#THAT ART BEAT ME UP IN AN ALLEY AND REMINDED ME

[eclipse-song]

Hey. Tomorrow will be one year since two boys duelled for a second time and talked about being the sea and the sky.

[ateezscupid]

omg pls do more angst with wooyoung maybe 🫣 ur yunho one was so good and i usually never read angst ….

everybody buckle up! this is so angsty -- you might get mad at me with how angsty this is. 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐬 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐦𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐛𝐲 𝐚𝐜𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭.

warnings ✩ ANGST. LITERALLY JUST ANGST. you will cry and sob and wail and scream. toxic relationship, toxic!wooyoung, toxic!reader, the both of you are the toxic ones in the relationship, on & off relationship, intense argument (about literally nothing. it started because of miscommunication, but it's a stupid argument), cheating (BOTH PARTIES CHEATED.), wooyoung brings up a sensitive topic in the argument, addiction, getting replaced, reader falls out of love with wooyoung in the end and he has a really bad panic attack

tags ✩ @felixs-voice-makes-me-wanna @starillusion13 @mingitheskzstan @skzkias

ATEEZ MASTERLIST / REQUEST

Wooyoung sat at the corner table of the bustling cafe, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee mingling with the distant chatter of the afternoon crowd. His fingers danced over the keyboard of his laptop, crafting emails with a practiced ease that belied the turmoil in his chest. He had hoped that the comforting routine of work would distract him from the persistent ache of missing your, but it was a futile endeavor. With a sigh, he saved his document and pushed the laptop aside, reaching for the comfort of his phone instead.

The screen lit up, a stark contrast to the shadows playing across his face. His thumb hovered over your name, the digital embodiment of temptation. He knew he shouldn't, but he couldn't help it. He had to see you. Your Instagram profile filled his screen, a curated collection of moments that no longer included him. He scrolled through your stories, each tap a silent confession of his lingering obsession. The images passed by in a blur until he saw it: your smile, brighter than the neon lights of the city, directed at someone else.

The guy was leaning against the wall, one arm casually draped around your shoulders. It was him. The same guy Wooyoung had caught you with, the one you had claimed was just a friend. The one he had lost you to. The betrayal stung as freshly as the day he found out. He clenched his fists, fighting the urge to shatter the screen. He knew he couldn't be mad. He had cheated first, in a moment of weakness that had cost him everything. But why were you with him? He had hoped that time would erase the memory of that painful chapter.

Wooyoung's eyes narrowed as he studied the background of the photo. Recognition dawned. It was the alleyway behind the art gallery where you had shared your first kiss. His heart skipped a beat, and a strange mix of anger and nostalgia flooded his veins. He knew that place like the back of his hand. And now, it was the backdrop for your new life. Without another thought, he shoved his laptop into his bag and stood up, the chair scraping against the floor. He had to go there, to confront the ghosts of his past and the woman who still haunted his every waking moment.

The cobblestone streets of the city were a blur as he walked, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps. The anger boiled in his chest with every step, a cauldron of emotion that threatened to spill over. The cool autumn air did nothing to ease the heat coursing through his veins. The alleyway grew closer, a dark spot in the vibrant tapestry of the city. His footsteps grew heavier as he approached as if the weight of his own regret was pulling him down.

When he finally reached the narrow strip between the buildings, he paused, his heart pounding in his ears. The walls were adorned with graffiti, the vibrant colors a stark contrast to the shadows that had claimed the space. He took a deep breath, steeling himself for what lay ahead. The alley was empty, save for a couple of stray cats darting between the dumpsters. The silence was deafening, a stark reminder of the emptiness he felt without you.

He stepped into the alley, the sound of his shoes echoing off the walls. The smell of damp earth and discarded food filled his nose, a stark contrast to the sweet scent of your perfume that lingered in his memory. He walked slowly, his eyes searching for any sign that you had been there. His hands trembled with a mix of anger and longing. He knew it was irrational, but he needed to see it for himself, to understand why you had chosen this place to flaunt your new relationship.

The alley twisted and turned, leading him deeper into the past. The walls closed in, the pressure of his own emotions suffocating. He could almost feel your presence, the echo of your laughter, the warmth of your touch. He rounded a corner and there it was - the spot where you had shared that first kiss. A piece of gum stuck to the wall, the only evidence of your history together. The sight of it brought a fresh wave of pain crashing over him.

Wooyoung leaned against the wall, his eyes closed, and let the memories wash over him. He felt the phantom warmth of your body, the softness of your lips. The anger slowly dissipated, replaced by a profound sadness. He knew he couldn't change the past, couldn't take back his own mistakes. But he had to find a way to move forward, to let go of the love that still held him captive. He took one last look at the spot, the ghosts of your past whispering your goodbyes, and turned to leave. As he walked away, that face. That beautiful face was in front of him again.

"Wooyoung?" you questioned. "Why the hell are you here?" Your voice was sharp, cutting through the silence like a knife. He spun around, his eyes meeting hers. You were standing there, alone, with no guy in sight. Your eyes searched his, a storm of confusion swirling within them.

Wooyoung's mouth went dry, his mind racing. He hadn't anticipated this. "I have free will. I can be wherever the hell I want." he spat. The words felt hollow, even to his own ears. He knew his true intentions were anything but innocent.

Your eyes searched his, looking for a glimmer of the man you used to know. "What do you want?" you asked, your voice softer now.

Wooyoung's gaze fell on the phone in your hand. "You posted a story here." It was a statement, not a question. "With him."

A look of understanding flashed across your face, quickly replaced by something else. Something that made his stomach twist. "And what? You want to fight for me now?" you scoffed, your voice laced with a bitterness he hadn't heard before.

"No, I-" He stumbled over his words. He didn't know what he wanted. He hadn't come here with a plan, just a need to see, to feel, to somehow make sense of it all. "You think I miss your whore ass?" he said, the words slipping out like venom. It was a poor attempt to mask his pain with anger.

Your eyes narrowed, and you took a step back, the phone slipping from your grasp. It clattered to the ground, the screen shattering. The sound echoed through the alleyway, a stark metaphor for your relationship. "You're the one who couldn't keep it in your pants," you snapped, your voice a mix of anger and hurt. "Don't you dare come here acting like you're the victim."

The words hit him like a sledgehammer, knocking the wind out of him. You were right. He had been the one to cheat first. He had broken your trust, shattered your bond. And yet, here he was, feeling betrayed. The irony was not lost on him. He took a step towards you, his hand reaching out to grab hers. You immediately stepped back, which made him angry.

"Well maybe if you had stopped being a bitch and actually treated me like your boyfriend, I wouldn't cheated." Wooyoung's voice was low, a dangerous rumble that seemed to resonate through the very bricks of the alley.

"And maybe if you had actually talked to me about what was going on instead of sticking it in every hole that walked by, I could've done that!" you shot back, your voice echoing off the walls, each word a dagger thrown with precision.

"Oh right, it's my fault! You acted like you didn't even fucking like me! You hated being in fucking public with me!" Wooyoung's voice was laced with a rage that had been simmering for months, now unleashed in a torrent of accusations.

"You're the one who couldn't keep your dick in your pants, Wooyoung!" you screamed, your voice bouncing off the alley's walls. "You never appreciated what we had!"

"Appreciate? You're the one who couldn't keep your legs closed for five fucking minutes!" he roared back, the echoes of your curses bouncing off the graffiti-covered walls.

"Right. Sure. I'm not doing this with you." you turn around, beginning to walk off. But Wooyoung wasn't letting it go, following you and yelling at you.

"You're just going to walk away again?"

"What do you want from me?!" you spun around, your eyes flashing with anger. "You destroyed us, and now you're mad because I've moved on?"

Wooyoung clenched his fists, his knuckles white. "I'm mad because you're with him! The guy you used to hide from me!"

"You had no right to hide shit from me either, Wooyoung!" you screamed, your voice bouncing off the alley walls. "You didn't even try to fix us, you just went out and fucked around like a dog with a new toy!"

"Fine, maybe I did," he roared, "but you didn't exactly make it easy! You were cold, you were distant, you never talked to me about anything!"

Your words hung in the air, the echo of your anger bouncing between the graffitied walls. The tension was palpable, a living thing that grew and morphed with every accusation. The cats had long since fled, leaving them alone in your war of words.

"You never listened!" you shot back, your voice cracking with emotion. "You didn't care about my feelings, about what I was going through!"

"How could I, when you never talked to me?!" he yelled, taking a step closer, his chest heaving with the effort to contain his rage.

"You know why I never talked to you about it! I can't open up to people about shit like that! You never understood!" you yelled back, your eyes welling with unshed tears.

"Well, maybe if you had tried, I could've been there for you! But no, you had to go behind my back and fuck him!" Wooyoung spat, the anger in his voice raw and unbridled.

The argument grew more heated, a dance of accusation and pain. Each word thrown was a dagger that found its mark, drawing blood that stained the alley with your shared history. You were locked in a battle of wills, neither willing to concede defeat.

"You're the one who didn't understand!" you screamed, your voice shaking. "You were never there when I needed you! You were too busy screwing around to care about me!"

"You pushed me away!" he shouted, his voice hoarse from the force of his emotion. "Every time I reached out, you pushed me away! What was I supposed to do?"

"I don't know, maybe tried?! You never gave a shit about me!" you yelled, your voice trembling with rage and sadness. That was it. That was the breaking point. Your words were a slap in the face, a stark reminder of his failures as a partner. The anger swelled in his chest, a volcano about to erupt. He stayed silent, and it only egged you on to say something worse.

"You know what, Wooyoung?" you spat, your eyes ablaze. "I'm happy with him! He doesn't treat me like a fucking object!"

Your words hit him like a punch to the gut. He saw red. He took a step forward, his hand shooting out to grab your arm. "You're happy with him? After all the shit I went through for you?" His grip was tight, his nails digging into your skin.

"Wooyoung, let go!" you yelped, trying to pull away.

He leaned in, his breath hot and heavy on your face. "You think I don't know what you're doing? You're just trying to hurt me, because you're fucking pathetic." he spat, the words leaving a bitter taste in the air. "I wish I never fucking picked you up off that sidewalk. I wish I had left you to fucking rot on that goddamn concrete. Maybe then you'd know how much you need me."

Your eyes widened in shock, your body trembling with the sudden surge of fear and anger. "You son of a bitch," you hissed, trying to jerk away. But his grip only tightened, almost pinning you to the wall.

"You're just a fucking tease, leading me on and then giving it up to the first guy who actually shows you attention," he sneered, his voice a mix of disgust and desperation. "You're not worth the fucking ground you walk on."

He didn't know why he was saying these things, didn't recognize the monster his pain had turned him into. But the words kept coming, each one a bullet aimed at your heart. "You're nothing but a whore," he said, his voice cold and hard. "And he's just using you like I did. You're just a thing to be used."

Your eyes filled with tears, but you didn't dare let them fall. You stared at him with a mix of anger and hurt, your voice steady despite the tremble in your chin. "Let go of me," you said, your voice low and dangerous.

For a moment, he just held you there, his eyes searching hers for some sign of regret, some indication that you knew you had hurt him as much as he had hurt you. But all he saw was anger and defiance. He knew then that you had moved on, that you weren't his to save or to claim.

With a snarl, he released you, watching as you stumbled backward, rubbing your arm. He took a step back, the gravity of his words settling in his stomach like a rock. "Fuck," he murmured, the fight draining from him.

You stood there, in the alley that had once held the promise of love and now bore witness to your destruction. The air was thick with tension, the silence between them a stark contrast to the cacophony of your fight.

"I never asked you to save me," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. "I never wanted to be your fucking project."

Wooyoung felt his chest tighten, the truth of your words a knife twisting in his gut. He had thought he was doing the right thing, thought that by saving you from your ex he could somehow fill the void in his own life. But all he had done was push you further away.

"You don't get to talk to me like that," you continued, your voice growing stronger. "Not after everything we've been through. I deserve better than you."

He stared at you, his anger turning into regret. Why would he say that? He didn't mean it. He still loved you. "Look, I'm sorry," Wooyoung began, his voice softer, but you cut him off with a wave of your hand.

"Don't," you said, your voice shaky. "Don't you dare apologize. You don't get to do this to me. You don't get to hurt me and then pretend it's all okay."

Wooyoung took a deep breath, his eyes scanning the alley as if searching for a way to fix this mess he had created. "I know I messed up," he said finally. "I know I hurt you. But I can't just let you go. I need you to know that."

"Why?" you asked, your voice a mix of anger and sadness. "Why do you need me to know that when you couldn't even be honest with me when we were together?"

He took a step toward you, reaching out his hand again. "Because I'm an idiot," he said, his voice cracking. "Because I know I don't deserve you, but I can't imagine my life without you."

But you didn't take his hand. Instead, you took another step back. "You had your chance," you said, your voice firm. "You threw it away when you decided to cheat. I'm not going to let you do that to me again."

The finality in your tone was like a door slamming shut in his face. He felt the weight of his own mistakes pressing down on him, crushing any hope of redemption. "But I've changed," he whispered, his voice desperate.

"Maybe," you said, "but it's not enough. You need to figure out what you really want before you can have anything."

With that, you turned and walked away, your heels clicking on the cobblestone as you disappeared around the corner. Wooyoung watched you go, his hand still outstretched, his heart feeling like it was being torn from his chest. He knew he had pushed you too far this time. He had to accept it. He had to move on. But the thought of living without you was unbearable.

He slammed his fist into the wall, the pain a welcome distraction from the agony in his heart. The plaster crumbled under his hand, leaving a dent and a smear of blood. He stared at it, his breathing heavy. He just stood there, staring at his fist. He started to shake, his chest hurting, head hurting, what was happening? He couldn't breathe. He stumbled, trying to find something to hold onto. His legs gave way, and he collapsed to his knees, gasping for air that wouldn't come. The world around him swam, and his vision blurred. He had never felt so lost, so utterly destroyed.

The alley was spinning around him, the colors of the graffiti becoming a jumbled mess of anger and sadness. His heart raced, pounding in his chest like a drum, a rhythm that matched the sob that was trying to claw its way out of his throat. He leaned against the wall, his body heaving with the effort to take in air. It was like someone had your hands around his neck, squeezing tighter and tighter with every second that passed. His lungs burned, begging for oxygen that was being denied.

He felt like he was going to be sick. His stomach lurched, and bile rose in his throat. He doubled over, retching, but nothing came out except for the pain and the regret. He could hear his own ragged breathing, the harsh, wet sounds of his sobs echoing off the walls. The cold concrete ground was the only thing keeping him grounded as the panic consumed him. His phone slipped from his pocket, clattering against the ground, forgotten in the chaos of his breakdown.

The tears fell in a torrent, stinging his cheeks and mixing with the snot that dripped from his nose. He didn't care anymore. He didn't care about his pride, about the fight you'd just had, about the people who might see him like this. All he cared about was you, and how much he had lost you. The sobs grew louder, his body shaking violently. It was as if his very soul was being torn apart, piece by piece.

The alley was cold and unforgiving, the concrete beneath him a stark reminder of the hard reality he faced. His knees were scraped from the fall, his hands raw from punching the wall. But the pain was a comfort, a reminder that he was still alive, still feeling. He leaned his head back against the gritty bricks, his eyes squeezed shut as he let out a keening wail that seemed to come from somewhere deep within him.

He had never felt so empty, so utterly devoid of motivation. The words you had thrown at him echoed in his head, a chorus of accusations and anger. But it was the pain in your voice that had done the most damage. The pain that he had caused. The pain that he couldn't take back. He had thought that seeing you with someone else would bring him closure and would make him realize that he didn't need you. But all it had done was show him that he needed you more than he ever had.

And it only got worse. His stomach began to rumble as if he were about to throw up.

[everlasting-rainfall]

Hi I read your ocs and I find them interesting , if you have pictures of them I would love to see them , also idk if you call this a request but in the pages keep turning so how would Yandere Koby work ? I’m curious :)

Hey, I’m so very glad that you find them interesting! I’ve been making quite a few more since that post like I’m unsure of how many there are now in all honesty…

I am actually working on some aesthetic boards for them however which will feature their appearances, I only have four done at the time of writing this…

But I’ll probably post them once o have a good few more done! Don’t quote me on that though…

Anyways before I start rambling! Let’s get into your request, darling!

Also in advance, this probably isn’t my best work so please be prepared

!-MINORS DO NOT INTERACT AT ALL-!

!-POTENTIAL TRIGGER WARNINGS-!

Delusions, Overly Obsessed Fans, Death of a Fictional Character from a Book, Stalking, Implied Murder (?), More than Likely Out of Characterness

!-POTENTIAL TRIGGER WARNINGS-!

!-MINORS DO NOT INTERACT AT ALL-!

So honestly I can personally imagine that how Koby would have gotten into your book series is that Helmeppo got him into the series as romance novels seem right up his alley so it was like they had absolutely nothing to do one day and Koby was bored

In comes Helmeppo having bought the newest book in the series to read, Koby took an interest because it’s something else to do other than sit around and wait for something to happen

Proceed to Helmeppo info dumping about the entire series when Koby asks only for him to stop the blond and request to borrow the books so he could read them

Helmeppo handed them over almost immediately as he was excited to get someone else into this series with him and Koby started his journey through the books

In all honesty, he was a little off put by the fact that one of the main love interests starts off the book series by aiding another pirate crew in burning down the MC’s hometown but he keeps reading until the Marine love interest is introduced

And almost immediately his interest is peaked as the chemistry that these two have together is so captivating to the point where he’s rooting for the two of them to get together

Like he imagines every little moment so vividly in his head like did the Marine catch the MC as she was about to fall only for them to end up in a somewhat romantic looking position? Koby imagines every little single detail about the scene even down to exactly how the sun is shining

Honestly as well, I wouldn’t be too surprised if he started talking about it in depth with Helmeppo for as long as they could when there’s nothing to be done like the two of them are obsessed with this series

Helmeppo more in a “God, I love this series” sort of sense and although Koby is starting off the same way, that will change very soon…

As when Koby is rereading one of the books to pass the time one day, he finds himself imagining something… He starts to imagine himself as the Marine Love Interest

He imagines himself getting in the face of the Pirate Love Interest and telling him off for his mistreatment of the MC, he imagines himself swooping in and protecting the MC from danger in any way that he has to, he even imagines himself in the romantic scenes

Honestly Koby tries to ignore these thoughts at first and just read as clearly the Marine Love Interest isn’t him until Helmeppo tells him something that makes his heart skip a beat

“Hey, Koby! The author had some art done for the books and check it out! Captain Starfish reminds me so much of you!”

So Koby looks and you would think that he just saw himself on the cover of the book as the Marine Love Interest is a somewhat skinny man with pink hair and glasses

It’s after this that he convinces himself that it must be completely fine for him to imagine himself in the role of the Marine Love Interest considering that he looks just like him in his own personal opinion

And as he reads the books as they come out, Koby finds himself falling in love with the MC�� They’re so sweet and caring, that scene where they patched up the Marine after he protected them as well was wonderful

Koby has even had a few dreams where he would meet the MC in real life and the two of them would be able to be together and be happy as he would protect them from anything that dared to try and hurt them alongside treat them exactly how they deserved to be treated

In the end though, the MC isn’t real so he just has to keep those fantasies to himself…

But as he reads through the last book in the series, he finds that the Marine has to leave resulting in the MC being in the care of the Pirate Love Interest as it’s a dangerous time right now with a lot of dangerous pirates running about

He’s disappointed by this but it’s fine, he’s sure that the Marine Love Interest will come back soon but nope… He keeps reading and the main focus of this book appears to be the Pirate Love Interest…

No matter though, it’s the last book of the series and he’s absolutely sure that the Marine Love Interest will return and the MC and him will wind up together in a loving relationship. He’s absolutely sure of it especially with the moments where the MC waits impatiently for any contact from the Marine

Until… Something happens that makes his heart sink down to the pits of his stomach during the big fight scene on the high seas where the Pirate and Marine join forces with their respective groups to finally bring down the villain…

Koby finds this all so weird at first as there’s so much of the book left, surely the rest couldn’t just be an epilogue… But you would think that this man just saw someone kill his dog when he reads…

All of sudden, a scream rang out in the air followed by booms so loud they could take your hearing away… Cannonballs zipped through the air and crashed directly into Captain Starfish’s Boat…

The resulting explosions lit up the night and the boat quickly caught fire… It was something straight out of a nightmare as the once proud Captain alongside his group sunk into the dark stormy depths on the once great ship known as the Reef Rider

Koby almost in a panic reread that part and over again until he had to just put the book down for a minute to process what had just happened

The Marine Love Interest just died… That couldn’t have just happened, could it? But when he read it again, he found himself sucking air in through his teeth like he had just been cut

The character that he had come to envision as himself had just died during the final battle with the enemy… After that, Koby had to put the book down for a few days and continue it later as he tried to distract himself and focus on his work as a Marine but the visuals wouldn’t leave his head

Eventually when Helmeppo finished reading the story, he reluctantly asked what happened only to be told that the MC got with the Pirate Love Interest after he helped her grieve

This was such bullshit! And Helmeppo agreed! Why would they wind up together when the Pirate Love Interest was first introduced having aided in burning the MC’s hometown to the ground? That was awful!

After that, Helmeppo moved onto a different romance novel series but Koby stayed fixated on this ending… That had to be one of the worst things that he has ever heard in his entire life… How could the author have possibly written something like that?

Clearly the Marine and the MC were made for each other! They had perfect chemistry and he could envision the two of them staying together for the rest of their lives!

Koby tried to move on from the series just like Helmeppo had done but no matter what he did, no other book really grabbed him like the one that you had written

So Koby wound up dropping romance novels much to Helmeppo’s disappointment, the pink haired marine would occasionally go back to the other books in the series and reread all of his favorite scenes

It was so hard to believe that all of these pretty much meant nothing now that the MC had wound up with the Pirate and the Marine was at the bottom of the ocean… Literally…

Why would you do this? How could you do this? He just didn’t understand…

Until he finally went back and reread the dreaded scene… He read it with a frown on his face and dread in his heart up until the scene where the Reef Rider finally goes down which is when he thinks of something…

He goes and reads every single little detail… All of the enemies boats weren’t close enough for an attack like that… They had a higher chance of all of their shots missing and landing in the water than all of them hitting and the Main Villain’s crew weren’t exactly known for their accuracy…

So who could it have been? Well… The only one who was close enough to have all of their shots hit like that was the Pirate Love Interests boat…

And now that he reads more… Isn’t it just so very convenient that almost all of the Marine Love Interests group went down in that fight while the Pirate’s group did have quite a few ships go down but not nearly as many as the Marines?

Very suspicious if you ask him… And he’s starting to see the whole picture…

The Pirate Love Interest couldn’t stand that the Marine was going to have the MC in the end and he did this to ensure that he couldn’t have them! It all made so much sense to Koby!

That Pirate was evil and the ending where the two of them stood together with him holding the MC? That was no happy ending… That was the bad end where the Pirate’s Jealousy for the Marine had won keeping the best pairing apart forever!

It all made sense to him and when he told Helmeppo all about it, you could practically see the gears turning in the blonds head as he listened to every single word that came out of his friends mouth until even he was convinced that was probably what happened

Koby had it all figured out so he decided to write his very own ending to the story, one where the Marine had survived the battle and revealed to everyone the disturbing deeds of the pirate causing one last fight between the two of them where the Marine would come out on top

Both he and Helmeppo absolutely loved it, they both decided right then and there that was it the canon ending to the story and reading what he had wrote

It felt so right… Something about it just felt so correct like he had lived this moment himself… Having defeated the Pirate Love Interest a long time ago and wound up with you

He honestly wished that he could show it to the actual author at some point as he was sure that the author would like it just as much as he did, it seemed like he would get that wish too as when he was on a small island for some Marine business

He found out that there was apparently a book signing event being hosted by the author, he desperately wanted to go so he could show you what he had written but of course he had Marine things to take care of so he finished them up as soon as he possibly could

He genuinely looked like he was speedrunning as he went about what he was doing but the second that he was done and had free time, he ran as fast as he possibly could to the book signing only to find that it was already over and closing up for the day

His heart sank and he was about to leave only to hear a voice…

“Oh sorry… You got here a little late, huh?”

He turned towards the source of the voice and almost gasped when he laid eyes upon you because not only was the author of the book standing directly behind him but you looked exactly like how he had envisioned the MC to look down to the smallest detail

It’s quite literally like you stepped out of the book just to be here with him and he found himself in a stunned silence as he stared at you causing you to give him an awkward smile and offer to sign his book for him

When he continued to not say anything, you waved your hand in front of his face and tried to get his attention only for him to finally snap out of his stunned silence and say that he didn’t bring his copy but he does have something for you to read

You took it and you looked it over, he wasn’t sure if you liked it or not but he was absolutely sure that you would! Clearly you were in love with him as he was starting to actually believe that he was the Marine Love Interest despite the fact that he has never been an Admiral

Once you were finished, you told him that it was a really nice alternate ending but that the Pirate wasn’t the one responsible for the destruction of the Reef Rider or the death of Captain Starfish as that was all the Main Villain’s fault that Captain Starfish had died

Koby couldn’t believe what he was hearing and when he tried to explain everything saying that it had to of been the Pirate, you claimed that it was just a mistake on your part as a writer that the Main Villain couldn’t have been able to make the shot

You wound up giving his alternate ending right back to him and telling him that it was well written but the Pirate wouldn’t shoot down Captain Starfish like that as the two had become friends before that point in the story

Koby was left standing there after that just watching you leave the building that had hosted your book signing, he couldn’t believe that you couldn’t see it like he could!

You were the MC after all as there was absolutely not a single doubt in his mind about that and you just chalked up what had happened to a mistake in your writing? No way, that couldn’t be the case!

Koby refused to accept this in all honesty so despite his better judgement, he started to follow you around as you went and saw you do so many things that honestly just made him more convinced you were the MC and made him fall in love with you more…

Like did you stop and help that lost child who got separated from their parents? That’s so caring of you, he’s sure that you’ll make a great parent to any kids that you have in the future! Plus it’s just like what you did for the kid in the book!

Did you buy those vegetables on your way home to prepare for dinner? You’re a good cook too which is great as he’s sure that you can make some beautiful things together! Plus it’s just like how you made that vegetable soup for him when he was injured!

You were perfect and watching you go about your day absolutely proved it for him… You were lovely… Why couldn’t you see what he saw?

And he believed that he soon found his answer as he saw you meet up with someone, a man who looked just a bit too much like the Pirate in Koby’s eyes

Ah… So that was the reason…

The Pirate was here and when he saw the two of you getting just a bit too friendly for his liking (probably not even romantic), Koby felt his blood boil a bit as he did know that not all pirates are evil but this one was surely one of the worst of the bunch

Koby understood now… The reason that you couldn’t see what he saw is because of the Pirate… Koby was sure that he was likely forcing you to write the story and that he was actually horrible to you behind the scenes

Don’t worry though… Koby is going to make everything all better as he’s already making plans to save you from that evil pirate…

He’ll take you far away from the Pirate and the two of you can be together just like you were always meant to be! It’ll be great!

And if the Pirate Love Interest tries to prevent it? Well if push comes to shove then Koby isn’t above getting some revenge for sending the Reef Rider to the bottom of the ocean…

[waywardrose]

THROUGH A GLASS DARKLY 25

stranger things

eddie munson x reader

rated e

5.3k

spotify playlist

for @punk-in-docs​​​

fem/witch/goth!reader, sweetheart!eddie, magic, slow burn (for me), friends to lovers, angst with a happy ending, no y/n only pet names, series-typical horror, period-typical sexism and homophobia, historical inaccuracies and anachronisms, drug dealing and use, smoking, alcohol use, masturbation, mutual masturbation, fantasizing, one-bed trope, making out, fingering, dirty talk, chasing, oral sex, handjobs, condoms, piv sex, reader’s father is a dirtbag, mild spanking, magical violation, mental torture, body horror, blood, aftercare, nightmares, strict parenting, panic attack, past child abuse and abandonment, semi-public sex, break-ups, running away, guns, fist fighting, everyone survives, tags will be updated as needed

Eddie would have to wait until his lunch break to see this new, hot, weird chick. He wondered which flavor of weird she was. Art weird? Theater weird? Band weird? Weird weird? He shrugged. He liked weird. In other words, you’re the new girl in town, and Eddie is intrigued.

note: We're in the endgame now! There'll probably be one or two more chapters and an epilogue after this. 🖤 I'll compile and post a masterlist for this fic soon, too!

25

Your heels pounded on the pavement. The pressure patch bounced against your chest. Bitter wind dried your eyes. Ash swirled in the air, creating incomprehensible patterns. It contrasted the dark wall of smoke curtaining the street ahead. You skidded to a stop.

Why were you running towards a fissure? What the hell were you thinking?

You looked over your shoulder. Eddie stepped onto the street, shirt streaked with blood. You couldn’t run in his direction. He was too fast. He’d catch you, take you to Vecna.

Shit, you’d nearly done that yourself.

A roar like a tornado boomed in front of you.

You turned to the fissure. A massive arachnoid shape moved inside the smoke. You stepped back. The blacktop surrounding the fissure cracked further, making you retreat. Vines you’d only seen through the tumbler or in visions snaked into the air.

You couldn’t fight a thing made of smoke. You couldn’t beat back the vines.

Chittering and howls echoed from the fissure, reminding you of a wolf pack. Demodogs, according to Dustin. You’d heard them months ago. The primitive part of your brain had known then they were predators.

There was nowhere to hide. Eddie had already seen you, anyway. However, you couldn’t give up.

With a scan of the street, the only practical option was an alley on your left. You raced into it. Dumpsters, blocky AC units, and dented trashcans blurred as you ran.

A wood pallet soared on your right. It hit the brick wall and exploded into shrapnel.

You shielded your face in your elbow. A board smacked your side. Pain bloomed, muscles cramped. You twisted and gasped, stumbling over shattered pieces of wood.

Eddie stood yards away. From the street, the chittering increased in volume. Your shoulder knocked into a parked box-truck. He stepped forward, relentless and silent. You cursed as you bounced into the wall.

You had to keep moving, had to keep him away from Max.

You jogged into the narrow gap between truck and wall. It was a clear shot to the next street. Unfortunately, the fissure crossed the alley on the other side. Vines slithered up the broken buildings.

To your left, police barricades spanned the street. You couldn’t go right because that would lead you to the nexus. You ran left and realized you were drawing closer to the hospital. At the next intersection, you went left again.

Humvees, camo-painted trucks, and police cruisers rolled away. Plumes of ash spun in their wake. You ran onto the street and yelled for them to stop, but an attack helicopter whooshed overhead. It charged towards the nexus. You had to get out of here. The helicopter launched one of its missiles. A great, monstrous shriek answered. You covered your ears at the cacophony. The ground shook, and you bent your knees to keep your balance. A second later, the report from a blast rattled windows.

You looked back. Eddie steadied himself on the side of a parked car less than twenty feet away. With eyes on you, he pushed off.

You murmured, “Come and get me, baby,” before sprinting down the street.

You passed the police and fire stations, squinting against the falling ash. While you could seek shelter in either place, you didn’t know what Eddie would do to those who got in his way. And you didn’t want to think of what they’d do to Eddie if they saw him.

You needed him to pursue you — and only you.

The nearest fissure cutting through the street stopped you short. Vines zigzagged over the ground. Another monstrous shriek bellowed, and it reverberated in your heaving chest. A neighborhood of older homes sat across the way. You ran between two houses, certain no one was inside — not with how close the houses stood to the fissure.

You hid behind a large oak in the backyard and leaned on the trunk. In the distance, demodogs chittered and gunfire resounded. The hit to your side made itself known as you panted for air. You pressed your palm over it. Muscles spasmed. With a grimace, you repeated the healing spell under your breath. Heat sparked under your skin. Sweat prickled above your lip and at your hairline.

It took a small eternity for the heat to dissipate. You lifted your shoulder to stretch it out. The muscles complained, but it wasn’t a stitch in your side. That was good enough.

Glancing around, it was difficult to find your bearings. You weren’t sure it mattered where you were. Your primary concern was keeping Eddie occupied until you figured out what to do.

A twig snapped.

You whipped to the side to peek around the trunk. Nothing was out of place. No sign of Eddie, either.

Shit.

Had he given up?

No, making the hunted think they were safe was a horror-movie cliché.

You weren’t safe.

You turned to face the other backyards. Still no sign of Eddie. He was hiding and watching. You felt it. He would lose patience soon enough, though.

Instead of running, like your hind brain wanted you to, you walked away from the oak. He wasn’t going to kill you. Vecna didn’t want you dead yet. You marched farther into the neighborhood, navigating fences and darting between houses.

A wooded area bordered the neighborhood. That was a prime place to play hide-and-seek with your undead, psycho-controlled puppet of a boyfriend. Jesus Christ, what was your life? You paused on the curb at the end of a cul-de-sac. The woods lay beyond the arc of houses.

A fence gate clanged before Eddie walked around the corner of a house and stopped in the front yard. He’d smeared the blood from his chin up his sharp jaw. The blood on his scrubs had oxidized to a rust brown. From this distance and through the ash-fall, his cursed eyes could be mistaken for pale ones. It didn’t suit his face. He looked best with brown sparkling eyes and flushed cheeks. He looked best smiling. He looked best when he’d been yours.

But he wasn’t yours anymore — and you didn’t know if he’d ever be again.

The edges of your vision blurred. You took a stuttering breath. There had to be a way to get him back. If Vecna could animate him, you could restore him.

You stepped onto the grass, heading for the woods. Eddie matched your pace stride for stride. At the edge of the yard where manicured turned wild, he quickened his steps.

He wasn’t toying with you any longer.

You ran, graceless and bumbling, into the woods. The real fight started now. Under the canopy of ash-covered foliage, shadows deepened. Your heart pounded rabbit-fast. Branches and twigs snagged your sleeves and hair, scratched your exposed skin. You couldn’t hear anything beyond the sound of your panting breath.

After jumping the third log, your thighs almost gave out. You staggered to a thick tree and lay against it. Your temples throbbed with your forceful heartbeat. Sweat beaded down your face.

Sudden weight pressed you against the tree. The musty scent of dried blood filled your nose. Hands grabbed your hips.

“Got you.”

You gasped and tripped sideways. Eddie held the back of your jeans until you pushed him away. He caught your forearm until you wheeled it out of his grasp. You spun and bolted deeper into the woods.

He clawed at your shirt with every step, fingers scraping down your back. You lunged to the side. Arms hooked around you before lifting you off the ground. You kicked out and writhed. He swayed with you to expel your momentum. He then brought your upper body close and dragged his sharp teeth over the side of your neck.

You stiffened, thinking of the MP he’d killed.

This couldn’t be it. Eddie wouldn’t kill you. This couldn’t be what Vecna had planned. It made no sense. You had magic, for fuck’s sake.

“No, let me go!”

“Or what?”

He didn’t even sound out of breath.

You pushed against his arms.

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I’d like to see you try, witch.”

You arched your back, freeing your arms, and slapped your palms on his cold forearm. You concentrated all your energy into them. The air cooled. The temperature dropped so fast, you expected to see your breath fog. You shivered as goosebumps rose along your skin. You pushed the energy as heat into him.

He howled and released you.

You landed hard and fumbled forward. The energy vanished from your hands like it’d never been there. The air heated. Your forehead ached from the quick temperature change. However, you couldn’t let that stop you. Eddie was right behind you.

After lumbering into a tree, you found your balance and pushed off. You ran with the hope it was away from the houses and fissure.

You glanced back. Eddie was nowhere to be seen. You couldn’t slow to catch sight of him. Like before, you knew he followed you.

He darted out between two trees and tackled you into another. Your back struck the unyielding trunk. It knocked the breath from your lungs. He pressed his burnt forearm across your upper chest, pinning you to the tree.

You heaved for air and pushed at his elbow and wrist. His other hand went to your hip.

“You will see this through,” he said, leaning his weight on you. “It’s your responsibility.”

You shook your head. At one time, having him against you would’ve been a comfort. You would’ve wrapped your arms around him and buried your face in his neck.

He said, “We should thank you, you know. None of this would’ve happened if you hadn’t cleared the way.”

You hung your head and held onto his arm. He was right. You’d opened the proverbial door for Vecna.

“I know,” you said. “I thought I understood. I thought… I thought I could heal this place.”

He huffed.

“So arrogant.”

The corner of your mouth quirked.

“Yeah, so fucking arrogant. Just like Vecna.”

“But Source can do what you can’t.”

“Oh?” You met his colorless gaze. “Like make the world worse?” Searching his blank face, you said, “He’s going to kill everything.”

“Sometimes destruction is a means of restoration.”

“That’s not what you believe.”

“What do you know of what I believe?”

“I know you want to create.”

“I am creating — with Source.”

“I thought you wanted to create with me. You wanted to leave this town with me.”

“No, I—”

“Yes. Don’t you remember what you said on New Year’s? You said I inspire you. You want to write songs for me! You said you think about me every day!” You touched his cold cheeks. “You said you’d give me everything.” You inhaled and put weight into your words. “So, give. me. everything.”

The weight of magic overloaded your limbs. You fisted his shirt to stay upright. However, he was no stronger.

Together, you fell to the ground.

Through gritted teeth, he said, “No, I’m doing what needs to be done.”

“For who, huh? You? Me?” You bent closer, taking the risk he wouldn’t choke or bite you. “Don’t you care — about me — at all?”

You wanted to ask if he loved you anymore, but… That was too far, too much. You imagined all the venom Vecna would make him spit.

“I do this because I—” He blinked. “It has to be done.”

“Are you listening to yourself right now?”

“What?”

“He killed me. Vecna killed me. He took Max.” You motioned to your head and said, “He killed me,” before motioning to your heart.

“Then you should’ve stayed dead.”

“Well, here I am.” You threw your hands wide. “Just like you.”

“You’re pointless.” He moved in to drive his words home. “You’re a little rich girl slumming it. You have all this power, but you never make anyone’s life easier. You have it easy. You’re spoiled and entitled, and we’re glad we killed you.”

“Fuck you! He killed you, too!”

What he said couldn’t be true. That’s not what Eddie thought. Right? You weren’t… You couldn’t be… It must’ve been a ploy by Vecna to hit where it hurt. He’d pulled some doubt or negativity from your mind months ago.

“It had to be done,” Eddie said.

“And what’s he going to do when he gets what he wants, huh?”

“I…”

“Answer me! What’s he going to do to us?”

“He’ll…”

“He’ll kill us again, Eddie.”

“No, he—” He frowned, looking away. His mouth opened and closed. “No…”

“Yes!”

You grabbed his face and forced him to meet your gaze. You wouldn’t play into Vecna’s hands by abandoning Eddie. Too many people had done that already, and you refused to be another.

“Come back to me.”

He wrenched his head from your hold to hide his face.

“I can’t come back. No, I— I’m where I need to be. I’m whole here. I’m bigger than… Bigger than—”

“Come back, honey.”

He looked to the side, the corners of his mouth turned down.

“You know, I never told you how you feel to me,” you said. “What you feel like. I figured it out in Chicago. At the concert.” You followed the slope of his blood-covered jaw with your eyes. “With all those people around us, you still stood out to me. I couldn’t help but feel you… feel your warmth.” You rested your forehead on his temple and softly said, “You’ve always been a flame in the dark.”

He propped his hands on his knees, sagging.

You softly added, “He can’t make it out of the Upside Down without us. It’s you and me. It’s always been you and me.”

He pulled away to look at you.

“You and me?”

You nodded.

“However long we got.”

His face became a rictus of pain, eyes going full black. Gray veins wormed under his sallow skin. He shook and wailed. You held his shoulders to keep him upright. He coughed black liquid as his eyes flashed brown. The liquid trickled down his chin to mix with the dry blood. His eyes clouded white.

He listed right. You couldn’t steady him as his weight dropped. You cushioned his head as he fell, your mind racing. Could you use the Eradix spell now? Would it kill Eddie, too? Did you want to gamble with his life? Was the nexus open enough for any spell to get through or not? Would he hate you if you couldn’t do anything?

The whites of his eyes went red — like blood, like lightning. He flailed. The black liquid from his chin smeared your inner forearm. Blistering heat sizzled up your nerves. You pulled away with a curse and a quick draw of breath. Your skin puckered. You needed to get it off you.

The few fallen leaves crumbled in your grasp. You picked at your shirt. If the liquid burned your skin, it would probably burn through clothing. Then you’d be in the same predicament, but this time on your stomach. The only solution was scraping it off.

Leaning over, you bit your lip and dragged your throbbing forearm across the bark of the tree. It abraded the wound like sandpaper. A whine escaped your throat.

Eddie’s yowl eclipsed it. He thrashed to the side. The gray veins darkened. He retched more black liquid. It sprayed over rotting moss.

The entire forest was rotting. The leaden sky became visible as leaves drooped, black and brown and covered in ash. Even the evergreens umbered.

“Eddie,” you said, touching his sallow cheek. “Eddie, don’t leave me.”

He rolled onto his back, coughing a mix of black and red. It splattered his reviving face. The eyes that stared at you were the Bambi brown you adored. Red bloomed across his clothes in blurry slashes and discs.

“No no no no no…”

A pained, distant roar rang through the woods.

You clambered for the side-seam of your shirt. You could use the fabric to wipe the caustic liquid from his skin. Then you had to stop the bleeding. He couldn’t— Not like this. You wouldn’t let him— Not when you could make it right.

His shaking hand made its way to your face, fingers warm on your cheek.

His voice was thick when he said, “Sweetheart…”

You knew what he was going to say, the jerk.

Tearing an uneven strip from your shirt, you said, “Shut up, no.”

His eyelids fluttered and hand dropped to the ground.

“You gotta take ‘im out then.”

“You’re more important.”

He grinned, eyes half-closed and teeth red with blood.

“You flatter me.”

“Quit distracting me.”

You wiped at his chin first, then his cheeks and neck. There had to be a way to get Vecna and heal Eddie at the same time. His bloodstains grew. Time was running out.

“Far be it from…” He panted. “From me…”

“Oh my God, will you be quiet?!”

“Impossible.”

You laughed despite yourself. A sob bubbled out between breaths. Your tears landed on his top. Ignoring them, you threw the soiled fabric and pressed your palms to the biggest bloodstain on his torso. Thick, fresh blood oozed between your fingers. He winced and tensed. You told him to relax.

He breathed, “Fuckin’ bats…”

That was right, the demobats had done this. The bats that had been yours, but taken over by Vecna. They’d become part of the hivemind — and maybe you had, too, until your death. Vecna had sent them. Even if they were dead, they remained a part of him. The hivemind was a loop—

Which meant you could send back what they’d done.

Like a karma spell. What went around came around. You couldn’t recall a full spell, but you remembered enough to focus your intention.

“Stay still,” you said, settling on your calves. “Thought of something.”

He gestured he wouldn’t go anywhere.

You closed your eyes to visualize the vague, shadowy form of Vecna superimposed on Eddie.

“Three times three; Here’s what you’ve bid.” You imagined every bite and every tear pulling out of Eddie’s body. “Own what you did.” You pushed the wounds into Vecna. “Reap what you sowed; A torment you’re owed.”

Eddie twitched under your hands. He choked around broken syllables. One of his hands wrapped around your wrist.

That same pained, distant roar came again.

You met Eddie’s distressed eyes.

“It’s okay,” he croaked. “Keep—”

You nodded, shutting your eyes, and repeated the chant, putting more force behind it. He wheezed as his hold loosened. You bent over him as if to shelter him, but it was too late for that.

You said the spell again. Your fingertips dug into his flesh.

“C’mon, you fucking shit.” You repeated the spell at double speed. “Get out!”

A terrible roar vibrated the very air, resounding from every direction. The ground shuddered. Ash showered from the tree canopy. Eddie’s hand fell from your wrist.

You shoved his shirt up. Your bloody fingerprints joined the blood-rimed scars littering his stomach. Despite the healing, his chest stayed unnaturally still.

If he was healed, why didn’t his chest move?

“Eddie?” You tapped his cheek and put a finger under his nose to check for breath. “Eddie?”

When he didn’t respond, and you couldn’t feel him exhale, you rose onto your knees. You hadn’t cast spell after spell, cried pitchers of tears, and literally died to lose him like this.

Those CPR lessons from middle school had better pay off, you thought as you got into position.

You layered your hands at the center of his chest, hoping you weren’t making a mistake. You used your weight to compress his chest in a fast rhythm. After a few seconds, you tilted his chin back, sealed your lips over his, and breathed air into his lungs.

Cycling through compressions and breathing, you began silently bargaining. If he lived, you’d give up anything — Djarums, wearing black, spellwork. If he lived, you’d do anything — tell your parents about you being a witch, volunteer at an old-folks home, bless every person you interacted with. Anything. Anything to get him back. Whatever higher power out there told you to do, you’d do it.

You puffed into his lungs once, twice. You begged him to breathe. He convulsed, feet kicking the dead leaves. You cried out in relief before resting your forehead on his shoulder. His head flopped to the side as he coughed and sputtered.

His voice was thready as he said, “Ow.”

You straightened and held his cheek. He didn’t pull away from your touch or stiffen, but something in his body language shifted. Like you made him uncomfortable, and he didn’t want you to know you made him uncomfortable.

“Can you breathe okay?” you asked, withdrawing your hand from his cheek. “Any sharp pain?”

“No, just… just sore.”

You nodded, gnawing on your lip, and rubbed your dirty palms on your thighs.

He asked, “Vecna’s alive, isn’t he?”

You nodded again.

With your left eye still cursed, you had to assume so. You’d failed. Sure, you’d injured him. Maybe that would work in El’s favor. Maybe that would be enough.

You glanced at Eddie. He lay in the dead leaves, scrubs bloody and morgue tag around his toe.

Injuring Vecna wasn’t enough. Leaving it to El wasn’t enough.

“I think I can kill him.”

Eddie strained onto an elbow. You reached for him, then stopped short. You didn’t want to make him uneasy. He closed his eyes as he breathed through obvious discomfort.

He asked, “What do you need?” before opening his eyes.

“Nothing.” You swallowed. “I just need to concentrate.”

In the meantime, ash had ceased falling through the withering trees. Chittering from the demodogs had quieted as well. You took that for a good sign. It was time to hit Vecna while he was down.

However, if using magic made Eddie uncomfortable, you wouldn’t do it in front of him.

“Rest here,” you said and scooted back on your knees.

Your gut twisted and muscles quivered. The back of your neck twinged.

“Where—”

“I’ll be over there.” At random, you pointed to your right. “It won’t take long.”

You stood on flimsy legs. The woods spun and became fuzzy. The ground tilted. You caught yourself on aching, tired arms as you collapsed to the side.

Eddie said, “Don’t—”

“No,” you said. “I can do this.”

You shook yourself alert before attempting to stand again. This time, you rose by degrees. Your knees still wobbled, and your fatigued thighs complained, but you stood. You couldn’t give up. Vecna still lived.

Eddie said your name like a question.

You assured him it would be alright. Then, taking deliberate, deep breaths, you heel-toed it to a tree a few yards away. After rounding the trunk, you slumped. The bark caught on your shirtsleeve and flecked away in brittle pieces.

You sank to your knees, skeptical of your ability to stand again. That doubt hardly deterred you. If Vecna died after this spell, you’d sleep off the exhaustion here.

You leaned your shoulder on the trunk and closed your eyes. Even though you had no idea what Vecna looked like, you knew his energy. You threw a silent prayer out to guide the Eradix spell. No one else should be harmed.

Enough people had suffered because of Vecna.

You bowed your head and fisted your hands. “Radicitus scindo, vlaen forma,” flowed from your lips without thought. Thunder boomed nearby. You repeated the incantation, thinking of an arrow nocked. Again, you repeated it. You loosed the arrow. It blazed through the air, its tip glinting sharp and true.

You wet your lips, tasting steel. Each word of the incantation rocked you forward. Your arrow glided through smoke and lightning, a cage of lies, a temple to misery. Dark secrets yielded like the earth to a shovel.

Clouded eyes widened when the arrow struck.

Vines like veins burst to hemorrhage inky bile. It flooded the blood-soaked land in a torrent of black. The red sky turned gray. Screams, mighty and meek, crashed across realities. Pillars housing relics of despair crumbled.

Countless hands rose from the inhospitable depths to flay burnt, corrupted flesh. They whispered his name; your incantation beneath. He attempted to drive them away, but the dead were relentless. They didn’t know pain or exhaustion. There was no torment he could show them to make them cower.

They pulled at his neck, his scalp, his open mouth. He gurgled and choked on decades of his own creation. Pieces of him disintegrated, leaving swirls of gray in the ichor’s black mirror.

The dead dragged him under at last. Then there was silence, like the brief hush after a long exhale.

His inner world fragmented with a bellow of thunder. The last beat of his desiccated heart. Fragments became slices became scraps became splinters became particles — until there was nothing.

Not even your arrow remained.

Cool droplets landed in your hair, slunk down your forehead. You opened your eyes to a murky woodland. Raindrops trickled over trembling leaves. You blinked before bringing your fingers in front of your left eye. You could see them.

The curse had been lifted. Vecna was dead. Was Max awake? There was no reason to think she wasn’t.

With a grin, you called, “Eddie?” and spread your hands on the damp soil.

Only the peaceful tip-tap of drizzle answered.

“Eddie, are you there?”

Using the trunk for balance, you stood. Your rubbery legs held your weight, but you wouldn’t trust them to run a marathon any time soon. You held onto the trunk and inched around it.

Eddie was gone. The used strip of your shirt lay amongst the leaves as evidence he’d been there.

You left the safety of the tree, heading to where you’d left him. You examined the ground to determine where he’d gone, because you couldn’t linger while a storm gathered. Trampled leaves offered some direction. You followed the trail, yet the surrounding woods remained unfamiliar. Of course, you reasoned, you hadn’t exactly been surveying the land as you ran from him.

Step by aching step, minute after barren minute, your heartbeat sped. Your chest constricted. He wouldn’t abandon you. Your shirt dampened with chilly rain and new sweat. He wasn’t callous. The trees all looked alike. You assured yourself you weren’t walking in circles.

Ahead, leaves crunched in uneven strikes. Like tottering footsteps. You opened your mouth to call for Eddie, but you stopped short. That could be anyone. You huddled behind the nearest tree. They could be a soldier or a lone vigilante or an injured demo-creature.

Lord, you hoped it wasn’t a demo-creature.

You put a hand over your mouth and nose to muffle your breathing. Footsteps shuffled past. You stole a quick look, recognizing the dark hair and green scrubs. You slumped and caught yourself before you fell.

“Eddie?”

He spun to face you and winced.

“Hey, I—” He bounced on one foot. “Goddammit…”

He bent and did something at ground-level the leaves obscured. You stood and eased from your hiding spot. He staggered before crowing. He sounded like his old self, which made you smile.

He straightened, holding the morgue tag aloft.

“Fucking thing’s annoying.”

“I bet.” You wiped water from your forehead with the back of your hand. “Where’d you go?”

“Found us a ride.”

“My car’s parked at the hospital.”

“We’ll get it later.” He approached you, tucking the tag in the shirt’s breast-pocket, and held out his hand. “C’mon, our chariot awaits.”

You dried your palms on the sides of your jeans.

“Are you sure?”

He frowned, his hand dropping to the side.

“Sure about what?”

“That you want me touching you.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Before… After I…” You sighed and shook your head, too tired to explain. “Nevermind.”

“Hey,” he said, drawing near to cup your cheek with a trembling hand. “We’re—uh… We’re good, alright? I’m… good.”

You put your hand over his and leaned into his touch.

“Me too.” You gave him a wry look. “Under the circumstances.”

He grinned.

“Yeah, your eyes are the same color now.”

You returned the grin.

“Yeah, you’re breathing.”

His grin widened.

“What a pair we make.”

He extracted his hand and offered it for you to take. You curled your hand around his palm. His fingers tightened. That certain touch was enough to keep you going, though neither of you could walk at a brisk pace.

“Sorry if I freaked you out by disappearing back there,” he said as he picked his way through the underbrush. “I wasn’t leaving-leaving, but I knew it was safe. I… I knew you were safe.”

You squeezed his hand in affection before offering your socks to protect his feet. He refused, albeit kindly, explaining he didn’t want to stick around long enough to put them on.

“Are there demo-whatevers out there?” you asked.

“Dead ones.”

“Holy shit.”

“It’s a goddamn mess, but the truck can handle it.”

“Truck?”

“Unlocked. Looked like the owner left in a hurry.”

You didn’t blame them.

He asked, “Where do you want to go?”

With a sigh, you mentally deliberated. Your house was across town. Or at least, you thought it was. His might be closer, but there’d been a gate in its ceiling. No doubt that had turned into the start of a fissure. So that was out. Getting your car from the hospital meant driving close to the nexus — and the heart of the battle.

The underbrush yielded to a carpet of mown grass. Eddie rubbed his feet on it, muttered how much nicer it’d been when he hadn’t felt pain.

The cloudy sky was just a cloudy sky that promised steady rain. The tower of smoke from the nexus had vanished. You’d never experience this level of stillness and quiet. No whoosh of cars, no conversations, no television or radio, no pet noises, no chirping birds. It was like you and Eddie were the last people in Hawkins.

Even so, Eddie hadn’t joked when he said the street was a mess. Demo-creature bodies littered the pavement and yards. Some shaped like canines, others like spindly humanoids, but all their petaled mouths and clawed hands lay limp and bloody.

You whispered, “Holy shit.”

This was what the predators you’d heard months ago looked like. The lamprey-like tooth on your necklace came from them.

The rain started coming faster.

Eddie gave your hand a gentle tug.

“C’mon, let’s go.”

You nodded, letting him lead you across yards, through rusting gates, and around painted sheds. He guided you to the passenger side of a maroon-and-white pickup truck parked in front of a detached garage. The worn interior smelled dusty, but you cracked the window as Eddie slid behind the steering wheel.

He unclipped the steering column and pulled a socket of wires loose. From the bundle, he chose two wires and yanked them from the socket. Using his shirt hem as insulation, he twisted the wires together. The dash lights and radio lit. Static gushed from the speakers. You turned the volume knob until the radio clicked off. He nodded in thanks and pulled another wire loose to graze it with the twisted wires.

Sparks blinked across the exposed metal.

The engine rumbled to life. You hooted in delight and drummed on the dashboard. Eddie beamed at you, revving the engine.

He gave the locked steering wheel a good heave. Metal pinged from inside the steering column. He turned on the windshield wipers and shifted the truck into Reverse.

“Where to, my lady?”

“Well, I’ve been staying at Steve’s, so…”

With a sly look, he asked, “Is there something you wish to tell me?” His eyes widened. “Have I been replaced?”

You chortled.

“It’s not like that.” You poked his upper arm. “I’ll explain on the way there.”

-

Radicitus scindo, vlaen forma = (butchered latin and dutch) By the roots I tear, to flay the body

[kira-anon-uwu]

chunk from my write's block document

context: i have a fic just for me that i've only shared the majority of with one person that i only work on when i can't focus on anything else. it probably will never see the light of day but here's a funny part that i genuinely feel bad not using in something meant to be posted.

~-~-~

He climbed the ladder in the meantime, idly tapping his hands against the empty part of the shelf as he waited for Wilbur to come back.

"So, I'm hoping you spent your time at home resting,", Wilbur started as he handed up books.

Tommy let out an annoyed groan, contemplating dropping a book on the man's face. "Can we talk about literally anything else?"

"Thoughts on the art of eating sand-"

"I slept while I wasn't here, yeah."

Wilbur exhaled out of his nose with amusement. "That's good. And you explained it to your parents?"

"Yeah, and they didn't bother me about it nearly as much as you are."

"That's not as comforting of a statement as you think it is."

"It's my way of telling you you should drop it,", he rolled his eyes.

"And this is my way of making sure I'm not going to have to file an insurance claim of some kind because you dropped dead in the middle of my store."

"Please, give me some credit; I'd go die somewhere out back, probably."

"Tommy, am I going to have to start making regular checks of the alley to make sure you're not sitting back there like a salvage animatronic?"

"Y'know what? Yes, you do. Gonna wait for you to drag my ass back inside so I can hide in the vents and kill you."

"Which one would you be?"

"You can't hit me with a question like that and expect an immediate answer,", Tommy stopped to think about it, ignoring the way Wilbur was laughing at him as he genuinely considered it, "Probably be Lefty, I recon."

That made Wilbur laugh even harder, dropping the book in his hand back in the box as he tried to collect himself again. "Why Lefty?"

"Because he's cool, and he's got the fucking puppet inside of him."

"I was assuming you'd say some shit like Moltent Freddy."

"Well yeah, if I wanted to be basic about it."

"And what about me, then?"

"Easy; you get to be purple guy."

"Tommy, I didn't sit there and listen to you explain that whole fucking timeline for nine hours for you to compare me to a child murderer."

He looked down at the man with the smallest amount of empathy he could muster, giving him a shrug.

Wilbur glared at him before moving the ladder down the shelves.

"Holy shit, you don't have to prove my point!", Tommy's grip on the ladder tightened, and he leaned closer to it as the wheels grinded against the rails.

"Sorry, couldn't hear you over my insatiable bloodlust. I'm trying to make Remnant."

"Think you making me bust my fucking head open would be Agony instead!"

"I am being one-hundred percent honest with you when I tell you I do not know the difference between the two, and I genuinely do not give a fuck."

"I don't think Scott Cawthon does, either."

"Can we stop with the FNAF talk now, please?", Wilbur sighed, "Bringing it up again reminded me of how exhausting it is to think too hard about it."

"You're the one that brought it up!"

"And now I'm the one putting it away; sticking the missing children in their graves, one might say."

"Ok, Mr.Afton. How many more books are there?"

"I will beat your ass."

"Oh, but you were so worried about me before."

Wilbur rolled his eyes, moving the empty box from the top of his cart to get to the next one. "That was before you started calling me fucking William Afton."

"But think about it; same first name, he probably stank as well, you've probably murdered a few people-"

"You can't prove that."

"I can absolutely prove that you stink,", Tommy snorted, going to grab the next book from Wilbur's hand.

The man narrowed his eyes at him, waiting for Tommy to have a good grip on the thing before yanking it back hard enough that the ladder Tommy was standing on started falling backwards from the shelf.

Wilbur managed to catch him before he hit the floor, but the sudden motion absolutely did not feel good on his injury.

[evenmoreofadisaster]

Okay okay idk if your familiar with the band metric but they like perfectly fit one and twos vibe/aesthetic and some of the songs lyrics perfectly fit one and two if you haven’t checked them out I recommend them but couple of songs and lyrics that I can think of right now I’ll put below with song title (album) lyric that I think fits/why the song makes me think of them

Two:

Holding out (art of doubt) “always waiting on the sidelines when is it my time to be the one the one the one”

Gold guns girls (fantasies) “is it ever going be enough?” (Idk this song just gives me two vibes like the beat and repetition of lyrics makes me think he’d jam out to it)

The void (synthetica) “all night, like a fool I stayed up to prove I can keep up with you”

Black sheep (arguably their most popular song since it was in Scott pilgrim vs the world) that whole song gives me like twos thoughts on one especially after the fallout

One:

Help I’m alive (fantasies) “if I stumble, they’re going to eat me alive” and “help I’m alive my heart keeps beating like a hammer, hard to be soft, tough to be tender”

Synthetica (synthetica) “but I won’t ever let them make a loser of my soul” (the whole song makes me think of one would like it because it’s all about not conforming into something fake/artificial)

Just the once (single) this just makes me think of one and usagi because like one it’s just a bop but still has that like darker vibe aesthetic that I think one would like this song and it would make him think of his usagis meetups and relationship and two the lyrics apply the them so well

I will never settle (formentera) I think this whole song is how one would feel about two especially post fallout

Gimme sympathy (fantasies) this just really strikes me as a song that fits one and also one that he would love

Both:

Artificial nocturne (synthetica) idk this one I think just fits them

Underline the black (art of doubt) “mad visions and wild decisions were made in the alleys that wind through my mind”

omg okay I feel like I've heard of this band before but I don't think I've ever listened to their songs until now. I took the time to listen to every song so that I can provide input <3

Holding Out: yes, that line fits Two perfectly! it especially makes me think of how Two always has to wait for One to give the order before he's allowed to do anything. It also makes me think of Two getting fed up and breaking the cycle

Gold Guns Girls: oh yeah, I love the beat! it's got a good rhythm. I can see Two sympathizing with it

The Void: these lyrics fit very well too! makes me think of Two tryna pick up One's slack lol and just generally wanting to be treated as One's equal.

Black Sheep: ooh, yes. Gives me big post-fallout vibes. "truth is just a rule that you can bend" stuck out the most. good vibes for post-fallout 👍

Help I'm Alive: oo definitely makes me think of what's at stake for One. Really like this song. Very good for One. I also liked "if my life is mine/what shouldn't I do?/I get wherever I'm going/I get whatever I need" fits One's state of mind especially for rn

Synthetica: another good one. I think of One's "u can't touch me" spiel

Just The Once: BOP. oh yeah, I can see how it fits One regularly going to the Nexus to see Usagi. "said it would be just the once" he said 🤨

I Will Never Settle: yeah! Especially "this is not the way I wanted to make you feel" also makes me think of how One would think after knowing how much pain he's caused Two :( "caught a glimpse of the normal life/terrified by the sight/we belong to another time" also makes me think about how One feels after being w/ the Hamatos

Gimme Sympathy: yeah, pretty upbeat. Love the chorus. "we're so close/to something better left unknown/I can feel it in my bones" reminds me of his obsession with getting his way.

Artificial Nocturne: ABSOLUTELY. The first set of lyrics immediately made me think of them "I'm just as fucked up as they say" referencing how they're viewed in the eyes of the Hidden City. Also sounds very cinematic

Underline The Black: love the lyrics. Fits their emo vibe very well

Good band!

[fmdmichelle]

This era of breaking out of her shell and reconnecting with loved ones has completely filled up her personal agenda, and in all honesty, Michelle’s thrilled with the amount of plans she has laid out. She’s busy, but not in a way that feels heavy on her heart and soul. Instead, her free-time is loaded with activities she’s actually looking forward to partaking in, and it reminds her that she can feel emotions other than dread. Over the last promotion cycle Lily had, it was easy to tell that she wasn’t giving nearly as much attention to each performance, like she’s been known to do. She may have been physically present on those stages, sure, but her mind was elsewhere—limbs moving on autopilot to the beat as she fluttered around beneath the stage lights; counting down each and every second until all of the takes were filmed. Some netizens expressed their disappointment in her online, and the perfectionist within her isn’t proud of what occurred, but it is what it is. There’s not much that can be done about it now, so she’s glad to be putting her energy and attention elsewhere.

Today, she arranged a private candle-making class for her and her good pal, Hyojung. It’s been awhile since they saw one another, and the instant she had the idea to handcraft something beautiful, Hyojung was the first person she asked to join her—knowing that it would be up her alley, as well. Michelle fondly remembers the daylong hangout sessions they’ve had in the past, and she hopes that today continues to bring those same vibes; ones that are carefree, loving, and even inspiring due to the art-form they’re surrounding themselves with. So, as they sit in their class for two and have been instructed to start by choosing their favorite scents to infuse their candles with, she scoots in a little closer to her comrade and leans her head on her shoulder; snuggling up close, even if just for a little while—smiling at the affection.

“Thanks for coming with me today!” She exclaims, lifting herself up and erecting her posture again. “When I saw this class offered, I just knew I had to drag you out with me. That, and have I mentioned how stunning you look today? My god!” With that, she laughs, then sets her sights on the bottles laid out before them; mulling over the options. “Do you know what vibe you want for your candle, by-the-way? It’s almost springtime, so I’m thinking floral... but I don’t know. I adore whenever my house smells like baked goods. Like, I want people to walk into my place and have it smell like there’s cookies baking in the oven, or something...”

A CLOSED STARTER WRITTEN, WITH LOVE, FOR JUNG HYOJUNG— SET AT THE YVONNE MORGUN STUDIO IN SEOUL, SOUTH KOREA.

[lastchancevillagegreen]

Monday, 30 October 2023:

Gimme Altamont Tim Kinsella and Jenny Pulse (Total Music) (released 22 July 2022) (this version is the second pressing)

Gimme Altamont is the forerunner of Giddy Skelter, their newest album which came out in September of this year. They share songs. That is, different versions, of course, because with this couple, they take a song and beat it into some altogether different the longer they work on it.

I only learned of the existence of Gimme Altamont when I received Giddy Skelter and was trying to sum it up in a paragraph. I ordered a copy of the album after spinning Skelter twice the day it arrived in my post. For a variety of reasons, this second pressing was delayed in being mailed. (I received an apology e-mail from Kinsella/ Pulse with their reasons for delaying in mailing this out. I wrote back and told them not to fret, real life gets in the way of artists who have to do everything themselves.) Besides, I've downloaded the album and played it and it most certainly is a must have if you own Giddy Skelter. Companion albums are wondrous things, at least in my viewpoint.

Above you can see the album cover and the back of the album. This came inside a thick plastic sleeve similar to those often found with picture discs, although I think this is even thicker, but it lacks a flap, thank heavens!

This is a second pressing, although I can find nothing anywhere documenting what the first pressing looks like. Well, almost, but I'll talk about that momentarily. This is limited to 100 copies and this particular edition is hand numbered (mine is 55) and it is pressed on blue vinyl. Check out the two photos of the blue vinyl below.

There is a lyric insert included in this album and you can see both sides of it below. (By the way, the fringe you see at the bottom of the second photo, by the flamingo's head is the fringe from my scarf I wore as I took these photos on my back porch! It was darn cold today!)

The two sides of the labels can be seen below.

When the couple wrote to apologize for the delay, they asked "what size t-shirt do you wear?" I didn't acknowledge that. While i appreciate their willingness to make up for being (slightly) tardy in mailing an album out, I completely understand that many of the musicians I enjoy and follow and buy, do not make Taylor Swift money. People like Kinsella and Pulse are working around the clock creating art be it painting, writing novels (Kinsella has three and they all look right up my alley) and recording endless music. Not to mention touring, packaging and mailing out their own albums and as they reminded those of us they wrote, tending to parents who are aging. I get all that. Christ, today I'm barely able to accomplish reading 50 pages of Zola (and I haven't been able for five days running). I didn't need a t-shirt because life got in the way of this industrious couple.

But, they still included something for me and I was thrilled with the choice. They have a newspaper they charge $10 for on their website about the efforts they put into that went towards making Gimme Altamont/ Giddy Skelter. You can see a shot of this paper below.

I've included a few random (not so random) pages of this insides. This is a 24 page paper, so I didn't shoot photos of everything.

I like Giddy Skelter considerably so I'm looking forward to playing both these albums as if they were a double over the course of November. One of the things they provide in this paper is a list of all the shows they attended while making these albums. Then they list a huge amount of books they read. I am lucky to have read at least a fourth of the same books (from Tolstoy to Annie Ernaux to Tove Ditlevesen to Murakami)! Here is the back of the paper in which they provide a playlist of what they listened to while making the albums. Any playlist that begins with The Latin Playboys is alright with this boy.

Lastly, I close out with the apology on the packing cardboard.

[loosealcina]

GIUSEPPE VERDI’S I VESPRI SICILIANI AT LA SCALA, FEBRUARY 21, 2023

The short version of what I’m about to say goes like this: no and no. I sure need to place a grumpiness warning here; that’s why I gave you the summary up front. If you don’t think you’re in the mood for a long series of bitter/petulant words, you’re all set. See you next time! (Here’s a withdrawal-friendly pause). Now, for the intrepid and the curious. Rules are one thing. But rules in the realm of art? They often prove to be… let’s see… inessential, boring, detrimental maybe, plain fake… Yet I suspect a number of them will always stand any test and/or any close examination. An opera must be performed in its original language. That’s one. It’s simple and it’s good. Deciding to break it sounds kind of bizarre, like OK, I’ll run this bicycle race. Just let me make sure I’ve got a huge stick in my hand, so I can put it in my own spokes right after we start and see what happens… Strictly on topic: ditching Les vêpres siciliennes—first presented at l'Opéra (Salle Le Peletier) in 1855—and staging a discouraging Italian translation named I Vespri siciliani instead (not to mention editing out the whole ballet sequence in the middle of Act III [which is a lot]; and the first scene of Act V for good measure) brought this operatic experience into a positive blind alley, leaving virtually no hope whatsoever.

Besides, Hugo de Ana’s production amounted to a flat, generic display of tableaux. It seemed to underscore again and again a small set of themes (namely violence and death); as far as storytelling is concerned, it refused to explore any opportunity Eugène Scribe and Charles Duveyrier’s libretto may have offered. If you consider the characters—their personality, their emotions, the relationships they have… It was as though these issues were never there in the first place. You won’t be exceedingly surprised to know that my favorite moments go back to when the curtain was still down. In fact, the Ouverture of Les vêpres siciliennes does enjoy great popularity as a detached concert piece, too. I’d say Fabio Luisi and the orchestra went with a fascinating palette of dark, saturated colors. The very first bars—unhurried, menacing, impressively terse—set the tone for a compelling narration: one consistently enriched with moody musical objects. A sinister beat, a quick flicker of the brass, a sudden general crescendo… It felt like a miniature full-blown grand opéra. (It truly reminded me of Ludwig van Beethoven’s Leonore No.3 Op.72b in this respect). Those few flaming minutes were but a memorable gift; on the other hand, they intensified the sense of squandering I’m still feeling—It’ll fade over time, I believe?

[dailycupofcreativitea]

Friendly reminder that you can absolutely suck at your hobbies and draw ugly cringe shit with bad anatomy and horrible colours :D Ugly things are allowed to exist! Not everything you draw will be good. Actually probably most of what you draw will have room for improvement. Sometimes stuff you draw will be straight up BAD. Like, unsalvageable kinda bad. Not everything you draw needs to be praised. Some of it will be like...”okay yeah this one really isn’t working out lol its kinda ugly.”  🤷‍♀️

You have to be bad at something before you’re good at it, and if you never become good at it (because you lack the time or energy to practice), then no one said you’re not allowed to just do the thing really badly.  🤷‍♀️   

“But it’s stressful being bad at it, I’ll only get frustrated with myself for not being good, it’ll only discourage me” okay hmm sounds like you need to drag your inner critic to a back alley and beat them up  👁️👄👁️🔪 ✨ Don’t kill the part of you that’s cringe; kill the part that cringes ✨ and all that jazz

Not to invalidate the “perfectionist struggle” or imply it’s super easy to overcome but more like this is your sign to give yourself permission to be ugly, be bad at something, fail really hard, be imperfect, etc. and not have that decrease your worth as a person (or specifically regarding art, as an artist) or your joy in doing the hobby :D

[thevindicativevordan]

thoughts on DC: The New Frontier? i believe it’s one of the greatest representations of what makes the DCU fantastic

Certainly is a story that loves the underappreciated corners of the DCU.

Reading it now gave me something akin to culture shock. Here we have a major story where the Trinity are not the focus and don't play much of a role in resolving the threat. Batman and Superman don't even contribute at all to the final fight! Instead obscure characters and teams like the Challengers of the Unknown, the Losers, or the Suicide Squad are the main protagonists and it's their perspective which we spend the most time following. Martian Manhunter and Hal Jordan are as close as the story comes to having major "A-List" protagonists, and even their story is heavily intertwined with historically minor characters like King Faraday. Final victory over the Centre comes down to the contributions of Adam Strange and the Atom of all people! Following these characters, seeing their hopes, and fears, and viewpoints on the dawn of a new age is probably the most successful showcase of the DCU beyond the gloomy alleys of Gotham and majestic spires of Metropolis that are usually the focus.

New Frontier's success can be attributed to how it combines both glamour and grit. On one hand this is a story that loves the DCU, especially the Golden and Silver Ages, that goes out of it's way to afford attention and respect to characters that rarely received either. Capturing the optimism of the Eisenhower/JFK years is no small feat, but when you read a montage of single panel pages that depict the superheroes performing marvelous acts with quotes from JFK's iconic New Frontier speech that book takes it's name from, it's downright inspiring. Amidst the cruelty and uncertainty of the times, multiple men and women show themselves to be good if imperfect people, unsure of what actions to take but willing to step up when the path forward becomes clear. For all the talk of DC's heroes being "gods amongst men", this is a story where the heroes are flawed, human in uncomfortable ways, but capable of rising above their imperfections to be the moral exemplars and saviors that Earth needs when it's darkest hour finally arrives.

On the other hand this is a book that doesn't shrink from reminding us of the uglier side of those "golden years" in American history. In the same book where Superman's rousing speech is invoking the American ideal, we get the American reality of a black hero who took up arms after his family was murdered, a man who was an American war veteran no less, lynched by the KKK after being betrayed by a cute white girl he pleaded for help from. Hal Jordan is routinely mocked and insulted for his refusal to kill during the Korean War. Multiple characters, even ones who are nominally supposed to be heroic, use slurs or offensive language in keeping with the times. The government engages in a wave of oppression and discrimination, blatantly shown to trample over civil rights in order to protect the American Empire, both at home and abroad.

Wide eye wonder and jaw dropping horror are both found within the pages of this story, masterfully depicted by Cooke’s art, which was a rare kind of style that felt at home depicting Batman brutally beating down cultists intent on human sacrifice as it was showing Superman fight a giant robot. Both the touchingly human relationships - such as Hal and Carol's courtship, the bond amongst the Losers, or the final kiss between Flagg and Karin as they sacrifice themselves on behalf of Earth - and the stomach-churning inhumanity of the Centre's influence upon the world are depicted in an emotionally resonant manner. More than any other DC storyline, this is a book that feels like a full fledged universe, capable of hosting any genre, where it's totally believable that the smiling idealistic flying capes could live alongside the brooding cowls in the shadows, where government agents and independent free spirits can share the stage and believably co-exist.

The past is never as perfect as we remember it to be, and New Frontier reaffirms that truth even as it celebrates the best parts of the past that did exist. It's deconstruction and reconstruction both, written and drawn in the way only Darwyn Cooke could. A great intro book for newcomers and a rewarding read for the longtime DC fans, New Frontier is strengthened by the contradictions and contrasts it explores within it's pages. If you're hungry for a story about a new generation of heroes rising to meet a new set of challenges, you won't find a better one than this.

[helnjk]

Stitching Together - G.W.

George Weasley x fem!reader 

Requested: yes !! by my lovely bean marissa @lumos-barnes

please accept my humble request for a george x reader where the reader owns a shop in diagon alley and one day they walk into WWW and george knocks over a whole display, he is a complete SIMP & cannot compose himself. complete buffoonery when the reader is near. they become friends & do all these nice things for each other and the reader is oblivious like "george, i'm so lucky to be your friend" (even though the reader is secretly simping) and he's like "um what, i'm literally in love with you"

Word count: 3.1k

Warnings: mentions of meals and drinks (coffee), but other than that it’s just pure fluff & Dumb Idiots In Love

A/N: somehow i always end up writing george knitting? idk how it happened, but it happened. i hope you like it marissa 🥺💕

–

You took a step back to admire your handiwork. 

After what seemed like neverending hours, the layout of your shop was finally perfect. From where you stood, you had a view of the streets of Diagon Alley, several passersby coming and goings from your sight. The display of charmed knit work by the window was already moving, demonstrating simple stitches that formed into a scarf. 

It had always been your dream to open up your own shop in the most prominent wizarding area of Britain, with your passion for knitting and crafting, but the timing had always been off. Now, about a year or so since the war had ended, your grandmother surprised you with the capital to make your dreams come true. 

The gesture was extra special because she was the one who first taught you how to knit. Many summers were spent in her cottage, sitting side by side and working on personal projects together. 

Outside, your sign read ‘Stitching Together: Grand Opening’. There were a few flyers posted right on the door and on the window advertising the different classes and crafting groups you were offering, as well as the different products that could be found in your store. 

It was as if your heart could burst at the sight of your fully furnished shop and you could wait no longer. With a flick of your wand, the sign on the door flipped to say open and that was that. 

–

“Hey Freddie, have you seen that new shop that’s opened down the street?” George yelled from the bottom of the stairs once the last customer of the day made their leave. 

“Haven’t gone in, but it’s gotten a lot of customers from what I can tell!” the disembodied voice of his twin replied from somewhere above. 

As he began the process of cleaning up and reshelving, products floating in midair or zooming towards their proper shelves, he called out once more, “What type of store is it d’you reckon?” 

“Arts and crafts? Something like that.” 

George’s eyes drifted towards the shop window, where he could just barely see the outline of the new store. Dusk had begun to set in London, so the sky was filled with brilliant hues of purple and orange. His curiosity getting the better of him, he decided that he would go welcome the new shop owner to Diagon Alley. 

With a shout to let his twin know where he was off to, George strode out of Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes and into the brisk weather. Luckily for him, Stitching Together was still open. He could see you bustling around inside, fixing displays and swishing your wand to tidy everything up.

It had only been around a month since your shop had opened, but the local wizard folk of London seemed to be very keen on buying the different things you sold. Many came around to purchase the instructional books and the different kinds of wool and yarn, and some of your regulars had even taken an interest in the classes you held weekly. It was a great way for you to get to know the community and to establish friendships. 

You had always taken note of the joke shop a few shops down from you, but with the hustle and bustle of just opening, you hadn’t had a chance to visit or introduce yourself to the owners. It was just your luck that one half of them pushed open the door to your shop, the little bell at the top of it ringing to indicate his presence. 

“Oh, hello!” you smiled, turning to face the redheaded man, “Welcome to Stitching Together, what could I help you with?” 

Unbeknownst to George, your heart began to beat rapidly in your chest. How could a man be so positively handsome you didn’t know, but at the sight of him standing by the door, all you could think about was how gorgeous he was. And he hadn’t even uttered a single word yet! 

The charming smile he sent your way did not help the heat you could feel creeping up your neck. “Just popping by to say hello and welcome to Diagon Alley! My twin and I run Wheezes just down the street,” he said. 

Your smile grew as he stuck his hand out for you to shake, “Oh I was just thinking about how I’ve been wanting to pay your shop a visit! I’m Y/N, by the way.”

“George Weasley at your service,” his hand was firm and warm as he shook yours, eyes sparkling with something you couldn’t quite name. “Nice to meet you!” 

“So tell me about your shop!” 

Somehow, after that evening, George Weasley snuck his way into becoming a part of your daily routine.

Every morning he would show up with two cups of coffee in hand right before your shop was set to open. After realizing that you depended on caffeine to function throughout your day, he made it a point to bring you one everyday. As you sipped on your coffees, the two of you would spend a few minutes chatting about your plans for the day before going to work. 

Whenever you would offer to pay for your own cup or even try to insinuate that you could get your own coffee in the morning, just so that he wouldn’t have to go through the trouble, he would stop you in your tracks.

“But George–”

“Nope!” he would say in a voice louder than yours. “I’m doing this out of the kindness of my heart. I really feel for your customers who have to deal with a Y/N that hasn’t had her coffee fix. Could you imagine the grumpiness? Not on my watch!” 

You would roll your eyes, but secretly it warmed your heart how sweet this boy could be. He was slowly inching his way into your life and becoming a great friend. 

–

“So,” said Fred one day as George had gotten back from delivering your daily coffee, “The bird from the knitting shop, huh?” 

His twin only rolled his eyes in response, used to the teasing that came with being brothers (and twins) with Fred Weasley. Instead of engaging, George went instead to do the routine last check over their store before they officially opened their doors. Still, Fred couldn’t resist the temptation to continue provoking him. 

“Oi! C’mon, you bring her coffee everyday even if you don’t like the stuff. If I don’t remind you that you have a store to run, you would spend the whole day staring out the window just to catch a glimpse of the girl! Tell me you’re not whipped for her,” he teased, following George through the shop.

From their position at the till and on the second floor, both Verity and Lee tried to hide their smirks. This was too good a story to not eavesdrop on. 

“Come off it, Fred.” George rolled his eyes. “I’m just being a good friend, that’s all!” 

“Yeah but you wouldn’t mind being more than friends.” 

The cheeky wink Fred sent George was not appreciated, as the prior soon found out, having to duck away from a stinging hex. Still, Fred’s laugh rang through the semi-empty store as he ran away from his brother. 

Later in the day, as the lunch crowd tapered off, the four of them were left to mull around a bit. Lee and Verity were off taking stock in the back room, Fred was doing some accounting (because his twin couldn’t be trusted with any sort of math), and George was reshelving some Skiving Snackboxes. 

The bell above the door to the shop rang, but he couldn’t quite tell who came in from his position towards the back of the shop. 

“Welcome to Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes!” he yelled, rushing to get all the boxes in order before he could help the new customer, “I’ll be with you in just a second!” 

Just as he admired his handiwork, eyes scanning the display to make sure nothing was out of place, a familiar voice called from behind him, “It’s alright, take your time. I’m not looking for anything in particular.” 

George almost jumped out of his skin as he heard your voice. He was so surprised that as he turned to meet you, his elbow caught on the edge of one of the Snackboxes and the whole thing toppled over. 

You watched as the tower of boxes crumbled around him, and your hand automatically covered your mouth as you tried to contain your laughter. It didn’t work, though, and soon the whole store could hear your guffaws. 

Thankfully, George was a wizard, and what would’ve taken a muggle quite some time to fix, only took a quick flick of his wand. 

“Oops,” you smiled at him bashfully as he finished, “Didn’t mean to startle you, Weasley.”

“Erm, it-it’s alright,” he blushed, “I just didn’t expect you to come ‘round today.” 

In truth, the reason why George was so flustered at your appearance at his shop was because he had just spent most of the afternoon thinking about you. He often did that, getting lost in his thoughts about the many little things that made you, well, you. The deep breath you took before that first sip of coffee in the morning, revelling in the aroma. How your face lit up when you spoke about the different people you met in your classes. Your hands and how skillfully they worked whatever project you were creating at the moment. 

He wouldn’t admit it to Fred, but what his twin had said earlier in the day was accurate. He was absolutely smitten over you. 

“Well you’ve been a regular over at mine for the last couple of weeks, I’m just returning the favor and visiting my favorite redhead at his place of work!” 

“I-I,” he stuttered, his brain refusing to acknowledge the fact that he was your favorite anything. 

Fred, who had heard the commotion and had gone down to check if everything was okay, nearly face palmed as he watched George fumble through his words. The man was whipped for you, no doubt about it, and as a good twin, he decided to save his brother from further humiliation. 

“I think what my lovely twin here is trying to say, is that you just haven’t met enough redheads to make your decision about your favorite one,” he said, smoothly inserting himself into the conversation. “Fred Weasley, at your service!” 

Your smile immediately brightened at the sight of George’s twin holding out his hand for you to shake, “Nice to meet you! I’m Y/N, George’s told me loads about you!” 

“Has he?” Fred raised his eyebrow, turning to look at George who was still a little dumbstruck at the sight of you in his shop. “Well, that just means it’s my turn to spend some time with such a lovely lady. C’mon, I’ll give you a tour of the shop!”

“Oh I’d love that.” 

With a small glance and wave at George, you took the arm that Fred was holding out for you, and so began his (largely amusing) tour of Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes. 

“What in Merlin’s name was that!” yelled Fred the moment you left the shop. 

George groaned into his hands, embarrassment creeping back into him. He had acted a fool, unable to even mutter a single sentence to you the whole time you were around. 

“Mate, I have never seen you so flustered around a girl,” his twin muttered, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder, “Just tell her you’ve got feelings for her! Ask her on a date, do something! From what I could tell, you’re not the only one who’s caught feelings.” 

“It’s not like that between us,” he said, “I doubt she even notices how much I fancy her.” 

–

Somehow, George wound up taking Fred’s advice. Though, in typical-George fashion, he never explicitly mentioned to you anything about the way he felt. 

Instead, he would stay around your shop longer in the mornings, taking slower than usual sips of his coffee (which he still couldn’t say he preferred over a good cup of tea). Other days, he would come around closing time and help put everything back in order and if he was lucky, the two of you would go out to dinner. Of course, he would also never let you pay a sickle for your meal, no matter how much you insisted. 

Weekends were usually spent together as well. 

Saturdays were for brunch and muggle films on the telly. It was one of the rare occasions he would drink a beverage in front of you that wasn’t that (god forsaken) coffee. 

Sundays were more for crafting together. He would floo into your flat after having lunch with his family and the two of you would continue working on his little project. 

“My mum loves to knit,” he mentioned one day, while he observed your quick hands skillfully moving the thread through your needles. “She knits us all sweaters for Christmas. It’s become a tradition of sorts.” 

“That’s lovely,” you smiled up at him.

“Yeah, anyone who’s practically family gets one too. Like Harry and Hermione,” he mused.

“I could teach you how to knit her something, if you wanted,” you offered. “It’d be something pretty simple though, especially if you’ve never knitted anything before.”

The smile he sent you was so dazzling, you had to take a moment. You were practically melting under his tender gaze and you swallowed thickly, trying to gain your composure. 

 “That’d be bloody brilliant, Y/N!” 

You only hoped he didn’t notice how your face got hot and how your hands couldn’t move the needles to do what you wanted, too flustered to be precise with your movements.

Since then, the two of you spent most of Sunday afternoons making sure George had the correct strings of yarn on the correct needle. You would keep a close eye on him and his progress, but most of the time he was alright on his own. Sometimes, he would purposely sit closer to you on your couch and you could practically feel the warmth radiating from him. 

In between knits, your eyes would drift towards his focused face and you would smile. George had a habit of poking the tip of his tongue out when he was knitting. Something about the gesture helped him concentrate, and you found it absolutely adorable.

The more time you spent together, though, the more confused George got. It was getting to a point where in his head, it was impossible to miss what he was trying to say with his actions. You had to have caught on by now. And, since you hadn’t acknowledged what was going on between the two of you, he had assumed that this was your polite way of rejecting him.  

On a chilly morning, he clutched the warm cups of coffee in his hands as he pushed the door to Stitching Together open with his back. 

“Morning, Y/N!” he greeted.

You grinned in his direction as he made his way towards you. The moment he placed the warm drink in your hands and you took your first sip, a small moan of gratefulness escaped your lips.

“Merlin, I don’t deserve you,” you mumbled to your cup. 

“Sorry?” George asked, brows furrowed slightly. 

“Oh nothing!” you quickly said, “I’m just really glad you’re my friend, Georgie.” 

Friend. 

The word seemed to make his heart sink down to his stomach and ignite something in him at the same time. It was time that he told you how he felt, no matter what would happen afterwards. He couldn’t keep going on pretending he wasn’t head over heels in love with you. 

“Erm, about that Y/N,” he began, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his work uniform, “I’ve got to tell you something.” 

It was now or never. 

You smiled up at him encouragingly, almost oblivious to the bundle of nerves that were most definitely visible in his expression. 

“I-I don’t want to be just friends, Y/N,” he said, lips pursed in anticipation.

“What do you want then?” you still didn’t understand what he was trying to say. 

In a burst of confidence, George took your hands in his and gripped them tightly, “I want to be with you. I fancy you loads, I think I might even be in love with you, Y/N. Honestly, I might’ve been in love with you from the moment I first walked into your shop.” 

Your lack of an immediate response left him to back track, “But I understand completely if you don’t feel the same way, I just wanted to get it out there.” 

For a moment, the two of you were silent. George eyed you nervously, wondering what was going on through your head, bracing himself for the rejection that he thought was on the tip of your tongue. 

Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore, “Y/N? Do you want me to go?” 

Instead of answering, you flung your arms around his neck. He was so startled at your sudden gesture that he almost didn’t notice your lips on his. Almost. 

As suddenly as you had kissed him, all of his apprehensions melted away. Almost automatically, his arms found themselves wrapped around your waist and he pulled you closer to him. Your lips melted together seamlessly. It was as if this was where the two of you were meant to be, and you couldn’t help but smile into the kiss. 

Sooner than you had liked, George pulled away from you slightly. Despite his best efforts, he couldn’t help but dip his head down to peck your lips again. Once, twice, three times. This left you a giggly mess, your nose scrunching up in a way that was practically begging him to kiss it as well. 

“Does that mean you fancy me too?” he murmured against your lips. 

“Absolutely, head over heels,” you smiled in return. 

The pair of you spent a brief moment with your foreheads pressed together, giddy smiles on your faces. That was until a knock on the door of your shop sounded. Immediately, you sprung apart, a blush coating tip of George’s ears and cheeks. 

A few people stood outside, eyeing you amusedly. 

“Oh shit,” you said, hurrying to flip the sign on the door to say ‘open’ and to unlock the door with a flick of your wand. “I completely forgot I had a class today.” 

As the small group of people began to file inside, they sent knowing glances your way to which you only groaned softly and looked up at George.

“I’ll see you tonight?” you asked hopefully. 

With a kiss to your cheek and a mischievous grin he said, “You can count on it, love.” 

–

General taglist: @expectoevans @george-fabian-weasley @gxthsanrio @slytherinscribbles @harpyloon @nuttytani @mesmerisedangel @amourtentiaa @sarcasticallywitty15 @lumos-barnes

Weasley twins taglist: @whizboingies @pineapplesandpinas @papapapadumb @Mrs-g-weasley @a-castle-of--glass @hey-there-angels @leovaldez37 @pinkypurplemagic @werewolfslut @surprizeshawtyy

crossed out means i couldn’t tag you for some reason, sorry!

[peachywrite]

Before I Let You Go

Rohan Kishibe x JosukeSister!Reader & Protective Brother!Josuke

Trigger Warning: violence, inappropriate stand use, mild suggestive themes

Josuke doesn't understand why his sister has been spending even more time with Morioh's Famous Mangaka.

Josuke sat himself down beside Koichi, the pair of friends awaiting the next delicious plate of specialty pasta Tonio was whipping up for them.

“You know, your sister has been hanging around Rohan quite a bit recently.” Koichi’s concern was evident in his tone of voice and the way he avoided eye contact with Josuke.

“What are you talking about? She just likes his art, is all. She’s always been into drawing and stuff since she was little.” Josuke tried to brush Koichi’s worries away, but he too was a bit suspicious of their sudden closeness.

Tonio returned with two heaping plates of authentic Italian pasta, smiling down as he placed each on the table. He gave a small bow and returned to the kitchen. Koichi poked at the new food with his fork, spinning it around as he began to speak.

“I mean, they’ve been hanging out with each other for a while now, but just recently it feels like something’s changed.” The two paused for a quick bite of their dishes and thought quietly to themselves, both suddenly coming to the same conclusion.

“Hey, Josuke. You don’t think your sister would ever date Rohan, right? What am I thinking, that’s a stupid question. It would never happen.” The shorter boy scratched his cheek nervously, staring down at his plate.

“I-I don’t know. She’s never had a boyfriend before. Rohan’s also too proud to date anyone, so we shouldn’t worry our heads over this, Koichi.” Josuke smiled at him, patting the gray-haired boy on the back to reassure him.

“I don’t know, it’s just… The other day, when I went over to return some photos to Rohan, I saw the two of them through the window. I couldn’t see exactly what they were doing, but it kinda looked like he was holding her hand? And placing a kiss on it? I don’t know though, the window was so high up, so I probably didn’t see anything.” Koichi’s voice wavered, the overwhelming silence from his friend concerning him.

He didn’t have the heart to look Josuke in the eyes at the moment, too afraid he may have let the young man down by not sharing this memory sooner. The dread in his heart outweighed his fears quickly, and Koichi looked up to see a Josuke imbued in the darkest aura imaginable. It reminded him of those terribly frightening spirits in the alley that tried to steal him that one day.

“Uh-Josuke? Is everything a-alright? I know I should have told you sooner, but I wanted to be a hundred percent sure about it before you could go off and beat up Rohan again.” Josuke silently nodded, pulling out his wallet and dropping enough to pay for both meals on the table as he scooted his chair in and began to leave.

“Josuke! We aren’t sure if they even are dating yet!” Koichi shouted.

Josuke turned around, a chilling smile spread across his face as he waved.

“No worries, Koichi. I’m off to find out. Sorry about leaving you, I’ll call Okuyasu to take my place while I’m out. I’ll see you later and tell you what I found out.”

All Koichi could do was stutter in surprise at Josuke’s changed demeanor.

Was he putting on a show to calm his nerves? Or was he actually thinking about how it would affect his sister if Rohan was dating her?

The boy returned to his meal, lost in thought, until a tired Okuyasu joined him at the table.

Josuke’s heart was conflicted. If y/n was really dating Rohan, that would mean she was probably in love with the mangaka. He knew his sister wore her emotions on her sleeve and would never fake a romance, but was that true for Rohan? Could he have used Heaven’s Door to make her love him?

He didn’t trust Rohan after what happened with the others, but he did save his life when they fought against Highway Star.

This is what conflicted him. Rohan had a good soul, but was he doing this because he truly loved y/n, or was this another trick to get back at him for the lost dice game or the partial burning of his mansion? Rohan was the kind of person to hold grudges for as long as he saw fit, so this frightened Josuke.

“You can tease and mess with me all you want, but as soon as you bring my sister into this, you’ve crossed the line.” He muttered under his breath, jogging to the café he knew the artist would probably be sitting at.

As he finally spotted the mangaka, enjoying a sip of tea between his quick sketches, he rushed past the hostess and right up to the table. Rohan was caught off guard, a bit frightened and prepared to use his stand until he saw the steak shaped head of hair.

“Josuke? You idiot, I almost attacked you. Why are you rushing me like an enemy?” He blew out his held breath and took another sip of tea.

Josuke pulled up a seat across from the artist, his hands neatly folded in front of him, eyes staring down as he tried to formulate the proper words without working himself up.

“Rohan, I heard from someone that you may be dating my sister. I just want to know if the rumor is true.” Rohan nearly spit out his cup of tea, the shock of the question taking him completely off guard.

After composing himself, the Great Rohan Kishibe began to sweat as he tried to decide whether he should divulge the truth. Y/n would want him to be honest, but he feared the beating Josuke would surely give him if he found out the two of you were dating.

“Your hesitation to answer is making me nervous, Rohan. You better speak up soon, or I’m gonna lose my patience.” The young delinquent spoke through gritted teeth.

“Fine. Yes, we are. We have been for at least a week now. I love her. It’s simple. Why are you asking me? You could have easily just gotten the same information from her.” Rohan took another sip of tea, hiding his face behind the cup as he tried to figure out how the young man would react.

Josuke’s hands reached out from across the table, grabbing Rohan by the collar and dragging him off to the side, so he could pull him in closer. The smashing of glass on the quiet block alerted the hostesses as they worriedly watched.

“Rohan-sensei! Do you need us to call the police?!” Shouted one of the waitresses, who had reached for her cellphone behind the counter.

“No, everything's alright. I can handle this.” Rohan waved her off, Josuke still dangling the man in the air.

“You better not be doing this to get back at me. I can take the teasing and the jabs at my intelligence, but I won’t let you make a mockery of my sister and her feelings.” Josuke lowered the man down, taking a breath to relax himself, then began to drag the manga artist off the café patio.

“Hey! Release me, you brute! Where are you taking me?!” Rohan struggled in his hold, trying to call Heaven’s Door out to control Josuke.

“We’re going to see y/n.” Rohan stopped fighting and instead calmly placed his hand on Josuke’s shoulder.

The boy stopped, turning around to meet Rohan’s stern face.

“I’ll go with you, just stop manhandling me.” Josuke stared into him, debating with himself, then let the manga artist go.

Rohan stumbled back to his feet, dusting himself off as he grumbled under his breath about how rude Josuke was being to him.

The two walked side by side towards the Higashikata residence. When they were nearly a block away, Josuke spotted you being dropped off by Jotaro. You waved goodbye to the older man, but turned around to face them after.

“Good grief.” Jotaro rolled his eyes with a sigh, leaning against the car as you spotted your brother and your boyfriend angrily walking toward you.

“What do you think is up with them?” You asked, curious as to why both seemed to be in foul moods.

“Looks like your brother found out who your boyfriend is. I’m only staying because I don’t want an unnecessary stand fight.” The marine biologist pouted to himself, annoyed.

You looked back at the pair, shaking your head in annoyance as well.

“I should have just told him from the start. I knew Rohan couldn’t keep quiet about this.” You motioned to the two of them to speed up, so you could talk.

As they reached you, Josuke grabbed onto Rohan again, dragging him by his collar with one hand.

“Why must you fling me around like a rag doll!? I already agreed to come with you!” Rohan shouted, squirming in Josuke’s death grip.

“Use Heaven’s Door on her.” Josuke mumbled to the mangaka.

All he could do was shake his head in response, his eyes wide at the order given to him by the delinquent. Suddenly, a second hand came up to grip the other side of Rohan’s collar, both now shaking him violently.

“I said use Heaven’s Door! I want to be sure you aren’t messing with her!” The tears that welled up in Josuke’s eyes shocked you.

You’d seen Josuke cry before, but these tears were different. He looked scared.

“Josuke, stop it! There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

You placed a hand on Josuke’s back, your touch pausing his tirade and causing him to drop his hold on the artist. Helping him up, you touch Rohan’s cheek and nod to him.

“Rohan, I give you permission to use Heaven’s Door on me right now.” He shook his head again, adamant about his refusal.

“I won’t use it on you. Not for that bastard or for you. It’s not right.” You could tell how upset this was making Rohan. He turned his head away from you, not allowing you to meet his gaze.

“Rohan, please. He’s just scared. Just this once. I’ll never ask for you to do this again.” He finally meets your eyes and sighs.

His hands carefully touch your cheek as he whispers Heaven’s Door. The pages on your face open up and prevent you from moving, but you happily look up at the man, reassuring him that you felt safe and accepted this. Josuke came from behind the artist, flipping through all your pages quickly, searching for any scribblings Rohan could have made.

A few minutes pass and Josuke is finally content with his search. He closes the book on your face and your movement returns to you.

“See. Everything was fine. I really do like him. A lot, actually.” You pinch Josuke’s cheek.

Josuke pulls you into a tight hug as you feel his stress melt away. The mangaka crosses his arms, an angry pout on his face. All you can do is sigh and return the hug.

“I just wanted to be sure. If you were to get hurt because of me, I don’t know how I’d live with that.” He squeezes you tighter, your breath leaving your body quickly from his sheer strength.

“Josuke, it’s fine! Trust me! Now let go, you're crushing me.” You squirm, but your brother refuses to budge.

“I don’t think I will. If I let go, you’re gonna go give Rohan a hug, and I don’t want to see that.” The boy then lifts you with little effort and attempts to run, but his plan is foiled when your stand manifests and wraps around his legs, keeping him from moving.

“I see how it is, y/n. Fine, go be with your boyfriend, but no lovey-dovey stuff.” Your vines unwrap his legs as he sets you down.

You give your brother one last hug and a smile, running into Rohan’s arms. He still looks upset, but when you nuzzle into his chest, his anger melts away.

“I’m sorry you had to do that. It had to happen, though, so don’t be too mad at me. I’ll make it up to you, promise.” You look up at him, still in his arms, he leaves a quick peck on your cheek followed by a hefty sigh.

“You’re lucky I’m such a forgiving man.”

[starvine]

first date headcanons

attack on titan (modern au)

summary: some first date headcanons with some of the attack on titan characters. 

warnings: none, just fluff :)

eren jaeger: movie 

a little basic but it’s all eren could come up with

besides, it was between a movie and dinner and dinner felt too formal so y’all decided on a movie

he’d let you pick the movie tho

he might argue with you if it’s something stupid and claim that it’s horribly written (as if he knows a thing) but that’s it

eren would make sure to get the BEST snacks. spicy food? check. candy? check. popcorn? check. fruits? check.

he just wants to impress you (even if he did have to confide in his friends for some advice)

he just really likes you

during the movie, you guys would start shifting closer to each other, both a little too timid to move all the way all at once

but you guys would make commentary throughout the movie, laughing when things seem too cliché or when a character says something funny

half way throughout the movie, you guys aren’t even really paying attention it it

you’re too busy throwing popcorn at each other and trying to catch it in your mouths, feeding each other candy, and giggling at each other

it’s intimate in its own relaxed way, which makes eren realize how perfect you are

you both could make the most out of a pretty average first date situation and make it into a beyond amazing first date

and that was all he needed to ask you on a second date before he dropped you off at your car, walking with you to make sure you got there safely

and ngl you’d be a bit of a fool to say no to eren

armin arlert: aquarium 

sweetheart is so nervous 

before he came to your apartment to pick you up for your date, he was a little nervous wreck 

he was fidgeting with his fingers, playing with the buttons on his shirt--he probably accidentally opened one by accident 

but once he saw you, he felt fine 

it was as if he physically melted, you just make everything okay 

once you guys got to the aquarium, he would NOT shut up

he was probably pointing things out, telling you fun facts, asking you what is your favorite marine life 

“oh, you like pufferfish? that’s cool! i like them too. they’re very... puffy.” 

he’s like a child in a candy store 

but while he’s rambling about how the digestive system of a sea cucumber basically cleans the ocean, he’s wondering how he should make a move 

he doesn’t want to scare you off or anything, but he doesn’t want you to be disappointed 

but while you guys are looking at one of those large fish tanks, the ones where you walk through a tunnel, you guys just sort of stand there and watch in awe

or rather armin watches in awe while you look at him, a soft smile gracing his pink lips as his eyes dart across the illustriously blue colored glass

and when he feels your pinky latch onto his, he’s a little shocked that you had made the first move

he didn’t not expect it per say, he just thought that he would be the one to make the first move 

but his overthinking got in the way

and when he turns to look down at your intertwined pinkies, he caught you sending him a delicate smile that made his heart squeeze until he felt as if every part of him was on fire

but it was him who finally held your hand fully 

he just needed you to give him the extra push

mikasa ackerman: book store 

it’s a very calming atmosphere, which is something you’d both need for this first date

mikasa is probably pretty anxious for the first date, and wants to make sure you’re okay and enjoying yourself while also making sure she’s okay and enjoying herself

so the calming scent of the book store and the quietness is perfect for her to multitask between mediating the two

you’d both be tasked with picking each other books and then buying them for each other

so initially mikasa was nervous because she wasn’t sure what to get you but then you asked what she liked to read and so that allowed her to ask the same, making the situation less stressful

and all while you two are walking from isle to isle, eyes scanning the various book titles and covers, she sneaks glances at you and how pretty you look

and the fact that you seem very deep in thought, heavily concentrated on getting her the right book, makes her feel less concerned on whether or not you’d rather be with her or not

the answer is obviously a yes but mikasa has a hard time understanding that sometimes

so when you give her the book you bought for her, making sure to lightly touch her fingers while you hand it to her, she already knows that another date is what she wants you both to have or else she’ll probably explode

and based off of how flushed she looks, the possibility of her exploding is not highly unlikely

you guys will sit at this little table in the corner of the store, reading your books

i can picture mikasa annotating certain lines that remind her of you, making mental notes to show you later

overall, the date is pretty lowkey and very sweet

connie springer: dave + busters/bowling

ok there’s not much of an explanation for this one besides the point that if feels right

like connie is pretty energetic and i feel like you can learn a lot about a person based off of the games they’re drawn to 

hence the arcade

i think connie really likes those racing games or the zombie shooting games

he also claims he’s really good at ski ball (he’s not, he’s trash)

so a good portion of the date consists of you just laughing at him the whole time cuz in all honestly he’s not the best at games but he enjoys them for the fun of them

he’d definitely cheer you on when you were playing or try to mess you up if it was you two against each other

but either way he’d give you a hug or a pat on the head after every game

even if u beat him

he’d probably try to sneak a kiss when you guys were in one of those shooting games that requires a booth and the curtains drawn (does that make sense?)

it’s not really romantic like at all, especially since it smells like a million different people in there, but it’s very low stress so in all honesty that’s what makes the kiss nice

and after you guys had used up all your tokens, you’d combine your tickets and pick something together

your prizes would mostly consist of candy and him insisting he get you a plastic gem ring so you can always remember your first date together

it was also his little, strange way of asking you for a second date

levi ackerman: art museum 

unlike connie, he’s not super energetic

so a museum is right up his alley

levi’s a bit awkward, he doesn���t really know how to talk to you

and especially since you’re lovely, his words jumble together and he gets all flustered

so a nice, quiet museum exhibit is perfect for him

it’s a nice balance between casual and formal, so you both dress nice but aren’t restricted by the need to be super polite and stuff

he’d probably like it when you try to imitate the poses that are shown in the paintings or sculptures

just imagine the soft chuckle he’d be unable to prevent from escaping his lips which then melts into a soft smirk

beautiful, beautiful lad

he probably wouldn’t join you though, he doesn’t want to embarrass himself

he just smiles at you and stares at the art, reading the background info they give on those little plates near them

but he would notice when you stare at him

he could be looking at some art made during the dutch golden age, but as soon as your head slightly tilted in his direction, his cheeks would HEAT up

you almost asked him if he was feeling alright he was so red

but as the date went on, levi really just thought about how much he enjoyed your presence

and he’s not a wicked talkative guy so being able to feel comfortable with someone even if you aren’t talking or doing much is pretty important to him

as the date concludes, levi finally works up the courage to place his hand on your shoulder, asking if there was anything else you wanted to see before the museum closes for the day

his face might be bright red, but the smile you give him makes him feel a little less embarrassed

what can you say, you’ve got charm 💅

hange: the fucking zoo

ok i won’t lie when i got the idea of hange taking you to the zoo for your first date i thought it was so funny and idk why

like they’d be so excited that they’d nearly forget that they’re on a date with you

they’d drag you around from exhibit to exhibit, pointing out the exact breed of tortoise or some really strange fact about the zebras without looking at the little description panel in front of the exhibit

it’s pretty comical

but then randomly, when you guys are sitting down and eating some fries from one of the concession stands, they start going on a rant about animal cruelty and how a lot of zoos don’t treat the animals properly

and you’re just sitting there like “what 🧍‍♀️” cuz they’re mood changed so quickly LMAO

and as soon as their rant started, it finishes and they’re rushing you to the reptile exhibit

they’d probably try to figure out if they could hold one of the snakes

you’d have to drag them out of there before they start harassing one of the workers into letting them hold a snake

they’d also give all of the animals names only to forget them in 2 seconds

“hey, robert, it’s good to see you again!” “hange, i thought you named them dante?” “oh... did i? 😁”

however there’s probably like one animal they absolutely despise and idk why but i feel like it’s parrots

y’all would be walking through this rainforest exhibit, birds flying from tree to tree and the whole time they’re cursing the birds under their breath for no reason at all

just an angry person walking through a rainforest exhibit, cursing out birds

pretty normal if you ask me

however, the date itself is pretty casual and almost feels like you guys are just hanging out

or it would if they didn’t ask you out on another date before dropping you off at home, kissing your cheek as their farewell

pieck finger: café

very simple and quaint

i feel like pieck has a coffee addiction and always puts her in a better mood

so what better place to go on a date then a café?

she’s definitely an iced coffee drinker, and will occasionally go for a hot drink but usually iced coffee is her go-to

and if you get a coffee or tea that she also happens to like, you’re already practically golden in her eyes

since pieck has a very soothing and lowkey nature, i can see the date being much more just like a conversation with someone you’ve known for forever instead of interview-y which is something i’ve found coffee/lunch/dinner dates to be a bit like

but pieck knows how to keep things interesting and she’s a pretty calming person to be around so all is well

i also can’t see her getting super nervous before the date

she seems pretty calm unless in high-stress situations, but even then, she’s pretty level-headed

but since she’s so calm, it makes you wonder if she really cares for the date

and of COURSE she does, she’s so excited about it

it’s just the way pieck is

but as the date continues, she’d probably start to tease you by playing footsies under the table

you gotta keep the date interesting, you know?

you guys would talk about your interests, family, friends, shows you’re watching

literally just anything and everything that’ll allow you guys to get a feel for each other

and if all goes well she’ll definitely suggest another date ;)

also don’t expect to leave without her either writing something cute on your cup, pressing a lip-stick stained kiss to your cheek that matches the one surrounding the rim of her cup, or a promise that your game of footsies will continue next time you see each other

[lumosandnoxwriting]

Inked Up - Fred Weasley

Title: Inked up Pairing: Fred x Fem!Muggle!TattooArtist!Reader Warnings: NSFW!! Dirty talk, fingering, female receiving oral, unprotected sex, choking. There is also mention of needles!! Summary: Fred never thought he’d get a tattoo. But of course when a pretty girl offers he can’t say no. A/N: Summary is shit but again, what else is new. I had a dream about Fred getting a tattoo and couldn’t stop thinking about it so here you guys go lol. Thank you to everyone who suggested tattoo ideas!! Feedback is always welcome!! Tags: not tagging anyone as I am unsure who is 18+!

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Charlie watches Molly disappear back into the kitchen after dropping off some hot chocolate to everyone in the living room, muttering something about starting to prep the food for tomorrow’s feast. After the war he’s made an effort to come home more often, but it’s been a few months since he’s seen all of his siblings, and he’s made a major upgrade to his body that he’s been dying to show off.

“Finally thought she’d never leave.” Everyone turns to look at Charlie and he gives them a smile. “I wanna show you guys something.”

When Charlie starts to take off his shirt Fred puts his hands up. “Woah there, Char. Do I have to remind you that we’re all related to you?” he jokes. “Although some of us not yet,” he teases, nudging Harry with his foot. He and Ginny got engaged a few months ago and as her older brother Fred has taken it upon himself to tease them both about it every chance he gets.

“Oh, screw off, Fred. I got a tattoo you prat,” Charlie explains as he pulls his shirt off over his head. He turns around so everyone can see the ink on his shoulder blade. It’s a rather amazing portrait of a Hungarian horntail, and they all gasp as its wings start to flap and fire shoots out of its nose. “Sick, right?”

Fred stares at it in awe, watching it move over and over again. He’s never really thought about getting a tattoo or any real body modifications. He watched Katie Bell pierce Alicia Spinnet’s ears with a needle and an ice cube in the common room second year, and that was enough for him to decide that he never wanted to do anything like that to his own body. But now, watching the tattoo on his brother’s back move he can’t help but wonder what a tattoo would look like on his own body.

“Looks wicked, Charlie,” Ginny comments. “Does mum know?”

Charlie shakes his head with a laugh and pulls his shirt back on before turning back to face his siblings. “No, and no one in this room is gonna tell her.”

“I dunno, Charlie. Mum’s been giving me crap about my earring for years, might be nice to not hear about it for a while,” Bill teases.

Charlie throws a pillow at Bill, and everyone gets back to what they were doing before Charlie’s announcement, except for Fred, who’s still thinking about the tattoo on his brother’s back.

-

Like most decisions in Fred’s life, his decision to get a tattoo is impulsive. He’s been thinking about getting a tattoo since Charlie showed his off on Christmas Eve, so when he’s heading back towards Diagon Alley with coffee for him and George it seems natural for him to take a detour into a tattoo shop. Six months is a fairly long time to think about something and he doesn’t seem the harm in just merely looking around.

“Hi, can I help you with something?”

Fred pulls his attention away from the art that litters the walls of the small space towards the counter in front of him. He’d been so mesmerized by the atmosphere that he didn’t even notice the young woman standing just a few feet away. But now that he has, he can’t seem to look away.

She is by far the most beautiful woman Fred has ever seen. Her long hair cascades down her back and there’s light reflecting off of the small diamond of her nose piercing. The variety of simple, black line art tattoos that crawl up her left arm stand out on her skin, and Fred let’s his eyes trace over them for a moment. He lets his eyes trail back up to hers and he gives her his signature smirk.

“I’ve been thinking about getting a tattoo, actually,” Fred explains, stepping up to the counter. He rests his hands on the counter and leans on them, and Fred watches as the young women’s eyes trace the muscles and veins of his forearms.

“Well you’ve come to the right place,” the young woman responds as her eyes meet Fred’s once again. There’s a fresh pink tint to her cheeks and it makes Fred’s heart beat faster in his chest. “Do you have any idea of what you’d want to get?”

“I’ve got a few, I think. I dunno, I don’t want to pick the wrong thing and end up with something I hate on my body for the rest of my life, ya know?” he chuckles.

“That’s part of the thrill isn’t it?” she asks. Her eyes are bright with mischief, and Fred can feel himself swooning. “I’ve got a fair few tattoos that I picked out just a few minutes before my appointment. Sometimes life shouldn’t be taken so seriously. And if you really hate something you can always get it covered up later.”

Fred lets his eyes trace some of her tattoos again while he waits for his heart rate to calm down. He’s already become enamored by this woman and he doesn’t even know her name. “Well you’ve convinced me then. D’you have any suggestions? Being an expert and all,” he flirts.

The flush on the woman’s cheeks deepens and Fred practically drools when she pulls her plump bottom lip between her teeth as she thinks. “Well since you’re a virgin, a tattoo virgin,” she clarifies when Fred snickers. “I’d recommend something simple and meaningful. That way if you realize tattoos aren’t for you at least the one you have means something. And if tattoos are for you, the boring one is already out of the way and your next one can be something fun.”

“Like a meaningful date, something like that?” Fred asks, a few different ideas swimming around in his mind.

“As long as it’s not an anniversary with a girlfriend. I can’t tell you how many of those I’ve had to cover up,” the young woman laughs.

“No girlfriend, so no worries there,” Fred responds, unable to miss the excited look that crosses the woman’s face. “I’m Fred, by the way.”

The woman holds out her hand, a shiver running down her spine when Fred grabs it. “I’m Y/N.” After their handshake the linger with their hands clasped together, both a little reluctant to let go.

-

Fred makes an appointment for a tattoo that evening, and by the time he stops at Gringotts to grab some muggle money and heads into the joke shop both the coffees in his hand have gone cold.

“Took you long enough, git. Did you get lost?” George teases, using his wand to rewarm both of their drinks. One Saturday a month they keep the shop closed and use the opportunity to rearrange the shelves, inventory the products so they can put orders into their suppliers and make up new displays. They never want the store to seem boring or stagnant, and this one day a month allows them to keep things interesting.

“I had to make a few stops on the way,” Fred explains, starting to dig through a box of whizbangs.

“Okay mister secretive,” George huffs. “You finally get a girlfriend you haven’t told me about?”

Fred doesn’t look up from what he’s doing, knowing the flush on his cheeks will only cause George to tease him further. “You’re an idiot.” He had planned on keeping his tattoo a secret for a bit, something just for him. But there are few things in the world Fred keeps from George. “I’m gonna get a tattoo.”

“Oh?” George asks in surprise. “You’ve never talked about it before.”

Fred shrugs. “Just been thinking about it, for a bit. Since Charlie showed us his at Christmas. I never thought it’d be something for me but, it seemed cool. I noticed a shop on my way back and popped in. Just to see what it was about. But I started talking to the girl in there-“

“Ah,” George says in realization, cutting Fred off. “A pretty girl convinced you to get one. I see, I see,” he teases.

Fred looks up at George this time and whips a whizbang box at his head. “I didn’t say she was pretty.”

“That blush on your cheeks does though,” George responds with a chuckle.

“You’re an asshat.”

George rolls his eyes. “So, what did the pretty girl say that made you get a tattoo?”

George seems genuinely interested, so Fred chooses to ignore the teasing tone he has. “That life isn’t so serious.”

“That’s it? This woman must be drop dead gorgeous if that’s all it took for you to decide to put something on your body forever.”

“I mean that wasn’t what she said verbatim. And it sounded better when she said it,” Fred insists, throwing another whizbang box at George. He cheers when it hits his brother in the chest and he ducks his head when George whips it right back at him. “And even though it’s none of your business and it had no bearing on my decision, she was hot as hell.”

-

When Fred returns to the shop that night his knees are shaking slightly, and he has butterflies in his stomach. He’s excited and scared at the same time, but all around ready for this new experience. Y/N is already waiting for him at the counter when he steps in the shop, and the warm smile she shoots him does wonders to calm his nerves.

“Long time no see,” he greets smoothly, coming up to stand in front of the counter again.

“Sorry who are you again?” she teases with a wink. Y/N has been looking forward to Fred’s return since the moment the shop door shut behind him. It’s rare someone as handsome and charming as Fred walks into the shop, and the chemistry between them had been too heavy to deny. Y/N’s one major rule is to refrain from sleeping with her clients, but one look at Fred’s muscles bulging in his thin t-shirt had her ready to jump over the counter and into his strong arms.

Fred gasps and places a hand on his chest, feigning hurt. “Am I really that unforgettable?”

“There are many words I would use to describe you, Fred. And unforgettable is not one of them,” she responds, making her voice as sultry as possible.

Fred had a feeling Y/N had been attracted to him when he came into the shop earlier, but her confirmation leaves a warm feeling in his chest. He hasn’t stopped thinking about her since this morning and he hopes he leaves this appointment with more than just a tattoo. “Really? Care to share a few?”

“I care to share more than a few things with you, Fred. But we’ve got other things to attend to first.” Y/N bites her lip, letting her eyes rake up and down Fred’s body for a moment, before motioning for him to follow her. She leads Fred over to her station where she’d already started to get things set up. “Here’s the stencil I drew up, it’s pretty simple so I can always add more if you want.”

Fred takes the piece of paper from Y/N, letting his finger graze the back of her hand for a moment. “It’s perfect, Y/N.”

Y/N smiles at Fred taking the stencil back from him. “Great. Where do you want it to go?”

Fred bites his lip and he makes direct eye contact with Y/N as he pulls his shirt off over his head. He watches her eyes drop down to his torso for a moment and he tenses his ab muscles for a moment. “I was thinking right here,” he starts, grabbing Y/N’s attention again. He gestures to the area under his right pec. “The uh, what’s this called? Under boob area?” he chuckles.

“The pec?” she asks with a laugh, unable to keep her eyes from wandering down to Fred’s bare torso. Apart from a few random scars his skin is milky white and perfect. Obviously he takes care of his body, and Y/N can tell his muscles are hard and toned. She wants to dig her nails into his flesh, but she’ll settle with digging her tattoo needle into it first.

“The pec, right. That’s what it’s called.” As Y/N prepares to put the stencil on his skin Fred lets himself admire her. The skirt she’s wearing is short, and it exposes half of a large tattoo on her right thigh. Fred is imagining what it would feel like to sink his teeth into it, when Y/N is touching his chest lightly.

“There,” she says as she finishes putting the stencil on. “Go check it out in the mirror and see what you think. I can make it bigger or smaller if you want and we can change the placement up too.”

Fred watches as Y/N turns around to do something at her station, his eyes focused on the way the fabric of her skirt clings to her ass. When Y/N turns around and catches him looking he smirks. “Oh, was I supposed to be checking out the tattoo? My mistake.” Fred winks at her before turning towards the mirror and examining how the stencil looks on his skin.

“Look good?” Y/N asks when Fred turns back around. She sits down in her chair and motions for Fred to lay back on the table.

“Looks perfect,” Fred confirms. He feels his nerves start to return ss he climbs up on the table and lays back. He watches as Y/N pulls on a pair of gloves and smiles at her when she looks down at him. “You do have your license to do this, right? Probably should have asked that before we got this far.”

Y/N laughs. “You’re in safe hands, Fred. I promise.” She grabs her gun and turns it on before gently dips the needle into the maroon ink Fred had picked out earlier. “Let me know if you need a break or the pain is too intense, okay?”

“Roger that.” The hum of the gun is somewhat soothing to Fred and he takes a deep breath, slowly releasing it as Y/N presses the gun to the first line. “Oh,” he breathes, eyes wide. “Not as bad as I thought it would be.”

Y/N chuckles as she starts to trace the stencil, pausing for a moment to collect some more ink. “Told ya you were in safe hands.” She continues to ink Fred’s skin for a moment, trying not to pay attention to how close they are. “So why this date? You said you don’t have a girlfriend but it’s far too recent to be your birthday, unless you’re a very mature three-year-old.” she asks, trying to distract herself from how bad she wants to climb on top of him.

Fred holds in his laugh until Y/N has pulled the gun away from his skin. “It’s uh, the day that I almost died, actually,” he mumbles, wiping his sweaty palms off on his jeans. It’s been just over three years since the Battle of Hogwarts, and even though Fred’s nightmares about that night have long since stopped talking about it never fails to make him emotional.

“Oh,” Y/N says softly, starting to trace the numbers once again. “That’s um. Sorry, I’m not sure what to say. I really wasn’t expecting you to say that.”

“It’s okay. That’s what all the scars are from, actually. Freak accident, a stone wall collapsed on top of me.” For a moment Fred is actually glad that he can lie to Y/N about his brush with death. Hearing that he was nearly murdered during the final battle of a war against a dark wizard is far more terrifying. “I felt powerless for a long time after it happened, which is why I wanted to get this tattoo. Take back some of the power I lost.”

“Wow, Fred. That’s really beautiful.” Y/N undeniably feels attracted to Fred, and she’s starting to realize it goes far deeper than just wanting him in her bed. He’s charismatic and charming, but there’s sincerity and softness in there too. “I got a rose for my first tattoo because it’s my Mum’s name and I figured it would make her less angry.”

Fred chuckles, thankful for Y/N’s distraction. “Did it work?”

“Not at all,” Y/N reveals. “She didn’t talk to me, for weeks. She’s okay with it now, especially since it’s my career. But yeah she was pretty pissed for a long time.”

“And that’s exactly why I don’t plan on ever telling my Mum. My older brother pierced his ear years ago and she still gives him crap about it even though he’s married with a kid now. I will never hear the end of it if she finds out about this.”

“Guess this will have to be our dirty little secret,” Y/N teases with a wink.

“As long as it’s not the only dirty think between us,” Fred fires back, smirking when her cheeks flush pink.

Y/N rolls her eyes to try and downplay how turned on she is. “Keep it in your pants a little bit longer, Fred. We’re almost done here.”

“As long as you promise to help me take it out of my pants later on,” Fred suggests with a wink.

“You’re one cheeky bastard. Has anyone ever told you that?” Y/N asks as she finishes up the tattoo. She turns her gun off and puts it down, before grabbing a paper towel to wipe off the access ink.

“Many times, though it sounds much better coming from your mouth.” Fred sits up slowly, and heads over to the mirror to examine the tattoo. The ink is the same color as his old Gryffindor Quidditch Robes and the font is simple, but Fred is completely enamored by it. His eyes trace over the numbers over and over again, like they might disappear if he looks away.

“You like it?” Y/N asks, watching Fred as she cleans her station up.

Fred turns to look at Y/N, a huge smile on his face. “It’s absolutely perfect. You did an amazing job.”

“Thank you, Fred.” Y/N feels like she’s on cloud 9, and she slowly approaches Fred so she can finish up the appointment. “Now you’ll need to wash it a few times a day with unscented soap and pat it dry with a paper towel and apply some ointment to it as well. As it heals it’ll itch like crazy but try your hardest not to scratch it. You should wear a loose shirt for the first few days, so the tattoo doesn’t stick to it.” Y/N places a piece of clingfilm on Fred’s chest, subtly feeling his hard muscles as she smoothes it out. “You have to leave this on for a few hours. Sound good?” Y/N looks up at Fred then, letting out a small gasp at how intense his gaze is.

“Sounds perfect.” As Y/N starts to pull her hands away Fred grabs them in his and brings her into his chest. He intertwines their fingers with one hand, while the other comes up to cup her cheek. “Can I kiss you?” When Y/N nods weakly Fred leans down and presses their lips together in a slow kiss.

As they kiss it starts to turn desperate and Y/N whines as Fred’s hands start to shove up the back of her shirt. “As much as I would love to fuck you right here we’d be breaking about 20 different health code violations,” Y/N pants as Fred starts to trail kisses down her neck. “There’s a staircase, in the back. It leads up to my flat. I need to fuck,” her sentence cuts off with a moan as Fred starts to suck a mark into her skin.

“I need to fuck too,” Fred jokes, pulling away from her slightly. “I’ll wait for you upstairs while you do whatever you need to down here, yeah?” Fred kisses Y/N again briefly before forcing himself away. He grabs his t-shirt and looks over his shoulder at Y/N one last time before he heads off towards her flat.

“Fucking finally,” Y/N groans a few minutes later when she’s joining Fred. She pushes him up against her front door, one of her hands grabbing his neck to pull him into a kiss, while the other goes to his crotch and palms his hardening erection through his trousers. “You have no idea how hard it was for me to not jump on you the second you laid back on that table.”

Fred moans as Y/N grips him through his trousers, her lips biting at the sensitive skin on his neck. “Do you have any idea how unbelievably sexy I find you? The second I saw you I wanted to bend you over that fucking counter and ruin you.” Fred brings their lips together again in a hot kiss as Y/N opens the door and shoves Fred into her flat.

Y/N lives in a small studio, so it’s easy for her to guide Fred over to her bed while they kiss. She pushes him back onto her bed and kicks off her shoes before climbing back over him. “Fuck I so wish you had, Fred. I spent all day thinking about your hands and your stupid arm muscles.”

“Let me show you what I can do with these hands then, princess.” Fred kicks off his shoes before flipping them over. He starts to press open mouthed kisses to the column of Y/N’s throat as his hands move under her shirt and up her torso. His hands cup her breasts, and when his thumbs rub over Y/N’s nipples he lets out a surprised gasp. “Holy fucking shit that’s hot. Take your shirt off.”

Y/N laughs as she sits up enough to pull her shirt off over her head. She tosses it away and as soon as her back is against the bed again, Fred’s hands are cupping and massaging her breasts. He’s watching her intensely and it sends a shiver down her spine. Y/N lets out a low moan as Fred’s thumbs start to toy with the silver barbells in her nipples.

Fred leans down and takes one of her nipples into his mouth, moaning when the cool metal touches his warm tongue. The tip of the tongue joys with the jewelry for a few moments before Fred’s teeth nibble at the sensitive bud. Y/N’s moans spur him on, and he starts to grind his erection against her thigh. “You are so fucking sexy, Y/N.”

“More, Fred, please,” Y/N pants. Fred’s every manipulation on her breasts is sending shocks of pleasure right to her aching core, and Y/N is desperate for more. “Show me what else your hands can do.”

Fred reluctantly gets off of the bed to rid himself of the rest of his clothes, motioning for Y/N to do the same. “Can’t wait to bury my fingers in you,” Fred growls as he settles back in between Y/N’s legs. He bends Y/N’s knees and pushes her thighs back as far as they’ll go so she’s completely spread open for him. He starts to slowly trail his fingers up her thigh watching as goosebumps erupt in their wake. “Such a pretty pussy you have, princess. And so wet too.” Fred’s thumb starts to slowly rub through Y/N’s folds, his eyes watching Y/N’s face. “This all for me, princess?”

Y/N moans as Fred’s thumb starts to slowly rub circles on her clit. “All for you Fred, fuck. Need more, please.”

“Need what?” he teases, his index finger slowly starting to trace her dripping entrance. “Need my fingers to fuck your desperate cunt?”

“Fred,” Y/N moans as he finally sinks his index finger into her. She starts to toy with her nipples as he adds another finger, slowly curling them as he pumps them in and out of her.

“Such a tight cunt, princess,” Fred coos. He watches as Y/N writhes underneath him, mesmerized by the way her teeth tug at her bottom lip. “My cock might split you in two if I try and fuck you.” Y/N lets out a low moan at that and Fred smirks. “You like that, princess? You want my cock to split you open?”

Y/N nods, too busy panting and moaning to actually answer Fred. His fingers are hitting her g-spot with every thrust and his thumb is rubbing hard circles on her clit. Arousal is building in her stomach at a rapid pace, and just the thought of Fred splitting her open on his cock nearly pushes her over the edge.

“Come on my fingers first, princess. Then I’m gonna fuck you so hard you forget your name.” Fred focuses on bringing Y/N to her climax then, quickening the speed at which his fingers are fucking into her. He replaces the thumb that’s rubbing at her clit with his mouth, immediately sucking the sensitive bud between his lips and nibbling on it gently.

“Oh fuck, Freddie,” Y/N moans as she hits her climax, her legs shutting from the pleasure, trapping Fred’s head between her thighs. He starts to moan around her clit, sending extra shockwaves of pleasure through Y/N’s body. Her back arches as another mini orgasm rips through her body, her hips grinding down onto Fred’s face. “Oh my god,” Y/N gasps as she starts to come down, her legs relaxing so Fred can sit up.

“Such a good girl princess,” he praises, bringing the fingers that had been in Y/N up to her mouth. She immediately brings them between her lips and sucks, letting her tongue wrap around them as she tastes herself on the digits. Fred’s cock twitches as he imagines her mouth wrapped around something else, and he has to pull his fingers away to keep from coming at the sight. “You taste so good, don’t you princess?”

Y/N hums in confirmation, and she reaches up to grab Fred, pulling him down into a kiss. She lets her tongue roam around his mouth, moaning into it. “Fuck me Fred, please. Need you now.”

Fred grabs one of Y/N’s legs and hitches it over his shoulder, gripping the base of his cock to line up with her entrance. Her folds are glistening, and he can’t resist letting the tip of his cock run through them. “Such a warm cunt, princess. Gonna make my cock feel so good.” Fred starts to slowly push his hips forward not stopping until his hips are pushed flush to Y/N’s. “Oh my fuck, princess. Such a tight little pussy you have. Gripping my cock so well.”

“Move Fred, please,” Y/N begs, her own hips starting to buck up in search of friction. “Fuck me hard, please. Want you to ruin me.”

Fred leans over Y/N and braces himself on one of his hands, starting to pound into her relentlessly. “Not gonna touch your clit, princess,” Fred grunts as he lands a hard thrust. “Wanna see if I can get you to come from just my cock.”

Y/N moans and grips Fred’s shoulders with her hands to avoid touching herself. Fred is fucking into her deeply, and the head of his cock is rubbing her g-spot with every movement. “Stretching me out so good, Freddie,” Y/N groans. “Feel so full. Love being full of your cock.”

Fred leans down to peck Y/N’s lips several times before his head dips down to briefly toy with her nipple. “Fuck, princess. Making such pretty noises for me.” Y/N’s mouth is hanging open, a mixture of moans, pants and whines leaving her lips. “Can I try something, princess? Let me know if you don’t like it okay?”

“I trust you, Fred.”

Fred wraps the hand he isn’t supporting himself on around Y/N’s throat, just barely applying pressure to the sides. He groans as her walls tighten around his cock, applying just a bit more pressure. “This okay, princess? Need to hear your words.”

“Yes, Fred,” Y/N gasps. “Choke me harder.” When Fred applies more pressure Y/N’s eyes roll to the back of her head, her walls clenching and twitching around Fred as she suddenly hits her climax.

“Such a good girl, princess. So good for me,” Fred praises, releasing Y/N’s throat so she can breathe normally as she comes down from her orgasm. “Gonna come, princess. Can I fill you up? Wanna be full of my come?”

Y/N nods, clenching around Fred to help him reach his climax. “Fill me up Fred, please. Wanna feel your cum dripping down my thighs.”

That does it for Fred, and his hips stutter as he starts to shoot his load deep inside of Y/N. He rolls his hips slowly as he comes down, only pulling out when his cock has finished twitching. He stays between Y/N’s legs for a moment, watching her folds flutter as some of his release starts to drip out of her and down onto the bed. He collapses on the bed next to Y/N and opens an arm for her to cuddle into his chest.

“Fuck that was hot,” she giggles, pressing a few kisses to Fred’s sweaty skin. One of her arms winds around his waist, squeezing slightly. “You can stay the night. If you want. No pressure or anything,” she rambles, embarrassment washing over her.

Fred tilts her chin up, leaning down to press a sweet kiss to her lips. “Darling, not even a fire would get me up out of this bed away from you.”

-

When Fred wakes up in the morning Y/N is still asleep, cuddled up under the blanket with his t-shirt on. He presses a soft kiss to her forehead before getting out of bed and stumbling to the bathroom. Before they passed out, Y/N had shown him how to properly take care of his tattoo and he starts to repeat the process. Once it’s clean and he’s applied a thin layer of ointment, Fred just let’s his finger trace over the fresh ink, watching himself in the mirror.

“So? Do you regret it?” Y/N asks, leaning against the doorway to the bathroom.

Fred turns to look at her, crossing his arms over his chest. “The tattoo? Or the sex?”

Y/N ponders his questions for a moment. “Both.”

“No to both,” Fred answers honestly. He opens his arms, and Y/N immediately presses herself against his front, winding her arms around his middle. Fred grips her waist with one hand, while the other starts to gently rub her back.

“When do you think you’ll want more?” Y/N asks, looking up at Fred.

“Tattoos? Or sex?” he asks with a grin.

“Both,” Y/N repeats.

Fred bites his lip. “Tattoo maybe in a few weeks, once this one is healed up. But the sex? I’d say right now.” He leans down to press a kiss to Y/N’s mouth, slowly walking them back over to her bed.

[literaphobe]

Two questions:

1. What do you feel about CorpsexSykunno ship?

I feel like it's MarkiplierxJacksepticeye all over again, starts out innocent and turns uncomfortable.

(Also I think real people shipping is gross in general)

2. Dream smp makes me so nervous, not necessarily because of any of the members but due to (1) the history of online teams dominated (and lead) by male influencers, (2) minecraft youtube's general history of exploiting fans. I feel like it's going to end badly. You seem to be enjoying it tho, and it's definitely up my alley, should I get into it?

1. Corpse and Sykkuno are not comfortable being shipped! Neither of them are okay with being shipped with ANY of their friends in general, so like, don’t do it, or if u do like. i guess just don’t say anything about it? it’s really not hard to just enjoy their friendship. like it’s an endearing friendship n there’s nothing wrong w liking it. but. nothing more u know. plus both of them have made it clear on several occasions that they’re both straight and my gaydar agrees JFKDKDK like they’re just. Friends. Who care about each other :)

I definitely think it’s not like the markiplier x jacksepticeye situation, because for one u have jack himself telling people not to ship etc etc and also BECAUSE of that u have people actively policing any form of shipping. it’s honestly gotten to the point where it’s annoying but i genuinely don’t think it’s that big a problem, plus the rising popularity of the amigops puts less pressure on one-on-one corpse + sykkuno interactions, since people now wanna see all four of them play games together n not just corpse n sykkuno!

2. I get why Dream SMP would make u nervous. An interesting thing I realized when I started finding out more about people on that server is that there’s marginally more poc on it than I previously thought and also A LOTTTTT more lgbt+ people than i previously thought. Like genuinely why are so many of u so gay. And like that affects the stories being told obviously. Like. I don’t think it’s perfect n I don’t follow EVERY person on the SMP, just like i obviously don’t know everything about every minecraft YouTuber like fkdkdkdk i would say the only people i watch are dream, george, quackity (and even then i haven’t seen most of quackity’s YouTube videos) and like I’ve seen a couple of tommyinnit’s videos Fjdjdjdj and sapnap obviously but he has like 10 videos and i watch Karl’s streams if certain people are on it. yeah i think that’s about it like i do like the feral boys (dream george karl quackity sapnap) and i have seen maybe one or two skeppy videos

Anyway I get ur concerns about online circles dominated by male influencers too. but quite frankly compared to past circles ive seen its genuinely not that bad and also. In terms of holding them accountable, I think mcyttwt makes VERY sure of that (which honestly has devolved into a problem. because privileged haters will dig up stuff on creators that either a. has been addressed properly or b. is just. several years old and i don’t like how minorities are being weaponized. also i cannot stress how little i care that some minecraft YouTuber said the r slur 10 years ago when they literally never do it now. like. i worry so much because so many of these stans who think they’re ‘educating’ are just wearing themselves out n burning themselves out. so many of them are minors too)

but like. the people i am kept up w definitely do take responsibility and accountability. like dream especially gets accused of stuff that’s either fake/not him or something that’s just like out of this world (e.g. accused of queerbaiting. w george. interestingly no one ever accuses george directly of doing this) and no matter what he like addresses it properly and accordingly. like looking at his journey as a creator over the past year he’s grown a LOT and changed so much and matured a lot and i think like. looking at how much he’s blowing up and how much more of a following he’ll gain. I feel much better that it’s him who has this following as compared to. Certain people. And like. It’s upsetting to see how a lot of people have this impression of him that’s objectively false? Due to all the fake stuff that gets spread by haters (most often white for some reason???)? Because genuinely he’s not the creator we need to be so worried about?

Anyway in terms of getting into mcyts in the dream smp. I knew who Dream was because he’s played among us w the amigops a lot n they all like him because he’s just a good natured amicable person. I vaguely knew who george was because of dnf n also people putting his stupid face on my tl all the time. I thought he was pretty n hated that I thought that. I don’t care anymore tho. Like what’s wrong w looking at pretty people. I deserve it. Anyway! I got into their videos through GEORGE first, funnily. I think Minecraft, But I’m Not Colorblind Anymore was the first one I watched and it’s very very good. It’s endearing because it’s George trying out colorblind glasses for the first time n he’s nervous but Dream is there with him to make him feel more comfortable. And also Dream is so happy n emotional (he talks about tearing up at the thought of George being able to see colors properly) and their friendship is just very endearing. The video starts w george taking a colorblind test and we find out he has protan colorblindness (severity: STRONG which makes them crack jokes about how George is SO strong 😤)

anyway these losers. Decide to test the colorblind glasses on colors in MINECRAFT because of course that’s the whole video and it’s really heartwarming to see George learn how colors look like again n Dream just being excited about it the whole time n then George taking the colorblind test again at the end but with the glasses on... n then u go on to watch more george videos but it’s the ANIMAL CHALLENGES. like George Speedruns Minecraft But His Friend Is (Insert Animal, This Animal Is Always Dream) and like...... yeah so I watched a bunch of George’s videos n I went onto dream’s channel out of curiosity

And i was like. What the fuck. These videos are so WEIRDLY named. What the fuck is Finale, Finale Rematch, Grand Finale???? But dream has adhd too and in hindsight I absolutely would’ve titled the videos in a similarly confusing way. Anyway dreams manhunt videos are...... a work of art. I swear to god like even if u don’t know jackshit about minecraft they are very entertaining and weirdly impressive.

Basically in Minecraft Manhunt: Dream has to beat the game, but his friends are there trying to kill him. If they kill him even ONCE, they win n the video ends. He’s allowed to kill them repeatedly though. Manhunt started with one hunter (George, to one’s surprise), then two hunters (Sapnap and George), three (Sapnap, George, BadBoyHalo), and now four (Sapnap, George, BadBoyHalo, Antfrost). The next stage is possibly 5 hunters but idk who is the fifth yet. Anyway the thing that’s so entertaining about minecraft manhunt is:

1) Dream’s Parkour & PVP skills, which he developed and trained over such a short period of time n got REALLY good, it’s satisfying to watch him do risky maneuvers n succeed, the ways he’ll jump from a high place but clutch w either water, blocks, horses, boats, scaffolding, etc, to escape from the hunters

2) Dream’s TRAPS, like he actually does research for possible plans n traps he could do to counter the hunters, since there’s so many of them and only one of him, and he can’t just fight them in combat exclusively, since he’ll lose eventually if he gets ganged up on. I won’t spoil any of his traps, but they’re very good and also very dramatic. It’s amazing

3) The banter and taunting!! The lies and tricks!! They’re all really close so it’s easy for them to crack jokes during a lull where neither party is engaged in a fight, they’re all on the same VC so they can potentially say stuff to trick each other, or they can hear the other team say stuff that gives them an edge

4) The editing. Like the pacing is incredible, and all the bgm used is SO good at setting the atmosphere n making things more tense n exciting etc. like “dream’s manhunt music” is honestly a meme at this point but he actually unironically uses it and it unironically makes the videos better. Also dream edits all the manhunt videos by himself!! he doesn’t hire editors to do it for him or anything

idk what else to say but yeah I watch most of dream n george’s YouTube videos and they’re in most of each other’s videos and I like their dynamic a lot!! Especially since they still have not met in real life but already know they want to like live together (forever, according to George), and it like reminds me of the friendships I have because most of my close friendships have been made online. And like. They remind me that online friendships aren’t actually inferior. That’s it :) sorry this is so long