorry. also sorry for the super long introduction, and the shit writing, I haven’t written in months.

Warnings: mentions of abuse - not proofread. i'm so sorry if this is so shit i genuinely haven't written in months. i wanted this one to be good so bad but i just don't think it is

the person who requested this has since deactivated so i actually feel so bad that i didn't get this out while they were on here. i'm genuinely so sorry for the past like 6 months.

I always struggled with social interactions. I didn’t understand it for a long time, why I always had to smile and hug people, why I had to lie about certain things like how I thought my aunt’s bright green hat looked, why I couldn’t ramble about Star Wars or the new penguin facts I just learned.

Then there were the sounds, and lights and the way things felt. Everything had to be specific, or I couldn’t focus. Sometimes if it was bad enough that I would have a breakdown, unable to do anything. My parents tried to scold it out of me when as a kid I couldn’t eat certain foods or wear the clothes they wanted. Sometimes if they deemed it worthy, I’d be met with the flesh of a palm against my cheek or bottom.

-

When I was 12, I presented the idea that maybe I was autistic to my parents. I’d researched it at school for a social emotional learning class we had to take, and I couldn’t help but notice the similarities I found within myself. If I think about it hard enough, I can feel every burning outline of the dark red hand marks that bloomed on my skin hours after the interaction, and the burning of my eyes as my stomach rumbled, drowned out by the music rumbling through my headphones.

-

At 17 I emancipated from my parents and moved to North Watford, renting out a small studio apartment above a record shop. I completed my final year of high school, working part time in the store, building a much-desired routine. The man that owned the shop and my apartment, and his young daughter, were migrants from Cuba, and more than happy to accommodate to my needs. They even chipped in to help me pay for my autism screening after I graduated high school.

I think they were the first people I willingly hugged ever.

I stopped masking when I moved, so the daughter, Elena; 5, took a few months to understand why I didn’t like touch or loud noises and why I didn’t understand some of the jokes she said that others usually laughed at. Not that I’d had the diagnosis at that time, but she was happy to just spend time with me. Every afternoon when I came back from school and started my shift, she’d beg me for more penguin facts, asking which was my favourite penguin. In return she’d spend the 2-hour shift drawing me something, usually a penguin, to pin on my corkboard at home.

I’d then help with her homework while Camilo closed shop and posted any online orders. It was a routine I cherished deeply.

-

Now, 3 and a bit years later at 21 years old, they managed to drag me to a football game. Equipped with headphones and a couple small sensory toys, as well as a hoodie under the “Miedema” jersey, the material of which originally had me tugging and prying the shirt away from my skin.

Elena and Camilo had been big fans of Arsenal for as long as I’d known them, going to every home game, begging me to join them every week without fail. I finally caved during a break in my uni courses, with nothing to do and Elena’s birthday falling on the day of a game, there was no other choice.

The newly 9-year-old basically imploded when she saw my printed ticket stub, tucked tightly into her birthday card. I gently ruffled her hair, which had become my version of hugging her, and showed her the 3 matching red and white #11 jerseys I purchased not long ago. She’d talked a lot about this Vivianne Miedema and how she wanted to be just like her when she grew up, but she’d never gotten a jersey, or seats on the bottom tier. Today was the day.

~

“Come ooonnn I want to get to our seats!” the pinky of her left hand links with my right one as her other hand is holding her dad’s, and she’s dragging us down the lane toward the entrance.

“Slow down Pollito! We have 20 more minutes until we need to be seated.” My special schedule for the day runs through my head as I check my watch. Plenty of time as long as the crowd keeps flowing.

“I wish you didn’t learn Spanish. It’s such a silly nickname.”

“But you’re my little chicken.” I send a joking frown her way and she replies with a toothless grin.

With the abrupt end to the conversation, we arrive at the gate. Showing the stewardess our tickets to be scanned, we then head toward our seats. As Camilo and I take our seats at the very front, instead of make way to their usual seats a tier up, Elena stops and looks back and forth between us.

“There’s no way you got us these seats.” Without a word I pull the girl in between us and she begins to ramble about how excited she is to be able to see the game so close, still able to be clearly heard through my headphones I manage to slip over my ears.

~

The game is drawn 1-1 just after half time, but Arsenal is close to having the upper hand. From across the pitch, Elena spots the tall and lanky number 11, Vivianne Miedema, pulling off her fluoro yellow bib and warm up shirt and lining up next to number 32 behind the fourth official who is prepping her sign. With a couple of whacks to my arm and an aggressive point of her finger, Elena makes me and Camilo very aware of the impending entrance of her favourite player, and another really attractive girl who is very obviously wearing her socks on the wrong feet. The thought makes me squirm but a shot on goal quickly manages to take my focus.

“Who’s the one coming on with Viv? You’ve never told me about number 32.” It’s hard to take my eyes off the girl as she jumps from one foot to the other, anticipating her entrance.

“Oh that’s Kyra Cooney-Cross! She’s Australian, she transferred at the start of the season. Jonas should play her more.” I acknowledge her words with a hum and a nod before we join in cheering Viv and Kyra on.

My eyes are glued to Kyra the rest of the game. Without any knowledge of how football works, I’m left to assume she’s good with the way she dances around players and passes the ball. It was weird, but her movement was so free flowing it would not be atrocious to confuse her with a ballerina. Elegant and calculated, no hesitation.

~

“Where are we going?” my pinky is once again linked with Elena’s as I drag her and Camilo through Emirates.

“Papa where is she going? The exit is that way.”

“I have no clue chica, but I suppose we should trust her aye?” with that, the father-daughter duo track behind me.

Eventually I stop just where the opening of the tunnel leads out on to the pitch and show a lady the pass I’d been carrying around all day. She smiles and begins walking down the tunnel, waving behind her as a sign for us to follow.

“What’s going on?” Elena asks once again, but I just follow the lady onto the pitch, where multiple members of the Arsenal squad are now loitering around, obviously waiting for something, or someone. At the front of the group is Viv, and when she spots the small girl behind me her eyes light up.

“Hi! You must be Elena. We’ve heard a lot about you!” she sends the girl a smile, but Elena doesn’t make any move to continue the conversation. My head whips to her and I nearly have to laugh from how adorable she is. Her jaw has dropped open and her eyes are welling up with tears, so I ruffle her hair and bend down to her height, removing my headphones.

“What’s up buttercup?” I lightly tap her head.

“That’s really her.” she whispers to me, her eyes not leaving the Dutch woman, who lets out a chuckle.

“Yes it is.”

“How?” I tap the side of my nose at her question indicating it’s to be left a secret.

“Can I have a hug?” Viv kneels on one knee and opens her arms and Elena suddenly breaks lose from her trance and runs up to her hero.

“It’s nice to meet you liefje, I hear you’ve been a fan for a long time. And today’s your birthday. How old are you turning?”

“Nine!”

“Oh wow, you’re growing up!”

“I know, but Y/N still calls me Pollito. I’m not a little chicken.” Everyone looking on bursts out laughing as Elena frowns, and while I join them, the loud sound simply reminds me of the lack of protection on my ears.

~

Elena gets whisked off to talk and play around with Viv and some of the other girls, who seem to all have taken a genuine liking to the young girl, Camilo following to watch over them. I stand firmly on the sidelines, fidgeting with an infinity cube and trying to forget the sudden scratching of my hoodie’s tag on the back of my neck and the tightness of my socks, when a now familiar face pops in front of me.

I don’t notice her at first, my eyes are closed and I’m trying breathing patterns in hopes that the overstimulating sensations with dissipate. It’s only when I open my eyes to check on Elena that I get the shock of my life. Number 32 is just standing in front of me, staring, waiting for me to notice her. no less than a minute ago she’d been spinning Elena around and laughing with her, which I’d found alarmingly adorable, how’d she get here so fast?

She doesn’t say anything, she just smiles and waves, and I realise she must think I can’t hear her with my headphones on, which many people tend to ignore. Wow she’s much prettier up close.

“Hi, I’m Y/N” I return her smile, but don’t make any move to remove the headphones.

“I’m Kyra.” Her voice is muffled but her accent is incredible and like music to my ears.

“You played really well today.” Is she blushing? Red creeps up her neck and finds home on her round cheeks as she smiles brightly.

“Ah thanks, I try to give it my all. Hoping to prove I deserve more game time.”

“You don’t get played often?” another chuckle passes her lips and I feel my stomach tighten.

“Uh no. I take it you’re not a big football fan?”

“What gives you that idea.”

“Well rocking up to an Arsenal game with blue nails for a start.” I cock my head to the side and give her a confused look. I did a lot of research for today, there was no room for me to mess up.

“Chelsea, our biggest rivals, their colour is blue. It’s basically forbidden for an arsenal fan to wear blue to a game. Trust me, I learnt the hard way.”

I’m quick to hide my hands in the pocket at the front of my hoodie, fidgeting with my nails. How did I manage to fuck that up?

“You don’t really have to worry, just maybe keep it in mind if you ever come to another game. I hope you do by the way.” She flashes me a smile that makes me feel warm and I can’t help myself.

“You’re very pretty.” She’s about to reply when I glance down and notice her socks are still wrong.

“And I’m not sure if you know but your socks are on the wrong feet.” It’s quiet for a moment and I’m not sure if my common candour has once again overstepped. I can’t even open my mouth to apologise before she giggles.

“I knew there was something wrong. I keep doing it but no one tells me until after the game… and you’re quite beautiful yourself. If you don’t mind me saying.” My eyes continue to avoid her face as I bounce on the balls of my feet and try to refrain from shaking my hands, my most common stim.

“Thank you.”

We’re silent for a minute or so, which I don’t mind now that I’m more familiar with her. I continue to watch Elena and Camilo, who are now playing in a 5v5, Viv carrying the girl halfway down their makeshift pitch before helping her kick the ball. When her laughs echo through the stadium, joy breaking through her screams and from the yells of her dad who is playing a rather poor referee, I’m reminded of how much I love this family. I can’t help the smile on my face.

“Your sister is very adorable.” I glance to my side where Kyra now resides and contemplate telling her she isn’t my sister, but the words get stuck in my throat. If I were to say they weren’t my family after all they’ve done for me, then I’d be lying.

“Yeah. She’s basically my whole life.”

“Hey can I ask about the headphones? I mean you don’t have to say anything if you don’t want but-“

“I’m autistic. Struggle really bad with sound and other stimulants. I wear headphones to dampen sounds, especially in public. And stadiums are full of sounds.” My palms sweat a little and my breath is laboured for a moment. This is usually the part where people decide I’m a freak and never talk to me again.

“Oh cool. I totally get that, the sound thing.” That warm feeling returns. She doesn’t question anything, she just agrees.

~

Eventually the meet and greet had to end, but I manage to get a few of the girl’s numbers, including number 32’s. Something I hadn’t expected was that the team would love Elena so much that they wanted to organise season tickets and some more passes to meet up after home games. I couldn’t help but be a little proud of myself as the young girl rambled about how amazing it was to get to hang out with her idols, and the prospect of seeing them again.

~

Uni starts back up the following week, so I don’t join the two for a game for quite a while. Despite that, I find myself texting Kyra most days, a good morning and goodnight routine quickly being established. We ask each other questions about each other. ‘What did you want to be if football didn’t work out?’ ‘What made you want to study your course?’ ‘what’s your favourite thing about Australia?’.

She liked to ask me about parts of my autism every now and then. She wanted to know what things to avoid, what topics made me ramble for ages, safe foods. The only other people who had ever cared this much were Elena and Camilo. The two of which had definitely taken note of how happy I’d grown since the game.

“Who are you talking to Angelito? You haven’t smiled this big in a long time.” Camilo takes a seat beside me behind the desk of the store

There is no need to hide the blossoming relationship from him, so I turn my screen to show the messages between Kyra and I, a bold ‘No. 32’ under a very weird but unmistakable picture of the girl. He hums and smiles, lightly nudging our shoulders together.

“She likes you.”

“Pft no she doesn’t.”

“‘you’re so cute.’ ‘I really like you.’ ‘I’ll save that for when I take you on a date.’ With a winky face emoji. She literally admits she likes you. Twice.”

“I thought that was that flirty thing people do with their friends.”

“I know when people like each other.”

“How Milo?”

“I have a gift.”

“A gift hmm?” he just smiles widely down at me before taking my phone again. He begins to type something.

“What are you writing Milo? Milo!” I glance over his shoulder.

‘I really like you and would like to go on a date if you’re free.’ I’m about to scold him but three dots appear as Kyra begins typing.

“If this works you owe me an extra hour this week.”

“You are an evil schemer Camilo.” I say before squeezing his shoulder, a common sign of affection we’d developed.

‘I’d really like that. Tomorrow’s our day off if that works.’

I can’t help the squeal I let out as Camilo writes a response in confirmation.

“I’m going on a date.”

“You deserve this kiddo.”

~

Kyra and I agree on a dinner date at a restaurant I’d mentioned really enjoying a few months ago, that I hadn’t had a chance to visit since. I’d made the reservation, asking for the specific table I’d sat at the last time I came, and I’d already decided on what I was getting before I even hoped in the car to drive there.

I’d planned everything perfectly. The place, my outfit, what time I had to leave to arrive there 10 minutes before our agreed upon time. I hadn’t taken into account the car speeding through a red light and crashing into the car in the right lane beside me. Or the fact that due to the momentum I’d get caught between the 2 cars and the building on the corner of the street I was just about to turn down. No more than 15 metres from the restaurant but I’m trapped and the seatbelt is too tight and my head hurts. I’m crushed between my door and the centre console and all the sirens and ambulance lights approaching are too much and all I can do it cry.

If I could just reach my bag in the footwell of the passenger seat I could get my headphones to relieve some of the stimulation, but I can’t bend that way without my ribs screaming and whatever is poking my hip in my back making itself known.

I pray to every god I can name that I pass out, but no one hears as the jaws of life pry open my door. When were the other cars moved?

“Ma’am we have to cut you out. my colleague here is going to hold you up. Is that okay?” I don’t have any energy to say no, so I nod, waiting for some scissors to snip away at the seatbelt. Instead, I hear an electric saw whir to life.

“W- what’s the saw for?” my words are barely recognisable as they slur together.

“Ma’am everything is okay, just stay still for us okay?”

The sawing is over quicker than it begun, and the paramedics make an effort to move me as carefully as they can onto the stretcher, then into the ambulance. I make no move to complain about how the neck brace is itchy and feels suffocating.

A minute passes and through the newly developed ringing in my ears, I hear someone calling my name. they sound so far away but when I open my eyes again, Kyra is standing above me, next to the paramedic who’s hooking me up to monitors,

“Do you know this lady ma’am?” she asks me as I stare up at the girl I was meant to be on a date with.

“Yeah she’s my girlfriend.” A voice in the back of my head is worried that maybe that will freak Kyra out, but I know they won’t let her ride with me if we don’t have some close connection and for some reason friend does not cross my mind.

They allow her to take the extra seat beside me and she loops her pinky with mine. She keeps glancing down toward my stomach and taking deep breaths as we make our way down the streets of London. I try to see what she’s looking at but the brace doesn’t allow me to look that far down.

“You’re going to be okay.” She whispers as they roll me out of the ambulance, and she manages to quickly kiss me before I’m gone from view.

~

I don’t know how long I’m out for, but when I wake up there is a sterile white light beaming down on me and I have to instantly close my eyes. I’m quick to take note of the horrible feeling of the hospital gown I definitely wasn’t in when I’d gone under.

“Papa! She’s awake!” I let out a groan at the yell but and quick to smile once the voice registers in my head.

“Pollito.” My voice is no more than a whisper, hoarse and dry.

“Hey Angelito. How are you feeling.”

“Horrible. The light’s too bright and the gown is so itchy.” Neither Elena nor Camilo leave my side, but the light is off within seconds.

“I more meant physically. You were hit pretty hard.” The screeching of tyres, the smell of burnt rubber, the flashing lights, all rush back to me. So does the pain.

“Now that you mention it. What’s the damage?” it’s meant as a joke but I’m trying not to cry.

“3 broken ribs, 2 fractured, a torn vastus lateralis in your thigh, a lot of muscle damage in your back. It’s going to be a lot of physical therapy kiddo.” The thought has bile rising in my throat.

“Fuck me.”

“It’s okay, we’re going to be here the whole way. All of us.” By now I could know the voice in a crowd of people.

I turn my head and there she is. Kyra is sat in one of the uncomfortable hospital seats with her hand on top of mine.

“If it’s okay with you, Camilo, me and some of the arsenal girls are going to sort out a schedule to take turns helping you with PT. Viv was really hoping she could give some tips considering how long she spent doing PT.”

“That sounds perfect. But please tell me one of you has my pyjamas. I need to get out of this gown.”

~

There was no lie in how difficult rehab was. I had an hour appointment at the hospital every day and additional work at home that Milo, Kyra and some of the arsenal girls happily helped with. The hardest hurdle was amount of physical touch that was required. My physical therapist, Jordan, always made sure I knew when she needed to touch my leg or something, but that did very little to sooth the feeling that crawled beneath my skin. She was able to dim the fluorescent white lights and allowed me to wear my headphone which did help a small amount.

Kyra basically moved into my room above the shop. Milo insisted he could do all the work of getting me around the house and the shop, but we knew he couldn’t while maintaining the shop and looking after Elena. Elena tried her best to help by making me breakfast. She gathered pre-made versions of my safe breakfast food and carefully place them separately on a plate, with a glass of orange juice every morning. After the first week she realised I’d be in a wheelchair and struggling to move around much for much longer than she thought, so she quickly gave up on that idea and began making me penguin drawings at school.

I’d adapted to having Kyra around much quicker than I expected to. When I moved in at 17, it took me months to get used to the layout and the fact that I was alone, despite Camilo and Elena living in the house across the road. I adapted to Kyra’s presence within weeks.

After the second week we’d decided it was easier to share the bed rather than her sleeping on the couch, which had been the biggest change. I struggled with it the first few nights. I had a sleep routine that was already disrupted by the injuries, now I had to take another person into account. But she was so warm, and I felt so safe in her arms. Whenever I woke up from a nightmare about the crash, she grabbed me an iced tea and my headphones and would ramble about whatever interests she had recently developed or whatever was happening at training.

It was in the second month things took a more serious turn. Well serious for our relationship. I was sitting at the table chopping the vegetables for dinner while she begins cooking, when I took a minute to just look at her. The warm lighting softened her features, her quiet humming to whatever song was playing carried throughout the room, the smile that seemed to never leave her face sat perfectly on her lips as she listened to me ramble about the newly discovered yellow king penguin. She was so radiant and attentive, and she was never annoyed at me when I was overstimulated or wanted to infodump. She was seemingly unaffected by my rehab and most importantly unaffected by my autism. After a life full of negative interactions and losing people because of one thing I couldn’t control, I’d found a family and a partner who embraced me.

I didn’t realise I was crying until she turned and asked me what was wrong.

“I’m just grateful.”

“For what?”

“You, Milo, Elena. I love you all so much.” I didn’t realise I’d said it really. I was just being candid, as I always was.

“You love me?”

“Yes.” There was no hesitation even as it dawned on me.

“Well, I love you too.” There is a split second between the end of her sentence and the meeting of our lips in a kiss.

“Will you be my girlfriend?” I ask as we pull away.

“Wait- I thought- when you called me your girlfriend on the ambulance I kind of took that as you asking me to be your girlfriend.” She begins laughing.

“What? This whole time I’ve been nervous about actually asking you and you already thought I had?” I can’t help but join her laugh.

“We’re such fools.” She whispers, and we kiss again.

I'll always be a fool for her.

[zoropookie]

SWEET MELODY

☆ chapter ten — obliterate him. 🎂

It's not often they were in such close proximity to each other.

The car hummed softly while the two of them, Kuni and Xiao, sat inside while silence lingered. It was thick and awkward, punctuating only by the occasional clearing of the throat or a rustle of clothing as one of them shifted uncomfortably.

There were hardly any words spoken between them as it is, it was harder to think that either of them knew exactly what the other was thinking. Regardless, Xiao kept his eyes on the road, fingers tapping lightly on the wheel. The silence was comfortable, as they both didn't claim the energy they gave off, but it would have been unbearable for the others.

Kuni stared out the window, watching all scenery pass by in a slow pace. The bakery only a few miles away from them but it felt all the more interminable, stretched out by prolonged quietude. It was better than Lumine hounding him.

Finally, the silence was broken by a stiff and gravelly sigh from the bassist. "You're not this irritating on a regular day."

"Perceptive finally?" Kuni asked, pressed against his seat in defeat. "That's what happens when you deal with the usual existential dread. You know how it is."

"Still not grounds to act out. Makes it uncomfortable for everyone." Xiao lips twitched. "There's always a way to regulate your emotions better. Unless you have a reason for why you're being difficult."

His shoulders laxed, eyebrows furrowing at the flood of memories he was forced to revisit. "Like I ever gave a fuck how uncomfortable people are around me." He scoffed to himself. "It's not my job to coddle the people around me just to show that I have empathy. What do I have to prove to anyone?"

And there it was; half of a reason to his outlandish bursts of rage. He couldn't really tell whether he was genuine with how he feels or not, but the longer he listened to his reason, the more he realized how contradictory he was in his attitude. Like everything revolved around him, and the minute it doesn't, he'll come up with reasons why everybody else is the problem except for him on why it's annoying.

The other took short glances at him, voice low and steady. "You don't have to be kind," He paused. "You have to be content. It makes everyone around you as miserable as you are when you're not content, and it pushes them away. I'm guessing you see the similarities, too. Otherwise, you wouldn't have been so defensive."

Kuni took it in with a heavy heart. One that boiled with confusion and mirth, but also...in a way, he understood that the other was right. All his thoughts were just violent reactions to impulsively spew, to exude when he was filled with callousness to the point where it explodes and implodes at the same time. He wasn't the flower people wanted him to be, which stung, but it was irreparable to him.

He hummed in response with resignation, mulling over Xiao's words over and over again. But as always, in an attempt to get the last word in, he clenched at his jaw. "Don't put yourself in my shoes, you're not going to understand how I operate any time soon."

Xiao parked the car and turned to him after taking the laminated letter, still in perfect condition as he looped the mask over his ear. "If I put myself in your shoes, I wouldn't live at all." He said, nothing to give him on his expression that would insult him further. "Let's go."

The other scowled, opening the car door with a bit more force than necessary. The cool air was a stark difference from the blazing heat they were withstanding inside of the company and their negligence with the air conditioning. He stepped out, stuffing his hand into his pocket to put his mask on.

The shop was always charming looking, with the mouthwatering scent of freshly baked desserts every hour that sell out quick. The bell above the door jingled softly as they entered the store, and Kuni was able to fully absorb what your store even looked like at all. It was perfect, you were putting a lot of work into this building for years.

You had everything in mind, from the way you mapped out and drew every piece you wanted to decorate the bakery, to the flooring and the placement. It looked exactly like the layout you drew in school. Except with all of the sweet treats, and the sickly pastry scent to him, it was supposed to be your very own veterinarian office.

He glanced around bitterly, taking in the rows of delicacies displayed behind the glass. The golden crusts and colorful frostings momentarily stung at the wound that was already there.

Something wicked snapped inside of him seeing all of your employees smile as you spoke to them, hiding behind your mask of imminent anxiousness. He had to stifle it yet again, a surge of emotions overwhelming his head. His thoughts twisted and turned in fight, everything you once dreamed of became into a shitshow. The bitter taste of regret lingered in his mouth, which made him angrier.

With the moderately-sized line in question, Xiao motioned towards you to Kuni, him slowly following after. He stopped you in time to get you to turn around. "This is yours."

You slowly looked at the two of them, before looking down at the letter. Your heart dropped to your stomach as you gasped inwardly, feeling tears well up. "Is that you, Xiao? Where did you find this?"

"You dropped it."

You scrambled to take it out of his hands, your nose leaking from how hard you bursted into tears. "Thank you...thank you...I'm sorry you had to come all this way, it must have slipped my mind to ask Miss Ei..."

Kuni couldn't help but laugh patronizingly. "Oh yeah? It slipped your mind? You're a joke."

You froze, recognizing that voice from anywhere. Your tension grew heavy all of a sudden, heart dropping a second time like clockwork. Xiao shot him a warning look, brows knitting together in frustration. "Did I say something wrong?"

"This is all we came here for," Xiao responded sharply, eyes looking to obliterate him if he continued his act. "Unless you have something else to say."

"I have a lot to say, albeit, nothing nice for klutzy bitches who we have to pick up after." His jaw set in defiance as he sucked at his teeth. "I'm going to the bathroom."

Defeated as he left, Xiao's eyes looked back at you. "This will be the first and last time I'll show up here," He continued. "It causes a lot more trouble than it's worth."

You nodded, standing there as you reread the found letter again. Over and over again until you felt better. You took a deep breath you felt like you haven't gotten to in a long time, trying to steady yourself. "I'm sorry for being so much trouble. I really appreciate that you came all this way."

He nodded, his hardened expression softening as he looked at you. There was something he didn't know about, and even though he wasn't too interested in figuring it out, there was something off here. "I'm going now."

"Wait," You weakly stopped him as he was about to leave. "Can I send you guys off with some sweets?" You asked quietly, your voice trembling as you managed a smile. "To thank you. This letter really means a lot to me..."

"No." He waved you off, tone firm. "Tell him I'm waiting."

You watched him leave, another chime of the bell as an indicator. You felt yourself beam again, reading the letter a fifth time as you tried to retrace your brothers voice in the letter. You failed again, hoping one day you'd find it. Feeling somewhat of a bigger confidence than usual, you kept it with you, the lamination on the letter

As you were about to head back to the kitchen, you turned the corner only to be aggressively pulled into the nearest bathroom. Your arm was yanked behind you so hard that you yelped, twinging something in your shoulder.

"What the fuck is all this?" He hissed in a dangerous whisper, grip loosening as he flung your arm back to your body. "If you want to waste your life on this desperate attempt to belong, fine, but don't bring all of us into your shit too."

Your eyes shook, rubbing your shoulder as you kept the letter tucked under your thumb. "I don't really get the vet stuff you mentioned...I'm trying to find out what you meant."

"Another thing that pisses me off, you're such a faker, it's amazing! How long has that been a thing to get my attention?" His voice raised, getting closer to your face as he took the mask off. "Huh? Look me in the fucking eye and tell me you don't remember anything."

"I don't," You replied firmly, your resolve wavering. "I don't know how to prove it to you, it's not something I can recall right now...I'm sorry."

"Aw, you're sorry?" His voice dripped with a baby-ish tone this time. "You've been babied to shit, and now you think that you're untouchable. You're a fucking coward, not even worthy of my time. Running away from your problems and making it my problem... who's the first person my mom shits on whenever you make a choices that fucks over the both of us? Look at me."

Your eyes welled up. "I don't know what you're talking about..." You forced yourself to keep eye contact with him. "I just wanted to do something other than mope! I didn't want to stay at home all day..! I'm sorry." You dry heaved.

He let out a bitter laugh, stepping back once he ripped the letter out of your hands. "What even is this? You had it laminated and everything..." He read it in amazement. "This is what you been freaking the fuck out over, huh?"

"Please give it back." You took a deep breath, trying to stay calm. "It's really important..."

"I bet, you fucking hypocrite." His eyes were voice, flashing with anger and something else— something that looked almost like hurt. "You talk a lot about moving forward for someone who runs away from their pain. Who always wants an out to their suffering, who wants to take up space they're not fucking needed in."

You stepped back when he moved closer to you, your back against the wall as you reached your arm out towards the letter, wincing at your own actions. "I didn't mean to intrude on your life again...your mom invited me. I didn't know it was to get us to make up again. I'll stay out, I promise." You continued speaking, rambling on desperately to get him to hand the letter back to you.

He stared at you for a long moment, his face twisted in disgust as he watched you grovel for this mere letter in his hands. It was taking out more from you than you realized at the moment, but you were out of options. As you begged and pleaded in whispers, he threw the letter on the ground and grabbed your face.

His grip was firm on you, nails digging into your cheeks as he made you look directly into his eyes. "You think you're so special." He hissed, voice dripping with the most poisonous venom imaginable. "So important that everyone drops everything in a heartbeat for you. You think you can just waltz back into my home, pretend like nothing happened, and I won't fuck you up for what you did to me? I'm here now, so what's up?"

Your heart pounded in your chest, the intensity of what was happening was causing you to choke on your tears. "I'll leave you alone...I promise."

His eyes narrowed in amusement, finding a sliver of humor and shallow lust in your fear, before leaning forward and locking his lips with yours as a response.

A kiss so fierce and consuming, you trembled against him, hardly even reciprocating but feeling your heart flutter at his gesture. A memory you didn't want to remember resurfaced again, of you singing for his birthday and his bitterness longed with passion in the past.

Now? It was terrifying; it wasn't gentle or kind, but raw and intense. Filled with vexation, something deeper that even he couldn't identify. Your head spun while his hands moved from your cheeks to your hair, fingers tangling in the strands as he gripped at your hair. He took a lock and pushed your head closer.

He tasted the same as he did so long ago. And it hurt you.

As sudden as it began, and while you were relaxing, he pulled away. His eyes dark and stormy as he stared into your eyes, continuously flicking from the letter and back to him. He felt rough and unsteady, and something in him told him that he overstayed his welcome enough. "No," He paused, muttering low and cocky. "It's not the same."

With that he left, the door swinging behind him shut and you immediately scrambling for the letter that was on the floor, feeling your breath be pried away from you again as you lost it. You leaned against the sink, feeling your tears dry on your face as you cried harder.

"Kazuha..." You cried out with red eyes, your voice drawling.

previous ☆ masterlist ☆ next

THERE ARE not many things that can sway your interest ever since the "incident", but in spite of that, you pushed forward. you are now the owner of the biggest bakery chain in your city, consistently seeing couples and catering to them as such. you've been a big host at weddings, events for celebrities, and even a big support for your friends and family. you've even earned yourself a niche following as well by how sweet you are to everybody around you. but, even with your kindness, you don't have a particular spark that keeps you going anymore these days. that is until one of your employees starts suggesting you write love letters to customers who request your services. at first you thought it was a horrible idea that could easily turn into trouble, but that was until you were tasked with writing one to your own (very very famous) ex-boyfriend.

taglist ☆ — @seternic @chemiru @coquettemaiden @1kio0o @emiixuu

@agaygothicmushroom @yomishen @jingyuan-wife-real @toruscorpse @whoooismkeee

@sketcheeee @st4r4ngel @xionri @scaradooche @lightyagamifan

@pwushizz @alatusorrow @eutopiastar @magica-ren @slu7

@vaxmpi @theyluvkatt @kyon-cherri @suzydarling @mimi3lover

@auroratumbles @vxcmx @yourfavoritefreakyhan @kunimylovee

@czerwka @little-honey-the-third @featuredtofu @simonisferal @justpeachyteastea

@liuaneee @skyoverkill1 @mellowberrie @lalalaloveallmydays @mostlymoth

@mtndewbajablasted @vernith @lovekeychains @danhenglovebot @elizshade

@balladeersflower @kazumiku @bananasquash @neversore @yevurin

@franaby @vicslz @kamiboo @thegalaxyisunfolding @morgyyyyyyy

@feikyuu @tamikahoshiko @kissingkzuha @bbysatoruuu @rvoulte

@kinvasions @kukikoooo @adriannauodi @pumpkincitrus @umiloa

@soonyoungblr @state-of-grac3

[stsgluver]

synopsis. there’s just something about watching gojo put that blindfold on.

wc. 570

"it's bumpy at the back. "

"still? but i thought i fixed it?"

"well you clearly didn't. i think it messed up on the first wrap around, you might have to start again."

"can you take a picture or something to show me where it is? i can't feel it."

"no."

satoru turns to you and you don't need to be able to see his eyes to know he's got them raised suspiciously at you, if the smirk on his lips is anything to go by. "no?" he taunts, crossing his legs as you both sit on your bed facing each other. "why not? i've made the same mistake three times now. "

you shrug dismissively, "you're a big boy, don't give up now. i'm helping you." you cover your mouth and look to the side as if though that would stop satoru from hearing the small laughs.

maybe it's because it's so early, or maybe it is just that attractive, but there was just something about watching your boyfriend cover his eyes with bandages that just makes all the stars align.

he always holds one end of the bandages between his teeth, using both of his hands to gather up his undercut before he begins smoothly wrapping it around his head. he never makes a mistake. like everything else he's ever done, the outcome is flawless.

it doesn't matter how many times you've watched him do it, the butterflies that spiral in your stomach never cease.

however, admitting such attraction to such a mundane thing (that he has to do to y'know not deal with the skull-splitting migraines) is embarrassing. especially when you know satoru and the fact he will never ever let it slide.

the hope that maybe he'll be more disgusted by the fact you called him 'big boy' to press you further on the matter is quickly extinguished. "i think i already have," he counters in a sing song voice, "someone likes watching me!"

you almost choke on your spit, coughing as you check the watch on your wrist that's not there, "would you look at the time? you have class!" trying to slip off the bed is futile because satoru's reflexes are three times as quick as yours and he doesn't hesitate to grab your arm.

"class can wait," satoru lifts the bandages above his right eye, giving you a glimpse of his raw power as he eyes you playfully. leaning in dangerously close to you, his breath tickles you as he speaks, "c'mon baby, just admit it."

there it is. baby. the pet name is enough to shatter any self-control you still somehow manage to have left and you lift your head to try and kiss him. keyword: try.

"uh uh, say it," he teases, his tongue poking out to swipe across his pretty lips as he holds you back by less than an inch. if you wanted to swipe your tongue across his lips too, you could.

your cheeks heat up and you cross your arms with a huff, "i like watching you put your blindfold on. happy?" satoru thinks he's going to implode because he doesn't think there's enough space left in his body to cope with the sheer adoration he has for you. he settles for a

"ecstatic." satoru kisses you again, this time with more eagerly as he drags your body towards his lap just to have you closer to him.

[jealousmartini]

So I minishifted to my kpop idol dr last night and I'm loosing my mind

Lowkey still kinda freaking out about it because it's only just when the realisation settled in that I FUCKING SHIFTED. AND TWO OF MY FATTEST CRUSHES WERE STOOD RIGHT THERE. FUCK. OKay let me explain what happened before I IMPLODE!😆

So given how startled I was when I woke up in what i assume is my studio room? (It was a pretty cute studio and looked like it WOULD be mine🤭🤞🏾) I was only there for a good 2 minutes before freaking out and shifting back like the COWARD I AM, so I'll tell you everything that happened whilst I was there😁

Okay so first of all, I woke up in "my" studio right next to my group leader Mei and my other best friend on the other end and I was SO confused at the time because I was trying to figure out where I was. I didn't understand why I was in a different room but like at the same time it felt familiar.

But anyway, I felt so comfortable and warm and realised it was because I had a really soft blanket wrapped around my body, which I suspect was from one of my members?? Maybe?? and then Mei looked over at me and noticed I was awake, she was like "Youre finally awake Keesh" and rubbed my back so gently i could have fallen asleep right there and then again. It was like I got a taste of satisfaction for my touch starved self.

And GOSH her voice was so much more raspy than I thought it was going to be i was quite taken aback😭😭 and her face sculpted by Aphrodite herself kinda switched to a concerned expression when she saw me looking around the room frantically like I didn't know where I was, she asked me if everything was alright, and I couldn't even reply with my voice because I was so stunned so I nodded weakly with most unconvincing smile ever because I was still processing what the hell was going on.

Then suddenly, I heard like two worryingly familiar male voices coming close to the studio room we were in☹️☹️(internally i was like FUCK OFF I cant do this rn). My head literally snapped to the door when i heard it creek open and standing right there was the glorious man he is, Min Yoongi, leaning on the door frame (with long black hair btw) and the gorgeous man he is, Jimin, peaking his head through from behind the door😭😭 (I think i remember him being Blonde?). When I tell you my pulse picked up at a million miles per second. Seeing Yoongi and Jimin in the flesh is something else you guys. And to say Yoongi is intimidating is an UNDERSTATMENT☠️☠️ those two were so hot oh my GOD. I was lowkey panicking because I was NOT prepared to come face to face with AANYONE from my kpop dr nevermind BTS☠️☠️ even though i intended to shift there last night.

But anyway, i heard Yoongi ask my members ask if I was still asleep because my food was getting cold, and Mei said, "Oh yeah, yeah, she just woke up.." and Immediately placed my head back on the table and covered my face with the blanket, PRAYINGGG she'd think I fell back asleep WHICH SHE DID THANK GOD🙏🏾 and right before I woke up here I heard Jimin saying something like "you should wake her up before he eats it all??" He was giggling while he was saying that, too. And then I shifted back here.

OH AND LET ME NOT FORGET TO ADD, THIS ENTIRE DIALOGUE WAS IN KOREAN?? AND I UNDERSTOOD IT ALL.

This experience is actually one of my most scariest/exciting/crazy ones ever. Not even just because I shifted there, but because of what happened prior to the shift. Me and my best friend were yapping to each other about BTS, and we were talking about the signs we picked up on and then the realisation I came to. The moment me and my friend and I made this silly girl group as a joke, it seems that we created a butterfly effect in our reality. And now, whatever sign I get about BTS, "coincidentally," always links back to my girl group.

Anyway so yeah idk wether or not I want to shift back because LORD I CRAVE TO SEE THEM AGAIN but like I am so intimidated by Yoongi and even Jimin I might just freak out the next time I see them again😭😭 @livingmydreamlife5555 @samara444 @4ellieluv @theshifterbear

[eff4freddie]

Touch | Part One

What you can offer Jackson is your healing hands.

2.6k words

Series Masterlist | Part Two Warnings: slow burn, eventual smut, we stan one (1) apocalypse grump, no use of y/n, I haven't written fanfic in a while but I'm hoping this will get me back into writing regularly, I have no idea how many parts this will be

Minors DNI

If you were to try and tally up all your losses you wouldn’t, initially, struggle. Your beloved dad, on outbreak day, and then months later your sister to a pack of raiders capable of slipping silently past a rotting barn wall. Those were clearly devastating, actual moments that bifurcate the before times and the after. Your liberty in the QZ, your hope for a sane and assured new government, your smuggling partner trapped under the barbed wire fence as a FEDRA soldier narrowed in on you both, her struggling hands going limp in the dirt, her eyes no longer following your movements as you scrabbed to free her, the look of resignation on her face, the way she mouthed for you to ‘go’. Those losses somehow both enormous and incalculable.

It was the smaller losses that caught you up. Newsprint smeared on your fingertips. Breaking in a new pair of stiff leather shoes. The uneven leg of your massage table, which caused it to wobble when someone clambered onto it, meaning that you had to warn your clients ahead of time while it wobbled, it was stable, and that you could relate. You knew it was a bad look, that the table alone didn’t inspire confidence in your clientele, and you missed it more than you had any fucking right to when the world, for all intents and purposes, imploded.

You made do in Jackson. Your travelling party of three had heard of a mythical commune of warm sheep and cold beer and you wanted, more than anything, to believe in it.  In the before times your mother had sung a song about Jackson with your father, peeling potatoes at the sink, and you had hummed it under your breath the three-and-a-half-month trek. ‘Honey, I’m going to Jackson.’ ‘See if I care.’

As you approached the gates the three of you had already come up with a plan to pitch for entry. Ray was going to pretend he was injured, and Marla was going to carry him, limping but stoic, over the threshold. The night he refused to take first watch you had promised to break his ankle for real to make it really convincing, and he had laughed because he knew you didn’t have it in you, and you had joined in, because it was true. Marla was toying with the idea of being pregnant, and you were going to just be mute. Either by birth or by trauma, you hadn’t decided. But the plan was to be as pitiful as possible, as non-threatening and as desperate, such that not only would you not be shot on sight but that you would be taken in, warmed to, eventually forgiven your trespass. On the side of a mountain, with everything you had ever owned strapped to your back and the losses tallying behind you, it had seemed like the best strategy.

It had failed almost immediately. Marla may have been able to pull off the pregnancy thing if it was early, but Ray kept forgetting which ankle he had supposedly hurt, and when you tripped on a rock coming through the gate you swore at the top of your lungs. It turned out it didn’t matter. Throughout quarantine you had been able to meet Maria, then Tommy, and you had been advised that you were to pitch your worthiness to stay at the next town council. You had two days to determine what you could offer Jackson. You had looked down at your two hands.

__

Marla was a good shot, and was put on patrol. Ray spoke French and was good with codes, and he pitched helping out with reconnaissance. He even pronounced it the proper French way at the council meeting, and you saw Tommy arch a jet-black brow in Maria’s direction, who rolled her eyes. Standing on shaky knees before a panel of non-infected non-raiders who nevertheless held your life in their hands, you showed them your palms.

‘Pain relief,’ you said, and you smiled in what you hoped was a warm way. ‘I can heal, with these.’

‘You trying to tell us you’re some kind of witch doctor?’ the man on the end asked, and you wondered what it would be like to lean over and pluck each hair out of his nostrils, until his eyes were streaming.

‘No,’ you said, and you felt your cheeks redden. ‘Massage, mostly remedial but also deep tissue. I can help with bad backs, with sore legs and arms, bad necks. All that patrolling, all that watching the horizon, must be murder on the body.’ You scanned their faces, Nostril Man not convinced but Maria smiling warmly at you. You swallowed, trying to wet your throat to prevent it from just outright closing over. ‘Surely you want your men and women, the people out there protecting Jackson, to be strong?’

__

The house you were allocated was four over from Marla, and Ray was placed three streets back towards the gate. You had idly wondered if you had been split up to try and avoid trouble, but actually you enjoyed the solitude for the first time since the apocalypse. Having had to travel in packs, having been crammed in four or six to a one-bedroom apartment in the QZ, having listened to Ray retell his story of crossing the Canadian border every might for at least a year and a half, you relished the way that you could once again hear the ringing in your ears. When you rolled your shoulders, you heard the spinal fluid pool and bubble at the base of your skull.

The benefit of having the place to yourself was that the second bedroom easily converted to your treatment room. Tommy and a couple of the other men from town had brought in a spare dining table, and you found that with enough blankets and towels piled on top of it you could make a decently comfortable surface to lie on. Ray had offered to cut a hole in the middle like a real massage table, but you had seen him try to chop wood one night with a blunt axe, a night when you thought without a fire you would freeze to death, but it would still be better than listening to him whine about having nearly chopped off his toes for the rest of time. Instead, you created a ring of towels just back from the edge, a position that meant people could still breathe as they lay face down, and you practiced how you would apologise to them for the inconvenience of it, what joke you could make to try and win back their confidence, marvelled at the fact that even at the end of the world you were still trying to cover for your inadequacies.  

Maria was your first client, and as soon as you were convinced you could accommodate her growing stomach comfortably as she lay on her side, you welcomed her in.

‘It’s just my hips, my lower back,’ she said, as you poured shampoo on your hands to stand in for massage oil.

‘This might be cold, I’m sorry,’ you said, not adding that it could also be sudsy, and wilted a little inside as Maria flinched when you touched her. ‘I’m sorry,’ you said again, as she exhaled.

‘Can you feel where it is?’ she asked, and you hummed.

‘The pain?’

‘You said you could heal.’ You smiled, pressing down on a knot hitched to Maria’s hip flexor. She sighed, and you watched as the tension disappeared from her shoulders, her body slumping forward slightly such that you had to grab her knee and roll her back.

‘You tell me,’ you said, and she huffed at you.

‘Those men, the council, you have no idea how little they would understand why we needed you,’ she said.

‘Wait ‘til I’ve finished putting my elbow in your butt cheek, then tell me that again,’ you said.

‘Wait, what?’ Maria startled, but you were already on her, promising that the pain would fade as the tension released, ignoring the stream of obscenities, having heard far worse in your time. The before times.

__

Maria spread the word and soon you were busy, with a regular list of clients that heavily favoured the women of Jackson until they were able to convince the men that they, too, had musculoskeletal systems. Maria was a regular right up until she got too big to haul herself onto the table, and then she would just sit in your kitchen and make you tea, explaining the history of the place until you started to feel properly at home there.

One afternoon she sat with her head resting in her hand, as you held her foot in your lap, gently massaging over her sock.

‘You don’t come out much,’ she said. ‘I see you in the mess hall for breakfast, then you’re gone.’

‘I have clients early these days, sometimes a full patrol before they go out.’

‘What about the off days? The days that we don’t patrol?’

‘Washing. I go through a lot of towels.’

‘You need help with those?’

‘No, I like doing it. Warm water is such a dream, I still can’t believe it when I fill up the bucket.’

‘After work I never see you at the bison.’

You pinched her toe a little hard and she hissed, and you felt the heat on your cheeks.

‘I am grateful for my place here,’ you said, and you looked up into her eyes then, your hands still but cradling her foot to your chest. ‘That you advocated for me, that you helped me set myself up. I know that Tommy wouldn’t have if you hadn’t asked him.’

She smiled, glancing down at the tea in her cup.

‘It’s hard to be back amongst so many people, and to not be…’ you trailed off. Marla came around some nights, but it had been at least a week since you’d seen Ray. You had thought they were your safe people, but in a big house behind a secure wall, you wondered how much that was true.

‘To not be waiting for them to shoot you, to stab you?’ Maria finished, and you sighed.

‘Or to not get stabbed or shot themselves.’

‘You lost people?’ Maria asked, and then blinked, slowly. ‘That was a stupid question. Of course you did.’

The pattern of the tiles on the kitchen floor was two left and two right, you noticed, except for where the bench had been installed. There the pattern was interrupted, as if someone had miscounted, and there was a row of three along the perimeter.

‘Who did you lose?’ Maria asked you, and you gently lowered her foot to the ground.

‘All of them, just like all of us,’ you said, and you held out your harms such that Maria could pull herself up, and she sighed but used them to get to her feet, and you were grateful even in this moment to have helped someone.

__

You happened to be on your porch when you heard the commotion, a bunch of people running down the street towards the front gate. You thought for a moment of an invasion, that raiders had breached the wall, and wondered what, if anything, you would need to carry with you, what you could fit in a bag, looked despairingly at the snow on the mountain tops wondering how you could possibly carry enough blankets to ward off inevitable death. You braced yourself for screams, for gun shots, was genuinely confused when you heard none. Curious now, and less planning your immediate escape, you stepped down to your front gate, leaning over to see what the fuss was. A group of people were moving as one down the main street, and you stepped out onto the pavement to get a better look. You could see Tommy, his black hair sliced back to his shoulders making him stand out even in a crowd of other men. He was walking beside another man, the crowd parting to let them through, and with Tommy’s arm wrapped around his shoulder it meant that the other man had to stoop forward slightly, such that you could only see the top of his head. He had streaks of grey through his hair, his legs straight and strong underneath him. Tommy was gripping the front of the man’s shirt and talking into his ear. Behind them a younger girl, couldn’t be more than 15, trailed with her eyes set on the ground in front of her.

You watched as Maria came out of the sheriff’s office and stood on the pavement in front of them. She smiled when Tommy turned to her, letting go of the other man to wrap her in a bracing hug. You watched as the other man straightened, caught a glimpse for the first time of the patchy beard across his cheeks, of the roman line of his nose, of the flinty look in his eyes. He turned to the young girl, clapped her once or twice on the back, nodding in Maria’s direction. You saw that they nodded to each other, that this wasn’t as simple of a homecoming, that the girl carried pain deeper than any two hands could reach.

You had to wait three days for Maria to visit again before you could ask her about them, and when you did you felt her energy shift. Big as she was it was difficult for her to fidget, but you sensed that she would shuffle in your kitchen chair if she could.

‘Joel is Tommy’s brother,’ she told you, and when you thought about the shape of his jaw you realised you could see a sort of resemblance. This man had seemed to stoic, so closed off, compared to the brightness of the smile Tommy had been throwing at him. It had meant that you initially hadn’t seen it.

‘And the girl?’ you asked, and watched as Maria started fiddling with the hem of her shirt, stretched as it was over the heft of her belly.

‘A kind of daughter, I guess. Adopted, as much as anyone can be right now.’ Maria avoided your eyes and you lowered them, hoping that it would encourage her to continue. ‘They were here, before, for a brief time. A few months. Joel was… he and Ellie were heading down to Salt Lake, we weren’t sure if they were going to make it back, and Tommy…’ she stopped herself, gathered her thoughts, and you heard your own pulse in your neck as you waited.

‘Tommy had started to think that he’d lost him, lost them both. He’d started to think it was his fault, maybe, that he should have gone with them.’

‘But you’re…’ and you stopped, gesturing to her very pregnant frame.

‘I know, and he knew that he couldn’t have, but it didn’t feel like it when he thought his brother was gone.’

You didn’t need your hands to feel the tension coming off her, and you stood then, and reached out to her shoulder, picking up the tendon and easing it down. You remembered back in school when your teacher had shown you the diagram of the fascia, taught and spidery over the pink and red of the muscle. She rolled her neck, her head slumping towards you, and you offered her your torso as a pillow.

‘It doesn’t feel like a warm return,’ you said, eventually, and Maria sighed, reaching up to still your hand.

‘He’s a dangerous man,’ she said, after a while. ‘He’s done things, Tommy did them too but that’s his big brother, you know?’

You thought back to the way Tommy had gripped Joel’s shirt, the way he had been talking animatedly into his brother’s ear, the curl of Joel in on himself in response to it, the instinct to close down in the face of his brother’s overwhelming love.

‘We’ve all done things,’ you said, after a while.

‘It’s different,’ she said. ‘I don’t know why, it just is.’

‘What about the girl?’ you asked, and she softened then, under your touch.

‘She’ll defend Joel to the ends of the Earth,’ she said.

‘You don’t trust her judgement?’ you asked.

‘I don’t trust that Joel isn’t keeping her in the dark,’ she muttered, and it was quiet enough that you had to lean over to hear, and when the words unfurled around you you pulled back from them, the concern and the weight and the finality of them, the heaviness of them in your ears.

[uselesslexbian]

the tortured poets department sentence starters.

i was supposed to be sent away, but they forgot to come and get me.

i love you, it's ruining my life.

my husband is cheating. i wanna kill him.

thought of calling you, but you won't pick up.

who's gonna hold you like me?

who's gonna know you, if not me?

sometimes i wonder if you're gonna screw this up with me.

everyone we know understands why it's meant to be. 'cause we're crazy.

who else is gonna know me?

i should've known it was a matter of time.

we could've played for keeps this time.

once i fix me, he's gonna miss me.

he told me i'm better off, but i'm not.

fuck it if i can't have him.

i might just die, it would make no difference.

fuck it if i can't have us.

'cause fuck it, i was in love.

i stopped trying to make him laugh.

how much sad did you think i had in me?

you say i abandoned the ship, but i was going down with it.

just how low did you think i'd go before i'd self-implode?

you swore you love me, but where were the clues?

i'm just mad as hell 'cause i loved this place.

i forget if this was ever fun.

no, i'm not coming to my sense.

i know he's crazy, but he's the one i want.

i'd rather burn my whole life down than listen to one more second of all this bitching and moaning.

i'll tell you something about my good name - it's mine alone to disgrace.

you ain't gotta pray for me.

no, you can't come to the wedding.

it's gonna be alright, i did my time.

i will never lose my baby again.

ain't no way i'm gonna screw up now that i know what's at stake.

they said i was a cheat. i guess it must be true.

yes, i'm haunted, but i'm feeling just fine.

tell me i'm dispicable, say it's unforgivable.

am i allowed to cry?

i keep recalling things we never did.

someone told me there's no such thing as bad thoughts.

if it's make-believe, why does it feel like a vow we'll both uphold somehow?

they're gonna crucify me anyway.

what if the way you hold me is actually what's holy?

you don't get to tell me about "sad."

if you wanted me dead, you should've just said.

who's afraid of little old me?

at all costs, keep your good name.

you don't get to tell me you feel bad.

so tell me everything is not about me, but what if it is?

say they didn't do it to hurt me, but what if they did?

i'm always drunk on my own tears, isn't that what they all said?

i'm fearsome, and i'm wretched, and i'm wrong.

you caged me, and then you called me crazy.

i am what i am 'cause you trained me.

i can fix him. no really, i can.

come close, i'll show you heaven.

trust me, i can handle me a dangerous man.

you said i'm the love of your life.

well, you took me to hell, too.

what we thought was for all time was momentary.

are they second-hand embarrassed that i can't get out of bed 'cause something counterfeit's dead?

you're the loss of my life.

i can handle my shit.

he said he'd love me all his life, but that life was too short.

i can do it with a broken heart.

i'm so obsessed with him, but he avoids me like the plague.

i cry a lot, but i am so productive. it's an art.

you know you're good when you can even do it with a broken heart.

i'm sure i can pass this test.

they said, "babe, you gotta fake it 'til you make it" and i did.

'cause i'm miserable! and nobody even knows!

was any of it true?

who the fuck was that guy?

they just ghosted you. now you know what it feels like.

i don't even want you back.

you didn't measure up in any measure of a man.

were you sent by someone who wanted me dead?

'cause it wasn't sexy once it wasn't forbidden.

i would've died for your sins. instead i just died inside.

i'll forget you, but i'll never forgive.

i haven't come around in so long, but i'm making a comeback to where i belong.

this town is fake, but you're the real thing.

the crown is stained, but you're the real queen.

you're the new god we're worshipping.

it's hell on earth to be heavenly.

[insanescriptist]

Cremation is just another fun(erl) service

So blaming random 4am thoughts that have been plaguing me all day for this

----

Jason woke to a bright room, thin sheets and the smell of a hospital embedded in his body.

First as always, assess. Hospital. No affiliation printed on the walls or anywhere. Private room, but small. That door looked like it led to a private bathroom. Generic flower picture, a mounted screen turned off. Really fucking bright sunlight from the windows.

There was no fucking way he was in Gotham then. Everything was too nice. Normal by standards outside of Gotham. There were blinds, not metal shutters. The walls were cleaner than Gotham allowed outside of Downtown and he could see greenery through the window.

Okay. So what had he been doing? Jason remembered and then wished he had his Jerichos to shoot himself with. Mystic Shit™. Okay. Okay. That was not one of his better ideas, but if he's recovering in a hospital, it worked. World saved.

So recovery. How fucked was he?

His skin looked so fucked. Which meant he had been worse. He's had time to recover and lose muscle tone in, going by how twiggy his arms were. His hands looked good. Clearly someone knew he cared about those if they went through the effort of restoring those.

Hmm, that was odd. No matter how much Jason hated the Lazarus Pits and all its by-products, it would have been a faster and more simple way to recover from near-death than the long incarceration in a hospital for a John Doe.

Jason wasn't sure if he'd been abandoned yet again by those who called themselves his family because he could, "take care of himself," or if he had been written off dead. Again.

Hospital beat the coffin by a long shot.

And it was with that cheery thought, a nurse -obvious meta human nurse- came in and burst into excited Japanese, because that was of course, his luck.

It's after the nurse and doctors leave that Jason loses his shit.

It looks like he's sulking in bed, but mentally everything in his head is exploding. Imploding.

Three. Fucking. Years. Coma.

Burn victim so bad they not only expected him to die in the first couple of days, but still expect it because of the infection risk his fucked up skin represents.

Still the conversation with the medical staff -of varying degrees of bizarre- was enlightening.

No, he has no idea who he is. Did he ever get anyone visit? How did he get here?

Of course some amnesia is to be expected. No, some of the nurses visited. No one knows how he got here.

Does he know what his quirk is? Uh?

Trauma blocked amnesia, the doctor mutters.

What's the last date he remembered?

Saturday. Maybe? The last year? No, I'm pretty sure my memory is shit and I'm trying hard not to freak out over not knowing anything. So could I get the year number?

And then there's the fucking year number. Once he got it translated into more normal terms.

Mystic Shit™ said fuck you to the future.

Except Jason knows this is not his future. Again, if it was, this would have been treated as a fucking inconvenience. Effective skin restoration goop -the proper name escaped him- was easily available to those with the right connections. A normal baseline human with 2nd and 3rd degree burns would be fine in less than two weeks with it, with nary a trace to show for it.

Thanks to the three year coma, his muscles were all atrophied as fuck, despite their best attempts at physical therapy. Because of all the burns and later burn scars and infections making it basically impossible to actually do fuck all about maintaining muscle tone until he was basically burnt skin and bones anyway.

He was so fucking weak now. It wouldn't last forever. He'd escape this hospital before he was discharged, before whatever "benefactor" showed up for whatever "purpose," he was suppose to serve now, as they had the medical debt over his head or was threatening his loved ones or whatever. If one didn't show up in the next week, he was losing his genre-savviness, because shitheads always wanted to claim shit, if it looked useful.

And Jason was used to looking useful, until he was no longer useful and they just didn't care. The amnesia made him less shiny, but Jason couldn't pull off the brain dead zombie imitation without actually being a brain dead zombie crawling up out of his grave.

So under the thin hospital sheets, Jason twitched his muscles.

Two weeks of emotional freak outs, watching the news, physical therapy and drugs Jason had had enough.

And he broke out.

----

Yeah, he regretted it almost immediately. Hard not to in the stupid paper gown, barefoot and bare ass.

Thankfully people were people, even with the plethora of meta humans he had seen, so it actually wasn't hard to find clothes. Someone left a hoodie in their car and Jason broke into said car. Put on the hoodie. Hotwired the car and drove off.

Somehow for being in the fucking future by two centuries and change, cars really hadn't changed. More evidence of Mystic Shit™ slamming him sideways.

He drove to the next town over, picked another direction, drove some more. Parked the car near what looked like a chop shop, negotiated the car for some money. He probably got ripped off, but better than nothing.

He walked to a corner store, bought some flip-flops after bullshitting an excuse that his had broken. First aid stuff. You know, for his feet. Hair dye in three different colors, because Rose Wilson could pick out a bad dye job at a hundred meters and so Jason learned how to dye his own hair properly so as to avoid her mockery, only to get mockery (affectionate) anyway.

It was a mix of instinct and lifelong observation that let him find an empty apartment quickly. He stole some sweatpants and passed out on the bed.

----

The thing is, Jason doesn't regret his crimes like Bruce thinks he ought to do, with a massive pity party and flaming self-hatred and punching criminals instead of shooting them. He hates the necessity of doing crimes, even if that crime is a net gain to society, but that's why all his serious crimes are premeditated. He's homicidal, not a psychopath.

Not Pit-mad either, no matter what the rest of them might have thought.

Again, he's homicidal, not a psychopath. And when he doesn't have to be some sort of costume soldier to be discarded by family for the disgrace of disfiguring the memory of a dead boy? He's actually chill and boring.

That is to say, he crashed at that apartment for three days, felt progressively more like himself, especially after the dye job -white hair all over, now a solid and boring black- but it still didn't change all the other issues the Mystic Shit™ inflicted on him.

This body isn't actually his. Too young, scars not right where the burns didn't fuck him over. Thankfully his existing coping mechanisms for dysphoria work and it's shoved to the side.

It's also a shit body. Not even a month out of a three year coma with inadequate -by his standards- of medical care. It's weak and building muscle to do everyday civilian shit, is going to take months to do. Pushing as hard as he did during the escape wrecked him the next three days. Jason may not know what's going to happen, but with his luck, it's going to suck and training is preparing to make it suck less. The only certainty he's got is that his skin or lack thereof is going to kill him from infection if he doesn't fix it.

He's got no legal identity here. Which basically puts him back onto familiar ground of legally dead.

Beyond the lack of paperwork, he's got a lack of funds. He also has no easy target to steal funds and equipment from, even just for fun.

For more disadvantages, he's in a different country, with different laws and a whole different culture. He would be climbing on board a fucking plane to Gotham, if it existed in this world, for some familiar ground.

He really is the unluckiest Robin. It also means he is also the most prepared Robin.

---

The first six months after waking up in this mockery world of heroics were the absolute worst.

He started at one foot in the grave and crawled out of it before the casket could really eat him alive. Jason had experience in casket busting. He didn't wanna repeat it.

He still didn't know who he was -in who was he inhabiting- but it wasn't like Jason had a lot to go on. 'His' quirk was thermo-manipulation, most obviously in the blue fire he could call to his hands but he could do some ice too; it was thanks to Duke's light and shadow manipulation that he had even tried for the duality. He had white hair. Presumably Japanese heritage but quirks had really erased or blurred a lot of racial lines. Also presumed dead and young.

Access to the Quirk Registry took some doing, but again, not everyone followed basic computer security, much less what it took to keep someone bat-trained out of their systems. Again, for nearly two centuries in the future, a lot of the technological development had stagnated. Searching through the Quirk Registry hadn't yielded any result but none of his other methods had struck anything either. And he had looked at the recently dead and/or presumed dead. Sure, he had some leads that looked viable, but he wasn't going to follow those up yet.

He had fixed a few of his most pressing issues the past six months. His ignorance of the local area, the local and national politics and so on. This world supported and had an entire industry catering to making child soldiers and sell their image and reputation to make money and more child soldiers that called themselves Heroes.

His weak ass body no long cried doing daily tasks and only hated him after working out. Yes, Jason was pushing it but he was well aware of how months of preparation could mean shit in the face of seconds.

His infection risk was severely reduced after quick research bender let him make the most generic knock-off brand of the skin restoration goop in a shitty homemade lab. Did it fix his skin being patchwork fucked in places? Some. He wasn't going to get feeling back properly, but at least he looked more normal. Maybe with enough moisturizing he might look a little less Frankenstien's monster.

He also had a cash inflow. It wasn't great, but it supported his apartment. And the second set of papers. And the 2nd apartment.

Which meant in grand old tradition for Jason, time for him to bounce to the next apartment and come up with a new name.

[vin-taege]

How It Starts, How It Ends

summary: a series of pivotal moments in your relationship with Chishiya, pre and post-Borderlands.

genre: some fluff, heavy angst, established relationship

pairing: chishiya x art student!reader

words: 3.5k

warnings: major character death, hurt no comfort, depression, possible spoilers for S2

First Meeting

"Look at this cute beetle I found."

The small insect gently crawled up your pudgy hand as you held it out. The boy in front of you didn't seem too impressed, responding with only a blank stare. You had always seen him by himself during recess and felt bad that he had to eat alone daily. The other kids were either scared of his dad or thought he was weird—but you minded no such things.

"Those carry germs. Some species of them even hiss or bite," he deadpanned.

"But not this one," you pouted, nudging your hands closer to him. "Look, I think he wants to meet you."

Truly enough, the beetle was inching its way off your fingers, seemingly heading towards the stoic boy. He glanced at it before looking back at you, then he sighed. He didn't think he could get rid of you, so he'll entertain you for now.

"I'll pet it, but I'm not gonna hold it."

"Deal!" 

The way you beamed at him made him feel weird, like something was stirring in his chest. Interesting, he noted.

"I'm ___," you smiled, watching him swipe his finger back and forth the beetle's shell.

"I'm Chishiya."

   .❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。

First Date(ish)

"I'm about to implode."

Chishiya looked over your notes and let out a snort. Almost everything was highlighted and it all looked like one big splotch of spilled ink on paper. You ignored him, opting to rearrange your home-made flashcards instead. 

"Physics isn't that hard," he murmured.

"Yeah," you glared at him. "For you."

He chuckled again before getting shushed by someone sitting a shelf away from your table. This made you snicker, worry melting away for a split-second. "I don't get how you can grasp this so easily. The formulas all look the same and I don't know which one to use."

He hummed thoughtful before scooting his chair nearer you. "Just start by focusing on the question. Look at what variables they're giving you and at what's missing, then just match them up with the formula that fits."

"I know~ but—" you huffed. "It's a no-formula-card type of exam."

The way you pouted at him almost looked exactly like how you did all those years ago. You were his first—only—friend, and over time, him simply tolerating you had turned into him growing fond of you.

"How many formulas have you memorized?"

"Two, almost three."

"There's six right? Almost there," he gave you a genuinely encouraging smile.

You loved Chishiya for all his snark and cleverness, but you also loved how soft and supportive he can be when it comes to it. These were small moments you held near your heart, and you doubt you'll ever let them go.

He gently took the flashcards from your hands, tapping rhem on the table to align them. He moved a little so the blank sides were facing you and peered at you over the cards. "If you can get this all down by 5 pm, I'll buy you a snack."

"I want a box of macarons."

"I'll buy you a snack that I can afford."

"Deal!"

   .❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。

First Milestone

"How was your finals, doctor?"

A light blush bloomed across Chishiya's cheeks. You were a constant pillar of support for him in life, one he hadn't experienced before from anyone else. Since college had begun for the both of you, you were consistently waiting for him after every finals exam he had—a small strawberry cake roll ready in your hands as a reward for him. It became a tradition for the both of you, and even though Chishiya wasn't the best with words, you knew he was appreciative of your actions.

"I've been offered to intern," his voice was neutral, though you know he was at most pleased with himself with the way his eyes crinkled up. In his mind, however, he was more excited about the cake in his hands rather than the position.

"Holy shit?!" you wrapped your arms around his neck, careful not to squish the frosting. His breath hitched for a second, before he wrapped his free arm around you. He buried his face in your hair, lips quirking up as he shut his eyes to savor the moment. "I'm so proud of you, Chi."

The sunset was slowly trickling into the wide windows of the school hallways. Chishiya didn't expect to be in that laboratory for so long, and it was only now that he realized how long you must have waited. Reluctantly, he pulled away from you to see your face better. 

"Have you eaten yet? You might get an ulcer."

You chuckled lightly, "I've eaten lunch a few hours ago. I wanted us to have dinner together, but I've eaten some crackers while I was waiting."

"Crackers," he pressed his lips in disapproval. "Those aren't nutritious."

Lightly chuckling, you took his hand, leading him out of the building and soon, the campus. The weather was a bit chilly even though you had worn a jacket. Still, you were too stubborn to say anything. Fortunately, Chishiya read you like an open book. Without prompting, he took your hand in his.

"How was your finals? Did your prof like the color application?"

Your heart swelled up. You honestly didn't expect him to remember.

The final project your professor gave you for color theory was to pick an existing painting and evoke the opposite emotion of it by changing the colors and composition. It seemed easy enough, but it had stumped you since you wanted to pick just the perfect base.

The night you were finishing it, Chishiya stayed over at your apartment to "make sure you were eating"—an excuse for him to spend more time with you. He was adamant about getting you to sleep early for the sake of your circadian rhythm, and when he couldn't convince you, stayed up with you instead.

"He seemed to like it, thank god. The composition flowed well and he like that I used a tertiary color scheme."

"I told you the risk would pay off," he smirked.

"I know," you stuck your tongue out. "I should listen to my all-knowing boyfriend more."

Boyfriend. 

He loved it so much when you called him that. Until now he couldn't believe you were real, that what you had was real. He would give anything in the world to stay with you forever.

You passed by a ramen shop, stopping in your tracks to scan the bowls of steaming noodles in longing. You had badly wanted something to heat you up, but one glance at the prices shot down your hopes. 

"I'll treat you," he said softly. "You deserve it."

"But you're the one who got the internship," you pouted at him.

"I'll be treating myself too by buying myself good ramen," he raised an eyebrow, silently pleading that you'd just give in. "And you did treat me. You got me cake."

He raised the small box by the ribbons wrapped around it. When you stayed silent for a couple of seconds, he sighed. You were still stubborn about having to "owe" people things, especially if you felt like you "didn't earn it."

"Fine. I'll buy you ramen tonight and you can make it up to me by taking me to the cafe next week."

"Deal!" you gave in.

   .❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。

First Game

Your first game in the Borderlands already had you running for your life. It was a five of clubs called Cat and Mouse. Set in a large office building, you needed to find the four mice scattered all over the place and take their tail—the twist being that the "mice" were actually people donning masks and guns. Red bandanas were attached to their belts, the tails you needed to get.

Chishiya was just behind you, heavily breathing as he slid between the winding hallways of the game arena. His hands were still in his hoodie pockets, much to your dismay. You had told him it'll slow him down, but he just shrugged you off. 

"I know where the final mouse is."

The gunshots faded as you ran farther away from the main room. The two of you teamed up with a group of three other players, and Chishiya came up with the idea to lure the third mouse so you can ambush him.

You had seen another player holding a bandana, and by Chishiya's deductions, you only had another tail left to catch. "The gunshots stopped. We know that there's two mice either dead or incapacitated. Judging by how they seem to be on defense, I think there's only one left."

"Because it would be risky for the last one to come out," you murmured moreso to yourself, completing his thoughts.

He hummed in approval. "We need to find the other players to see if we can cover ground faster. Unless..."

He halted, staring straight down the dimly-lit hallway. You nervously looked around, readying the crowbar you held tightly in case anything were to pounce on you. Chishiya. 

"Maybe we shouldn't stop in the middle of the hallway," you chided him, though he was still deep in his thoughts.

Suddenly, his eyes lit up with a realization. "Unless the mice aren't on the floors."

You're gaze trailed up to the ceiling, landing on the thin slits marked on some parts. Chishiya grinned proudly. Your intelligence has once again made him fall impossible even deeper. 

"They're in the vents," you surmised. He nodded, looking at you in awe and love—as if you were God who came down from heaven to bless him, your devout worshipper.

"We need to tell the others so we can prepare another ambush then." You had considered going back to the main hall, but the other players might have left or been dead by then.

"Don't you want to rest first?" He asked teasingly. 

You snorted. "Shuntaro, we have—" you glanced at the phone, "—five minutes left."

He hummed, feigning contemplation. That name was reserved only for serious occasions, and he knew you were getting riled up. "How about this: we tell them now, but we let them do the handiwork."

This was a side of him that you dreaded seeing. His entire "pawns go first" philosophy bothered you—in fact, you were strongly against it. You didn't like how this place brought out the worst in him, how it brought out the coldness and slyness of his heart.

Yet here you were, unable to leave him. You knew that he was only doing it to protect you. He wanted you to go back together safely as much as you did, but he did it in his own ways.

You bit your lip, voice laced with hesitation.

"Deal."

   .❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。

First and Last Goodbye

The first game of the face cards round decimated what might as well be half of the players. 

During the first onslaught King of Spades, you and Chishiya got separated from Kuina, Arisu, and Usagi. The crowbar you had kept from your first game served its last purpose when you used it as a makeshift golf club to hit the grenade away from you. Just as you did, Chishiya dove and pulled you downwards with him to take cover.

You eyes were closed tightly, and the only things you could hear were the ringing in your ears and the beating of his heart. For a second, you swore you had died. Then the arms wrapped around you loosened, followed by a hand running through your hair.

"Are you okay?" Chishiya whispered. His eyebrows knit in worry. "We need to move. Now."

You nodded wordlessly. slowly and quietly rolling off him. Screams and the roar of a rifle were still audible near you, but seemingly moving in the opposite direction. He helped you up, giving you a quick scan to make sure you weren't heavily injured.

"We need to find a sparsely populated area," he spoke once he deemed the King was far enough. "Looks like he's going after large crowds."

"We can go to the edge of the city and follow the river. We're bound to hit a forest sooner or later," you suggested.

"That might take time." He looked your tired state. The bags under your eyes darkened and small scars littered all over your body. An almost empty backpack slung over your shoulder, looking almost as sad as you were.

He weighed out his options: what you suggested was the ideal choice, but you were in no condition for a long trek. Finally, he came to a decision. "But that'll work. We need to do a supply run first."

Was it risky still being in the city? Yes. Did he want you to starve? No. As a compromise, he steered clear of the shops on the main streets. Unfortunately, the smaller stores you ventured into were already looted, only expired goods left in the wreckage.

You could tell Chishiya was getting frustrated. His jaw clenched each time you failed to find food or water. His composure was starting to crack for the first time since you got here. You sidled next to him, slipping your hand into his. He relaxed a bit, though his lips were still pulled into a small grimace.

"We'll be okay," you offered him a small smile. He kissed you on the forehead, returning only a small hum in response.

After thirty more minutes of searching, the two of you finally stumbled upon a shack that had edible food. There were candies at the front, the strawberry ones catching your eye.

Grabbing a handful of them, you strode up to Chishiya. His back was turned to you, the blond busy searching through shelves of cup noodles and biscuits. You tapped him on the shoulder. 

"I got this for you," you brought up the candies like an offering. His eyes sparkled, and he couldn't help the grin that broke through his face. 

"Charming." It was supposed to be teasing, but it came out genuinely grateful. He turned the backpack he was filling up towards you so that you can drop the candies in.

He held it in place for a few seconds longer, looking at you as if he wanted something. You raised your eyebrow in question. He hesitated for a bit, before leaning forwards and connecting his lips with yours.

You reciprocated the kiss, pressing closer to him. The bag landed with a thud on the ground, him favoring pulling your waist closer instead. He was rarely the one who initiated physical affection, but it only took him a bit of prodding to follow through.

He broke away, only to look you in the eyes. "I'll take you home. I promise."

"We'll take us home," you gave him one last peck on the lips. 

For a moment, it felt normal again. It was just you and him against all odds. You were in your little bubble near the outskirts of town, safe from all the hurt.

Then the gunshots started again and they were scarily nearer this time.

Your eyes widened and Chishiya froze. You quickly picked up the bag while he slowly peered out the glass panes of the shop. The caped King was just down the road, a shotgun in his hands. He shot towards the inside of a shop, and Chishiya was certain he hit whoever his target was.

"That's not good," he muttered to himself. "___, run when I tell you to."

"I won't leave you," you snapped.

"I'll be right behind you. I promise." He gave you a reassuring look before peering out the shop window again. 

"Fucker must have tracked us." With the crowbar gone, you had only the small bomb Chishiya made for protection.

He took it out of the inside of his jacket, waiting until the King got close enough. Chishiya knew it wasn't enough to kill anyone, but it would buy you time. That's all that mattered to him.

The crunching of boots on gravel drew closer. Chishiya twisted one of the wires around his finger, ready to pull the activator. The King shot into another store, closer to the one you were in this time. He emptied the round and lowered his gun to reload. In one swift movement, Chishiya pulled on the wire and chucked it as hard as he can.

"Go!"

The two of you sprinted out the shop. The can clunked on the ground as it landed before splintering into pieces with a loud boom. Chishiya yelled after you.

"Don't look back!"

Yet you did, just in time to see the King dodge behind the doorframe. Just in time to see he had the now loaded gun pointed at Chishiya. 

In a split-second, you turned on your heel and pushed Chishiya into an alleyway, the bullet meant for him digging its way into your chest. 

The impact slammed you against the brick wall. There was ringing in your ears and your eyes were blurred by tears. When did you start crying?

Chishiya grabbed your upper body, dragging you deeper into the alley. You could see his lips moving. He was trying to tell you something but everything was so fuzzy.

With adrenaline pumping in his veins, he scooped you up, carrying you as he ran. There were footsteps following not far from him. Pushing his legs to go faster, he inched around the twisted alley, slinking in and out of connected rooms, running and running until he found a door to a semi-basement hidden behind tarps.

He forced it in with his shoulder, careful not to hit you. The room used to be for storage—construction items and dust filling the space. He slid behind a pile of wooden beams, gently setting you down. The surroundings outside settled, and he knew the gunman had lost you.

But god, the bloodbath before him was the scariest.

He'd seen this happen before. He's seen how pale a person could get after so much blood loss. He's seen how it becomes more evident with the lips, cheeks, the tips of your fingers. He's seen that faraway look, the one where he knew the person was starting to drift away.

He put both hands on your chest, putting pressure on the wound. Your blood leaked through your shirt, soaking his hands. Frantically, he took his hoodie off and pressed it against you too. 

"Don't die on me, ___. Please." He whispered, voice breaking.

His words brought you back, tearing your eyes away from the corner of cement bricks and bringing it back to his warm, brown ones. Tears pricked at the corner of his eyes. He's never cried before.

You tried to move your lips, only a croak escaping from your throat. "Chish..."

"Don't leave me, please. Please, ___."

A crimson puddle on the ground was growing at an alarming rate. He had no tools, no help. He was a doctor but he couldn't fucking save the only life that mattered to him. 

Shakily, he held you closer. His voice never sounded this gentle before. "Stay with me."

"C-candies. Eat well... okay?" Your voice was hoarse. The humid room felt colder now. "L-love you."

"We'll eat well together. We'll go back together, I promised you. I'll get you macarons and ramen and those paints you've always wanted, okay? Deal?" His voice was wavering. He tightened his grip on you, pressing your chest harder with his other hand. "Deal?"

You looked up at him with a sad smile. With the last bit of your strength, you brought your hand up and pressed it against his. He laced your fingers together.

"___?" He whispered, finally letting the tears fall. "Deal?" 

You didn't respond. You didn't get to hear him say he loved you too.

   .❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。

First Grief

One minute.

Landing in the Borderlands. Cat and Mouse. The Beach. The face cards. Losing you.

It all happened within a minute in the real world.

Chishiya made a promise to himself while he was in the Borderlands. When the candies would run out, he'd stop fighting. When the last traces of you would leave him, he'd join you. Yet by divine intervention, they lasted enough until he beat the King of Diamonds. Long enough until Arisu and Usagi cleared the final face card. 

And now here he was. Sitting on a hospital bed, knowing that he wouldn't find you anywhere in the hospital or the Earth for that matter. 

He hadn't spoken since, only nodding or shaking his head in response to the doctor's questions. As a doctor, he'd known he would've been pissed at a patient that acted like himself. But nothing mattered anymore.

"We found you holding this. Your fist was wrapped around it pretty tightly that we thought the blood had cut off," a nurse told him. She placed a singular piece of strawberry candy on his bedside table.

He looked at it with mixed feelings of remorse and dread. He waited for the nurse to leave the room. Wordlessly, he reached over to close the curtains separating him from a patient with burn injuries. He allowed himself to break down again that day.

When his wounds had recovered enough for him to stand, he found himself sitting in the garden area. The candy was still unopened, sitting on the oak table in front of him. A part of him still hoped that you'd join him out of nowhere. That he'll hear your voice like tinkling bells calling out to him.

"I promised," he thought to himself. How was he supposed to continue everything you've built without you? How was he supposed to go home and face all the things you've left behind?

He wanted to cry again. He wanted to tear his heart out so he'd stop the hurt. He wanted you back. He'd give anything.

The small buzz of wings pricked his ears. He lifted his hand a little, discovering a tiny beetle that had landed near him. He stared at it for a few seconds before gently nudging it with his finger.

It grasped his skin, spiky limbs crawling up his hand.

"___ would've loved you," he whispered.

[humanitys-strongest-bamf]

so have y'all seen the new official art?

"You Fucking Minx" | Modern!AU Smut Drabble

✧ word count ➼ ~800 ✧ notes ➼ modern!au, smut, afab!reader, levi is someone in a photoshoot, the new official art made me horny dont @ me, i also dont know how to come up with titles and this is what my sleep-deprived brain came up with i'M SORRY, as usual minors interacting will be blocked

From the minute that you saw Levi in that god damn suit, you knew you were going to lose it. You already knew that he was going to look stunning, and remembered how peculiar he was when you were shopping for it with him. It had to be the right color, sizing, and the fabric had to be made of the right material. He even bought a matching set of gloves to go with it.

As soon as the photos were done and he walked off-stage, you dragged him away and into his private dressing room. The original plan was to wait until you got home before you tore that suit off him, but you were impatient and ravenous upon seeing him.

"...shit," he cursed to himself, groaning as he felt you drag your tongue from the base of his cock, up his shaft, and to the tip. Your tongue swirled around it twice before you wrapped your lips around him, grabbing onto his shaft with your hand as you began bobbing your head up and down.

It was taking everything in him to keep himself from holding your head down to thrust up into you. Holding himself back was becoming especially difficult, given how much you had been edging him ever since you dragged him offstage.

Every time he felt his abs begin to tense up, he'd feel you stop, giving him a mischievous look as you continued to tease him.

Levi didn't want to immediately fuck you at first. The suit was expensive and dark enough to the point that any mess that you could potentially leave behind would be more than visible—and considering that he still had the latter half of the photoshoot to do, cum stains on his fancy, black suit was not something that he could afford—but you had edged him one too many times, and he felt like he was going to implode if he didn't get to fuck you right then and there.

Using one hand to brush his bangs out of his eyes, he pulled you off him and lifted you, dragging you onto him so that you were straddling him around the chair. Levi impatiently bunched your skirt up above your ass, and pushed your panties to the side, letting out a quiet tut as he felt how wet you were.

He groaned and shut his eyes, resting his head against the wall behind him as he felt you slide onto his cock, your slick inviting him in as you surrounded his cock with your velvety walls.

Following his movements, you began to slowly move up and down on his cock, holding onto his shoulders to keep yourself steady.

However, your movements clearly weren't fast enough for him, with Levi being more than frustrated from your earlier edging, so his hips almost immediately began bucking up into yours, with his fingers digging into the meat of your ass.

The impact of his hips against yours sent shockwaves throughout your body and Levi was only able to look up into your elated gaze as it got harder for him to stay quiet.

"You fucking minx," he cursed through his teeth, his breathing rapidly destabilizing, "just dragging me backstage and then pulling this shit."

All you could really respond with only included whines and gasps, with it being nearly impossible to speak. Each time his hips met yours, you felt your breath getting knocked out of your lungs and you felt your eyes rolling to the back of your head as you felt your legs shaking around him, with that tight knot beginning to form deep within your core.

Levi felt you tightening up around him and gripped onto your hips tighter, holding you in place as he continued to drive his cock up into you, cursing to himself as he felt you gushing around him, only getting closer to his own edge when he heard how hard you were trying to keep quiet.

"Gonna cum into that pretty pussy of yours," he whispered in between breaths. He was getting close and it was driving him through the roof with how many times he had been edged that night. "That's what you wanted, yeah?"

Upon hearing your muffled 'mhm', Levi grit his teeth and slammed into you one final time, letting out a quiet guttural groan as he shot his load into you, with you gasping as you felt his cock twitching deep within you, coating your insides with his seed.

He rested his forehead against yours as he took deep breaths to stabilize himself again, feeling his cum dripping out the side of your pussy and down his cock again. The suit was going to get dirty no matter what he did now. He knew he'd have to get out of this photoshoot and make up some excuse to go home.

Levi finally pulled away, looking into your eyes with an exasperated look before grumbling,

"You're buying me a new suit."

#: @levisbrat25 @moonmalice @cathybarn @tclbts @faverec @bejewelledd @sad-darksoul @ackermendick @aomi04 @apolloshaiku @laraackerman @pulpolicia @raenacreates @nube55 @roseofdarknessblog @noctemys @sixpennydame @dumbdollyx @heichoucleanfreak @svftackerman @catskze @nixie-writes-aot @la-undercover-latina @v4mp-wife @darkstarlight82 @professorweezy @braunsbabe @lovedbylevi @meltingforthatackerman @chocoyanchan @issacovegx @captainleviswifee @mrsmiagreer @dizzyandkokoo @youre-ackermine @starrylevi join my taglist!

[enam3l]

https://vm.tiktok.com/ZMYHUKpBj/

Three words: Dad! Eddie Munson

Ok well I'm obsessed? I was literally just gonna reply like I love this but no I got too carried away and produced one of the most random and bizarre fics I've ever done. I'm sleep deprived okay!

the munson sandwich (rockstar eddie x reader)

/ hella fluff / taglist and requests open

you can see all rockstar eddie x reader stories and lore at #enam3ls rockstar eddie or the masterlist! and check out my new series love, lola

Should kids sleep in their parents bed? It was always going to be a bone of contention. Eddie was to the core, a clinger, he wanted to be in physical contact with you constantly. So you knew from the get go it would be no better (if not worse) with your children. After reading all the parenting books your brain could handle before imploding, you decided you didn't have a strong opinion either way on whether kids slept with you or not. 

However, once you had Sloane, both of you were so besotted, it wasn't even a question. As if meant to be, she fitted perfectly between you and Eddie in bed. Every night you would all get cosy and form the Sloane Sandwich. A perfect recipe with a slice of mom and dad and in between was the filling of Sloaney Bologna (a nickname coined by Eddie that neither you or your daughter were too thrilled about). Both of you were infatuated with the perfect little cherub you made together and just wanted to be near her always. Sloane could happily snuggle against her dad with you being big spoon and still able to keep your arm over her and Eddie's torso. It was ideal. 

Then Iris came along aka Eddie's clone and shadow. Naturally, she inherited her dad's clinginess as well as everything else. Unlike Sloane, who just slept happily in the middle enjoying both parents. Iris insisted on clinging to Eddie like a tiny curly headed spider monkey. Now it was a slice of you, Sloaney Bologna and then Iris insisted on being so close to Eddie, she was more like a condiment smeared on top of him rather than an extra filling. For the first time in your relationship, your sleeping position of having your arm draped around Eddie's stomach was no longer possible. Instead he just had a little Iris laying right on top, a mini Munson stack. But, you couldn't be angry, not when they looked so cute. Little duplicates of each other who'd become inseparable. 

It worked out that you had two years between each daughter. So by time you were pregnant with Maeve, the bed was full with four year old Sloane and two year old Iris, plus you and Eddie. Realising there's quite a difference between that and just a baby and a two year old in the bed. Iris was now less of a little mini Munson stack on top of Eddie but rather a lump. All of that mixed with your baby bump, meant it was time to have the talk with Eddie. 

'Baby, we can't all fit in the same bed anymore,' you broke it to him. 

He gasped like you had suggested something outrageously cruel, as if you now wanted your kids to sleep in cages. 

'But we're a Munson sandwich?!' He huffed. 

'Well, you've overfilled the sandwich,' you raised a finger at him, stopping him from sniggering at the innuendo. 'I am the top piece of bread that can no longer balance on top! Between you, your clinger, Sloaney and now the bump, your beloved wife and carrier of your children is practically falling out of bed.'

Over the years, you had learnt using carrying his children was a sure fire way to win with Eddie. He groaned like a teenager, knowing you'd used the secret weapon. 

'Fiiiine. We'll get a bigger mattress, sweetheart!'

Your jaw dropped. 

'Eddie! That is not what I was suggesting!'

He held his hand up in protest. 

'Well, sweets, you should've known better than to have ever let me have my way and have the girls in the bed. We're a bed sharing family now. Deal with it. We shall be getting a bigger mattress!'

By the end of the week you were the proud owner of a mattress that seemed to be the size of every other one you've owned, stitched together. Yet, Eddie would soon learn it would not be enough. Nothing was a match for the terror of Maeve Munson. 

'I don't know how, but I know you've taught her to do this,' he accused, outraged that a baby kicked him so hard he had a black eye. 

After you dealt with Iris clinging to your husband for the last two years, he was now getting a taste of his own medicine. Although, Maeve was far more ruthless than her sister, even as a newborn. 

'You were in her way,' you smirked, 'she thought you were trying to steal her Mommy.' 

'You were mine first,' Eddie grumbled from the other side of the bed, sore eye and all. 

Now Sloane was six, she wasn't a permanent feature in the bed but her absence did not create more space. Maeve simply turned it into a buffering zone. If her dad were to encroach on the space, little limbs would kick ferociously to keep him at bay. 

One night you had even been awoken by a wail from Eddie. 

'AHhh you better be sure that you didn't want anymore kids, Y/N because Cerberus Munson has just crushed all hope of it!!'

To go with his now sore balls, he got a hard shove from yourself. 

'Cerberus Munson? Absolutely not. That nickname is vetoed. Far worse than Sloaney Bologna. If Maeve is Cerberus, that means I'm hell!!'

He knew he'd stitched himself up with that one so sulked in silence the rest of the night; bringing you your favourite breakfast in the morning. 

As you sat on your bed, eating your apology breakfast, alongside a black eyed and tender balled, Eddie, you strategised. Despite how funny it was, there was no denying your precious, protective Maeve was a health hazard. It would be a real shame to injure him further considering you'd married a man with such a pretty face and balls. So, a new arrangement was made. No longer were you and Eddie the slices of bread in the Munson Sandwich. It now went a slice of Iris, a filling of dad, a filling of mom and then a slice of Maeve. It meant for the first time in four years, you and Eddie could actually fall asleep on each other like you had your whole relationship. Then, on the occasion Sloane joined, she could slip perfectly in between you just as she had when she first arrived. 

Even as your children grew older, the Munson Sandwich was still beloved. On sad days or chilly nights, the Sandwich would reassemble. It didn't matter if they were adults with their own children, Eddie and you were going to cuddle your girls like they were still your little babies. 

---

my taglist angels: @whoahoney@lukewearingbeanies @esme-viridian @elysian-chaos @munsonology@mseddiemunson @kreepja @midnightsgetawaycar @therosietoesy @littlepotatobeansworld

@josephquinncore

[arcaneacolyte]

@batcadillac and I were talking about which Ghouls we think know how to drive a car/drive during a road trip and this is what we came up with lol

Swiss: Can drive. He's pretty chill and smooth driver, but he doesn't ever signal, and somehow never gets hit. Takes really convoluted back ways to get places because he claims that, 'I know a way that's faster'. It has yet to be determined whether or not these 'shortcuts' are actually faster. Picks obnoxious radio stations when it's his turn that makes everyone groan, but he puts it on full blast because he thinks it's funny.

Rain: Cannot drive. He vehemently denies that it's because he's a little bit of a klutz, it's more that there are plenty of others in the pack who can, and why should he have to learn if he doesn't want to? He is a passenger princess and will not help with navigation or anything. More than likely he is asleep with his own little travel neck pillow and sleep mask.

Dew: Does not drive. He gets road rage on the driver's behalf, so the idea of him actually driving is too scary of a thought for the others to comprehend. One time he threatened to disembowel another driver for cutting them off. Actually incredibly good at navigation though, so he's usually riding shotgun. The others aren't even sure he actually knows how to drive, and whether he does or not is a moot point, because even if he can't, he's going to pretend like he can. Cumulus: Can drive but doesn't. She gets too much anxiety over it and will 100% cry about it. She almost had a full breakdown trying to merge onto a highway once, so she doesn't have to drive ever. She's is perfectly content in singing along to the radio or playing car games and is really good at heightening the groups morale when it comes to long car rides. Cirrus: Cannot drive. She never really bothered to learn since like Rain, she noticed that there are at least several others in the pack who can and actually like to drive, so what's the point? Unlike Rain though, she's not a passenger princess. She's a master at organization and timing. There's never a missed bathroom break or forgotten item on her watch. Sunshine: Can drive, but she is the most terrifying behind the wheel. Just because she can, doesn't mean she should. She is a speed demon and wants to see how fast she can go. She weaves in and out of traffic because, 'it's fine, I'm not gonna hit anyone'. She has driven Copia exactly once because he almost had a heart attack. Mountain: Can drive. One of the only Ghouls who isn't Multi that can drive a car with ease. Due to his abilities on the drums, the multi-tasking of driving a car is fairly easy in comparison. He is the safest driver and drives calmly and obeys all of the traffic laws. The only unfortunate thing is that he can get physically uncomfortable pretty fast since it's difficult to find a car that fits his height well. Aether: Can drive, but he's not a huge fan. Being a Quintessence Ghoul, with a lot of cars on the road, it can be hard to block out the Quintessence energy coming off of everything, so he has to concentrate really hard to be able to drive as safely as he wants to. Still will drive in a pinch if someone is too tired, but he's really tense and it can lead him into getting a migraine if he does it for too long. Unfortunately there can't be any music or really any conversation over quiet talking, because he might actually implode from sensory overload. Aurora: Can drive. She may be tiny and have to pull the seat all the way forward, but she's one of the best drivers in the pack. Even with her small stature, she loves driving big cars when she gets the chance. She loves being able to see everything, and the actual feeling of driving is pleasant for her. More often than not, besides Mountain, she's the pick for first driver. She will drive until Cirrus tells her that she needs to take a break, but she usually will be the one to volunteer for a second driving shift. Phantom/Aeon: Can't drive. He's the youngest in the pack, so it really isn't expected of him? He also gets too excited about all of the things they pass by, so his distractibility isn't really wanted when it comes to driving. However, he is the keeper of the snacks and drinks and he loves that job. Rations everything out perfectly, and knows what snacks go best together. He is the best at any of the car games and loves to play them with Cumulus.

[aerodaltonimperial]

the junglecorpse story primer

so i've been pretty obsessively cataloguing everything between them in my last year or so of being in AEW fandom, and since they are my Hyperfixation™️, i thought i would put together a little primer for the people who may not have been spending every waking thought thinking about the chemistry these two end up having with each other and how their story has played out. there's some videos in here that are fun watches and hopefully this adds a little bit to the knowledge bank!! (i love wrestling so much lol)

2019//

as far as we can tell, their first time ever wrestling was in 2019, which is what we like to call "the lost 2019 bar match," on february 24, 2019, at the high hat in los angeles. when we say lost, we literally mean lost. i would cut off my left arm to get a video of this damn match-up. the only video we have is a short bit from when they were hitting each other with empty water bottles, shown here. (tumblr won't let me embed these links without crashing.)

there's also one photograph of this match, posted on instagram, by a wrestling photographer:

according to cagematch, darby won this match. given how many people in that crowd have phones out, i cannot BELIEVE that we haven't been able to hunt down the rest of the videos, but here we are, crying into the abyss that we can't find this. someone has it. name your price lol. i'm very open to negotiation.

2020 //

the only thing that 2020 had in it was another "lost match," this time from the jericho cruise, so we hate jericho even more for refusing to video the matches there so we can see them when we do not have $5k to go on this trip. but this one is just a 3 v 3 match, where private party and darby beat jurassic express (jack, lucha, and marko). probably not life-changing, but i still want to see it, as a completionist.

2021 //

by 2021, they had both been in aew for several years and were settling in. darby had the TNT belt, and jack was working up through both the singles division on his own, and the tag division with luchasaurus. surprisingly, they never matched up on their own! but in april of 2021, aew asked twitter to pick darby's next opponent for the TNT, and twitter chose jack. this is where things get interesting.

darby makes a promo talking to jack about the match that gets posted on darby's twitter here and reposted to aew's twitter here. (the link doesn't work to the video anymore, but don't worry, i backed it up on my yt account because i knew twitter would implode eventually.)

this is the first time, that we can find, that anyone has gone after the "if you stop being such a goodie two-shoes, you could be great" angle with jack. this promo actually pre-dates christian cage even joining AEW (he would join in the next month or two)! but this thread remains pulled alongside jack's next several years of kayfabe stories, so it's worth pointing out that darby may have been the first person to use it.

video link to youtube

jack makes a follow-up video for this and it gets posted on aew's twitter, and as luck would have it, that tweet no longer exists. i'm not sure where it went, to be honest. it wasn't much except "i've proven myself" and "my record is great now." it's worth noting that neither of them tag the other in their promos, which makes me laugh. darby calls jack "jungle jack," which also makes me laugh.

they have their 2021 match, which is amazing, and don't worry, i also have that video link, so if you'd like to watch it, the full thing lives here. after this, darby loses the TNT belt to miro, and jack wins the battle royale after throwing christian cage out of the ring. important story beats for both of them.

2022 //

in 2022, they end up on the same side of a 6 v 6 match that i'm assuming was kind of just random match-ups, on june 1st at the kia forum. we've watched it, because of course we have, but it wasn't anything particularly interesting haha. however, in january of 2022, jurassic express wins the tag belts. they hold them until that summer, when they lose them, and christian turns on jack. lucha then also turns on jack. jack's heel turn gets majorly delayed due to christian's injury that takes him out through the whole end of the year. at the end of 2022, junglehook starts up after hook comes out to save jack from getting the shit beat out of him (this is the start of his heel turn).

2023 //

and then we get to 2023, the year that i was watching and promptly lost my mind, because we got the pillars storyline! right before this, jack beats christian in the coffin match, which finishes that particular aspect, but it butts right up to the pillars stuff. i've waxed poetic for like 4k about how jack was supposed to be a heel in the pillars story, but everything got delayed due to christian's injury, and they had to run him as a face for this because too many people were involved, and that's not really the point here, but it sure makes a lot of the decisions made in the pillars story fucking unhinged as shit lol.

i've made a video for the junglecorpse moments in the pillars storyline that is here if you have 23 minutes to experience the absurdity of what they chose to do here.

but abridged version is that jack and darby have to team up for the pillars tag match, and don't seem to get along well. they run a full thing where mjf asks jack to betray darby (so they lose) and jack gets up in his face, and then darby walks in to see it. after this, darby comes out for jack (and sammy comes out after) to save him from LFI killing him after jack beats rush.

prior to their tag match, they run this promo with the two of them, where darby references the lost 2019 bar match (DOES HE ALSO SIT AND THINK ABOUT IT FOR HOURS??? LIKE I DO???) and also mentions that they would probably be friends if they weren't wrestlers, which is worth holding onto lmao.

in the actual pillars PPV 4-way at double or nothing, they run a large segment of jack having the belt and a clear shot to take darby out with it (and win) and he doesn't end up doing it. they make a big thing out of it. this is insane given that a month later, jack turns on hook at forbidden door 2023 and eventually takes the FTW off him. i wish to speak to whoever thought this was normal. he couldn't cheat to beat darby, who he supposedly doesn't even like, for the world championship, but can betray his best friend for an unsanctioned belt a month later??????? this makes me insane. don't touch me chompie.

also worth mentioning is jack tweeting this during the storyline, with nothing else attached to it. merry early christmas to me. (jack tends to post a single photo for important story beats, with no text on it. he's done this for quite a number of things within the last few years. weird that he did that here, when they had one tag match together.)

2024 //

and that bring us to this year! jack is back in AEW after his unjust and sad-making time out. anarchy in the arena happens at double or nothing 2024, and jack and darby spend 75% of the match beating each other up alone backstage. jack hits darby with the bus, darby sets jack on fire. it's lovely.

if you haven't seen the video that leaked of jack preparing for the fire spot in the early part of 2024 with a stunt team, it's worth watching. (no sound)

darby is out again to recover since i don't know how he managed to get clear for AITA in the first place, and then he comes back with an obsessive single-mindedness to call out jack perry by beating up brandon cutler. jack then also beats up brandon cutler in the strangest mating rituals i've ever fucking seen lmao. INTRICATE RITUALS!!

that's all i've got right now, but hopefully this ends up being a decent overview of all the stuff i tend to reference in my fics. 💚💚💚 sorry tumblr won't let me embed these videos in here, but it kept crashing the draft, so i had to revert them all just to links. homophobia.

[chemdisaster]

wrote this on a plane while drinking to the new year and my birthday, so literally partly in 2023 and partly in 2024. belongs to my brand new modern au where the bad boys are childhood friends.

warning: because i'm me, it ends the way it does in limited life. as a result, much pain and suffering and jimmy is dead in this one

Joel gets in trouble with the law again, and again, and again. Minor offences at first, drinking in public and one instance of attempting to shoplift a cheap pack of gum that makes Grian about implode upon himself with incredulity—Joel has money, what in the world!—before he recognises it as Jimmy's favourite flavour.

They deal with that, too. He dutifully bails his friend out every time and does his best not to ask too many questions. The situation is far from ideal, but on some level he understands—everyone deals with grief in their own way. With luck, this should pass.

Then, Joel pulls a knife on Scott and has to pay a ridiculous amount of money to keep him from pressing charges.

That's when Grian loses it.

"What the fuck, Joel," he rants in the car on their way back from the police station. "What the actual fuck were you thinking."

From his far-too-relaxed position in the passenger seat, Joel snorts.

"He deserved it."

Grian sputters.

"He deserv—what, no, Joel, this is serious. You can't just go around pulling knives on people, that's not—what the hell is wrong with you?!" he bursts out, and surprises himself with the vehemence behind his exclamation.

And then Joel does something incredibly, infuriatingly Joel.

He rolls his eyes and asks, "Why do you care?"

In that moment, Grian wants nothing more than to punch him.

Steeling himself, he schools his expression into one of indifference. Two can play this game.

"I don't."

"Sure you don't."

"No, I'm being serious, Joel. By all means, continue self-destructing—but I'm not sticking around to watch. So far you've crossed every line humanly possible, and I just—"

His resolve breaks. For a moment, he takes his eyes off the road to stare earnestly at Joel, who looks away the moment he meets his gaze.

"The way you're heading, I'm about to become a singular Bad Boy," Grian confesses to the back of Joel's head. "And I don't want to see that happen. I've lost Jimmy, I don't want to lose you, too."

A pause.

Eventually, Joel forces out through gritted teeth, "Stop the car."

"What?"

"Stop the car. Stop the fucking car right now."

Grian slams on the brakes, and the car's barely had time to skid to a halt before Joel is wrenching the door open and setting off, walking briskly along the edge of the road.

Scrambling to get out of his own seat, Grian follows.

"Wait, no," he calls out. "Joel, what are you doing?"

"Leaving," Joel spits, barely turning around, his words carrying across the wind. "You're sick of having to deal with me? Congratulations, today's your lucky day. You'll never have to see my face ever again."

"No, Joel, that's not what I meant—"

"Oh yeah?" Joel swivels around. "Well, then I pray you, tell me what you really meant. Go on, Grian. Tell me why I shouldn't have killed Scott right there on the spot."

Advancing, he pushes at Grian's chest.

"Tell me, Grian," he repeats, and his voice gains a note of something resembling hysteria. "Tell me what's oh-so-wrong with me. Tell me why I'm the one who's wrong and everything isn't fucked, tell me, Grian—"

Grian gently catches Joel's wrists before his knuckles can come into contact with his face. Carefully, he says, "Scott didn't kill Jimmy. Jimmy's death was—"

"An accident, I know," Joel snaps. "It's always the accidents with him, isn't it? Missing steps, tripping over his own feet, falling off fucking bridges—"

Unable to do much more, Grian nods. Because Joel is right. It is always the accidents—it was, and they always joked about Jimmy being cursed, but now that he's gone, Grian can't help but wonder if the curse was really on them all along.

Feeling the tension slowly seep away from Joel's wrists, Grian loosens his grip and brings their hands down, interlocking their fingers. Joel lets him, and a temporary calm settles over the shore, but Grian knows him too well to believe that this means that the storm is over.

Sure enough, a moment later, Joel laughs, quietly and without any humour.

"You're full of shit, Grian."

Grian blinks, taken aback, and says nothing.

Joel continues, "You're actually, genuinely full of shit. Jimmy's gone, and you're expecting me to, what, not be at all messed up?"

Grian still doesn't answer. He doesn't know what to say, what he could possibly say to prove to his friend that he does care, he does, cares so much that it feels like he's going to rip apart from the inside if he lets himself dwell on it for any longer than he already is—every minute of every waking day.

Joel gives him a long, searching look, and whatever he finds makes his tone turn downright venomous when he carries on, "Oh, but it's easy for you, isn't it? You haven't cried or—or anything, you don't fucking—you don't give a shit, do you?"

He rips his hands away, stumbles backwards.

"Ever the reasonable one, always telling me to calm down, right? WELL I CAN'T CALM DOWN, MY FRIEND IS FUCKING DEAD!"

Grian levels a look at Joel, meets his enraged, devastated expression head-on.

"Joel, I'm just saying, this isn't the way to grieve. This is—you're destroying yourself, Timmy wouldn't have wanted you to—"

"Shut the fuck up!"

Silence.

The rapidly descending dark obscures Joel's face, but his sobs ring out loudly in the night.

"Oh, Joel."

With only a moment's hesitation, Grian steps forward and brings his arms around his friend, who instantly goes pliant in his hold. "I hate you, Grian," he cries into his neck, and his shoulders jump. "I hate you, I hate you, I hate you—"

Grian sighs, "I know."

I hate myself, too, he doesn't say. Joel weeps with sobs that sound more like wails, and Grian does his best to swallow down the ugly and inhuman thing that rears its head at the base of his throat. He knows that, come tomorrow, none of this will matter, and the only thing that will still hold meaning will be the large gaping hole at their side.

With everything he's been telling Joel, maybe he really is nothing but a huge goddamn hypocrite, after all. Whoever said that it gets better is a fucking liar.