#and i don’t have any of the problems i have here

[cacoetheswriting]

i am weak for shy and nervous eddie munson who fumbles when around his crush. imagine him pining over this girl who he’s never even talked to, (maybe they have different social circles) and he just sees her around with her friends and he is smitten and then one day they accidentally bump into each other and she’s like “you’re eddie right?” and you know he’d be so flustered.

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader word count: 2.2k

content warnings: lovesick eddie, pining, a little self-deprecation and self-doubt, mostly cheese and fluff, adult language - wildly unedited, oops.

“I hate this fucking school.”

The group exchange knowing glances as Eddie sits at the table with a grumble. His lunch tray lands with a low crash, nearly colliding with Gareth’s juicebox and therefore spilling its contents all over. A huff and quick reflexes on Jeff’s part save the group from catastrophe, more importantly, save the homework the boy had yet to finish ahead of next period. 

Eddie however, doesn’t notice the mess he has almost created. Frankly, he’s not paying attention. Even when Gareth tells him to, “Watch it, dude.”. The metal-head flicks his hand to say he’s sorry for whatever it is that his friends are chastising him for, but his eyes are fixed ahead, on the sole reason he’s in such a grumpy mood.

You.

Or rather Steve the dick Harrington, who’s got his arm draped shamelessly around your shoulders, as if he wasn’t just publicly humiliating Nancy Wheeler — since up until mere twenty-four hours ago, Hawkins High thought the blue-eyed girl was the King’s girlfriend, not you.

Eddie’s miserable. When did this happen? How did this even happen?

Last night, Steve and Nancy were all over each other. Eddie knows this to be fact since he saw them together at that party he wasn’t invited to as a guest, but to work because the popular kids always need a fix and he needs to make a living if he’s ever going to leave this shithole town. Anyway, that’s when Eddie saw the “it” couple and yet, now Nancy is nowhere to be seen and you’re snuggling into Harrington.

“I hate this fucking school,” Eddie repeats, sticking his fork into today’s cafeteria lunch. “Everyone is so two-faced and fake. No one has any integrity.”

The guys don’t need to follow his line of sight because they know very well who and what the metal-head is talking about.

“Maybe if you just talked to her, then you wouldn’t be so miserable today.” Jeff notes without looking up from his homework. “Plus, I overheard Charmaine tell Julie that Harrington is continuing to hold a candle for Nancy. This thing over there, that you’re obsessing over, is just friends being friends.”

“Doesn’t look like just friends to me,” Eddie grumbles, then looks at Jeff. “And I tried talking to her. It’s just, every time I do, my mind goes blank.”

Gareth rolls his eyes. “Dude, she’s not some superbeing. She’s a girl from our school. You’ve got no problem talking to other girls?”

Eddie doesn’t say anything because how does he go about explaining to his friends that to him, you’re more than a girl from school. It’s embarrassing enough how he’s never talked to you and yet, you occupy his entire mind and soul. The guys think it’s just another crush. Eddie knows it’s not. He can’t tell them though because they’ll laugh him out of it. Eddie the freak Munson is very much pining after a girl who doesn’t know he exists. Pathetic.

So, as any respectable guy in his situation would, Eddie continues to wallow in his own self-pity. 

He stares at you throughout the remainder of the lunch break, narrowly avoiding your gaze here and there by simply looking away. His downcast humour continues throughout the rest of the day. Since he doesn’t often engage in class anyway, the teachers pay him no mind. Although, their reasons are different: a quiet Eddie Munson is better than one who causes various disturbances. After the final bell ring, he hurries out of the building and blares music the entire drive home, to fizz out his thoughts.

Called into work. Here’s some cash. Go to the diner. 

Wayne

Eddie sighs. The one thing he was hoping for were his uncle's words of wisdom, although it seems that will also have to wait. Eddie slides the note into the pocket of his denim jeans and he is out the door again.

The diner is about thirty minutes away from the trailer, by foot. The metal-head decided to walk it anyway, hoping the fresh air would knock some sense into him because he’s got no business feeling this emotionally shattered. 

Maybe if he wasn’t such a bitch boy around you, things would be different. Unfortunately, for some reason, ever since he first laid eyes on you, Eddie’s default is shy.

Okay, maybe you and Harrington are a thing now, so what? Eddie’s got no claim on you, unspoken or otherwise. You can date whoever, even if it’s Steve the asshole. It’s also not like you and Nancy are friends. Everyone at school knows you two run in different circles, meaning no girl-code is being broken. There is also the possibility of what Jeff overheard from Charmaine and Julie being true: you and Harrington are nothing but friends. Very friendly friends. Touchy, feely. And Eddie would have noticed earlier if it were simply the case of friendship, therefore, he concludes that you are in fact dating Steve the douche Harrington and he somehow has to come to terms with it.

Eddie pushes the door open and makes a beeline for an empty booth. He orders a burger with fries and a soda from the middle-aged waitress, then whips out a notebook from his backpack while he waits. The only one he carries and it’s not for any schoolwork. The numbers scribbled hastily in the margins are easily mistaken for maths, but that’s just business. He focuses instead on the latest D&D campaign he’s working on.

For a moment, the metal-head forgets about today's events. He gets lost in the fictional world he’s creating. The made up monsters replace any harboured thoughts of you with Steve the turd, although one closely resembles Harrington's famous head of hair and he smirks, proud of himself for the immaturity. He figures if girls can write about their demons in journals, he can bring them into D&D. Bring them, then kill them.

He’s just about finished marking a big cross over the doodle of monster Steve when a figure steps in front of the light, creating a shadow over his notebook. Eddie sighs, foot tapping underneath the table in frustration. He’s about to make a rude remark, but when he looks up to meet the eyes of the perpetrator, he’s met with your wide gaze and naturally, he freezes.

“I like your drawings,” you say.

“Uhm, t-thanks,” he fumbles.

“You’re Eddie, right?”

All he can do is nod in response and you smile. Small and charming. Enough to make the brunette’s head spin and pinch his leg because he can’t believe this is happening. Surely, this must be a dream of some sort. He came home and passed out on the sofa. The only logical explanation for why you would be talking to him, complementing his stupid little doodles. The only logical explanation for why you know his fucking name.

“We’ve never officially met,” you begin and reach out your hand. 

Eddie glances at it and without really thinking, he utters, “I know who you are.”

It comes out a little more mean than he intends it to, he knows because you retreat your hand as if you’ve been burned. Eddie’s heart stings. Now he knows it’s real since only he’d be stupid enough to ruin a good thing before it even began. He’s an asshole.

“Sorry,” he mumbles quickly, then straightens in his seat. “Do you wanna sit? I-I have fries.”

He chews on the inside of his cheek for how incredibly pathetic that sounded; fries. You however, don’t notice and you’re also kind enough not to point out how he’s stumbling about his words like a little schoolkid.

“I love french fries.”

And with that, you’re sliding into the booth, across from him.

Eddie watches in disbelief as you help yourself to his food, not just the potato side, as if the two of you have been friends a lifetime. Then, probably to confuse him even more, you start telling him about how your parents locked you out and how it’s nice to see a familiar face, while he’s sitting there in silence, taking it all in, wondering whether perhaps this was some cruel joke Harrington and his band of losers were playing on him.

He wants to ask. Save himself the embarrassment if this does end up being a prank and tomorrow’s gossip: Eddie the freak Munson thought he had a chance. You keep talking, only taking small pauses to take bites out of his food or a sip of his soda, and to Eddie’s surprise nothing happens. No one jumps out screaming, laughing, pointing at him. This is really happening and he is truly baffled.

“Can we get another burger meal and the same soda?” You order from the waitress when she comes around to check the tables and afterwards, turn to look at Eddie, smile ever present. “Kinda ate most of yours.”

“It’s fine,” he manages to say.

For the first time since you sat down, it’s quiet. Now you’re the one staring at him, head tilted slightly to the one side. The smile on your face transforms into something more thoughtful, as if you were trying to read his mind — which is exactly the same thing Eddie was trying to do to you.

“So,” you begin again, “What were you scribbling intently before I crashed the party?”

“Just some stuff for an afterschool thing,” Eddie answers with a shrug, voice a little shaky.

“Mysterious.”

The sparkle in your eyes screams that you want to know more, but the metal-head is hesitant to share. Even though this wasn’t part of some scheme by Hawkins’ finest, it didn’t mean there wasn’t a different underlying reason as to why you were taking interest in him and he didn’t like when people made a fool of him.

Eddie clears his throat.

“Did your parents really lock you out?” He questions.

A brow goes up, it seems you are surprised at his push back. 

“Yes,” you say matter-of-factly, then add, “They do this sort of thing from time to time. They’re big hippies, so it’s not like neglect or anything. It’s weed. They don’t want me home when they’re high because they think it would make me undermine their authority.”

Eddie smirks and you tell him it’s not funny, but he can’t help the chuckle leave his throat. When you throw a fry at him across the table, smiling wide, he’s no longer feeling the nervous bubble. In fact, he’s suddenly quite relaxed.

“I’m sorry that I’m a good daughter. Next time I’ll be sure to pick a less judgemental table” you say dramatically, although the grin doesn’t leave your features.

The brunette lifts his hands in front of his chest in a defence motion.

“No judgement here. My social status requires me to second guess reasons people have for talking to me. I had to make sure your boyfriend wasn’t going to jump me the second we stepped outside.”

“Boyfriend?” You seem genuinely taken aback by the assumption.

“Harrington,” he clarifies, although he’s not sure why he should be.

Until you laugh. It’s soft and tender, but it’s a laugh nonetheless.

“Steve’s not my boyfriend,” you state in between giggles, “He’s madly in love with Wheeler. God, does the whole school think we’re dating? He’s gonna hate that. Poor Nancy.”

Eddie blinks. Seems Julie’s information was correct, but it still doesn’t explain the closeness and the banter the entire cafeteria was witness to. He feels weird for letting this bother him so much and even though he usually has difficulties keeping his big mouth shut, he doesn’t want you thinking he’s some sort of pervert, so he doesn't say anything, simply bops his head.

Although, his silence doesn’t seem to deter you.

“I noticed you staring,” you admit, half a decibel lower. 

A fresh burger and fries land on the table, followed by a large Coca-Cola. The waitress mutters something along the lines of enjoy, then walks away to tend to another table.

Eddie doesn’t know what to do next: admit or deny. He’d rather go back to fifteen minutes ago when you were eating his food and he wasn’t talking. Therefore, he slides the burger closer to himself and in one swift motion, lifts it to his lips, taking a bite too big for his mouth. He doesn’t care what he looks like at the moment, he just needs to keep himself quiet before saying something else he’s going to regret.

Across the table, you’re all smiley again.

“Do you think, when you’re done eating, you could walk me home?” You ask, offering him a napkin. 

As he nods, he reaches for the paper cloth and his fingers brush yours delicately. There’s a zap of electricity, but if you feel it, you don’t react. Eddie’s continuing with the shyness, so he looks down at the burger in his hand and pretends nothing happened to him either.

It’s not until you lean over the table, index finger stretched and inching forward to touch his face, wiping leftover ketchup from the corner of his mouth, that the metal-head thinks maybe, just maybe, you feel some type of way about him too because that’s not what a person does for someone they only officially met minutes before.

Afterwards, you say, “I’ll tell you all about how I’ve been watching you too.”, and Eddie nearly chokes on his food.

thank you for reading & please support your writers by reblogging <3

[imsofreakingtired]

a fic based on this incorrect quote 💙🦋 thank u @bbybhr for the idea :D

sour grapes

content warning(s): none, just fluff- this is the au where everyone is sane and happy. useless lesbians and their mutual pining. sevika is smart in many ways, but she's kind of an idiot when it comes to her feelings for you.

or, you fell first. sevika fell harder. wc: 3.2k words

"even if i come closer step by step i don't think i could hold your hand the love that sits at the top of the ladder- oh, i don't wanna be the one to get hurt (yeah, you'll hurt me)"

~~~

It’s only midday, but the Last Drop is bustling with activity. Humans, vastayas, even a Yordle here and there chatter over each other, and ribbons of laughter unfurl from their conversations as they call for another drink. 

You stand at the door, rolled papers tucked under your arm, and survey the crowded place. You have a meeting with the owner, Vander, but he’s nowhere to be seen—he could be getting something from the storage room….Or he’s late again from a date with Silco. In short, you’re looking at anything between two minutes and half an hour of waiting. 

Not a problem today. Your next client cancelled their appointment last minute, saving you a trip all the way up to Piltover—so you have luxurious time to spare. You find a small empty table near the corner, where you can sit with your back to the wall and look over nearly the entire bar. Your eyes wander from the aluminum make of the bar counter—that could be rebuilt with steel: more sturdy and much more sightly. You take in the simple design of the tables and chairs. It’s the details that excite you most, more than any wide-scale layout. The smallest touches could transform a room. And the people who frequent it most would feel it. Like magic. 

Gert walks over with your favorite drink. She sets it down in front of you, and the movement startles you out of your reveries. 

“Come here to daydream?” Gert says with a smirk. 

You raise an eyebrow at her. “Ha-ha. Actually, I’m waiting for your boss.” 

“He went out with Silco this morning.” 

“Of course he did.” You sip your drink. “Do you know when he’ll be back?” 

“That’s entirely up to his man.” Gert shrugs. “At least today isn’t as busy as most. You got something to run by him?” 

You pat the papers on the table beside you. “This is where all the magic happens.”  

Gert reaches for the blueprints, but you push them away. “Ah-ah. Don’t wanna ruin the surprise.” 

She shakes her head, gives a mock huff of frustration. “You’re so dramatic. Anyway, you got lucky. You don’t have to wait until Vander comes back—his contractor’s back in town today. You can talk to her. I think she’s here right now.” 

“Contractor?” 

“There she is.” Gert points to a table across the room. You strain to follow her gaze. 

Sitting at a table near the bar, deep in conversation with two companions you don’t recognize, is a short-haired woman you have never seen before. Despite yourself, your breath catches in your throat. 

No shit, the woman is attractive—broad shoulders, sharp face, bold features. You can see that from a mile away. But there is also an energy that ripples from her, a quiet authority and warmth that you can’t drag your eyes away from. Even looking at her from this distance, you can feel the intensity of her gaze, the concentration with which she listens to people. And her companions in turn listen to her. You can see it in the way they become respectfully still when she speaks, the way they lean slightly closer to her. 

You aren’t normally intimidated by people. You’ve worked in the interior design business long enough to meet all sorts of clients, and you’d grown pretty confident that you can handle anything. But this woman… 

“What’s her name?” you ask Gert, still staring. 

“Sevika. You just gonna ogle her all day, or are you gonna get on with your job?” 

You swat at her arm. Laughing, she goes away to take another order. 

Now you’re left with nothing simpler to do than to approach this unbelievably handsome woman. 

Sure, you think. No problem. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

“...So I’m sayin’ to this sucker, ‘no, I think you have the wrong idea, bub, because I’m certain that I paid back the debt in full last week.” Huck wriggles forward in his seat, hands flying to emphasize his point. “Am I the idiot here or was I being conned?” 

“You need to keep the records,” Sevika says. “How many times do I have to tell you?” A half-smile plays  on her lips. Huck had the same problem to gripe about every damn time he came to the Last Drop. 

“I do keep the records,” he protests. “They keep disappearin’ on me. I think I’m bein’ robbed.” 

“Who the hell would wanna steal your lousy old records?” demands Syra, the baker. “I think you’re just losing your marbles…” 

Sevika laughs, her eyes drifting away from the table into the crowd. The day is clear. If Vander doesn’t decide to show up in another fifteen minutes, she’ll figure that’s her sign from Janna to take the rest of the day off. Maybe she’ll walk over the bridge, listen to the buskers. Pick up some food from the vendors. Make the most of the waning autumn sun. 

That’s when she sees you, walking over to her table. 

Your eyes meet. 

Later on, Sevika will insist that she noticed you first. She will tell you that she felt your presence from the moment you walked into the bar. As the old saying goes. She’ll swear that she remembered the moment crystal-clear: the jacket you were wearing, the way your hair looked in the light. 

Whatever she remembered later on, however, you will never forget the moment you first locked gazes with her. The dark bangs sweeping over the bridge of her nose. Those eyes. 

You approach with a confidence you barely feel, fighting hard to ignore your heart slamming in your chest. The professional smile you reserve for clients feels frozen on your face and you can vaguely hear yourself saying, “Sevika, right? I’m Vander’s designer. That is, for this bar. I was told I could speak to you.” 

You’re aware that she asks for your name, and you hear yourself give it. She offers her hand. You take it. Her grip is warm and strong. She never breaks eye contact. 

“Can I speak to you aside for a minute?” You ask. 

Her companions wave her away, and she leads you up the stairs, away from the noise and chatter of the Last Drop. You follow her into an office of sorts, strewn with papers, kids’ drawings tacked up on the walls. 

“Sorry about the mess,” Sevika says. “Boss thinks his kids are Zaun’s own artistic prodigies.” 

You smile. “It’s cute.” 

She clears away a space on the desk at the front of the room for your blueprints. “You’re in charge of renovations, yeah? Heard a lot about you.” 

“You have?” 

She helps you pin down the blueprints with books and paperweights. “Sure. Word gets around fast here.” 

“Sorry if I interrupted your conversation back there,” you say. 

“No, no. You saved me from it.” 

You must have talked about the floor plans, the construction logistics. You must have asked her about Vander’s intentions for the electrical infrastructure, the plan to finish the renovations in time for the dance that was happening a month from now. You must have done all these things, but you can’t remember any of it. You can’t recall whether you spoke about steel or silver, whether you suggested using wood or plaster. All you can think of is the distracting smell of Sevika’s cologne, the muscles of her forearms, the faint moles dotting her brown skin. When you part, she gives you her card. It has her contact information, her office address. 

“In case our middle man Vander decides to run away to his romance fairy tale again, while we work our asses off,” she says with a smile. “You can find me here.” 

When you leave the Last Drop late that afternoon, there’s only one thought on your mind. 

Janna help me. I am fucked. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

If she’s being honest, Sevika did not give you much thought at first. You were the good-looking young designer, full of a purpose and efficiency that she was quick to appreciate. She had heard of your work both in Zaun and Piltover, your specialty being shop interiors, restaurants, bars. And when she began working with you, she could soon see that the rumors had not been unfounded. 

She considered you attractive, of course: many a time she found herself looking a second longer at your face than she meant to, or remembering the color of a blouse you wore slightly clearer than was normal, just because you looked good in it. She would turn suddenly in marketplaces, thinking she caught a whiff of your scent. But she hadn’t entertained anything, even in her mind. She’d assumed that someone as attractive as you would obviously already be spoken for. 

She didn’t want to fall for a vision, an ideal. She didn’t want to risk chasing something she could never have. She didn’t have the energy for that. 

But it has been two weeks, and you have been coming to the Last Drop nearly every day—as the days draw closer to the dance, the renovation work has picked up speed. You’re lively with ideas, and not a detail escapes your eye. Preserve the playful theme. Add some dartboards. Silver filigree in the chairs and tables, and how about lining the beams with gold? 

And Sevika’s beginning to think of you more and more. You’ll say something to her, and she’ll remember the way your eyes brightened, the way the scarf sat around your neck, the way your hand rested briefly on her arm—but she won’t have the foggiest idea of what you said to her. 

She likes the way her name sounds on your lips. She likes the way you talk a little faster when you get excited. She likes…

What the hell are you doing, Sevika? Pull yourself together. 

But she can’t. She can’t push you out of her thoughts. 

One night, Powder helps with the closing up as you and Sevika sit at the bar, talking over last-minute plans for the room layout before the workers are called in the next morning. As Powder stacks the glasses and wipes down the bar counter, you lean over the diagrams of the Last Drop, talking intently. 

“...If we move the pool table to this end, and arrange the tables around in a rough semi-circle, it’ll clear the way for the platform,” you explain. “Then everything can be put back easier when the dance is over.” 

“Mm,” Sevika says. 

You look over at her. “You alright?” 

She blinks, gives a start almost as if caught at something. “What?”

Your brows crease slightly in concern. “You seem tired these days. I’m working you too hard, aren’t I?” 

“Yeah. No,” Sevika corrects, shaking her head. “I mean, no, you’re not.”

You can’t help but smile at her stutter. It’s the first time you’ve ever heard her stumble over her words—she normally speaks as if every word is calculated, every phrase thought over. “But yeah, you’re tired?” you quip. 

Sevika laughs, awkwardly. “I’m fine.” 

“Can’t fool me,” you tell her. “I’ll let you off for the night. I think we’re mostly done here, anyway.” You gather up the papers and give Powder a little salute. “Bye, Powder!” 

“Good night!” Powder waves. 

She waits until the door closes behind you before flipping the cloth over her shoulder and grinning at Sevika, hands on her hips. “You like her.” 

Sevika’s head snaps up. “No, I don’t,” she says quickly. Too quickly. 

Powder gives an exasperated sigh. “Between you and Mylo, I feel like I should be getting paid for the amount of setting-up I gotta do.” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Sevika grumbles. 

“Come on, auntie. Everyone and their mother can see she’s into you. Why don’t you ask her to the dance?” 

Sevika feels the heat climb up her neck. “That’s ridiculous. She isn’t into me.” She glances at Powder, who’s still giving her the I can’t believe you stare. “...Is she?” 

Powder rolls her eyes. “Please tell me you’re joking.” 

“Well, has she told you anything?” 

Powder leans forward, elbows resting on the counter. She fixes Sevika with a pointed look. “Do you need people to tell you it’s hot in the middle of summer?” 

Sevika sighs. “I don’t want to waste my time. She could be seeing someone.” 

“Who could she possibly be seeing? She’s holding out for you!” 

“Why would she be holding out for me?” Sevika retorts. “Look at her.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“I mean….I mean she’s her, and I’m me.” Sevika throws up her hands, helplessly. “There isn’t a chance in the world.” 

“Hey, auntie,” Powder says, the teasing edge gone from her voice. “You never know unless you talk to her.” 

“I can’t,” Sevika says. She runs a hand through her hair. “She’ll probably laugh in my face.” 

“If I can prove to you she won’t, will you give it a shot?” 

Sevika looks over at her through her hair, and Powder thinks of the puppy she found hiding in the tall grass at the edge of town. The puppy and her aunt had this in common, she thinks with amusement—they carry their fears in their eyes. 

“The other day she was talking with Vander about the color scheme for the dance,” Powder says, “and she suggested purple lighting.” 

Sevika raises an eyebrow. “So?” 

“I was in the room, and I asked her why.” Powder snaps the cloth at the table once, then folds it neatly. “Guess what she said?” 

“Don’t try me,” Sevika mutters. She looks away, pulls her body back, because she realizes just now that she was leaning forward in her seat with apprehension. 

Powder laughs. “She said because it’s your favorite color. It slipped out, just like that. It was so obvious that wasn’t what she meant to say, but she said it. You should have seen her face.” 

Sevika wracks her brain for a moment in which she might have let slip to you that purple is, indeed, her favorite color. She can’t remember for the life of her. A small hope dares to sprout in her mind, but she stamps it down. “That barely means anything,” she informs Powder. 

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” Powder exclaims. “Who the hell dedicates the theme of a dance to a person they have no feelings for?” 

When Sevika says nothing, Powder pokes her in the shoulder. 

“I’m right and you know it.” 

Sevika huffs. “Isn’t it time for you to get to bed?” 

“I’m nearly eighteen, auntie. That line won’t work on me anymore.” As Sevika puts on her jacket, Powder switches off the lights of the bar. Before Sevika leaves, Powder calls out,

“There’s about a week left until the dance. Consider that your deadline!” 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

The renovations are complete. The lights installed. The themes are decided, and Sevika’s crew is nearly done with the installations. 

Powder has told you, a bit mysteriously, you think, about some last-minute light change for the stage’s neon sign. Since she said it was urgent, you come into the bar near closing time. There are no more patrons; the place is empty except for Vander and Silco, talking over something with Sevika. Her back is turned; she doesn’t see you. Powder is leaning against the other side of the counter, talking excitedly as she wipes down some glasses. When she sees you, her face lights up. She waves. 

Sevika turns around to see who Powder is greeting. Her eyes widen slightly at the sight of you. 

“Sorry to interrupt,” you say hesitantly, “but Powder said something about the li—”

“Dads!” Powder says in a loud voice. “The lights. Yes. We need to go check the lights for the sign.” 

Vander looks up at the unlit stage sign, brows furrowed in confusion. “We do?” 

You see Powder shoot a meaningful glance at Silco, who catches on faster. He grabs Vander by the arm. “Yes!” He exclaims. “We do! What in Runeterra were we thinking, with the dance just around the corner!” 

Sevika stands abruptly. “I can do it.” 

“No!” Silco and Powder say in unison. 

“No,” Powder says again, “you stay here and show her the, um, set pieces you were building for the band.” As she ushers her dads out of the bar, Powder shouts over her shoulder: “lock up when you’re done, okay? The key’s in the storage room. Thank-you-and-good-luck!”

The door slams behind them, and the place is suddenly too quiet. 

You are utterly confused, and from the bewildered expression on Sevika’s face it’s clear she hasn’t got much of a better idea of what is going on. 

Sevika’s still standing. She looks at you. You look away. 

She coughs, rubs a hand over the back of her neck. “You want a drink?” 

“Okay. Sure.” 

And this is how you find yourself alone with Sevika in an empty bar with a glass of wine in front of you. Just to give your hands something to do, you raise the glass to your lips. 

Sevika says abruptly, “there are no set pieces.” 

“I’m sorry?”

“What Powder said—ah.” She shakes her head, a huff of mixed exasperation and amusement escaping her lips. “She made that up.” 

You laugh. “Okay. I figured.” 

She looks at you the same time you look at her. This time, you don’t break the gaze. Her eyes are the clearest grey you’ve ever seen. In certain kinds of light, they shift into pale blue, like diamonds. Her brows, thick and defined. Her beautiful nose, her dark lips. You catch yourself looking at her mouth and turn away quickly, taking another sip of wine. 

Sevika’s voice drops as she says, “listen, I’m not good with games. So I’ll just get to the point.” 

The wine is hot going down. Or maybe it is just your burning face. 

“I can’t stop thinking about you,” Sevika says. 

You keep your eyes fixed on the table. Lined with gold metal. You had watched Sevika’s calloused fingers drive in every nail. 

“I’m probably gonna make a fool of myself,” Sevika goes on, speaking slowly, “but I need you to know.” She pauses. Her voice is steady, but you can see her nerves in the way her leg bounces against the chair. “And I wanted to ask…if you would be interested…I mean, if you might want to…”

You turn to her and rest your hand on her leg. She freezes. 

“Yes, Sevika,” you say with a smile, “Yes, I would love to go to the dance with you.”

She’s quiet for so long you start to feel nervous, that maybe that wasn’t what she was trying to say. Just as you start to pull away, just as an apology starts to form on your lips, she smiles back. Incredulously. Genuinely. 

There’s a gap between her two front teeth, how had you never noticed before? 

“Really?” Sevika asks. 

You laugh out loud. “Took you long enough. Thought I was gonna have to leave town without seeing the fruits of my labor.” 

A faint flush blossoms in her face, she shakes the hair out of her eyes. “I thought you wouldn’t want to.”

She means, I thought you wouldn’t want me. 

You reach out. She grows still at the touch of your hand against her cheek. Her skin is warm against your palm as you pull her face towards yours. 

And then there is the enormous silence of your lips meeting hers.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

notes: guys, this one possessed me. it is 1 in the morning and i am drained. why is fluff so hard to writeee 😭 anyway i hope you enjoyed <33

~~~

taglist~ @notlores @demothers-empty-blog @theyluvbix @archangeldyke-all @prettyinpink69  @intrnetrbl @mamas-evil-hag @sevikassluttywaist @iliterallyhavenoideawhattosay @lez-zuha @mascdom @tiyawnyana @shanesevikasfuckdoll @vamp1reg1rrrl @00valentina-writes00 @rinmarye @starrrcane

[comicaurora]

Hey, firstly I just wanted to say I’ve been consuming your content for years and thank you and Blue for being the only thing that kept my academic brain from turning to mush during online COVID middle school!

But I’m entering a new academic era, notably Junior year of my very rigorous collage prep program at my high school. I’ve always thought I would go to collage after high school but I’ve recently stumbled into some very interesting ways of making a living only perusing my creative passions (some very scary publishing opportunities). So I’ve been wondering if I actually want to go to collage or not, since going to collage just to be a published writer is an objective waste of money and I don’t want to spend the rest of high school breaking my neck earning collage credits I’m not going to use.

So I was wondering, if you had known you could make a living only perusing your creative passions, would you have spent the time, money and academic energy going to collage for something you didn’t end up doing professionally?

(I would ask my advisor but he’s too obviously pro collage and doesn’t have any experience making a living creatively).

(Sorry for the long ask)

No problem about the long ask! This is a very good question!

I'll start with the short answer, which is that nobody can make this decision but you, and if you decide not to go to college right now, that does not mean you are deciding to never go to college. Especially with Covid, plenty of people are taking gap years, and plenty of full-on adults go to college later in life, simply because the mood strikes them, or they now have income to burn, or they're interested in a career change, etc. This is not a coinflip that will decide the trajectory of the rest of your life.

For the longer answer, for me personally? Knowing I'd be able to earn a living doing art would have no bearing on my decision to go to college. Setting aside that a ton of the literary analysis my job is based on is skills I learned in college, I liked college because it gave me the opportunity to learn a wide swath of things, from anthropology courses to dinosaur science. I like learning new things! College was an opportunity to learn a ton of new things, and even if it was very challenging in places, I thrived in it. I didn't go to college with the goal of becoming qualified for a Real Job - because of who I am as a person I think I'd seriously struggle at most Real Jobs, and I knew that even back then. I was in college to learn, and to learn how to learn. I got my degree in mathematics, a thing I do not use in my Job, but the functionality of mathematics - to logically reason through problems, step by step, comparing it to known problems to map the way to solutions using operations that preserve truth - is an invaluable skill that I apply everywhere there are problems to solve, especially literary analysis. I learned a wide swath of tools with surprising applications, and I couldn't have known when I started how I might use them in the end.

However, there's a big caveat there. This was my personal experience of college as a playground where I could work towards a solid major and also branch out to take weird one-off electives and summer courses when anything struck my fancy. But I was in on a scholarship to cover a good chunk of my tuition, and one of my relatives very kindly paid for the rest. I got to do college without accruing any college debt, and that is an enormous factor. I can only share my personal take, but I'm not going to pretend that things would have been the same if I'd had to enter adulthood finding a way to quickly pay off a six-figure sum.

I've been extremely lucky to get to the point where I can navigate life in a way where money is very rarely something I need to worry about. It was certainly not always like that, and I do not miss those times, but it invariably shapes the way I see the world and the steps I took to get here. For me personally, I do not consider college in any way a waste of time; I think the opportunity to learn is one of the most exciting things out there. But my experience cannot be pretended to be universal.

This decision is yours, and it is also not final. Whatever choice you make, you can always choose again later. You have time.

[evolnoomym]

Good Neighbor 🚚

Neighbor!Joel Miller x F!OC

General Masterlist | Joel Miller Masterlist | Support me |

Summary: Moving into your own first apartment is not going well, that is until a charming man turns your entire day around.

Rating: 18+ mature content mdni!!!!

Word count: 2k

Authors note: This is inspired by me moving into my own first apartment. I’ve ran into a neighbor that day but unfortunately he was not Joel Miller.💀

Still he kinda gave my brain a push to write this.

Shoutout to my absolute fantastic Wife @joelmillerisapunk and lovely Sun @sunshineispunk for beta-reading 😉🙏🏻

Warnings: no y/n, F!OC, Moon as always, kinda size-kink, implied age-gap, Joel is 36, flirting, old brother vibes, Tommy appearance, food, literally pepperoni pizza that never gets mentioned again, quick fuck, missionary, p in v, creampie, no protection(be smarter),

If I missed anything please let me know 🙏🏻

Shoutout to @cafekitsune & @saradika-graphics for the dividers 🙌🏻

Disclaimer: English is not my first language so if you come across mistakes it might be due to that. I’m totally here for constructive criticism or feedback on how to improve. In general I appreciate comments, likes and reblogs greatly 🫶🏻

As if moving alone wasn’t already stressful enough, you additionally had no time to prepare for any of these events and were chucked into a mess. You had struggled for weeks, trying not to recall what had occurred and hastily attempting to figure out a new living situation. Then, after all the hurdles, you had found this wonderful little two room apartment and now all that was left to do was the move of all your belongings.

Unfortunately, earlier today, all the volunteers- except for your older brother Mark,- were suddenly busy and unable to help. All that Mark could do, before being called into work for an emergency meeting himself, was to carry the heavy furniture from the storage room to the transporter.

What poses a serious problem currently is that you somehow have to get those humongous parts of the king sized bed, your wardrobe, desk and dressers up to the 5th floor. So far, only one box made it up there, and now you are pacing in front of the entryway furiously explaining all the drama to your best friend in a voice memo. Unbeknownst to you, a southern gentleman has been listening to your struggle and who would he be not to help a gal in need out.

Once you seemingly are done letting off steam, he makes himself known.

“ s’cuse me, miss,” you whip around to see who that deep voice belongs to “I’m your new neighbor from across, Joel Miller.” He points towards the door across from yours -oh fuck if that is your neighbor then you are screwed, he’s gorgeous- and next holds out one of his massive hands for you to shake. You do.

“Ahh, well it’s a pleasure to meet you Joel, I’m Moon.” You hope you don’t look too disheveled.

“Pretty name for a pretty woman,” he winks quickly “listen I don’t mean to be nosy but ya sounded like you could use some help?” He tilts his head in question.

“Yeah, everyone who promised to help had bailed out on me and now I’m all alone,” you sigh “but I couldn’t possibly expect you to help me. You probably have more important things to take care of?” You’d love to say yes immediately to his offer but don’t want to sound too overeager.

“No, there’s nothin’ on schedule today, besides my momma raised me right, so please let me help ya?” It sounds like a question but his face lets you know that there’s no talking him out of this.

“Okay,” you nod.

His face lights up as he has another great idea.

“Hold on, let me call my brother Tommy, he’ll be here in no time to help as well.” Joel’s hand is already on the move to grab his phone and call.

“Are you sure?” You force him to halt his plans.

“Yes, I’m sure. Besides, our momma would beat his ass if he’d say no to helping out.” He smirks and you have no arguments this time, you need all the help you can get.

So Joel makes the call and, indeed, Tommy shows up within 10 minutes.

You can tell he is the little brother just by how they greet each other. In brotherly fashion, Joel pulls Tommy in for a hug and then playfully pretends to put him in a headlock. You only think about how happy you’d be to have Joel put you in a headlock, those beefy biceps around your neck sound heavenly.

Tommy’s approaching figure pulls you out of your thoughts.

“Howdy little lady, name’s Tommy, heard you might need another pair of strong arms to help ya out?” He’s charming just like his brother.

“Tommy,” Joel’s tone is authoritative, a warning.

“Sorry, ma’am,” Tommy mumbles whilst his eyes are cast towards his shoes.

“Ohhhh, no, please don’t call me ma’am. I’d take the ‘little lady’ over that, any day.” You giggle, no one ever before called you that.

“To answer your question, yes, I do need some strong arms to help me out. Of course not without something in return,” you pause seeing how Tommy smirks and raises one brow at the double meaning “gosh, not that, get your mind out of the gutter.” You both erupt into heartfelt laughter.

Joel meanwhile realizes how easily you fit into their lives, he’s only known you for such a short period of time and yet it feels like way longer. He’s curious to figure out more of the finer details that make you unique.

Joel lets you two laugh it up for a moment before he directs the focus towards the transporter.

“Y’all ready to put some work in?”

In the end, the two hunks don’t let you do anything. They place all the boxes and movables where they should go with you directing them. In the living room, they place the tv on its designated cabinet and, with the couch having been bought off of the previous tenant, your living room was done for now. For the most part, the actual work went down in the bedroom. Joel and Tommy assembled your wardrobe, desk and dresser in lightning speed. All you did was going over to Joel’s place to get them each a beer and ordering some pepperoni pizza.

Tommy, of course, made a remark with a clear double meaning, “Thank you sweetheart, ya really know how to make a man happy.”

Joel smoothly responded to that. “Tommy, cool it, you’re barely a man. Stop flirtin’ with my neighbor. Ya have a girlfriend, who- funnily enough- is callin’ you right now.” While throwing his phone at him.

Tommy curses as he picks up and walks out of the room.

Joel addresses you next. “Sorry, he’s…well, just Tommy.”

You wave off his worry, “It’s fine.”

Tommy comes breezing in, “I gotta go, Maria needs to be picked up from her friend’s house. Hope y’all can deal with the rest.”

“Don’t worry. We got it, Tommy. Thank you again for the help.” You give him a hug, he says goodbye to his brother before you lead him out of the door, leaving you and Joel alone.

Putting the pieces of your bed together is the last thing you’ll have to do before enjoying the pizza. Although, as you spend more time alone with Joel, the urge of having a different kind of meal becomes stronger and stronger.

You clap your hands together as you waltz into the bedroom with Joel right on your heels. “We only have to put the bed together and then we can relax.” You say over your shoulder. Joel hums softly in agreement.

It takes about 10 minutes for the two of you to clip the bed frame into the bed boxes, place the mattress on top and lastly roll out the topper. Afterwards, you sit down on the edge of the bouncy mattress, leaning back on your hands, watching how Joel packs up his toolbox.

You had ogled him all day long. He’s undeniably your type- tall, strong, mid 30s and, above all a gentleman. Maybe even a bit too much. You flirted with him on more than one occasion, asking him if he’s taken, complimenting him on his looks. He stole your breath when he had lifted his shirt to wipe sweat off his temple, he exposed so much of the delicious curve that makes his belly. Happy trail leading to what you imagine must be paradise. You need to have him.

You get his attention by calling out to him.

“Joel?” He turns to you immediately.

You blink up at him, slowly, to look sexy and mysterious.

“You know,” you let your gaze drift down to his crotch, which is directly in front of you “as a thank you for being such a good and thorough neighbor you could test the bed with me?” You practically purr those words at him. But Joel is too much of a gentleman and still doesn’t take the hint.

“Darlin’ why would we need to do that? The mattress seemed pretty solid to me.” His friendly smile makes you want to punch him.

At this point you don’t know how much more clearer you’ll have to be. You had flirted with him all day, he even went along sometimes but then always returned to friendly chatter. You even question if you’re not pretty enough.

You had enough. “Joel,” you inhale and exhale dramatically to underline your frustration “I want to have sex with you, right fucking now, is that clear enough?”

He just stares at you for what feels like an eternity before slowly responding “Are you sure?”

Now you’re confused “What?”

“I mean you really wanna have sex with me?” As he’s pointing towards himself.

“Yes? Why wouldn’t I?” Does he really not know how incredibly hot he is?

“Am I not too old for ya? I’m sure there’s a line of guys jus’ waitin to meet ya.”

“I don’t care about your age and there’s no one waiting to meet me. I don’t exist to guys my age, all these immature boys that will play with my feelings don’t matter.”

“ s’okay, baby, say again what ya need me to do?” Finally.

“Fuck me, please.” Once you’d whispered those words, you wasted no time in rushing up to kiss him. You pull him down between your legs, on the mattress, until he’s completely draped over your body.

In between pecking your lips he muses “Ya really wanted this badly, huh?”

“Sure did, I couldn’t stop thinking about it all day.” You want him to know just how much you desired him.

You don’t want to wait any longer, your panties have been soaked since he had offered his help. You are more than ready.

Your hands wander to free his cock from those goddamn jeans. But you’re too occupied with slipping your tongue into his warm mouth to be successful.

Joel pulls away from you and leans back as he unbuttons his jeans. “Let me do it, you take off those leggings,” he watches you raise your hips to slide the tight fabric off and down each leg. You carelessly toss away the pair.

“Just pull my panties to the side, I need you inside of me right now,” you are grasping onto his arm, proving your point.

And Joel complies easily. Doing as you told him to, followed by his length sliding through your slick folds once he exposes your core.

“Ughh, don’t tease me, please Joel..” your voice turns into a collection of pathetic whiny moans.

“Shh, baby, gotta get him nice ‘n wet before I stuff your little pussy.”

You release a sigh of relief when he finally decides to prod at your gushing entrance with his tip. He halts.

“Ya got a condom, pretty girl?” You’ll never get enough of his sweet tang calling you all sorts of names.

You shake your head “No, but we won’t need one, I’m on the pill and clean.”

“Me too, but darlin’ are you 100% sure s’ what ya want?” He smiles softly, rubbing circles into your hip bone with his thumb.

“I am 100% sure,” and with that he breaches your tight opening, pushing his way into your warm walls.

“Oh my god, Joel it’s soo big, fuck..” This is what they mean when talking about getting your guts rearranged.

Joel is sucking marks into the delicate skin of your throat as a means to distract you from the stretch. “I know, ya are such a good girl, takin’ it so good.”

It doesn’t take much longer, only a few strokes, so you’re not even able to warn him, before your pussy erupts around his throbbing cock. You squeeze him so hard forcing his orgasm to hit him much faster than he would’ve wanted.

Joel catches his breath in the crux of your neck. The buzzing of the orgasm fizzling out, makes him realize that he didn’t even ask you if it would be okay to come inside.

“Fuck, baby, I came inside ya, ‘m sorry.” he brushes the apology out while lifting his head to look you in the eyes.

“Don’t worry, I’m quite thankful for the lovely gift Mr.Miller,” you pull his face down to yours and press your lips to his.

“You’re a good neighbor, for sure.”

©️ evolnoomym 2025. Please don’t repost, copy, translate, or feed into any AI. Support your fellow creators by reblogging, commenting, and liking!

😚: @thundermartini @aurorawritestoescape @milla-frenchy @toxicanonymity @penvisions @604to647 @pinkypromisepascal @mountainsandmayhem @msjarvis @syd-djarin @burntheedges

[scoupsakakitty]

LOOOOOVE YOUR BLOG i'm literally obsessed with idol!scoups fics and u r soooo good in writing them <333

not sure if you are open to requests but in case that you are, i'd love to see an angsty one with idol!scoups, maybe one where they fight ??? and cheol has to go on tour or work or something so they're not okay for quite a while and make up once he gets home :(((

Silent Apologies | idol!Scoups x Reader | angst, fluff

The argument had started over something small—something stupid, really—but it had escalated far beyond what either of them expected.

"You always do this, Seungcheol!" Y/N's voice wavered with frustration as she stood in the middle of their living room, arms crossed tightly over her chest. "You shut me out, and then you expect me to just be okay with it!"

Seungcheol ran a hand through his hair, his patience already frayed. "Because I don’t want to fight with you, Y/N! I’m exhausted, I have so much on my plate, and the last thing I need is another argument!"

"So what? You think I don’t get tired too? That I don’t have feelings?" Her voice cracked slightly, but she refused to let it show any weakness. "You act like you're the only one who has problems, but you're never here anymore!"

His jaw clenched. "You knew what you were getting into when we started this! My schedule isn’t something I can just change!"

"I'm not asking you to change it, Seungcheol! I'm asking you to at least talk to me about it instead of pushing me away!"

He exhaled sharply, looking away. "I can't do this right now."

Y/N scoffed, hurt flashing across her face. "Of course you can’t. You always run away the second things get hard."

That was the last straw. His temper snapped. "You think I run away? I do everything I can to keep this together! I'm trying my best, Y/N! But maybe my best isn't enough for you!"

Silence followed his outburst, thick and suffocating. The words hung between them like a wound neither could take back. Y/N swallowed, blinking away the sting in her eyes. "Maybe it’s not."

The finality in her voice made Seungcheol’s stomach drop, but he was too proud—too angry—to reach for her. Instead, he turned on his heel, grabbing his jacket. "I have a flight to catch."

Y/N watched as he walked to the door. "Fine. Go."

The door slammed behind him.

The flight to Indonesia felt longer than it should have. Seungcheol sat in his seat, staring blankly at the screen in front of him, but all he could think about was her. The look in her eyes before he left. The way her voice had cracked. The way he had let his anger win instead of fixing things.

His chest ached with regret.

By the time the concert rolled around, he was running on autopilot. His members noticed. His energy was off. His mind wasn’t there. Even as he stood in front of thousands of fans, singing and dancing like he’d done a hundred times before, his heart wasn’t in it. Because his heart was somewhere else.

With her.

When the final song ended and the cheers filled the venue, Seungcheol barely let the sound settle before he rushed backstage. He ignored the cameras, the staff, the lingering adrenaline. He needed to get home.

Y/N had spent the last two days drowning in her own guilt. She hated the way they had left things, hated the last words they had exchanged.

What if something happened to him while he was away? What if those words were the last thing they ever said to each other?

The thought alone had made her sick to her stomach. So, instead of wallowing in regret, she did what she could to make things right. She cleaned the apartment from top to bottom, made sure everything was perfect. And then, she cooked. She made all of Seungcheol’s favorite dishes, the ones he always craved after long flights. Because she knew that he would come back to her.

And then, as if her heart had called out to him, the front door swung open.

Seungcheol stood there, exhausted and breathless, his suitcase slipping from his fingers and hitting the floor with a dull thud. But Y/N didn’t care about that.

She ran to him.

His arms were around her in seconds, crushing her against his chest as if he was afraid she might disappear if he let go. "I'm so sorry," he murmured into her hair. "I shouldn't have left like that. I shouldn't have said what I did."

Tears pricked at her eyes as she buried her face in his shoulder. "I was so worried about you. I hated the way we ended things."

"Me too," he admitted, pulling back just enough to cup her face in his hands. His thumbs brushed over her cheeks, his gaze soft but filled with remorse. "I never want to fight like that again."

She nodded, leaning into his touch. "Me neither."

A small smile tugged at her lips as she grabbed his hand, pulling him toward the kitchen. "Come on, I made your favorite."

Seungcheol's eyes softened even more when he saw the food on the table. "You really made all this?"

She bit her lip, suddenly shy. "I just… I wanted to do something for you."

His heart swelled with affection. "You didn’t have to, but thank you."

They sat down together, the tension of the past few days melting away as they ate. Seungcheol kept reaching for her hand between bites, as if he needed to remind himself that she was still there, that they were okay.

And they were.

Because no matter how bad the fights got, no matter how far apart they were, they always found their way back to each other.

[ithinkicantdie]

I'll put a little bit of text here that felt too long to put in the tags but I know it doesn't really matter that much to other people what I think so I won't force myself to make any of the words I'm putting down make sense.

First point I wanted to make in the tags I started writing out was that I don’t think "girls' girl" should be included in this list because it’s a newer variation of the term "women supporting women" which I very much prefer as a positive counterpart in order to replace others like the extremely widely used "pick me girl" or just "pick me" because I think it is more important to celebrate the solidarity rather than use shame to point out when someone’s internalized misogyny is being a little too external.

"Girl math" as a term could be replaced with a different term for the logic that people are putting behind it but most of the posts are about consumerism and spending money so any far-left leaning people who identify with communism, socialism or just anti-capitalism (ily all, keep fighting for change) likely wouldn't use terms like that anyway so there wouldn't be much of a point. I do genuinely think we can let that whole trend go with just the superficial analysis of "people are trying to justify spending money by saying they aren't actually spending as much as they could be" but we could also go further into why we are made to feel shame for buying superfluous things or why we have to use the money we need to live in order to be happy and being happy when you're trying to stay alive feels impossible but the shame of spending money on things that make you happy compounds on top of that.

I associate bimbocore with Chrissy Chlapecka the most and she is very unapologetic about the bimbo videos to my knowledge because they make a lot of anti fascist posts but there are some problems she has to deal with due to being an influencer with low self esteem and rarely posting to social media at all without a full face of makeup while not wanting to encourage other people to also be that way. I also think the general public are trying to move away from saying things like whore and slut and skank because social media is all about being aesthetically pleasing and it's not about how much of a whore you are on the inside but how much of a bimbo you look or act like on the outside. The connotations of bimbo do point out how often sensuality and intelligence are thought of as at odds with one another in women but thought of as being found together very often in men and you could make an argument that women are being strong-armed into once again giving up when it comes to trying to be respected and revered for their personal accomplishments and they are actively being told to revert back to striving for superficial beauty standards to reach any amount of success. I could dive into that for hours honestly.

"Girlfriend brain" in the contexts I've seen it in (used in posts by normal people and not the 'stay at home girlfriend' influencers who scare me) is very similar to the whole trend of having "scary dog privileges" where you’re able to walk around without fear of getting harassed because men who don’t see you as a person will see your boyfriend as a person and you will not be as debilitatingly anxious about your personal safety in a public space. These trends alone can point out a lot of problems with how we are expected to "solve" problems by temporarily making it safer for only one individual at a time and not dismantling the culture that makes men feel entitled to women as a whole.

"Girl dinner" I think is heavily related to diet culture with people either purposefully eating less food to restrict the number of calories or eating junk food in the privacy of their own home without fear of backlash or judgement but it could even be fatigue of constantly cooking for other people because you have that expectation placed on you and you find brief respite in not wanting to cook for ‘just’ yourself but all of those options are insanely depressing no matter what. The expectation to be a sexy twig that eats nothing but also cook hearty meals for those around you to enjoy at any given moment is too exhausting and people break away from that where they can but also not every person participating in a viral trend is required to be actively experiencing any of the shame that the audience could be projecting onto them from personal experiences so does it really help at all or does it just hurt more people?

I do genuinely think clean girl core and DFE are heavily associated with white supremacist shit so I will not defend those at all, I think I've even seen some people call DFE a nazi tradwife dogwhistle so I'll just put that out there for other people to think on because I do not want to touch that with a ten foot pole.

And other people understand the whole "I’m just a girl" thing just fine obviously based off of most of the notes. Thank you No Doubt for providing such a banger that is infinitely better than the way people are abusing the phrase now.

"I'm just a girl", "girl math", "girl dinner", "divine feminine energy", "bimbocore", "clean girl", "girl's girl", "girlfriend brain" SHUT UPPP!!! SHUTT THE FUCKKKK UPPPPPP !!!!

[luvergirl-866]

trouble in paradise

pairing - paige bueckers x azzi fudd

word count - 1.1k

c/w - fluff, azzi is cute when she’s mad and paige can’t handle allat

a/n - heavily based off my irl relationships. i have been both p and a in this situation 😔. anyway just a silly lil blurbski for yall (lol at me writing absolutely anything but the prompts you guys send me) (i promise i want to do every single one of them)

“And she was like, ‘You can’t even shoot.’ I don’t even know what got into her, because she knows—she knows I can shoot. Everybody knows I can fucking shoot!”

“Mhm,” Paige mumbles, nestled into the crook of Azzi’s neck, trailing lazy kisses across the soft expanse of skin.

“And you know how patient I am. But I was already annoyed with her because of how she was playing in practice and then she has the audacity to mess with me in the locker room?” Azzi makes a frustrated sound, hand absentmindedly holding the back of Paige’s head, keeping her in place. “And then, and then, she’s all, ‘It was just a joke, chill out!’ Like, what?”

“Crazy work,” Paige replies. She nuzzles up behind Azzi’s ear, letting the tip of her tongue wet the spot slightly.

It’s Azzi’s most sensitive spot, but she doesn’t even react. “And now I seem like a bitch for, for—for sticking up for myself!”

“Nobody thinks you’re a bitch, baby,” Paige reassures, voice gravelly and gentle—a product of the slow, languid sex they had only half an hour prior. How they got from that to this, Paige doesn’t know.

“They do. I can tell. Carol came up to me after and was like, ‘Be nicer to KK, she’s sensitive.’ Well, so am I! But are we being nice to Azzi? No. So, like, what’s the problem here? Why am I being targeted?”

To be fair, Azzi had been a little unnecessarily mean to KK earlier in the locker room. She’d already had a long day and with KK testing her during practice, she wasn’t ready for any teasing afterwards. Paige had tried to tell KK this, catching her before they entered the locker room and saying, “Hey, I know it seems like y’all are just messing around but she’s actually pissed right now.” But KK had laughed her off with a, “Nah, we’re just playin’.”

Paige had let her find out the hard way that when it comes to Azzi, she’s always the expert.

But she knows better than to voice her opinion right now. She’d probably be forced to do the walk of shame out of her own room. Instead, she continues with her ministrations, scraping her teeth against the shell of Azzi’s ear before tugging on her earlobe.

“I just think it’s unfair,” Azzi continues with a huff.

“So unfair,” Paige agrees.

“I don’t like being the bad guy.”

Paige can’t help but smile a little into Azzi’s neck at the thought of her—dimples and curly hair and all—ever being considered ‘the bad guy’ by anybody. Especially by their teammates, who know her well enough to know she’d never hurt a fly. She’s hard to annoy, hard to rile up; Paige is the best at it, and that’s saying something considering it’s difficult even for her to get a reaction out of the younger girl. All the girls know she’d only ever snap at someone if her buttons were really pushed.

KK may be off pouting somewhere, and their teammates may be comforting her, but nobody really thinks Azzi’s in the wrong here. How could they? She’s their princess.

“You’re not, sweet girl,” Paige says, straightening her expression before lifting her head. Azzi’s eyebrows are furrowed, lips formed into an angry pout. Paige’s mind conjures images of those adorable malicious-looking kittens. This time, there’s no hiding her amused smile.

Azzi’s eyebrows go even lower, if that’s possible. “What is funny?”

“Nothin’, baby,” Paige says, trying to distract her with a kiss, but Azzi isn’t having it. She pushes at her chest with a huff, which only serves to make Paige chuckle a little.

“You’re not taking me seriously!” Azzi whines, wriggling around in an attempt to get out from underneath her girlfriend, but Paige has hands on either side of her shoulders, her knees straddling her hips. She’s caged in.

“I am!” Paige says as earnestly as she can. “I wasn’t laughing at you, I thought of something else that was funny.”

Azzi’s pout grows in intensity and Paige isn’t laughing anymore.

One of the many things Paige has learned from dating Azzi is that scientists are lying when they say there are only three basic units of the brain. There is actually a secret, fourth unit that is only unlocked when one gets a girlfriend. And this unit of the brain serves to do one thing and one thing only: make her happy.

If a doctor were to put Paige in an MRI scan, and have Azzi speak to her during it, this is what would happen:

Phrases like ‘Do you think she’s pretty?’, ‘Do you like this picture of me?’, and, of course, ‘Would you love me if I were an inanimate object?’ would light up that brain activity sensor like a christmas tree. Alarm bells would go off along with an urgent, robotic voice saying something like ‘Emergency Situation Detected.’

There’s always a slew of solutions to these dilemmas and Paige is usually pretty good at saying the perfect thing. But that pout—that pout has only one solution: groveling.

“I’m sorry, baby, don’t look at me like that,” Paige coos, fighting against the hand on her chest to pepper kisses over Azzi’s face.

“You were laughing at something else?” Azzi asks, giving up on fighting Paige to cross her arms over her chest, which is somehow worse. “So you weren’t paying attention.”

“No, I was—ok, I promise I was listening to you, princess—“

“So you were laughing at me.”

“Not like that!” Paige insists, making an attempt at kissing Azzi’s pout away. But Azzi doesn’t reciprocate, just stares at her with an expression that’s somewhere between accusing and hurt. “You’re just cute, baby. I can listen to you and still acknowledge you’re cute.”

“But I’m genuinely annoyed and you’re just sitting here laughing at me.”

“I know, I’m sorry. I promise I was listening to you, angel.” When she goes for another kiss, Azzi kisses her back, which is a good sign. “You’re right, it’s annoying. It’s not funny.”

“It’s not,” Azzi reiterates.

Paige kisses her again. “Not at all.”

“And you agree with me, right?” Azzi asks, pout disappearing and eyebrows shooting up as if to warn her about the consequences of saying the wrong thing here. “You don’t think I need to apologize?”

Paige thinks they both need to apologize. KK for pushing Azzi around, and Azzi for retaliating a little too strongly.

There’s no way in hell she’ll say this.

“‘Course, pretty girl,” Paige says. She nearly sighs with relief when Azzi uncrosses her arms, wrapping them around Paige’s neck to play with her hair.

She smiles approvingly, pulling her down for a sweet kiss. When she pulls away, it’s only enough that their lips are still brushing when she speaks. And then she says, “Okay. Then go out there and stand up for me.”

Emergency Situation Detected.

[b1asho]

Women!!!

(Or I guess I should say, hokar!!!!! 'Kar’ is the most accepted equivalent of ‘man’, ‘hokar’ for women. It's not exactly what they call themselves and just came from one tribe's convention, but it's just kind of what happened in the language blender)

During their mating season in the winter, female Prectikar grow longer feathers on their back and arms fir both display and for the babies to hold on to. In many cultures, this is also the time for some displays of their strength and endurance, aka wrestling. The point is to show their ability to either quickly overwhelm their opponent with their strength or have the stamina to bring them down in the long run, something that symbolizes their fitness for carrying and protecting pups. This activity can also be to help relieve tension and grudges between different tribes. Usually, matches are between bachelorettes who are looking for a partner, as seen here, unless it’s for one of those “political” ones between more important people where the opponents are normally taken.

Clothing covering standards slip for this time of year to better show off their sexy dimorphic features. Tusks are covered to prevent fatal goring, and mitts on their lower arms are also usually worn to prevent excess claw poking.

Kar don’t wrestle with each other and wrestling with a female would be seen as out of line because it messes with their established power dynamic, where the kar should never disrespect/overpower/not support the hokar. instead, they run in races (sprints, usually) or play other strategy sports to show their speed and problem solving skills, which they see as useful in the masculine hunter/support role. these kind of races are only really for bachelors, the only time any taken kar will participate is to show off against the youngsters.

Unlike with Cerest, this kind of fighting is supposed to be more of a yearly sport, and is not a part of how they normally operate when establishing social status. Actually hurting your opponent is seen as foul play. Tribes will have a whole separate set of rules/circumstances for actually-hurting each other duels/ritualistic combat, since the type of fighting done during the mating season is mainly for showing off rather than lasting consequences (other than bagging a partner, obviously)

For most, the more tribes that participate in these kind of events better, its not usually a privately held thing. with the introduction of modern video broadcast technology and an audience of xenos who'd be interested to see aliens fighting, I think that a Bachelorette but with body-slamming is not impossible to exist in canon (but it'd be a very short run time of a few months in winter XD )

[vampstarkey]

❝  jealous of your brother ..

Masterlist ☆

＿ warnings: unprotected sex, sucking on the neck, virgin reader, cheating, pussy slapping, jealous reader, face sitting, boobs pressing and female masturbation.

＿ Note: this has not been reviewed (if that's not your thing then leave)

You were the adopted daughter of the Cameron family, the little princess Kook. Ever since you were little, everyone on the island knew your name. You grew up surrounded by privileges, always protected by Rafe, your older brother. He wouldn't let anything or anyone get close to you without his approval. No matter how old you were, he always made sure to watch over you, keep you away from any danger and, especially, from anyone he deemed unworthy of your presence. After all, brothers do these things, right?

But lately, things started to change. Rafe, the same guy who spent nights at parties hugging different girls, was suddenly in a serious relationship. You never imagined he was the kind of guy who would get attached to someone, not after so many nights watching him drink until he lost his mind and get involved with any girl who came along. This always bothered you, although you would never admit it. It was a strange, suffocating feeling, but you tried to swallow it.

That night, another party was happening at the Cameron mansion. Ward and Rose were out, and as always, Rafe took advantage of his parents' absence to turn the house into a meeting place for his friends, the same ones as always, all noisy, drinking and having fun. You usually preferred to avoid that kind of environment. But this time, you decided to come down from your room, maybe out of curiosity, maybe because a part of you wanted to see Rafe.

As you crossed the crowded room, your eyes soon found the scene that made your stomach turn: a brunette sitting on his lap, her lips close to your ear as she whispered something that made you smile in a way you didn't like at all. His arm rested on her waist, his fingers drawing lazy circles on her skin. It was obvious that the girl was his girlfriend.

You felt a lump tighten in your throat, a heat rising through your body, an almost childish urge to roll your eyes and leave. But before you could move away, Rafe had already noticed your presence. And now, his eyes were fixed on you. "What are you doing here?" Rafe looked at you in surprise, after all he knew that you almost never showed up when he was throwing a party.

You crossed your arms trying to look indifferent, even though you felt the weight of his gaze falling on you “I didn’t know I needed your permission to walk around my own house, Rafe.”

The boy raised his eyebrows, crossing his arms before lightly touching the girl's leg in his lap. "Give me a minute with my little sister, dear." He told her, giving her a carefree smile. The brunette nodded, standing up without question and blending into the crowd. As soon as she was out of sight, Rafe turned his attention to you, walking over to where you were. "I never said you couldn't come, y/n, I just assumed you'd be staying in your room, like always." His eyes went up and down, looking at your body.

"Well, but now I'm here, is there a problem?" The words came out more firmly than you felt inside, but heat quickly rose to your cheeks when he looked at you like that, maybe it was just in your head. "No, no problem, I just think you should change out of those short pajamas, it's not the right environment for that." There he was giving you orders like he always did and in fact it was to be expected. "I don't want to change," you replied without hesitation.

“Don’t test my patience, go upstairs and put on something else right now.” The order was direct, sharp, and you felt a shiver run down your spine. Considering the environment, your outfit really wasn’t appropriate at all, but that seemed more like an excuse than a genuine concern. The short pink shorts made of thin silk and the white blouse that accentuated your breasts, a combination you wore only to feel comfortable at home, now seemed to be the center of criticism. Rafe, who always saw you wearing this type of outfit, knew very well the impact it caused.

You arched an eyebrow, trying not to let your discomfort show, and responded with a forced smile. “Stop it. Why don’t you go worry about your girlfriend?” A sarcastic smile expanded on Rafe’s face, and he realized right away what was happening. It was as if he was amused by the fact that you couldn’t hide your irritation and jealousy. He let out a low laugh, but the teasing tone was clear. “Oh, so that’s it, are you jealous?” Your eyes widened at that observation. He wasn't wrong, but of course you weren't going to say it.

"That's the stupidest thing you've ever said to me, I'm not jealous." The answer came out in a rush, louder than you would have liked, trying to hide the truth behind words that didn't have as much power as your trembling voice. "Don't be silly, I know you." He watched you with an almost triumphant smile, as if he was unraveling every piece of you.

He took a long step towards you, and before you could react, he grabbed your arm tightly. Rafe came even closer, his lips almost touching your ear as he whispered: “I can prove you right, sis.” That low, possessive tone of voice was enough to send shivers down anyone’s spine.

The feeling of having no control over what was happening made your mind spin, and you found yourself wondering where this would take you. “Don’t play with me like that, Rafey.” His name, pronounced that way, had a different weight. That was how you used to call him when you were still a little girl.

“Oh, yeah? I don’t play with things I’m interested in, sis.” Rafe’s voice sounded almost like a challenge, loaded with something you couldn’t define. Before you could respond, he still held your arm tightly, pulling you without warning to a secluded corner of the house.

The surroundings seemed to disappear, and the only sound that filled the space was the distant music of The Weeknd that played in the background, creating a melody that contrasted with the tension, that was enough for you to realize what was happening. “Did you know that I always wanted you, y/n?” Rafe’s words hung in the air, a whisper that seemed to carry an immense weight, he looked at your lips as if he wanted to devour them.

You wanted to deny it, to push that idea away, but somehow you knew he was telling the truth and you could no longer try to hide how much you wanted your hot brother to touch you or do anything with your body, no matter how wrong and dirty it was. “Do you really want me, Rafe?” You asked hopefully as you felt the space shrinking more and more as he got closer.

Rafe took a strand of your hair and put it behind your ear. “You know I do, don’t play innocent, you can be everything, but innocent I know you’re not.” The boy placed you against the wall, holding your hands on each side of your body, leaving you immobile.

What you didn't know was that your older brother had caught you masturbating in your room a few times during the night, but he never intervened since he loved watching you rubbing yourself on your pillow or desperately sticking your fingers inside.

Every now and then, when you were out of the house, Rafe would take some of those thin lace panties of yours from your dresser drawer and smell them, he would rub them on his own cock while imagining everything he would like to do to his sweet and dear little sister.

Rafe's touch was quick, pulling the back of your neck firmly. In a subtle movement, his lips brushed yours, he bit your lips slowly, almost as if he was testing your limits, while his tongue slid softly into your red mouth, teasing you. "But... what about your girlfriend?" You asked with difficulty since the way he played with your lips made it a little difficult for you to speak.

“Shh, be quiet, don’t worry about her, we’re not doing anything wrong, after all I’m your brother.” He continued to pay attention to your lips, but now finally attacking them for good, Rafe kissed you with desire, pressing your body even more against the wall. His hands followed your waist, going down lower and lower in hot grips, the boy groped your ass with desire as he felt an uncontrolled, almost primitive hunger, the forbidden desire was erotic.

“Let me take care of you, will you let me?” He squeezed once more on the pink fabric of your short shorts that revealed a piece of your soft ass. “Yeah, I’ll let you..” A muffled moan left your lips after feeling the heat of Rafe’s hands against your skin. “Come with me, trust me.” Rafe said full of authority that you couldn’t ignore. He grabbed your hand with a firmness that seemed like a command, and before you could even think about the consequences, your feet moved, following you without question. He climbed the stairs with an almost predatory agility, the pressure of his hand pulling you closer to him.

When you reached the door to his room, you opened it without hesitation, and the sound of the latch clicking was like a signal for what was to come. In one fluid movement, he pulled you inside, and the air in the room seemed denser, heavier, as if the world outside no longer existed, the door closed behind you, and the darkness of Rafe's room seemed to envelop everything, as if you were in a place where nothing else mattered, just him and you.

— ☆ . .

Rafe was on top of you, already shirtless, as he hurriedly took off your silk shorts. “Tell me, has anyone ever fucked this sweet little pussy?” You shook your head in disagreement, no one had ever done anything sexual to you before. “Your brother is going to take your virginity then, sweetie.” It felt so wrong, but it was so delicious that you were just letting yourself get carried away.

Your shorts were thrown on the floor, giving Rafe a view of your tiny panties, he could see the wet spot that had formed from your arousal. Knowing that you were a virgin had only made the boy harder, being the first to taste your pussy was all he wanted.

“Sit on my face.” Overcome with lust, that was exactly what you did, it didn’t take long for the positions to reverse, you pulled your panties down, throwing them on the floor, soon adjusting yourself on top of Rafe, you sat on his face relaxing your pussy on top of him.

Rafe felt like he was going to collapse having all that sight before him. His brother's tongue moved slightly against your wet pussy while he had his hands resting on your thigh. "God, that feels so good.." You moaned, starting to rub yourself against his face.

Your pussy covered his face, Rafe felt like he could die suffocated by your pussy and still die happy. You held on to the headboard of the bed while your hips moved on his face, sliding so easily that it made you numb. The feeling of having a tongue sucking you for the first time was incredible, you just wanted more, you wanted to be able to feel everything Rafe was capable of giving you.

He sucked your clit, rubbing his tongue and nose against you, feeling your taste and your smell. "I want to taste this pussy every day, it tastes delicious." Rafe's hot breath hit your slit, you were trying hard not to moan loudly as he sucked you like that. Rafe was squeezing you tightly, swallowing you like it was the last thing he could do in his life.

You pulled your shirt hard, letting it fall, your nipples were hard and exposed, they swayed in a back and forth motion as you rubbed yourself against his face. “Rafey..” Your eyes closed tightly as you moaned softly, Rafe knew you were going to cum fast, you had never had this kind of contact, so he stopped sucking you, preventing you from finishing so quickly.

“Why did you stop, Ray?” You said as you sat back down on the bed, your breath coming up and down in your chest frantically. “You can’t cum now, sweetie, or the fun will be over.” Rafe said as he took off his pants along with his blue boxers clumsily, you watched feeling a heat between your legs, he soon pulled you again, but this time turning you to the side. “I want to fuck you like this.” The rough way he picked you up and turned you to the side made you bite your lip.

Rafe stood behind you, moving your hair away from your neck and getting closer. He could feel your ass rubbing against his cock from behind. “Open your legs for me.” As soon as you heard the request, you opened yourself for him. Rafe held your thigh as he began to rub his cock against your wet pussy.

His free hand found one of your breasts, squeezing it. Your body shivered as the head of his cock touched your pussy, which was getting increasingly wet. Rafe slid in, but still didn’t penetrate you. You could feel the way he played with your folds. “Be careful..” Your voice came out lower than you intended, a mix of adrenaline and excitement.

Rafe laughed at the comment, but without giving you any answers, he continued rubbing against you. His nose touched your smooth neck, smelling it and leaving small hickeys on the area that immediately turned purple as he continued.

“I’m going to put it inside you now, okay?” Rafe was usually pretty rough in bed, but since it was your first time, he felt the need to warn you before pushing in. “O-okay..”

He rubbed your entrance one last time before putting his cock inside, he pushed slowly as you felt a new and delicious sensation inside you. “Can you handle these nine inches of your brother, sweetie?” He pushed harder and harder as he heard your moans getting more intense.

“Yes, I can.” Rafe kept you open for him, soon moving. “Little slut, naughty.” The boy squeezed one of your breasts again, moving in and out of your pussy, the headboard of the bed banged against the wall, the only thing that could stop anyone from hearing what was happening inside the room was the music that was still playing outside. “Fuck, I love this.” He thought it was funny to see you cursing, it was fucking exciting to see how slutty you could be when no one was watching. His hips moved quickly, you felt like he could burst the walls of your pussy.

His breathing was fast against your ear, you welcomed every inch. “See how good your brother is fucking you, huh..” What you imagined when you were alone in your room was happening, your brother was really fucking you. “You make me feel so good..” You said, squirming on his cock.

Rafe stopped squeezing your breasts and started stimulating your clit with two fingers, he could feel how tight you were, he had never fucked a girl like that, your brother was marking his territory. “Now you’re mine, no one can touch you like this but me.” He slammed deep inside, your legs were getting weak. “Only I can make you cum, sis.” The words had a strong effect on you, Rafe slapped your pussy causing spasms throughout your body, it was as if moments ago you hadn't even had a little "argument" over jealousy.

He continued rubbing your clit as you slowly melted. "Ray, I-I'm going to-" Your words were cut off by the sensation that took over you, a delicious orgasm slowly hitting you as Rafe thrust inside. "Like that, sweetie, so good." Rafe slapped your pussy again feeling you cum on him.

The boy turned to you again, seeing you completely sweaty after what they did. “Don’t tell daddy what we did, or it’ll get us in trouble.” He grabbed a sheet that was next to him, covering your body. “I won’t tell.” His voice was low and tired as he looked at him with his beautiful Bambi eyes. “Great, sweetie, that’ll be our secret.”

Before he could do anything, Rafe tilted his head slightly, his eyes shining with a mix of amusement and something deeper. “Now tell me, were you jealous?” You crossed your arms and pouted involuntarily, hesitating for a moment before admitting in a low voice: “Okay, I confess… I didn’t like seeing you with another girl.”

The sarcastic smile that formed on his lips was one you already knew very well, full of provocation and certainty. “I may be with her now, but the one I really want is you.”

Your chest rose and fell quickly, the weight of his words hitting you like a shock. But before you could react, a loud knock echoed from the other side of the door, cutting the moment abruptly.

“Hey, Rafe, are you there, man?” Topper’s voice sounded from the other side, full of impatience.

Rafe let out a frustrated sigh as he quickly moved away from you. In a hurried movement, he picked up his scattered clothes and began to dress, clearly as surprised as you were by the interruption. “I have to go, y/n.” He said as he adjusted his shirt, his eyes fixed on yours, as if he wanted to assure you that this wouldn’t end there. “Stay here in my room, I promise I’ll be back, okay?”

Before you could respond, he leaned in and pressed a soft kiss against your forehead. The gesture was contradictory, but loaded with something more. The last thing you heard before the door closed was his voice saying to his friend: “Hey, man.”

[pigfartsviatardis]

Important! Treat kids like people! I’m an educator and it’s amazing how receptive kids are to listening to reason and changing their behaviour, or at least trying to, if you pull them aside - instead of embarrassing them in front of their peers - and ask them what the hell’s up instead of just talking at them.

The other day a kid was being rude to his partner that I had paired him with for a task, ignoring her and refusing to do any work. I asked if he was ok, he shrugged and said yes. I told him he needed to contribute and treat his partner with respect, then moved on. Came back a few mins later, nothing had changed. I asked him to come have a word. Pulled him out of earshot of the kids and asked if something was wrong. He said no. I said ok but you are acting like you’re upset or angry. Are you upset or angry? He said no (in an upset and angry way lmao). I asked if his partner was the problem. No. The task? No. Bear in mind this kid was like 12 so it could well have just been hormones. I am not his usual teacher, I don’t know him, so if there was something personal going on for him it’s pretty fair to not want to tell me, a stranger.

At this point I just said look I’m gonna be real with you. You clearly don’t want to talk to me about this and I respect that. But here are the facts. You are in class. You have class work to do and a partner who is currently doing it all by herself when everyone else gets help from a partner. Is that fair? He agreed it’s not fair. I said it’s ok if you’re not feeling great and you can’t give 100%, but you need to at the very least be polite to your partner and try to contribute a little bit to the work. I said if I saw him doing that bare minimum then we can all get on with our day, but if I saw him continue to ignore and do nothing then he was going to have to stay in at break time to make up for his partners wasted time. Asked if he understood. Got a nod and a shrug, good enough.

Literally a minute later he was talking to his partner and suggesting something for their task. A few minutes after that they were laughing and chatting. Didn’t have any issues with him for the rest of the day.

Back when I was a less experienced teacher I used to come down hard on kids who were being disrespectful, mostly because I was trying to be ‘an authority figure’ or whatever. I would have been more likely to scold that kid in front of his partner and his peers, give him an ultimatum, or taken his moodiness as rudeness against me personally. I don’t recall getting great results with any of that crap. He probably would have ended up staying in and ruining both our break times. Kids are just normal people and how many people do you know who react well to being humiliated, talked down to, or punished without given a chance to discuss or appeal it?

I know teaching is different from parenting but I’ve been working with kids for quite a few years now and it’s honestly the main thing I’d say I’ve learned about them, and it’s laughably simple: they are people, they have a perspective and they understand fairness, and they will respond a LOT better to being spoken with like an equal than being talked at like a lesser being. Who’d have thought????

I am exceptionally lucky in that my parents never hit me, grounded me, confiscated my things, banned me from my hobbies or threatened any of these actions to make me behave as a kid. as an adult it has made me realise how very very long a road most people have to traverse before they can take a statement like 'no rule that must be enforced by threat is legitimate' seriously.

[bratbarzal]

A VALENTINES BLURB EVENT? You’re too kind.

what about “wow, you really don’t have anyone special in your life at the minute.” with ex!fwb Jack Hughes?

✩‧₊˚ bratbarzal's valentines event!˚₊‧✩

3. “wow, you really don’t have anyone special in your life at the minute.” the maggie cinematic universe really is expanding!!! a jack blurb!!! hey look at us!! who'd have guessed it?? not me!! it's a smidge angsty, because all the fluff was giving me a complex. it's not who I am. I can barely look in the mirror any more. also you said the word ex!!!!!!!! I have no choice but to create problems!!!!!! also again, changed the phrasing bc I was struggling with it exactly as is but the sentiment is there ♥️

*mentions of vomiting

Jack knew to keep a close eye on you the second that he saw you down that first drink - plastering yourself to the other side of the room, avoiding him like the plague, as you so often do these days, but somehow he can't look away.

He tries not to be too obvious about it, knows that you'd have a problem with him showing any signs of interest or concern anymore, but he knows how these nights go when you're like this. So he watches over the rim of his cup, spares fleeting glances in your general direction, and pretends he's looking at something else nearby to avoid detection.

But he gives up the act when you're too far gone - stumbling to the nearest bathroom with your hand clasped over your mouth after dancing around with the girls and getting a little lightheaded.

He can hear the retching from the other side of the door, thankful that it isn't locked when he twists the handle - closes it softly behind him and secures the two of you inside so no one else can see you in such a vulnerable state.

You groan, probably having seen him from the corner of your eye, and press your forehead to your forearm, the clamminess of your skin evident even from over where he's stood.

"Don't come any closer," you warn him, holding out your other hand in a stopping motion without even looking his way, "I feel sick enough without my senses being flooded with Creed."

He ignores the warning, a heavy sigh and hard roll of his eyes his only response as he rolls up his sleeves and makes his way over, making a move to hold back your hair before you're shoving at his thighs in defiance. "I'm trying to help you," he snaps, voice low as he fights your objections.

"Don't want your help," you snap back, "Want you to go get someone else."

“You really think I’d just leave you here?” He jiggles your touch from his thigh, despite the way he likes how your hand lingers lightly as another wave of nausea washes over you. "C'mon, straighten up a little."

You whine as he guides your body, his touch gentle as he manoeuvres you slowly to avoid making you sick again. "Jack," you groan, "Stop."

"'M'not gonna leave you," he huffs, avoiding the blind swat of your hand as you reach back again to push, swerving around the stretch of your arm and throwing himself onto the floor on the other side of the toilet. "You shouldn't be on your own, not like this."

"You had no problem leaving me before," you grumble, your face wincing as you try to breathe through queasiness, straightening up now that he isn't the one telling you to and sitting back on your heels.

"You really wanna do this with your head half in the toilet?" he quirks a brow, leaning against the sink and settling in - his body language a certain show that he isn't going anywhere any time soon. "6 months you've barely spoken to me, and you want to bring it all up now?"

"You're the one who followed me in here," you scowl, "You're the one who's been stalking me all night. Why are you even here, shouldn't you be out with whatever new girl you're fucking? It's Valentines Day, that's your schtick right, making them think you're invested before you pull the rug-,"

"You're talking a lot for someone who was throwing their guts up 2 minutes ago," he cuts you off, face curling defensively as your eyes meet his in a heated glare. "There is no new girl, so you can stop your little speech before you say something you regret."

"I don't have regrets." You snort, your arms shaking as you push yourself up a little.

"The circumstances we're currently under would suggest otherwise." He nods toward the toilet, eyes flickering carefully over you as your brows furrow - looking for any further signs of distress. Your skin has brightened up a little, tears crusted in the corner of your eyes, the tip of your nose reddened and your lips swollen. "Why are you even here? Thought you found your special guy," he mocks the words he had seen plastered on your story only a few weeks ago - a selfie of you with some loser, lips pressed to his cheek as he wore the dorkiest grin Jack has ever seen in his life. It had made his skin crawl. "Not special enough to whisk you away on some romantic weekend for the holiday, huh?"

Your scowl quickly dips into a frown, brows softening, glare melting and tears welling at your lash line. Your lips start to tremble, and Jack straightens up - not knowing if you're nauseous or upset.

“I hate Valentine’s Day,” you cry dramatically, leaning on your arm as you stay hunched over the toilet bowl.

“No you don’t,” Jack snickers, reaching to tuck your hair behind your ear and smoothing it into place, the touch of his fingers soft against your scalp and almost lulling you into a sense of calm. “You’re just drunk.”

“No, I hate it. It sucks,” you huff, “It’s a con and a scam and I’m sick of having it shoved in my face all month. I want it gone and I want it gone now.”

“Alright, Princess,” he mocks, “You never hated Valentines before, what happened?”

“I never hated a lot of things before,” you scowl again, eyes narrowed at the way his lip quivers in amusement - because of course he’d take pleasure in your misery.

It’s what he loves to do.

Only, it isn't your misery that's making him smile. It's just you - dramatic and exaggerated - looking him in the eye and talking in full sentences, or near enough. It feels like forever since he's had you like this.

"I got dumped. Again. You'll probably be happy to know that you're not alone in thinking I'm not worth your time."

"I didn't dump you," Jack defends himself, immediately, "And I don't think that."

He isn't lying either - technically the two of you were never in a relationship, so dumping was out of the question. He needed a break to focus on his recovery - focus on building himself back up for a full season, no distractions, no entanglements, and he hadn't thought either of you were in that deep for it to actually matter.

Until he started to miss you.

It took him mere days, hitting him like a tonne of bricks the first time he tried to text you and it wouldn't go through.

He was still in Michigan, you were in Jersey, and taking drastic measures to seek you out at the time felt a little too much for the casual circumstances you had both originally agreed to - friends with benefits, scratching each other's itches and relieving each others stress.

And then by the time he was back in town - it felt too late.

You still crossed paths, ran in the same circles, but you wouldn't speak to him anymore, and he didn't want to open any old wounds you were clearly trying to heal.

But he never stopped caring. Never stopped looking out for you when you got a little too drunk at parties, or watching your stories from Luke's phone, because you had him blocked on every platform.

And it's only now that you're in front of him, speaking to him again, that he realises the extent of how much he's missed you.

"Whatever," you sigh.

"No, not whatever," he shuffles along the floor, legs knocking into yours as he reaches out again, swiping the stubborn strand of hair that keeps falling forward back behind your ear and holding it in place. "I don't think that."

He tries to be assertive in saying it, this time - eyes locked on yours, grip firming up a little on your face, lowering his tone of voice until it sounds more sure - and he figures it works a little better, your tired eyes blinking slowly as the honesty seeps in.

You sigh, heavy in a way that makes your shoulders slump, your lips twisting as you look down.

You're quiet for a moment, and all Jack can do is watch - stuck in the same position, the same proximity - as you try to fight the tears. Something tugs, like an ache in the depth of his chest, a soreness that can only be remedied by holding you, he thinks. But he knows that isn't the right move.

You're not okay. You're drinking to mask your feelings, to the point of self-destruction, throwing up on your own in the bathroom at a party filled with all your friends, and it's all his fault.

"I'm sorry," is all he can think to say, a lump in the back of his throat as you give a resigned nod, still not meeting his eye. "I'm sorry that I was a dick, and I'm sorry the other guy was a dick. You deserve better than both of us."

A lone tear slips out, rolls down your cheek cinematically slow, and Jack swipes at it before it can fall, the pad of his thumb stroking gently at your jaw.

"I'm not gonna leave you," he promises, and you're probably too drunk to look any further into it, but he means it in more ways than he can possibly convey on a bathroom floor, your hair matted to your forehead and tears in your eyes. "I'm gonna look after you. I'm gonna get you home safe, and in the morning, we're gonna talk, okay?"

You nod again, looking up briefly into oceanic irises - a storm that once consumed you still swirling within them.

"Alright, c'mon, let's get you up." He stands before you do, shifting behind you with hands under your arms, holding your body against his as he leans over and flushes all the evidence of your intoxication away.

"Don't manhandle me," you huff.

"I'm just trying to-,"

"If you say help one more time, I'm gonna throw up all over your car."

He presses his lips together to save himself, nodding towards the door and gesturing for you to start heading out if you can do so by yourself. He hovers behind you the entire time, hand floating behind the small of your back, ready to catch you when you inevitably stumble on unsteady feet.

And when he finally gets you home, you don't let him go any further than your couch, shoving him down onto it and stomping off to your room, the slam of your door causing him to smile to himself - because despite all your defiance, the stomping, the slamming, the sulking and the sighs, you still let him back in.

And he's not going to let you go again.

[7-deadly-cats]

killing me softly (part three)

genre: slow burn fic, fluff with hints of angst, light drama, no explicit smut

kms masterlist | <- part two | part four (soon) ->

pairing: rafe cameron x fem!introverted!kook!reader

cw: swearing, light suggestive themes, overthinking/anxiety

synopsys: it's the last year of high school and you were paired up with rafe cameron for a 2 week long project in art class. this wouldn't be a problem if you weren't awkward as hell and well ... if there weren't your big fat crush on him. could this be the beginning of a friendship or maybe even more? one thing was certain: rafe cameron was intense, impulsive, and complex in ways that weren't always for the better, and your mind? that shit was even more tangled. but you hadn't spent all these years crushing on him from a distance just to let this chance slip through your fingers ... right?

summary of recent events: during lunch you and rafe brainstormed some ideas for your art project. despite your awkwardness and an unfortunate misunderstanding, rafe had been mostly chill the whole time. after you both said your goodbyes to leave for afternoon classes, you awaited a surprise: rafe had somehow gotten your number and sent you a text message.

word count: 3k+

a/n: i know this part is more like a breather but i promise next part is gonna have y/n and rafe interacting a LOT more + it’s all building up to sth bigger and i really don’t wanna rush this story, so bear with me please <3 however i decided to bring in some jj action hibihihi. anyway please enjoy and as always any kind of support, comments, reblogs etc. is appreciated <33

This was insane. So fucking insane. You were seriously starting to think this was one of those cruel dreams where you spend an entire fantasy life with your crush, only to wake up at the best part, heartbroken and pissed off at your alarm clock.

Ever since you got home, your heart had been running a marathon, and that weird, buzzing feeling in your chest just wouldn’t go away.

Your mind was racing with questions.

Where did Rafe even get your number? Why didn’t he just ask you for it during lunch? Why did he text you—what was his intention here?

WAS IT EVEN RAFE????

Maybe someone was messing with you. Your mind flashed back to English class, to Kelce Statter grinning like an idiot while having texted someone. Was it him?

You frowned. That would be a pretty fucked-up joke, and honestly, you doubted Kelce had the patience or brainpower to pull off something like that.

With a sigh, you flopped onto your bed, inhaling the familiar scent of your room, trying to slow your racing thoughts.

If someone had strapped a heart monitor to you today, you’d probably be in the ER by now. It had been ages since your adrenaline had spiked like this.

Rolling onto your stomach, you grabbed your phone again, elbows propped on your mattress.

Your brows furrowed as you opened Cara’s chat:

Of course. The one time you actually needed her, she was nowhere to be found. Probably got caught texting in class, and now she was stuck listening to Ms. Langford go on about the importance of English literature or whatever.

You switched to your chat with Rafe, biting the inside of your cheek as you stared at his messages.

You should probably text back. You’d already left him on read for an hour, just because you had no clue what to say.

Not that he actually gives a shit.

But still. He had taken the time to get your number and text you. That had to mean something, right?

Dude, you’re overthinking this again. It’s literally just two texts.

Pressing your lips together, you started typing:

As soon as you hit send, you tossed your phone to the other side of the bed and groaned, burying your face in your pillow.

God, you just said hi—so why the hell did it feel like your entire nervous system was short-circuiting?

Shit. I should’ve left out that stupid smiley.

:)

WHY did its face look both pissed off and kind of turned on at the same time?!

Great. Now he probably thought you were sexually frustrated. And the whole I assume this is Rafe? thing? Seriously, Y/N. Of course, it’s Rafe. What a dumbass question. His cute ass profile picture made it obvious.

So now, not only you seemed desperate—you seemed desperate AND stupid.

Bzzzrt.

You sat up so fast it gave you whiplash, grabbing your phone in record time. Heart pounding, you unlocked it—

Cara.

You exhaled, part relieved, part annoyed, and opened her messages.

You sighed and let your phone drop onto your bed again. If only you could somehow call this dating—but whatever was going on between you and Rafe… well, there wasn’t even a between to begin with.

There was nothing.

At best, you were classmates. Maybe project partners. Nothing more.

You ran a hand over your face. This whole thing was exhausting, and the worst part? Nothing had even happened between you and Rafe. Well—except for the fact that you’d acted like some socially inept, know-it-all nerd just hours ago.

And yet… you couldn’t deny that it was kind of exciting. For the first time ever, you’d had an actual conversation with Rafe Cameron, and he hadn’t just gotten up and left in the middle of it.

AND THEN HE’D TEXTED YOU?! LIKE, HOLY SHIT?!

Which, in turn, made you feel like some dumb, hopeless girl. Because, seriously—what were you even expecting from this? A friendship? A friends with benefits situation? A relationship?

You nearly laughed out loud. That thought was about as far from reality as it could possibly get. Honestly, you had a better chance of making a groundbreaking scientific discovery—and you sucked at science.

Alright, one thing at a time.

You caught yourself staring at your phone again, still no reply from Rafe.

It’s fine, you told yourself. You only messaged him ten minutes ago, and just because he texted you doesn’t mean you’re suddenly texting buddies or some crap.

Holy shit, I’m overthinking this again.

You needed a distraction. Like, right now.

But staying here was only going to make you lose it. You needed to get out, do something.

Your gaze drifted back to your phone, and you tapped on Cara’s number.

Her soft voice came through on the other end. “Let me guess, you need help coming up with a reply?”

“He hasn’t answered yet.”

“Asshole.”

You laughed. “It’s not even been ten minutes.”

“Yeah, well, ten too many,” she shot back, but you could hear her trying to hide a grin. “Okay, what’s going on?”

“I thought we could hit the beach, chill a bit, you know, whatever.”

“You’re losing it, aren’t you?”

You smiled. “Yeah.”

“I’ll be there in 15 minutes.”

----------------------------------------------- The afternoon sun shone brightly in the cloudless sky, casting a golden glow over the beach. The waves weren’t exactly massive today but they were still decent enough for surfing.

Not that you’d be surfing anyway—your head was way too all over the place for that. You’d probably wipe out the second you got on the board.

No, today was about chilling. Just you and Cara, away from the crowd, tucked under the shade of your beach umbrella. You lay stretched out on your towels, talking about everything and anything—everything except Rafe Cameron.

Diggory, Cara’s cute family dog, was happily lounging with you, curled up on a damp towel with his portable water bowl nearby.

“--and then I ghosted him because, like, what kind of guy eats salami, pickles, and Nutella for breakfast?” Cara finished, shaking her head as she recalled her short-lived fling with a Swedish Touron from last week.

You laughed, tossing the sunscreen aside after finishing your legs. “A psycho probably.”

“The worst part? His weird food choices—and yeah, plural—didn’t even make up for his performance in bed,” she scoffed, scratching Diggory’s head. “Two minutes in, he finished, and acted like he’d just found the love of his life.”

You shrugged. “What’s that saying? 9 out of 10 Tourons mistake a one-night stand for a love story.”

Cara let out a dramatic sigh. “Ugh, I think I’m done with Tourons for a while. Time to keep it local.”

You chuckled, but before you could reply, muffled voices drifted over from the side, catching your attention.

“Doesn’t get more local than that,” you noted, subtly glancing toward the new arrivals on the beach.

Cara propped herself up on her elbows, following your gaze. A slow grin spread across her lips. “Pogues?”

You smirked, eyes lingering on the tanned blond with a surfboard under his arm. “Maybank’s kinda cute.”

Cara shot you a look over her sunglasses, raising an eyebrow. “JJ Maybank? Okay, girl, you definitely have a type. He’s basically Rafe Cameron but like broke.”

You scoffed, furrowing your brows. “I mean, objectively, he’s attractive. That’s all I’m saying.”

“Objectively, they’re all one grade below us,” Cara said dryly. But then her expression shifted into an amused smirk. “But yeah, fair point. All four of them? Absolute smash.”

You both cracked up, the tension from earlier fading for a moment.

In the distance, a firetruck siren wailed, and Diggory let out a dramatic howl in response.

“Alright, alright, we get it,” Cara murmured, scooping up the still-howling terrier into her arms.

You chuckled but quickly went quiet as a 6-foot, sun-kissed Pogue strolled up to your little beachside oasis.

JJ Maybank’s cocky grin peeked under your umbrella, his surfboard left behind with his friends.

“Heard a dog over here,” he remarked, his gaze flicking between you and Cara. “Or was that one of you howling for me?”

You bit back a laugh, while Cara rolled her eyes. “Piss off, JJ.”

You knew better—she was flirting.

JJ let out a dirty chuckle, crouching down as Diggory leaped from Cara’s lap, tail wagging like crazy. “Your dog disagrees.”

He scratched the excited terrier behind the ears.

“Pfft, Dig would run up to a serial killer,” Cara scoffed. “He’s got no moral compass whatsoever.”

JJ smirked, glancing up at her, his eyes flickering over her sunscreen-glazed legs before meeting her gaze. “Neither do I.”

Okaaay, I’m definitely third-wheeling here.

"JJ!" Kiara Carrera’s voice rang out from a few yards away. "Stop harassing random girls!"

Cara smirked. “Your girl’s got a point.”

JJ scoffed, raising a brow before ruffling Diggory’s fur one last time. Then he stood up. “Just making new friends, Ki!” he called back.

His sunlit torso practically gleamed, and you quickly looked away when he caught you staring.

Awkwaaaard.

“You should let your dog run somewhere with actual grass,” JJ teased, turning back to Cara. “Poor guy’s paws probably got calluses from all that Figure 8 pavement.”

Cara tilted her head, amused. “What do you suggest? The Cut? Yeah, no thanks, I’d rather not get mugged and stabbed.”

“You wouldn’t if I was with you,” JJ shot back, flashing his cockiest grin.

You weren’t sure whether to laugh or gag.

Cara let out a laugh, waving him off. “One mutt's enough for me.”

JJ shrugged. “I don’t need a leash either,” he quipped before shooting her a wink and jogging back to his friends.

Once he was out of earshot, Cara turned back to you, a wide grin on her face and a hint of pink dusting her cheeks. “Okay, you’re right—he’s hot.”

You both burst into laughter as Diggory waddled back onto his damp towel.

And that’s how the rest of the late afternoon went: watching the Pogues surf (one cocky blond in particular), snacking on strawberries, and cracking up over dumb jokes and wild party stories.

As the sun began dipping the sky in shades of orange, you slowly started packing up your things.

And you hadn’t checked your phone once—not that it mattered, since it was turned off anyway.

As you folded up the beach umbrella, your eyes drifted back toward the Pogues, hanging out at their own little spot on the other side of the beach.

With a playful smirk, you glanced at Cara, who was rolling up your towels. “Not gonna say bye to your new admirer?”

Cara raised a brow at you. “Pfft, like I’d chase after a Pogue.”

You rolled your eyes. “Nooo, you’d rather ‘accidentally’ run into him while walking Diggory in the Cut.”

“Or maybe I just happen to be coming back from Barry’s, and Dig rips his leash and bolts straight to whatever hole Maybank crawled out of.”

You nodded slowly. “Riiiight.”

Cara stuffed the towels into her beach bag and added casually, “Speaking of Barry, every time I’m picking up my weed, he’s asking about you .”

For some reason, that made your face heat up. You frowned, leaning on the umbrella. “Cara, I’m not hooking up with your dealer.”

She just shrugged, kneeling down to clip Diggory’s leash on. “He thinks you're chill and that means something. He doesn’t like a lot of Kooks. I thought you also liked him?”

“He's cool. That still doesn't change the fact he's selling coke and other stuff,” you said flatly.

Cara met your gaze, looking almost dreamy. “Yeah, and? Imagine: he’s the bad-boy dealer, and you’re his sweet little Kook princess.”

You scoffed, shaking your head. “You need to stay off Tumblr and Wattpad.”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it. Rafe Cameron Stan No. 1 for life.” She slung her bag over her shoulder and started walking off with Diggory.

You just rolled your eyes and followed after her.

-----------------------------------------------

Back at home, you had dinner with your parents, then retreated to your room. You dropped your bag and sank onto your bed, phone in hand.

And then it started again — the tingling nerves.

What if Rafe still hadn't texted you? The thought was somehow so depressing.

Oh my god, just check already.

You held your breath, waiting impatiently for your phone to fully turn on. The screen lit up and…

A huge smile spread across your face, and your heart skipped a beat.

SEEMED LIKE HE WANTED TO SEE YOU AGAIN.

Okay, okay, breathe. Don’t read too much into it.

AHHH, BUT HOW COULD YOU NOT.

You bit the inside of your cheek. Seriously, calm down.

And you did—until Cara’s words from earlier popped back into your head, and that heavy feeling settled in your chest again.

Rafe was probably just putting in extra effort so he could get a good grade on this project. This wasn’t about wanting to see you again or anything like that.

You scoffed. What a naive thought.

You know what? Who cares? He wanted to meet up again, and that alone was a nice thought—whatever the reason.

Alright, how were you supposed to respond?

One thing's certain: no more sexually frustrated emojis.

You checked the timestamp on his last message. A little over an hour ago. Okay, that meant enough time had passed for you to reply without seeming too eager.

That was fine, right? RIGHT?!

Ugh, not really. Again, you sounded like a stupid girl because of fucking course he had meant after school.

Frustrated, you closed your eyes and let yourself fall back onto your bed.

Why were you so bad at… this?

Cara had practically effortlessly won over JJ Maybank today (okay, maybe it had been the other way around but that wasn't the point), and she hadn’t done anything except be herself.

She always just said what was on her mind and if she got rejected or received a weird look in return, so be it. Even outside of flirting, she handled social interactions with ease.

Why couldn’t you do that? Why did you have to overanalyze every single move?

It had already cost you so many potential friendships—maybe even relationships. And no matter how hard you tried, you just couldn’t turn that part of your brain off. At least not during in-person interactions.

The worst part? You weren’t even truly shy. Well, okay, kind of. But you, you know, the real you—how you usually acted around people you felt comfortable with—was always trapped behind this stupid barrier your own mind had built.

It was so frustrating because—

Bzzrt.

Your eyes snapped open as you grabbed your phone.

Rafe.

It hadn’t even been five minutes.

You sat up quickly and tapped into the chat:

You scoffed amused.

Your heart was racing again, adrenaline kicking in.

You clenched your teeth, fingers hovering over the keyboard. You wanted to reply right away, but wouldn’t that seem too much?

Then again, he had answered quickly too…

But what if you texted back now and then he took another hour to reply, or worse, didn’t reply at all…?

Fucking hell, enough.

What if you just… shut your brain off for once?

Just do it. Who cares how it comes across?

You’d already reached peak embarrassment today—you had nothing left to lose.

So you typed your message and hit send without second-guessing it.

…

And it felt good. It wasn’t even a big move or anything, but still, it made you smile.

Your phone buzzed again, and you couldn’t help but laugh when you read his message.

Ruthie Whitmore was an arrogant bitch. Loud, annoying, stuck-up—the biggest pick-me girl in Figure 8. No, probably in all of North Carolina. And she was obsessed with your Economics teacher, Mr. Collins, who was at least in his late 30s.

You didn’t know what it was—Rafe’s bluntness, the fact that you could hide your awkwardness behind a screen, or maybe just how tired you were of your real self always being held back by your own hesitation—but texting Rafe Cameron suddenly felt easy.

Okay, maybe it was also because, deep down (yeah, you still couldn’t fully shut off your brain), you knew he wasn’t actually interested in you.

He just needed to pass art class because his high school diploma depended on it.

And that’s exactly why you saw this chat for what it really was: a conversation with a project partner who was hoping you’d help boosting his Art grade.

And just like that, the conversation was over.

For a moment, you stared at the chat—or more specifically, his stupid little profile picture which had to have been taken by Kelce or Topper at some party. Then you let your phone drop onto the bed and a huge, stupid grin spread across your face.

Normally, the way you had just texted him would have sent you into a spiral of overthinking. Shit, you’d been cheeky (yeah, yeah, nothing crazy but for you it WAS)—nothing like the awkward girl you had been this afternoon.

But the thing was, this was you. You had loud thoughts and strong opinions, you enjoyed joking around, saying stupid shit, and holy shit you LOVED the banter that came with it.

You were a loud soul trapped in a silent body.

I’m basically a closeted extrovert, you thought, laughing to yourself. It sounded ridiculous and cringe as hell but let's be real, it summed you up perfectly.

And honestly, it didn’t even matter what you said or how you acted. No matter what Rafe thought of you, in two weeks, your paths would split again anyway. and you’d go back to your own little bubble—where you could admire him from a safe distance.

Sure, if only it were that simple.

You rolled your eyes at your own naivety. You already knew that the second you saw Rafe Cameron again tomorrow, your nerves would be doing somersaults, and you’d fall right back into being an awkward mess.

Because that was the cruel difference between texting and talking in person: There was no screen to hide behind and no digital barrier to mask your insecurity.

And that was a struggle you had yet to overcome.

-----------------------------------------------

kms masterlist | <- part two | part four (soon) ->

-----------------------------------------------

Taglist (open):

@ursogorgeous13 @my-name-is-baby @moneybaby07 @jjasmiineee @sttaejoon-blog @vogueprincess

[wosov]

A tough pill to swallow - part 1

Kiddo forgets to refill her prescription soon after moving in with Leah and goes off the rails without her ADHD medication

Five months. It took living with Leah for five months for you to fall out of the routine of taking your medication. I mean you had only been diagnosed with ADHD since primary school so it really shouldn’t have taken such a short amount of time for you to forget such a vital part of your day. But here we are. You were currently on an extreme high and it felt amazing. You had so much energy that keeping up with your world class teammates was a breeze. You woke up at the crack of dawn full of energy as though you had drunk about 7 energy drinks at once. 

The one problem was that this high lasted no longer than two days and what followed was something you never wanted to experience again. You woke up to your alarm blaring out at you, signalling you to another day of training. In the distance you could already hear Leah rummaging about in the kitchen, no doubt grabbing her protein powder to start off her smoothie for the day. You rolled over in bed and groaned, feeling like the weight of the world was on your chest. 

Leah came into your room after three brisk knocks and immediately started singing “Good morning sunshine!” as she pulled your curtains back which led to you fighting the urge to either scream in her face or pull the duvet back over your face. You picked the latter which led Leah to roll her eyes and walk over to your bed and yank the covers off you.

“Cmon kiddo! You need to get out of bed, we only have 30 minutes before we need to leave the house” she spoke with an easy and upbeat tone that you found impossible to replicate so you just huffed and rolled over. “Kiiddddooooo you gotta get up and dressed now cmon lets go” to which you didn’t respond choosing to willfully ignore her, which Leah did not take well to. “Kid, I know you can hear me” she said with mild annoyance as she started poking you which was like her poking at your poorly contained irritability. You finally thought you had won when Leah walked out of your room with a huff, mumbling under her breath but that hope was very short lived as she soon returned with a cup of cold water and promptly trickled a little onto your face. This was the last straw for you as it shocked you out of your unrestful slumber. You shot up out of bed and all but screamed at Leah.

“LEAH WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU!”

Leah (who really wasn’t expecting a reaction like that) was stunned into a temporary silence. She just stared at you dumbfounded that you had shouted at her like that whilst trying to regain her composure in order to not yell back at you.

“Kid I don’t appreciate you taking that tone with me” she spoke with a dangerously calm tone. “I was only trying to get you out of bed since you weren’t responding to me earlier, now if you will excuse me I am going to go and finish getting ready. I have set out your training kit on the side and we will be leaving in 25 minutes.” And with that Leah briskly walked out of the room leaving you to wallow in your guilt and annoyance. You hadn’t meant to scream at her like that, in truth you don’t really know what came over you. It was like you weren’t in control of yourself, you thought as you pulled on your kit. After you were all dressed and ready for the day, you sluggishly walked out of your room (choosing to ignore your bedside drawer where your empty prescription bottle lay). 

You hated feeling like you were not in control of yourself, of your thoughts, your feelings or your actions. It was as if you were one comment away from exploding in anger but other than that you just felt numb. You felt so empty, so devoid of any feelings that normal people seem to have, but in some twisted way it was comforting. You welcomed it, after all you believed this is only what you deserved. If you were the one who couldn’t act like a fucking normal person, then you obviously deserved to feel like this. 

As you moved downstairs you half expected to be met with a fist and screams in retaliation for the scene you had caused upstairs, so you kept your sight focused firmly on the floor - as if bracing for one impact or another. But when that didn’t happen you lifted your gaze from the floor with a little confusion. In doing that you saw Leah rummaging through her bag looking like she was trying to find something. You must’ve been standing there aimlessly for a few minutes until she noticed you and smiled. 

“Hey kid, all ready to go? I just need to find my left shin pad then we can get on the road” she stated whilst still looking through her bag - albeit with a little more urgency than before. “There’s some toast left on the side there if you wanna help yourself or we can just grab something before training, up to you.”

You nodded in confusion at the lack of response to your outburst which Leah seemed to sense as she stopped what she was doing and looked at you.

“Kiddo I’m not angry at you, it was probably a poor judgment call on my part to think waking up a teenager with cold water would work” she stated with an amused look on her face. 

You just nodded hesitantly, as if you were still waiting for some kind of punishment. 

“I uh, I am really sorry for shouting at you Le” you mumbled out. 

“What was that Kiddo, I couldn’t quite hear what you said there”

You took a deep breath before speaking more clearly, “I’m really sorry Le.”

Leah just smiled at you before saying “Water under the bridge kid, it’s all forgiven.”

That should’ve eased the guilt you were feeling but it just made you feel worse. All you could think about was that you screamed at such a sweet and caring person and all she did was forgive you like it was nothing then blame herself for the situation. 

The entire journey towards the training centre was filled with Leah humming along to her playlist of the day and you staring out of the window trying not to fuck anything else up, and as soon as you had arrived, you were quick to jump out of the car and grab your kit bag before all but running into the building to get ready for the first session of the day. Leaving Leah, who hadn’t even turned the ignition off, to sit there bewildered wondering what on earth had just happened. She was used to your cheeky personality chatting her ear off about one topic or another that had caught your interest before running off in search of your shared teammates who were more into pulling pranks on the rest of the team. Not whatever had happened just then. Leah caught the confused eye of Beth who was walking in with Katie McCabe as they were usually your prank pulling counterparts. But after watching you walk into the building without so much as saying hello to them, Leah knew there was something going on with you that was bigger than just the usual teenage hormones. And by the looks of it both Beth and Katie knew it too as they quickly waved over to Leah before silently asking what was wrong, to which Leah just responded with a sigh and a shrug of the shoulders as she watched you disappear into the building, quickly feeling despair wash over her because the truth was.

She truly had no idea how to fix this.

[starredblood]

CHIHIRO

PART TWO

kang sae-byeok x fem!reader

synopsis: you start suspecting a deeper history with sae-byeok, who is letting you in so easily.

wc. 5.1k

warnings: reader gets bad migraine, bit of angst and fluff

(chihiro masterlist)

(summer, 2021)

You’re walking like you don’t want to be approached. Headphones on and sporting your darkest sunglasses—but it was all because you couldn’t stand being in the sun too long. That’s how the migraines start. You didn’t always have this problem and adjusting to a different lifestyle is harder than it looks.

You don’t want to think too much about it though. The impact one minuscule moment made to your life. But there was a brief time a month ago when the loss was all you thought about—it left you immobilized in your room even when you were fully able to step into the real world. But you were just too sad. You lost yourself…and you don’t know how many others lost you too.

That feeling brewing in your stomach is still there—the shifting of your world. You try avoiding anything that has to do with change to make sure your gut feeling is lying to you. So, you go to work, do your job (somewhat poorly) and go home, your home—that’s what you want your life to be forever now. Preferably alone.

But you already failed to fight back the change when you saw a small feline curled up by the edge of the sidewalk.

You gasp seeing the fragile state of the black kitten, who was trembling profusely and was barely able to open its eyes. Removing your sunglasses to take a better look at the cat, you then glance around to see if it belonged to any passerby’s but no one paid attention to the stray. You frown, thinking that maybe you’re hallucinating this cat that’s crying for help in the sea of pacing legs.

When you bend down and gently pat the cats small back, it flinched horribly making your heart clench. At least the kitten was real, and you’re too afraid to leave it here alone. Someone could trample it.

“Poor thing.” you coo to the kitten and it weakly mewls back. When it gets used to your touch, you scoop the cat in your hands. “Are you lost?”

You exhale through your nose. Your mom never liked cats and would always disapprove the idea of adopting one ever since you were a child. Good thing you moved back into your apartment and can do whatever you please. But can you really take care of another living being in your state?

The kitten, which you find out is a girl, begins to doze off in your warm palms. This has to be a sign for you to keep her. You rub her tiny back with your thumb and decide to take her home.

It was a good thing that you weren’t far from your apartment. The plan is to take her home, scurry to the nearest pet store and tomorrow you will take her to the vet. This change is good, you try to tell yourself as you keep on trudging.

One change you didn’t particularly favor was Cheol’s sister who is apparently everywhere now. You didn’t think it was her, sitting on a bench only a block away from your apartment, but it’s her. The short unruly hair and cold eyes gave it away. What are the odds of finding her here?

And it’s like she too can feel your presence because she spots you trying to brush past her. But meeting her icy glare only gave you more courage to speak up.

You pause in your footsteps, turn back around and walk back to the girl sitting on the bench. “Why do I get the feeling that you’re stalking me?” you ask her, sounding aggravated.

“I was working nearby—don’t get your ego inflated.” she scoffs, then breaks eye contact to look at what you’re cradling. She blinks. “Is that a cat?”

“I found her by an alleyway.” you state apprehensively and continue to pet her.

“And you’re going to keep it?”

“Why not? I always wanted a cat.” you shrug. She presses her lips into a thin line and you use that as your cue to walk away from this conversation. But in the middle of spinning back around, a question pops into your head. “Hey, what’s your name by the way?”

Her expression is bleak and unreadable as usual, but you noticed the small gulp. “Sae-byeok.” she answers quietly.

You curtly nod and start backing away slowly. “Have a nice day, Sae-byeok.” you mutter back awkwardly and start walking faster before another interaction from her erupts. You can feel her stare on your back however.

Ever since you started talking to her, you feel like you see her everywhere. Your mind can’t catch a break from thinking of her. Especially not at work, that’s where you usually find her lingering around but today is a different day with a different challenge and she always seems to be part of the challenge.

A few days after adopting your new kitten, who’s still nameless, you feel a new sense of purpose in your life. You want to take living more seriously.

You sacrificed two hours of your life this quiet Monday morning to go to the library earlier than scheduled to fix the mistakes you’ve made the past couple of weeks. And you have a good feeling about this, your mind is more clear and sharp than before. You might not get paid for these hours of work but it’ll be worth it seeing the look on Dasom’s face when you prove her wrong. Prove everyone wrong.

In your notebook, you mapped out the layout of the library so you spend less time getting lost. After successfully placing every book away in their actual correct spots, you spend the last thirty minutes in the back office organizing and cataloging the library materials—which were completely disarray thanks to you. By the time you finish, it’s time for you to technically—officially be working.

When you clock in the break room, Dasom bursts in a couple of seconds after. When she sees you, her malevolent smirk appears. “Do you happen to be well acquainted with, Remy?” she asks in a mocking manner. You don’t answer her instead roll your eyes and avoid her gaze. “The library looks nice—I’m assuming you had to have a rat underneath your garments or something that helped you make this place finally look satisfactory. Because god knows you didn’t fix this place all by yourself.”

“You’re the exception to the rule, Dasom.” you sneer and try storming off but she had a tight grip on your shoulder blade.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she queries.

You don’t say anything, knowing that she isn’t worth arguing with, and swat her hand off you. When you step out the break room, you hear her clearly muttering insults underneath her breath. You feel bad for her, truly—a once spoiled child isn’t getting what she wants and is taking out her frustrations onto you.

Once your other coworkers start trickling in, you saw less of the likes of Dasom. Most of your morning and afternoon was working on the library’s catalog, the most tedious part of being a librarian. And having to sit down for hours irks you and your poor back.

Now that summer break officially started, more kids began coming into the library to mingle rather than learn. You get it though, you were a kid once after all so you didn’t mind that they came in just to socialize. However, there’s always a handful that come by to get a head start for the next school year—you were once also that type of child. But you didn’t expect a particular kid to be the same.

You look away from your computer screen and become surprised when you see Cheol accompanied by his sister Sae-byeok. He has a thick book pressed on his chest and smiles shyly at you.

“Hi, Cheol.” you greet him casually.

“Hi, noona.” he says back.

“Can you help him?” Sae-byeok asks right after. You look at her and your face morphs into confusion.

You wanted to question her. Why—Why now? Was she not able to help him after all? But this wasn’t about her or you, so you put those thoughts and animosity towards Sae-byeok away and look down at Cheol.

“Of course.” you say, grinning at him. “What do you need help with?”

“It’s hard for me to read this book…”

And with that, you take him to his favorite spot in the library and help him read through the first few chapters of a book that’s clearly above his grade level. But you’re impressed he’s succeeding. It makes your heart full because this is what being a librarian means to you. However, it would’ve been nice if Sae-byeok wasn’t watching you guys like a hawk. But at some point she starts picking up her own book and starts reading.

Halfway through reading the third chapter, Cheol breaks into conversation. He starts rambling about his favorite book that every kid his age loves and he can rarely find it in the library.

“Can I show you my favorite book if I find it?” he suggests, but already rose from his seat so it’s not like you can decline. But why would you—it’s refreshing to see someone his age fall in love with the world of reading.

“Sure.” you say and watching him scurry off to the kids section across the library.

Now the only people in this table were you and Sae-byeok who was sitting across from you. When she sees that his brother left, she lowers the book covering half of her face and starts sending you fleeting glances. You avoiding them by staring down at your hands folded on top of the table.

“Thanks.” she says out of the blue.

You snap your head to look at her briefly. She is leaning against the table, tracing circles on the cover of her current read, Human Acts by Han Kang—an amazing book you might add.

Maybe you’re being too harsh on her. There’s a lot you can learn about a person by knowing what they like to read. And a book as profound as this gives Sae-byeok a whole new layer of depth that you didn’t expect. Now, you’re curious to know her thoughts on it. Instead, you just clear your throat when she spoke up.

“No problem.” you breathe, fiddling with the bookmark you picked up. “He’s a good kid.”

“He is.”

When you eye her again, you see her glaring at something past your shoulders. Out of curiosity you turn around to see what she’s looking so harshly at. It was Dasom, who was also staring back but looks away when she spots you. She disappears into one of the bookshelves.

You whirl your head back around and give the icy girl a tight lipped smile. “I don’t like her either.” you bluntly admit.

The corner of her lips start twitching, like she was fighting back the urge to smile. You start to wonder what’s taking Cheol so long, it’s like he’s purposefully trying to give you a hard time right now. This awkward pause was too much.

Sae-byeok sucks in a breath of air like she was purposefully trying to get your divided attention. She starts rubbing the nape of her neck, appearing to have a hard time making her mouth say words, “Are you um…free later?” she carefully asks.

When she says this you already know where this is heading. You aren’t sure why she’s suddenly trying with you, but it intrigues you. Her cold nature was unraveling.

“I am.” you say plainly.

“I figure that I owe you for helping Cheol…if you want we can go to the cafe we ran into each other maybe like later today…?”

“…Uh—“

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to.” she cuts you off, determined to avoid your eyes.

You didn’t expect her to be such a wildcard. The timidness seeping through her voice and her softening gaze made your curiosity peak.

“It’s the cafe that looks like a little fairy cottage, right?” you ask her and she nods. “That’s my favorite. I’ll go with you. I get off at three—I’ll meet you there.”

You were too focused on Cheol’s reappearing figure to see the glint of hope in her eyes.

“This is your favorite book?” you ask Cheol, who comes back out of breath but elated with the book he hands you.

After another hour went by, it was time for you to fulfill other duties you had to complete before your shift is over. But you take your time to walk with the two siblings out the library.

After wishing Cheol goodbye, it was now Sae-byeok’s turn. But you couldn’t find anything to say—not after what occurred before.

She stands in front of you, with her muscles tense, stiff shoulders, and hands shoved in the depths of her jean pockets. “Thanks again. I guess I’ll see you later.” she murmurs with a deadpan expression.

All you could do is nod to that, ignoring the queasiness that you felt in your stomach. You wait for them to reach the doorframes to turn around.

You bite back a smile when you overheard Cheol tell his sister as they were heading out, “You guys are seeing each other later?”

When three o’ clock came, you entered the break room with much eagerness than when you started this morning. But the excitement quickly vanished when you saw something of yours suspiciously on the floor. Upon further inspection, you saw that it was your sunglasses split in half—the ones you need to help with migraines. Someone was holding back laughter nearby and you knew who it was. You didn’t want to give Dasom the satisfaction.

Instead you hold in your anger and kick off the broke glasses to the side and grab your purse from your locker. You can feel her throwing daggers when you walk out.

You don’t rely on a map anymore to the cafe, you come here almost everyday now. The only thing you have to do is find Sae-byeok when you enter.

It was easy to spot her quiet and enigmatic figure. She sat by the window again, her hands propped up on the table with her hands folded. She had her hair styled into a short ponytail which she didn’t have earlier. Her once sharp eyes rounded when you stood by the door in a frigid posture. Something about her face feels more familiar day by day.

“What do you usually order?” she asks making you snap out of your thoughts.

You slowly pull up the chair across from her and sit down. “Uh—vanilla latte, iced.”

She nods and gets off her seat to go order. You observe her some more. Her guarded behavior is present to anyone she encounters but with you she speaks in a much softer tone. The way her arms are crossed and her eyebrows are knitted when she orders is a telltale sign to stay away from her.

Your mom told you that you didn’t meet anyone new the past year. And you believed it at first because you didn’t have the energy to go and search if she was telling you the truth. But maybe you want to try now. Unless Sae-byeok is just being nice this whole time and you’re just paranoid.

“Thanks.” you murmur when she passes you your coffee. Neither of you speak as you take sipping your drinks. You feel like there is a big elephant in the room. Your past animosity towards her is no longer present—it left the second she came to you asking if you can help her brother. “Hey, about the past— I’m sorry for lashing out on you…so many times.”

“It’s fine.” she shrugs after finishing taking sips of her cold brew.

“No, it’s not.” you state and frown when she doesn’t look up at you. So, you scoot your seat closer to lean on the table to make her. “I was too cowardly to defend myself against Dasom because her parents donate to the library. So, I threw my frustrations onto you.”

“Like I said—it’s fine. I don’t care.”

“Okay.” you whisper.

“I didn’t mean it like that.” she sighs and starts playing with the hem of her sleeve like she was in careful thought. You wait for her to gather them to say something else. “Just figured you wouldn’t want to tell me after finding out…” she trails off, quieter than the wind.

“About what happened to me?” you ask cautiously. When she nods you chew the inside of your cheek. You don’t discern the fact that your legs are bouncing aggressively underneath the table. “Do you want to know?”

She nibbles on her lower lip. “Only if you want to talk about it.”

It’s been awhile since you spoke aloud about your accident. And how it took a year out of your life. Your heart starts racing, you try to convince yourself it’s just the caffeine but deep inside you know it’s because you’re anxious. Sae-byeok couldn’t look away anymore, clearly wanting a question but isn’t blunt enough to directly ask.

“I got into a car accident. Most of the injuries went to my head.” you explain shortly. But it took everything in you to finally say it. “I lost a year worth of memories because of it. And I get really bad brain fog so…that explains all the confusion and getting lost.”

“Sounds hard.” she whispers and starts glancing out the window.

“It is.” you heave. “My therapist says that music therapy and creating lists help with it.”

“Is that why I always see you with headphones during your breaks?”

“Are you always watching me?” you snort seeing the blush creep up her neck. That’s a sight you never thought you’d see. Her posture becomes guarded again, the arms crossed and contorted expression so you clear your throat. “Let’s change the topic okay?”

“…Fine.” she hesitates.

“Cheol told me his favorite book—what’s yours?”

“Heaven by Mieko Kawakami.” she responds right away, it took you by surprise.

“Really?” you gape, your eyebrows raising up. You see her lips start quivering again. “I love that book—not my favorite though but it’s definitely up there.”

“What’s yours?”

“The White Book—Han Kang.” you say without further thought. You take your last sip of coffee so you hold back the urge to laugh at her crestfallen expression. “You look so surprised when I said that:”

Sae-byeok exhales, like she was holding back the laugh that was ready to escape. You continue to gawk at her—you couldn’t distinguish what was different about her but something definitely was. Like flicker of a switch, you feel more at ease with her. It feels like you can tell her anything. Your heart drops at the possibility of—

“Do you want to go somewhere else?” she asks casually but already rose from her seat before you could answer. “There’s a spot I think you might like.”

A quizzical look etches your face. “Sure?”

She grabs your empty coffee cup and dumps it on the trashcan. When she opens the door halfway, she pauses and waits for you to catch up.

The moment you’re out in the sunlight your head feels like it’s tightening. This torturous sensation couldn’t be alleviated because Dasom broke your sunglasses. But you are dying to know where she will take you so you might just have to put up with the blaring sunlight.

When you reach the park, you think she’d lead you to a bench and sit by the lake. What you didn’t expect is to stand in front of a large wired gate at the end of the park. On the unreachable end of the gate, you see a massive greenhouse that resembles a mansion.

You’re confused when Sae-byeok bends down to lift up the wired fence, leaving a quaint gap for anyone to trespass through. She doesn’t say anything, but the glint of mischief in her eyes tells you enough—she wants you to duck underneath.

“Do you want to pay fifteen bucks to enter?” she asks you like the clear and obvious answer is to sneak inside the botanical garden.

A sigh escapes your lips. You don’t answer but you always wanted to go see the botanicals. You let your heart speak for your actions and duck underneath the fence. When you make it to the other side, you fight back the urge to wince at the headache starting to kick.

You shield your view from the white sunshine using your hands. But when Sae-byeok crawled to the back of the garden, she took one of your hands with hers and makes you run with her to the enormous greenhouse.

Her warm hands enveloped with yours and it confuses you. You don’t get it—why is she so relaxed with you?

She sneaks you into one of the back entrances, letting go of your hand and guides you by pressing her hand to the small of your back. Every now and then, you feel her hot and unsteady breath hit the side of your neck.

“We’re good.” she whispers when no onlookers or staff caught onto you both for trespassing.

You’re so in awe of the tall strangely shaped trees and arrays of flowers you didn’t even know existed that you almost forgot about the excruciating migraine starting. Sae-byeok quietly watches you, as if she was waiting for you to come to some sort of epiphany that never happened.

She trails after you for a solid ten minutes while you observe and snap photos of different plants you come across.

“There’s a spot outside with a pond—if you want to sit down.” she falters.

Her voice startles you. At this point, your eyes were squinted because you couldn’t take the sharp throbbing pain anymore.

“Lead the way then.” you still say.

You want to hold on longer. You’re dying to know how to solve the unsolvable puzzle that is Sae-byeok.

The pond was small and inviting with only a singular bench that can barely fit two people. When you both sit down she stares straight ahead at the lake as if she was pondering the great mysteries of the world. She has to know you’re looking at her right now.

You didn’t notice her splatter of freckles across her cheeks until now that the sunshine beams straight down on them. A blurry memory pops into your head about the same freckled person in front of you—you feel like you’ve seen her before.

Her posture slackens and she leans the back of her head on the bench. She was squirming at the intensity of your gaze.

“I feel like I know you.” you say outright.

Sae-byeok’s pokerface becomes stern. “From?” she says with a light tone—hope?

“I don’t know…Never mind.” you shut your eyes at the feeling of the sun hitting your corneas. “I need to stop assuming that everyone new I meet is from the past.”

You hear her keep shifting on the bench. “Can I ask you something now?” she asks. You flutter open your eyes and hum. “Do you have any friends right now?”

“Not really. I had a good group of friends in college but we all just naturally grew apart. But as of right now no.” you answer honestly. Adulthood is lonely, you doubt you’re the only one. “How about you?”

There was a brief pause after you ask her the question. Sae-byeok couldn’t tear her eyes away from the pond, it was like nostalgia washes over her. The small rare smile on her lips and fond eyes were a strange yet silently beautiful sight.

“I had one. But she left a long time ago…So, I guess not.” she answers bleakly.

“I’m sorry about that.” your frown. “Did she…?”

“Die? No—just left without saying a word.”

“Ah. That must suck.” you say, looking down at your lap. The migraine was getting worse. You feel your mind get more foggy and your eyes are starting to see all white. But you don’t want to stop talking to her.

“It does…I asked that because—I’m trying to make new friends.”

“You want to be friends?” you say breathlessly and she faintly hums in response. Now you feel awful for the way you behaved around her. But the light was becoming to unbearable you couldn’t keep your eyes open anymore. “I’m sorry.” you apologize for your past actions and for what’s about to occur next.

Sae-byeok didn’t notice your odd behavior yet. “For what this time?”

“Being so judgmental.” you say, your voice shaking like you were dealing with a lot of pain. “You didn’t deserve it.”

That was the last thing you were able to croak out until you had to press your palms to your aching forehead. The pain was too unbearable, you wanted to collapse on the ground and curl up into a ball by how weak and small you felt.

You feel a hand on top of your shoulder. Sae-byeok’s hoarse voice rings past your ears, “Are you alright? Hey, are you okay?”

“My head.” you say—you hope you did. The discomfort was becoming too much by the minute, that’s when the tears threatened to spill.

“What? What’s happening with your head? Did you get hurt again?” she frantically asks.

She gets off the bench and kneels down in front of you to get a better look at your wet face. Your silent cries were enough to signal that you were fighting an internal battle.

You feel so ashamed, so useless. She shouldn’t be dealing with your mess. “Sorry—“

“Do you need to go to the hospital? Please—Please say something.” she cries. You shake your head, instead you’re barely able to reply with the word home and that’s enough for her. “I’ll take you don’t worry.”

The recollection of what happened after she said that was foggy. You think she carried you on her back all the way to your apartment—but you don’t recall giving her your address or specify what floor you live on. And you’re almost certain that you didn’t tell her the precise location of your bedroom.

It wasn’t until you feel your body lay comfortably on the mattress and hear all your curtains in your room being shut and your cat mewing that you know you’re safe. But the tears couldn’t stop flowing from the pain—you feel as if your eyes were about to pop out of your skull.

“Do you have any medication that’ll help?” you hear her shaky and out of breath voice. At first you thought you were making it up. When you try to sit up, she gently pulls you back down. “Just tell me I’ll—I’ll know.”

You take a deep breath in to gather the words that were disarray in your mind. “Kitchen…cabinet.”

The shuffling of feet’s lets you know she’s left to find it but what you’re surprised about is how quickly she came back. Maybe your mind is too hazy to accurately reflect the concept of time.

The darkness filling the room helped. Your eyes started to adjust better, although it was still a bit blurry you were able to make out the shape of her sitting on the edge of your bed with a handful of medications.

“Be careful.” she gently murmurs when she saw your frail attempt to sit up. “Just point which one you need.”

You point to the orange bottle. She passes you two pills and a water bottle that you slowly take. After chugging almost the entire bottle, you let out another shaky breath.

Your body slowly begins to relax and all you wanted right now was to rest. The pain will take some time to subdue after the medication. You press your forehead against her shoulder blade and inhale her scent of wood-sage and cigarettes—you don’t know why you leaned onto her but it just felt right. What anchored you was the warmth of her hand rubbing circles on your back and her chin propped up on top of your head—and that’s when you knew.

“Sae-byeok…”

“Hm?”

──・──・・✿ ・・──・──

(summer, 2020)

“Look what I recently found.” you say, smiling mischievously at the guarded girl.

Sae-byeok humored onto you. She doesn’t know what sort of magic you did you spell her into agreeing to hang out with you but it worked. Maybe it’s the immense loneliness that she can’t get away from is what made her say yes to spending this afternoon with you. She just wants to feel something other than isolation for once. But so far, you were off to a terrible start.

You pull open the wired fence and crawl underneath it. Once successfully on the other side of the fence you encourage her to follow suit.

“What the hell are you playing at?” Sae-byeok snarls, slowly stepping back. She’s already got a lengthy history of breaking the law, she can’t add trespassing to the list.

“Come on I did this last time I was here and I didn’t get caught.” you say encouragingly, still holding onto the edges of the fence. “It’s either this or pay fifteen dollars—now hurry or we’ll really get caught!”

At this point Sae-byeok is frantic, she whips her head around to make sure no one is watching before she starts crawling underneath the fencing. She feels your hand wrap around her wrist to lure her to the back of the greenhouse. Are you some sort of adrenaline junkie? You currently have her ducking behind several displays of wildflowers. If you get them caught Sae-byeok swears this’ll be the last you hear from her

“We’re in the clear.” you whisper and let go of her wrist.

“Why did you take me here?” she hisses and grabs your arm before you have a chance to move around. You look at her with a startled look. “I didn’t sign up to trespass.”

“Well, you said you don’t see pretty things often.” you explain, blinking at her.

Sae-byeok sighs. There’s a reason why she’s so closed off—when she opens up things like this happen to her.

And you seem to determined to explore this garden, you slowly start backing away to a particular spot of this large greenhouse. Sae-byeok could only follow behind you. She silently observes the way you inspect the flowers and read off the signs that list fun facts. Cheol always boast about how smart you are and she isn’t going to deny it. Smart people tend to be the most curious about the world around them. She wishes she had that kind of wonder about life.

So, she tries. She tries mimicking the way you stare at these strange flowers and plants.

“It’s pretty right?”

Sae-byeok flinches by your voice. You are hovering over her, smiling like you’re trying to tell her ‘Told you so.’ She rolls her eyes in response. But they were somewhat nice to look at.

“So, did you like the book I recommended?” you ask her, curiously. She only shakes her head to reply. You conceal the grin itching to form. “Would you consider more of my book recommendations?”

“I don’t read.” she says sternly and knits her eyebrows when you threw her a strange look. “I don’t have time to read.”

The two of you quietly keep observing the flowers. Sae-byeok holds her breath, sensing that you weren’t finished talking because your body was still facing hers.

“You can always come to the library to read.” you suggest. “I always say that time stops when you enter a library—you should try it out.”

She shoves her hands into her jean pockets and walks away from you and this conversation. Sae-byeok doesn’t need life advice from you or anyone else. You don’t have a single clue as to what she has to deal with on a daily basis.

After today, she doesn’t wish to see you anymore—not after this stunt you pulled. Her mind is made up.

🏷️: @lyzem @monkey4lifer @tlouloser @bitchybananaflower @yenyu1s @marfe816 @gummyoonji @peelover25 @saebyeokbliss @knfthxv @we1rdth0ughts @monroesturnns @wiltingconquest @noaanotfound @tyresedidujsfart @madebysae

[vintagerpg]

We are getting to the point where I have covered just about all of first edition D&D. Which is crazy, really. This week, I’m polishing off a couple module series. First, the UK-series, starting with UK6: All that Glitters (1984). The set-up is pretty by the numbers — the players find a treasure map and, well, follow it. The interesting bit here is that doing so forces them to traverse a weird conduit called the Wind Walkers’ Passages. It’s sort of like a transit system but using wind instead of, say, a train; this allows traversal of the 80 miles of tunnels in about two hours. How it works is…well, there are earth elementals and magic circles and invisible stalkers and time distortion and…look, I don’t know, OK. This is one of those very clever 1980s D&D magical dohickeys that has a very particular way of working that is intentionally obscure so as to provide a mystery for the players to suss out while fighting the occasional demon. It’s fine. I’d probably simplify it a lot in play.

The other side of the tunnels is an ashland, full of giant striders (their lone appearance in a D&D scenario, possibly) and other critters primarily from the Fiend Folio (this being a UK-produced book, that’s not surprising). The scenario ends in a tomb and the titular treasure poses a fairly uncomplicated moral conundrum.

All of this would be fine if that cover art by Brian Williams wasn’t so damn good. This is a problem because I think it is meant to represent one of the demons in the tunnels, though it isn’t really a good match for any of them? It is also one of maybe three illustrations for D&D involving ioun stones. Except, there are no ioun stones in the scenario. Unless I am somehow missing them? Or, am I wrong, are these not ioun stones, but something else that I can’t see because I have so deeply convinced myself they are ioun stones? I dunno! I have stared at this module for what seems like hours looking for an answer and getting none.

The rest of the scenario’s looks are on par with other UK-produced D&D products. Tim Sell did the interiors. The graphic design and the maps all have some extra British sizzle. I like that.

[sarahisslytherin]

whatever you need.

matt murdock x reader

summary: matt murdock has enough problems. but when his upstairs neighbor is upset over her breakup, he can't help getting involved.

contains: talk of an emotionally abusive relationship. mentions of fem!reader. other than that it's all fluff.

a/n: am i trying to process my feelings through fanfiction? absolutely. am i ashamed? no. also so happy to be writing for my boy matt again! gif by @djo

word count: 0.8k

It’s been a long day for Matt Murdock. Work was shit, in spite of Foggy’s attempts to crack jokes and cheer him up. His body aches in too many places to count from the endless hits he took last night. So when he finally stumbles in through his apartment door, the last thing Matt needs is another problem. But as he cracks open a beer and takes a seat on his sofa, he can’t help but notice how the silence surrounding him is pierced by a ragged cry.

His head cocks to the side, listening intently to figure out where the sound is coming from. It’s the apartment directly above him, the one with the young woman he often would hear singing or laughing. That was until the boyfriend moved in. There was still laughter, but exponentially less of it. He recalls a lot more crying and fighting and slamming doors. It was like that for a while. He can’t deny that some nights the arguments had him itching to waltz upstairs and break that fucker’s nose for putting you through hell. But then he figured, it wasn’t his problem, and he had enough of those.

But it’s been quiet lately, and after putting two and two together, he’s realized it’s just you up there now. Just you, crying your heart out into the pillow before bed every night, scribbling in your journal in the morning, inviting friends over to distract yourself from the pain. The pain he wishes he could take away. He admits it, he’s grown fond of you. When you sing, he stops what he’s doing and drinks in the sound of it as if it were an angel’s song. He can’t help but overhear your conversations at times, can’t help but chuckle when you make a particularly funny quip. He doesn’t know what you look like, but he’s sure you’re as beautiful as you sound to him. How that ass couldn’t treat you right, he’ll never know.

He ignores your cry this time, the way he has for the last couple of weeks. But when he lays his head down on his pillow after another restless night on the streets and hears your whimpers, he simply can’t take it anymore. He throws on the first shirt he gets his hands on and a pair of grey sweats before racing up the flight of stairs keeping him from you. It’s only when he knocks on your door that it dawns on him he doesn’t have a plan.

His heart stops when he hears you shuffle inside, sucking in your breath and no doubt trying to conceal any visible evidence that you’d been crying. He hears the doorknob turn and the creak of the wood as he comes face to face with you.

“Hello.” you manage to say, your voice still a bit hoarse. “Can I help you?”

“Hi, my name is Matt. I live right below you.” he starts. He’s praying to every god that you can’t hear his heart panging in his chest. “I know this may seem odd to you, but I get the sense that you’re not okay. I mean, I used to hear some pretty crazy fights from up here with who I can only assume is your boyfriend-”

“Ex.” you interrupt him, arms crossed and eyes trained on the welcome mat beneath your bare feet. “Ex-boyfriend.”

Matt nods, taking a breath before continuing. “Right. The thing is, I’ve got a really good sense about these things. I don’t know, call it intuition. But let’s just say I’m not hearing any screaming matches anymore and, though that is a good thing, I can’t help but wonder if you need someone to talk to or just a hug or whatever you need.”

There’s a silence hanging in the air after he speaks. You watch him wring his hands together as he waits for your response. You also notice the way his sweet, brown eyes seem to look straight through you before you realize he can’t see you. 

“You want to give me a hug?” you ask, and Matt in your voice the way your mouth quirks into a tiny smile. “Because I’m crying over my asshole ex-boyfriend?”

“A hug, some takeout, a walk around town. Whatever you need.” he’s grinning too now. He picks up on the way you casually lean on your doorframe, arms still crossed.

“What are you, some kind of hero or something?” you joke, adding a faux air of suspicion to your tone. “Who sent you?”

Matt laughs openly at that, throwing his head back as he does. “No one sent me, I just don’t like to know there’s a pretty girl crying over some jackass in my immediate vicinity.”

“Not to be rude, but what makes you think I’m pretty?”

Matt just shrugs. “Call it intuition.” 

He definitely doesn’t need sight to feel the way your hand clutches his shirt and playfully tugs him through the door. It’s right then and there that Matt resolves on making your problems his problems as well.

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