#as a kid I could smell them even when they were alive ESPECIALLY when there was an ant infestation

[dentist-brainsurgeon]

Saw a Twitter thread about this and it made me curious

[bvidzsoo]

Grease and Oil

⨳Mechanic!Mingi⨳

TW: cursing, smut wrap it before you tap it

Word count: 5,6k

A/N: I don't think I'll ever let go of bleached spikey haired Mingi. It changed something in me, I'll never be the same. I have nothing to say except...why did I even write this? Song Mingi stop haunting me, thank you. It's not the best, but the best I can write lol. Feedback is very much appreciated!

            The smell of grease, oil, and gasoline weren’t something unfamiliar to me, nor were they nauseating. It was something I was used to. These were familiar scents; scents which I have started associating with home. Cars, too, were something I associated with a feeling of familiarity, of something dear to me. Walking inside my father’s car service was like a second home, a place I knew like the back of my hand. I wasn’t huge on fixing cars, but I knew a few things here and there. Despite my father’s attempts at making me a great mechanic one day, I struggled to understand the in-depth parts and mechanism of a car, therefore I settled on appreciating their beauty. Can’t say my father was too happy about it, but his concerns faded away when I found a path for myself. I applied to a college, choosing to study literature as I struggled finding anything else I liked. Perhaps creative writing was a subjected I happened to enjoy too, but I had no idea where my degree would take me one day. I had no intentions of teaching English literature, the children these days were awful and very disrespectful. My short temper would’ve surely gotten the worst of me if placed in a situation where I had to deal with rude kids. And so, I settled on reading my books and pouring my feelings out into short poems when I wasn’t at college. Or by wasting my time away at my father’s car service. It’s not like I had anything better to do—I actually did, but procrastination is my best friend. Besides, most of his employees are above the age of thirty-five, and two of them I have known since I was a little girl, they could be really fun to hang around…and it’s not like I would often stop by because my father has an employee who is barely a few years older than myself. And it’s definitely not because he is the hottest man alive I have ever seen. He’s a tall and lean guy, his posture immaculate with his shoulders always pulled back, his long legs worth envying and shoulders so broad you could hide behind them and nobody would see you. In the summer, he usually wears tight tank tops, showing off his humble muscles, biceps finer than most guy’s of his age. And his pants, which are fireproof, cling onto his body, showing off his narrow waist. This guy was a sight for sore eyes and I couldn’t blame the few ladies who would occasionally stop by, completely taken aback by this guy’s visuals. It wasn’t fair that he had a perfect body, especially when his face was good-looking too. God sometimes had favorites and Song Mingi definitely was one of them with his long nose, sharp eyes and cherry red lips, a singular mole underneath his left eye decorating his flawless skin. His personality also made him desirable and that just made him a dangerously charming and handsome human being. Perhaps my frequent visits to the service during the summer were sort of his merit too, not just the want to spend some quality time with my father as he spent little time at home. I knew he was busy; I couldn’t blame him. His service was one of the best in our little town and money didn’t just magically appear, you had to work hard for it and that’s what he did, he worked his ass off all the time. The fact that he has employed Song Mingi was just the cherry on top, the little motivation I needed to perhaps learn more about cars.

I was settled on top of my father’s working desk, tools pushed to the side, feet dangling as I watched him work on a car’s engine, getting more and more furious by the second as he couldn’t find one missing screw. I watched quietly as his phone rang again, making him sigh loudly before he straightened himself up and took the call, eyebrows furrowed. It was a hot summer day, the AC did little to nothing inside the hot service, and the use of different electrical tools only created more heat inside the spacious room. I had started fanning myself, overhearing my father make an appointment as an obnoxiously loud engine whirled past the entrance to the service, making my heart skip an excited beat. It was lunch break, and Mingi had just returned from eating his meal. He was gone by the time I had arrived; I was rather lazy this morning and thus didn’t bother getting out of bed before 12 pm. My father turned towards me as he finished his call, looking rather irritated. It wasn’t directed at me; however, I still knew a lecturing would follow because I sat on his tool desk…again.

“Get off, Y/N, I asked you so many times not to sit there,” He sighed tiredly as he headed for the exit, “I have to examine a car, are you coming to the front?”

Certainly not before I have seen Mingi, “I’ll wash my hands first, they feel slimy, meet you at the reception, dad.”

He nodded once and hurried outside, phone already ringing once again. Summer seasons were always busy, work pilling up quickly. I started fanning myself with my hands as another heatwave hit me, making me sigh. Not even a tank top and shorts were enough to stop me from sweating buckets. I pushed my hair behind my shoulders and gripped the table, about to jump off it, when the man I stayed behind for finally showed up. He walked through the open garage door, having to duck as it wasn’t raised enough for his towering height. He had his back to me as he walked inside, carrying two boxes, muscles of his arms bulging as a few guys greeted him, instructing him where to place the boxes. However, nothing could’ve prepared me for the wave of shook which rooted me to my spot. My mouth hung open as my eyes remained trained on Mingi, and I could only hope nobody noticed my shameless gaping. Three days ago, when I have stopped by last, the man’s hair reached his shoulders almost and was a faded light brown. Now, his hair was completely bleached blonde and stood up in all places, spikey. A hairstyle definitely shouldn’t have made my tummy do flips, yet I had nothing to swallow as I watched Mingi laugh with a fellow mechanic, explaining something to him animatedly. His black tank top was tucked inside his beige pants, a black belt holding it against his hips securely. A black bandana was tied to his left bicep and I licked my lips as my eyes ran over his frame, stopping for a second too long on his ass. Perhaps crawling onto the wall sounded like the most normal thing to do right now. Just as I was about to look away, the man he was talking to briefly glanced at me and Mingi suddenly turned his head, eyes falling on me. Looking away right now would mean admitting that I had been staring at him, so I forced myself to smile nonchalantly at him and blame the flush on my cheeks on the extremely hot weather—which combined with Mingi’s presence only made my body heat up even more. I didn’t want to admit it to myself, but I’d do anything to get railed by Mingi while he wore his working clothes with grease smeared on his cheek. My heart skipped a beat as a lazy smirk appeared on his lips as he took off towards me, making me gulp in panic as I straightened my posture.

“Hello, princess.” He called once he was close enough and I rolled my eyes at the nickname, acting as if I totally hated it. It did bother me at the beginning when he started calling me that, but I didn’t mind anymore. And it certainly shouldn’t have made me blush.

“Hi, Mingi.” I greeted him back, smiling as I crossed my legs and leaned forward, holding myself up by my hands. My knuckles hurt from the grip I had on the table, but I ignored that.

“What brings you here today?” He asked nonchalantly, crossing his arms in front of his chest. I didn’t want to look, but his biceps were bulging and I’m just a simple woman, “Thought you washed your car when you stopped by last time.”

Ah, yes, the good old excuse of washing my car when it didn’t need washing yet. To be fair, I had a cleaning problem so that was the main reason why I washed my car so often, Mingi being here was just another thing to motivate me to stop by more frequently.

“I did, I’m not here for that.” I admitted, clearing my throat as Mingi’s sharp eyes narrowed slightly, mischievous glint appearing in his eyes. He hummed shortly, the sound deep in his throat, reminding me how hot I found his raspy and deep voice. He had once whispered in my ear as he snuck up on me, wanting to scare me, and I swear to God, I almost reached Heaven that day.

“Are you here for me then?” The cute pout of his lips and the finger he pushed against his cheek definitely didn’t match the sultriness of his words and the look in his eyes. It made me take a deep breath as I forced myself to roll my eyes, embarrassed that he had a feeling I was only here to see him. I mean…I did wear my favorite off-shoulder top just because I knew we would see each other.

“Why the sudden change of hairstyle?” I decided to change the subject, but it only made Mingi smirk as he looked at me almost victorious, almost as if he knew I didn’t answer him because he was right. Mingi ruffled his already spikey hair with a shrug of his shoulders.

“Just wanted something new,” He answered, “besides, it’s so hot these days, my long locks only made me sweat more. I feel like a new man right now. What do you think, do I look nice?”

Nice was little said, I would’ve described him more like: hot, sexy, attractive, gorgeous, mouth-watering, “Yeah, you look nice. It suits you.”

Mingi smiled happily and bowed lightly before his phone beeped. I didn’t understand how a man like him could be so cute while looking like a Greek God. My eyebrows slightly furrowed as I watched Mingi chuckle and smile down at his phone, quickly typing something on it. Perhaps he was seeing someone? Of course, why would a man like him be single? It shouldn’t come as a surprise; I should have thought about that sooner. But then again, he never mentioned a significant other. With a sigh, I jumped off the table and dusted off my shorts, running my hands through my hair. Mingi paused, looking up at me through his long lashes. I forced a smile on my face, suddenly discouraged by my own thoughts, as I grabbed my phone off the table.

“Got to go, dad’s waiting for me.” I mumbled as Mingi’s eyes slightly narrowed, eyes swiftly running over my body. He nodded wordlessly and I turned around, taking off towards the exit.

“That top looks really nice on you.” My steps halted for a second as I looked back at him and chuckled before exiting the garage, walking towards the reception, ignoring the butterflies in my stomach at the simple compliment. I should probably download a dating app and find someone available to obsess over.

            The blaring music and blinding disco lights in the living room were becoming too much as my tipsy head swirled around like a disco ball, throat parched up and dry from the lack of water. Certainly the amount of alcohol I have had was enough for the night as I pushed people out of my way, slightly wobbling as I headed for the kitchen, desperately needing water. A super rich guy from college threw a huge ass party and invited some guys over from our college, one of them being one of my close friends. I wasn’t one to turn down a good party, and when the alcohol was free, I would certainly attend it. Seonghwa and I had teamed up and played beer-pong together, kicking Wooyoung and San’s asses, but losing to Hongjoong and Yunho. We should have known better not to challenge those two competitive monsters. All in all, the night was fun and after having lost Sooyoung to some hot guy, I hit the dancefloor with Wooyoung and San, the three of us dancing our hearts out to every song. After a while, I grew concerned and started calling Sooyoung, making my two dancing companions almost take my phone away after six missed calls. But it didn’t take long for Sooyoung to finally text me, telling me she was upstairs with a Yeosang named guy smoking some weed, and that she’d be down in no time. I rolled my eyes at the text, huffing as I handed Wooyoung my phone to take care of. My skirt had no pockets and I forgot to bring a fanny-pack, I have grown tired of holding my phone, Wooyoung’s back pocket would do the trick until Sooyoung returned and I could give my phone for her to put in her little purse. The music wasn’t as loud in the kitchen as it was in the living room and it was also less packed, which made me grateful as I walked over to the window and pushed it open, smiling contently at the cool air which hit my face. I certainly needed to cool down. I grabbed a red cup which looked relatively unused and filled it with tap water, downing it in mere seconds only to fill it up again and again until I felt satiated. I threw the cup away and leaned against the counter, holding my thumping head in my hands as I closed my eyes for a second, thinking it would help. But it only made me more nauseous and I quickly opened my eyes as I massaged my forehead, still leaning slightly over. Somebody next to me asked if I was okay and I quickly nodded, telling them that I just needed a moment to regain composure again, and I’ll be off dancing once again. However, a weirdly familiar deep voice suddenly filled the kitchen, some high-pitched giggle following straight after the ridiculous joke the guy told. My nose scrunched up at the very cheesy pickup line which followed and I snorted, unintentionally catching their attention as they didn’t stand too far away.

“Y/N?” The deep voice asked surprised and my eyebrows furrowed as I finally raised my head, smoothing down my hair as it fell in my face.

“Oh, Mingi.” I muttered just a little surprised by his presence here. I wondered how he knew about the party, however, the black-haired girl by his side was a tell-tale. She was a student at my college and she was pretty as fuck. I sighed, and unintentionally glared at her, unimpressed by her presence next to Mingi. It’s not like I knew her well to form an opinion about her, but personally, I didn’t like her that much. Especially since Mingi seemed to be here with her. My eyes fall back onto him and my brain blanched for a second, never having seen him outside of the car service up until now. Him not wearing his tight-fitting clothes was something new and I couldn’t help but let my eyes run all over his body, taking in the sight in front of me. He wore a loose-fitting white t-shirt, the front slightly tucked inside his grey ripped jeans which were baggy. He wore a black pair of convers, and a black fanny-pack was pushed around to his backside to not bother him. However, what made me take a second to process what I was seeing were his accessories. His necklaces were layered as he wore a red braided like material which sat snugly against the base of his neck, then a silver chain followed, and a silver cross which reached just bellow his collarbones. His wrists were decorated with silver chain bracelets, matching the chain around his neck and he wore various rings, some bigger than the other, his right-hand sporting four meanwhile his left three. If all of that combined with his hair wasn’t enough, his fingernails were also painted black, albeit already coming off in some spots, but still painted black. He was a sight for sore eyes and it took everything in me to not grip his arm and walk us upstairs, completely disregarding the girl he was here with.

And she just had to speak up, “Oh, you two know each other?”

“Yeah, her dad’s my boss.” Mingi answered before I could and I raised an eyebrow as the girl took me in, unexpectedly smiling at me as she placed an arm around Mingi’s shoulders. My jaw tensed subconsciously and I licked my lips as I leaned back against the counter, crossing my arms in front of my chest.

“We go to the same college,” She told Mingi, offering her hand to me, “I don’t think we’ve ever really introduced each other, though. My name is Jennie, I’m Mingi’s cousin.”

“Cousin?” My eyebrows raised as I shook Jennie’s hand, “I’m Y/N, by the way.”

“Unfortunately, yes.” Mingi playfully pushed Jennie off himself as he answered my question and Jennie just rolled her eyes.

“Whatever, giant, if I leave you alone with Y/N, will you behave?” She raised her eyebrows threateningly at Mingi and he just chuckled, raising his hands in surrender.

“I always behave.” He defended himself quickly, but sounded like he didn’t mean it at all.

“No, you don’t.” Jennie rolled her eyes then looked back at me, “I have to find my boyfriend, he’s somewhere here around, probably drunk off his ass. If Mingi bothers you, just knee him in the stomach really hard and come and find me, I’ll kick his ass for you—”

“I’m right here, you know.” Mingi rolled his eyes and ruffled Jennie’s hair, “Get lost before I chase you away.”

Jennie scoffed but walked away after she waved at me, leaving me alone with Mingi. My hostile behavior slightly dropped, but I couldn’t help look at Mingi with narrowed eyes. I knew what I heard while I was fighting the urge of throwing up. Why would anyone flirt with their cousin? That was disgusting.

“If Jennie is your cousin…why would you say a pickup line to her?” I couldn’t help but ask him accusingly. It made Mingi laugh as he stepped closer, smiling cheekily.

“Eavesdropping, weren’t you?” I opened my mouth to deny his claim, but Mingi didn’t let me, “First of, ew, that’s literally my cousin do I look like I fuck with family? And second, that pickup line was actually sent by someone whom I have been talking to, and I was just reading it to Jennie.”

“How many girls are you talking to currently?” The question tumbled past my lips before I could even think about it. I only could blame the alcohol for making me so straightforward and embarrassing.

“Wouldn’t you like to know…” Mingi chuckled and stepped closer, invading my personal space. I gulped and pressed myself harder into the counter, hands coming to grip the edge of it. A smirk appeared on Mingi’s lips as he leaned down to be eye level with me, eyes searching my face before they settled on my lips briefly. My head was spinning and perhaps I was seeing things, but his tongue poked out for a second, “You look really hot.”

I gulped and let out a quiet breath, looking down at myself. The leather skirt clung onto me like a second skin and the flower decorated corset did little to nothing to cover what I would usually hide. It was Sooyoung’s idea to dress up like this, she wore a matching set except her corset was green meanwhile mine pink.

“Uh, thanks.” I whispered and didn’t dare move as Mingi lowered his head even more, looking through his lashes as he looked me in the eyes. He’s never stood this close to me before; it only now made me realize the height difference between us. And I couldn’t help but faintly smell gasoline despite his strong cologne.

“Dressed up for someone?” He muttered and I felt a warm finger lightly trace the skin of my right arm. I gulped nervously and ignored the goosebumps on my skin.

“I didn’t know you’d be here—” I tried changing the subject, it seemed to be a habit of mine lately.

“But if you did know, would you have dressed up for me?” Mingi’s raspy voice whispered in my ear as he leaned closer, my mouth opening without a sound coming out. My tipsy brain didn’t exactly know how to function in that moment and that meant I had nothing to say. But as he pulled back, we made eye contact, and his intimidating gaze pulled an answer out of me instantly.

“Yes.” I would totally hate myself in the morning for admitting that, but I couldn’t help myself. Not when he was standing so close and saying things like that. A smirk pulled onto Mingi’s lips and suddenly his hand raised as he gripped a strand of my hair lightly and twirled it around, brushing it behind my ear. I watched him mesmerized, body slightly trembling because of different things. The opened window brought in the chill breeze and we stood close to the it; Mingi’s closeness and touch made me want to crash my lips against his, and I was fighting every fiber in my body to stop myself from doing that, thankfully not tipsy enough to lose all rationality.

“I think I know about your little secret, princess.” Mingi’s tone was playful as he suddenly cupped my cheek and tilted my head back, hovering his face over mine, eyes tracing my features slowly. I hoped my red lipstick wasn’t smudged and that it would be smudged in no time.

“What secret?” I asked confused, biting my lower lip as Mingi’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed, his fingers slipping towards my nape as his thumb pushed against my cheek.

“About your little crush—” He barely whispered, eyes on my lips as my mouth parted, heart beating like crazy, “on me.”

Before I could answer him, his teeth caught my lower lip between his and he sucked on the flesh, making my face flush as I mewled, hand holding onto his waist for more stability as the counter wasn’t enough anymore. He held eye contact as he released my lip and I felt like crumbling onto my knees and giving him anything he wanted as my grip tightened on him, head pulled closer to his by the grip he had on my nape. Mingi’s lips barely brushed against mine and I tried to close the impossibly little distance between us, but he just tsked and smirked.

“Good girls eventually get what they want, princess, be a bit more patient.” I couldn’t help but groan in frustration as Mingi released me and took a step back, smirking as he swiped his thumb over my lower lip, smudging my lipstick. I threw him a glare, but he just laughed and then turned around and walked off with a cup he grabbed off from the counter. I couldn’t help but lick my lower lip, pressing a palm against my racing heart as I tapped the sweat off my forehead, needing another cup of water to cool off.

            And I didn’t even have to wait for too long. Four days after the party, my father asked me to stop by the car service because he couldn’t decide what color to choose for the tuning he was doing for one of his friend’s car. I couldn’t have been happier to stop by as I made it my personal mission to stay away from that place for as long as possible, embarrassed by what happened between Mingi and I at the party, but also because I wanted to torture him a bit too. I could only hope he yearned to see me as much as I yearned for him. My father was out, having to pick up some pieces in the nearest city, which was half an hour away, so that meant he’d be gone for approximately an hour and a half. Everyone was gone by now from the car service as working hours were over, everyone except Mingi, of course. He had to catch up on his work as he had to skip a day for some undisclosed business. And yes, Mingi should’ve been working right now on that old car nobody actually wanted to fix, but here he was, balls deep in my pussy, thrusting into me like his life depended on it. I guess he was just a simple man too, and he fell exactly into my trap as I walked through the garage door wearing my little sundress, high heels elongating my legs. It didn’t take long for Mingi to stop whatever he was doing as he dragged me to the backroom, where there were no cameras, and pushed up on the table, wasting no time in undressing himself and working up the both of us. My head was thrown back from the constant pleasure his movements brought, his length reaching places no one else has before, my right hand gripping his bare waist as I rolled my hips to meet his thrusts. Mingi was biting his lips hard, holding onto my hips as I had to hold myself up with one arm, muscle straining with each strong thrust. Perhaps I should have expected him to be vocal, but the whines he would let out every now and then only turned me on even more, dragging my own moans out of me. Grease stuck to his left cheek, just underneath his mole and his already sweaty body from working was glistening once again, smelling strongly of the substance he has been working with to clean rims of the old car.

“I bet you’ve been fantasizing about me fucking you covered in grease and all sweaty from the long day I’ve had.” My only answer was a loud moan as he hit the sweet spot which made me see stars, and for a second, all I could hear were his own pants and the table squeaking louder and louder with each thrust.

“You have no idea—” I moaned as I clenched around Mingi, mind blanching for a second as he hit that spot again, “How fucking hot you look—like this.”

My fingertips dug into his hips and Mingi suddenly leaned down, pressing my back flat against the wooden table, rotating his hips as he suddenly slowed down. My mouth opened in a gasp and my legs went around his hips, one hand tangling in his blonde spikey hair as the other went around his shoulders to anchor myself. Mingi groaned in my ear as I clenched around his length again, his thrusts painfully slow on purpose, making me try to move my hips, but he had me pinned down by his heavier body.

“Fuck, please—” My whine was muffled by his lips as he pressed them against mine, pushing his tongue past my lips as I kissed him hungrily, wanting to feel more and more of him. Our lips moved messily against each other as Mingi slightly quickened his pace, but it still wasn’t enough. My eyebrows were furrowed as it started becoming unbearable and I whined, pulling my head away and choking on my words for a second, “I’m going to fucking die if you don’t go faster.”

I couldn’t believe Mingi had the audacity to smirk as he bit my lower lip harshly, making me push his head away as he chuckled amused, fake pouting at me.

“Thought I said good girls get what they want—” He completely stilled, bringing tears into my eyes out of frustration as I gripped his nape, trying to move against him to no avail, “And you’re being rather impatient right now.”

But before I could say anything, the slightly stood up and pulled almost fully out before slamming in again, his pace relentless and thrusts sharp as he threw his head back, moaning, making me grip onto his lower arm as he hit my g-spot over and over again, making my back arch as broken moans left my lips, nails digging into his skin. I was going fucking insane as his thumb found my clit and he started rubbing circles on it, making me cry out as I felt my orgasm building up, ready to snap any second as Mingi’s moans got higher and higher, my walls clenching tightly around him, bringing him closer to the edge as well.

“Fuck.” He hissed at a particular sharp thrust, his hips almost stuttering but I managed to meet his movements, desperate for my own release as I clawed at the wooden table, back arching as the pleasure became unbearable and the knot in my stomach snapped, making me let out a high-pitched moan, only for Mingi’s lips to muffle it as his hips stuttered, his own release following mine, filling me up. My body trembled and my lungs heaved for air as I came down from the high, our lips touching with Mingi as we both panted into each other’s mouths. His scent was intoxicating and I couldn’t help but burry my head into his neck and lightly bite down on his perfect skin, making him shudder. He didn’t pull out yet and I felt him twitch slightly, making me chuckle.

“So, I’m hot when I’m all sweaty and covered in grease?” He spoke up, voice raspy, and his words made me laugh as I allowed my head to rest against the wooden table, throwing an arm over my eyes. I could feel Mingi’s smile as he pressed a kiss against the corner of my mouth, swiftly pulling out.

“I said it once, I won’t say it again.” I peeked at him as he quickly pulled up his boxers and tight pants, adjusting his tank top.

“If I knew all I had to do was change my hairstyle for you to finally let me fuck you—” Mingi shook his head as he helped me off the table, smirking when I had to lean against it for support, my legs having gone numb, “I would’ve done it a lot earlier.”

“Perhaps if you weren’t so oblivious,” I threw him a glare and pulled up my panties, adjusting my dress, “You would’ve noticed how badly I wanted you since the first time I laid eyes on you, idiot.”

Mingi laughed and threw an arm around my shoulders as he pulled me into himself, “Now that that’s out of the way…do you want to date or do you want us to just fuck?”

His question made me pause as I looked up in his eyes, biting my lower lip in thought, “You want to go out with me?”

“I sure do.” Mingi said it like it was the most obvious thing, then he jutted his chin towards mine, “What about you?”

“What do you think?” I asked with a chuckle.

“That we should go for a second round—”

“Mingi!” I pressed my palm over his mouth and threw him a little glare, “My father could be back anytime, you know. And yes, I do want to date you. Unless you’re always this annoying.”

Mingi fake laughed as he pushed my hand off his mouth, “Aren’t you just so funny?”

I stuck my tongue out at him and he tried kissing it, making me yelp and push him away, which made Mingi giggle as he placed his hands in his pockets, “So, tomorrow at six?”

“But you better shower before you come pick me up.” I pointed a finger at him as we went to leave the room.

“I thought I smelled hot—”

“You can’t smell hot, so just—” I sighed and looked at him, “Just—dress up. You—I mean, you know, you looked really good at the party. I haven’t seen you out of your work clothes before.”

“Aw, aren’t you so shy right now and stuttering all of a sudden?” He cooed and poked my cheek, “As if I wasn’t inside you—”

“Y/N, you still here?!” I heard my father’s voice shout from afar and I threw Mingi a warning look as I pushed him away. He walked towards the car he had to fix defeated, throwing me those sad puppy eyes and a pout as my father walked inside the garage.

“Hi.” I waved at him and he smiled, glancing at Mingi.

“You can fix it tomorrow too, you know?” My father said as he went to put his own utensils away. Mingi hummed but said he didn’t have much until he was done, liar. My father glanced at me and I looked away from Mingi, smiling at my father innocently. He just shook his head and threw his keys at me, making me clumsily catch them.

“Go pick up your mother, I’ll stay behind and help Mingi fix the car.” He muttered tiredly as he walked up to my soon-to-be-boyfriend, oblivious to what Mingi would soon become to him as well. Not just an employee, but perhaps a part of our family too. I jokingly saluted my father as I stopped in the doorway, turning to look at Mingi, who was already watching me.

“Goodbye, Mingi.”

“Bye, Y/N.” Mingi tried to fight the smile off his lips as I turned around and ran off with a giggle, cheeks burning suddenly with embarrassment.

Good girls eventually get what they want, don’t they?

Masterlist

[treehuggerthegreat]

Ugh. I love the trope of a character living with a dead body in plain sight but isn’t mentally able to recognize it. Whether they be too young or they are so far gone that they can’t, it’s so. Horrific. Like the moment you REALIZE that there’s a dead body of a loved one just. Sitting there. And they’ve been living their life without missing a beat as it rots in the living room. Bonus points if they acknowledge it but as someone or something else. Like oh that’s not my dead aunt, she’s alive silly! Or oh aunties been sleeping.

They’re so out of it that someone literally DYING (especially when they played an important role in the characters life) that they don’t even notice. It doesn’t even concern them. They are SO wrapped up in they’re delusions and hallucinations (for the mentally deteriorating or disturbed trope) that the smell of a rotting body that only CONTINUES to smell worse doesn’t even hinder them enough to be concerned. To them everything is just fine and peachy. They don’t realize their mom slipped and broke her neck, and it’s not even they that they don’t or wouldn’t care, it could plausibly be that they aren’t CAPABLE of realizing this person is dead. they don’t want to. their mind completely reworks their reality so that she’s very much alive but sleeping, or on a trip somewhere. Or just literally hallucinates conversations with them. Ugh this one is just my personal favorite but.

Pr when a character is so young they don’t KNOW what death is or WHY their mom hasn’t gotten up in weeks, even months. They don’t understand why the house continues to smell worse and worse. They’re forced into taking care of themselves, to being their own adult while this person who was supposed to take care of them ‘sleeps’. I don’t like this one as much as the hallucinations one, because with this one the situation is less malleable and more specific. But it’s still so good. It means that the person who was taking care of them made them feel like they were supposed to do it themselves. They’re too scared to try and wake mom or even if they did try when it doesn’t work, they still don’t get someone else. It could either mean neglect, or oversheltering. It’s just them and mommy. The character either doesn’t trust other people or doesn’t even ASK them because how could they help? It’s just them and mommy. But mommy’s sleeping, so they have to be good so when she wakes up she’s rested and is proud! And on the flip side, the character could be scared and maybe doesn’t want their parental figure to wake up because then that means they get punished or maybe they have friends over or the parental figure just isn’t fun to be around. Loud, obnoxious, or maybe negative and constantly drunk, or maybe the kid doesn’t NOTICE they haven’t gotten up. They’re so independent at such a young age that they can get to school, they can get their own food, and when the food runs out that’s when they get a little concerned. But they’re still young. They don’t know how to long term problem solve or how to QUESTION what’s going on around them. The smell? just avoid it. The food? try to ration or get food from friends and school.

my favorite part is REALIZING that the character goes their daily life around something so horrible and rotting. You could probably tell something was off. Whether with the kid they were quiet or antisocial, maybe a little weird, or with the hallucinations character, you could tell they are a little off their rockers. You never EVER thought it was actually this bad. A dead body? Rotting? for weeks? how does someone let this happen? This poor person. This poor kid. Reality either something they avoid, or has become to make no sense. Reality is what the kid has been told. They were never told what death is or what to do.

It hurts so much more when it’s a character you’ve WATCHED become this way. You’ve seen them interact with their late loved ones before. You’ve seen them socialize somewhat functionally. You know who they actually are and you KNOW how much they cared for this person. But something happens. Or maybe nothing did. But they just grew more and more reclusive. As their mental state deteriorates, so did their living friendships. And the less and less people talked to them, the less and less they bothered to attach themselves to reality or anyone who really was. Then you finally get to see inside their mind, their house, and hope it’s not the worst case scenario. But as you turn the corner into a room or a stairway, you see. You see that it’s so so much more worse than you could have EVER thought. and i lostmy train of thoug

[missmielyhoran]

Tired eyes are the death of me

Little freak part 2

in which Autumn likes her twin brother's best friend, and maybe he likes her too...

[Warning- Angst (are we even surprised at this point?), Smut🤭, Making out, dry humping, thigh riding, handjob, asshole Harry as always, insecurities, depression]

Masterlist // Series Masterlist

*****

Schools have the most depressing hallways after hospitals. The bright walls and lines and lines of lockers with kids roaming around talking, pretending to be happy but inside everyone was dealing with some shit.

The bright lights and walls did nothing but give you headaches.

You walked down the hallway, your locker being the last one in the corner. At least your locker didn't look depressing. It had a bunch of marvel and Harry Potter stickers, giving you the typical image of "the nerd."

You took out the books for your class when you heard that distinct laugh. His laugh specifically. Peeking from the corner, you saw Harry with his friends except your brother standing in a group talking.

"What about Autumn?" You hear a boy ask. Your ears perk up hearing your name. You saw the boy smirk while Harry's face contorted into something borderline disgust.

"Ohh, she got nice ass." Another boy said who you didn't recognize. Your face mimicked Harry's and contorted into disgust. You wanted to puke your guts out.

"She's Asher's annoying little sister," Harry says before anyone can add anything to it, making your heart sink.

"I heard my name." Your brother sing songs walking towards the group.

"Eric was saying your sister has a nice ass." The first boy spoke, "You wanted to take her to the dance! You brought her up!" The second guy who you know now as Eric said.

Your brother's face changed colors so fast it would put chameleon to shame. He went from shocked to disgust to angry. Looking at his face, you could tell he was about to lurch onto both of them.

"Asher!" You walked towards the group of boys ignoring Harry. Asher's attention was brought to you, and he walked towards you but not without glaring at both boys and giving their shoulders intentional shove.

Asher wrapped his arm around your shoulder and started walking towards your class, "How many times I have told you to just text me, and I will come to you. I don't want you around them, and it's last time I'm telling you this, " Asher said sternly.

"Yeah Yeah, macho man always there to save me. They're not going to eat me alive" You said stopping in front of your class.

Asher turned and looked at you, his eyes hard, "Yes they will. Just do as I say, Autty. I will buy you ice cream on way back home." He sighed.

"I'm not a child." You rolled your eyes at him, "I want chocolate one, though." Asher laughed and walked towards his own class. Harry was behind him, walking towards the same class as yours. He gave Asher a wave and looked at you, and smiled.

You ignored him and walked inside.

*****

Turns out Harry is a very hard person to ignore, especially when you're consciously trying to ignore him.

It also doesn't help that he was sitting in the line of your vision. Every time you looked up towards the teacher, the back of his beautiful curly hair would be in your way.

The whole day went by like this. You never realized how many classes you two had together, mostly cause you were just happy that you got more time to stare at him, but it was torture.

It was English AP class, his seat was right next to you, and you wanted to die. He was far yet so close for you to smell his cologne, the musky earthy smell, like soil after rain.

He was green afterall.

You sat through the whole class like Edward in Twilight movie when he first smelled Bella. But the end was the worst.

"I'm passing out the assignments, and whoever is sitting beside will be your partner," Mrs. Willson said to the whole class. Everyone started mingling reading their respective assignments.

You looked at your other side where some blonde was sitting, but she had already mingled with someone else. Sighing, you turned to Harry on your other side. He was looking at you with monotone expression. You looked him in the eyes, and he sighed and stood up. "We will do this over the weekend," He said.

You thought he would leave after that, but he extended his hand toward you. You went stiff like a statue, looking up at him with wide eyes, then he took out a small piece of paper from your hair and left.

He will be the death of you.

*****

Research says lonely people take hot showers to replicate the warmth of the body they miss, and to some extent, you thought it was true considering the water you just took shower from fogged up the whole bathroom.

You went on with your usual routine, trying not to think about the day at school or that there is a mirror behind. The temptation to look was real, but you were not giving in. Not today.

You put on a tank top and loose shorts forgoing bra cause it was hot as Satan's ass and you just took a hot shower on top of that.

You walked outside calmly, taking your hair out of the towel. Just as you look up after removing the towel from your head, you see a figure sitting near your window and almost scream before they shush you.

They stood up and walked towards you, the moonlight hit his face and you saw Harry smirking cockily.

"What the fuck? What is this some kind of new prank you and Asher are pulling on me now?" You whisper yell at him cause it was late and quiet, and you didn't want to wake up your mum.

"Asher doesn't know I'm here." He shrugs and stands a step away from you. The moonlight was hitting his back, making his face glow in soft light, his hard features looking soft and playful. The green in his eyes was yet so visible in your darkened room that it knocked out all the breath in you.

Asher's annoying little sister

You took a small step back, keeping your guards up. "Then why are you here?" You turned around towards the shelf, holding all your creams and stuff. You took out body moisturizer and started putting it all over your hands, waiting for him to reply.

"We have project together," He said, making you laugh.

"And you think" You looked at the clock, "11 in the night is the right time to do it?" You turned around and raised a questioning eyebrow at him.

"No, I just wanted to remind you," He said, moving closer. You took a step back, looking up at him in the eyes, your heart beating out of your chest, "You ignored me whole day." He spoke again with his eyes flicking between your then staying at your left one.

"Yeah well who cares?" you whispered, annoyed by his hot and cold behavior, "I'm just Asher's annoying little sister." You threw his own words back at him. For a second, he looked taken back, but it was gone in a moment and was replaced with a glint, like he was enjoying all of this.

He took a step towards you again, and you took a step back. Your back met the wal, and you breathed out a shaky breath. He was so close to you, the closest he has ever been. His chest was almost touching yours. You could feel his breath on your face and smell the same cologne that haunts you.

Harry brought his hand up to cup the left side of your face, and you melted in it like an ice. The warmth of his hand and the way it was almost swallowing your whole face made you whimper.

"You're annoying" He whispered, "Very fucking annoying" He dipped his head down so it was same level as you, "So fucking annoying you won't leave my head" He exhaled shakily like you.

You were looking him straight in the eye. The shock was drowned by the look of hunger in his eyes and the way your thighs were sticking together from your arousal.

You dared to remove your eyes from his face and look down on his lips. You looked back up quickly, feeling embarrassed, but you didn't have time to think cause soon his lips were on yours and you were trying to breathe properly.

His lips were soft, what started as a frantic mess of lips turned into soft, slow dance of tongues. His grip tightened on your jaw as the time went by while yours gripped his shoulders in need.

He pulled back, resting his head on your. Both of you were out of breath, panting with eyes closed. Harry opened his eyes first looking at you, and as soon as you opened your eyes too, his was picking you up and walking towards your bed. He sat at the edge of bed, and you, in his lap, you could feel the hardness near your thigh, which made you more needy than before.

You pushed your every thought and insecurities deep in and did what your heart (pussy) said.

His lips met yours again, much needier than before. You didn't even realize you were grinding on him before he let out a groan. You stopped for a second, realizing what you had done, so you did it again. The hard fabric of his jeans felt amazing over your covered clit.

Both of you were sweating and panting but not daring to break the kiss. Your head started feeling dizzy from the lack of oxygen and the shivers running up from the core.

His lips went south to my neck, and I titled it sideways to give him more excess. His hands were now on my hips, guiding me as I rolled them.

He stops abruptly and pulls back, looking at me with swollen parted lips wet with saliva. You could see his pupils blown black even in dark, and it made you shiver in excitement.

You looked down at him with the same expression, your bottom lip caught under your teeth in anticipation. There, he was sitting in your room on your bed with you on his lap, making out. You were making out with your childhood crush! It felt like a fever dream.

"Fuck" He curses, his hand sliding up from your hips to straps of your top. You freezed at that. Although the thought was very arousing, it was scary. You haven't been with anyone ever. Hell, you even had your first kiss with Harry when you kissed him out of nowhere the other day.

Harry caught onto your inner turmoil, and his face softened a bit. You tried to relax your muscles so you won't feel so exposed in front of him but you couldn't do anything.

"Hey, you alright?" He asked, his voice not going anywhere above a soft whisper. You gave him a nod, your fingers playing with his t-shirt's neck.

"Can we leave the top on?" You asked shyly. Here you were sitting in front of the coolest boy in the whole school feeling shy to take off your clothes. Maybe that was why you never told him he was your first everything but somehwere he knew.

He smiled and pulled you closer, "Jesus christ I thought I did something wrong" He shook his head and pecked your dip of throat, "Ofcourse we can" he said and went back to kissing your neck and collarbones. He didn't leave any marks knowing you had school and then your brother, but he couldn't stop himself from sucking particularly hard at the spot on the curve of your neck when you rolled your hips again.

He pulled back his lips after some time and feathered a few in front of your throat while you kept rolling your hips. He was going crazy and the clothing between was driving him mad. He gripped your hips to stop you, which made yoh whine, and he almost came in his pants.

"Get up for a sec, Autty." He panted out, seeming to never be able to catch his breath.

You scarmbled back with confused and scared expression, "Omg, did I do something wrong? Did I hurt you? I'm so sorry, Har I-" He cut you off by pulling you against his lips again.

"You talk a lot" He rolled his eyes with a small smile on his face. Harry, while keeping his eyes on you scooted and pulled down his sweatpants. Your eyes nearly bulged out of your sockets when you saw his toned thighs with a tiger tattooed on it. You knew he had tattoos after seeing him in tanktops and shirtless if you were lucky.

Now he was here on your bed only left in his boxers with a very noticeable buldge. Life is wild.

You licked your lips and looked up at Harry through your lashes. He had a cocky smirk on his face, obviously feeling flattered by your staring.

"C'mere" He motioned with his fingers, you took shy steps forward not really knowing what he had in mind but you couldn't complain about it. When you were close enough he hooked his fingers around the waistband of your shorts.

"Can I?" He asked. You bit down on your lips as your eyes flicked between his thighs and then towards yours. The room was dark, so there was no way he would be able to see you properly unless he fixates on it.

You gave him a nod and a breathy 'yes'. He pulled your shorts down along with your granny panties softly and threw them somewhere in the room. His fingers running up your leg caused goosebumps to arise, and you shuddered.

He pulled you down, so you were straddling him again, but then he shifted, so you were straddling only one of his thighs.

"Go on baby, move those hips, take what you want," he said near your ear. You moaned, hearing his crude words, his teeth biting your ear lope, then small nips down the side of your neck. You started rolling your hips again. The lack of clothing made the sensation ten times better.

"Fuck you're so wet" Harry graoned at the feeling of your slick wet centre against his thigh. His hand went from your arm to your lower back, pulling you more towards him. You kept rolling your hips the pressure against your clit feeling euphoric.

Your head fell on his collarbone, panting against his chest while he kept his lips on your neck or anywhere he could. You opened your eyes and saw the uncomfortable bludge in his pants. The snug boxers did nothing to hide the small wet mark that was growing.

You chewed on your lips, thinking if you should go for it or not. You didn't know what to do and how to do anything, but you had watched porn and read smut. It had to help somehow. How much bad it can be?

You pulled back a bit and looked at Harry. Sitting on his thigh made both of you at the same level. You kept your eyes on his when you slid your right hand from his shoulder downwards. Harry's eyes widened when he realized what you were doing, but he didn't stop you, so you kept going.

You felt unsure, and surely your inexperienced touch was showing that. You felt his abdomen twitch a bit on your touch. You always wanted to feel his abs all the workout and basketball practice he does shows on his body. You cupped your hand against his clothed cock and applied good pressure with heel of your palm.

Harry bit down on his lower lip to mute down the moan, leaving his lips. Your brother was just next door, and neither of you want to take any risk. You kept your hand there applying pressure from time to time.

"Fuck-" He breaths out, his hand holding your wrist and removing it from his crotch. You look at him confused until he picks you up with your thighs a bit and says, "Slide it down a bit, babe."

Your hands are immediately on his waist. You still feeling unsure pulled his pants down. His length bobbed up and slapped on his lower tummy. When the pants were down to his knees, he groaned and put you back down on his thigh harshly, causing you to whimper.

He brings back his lips to yours, and you start rolling your hips again. The warmth in your core increased as the time went by, and so did your breathy moans and whimpers. Harry took this opportunity and slid his tongue inside, tasting every corner of your mouth.

You in the moment of bravery took his cock in your hand and start moving up and down and now it was his turn to moan. You were still very scared of hurting him, so you kept your touch light, but apparently, it wasn't enough.

Harry pulled back and looked down to where you were getting off on his thigh, covering it in your arousal and then to where your hand was moving up and down on his dick. "Stop torturing me, babe," He whines, throwing his head back.

You look at him confused, not knowing what he was talking about. Were you taking too long to get off? were you not doing it properly? Did he not want it now? Before you could question yourself more, he looked back at you and put his hand around yours on his length, applying more pressure.

The moan he let out was the most pornographic one you have heard. Scared someone will hear him your hand flew to his mouth covering it but that only made him moan louder.

"Har, you're going to get us caught," you whisper yelled, your own orgasm was approaching quickly, and the way Harry was twitching in your hand indicated that maybe he was close too.

"Shit- Sorry" He said against your hand. You removed his when he calmed a bit. His eyes were heavy and droopy, and so were yours, you were sure.

"Go on baby, cum for me," Harry said against your ear sensually. He started leaving kisses down your neck again, moaning against them as his own orgasm overcame him. One more roll of your hip and warmth spread all throughout your body. Harry kissed your lips to swallow all your noises.

Your hand went limp on his length, but he didn't care. When he pulled back a bit and saw you still rolling your hips to prolonging your orgasm while your eyes were closed your head tilted all the way back and a warm glow on your face he came all over his tshirt without any assistance.

Harry's release covered your whole hand and ruined his shirt while you covered his thigh with yours. Your head fell on his chest while Harry fell back on your bed. Both of you didn't have the energy to do anything.

After some time, Harry looked down at you, hoping you didn't fall asleep on his chest covered in mess. You looked up with big tired eyes shining in moonlight.

"C'mon, let's get cleaned up," He said. You sat up and he tired on to think too much about how you were almost straddling his cock and how slick your core felt or how your tits were almost slipping out of your thin strapped top but it was too late. You gasped when you felt him harden against your inner thigh.

His face was flushed with embarrassment when you realized yours went too. You carefully got off from above him. Your legs were feeling wobbly, so you held the end of the bed frame to balance.

"God you will be the death of me" He groaned and you looked at him confused until you looked down and saw him half hard again and then you saw yourself and how he could fully see your boobs from the top.

You giggled feeling sudden confidence from having so much power over him by just being there. You always thought of your body negatively and treated it negatively but now seeing him like this gave you sense of confidence and power.

"Want to take a shower?" You suggested, and Harry didn't need to be told twice as he picked you up and led to the bathroom.

*****

Next part is also smut no need to thank me🫣

Taglist- @tenaciousperfectionunknown @that-daydream-look @harryspirate @tiaamberxx

Please Like, Comment and Reblog!

You can talk to me here♡ I love it when you guys talk to me about it. Requests are unfortunately closed :(

[angelynmoon]

Eldritch Steve

Part 12

-

Steve makes a nest after Wayne talks to him, it's not something he's compelled to do, just something he wants.

He steals Robin's vests and her pillows, because they smell like her, anxiety and excitment, they smell like sister. He steals shirts from the children, all their left socks too, just because, the shirts smell like home and family, they smell like his, even with the undertones of betrayed and abandoned that Will, Jonathan, and El's clothes leave from Joyce.

Steve can tolerate it because there is also understanding and argument and acceptance in the trace that Hopper leaves on the cloth.

Argyle brings him blankets for the Wheeler home, where he and Jonathan are staying until they find a place of their own with Nancy, Steve is especially pleased wuth the way they smell, like love and comfort and family, not like his kids but still family, and just a tiny hit of Other, not unlike the way Wayne smells, just not as deep, like it has been bred out for too many years tobe like them.

Argyle just smiles and helps him build his nest, fixing parts when Steve gets frustrated with the edges and telling his stories, and Steve knkws that there is at least one Other, all the way out in California because Argyle speaks of his grandmother, whise age no one in the family seems to know and who changes it everytime she's asked, sometimes she's 90, other she has lost count after all tbe centuries that have passed.

"You remind me of her." Argyle tells him as they finish the nest and move on to making an overhang to hid it, "She'd make nests like this whenever the moms would get pregnant, and she'd lay with them inside until the babies were two weeks old, the babies were kept there, not presented until that time."

Argyle looked at Steve, "We always had home births, I helped with my mom's last one, nothing came of it, the child was not born alive, but I know what to do."

"Why wasn't it alive?" Steve asked, curious.

"These things sometimes happen, the first generation of a crossbreed always has more dead children than live." Argyle said gently, "It's why there are no multiples in my family, because it was better to make one at a time."

Steve paused as he held a blanket.

"But my family only had Grandmother, you have Wayne too. I think, I think your kind is not meant to be alone, not really." Argyle said softly with a smile, "You have all of us too."

"Yes, yes, I have all of you." Steve smiled back and nailed his blanket up before going to retreive the blankets he and Eddie had been using for the last few days, spreading them over the nest beneath the tent of blankets, so his scent of warmth, love and home, home, home was the most prominant, and them he went and dug out the work shirt he'd stolen from Wayne and tucked it into a corner of the nest, he wanted their eventual children to know Wayne's scent, but most importantly he wanted them to know it as a safe one, like the others in the nest, to know that he was not a danger to them, but a protection for them.

"I think I'd like to meet your Grandmother." Steve said as he a Argyle finished the nest, Steve would drag the children to sleel there for the night, in order to embed their smells a little more secrurely.

"I think she'd like to meet you, too." Argyle said, "But the moms are getting ready for the next baby back home, so it may take a few months before she comes out here."

Steve nodded with a hum, children first, he'd neet her eventually, maybe she'd even come out to stay, it would be nice to have others of his ki d he could trust to help keep his family safe.

-

A/n: so, a lot of people seemed to want Argyle to be the Other, well, he's not completely Other but rather a few generations removed, because why not.

His grandmother came through one of the cracks, ate a few towns, and then fell in love with one of the natives tasked with killing her, he married her instead and they had to flee the tribe when she spawned and ended up in California where she had three live children(girls all of them, Argyle is the first boy born in the family because he's the first one that also has two moms, the others chose a male partner.)

Because it amuses me to think that all the of decendents of Argyle's Grandmother are female and can therefore Spawn without a male presence, which some of them have, so Argyle has practical Spawning knowledge because Wayne has never Spawned in his life and Steve needs someone that will make sure his hybred babies live.

Have a happy unbirthday(it's my actual birthday so I'm making like a Hobbit and giving you a gift.)

@addelyin @merricatty @lesbiabrobin @apuckishwit @0o-mushroom-o0 @starlight-archer @darkwitchoferie @just-a-tiny-void @swimmingbirdrunningrock @intergalactic-president-awesome @vampireinthesun @goodolefashionedloverboi @adhdsummer @purpleanimeoverart @space-invading-pigeon @lilaclilyroses @nohomoyesbi @plantzzsandpencilzzs @korixae @subversivecynic @flusteredcas @persnicketysquares @freddykicksasses @little-trash-ghost @cupcakesnwhiskey @cats-ate-all-of-my-pasta @planetsoda @paintsplatteredandimperfect @irregular-child @daydreamsandcrashingwaves @lifeisnotsobadonceyoustopcaring @steddieassheg0es

[subtle-as-an-earthquake]

i am finally home and i'm pretty knackered but aaaahhh what a weekend!! ✨✨ so much happened in such a short amount of time, i'm still processing i think (also some personal stuff, that i won't bore you with). but yeah, the shows were absolutely epic, they were such good crowds for london standards. very rowdy but overall the atmosphere was amazing, and tbh that's probably in part because miles just exudes such incredible energy himself, if you ask me

just a little snippet of don't forget who you are from yesterday (night two) to illustrate:

also, a few random things i'm remembering now (which i'll put under the cut because i apparently remembered more than i thought):

miles seemed really really into it both nights, and really centered somehow? he was clearly having a blast and had everyone eating out of the palm of his hand, he's just SUCH an incredible showman. that's nothing new of course, but I was once again struck by just how very special and awe inspiring and just incredibly fun it is to watch him do his thing on stage. no one does it like miles fucking kane, baby

also, there were so many men in the audience who were just really letting go during the show, hugging their mates and singing the lyrics at each other, even full on crying when miles played colour of the trap (not even kidding, actual tears streaming down their faces). i don't think i've ever seen that at another gig to that extent, really. miles and his music seem to have - for want of a better phrase - a sort of liberating effect on a lot of men that's really nice to witness

on night one miles slipped on a spilled drink on stage and took a little tumble, but he recovered like a king and honestly it just made him look even cooler somehow lol

his arms and shoulders......... are sooooooo...... 🔥🔥🔥 dear fucking lord. his shoulders are broader than ever and honestly it was very hard to concentrate on anything else 🫠

after the show, we were chatting to ben for a bit who was just the sweetest and again talked about how he was a fan first (of arctic monkeys and tlsp and miles) and then sort of organically came to be a part of the band, and has just been having the time of his life so far! we were still chatting to him when miles came out after night 1, and when everyone started whooping, ben started screaming 'aaaaaahhh miles!!!' really loudly as a joke, before starting an impromptu chorus of the don't forget who you are 'la la la' that everyone joined in on. it was pretty hilarious

liam was super sweet too, and when he learned that i was dutch he was like 'oh we're playing a show in holland next week!' so i was like 'i know, i'm going!' and then he offered to put me on the guestlist, which was very kind of him even though i already have tickets lmao. he and ben both were very excited for that show for some reason, which made me even more excited as well!!

after night two ben and liam shared a massive hug outside and they both seemed really emotional, which was very sweet to see 🥺

nathan is the loveliest man alive. he said this tour was definitely the best one yet because the energy's just been amazing! he also asked us what are favourite album and song of the night was (his own fave was never taking me alive) and when I mentioned i just loved the bassline in coup de grace so much, he said it was as fun to play as it sounds, and that on the album it was actually miles who played it (that's probably common knowledge, but i didn't know!)

he also said that the band really is very close and they're all equals, and miles always says "we", and that he really is as kind and lovely as he seems 🥺 i mean, we knew that, but it was still really lovely to hear!

and of course, miles was once again just the most wonderful, gracious man ever with his fans, chatting to as many people as he could and taking pics with them and cooing at turtle paraphernalia, all while looking and smelling absolutely diviiiiine. he did seemed pretty knackered though, especially after night two, but that makes sense i think. and yet he still came out! truly a hero

as for my own chat with him, i for some reason went up to him like 'hiiiiiiiiiiiii' with my hands held out to him (idk man), and he just reciprocated my enthusiasm and took my hands and then held them and looked me in the eye while i rambled at him about how incredible i thought the show and he himself were, and he was just completely lovely, as always 🥺 such an angel

oh and finally, maxie is apparently staying with miles's mum while miles is on tour 🥺

i'm sure i'm forgetting things but this is already long enough 🙈 going to catch some zzz's now, i need them after this weekend

[scoops-aboy86]

♠️♥️Famous Rockstar Eddie leaving the spotlight mysteriously and going off the radar for the next 10 years. Unbeknownst to the world, it was because he broke up with his then secret boyfriend Steve Harrington. Steve wanted to settle down, Eddie wanted to play for the world. The love never left but they both had dreams they wanted to pursue. Then very randomly he's spotted by paparazzi with a cute hubby, a wedding band on his finger, and 100lbs more than he had 10 years ago, enjoying brunch like he wasn't quote unquote "missing" to the public. 😂

Aww. I’m picturing a mostly amiable breakup… They’re both bummed to do it, but Eddie wants to leave and Steve wants to stay. It’s the 80’s, so no cell phones, no email… Much harder to keep up a long distance relationship. Both of them feel like they’re setting the other free. 

~

Cut to ten years later. Corroded Coffin made it big, and they’re coming up on the end of a tour that they’ve already said will be their last public appearance in a while. Gareth has a fiancé he wants to settle down with, Jeff is already married with a kid on the way, and Freak is thinking about going back to school for… something, he hasn’t decided what yet. 

Eddie is toying with the idea of doing a solo album or something, nothing big, but music is his life. It’s basically what he replaced Steve with after the breakup. He’s maybe leaned into food a little, especially during tours, but mostly burns it off with his on-stage antics. Over the years, he’s stuck pretty exclusively to hookups and situationships, nothing serious. As long as he has his music, everything’s fine. 

Which is why he’s dreading the end of the tour. After the second to last concert, right after they get to the next city, he does something he doesn’t usually do: he goes out and gets fucked up. (He saw what drugs and alcohol did to his parents when he was little and things were starting to fall apart, and No Thank You, but. It’s not bad if he only does it once, right? It’s fine.) 

The city happens to be Chicago. Eddie goes out, accepting just about anything anyone hands him like a moron… and wakes up having blacked out on everything except the vague impression of pop music blasted too loud for even his concert-hardened ears. The bed he’s in is comfortable in a very not-hotel-room sort of way and smells like the essence of a warm hug. He burrows into the blankets and pillows on the principle that maybe if he snuggles in deep enough he can hide from the raging hangover. 

It doesn’t work, of course, and a few minutes later he drags himself across the room on all fours to hurl his guts out into a waste basket. Which turns out not to have a liner. Oops. 

That’s when the door opens, and a mildly exasperated voice says, “Eds, seriously? I left you a bucket on your side of the bed.”

Blearily, Eddie turns and sees, of all people, Steve Harrington. Standing there in a yellow sweater and both hands on his hips like a blast from the goddamn past. He’s still handsome, still has the amazing hair, and the glasses he’s wearing lend a new kind of adult-ness to his face that hadn’t been there when he was twenty. He looks good. 

Eddie, meanwhile, feels like a stepped-on cockroach. It’s not fair. 

“Woke up facing this way,” Eddie rasps, but his heart leaps at the way Steve says your side. Like it’s still his. And it’s true, he does still prefer the left side of the bed, despite usually sleeping alone. “How are you… here? Where am I?”

Steve brings him a glass of water. “This is my apartment, I’ve been here for about three years now. I brought you here last night after you propositioned me because, and I quote, ‘You look just like the love of my fucking life that I walked away from like the dumbest idiot alive, wanna fuck and maybe marry me if my dick’s good enough? I’m kind of rich and famous, I could write so many songs about your eyes.’”

“Jesus H. Christ.” Eddie takes a sip of water, feeling like he might throw up again from embarrassment. “Did we…?”

“Nah, you passed out practically before finishing that second sentence. I carried you here to sleep it off, and answered your cell when Jeff called to check on you.” Steve, helping Eddie stand up at this point and guiding him back to the bed, raises an eyebrow. “He was extremely thorough in explaining that you don’t usually do things like this.”

Eddie groans. “Fuck… Is he sending a car or something? We’ve got a concert in… in… soon.”

“Two days,” Steve fills in easily. “Don’t worry, you have time to recover. I’ve made breakfast, if you think you can stomach it.”

Groaning again, Eddie face-plants into the pillows and realizes that wonderful scent is Steve and that’s why it was so nice when he first woke up. That smell still means home to him, even after a decade apart. “No, can’t do cereal and pop tarts right now.”

Steve snorts. “Excuse you, but one of us has learned to cook over the years and Jeff assured me it wasn’t you. There’s bacon, eggs, pancakes, and fresh strawberries. Vanilla ice cream in the freezer, too, if that still helps settle your stomach.”

“…It might,” Eddie mutters into the pillow. 

“Okay. Well, whenever you’re ready, there’s clothes at the end of the bed, and Advil and more water on the desk. I’m just going to, uh, take this basket out to the dumpster.”

Sorry, Eddie bites on his tongue to avoid saying. He’s just now realizing that he’s stripped down to his boxers and undershirt, which, like. Doesn’t even show off the coolest of his new tattoos. Not that that’s important, fuck, but it’s the first thing his hungover brain spits out about the whole situation other than, you know. 

The fact that he randomly ran into The Ex of All Time while so loaded he doesn’t even remember it happening. And Steve is acting like this is just normal even though they haven’t even been in contact for years. 

Eddie falls asleep while freaking out about this, and feels marginally more human by the time he wakes up. The clothes Steve left him are… Christ, it’s one of his old Metallica shirts, and the sweatpants that were technically Steve’s that Eddie had always stolen to sleep in, back when they were together. He doesn’t know how to feel about it. Stumbles his way out of the room to a bathroom, noticing along the way that the couch has a pile of folded blankets at one end. Because Steve probably slept there instead of his own bed. 

“Coffee?” Steve asks when Eddie finally puts in an appearance in the kitchen, passing him a mug that’s already doctored exactly the way he likes it. Eddie takes it and sips cautiously, but his stomach seems to have settled now and nothing bad happens, so he takes a longer, grateful gulp. 

The food is still waiting for him, kept warm in the oven with tin foil over the plates and heat set to low. Eddie sits down and feels something well up in his chest, in his eyes, at the first bite of scrambled eggs; it’s like eating clouds, they’re so damn fluffy. 

“‘S good,” he mumbles through a full mouth, then swallows and turns his tired eyes towards Steve. “I… I didn’t even know you’d moved to Chicago.”

Steve gives him an amused smile. “It wasn’t exactly news worthy of Rolling Stone, dude. Don’t worry about it.”

“Kinda have to,” Eddie mumbles, and jams bacon in his mouth. “I mean, I—Holy fuck, Steve, this is good. Are you a chef or something?”

The smile turns sheepish. “Sort of. It’s a long story, but I kinda teach cooking classes now? It’s a program for teens and preteens who’ve had trouble at home or with the law and need, like, better outlets that are also practical life skills. Robin’s girlfriend hooked me up, she teaches yoga and self-defense stuff at the same place.”

“Wow.” Eddie stares blankly at him for a second, before physically shaking off the surprise and looking back down at his plate. Steve had spent the past decade learning new skills and helping kids, whereas Eddie has written songs about sex, drugs, rock and roll, and… Steve’s eyes. “That’s great, Steve. You sound really happy.”

Because he does. And Eddie feels really, really bad about barreling accidentally back into Steve’s life, probably throwing a huge monkey wrench into it since there’s no way a guy this handsome and this good and this fantastic in the kitchen isn’t seeing anyone. He’d be snatched up in a second by any discerning man or woman with, like, eyes and a heart and taste buds. Which is what Steve deserves, really. He deserves someone who won’t run off at the first whiff of potential fame and fortune somewhere he can’t follow. 

“I do alright,” Steve replies modestly. 

“I’ll replace your waste basket,” Eddie blurts out. Because Steve deserves someone who doesn’t ever get fucked up enough to puke in and ruin his stuff, even if it’s not something he does regularly. “And, this is great, really, thank you for breakfast, but I should get out of your hair. I’m… sorry for ambushing you last night, or whatever it was I did, I can’t even remember—”

His hand is clenched around his fork so tight that his knuckles have gone pale, and he almost jolts out of his chair when Steve puts a hand over it, massaging his grip into loosening slightly. “First of all, I got that thing at Costco,” Steve informs him. “It’s not a big deal. Second, you didn’t ambush me. I mean, I was surprised, for sure, but… it was nice to hear that I’m still the love of your life.” Steve gives his hand a gentle squeeze. “Really nice, Eds. And third, you didn’t exactly walk away. You asked me to come with you, I was the one who wasn’t ready to leave Hawkins then. We agreed, remember?”

“Yeah,” Eddie says. He feels like careening back into Steve’s orbit now must count as some sort of violation of that agreement, or something… and yet Steve is still holding his hand. 

“I actually…” Steve hesitates, looking unexpectedly shy for someone who Eddie must be bothering. Then, instead of finishing the sentence, he lets go of Eddie’s hand to pull something from his back pocket and lay it on the table.

It’s a ticket. A VIP meet and greet pass for the Corroded Coffin concert in two days. 

“Everybody pitched in and got this for my birthday,” he says sheepishly. “They went on presale on the exact day, Dustin kept saying it was a sign.”

Eddie, who’s never paid much attention to ticket sales in general, much less the dates they become available, can only stare at it. His throat feels tight knowing that he would’ve seen Steve anyway, that it could’ve happened while he was riding the adrenaline high of performing instead of feeling like roadkill freshly scraped off the asphalt. 

“Which, if it was a sign, I’m guessing it wasn’t on purpose, since you didn’t even know I live out here now,” Steve continues. “But, well, they got it, and… I told Robin I wasn’t sure if I’d go, but I knew from the second I opened the envelope it was a done deal.”

“What about… A-aren’t you seeing anyone?” Eddie asks. He remembers, in wistful, rosy detail, Steve being in his element as a boyfriend. Knows that he loves having someone to share everything with, to learn through and through, to kiss and murmur I missed you even if it’s only been an hour, even when it wasn’t safe for two guys to do that openly in small town Indiana and he’d had to limit himself to a fleeting touch and saying it with his eyes. 

“No.” Steve shrugs. “I tried putting myself out there on and off, but there was never enough of a spark to make it past three or four dates. I always knew you were it for me, Eddie, even if we never got another chance. And this…” He taps the concert ticket. “I was going to ask if you wanted one, because god knows I’d give it to you. You don’t have to answer now, because going by how you look you must feel like crap—”

“Oh fuck you, dude.” Never one to sit stoically through Steve’s teasing, Eddie groans and hides a grudging you’ve got me there smile behind a handful of his own hair. 

Steve grins. “Sorry,” he says, not sounding or looking sorry at all. 

Which is where they leave it, for now. Eddie finishes his breakfast, clearing his plate and dishing up seconds because once he starts eating in earnest his stomach settles and he’s starving, and it’s all so good. And it’s not like they’re magically back together—Steve had slept on the couch instead of in the bed with him, they haven’t been close enough to share so much as a meal and conversation like this for ten years, but it’s a start. A chance to get to know each other again, see if they still fit. 

~

Fast forward another ten years. Eddie’s solo career is doing well but he doesn’t do public appearances, got all of his recording done at home in his private studio. He’s pretty much a homebody, which surprised some of the people who know him but not the ones that know him well. 

Steve still has the same job, not because he needs to work but because he loves it. He’s also Eddie’s de facto private chef, and he loves that too. 

But he’s not cooking today, because it’s their anniversary and Eddie is dead set on painting the town red. “Of course I still want to,” Eddie assures him again, nuzzling sleepily up against his unofficial husband (they’re holding out until it becomes legal in either Illinois or Indiana, whichever comes first) when Steve wakes him and asks if he’s still sure about their brunch reservations. “I want to take you out and show you off. Remember how I promised you how rich and famous I am and how cool that would be?”

Steve huffs in amusement, leaning into the nuzzling. “First of all, it was more of a statement than a promise. The actual promise was to write so many songs about my eyes. Second of all, you don’t remember that.”

“Kept the promise either way, didn’t I?” Eddie nips at his collarbone, bare because Steve never was one for sleeping with a shirt on, even when the weather turns cold. “I’ve written songs about your eyes, your smile, this ass…” He grabs at it with a little growl, leaning more of his weight onto Steve to reach and enjoying the way his sweetheart happily squirms. 

“Mmm, yeah,” Steve sighs. “But we could still stay in… have breakfast in bed…” His own hands find Eddie’s love handles and settle there. “Not have to get dressed.”

“Nope.” Eddie props himself up on one thick arm and kisses him on the nose. Then yawns hugely. “It’s about time I get some fresh air, and I’m taking you out, baby.”

So Steve crawls out of bed, fetching Eddie the clothes he asks for and gamely taking suggestions for his own outfit—though he anticipates every article with a smirk, starting to grab each hanger before the words are fully past Eddie’s lips. Jeans that are just a little on the tight side and highlight the ass that Eddie so loves to grab (and sing about grabbing, the horny lovesick goblin man), a t-shirt that shows off his muscles and broad shoulders (because he may be turning forty next month but he takes damn fine care of his body), and the leather jacket from Eddie’s Corroded Coffin days that no longer fit their original owner. 

Because Eddie, who loves Steve’s food, has put on at least a hundred pounds in the past decade,maybe more. Most of it has gone to his belly, but he’s pretty round and soft all over—except his ass, for some reason, which is his excuse for how much attention he regularly bestows on Steve’s. 

That’s not why he’s stayed out of the public eye for so long though. It’s more because he got his fill of being a rock star, being recognized everywhere he goes, being photographed all the time and known for his wild antics. He’d wanted that when he was younger, so badly, needed the accolades and acknowledgement as someone who hadn’t gotten a lot of that as a child. But that rock star life took him away from Steve for so long, which he both regrets and doesn’t because it all worked out in the end. He’d been in it just as much for being able to make and share his music, too, which he can still do, so he’s happy. Happy and so, so in love. 

Their day is back to back reservations at various restaurants, all selected by Eddie because of dishes he knows that Steve will want to try and recreate at home. “Inspiration for your craft,” Eddie tells him with a wink, his own cheeks pink and grin lazy with the pleasure of overindulgence. 

Pictures are taken, more by cell phones than paparazzi because it’s the 2000’s now (not long before the Supreme Court of California issues a finding that allows that state to start issuing same-sex marriage licenses out on the West Coast, and Steve and Eddie fly out for Robin’s backyard wedding). They circulate the internet, with thousands of people weighing in on whether that really is Eddie Munson, the “missing” front man from Corroded Coffin. There are comparisons between old photos and these new ones, in depth analyses that range from “he wouldn’t get that fat” to “wow he really let himself go” to “looks like he’s living his best life.”

Eddie and his sweetheart—who is a total unknown except to some of the kids at the program who see the pictures and flip out because since when is Mr. Harrington so close with a famous metal guitarist omg, he’s so lame with all his sweater vests and dad jokes—remain unaware and unbothered as Steve helps Eddie tuck his already full belly back into his pants, get him all zipped up again, and leave brunch for their next stop. 

And they have a very lovely day.

Permanent tag list (ask to be added): @hotluncheddie @tangerinesteve @lawrencebshoggoth @sofadofax

[sequinsmile-x]

The Games We Play - Chapter 2

She’d survived the very worst a person could, lived through things that still kept her up at night, the screams of other innocent people ringing in her head as sleep evaded her.

She’d survived so much, but she didn’t think she’d survive leading him to his death. 

A Hunger Games AU

-x-

Hi friends,

Thanks so much for the reaction to chapter 1 <3

AU's in general are always nerve wracking, but this one feels even more so because I am aware it's a little bit of an out-there idea. I really appreciate the support on this unhinged little fic, and I really hope you like this chapter.

Please let me know what you think!

-x-

Words: 4.6k

A full list of warnings can be found on the series master list

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

She seeks him out on the train. 

He’d left the dining carriage not long after they left the district, and at first, she leaves him to it, giving him the space she remembers needing herself. It was strange to leave home, the only place you’d ever been, and not know if you’d be coming alive or in a body bag. Not everyone even got that, the brutality that the tributes sometimes showed each other beyond imagination, as if the Capitol had truly won in convincing them all that they were each other's enemies. Their gaze and anger turned inwards, instead of all of them looking out to see who was using them like chess pieces. 

She goes looking for him for a couple of hours, Kate’s crying eventually getting to her, too many memories of other tributes who hadn’t come home haunting her. The ghosts of children whose faces she’d never forget in every reflective surface she walked past. 

She finds him at the back of the train looking out of the large window, scenery they’d otherwise never get to see speeding past them, hints of life and freedom in the birds that flew between the trees. She clears her throat as she steps into the carriage and he looks up at her, his smile tight as their eyes meet. 

“Want me to leave you alone?” She asks, not stepping any closer to him and he shakes his head. 

“No,” he replies, “I wouldn’t mind the company.”

She nods and walks towards him, revealing that she has two glasses of scotch behind her back, smiling wryly as she tries to hand him one, “Here, I brought you this.”

He frowns, the smell from the glass familiar, the scent of alcohol something he thinks he might always associate with his father, “We’re not ol-”

“We’re old enough to die for a TV show,” she says, pressing the drink into his hand before she sits next to him, “I think we’re old enough to have a drink.”

He pauses for a moment and considers arguing with her. He thinks about putting the drink down, ignoring that she’d brought it to him, but he doesn’t. There was something about it pulling him in, the chance to break the rules, to do something he’d never done before, tempting as he thinks about the fact his days are numbered. He nods and takes a sip, something simmering in his gut when she smiles widely at him. 

He’d never been able to say no to her anyway. 

She laughs at him when he grimaces at the taste, at the burn in the back of his throat, and for a moment they are children again, playing in her mother’s house with no regard for anything other than the fun they were having. The train jolts and pulls them out of it, bringing them back to the harsh reality they were in. 

“Can I ask you something?” She asks, and he nods in response, “What happened with you and Haley?” 

He smiles sadly, scratching the back of his head as he thinks of his ex-girlfriend, the woman he thought he’d one day marry, “We talked about the future. She wanted kids. I don’t,” he sighs and shakes his head, “I can’t imagine bringing a child into this world and then potentially sending them into this.” 

Emily nods even though he’s not looking at her, blowing out a steady breath, “I know what you mean. Especially now I’m a victor.” 

He looks up at her, his eyebrows knitting together with curiosity. He’s so close she could reach out and touch the line it creates between his eyebrows, press her thumb into the ravine that she’s sure would get so much deeper as he got older. 

If he ever got older. 

“Why?” 

She smiles sadly, “The kid of a victor would almost be guaranteed to go in the games,” she says her lips pressed together as she shrugs, “It makes good TV. It would show even the strongest of us aren’t protected.” 

There’s a pause, and it stretches out between them. Tied together with threads of their separate histories, tattered edges knotting together to create a morbid tapestry. 

“What about you and that guy from District One?” He asks, breaking the silence, his voice soft, as if he was afraid to ask. 

She smiles wryly, “Ian?” She says and he nods, making her chuckle, “Don’t believe everything you read, Aaron. He’s just a guy who won’t take no for an answer.” 

He isn’t sure what to say to that, how to feel about the wave of protectiveness that washes over him, so he clenches his teeth and decides to move the conversation on. 

“Where’s Kate?” He asks, looking at the amber liquid in his glass before he takes another sip, this one going down easier than the first. 

“Dave’s comforting her,” she replies, looking out the window, her gaze fixed on the trees, “She’s upset,” she says, even though it’s obvious. She looks at him and takes a moment to study him as he continues to look at his drink. He was handsome, he always had been, but the boyishness that had once been in his features had faded away. Sharp features had replaced once rounder ones as if they’d cut through from underneath, pushing away innocence and childhood with the harsh realities of life. He looks up at her and she clears her throat, pushing down the embarrassment that she feels at being caught staring at him, “What you did was really brave.” 

He laughs wryly and nods, blowing out a slow breath before he finishes his drink. It was objectively brave, he knew that, if he’d seen anyone else do it he’d think the same thing, but he didn’t feel brave. He couldn’t have let his brother do this, couldn’t let him march towards certain death when he could help. 

He wasn’t sure it counted as bravery when it was his only option. 

“He’s my brother,” he says simply, “I only did what was right,” he says as he puts down his empty glass. He can see her start to argue with him, the pinch between her brows something he’d seen countless times before, so he cuts her off before she can, “So, how does this work? Do you and Dave train us both? Do we have a mentor each?” 

She sighs at the change of subject but lets it slide, well aware that he needed to deal with this in the way he needed to, that her feelings weren’t important in any of this, “One each - I’ll be working with you, Dave will be with Kate.” 

He frowns, “I saw you with Tara last year,” he says, feeling momentarily regretful when she flinches for a second, a brief reaction she can’t control at the mention of the female tribute from the year before. She’d almost made it, survived until the final three, and then was killed by a career tribute from District One, “Don’t you usually work with the female tribute?” 

She nods, pressing her lips together to gather herself, “Yes but, because we’re friends Dave suggested I work with you,” she says, the lie slipping past her lips easily. 

She used to hate lying, used to think the truth was always the better option no matter what, but one thing she’d learnt since leaving the arena was that lying was the way to keep everyone she cared about safe. She’d asked Dave if she could work with Aaron and had ignored his concern. Selfishly, she wanted to spend as much time with Aaron as she could, so if she did lose him, if she had to watch him die helplessly and keep a straight face, she would be able to tell herself that she’d done her very best to help him. 

He chuckles wryly, “Friends? Em, we’ve barely spoken since I started to date…” he drifts off and shakes his head, cut off by the look of hurt that flashes across her face, guilt sparking in his gut, and the thought of his ex-girlfriend, her name turning to ash on his tongue at the thought of how she must be feeling about all of this. He sighs, “Look, that wasn’t fair. I’m-”

“No,” she says, tucking her loose hair behind her ear, “You’re right. I haven’t…” she sighs and a humourless laugh escapes her, “It’s not been an easy few years.” 

The guilt in his belly catches fire, spreading through his blood as he reaches out and places his hand on her arm. It’s only when he does it that he realises it’s been years since he’d touched her, and he feels like an addict, the desire to never let go forcing him to do just that, his hand springing back like he’d been burned. 

“I am sorry, Em,” he says, smiling tightly at her, “I can’t imagine how you’ve felt since you came back.” 

She looks down at her arm where he touched her, his warmth lingering where his palm had been. She knows she’ll inspect her skin later, that she’ll check to see if he’d left a mark behind, if he’d somehow branded her with a simple touch because she can almost feel it burn. She looks up at him and smiles, and she shrugs half-heartedly. 

“Well, in a few weeks when we’re back on this train, you’ll know.” 

It’s false optimism neither of them buy into, but he can’t help but smile back at her, “Yeah,” he replies, “I will.”

___

She’s running. 

Her lugs hurt, her feet her almost numb with pain, a dampness in her shoes she knows is blood and not water, but she can’t stop running.

Her life depends on it. 

“You can run, but you can’t hide pretty. The things I’ll do to you when I catch you.” 

She’s only forced further forward by Karl’s words, by the foul implication dripping from them. She’d seen what he’d done to some of the other girls, and had seen the joy he’d derived from it. Emily wasn’t going to give him the pleasure of killing her, she was going to outlive him or she was going out on her own terms.

She curses as she realises she’s run into a dead end, her feet just touching the cliff edge as she comes to a stop. She can hear him gaining on her, his thundering footsteps getting louder, and she closes her eyes, giving herself a second, one final moment of peace, but when she opens her eyes she sees a shimmer in the sky. It’s almost discernible from the blue of the fake sky in above her but she sees it. She chuckles as she remembers what Dave had told her about the forcefield, about the edge of the arena, and she pulls her knife out of her pocket. She looks over her shoulder and sees that Karl is right behind her, a smirk on his face as if he had won already. She looks straight ahead and she throws the knife, immediately ducking as it hits the forcefield and bounces back. She’s knocked to the ground by the force of the soundwaves that echo around her, her hand automatically covering her ears as she tries to protect them. 

Everything goes eerily silent, everything overwhelmingly quiet after so much nose, and her hands shake as she removes them from her ears. Her arms are unsteady as she pushes herself up off the ground. She walks over to where Karl is lying, the same smirk still painted on his face, a grim flash burn of the last moment of his life, and her knife planted firmly in the centre of his chest. 

She jumps when the canon goes off, half convinced until that moment she’d lost her hearing, and she looks up at the sky, Karl’s face briefly emblazoned on it, before the disembodied voice of the game maker fills the arena. 

“Ladies and Gentleman, the winner of this year's Hunger Games - Emily Prentiss.”

___

Aaron was exhausted. 

No matter how much training they did, how much preparation Emily had put him through the last few days, he couldn’t sleep. It alluded him, forever out of reach as he slept in a bedroom bigger than his childhood home. 

He’s walking around the apartment they’d been assigned when he hears her scream, the sound of it pulling him towards her room immediately. When he walks in she’s wrapped up in the bed sheets, twisting in the bed as if she’s trying to escape from something he can’t see. He runs over and sits on the edge of Emily’s bed, placing his hand on her sheet-covered knee and squeezing as he says her name.

“Em,” he says, quietly at first, not wanting to startle her, “Em, you need to wake up,” he says, shifting closer, his hand skating up her side as it lands on her shoulder. He turns her towards him and the look on her face, the devastation she couldn’t escape even in her sleep, makes him ache, “Sweetheart, please,” he says, the nickname slipping out of nowhere as he begs her to come back to him, “Wake up.” 

She sits up so fast that their foreheads would have collided if he hadn’t moved, a gasp loud enough to shake the walls escaping her as she looks at him, her eyes wide. She tries to shift away, as if she doesn’t recognise him, still half asleep as she tries to shake the rest of the nightmare off. 

“Emily, it’s me. It’s Aaron.” 

She breathes heavily, her chest rapidly moving up and down as she frowns at him, recognition finally seeping into her eyes, “Aaron?”

“Yeah,” he says, smiling encouragingly as he rests his hand on her shoulder again, grateful when she doesn’t flinch, “It’s me. I was walking past and I heard you.” 

She frowns, “Heard me what?” 

He presses his lips together briefly as he weighs up his options, but he knows she needs the truth, “I heard you scream.” 

“Oh,” she says, clearing her throat, her cheeks burning with embarrassment, “I’m sorry.” 

“You have nothing to apologise for,” he says, smiling softly at her. His gaze drifts to his hand on her shoulder and he lets it drop to the mattress, “Were you dreaming about the games?”

She nods, her hand pressed against her chest as her heart still hammers at her rib cage, the beat of it so hard she thinks her ribs might crack, that the places the Capitol doctors had put her back together would slowly unravel.

“Yeah,” she says, her nerves too shot from the nightmare to deny it, “It’s always the same moment.” 

He’d watched her games, and had felt relief when she’d won. It was the only one he remembers all the details of, the names of the other tributes forever burned into his memory.

They were people he’d prayed would die so the girl he loved would win. 

“What moment?” He asks without thinking, his eyes going wide as he realises what he’s said, “You don’t have to-”

“When I won,” she says, cutting over him, feeling a strange sense of relief in finally saying this to someone. She was under no illusion that her mother hadn’t heard her screams. Elizabeth made her coffee on the mornings after the worst nights, or sent for her favourite bread from the bakery. A silent apology that would have to do, because Emily knew if her mother asked about it, if she acknowledged what her daughter had gone through, the house of cards they’d built around themselves stuck together with half-truths and platitudes would come crumbling down, “It’s always the moment when I won.”

He nods, “The knife and the forcefield,” he says, “I didn’t know what you were doing at first.” 

She hums sadly, shaking her head she repeats the words she’d heard again and again anytime she saw footage of any of the games - hers included.

“The moment a tribute becomes a Victor,” she says, doing an impersonation of Penelope that gets a smile out of him that she matches, “Not that there are any Victors,” she says, her smile fading, “Just survivors.” 

Her words are heavy in the air, laying like a cloying blanket over them, an acknowledgement that even if he won that he’d never be free trapping them in place. He eventually clears his throat and starts to stand up.

“Well, I should go back-”

“Please stay,” she says, reaching out and grabbing his wrist before she can stop herself, her basic instinct to keep him close winning out over everything else, “I…please stay.” 

He doesn’t have to think about it, he simply nods and climbs into bed next to her, careful to make sure he’s on the other side of the mattress from her, their bodies not touching as they lay next to each other. For a moment it’s awkward but he turns his head to look at her, a half smile on his face as her eyes meet his.

“I think this bed is bigger than my bedroom at home.” 

She chuckles and rests her head back on her pillow, “I will give the Capitol one thing,” she says, blowing out a shaky breath, “They sure know how to make a mattress.” 

When they wake up in the morning they are tangled together on his side of the bed, wrapped up like vines that had grown side by side, destined to become indistinguishable from one another.

___

“He needs to smile more.” 

Emily doesn’t look at Dave, doesn’t tear her eyes from the screen as she slaps his chest with one hand, the other by her mouth as she bites her cuticles, “He’s doing fine.” 

“He’s lucky he has the whole volunteering for his brother thing on his side,” Dave says as he steps closer to the TV, Aaron’s one-on-one interview with Jason Gideon, the host of the games, happening live in front of them, “Let’s be honest, not a lot of star power on that screen right now.”

“Shut up Dave,” she says, finally turning from the screen and looking at him, “He’s doing his best. I didn’t do great either.” 

He nods thoughtfully, “True. I think that was the first time they’d ever had to censor a 15-year-old on the show before.” 

She chuckles and looks back at the screen, blowing out a slow breath as she looks at the other tributes sitting behind Aaron as he speaks to Gideon, her gaze fixed on one of them in particular, “I don’t like the look of him.” 

Dave frowns as he leans in and gets a closer look, “Oh, that intense guy from four? What was his name…”

“George Foyet,” she says, turning to look at him, “He reminds me of Karl. I think he’ll get a kick out of it all.” 

“He does have that look about him,” Dave replies, watching her carefully, concern washing over him. She was clearly close to Aaron, or had been at some point, and he was worried she was setting herself up to get hurt. It hadn’t escaped his notice that Aaron’s room had been untouched for days and that Emily wasn’t screaming in the middle of the night anymore. “Bella, are you-”

“Shh,” she says, tuning back into what was being said, aware that the conversation was wrapping up. 

“So, do you have a special lady waiting back home?” Gideon asks and Aaron looks down at his hands before he looks at the camera and he shakes his head. 

“No, I used to but…” he trails off and shakes his head, “We broke up.”

“That’s a shame,” Gideon replies, leaning forward in his chair towards Aaron, “There must be someone else though, someone else you’ve had your eye on.” 

Aaron sighs and Emily swears she can see his thought process, can see him physically weighing up the pros and cons of what he was about to say, “Well, there is someone. I’ve loved her for as long as I can remember” he says, his smile tight, “But it won’t ever work.” 

“Why not?”

Aaron looks down the camera, an intensity in his eyes that, for a moment, makes Emily feel like he’s talking directly to her, “Because I came here with her.” 

She feels her breath catch in her chest as she flicks her gaze to where Kate is sitting on the stage, any vague hope she’d felt the last few days, waking up in his arms even when they fell asleep on separate parts of the bed, gone in an instant. 

“Well I’ll be damned,” Dave says, shaking his head, “Maybe he does have it in him.” 

“Yeah,” Emily says, swallowing thickly, “Maybe he does.”

___

She avoids him after the interviews, purposely changing the habits she’d formed in the time they’d been in the Capitol, and it takes him a while to find her using the tactics she’d taught him on how to track someone against her.

He finds her on the roof of the building, her elbows resting on the edge as she looks out over the city. The fireworks going off in the distance make him feel sick, the celebratory feeling in the air more akin to that of a festival rather than marking the start of the death match between children that would begin in the morning. 

“Emily?”

She turns to look at him, her smile fake, the one she always wore in front of her mother or the cameras, as their eyes meet, “Aaron, what are you doing up here?” 

“Looking for you,” he replies, walking over to join her, “You disappeared.” 

“I don’t have the privilege of being able to disappear,” she says, her grip on the wall in front of her tightening as the smell of him washes over her. He smelt different here, clean and fresh in a way that wasn’t always possible at home, the Capitol’s array of soaps something that had surprised even her and her relative privilege when she first came here. He smelt different, but there was something that was still him sneaking out from underneath, “Don’t you want to spend the evening with Kate?” 

She regrets it as soon as she asks it, pettiness winning out for a second. It could be his last night in some sense of normality before he died and she was upset because her feelings had been hurt, her unrequited love for him that had followed her everywhere her whole life making itself known at the worst possible time. She looks up at him, expecting to see the sting of her words on his face, but she’s only met with confusion.

“Kate?” He asks, and then it clicks into place, the assumption she must have made when he was speaking to Gideon, trying to win some kind of favour with the audience. He’d thought about his literature class at school, how the teacher had always told them that a love story pulled people in, and he’d thought of Emily. Thought of how her seat had been empty during that class because she’d been here in the Capitol, ready to fight for her life. He’d loved her for so long that it had felt good to admit it, even if it wasn’t the whole truth, “Oh, no. Em-”

“I’m sorry,” she says, turning to walk away, “I think I’m just tired-” she’s stopped as he grabs her shoulders and turns her to look at him, his expression intense, a hint of fierceness to it that makes her breath catch in her throat, “What-”

He cuts her off, his words falling free before he can even think about stopping them. He could be brave now. 

He might not have many chances left, 

“I wasn’t talking about her,” he says, dropping his hands from her shoulders, both of them frozen in place, “I was talking about you.” 

It’s everything she’s ever wanted to hear at the worst possible time, and her chest shudders as she lets out a choked noise somewhere between a laugh and a sob, “Me?”

“Well, I wasn’t talking about Dave,” he says, offering her a half smile that fades as she doesn’t respond to the joke, “Em-”

“Why did you never say anything?”

“You stopped talking to me,” he says, no malice in his voice, only confusion that somehow made him seem younger. 

“I was protecting you,” she says quietly, “President Barnes, she…well let's just say, the people close to Victor’s don’t always have the longest life expectancy. The entire time I was in that arena I told myself if I lived I’d tell you. I’d admit what I’d always been too scared to…but I wanted you to live and be happy,” she laughs bitterly, “Even if it was with someone else.” 

He knows her well enough to read between the lines and he steps closer, the space between them so small now he can feel her breath skip across his face, “Are you saying…”

She nods, her eyes boring straight into his, an intensity in the darkness of them he’d never seen before, “I love you too.” 

Everything shifts, everything he thought he knew suddenly different, and the lingering fear he’d felt for days about what he was about to do disappears. For a moment he feels nothing but love for her. He leans in to kiss her, drawn in by the way she’s looking at him, but she stops him, her fingers pressed against his lips as she shakes her head desperately. It physically hurts to stop him but she can’t let herself have this, can’t have a taste of him when he might die tomorrow. 

“No,” she says, the word catching in her throat, “I can’t. You’re…I’ve dreamt of this for years and I don’t think one kiss, one evening would ever be enough,” she says, her thumb still resting against his lower lip, her entire body aching to lean forward to kiss him, “I can’t spend the rest of my life desperately trying to remember what it was like to kiss you.” 

He wishes he could pretend that he didn’t understand, but he does. Any amount of time with her would never be enough. Whether it was one night or a lifetime, and if he was her, if he was the one sending her off to what could end up being her death, he knew he couldn’t do it either. That the unknown was better, that it would allow her imagination to live on after him. He tightens his hold on her, pulling her into a fierce hug so he doesn’t go against her wishes, settling for kissing the top of her head instead, for smelling her hair and the shampoo that had always been too nice for where they came from.

“How about,” he says, a hand on either side of her face as he pulls back to look at her, his thumbs catching tears as they land on her cheeks, “ If I live, I’ll take you on a date when I get back?” 

She chokes out a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob and she shakes her head as she presses her forehead against his, “Aaron…” 

He cups the back of her head and encourages her backwards again, the same smile she’d fallen in love with when she was too young to understand what it meant painted across his face, “Come on,” he says encouragingly, “Give a man going off to his death something to live for.” 

She has to bite back the tears, not wanting his last memory of her to be one full of sorrow. She blows out a shaky breath before she nods. She smiles shakily at him and wipes a tear from his face as she does so, pushing it away trying to commit the feel of his skin against hers to her memory.   

“Okay,” she says, nodding, an edge of desperation to it, “It’s a date.” 

-x-

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[heisenberg-simp257]

60, 156, 158 for Karl ❤️

I love your writing!

Thank you so much!💖

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

Simpler Times

It's easy to forget the war outside when the life you have inside has so much more to look forward to.

#60 “I made dinner for us.”

#156 “It soothes the baby when you talk/sing/tell a story to him/her/them.”

#158 “I can’t wait to hold him/her/them.”

Contrary to what people believed, Heisenberg did care about others. It's just that the spectrum of who those others were was very little. Very rarely will some human spark enough interest in him for him to even bother about their lives.

I guess you were special.

To this day you were still trying to figure out why Heisenberg kept you alive. Sure, now you guys had a relationship built on love and trust that took several years, but what started it? What was it about you that sparked interest in that unique head of his? He'll probably never say because he probably doesn't really know.

But it doesn't really matter anymore. Heisenberg was a man who moved forward without dwelling too much on the simple things of the past. And now, he had too more so than ever. Life had a meaning to him now.

You asked him to do a simple task, one that involved sorting clothes. He didn't even have to fold them. All he had to do was put the clothes in three simple piles.

Yours (fairly large).

His (pitifully small).

And the baby's (horrifyingly large).

Discovering you're going to have a kid is one thing, especially when it was never a part of your future plans, but actually prepping for said kid is a whole other level. He's never seen so many different shades of pinks and purples in his life. It made him want to vomit, even though he was actually happy at the news.

It was like a sign from above that he needed to focus more on his life instead of on the lives that caused him evil. As soon as Heisenberg got the news, he got a calendar. Then he dusted off one of his old ultrasound machine things that he used on his experiments in order to get a better look at the baby.

He may not be a doctor, but even he could tell it was a girl. So, you guys prepared for a girl. It made things more real.

And it also made it to where the Lord of Metal was sitting on a bed sorting through clothes as he cursed under his breath. If the other lords saw him now, they would surely laugh because such a simple task seemed so difficult for him. However, his misery was cut short as you called for him.

"Karl!" Hearing his first name still makes him smirk a bit, but he follows your call regardless to the kitchen. Once there, the smell of laundry was replaced by the smell of your cooking.

“I made dinner for us.” You announced, placing some plates down on the dining table. Your smile was radiating, but Heisenberg found his eyes tracing down your ever curvy figure as well, now heavy with child.

"You are a saint, you know that?" He said with a grin as he sauntered into the room, placing a kiss on your cheek.

"You tell me a lot, so yes." You giggled as you gently maneuvered yourself around the kitchen to finish setting up, him helping you. He looked a bit tired, but nothing new about that.

"Did you get everything done?" You asked, referring to the task you gave him while you made dinner. Heisenberg chuckled to himself as you guys finished setting up.

"I don't know how you do it all. You are one hell of a woman." He complimented and you blushed.

"In more ways than one." He added, eyes looking farther away as a slight smile came to his face. Absentmindedly, your hand went to caress your baby bump, a smile coming to your face as well.

“I can’t wait to hold her.” You mused, picturing your daughter already in your head. However, Heisenberg's smile vanished a bit as another thought came to mind. Your smile left your face as well when you noticed his solemness.

"Karl...what's wrong?" You asked gently, reaching over as best you could to grab his hand. Dinner could wait at the moment.

"I'm just...afraid. You're so soft and gentle while I'm...not." He admitted his fears to you, something that took forever to accomplish. His thumb gently stroked your knuckles as he took a deep breath.

You nodded.

"It's okay...to be afraid. It's all so new to both of us." You tried to comfort him, but he just scoffed a bit.

"Yeah...I just don't want her to be afraid of me." Heisenberg admitted with a side eye. You squeezed his hand lovingly.

"You won't. You want to know why?" You asked with a small smile. He looked up at you, seemingly confused before nodding a bit.

You reached over to grab his other hand and place it on your belly.

“It soothes the baby when you talk to her.” You stated, smiling lovingly at the man who helped you create a miracle.

He looked lost for a bit before the baby kicked slightly against his palm. For a moment, he was shocked, but then a wide grin broke out on his face.

"Really? You like listening to your old man?" Heisenberg cooed, an unnatural sight, as he rubbed your belly lovingly. It made you blush and your heart swell.

Against everything in his life, Heisenberg finally found something to be happy about. You just hoped that he wouldn't overthink things in the future.

It's nice to hear him talk to your unborn child more often.

The war outside rages, but inside his home, he has found closure.

[spooky-circuits]

How do you think Branch's meeting with JD went?

Meeting John Dory was a complete lucky accident they didn’t have any clues to where he would be so the chances of finding him were low. The kids stumble onto Rhonda while John is out gathering supplies. She’s friendly so everyone is excited to treat her like a big pet she especially seems to like Branch for some reason after smelling him. Creek makes a joke about how he’s surprised anyone could like Branch more after smelling him (they’ve been in the woods for weeks it’s a bit of a given)

This is when they noticed a door on her side. Oh she must be a transport critter that means someone might live here. There’s some debate on if they should try going inside before they decide to actually see if it’s even locked or not.

It isn’t why would JD even think he would need to out in the middle of nowhere. Being able to go inside quickly is important to his survival out here.

The inside is very homey with the exception of a couple conspiracy boards hanging around covered in Brozone memorabilia. Some of this stuff is original prints where did this person even get these! At this point the Branch is standing there like

And there’s a voice behind them going “Whoever’s in there better get out here right now!”

John Dory comes back from gathering sticks for tonights fire to see Rhonda’s door wide open with Rhonda looking at him glad that he’s returned. He doesn’t know what to expect so he pulls out his machete and hopes he sounds threatening enough to be taken seriously. You can imagine his shock when group of teenagers are the ones to pour out of Rhonda looking nervous. He feels a bit bad for scaring them when one of the funk trolls says. “Oh no! The old Mountain hobo is gonna kill us!” Which okay fair. This looks bad but he’s only 32 the old comment is uncalled for! “Okay first of all not old! Second I’m not going to hurt a bunch of kids so calm down.”

Branch is staring at this scruffy old guy with a knife when he recognizes the goggles he’s wearing. “John Dory?” John looks at him almost startled to hear his own name in so long. “Uh yeah? Do I know you from somewhere? You look familiar I just can’t place it.” For some reason the rest of the group keeps looking back and forth between them like they’re expecting something to happen. Is that popcorn? The kid is looking at him incredulously and says. “Seriously man? Why don’t you take a guess?”

John is taking in this kid who look so similar to pictures he has hanging all over in Rhonda. He almost can’t believe the conclusion he’s coming too. “Bitty B?” He can’t believe it his baby brother is actually alive!

Branch looks like he’s about to make sarcastic comment and maybe tell JD he’s just Branch now but he’s cut off by being squeezed into one of the tightest bear hugs of his life. He’s patting John frantically on the arm to let him know he needs to breath.

[little-bumblebeeee]

Moonlight - part 6

Steve's turn

Word count - 1.8k

Part 5 part 4 part 3 part 2 part 1

Steve's always been a good kid. Other than his bottom of the barrel grades, he's been good at sports, instruments, he's easy on the eyes.. he's a dream. Other than the one small fact he's a werewolf. The fact isn't quite small when he thinks about it.

When he was 7 years old, he saw what he thought was a stray dog in his backyard, a big one, like the one his neighbor used to have. He should've known. Should've listened suring summer camp when that counselor told stories of werewolves, should've ran away as fast as he could.

But he didn't. Instead he spent that next month in the hospital, trying to recover from his almost fatal injuries while nurses poked and prodded at him and doctors ran their tests. He still remembers their cold tools and rough hands, their strange smelling gloves and the fear in their eyes when they looked at him, as if they were looking at a monster. And he doesn't blame them. Never did. Because ever since then on the full moon he's been a beast. There are urban legends around the town just about him, about how if you encounter him in the woods during a full moon he'll rip you to shreds and keep you alive for the whole thing, or that he eats babies or something– which he doesn't. He doesn't even hunt rabbits. He just lets himself starve, he's never wanted to hurt something, especially something that never stood a chance against him.

And then that shit with the Upside Down happens, just when he thinks he's finally getting close to Eddie. He doesn't want to spread this to him and rope him in on this. Sure, they're not friends, but they still end up finding each other, not to mention Steve having to patch himself up and deciding to do it at Eddie's place.

So, he avoids the boy again. He watches himself grow more and more pale and gaunt each passing month, the scars on his body seeming like they're spreading. He hasn't been eating or sleeping much, usually getting his rest during class, meaning his grades slip drastically before he graduates, to the point where he barely scrapes by.

And when he meets Robin, she fills a gap in his heart, a piece of himself he didn't know he was missing. She also makes him realize a lot, about the world around him and about himself.He wasn't just friends with Tommy, he didn't want to be just friends with Eddie either.

"I didn't realize you could do that." Steve murmurs when Robin says she liked Tammy Thompson, letting his head thump against the wall.

"Are you serious? Do you not pay attention to the world around you, like, at all?" Robin says with a chuckle, bumping her knee against his. But her smile goes away when Steve runs a hand through his hair, wincing as his fingers run over the wound on his scalp. "Steve?"

"Hm?"

"We're okay, right?"

"Of course we are.. I'm just thinking. About me." Steve says softly, staring up at the ceiling, which he realizes has more stains than the floor. Gross. Robin tilts her head a bit at him, narrowing her eyes as if trying to see into his brain.

"Like what?" She asks, picking at her chipped nail polish as it scrapes onto the floor in maroon colored dust.

"Like.. I always thought we were just best friends– me and Tommy H... But now it all seems different, looking back. I mean, friends don't do what we did. You and I are friends, and I'd.. we'd never. Not at all." Steve says quietly, barely even parting his lips. Robin grimaces, not even wanting to think about what Steve and Tommy could've done to the point Steve thinks they were more than just friends. Everything is different now. The way he had looked at Eddie, the way he thought of him, of his gaze and his hands and his words– the way he'd say his name. It was all so different. So new and amazing.

"You know Eddie Munson? He showed up sometimes and got a plain strawberry cone?" Steve asks and Robin nods slightly, having a feeling where this is going. She slides down the wall a little more, her shoes squeaking on the tile. "Yeah, I know Eddie. He stepped on my sandwich one time." Steve sighs, running a hand through his hair once more. He doesn't even need to say it, Robin just knows.

"Oh." She says softly, echoing exactly Steve's tone from earlier. "Mhm. Oh."

"You could have better taste. I mean, c'mon, Eddie? He's like, three raccoons in a trenchcoat. I saw him eating a can of Spaghetti-O's behind the school one time." Robin says, making Steve laugh, his head falling back again and bumping back against the stall wall, a move he immediately regrets with the way his head now throbs.

"I like that, though.. I can't explain it. I like everything about him. I guess I just like him." He says with a growing smile. He really should've realized sooner, but he supposes now isn't the worst time. Eddie is.. everything. He's everything, simple as that. If others could see Eddie the way Steve sees Eddie, he'd rule the world.

That's when Dustin and Erica burst in, seeing the two almost adults on the ground, laughing at nothing. The rest is a little blurry to Steve, hard to remember and somewhat painful, but it's like he blinks and he's sitting in the back of an ambulance, bright lights and sirens filling the warm July night. Beneath his pounding skull and ringing ears, he hears someone ask him a question.

"Is there a number we can call for you? Someone to pick you up?"

He doesn't quite know who asked it, but his mind goes right to one person, and he hardly takes a breath before rattling off the number he knows by heart. The number that leads to that yellow phone on the wall of the trailer. He knows Wayne is at work, but Eddie might be home. It only takes the boy about 7 minutes to get to the mall, rushing towards the ambulances, somehow immediately finding Steve as if pulled in by a magnet.

"Jesus... Steve, you're okay, right? Are you okay?" He pants out, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he sees Steve, still in his stupid sailor uniform, absolutely beat to a pulp with nothing but a thin blanket around him.

"I've been better." Steve says with a shrug. He feels that skip in his heart, which he's felt before but not to this degree, not at all. It's all for Eddie, he realizes. Every beat of his heart and breath in his lungs, and maybe he's getting ahead of himself but that's just how he feels.Eddie puts his hands on either side of Steve's face, tilting his head to see all of his injuries. "What happened to you..?" He asks, his throat bobbing as he gulps. Steve really can't help but smile as he feels the boy's touch.

"It's a long story, and I don't really feel like shortening it at the moment." He says with a small smile, unintentionally leaning into Eddie's touch before he pulls his hands away to take a step back. Eddie takes a deep breath, fidgeting with his rings.

"C'mon." He says quietly, nodding towards his van. Steve hasn't actually been inside of it before, having to kick away a soda can at his feet, which Eddie quickly tosses to the back. Steve really can't help but notice the little things– things that he himself would do if he were to try and impress someone if he was Eddie. The way Eddie makes his van look somewhat clean so Steve doesn't think little of him, cracking the windows so the smell of weed isn't so strong, turning his loud music down as not to irritate Steve's pounding skull nor his sick stomach.

"The trailer is a bit of a mess– I know you don't care, I just.. you know." Eddie says with a small shrug, running a hand over his face. Steve doesn't even care that he's staring, hours ago he thought he was going to die, he wants to stare at a pretty face while he still can. He's not going to say anything any time soon, but he will eventually. Eventually. Even if eventually never comes, he'll be happy as long as he gets to be near Eddie. Near this boy that actually seems to care for him. He's drumming his fingers on the steering wheel as he drives, a habit Steve has notices. He's always tapping his fingers against something, whether it's his desk or his thighs or, obviously, the steering wheel. Steve doesn't think he's ever been this content to just sit next to someone, music playing quietly as the streetlights pass. Eddie keeps glancing over, clearly worried, but Steve is just smiling.

"You're sure you're okay?" Eddie asks, and Steve just nods a little. "I feel a lot better than I look. I think it's those pills they gave me before you came and got me."

Eddie still looks worried however, and stays practically stuck to Steve as he cleans himself up, scrubbing the blood off his skin before realizing that the bathroom sink probably isn't doing much.

"You mind if I take a shower?" He asks, and Eddie shakes his head. "No.. no, go ahead. Water might be cold at first, you have to turn the hot water all the way and wait for a minute so it heats up." He explains, still looking a bit shaken up.

When Steve gets out, there's a pair of sweatpants and a shirt waiting for him, both clearly Eddie's. He slips them on, looking at himself in the mirror, at how they fit a bit differently on him than they'd fit Eddie. They're the same height, but very obviously different builds. The clothes smell like detergent, but also something else. Something oh so clearly Eddie, to the point that the smell is still there even when the clothes are clean. It makes Steve feel a bit weird about himself, the fact he's smelling clothes because they smell like Eddie, but he hardly even notices he's doing it.

He likes this boy, its true, more than he's liked anybody ever.

This is gonna hurt Steve in the end, isn't it?

But what if there is no end? What if there's actually no beginning? Neither of them truly know what's going to happen, nobody does, especially with the Upside Down existing with a bunch of 13 year olds and about four 18 year olds being the only ones who know about it.

Steve sits down on the couch just a little bit away from Eddie, both of them quiet in the moment. Eventually Steve might say something. Maybe it will be on one of their death beds or over a grave, maybe it will be in a year or a day, maybe it will never happen. He doesn't know.

But until then he'll savor this as much as he can.

Tag list (open!): @manda-panda-monium @gregre369 @she-collects-smut @irregular-child @oatmilk-vampire @cartercaptainofthemoon @fairytalesreality @jhrc666

[aritsukemo]

Paradise | Chapter Four - Final Selection | KNY

Summary: It's finally time for the Final Selection Process!

Warnings: Demons. In-depth descriptions of someone being eaten. Mold is used to describe the Hand demon so all my mycophobic folks beware! Cannabalism mentioned. Mentions of death in multiple instances so, with all that said, read with caution!

A/N: I somehow managed to force myself to finish the final draft of this chapter so I was like, why not post it? May be the last chapter for a while since school's starting back up, but hold that with a grain of salt. I'll try my best to work around my schedule and get another chapter out asap! <3

Taglist: @overluvsick, @nursedflowers, @jspidey5 + anyone who wants to be tagged! <3

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"Thanks to my training with Makomo, I've learned to detect the opening thread. It's the reason I won my fight with Sabito."

 "When I'm battling someone and I pick up the scent, then I can see the thread. The thread is connected from my blade to my oppenent's opening, growing taut the instant I see it. My blade is drawn towards it with great force and when close enough, I slash at the opening.."

I stand there, awestruck as I stare at the boulder which is now sliced in half before me. I couldn't wrap my head around how this happened, "Where did Sabito and Makomo go? I cut Sabito's mask in half, so how did the boulder get cut?" Many questions swarmed in my head, but as I got a whiff of Mr. Urokodaki's scent, I quickly put them aside and turned around.

As I thought, Mr. Urokodaki was walking up to me. It's been so long since I've had a talk with him since I usually passed out as soon as I got home and woke up really early to come out here. That said, I didn't know what to say and in the end, all I could do was mumble out his name, "Mr. Urokodaki.."

He makes it to me at last, but walks past me, stopping when he's in front of the boulder. He stares at it for a moment before he said in that gruff voice of his, "I never intended on sending any of you to Final Selection," And my heart dropped. So this was all for nothing? That thought crossed my mind, but before it could sink in, Mr. Urokodaki continued and I noticed the scent of sadness mix in with his usual scent as he said, "I didn't want to see children die anymore.."

 "I was sure neither of you would be able to slice your boulders, especially you.." And I suddenly felt his hand in my hair, "..But you did great. Well done, my boy!"

The way he said those words made him sound his age, like an old man praising their grandchild for walking for the first time. But as he stood there with his hand still in my hair and told me, "Tanjiro, you're a remarkable kid," All that he reminded me of was my father. He reminded me of my dad and I didn't realize it until he pulled me into his arms that I had started crying.

 "Make sure you and the girls come back from Final Selection alive," He muttered in my ear as I felt his cheek against my head. Similar to a parent hugging their kid who's about to go on some long trip away from home to sell goods, "Both your sister and I will be waiting for you three here."

As my arms raised and I hugged him back and buried my face into his shoulder, I found myself thanking the gods above for my mentor who's holding me in his arms. I'm glad I made that decision back on then. It was definitely the right choice..

Third Person Pov

The crackling of fire and the low gurgling of vegatables boiling was the sounds that filled the hut that night. All eyes were on the food. Tanjiro gawked noisely, his cherry colored hues blown wide like his mouth. Sumiko sat beside him after previously being dragged out of the room they slept in by the intoxicating smell. She had a dank-colored book cuddled close to her chest and she stared at every bit of food with hungry eyes, drool had even began peaking from the corner of her lips—the sight was like staring at a demon who had just set its sights on a human after not seeing one in years. 

Y/n seemed to be the only one not showing her surprise or hunger on her face. As she sat in the middle of her siblings and Urokodaki, she stared down at the food; her otherwise dim eyes lit under the fire's glow. They were distant, as if what was right before her was miles away and her lips were nailed into a thin straight line that hadn't left her face since she had returned to the hut. Her hand had found place fiddling and she mindlessly had one of her fingers pushing up against the nail of her middle finger—not using nearly enough force to hurt herself or pop it off, of course. Nevertheless, her otherwise lost in thought, slightly troubled-looking expression had lost it's edge a long time ago when the first grumble sounded from her empty stomach.

In short, she looked like an anxious little kid in the eyes of her mentor and he and the other two ultimately didn't pay her much mind.

 "What's the occasion? There's so much," Tanjiro finally asked, his voice matching his expression as he broke his gaze away from the food boiling in the pot to Urokodaki, who had a wooden bowl in hand.

 "You all have completed your training so we're celebrating," His mentor said as he scooped up some of the food with the ladle and dumped it into the bowl. His voice laced with this cheeriness that was unusual to their ears. Now with the bowl in his hand steaming and filled, he lifts it up to Tanjiro and says, "Don't be shy. Eat to your heart's content."

Tanjiro perks up, smiling widely as he takes the bowl from him, "Thank you very much!"

Sumiko's to follow, her eyes gleaming as she watches Urokodaki's every movement. When the next bowl is finally filled, she immediately reaches for it, having long since set her book aside. And, as soon as it's in her hands, she uses her chopsticks and shoves some food in her mouth, mid-chew as she finally mumbles out a muffled, "Thank you."

 "Sumiko, that was rude," Tanjiro scolds, voice light yet tone stern just like his mother would do to his other younger siblings, "You shouldn't talk with your mouth full like that."

Shoving more food into her mouth, she nods. And this time, she quickly chews the food in her mouth, swallows it, and then replies with a small, "Sorry.."

 "It's alright. I don't mind," Urokodaki said, lifting a bowl in Y/n's direction. She blinks as if she was surprised, but soon takes the bowl out of his hands, muttering a low, "Thanks.."

Idle chatter filled the room after that. With Tanjiro being the main speaker as he hopped topics. From talking about how good the food is to praising his sister for being able to slice her boulder in only half a year to which she brushed it off before changing the subject altogether. Sumiko was too busy stuffing her face to add any commentary, but she listened intently to every word that left her older siblings' lips.

Urokodaki watched all three of them in silence, taking in every expression they made no matter how miniscule. He milked in their faces as if it was the last thing he'd be able to do, all while thinking unspoken words he found ill-suited to speak aloud, lest he wanted to ruin what possibly could be their last moment of peace.

 "There's nothing more I can do for you all. From here on out, you three will be put through such hardship and strife that your training will seem like nothing in comparison. So for now, at least, I hope you're able to rest well tonight without a care in the world.."

Snip. Snip. Snip. Burgundy-tipped hair falls gingerly onto futon sheets with every slice that echoes through the room. Tanjiro has his hands in his hair, snipping away at the excessively long strands. He struggles just a tad. Every snip with the scissors don't always slice, but he manages relatively well on his own. Even so, Y/n found herself walking up to him anyways..

 "Give me those," She said, tone dull to avoid sounding unnecessarily pointed. Tanjiro's face morphs into one of surprise before a smile of gratitude crosses his expression. 

 "Thanks," He tells her, and Y/n merely hums at him, moving behind him as soon as he places the bulky pair of scissors in her hand.

Sumiko sits against the wall closest to the door. One glance at her could tell you how focused she was. Her thin brows scrunched a little and creased her skin, her lips were glued in a thin line, and her starlight pupils darted along the page of the book she had propped up against her knees. Her grayish blues would pause occasionally upon spotting a rather difficult word and her expression would harden only to ease up when she finally gets past said word. It was a fairly normal sight to others, but Tanjiro and Y/n found themselves glancing over at her more than once that night.

Even after two years, seeing her so concentrated on something felt like being pulled into a lake by an unsuspecting and strong wave; it was befuddling and bewildering if they were to be so blunt.

 "Hey, Tanjiro, Y/n, Sumiko," A simple call from their mentor had all three of them pausing what they were doing to look over and give their full attention to him.

Tanjiro was the one who spoke up for them, asking, "Yes?" to which Urokodaki asked his own question, "Did you enjoy that hot pot?"

Their expressions softened in their own ways. With a wide smile stretching on Tanjiro's face, Sumiko nodding her head in silence despite facing his back--that thin line her lips made loosening and quirking up a little, and Y/n's face growing lax.

 "Yeah, it was really good!" Tanjiro said, his voice giving away his ear-to-ear expression to the point that Urokodaki could perfectly depict what his face looked like without so much as glancing his way, "We haven't had a feast like that in ages!"

 "Growing boys and girls like yourselves with hearty appetites will surely get stronger and grow bigger the more they eat," Urokodaki said only to then follow up with, "But the same goes for demons," which has all three of their faces dropping and or hardening in unison.

 "Remember this. A demon is as strong as the number of humans they've devoured," He tells them to which Tanjiro immediately asks, "So, the more they eat, the stronger they get?"

 "That's right," And Urokodaki gets up, revealing the clothing folded at his feet—one top in particular bearing the cloudy patterns and light blue color that resembled Urokodaki's.

 "Tanjiro, when your sense of smell grows keener, you especially will be able to tell how many humans a demon's consumed," He walks past the clothes and up to the wooden wardrobe, sliding the top half open to reveal some masks laying flat. He grabs them, stacking two on top of each other before grabbing the last one and staring down at it. He then turns on his heel and walks up to Tanjiro and Y/n.

Starting with Tanjiro and ending with Sumiko, Urokodaki hands off each of their respective masks. All three masks were made from the same material and shaped the same to resemble a fox. Each mask, however, bore distinct features and varied in color to better match and take after their suitor. Tanjiro stared down at his mask, which was patterned in red and had a sun painted in the corner by the ear.

 "What's this?" Tanjiro was, again, the spokesperson for the three of them. Urokodaki didn't mind it, answering him, "These are warding mask. I've charged each of them with a spell to protect you from harm."

 "Warding masks, huh.. Thank you."

The next morning came with the sun just barely peeking over the mountains, causing it's intruding yellow tinge to mix with the retreating grayish blue that the moon had left in it's wake.

Tanjiro stood in the main room of the hut, hair now cut shorter and his torso covered in the familiar blue waves and cloud patterns as his mentor. As he finished tying it, the door to the room next to Nezuko's slid open, revealing his two sisters behind it. Unlike Tanjiro, the two were dressed in their own garbs. Both of which, however, adorned their masks just like him with Sumiko being the odd one out and having hers hanging on her hip instead of her head like her siblings.

They all share knowing glances and Tanjiro nods his head at them. Despite no words being exchanged, they walk up to the door of the room Nezuko resides in and slides it open..

The same sight greets them just as it has been these past two years; Nezuko is laid out, unmoving on that same futon with her eyes closed. Even now, she was still fast asleep with no sign of ever waking up.

Tanjiro is the first to enter the room, his eyes glued to his unconscious sister as he crouched down. He called her name in a low hum with so much love and care that one could possibly mistake him for a heartbroken poet, "Nezuko.."

He laced his rough fingers with her her softer ones before bringing his other hand to cup around the back of her hand. He then lifts it up to level with his forehead and bows his head, all while whispering, "We're coming back for you no matter what, all right?" At this point, Sumiko had long since sat by his side, her hands clasped together and her head bowed as she silently said her own prayers.

Y/n was the only one on her feet, standing by the door as she stared down at Nezuko with a distant look in her eyes. Her pupils swirled with emotion, none of which were caused by or directed at the sleeping demon. Her gaze shifted at some point to Tanjiro and Sumiko's backsides and never left that sight even when they said their goodbyes and stood to their feet. The reason behind her intense gaze was unknown to all but her and she kept that reason locked behind imaginary iron bars, never to escape..

Y/n stepped aside as Sumiko and Tanjiro turned to face her way, her eyes closed. She let Sumiko walk past her, but before Tanjiro could do the same, she grabbed him by the shoulder. He blinked, surprised, and turned his head to look at her for answers for the sudden grab.

Her gaze never met his. They didn't even look up to glance at his face and because of her hair—that stubbornly shielded the sides of her face like a curtain—he couldn't even begin to decipher her facial expression. The heartbreaking aroma of fear that clung to her gave him some idea, although every one that came to mind bothered him greatly.

 "Hey.." He was already frowning. Her voice is soft. Too soft. As if she feared raising her voice for whatever reason. Or, it was if she feared what she'd give away if she did, "Are you..really sure you want to go through with this? Are you sure you want to enter that kind of world and shatter what little happiness you have left?"

Tanjiro decided not to question why she excluded herself. He wants to, he's desperate to, wanting nothing more than to get so much as a glimpse into her world. Wanting nothing more than to see life through her eyes for even just a moment if it meant he'd be even a step closer to being able to truly understanding her. 

..But would asking her be the right move? He never knows the answer to that when it comes to her. Would throwing questions at her and putting a bit of pressure on her make her break and spill everything to him? No, Y/n has never been so fragile. It's more likely of her to simply not answer or throw whatever she can at him to throw him over the wrong edge so that there'd be a mountain of distance between them that would take him years to climb up..

But is even that true? That raises the question; what is true about her?

He'll ask. Not today, but one day, he will. Until then, he has to continue climbing and reaching out to her and grasping at thin ropes while praying they don't snap under his weight. He has to be slow and patient and take his time so that when the day finally comes, she'll reach out to him, grab his hand, and help him up the rest of the way.

 "I do," He finally answers her, "I have to. For Nezuko's sake."

 "Right," She whispers back. Tanjiro watches her let out a heavy sigh, "Forget I said anything then," And then, she gently kicks herself off the wall she was leaning on and Tanjiro moves out of her way so that she could walk through the door.

One day, he'll get her to grab his hand. For now though, he needs to focus on what's right in front of him; the Final Selection process.

 "Don't worry about your sister. I'll take good care of her," Urokodaki said. The three of them were outside with him now, ready to depart from the hut they've called home for the past two years. The hut that they're are all praying to return back to.

 "All right! Thank you so much! We'll be going, then!" With that smily thanks from Tanjiro, they all began running, "Bye, Mr. Urokodaki!" They're figures grow smaller in seconds with how fast they're running. Just as they get to the dip that signals the true starting point of their descent, Tanjiro stops and looks back. He raises his hand, making Urokodaki believe he was about to shout yet another goodbye. But instead, he shouts, "Give my thanks to Sabito and Makomo for me!"

Urokodaki pauses mid-wave, his hand froze in place in the air. Tanjiro's figure is swallowed as he finally runs down the trail to catch up with Y/n and Sumiko. Urokodaki continues staring, hand slowly lowering to chin level and still open as if he was about to raise it again and give another wave. His mask was the same angry expression as always which would make one possibly believe that in this moment, he was enraged. However, that wasn't the case. And, if Tanjiro was still here, he'd be able to tell by a simple whiff that his words had left his mentor in bewildered shock.

 "Tanjiro.. How do you know the names of those deceased children?" 

First Person, Tanjiro's Pov

By the time we reached the mountain and made our way to the top, the cresent moon was out and the sky was painted a dark, grayed blue and was filled with clouds that swirled around in a way that gave an almost ominous vibe. Looking up at it on the way up made me a little nervous, but then once I got to the top, that feeling blew away with the gentle breeze.

As we walked, it felt like we were entering a whole new world. Everywhere you looked, there were trees with twisting roots that led a trail up it's length to the wisteria that hung and showed off it's beauty in varying lengths of its own. There were so many, all so large and full of life that it completely covered the unwelcoming sky above and painted everything around us in this gorgeous light violet tint. As pleasant as it was, it was certainly a surprise. Kinda like walking outside expecting for rain to cool you off in a heatwave but instead getting snow.

 "Look at all of this," I said as I paused and reached my hand out to carress the petals of the tree closest to me, "Even though they're out of season, they all seem to be thriving just fine."

 "Mount Fujikasane grows these wisteria trees year-round. The same can't be said for the entire mountain, though. The higher we go, you'll eventually stop seeing them," I would've maybe expected that response from Y/n, but to hear Sumiko say that was surprising. I wasn't alone. I could tell Y/n was as caught off guard as I am by the way she stops walking and tilts her head to glance back at her. 

 "How do you know that?" She asked, but it sounded oddly aggressive. Or maybe it's just because I haven't heard her really speak in a while—with all three of us having done our own thing for the past year and all. In the end, I brushed it off and turned to look at Sumiko, waiting for her to answer Y/n's question.

She does, her voice gentle and speech as smooth as the petals in my grasp as she simply said, "I read about it."

I perk up at this, "So is that what you were reading about all this time?" I retract my hand, my smile growing even though all she gives me in the end is a silent nod.

In such a short amount of time, she's grown so much that it's hard to believe she couldn't walk or talk at all a few years ago. I'm relieved that she's seemed to have recovered so much.

 "We should just be glad that these flowers are here and that we won't have to worry about anything like a sudden attack just yet," Y/n said. It left me a little puzzled. Were these flowers more special than what I knew? Before I could ask, Y/n had already began walking again and making her way up to the large stone stairs that led up the mountain. Me and Sumiko had no choice but to follow after her.

As we reached the top, I found myself stopping to gawk at the sight before me before I even made it to the top of the steps. There were so many people, all of which had a sword on their hips—most of which baring hardened and dirtied faces caused by grueling training surely.

I began walking again, head turning to get a good look of everyone I walk past. Each had their own scent, all of which were impressive in their own right. Not only that, but their appearances spoke so much, each giving me a small insight of what they went through.

It's nothing like the village I grew up in.

 "Everyone," I pause, turning my head to the direction of the voices to see two little girls. They were identical in appearance aside from their hair which were different colors—the one on the left having black hair darker than the forest at night while the other has hair as white as a snow bunny.

 "We thank you for coming here tonight," They said in unison. Their voices blended together perfectly to the point it sounded like a singular, layered voice, "To the Demon Slayer Corps Final Selection."

The girl with the snow hair spoke alone, her voice sounding thin now without her twin to back her up, "There are demons imprisoned here on Mt. Fujikasane which have been captured alive by the Demon Slayer swordsmen. They are unable to leave."

Then her twin spoke, her voice sounding the same, "That is because wisteria, which demons hate so much, blooms year-round from the bottom to halfway up the mountain."

The white-haired girl spoke again, "However, there is no wisteria from this point on and so demons abound."

The black haired girl spoke, "You'll need to survive here for seven days to pass Final Selection," They then spoke in unison once again, "And now, be on your way," And they bowed their head at us.

It was finally time. The moment of truth. I was ready for anything, but apparently Y/n wasn't because she grabbed me by my shoulder, stopping me from walking.

People walked by us, but I gave her my full attention in that moment. I had to—lest I wanted to miss little details that could help me understand the true intentions behind whatever she says.

 "It's never too late to back down," She said, "And it won't make you a coward for prioritizing your life."

That when I felt it—the slight tremor in her palm. Her hand was trembling. And her scent..she's scared. Y/n, who took on a mother boar by herself once when we were younger after Shigeru accidentally angered it by touching it's baby, was scared. I could feel my heart clenching in my chest. It was odd, it hurt. Seeing her—who I grew up believing was the bravest girl in the world—so frightened felt like a jab in the chest. A jab that turned into a full blow stab when I realized I was the cause of it..

Brows knitted together, I reach up and grab her hand which still rested, shaking on my shoulder. I peel it off and hold it in my hand, turning my body in her direction as my other hand comes up to cup the other side of her hand. With both hands, I gave her hand a firm squeeze and looked her in her eyes.

 "I'm sorry, but I can't give up. Not until Nezuko's turned back into a human," I said to her, probably sounding like a broken record at this point, but it was necessary. She needed to know how important this was and I'm willing to say it as many times as I have to until she does.

She's probably noticed that she's shaking because she took her hand away from mine and balled it into a fist. Her eyes leave mine and I noticed it travel over to Sumiko, who stood beside us. They locked eyes, but it only last a few seconds before Y/n  broke eye contact with her and let out a sigh.

 "Guess I have no choice then as well.. Just..don't die, please," I couldn't help the surprised look that washed over me or the way my eyes widened to further show it. I've..never heard her sound like that. Sounding so..what would I even describe this as? Anxious? Hopeless? Desperate? None of those seem to exactly fit the bill, but it's the closest words I can think of to describe that cracked whisper that slipped from her lips.

 "I won't," I tell her, mustering up every bit of confidence in my body and continued, "I promise," I could see Sumiko nodding along in my peripheral vision, her silent agreement to do the same. It made any nerves that may have been bubbling inside me disappear.

 "..Let's go," I said, walking after the last couple of people who just passed us.

We will pass this Final Selection process no matter what's thrown at us. I'll show Y/n how capable I am and put her mind at ease. I'll become a Demon Slayer and find a cure for Nezuko. No matter what!

Third Person Pov

 "Survive for seven days.. That's all I'm going to think about," Tanjiro thought to himself, left hand firm on his sheath. As the three of them ran through the forest, the only sound filling his ears being the loud crunch of grass as it was trampled under their feet and the sound of his steady breathing.

 "First, we have to survive the night," They pause at a rock—Tanjiro in particular crouching against it—as they took a moment to look around, "Once the sun comes up, the demons won't be able to do anything so we can rest then."

 "Let's head east," He said, thinking, "We'll make our way to where the sunlight will hit first!" With a nod of their heads, Tanjiro stands to his feet and the three of them begin running once again.

A sharp, blood curdling scream echoes across the forest. Sumiko falters, so does Tanjiro which causes Y/n to ultimately come to a stop as well.

 "Don't get shaken up, we can't stay in one place for long," She said to them, "Let's— Hey!" Mid sentence, Sumiko had taken off in the direction of the scream to which her older brother shouted, "Sumiko!"

 "Don't split up, idiot!" Y/n screamed after her as her sister's figure grew smaller with every passing second, "Do you want to die that badly? Get your ass back here!"

As a curse was breathed through Y/n's clenched teeth, a thought crossed Tanjiro's mind, "Someone's in trouble. Even if this is a test, it'd be wrong to do nothing," He turns his head over to Y/n, saying, "We should follow her and help out."

And just as he began running, he forced his body to stop, his feet sliding against the pavement. His other hand immediately latched onto his sword's handle just as Y/n did the same.

 "This smell..a demon's nearby!" Tanjiro thought, his head darting left and right as did Y/n's.

The forest was eerily quiet. Their breaths hitched and stilled in their throat, scared to do as much as even breath in fear of missing any slight change or noise around them. Y/n's steps were careful and faint as she crept backwards, stopping when she felt the heat radiating off of Tanjiro's body. Silence filled the area again. Not so much as a breeze could be heard—or maybe that could be a result of their eardrums going numb from holding their breath for so long..

 "Where is it? Where's it coming from?" Tanjiro thought, a murky scent actively invading his nose from all directions, "I can't pinpoint the direction of the scent!"

 "Sense it! Sense it!" Y/n thoughts screamed at her as her narrowed gaze burned into everything she looked at, "Don't give it a chance to surprise you! Find and dispose of the threat quickly so that you can go and find Sumiko!" 

Then a sharp scent, and an even sharper presence, has them looking up in unison.

 "Above!" Y/n thought at the same time Tanjiro asked, "From above?"

In that instance, a demon emerged from the leaves of a tree, it's figure shrouded in darkness as it lept and came charging down from the sky at a rapid pace. The two went in opposite directions to dodge—Tanjiro barreling out of the way whilst Y/n takes a large jump backwards in the nick of time. A thick cloud of dust kicks up immediately upon the demon's rough landing and as the dust begins to clear, Tanjiro uses the time to regain his footing by rolling to his feet.

The dust clears, revealing the demon in all of it's monstrousness. It's in an awkward position, it's enlongated tongue sticking out and veins covering every inch of it's skin and leading up it's arms, which were disfigured and sharpened like a blade.

Then, a slightly different smell nicks Tanjiro's nose. He turns around just in time to see another demon above him, claws raised and ready to sink into his flesh. Tanjiro whips out his sword as the demon slashes down causing them to meet at a point and clash. There's barely a second of struggle before Tanjiro's forced away in one direction.

 "Damn you!" The longer, blue haired demon cursed before immediately charging at the shorter, brown haired demon that had just attacked Tanjiro—who had long slid to a stop after being flung.

 "Don't even try to grab my prey! I saw 'em first!" It said as it struggled against the brown-haired demon's claws.

 "Get off my turf damnit!" It replied back to which the blue haired one replied immediately, "The hell with you! Just beat it!"

The fact that they were fighting over him like a piece of meat was quickly smushed and pushed to the back of Tanjiro's mind. He needs to focus! Use the opportunity to kill them!

But can he? "Two of them from the get-go? Can I take them?" He found himself wondering as the demons had their back and forth in front of him.

 "That's my prey!" The blue-haired demon yelled.

 "Shut up!" The brown-haired one shouted back before charging forward, screaming, "It's first come, first served!"

He leaps into the air, forcing the other to follow suit. Ravaneous and out for blood, both demons come charging at Tanjiro with the intent on devouring any and every morsel of flesh and blood they can get their hands on.

Tanjiro gasps, moves hesitant as he brings his sword upwards to block. The brown haired demon's claws slide against his blade before colliding with the ground behind Tanjiro. The blue haired demon has the perfect opportunity to claim his prize, but he's immediately swatted back. The chance arose and the brown haired demon used it to kick at Tanjiro as he jumps back. He flies for a moment before his feet plant on the ground and he slides until he kills his momentum entirely, kicking up a bit of dust at his feet in the process.

Sweat beads all over Tanjiro's face and his mouth is open, taking in gulps of air at a time. His heart beats like a playing drum in his chest, causing his chest to feel uncomfortably light after the realization strikes him; he could've died just now.

 "I'm okay, no need to panic!" He tells himself in a quick attempt to calm his nerves. Now's not the time to have a panic attack after all, "Just need to calm down and watch their movements! Remember the training!"

The demon's charge at him once again, the brown-haired one saliviating—which is swept away by the wind produced from how fast he's speeding towards Tanjiro—as he screams, "It's been ages since I've had human flesh!"

It's final words.

 "Total Concentration! Water Breathing!" As Tanjiro sucks in a clear breath and allows it to slowly fill his chest, the scent of the thread hits his noise, calling from the demons' weaknesses. It tightens the instant it's in his line of sight and, in that moment, he jumps foward.

Like flowing water amongst a stream, Tanjiro's blade slices through the brown-haired demon's neck, "Fourth Form!" His blade moving as if encased in the very liquid he mimics as moves down then up in a flowing fashion, catching the blue-haired demon in it's steady rivulet and seperating his head from his body in an instant.

 "Striking Tide!"

As he found his feet planting on the ground once again, Tanjiro whips his head back. The demons, now in pieces, disintigrate. Their bodies just about completely burned to ash by the time they hit the ground.

 "I did it!" Tanjiro realized, his shoulders slumping just a tad from the adrenline being pushed out of his mouth in the form of transparent clouds of air, "I defeated demons! I've grown stronger!"

He looked at his hand, the hand that had a part in dealing the finishing blow that put those demons out of their misery. He balls it into a fist, his eyes closing to conceal the tears that had begun to fill them at the feeling of the warmth that had already begun to swell; that rewarding feeling that accompained his victory—a sense of self-satisfaction.

 "All that training wasn't for nothing! I actually mastered it!"

Tanjiro takes a moment to let the tears fall, feeling as if he deserved to allow himself that much, before their quickly wiped from his face. He approaches the demons' corpses—which seem to finally be on their last cinders—and watches as the rest of their remains finally disappear into ash and float away in the wind until even the ashes withered away.

Tanjiro takes a glance at the sword in his hand afterwords. His awe, for once, not written on his face, "If I slash a demon with this sword Mr. Urokodaki gave me, it seems that not even the bones are left behind.." 

Then, as if he had transversed back in time, a slice is heard by him, marking the beginning of the memory. He sees it clearly—Urokodaki lands a swift, clean diagonal slice to the browned, hay-looking shoot he had propped up moments ago..

 "A demon's weak spot is its neck!" He remembers him telling them one time during training after the demonstration, "But you can't kill it with a normal sword even if you slash its neck."

A question arose in Tanjiro's mind as he said this, so he asked, "Then how can we take it down?"

 "The swords wielded by the Demon Slayer Corps were forged with a special kind of steel," Urokodaki answered as he held up the sword now sheathed in its scabbard, "That's the only way to kill a demon."

 "They're called 'Nichirin Swords.'"

As the memory fades, Tanjiro snaps back to reality. As if he had done it a million times before, Tanjiro goes through the motion of putting his sword away. He flick his wrist, flinging away any blood residue that could rust the blade. With his other hand, he props the scabbard upright. He then slides the blade against the opening of the scabbard, and finally, inserts it inside once the tip of the blue-shining blade lines up with the hole, pushing the blade in until it completely disappears inside the metal scabbard and the guard hits it with a small clink.

He lets go of the handle, clasping his hand together as he bows his head in the direction of where the demons' corpses once laid. A small prayer is recited in his head as he muttered out, "Rest in peace."

As he raises his head, he looks around, "I only got a glimpse for a moment, but a few demons attacked Y/n as well. Did she.." He shakes his head, the grim image that popped in his mind being shook away in the process, "No, don't think like that. Y/n is a very skilled person, she's definitely fine!"

 "I should just focus on finding her. She couldn't have gotten far—" He stops, his face attempting to scrunch in on itself as he brought his hand up to pinch his nose—a desperate attempt to keep the disgusting odor that just hit him out of his nostrils.

 "What's that rotten smell?" He mutters, looking back just in time to catch a boy running away, his face contorted in fear.

 "No one ever told me about this! I didn't sign up for this!" The boy shouted.

Tanjiro leans his hand against a tree near him, the question raising in his head, "What's going on?" as he peers over to look. As soon as he does, his heart stills in his chest.

His teeth clench, his brows knit, and the world around him pauses for only a moment. He couldn't feel anything in that moment aside from the terror he felt at what he saw, and, as soon as he could feel the blood pumping in his limbs again, he immediately moved to hide behind the tree.

As if the fright was so bad that it evaporated all the air stored in his lungs, Tanjiro heaved through his opened mouth in a desperately fast rhythm. He finds the courage to finally peek again, his eyes zeroing in on the gigantic silhouette walking amongst the trees as he wonders..

 "What the hell is that thing?"

 "Hey, Sabito. Do you think Tanjiro can beat that demon?" The question was asked by the soft-tone, gentle-faced Makomo as she stared up at the pink haired male sat atop the boulder before her—the rope that's usually around it cut and on the ground, circled around the rock.

The answer sits in the air for a moment before it's answered, "I don't know," He says, wholly uncertain despite his tone, which could make one believe otherwise by how strong and unwavering it is.

 "No matter how hard you try, its never enough when it comes to that one," He said, "You know that well enough already though, don't you?"

Running as fast as his legs could carry him, the fright-filled boy is too late to notice the branch that bleeds into the ground and ends up tripping and falling. As if all his fear went straight to his legs as soon as he hit the ground, he doesn't move and instead looks back with dread written all over his expression.

 "What's this morphed demon doing here anyway? They should've warned us beforehand!"

The morphed demon in question treads towards him. Every step it takes shaking the ground beneath it's feet and leaving a permanent imprint in it's wake. It's steps boom, sounding more like stomping despite his movements saying otherwise..

It's a grotesque shade of green with large, horribly smelling and meaty arms caged around it's body, leaving it up to the imagination to figure out what could possibly be behind them—or, if there'd be anything behind them at all. From what it seems like, the demon is entirely made up of hands and arms.

As it walks, it holds it's snack in hand; a boy no older than Tanjiro. He was being held up by the neck and the lack of movement and the chillingly zoned out expression on his face made it clear that he had long since left the world in a unnervingly cracking way.

The demon suddenly raises the body higher into the air, causing the boy's legs to sway limply. The boy on the ground has to cup a hand over his mouth to keep from throwing up as he watched as the demon slowly threw his hand back, opening up a large, slimy, saliva-filled black hole between twisted arms that one can only assume was his mouth.

The demon lowers him in. His corpse gets covered in thick, gooey slob, making the blood that dried around the dead's mouth mix with it and run down his limp body as it disappeared into the demon's mouth. Once completely inside, the black hole slowly closed and a symphony of sickening cracks echo throughout the forest as bones are broken down between, what one could only imagine as, bloody teeth behind swamp-colored arms.

If Tanjiro wasn't so in shock by what he was witnessing, he'd be on the verge of, if not already, puking up this morning's breakfast and yesterday's dinner just like the boy on the ground.

What happened next would be hard to explain accurately to someone without growing sick on the stomach. After enjoying it's meal and savoring the thick, copper-tasting liquid by swishing it around in it's mouth—and coating it in deep crimson—the demon trembled as it grew in size. It's already bulky arms grew meatier, thicker—like a moldy meat patty, accentuating the thick veins in every hand all the more.

It's only then that the boy on the ground realizes he has functional legs it seems, because it's only then that he stumbles to his feet and attempts to run away. Behind him, the demon reaches out a hand, and then another, and another, and another. Multiple mold-colored hands reached out and forced themselves together into this gaint, beefy mess. It bubbles and grows until finally, they shoot out and separate, grabbing the boy by the ankle and snatching him into the air in an instant.

Tanjiro jaws falls and then locks in place, leaving him silently gasping. His roughened hands tremble as they hovered over the handle of the sword at his waist. He's scared, terrified, but he screams at himself in his head, "Don't wimp out!" and forces his fingers to squeeze the handle.

His legs shake, threatening to buckle and make him fall to the ground, but he tenses up—forcing them to stiffen as he screams at himself to save the boy. Save him!

 "Save him! Save him! Save him!"

 "You aren't powerless anymore, so move your feet! Move! Save him!"

Tanjiro leaps into the air, sword already whipped out and cocked back as he takes in a sharp breath, "Total Concentration! Water Breathing! Second Form!"

"Water wheel!" Like a hurdling, spinning basin of water, Tanjiro does a singular vertical slash in circulating motion, rotating like a water-made sun and slicing off the hand holding the boy's ankle captive in seconds time.

Tanjiro lands on the ground, watching as the boy follows suit, tumbling face first. While he's recovering, he quickly moves in front of him. Not taking the chance of glancing away from the monster before him in fear of the roles being reversed and him getting snatched up just like the boy did.

It's only now that his limb's been severed that the demon takes note of Tanjiro's presence. He glances down at him, taking in his form and pausing at the sight of the familiar hand-carved fox mask.

 "Another sweet little fox has come to me," He said, his eyes turning up with glee, "And so soon after the last one, today must be my lucky day."

 "Another?" Tanjiro parrots, hung up on every word he says and slowly absorbing it. His question is left unaswered by the demon as he moves on to ask his own question.

 "Tell me, little fox cub," He said, "What Meiji Emperor sits upon the throne?" The sudden ask strikes confusion in Tanjiro. "Meiji?" He repeated in his mind before replying to the demon.

 "The imperial family is Taisho right now!" He clarified only for the demon to mimic him slowly, "Taisho..?"

He mulls over his words as slowly as his uncomfortably large, yellow eyes roll. Taisho? Taisho. He's in the Taisho era? His pupils grow smaller every time he repeats those words to himself.

And like a bomb exploding, he suddenly roars out. His bellow is carried across the forest, surely alerting everyone of his unforseen anger. He stomps the hands he calls feet and kicks up dust in the process. His tomato nails dig into his own moldy, meaty flesh, ripping open gash after gash, and even then, he still scratches at the bloody openings he made.

 "You're saying I've been here so long that dynasties have risen and fallen?" He yells out, voice straining from his fury which only rises with every word he speaks, "Again and again! All while I've been held prisoner inside this flowery hell!"

 "Unforgivable! Unforgivable!" He repeats, his eyes beginning to roll into the back of his skull from how worked up he's getting, "Damn you, Urokodaki! Damn you!"

 "Damn you, Urokodaki!"

 "You know Mr. Urokodaki?" Tanjiro bravely asked him to which the hand demon so graciously answered this time, "I know him, all right! Urokodaki was the one who captured me!"

 "It's been forty-seven tortorous years!" He yelled, "Back then he was still hunting demons! It was the Edo Period during the Keio Era!"

Tanjiro couldn't wrap his head around it. Edo Period? But that was so long ago, how has he..

 "You're lying!" The boy shouted out from where he sat behind Tanjiro. It seemed he was in as much disbelief as him, if not more, "No demon has ever lived that long!"

 "The only demons that should be in here should be the ones who've eaten just two or three humans! They don't get the chance to live that long because they're killed during Final Selection!" He yelled, "Some even resort to cannibalism! Against those odds there's no way you could've stayed alive for that long!"

 "And yet here I am, more live than ever," The demon retorted in a simple tone of voice, "Inside this wisteria prison, I've eaten at least fifty of you brats!"

That's when Tanjiro spoke again, crying out, "That many?" Instead of answering his regurgitated question, the demon holds up four hands as he begins counting out of the blue.

 "Eleven.. Twelve.." He holds up a finger for every number he counts, "Thirteen.." With all four of those same hands, he points them all at Tanjiro as he says so gleefully says, "That makes you number fourteen!"

A chill ran down Tanjiro's spine, "What are you talking about?"

The demon holds his many hands up to the arm that covers the lower half of his face and giggles like schoogirl with a crush. It's unnerving to the ears, giving the same vibe as a little kid laughing at the sight of their family's remains scattered on the ground.

 "The number of Urokodaki's disciples I've eaten, that's what!" He giggles again, "I promised myself when I killed one of his first students that I'd kill every single one I happen across and I've been going strong ever since!"

Tanjiro could do nothing but gasp in horror as the hand demon continued, "You would've been number fifteen if that one hadn't managed to slip my grasp before I could devour her!"

 "Talk about silent fury! I couldn't even get everything I wanted to say out before she started slicing at these arms and hands of mine!" He holds up some of his jelly-like arms, "She was so quick on her feet! Agile to boot! She kept on hopping around every which way and no matter how much I tried, I just couldn't nab her!" He said, and from the tone he used, he'd most likely have a pout to go along with his sulking if his lips weren't covered by veiny arms. That sullen tone didn't last long, though, because he immediately goes back to giggling.

 "I was lucky enough that the boy I just ate came along when he did! Trying to play hero, he jumped to assist her and she faltered!" Another giggle sounds from the demon as a murky swamp of dread began to fill Tanjiro's stomach, "I'll admit that I grew a little frustrated with her and her attitude! When I reached out for the boy and she jumped to save him, I accidentally smacked her away with more force than intended and sent her flying across half the forest!"

As the demon sulked, Tanjiro slowly painted a picture in his head. A nimble girl with a bit of an attitude and who was around to fight this demon just before he got involved? That sounds familiar.. It can only be.. No..

 "..Is he talking about Y/n?" The realization sunk in like a boat sinking in the ocean, drowning out his senses—but not fast enough for him to miss the demon's next words.

 "She wasn't the only one who caught my eye. Let's see.. Ah, yes! The ones who really stood out to me were those two.."

 "I'll never forget.. That brat's hair was an unusual shade of pink," Tanjiro involuntarily cringes at the constant high-pitched spiking his voice did whenever he enuciated his p's and k's, "He was most powerful. 'Had a scar around his mouth."

 "The other one was a female brat in a flowery kimono. She was small, and unlike the girl I just fought, she was lacking in power but— Oh, was she awfully agile like her!"

It felt as if Tanjiro's world had turned grayer and slower. There was so much to take in, or maybe that was because he was becoming overwhelmed, "They're already dead? But how? I trained with them! And Y/n..did this demon really manage to kill her so easily?"

The demon goes to pointing again, this time with more hands, "I recognized you how I did all the others—the fox mask."

 "I know the texture of the masks Urokodaki carves because they're the same style of carving he used for his own goblin mask!"

 "He calls them warding masks, right?" The demon crack up all over again, veins bulging as his arms-for-shoulders shake under the velocity of his giggling, "It's funny to me. Everyone got eaten up because they wore those masks!" And his giggling turns into full blown laughter. As if what he said was the funniest thing in the world.

 "They're all in my belly!" Veins crack out of Tanjiro's skin and flex against it. Steadily, that sinking feeling of sadness and dread is wash away by an angry sea as the demon continued talking, "Urokodaki might as well have fed them to me!" The sea was hot, boiling even, and nothing can stop it from pooling over every nook and crany of his body with the more his ears are assualted by the demon's grating voice.

 "Hehe.." He snickered with that uneven, squeaky voice of his, "When I said that to that girl with the flowery kimono, she started crying and flew into a rage! Soon after that, her movements got shaky and she completely lost control of herself!"

 "I grabbed her, ripped her limb to limb and then—" Crack. Like a vase full of hot water breaking, Tanjiro's anger boiled over and he lunged forward, his eyes devoid of everything but the boiling resentment that swallowed every follicle of his brain and body.

Green arms shot out at a rapid speed, all of which were swiftly sliced away by Tanjiro as he passed them by while letting out a yell that bubbled up straight from the depths of his stomach.

Sabito watched from his spot on the boulder in the clearing of the forest where he and Tanjiro sparred on numerous occasions. His facial expression unknown due to his mask.

 "Calm down, Tanjiro. Your breathing's uneven," He said, "It's all right!. Never mind us! Just get a grip on yourself and focus before it's too late!"

A crack bounces up Tanjiro's ribcage as his body curves into the fist the demon had manage to dig painfully into his side. The dug into his side for a moment, departing only when he's successfully flung him into the trunk of a tree. The impact immediately renders Tanjiro unconscious and the momentum has him bouncing off the wood and falling face-first into the ground.

And as he collides with the cold, rocky ground, a huge crack forms in his masks. One, then two, then the third one has the cracks spreading instanteously before it finally breaks and falls apart into little pieces..

The demon takes slow stomps towards Tanjiro's unconscious form and as his back turns, the boy that was bravely saved by Tanjiro saw his opportunity. Not to help him, but to run as far away as possible from this mess.

 "I'm getting out of here while the demon's taking out that guy!" He thought.

As the demon treads closer, trampling dirt into the shape of the hands he uses as feet, he suddenly paused to take in the sight of Tanjiro laid out before him, giggling up a storm in the process.

 "Another one of Urokodaki's brats are dying by my hands!" He thought giddily, "I have to wonder.. How's he gonna feel when more of his kids fail to make it home? What kind of look will he have on his face?" His giggling morphs into cackling once again as one of his hands slowly forms to reach for Tanjiro, ready to devour him like he's done to all the others..

 "Oh man, I wish I could see it. I really do.." As the arms extend towards him, spelling out his doom with in the form of disgusting, green fingers, a faint voice calls out to Tanjiro. One familiar and that of a little boy's..

 "Big bro!" The voice called, "Big bro! Wake up!" And Tanjiro answers to that call, eyes shooting open as his body moves on its own, forcing himself to roll out of the way, much to the hand demon's suprise.

 "He dodged it? He can still move after that?" He thought before his eyes smiled and he shouted, "Great! That means I can have more fun!"

Flexing into an awakard, bird-winged position, the demon flexes and shoots out multiple hands. Tanjiro slashes them away and jumps back, but hand demon merely sucks them back in, heals them, and shoots them right back out to follow after him.

 "Damn! no matter how many arms I cut, they grow back in seconds!" Tanjiro thought as he ran, teeth clenched and bared. The stressed look on his face and fleeting form only proves to fill the hand demon's with even more glee.

 "You can't defeat me just by slashing off my arms," He said cockily, "Then again, even that pink-haired brat couldn't slice off my head!"

Tanjiro comes to a sudden halt, twisting his upper half so he can slice a hand that had managed to get uncomfortably close to him. His grip on his blade tightens and he runs at the hand demon once again.

Hand after hand gets seperate from their arms as Tanjiro makes quick work of slicing them up as he runs. He beguns to breathe in, but a sudden scent has him pausing, "A demon's scent from the ground?" Confused, he jumps into the air, and sure enough, it was an attempted surprise attack; arms sprout from the ground like bamboo shoots and follow after Tanjiro—who continued to soar high into the sky.

 "H- He jumped! Damnit, I missed him!" The demon thought to himself, taken back for a mere moment before his confidence returns, "No matter. Even if he managed to dodge that, there's no way he can dodge an attack mid-air!" With that in mind, green flesh turned gooey as it meshes together once again, forming a big cannon—and this time, shooting out as one hand big enough to completely crush Tanjiro's skull; the same move the hand demon made that brought the once powerful Sabito's life to a bloody end..

 "Do you think Tanjiro's going to lose, too? That demon's neck is really tough after all," Makomo said in that silent clearing. Unable to help the way her mind shrouds with doubt from the uncertainty of the situation.

 "He may lose, he may win," Sabito says vaguely before following up with, "Either way, there's one irrefutable fact.."

 "Tanjiro is the man who sliced the toughest, largest boulder of them all."

As the large hand comes flying at his head, Tanjiro throws his head back before hurling his whole body weight forward, causing him to flip over the hand just as it was beginning to close in on him. The hand demon's eyes widened. He couldn't believe it!

 "He deflected me!"

Running along the huge, disgusting arm, Tanjiro has a clear shot..or did. As soon as he began running towards the demon's neck, smaller arms popped out from the larger one and sped towards Tanjiro..

 "Total Concentration!" He sucks in a large breath as fast as the hands were coming at him, "Water Breathing!" As soon as they were even an inch in Tanjiro's vicinity, the limbs were roughly hacked off one by one at a quick speed. As they began reatreating, Tanjiro used the opportunity to leap forward and curl into himself, preparing his slash as he descended toward's the hand demon's neck..

 "He got too close to me!" The hand demon remarked, a surge of panic shooting through him before dissipating as he told himself, "Not to worry. My neck is tough! He can't slash it!" 

 "First Form!" 

 "As soon as he fails to cut my neck, I'm going to crush his head!"

Now that he's in range, it's now or never! Letting out a battle cry, Tanjiro grips his swords as tightly as he can and performs a singular swing..

..And in that instant it's over. Like a rushing current striking through a boulder, Tanjiro cleaves the hand demon's head off it's hands-for-a-body—finally putting an end to this stream of misfortune dealt by this monster's hands!

 "Water Surface Slash!"

Tanjiro Kamado | *Imitating himself* Water Surface Slash! *Hands on his hips* How was that? How cool am I?

Nezuko Kamado | Mhmp! Mhmp!

Tanjiro Kamado | *Upset & Shocked* What? Sabito was cooler than me? C- C'mon, Nezuko! 

Author Ari | *Smiles* I thought you were pretty amazing, Tanjiro! (*^_^*)

Tanjiro Kamado | *Smiles back, shoulders slouching* "Really? I'm glad at least you think so.. *Straightens up* But anyways, why are you here, Ms. Ari? Aren't you still sick?

Author Ari | *Pats back* Ahhh, don't worry! I took some meds before I wrote and edited this! I'm feeling fine right now! ('▽'ʃ♡ƪ)

Nezuko Kamado | *Tilts head* Hm?

Author Ari | Anywhoo, around this time Paradise should be hitting it's first milestone—one thousand reads! I'd like to thank you all for the support on this book! It really means a lot to me! I'll try my hardest to write and pop out these chapters and keep everyone entertained! q(≧▽≦q)

Tanjiro Kamado | Thank you everyone for a thousand reads! And please, keep supporting this book! I want you guys to be there every step of the way as me and the others continue looking for ways to turn Nezuko back!

Nezuko Kamado | *Claps* Mmmm!

Tanjiro Kamado | Now, onto the Taisho Era Secret! *Leans in and whispers* Apparently there's a blond boy named Zenitsu roaming somewhere around the mountain.. I heard he was brought here after he got slapped by his master for refusing to take the selection exam!

Author Ari | *Giggles* He sounds like a silly little guy. I hope I get the chance to meet him! ..Oh! Before I forget.. *Clears throat before holding up finger* Today, I brought with me the very first Author Note!

Author Ari | The first draft of this chapter was actually written a couple years ago! It was..a hot mess to say the least. Y/n completely took over Tanjiro's role in the Hand Demon's fight originally, but I scrapped it because I wanted to give Tanjiro the proper respect he deserved as well as stay true to the canon!

Tanjiro Kamado | I wish we could've seen Y/n fight a little this chapter. Sumiko too. Kinda feels like they were pushed aside because of me..

Author Ari | Don't think like that, Tanjiro! It's not that they were pushed aside, more like you had the most interesting fight between the three of you..and I didn't feel like hopping from persective to perspective just to show what everyone was doing at the time you were fighting..heh.. Uh-! Besides, they'll have plenty of time to shine in the future, trust! (❁'◡'❁)

Nezuko Kamado | *Nods* Mmmph!

Tanjiro Kamado | *Perks up a little* If you say so..

Author Ari | Well, that's all for today! Thank you again for reading this book! I hope you'll continue to do so! Next, chapter five, "My Own Steel"! See ya there, lovelies! <3

Dividers were made by me, pictures used are from Pinterest, post formatting is inspired by @xxsabitoxx

[mama-qwerty]

Sometimes Eclipse repeats things he shouldn't (Maybe he says something he heard on the comet)

The boys stood at the edge of a large hole. Dirt littered the edges, framing the space in little mounds. Silver kicked a little bit back in, but didn't want to get too close.

"Think they'll have kids? Maybe some new friends?"

He turned to look at the big machine behind them, the one that had scooped the dirt from the hole. His mom said some people were building a new house. They'd watched them clear trees over the past few weeks, and the excavation began a week ago.

Eclipse didn't respond. He was standing at the edge of the hole, staring down into it. His eyes seemed far away, as though he were lost in memory.

"Scavenger pit."

His voice was soft, as though talking to himself.

"What?"

The darkling's brow furrowed, his eyes glued to the hole before him. "Scavenger pit. Are . . . are there more of these?"

Silver walked closer, his own brow pinching in confusion. "What's a scavenger pit?"

Eclipse didn't respond for a long moment, his eyes still far away.

"It's where the failed Black Arms were tossed. The Scavengers ate them."

Silver stared, his eyes wide. "A-ate them?"

"Father always threatened to toss me in if I failed him."

Eclipse's voice was soft, almost emotionless. As though he were simply talking about the weather and not some mind-bogglingly horrifying idea as being eaten alive for making a mistake.

Silence descended and Silver tried to think of something to say. He wasn't good with heavy subjects--especially when it came to his brother's past. Silver had had a tough go of things in his world, but based on the few things Eclipse said about how he'd grown up, it was a walk in the park.

"Mom says they dig a hole for houses for basements." In the end, Silver decided to just go with what he knew. "Or sometimes just to make sure the house is level and won't sink into the ground later."

The silence was back, and Eclipse backed away from the hole. He lowered himself to all fours--something he did when he was scared--and scurried away.

"C'mon, let's get out of here."

Silver spared one more look back at the hole before following his darkling brother.

~X~X~X~

That evening, after supper, Eclipse retreated to his room. The sight of that deep pit had brought back memories he wished he could simply pull out of his head and throw away.

He'd spent time around the Scavenger pit on the Black Comet. His father had made him, as a way of reinforcing the ever-present threat of what would happen should he continue failing him. He would watch as they would toss other warriors in. Warriors who had failed to train as hard as Black Doom wished. Who had fallen in battle. Who had simply slipped to their leader's disfavor.

Most were dead. But some were still alive, and they would beg and scream as they were tossed down to the lowest caste of Black Arms. The Scavengers, who removed waste from the Comet. Who ensured nothing but the strongest remained. Who crunched and slurped and tore their prey to bits, usually as the unfortunate soul was screaming and trying to claw their way back out.

Eclipse remembered the smell of blood and decay. He remembered the claw marks on the walls of the pit, long and deep and always dragged downward. He remembered the sounds. They followed him, haunted him in his sleep.

Now he sat in his hammock, running his thumbs across Dorothy's soft back. He hugged the plush to him, draping her long neck over his shoulder.

His father would have hated Dorothy. A toy was for children. Weak children, at that. Eclipse wasn't a child. He was a weapon. A warrior. The finest pinnacle of Black Arms bio-engineering. He'd been trained since he hatched to be the fiercest, strongest, best warrior the Black Arms had ever had.

And he had failed them time and time again.

The one thing he was created for, and he had failed it.

Maybe he deserved to be fed to the Scavengers. Maybe he deserved to be banished or exiled or whatever reason he'd been sent here.

Maybe he was a waste of organic matter.

A soft knock pulled him from his thoughts, and he tucked Dorothy next to him.

"What?"

The door opened a crack and his mother poked her head in. She wore a soft smile, and held a plate with a few chicken nuggets.

"Hey, Monkey. You didn't eat much supper. Just checking in with you to make sure you were okay."

He didn't look at her. "Fine."

A knowing look crossed her face, and she nodded as she closed the door behind her. "Ah. 'Fine.' Wanna talk about it?"

Eclipse pulled his lips tight.

She came closer, placing the plate on his belly. "Silver told me about what you said today. Based on some of the things you yell in your night terrors, that seems to be the heart of them."

He picked up a nugget and chewed slowly, keeping his eyes away from hers. He saw her in his peripheral vision, and she reached forward to give his muzzle a gentle caress with her knuckle.

"You don't have to talk about it. I can't take those memories and fears away, as much as I wish I could. But I will be here to tell you you're safe, over and over, a million billion times if I have to. I will hold you if you want, and let you be if you like. Just know that I'm here, I love you, and I would never let anything bad happen to you if I could possibly help it."

Eclipse flicked his eyes to hers, swallowing the nugget with a loud gulp. He'd had to adjust to a lot of things since coming to this planet--the weather, the large amount of humans, the lack of hivemind link and the unnerving quiet in his head.

But the hardest thing he'd had to get used to was having a home. A family. People who actually cared about him. Who didn't yell at him or threaten him or punish him just for making a mistake. People who wanted him around and were gentle with him when he did screw up. Which seemed to be a lot.

"Can you swing me?"

His voice was soft, almost embarrassed. It was something she did after he had nightmares about the Black Comet, about Black Doom. He'd wake up screaming and she'd rush into his room, talking him down and giving him little caresses on his muzzle or the top of his head. And then she'd swing his hammock back and forth, rocking him as though he were a little baby in the arms of his mother.

It usually helped to calm him enough to fall asleep again.

She smiled, running her thumb up over his head spikes.

"Sure, sweetie. Finish your nuggets."

He nodded, a little smile on his face as she took hold of the side of the hammock, and gently pushed and pulled him. She rocked him just right--not too hard, not too light--and he could never figure out how she knew just the right speed. But she did, and he lay back, working through the nuggets on the plate.

He didn't care why he was on Earth. He didn't care why his father had cast him out. He only cared about feeling safe and warm and loved.

Because right now, he was.

[dreamersbcll]

“People don’t change people, time does”

-whumptober, prompt no. 20

(sam & the core four relearning each other after 5)

——————————————————————————

Step nine. Making direct amends to people whenever possible, except when doing so would injure them or others.

That step always cut Sam down by the knees. She could always get so far, get so many days clean, but the minute she had to confront her past self, all bets were off. Besides, she knows her past self. Those eyes follow her every time she looks in a mirror; those scarred hands shine in the sunlight. Everything about her current body is from the past, except for her brain, which is newly focused on the future.

The future. Her life now, after Woodsboro. After the blood, gore, death. Now, in a new state across the country. She was in a brand new world.

She couldn’t fuck up it anymore. She has Tara back and the twins, too, and she knows in order to keep them all, she has to stay present. It was time to confront the ninth step and overcome all of her wrongdoings and all of her past failures.

Yet there wasn’t a right way to do it, especially now. She was working night and day, therapy and AA meetings sprinkled in, all things to keep her on track. Because of that, she wasn’t present for much in their new apartment- the decorating, the furniture building, the cleaning. To be fair, she had to pay her and Tara’s bills and make on-time payments for Tara’s upcoming semester at Blackmore University. She was booked.

Luckily for her, Chad gave her an open invitation to reconcile with the kids at one of their mandatory weekly dinners.

Mindy had cooked some beef and broccoli dish, the smell dragging Sam into the apartment after a long day in the kitchen. She barely sat down and dug in before the room around her was alive with conversation.

Admittedly, Sam had tuned out for most of the conversation until Mindy asked a question.

“Sam? You there?” the girl called, waving her fork in front of Sam’s face.

Blinking, Sam swallowed, acutely aware of everyone's attention on her. “Uh, what?”

Tara and Mindy rolled their eyes playfully, Chad just snorting silently. Mindy tossed a piece of broccoli at Sam’s face, freezing when it bounced off her nose—as if Sam would reach over and slap her for the action.

Sam cocked her head at the girl’s reaction but gently picked the piece of food out of her hair and popped it in her mouth. “All good. What’s your question?” she soothed, smiling easily at Mindy.

Mindy smiled, her features relaxing. “I was asking what you thought about the new decorations all over,” she gleefully said, gesturing to the walls.

Looking around, Sam took in the new decorations. LED lights lit up the hallway with posters of random bands that Sam couldn’t recognize. She didn’t even know who liked which band, her heart twisting at her lack of knowledge of the kids she raised. On the wall to her right was a drawing, a bunch of lilies. Tara’s drawing.

Clearing her throat, Sam put on a big smile, knowing that the girls were waiting with bated breath for Sam’s approval. “I mean, I love the way you decorated the place. It looks way nicer than the last time I saw it. Nice touch on the posters and Lillies.”

Tara blushes, ducking her head down. “Thanks, Sam”

Mindy leans forward, grinning wide. “I know. I wasn’t sure about the whole poster situation, but for now, we’re thinking about adding fairy lights and maybe a crystal ball-”

“So what’s different this time?” Chad interrupts, dropping his fork onto his plate.

The noise makes all three jump in their seats as Chad straightens up, a scowl on his face. Sam takes in everybody’s faces, her eyes narrowing on their expressions. Tara’s eyes dart around nervously, her eyes surveying the incoming fight between her best friend and her big sister. Mindy looks uncomfortable with Chad’s sudden rashness, but refuses to make eye contact with Sam. The boy who started this conversation of hostility stares directly at Sam, his features calm but his eyes stormy.

Sam reaches for her glass of sparkling cider and takes a long sip. She’s not stupid— she knows Chad is gearing up for a fight. And in a way, it’s warranted, as Sam had used all three kids as toys, picking them up and playing with them and discarding them when she was bored. She knows that she had taken her time using and forgetting them, all to come back around to promise that she was doing better. That the medication, rehab, and NA sessions were working. She knows they are right to assume that perhaps this won’t last.

But before she can answer, perhaps defend herself, Tara beats her to the punch.

Softly, Tara speaks, her voice wobbling. “Chad?”

The boy sits back in his seat, his eyes flickering between the sisters. “Come on, Tara. You know the definition of insanity. Doing the same thing over and over, and expecting-”

Nodding, Sam interrupted his speech. “-Expecting different results. Right. I get it, Chad. I do.”

She sighs, wiping her hands on her napkin and breathing out slowly. “I know it looks like the same thing over and over. But consistency and repetition aren’t insanity. Being smacked out of my mind or scrounging around in the streets? That’s insanity.”

Chad looked down at his plate, sucking his teeth. “Yeah, of course.”

Sam looks around the table, noticing how Mindy stares at her plate, her fork hovering over her salad, and Tara, her eyes on Sam, unwavering. She knows Chad is staring hard at his plate, his fists clenched around the table's edge; because she was doing the same. It was uncomfortable for all, confronting the past. It would be easier to sweep it under the rug and walk around the lump for the rest of their lives.

But Sam was three years sober today. She wouldn’t pretend anymore that her actions didn’t leave scars, especially not on the people she loved most.

“That’s what recovering is, you know. It’s pretty much the definition of insanity. You do everything repeatedly, despite the result, the plateau, or a full fucking relapse,” she forces out, her mouth feeling slightly funny.

She licked her lips, forcing herself to make the amends that were years in the making. “I mean, it doesn't mean you stop even if it gets a little repetitive.”

“One day at a time. One morning after another. One more evening, again and again. When we- addicts - decide to clean, it isn’t because it’s fucking exciting or a fucking party,”

She licks her lips, her fingers tightening around the table's edge. All eyes were on her, and she could only bare her soul. “We do it because there’s something more. Something better out there. Something that no drug or drink can ever replicate. Something like you guys,” she softly tails off.

Tara’s eyes flicker up to meet Sam’s, glassy with tears. There’s hope, shining past the tears, the doubt, the pain. Hope that Sam means it, hope that Sam will stay.

A part of Sam wants to reach out and tug Tara into a hug. She wants to hold her little sister close to her heart, not let go, and remind her that she is here now.

But they weren’t there yet. They weren’t ready. They haven’t even finished their first month in New York. It was much too early to initiate their old routine or rekindle their old way of living and loving.

Instead, Sam gently grasps Tara's hand and squeezes it tightly, an action not lost on the twins either. Her sister allowed Sam’s contact, hesitating a few seconds before squeezing back.

Looking over at the twins, she nods at Mindy, who nods back, wiping away a tear from her eye. Chad unclenches his jaw and relaxes slowly. Everybody slowly backs down, and the conversation slowly picks up again, forks squeaking against plates, laughs, and smiles bubbling.

And there in that dingy dining room, previously burned bridges crumbled, ashes spread across their feet. But from ashes, life could grow. People could get better. Things could change.

At least, Sam hopes.

[granulesofsand]

The Two Dead Girls

🗝️🏷️ major TW for RAMCOA, especially death by torture and simulated ultimatums

We don’t talk much about the trauma Olympics we do for our history. Not between each other, though we do that, too — between us and the kids who died there.

I think I can hold onto that for a moment without deciding it’s true.

There’s a trigger word for it, part of a larger phrase, that our perps used to tell us when we felt that way. That we had it good, because for all the temporary pain and chronic disability, we are still alive. Our limbs are still attached. Most of our scars were nonlethal, and the few that were we got in moderated environments with resuscitation after.

It ties into another structure, one a few of our higher-ups are built on; we are alive because we were better. One route is believing they were better because our body was prettier (white, blonde, blue eyes). The other was because we were smarter, literate earlier and good with logic while still dissociating information to get the answers they wanted. We had a pathway for physical aptitude, too, but that tanked fast. None of the qualities they wanted are true anymore.

Or, more accurately, those qualities were grafted into branches they could use and pruned out of the rest of us.

Special child, the same ego they gave everybody.

I don’t know why they keep us around. Maybe they just didn’t have enough back-ups.

The memories of their little bodies, twisted and insides splayed out, serves that dual purpose. We are lucky. We are better. We were lucky they thought we were better. And this is only two little girls who never made it out.

We think we remember both because they happened close to each other. We didn’t know their names, if they had them. I don’t know how to describe their skin, their eyes, their hair. I can only name the objects that reflect them.

Brown girls, the color of wet earth, but different shades. Red ochre, terracotta before it’s baked, it’s hard to see her without all that blood. Her eyes are open, stayed open, almond peel and cypress bark. Her hair was orange-black, city lights in the dark. She smells like rain, like tears, eventually like rot. She was maybe four to six years old, malnourished.

The other was older, or at least bigger, more like six to eight. She was the color of cowhide and fresh mulch, the long couch you could pet like velvet. I only saw her eyes twice, once frightened and once furious. She hated me. I hope she died angry at me, I hope the demon myths are true and I see her now because she means to linger. I doubt it, but I hope. Coffee eyes, translucent in the light like liquid. A shade off from her pupils, somehow both amber and mud. Her hair was red-black, sometimes blue like moonlight. She smells like earthworms, even before they made her crawl.

I hate myself more for outlasting the brown girls. They never had a chance, not for luck or skill. They were never intended to flourish. They did anyway. Brown girls sorting pebbles from dirt, racing between pipelines, pretending to be monsters and princesses. The little one looked like a girl who shares our name. The older could have been our dear friend’s sister. They shouldn’t have trusted me. I shouldn’t have let them.

I hold their deaths as good in my mind. They were more than how they were hurt, even when they weren’t. They spent more time trembling in cages and thrashing through tournament, but still they knew how to play. So much pain in their lives. They lived to die, and the longer they lived, the worse their lives would have been.

The little one wasn’t me. I don’t know if it was us. She was alive, and then she was open and swarming with bees.

The big one, that was my fault. I didn’t kill her by my own hand, but her death was my fault. I’d hurt her before, and she avoided me after that. But she always came back, huffing and crossed arms, offering her biggest rock or showering us with blades of grass. She might not have died that day if I hadn’t fucked up.

Our perps taught us many things with those two, and it’s hard to hold true that it wasn’t my fault. Nobody should have died, the threat was engineered for their entertainment. The little one was half-accident. Snuff film, they call it. The big one they said was in my place.

So that’s how I learned it. Better than them, more fortunate than them. Of course I’ll never have it as bad as those two did.

[starlightshadowsworld]

The Red Knight Part 1

(Few survive the Laxarus pit unscathed but Jason Todd was always a special case so somehow its worse.

Jason couldn't move... He couldn't breathe.. It was as if the world was trying to silence him all over, destroying him from within and dragging him to his knees.

...

Or the Laxarus pit has some spicy ectoplasm in it that doesn't take kindly to back to life Jason. And who put the Ghost King comes to guide this way word soul.... And gets a new Fright Knight.)

. Aka I write a DP X DC fic

.

Jason breathed heavily as he sat down on his sofa. Silently counting to 5...than 10...than 20...he wasn't sure for how long but when it was over he took another breathe.

This one easier than the other.

These episodes, if you could even call them that came frequently. Moments of his day where he'd suddenly lose all sense of reality. Like the world had pulled the rug out from under him, taking all the air with him. It had been harder with his helmet, just having something covering his face at first had been a nightmare.

But Jason had gotten through it. Now he felt safer having that layer between his head and whatever came launching at it.

He sighed, he was doing that a lot lately and got to his feet. As much as Jason would love to sit around his safe house and complete his 5th re-read of Pride and Prejudice. Gotham never slept so he had work to do.

Jason got to his feet, getting his gear on in record time and headed out the door. Gotham was chilly and the smell of smoke and screams cut through the air before fading into the background. It was a typical night, if you could call anything in Gotham typical.

He stopped a mugging here and there. Getting an old lady to smile at him before she beat the mugger with the purse Jason had returned to her. Gothamites were something else and Jason knew whatever he could've done to the guy was nowhere near as bad as this.

Man he sure loved this city sometimes.

Jason grabbed some coffee, the baristas didn't mind so long as he paid. And even than, no one cared at this time of night if the Red Hood himself sipping coffee in their shop, especially when the man tipped well.

Though the idea of someone calling the GCPD on him was enough to make him laugh. It got him some odd looks but no one dared to comment, he had a reputation after all.

And was very much armed.

He gave a nod to the staff and left without a word. Taking a different route incase someone actually decided to try something.

While it had been humerus, Jason wasn't in the mood for it. The coffee had done its job of waking and warming him up, but being awake meant he was alert to his own body.

Which had decided to turn on itself yet again.

Jason winced as the piercing pain in his head became more apparent. It felt like someone was trying to smash it open, he could say that he knew what that felt like. His body started to feel heavy, and with the gear he was holding he felt like he was carrying a mountain on his back.

Jason sighed, it was probably for the best he was done tonight.

And that would've been it, dragging himself back to his safe house and passing out on his sofa.

But fate never liked to do what Jason wanted it to do.

Because his change of route had lead him right into the path of a dealing. Where someone was trying to deal drugs to someone Jason knew just by sizing them up was a minor.

Jason froze at the sight.

He had one rule.

One damn rule... No dealing to kids.

The familiar feeling of anger flooded into his system, but this feeling was more than it had been years ago. Every single hair on Jason's head was standing on end, his body tensing like a spring ready to recoil.

Anger no... Rage rolled off him in waves.

Jason couldn't remember when he moved but before he knew it he had the dealer on the ground. Someone was screaming, something was breaking but Jason didn't feel any of it.

He felt like he'd truly come alive. His sore and tired body sharpened like a knife as he continued his onslaught. Jason lost all sense of reason, all sense of time, he wasn't even sure what he was doing or why.

It was like he was being pulled along by strings.

He felt someone come forward and he turned to strike but they took his arm before he could land a blow. Their was a gentleness to it he hadn't expected.

"-Hood, Littlewing can you hear me?"

... Dick?

Jason looked up... But that couldn't be right he was taller than Dick right? Had lorded it over his older brothers head that he had outgrown him.

"Jase, hey, you with me? I'm here, I'm not going anywhere."

They were on the ground?

Why, was Jason on the ground? And why was Dick holding his arm?

The smell of blood hit him and he froze.

The feeling of the world rushing back to him, hitting him like a truck and he would've fallen had Dick not caught him.

Jason was shaking, their was blood on his hands... Why was their blood on his hands? He didn't even notice he was shaking until Dick held him, could feel the tremors running through him.

"Oh Littlewing... Its okay."

That's when Jason saw the body.

Or rather part of the body because Dick had gently but firmly moved his head away so he couldn't see it. Any other time Jason would've snapped at him but this time he was greatful he didn't have to look at it.

At what he had done.

The rage was gone, evaporating into the breeze leaving him scared and shaken. Somehow even with his new height Dick managed to haul him up into his arms with ease, gently rocking him like he was a child having a bad dream.

But Jason didn't have the strength to argue or insist he could walk fine, he was exhausted. And so he rested his head on Dock's shoulder as the world went dark.

Dick looked at him in worry. Catching his brother in the middle of a pit rage wasn't what he wanted to see tonight. Or ever if it was up to him, he hated seeing Jason look so powerless and scared afterwards.

Hated how his eyes glowed green with so much pain and anger before melting into terror.

Dick took off to Jason's safe house, it being the closest thing to them and took out the master key he had on hand. He gently undid Jason's gear, leaving him in a t-shirt and jeans, bundling him in the one blanket he owned and ruffling his hair.

He would have to call Bruce, but he would prolong that for as long as he could. He knew the dealer was dead on sight, but Bruce would care about that more than he did.

All Dick had wanted was for his brother to be safe.

He'd failed him once, never again.

______________________________

Elsewhere, a certain halfa's eyes opened. He looked around in confusion.

He had heard a cry.

As if a soul was reaching out to him in desperation before it vanished. It wasn't the first time but he was getting antsy and concerned.

Just who was this lost soul?

Part 2