#and then some things i was just dragging my feet on

[captain-huggy-bear]

Just thinking about how clingy Jack is after a roadie. That man won’t let you do anything

Yeah, lets be real, Jack is a clingy baby. Olympic levels of clingy when he's finally back home. Totally happy to take requests/ideas/prompts at the moment in my ask box :) Writing Masterlist

Jack's always been clingy. This is only made ten times worse when he's missed you. He's under your feet every time he comes back from a roadie. He's a tactile person by nature, always reaching for you on any given day, but it's made 100 times more severe when he's been gone for a few days or worse a week. In a lot of ways it's sweet and flattering that he cares and misses you so much that he has to be on top of you the moment he’s home, has to be under your feet. In other ways? It's a bit of an inconvenience, and depending on your mood can actually make you a little grumpy.

It starts with him just being in the same room as you, whether it’s watching you cook or watching you fold laundry, Jack’s eyes follow you wherever you go. But, it never stays like that for long, maybe 5 minutes tops. Soon he’ll start physically following you around the room, not quite under your feet, but close enough that he’s in your peripheral vision, your shadow. You can feel him behind you, can sense where he is at all times even when he isn't yapping away at you. This is manageable, he’s not in the way and he’s never stopping you from doing what you need to at this point, but it never lasts long. Usually within 20 minutes of Jack being home he’s on you like the plague, arms latched around you, chest to your back, face nuzzled into your neck.

It’s sweet but impractical, you’re trying to go about your day and he refuses to let go of you, he has to be physically attached to you in some way whether it’s wrapping you in his arms and waddling behind you or putting his chin on your arm or a hand on your leg.

"Jack, I'm trying to make my lunch," You can't help but laugh as you try to cut up some veggies, arm movements somewhat restricted by the band of arms wrapping around your chest. Jack's so close to you he's practically pressing you into the counter.

"You can still make lunch like this..." He grumbles into your neck, pressing kisses to the skin there, the kisses are so light that you can't help but giggle at the ticklish sensation. This only draws an encouraged smirk from him, one that you can feel widening against your skin.

"Jack..."

"Angelllll...."

"Jackkkkkk," Nothing you say or do will get him to let go, he'll waddle around the kitchen with you, waddle to the kitchen table. Even when you sit down, he drags a chair so close to you that your legs are touching from hip down to ankle and he's got his arms wrapped around your waist, chin pressed into your shoulder the entire time you eat. You can't help but feel a mite embarrassed at him watching you so intently with those baby blues while you eat, the only thing making it bearable is the fact he's smiling the whole time like you're doing something amazing. Not just eating lunch.

Even when you try to shower, he's there, unable to detach himself from you because he's been gone so long and don't you love him? Didn't you miss him? He just wants to be around you...and Luke will more than happily confirm that Jack has been unbearable the entire roadie, nonstop talking about how he can't wait to get back home to you when he isn't talking about hockey.

“Jack, baby, I need to shower…” Your hands are pushing at Jack's shoulders in an attempt to get him to unlatch from you, but he's a hockey player. He's strong and if he doesn't want to be move then he's not moving.

“Can’t I just shower with you?”

“As if you could keep your hands to yourself..." You scoff at him trying to peel his arms off you, Jack only squeezes your waist tight. He's pouting up at you like you're being mean for wanting to have a shower without his arms attached to you for five minutes.

"I promise I can, I promise, baby..."

"No."

"Then I'm sitting in here." It's like watching a toddler sit on the floor of a supermarket refusing to get up because they can't have the thing they wanted. The way he points at the closed toilet lid to further illustrate his point, that he's not going anywhere.

"You're going to sit there and watch me shower? Like a creep?"

"Like a boyfriend who's missed his girlfriend who he loves dearly and who's girlfriend won't let him help her shower because she doesn't trust or love him." He's ultimately joking, you can see it in the twinkle in his eyes. You know if you told him that you wanted him to leave, that he was making you uncomfortable, he would. It's what makes the whole thing sweet and endearing because you don't mind him wanting to constantly be under your feet, you actually kind of love it.

"I trust you..." you pause for a second before grinning at him, "I just don't trust you to keep your hands to yourself."

"Baby..." He whines at you, almost throwing a tantrum, bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet. You know this phase will go soon, after a day back he'll still be clingy but not to this extent, so you find it cute and endearing rather than irritating while it lasts.

"Do you promise to help me wash my hair and not make any untoward advances?"

"Yes! Yes, I promise!"

"Okay, you can help me shower you big baby."

And he does help you wash your hair, but maybe his hands do wander a little...because he's Jack and he's missed you.

[avidfics]

Vi breaks out of the friendzone

Summary: Vi doesn’t have the best reputation. Perhaps that’s why you've shoved her in the friendzone for the past year. But your girlfriend just broke your heart, and Vi isn’t above using your emotional state to get closer to you. / Vi comes over to comfort you after your gf cheats and somehow you two end up in bed.  

R/N +TW: I haven’t written for Vi in sooo long. Also thanks to all those showing love to my lil blurbs :) Story has a bit of spice (kissing, oogling boobs, bit of foul language) and is f/f.

A car honk jerked Vi out of her jumbled thoughts and nearly caused her motorcycle to swerve dangerously on the two-lane road. Granted, she was a bit zoned out when she should’ve been focused, but she still threw the minivan behind her the middle finger before speeding off down the street at breakneck speed just to reach you. 

Ten minutes ago, she was laid up in bed with her latest fling when she saw “Bbygrl” flash across the caller ID of her cell. She damn near popped her shoulder out its socket by how fast she reached to answer the phone, and she wasn’t ashamed to admit how her phone was pressed against her cheek and shoulder even as her pussy hovered inches over a girl’s mouth, seconds from getting ate out. For a slim second she considered riding the the girl’s tongue while listening to the sound of your sweet voice since that’s the closest she’d ever be to the real thing. But her hips paused in midair at the sound of your heartbreaking sobs coming through the phone. In between the incoherent babble, she did hear the part where you found out your girlfriend had been cheating on you and had stormed out. Now you begged your friend for a ride home. 

As Vi’s motorcycle rounded the final corner at illegal speeds, she tried to suppress the smug grin tugging on her face. Your asshole of a girlfriend had finally royally screwed herself in the ass and with her massive mistake had left a gaping emotional opening that Vi had been dying to occupy ever since you two had become friends. An arrogant chuckle came from her lips as she skidded her motorcycle to a stop in the driveway, streaking the pristine concrete with large, obnoxious black tread marks. Fucking Maddie will have no doubt who it was who visited her house when she returned from wherever the hell she fled to. 

Vi’s fist pounded on the door before she shoved her hands into the pockets of her dark-rinsed jeans, a flicker of nerves creeping in at the thought of seeing her girl. Sure enough, her heart jackhammers in her chest at the sight of you opening the door in a white oversized shirt with a deep cut out that plunged into your cleavage, tiny itty bitty cotton shorts that left the globes of your ass peeking out, and white socks cupping your feet and up your calves. 

Her hand drags over her face just to stop herself from saying something highly inappropriate and downright filthy. 

“Yeah,” she thought, “fucking Maddie is not going to like what’s about to happen in her house.” 

“Violet!” Without a second thought you threw your arms around Vi’s neck. “I can’t believe she was texting some hoe from work for months.” Emotionally, you were an absolute wreck after your girlfriend flipped out when you accused her of cheating. If it wasn’t for your dependable friend, Vi, you’d still be sprawled out on the bedroom floor as you used Maddie’s t-shirt you were wearing to soak up the onslaught of anguished tears. Vi had been a solid friend for over a year, and being wrapped in her arms immediately made you feel centered and taken care of in your vulnerable state.

God, Vi was happy she didn’t have an actual dick otherwise you’d see the full extent your vulnerable state was wrecking on her hormones. She was trying her best not to be a complete shit by being controlled by desire, but shit, you weren’t even wearing a damn bra. The harder you squeezed, the deeper she could feel your sweet tits pressing into her chest. Internally, she groaned with deep-seated agony as she gently pushed you away just enough to look at your face to determine if this delicious torture was intentional. If maybe there was the tiniest possibility that her shy girl was actually making a move.

With a swift scan, Vi knew it was only her deluded imagination. Through soft swollen eyes and wet eyelashes your wide doe-eyes glisten at her with such sincerity it made Vi have equal parts rage at your idiotic, soon to be ex, girlfriend and lust. 

Cute, choppy sniffles refocused Vi’s attention back to the fact that you’re both still standing in the entryway. “Let me get my shoes and we can get out of here,” you said. Slouched shoulders followed you as you walked quickly to grab your shoes but the slam of the door closing made you jump. Vi’s prowls over to you from behind, a playful glint reflecting in her magnetic blue eyes. “What’s the rush in leaving? Seems rude for us to leave fucking Maddie’s house without a goodbye gift.” Plus, you were adorably naive if you thought you’d get onto her bike with the tiniest bit of clothing covering your legs. 

A flood of relief washes over Vi at the girlish chuckle you give as you observe Vi who leisurely saunters through your girlfriend’s place, judging her decorations with an unimpressed attitude. “Her name isn’t “Fucking Maddie” it’s just Maddie,” you playfully scold.

“Sounds the same to me, babe. And can you explain why she has all this god-awful artwork in here?” The painting in question was a stark white canvas with a burnt orange triangle painted in the middle. “What fucking idiot would buy this pretentious piece of shit with actual money?”

Despite the situation, you start to giggle. “My guess would be the artist.”

“Yeah, that makes sense.” It takes another second before realization dawn’s on Vi’s face. “Fucking Maddie is the artist? Of course she is.” The two of you fall against each other laughing so hard you both fold over. “So tell me, which one of her things should we destroy first? And don’t try to get out of it. We aren’t leaving her place until something is burned, torn, or vandalized. Your choice on which sweetheart.”

There was no way you’d have the heart to destroy your girlfriend’s house. You were scandalized at the mere thought. “Violet, that’s literally illegal! While I’m sure you’d make prison orange look unfairly hot, I’d rather not risk life behind bars.” 

A challenging grin crossed Vi’s face. “You think I’m hot?” The flustered look on your face was planting salacious ideas in Vi’s mind. Looking you square in the eyes, she took the flimsy waistband strings of your cotton shorts in her grip and began wrapping them around her palm until they resembled the white wrappings Vi used for boxing. Something at the bottom of your stomach quivered dangerously at the first tug your friend gave. “Wait, Vi, we have to leave. Maddie wouldn’t like you in her bedroom.” None of your pleads stopped Vi from striding into the bedroom, with poor you unwillingly in tow and kicking her boots off with careless abandon. 

Vi jaw tightens as she takes a look around the room and find how intwined you’ve become in fucking Maddie’s space. Even notes of your perfume hung in the air and teased her nostrils. With your strings still in her controlling grip, you’re pulled to the freshly made bed and shoved onto the mattress with enough force that you bounce a few times in the air, making Vi’s mouth tighten at the distracting sight of your thighs as they jiggle. 

Your wide, shocked eyes flare up at Vi, who stands above you with flexed arms crossed - unimpressed with the flare of attitude you’re showing. “Get it through your pretty but thick head. Your ass ain't leaving this room until you rage out and destroy something.” 

Muffled, you mock her crossed arms and pout a bit. Not nearly the imposing impression of your close friend. “Not everyone feels the need to ‘rage out’ when things don’t go their way. We had only been dating for a few months anyways. It’s not that big a deal that she messed with a new girl. I’ve kinda been letting myself go for a while, so it’s not her fault I guess.” Vi’s whole face recoiled at the complete bullshit sprouting out your sweet lips. And she wasn’t shy about saying it. “Bullshiiiiit.” she drags. “Fucking Maddie wouldn’t know how to treat an angel like you even if she was given a textbook for dummies. Don’t let her stupidity make you forget you were the best thing to happen in her miserable life.” 

Relaxing her arms, she squats down between your legs to get closer to you. “Besides you’re not the only one in this room who is annoyed with your girlfriend.” Your eyebrows furrow at that revelation. “Cut the act and don’t pretend like I didn’t ask you out way before you started dating the ginger.” Your mouth dropped at the sudden reminder. Vi just grinned, pressed your lips closed, and continued with a self-deprecating shrug. “I guess I cant fault you since my reputation is pretty terrible.” 

As effortless as slipping bait onto a hook, reeling in her simple-minded girl was almost laughably too easy. “Vi, God no, I could care less about what other people gossip about you.“ It took immerse grit to hide her delight at where this conversation was soon headed. “Yeah? How about you prove it for me?” 

You weren’t sure when Vi’s face appeared only centimeters away from your face, but it didn’t matter. All that mattered was how tempting her lips were looking in the dim lighting of the room. None of this went unnoticed by VI’s fierce gaze, which was trained on your every expression and caught your timid nod. 

That tiny nod was like the gates of heaven opening up. A guttural “Come here” was commanded before Vi grasped your sensitive nape, pulling you to meet her eager lips. Your meek movements followed Vi’s assertive lead and soon became swept up in it’s consuming heat. 

Vi tried her best not to rush it, but it was like applying the brakes to a full-speed train—after all, these few moments of nirvana had been a year in the making. 

A tiny moan slips past your lips as she gently prys your lips open with her tongue, and whatever flimsy restraint Vi had built over months was shattered. Vi’s hands roam down your tingling spine, fingers pressing into the soft curves of your hips and ass as she shifts, rising to hoist you higher up the bed, all while your mouths try desperately to stay connected. 

The world tilts, a blur of heat and movement, and before your scattered thoughts can catch up, she’s there—her body heavy and solid as it settles against yours, stealing the breath from your lungs. Vi watches your eyes screw closed tight as she strategically presses her jean-clad thigh up against your thinly covered pussy. Luckily, you don’t see the satisfied smirk that she quickly hides by pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses along the curve of your neck. 

“Pretty girl, you never picked which item to destroy. Guess, since I’m such a good friend I’ll have to help you, huh?” A few soft, “Nooo, Vi” are unconvincingly pleaded, but Vi silences them with the foreign touch of her thumb skimming the inside your itty bitty shorts. All of your conflicting thoughts are visible across your face, but your deep-seated need to have your friend’s fingers much closer to your needy warmth was the most demanding and broke through to the surface. “Please, Vi. Need you to touch me.” 

The only answer is a nonchalant “hum” as she glares at fucking Maddie’s flimsy, see-through t-shirt that you still wore without a damn bra. With a light touch, her fingertips trace up your sides and faintly round the outer edges of your breasts. All of the blood in Vi’s body shoots to her clit as she scoops up your boobs through the t-shirt and simply stares at them through the see-through material. Jiggling them like her new favorite toy. A heavy pause is felt in the air as Vi holds eye contact with you as she lowers her head and covers your nipple through the thin material and sucks. Vi moans at the full jerk response you give as your head is thrown back into the mattress. “Ah, ah, ah, shit Vi.” 

Mentally Vi was also cursing at the heady feeling of your tit in her mouth, even if it is through the cheap material. She dreamed of this for a whole freaking year. Just to prove it wasn’t a dream she had to pinch something… You yell a chorus filled with her name as your other poor, neglected nipple is pinched hard and completely black out when it’s twisted. You only hear the resounding wet, “Pop!” of Vi releasing your breast. “What a baby.” She taunts before switching and doing the same thing to the other boob. Between you withering against her thigh and her torturing your breast by the time her fingers lightly circle your soaked cunt it takes an embarrassing amount of seconds for your body to go into full-born shakes as you cum. 

On her knees above you, Vi smiles triumphantly at the visual of you sprawled listlessly across your cheating girlfriend's bed with Maddie’s t-shirt debauched with Vi’s saliva, lewdly showing your taunt, abused nipples. As you come back to the land of the living with bleary eyes, Vi has hopped off the bed, rummaging through your drawer. When you fully register what's happening, she’s slipping a fresh shirt over your head, tossing you a wink as she smooths out the fabric. “Leave the shirt here for your girlfriend. It’s beyond repair.”

[broareweabouttoviberightnow]

PLEASE write some stevepop where soda sees steve maybe defending or secretly being kind to ponyboy!

i love steve and ponyboys friendship

AGHH the scream I screamt when I got this request ABSOLUTELY! Adore these boys I am HAPPY to provide! fic under the cut!

"Ponyboy get your ass out here or I'm leavin' you!" Steve slams on the horn 'n Darry appears in the kitchen window to shake his head firmly. Ah, it was seven thirty in the mornin'. Steve had forgotten. Pony ducks past the open screen door to flip him off 'n Steve has to fight the urge to throw the door open 'n drag the kid out by his hair.

"I'm gonna kill that kid. I swear to God." Steve hmphs, kicks a foot on the dash.

Soda leans through the rolled down window 'n chuckles to himself. "Glory, Steve, ain't there bigger things in the world to be mad at? The injustices 'n all are a tad more serious then a bitchy kid brother, dig?" Soda snorts 'n Steve rolls his eyes.

"Yeah, well, the injustices aren't about to make me fuckin' late!" Steve hollers 'n Pony makes an indignant noise from somewhere in the house. Soda cracks up. "You comin' to school today?"

Soda tilts his head to the side, opens his mouth but before he can say anythin' Darry cuts in from the porch, "He better be takin' his lil' ass or I'm gonna bust it." Soda hoots a laugh 'n wiggles his hips from where he's bent down to talk to Steve from outside the car.

"Well, I think the decision's been made for the safety of both me 'n my ass." Darry rolls his eyes, grabs Soda by the back of the shirt 'n hoists him up, plantin' a kiss to the top of his ruthlessly messy waves. He releases him 'n turns to climb into his truck.

He's halfway in when he stops 'n turns. "Pony come out yet?"

"Fuckin' no-" The screen door slams 'n Pony leaps off the stairs, hair ungreased 'n curlin' around his eyes, backpack slung over one shoulder 'n unzipped, a piece of burnt toast bit between his teeth.

He skids to a stop to let Darry drop a kiss to his temple 'n then whack him one up the back of his head. He whines wordlessly, mostly 'cause if he tried to speak he'd lose his breakfast, 'n rips open the back door to Steve's beater, crawlin' into the back seat.

"If you get crumbs in my car I'm gonna kick your ass." Steve twists around 'n Pony takes his toast from his mouth just to stick his tongue out.

Soda takes one good leap 'n slides across the roof of the beater to get to the passenger side, slammin' the door shut 'n kickin' his feet up on the dash. He idly flips the radio station until Jimmy Gilmer and The Fireballs Sugar Shack starts playin' 'n he grins 'n cranks the volume.

Pony groans 'n leans over the seat to change it 'n Steve puts an elbow up 'n shoves him back into his seat. "Shotgun picks the music 'n last time I checked you weren't even in the front, brat."

Pony narrows his eyes, scowls, 'n breaks off the crumbliest end of the bread, grindin' it into Steve's carpet where he can't see. "You don't even like this song!"

Soda twists around, throws a hand out the window, grins with his whole mouth. "Nuh uh, Pone. This is Stevie's favorite song. Know why?" Pony stops scowlin' just long enough to look confused.

"Why?"

"'Cause it's mine 'n Steve loves to please- OW!" Steve howls 'n jabs Soda in the ribs. Soda jumps, whoops 'n scrambles to the side to avoid Steve's fingers. Pony groans theatrically 'n drops his head to the window.

A horn blares 'n all three of them look up 'n realize their still blockin' Darry in the driveway. Darry leans out the window with an exasperated sigh, "Steven Thomas, I thought you were so worried about bein' late!"

...

Steve rolls into the parkin' lot goin' so fast he nearly spins out, throwin' the car into the first empty spot he finds. The clock on the dash reads seven fifty- already twenty minutes late.

"Pony move your ass." Steve snatches the keys from the ignition, spinnin' to grab his bag from the back. Pony flips him off again but wiggles out, draggin' his stuff across the seat. Soda jumps out, not even a pencil on his person.

Once they're out of the car, however, none of them hustle across the lot. It was the principle. You couldn't look too eager headed into a school buildin'. They had a rep to protect.

"C'mon." Soda leans around the corner when they get to the top of the steps, watchin' for the lady at the front to turn her back. "Pony go." Pony skids through the door, squats down low under the desk 'n tries to slip by.

So, of course, the woman takes that exact moment to look up.

"Excuse me, young man, you're late. Do you have a note or a parent with you?" Pony freezes like a deer in the headlights 'n both Soda 'n Steve groan.

"Uh-"

"Sorry, Mrs. Baker." Steve doesn't stop to think, just hoists his bag up on his shoulder 'n strolls over to grab Pony by the shoulder. "I gave him a ride today. Him 'n Soda. Sodapop Curtis, that is." He turns around to jerk his head at Soda. Pony looks back at him, frown lines of confusion knittin' between his brow.

"Ok." The woman folds long fingers together 'n looks at him expectantly. "Do you have a note?'

"Naw, I'm just sayin' it ain't their faults. I was-" He grits his teeth together, digs his fingers into Pony's shoulder, "runnin' a little late today. My fault. Traffic was a real bit- uh mess." He offers his best charmin' smile 'n wishes he had Soda's stupid big eyes 'n innocent long lashes that could let him blink his way outta anythin'. Maybe he shoulda thrown Soda under the bus. She raises one thin eyebrow but sighs.

"Well, alright then. I'll write them passes. You, however, will have to get a mark on your record." Steve does his best to look apologetic, waits 'til she turns, 'n flips her off. Soda snorts 'n tries to, poorly, hide it behind a cough. The woman glances over her shoulder 'n Soda lets his dimple show.

He definitely should have let him take the fall.

She tears two slips off a pad 'n hands them across to Pony 'n Soda. Soda shoots him a little apologetic grin 'n Pony begrudgingly mutters his thanks. Steve flicks him in the forehead 'n before Pony can open his mouth 'n say somethin' smart, Soda grabs him 'n pulls him along.

"Name?" Steve frowns, watches as Soda 'n Pony horse around, splittin' at the end of the hall to go to their respective classes. Steve has a sudden pit in his stomach.

"Huh?"

"Your name, hon?"

"Sorry, uh, Randle. Steve." She makes quick work of the papers, handin' Steve over his own pass.

"Alright, Mr.Randle," Steve cringes internally but doesn't let it show, "get to class, now. 'N don't let me see you again, today."

...

Steve's supposed to be skippin' third period with Soda but the knucklehead hadn't shown where they had agreed. Steve had hung around the bleachers for as long as he dared before sighin', concedin' he wasn't gonna show.

He pushes off the rail he'd been leanin' on, debatin' his options. He could head straight out to the beater 'n call the day a wash, come back for Soda 'n Pony when school let out. But Pony, the little shit, was just as likely to tattle as he was to keep it to himself. Plus he was supposed to have fourth with Soda, assumin' he showed.

He hesitates a moment more, hedges his bets, 'n figures he might as well just head to class 'n beg off bein' late. His English teacher was a real doll, she might even turn a blind eye.

He slips the back door open 'n ducks his head through, lettin' his eyes adjust. The hall's deserted, though he can hear some kinda ruckus bein' kicked up somewhere nearby. Some real brawl by the sounds of it.

He creeps the rest of the way in, easin' the door shut. Steve turns the opposite way as the noise, figurin' they were bound to get busted 'n if he was anywhere nearby so would he. He's just creakin' the door to the stairs open, idly listenin' when he catches somethin' that makes his pulse rocket up.

"How do you like that, huh, Curtis?" Steve doesn't even bother to catch the slam the door makes as it shuts. He's movin' before he can think, down in the direction of the voice. Someone groans 'n Steve picks up the pace.

The voices sound too young to be Steve 'n Soda's age. Which really only left-

Steve rounds the corner fast, slidin' a little on the tile 'n the scene he comes up on has him clenchin' his fists so hard half moons carve into his palms. Oh, Jesus.

Here's the thing. Pony ain't half bad in a scrap. Somethin' about growin' up with two brothers 'n a house full of boys made you either sink or swim when it came to gettin' pounded. 'N maybe the boys currently beatin' the ever-lovin' hell outta the kid knew that. Considerin' it was five on one 'n Pony was still on his feet.

Steve doesn't hesitate. One of 'em has Pony's arms pinned behind his back, Pony writhin' 'n strugglin' for all he's worth, 'n another is sluggin' the hell out of him. Landin' sloppy, wide punches along the kid's ribs.

Pony groans at each one but nothin' more. God, maybe the kid was tougher than Steve gave him credit for. When he wasn't bein' a baby.

"Hey, asshole." Steve catches the wrist of the kid sluggin' Pony 'n for a second both of them just blink at Steve in surprise. "Leave my fuckin' kid brother alone, yeah?" Then Steve cracks his fist across the kid's face 'n he goes down, hard.

Pony wriggles out, immediately turns to swing on the boy behind him. Steve catches his shoulder, gives him a hard shove. "Beat it."

Pony freezes, chest heavin', blood tricklin' down his temple that makes Steve want to put whoever did that's head through a goddamn wall. "No!"

One of the others steps up, lands a punch under Steve's elbow 'n Steve jams his palm into the kid's nose. "I'm not havin' a fuckin' conversation go." Pony scowls 'n a kid goes to sock him one. Steve grabs him by the shirt front, easily sends him careenin' into the wall.

"Fine." Pony hesitates a moment more 'n Steve gives him another push. He whips around 'n vanishes down the hall 'n around the corner.

Steve's losin' track of who's who 'n where's what, throwin' punches 'n easily manhandlin' the younger boys steadily backward. "Look at the baby run!" Steve's vision goes red 'n he grabs the boy by the hair 'n slams his head into the goddamn lockers. Tears instantly spring to his eyes 'n Steve yanks him close.

"What are you gonna do? Cry?" He throws him down 'n the kid crawls back 'n away from him, runnin' a hand over his face.

Before he can go for him again, someone's got a hand around his wrist, jerkin' him backward. Fully on instinct, he swings around to slug them one before he realizes its a teacher.

He shakes his head to clear it, bares his teeth at the group of kids now clustered together. The fight's over now 'n it's fuckin' clear who won. But Steve can't help but dig his heels in 'n lean toward them again.

"If I ever hear about you goddamn punks layin' another finger on Ponyboy, you're not gonna be able to walk your pantywaist asses home to your mama's. Got it?"

The last thing he sees before he's dragged off to, presumably, the office, is the blood drain from their faces 'n the flash of a familiar form duckin' through the crowd.

...

Steve rubs a hand idly over his achin' knuckles 'n sighs. He was acutely familiar with the view from the hall outside the office. He'd spent enough hours there they should probably put his name on a seat permanently.

He can hear the Principal as he calls Darry, hell it's quiet enough he can hear Darry's irritation from behind the shut door. Steve sighs again, picks at his cuticles. There was a good chance Darry wouldn't be mad about this, considerin' the circumstances, but he'd be spittin' nails about it until he could get him the full story. 'N he wasn't particularly lookin' forward to it.

"Fancy meetin' you here, Randle." Steve jars 'n whips his head up, but it's just Soda. He plops down in the chair beside him, sprawlin' his legs out in front of him.

"Yeah, real rare sight." Steve scoffs, dryly.

"Heard you got into some fight, huh?" And here's the thing. Maybe, maybe, Steve gave a shit about the goddamn brat that was Ponyboy Michael Curtis. But he had no interest in admittin' that. Hell, he wouldn't even be tellin' Darry if he thought he could get around bein' whooped without it. So he's not real interested in tellin' Soda. No matter how stupid it probably sounds.

"Yeah. Somethin' like that." Soda rolls his eyes, produces a folded paper frog from somewhere 'n flicks it at the wall.

"Man, aren't you just Michelangelo this afternoon." Steve shoots him a confused look from the side of his eye 'n Soda huffs. "Full of words."

"You mean like, Alan Ginsberg or somethin'."

"I'll call ya Romeo if it means you spill what happened." Soda blinks his stupid big eyes at him 'n Steve feels his ears go red.

"Nothin' happened. Just a lil' scrap. Some assholes said the wrong thing 'n so I beat their asses. End of story. Sorry to disappoint, sweetheart." Steve ribs him back 'n Soda just giggles, the bastard.

"Yeah, didn't take you for a child beater, though." Soda cackles to himself 'n Steve shoves him hard in the shoulder. "I heard they were Pony's age." Somethin' in Soda's sharp eyes gives Steve the impression he knows more than he's lettin' on.

"Yeah, what about it? Do I need an age limit on lettin' someone be a dick?"

"Nah, I'm just sayin'. You know. Kids can be cruel. To each other." Steve narrows his eyes 'n Soda just grins. "All I'm sayin' is I saw Pony. 'N I was wonderin' if you had." Steve opens his mouth to answer 'n the door bangs open, the principal takin' a long stride out into the hall.

"Steven Randle?" He catches one look at Soda 'n his shoulders drop a little lower. Soda just beams at him. "Sodapop Curtis, what are you in my hall for?"

"Well, no reason. But now that we're all here I figure you'll wanna send me to the office for skippin'. Say, think you can get ol' Dar back on the phone or d'ya think twice in one day is excessive?"

...

Darry couldn't get off for the remainder of the day so the principal elected to let him stay in the office for the final period. Fourty-five minutes had never felt so long.

Steve was nearly tearin' his hair out by the final bell. He jumps up immediately, swingin' his bag over his shoulder 'n jettin' out to the parkin' lot. Pony's already there, leanin' against the car, dejectedly.

"Hey, Pone. You ok?" Steve goes to push his bangs back from the spot on his temple that had been bleedin' 'n Pony bats his hand angrily away. "Jesus, kid, what's the problem?"

"I don't wanna fuckin' talk about it." Steve feels a hot rush of anger slips through his veins 'n he clenches his fists.

"Fine. Whatever, kid. Get in the fuckin' car." He unlocks the door 'n Pony practically throws himself into the back seat with a huff.

Ohh, he was never goin' down for that kid ever again.

Soda comes bouncin' across the lot just as Steve's lightin' a kool, nearly snappin' the match in two with short, angry movements. "Well, hey good lookin'." Soda shoots him a questionin' look 'n Steve waves a hand dismissively.

"Hey, Pep. C'mon, let's go." He ducks into the driver's seat 'n Soda climbs into the shot gun. He twists to look at Pony, the backseat clouded up with Pony's own smoke.

"Hey, Pone, how was your day?" Pony scowls 'n shoots daggers at the back of Steve's head.

"Why don'cha ask him." Soda cranks the window down 'n sticks his head out.

"Well, glory, aren't the two of you just a blast."

...

Soda's got a shift down at the DX, a rare one Steve's not on. Though, he's got an inklin' that's on purpose. They had a habit of havin' too good of a time when they got shifts together. Though, it never stopped the one not workin' from boppin' on down to bug the other, work or no.

Steve floors it so he has time to take the back roads with the farms. Soda always loved to see the horses out in the field 'n Steve had no problem obligin' him. Usually, he would hit the hills goin' fast enough to make your stomach flip just so Pone could stick his stupid head out 'n whoop but he's sulkin' too hard to notice.

Whatever. Soda still points out each 'n every horse 'n that's good enough for Steve.

When they pull up to the DX Soda jumps out before the cars even come to a stop 'n Pony tries to slip out behind him. Steve slams a hand down on the lock 'n so Pony's just yankin' on the handle.

"C'mon Steve. Let me the hell out." Steve resolutely pretends he doesn't see him.

"See ya, Soda. D'ya want a ride home later?" Soda leans through the window again 'n snatches his DX shirt from the seat.

"Sure, Stevie." He raises his eyebrows 'n jerks his head at Pony, not subtly at all. "Assumin' you two haven't killed each other by this afternoon."

"I dunno. This afternoon ain't a lot of time to work with. Maybe tonight?" Pony scowls 'n Steve makes a face at him in the rearview mirror.

"Alright, you two. I'll catcha on the flip." Soda winks at Pony through the back window 'n Pony stops lookin' like the most put-out kid in the world to grin back at him. The second Soda's turned around Pony sinks back into his seat 'n goes back to poutin'. Good God.

Steve waits for the DX door to close behind Soda, 'n then he floors it again. "Where are we goin'?" Pony's sunk so low Steve has to stretch to see him in the mirror.

"Home, dumbass. You got some shit to say. Clearly." Pony hmphs but falls silent.

Darry's trucks not in the driveway when they pull up, to be expected. Pony snatches his stuff off the seat 'n marches inside without a word, slammin' the car door behind him. Steve has to force himself to take a long, slow breath to keep himself from finishin' the job those goddamn kids had started 'n cavin' in Pony's skull.

Glory, Darry must be wearin' off on him.

After a moment, he pulls the keys out of the ignition 'n trudges into the house behind Pony. When he gets through the front door, Ponyboy's already standin' in the livin' room, spine pulled taught, jaw all set like he's bracin' for a fight.

Steve has to fight the urge not to scoff at him. He's got a bandaid over his temple 'n bruises along his ribs that make him huff every time he moves 'n he thinks Steve is gonna square up with him. God. The kid was smart but he was also incredibly stupid sometimes.

"Well, c'mon. Out with it. What's with the attitude?" Pony bristles 'n scowls, clenchin' his fists up at his sides.

"I don't have a goddamn attitude."

"Yeah," Steve rolls his eyes 'n Pony makes a low, angry noise in the back of his throat. "Sure. None at all."

"Why can't you ever mind your own fuckin' business, Steve?"

"You are my business you fuckin' idiot." Steve can feel himself gettin' pissed off, he's clingin' to his patience by his fuckin' fingernails. "So this is what I get for stoppin' some assholes for stompin' you into the curb?"

"They weren't!" Pony explodes, stamps his foot so hard into the carpet the picture frames quake. "This may surprise you, Steve, but I can handle myself. I don't need you treatin' me like a goddamn kid."

For a moment, all Steve can do is blink at him. Then he feels the last shred of understandin' slip straight out of his head. "Pony are you stupid? You know what? Sure. You can handle yourself. Handle yourself so well you end up with a busted eye 'n a broken rib you idiot-"

"It wasn't that ba-"

"Sure!" Steve throws his hands up in exasperation. "It wasn't that bad. But it was about to be! Since when do you not want backup in a fight?"

"It's not that!" Pony's red in the face now, hair floppin' down in his eyes, knuckles white.

"So what the hell is-" Oh. Oh, alright. "Is this 'cause I didn't let you stay?"

Pony's wicked glare tells him all he needs to know. Glory God almighty.

"Pony. Look. I know you're smart. Give me one good reason why I wouldn't want you to stick around." Holy fuck, Darry really had been rubbin' off on him. He gives an involuntary shake.

"Because you're an asshole." And you know what? Darry was a fuckin' saint for not stranglin' the kid years ago.

"Yeah. A huge asshole who was coverin' for your ass. Pony think. If you had been there when that fight was busted up how the fuck do you think Darry would have reacted?"

Pony bites down hard on his lip. "I-"

"Yeah, I'm sure you didn't start it. But you couldn't have gotten into it at all if you had been in class. Y'know. Where you were meant to be."

"I was just-"

"Yeah. Sure. Save the I was just goin' to the bathroom, I was just gettin' some water, I, I, I for Darry. You were skippin'."

For a moment, Pony just glares at him. "And you were just playin' hall monitor, right?" Pony mutters, but he doesn't sound mad anymore.

"Yeah, kid. Someone's gotta do a tour to make sure someone's not beatin' your head in." Pony rolls his eyes but Steve just grabs him by his shoulder 'n pulls him in. "Look. I know you can handle yourself, man. You don't need me or Soda or Darry intervenin' for your ass. But just humor me, alright? Im tryin' save us both some grief from the big man."

Pony scuffs his toe in the carpet, runs a hand up the back of his neck. "Yeah. Alright. Deal. But you can't tell Darry I was skippin'."

Steve rolls his eyes. "Tell you what. If you keep my secret, I'll keep yours."

Pony narrows his eyes, hesitates, 'n then drops his head against Steve's shoulder. "Deal."

...

"Stevie! Pony? Any bodies need to be buried?" Soda bounds in, screen door flappin' closed. He sticks his head into the dark living room.

Pony 'n Steve are curled up on the couch, Pony's head in Steve's lap, Steve absently rakin' a hand through Pony's dark hair. The second Soda appears, Steve jars Pony so hard he slides right off the couch 'n onto the floor with an indignant wail.

"Well, hello, you two." Darry follows Soda inside, droppin' his keys on the table with a heavy sigh.

"Soda! What are you doin' home?"

"Darry picked me up." Soda wiggles his eyebrows at Steve 'n Steve hurls a throw pillow at his head.

"Speak of the devil." Darry crosses into the living room, fixes Steve with a stern look. He glances down at Pony, double takes the bandaid, the way he's rubbin' at his ribs. Looks back at Steve's raw knuckles.

"Y'all got somethin' to say? I got a call about a fight." Pony twists to look up at Steve 'n Steve shoots him a little grin.

"Yeah. You know me, Dar. Can't keep me outta trouble." Darry puts a hand on his hip, looks between the two of them, his face softenin'.

"I do." He rolls his eyes 'n turns towards the kitchen. "Glory, I do."

Pony 'n Steve shoot each other a look, bite back on a laugh. "C'mon, you brat. I'm cold. Get up on this couch." Pony kicks him hard in the shin but clambers back up, leanin' his weight on Steve's shoulder 'n fixin' his eyes on the TV.

When Steve looks up again, Soda's watchin' him with a sly little grin. "Hey, Stevie?" He plops down on his other side, yankin' one of the blankets from the back of the sofa. "Pony should make us late more often. It sure puts you in a real sweet mood."

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

I neeed a part 2 on love potion I wanna see this relationship while he completely obsessed with her

a/n: okay, so because it is rafe, and because love potions/spells are notoriously a dangerous thing, i decided to take this in a dark direction, turning rafe into a yandere mess of a bewitched boyfriend

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

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“Need some help?” a voice emanated over your shoulder as you strained to reach a book on the top shelf somewhere in the maze of the university’s library.

Glancing back at the stranger behind you, “oh, sure,” you lowered yourself back down from your tiptoes, “it’s the red one, right there,” you pointed, to which the tall guy swiftly plucked it down and placed it in your palms.

“Here,” he smiled politely.

“Thanks!” you called after him as he then shifted to return to his own studious search. 

But as you cracked open the tome and your feet began to carry you back towards the table you’d been studying at, an arm appeared from out of nowhere and dragged you into the shadows of the biology section you passed. 

Spine slamming against the bookcase, you barely had time to register the familiar face in front of you before your boyfriend growled, “who the fuck was that?”

“Rafe?” a surprised giggle couldn’t help but slip from your lungs, “what are you doing here? This is the library, I thought you were allergic to this place,” your head then cocked as you joked, “are you stalking me?”

“Just answer the goddamn question,” he spat, not offering you an answer to the jest that probably shouldn’t have been a joke at all, “are you fucking him?” 

“What in the world are you on about?” you blinked back at him, only now registering how tight his grip on your upper arm was, “baby, are you high?” 

“The guy who just handed you this book,” he snatched the red tome out of your hand, “are you fucking him?” 

“What? No!” you tried to keep your screech low, though it still echoed down the rows of books, “he literally just helped me get that book down, nothing else, I’ve never even met him before in my life, I swear. The only person I’m fucking is you, I’d hope you’d know that by now.”

Erratically scanning your features with that ever-present twinkle of your love enchantment still at work and hazing up his gaze, Rafe then leaned in close and uttered, “if his filthy hands touch you again,” his breath fanned across your cheeks, “I’ll kill him.” 

© 2025 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[heliosunny]

LUCKY EGG

Yandere!Phainon x reader

The rumors were true.

You stood in front of the large, polished machine, its sleek metallic surface reflecting the soft neon glow of the surrounding marketplace. The “Lucky Egg Dispenser” as it was called, had become something of a sensation overnight. A single pull of the trigger, and you’d receive an egg—an unhatched mystery promising the perfect partner. Most people spoke of rare creatures, companion animals with unique abilities, and even a few who whispered about something… stranger.

“Lucky egg?” you mused aloud, shifting the weight of the gun-like trigger in your grip. You’d always been one to try new things. It didn’t hurt to take a chance.

With a decisive motion, you squeezed the trigger.

A soft whirring sound filled the air before a pristine white egg gently rolled out, stopping perfectly at your feet. You crouched down, picking it up. Warm. Alive.

A small smile tugged at your lips. Taking care of it would be simple, you were no stranger to nurturing things. Three days. That was all it would take for it to hatch.

You weren’t worried in the slightest.

What you didn’t expect, however, was for your “partner” to be a human.

The egg hatched in the dead of night. A soft crackling sound stirred you from your sleep, but by the time you were fully awake, the shell had already split apart.

And there, sitting on your bed, was a boy.

No, not a boy, a young man, probably around your age.

Pale skin, silver-white hair that shimmered in the moonlight, and brilliant, otherworldly eyes. His clothes were odd, somewhere between regal and alien, but the most alarming thing was the wide, almost manic grin stretching across his face.

Before you could react, he lunged at you, arms wrapping around your torso in a crushing embrace.

“My name is Phainon!” he chirped, his voice filled with unfiltered joy. “I’m your partner now!”

Oh no...Your stomach dropped as realization set in.

Baby duck syndrome.

You knew the term well. When a newborn creature imprints on the first living being they see and attaches to them completely. You were that first living being.

And judging by the way Phainon’s grip tightened, as if he’d never let go, you had a feeling this wasn’t going to be as simple as you thought.

Phainon clung to you like a vice, his grip almost bruising as he buried his face into your neck. His breath was warm, uneven with excitement, and his entire body trembled, not with fear, but something far more intense.

“You’re mine” he whispered, his voice filled with unshakable certainty. “I belong to you… and you belong to me.”

This was bad. You tried to gently pry him off, but the moment you moved, his arms locked around you tighter, his fingers digging into your back as if he were afraid you’d disappear. His blue eyes, impossibly bright and alight with something unsettling, gazed up at you with an overwhelming adoration.

“Don’t push me away” Phainon begged “I just hatched… I need you.”

You swallowed, carefully adjusting your expression. “I-I’m not pushing you away. You just surprised me, that’s all.”

His gaze flickered with doubt before softening, though his grip didn’t loosen.

“I won’t let you leave me” he promised, a ghost of a smile tugging at his lips. “I was born for you.”

You had really gotten yourself into trouble this time.

With Phainon practically glued to your side, you dragged him along to the dungeon. You needed supplies, and in this world, the only way to survive was by hunting monsters and trading points for food and goods. At the very least, you thought you could shake off some of his energy by keeping him occupied. What you didn’t expect was just how powerful he was.

The first monster barely had a chance to move before Phainon lunged, his bare hands tearing through it like paper. Blue eyes shimmered with an eerie thrill as he made quick work of the beasts around you. No hesitation. No struggle. Just raw, overwhelming strength. You stared, a mix of awe and unease settling in your gut.

“Phainon…” You hesitated as he turned to you, still grinning. “How do you know how to fight?”

He tilted his head, as if the question itself was strange. “I was born to protect you” he answered simply. “If anything dares to harm you, I’ll rip it apart.”

His words were spoken with such sincerity that it made your skin crawl. Still, you couldn’t deny the convenience. With him by your side, earning points was absurdly easy.

So you took him to the marketplace, trading in your earnings and buying him new clothes, something normal, something that would help him blend in.

But as you held up a shirt for him to try, he only stared at you with an unsettling softness.

“You take such good care of me…” He exhaled, stepping closer. “You really do love me.”

Your grip on the fabric tightened.

This was going to be a problem.

Even as you weaved through the marketplace, his fingers curled around your wrist, grip firm and unwavering. His blue eyes scanned the crowd with silent intensity, watching every passerby with something between wariness and irritation, as if anyone who so much as looked at you was a potential threat.

You sighed, trying to ignore it.

That was until someone called your name.

“Y/N!”

You turned, spotting an old friend making their way toward you, smiling. “I haven’t seen you in forever!”

Before you could respond, their gaze flickered to Phainon, eyes widening slightly in surprise.

“…Oh? Who’s this?” they asked, raising an eyebrow. “Your boyfriend?”

You couldn’t exactly say he came from an egg. That would sound insane. So, against your better judgment, you went along with it. “Uh, yeah. Something like that.”

Your friend chuckled. “I figured. He looks like he’d kill someone if they so much as breathed in your direction.”

You let out an awkward laugh, hoping they were joking.

Phainon, however, only smiled, resting his chin on your shoulder. “I would” he murmured, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Your friend’s laughter faltered.

Before the situation could get any worse, you quickly made your exit, dragging Phainon away.

When you finally got home, you sighed, rubbing your temples. “You can’t just say things like that, you know.”

Phainon tilted his head. “But it’s true.”

You didn’t have the energy to argue. Instead, you busied yourself in the kitchen, preparing a meal. The sound of chopping and sizzling filled the space, and for a moment, things felt… normal.

But you could still feel Phainon’s admiring gaze on you.

When you finally placed a plate in front of him, his eyes softened.

“You take such good care of me” he murmured.

You forced a small smile. “Yeah, yeah. Just eat.”

But as you turned away, his voice reached you again, quiet, almost innocent.

“You really do love me, don’t you?”

This was getting worse by the second.

The next morning, Phainon was already awake before you, sitting at the edge of your bed, watching you with silent fascination. You ignored the unsettling feeling that came with knowing he had likely been staring at you for a while.

“We’re going out!” you said, stretching. “I need to figure out what you’re actually capable of.”

His expression brightened. “You’re thinking about me first thing in the morning?” His voice was honeyed, pleased. “That makes me happy.”

You sighed. “Just get ready.”

Despite his odd behavior, you needed to assess his skills properly. Yesterday’s display of strength was impressive, but you weren’t sure if he had magic abilities as well. If he was going to fight alongside you, he needed the right weapon.

So, you took him to a well-known weapon shop in the city.

The place was stocked with everything—swords, spears, enchanted items, and magic-infused equipment. The shopkeeper raised an eyebrow at Phainon as he trailed closely behind you, practically glued to your side.

“A new recruit?” they asked.

You hesitated before nodding. “Something like that. I need to test his capabilities and get him a sword.”

Phainon didn’t seem too interested in the conversation. Instead, his attention remained locked onto you, his fingers subtly brushing against your arm as if to remind himself that you were still there.

The shopkeeper guided you both to the testing grounds in the back.

Phainon barely glanced at the weapons lined up for testing. Instead, he turned to you, expectant.

“Choose one for me” he said.

You blinked. “Why? You should pick what feels right.”

He smiled “I want your choice. Something that reminds you of me.”

You hesitated, but eventually, you picked a sword. When you handed it to him, he held it as if it were sacred, his fingers running over the hilt with reverence. Then, he turned toward the practice dummy and swung. The air itself seemed to hum as the blade sliced cleanly through, the force of his strike strong enough to split the dummy in two. You barely had time to react before the lingering energy from his swing crackled, a faint shimmer of magic lacing through the air.

So he did have magic.

The shopkeeper let out a low whistle. “That’s some terrifying raw talent.”

Phainon ignored them, stepping closer to you, lifting the sword slightly.

“Do you like it?” he asked softly.

You nodded. “It suits you.”

His eyes softened, a quiet sort of delight settling in his expression. “Then I’ll treasure it forever.”

It wasn’t about the sword. It was about the fact that you were the one who gave it to him.

Going into the dungeon with Phainon was like having a high-level DPS at your side. You barely had to lift a finger.

With every swing of his sword, monsters fell instantly, torn apart before they could even react. His raw strength was unmatched, his movements precise and brutal, and his magic crackled through the air with every strike. All you had to do was keep him healed.

Whenever he took a hit, rare as it was, you were there, casting healing spells or applying potions before he could even flinch. It was almost effortless, and the way he looked at you every time you healed him sent a strange chill down your spine.

“You always take care of me” he murmured, after you placed a hand on his arm to patch up a small wound. His blue eyes burned with something unreadable. “It makes me love you even more.”

You pretended not to hear him.

By the end of the run, you had racked up an absurd amount of points. It was more than you’d ever earned in a single trip. But as you left the dungeon, your path was blocked. A group of men stood in front of you, their expressions dark with anger.

“You!” one of them spat, eyes locked on you. “That was our dungeon route. You took our points.”

You stiffened. You had heard of people like this before, territorial dungeon crawlers who claimed certain areas as their own, even though the dungeons were free for all. Phainon, however, only tilted his head, his fingers tightening around the hilt of his sword.

“Move” he said simply.

The men sneered. “Or what?”

Phainon smiled. And then, in the blink of an eye, he moved.

You barely saw it happen. One second, the men were standing tall, and the next, they were on the ground, groaning, writhing, clutching broken limbs. Phainon hadn’t even drawn his sword. He had simply crushed them with his bare hands. You felt the blood drain from your face as he turned back to you, expression calm, as if nothing had happened.

“You don’t need to worry about them” he stepped close to you, his voice almost soothing. “I’ll always protect you.”

His hand cupped your cheek, thumb brushing against your skin.

“You’ll never need anyone else.”

You weren’t the only one who noticed Phainon’s strength.

Word spread fast in the city. A newcomer, practically fresh out of nowhere, tearing through dungeons with monstrous efficiency? It was bound to catch attention.

When you returned to the marketplace, a group of uniformed individuals was waiting for you. Their armor bore the insignia of the Adventurer’s Guild, the organization that oversaw dungeon crawlers and regulated combat prowess.

One of them, a woman with sharp eyes, stepped forward. “We’ve received reports about you” she said, looking Phainon up and down. “Your combat abilities are… unusual.”

Phainon didn’t respond. He didn’t even blink.

The woman continued, unfazed. “We’d like to evaluate your rank. If you’re as strong as people claim, you should be registered with the guild.”

You hesitated, then glanced at Phainon. “It’s up to you” you said casually. “You can decide for yourself.”

His reaction was immediate. His blue eyes snapped to yours, wide with something unreadable. His fingers twitched at his sides, as if suppressing an impulse.

For the first time since you met him, Phainon looked… lost.

“You’re letting me decide?” he murmured, almost as if the concept itself was foreign to him. His voice was quiet, but there was an undercurrent of something dangerous beneath it.

The guild members watched the exchange, waiting for an answer.

Then, without warning, Phainon grabbed your wrist. His grip was firm but not painful—more like an anchor, something grounding him.

“I don’t need them!” he said, his eyes darkening. “I don’t need a rank. I don’t need recognition. I only need you.”

You swallowed, trying to keep your expression neutral. “Phainon...”

But he wasn’t listening. His fingers tightened ever so slightly, as if reassuring himself that you were still there, still his.

“I’ll prove it” he murmured, almost to himself. “You’ll see… I don’t need anything else.”

The woman from the guild frowned. “Refusing to register might cause problems later. If you change your mind, come to the guild hall.” She gave you a lingering look before turning away, leading her team elsewhere.

Once they were gone, you exhaled, glancing down at your guild-issued device. You hadn’t checked Phainon’s stats since he hatched. Opening the interface, your breath caught in your throat. His level had skyrocketed. It wasn’t just growth, it was unnatural. No one leveled up this fast. Slowly, you looked up at him, finding him already staring at you.

His lips curled into a soft, knowing smile. “You’re looking at me differently” he murmured. “Are you finally realizing it?”

Realizing what?

Phainon wasn’t just strong. He was something else.

You couldn’t ignore it anymore.

Phainon’s level growth wasn’t just unnatural, it was impossible. Even the most elite adventurers took years to reach his current strength, yet he had done it in mere days. And his reaction when you let him decide for himself… the way he clung to you, as if the very idea of autonomy was foreign to him… Something wasn’t right.

That night, while Phainon sat contentedly by the fireplace, watching you with that ever-present devotion, you busied yourself with research.

You poured through old adventurer logs, ancient texts, and anything that might explain the anomaly that was him. But no record of a “lucky egg” spawning a human existed. Every instance of the machine had resulted in creatures—beasts, familiars, magical companions. Never a person. Then, deep within an old archive, you found something.

A passage detailing an experiment.

“In pursuit of the perfect companion, scholars once sought to craft an entity bound by absolute devotion. A being that would imprint upon the first soul it encountered, instinctively prioritizing their happiness and survival above all else. However, these creations proved unstable—obsessive, possessive, and far too powerful. The project was ultimately abandoned, all records sealed away.”

Your gaze flickered toward Phainon.

His blue eyes gleamed in the firelight, calm and unreadable as he met your stare.

“You’re looking at me like that again”

“Phainon…” You swallowed. “What are you?”

For a long moment, he didn’t answer.

Then, slowly, he rose from his seat, walking toward you with measured steps. When he reached you, he knelt—his head resting against your lap, his arms wrapping around you in a loose embrace.

“I don’t know” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “But does it matter?”

He tilted his head, pressing closer, his warmth seeping into you.

“All I know is that I belong to you” he murmured, smiling softly. “And that’s the only truth I need.”

Your fingers trembled against the pages of the book.

This was worse than you thought.

Phainon wasn’t just obsessed.

He was made to be.

[lilbabypanda-blog2]

Phainon x (fem) reader (6)

Part5 Part6

The ruins stretched endlessly before them, bathed in an eerie glow from the bioluminescent moss creeping along the stone walls. It would have been an awe-inspiring sight—if not for the fact that Y/N and Phainon were too busy laughing like idiots while Mydei trudged behind them, radiating pure done-with-this-energy.

“You should’ve seen your face earlier, Mydei!” Y/N snickered, nudging Phainon with her elbow. “When we fell through that hole, you looked like you were questioning all of your life choices!”

“I was questioning all of my life choices,” Mydei grumbled, crossing his arms. “Specifically the ones that led to me being here with you two.”

“Oh, come on,” Phainon said with a wide grin. “Admit it—you love our company!”

“Yeah, love it so much I’m considering retirement,” Mydei muttered.

Phainon and Y/N burst into laughter again, their amusement echoing through the ruins. The uneven stone path ran parallel to a flowing underground river, the water glowing faintly under the ruins’ mysterious light. It was beautiful—serene, even.

And then, disaster struck.

In her fit of laughter, Y/N took a step forward—and the moment her foot hit the slick stone, she knew she was doomed.

“Uh-oh.”

The ground betrayed her.

She slipped. Hard.

In a blind panic, she grabbed the closest thing she could—Phainon.

“Whoa—Y/N?! Wait—!”

Phainon, caught off guard, tried to steady himself, but instead, his instincts betrayed him in the stupidest way possible—he latched onto Mydei.

“Don’t you dare—!”

Too late.

Like a perfect, synchronized disaster, all three of them tumbled off the ledge, limbs flailing in every direction.

SPLASH.

The river swallowed them whole.

The first one to resurface was Y/N, coughing out water and pushing her soaked hair from her face. The water was freezing, but she barely had time to register it before—

SPLASH!

Phainon shot up next, looking far too excited for someone who had just involuntarily plunged into an underground river. “That. Was. Amazing!” He flipped his drenched white hair back like he was starring in some dramatic movie scene, completely missing the way Y/N was giving him a look that said, Seriously?

Then, much less gracefully—

SPLUTTER—COUGH—SPIT

Mydei emerged, looking like a man who had just been personally wronged by fate itself. His blonde-red hair was plastered to his forehead, his eyes narrowed into pure betrayal.

“I hate both of you,” he wheezed, wiping water from his face.

Y/N, still trying not to laugh, paddled in place. “Okay, but technically that was my fault.”

“Oh, really? Really?! I wouldn’t have noticed!” Mydei snapped, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Because here I was, thinking Phainon just randomly decided to drag me into the freezing abyss for fun!”

“To be fair,” Phainon piped up, flashing an easygoing smile, “I do think this is kinda fun.”

Mydei turned slowly, glaring daggers at him. “I am this close to dunking you underwater.”

Phainon just beamed. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Oh, wouldn’t I?”

Before Mydei could act on his very real threat, Y/N clapped her hands together. “Alright, alright, enough drowning each other—let’s find a way out before we turn into icicles.”

Still grumbling, Mydei swam toward the riverbank while Phainon and Y/N followed, their soaked clothes clinging uncomfortably. The second Y/N reached the shore, she shivered, rubbing her arms. “Okay. That was not my best moment.”

Phainon, ever the sunshine of the group, turned to her with his usual bright grin. “Are you kidding? That was fantastic! You even managed to take both of us down with you! I’d call that an achievement.”

Y/N let out a snort, shaking her head. “Yeah, yeah, so impressive.”

Mydei, standing a few feet away, wrung out the edge of his coat with a deep scowl. “If either of you ever grab me like that again, I’m throwing you into a pit on purpose.”

Phainon leaned over to Y/N, whispering, “He totally loves us.”

Y/N grinned. “Oh, absolutely.”

Mydei groaned. “I heard that.”

Still smiling, Y/N stretched, trying to shake off the cold. “Well, let’s see where this riverbank leads. Who knows? Maybe we just accidentally discovered something important.”

Phainon nodded enthusiastically. “Exactly! See, Mydei? This wasn’t a complete disaster!”

Mydei rubbed his temples. “If I pretend you don’t exist, will you stop talking?”

“Nope!” Phainon chirped.

As they continued along the riverbank, Phainon nudged Y/N, his smile softer now. “Hey,” he said casually, though his voice held a hint of something more. “For what it’s worth… that was pretty impressive.”

Y/N tilted her head at him. “What was?”

“The way you reacted,” Phainon said, rubbing the back of his neck blushing a little. “I mean, yeah, we all fell, but you managed to keep hold of me and Mydei while thinking on your feet. That’s… pretty cool.”

Y/N gave him a lopsided smile. “Huh. Didn’t think nearly drowning was something to be proud of.”

Phainon chuckled, his face a little pink. “Well, when you do it, it somehow seems heroic.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Are you flirting with me right now?”

Phainon’s entire brain short-circuited. “I—uh—no! I mean, yes—I mean—WAIT, NO, THAT'S NOT—”

Y/N just smirked. “Relax, Phainon, I’m messing with you.”

“Oh. Right. Haha. Yeah.” Phainon let out a nervous laugh, his face now fully red.

Mydei, watching this entire interaction with an expression of pure pain, sighed deeply. “I swear, I am never getting dry at this rate.”

And with that, the three of them continued onward, one of them very flustered, one very amused, and one desperately wishing for peace and quiet.

After trudging along the riverbank, soaked to the bone, the trio finally stumbled upon a dry clearing nestled between the ruins. The stone walls around them provided decent shelter, and the soft glow of bioluminescent moss gave the place an eerie but peaceful ambiance.

Y/N shivered slightly as she rubbed her arms. “Alright, we desperately need a fire before we all turn into ice sculptures.”

Phainon clapped his hands together. “On it!”

Mydei gave him a flat look. “Do you even know how to make a fire?”

Phainon gasped dramatically. “Excuse me? Do I look like someone who can’t start a fire?”

“Yes,” Mydei said without hesitation.

Ignoring him, Phainon crouched down and started striking flint together. Against all odds, sparks flickered to life, catching onto the dry twigs. Within moments, a warm fire crackled before them.

Y/N sighed in relief, holding her hands up to the flames. “Nice work, Phainon.”

Phainon beamed, golden-retriever energy practically radiating off of him. “You see? I am so much more capable than you guys give me credit for!”

“Still debatable,” Mydei muttered as he unstrapped a piece of his armor and set it on a nearby rock to dry. “Ugh, this thing is soaked.”

Y/N glanced over at Phainon, noting the way his elegant coat was still dripping. “Phainon, take that off before you get sick.”

“Oh, I’m fine—”

“Nope,” Y/N cut him off, standing up. “Come on, give it here. You’re already shivering.”

Phainon opened his mouth to argue, but the moment Y/N reached for him, his brain short-circuited.

Oh no.

Oh no, she's close—

Oh no, she’s touching me.

Y/N tugged his soaked coat off his shoulders, completely unaware of how Phainon had gone completely stiff. His brain was looping at high speed.

Y/N, meanwhile, casually found a place to hang the coat up to dry, giving Phainon a satisfied nod. “There. Now you won’t freeze to death.”

Phainon just stood there, blinking rapidly.

Mydei, watching this unfold, exhaled sharply. “Unbelievable.”

Y/N turned back to Phainon, only to frown when she noticed his face had turned a suspicious shade of red.

“…Phainon, are you feeling okay?”

Phainon jolted. “Wha—? Me? Yes! Totally fine! Perfectly healthy! Never better!”

Y/N narrowed her eyes. “You look feverish.”

“What? Pfft. No way. Not at all—”

Y/N suddenly placed a hand on his forehead.

Phainon died instantly.

Okay, no, he didn’t actually die, but he might as well have. His entire body locked up, face burning, because—oh stars—Y/N’s hand was warm and soft and he was definitely going to combust.

Y/N frowned. “You are warm. See? I told you to take that coat off earlier!”

“It’s��It’s probably just the fire!” Phainon squeaked. “Very warm fire! Extremely toasty!”

Y/N didn’t look convinced. “Are you sure you’re not getting sick?”

Phainon nodded so fast he probably gave himself whiplash.

Y/N hummed, unconvinced. “Hmm. Alright. But if you do start feeling dizzy, tell me.”

Phainon nodded again, but in reality, he was already dizzy. Just for entirely different reasons.

Y/N sighed, finally removing her hand. “Alright, let me check on your wound while we’re at it.”

Phainon paled. “My what?”

Y/N shot him a look. “Your arm? From earlier? The wound you brushed off like it was nothing?”

“Oh! That wound. Uh—It’s fine! Totally fine! You don’t have to—”

Too late. Y/N was already gently rolling up his sleeve to inspect the cut.

Phainon immediately forgot how to breathe.

Stars help him. He was never going to survive this mission.

Y/N carefully examined the wound. It wasn’t too deep, but it was still red and irritated from the earlier fights.

“You need to be more careful,” she chided, grabbing a fresh bandage from her pack. “Seriously, just tell me when you’re hurt next time.”

Phainon barely heard her because all his brain could focus on was:

• Y/N is touching my arm.

• Y/N is really close.

• Her hands are so soft.

• I am about to explode.

Y/N worked quickly, wrapping the bandage snugly around his arm before tying it off. “There. All patched up.”

Then, without thinking, she reached up and ruffled his damp hair.

“You did so good today, Phainon.”

Critical hit.

Phainon.exe has stopped functioning.

His face went bright red as he sat there, absolutely paralyzed by the casual affection. Meanwhile, Y/N simply dusted her hands off, oblivious to the absolute devastation she just caused.

Mydei, watching all of this from the sidelines, dragged a hand down his face. “I cannot do this anymore.”

Y/N turned to him. “Do what?”

“Witness this pathetic excuse for a crush.”

Phainon made a strangled noise. “I DO NOT HAVE A CRUSH.”

Y/N blinked. “Who has a crush?”

“NO ONE!” Phainon practically yelled, face still burning.

Y/N looked confused, but before she could question anything, something moved.

swish.

At first, none of them reacted. The movement was too fast, too quiet.

Then—

swish.

Y/N sat up, suddenly alert. “Did you see that?”

Phainon, still recovering from his near-death experience, blinked in confusion. “See what?”

CLINK.

They all turned toward the rock where Mydei had placed his armor.

It was gone.

Mydei’s eye twitched. “Where. Is. My. Armor?”

Silence.

Then—

SWOOSH.

Phainon jumped up. “THERE! Something just moved!”

Y/N narrowed her eyes at the darkness. “Okay, what is that?”

A moment later—

“My food is gone,” Mydei said darkly.

Phainon clutched his remaining rations. “Oh, this is personal now.”

Then, before they could react—

Something snatched Phainon’s coat from where it was drying.

Phainon let out a gasp of pure horror. “MY COAT.”

Phainon looked personally offended. "What is it even doing with it?!”

"Probably trying to rid the world of your terrible fashion choices," Mydei muttered.

Phainon pointed dramatically. "You know what? This is war."

“Alright, alright—let’s track this thing before Phainon actually starts crying over his coat.”

Phainon sniffed dramatically. "Too late. I’m already suffering."

As they prepared to investigate, the ruins around them remained eerily silent—too silent.

Whatever was lurking nearby… was still watching them.

And it was far from done.

The ruins were eerily silent except for the faint dripping of water and the occasional whisper of wind through the cracks in the stone. The air was thick with moisture, carrying the scent of moss and damp earth. Shadows stretched unnaturally against the ancient walls, distorting the carvings that time had nearly erased.

Something was here. Watching. Waiting.

Phainon shifted uncomfortably, his usually carefree demeanor dimmed by the unsettling stillness. His white coat—gone. Mydei’s armor—vanished. And now, as they walked along the overgrown pathways, tracking whatever had taken their things, he clutched onto the one thing he had left.

His sandwich.

Y/N led the way, her sharp eyes scanning for more signs of disturbance. There were traces, subtle but present—something had moved through here recently. But it wasn’t leaving the kind of tracks a person or even an animal might. Instead, there were disturbed patches of moss, faint imprints in the damp soil, like something too light to leave proper footprints.

It was almost like chasing a ghost.

Mydei walked a few paces behind, arms crossed, his perpetual state of irritation increasing by the second. “We’re wasting time,” he muttered. “Whatever this is, it’s too fast. We should focus on finding a way back up, not chasing after—”

A rustling sound.

The three of them froze.

The leaves of a thick bush trembled, though there was no breeze.

Y/N subtly signaled for them to stay alert. Her fingers curled around her weapon, waiting, watching.

Phainon barely breathed.

Then—

SWOOSH.

A blur shot out from the bush, impossibly fast, nothing more than a streak of movement—

And then it was gone.

Silence.

The three of them remained motionless, waiting for another sign of movement.

Then, finally, Phainon exhaled. “Okay. That was weird, but—” He paused, looking down at his now empty hands.

His eyes widened in horror.

“…It stole my sandwich.”

Silence.

Y/N blinked. “Wait. Did that thing just—”

Phainon turned to her, looking absolutely betrayed.

“It stole. My sandwich.”

Mydei, to no one's surprise, was unamused. “Really? That’s what you’re concerned about right now?”

Phainon looked back at his empty hands, as if still processing the loss. “I—yes! That was my last sandwich!”

Y/N’s expression remained serious, her gaze still fixed on where the blur had vanished. “This isn’t random.”

Phainon gasped dramatically. “It feels pretty random.”

“No,” she corrected. “Think about it. It took your coat. Mydei’s armor. And now food. It’s not just stealing—it’s collecting.”

Mydei narrowed his eyes. “Collecting what?”

Y/N gestured around them. “Things it considers useful.”

Mydei frowned, crossing his arms. “So what, it’s some kind of invisible hoarder?”

Phainon suddenly gasped. “What if it’s building something?”

Y/N and Mydei turned to look at him.

“…Building what, exactly?” Mydei asked dryly.

Phainon’s eyes narrowed in deep, philosophical thought. “A… sandwich shrine?”

Mydei groaned, dragging a hand down his face.

Y/N snickered at the nonsense, while still focused on their surroundings. “We need to track it. Now that we know it’s still nearby, we might be able to corner it.”

Phainon clenched his fists dramatically. “Yes. I will retrieve my stolen food—”

“It’s not about the sandwich, Phainon.”

“It’s a little about the sandwich.”

Y/N sighed, already moving forward. Mydei, rubbing his temples, followed.

The ruins suddenly felt much more ominous.

Whatever was lurking here wasn’t just playing with them—it had a purpose.

And soon, they were going to find out exactly what it was.

[brookediamonds]

I love you, I'm sorry | Axel Kovačević x Fem! Reader

Summary: After years of tense, banter-filled rivalry between you and Axel, things begin to spiral when you start dating someone new leading to jealousy and bitterness and even some overprotectiveness

Word Count: 3k Warnings: None, allusions to sex, no smut though

gif is not mine

You skipped into the back of your home dojo, completely blinded by the new relationship that has begun in your life.

It was the happiness that made your head spin in a million directions, a buzzing feeling running through your body from excitement.

"Sam!" You shrieked as you spotted your curly haired friend standing along with Tory.

"Someone's happy," Tory takes notice to your wide grin and preppy attitude.

"He did it!" You yelped running up to your two best friends. "Ian asked me to be his girlfriend!"

"Oh!" Sam’s smile froze, just for a second. Her lips parted in surprise before she quickly adjusted, forcing a brighter grin. "That's great!"

"Wait, Ian Matthews?" Tory interjects. "The guy from the baseball team?"

"Yeah!" You confirm for her rocking back and forth on your feet. "We had been talking for a month now, and yesterday we watched a movie at his house last night and he asked me then!"

Sam and Tory glanced side ways at each other, both of your friends sharing the same thoughts and worries.

"Nothing happened," you disrupted their thoughts a small laugh escaping you. The girls relaxed at your statement. "He kind of tried but I told him that's not something I'd do for a while."

"Good, I'm glad he respects you," Sam gives you a half smile trying not to linger on the fact that he in fact still tried to do something with you.

"If he doesn't I'll kick his ass," Tory responds bluntly making you laugh.

"Don't worry about me, I can handle my own," you assure your overprotective friends. Squeezing Sam's elbow, you turn to walk away towards Sensei Lawerence, leaving the two girls to grumble.

"Why him?" Sam mutters under her breath as she crossed her arms over her chest in annoyance.

"He's the biggest dick," the blonde agreed. "Can't believe he pulled her."

"I'm keeping an eye on this dude, I don't trust him," Sam says watching you talk with the older sensei about a move she was having trouble with.

"Trust who?" Miguel comes up to his girlfriend's side catching the end of her comment.

"Ian Matthews," Tory answers, her voice dripping with bitterness. "He's got our girl."

"Nooo," Miguel drags out the 'o' dramatically looking over at you with remorseful eyes. "He ended up asking (Y/n) out?"

Sam nods responding with a low "mhm."

"He's such a-"

"Dick," they all say in unison.

As the three talked about how they could plot steering you away from the danger, Axel stood behind them listening to every word of the conversation having heard everything from the minute you arrived.

A scowl was creeping across his face, his jaw clenched as he thought about you and Ian together. It made him fume. His sharp eyes tracked you as you laughed and grinned, a strange, uncomfortable feeling twisting in his chest.

As class begun, you fall into line, Axel moving to stand behind you.

"So," you hear Axel whisper from behind you. "Ian Matthews, huh?"

You rolled your eyes, trying not to let him put a damper in your current mood.

"What about him?" You ask not sparing him a glance.

"Nothing," he says rather quickly. "Just surprised you'd fall for a guy like him. Thought you had higher standards than the baseball jock stereotype." 

You could practically see the smirk in his voice.

Exhaling sharply, you glance over your shoulder to give Axel a pointed look. "Not that it's any of your business, but Ian is actually a really nice guy."

"Right, nice," he snorts. "That's definitely the word I'd use for someone like him."

You clenched your fists, refusing to rise to his bait. "Why do you even care?" you shot back under your breath, your tone sharp.

"Trust me, I don't," Axel scoffed. You shook your head putting your focus back on Sensei LaRusso.

Sure he didn't care for you (at least he pretends not to), but that guy? Seriously? You could do better.

And while he wouldn't admit it, Axel too would watch out for you.

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

It's been a few weeks and things had gone smoothly so far with Ian, he was always paying you compliments and gifting you flowers, it made you feel special.

But what you hadn't noticed was the way his eyes would trail to the girl behind you or how his crude remarks went over your head. All things your friends caught on to.

You were blinded by the honeymoon phase. However things begin to take a turn when Axel catches wind of something he didn't want to hear.

Axel was in the boys locker room changing into his normal clothes when he hears your name.

"She's only been letting me feel her up when we make out, but I think she's gonna let me hit it by the end of the week," Axel recognizes that douche voice from anywhere.

Peeking around the corner of the row of lockers, Axel confirms his suspicions when he sees your boyfriend Ian sitting on a bench talking a with a few guys from his team.

"Dude you got till the end of the month to complete that bet," one of his teammates says. "Don't rush that $100."

What bet?

"I know I just feel like every time I think she's gonna let me, she backs out," Ian complains.

'They better not be talking about Y/n' Axel thinks already beginning to feel his blood boil.

"Y/n is a tough one to crack when it comes to shit like that, that's what makes her a fun challenge," another guy pipes in.

Axel could feel his hands start shake from the fury he was feeling, to talk about a woman like that is disgusting, but to talk about you like that?

It was enraging.

Does he confront them and beat the shit out them like he wants to? Does pull Ian specially aside and knock his lights out? Does he do both?

As the boys left the locker room, Axel can only think about one thing: You.

He ponders how to approach you with what he heard, having not the best history with you.

As Axel made his way out of the locker room, he sees Ian at your locker holding you close to him.

He felt a pang in his heart as he watched you smile so tenderly, pressing a quick peck to Ian's lips.

"He's wrong for her."

Axel startled slightly, turning to see Sam standing a few feet away, her arms crossed and a knowing look in her eyes.

"What?" Axel asked, his voice a little sharper than he intended.

Sam raised an eyebrow, tilting her head toward you and Ian. "You’re staring," she said simply.

Axel scoffed, shifting his bag higher on his shoulder. "I’m not staring. I’m just… keeping an eye on things."

"Right," Sam said, a small smile tugging at her lips. :You know, for someone who acts like Y/n is the most annoying person on the planet, you sure spend a lot of time watching out for her."

Axel glared at the short girl next to him. "I’m not— I just don't trust this guy."

He paused, his jaw tightening as he debated whether to tell her what he had overheard in the locker room. Something like this isn't something that needs to be spread or heard from another source.

Sam nodded in agreement. "We don't either... That should be you."

"Come again?" Axel whips his head around.

"Oh come on, before this little rivalry started, you two had a thing going," Sam reminds him with a slight eyeball.

Axel frowned, crossing his arms. "We did not have 'thing' going."

Sam raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Really? Because I remember you two were pretty much inseparable when she first joined the dojo."

"Before your father put us together for that competition," Axel huffs remembering the event that ended up sparking your rivalry. He adored your bright smile and outgoing personality.

Your opposite personalities made things fun between you two, until Sensei LaRusso decided to partner you up for a karate partner competition.

Your approaches had clashed, egos had flared, and the loss had cemented the wedge between you. Now, instead of sharing inside jokes and camaraderie, all you shared were sarcastic remarks and eye-rolls.

"I know," Sam winces the flashback of you two arguing on the mat coming back to mind. "I'm sorry. But that doesn’t mean it has to stay this way, Axel. You still care about her, I can see it, even if you won’t admit it. And I know she cares about you, too, even if she’s too stubborn to show it."

Sam gave him a pointed look before walking away, leaving Axel alone with his thoughts. He feels a pang in his chest as he watched Ian slide his arm over you shoulder, you had no idea what this guy was intending to do.

Axel exhaled sharply, grabbing his bag and slinging it over his shoulder. He had to approach this carefully. If he came at you too aggressively, you’d probably just brush him off or accuse him of being jealous.

He couldn’t risk that—not with something this important.

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

You're texting back one of your siblings about dinner plans when you hear your name being called. Glancing back, you see Axel jogging up to you.

Unphased, you spare him a quick glance continuing to type back. "What? Come to critique my footwork again?" You tease him.

Axel didn't give you his playful smirk like he usually does when you two banter.

"I need to tell you something," he says, his tone unusually serious.

"What's up?" You frown giving him your undivided attention.

Axel hesitated, running a hand through his hair as if trying to figure out how to say it.

"It’s about Ian," he says lowly.

"What about him?" You stood up straight, eyebrows furrowed.

The tall boy sighed, his gaze flicking to the floor for a moment before meeting yours. "I overheard him and his friends talking about you."

You felt the heat rise to you cheeks, a million things swirling through your mind.

"Saying what?" Your throat feels tight when you speak.

Axel shifted uncomfortably, his usual confidence faltering. "He made a bet. With his friends. That he could… you know… get you into bed by the end of the month."

The words hung in the air, heavy and cutting. You could feel your heart fall to the pit of your stomach, embarrassment coming over you.

Of course the one guy that shows interest in you is from a bet, and you had to hear from someone that despises you. Great.

The worst part of this was, Axel wasn't your enemy, he was someone you actually really liked. So when you two fell off, you thought Ian would be a good distraction.

You blinked, stepping back as if he’d physically hit you. "That’s not funny, Axel."

"Y/n, I wouldn't lie to you about something like this," he said urgently. "I know we've had our differences, but I would never tell you this if I didn't know it was 100% true."

You shook your head, your chest tightening with a mix of anger and disbelief. 

"You can't expect me to just believe you, you've never liked him, hell you don't even like me most days! How do I know this isn't some diversion to mess with me?" Your words dripped with anger.

Axel took a step closer to you, his expression earnest and almost pleading.

"I feel anything but dislike you for you, trust me," he said firmly, his voice quieter now but no less intense. "This isn't a joke to me, the dude is lucky I didn't knock his lights out."

Your breath caught at his words, but the anger and humiliation still bubbled in your chest, clouding your thoughts. "Why do you even care?"

"You deserve better than that," Axel says softly. "Better than him. I care about you more than you think I do."

"Axel..." you started, but your voice faltered. You didn’t know what to say, how to process the sudden shift in his tone, in his words.

You're unsure if he's saying what you think he's saying, but too much has been said and you needed a minute to think.

"Think about it, I know I'm not the best source but it would've killed me to keep that to myself, you deserve respect," he assures you.

Respect.

He turned and walked away before you could respond, leaving you standing there, heart racing and thoughts swirling in chaos.

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

You spend the rest of the evening going over the last few week in your end, cringing at the moments you should've picked up on Ian being insincere with you and your friends.

The Saturday nights you had spend with Ian at his house, he had attempted to go further than just making out on his couch. You didn't realize how frustrated he was when you pushed him away or got up to use the bathroom.

You had chosen to ignore all the warning signs, the looks of annoyance, the backhanded compliments, it all made sense to you now.

Axel was right.

The next morning you take your time getting ready, making sure you looked your best and headed to school.

When you walk into the school, you immediately spot Ian upstairs by his locker surrounded by his group of good from the baseball team.

"Y/n!" Tory and Sam greet you, the brunette beaming a smile.

"Good morning," you chirp, your gaze going back to the boys upstairs. The girls notice your eyes trailing upstairs making them frown.

"Oh, we'll let you go be with Ian," Sam feigns a small smile attempting to sounds sincere was possiblele.

"Actually wait for me," you spoke making them perk up. " This will only take a second."

Tory and Sam look over at each other sharing the same confused look before you turn to walk up the stairs.

As you approached the dark haired boy, Ian's friends nod their head at you, making your boyfriend turn to face you.

"Hey, Ian," you greet him, giving him your flashing smile.

"Hey babe," he grins walking up to you pecking your lips lightly. He slings an arm over your shoulder, pulling you close to him.

"Hi, guys!" You peek over his shoulder giving them your million-dollar smile.

"Sup," they all say back returning your upbeat energy.

"So, how was practice yesterday?" You ask innocently.

"It was great," Ian responds nonchalantly, the guys behind him nodding in agreement.

"Make any good bets lately?"

The boys stood frozen in their spots when the question leaves your mouth, a red tint coming across Ian's face. He glances at his team, all of them shaking their heads.

He looks down at you.

"W-What?" He stutters, his lips tugging up into a smile.

Ian stiffened. It was subtle, but you caught it—the way his grip on your shoulder tightened for just a second before he quickly masked it with a laugh. "What are you talking about?"

You let out a small chuckle, shaking your head as you gently shrugged his arm off you. "You know exactly what I’m talking about."

Ian glanced around, clearly realizing that some of his teammates were watching. "Look, Y/n, whatever you heard, it’s not—"

It was true.

"You didn't make a bet that you could get me in bed by the end of the month?" You raised your eyebrows. Ian's mouth falls open at a lost for words, his eyes going back and forth between you and his friends.

You laughed, rolling your eyes.

"You're an asshole, incase you haven't heard it already from the rest of the school," you scoffed. "We're done."

When you go to walk away, you see Axel standing just a few feet away from you, his expression soft.

You met his gaze for a moment, your heart pounding from the adrenaline of what just happened. Ian was already stammering behind you, trying to save face in front of his friends, but you didn’t care.

You held Axel’s stare, your breath still a little shaky. Meeting each other in the middle, he sighs giving you an apologetic look.

"I'm sorry," he says lowly.

"Not your fault he's a jackass," you shrug, avoiding his eyes.

There's a silence between you as the hallway buzzes from the people around you. You shifted on your feet, suddenly feeling the weight of everything settle in.

The adrenaline was fading, leaving behind a mix of frustration, embarrassment, and something else you couldn’t quite name.

Axel seemed to notice because, for once, he didn’t push, didn’t tease. He just stood there, watching you carefully.

"I should—" you motion behind you with your thumb.

"Yeah, right," Axel nods seeing Sam and Tory staring up at you from the first level sharing words with each other.

For a second, you wanted to say more but didn't know where to start. Your relationship with Axel was complicated, while you two bickered and fought over everything, you still felt a drawn connection to him.

And unbeknownst to you, he still held a soft for you. But with last year's disastrous competition that was supposed to bring you two closer, did the exact opposite.

You gave Axel one last glance before turning on your heel and heading toward your friends.

"You okay?" Sam asks worryingly reaching out for your hand.

"I'm good," you reassure her with a soft smile, laying your other hand on top of hers.

"What did he do? Do I need to handle him?" Tory threatens already glaring up in Ian's direction whom was still throwing a hissy fit.

"No need," you smirk at her. "I already did."

Sam and Tory nodding holding an impressed expression.

"As for what he did..." you trailed off a slight frown raising to your face. "I'll have to explain at lunch."

The girls nodded in understanding, Tory walking over to stand by your side as she hooked her arm around your shoulder to give you a reassuring squeeze.

"Well, whatever it was, he’s an idiot. And trust me, you can do way better."

Sam nodded, giving your hand another gentle squeeze. "Agreed. And just so you know, we’ve got your back, always."

You felt warmth spread through you at their support. No matter what happened, you weren’t alone.

"I know," you respond softly, someone else popping up in the back of your mind.

Axel watched from the upper level as your friends engulfed you with love and support, his heart aching in his chest for you.

He didn't know where you two stood after this encounter, but there's a lingering feeling that you two could start over and maybe—just maybe, you can give him a chance to show you how you deserve to be treated.

Kindly, and respectfully.

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

Part 2 (coming soon) 😉

(a/n: I love me some frenemy chaos, I think I might make this 3 parts but not sure. Like, reblog, comment, I love everyone whose been loving comments, thank you all for the love!!)

[artz16]

More on my “Meeting Fiyero First” AU, See here 💚

I wanted to explain more clearly what happens/intended timline:

• Fiyero’s in disguise when first coming to the sight of the house due to the whole…”he ran off with the infamous Wicked Witch of the West” thing so no one knows it’s him

• Dorothy comes out, freaks out upon seeing Nessarose’s feet and everyone praising her and dashes into her house, trying to fall asleep to wake up from what feels like a nightmare. Fiyero follows her and helps her cool off and process things. He also tends to some scraps she got from the twister

• He only tells Dorothy his name and was planning to take her to Elphaba so they could help her and protect her since she’s frighten and might have a lot put on her since everyone was already seeing her as a witch

• Toto vibe checks Fiyero cuz he’s a good boy and wants his girl Dorothy to be in safe company and Fiyero passes with flying colors

• Before he could act on his plan for taking Dorothy to Elphaba himself, Glinda comes in and takes over, still managing to get the shoes on Dorothy. This is despite her protesting and Fiyero trying to argue in her favor without revealing it’s him. Glinda then forces the poor girl on her way and Fiyero resolves to get her out of this mess while being thinking,”Glinda WTF?! Why are you dragging a kid into this?! You know that fraud can’t help her! And why are you sending her alone?!?! That kid’s like 10! Ya tryna kill her?!”

• Elphaba is in a mix of worrying where the heck Fiyero is while mourning her sister and having what’s left of her on the feet of a 10 year old

• Fiyero runs to her before she reaches the house and explains to her the situation so she’s aware of Glinda forced the girl into the shoes and sent her all by herself to see the Wizard

• The cat fight includes Elphaba scolding Glinda for forcing Dorothy into this mess. Elphaba is worried about the Wizard using or harming Dorothy depending on he views her

• Meanwhile, Dorothy comes across the Witch of the North (Not Glinda. The one from the books) who lets her vent all stress (Can’t blame her. Girl survived a twister only to be praised for her house landing on somebody). North comforts the girl and grants her the protection mark to keep her safe

• The events after the car fight still happens, but Fiyero asks her to find Dorothy for him before she runs away

• Elphaba still fears Fiyero having died, but resolves to keep his promise in keeping Dorothy safe since it’s what he wanted

• Dorothy meets Scarecrow, realizes it’s Fiyero and they both resolve to get to Elphaba and find her a way home.

• The Wizard gets both relieved and worried upon finding out Dorothy hasn’t been following Glinda’s directions. Being worried about her unpredictability (and seeing her as a risk to being exposed) sends the Gale Force to find and escort Dorothy to the Emerald City)

• So Elphaba’s just trying to bring Dorothy to the castle before the Wizard gets to them first, but Fiyero is in charge of leading the way so he and Dorothy end up evading both parties (worth it since that’s how they find the long lost princess)

• Fiyero freaks out over having both the talk of the land and the missing princess who are both kids and being stuck as a floppy scarecrow and is just trying his best to get them both to safety alive (thankfully he still finds Tin Man and Lion in his AU so he’ll have his caretaker buddies)

• Eventually they’ll find Elphaba and Fiyero will get to talk about how he essentially adopted two kids and made some new buddies after almost dying while Elphaba questions how Fiyero is both the handsomest dude in the land and the hugest dork at the same time

[letmereedusyou]

i'm not yours - part 9

summary: Daryl and you are friends. He dated Leah. You told him you loved him and things fell apart. Will it ever go back to normal?

Daryl keeps looking for the clues connecting anyone to your beating incident, and you try to fix his vinyl player while he's out of the house. When he comes back you have a sweet conversation and finally go back to being friends again.

words: 2.8k

warnings: swearing, mentions of killing (walkers and people)

A/N: Hello, muffins! Here I am with another part. I checked for mistakes 3 times, but it seems okay to me. Again, English is not my first language so the errors will probably occur to the English natives. I can also say already that there are going to be 15 parts to this, so we have 6 parts to go! <3

Read previous part here!

Daryl visited you and took care of you every single day for weeks. It almost felt like nothing had changed between you two; like everything was normal again. But was it really? Or was it just a façade that you two put up so you didn't have to deal with the unresolved issues? You tried not to think about it too much and just enjoyed the fact that Daryl was close again, even though he wasn't very chatty these days. Maybe he's still holding a grudge about your feelings for him, or maybe he just doesn't know how to return to being your friend again. He would bring you new books and some comics to read, so you wouldn't get bored, but boredom got you pretty fast after reading your third book in a week. You started missing movies right about then. You thought about your favourite TV shows and how your family would watch them all together after dinner. Now, all you can do is push through with your memories of it and an incredible imagination.

He would cook for you, usually something simple and quick that you could reheat if you wanted to, before vanishing for entire nights, trying to find out who had beaten you up. You had your suspicions, but you didn't tell him about it. Why? You were scared of what would happen. The information, or rather a clue, would make him go into a fight mode, for sure. You knew him well enough to admit that. So you kept your thoughts to yourself.

That didn't stop him from continuously asking you about the details or anything you remembered from the fight. No matter how many times you told him that it was dark and you didn't see or hear them, as they did not speak, just occasionally grunted while driving their feet into your body. He kept asking and trying to make sense of who would want to do this to you. Your tongue itched with an answer. For you, it was obvious.

You were glad that he was clueless like this. Maybe he just didn't want to believe it or found it hard to create that type of scenario in his head. Maybe it was too much for him to handle right about now. You didn't blame him, he had a lot on his plate as of late - his best friend fell in love with him, his girlfriend broke up with him because of the best friend, and he has chores and duties in Alexandria that he has to do, even if he is tired and doesn't want to, and now he turned into a detective, trying to solve a case - all of it probably making a huge mess in his brain.

You busy yourself with some reading once again, but it was starting to get excruciatingly boring. How many times can you read the same plot in multiple books? Putting it down on the sofa armrest, you suddenly remembered that you still had Daryl's vinyl player that needed to be fixed. That would be a good distraction, you thought and slowly pushed yourself up. The pain was less prominent now, so you could move a little bit better, although Daryl would scold you for even trying. It didn't matter how many times you said you felt fine and walking and moving around didn't hurt much anymore, he dragged you back to the sofa every single time. This time, he wasn't here, so you could freely roam around for a while.

You step into your bedroom and open your wardrobe. Reaching up onto the shelf, you pull the vinyl down, alongside many different tiny parts in a white cloth bag. You also pick up your screwdrivers, glue and anything else you'd need before attempting repair. Once you got everything you needed, you took it to the living room and put it on top of the coffee table. Leaning down, just enough to not feel pain in your ribs, you examined the vinyl player. You were a good tinkerer and you had a good understanding of electronic shit, although the player was old which required some knowledge about old electronics. You didn't have that, but you decided to try anyway.

After hours of fiddling and fidgeting, glueing and trying to pull tiny bits apart and put them back together again, you sigh deeply realising that making that playing vinyl records on this thing is going to need more than just a couple hours of repair. You most definitely will need some help from Eugene, as he is the only person with enough knowledge about this stuff.

After another hour of carefully glueing the tiny, broken bits to the exterior of the machine, you feel drowsy and you close your eyes for a minute, just to rest them. Before you realise it, you start quietly snoring, a screwdriver loosely in your hand. Your mind is blank for the first time since the incident. You feel like you can fully enjoy some sleep. Using your brain for more than reading books was a good idea, after all.

Daryl's head started to hurt about two hours ago when he checked the path you were beaten up on for the bazillion times. He was trying so hard to find out who attacked his best friend that the rage of not knowing was slowly sipping out through his veins. He could've sworn there was a red, hot, bright aura around him.

He went to the place where she was beaten up, thinking that he would get some good clues - maybe a blood trail or some footprints, or maybe a goddamn piece of fabric that was tugged off of the aggressor's clothes, but whoever did this was smarter than that and cleared everything within a couple of miles radius, making sure that there was no way to track them. He felt impressed at how meticulously they'd worked to cover the tracks, but most of all he felt helpless and angry.

It's been weeks since he started looking and Y/N wasn't much help. She kept saying it was too dark to see and she didn't catch a glimpse of any of the people. It didn't help that they hadn't spoken during the fight either, because maybe if they did, Daryl could've track them by the tone of their voice, questioning everyone in Alexandria one by one. But since there were no clues, he had a hard time finding anything. It bothered him to the point he kicked and punched an innocent tree a couple of times.

He finally decided that it was time to go back and check on his best friend. He wasn't going to find anything anyway, so he may as well use his time to help her recover and get on their feet again. Frankly, helping her recover helped him relax, even after the hardest of days. He didn't speak much around her, his mind still recalling the fact that she was indeed in love with him, but he tried to move past it as best as he could. Nothing was more important than her getting better right now.

Besides catching the people who did this to her, and potentially beheading them.

When he opens the doors, the sound of her snoring comes to his ears and he can't help but huff a half laugh at it. He remembers the countless times they went on supply runs and her snoring attracted walkers to their location. He never told her about it, he just took care of the walkers silently.

He takes his crossbow off his back and leans it against the wall before walking into the living room. He stops in his tracks for a second when he sees what lies on the coffee table in front of her.

The vinyl player.

The same one that ended up being chucked out of the window by Leah when they had a fight a few weeks ago.

His brow furrows as he steps closer to the table. He realises that she must've been present when he and Leah had a fight. Has she heard them? What exactly did she hear? How did she end up at his house that evening? How did she get the vinyl player and why would she take it?

He looks at her, asleep with a screwdriver in her hand. She looks peaceful. The bruises on her face faded a little, changing colour from purple and reds to blues and greens. The cut on her lip was healing nicely, a scab was drying out. Her hair looked messy, brought up in some sort of ponytail, where many different strands were sticking out from the sides of her head.

He looks at the vinyl player again and takes another step closer. He wasn't paying attention to where he was stepping, in his confused and surprised state, and his boot kicks the coffee table, making one of the tools roll off and fall to the floor with a clash.

It wakes her up with a jump, and she rubs your eyes a little, trying to make her vision less blurry.

"Daryl?" her voice sounds groggy and faint.

"How did you get my vinyl player?" Daryl asks with no hesitation, the urgency in his voice is enough to make her come to her senses.

She looks at the coffee table and her eyes widen a little, like she was surprised to see the vinyl player too. But no, it wasn't surprise, it was... embarrassment. Like she got caught doing something she shouldn't. She keeps looking at the vinyl player and he can see her cheeks flush and uncertainty flashing across her face. She was definitely feeling the need to escape from the situation, but she knew there was no escape. All she could do was face it.

"I...I found it on the ground," her voice is quiet. When she looks at him, he knows the answer to the questions yet to come, but felt like he must ask them.

"Found it on the ground?"

"Yes."

"Where exactly did you find it?"

"Outside your house," she says, avoiding his gaze. Her cheeks burn a deeper shade of red.

"When?"

"If you are asking me if I've heard you and Leah fighting, then yes. I have," she says; a sigh escapes her lips.

The silence was deafening for good couple of minutes. Daryl decided to take a seat next to her, staring at the vinyl player. She stayed quiet, looking at it as well. He was trying to figure out how to ask more questions; how to prod about what she's heard... what she knew. His hand reaches towards the platter, dragging his fingers on top of it, feeling the cracks.

"I haven't heard much," she finally breaks the silence and he looks at her. "I left pretty much straight away."

"But you've heard something," he says slowly.

"Yeah," she licks her dry lips. "Is it worth getting into it?"

He thinks about her question. Is it? Is it worth it? Does he really need to know what she heard? It wasn't that important, Leah and him are over now. But part of his brain believed it was crucial to know. He needed that information, needed to know how much she knows...

"Yeah," he says slowly. "I want to know."

"Well, I've heard her screaming about me..." she starts carefully, biting the inside of her cheek. "Something about me knowing more than her."

Daryl looks at her for a second, maybe trying to gauge her reaction to it, or maybe he was trying to focus on anything else than Leah's words echoing through his mind. He knew that she indeed knew more than Leah, more than anyone ever. He felt the most comfortable sharing with her. He remembers all the times he opened up and it felt great to be heard and listened to, probably the first time in his entire life. Somehow, he knew she was the right person to tell things. Trustworthy.

Back at the CDC, when he first opened his mouth to share, he was nervous. What if she judged? But all of this melted away when she sat there, listening, nodding, not asking questions, just soaking the information in. Maybe it was the alcohol in his veins, but it made him want to open up even more, get the stuff off his chest. Once he finished, it felt... cathartic. Like he was lighter.

He looks up to her eyes.

"I also heard her saying that... you're not worth it," she added and looked away. He could sense her anger in the words spoken, spitting them out like they were acid on her tongue.

"Mm," he murmured quietly, looking away from her and at his boots. He doesn't get embarrassed very easily, and yet his cheeks seemed to burn a little.

Again, the silence resounded in the house, you could almost hear the buzzing of electricity from one of the lamps. Daryl couldn't look up. Leah's words seemed to be burned into his mind, slowly making him believe he is not worth anything. He started to believe he doesn't deserve good things in life.

"It's not true. Leah was wrong," she says, putting her hand on his knee and squeezing it tightly.

"And you say that as a person who's in love with me?"

"I'm saying it as your best friend," her words hit him like a tone of bricks and he finally looks up at her, eyebrow raised. "You are worth so much."

Daryl wants to believe her. No, he needs to believe her. For his sake, for the sake of his mental stability. He takes a few deep breaths and and then looks down at her hand on his knee. His hand gently places over hers and he squeezes it lightly. Her reassurance was everything. You could say the only opinion he cared about these days was her, even though they haven't been great friends for awhile.

He beats himself up for not reaching out sooner. He hated he fact he's lost her for so long, and lost himself in the process. She loves him. Yes, it is more than a friend, but ultimately, she loves him. For who he is. She never judged, never tried to change him or push him to do things he didn't enjoy. She's one person he always felt comfortable with. He still does, even after she told him she loved him.

He thinks back to the time and thinks about why he was so angry at her for that. She wasn't making moves at him. She just... shared her feelings. Angrily - that was an understatement - but still. He sort of understood why she'd blow up the way she did. He spoke about Leah quite a lot and thinking about it now, it may have been to convince himself and her that he was happy with her and he did love her. Part of him did love Leah. But maybe it wasn't as strong feeling as he thought it was...

"You okay?"

Her voice brings Daryl back. He huffs and nods lightly.

"Yeah. I will be," he says and his lips curve into a smile.

"I mean it, Daryl. You're worth it. And I hope you do find someone who appreciates you," her little smile makes him scoff.

"Someone like you?" he retorts.

"No," she shakes her head vigorously. "Not me. You made it clear it's never going to happen and I accept it. But I hope you find someone who can make you believe you are worth everything and more."

Daryl looks at her with a grimace on his face. He did say that, didn't he? He said that her and him will never going to happen. For some reason, her words made him feel sad, just for a second. He wouldn't have been able to register it if he wasn't focusing on it that much. He shakes his head.

"I've sworn off love and relationships," he leans back on the couch and put his head on the sofa back. "It's just going to be me, my crossbow and my best friend."

"Your best friend?"

Her smile beams from ear to ear and Daryl can't help but notice the shine in her eyes when he said it. Like she wasn't sure if he was serious about it. Like she waited months for him to come back, to finally be her friend again.

"Of course. Can't live my sorry ass life without ya," he sighs. "Who else am I going to tease and laugh at?"

"You mean laugh with?"

"That too."

She giggles and he realises how much he really missed her all these months. He missed her laugh and their banter. The way he felt so free around her. The way he knew she could tell him she killed someone and he would help her cover up the tracks. She was his best friend. And going back to being friends with her felt good.

[mlmvoreconfessionals]

Do you think F.reddy would take advantage of the situation if for one or another reason his bandmates slip and fall into his chest cavity?

I think he absolutely would.

“You really should be more careful,” F.reddy says as he helps M.onty up. The band is practicing on the stage, trying to figure out some new choreography for a song they’re doing. It’s going...well enough, except M.onty keeps moving around clumsily and has tripped over something several times now.

“I am bein’ careful!” M.onty demands with a huff. “It ain’t my fault stuff keeps gettin’ in my way!”

F.reddy sighs softly as M.onty stomps off. “Alright then...let’s take it from the top, everyone!” He smiles again as he gets the band back in their starting positions to do another rehearsal.

It goes well enough, at least at first. But then M.onty stumbles off his platform after stepping wrong and he goes tumbling down with a yelp. F.reddy notices and turns to try and catch him, only for the gator to crash into him and knock them both down.

F.reddy groans a bit as his vision flashes slightly. That hurt a bit. But…no, it’s not pain he’s feeling. It’s a different sensation—a much nicer one, in fact, coming from his chest. He looks down and gasps.

M.onty has managed to get his entire head wedged between F.reddy’s pecs. His muffled roaring was vibrating through F.reddy’s chest and it felt good. The gator’s thrashing around, large paws resting on either pec as he tries to pull himself free, but it’s just making the muscles clamp tighter.

Now, F.reddy knows he should let M.onty out and give him a more stern talking to about being careful. But the sensation is just…really good. F.reddy’s chest is clenching tight, eager to keep hold of its prey, and the bear finds it hard to deny himself the treat. It really is M.onty’s own fault for not listening, F.reddy reasons, as he wraps his arms around the gator and flexes his chest.

A muffled yelp comes from the bear’s chest as M.onty finds himself being held tighter and tugged deeper. His arms are pinned down by F.reddy’s hug, and just one flex has dragged his shoulders and most of his chest into the bear’s own. Once the shock wears off, M.onty is even more enraged.

Despite all his angry roaring and attempts to struggle, M.onty’s making very little headway on escape. His legs kick around wildly and his tail whips back and forth, but it’s all he can manage. His arms struggle against F.reddy’s, and once another tight flex drags him deeper, they’re struggling against the bear’s pecs instead.

F.reddy’s already letting the pleasure envelop him. It always felt good to cram something living into his pecs, but something as big and squirmy as M.onty after a day of rehearsal just feels even better. He flexes again with a pleased rumble, dragging the rest of M.onty’s torso into his chest and leaving only his ass and legs hanging out.

By that point, it’s been maybe a minute since they fell over. B.onnie and F.oxy finally got over to the two, just to see F.reddy getting back to his feet with M.onty’s legs kicking around wildly. “Woah, Fred, that’s a serious spill!” B.onnie says. “Hold still while we get Mont outta—“

F.reddy grunts and groans happily as he flexes his chest again, suddenly slurping in most of M.onty’s legs. He puts a paw on the bottom of M.onty’s feet and shoves down hard, forcing the rest of the gator into his chest. M.onty’s flicking tail tip is the last thing to slurp out of sight.

The other two watch as F.reddy’s pecs bounce on their own with M.onty struggling inside. They’re heavy and bloated and bulge out occasionally with a pressing hand or M.onty’s face. And F.reddy huffs in pleasure, his ears wiggling a bit as he feels the gator squirming and snapping inside of him.

“Er…Cap’n, don’t ye think he’s learned his lesson?” F.oxy asks. “Perhaps we should try to get him out before—“

F.reddy wasn’t listening—or maybe he was and didn’t care. He gropes his own chest a bit, then closes his eyes and flexes hard. M.onty screeches inside and there’s the sound of crunching, cracking metal. F.reddy’s pecs sink back a bit. Despite that, M.onty seems to be fighting even harder, getting more desperate and panicked.

The other two can only watch as F.reddy keeps mulching their fellow bandmates down. Every flex makes the bear’s chest sink back more, another part of M.onty being crushed down into mass with grisly sounds and loud screaming. It’s making the gator’s rage steadily turn into fear as more and more of him is turned into muscle mass.

By the end, M.onty had stopped making noise. A few more flexes crunch the last bits of him down and F.reddy is looking better off for it. Thicker pecs, more defined muscles, and he looks a bit taller. A pleased sigh comes from him and he feels up his new chest a bit more.

“Alright, we can get back to rehearsal now,” F.reddy says with a smile. He scratches between his pecs a bit and manages to hook something. He pulls out M.onty’s sunglasses, the lens broken and the frame warped. “We’ll just cut M.onty’s part for now…”

B.onnie and F.oxy both nod in agreement and quickly get back into place. They didn’t feel like arguing about it now. Besides, things’ll probably go more smoothly now anyway.

[diekleinesuesse]

Being best friends with Han Jisung:

Being best friends with Han Jisung would be like having a personal hype man, a chaotic troublemaker, and a surprisingly deep and caring confidant all in one. From the moment you become close, he’d make it his mission to bring as much joy and laughter into your life as possible whether through his over-the-top impressions, random freestyle raps about the most ridiculous things, or his habit of sending you the most unhinged memes at 3 AM.

The Chaos That Comes With Han Jisung

Han is a walking ball of energy, and being best friends with him means you’re constantly caught in his whirlwind of randomness. He’s the type to start randomly beatboxing while you’re just trying to eat lunch or to suddenly shout dramatic song lyrics in the middle of a quiet café just to see your reaction.

He has a special talent for keeping things interesting, whether it’s coming up with new inside jokes every five minutes, randomly challenging you to a dance battle in the middle of a store, or making up absurd scenarios just to see if you’ll play along.

“Okay, hear me out,” he’d say one day, completely serious. “What if we start a business selling designer socks but only for pigeons?”

“…Han, what???”

“Think about it. Pigeons have cold feet too.”

Moments like these would be a regular part of your friendship, where you’re left staring at him in disbelief while he bursts into laughter, proud of himself for making you question reality.

Late-Night Hangouts & Deep Talks

While Han is known for his high-energy personality, as his best friend, you’d also get to see his quieter, more introspective side. He’s an overthinker at heart, so some nights, you’d find yourselves lying on the floor of his dorm or your apartment, staring at the ceiling, talking about life, dreams, and fears.

“Do you ever feel like… even if you achieve your dreams, you still don’t feel like you’re enough?” he’d ask quietly, fidgeting with the sleeve of his hoodie.

And that’s when you’d remind him of how talented, hardworking, and incredible he is just like he does for you every time you doubt yourself. He’d appreciate that more than he’d ever admit, but you’d know by the way he softly smiles and says, “You always know what to say, huh? That’s why you’re my best friend.”

The Sunshine Twins/Triplets Energy

Because of STAY dubbing you, Felix, and Han the Sunshine Triplets, you’d constantly get dragged into their antics. Whether it’s sudden dance-offs in the practice room, Han and Felix dramatically fighting over who loves you more as a best friend, or the three of you squishing into a single seat just to annoy the other members, life would never be boring.

Han and Felix would also 100% have a habit of randomly clinging to you. If you’re sitting on the couch, expect one (or both) of them to just flop onto you, whining about how tired they are. Felix would nuzzle into your shoulder while Han dramatically sighs, “Ahhh, why is our bestie so comfy? I could sleep here forever.”

And if you ever had a bad day? Those two would be on a mission to make you smile. Whether it’s Felix baking something sweet for you or Han performing the most ridiculous song he just made up about how great you are, there’s no way you’d stay sad for long.

Embarrassing You in Public Is His Love Language

Han Jisung lives to make you laugh, and if it means embarrassing himself (or you) in public, he will gladly do so. If you’re walking in a store together and your favorite song starts playing? He will immediately drop whatever he’s doing and start singing at the top of his lungs, complete with dramatic dance moves.

“HAN, STOP PEOPLE ARE STARING,” you’d hiss, trying to drag him away.

“I CAN’T HEAR YOU OVER MY AMAZING VOCALS!” he’d yell, twirling like a Disney princess.

And if you’re ordering food at a café, expect him to suddenly lean in and whisper something ridiculous right as you’re talking to the cashier, just to make you mess up your order.

You: “Hi, can I get a-”

Han: (whispering) “Tell them you want a McChickenny-Nuggetini.”

You: “…a what?”

Cashier: ???

Then he’d burst out laughing, completely proud of himself while you glare at him. But at the end of the day, his goal is always to make you smile, and he never fails.

The Best Hype Man Ever

If you’re ever feeling insecure, Han is the first one to hype you up. Even if you’re just wearing a basic hoodie and sweatpants, he’d gasp dramatically and be like, “OH?? WHO IS THIS SUPERMODEL? STOP, YOU’RE MAKING EVERYONE LOOK BAD.”

And if you’re a dancer, singer, or have any talent, he’d make sure everyone knows how amazing you are. The moment you show him something you’re working on, he’d immediately start clapping like a seal, eyes wide with excitement.

“WAIT, THAT WAS SO GOOD?? DO IT AGAIN NO, WAIT, I NEED TO RECORD THIS.”

And if you ever performed on stage or achieved something big, he’d be screaming in the audience louder than anyone.

“THAT’S MY BEST FRIEND, EVERYONE LOOK, THAT’S MY BEST FRIEND.”

Comforting You When You Need It

Han might be a chaotic gremlin most of the time, but he has the biggest heart. If you ever feel down, he’d be the first to notice. He wouldn’t push you to talk, but he’d quietly sit next to you, offering a snack or a warm hug until you’re ready.

And when you finally open up? He’d listen carefully, nodding along, offering advice if you wanted it or just letting you vent if that’s what you needed.

“You’re not alone, okay? No matter what, I’m always here,” he’d say, squeezing your hand. “We’re best friends. That means forever.”

Being Best Friends with Han Jisung Means…

Constant laughter and inside jokes

Late-night talks about life

Being included in Sunshine Triplets chaos

Him embarrassing you in public just to make you laugh

Having the most supportive and loving hype man ever

Knowing that no matter what, he’s always there for you

At the end of the day, being best friends with Han Jisung is like having a personal sun always bright, always warm, and always making life a little bit better just by being there.

[ladybugpowermakeup]

Ooh ooh! I've thought about this extensively, excuse my ramblings.

First of all, we need to understand what our stage looks like and what it will need to create these illusions. So for starters, our stage will be separated into 3 levels. On the bottom level is the stage itself. This is where we see ships, most mortals, and a lot of the fight scenes. Then, there are two (okay technically three) more platforms that span the length of the stage, two that make the middle level and one that makes the top level. Connecting the two levels is a staircase in the center. Basically, it'll look like this.

The scale isn't great, but you get the idea. The second level (the two platforms) are for all kinds of things: The Trojan walls, the homes of a lot of demigods, Penelope's room, and Athena's quick thought location to name only a few. The third level is basically only for the gods or those who are holding themselves as important as the gods (and are about to get smacked down for it). This is a callback to actual ancient Greek theater where the gods would always be lowered onto the stage from above! One note, there is a small gap between the back of the platforms and the scrim - this'll be important for some practical effect things later.

The other thing we will need is a flying apparatus and a similar mechanism for moving small objects like ribbons or costumes in a way that looks magical. This will be used for Zeus so he can fly, for Poseidon so he can look larger during Get In The Water, and some of our bigger monsters like Scylla, as well as some smaller effects. I want to clarify that I actually have never worked with these, so it might not be feasible, but this is a base idea that can be more practically put into use by actual theater techs.

Okay. So the first big hurdle is how to do the cyclops. Honestly, it's pretty simple: You just have a costume that makes the actor in it look larger than they are - basically, the actor's head is in the chest of the costume and the head is a good two feet above the rest of the cast. Then you have another actor behind the scenes doing the voice and the actor onstage is moving the mouth, like a really elaborate puppet show.

Then we have Poseidon throwing all the ships around until Ody is left with just one. For this, we're going to have to suspend our disbelief for the sake of theater, but we will have a way to get the same kind of effect. Basically, the ship in on the main level of the stage and there are parts that are detachable, so as the men are singing "Captain, captain", the parts of the ship they're literally on are being dragged offstage (I'm not sure entirely how this would work from a technical angle, but I've seen theaters do this kind of thing before so I know it's possible.)

Then we have Circe turning the men into pigs. Again, we're going to do a little suspension of disbelief. Basically, Circe will appear on the middle left platform, which will be equipped with a semi-sheer curtain (which will be used a few other times in the show). She will come out from behind the curtain and hold it open for the men to enter. They disappear offstage, and at that point you could honestly just rely on narration and lyrics to imply that the men are pigs at all, you don't need to physically see it. Then at the end of Other Ways, the men all come onstage again to join Ody.

For Scylla, it's going to be a little more complicated. Since she's a monster with 6 heads but is also portrayed as complex and a parallel to Ody, we're going to have an actual actress playing "Scylla" and then 6 other "heads" that are independent of her in a sense. The scene starts with Scylla the actress on her own, no heads or anything, sitting on the top of the stairs, looking down/not at the audience. Just being creepy. The ship is on the main stage, of course, and it comes to center stage just in time for the dramatic tempo change.

When Scylla says "Hello", it's the first time the audience sees her face and she has creepy reflective eyes in some way. Then, six... basically creepy black wind socks, rise up from behind the platforms. These are the heads, and they will (if this is technically possible, which I think? it might be?) be on wires that are connected to actors. So when the heads move, they go straight to the actors with the torches and they can be "dragged" offstage and then released to go back to Scylla herself and then eventually back down below the platforms again.

In both songs Zeus is the big bad for, he's going to use our flying machine to raise him up while he shoots lighting at his victims. This is both Thunder Bringer and God Games. There's not a lot more technical stuff in those songs, so we'll move on.

And finally, for Poseidon in Get In The Water, we're basically going to be using two things. Our flying harness, and ribbons/cloak that represent his water form. A little bit like Elphaba in the stage version of Wicked, we're going to dim the lights and he will have a long cloak/cloth connected to his flying harness that represents his water form, and other ribbon type things on wires to be "flung" out across stage. So when we have his "No", the flying harness raises him and the wind begins to blow the cloak around to make him seem bigger, while on his "DIE", the ribbons will star flying around on the wires and several of them will envelop Ody, since we can't have Ody pushed into the water.

Then, when we have all our friends from the underworld singing, they will all come out onto the platforms/stage and their role will basically be to (metaphorically) pull him out of the water by pulling the ribbons. Anticlea, Polites, and Eury will all be untangling the ribbons around Ody, and the rest of the men will be pulling the other ribbons, and through 600 Strike, instead of an anime jetpack fight scene, Ody will basically "unravel" Poseidon's Kaiju form with the help of his friends and loved ones until Poseidon finally falls and loses his cloak. This would be tricky from a costume design standpoint, but my idea is that you could have it all be tearaway, so as the song goes on, he loses more and more of his "water" until he finally falls and he and Ody can confront each other in that scene we all know and love.

Anyway! That's my ideas - it's very long, I know, it took me about a week to fully put it all into words. But I hope if nothing else you got a kick out of it!

i love epic but like. how are they gonna put any of that on stage?? like scylla? charybdis? circe turning the pigs back into people? like how is that gonna get done??

[spookberry]

I started drawing the Haunted comic for my Half Normie au again

[mattodore]

now that the edit is done i will not be thinking abt it ever again. here’s a screenshot i took to test new world lighting. theo joy 💓

[icewindandboringhorror]

sneeping with his legs up over his head for some reason... weird boye

[shalom-iamcominghome]

It's a travesty to me that the only chanukah (or even jewish in general) movie my dad's seen is Eight Crazy Nights - don't get me wrong, it's a decent movie. But only when it's Davey being vulnerable and when the movie undeniably engages with his jewishness

If I ever get my own place, I'm forcing him to watch jewish movies and whatnot because there is no way his only exposure to judaism is through that movie and him trying to convince one of his soldiers to request a kosher MRE. He cannot live life this way (lighthearted)!