#as someone who actually reads sheet music he right.

[nataliasquote]

Can’t You See This Is Breaking Me? | n romanoff

Summary: Natasha isn’t quite ready to give her entire life for the woman she loves

Warnings: injuries, blood, stitches, no happy ending

wc: 5.2k

note: this idea was given to me by @katyaromanoffpetrova (love you 🤍) and she’s fuelling my love hate relationship with angst. Also, this was so hard to condense, so I’m sorry if it’s lacking detail. I tried to cram three years of a relationship into 5k words :)

-⧗-

It was no secret to anyone how little regard Natasha had for her own life. Even since her very first Shield mission, she’d been a force to be reckoned with, partly down to her pure destructive nature. She didn’t care if taking down Hydra agents meant coming away with a bullet wound or two. Or if destroying an enemy testing laboratory meant four broken ribs and a cracked collar bone. As long as the job was done, that was all she cared about.

Nick Fury was getting tired of how many lectures he had given a young, 25 year old Natasha in his office when he’d read her completed mission report. He knew why she had such a blatant disregard for her life but it didn’t make it any easier seeing one of his best agents beaten and bruised each week. The redhead barely flinched when her wounds were inspected, but to be honest she didn’t really react to anything.

She was more of a ghost really, a pale figure soundlessly walking the halls at night. If her injuries didn’t let keep her awake at night, then the nightmares gladly took their turn, drenching her entire body in a cold sweat and leaving her shivering in her tangled sheets. But if the dark circles under her eyes looked worse, her friend and mentor Clint didn’t utter a word.

The structure and routine that manifested week by week kept her grounded and focused. Wake up, train, eat, surveillance, sleep. Missions were a welcome break from the otherwise monotonous rhythm Natasha had found herself in. She much preferred working solo as opposed to in a team, but Shield was all about team work so she had to suck it up.

A lot of the time she found herself alongside Clint Barton who weirdly offered her a feeling of comfort. She liked how he never pried too much into how she was feeling, or her past, but kept a look out for her whenever they were together. Her icy demeanour slowly melted away thanks to his warmth that he never failed to show her.

He showed her how to let people in, how to not keep her heart so tightly guarded in fear of actually feeling something about someone. And as much as she would hate to admit it, he was right. It did feel better knowing people cared about her. But it also terrified her at the same time. Vulnerability wasn’t her strong suit.

Yet somehow she had managed to let her tough exterior be pushed aside just long enough for a certain someone to wiggle her way in and take up permanent residence inside the redhead’s mind.

Y/n Y/l/n wasn’t really anyone compared to Natasha. Sure, she was a shield agent, and a high ranking one at that, but that was nothing compared to an Avenger. She’d spend years in their shadow, always looking up to Natasha Romanoff. I mean, who wouldn’t? She’s pretty badass.

But the young agent thought her relationship with said Avenger would end at idolisation and daydreaming. She never expected to suddenly be living amongst them in the compound. But when an empty training room was suddenly disrupted at three in the morning, it was a sign things were to change forever.

Y/n relished the silence that the training room at night brought. Most of her colleagues preferred to train in a group at 7am, but insomnia often brought her into the gym a lot earlier. She loved it though; a way to clear her head and exhaust her body whilst maintaining peak physical fitness required in case of a last second mission.

Lost in a world of music playing through her headphones, Y/n failed to notice the door slowly open, caught up in her boxing routine on the punch bag. She should have been more aware of her surroundings, like she’d been trained, so that she didn’t nearly jump out of her skin as a voice cut through her music.

“You’re gonna get a sore back if you keep using the wrong form.”

Without having ever met in person, Y/n would recognise that voice anywhere. She whipped around and quickly pulled her headphones off around her neck, cheeks flushing as she took in the woman in front of her.

A black sports bra and navy sweatpants was all that adorned Natasha’s toned body. She stood there with a hand on her hip, the other holding a small towel, a water bottle and her own pair of headphones. Y/n desperately tore her eyes away from the widow’s toned abs, feeling her own insecurities creep upwards. She itched for her sweatshirt that lay discarded on the bench just out of reach. That was the last time she ever trained in a sports bra.

“You keep twisting your back as you punch. You need to move from your hips.” Y/n just looked at her with surprise, not fully processing that they were having a conversation at all. “Do you want me to show you?”

“Yeah, sure.” That snapped her out of her trance. Y/n took a step back and allowed Nat to place her things down before she packed a swift punch to the bag, sending it swinging slightly on its stand. Y/n couldn’t lie, she looked really good, arm muscles tensed as she threw a few more punches. Her form was impeccable, but of course it was.

“When you swing round you have to rotate your hips for momentum. Just turning from your back will cause injury.” Y/n nodded, mirroring her stance on the punching bag beside Natasha. “Unless you’re doing lots of smaller ones, then you need to keep your hips still. That just comes from your shoulders.”

Nat threw a few more punches before Y/n copied, missing the small smile that broke out on the Russian’s lips as she observed. Fast learner, she noted, nodding in approval as Y/n turned back to her.

“Very good.” She bent down to grab her things, back muscles on full show to Y/n who just could not stop staring. You’d think she was used to the sight of toned bodies after working out everyday, but there was something different about Natasha and she couldn’t quite work it out.

“Thank you. I’m Y/n, by the way. I work in-“

“I know who you are,” Natasha said casually, looking the woman up and down. “You work with Hill. She talks about you.”

Y/n’s eyes went wide. “She does?”

Nat smirked. “Yeah, why? Does she not talk about me?”

“No, she does- we do-“ what happened to calm and collected shield agent she once was? Reduced to a stuttering mess of words in front of a pretty redhead. God, Y/n cursed herself for not being able to talk to women.

“I’m joking, don’t worry.” Natasha gave her a soft smile before walking off to the weights section, her headphones shutting out the world so she could focus.

Y/n however, could not focus on anything except that brief interaction. It was probably so small in Natasha’s life, yet it would consume Y/n for at least a week, if not more. Maria was going to have a field day with this.

Except it wasn’t small in Natasha’s life. The flustered agent had left quite a mark and Natasha found herself creeping down to the gym at 3am most mornings, hoping to see the woman she’d grown to love so much. And, more often than not, Y/n was there, punching away at the bag and pausing when Nat came in.

Over a course of many weeks, both had changed their training plans to match each other. It felt nice working out with another, Natasha had to admit, and Y/n was so easy to talk to she set the redhead right at ease. They talked and laughed and Y/n noticed how the usually uptight Russian had come out of her shell a lot more since that very first night.

However, one night didn’t go so smoothly. Y/n was in the training room first, of course. She sat on the bench and adjusted her socks, keeping herself busy until Natasha arrived. The past couple of nights had been just her as the redhead had been on a mission, but Maria informed her that she would return tonight, so Y/n anxiously awaited her return. She was more worried about Natasha than she let on, but they had no relationship outside of those four walls so she bounced her knee, willing her new friend to walk through the doors.

And she did. Except this wasn’t the confident Natasha she usually knew. No, this Natasha was walking stiffly, almost as if she was in pain.

“Nat?” Y/n asked, standing hesitantly at the sight of her. Small cuts and bruises littered her face and what skin was exposed under the neck of her tactical suit. Agents always had to report to medical following their return from a mission, but by the looks of Natasha, she hadn’t done that. “Why- what are you doing here?”

“Can’t miss training with my favourite girl, now can I?” She tried to sound upbeat but it fell flat, her pain evident even in her voice.

Y/n pushed aside the butterflies that erupted in her chest at those words and sprung up to help her, guiding Natasha to the nearest bench and forcing her to sit. She took note of how Natasha’s hand tightly clutched her side and she feared the worst.

She thought for a second, feeling Natasha’s eyes all over her face. “May I…?” She gestured to the zip on Natasha’s suit and the redhead nodded, stiffly manoeuvring her arms out of her sleeves as Y/n tugged it down to her waist. The agent had switched to processional mode and ignored how close Natasha’s bra clad chest was to her face as she inspected her side.

“What happened?” She asked, crouching down with a hand gently resting on the redhead’s knee as she gently felt the skin around the wound.

“Some stupid agent snuck up on me and threw his knife. Shit aim though.” Of course she tried to make a joke, but Y/n wasn’t laughing as she looked into her eyes. The redhead almost wanted to roll her eyes, and she would have done if anyone else looked at her with pity like that, but Y/n was different. Safer.

“Why didn’t you go to medical?”

Nat looked down, averting her eyes. “I didn’t want to. I hate it there.”

Y/n knew not to push. She didn’t know much about Natasha’s past but knew enough to know that it must have been horrific to endure. She sat back on her heels and bit her lip in thought.

“Will you let me sort it? I keep a suture kit and supplies in my bathroom.” She caught Natasha’s eye and gently squeezed her knee, trying to establish enough trust between them to let her accept the help. But Natasha was stubborn, so there was truly no way of knowing which way she’d swing.

“Ok.” That was not the expected answer but Y/n was happy to hear it. She knew not to help Natasha up, the redhead probably would have punched her, so she collected her things and led them both back to her apartment, walking a bit slower than normal to help Natasha keep up.

Her room was nothing special and probably looked identical to Natasha’s as they both had Shield issued rooms. Although Natasha’s would be fancier thanks to Tony Stark and his upgrades.

There were no personal items on any of the surfaces, not even in the bedroom. Natasha looked around with a frown, not liking how bare everything seemed. Not homely, that’s for sure. Even the bedside cabinets were empty, not even a picture frame for decoration.

“Take a seat anywhere, I’ll be right out.” Natasha chose the couch by the small coffee table and sank down onto it. The couch wasn’t anything special and neither was the table, ring marks displaying its age and use on the surface. The overhead light was dim but brightened up as Y/n stepped back into the room, a medical kit tucked under her arm.

She worked in silence, only broken by a hiss of pain from Natasha as the alcohol stung her wound. Y/n muttered an apology under her breath but kept working, fingers brushing gently over the soft skin as she made light work of stitching it closed. They weren’t the neatest but they’d do the job just fine.

“Thank you for this,” Natasha spoke into the silence, her eyes fixed on her fingers that rested on her lap. “You didn’t have to.”

“Maybe not, but I wanted to. I don’t like seeing you hurt.”

Natasha stayed silent for a moment, trying to organise her thoughts. She had people who cared about her, the Avengers, but not quite like Y/n had. She didn’t care who Natasha was, or how well she could take down enemies. She just enjoyed her presence and cared for her as a human being, something she rarely felt like she was.

“Can I make this up to you?” She tentatively asked, the strong Black Widow now a weird mess of nerves. What even was this?

“No, you don’t have to-“

“Come out with me on Saturday, into the city. Can I buy you lunch?”

Y/n stifled her smile and hid her face whilst packing up her equipment. She knew Natasha was asking her out on a date, albeit in a very roundabout way. It warmed her heart though, seeing her so soft. It was a side very few people ever got to see.

“Ok, sure. I’d really like that.”

Natasha smiled. “Now I know where you sleep, I’ll come pick you up.”

Y/n scrunched her nose at the odd phrasing. “You had to make it weird.”

“You know me,” she replied with a wink.

~~~

That date was a catalyst for many more to follow, and many midnight training sessions too. It took six more months of flirting and secret meet ups before Natasha pulled her heart out and wore it on her sleeve, asking Y/n to be her girlfriend.

The agent wasn’t stupid, of course she said yes. And at first their relationship was purely in the honeymoon stages; sneaking kisses in the hallway, comforting touches underneath the table, more midnight training and also moving in together. Natasha’s apartment was bigger than Y/n could ever have imagined and she adored the bed, starfishing face down on the mattress the first time she saw it.

But that was two years ago. Sure, they were still very much in love but something had shifted between them, creating a rift that Y/n had started to notice more and more. She knew what was causing it too.

Natasha was going on missions every other week, for days at a time. And she’d fallen back into her old habits, putting the job and the result over the safety of herself. More times than not did she come battered and bruised, open wounds bleeding as she walked into the bedroom. Y/n begged her to stop, to stay home more, to reduce the amount she went on even just to one a month, but her desperate attempts were met with a slammed door and a wall in Natasha’s mind. But she still persisted, trying again the next time Natasha came home. But it was useless.

Y/n always waited up for her though, the nerves of what state Natasha would be in when she returned making sleep pretty much impossible. Whatever she imagined, somehow it was always worse. She used to quiz Natasha as she led her into the bathroom and patched her up, placing kisses on each bruise that she found.

But now they barely said a word, Y/n almost running on autopilot as she cleaned cuts on Natasha’s back for what felt like the millionth time. It was draining her, anyone could see that, and being on edge all the time had made Maria notice.

“Take a week off to clear your head,” her supervisor had ordered, not taking any protests into consideration. “I don’t want to see you in this office before next Thursday, Y/l/n.”

A week off would have been great for anyone else but her. Natasha was away, again, which left Y/n with no ways to fully distract herself like she usually did to cope. She spent the first day in bed, holding onto Natasha’s pillow as her tears soaked the pillowcase. She hated how out of control she felt when Natasha was gone. It was her job, yet Y/n often wished Nat would retire, or at least pull back from constantly being in the field. But that’s what her girlfriend loved, so she had no choice but to respect it.

But on the third day of very little sleep and increasing stress levels, Y/n hit breaking point. She stared at her ghostly reflection as she splashed her face with some water, trying desperately to snap herself out of the lie she was feeling. But under the glaring lights all she could focus on were the heavy bags under her eyes and her discoloured skin, pink blotches littering her cheeks and forehead. She’d been picking at her skin to cope, but it did nothing but make her look worse.

She remained a zombie all day, curling back under the covers at 7pm to shut out the world. There was no telling when Natasha would return but part of her didn’t want it to be yet. She didn’t want to see the state she was in, the mess that she’d have to clean up. She loved Natasha, she really did, but with no contact allowed on her missions and no updates from the team, Y/n was starting to question if their relationship was even working.

She flicked off the light and turned to face the wall, images flashing in front of her as she worried herself stupid about her girlfriend. What if she wasn’t coming home? What if she’d been kidnapped? What if-

The apartment door opened.

Y/n held her breath, pulling the covers tightly under her chin as she waited. She knew the sound of Natasha’s footsteps based on her different moods, but the assassin stepped so lightly it was hard to tell. She felt footsteps getting closer and closer and she squeezed her eyes shut, not wanting to face the horrors to come. She wanted one more blissful moment, but her heart was racing in her chest and her throat was getting tight.

The bedroom door opened.

Light from the living room flooded in through the small gap as Natasha stepped through, brows furrowed at the darkness. It wasn’t that late, but maybe she’d missed something. Wasn’t like she was around much.

“Y/n?” She whispered, not wanting to turn the light on. But she didn’t need to worry about that when suddenly the room was bathed in light. Her girlfriend was sat up in bed, eyes blotchy as she stared at her with a hand on the light switch. “What happened?”

“What hurts?” Y/n asked, sliding off her side of the bed and padding over to the bathroom. “Stitches? Probably bruising too.” She was talking to herself more than Natasha, hands working to gather her supplies. But she was stopped when a pair of rough hands gathered hers inside them, tugging her away from the sink. “What are you doing?”

“I’m ok,” Natasha said, removing one of her hands to gently cup Y/n’s chin, tilting her eyes to meet her own. “Just a couple of bruised ribs, but that’s nothing.”

“At least let me look at them.” Natasha knew she wasn’t going to take no for an answer so she unzipped her suit and pulled it to her waist, revealing the nasty colourful sight. It was swollen and tender and Y/n cursed under her breath. She grabbed the tiger balm and gently applied it, trying to steady her shaking fingers as they touched Natasha’s skin.

“How have you been? How’s work?”

“Its fine, thanks.” Y/n wasn’t going to admit that Maria made her take a week off. She avoided Natasha’s gaze as she worked, even though there wasn’t much she could do for bruised ribs. “I’ll get you an ice pack when you’re dressed.” That was Natasha’s dismissal cue and she took it, but not without lingering in the doorway to watch Y/n for a moment.

By the time Natasha was dressed in an oversized t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants, Y/n had wrapped the ice pack in a towel and handed it to her. There was an uneasy tension between them and Natasha could see something was on Y/n’s mind, just waiting to be said.

“Y/n-“

“This is your last one, right?” She couldn’t help herself but blurt out. Somehow she found the confidence with her back to Nat, sitting on her side of the bed. “Please tell me it’s your last one.”

“Of what?”

“Your missions, Natasha.” She bent one knee and tucked it beside her as she turned her body to face Natasha who was still standing in the middle of the room, ice pack pressed to her ribs. “How many times are you going to keep doing this? Coming home in a state! I never know if one day you’re just not going to come home at all.”

Natasha bit her bottom lip. She knew this was going to happen, it always did. And shutting Y/n down didn’t exactly get easier with practice. “Don’t do this again Y/n, please. You know what my answer is.”

“No, Natasha. I’m not gonna accept that anymore. I’m not asking you to quit all together. I just mean reduce the number you go on, take up desk work or surveillance, just something, anything, to get you out of the firing line.” Y/n ran her hands over her face, trying to keep herself together. But the more she spoke, the stronger her emotions got. “I can’t live like this anymore!”

Natasha had placed her ice pack on the bed, not feeling the need to hold it up right now. She couldn’t move, even though she wanted to run to Y/n. “I know you don’t like it-“

“I hate it.”

“Ok fine, you hate it,” she held her hands up in defense. “But that doesn’t mean I suddenly have to stop.”

Y/n stood up from her position, not wanting an ache in her back from turning so much. She and Natasha were now at eye level although the redhead’s stoic face was a lot more composed than her own.

“You’re not listening to anything I say. I never said you had to stop. Ever. Because that would be hypocritical coming from me.” Natasha pulled a ‘sounds about right’ face which Y/n just ignored. “I’m just asking you to reduce the amount you go on. Once a month, maybe? You can still be in the action, still do everything you love, but that way you’re safer and you’re here more. I hardly see you.”

Natasha shook her head. “Our line of work isn’t safe Y/n, even you know that surely.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” She was getting defensive, having reached her limit of Natasha trying to shut her down.

Natasha was too stubborn to give up, even when she knew she fucked up. She just couldn’t let it go. “You rarely leave this place! Always stuck in the same office, the same four walls going insane every day! I don’t know how you do it! I’d rather quit than do that.”

“I do that because I can still contribute to the missions without the risk of getting blown to hell,” Y/n spat, taking full offense to Natasha talking down about her job. Sure, she didn’t go into the field as much as the other agents but she preferred to be in the chair, handling everything from above. “And you know damn well those missions you love don’t work without someone like me.”

“And that’s great, for someone like you. But I can’t do that, you have to understand me. I can’t be behind the fight, I have to be in it.”

“No one else goes on as many as you do, Natasha. Don’t you think that just once, someone else can take a mission-“

“I don’t care Y/n!” Natasha may be a passionate person but she never raised her voice. So her elevated tone made Y/n’s jaw clench, her innate response whenever someone shouted at her. “You don’t get to dictate my life! That wasn’t our agreement-“

“Agreement? What, so this is, are we some kind of, I don’t know, contract that you’re obliged to?”

Natasha scoffed, her eyes rolling back at the pure ridiculousness of her statement. This whole argument was pointless really but she entertained it, too stubborn to give in or let Y/n win. “Oh come on, you know I didn’t mean it like that.”

“I’m just sick of lying here in fear every week wondering if you’re actually going to come home or not! I can’t keep doing this Nat.” Y/n was having a hard time keeping Natasha in her vision as tears blurred in her eyes. But she wouldn’t let them spill. Crying meant Natasha won and she was done with backing down.

“We can’t keep having this conversation, Y/n,” Natasha grunted, running her fingers through her hair and tugging out the messy braid. “You know I can’t stop. This is my life, it’s what I was made to do. I can’t live without this job!”

“And I can’t live without you!” Her voice cracked and a tear slipped down but she fought the urge to wipe it, praying Natasha didn’t see. But she did see. Of course she did. The Russian noticed everything.

Natasha went silent. That was the last thing she wanted to hear. In this line of work, relying so heavily on someone wasn’t a good idea. She knew that, it had been drilled into her since she was a child. But Y/n didn’t, and that’s where she slipped up.

“Don’t say that.” Heavy emotions and Natasha Romanoff didn’t really mix well. “You have to, one way or another. You can’t just rely on me Y/n.”

“Nat, I am in love with you but lately it feels like all you care about is your job. When is it going to feel like you actually want to be here? With me?”

“I do Y/n, I do-“

Y/n dropped her head. “I know there’s a but coming.”

Natasha looked at the defeated form of her girlfriend and winced. She never thought she’d ever be in the position where she had to choose between family and her job. But she knew what her choice would be, what it always had been. Long before she even had a family.

“This job means everything to me. I didn’t choose this life, like you did, I was forced into it. It’s part of who I am, and I can’t just stop doing that to be with you.” The second those words fell from her lips Natasha knew that was the wrong thing to say.

Y/n adjusted the collar of her shirt and started to pace. If she was sitting down her leg would have been bouncing all over the place.

“What, that’s it? You’re just gonna call this whole thing off because you can’t take a break from your job?”

“What ‘whole thing’?”

“Us, Natasha! Us!” Y/n stopped in her tracks, gesturing between them both. They were on opposite sides of the room, a clear divide in space and opinion. “Unless there isn’t an ‘us’ anymore. Maybe I’m just the girl who keeps your bed warm and stitches you up in the middle of the night, no questions asked. Occasionally gives you head if you are really in the mood-“

“Stop it Y/n.”

“Stop what? It’s the truth, isn’t it? That’s all I am to you.”

“‘No, you’re so much more.” Natasha’s fingers were fidgeting with each other and they’d stumbled across a small cut on her palm that they were now playing with, the pain trying to keep her grounded. “But you have to understand that I can’t just take a step back. I love this job more than anything because I actually get to do something good with my skills that have been used for the opposite my whole life. I just need you to understand that, please!”

“You’re not gonna stop, are you?” Natasha just stared at her, chewing on her bottom lip. “No matter what, you will keep coming back here in a mess and I will keep fixing you up and we will keep having this conversation. Is there an end to this?”

“I won’t come here then.” Natasha stated simply, eyes darting momentarily to the bathroom door. “I’ll go to medical, where I should be.”

“You hate it there.”

“You hate me here.”

Y/n sighed, her breath shaky. This was the longest they’d ever fought for, and fighting Natasha was mentally exhausting. She had an answer to everything.

“I don’t hate you here, I just wish you’d fucking listen to me for one goddamn second!” Natasha nodded, almost challenging her to speak.

“I am.”

“I didn’t want to say this, but you haven’t exactly given me much of a choice. It’s me or the job, Nat. You choose. And you know what? If you choose me, you still keep half your job! But if you choose the job, you don’t get to keep half of me.” The last part sounded stupid but Natasha knew what she meant. She only had half of Y/n right now. The half that slept in her bed and fixed her wounds. If she chose her, she’d get the other half she fell in love with back.

But she couldn’t, could she? Natasha looked down, not wanting to watch Y/n’s face respond. “I’m sorry…”

“Get out.” It was barely a whisper but Natasha heard it. “Get. Out.” Y/n didn’t want Natasha to see her cry but when their eyes met again, Y/n’s were flooded with tears. She didn’t care, how could she when the green ones staring back at her were so cold. Natasha didn’t say a word, only grabbing her sweatshirt and slipping out of the room. The faint jangle of her keys sounded as the door slammed shut and only then did Y/n allow her walls to come crumbling down.

She collapsed onto the bed, only this time hugging her own pillow close as she choked out her sobs. They echoed around the room and her gag reflex kicked in from how hard she was crying. But all she could see was Natasha’s emotionless face staring back at her, not a hint of remorse visible in her eyes.

Reaching to flick off the light, Y/n caught sight of something that made her cry harder. Her bedside table hadn’t been empty for two and a half years. A single picture frame now sat there. And it was in that moment that Y/n wished it had just stayed empty.

[izvmimi]

cw: pop star!au. fem!reader with diva & tsun tendencies. sfw but suggestive. possibly may have more parts.

When you finally show up to the studio, having woken up hours past your expected alarm such that you had to skip your yoga and your poolside brunch, your assistant is not happy to see you in the least, and the rest of your camera crew is at least a little bit miffed.

And quite frankly, you don’t give a flying fuck. 

You’re about forty-five minutes late, but the fact of the matter is that the main attraction is you, and only you, and as one of the top international pop stars of the decade, you have gotten a little too comfortable with letting your whims set the tone of things. The hustle and bustle of the set however starts up again the moment you walk in, as your head assistant claps her hands and lets the crew know to set up cameras, makeup and outfitting to get ready to put you in their chair and turn you magical. 

You walk right up to her and give her a cheeky grin. 

“Sorry, I overslept.”

Aya wishes she could throw you out of the nearest window but settles to say slap a script in a sheet of paper into your chest.

“This is the plan for the music video. Read this and don’t piss me off.”

You frown as you take it from her then scan through the crumpled piece quickly. Your newest music video is supposed to be a bit sexier than usual, with a pretty generic storyline - you play a damsel in distress saved by a dashing hero, the trope subverted by the fact that you’re a succubus, far from someone to be saved. You’re excited for it, having played a little bit too close to sweetheart territory for so long, and it’ll be your first time having an actual top Hero as your love interest, unlike your prior models who were more props than anything else.

But there’s one issue.

You crinkle your nose in distaste.

“You got Deku!?”

Aya raises her eyebrow adjusting thick rimmed glasses as she repositions her stance as though she’s preparing for a fight, her arms crossed over her chest.

“Is there a problem?”

You groan dramatically, then rush past her, pretending to be aggravated as you make your way towards the breakfast spread that has remained untouched until you arrived and stuff a dry croissant in your mouth.

“I asked for a hot Hero! Sexy! I ask you to do your goddamn job and you hire a man with green Teletubby energy!”

Somebody beside you scoffs, and as the two of you glance in the worker’s directions, he’s unable to stifle his laughter before he walks off, pushing a cart of cleaning supplies with him. You twist your mouth to the side, hands on hips, then turn your attention back to Aya.

“So you’re telling me Dynamight, Red Riot, and Shoto were unavailable?”

Aya’s lips press into a thin line. Despite being your assistant, she’s still one of your closest confidantes and she bites back just as hard as you can, and as usual, she does so now.

“I said, don’t piss me off, Tinkerbell. I’ll have you know I spent a lot of extra time making sure to-” she stops chewing you out suddenly, her eyes wide, and you blink, then turn. 

Deku is standing right behind you, and you’re 100% certain he heard your exchange. If he’s upset, he doesn’t show it, instead he’s smiling sheepishly, his hand scratching the back of his neck. 

“I think Kacchan was a bit busy and uh… Shoto probably wouldn’t have done this anyway, he’s not the type. As for Red Riot… that I’m not really sure...,” he trails off, pensive.

You blink at him rapidly as you crane your neck to look at him.

Pro Hero Deku is a lot taller than he looks on television. His face is still boyish and friendly, the harmless look not necessarily limited to television, but when you take a look at the rest of his countenance, broad shouldered and thick, it’s clear that there’s a reason why he’s topping the charts currently.

Even if his soft look doesn’t particularly scream sex appeal. 

“Sorry you’re stuck with me.” He bows politely, hands pressed against the sides of his jeans. “Let’s work hard together!”

When he rises, he’s looking at you with hopeful anticipation, and the way his eyes practically glow with earnestness actually upsets you.

You open your mouth then close it. The diva persona of yours isn’t without an ounce of empathy, but he’s already getting on your nerves. You look at Aya who gives you the glare she does when she wants you to behave, but you’ve already stomped your foot and stormed away.

Frustrated and unsure why.

“I’ll be at my trailer, call me when we get started.”

—

The problem is that he’s hot, and you hate to be wrong.

The type of hot that makes your head spin when you’re too close, that makes you forget the words you’re supposed to be singing to him, that makes the fans that blow through your wig and flowing clothing not enough to manage the heat that runs through your body.

“Get closer!” the videographer screams behind the camera and you swallow thickly as Izuku moves first, crossing the already minimal distance between the two of you to wrap his arm around your waist and the other around your shoulders. It’s supposed to be a romantic, protective pose, and he’s not looking at you but at the camera, but he’s so close, he smells good, his clothes are dramatically torn, ripped in the way you’d expect after a tense battle but artificially so. Your heart thumps as if he were protecting you for real, and you hope he can’t sense it, the disarray that’s running from your center to your fingertips as you try desperately to figure out where to put your hands. 

“___, can you please find a way to make this look more natural?” you’re being barked at by your greatest hater and favorite employee.

Aya, please shut the fuck up, you want to tell her, but Deku hasn’t let you go. 

“Next take.”

Deku finally releases you and you let out the breath you didn’t know you were holding. He’s smiling, the makeup dust and grime and blood barely marring his handsome features, in fact accentuating them.

They didn’t have to make him look this good. You’re going to have a talk with the visual designer, this is getting ridiculous.

“Sorry, was that okay?” He’s still smiling, bashful as if he’s the one who can’t stop looking at you, and imagining how his hands would feel pressed against your chest, when it’s very clearly the reverse. You wonder for a moment how easily he attracts the opposite sex with this sweet boy act, as if the plentiful scars on his broad chest, littered over his arms and likely below the pants hanging low on his waist, creeping past the Adonis belt aren’t evidence that perhaps he’s not so toothless after all.

You want to practically smack him, he frustrates you so damn much.

“Adequate,” you answer. The director tells you to take five and you step away quickly, practically falling off the fake set rubble on your way down.

You can’t even stumble the way you want to, because Hero Deku is fast and is holding onto your arm before you can make your way down.

“You okay?”

Unwittingly, you give him a distressed look, and he lets go quickly, and you storm off.

“I’ll be in my trailer!” you announce again, while the workers grumble that you’re supposed to literally only take five.

Aya is chuckling to herself this time, because she’s clocked you a mile away.

Tinkerbell has a crush.

[lnfours]

bad idea, right? | c.l16

summary -> and i told my friends i was asleep, but i never said where or in whose sheets

wc -> 2k

warnings -> me not knowing french (feel free to correct me pls 🫶🏻), making out, drinking, hooking up with your situationship, secretly pining for one another, fluff towards the end. unedited and shitty writing. for the charles girls who listen to olivia rodrigo <3

masterlist | ask box | listen

₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊

if there was one thing lando norris didn’t understand the meaning of, it was subtle.

the music from the living room was booming off the walls, people littered in every open space of the house. red plastic cups were littered on every flat surface, the party lights lighting up everyone’s faces as they laughed, sang and danced.

you were sitting on the couch with the guys who had turned up, a fake smile plastered on your face as they all shared the same stories about one another you had heard 100 times. it wasn’t because you didn’t care, it was because of the lack of presence by a certain someone.

you had thrown on one of your best dresses, secretly hoping that it would catch charles’ attention tonight. however, much to your dismay, he didn’t show. as lando said, he ‘wasn’t feeling well’.

you knew it was a cop out of an excuse to come, but then again you couldn’t really blame him. you two were rocky, and there was no hiding it. everyone knew that the two of you were always back and forth, and at this point even you weren’t really sure what was going on. it was always one step forward and then three steps back, neither one of you wanting to fully jump in head first into something that had such real feelings. a little too real, no matter how hard you tried to deny it.

you were pulled away from the conversation as your phone buzzed in your hand, the screen lighting up your face as you read the notification.

instagram:

charles_leclerc replied to your story: you look beautiful, chérie. where are you off to?

you hesitated for a moment before clicking onto the notification, the dms opening as you read his comment underneath the photo you had posted to your story a mere 20 minutes ago. you were posing in the mirror, showing off your dress as you smiled.

did you post it for him specifically to see? maybe, but no one had to know that. your fingers tapped against the keyboard quickly.

lando’s, which seems to be lacking your presence

the ‘read’ popped up at the bottom of your message almost immediately after you had sent it. you swallowed thickly as the bubbles appeared on his side of the chat, taking what felt like years for it to turn into a sentence.

were you counting on me to show?

you bit down on your lower lip, locking your phone as soon as you pressed the ‘send’ button.

perhaps. i don’t wear red often, you know

the sound of your name brought you back down to earth. your head snapped to the man next to you, smiling softly, “hmm?”

“you okay?” lewis asked, concern lining his voice. you nodded back at the driver, waving him off.

“just a little tired, s’all.”

the damn buzz sucked you back in as you read the words appearing on your lockscreen.

if i had known you had worn this for me, i definitely would’ve made an appearance

another buzz.

and please, we both know you look ravishing in red. you should wear it more often, amour. it suits you

you double tapped the second message, fingers hovering over the keyboard as you silently debated sending what you were thinking.

fuck it, it’s fine.

are you actually ‘not feeling well’ or was that just an excuse to be a homebody?

i had plans with this girl named ‘netflix’, but for you i can rearrange

you smiled softly to yourself. why are you giving into this? you’re just going to catch feelings and keep going around and around with him in this stupid game-

pick me up, charles?

don’t have to ask twice. see you in 20

you liked his message, locking your phone as you went back to the ongoing conversation between the boys in front of you. lando was slurring slightly as he was telling the story of how he had first met you to daniel, having mutual friends.

and somehow, charles’ name had gotten brought up.

“so are you and him…?” daniel asked, eyebrows pinched together. you shrugged, taking a sip of your drink. play it cool. they can’t know.

“no, i’m not seeing him,” you lied, “sick of going around and around with him in endless circles.”

everyone nodded, a few of them saying ‘good for you’s and ‘rightfully so’s. if only they actually knew where you were going to be the rest of the night.

your phone buzzed in your lap.

parked a few houses down

planning my escape route now

this time, he double tapped your message, a small heart appearing on the bottom corner of it. you took in a breath, softly sighing as you went to stand.

“sorry to leave so early, boys, but i’m starting to get tired.”

you were reciprocated with ‘boo’s and ‘cmon, stay a little longer’s, but you laughed and shook your head.

“sorry, stass is already outside waiting for me.” you hated lying to them, but it was the only way.

stass, your roommate, would kill you if she really knew who was waiting for you outside and where you really were going.

you said your goodbyes, making your way through the sea of people as you headed out the front door. you looked to the right, spotting charles leaning against the hood of the red ferrari sitting underneath the streetlight a few houses down. you made your way over, smiling softly as you watched his eyes shift from your head to your heels. you were standing in front of him now as he looked at you with soft eyes, a smile on his face.

“as i suspected,” he smiled, “that dress is even better in person.”

you smiled back, pointing to the side of your lips, “you’ve got a bit of drool there, char.”

you both snickered as he placed his hand on the small of your back, leading you towards the passenger side door, “fermez-la.”

he opened the door, letting you climb in before he shut it after making sure your feet were all the way in. you watched as he walked around the front of the car, opening his own door before sliding inside.

he looked over at you, eyes taking in your figure again, “tu es belle,”

you smiled again, your heart pounding as he reached out and brushed a strand of hair from your face. you fought back the urge to nuzzle into his palm, his green eyes searching yours. you weren’t sure who leaned in first, but in what felt like a matter of seconds, you were leaning over the console as he kissed you passionately.

your fingers found the back of his neck, carding them through the strands on the back of his head. his had cupped your cheek, and everything about it seemed so right.

you found yourself shifting in your seat, slipping your heels off as you climbed over the console and straddled his lap. his hands gripped at your waist as you wrapped your own around his neck. his pupils were blown, lips puffy from kissing, hair fluffy from you running your fingers through it, and everything about him right now just looked so so good.

you leaned back down and met his lips, his soon traveling to the corner of your mouth, your jaw and eventually your neck. you sighed contently, leaning your head the opposite direction to give him more room. you went to shift your weight to get more comfortable, but you had accidentally grinded down on his hips. he groaned against your skin, sending shivers down your spine as his teeth grazed against the skin on your collarbone.

“my place?” he breathed out, leaving wet, open mouth kisses against your skin. his accent was getting thicker with each passing second your hands were on him, a sign that he was on the same page as you.

you nodded, “stass would kill me and you if you walked through the door.”

he chuckled softly, “yeah, i’d like to make it to see 26,”

you laughed softly, climbing back into your own seat and clicking in the seatbelt as he started the car. the rest of the drive was relatively quiet, except for charles’ playlist playing softly through the radio. his right hand found its place on your leg, his thumb moving slowly up and down the skin absentmindedly. you smiled out of the window, sure morally this wasn’t the best idea, but he makes every wrong decision feel so right.

once you arrived at his building and parked the car in the underground structure, the two of you made your way up to his apartment. he fished for the keys out of his pocket, you leaning your head on his shoulder, basking in the smell of his expensive cologne and the smell of his shampoo, the same scent that would linger for days whenever he’d sleep on your pillows. a smell you could never get enough of, the smell of home no matter how hard you tried to deny it.

once the door was opened and he placed his things by the door, the two of you were kicking off your shoes. you squealed as his arms wrapped around you, picking you up off the hardwood floor as he carried you down the hallway.

“charles!” you laughed. you could hear his chuckles as they echoed off the walls, his bedroom door opening as he placed you down softly on his sheets.

“i love it when you say my name,” his smirk sent shivers down your spine, his eyes scanning over your features for maybe the hundredth time tonight, “say it again.”

“charles,” you smiled back, his own smile lighting up his face, dimples making themselves prominent.

“again,” he urged and you laughed, shaking your head.

“no, i’m not saying it again.”

“please,” he pouted, “it sounds so good coming from you.”

you rolled your eyes playfully, giving in, because who could say no to him?

“charles,” you said it dramatically this time, “there. happy?”

“je t’aime.” he didn’t mean to say it, it kind of just spilled out of his mouth without a second thought. you blinked at him, waiting for him to mumble a ‘i take it back’ or ‘i wasn’t supposed to say that’, but his green eyes searched yours, a small smile on his lips.

was it worth going around and around in circles with him just to hear him say it? maybe, just a little bit.

okay, maybe a lot.

“char,” you whispered, he shook his head.

“i know you’re not ready, i’m not asking you to say it back right now, i just really needed to get it off my chest.”

the thing was, you loved him, too. you weren’t sure how to say it, but it physically hurt how much you loved him. it was like you were starved of oxygen before you met him, like he was your sun and you were beaming and glowing whenever he was around. you’d follow him anywhere, as long as he was yours.

sure, admitting it out loud was scary, but it was something you had already come to terms with. no one knew you like he did, and no one knew him like you did.

“i love you, too.” your arms linked around his neck as he smiled back down at you, a genuine smile. a smile so warm and bright that it made your heart beat a little bit faster.

“sois à moi,” he mumbled softly, “for real this time. no more 2am texts, no more circles, no more complications or sneaking around, just us. together, like how it should’ve been in the first place.”

“i’ve always been yours, charles.” it was true, wether he knew it or not.

“let me take you out,” he said, “a proper dinner, something you deserve.”

“only if you take me to that restaurant in the city,” you said, “the one with the fancy candles on the table.”

“anywhere you want, chérie,” he said, “as long as you wear this dress again.”

you smiled, “i suppose i can make that work.”

he leaned down and slowly kissed your lips, “so we have a deal?”

you nodded, your nose bumping his, “deal.”

[featherandferns]

daylight - nine

jj maybank x fem!reader | part 9 of the daylight series | read part 8 here

content warnings: mentions of sex; mentions of alcohol

word count: 3.9k.

blurb: restless after the argument with JJ, you resort to looking through the journal you kept when you were dating Tyler. Maybe it's time to try and let the past go.

You can’t sleep.

Every time you close your eyes, you hear the argument between you and JJ echo in your mind. The horrible things you said to one another. The perfect avoidance of the truth, as if the two of you were reciting steps in a dance. The thought that everything between you might be ruined keeps you from finding rest.

Mimsy still hasn’t returned any of your calls. Never before have you felt the distance between the two of you to be so gaping. Vancouver feels like asylum that you can’t seek: it feels as unattainable as visiting heaven. You just want to be home, in your old bedroom, in your old bed, surrounded by your old friends. You want to go back to a time before JJ and before Kildare and, more importantly, before Tyler.

Tired of staring at the ceiling, you shove your sheets off and climb out of bed. Stretching, your eyes gravitate to your pin-board. JJ seems to shine brighter than everyone else, it's as if he's backlit. You're momentarily distracted by his radiant smile. By those eyes that could bring you to your knees; the very eyes that captured you before he’d even spoken a word your way. And now, when you see his face, all you can think of is that last conversation. You look away and, like a moth drawn to a flame, or a pirate guided by a siren’s call, your eyes latch on to the shoebox under your bed. 

Something inside of you has you sinking to your knees before it. You guide it out, holding the cardboard like it’s the fragile casing of a bomb. Sitting cross legged on your bedroom floor, you take the lid of the box and lift out the journal. A finger dusts over its worn cover and a solemn smile tries but fails to make its way onto your face. Your fingers crack the pages open. And then, you start to read. 

June 3

Me and Mimsy went to a kegger today. It was pretty boring and not many people were there. We mostly hung out with Kelly and Evan. I played some beer pong - I swear I’m getting better. I ended up talking to this guy called Tyler. He goes to the boys only school in the neighbourhood. He likes country music, which is icky as hell, and he’s a little lanky. I don’t think he likes me very much. We talked for a bit but he didn’t say much, and I felt like I was chewing his ear off, so I went back to Mimsy and decided to quit bothering him. He’s cute though, so it’s a shame. There’s this tenderness in his eyes. I don’t know, I guess I felt sorry when I looked in them. I feel like if he gets coaxed out and given the right space, he might be able to really open up. But if you don’t like someone, I guess you won’t jump at the chance, right? I probably won’t see him again anyway. We don’t really run in the same circles. 

June 17

Mimsy has the flu and I’m scared I’m going to catch it too. I have a photography gig in two days at the hockey club in town and I don’t want to miss it. I think it’ll be really good for the gram and maybe get me some more work opportunities. My post the other week got three thousand likes. How crazy is that? I think I need to get better at editing. That’s usually what sets people’s photography apart. 

June 19

So, the photography thing was today and it was a success! The team were really nice and the coach said he has this sister who’s throwing an anniversary get-together thing in a week or so. He asked if he could pass on my information. I finally feel like this might be something I can actually do, for money and for the long term. Mimsy’s feeling a bit better. I don’t think I’ve caught her bug so that’s a win. Tomorrow I’ll take her some soup and stuff. Oh! And that Tyler guy was at the hockey club too. Apparently he coaches the girls-only team. He was more chatty this time. The guys in the locker rooms had beers and they offered me one, so maybe he gets more talkative when he has a drink? Anyway, we talked for a while. He’s kind of dorky but it’s sweet. He’s a Marvel boy. How funny is that? I don’t think I’ve seen more than five Marvel films and this guy lives and breathes them. I ended up telling him how I thought he hated me when we first met and apparently he thought that I hated him! How funny is that!? He said he gets nervous talking to girls he likes, and when I walked away, he thought he’d messed up. It was really endearing. Long story short, I gave him my number. I think we’re going to hang out in a few days or something. 

June 26

Okay, don’t freak out but I think I’m actually really into Tyler? He’s really easy to talk to. I feel like I can say the most private stuff and he actually listens. We keep meeting up at Billy’s Bagels and talking for ages. He told me about this car crash he got into and I told him about the time me and Mimsy tried to go hitch-hiking and she was convinced we got in a serial killer’s car. He also leaves me these little notes on the receipts. Cute little things. But it’s so confusing, because he won’t make a move. Like, we’ll be sitting side by side and he won’t put a hand on my leg or pull me close. And he never tries to hold my hand. Hasn’t kissed me. Barely hugged me. It makes me wonder if I’m reading everything wrong. I’m just so tired of being the person who always makes the first move and I want him to just do something! I want to know if he feels the same way as me. 

June 28

I’m about to lose my fucking mind. I swear to God, I’m this close to being done with this whole thing. One minute, Tyler’s talking to me like crazy and making me laugh, and laughing at my jokes, and the next, he’s acting like he’s never seen me before in his life. I took Mimsy’s advice, the other night, and when we were walking back, I really dragged it out. And I stood there for ages, outside my house, waiting for him to make a move. We’d spent the whole day together. Got food, went surfing. Then he hugs me. He fucking hugs me. I was livid. I was absolutely furious. I just started walking to my house. And then, I have no idea why, I turned around and chased him down and grabbed him and kissed him. Okay, I basically ran away straight after, but I kissed him. So, great, right? Now we’re on the same page, surely? I mean, he kissed me back. Well, me and Mimsy go out the next day (now that she no longer feels like a corpse) and we walk past Tyler and his friend. I smile at him and wave and he walks straight past us. Mimsy - who said I was overthinking everything - was furious. I think she wanted to run across the road and rip his balls of his body in that moment, to be honest. All I could think about was how awful it felt. It was like last night never even happened. Did I assault him? I mean, did I read this whole thing wrong? He said he liked me, that’s why he was scared to talk to me, but then he fucking ignores me after I full-on kiss him!? I'm just so confused and losing my patience. I'm starting to wonder if it's worth all of this.

June 30

Mimsy tried to cheer me up by taking me to a kegger. Shock horror: Tyler was there. He came up to me about an hour in and asked if I wanted to go for a walk, so I said yes. We ended up at that lake near Molly’s house, and we were looking at the stars. I don’t really remember how or why we got there. Then, out of the blue, he apologised. I don’t think I’ve ever had a guy apologise to me before. He said he was an idiot for not kissing me the other day, and that he was just nervous and really wanted to. Then he kissed me, properly, and it was perfect. I’ve never felt that way before. I think he’s redeemed himself. I’m a little scared to tell Mimsy though…

July 19

Sorry I haven’t written in a while. I got busy. I’ve been spending a lot of time with Tyler, honestly. We’ve been getting to know each other better. He introduced me to his friends and his mom, who apparently really liked me. I’ve been subjected to so much fucking country music. He doesn’t really compliment me though and it’s a little bit upsetting, I can't lie. I like hearing that kind of thing. Like we went for dinner the other night and I made a bit of an effort and he didn’t call me pretty once. Maybe I’m overthinking it. He’s more of a physical affection guy, to be honest. But still. It would be nice to hear it every now and then. He can handle his drink really well though. In fact, he drank Mimsy under the table the other day which was quite funny. He gets all touchy feely when he’s drunk, it’s so cute. He told me that he’s never opened up to someone like he has with me before. Told me things that he’s never told anyone else. He told me about his ex-girlfriend and how she was crazy. I feel so bad for him, that he was in that kind of situation. He laughs at all my stupid jokes. He even told me that nobody else has made him laugh so much before. I don’t know, I get all mushy when he says things like that. I feel like I’m bringing him out of his shell. He said his anxiety is a lot better since he met me, so I guess whatever I’m doing, it’s helping. 

July 24

I slept with Tyler hehe. It was so perfect. He was so caring and kept asking if I was okay and stuff, and I brought up the whole compliment thing and he apologised. He’s so good at taking accountability for when he’s done wrong - it’s so refreshing. He told me I have the prettiest eyes he’s ever seen. I don’t know why that hit me so much. I just think you can tell so much about a person from their eyes. They never age. I'm scared a s fuck though because I really think I might be falling in love with him. Oh no.

August 8

I don’t really have tons to say. Mom and dad got in a big argument yesterday, so there’s that. Mimsy thinks they should just get divorced. It feels weird, thinking about your parents getting divorced. The whole two Christmases and two birthday thing. I don't know, maybe she’s right. They basically hate each other. Dad keeps bringing up North Carolina and how great everything is there. How his life was so much better. Charming, really, when I’ve spent my whole life in Vancouver with him. Really makes you feel special. Tyler’s been kind of busy lately. I keep wanting to go on dates but he just wants to stay in. He told me he doesn’t like PDA. It makes him feel weird. I want to hold his hand but I feel bad. I mean, I don’t want to make him uncomfortable. Besides, I get to touch him all I want when we’re at home together, so who really cares? 

October 14

Tyler hasn’t called me pretty in over a month. I told him and he apologised. He still hasn’t called me pretty. I miss how it was in the summer. It feels like he’s retreating into himself. I don’t know what’s happening. Why everything is changing? What did I do wrong? I didn't change, did I? 

November 19

I think I was overthinking it all lately. Tyler just invited me to join him and his family at Christmas on Victoria Island. He left me a little note, too, after he stayed at my house. It was really cute. It said, ‘I miss stargazing with you in the summer’. Mimsy says that maybe I need to clarify a few things with him. Set some more boundaries. He always talks about those girls on the hockey team he coaches, and whenever girls come up to him when he’s out with his friends. I like that he trusts me and wants to tell me these things, but also, if I trust him, why does he feel the need to tell me? It feels like he’s dangling it in my face almost. I don’t know, I’m probably thinking about it all wrong. I don’t know if I’ve got a stomach bug. My IBS has been crazy bad lately. It’s so annoying. 

December 6

I don’t think I’m happy with Tyler anymore. It’s like he’s a completely different person. I hardly even recognise him. We don’t really talk anymore like we used to. He says he’s really busy with school and coaching. I'm throwing myself into photography jobs to try and keep myself busy or else I just spiral. I don't want to tell Mimsy because I know what her advice will be. And I'm just not ready to face that yet.  

December 26

I leave for Victoria Island today. I’m meeting Tyler at the ferry station. He asked where I wanted to meet and I left it up to him at first. I mean, the obvious answer is the ferry station. That’s romantic. He can come pick me up. But he said, ‘whatever you prefer’ so I felt like I was putting him out by asking him to meet me at the ferry station. I don’t know. I just don’t even know if he wants me to go anymore. He hasn’t said. He hasn’t even said if he’s excited to see me. It’s an awful feeling, when you feel like someone doesn’t care if you’re there or not. Maybe it’ll be different when I see him in person. It’s been over a week since I last saw him and we haven’t been able to talk on the phone. I don’t know. Maybe I’m just kidding myself. I just think if I’m painfully honest with myself, I don’t want to go to Victoria anymore. 

December 27

I think it's over. 

December 29

I don’t even know what happened. I don’t know how to explain it but I feel like I need to get it all out on paper and just walk away from it forever. I think that’s the only way I can even start to make sense of the last six months. It was awful. I fucking hate him and I’m so fucking confused. Jesus, I have been for the past four months. 

Tyler didn’t hug me or kiss me when I got off the ferry, but I guess because he doesn’t like PDA that’s a given. He didn’t introduce me to any of his extended family and left me to fend for myself in conversations. When we first got to the cabin, he sat on the bed and scrolled on his phone with his back facing me for an hour. A fucking hour. Then he went on Duolingo and checked the fucking hockey scores. And I just sat there for an hour after paying for a ferry ticket. Oh, yeah, cause he didn’t pay for any of my travel. When I said I was hungry and was going to get food, he came with me and got himself something. Again, didn’t pay for me. We got his favourite take out. It’s always things he wants to do. I told him I needed a nap and went to my room, and I called Mimsy who was equally as angry. I mean, why the fuck did he call me out there? I’ve never felt so disrespected, so unwanted, in my life. It’s fucking awful. Tyler texted me to meet him and I told him I wanted to stay in. He asked if I was okay and I told him I was angry, and he came to my room. And he was so fucking calm and collected it made me feel like I was overthinking it. Like I was the one blowing everything out of proportion. I told him about how I felt like I wasn’t wanted and he told me that I was. He just said it was weird seeing me in person again. It had been a fucking week. We went out with his family and I put on a brave face, and the whole time he barely spoke to me. Didn’t look at me, didn’t hold my hand, didn’t take a picture of me or of us. I hated it. When I got back to my room, he came over and laid down on the bed. And I told him I was so confused. He just nodded. And he was back to old Tyler. Chatty, familiar Tyler who makes jokes with me and compliments me. He told me how beautiful I was and how pretty my eyes are and all I could think was how he hadn’t said any of that for two whole months. How for two months I felt like I had no idea what was happening. And it made me weak. I hate myself for it but I let him kiss me. We made out and cuddled and it felt like old times, and I finally felt normal again. And then we fell asleep, woke up, and he was back to how he was the day before. Distant and cold and confusing. I think that was when I decided that maybe it was time to leave. 

When we slept together that night, it felt like he almost knew what was going to happen. All of it felt like a goodbye. I tried to enjoy it and feel close to him but I just felt so far away. Afterwards, he didn’t hold me. He didn’t cuddle me when we slept and the next morning, he barely looked at me. He just went on his phone when all I wanted was to be held. That’s all I’ve ever wanted from him, to feel held by him, and he’s never made me feel like I was. I mean, I feel more love from Mimsy than him. How fucked is that.

He walked me to the ferry station and I was wondering what to do. What to say. Whether to confront him and see if I could start a fight. Jesus, anything would do. And for whatever fucking reason, I went for the hail Mary, I guess you could say. I stood there, like the fucking idiot I am, and I told him I loved him. And you know what he said? Nothing.

He said absolutely nothing. 

Then he just nodded - like the useless asshole he is - and told me, get ready for this one, that his ‘family thought I was really nice’. 

I don’t even remember what I did then. All I can remember is sitting on the ferry and texting Mimsy, asking her to pick me up from the ferry station. 

I just don’t understand. I don’t understand why this happened, or how, or who he was. He apologised the next day. What for, I don’t even know anymore. Maybe all of it? But all I can remember thinking, when I read that text, was how I just knew he didn’t mean it. It was fucking Pavlovian by that point: he would know I was upset and apologise, and I’d forgive him and believe that he might change, and we’d carry on. What's the Taylor Swift lyric? You're an expert at sorry? That's him in a nutshell.

You want to know the real kicker? When I told him that I wanted to break up, he told me he didn’t know we were even together like that. So, I ask you again: who the fuck was he? I don’t think I’m ever gonna know. 

January 1

Happy new year. I think Tyler’s blocked me. 

February 9

Mimsy just heard from Darren P that Tyler has a new girlfriend. I think I’m going to throw up. I can’t do this anymore. I just want to forget about all of it but I keep thinking of all the little things that I ignored. All the signs from the start. How it took him to be drunk to even acknowledge that I existed. How it was always on his terms. What he wanted to do. What he needed from me. I wish I never slept with him. I wish he never touched my body. It makes me feel sick that I let him sleep with me that last night. I just feel so fucking used and dirty. Mimsy says it wasn’t my fault but I can’t shake this guilt for not leaving sooner, because the signs were always there. I mean, I thought he hated me. Why the fuck didn’t I walk away sooner?

I thought he hated me. 

That’s the final entry. 

You sit and stare at the barely filled page and then snap the book closed as if you just read how the world is going to end.

The condensing of the turbulent six months you spent with Tyler in a handful of diary entries fails to capture the mass of anxiety, paranoia and pain. The restless nights that you remedied by sprinting at the gym. The meals you skipped because you felt sick to your stomach. The parties ruined when you ended them in alcohol-provoked tears, sobbing to Mimsy about how things felt ‘off’ with you and Tyler. The humiliation you felt throughout the holidays and the disgust that lingered after your final night together. The shame that haunted you for letting yourself do all of that, feel all of that, lose all of that, to some fucking deadbeat guy. 

Because that was what it all came down to. It came down to the fact that you let yourself sit there and take it. That because you felt pity for him, and saw potential, you stayed and fought and tried. God, you tried so hard to mould him into the man you thought he could be without looking at his credentials. And now, on the other side of the continent, several months past the whole affair, you finally realise what it was. 

You fell in love with the idea of Tyler, not Tyler himself. 

It's like the revelation hits you in the head like a hammer. Resets your thoughts. Grabbing the box of things, you head down the stairs. It feels as though you’re not in control of your body. Unlocking the back door, you head into the yard. Ditch the box so you can set up the bonfire, igniting it with the lighter JJ gave you. 

You’re breathing heavily as you stare at the flames. It’s like you’ve been boxing in a ring. You guess, in a way, you have. But you’re tired of battling with the past. Fighting against the memories only to get knocked down, again and again. Wounding you so badly that you can’t face the fact that maybe someone might actually care about you, just as much as you care about them. That maybe you can trust someone. 

When you burn the first photo, you feel a little insane. You never much believed in any of the mindfulness crap Instagram wellness influencers preached. The writing-regrets-on-a-plate-and-smashing-it-up type things. But as you stand, burning the memories of Tyler - anything that reminds you of him, anything that he gave you, anything that he took - you feel like you’re coming back to yourself, piece by piece. Watching the embers lick up his face, crackling until its nothing but ashes and indistinguishable remnants feels like healing, plain and simple.  

The only thing that’s left now is the diary. You hold it in your hands like it’s a first-edition copy of the first book ever written. It feels like the manuscript, encapsulating the entire torrid affair of you and Tyler. The final artefact of your silently toxic relationship, keeping you tethered to your past trauma. Swallowing, you toss it into the metal canister. When you open them again, you see the flames already laying claim to the pages. 

And finally, for the first time, the story feels as though it isn’t yours anymore.

For the first time in months, you feel free.

read part ten here!

taglist:

@princessuki21 | @psyches-reid | @heybank | @avengersgirllorianna | @rrosiitas | @yourmumstoy | @jjsfavgirl | @void21 | @fictionalcomforts | @gsp420 | @redhead1180 | @wearemadeofstardust0 | @mrs-jjmaybank | @ifilwtmfc | @heybank | @lilyw1235 | @belle101200 | @maybankskiss | @lillell467 | please tell me if any tags aren't working - I've never done taglists before!

[jawnscoffee]

hiiii

after AGES, i‘ve finally gotten back into writing *yayyy*

this is a sequel to the oneshot Serenity After the Turmoil by @lisbeth-kk (go read it!!! It‘s such a lovely idea) aaaand yeah :) it would mean the world to me if you checked it out!! (also, hope you like it 🙉)

Serenity After the Turmoil (part 2)

Even though the living room light was dimmed, John had to squint his eyes as he walked towards the door, which revealed what lay behind it with a small gap. Luckily, he'd oiled the door pins a few weeks ago, because it would have been really unfortunate if its loud squeak had interrupted the gentle melody Sherlock was playing.

John carefully opened the door a little further and then stopped. Sherlock was standing in his usual place when he played the violin, with his back turned to him. John had often wondered why he always played in front of the window - if people saw him showing off his double chin, he wouldn't be able to concentrate on any notes. Not that he could read sheet music - he was about as musically gifted as a whining dog. And double chins weren't a bad thing - actually, most people had them. Except Sherlock. He didn't have a double chin, as John knew, even though he couldn't see his face right now. And his musical talents more than surpassed his own. His blue dressing gown swayed gently with the soft movements he made as he played, seemingly absorbed in the music. Until he suddenly stopped moving, put the bow between his teeth (or at least that's what it looked like from behind) and pulled a pencil out of his pocket with his free hand and scribbled something on the sheet of paper on the music stand.

"You don't have to stand so stiffly in the doorway, John."

Of course Sherlock had noticed that John had come. What else.

John cleared his throat, ignoring the warmth slowly rising up the back of his neck.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt you," he said, taking a few awkward steps into the living room.

Sherlock just shrugged and mumbled something unintelligible before slipping the pen back into his coat pocket and turning round. His dark curls looked a little more messy than normal, indicating that he had been in bed, but his eyes were wide awake.

"Did I wake you?" John asked, guilt creeping up inside him. Maybe he should just get some sleeping pills. Or wait, he was a doctor himself. Maybe he should just prescribe-

"No, I couldn't sleep either," Sherlock replied, shaking his head. "And then I heard you...", he seemed to search for the right word for a moment, "...making noises from your room that didn't sound like you were having a good dream."

John lowered his eyes, unable to stop the heat from rising in his cheeks, but Sherlock didn't seem to mind the obvious reference to sex dreams.

"Since it calmed you down the last time I played the violin, I figured I might as well use a sleepless night to do it again," he continued unaffected, shrugging again.

John had now raised his gaze again and didn't know what to say for a moment. So Sherlock had actually heard him and played the violin for him. To calm him down. Wow.

"I, um..." John put a hand on the back of his neck and cleared his throat again. "Thank you," he then said. "What you played was really nice. Did you write that?"

Suddenly it was Sherlock who seemed a little uncomfortable in his own skin, because he lowered his eyes and placed his violin and bow beneath his armchair.

"Yes. In a way," he then said. "It's inspired by…someone."

"Someone?" John asked in surprise, raising his eyebrows. "Are you going out with someone?"

[baybtron]

10 things i hate about you.

you hate yuji itadori.

well, maybe you don’t him…. actually who were you kidding? if you had a list of reasons why you hated him, you would read it to the whole world.

which you do.

you walk down the hallways of the campus, your earbuds in each ear, music blasting as you try to block out the loud shouts of other students who loudly trout through the hallways.

the obnoxious shouts from other students almost break through the barriers of your headphones…

what a nuisance.

as you begin to turn the corner to reach your next class, you bump into someone.

you stumble back a bit, your earbuds immediately falling from your ears, just as you open your eyes someone immediately grabs your wrist to keep you from falling back any further.

you look up in annoyance, “watch where you’re..” your voice trails off.

“sorry about that,” yuji itadori, he smiles softly. his smile gentle as his gaze, such an easy going smile. he ruffles his light pink messy locks of hair before kneeling down and picking up your fallen earbuds. standing up and handing them to you. “i wasn’t watching where i was going.”

you stare at him for a long moment before realizing he was handing your earbuds back to you. quickly taking them from him, “thank you.” you say quietly, avoiding his gaze. “it was my fault. i should’ve been paying attention.” you say before quickly walking the opposite way.

that was reason no. 1 why you hate yuji itadori.

his big dopey smile.

you stood out in the kitchen holding a glass of water in hand as everyone dances in the distance.

you were recently invited to a party, since it was an end of the year party it seemed everyone was there— some people were even surprised you arrived. 

“you made it!” a familiar voice said in the distance. Iori Utahime, one of your closest friends.

“utah!” you say with a smile as you set down your glass of water and walk over towards her, “woah, you look great!” you say with a genuine smile.

“you’re just saying that.” she says with a flattered smile.

“no no! i mean it. really.” you say with a chuckle.

“she’s not lying, utahime! you look great!” a masculine voice from your right says.

you look in that direction.

yuji itadori in his best attire.

“thanks, yuji.” utahime says casually with a slight smile.

yuji then walks closer towards the two, he looks at you with a smile. “you too! lookin’ great.” he says happily.

you don’t say anything at first.

it’s like a frog is caught in your throat. all you can do is stare as it feels like you start losing all balance in your legs. you feel as if you can hear your heart making its way out of your chest, the beats getting louder and louder. you—

“hey?” utahime says suddenly. you turn to look at her quickly, then you look at yuji. “i’m sorry—“ you choke out. “sorry— i have to use the bathroom.” you say quickly.

“hey wait—“ you honestly can’t tell which one of them said that, but you couldn’t even look back. so you just quickly walk away.

reason no. 2 why you hate yuji itadori.

he makes your insides feel all warm and fuzzy.

you lay in bed one late night, scrolling through your phone. your back was against the white cozy sheets, your hair was spread along the pillow below you.

you had a green tea face mask draped over your face as you held your phone above your head. scrolling mindlessly when someone suddenly texted you.

you look at the notification,

“Maybe: Yuji Itadori.”

that was the contact.

you sat up quickly with wide eyes as you read, “hey!” a simple message. yet so nerve wracking. you feel your hands get all clammy as you tap it.

you stare down at the message for a solid minute before beginning to text back.

“hi.” you hit send. you felt your own heart beating so loud it felt as if it were going to burst. you immediately throw your phone across the bed and plummeting your face into the pillow and screaming.

when you hear the buzz of your you immediately sit up, grabbing your phone and opening it.

“got your number from Utahime. wanna get lunch sometime?”

you stare at his message.

your fingers start to hit the keys.

“Sure.” you say.

your cheeks flush. squealing as you roll around in bed.

reason no. 3 why you hate yuji itadori.

he makes you feel like a little girl.

you stand outside of the restaurant, wearing a short dress. but not too short, you were nice flats and even put your hair up neatly. you held a handbag in hand as you stood there with a gentle smile. you waited.

and waited.

…and waited.

you pull out your phone, swiping to see the messages you sent him over two hours ago.

no response.

you just stared into your phone, before turning it off and walking away.

reason no. 4 why you hate yuji itadori.

he stood you up.

that same night, you lay in bed. your dress sprawled out on the ground, shoes thrown along the ground, you in your Pjs.

your hair was pinned up, your makeup was wiped clean off.

what a big waste of time.

but.. why did you feel this way? hugging your pillow as tears pricked your eyes. your lips twitched as you smother your face into the pillow. small sniffles leaving your nose as you curled up.

it’s not like you were dating or anything.

your phone then suddenly buzzed. you slowly removed your face from your pillow, turning the other way before grabbing your phone and yanking it off the charger. putting the screen towards your face as you open the emerging messages from yuji.

things like, “hey, im sorry.” or “i know you’re upset with me.” and—

you just shut off your phone and tossed it across the bed. 

you just sobbed.

“i hate you, yuji itadori.” you say to yourself.

reason no. 5 why you hate yuji itadori.

he makes you cry like a child.

over the next course of those days you decide to avoid him, taking every possible route opposite to his. the whole entire day you’ve been going through opposite directions— different short cuts— anything you can think of.

11pm

you sit at lunch along with utahime, and maki.

“yknow,” maki says as she swallows her food. “that doof has been looking for you all day.” you look at her from your phone, raising a brow. “she means yuji.” says utahime who looks at you raising a brow. your eyes dart back and forth between the both of them. the two start giving you the look

“no. no, no.” you say with a huff.

“you can’t ignore him forever.” says utahime.

“i’ve done so for a w—“

you’re interrupted.

“hey.” a soft voice from behind you says.

you turn around quickly to see yuji, your eyes wide. why now?

“have you been avoiding me?” he says with a worried expression.

you stand up. “No, i haven’t. i was actually just about to go.” you say as you begin to walk away. but the second you do, he grabs your wrist gently as he yanks you towards him. “hey— if this is about lunch.. i didnt mean to stand you up— if you would just read my me—“ you cut him off. “look, i get it. you just aren’t into my like that. and that’s fine.” you say as you pull away, “that’s no—“ he’s interrupted as he begins to speak. “yuji, it’s fine, really.” you say as you give a small smile before walking away.

as you walk away, he follows behind you like a clingy puppy. “c’mon, let’s talk about it.”

“i’m fine.” you say.

but yuji doesn’t give up, he never has. and after a while.. it starts to become a bit annoying.

“look.. that night was my fault.. i really didn’t mean to stand you up— it wasn’t my intentio-“ “yuji itadori!” you shout aloud. turning to face him.

“i said forget it.”

“but—“

“forget it.” you say again.

you then quickly turn around before walking away.

reason no. 6 why you hate yuji itadori.

he’s insufferable.

you stare at yourself in the mirror as you brush your teeth, your hair was tied up as you spit out the excess water and toothpaste. rinsing your toothbrush off before putting it back in its holder. you then slowly put your retainer in before stretching.

it was no later than 10:07 at night, you’d gotten home from a late night shift not too long ago. you’d brought yourself dinner, and has taken a shower. you sigh in relaxation as you plop down on your couch.

just as you grab the remote you hear something from outside of your apartment. music.

“this late at night?” you grumble as you stand up. letting out a quiet groan as you walk to the door, you unlock the locks before turning the knob and opening it to see the ruckus.

as you pull the door open you jump back a bit— startled by the person in front of you.

yuji— his big dopey smile that makes your heart race. he holds a bouquet of flowers and a box of chocolates. “forgive me!” he says as he bows forward for forgiveness.

you stand there with wide eyes.

your cheeks immediately flush red.

“y— yuji! i already said to f—“ he cuts you off. “i know..” he says with a quiet voice. “but at least.. think about it.” he says. you look at the bouquet of flowers in his hand. “think about it as much as i think about you.”

your eyes suddenly dart to his as he says that.

oh God. it’s happening again. that fuzzy feeling.

you stand there in silence, your heart races, your hands get all clammy.

“…okay.” you finally say. slowly taking the bouquet from his hand, as well as the chocolates.

he smiles. “thank you.”

reason no. 7 why you hate yuji itadori.

he doesn’t stop until you’re happy.

a few weeks later, you find yourself outside of another restaurant. you wore a nice sundress, and baby blue flats. your bag on your shoulder as your hair is neatly styled.

you stand there, nervous. worried about whether or not it’ll just end up like last time. you did get here a bit early, so.. you expected to wait a bit. and you did.

you waited..

..and wa—

“you made it.” a voice says.

yuji.

you turn to meet his eyes, he holds up a hand. waving with a gentle smile. “Yo.” he says.

you smile softly, slowly walking over.

reason no. 8 why you hate yuji itadori.

his presence is enough to make you smile.

it was a long day, and i mean a long day. you had just worked a 5-12 hour shift. talk about pain in the ass. you walked down the empty parking lot, grabbing your car keys before pressing the unlock button and opening the door.

you get into your car, locking the door as you get in. putting the car into gear before putting on your seatbelt, you let it heat up a bit especially since it was a bit cold out. you yawn.

your hair was a mess, apron stained from spilt coffee and condiments.

you sigh, before pulling out of the parking lot and beginning to make your way home.

1:30am

you pull into the driveway of your apartment. turning the car off you sit there for a minute in silence. so relaxed you almost didn’t want to exit the car.

but you did eventually. making your way to your door you pull out your keys, fumbling them around in your hands as you frustratingly pick out your house keys. inserting them into the lock of the door before finally, unlocking. you twist the doorknob, pulling your keys from the door and shutting the door behind you.

it was dark— darker than you’d left it.

as you slowly walk through your apartment trying not to trip on anything unexpected. you notice a small trail of things on the floor— did a raccoon get in?

you follow the trail anxiously— what if someone had broken in? even worse.. a bear.

after a long while of following the trail you find that it lead you to your room. you stare at the face of the door, nervous for the outcome.

you anxiously put your hand on the doorknob, twisting it. slowly pushing it open.. you walk in.

your bedroom, covered in rose petals, fairy lights, balloons, and someone holding up a sign..

yuji itadori.

he smiled softly, holding up a sign.

words “will you be my girlfriend?” written on it.

your eyes go wide, a smile subconsciously makes its way onto your face.

“…so?” yuji says nervously.

“yes, yuji.” you say with tears in your eyes, slowly walking over with a gentle smile.

reason no. 9 why you hate yuji itadori.

because you love him.

“i never knew what my 10th reason would be.” you say softly. “i didn’t think i’d ever find my 10th reason.. until now.”

“yuji itadori, i hate you.” you say. your voice breaking. “i hate you for making me love you the way you do, i hate the way you smile, the way you make me cry, the way you make me feel like a little girl every time you come my way.” you let out a soft gasp. tears streaming down your cheeks.

“i hate the way you thought it was okay to leave me

on this earth alone.”

no. 10

[project-sekai-facts]

project sekai twitter once again fighting over tsukasa having nuance. this week's episode: the bedroom vs the sekai

lmao i actually wrote an analysis of this on my personal blog a couple days ago but i'll do a quick one for here too because I don't wanna link it.

So something I learnt in college last year is that when writing a character, designing their room can really help to give them personality. Like it can tell you about who they are as a person, what their hobbies are, what they like, the situation they live in (<- that one doesn't really apply here all we can learn w Tsukasa is that his family is rich).

The thing is, his room doesn't really tell us a whole lot about him. Compared to every other character, there's way less to learn about him from his room. Imagine looking at this from the perspective of someone who knows absolutely nothing about the game. His room is mostly tidy which suggests he likes to keep things clean, maybe he's a bit of a perfectionist. There's a desk so he's probably a student. There's some books on the floor so maybe he likes to read. He's got that big mirror and he puts his lamp above it like a spotlight, so maybe he's a bit vain and showy. His display cabinet is filled with trophies (only at night but that's probably an art error), so there must be something he's really good at. But there's nothing that tells us what that is.

That's the thing. There’s a limit on how much we can learn from what we’re given. He’s a student, he’s a perfectionist, there’s something he’s really good at and won awards for, and he’s got a bit of an ego on him. But look at this from the perspective of someone who knows nothing about the character again. Would you be surprised to learn that his main interest is theatre? Because aside from the desk lamp spotlight there’s no way to tell (the desk lamp spotlight doesn’t really tell you either). You have to read Dazzling Light to learn that those trophies are for piano, because there’s no way to tell by just looking that he plays piano or has any interest in music.

There’s a lack of anything that interests him. That’s the thing. Even with Mafuyu and Toya, who also have pretty plain rooms, you can learn more about their interests than you can with Tsukasa. Mafuyu has a fish tank and there’s a synth on her bottom shelf. The synth being tucked away might mean she's trying to hide it. Toya has a collection of plushies and a sound system, as well as a piano covered with a sheet. We can infer that he likes to collect stuffed toys and he likes music, although he doesn't want to play piano. But with Tsukasa there's nothing. Well, there's some books, but reading isn't really a huge interest of his. It's the fact that the biggest part of his character is missing from his room that gets people.

However as soon as you go into the SEKAI there's a fucking theatre. The SEKAI mainly reflects his childhood interests but it still does more than his present-day bedroom.

So while yes, his room tells us about who Tsukasa is as a person, it doesn't tell us about anything he likes or is interested in. It's... boring.

The thing is since the game doesn't address it, there's multiple different ways to interpret why his room is like that, and neither of them are wrong or right until it actually is brought up in the game or confirmed by devs. On the one hand, maybe he just likes to keep his room as neat and tidy as possible. Maybe he doesn't want to put any playbooks or costumes or posters or anything because it would create clutter. But on the other hand, we already know that when he was younger he put on an act to be more brave and mature because of the situation with Saki, so maybe that carried over into his room. Neither of these are wrong until proven otherwise.

i lied this wasn't quick it's just a complete longer rewrite of what's on my personal blog

[aceass1n]

Continuation of this

CW: body horror, kinda graphic descriptions of violence, slight psychological horror

(My friend and I came up with this together—she wrote pretty much the whole first half and I did the second half ish)

Do you know how an eye works? Till does—in graphic detail. They did not sedate him when the needle entered his eye. Nor any other time, for that matter. He thinks they liked the screaming.

(Within the eye's black hole is a retina, a hungry creature capturing all the light that enters. There is a pigment there that can be fixed in place, like a flower pressed into a bookmark. Rhodopsin, they call it in his fugue-like, broken memories. Under the right circumstances, the seygein drone on above him, you might be able to cut open the eye, soak it in an alum solution, and save the image forever and ever. Manufactured immortality. It is something they read in the human books—a fascinating, primitive trick.)

Hidden in the foxhole labyrinth of the resistance's base, Till's mind drifts. There is a name he cannot recall, though he reaches for it in dreams, wanders long through darkness.

(A blank slate. A black hole.)

He dreams of laboratories, of a face he sees in pieces, like sheet music scattered across the floor.

(In the most successful experiment, they used a rabbit. It was fixed to face a window for hours and hours until it was the only thing it saw. Then they cut off its head.)

He obsesses over the face, draws it over and over. When he shows Mizi, asks, begs for some answer, any answer—she makes such a terrible expression that Till almost gives up.

But he is so, so close. He dives into dreams, into memories, plunders their depths with singular determination. The steel of an operating table. The harsh leather chafing his wrists. Cold metal on his neck, and white light flooding his eyes.

Everytime, he sees a little more.

Everytime, he stays a little longer.

One night, the metal is gone. Till could not tell you why, but he turned to his left and—there. A black-haired boy. As if fashioned out of the darkness and shadow, Till sees him, face blank, open. Till drinks in the image of him, stares and stares and stares until the segyein rip out his eye and cut it open. They were waiting for him to do this—he knows it instinctively. He was waiting, too. As the dream slips away, soft as a lover in the night, they show it to him, the face carved in his eye.

He wakes up screaming.

A few days later, Mizi asks him at lunch—cautiously, as if afraid her words will break more than the silence alone: "Do you remember—"

He cuts her off. The name rises through his ragged throat, hoarse and ugly and raw.

"Ivan," he says. "How did I—"

Mizi shakes her head. She reassures him, says it's not his fault, says amnesia is a typical effect of trauma. He takes in her words, tries them on for size.

He holds on to them all through the meal, up until someone calls for Mizi and she walks away with a concerned backwards glance.

Then Till runs to the bathroom and throws up, over and over, until he is empty. Hollow. A blank slate.

The pieces come back to him slowly. They stay a little longer each time.

He never manages to get Ivan's eyes quite right, but the rest of him—the rest of him he gets right in bits and pieces, fits and starts. Half remembered smiles and whispers of words.

Thank you, he hears Ivan say, over and over and over. A ghost lingering at his shoulder, an afterimage flickering in his periphery. Thank you thank you thank you—

And one day, he hears: Live.

It doesn't much matter if it's real or imagined, if Ivan actually said it to him at any point. What matters is that it's Ivan's voice, finally clear after so long—it was in his former actions, it was his most ardent wish, broadcasted through everything he ever did. The sun shines so that flowers may bloom, so that the foliage might grow thick and verdant. Who is Till to deny his sun anything, after all this time?

(A hand in his. Red skies at dawn. The click of a collar.)

So Till lives. He lives, and lives, and lives. He learns to fight—properly this time. He learns to shoot, learns to strategize. He becomes the resistance's second best fighter after Hyuna.

Live, Ivan's ghost whispers to him, tender as his touch, warm as the first whisper of sun after a long winter. Live.

The resistance wins. The resistance wins because Till cannot bring himself to do anything but fight in Ivan's memory, to triumph on behalf of the sun that burned itself out in an attempt to free him from his shackles.

He is free now, even if it's a decade or so too late. He should've left with Ivan back then. He should've known the sun wouldn't lead him astray. But he cannot change the past; he cannot undo what he has already done.

What do I do now? he asks Ivan's ghost one day, sitting on a roof in a newly liberated city.

Live, Ivan whispers, one last time. Just live.

Till tilts his face back. Closes his eyes as the rays of the sun—the real one, the the aliens never let their human pets see—wash over him. For the first time in a decade, the space beside him is empty. Bereft of even an afterimage.

"Thank you," Till says into to the wind—to the city, to the blue sky and crisp air, to a boy who stayed too long in a place that didn't deserve even a second of his time for another boy who didn't deserve even an ounce of his devotion. Words long overdue, but ringing true nonetheless.

"Thank you for granting me all of your devotion."

(my friend and I did come up with a prequel kinda thing focused on the rescue and mizi—maybe if this does well I'll post that too)

[last-words-ofashootingstar]

Otona Blue

Yandere Kang Yeosang x fem reader

a/n: this is by far the longest and most thought out fic i've ever written and i'm so proud of it <3 i put so much care and effort into it, so i hope you enjoy!

tags: @seojonneh & @thatswhywerefever

You've got your eyes on the new senior in your music class, and the feeling is unfortunately mutual.

✫彡wordcount: 8k

♡´･ᴗ･`♡ (ಡ‸ಡ)genre:

yandere, college au, angst

ಠ_ಠwarnings/contents:

long read, takes place over a few months, semi-slow burn, yandere behavior, age gap (19-23/college freshman-college senior), bullying, violence(not described towards reader), cursing, nicknames, threats of death(again, not towards reader), online stalking(kinda?), kissing, one(1) horn-ee line that implies they did the deed, emotional vulnerability, yandere&dark themes really shine towards the end, probably part one because i have so many ideas for these two

ヾ(´〇`)ﾉ♪♪♪ song recs:

OTONABLUE by ATARASHII GAKKO!! "i want you to connect to my heart"

Can We Lie Here? by Holy Fawn "the field grows taller and it will never let you go"

First Love/ Late Spring by Mitski "please don't say you love me"

Ptolemaea by Ethel Cain "i am the face of loves rage."

Darkness, I'll Always Be Your Girl by R. Missing "i'm always going to be your girl"

MATURE UNDER THE CUT MDNI

The fourth period of the day is always your favorite. The teacher is kind and helpful. You get to express yourself through music. No one in the class seems to bother you- in fact (even in a class full of seniors) you seemed to make a few friends. The teacher even let you hide out the first few weeks of school during your free period to avoid the chaos that seemed to follow you.

All in all, the music room is your safe place. A smile graces your lips as you round into the large room, greeting a classmate who's by the door gathering his book from the tall closet cabinet.

"Hey, (Y/n)." He welcomes you, turning into the storage and grabbing the book with your name on its spine.

"Thanks, Soobin." You take it with a small bow to your senior and turn to walk with him to your seats. "Oh," you sigh. Someone is in your chair, their face hidden by the musical sheet stand in front of it. You look to Soobin for help, and he simply shrugs before taking your hand and leading you to the back of the room, to your occupied seat.

"Excuse me," he speaks to the man. His head pokes up from behind the stand and he stares at the two of you with an unreadable expression. "Oh, uhm," Soobin stumbles over his words, gesturing to you.

"This is actually where I usually sit," you stammer, avoiding his cold eyes. When he says nothing, and makes no effort to move, just looking at you - Soobin kicks his shoulder with yours, making you stumble. "Well, the intructor likes us in specific places, so that the music is... y'know? Did he sit you here?" You ask slowly, looking at anything but him.

"Ah," he sighs, looking to the unoccupied seat behind him. "He must of pointed to that seat. Sorry." He speaks shortly, slowly setting his violin in the open case at his feet and sliding it back to his seat.

"Thanks..."

Soobin mumbles an apology to the quiet man as he nearly bumps into him on the way to the seat beside yours. You nod shortly at him and take his place, setting your violin in his' place. You fold your book open to the page scribbled on the blackboard behind the teachers piano.

As you set it down on the music stand, you see a book already in its rightful place. You roll your eyes, meeting eyes with Soobin, who has a teasing smile on his face. He knows you well enough to know that you already want to be done with the music room intruder.

You fold the book closed and come face to face with a name newly printed on the front cover with Sharpie.

강여상

"Uhm," you twirl around in the plastic chair, "Sunbae?" You know he's a senior. Everyone beside you and one other student is.

He looks up from the string he's fixing on his violin and his eyes go to his book in your hands. "Sorry," he chimes, slotting his instrument between his knees and taking the book with both hands. Your hands stay frozen in place as you finally take a moment to look at him. And, God, is he gorgeous. He has a birthmark under one of his eyes, that you can't seem to get over. It makes him look somewhat ethereal.

"Yeosang?" You ask, and he nods, eyes flicking away before coming back to yours. "Resonated sound," you offer a smile, and he's a bit taken a-back.

Your friend next to you is even more so. You're willingly conversing with someone other than him? Since when? Where is his (Y/n) and what did you do with her?

"It makes sense that you're a violin player! It resonates the most, I think."

"Oh, really? I didn't ever think of that," he laughs a little bit- and you swear it's the cutest thing ever. You go to speak again, when the instructor beats you to it by telling the class to turn to the song you'll be working on. You turn back around and offer Yeosang a final, small smile, and get your violin situated.

Thursday morning, the class is in a slight chaos as you turn the corner and enter. You, too, are buzzing with anxiety and anticipation. Yesterday, just before the bell, your teacher said that he would be asking a few individuals to try out for a special part in the song for your upcoming performance.

Soobin is already in his seat, bouncing his leg as he reads and re-reads the notes: trying to memorize them. The pretty new guy is one of the only calm ones in the entire room, gently working on one of the parts that he seems to have trouble with.

You take your seat wordlessly and immediately get to work, working the bow over the strings effortlessly. You block out all the other instruments and conversations, letting the music take over your mind. You had spent the better half of last night memorizing the notes and the timing, and the song already comes like a second mature. Music has always been your escape- your friend. You swing the bow away in the final note and let the sound resonate in your ears over the noise around you.

You smile, content with your own performance.

The hair on your arms stands up as an uneasy feeling washes over you. You glance around the room to find the source, and you don't find anything. "Hubae." The voice comes from behind you.

It's Yeosang, with his eyebrows creased in concentration as he looks down at the violin in his lap. You turn half way in your seat, humming in response. "Could you," he hesitates, "could you help me?" It seems like he's a bit ashamed to be asking, avoiding your eyes and mindless fingering out the cords.

"Sure, what do you need help with?" He turns the knob on the back of the stand loose and swivels it around to face you. He has his book marked up with circles and underlines and small singular-worded notes. One part, the one he's been practicing and messing up repeatedly is marked up the most. He points to it.

You slowly sit down your violin in its case and slide your seat beside his, taking up the empty space behind Soobin. "Ah, I had trouble with that too! You aren't the only one," you profess, smiling at him when his eyes flicker toward you for a moment. His face flushes quickly, and you pretend not to notice as you fix the stand to face you.

"So, it's the part where you go from G to A, right?" Yeosang nods, going from cord to cord slowly. "It's cause your fingers aren't warmed up enough." You take his violin gently and hold is loosely by its neck, holding out your other hand. You tap each of your fingers to your thumb quickly, going from your index to your pinky and then back. "Try." He does so, struggling slightly- but slowly getting up to speed with you. He continues the exercise as you sit his instrument in your lap, holding out your cupped hands. His movements halt, and he looks at your opened hands and his beloved instrument placed gently on top of your skirt.

"C'mere." Your reach out your hands and pick his up, slowly rubbing the lowest knuckles, "it's the ones that holds you back the most," you state matter-of-factly. You slowly work his hand for a few moments, before dropping it and handing him his violin. It takes him a few moments to recoup, and he shakes the thoughts from his head as he grabs it.

He places it under his chin and gives a final glance your way before he begins playing. When he reaches the line from hell, he passes by without any trouble, his limber fingers sliding into place fluidly, pressing down the right strings in the right place like he's done it a million times before.

"Beautiful!" He smiles at the compliment, lowering the violin to thank you before the teacher so rudely interrupts you again.

"Who's first?" He asks the class excitedly, locking the portable pianos wheels before leaning back on it. Everyone is silent, and you try to slowly maneuver your way back into your place. "Miss (Y/n)!" He points at your crouched figure, and you pop up from behind Soobins back with tight lips.

"No, thank you, Mr-"

"Come on down!"

You take a deep breath, gathering up your bow and violin and holding back a frown as you sit behind the piano with him. "Ready when you are." The rest of the class resumes their own practicing- save for Yeosang and Soobin: who watch you.

You lift your bow in time with him as he presses down the accompanying keys. You go through the entire verse, not missing a beat or a cord as you play your part. The ending note echoes out in unison with the piano, and you smile at the teacher as he takes down some notes before dismissing you to practice the next verse.

You walk toward Soobin with a new found confidence in life, pumping your fist and whisper-yelling about how you nailed it.

If only you looked back, you would see Yeosang looking at you with something dark swirling in his wide eyes.

Opposite to music and musical theory, lunch was the most dreaded part of your day. Soobin had his at a different time, and your friend Hiyyih was always late on Friday's because of her debate club.

You were left alone for the first 20 minutes of the hour long period, and it was the worst part of every Friday since the school year began.

How or why you grabbed the attention of such a foul senior was beyond you. But it seems like Un Ji has a personal vendetta against you- despite the fact that you had never even looked in her direction until she decided to trip you over during volleyball(why did she even do that? You were on the same team!). Perhaps she had some home problems, or had unpacked trauma, or was simply just that mean. It doesn't matter. What does matter is that she just can't seem to get enough of teasing you.

"There she is!" Her sing-song tone makes the hair on the back of your neck stand at attention. You're always in the same seat waiting for Hiyyih, so why does she bother acting surprised? "God, look at her. All lonely!" The condescending way she laughs alone is enough to make you want to curl up on yourself.

"Mind if we sit?" She and her goonies don't wait for you to respond, and you don't bother to anyhow. You just look down at your lunch with a forming frown. "Ah, don't frown! You'll get ugly..." You look up with your brows furrowed in confusion, and she has a serious expression on her face. A smirk slowly forms as she scans your face. "Oh," she draws out, "too late."

Some of the girls she's with begin laughing, and their giggles echo around your hot ears.

"Hey," Yeosang sits next to you with a smile directed towards you, completely ignoring the existence of Ji.

Your eyes flash to her, and back to him, and back down at your sandwich before you mutter out a hello. "Who's your friend?" She asks you, leaning her elbow on the table and holding her head as she gives him dreamy eyes.

"Oh," he dramatizes, hand to his heart. "I'm Yeosang." He says to her shortly, before turning back to you, "why aren't you eating?" The past two weeks, you and Yeosang have been slowly growing closer. Maybe he's decided it's finally time to join you outside of class.

"Psh, she doesn't need to. Look at her." Ji's desire to woo him is overwhelmed by her desire to tear you down. "So chubby, (Y/n), do you want to work with us during gym?"

Yeosang doesn't let the way your eyes widen with fear slide. His top lip rises as he looks at her in disgust. She seems like she's been knocked over with a feather, staring back at him as her face heats up. "What? I'm only looking out for my friend!" She swipes her hair over her shoulder and moves on from her brief moment of feeling scandalized. "Right?" She looks to her friend, who says something that doesn't quite reach either of you.

He's keeping his eyes on you again, watching as wetness builds up in your eyes. At the grating sound of her voice, he comes up with an idea. He sighs and stands up, "seems I've lost my appetite." You look up from beneath your eyelashes and watch as he takes the long way to a bin, passing behind Ji.

As he does, he makes an effort to cross his foot in front of the other, making himself stumble. "Oh my goodness!" He yells as she screams, the glass of water he had on his tray soaking into her back, loose pieces of food getting stuck in her hair. "Oh, I'm so clumsy." He deadpans as she stands to face him. "My bad." He looks over her shoulder to see you, quickly covering you smile with a hand over your mouth.

"You are so dead!" He slides away from her grasp and back around the table, grabbing your wrist and pulling you along- giving you just enough time to grab your bag before you escape the cafeteria: leaving a screaming Ji in your wake.

"Oh my god, Yeosang!" You begin to laugh as you run. His grip on you wrist slips down to your hand, and you don't protest as he holds it tightly, looking back as he continues to lead you away. His own laughter starts to sound out, dying down soon as you both slow.

He lays down on a cement bench, and you take a seat at the very end of it by his feet. Both of you breath heavily between broken chuckles. He props his head up on his hand and looks down at you.

"She had that coming, huh?"

"Oh, yeah!"

He leans back and gazes up at the clear sky, squinting at the brightness before he fully closes his eyes. "Hate people like that."

A silence envelopes the both of you, save for the blowing wind that cools down your flush face. He listens to your breaths, matching his own to them.

"Thank you, Sunbaemin...I could have handled it, you know, on my own- but I really appreciate it." You rant quickly, placing your hand on his lower leg in a show of gratitude.

He nearly twitches away at the feeling, eyes opening and finding you once again. "No problem." He sits up, "I have to admit... I've seen her bothering you before. I saw what she did to your book last week."

"Oh... yeah. That was one of my favorites."

I know. "I'm sorry I didn't step in earlier."

"It's okay, really. You don't have to stand up for someone you barely know." You offer him a sad smile, and he returns it with a wide one.

"I'll stand up for you." He says. He promises. "I'll protect you from her from now on."

"Really?" You ask abashedly, quickly correcting yourself to, "I mean- I'd really appreciate it, but, you know you don't have to do that for me!"

He tilts his head, seeming as if he's searching your mind. "Of course I do. You deserve better than to be treated like that."

Tears are building up in your eyes, and he quickly adjusts himself to sit with a leg on either side of the bench, scooting closer to you. "(Y/n)..." He draws out. "Please don't cry."

"I'm sorry."

"Why? Why are you sorry, it's okay, ba-It's okay. Come here," he wraps his arms around your shoulders, bringing you closer as you begin to cry silently. "It's okay," he hushes you, sending a death glare in the direction of a student who's giving you both a strange look.

"I'm sorry, Yeosang." Over your own ragged breathing, you don't hear his breath catch in his throat. He tightens his grip on you and rubs his hands up and down your arm comfortingly.

"Don't be sorry. Shh, I'm here now, don't worry, okay?"

His skin is lit ablaze when you wrap your hand around his wrist in search of comfort. "Thank you," you whisper, "no one stands up for me."

"I will."

"And then?!" Hiyyih urges you to continue, hugging her big rabbit plushie tightly as you tell the story of what happened with Yeosang earlier that day. You lean your head over the edge of the bed from your seat on the floor and smile.

"He just kinda... held me? It was really nice, actually. I mean- at first it was a little weird cause, like, obviously: but it was nice!"

"Oh my God," your best friend exclaims, flattening herself on the bed to be closer to your face. "That's so sweet of him! I need to meet this guy and give him the stamp of Hiyyih approval."

"Oh, it's not like that... He's just my senior, seniors take care of juniors they like right? He's just friendly." You back away in confusion when she places the back of her hand on your cheek.

"You're blushing!" She yells, flopping off the bed to join you on the floor as you begin screaming that it's just warm in her room, and she's screaming right back that you have a crush.

"Bahiyyih!" Her brothers voice rings out, making you both stop, making an 'oh shit' face as you hear his heavy footsteps come down the hall. The door opens to reveal her big brother, Kai, with his hand perched on his hip. You feel like he might scold you for being so loud, but he scrambles into the room and shuts the door behind him. He plops down opposite of the both of you and leans forward, "spill."

"It's nothing! He's just a nice guy from my music class." "She's totally whipped for this dude!" You and Hiyyih speak over one another, slapping each others hands down as you both try to emphasize your own point. "Good lord," Kai mumbles, rolling his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. "Start from the beginning."

You and Hiyyih continue interrupting each other every so often as you explain about Yeosang. And when she cuts you off for the third time, Kai reaches over and smacks her upside the head- causing a yelling match between the siblings.

You look down at your hands, thinking back to the way his skin felt under your finger tips. You don't even notice when the Huenings have stopped, now both looking at you. "Ooo, she's doing that thing again," she whisper yells, slapping his arm, "do you think she's thinking about him?"

"I can hear you, dickhead."

"My bad."

A round a laughs goes around, and she leans into your lap, looking up at you. "What were you thinking about, really? Him, right?" You nod a little bit, looking over to her vanity with an idea brewing in your head.

"You really think he likes me? I mean-"

"Of course!" "I think so, yeah."

"Hey, Hiyyih," you break the moment of silence. "Remember when we were in middle school and I had a crush on that one boy?" She looks up, searching her memory before she giggles a bit.

"You trying to say you want another makeover?" You nod with a smile, looking over to the mirror again.

"We're older now! I've been wearing the same lipstick since junior year of high school, I think I should upgrade, right?"

"Totally not to impress Yeosang, right?" Kai smirks, already scooting towards the makeup boxes Hiyyih keeps under her bed. "I can teach you how to do eyeliner, I'm better at it!"

"Hey!" She yells, offended he would make fun of her skills. He only sticks out his tongue and goes back to searching the shoe box full of eye and lip liners.

"You know you don't have to do this to impress him, right? He already likes you. I mean- it's totally obvious. And you're so nice, how can he not?"

"I know," you drag on, "but maybe if I looked a little nicer I would have more confidence? I don't know..."

"Whatever you want, chick," she sits up on her knees and gives you and aggressive forehead kiss before falling back and yanking the box away from her brother. "Give me this," she takes the liner from him, "this isn't her color at all, you crazy?"

"Hi," you slide into the seat across from him and whisper quietly.

Yeosang already has his nose in a notebook book, and he puts it down to smile warmly at you. It's Friday, three weeks have passed since he promised to protect you- and he did just that. He found every reason possible to be near, and his presence was welcomed. At this point, you would even consider him 'friend'. You were hanging out after school.

Your crush on him hasn't died down. Not in the slightest. The more time you spend with him, the more you found yourself drawn into him. He liked similar things and was a beautiful violinist and had a certain aura around him.

He could say the same things about you. The closer he got, the more sucked in he was.

"Hey, Petal."

"How's your day been, Yeo?"

He smiles at the nickname, that same glaze washes over his eyes- the one you catch every so often but you're never quite able to place before he blinks it away. He told you weeks ago you don't have to call him by any honorifics. At first you were hesitant, but soon enough you were Yeo and Petal (which he affectionately nicknamed you after he cought you playing the 'he loves me, he loves me not' game).

"Good, and yours?"

"Good!" You drop the whisper. No one is ever in the large library. Not even the librarian. Just you, Yeosang, and some girl named Lucy who reads on the other side of the room.

"Did Lucas bother you today?"

You roll your eyes. Lucas, also a freshman, has been harassing you to go out with him and won't seem to take no for an answer. "No, thank god. He wasn't there today. So... What are you working on?"

He sits and explains his project, then you explain yours. This is how it is on Fridays and Wednesdays. You sit in each others company and do all of your work, reaching out for help when you get stumped.

It's all easy today, so easy in fact: you fall asleep after you've finished your own work. It takes Yeosang no time at all to notice.

He sits up a bit and looks around. Then he stands up. He takes the seat next to you, slowly lowering his head to rest parallel to yours.

A piece of hair has fallen loosely over your face, swaying with each breath you take. Surely... you won't mind if he fixes it, right?

He moves at a turtles pace until he reaches your face and sweeps back the hair with his fingertips grazing your cheek.

As he studies you, he finally gets a chance to see the new makeup style you've been wearing as of late. It makes you look more mature, more confident. He can't tell if likes it quite yet. But, to be honest, he like's everything you do. Maybe he has a preference, but he can't tell. Because,

"always so pretty."

You stir a bit at his deep whisper, subconsciously leaning toward the warmth of his hand. He flattens his fingers and rests his palm against you. His heart seems to beat out loud: he's shocked it hasn't woken you. When you mumble something, he scoots his face a smidge closer. It sounds like nonsense, but your voice still soothes something that runs wild inside him.

His hand wanders down to the ends of your hair and he twirls his finger around them, letting go gently.

He himself nearly falls asleep, a peace he's never known washing over him with your shallow breaths in his ear.

He's teetering on the edge of unconsciousness when a loud noise disrupts the peace you've created for him. He places his hand on your shoulder, ready to wake you up at a moments notice as he looks around. As the panic settles, and his heartbeat dies back down, he registers that it was just a door.

"Hey," he lightly shakes your shoulder, "wake up." Your eyes flutter open and blink up at him as he cups your face in his hand. "Have a good nap?" He teasingly asks, stroking you cheekbone with his thumb. You groan in response, and tug your arm up. When you place your hand over his and hold it closer to your face, he almost moans at the feeling.

"Should have brought a jacket," you mumble sleepily. "So cold. Your so warm, Yeo." He looks over to his seat, where his large hoodie is draped over the back.

"Do you," he stutters, "do you want my hoodie?" You peek open one of your eyes and glare at him.

"Don't even play with me, really?" You sit up, and his hand falls back to his side. "It's not too much to ask, is it? What if- what if you get cold?" He reaches over the table top and grabs the fabric, handing it over with a promise that he'll be okay without it.

The warmth envelops you, and you sigh contentedly, wrapping your arms around yourself. "Thank you."

His heart flutters as he takes in the sight of you in his clothes and makes a mental note to make sure to turn the thermostat up even in the colder weather so he can hand over more. "Looks good on you." He tries to be nonchalant, but the blush on his cheeks gives him away rather fast. "Blues your color."

"You think?" You lift up the hood and pull the strings just enough to cover your ears before you tie it in a bow. He says nothing, just smiles fondly as you take up your phone. "Oh, I didn't sleep too long! Did you finish your work?"

He shakes his head, "I have some maths left. I just took a break before i torture myself with it."

"I can do maths!" You stand up and run to the other side, searching through his organized papers until you find the math. "Least I can do for you." He watches as you work diligently, the pencil scratching against the paper fills the comfortable silence. Only a few minutes pass until you slam the pencil down dramatically. "Boom, bam!"

He takes the paper and scans it over as he mumbles a thank you. You return to your seat next to him and begin gathering your materials. "Hey, (Y/n)..."

"Yup!" You face him, smile faltering as you see his solemn expression. "What, what's wrong? Did I mess up the work?"

"I really like spending time with you."

You're left with your jaw dropped for a moment, before you gather the courage to speak. "I...I like spending time with you too. It's easy, with you. Y'know? Just feels right! I'm actually... well, I'm really glad you transferred to Mr. Canessa class." You ramble on, speaking with you hands and not noticing that he's tearing up until one of his tears hit the table. "Oh, Yeosang! I'm sorry!" You scoot your chair closer and wrap your arms around his shoulders, cradling his head.

He sniffles quietly and simply lets you hold him, hushing him and sniffling along with him. "Why are you crying?" He asks through his sobs. "Why are you?" You ask right back.

"Because I want to kiss you so badly."

You pull away slowly and look at his teary eyes through your own. "I want to protect you from Ji, and from everyone. And I want- I want you to warm up my hands before I play. I don't ever want you to call me Sunbaenim again because I wish you saw yourself as my equal because that's what y-" You shut him up by rewrapping your arms around him, crying harder into his shoulder. The sound of your cries triggers his own, and he latches onto you like a kola, bringing you into his lap. "I'm so sorry, (Y/n), I think I'm falling in love with you."

There's a beat of quiet until you speak, "what if I'm falling in love with you, too?"

He cries into your shoulder, grip tightening around your waist. "Please, don't say things like that." He feels you tug at his hair gently and leans his head back to look up at you.

"Not even if I mean it?"

"Do you? Mean it?"

"Yes."

He grins weakly as you begin to wipe up his tears with the paw of the hoodie. "Petal?" He blinks anxiously as you hum in response. "Can I kiss you?"

You answer him with your lips on his, and it takes him a good moment to catch up. He closes his eyes and lets himself melt into you.

He falls into his back, a deep sigh passing his lips. He looks up at the ceiling and just thinks.

Your third date together had just ended: successfully in his opinion. It was barely different from the time you two had spent together before the library, but at the same time it felt all new. With your feelings out in the open you no longer had to hold back. He openly admired you, not bothering to hide his flushed face when you complemented him or avoided eye contact as his eyes shined with that unplaceable glaze.

He doesn't know why... he can't understand. How do you have him wrapped around your little finger so tightly in such a short time?

Is it the way your touch always leaves goosebumps in your wake? The way your hands work so diligently to make awe-inspiring music? Maybe, it's the way you smile when you see him. The smile that's reserved just for him? That could be it...

His phone buzzes with a small ding on his stomach. The ring tone he assigned just to you, a small bird song.

He opens the message in the next second, smiling like an idiot at the words you've typed out.

i had lots of fun ! i'm still laughing at your jokes haha

...

The phone vibrates in his hands.

where should we go next time ?

His thumbs work quickly to respond, going back and forth as he tries to come up with a good response.

You choose next time :) Show me someplace nice, Petal

He closes out the app and opens Instagram, hovering over the search bar for a moment before he finally typed in your user. He moves fluidly to it, having done this a million times before. You haven't posted in a while, but you have a new story. He clicks on your icon- a phone of you and your best friend (Bahiyyih, was it? He'll have to look into her.) making kissy faces.

The photo you've put on your story is on you took while with him. When a small lizard jumped on your table and tried to steal one of his french fries. You snapped a picture of him with his hand over his mouth in shock, staring at the lizard as it tries to drag a french fire that's bigger than it is.

He smiles fondly, snapping a screen shot of the memory. When the page refreshes, he sees that you have a new 'saved story' category. It's named "Yeo★".

The only other one on your page is called "Huening hoes". He's seen all of them a million times, but he still takes his time to click through it. It's pictures of you and Bahiyyih, of just her, and occasionally her brother. They, along with Choi Soobin, seemed to be your closest (if not only) friends.

At first, he was suspicious of the older Huening- but his nerves calmed down when he noticed the difference in your comments to them. On Yeosangs post of him playing the violin, he got a heart emoji. On kai.ning 's post of him and his track team: 'only went to see you fall... disappointed' followed by a sad face and a begging emoji.

His favorite by far was posted the day he stepped up to Ji. You are sitting in between Kai's legs as he does your hair, a bottle of nail polish in one hand and the brush in the other, a big grin on your face as your head is leaned back in laughter.

More often than not, he finds himself thinking what it would be like to have been there. To hear your laughter, to be the cause of it. He loves that laugh. He loves it so much. He'd give anything to have it all to himself. To have you all to himself.

He groans, locking his phone and rolling over with a frown.

He doesn't know why or how you have his heart on a string. You have him bewitched. How? Is it your eyes? Which look at him like he's a most valuable piece of art? Is it your lips? So soft and open for his taking? Maybe, your hands? Such a delicate embrace that leaves him begging for more?

God... he wonders what it would be like to fall asleep in your safe embrace.

He's fully fallen for you, and he's fallen hard. Why? Was it your kind nature? The way you didn't hesitate to help him when he acted like he didn't know how to play that verse? Was it the way you hung onto him when Ji passed by, silently begging him to protect you? Maybe- maybe the way that you held onto his shoulders as you moaned, so tightly that your nails left indentations for two whole days? It had to have been the way you rested your forehead against his with your eyes closed blissfully after your first kiss. The excited look in your eyes as you rambled about your interests?

He loved it all. He wanted it all. And he'd do anything to keep it. To keep you.

Kang Yeosang never knew fear until the day he answered the phone to your broken sobs at exactly 12:47 AM. You cried and cried for him, begging for him to help you. And he did. He took his keys and followed your shared location to the school. He ran all the way to where he knew he would find you.

He slams the double doors to the music room open and pauses for a moment until he sees your cowered figure by the rack of guitars, leaning on the wall with your head in your hands.

He yells out to you, sliding to his knees in-front of you. "Oh, precious thing," he pushes your hands down and takes your face in his own, "what happened to you?" His heart stops beating in his chest.

Your eyes are puffy and red. But that's the least of his concerns. You have dried blood that's dripped down your nostril. A forming bruise on the side of your face.

"Who did this to you?"

The second you explain what happened, he's back on his feet, ready to hunt down that bitch Un Ji.

"Yeo, please!" You hold onto the back of his calve, sticking him in place. "Don't," you plead, "please, don't go." He sits back down on the tile floor with you.

"My Petal," he begins to tear up, "they've crushed you." You can't say anything more, simply crying as you hold his hands tightly, attempting to stop the way your whole body trembles. "She put her fucking hands on you, (Y/n). She bruised you, she made you cry, look at what she did to your violin! She needs to learn her god damn lesson. She isn't better than anyone, and she certainly isn't better than you."

Your blurry vision turns to your prized instrument, now just a mess of broken wood and snapped strings. And the sight only makes you cry more. "Don't worry," he pulls you into his chest and wraps his arms around you, kissing the top of your head. "I'll fix it... I'll fix it all." You hang onto him for dear life, sobbing into him.

"Baby," he hums, swiping away your tears the second you lean away. "I hate to see you cry like this," he holds you gently as he leans his head on yours to imitate what has become a habit of yours. "Breath with me, c'mon. You're okay now." You bite your lip to hold back your cries, eventually evening out your breathing to match his.

"You'll be okay?" He goes to stand again, and is once again stopped when you keep your grip on his hand.

"What will you do?"

"I'll just scare her. Show her to stay away."

And he plans on keeping his word to you, he truly does, but when he sees Ji all alone on the top of the stairs, all his mind can think is how 'this fucking bitch deserves to die for putting her hand on you'.

"Un Ji!"

She stands up and looks down at him with an expression of coldness, mirroring the same one he has. Only, with less rage. "I'll fucking kill you," he grabs her by her neck and pushes her to the cold ground, following her as she tries to back away. "What the fuck, dude?!"

She grabs his wrist and tries to pry it away, but he won't let up: clouded by his anger. "You are such a stuck up little bitch! You think you get to walk all over her? You think you get to touch her and get away with it? Huh? Answer me, cunt!"

"You fucking psycho, get away from me!" She struggles. He throws her down by the grip he has on her neck and lets her head slam onto the hard floor.

She's still dazed, her vision blurry from the bang to her head, when he crouches down to her level. "I should kill you." He smirks as she uncoordinatedly tries to scramble away. "I really should, but... I don't think (Y/n) would come around to that. She will come around to this though."

"Wha-" her question is cut off when he stands quickly and stomps on her hand. "Fuck, what the fuck," she screeches, trying to pull her hand back when he steps down harder and a crunch rings out. She lets her head fall to the ground, soaking it with her tears.

"Was it this hand you struck her with?" He moves to kick the other one out from under her, and steps down lightly. "Or this one?" When she doesn't answer, he crushes her hand anyway. "Best be safe." She yells and yells, but the only other person in the building this late is you; and your too occupied with the remnants of your instrument to hear her.

"Please, stop!" He lifts his foot, and for a moment she things she's got through to him. Then he swings his leg back and brings it forward to her gut with force. She attempts to roll over, but finds no splice as he just kicks her back instead. "Low life," he groans, "fucking piece of trash."

He forces her to lay down on her back with a sneaker placed to her shoulder. "Are you crying?" He coos mockingly, "awww." He bends down, pinching her cheek harshly. "Should have fucking thought about the consequences."

He replaces his foot with his knee, putting all of his weight down on her shoulder until she's slapping his leg, begging him to stop as he crushes it. "When someone asks you what happened, you say Lucas Montgomery did it, got that?"

He plans on taking down two birds with one stone, knowing that the socially inept Lucas wouldn't have anyone to use as an alibi.

"Ye-yeah."

"Hey, Un Ji... who did this to you?"

"Lucas." She coughs. Blood dribbles down her chin.

"Un Ji-ah," he yells into her face, "who did this to you."

"Lucas did! Lucas Montgomery!"

"Good. Make it believable, too." He kicks her down and gives her one last glance full of hatred with a threat, "cause next time, I won't stop until I can hand her your head on a stick."

He leaves her crying on the upstairs floor as he returns to you. He finds you, nearly unmoved from where he left you. Gathering up the broken pieces of your violin and attempting to do the same to your heart.

"Yeo?" You stand up and embrace him the second he crosses into the room, wrapping your arms around his waist and listening to his heavy breathing.

When you back up, you see a splatter of red on the tip of his sneakers. "Are you okay? Is that blood?" He cups your face in his hand and caresses his thumb over the bruise. "Yeosang!" He blinks back into reality. "Is that blood?"

You reach for the closed door behind him, when he grabs your wrist and pushes it back to your side. "You don't need to see that."

"Don't nee- what did you do?" He pushes you further into the room by your shoulder softly. "Yeosang, what did you do to her? You said you were just going to scare her!"

"She's scared," he says nonchalantly. "She won't bother you again." When you ask if he hit her, he almost scoffs a laugh. "I crushed her... I crushed her just like she did to you."

You don't know what's come over him, but you don't like it. This isn't the Yeosang you've been falling in love with. This Yeosang is scaring you.

"I want to go home, now."

He nods, "I'll take you."

"No." You speak all too quickly for his liking. "I don't want... I don't want to be near you right now. How can you... you did exactly what she did to me."

He grabs onto your forearm tightly, pulling you back as you try to leave and pushing you onto the wall next to the whiteboard.

"My beautiful flower," he hums, cool knuckle sliding down your cheek and across your jaw.

"Yeosang." His name is whispered like that of a devil, so quiet that he can barely pick up on the emotions lacing your voice. "We shouldn't... we should stop before we get more involved. I'm- I don't think-"

"No," he grumbles, pushing off the wall and going to pace around the music room. "You don't get it," he yells, kicking one of the sheet stands. You yelp involuntarily, backing into the chalkboard as his cold gaze finds you. "You don't get it," he begins to laugh, raking a hand through his hair.

"Sunbae-"

"Don't fucking call me that!" His conscience is filled with guilt as he hears the word, but it's quickly overwhelmed by the butterflies that fill his gut as he sees you cowering against the wall. "Don't call me that," he repeats in a soft, whining voice. As he approaches, you scoot behind the teachers piano, using it as a barrier between the both of you.

"Why are you scared," he asks. Wether it's genuine or teasing, you can't seem to tell.

"Please, stop. Lets just go our separate ways."

He places his hands on the top of the wooden piano, smirking as he unlocks the wheels with the tip of his sneakers. He pushes it to the side harshly, making the keys clang and echo around the room as it collides with the double doors. "Yeosang, please! You're scaring me!"

"Don't worry," he purrs as he crowds you, taking your hands in his and holding them between you: pressing his body against yours and effectively trapping you.

"Oh, Petal," his voice is truly mocking now, but it goes away as quickly as it came. "We are already involved. Do you have any idea what I would do for you? Huh? Any idea what I'm willing to do? What I did to that bitch is nothing compared to what I'm willing to do..." He places his forehead to yours, breathing in the smell of your sweet conditioner and listening to your ragged breaths. For a single moment, he feels like he's in heaven.

Then, the sirens come into ear shot.

Eyes wide, filled to the brim with tears that you refuse to let fall, you search his cold gaze. "What did you do?"

"I told you that I would protect you, yeah? That's exactly what I did." He leans his face impossibly closer to yours, "I have a feeling she won't be bothering you. Not as long as I'm around."

You turn your head to the side, avoiding his eyes as your tears fall. "Hey!" The grip he has on your chin is rough, probably rough enough to bruise.

"Yeo, please," you sob, subconsciously wrapping both your hands around his free one: which is still perched against your stomach.

"Look at me," he all but begs, shifting his weight around anxiously as you slowly turn your eyes to face him.

"I didn't do anything wrong, you know that right? She may have got hurt, but... after everything she did to you? That cunt had it coming. Okay?"

"Mhm." You bite your lip, nodding tightly in his grasp. "I'm sorry, Yeo."

"I know, baby." He places a chaste kiss to your cheek. He releases his death grip and taps your cheek gently with a smile. "I just want to protect you. You'll let me, won't you?"

The sirens are full force, ringing through the school. The lights flash through the tall window.

"Won't you?" He leans his head down and brushes his lips against you, almost begging.

"Yeah." You mumble into his lips, letting him kiss you deeply.

"Good. Let's get out of here, Petal."

[oniifans]

Lunch Money // Chapter Three: Bully! Eren Jeager x Female Reader

Possible finale?~ ¬‿¬ Maybe?

You and Bully Eren are in detention together. Uh oh, someone's in trouble~ I mean - no one could EVER do something obscene in a classroom right? …Right??

Kinks Include: Dubcon, Asshole Eren, Sex in the Classroom, Sex Over a Desk, Oral (Reader giving), Cunnilingus, Creampie, Dirty Talk.

More x female reader works incoming! I appreciate the patience and support as always. ♥

“Detention has now started. Please work on any assignments that you have for class or read. No phones allowed, not even to play music with. I’ll be stepping outside the classroom for just a moment to speak with Mr. Smith.” The teacher looked at you and Eren before shaking her head, walking out of the classroom to join Mr. Smith out in the hallway.

You let out a sigh as you buried your face in your arms. You knew better than to trust Eren with that damn test answer sheet. He went ahead and took pictures to send to his friends before another teacher caught him and he decided to tattle.

Fucker.

You pulled out your book from your science class and started to read the assigned chapters. Eren looked amused, visibly happy to see you stuck in detention with him.

“The teacher’s pet got caught, so sad,” He mocked with a frown, “what is she going to do now?”

You ignored him, moving to another page as you continued to read.

Eren let out a chuckle as he moved from his desk and walked over to you, sitting now across from you as he turned around to stare dead into your eyes. “What? Not going to talk to me now?”

“You got me in trouble, you prick. Why would I want to talk to you?” You hissed, moving your eyes from the book to him, “I did everything as you asked me to, you gave me a bit of protection, but you couldn’t just hide the test answers and keep them to yourself? I know you’re a selfish jerk, and rather keep shit on the down low, but damn you! Now my reputation is ruined completely because of you.”

Eren just stared at you, one hand holding his head. “The smart girl getting all of the straight A’s in class gets to be in trouble just once, and she loses her shit on me. How typical,” He snickered, “you know it’s hot for you to get mad like that.”

“Eat shit.”

“You’re always such a good girl, never getting into trouble, and just out of the blue, here you are.”

You didn’t reply.

“Oh? Nothing to say? From the girl who sits in the back of the class, never says anything to anyone, and passes all of her classes?”

Still nothing.

“You know,” Eren leaned close, one hand grabbing your book and slamming it down on the desk, “I bet under all of those baggy clothes, your oversized hoodies, anything to cover yourself, you have a banging hot body. A shy, introverted girl like you hiding in the back of the class has some secret kinks. Maybe we could work out a deal.”

Your hands gripped the edges of the book, but he held down the book firmly. “No more deals, and actually, you’ve seen me under the clothes-”

“Not completely.”

“What’s it to you anyway?”

“Just hear me out,” He smirked, “if you start sitting next to me in class, maybe move your arm so I could copy some of those test answers, work with me on my grades, I could take you to one of those large parties. You know, the ones that get wild and such, where everyone talks about it the next day? Maybe you’ll finally get a big group of friends, stop sitting in the back of the class.”

“There’s a trick to this, isn’t there?”

Even though you could deny it, you were curious to go to one of those big parties. You’ve heard crazy rumors about how things went down. Jean and Eren getting into a fist fight, Reiner and Porco, the two well-known football jocks, having a beer chugging race, and even Armin playing seven minutes in heaven with Annie.

There were too many stories about what happened, but no one could really tell you all of the details. You could even witness these yourself.

“No trick, but you just let me use you,” Eren breathed, “your holes, your body, completely in secret.”

“Really, Eren? That’s really it?”

“You want that invite? The address?”

You moved away from him, sitting back into your seat and crossed your arms. “I don’t believe that’s it.”

Eren shifted and sat up in his seat, “Nope. That’s really it. Getting head from the very innocent girl that swears up and down that she doesn’t do anything bad and she gets an invite to the party. Maybe even fuck that cute pussy of yours every now and then. No strings attached.”

“Why me?”

He raised an eyebrow, “Why you?”

“Yeah. You’re obsessed with me, aren’t you? Like to pick on me, tease me, and behind closed doors, you have me on my knees sucking you off and riding you. What, catching feelings?”

“Not in the slightest,” Eren tensed, his jaw ticking, “I just think it’s fair, since this is a way of us making deals. You get what you want, I get what I want.”

You stared hard at him. “And if I refuse?”

“I’d make your life hell. Start spreading rumors of how you were begging to have me use you. And that’ll even be worse for you, for your reputation and all of that,” He let out an exaggerated gasp, “oh no, that would be terrible. All that attention all on you about how much of a slut you are. You’d hate that.”

You scoffed, “That isn’t fair.”

“Then, why don’t you make it easier for the both of us and come on over here to put my dick down your fucking throat.”

You grimaced.

“Don’t give me that look. Just come over here and I’ll take care of you. You got that?”

You didn’t move.

“I love that look in your eyes. That look that you fucking hate me, but you’d still let me have you.”

It was like he knew you. Not even the last two times in the bathroom and he just figured you completely, from the inside and out.

You quietly rose from your desk and moved to the floor, sitting on your knees in between his legs as your hands started to undo the belt. Eren stared at you, his nostrils flaring as he watched you closely.

“Hurry up before they get back.” He whispered.

You managed to undo the belt completely, moving your hands to the zipper before Eren stopped you. “Not with your hands. With your teeth.”

You hesitated for a moment before moving your hand away and leaning into his crotch. Your tongue latched onto the zipper, catching it with your teeth and slowly pulling it down.

Eren moved his hand over to the back of your head and pushed you against his crotch. “Lick it through my boxers.”

Your tongue lapped up at the fabric, tasting the hint of his hot flesh through the threads. Your eyes stared up at him as you continued.

He grunted, feeling your tongue just barely rubbing against cock. “Don’t stall, do what you’re good at, YN.”

You hummed as your hands moved to pull down the elastic band of his underwear, freeing his erection. It was hot, pulsing as he moved to slap it against your cheek. “You look so good like this. My cock right against your face. Heh, take a good look at it. It’s going all the way down your fucking throat and into your rib cage once I’m done with you.”

Your hands reached up to take his cock, your lips wrapped around the tip as you gave it painfully slow licks. Your tongue dragged from the base to the tip, both hands wrapped around it, watching as Eren had one hand on your head, his breathing picking up.

He would never tell you that you looked perfect right in between his legs. That you were absolute heaven to touch, to watch. Why? Maybe he truly was afraid of catching feelings for you. He would never admit that.

You took him deep in your mouth, a choked gasp escaping Eren as his hips bucked up. Your tongue lapped against his throbbing flesh, choked moans barely making past your lips as you bobbed your head up and down on him.

His fingers brushed over the lock of your hair, hissing and panting. He could start feeling the growth of his climax, but he wanted more than just your mouth. He pushed your head away, little strings of spit caking your lips as he tried to catch his breath.

���Over the desk. Now.”

You stood to your feet, moving your upper body against the desk as Eren stood from his seat. He moved behind you, his wet cock in one hand as the other hand moved to pull your pants down. He let out a chuckle, staring over your panties as he traveled his free hand over your ass.

“Such a nice ass…” He said as his fingers dipped over to your clothed hot core, “oh? Someone got a little turned on when sucking me off. Is this a wet spot?” He rubbed it teasingly, his eyes watching your body quiver as you shook your head no.

“No? Then,” He pulled your panties to the side, exhaling a breath, “tell me why your cunt is so wet.”

His index finger traveled over your lips, sending shivers up your spine. He rubbed down to your clit, watching amused as you crumbled on the desk. Little whimpers could be heard from you as he slid a finger inside of you.

“Fucking hell, YN. You’re tight and warm. You thought about this, didn’t you? You’re dripping wet just from sucking my fucking cock. You want me to be inside of you?” He asked as he started to finger you. You let out a gasp, one hand over your mouth as you tried to fight back what your body felt.

You didn’t want to give in, but yet with each stroke inside of you, you wanted him to devour you, taste you, and make you his.

Eren leaned over your body, sliding his finger out of you as he pressed his cheek against your own, “You want this, don’t you?” He asked as he yanked down your panties down to your ankles. He rubbed his cock against your wet folds, while his tongue licked a stripe over your cheek, “Beg for it. Beg for me to be inside of you.”

Your cheeks burned as your head lowered. You mumbled a few words, but Eren grabbed a hold of your chin, turning your head to him. “What was that?”

“Please...please fuck me,” You said softly, “I want you deep inside of me, please.”

Eren’s hips suddenly thrusted forward, his cock sliding all the way in. You tensed up, standing on your toes before his hands grabbed your hips and held you down. You whimpered, legs shaking as you felt how he was stretching your insides.

He started to move, hips crashing against your ass with each deep thrust. He moved away from your head, watching how he was fucking you. Your cute pink clutch tugging and pulling with ease, while his hands grabbed handfuls of your ass and dragged you up and down on his cock.

You were a mess on the desk. Your face was hot, your eyes rolling back as Eren used your pussy. You could feel your wetness start to trail down your thighs, while your hands gripped the edges of the wooden surface. Your moans were stifled by your hand as you bit down on your knuckles to stop from crying out his name.

Was it embarrassing to be used by your bully? Maybe, but it still felt exciting to know that behind all of those harsh words and cold stares, that he wanted to use your body behind closed doors.

“It’s good to know how hot and wet you are for me, YN,” Eren said as he moved once more down to your upper body, his breath ghosting over your neck, “do you ever imagine us like this in your bedroom? Probably touching yourself to the thought of me buried in between your legs?”

You let out a soft cry, feeling ashamed as you nod to your sin, while Eren snickered and pressed a wet kiss against your neck. He started to get rougher, breathing heavily as one hand snaked at your neck and started to slowly squeeze.

“You’re gonna cum on my cock, YN. You’re going to cum and thank me for fucking you.” He gasped, feeling that he was getting close to reaching his climax.

His heavy balls slapped against your clit as he moved to heavy thrusts, feeling how he was pressed deep into your womb.

“Thank you!” You suddenly cry out, “thank you for fucking me, Eren!” Your legs gave out as you came, Eren following as he laid on top of you. Thick ropes of his cum shot deep inside of your womb, filling your eager cunt.

You were out of breath, your hair sticking to your sweaty face as Eren slowly pulled himself up from you, letting out a grunt as he slid himself out. Cum oozed from your hole, a perfect sight for Eren as he rubbed a hand over his disheveled hair.

“I hope that no one heard that,” Eren snickered as he pulled his pants up, giving your ass a firm spank, “since, you know, you care so much about your reputation and all. But…I’ll text you the details later about that party.”

You were numb, lower body buzzing from the recent release as your eyes shifted to look up at him.

“And don’t forget,” his hand cupped your cheek, “about our little deal we have, hm?”

[storytowrite]

hey ml, how are you? 🫶🏻 thought i’d request something if that’s okay?

(i’ve been listening to this song and it gave me a wicked idea)

OT8 skz x 9th Fem!member reader where she argues with the boys and they all ignore her for a while which causes her to get into her head and she starts going a bit crazy? She is filming her solo MV as apart of SKZ-REPLAY and lets all of her crazy/psychotic thoughts out. The boys are told to come into jyp to talk about readers MV (which the boys hadn’t seen yet) and they all sit in shock whilst watching you go on a psychotic breakdown with the most sinister grin on your face?

Hello love ❤️ I really, really like the idea and I will definitely write it. Also I love the song! But please be patience because I have my finals so I’ll probably start writing again after I pass everything.

I’ll tag you anyway.

Kisses 😘

Hello love, As promised I wrote this idea and I hope that you would enjoy reading it. I'm so sorry that you had to wait for such a long time :C but the last week of January when I had my finals was so hard and exhausting that actually I needed to rest from everything. But thankfully I passed everything and now, being on my winter break, I can write more :D.

Anyway, here's the story I really hope you'll like it. Please enjoy and have fun reading it. ❤️

……………………..

Title: Happy Face

Genre: Angst

Word Count: 2061

Warnings: swearing, mention of mental breakdown, Lee Know is kinda harsh on Y/N

……………………..

“...And I guess, they’ll never listen, ya know? Because I’m a girl.” Was the last thing you said before smiling creepily into the camera and tilting your head to the side. “But let me tell y'all a secret…” You said whispering. “I don’t need them anymore. Not at all.” You started laughing hysterically. There was something in your voice that made everyone, who was watching your live, shiver. Something’s changed. The switch had been switched and there was no way back. 

……………………..

“Ya! Y/N! Stop acting like a fucking child!” Changbin screamed as you ran before him, trampling over his music sheets. “I’m working, don’t you see?!” 

“I’m sorry Binnie! I’m just late and…” You started to explain yourself. 

“I don’t fucking care!” He scoffed. He didn’t like being interrupted in his work and you knew that. Everybody knew. You sighed heavily. 

“I said I’m sorry…” You said with a pout on your face and just left the room. Living with eight men in a dorm as a ninth member was sometimes hard. Especially before the upcoming comeback, when everyone was busy and stressed out. The season was just hectic. 

You arrived at the practice a little bit late. You entered the practice room, being welcomed by a disappointed view of coldfaced Lee Minho. “You are late.” He said harshly. “Why are you always late?!” His voice raised a little, which made you squirm.

“I’m sorry… I got stuck in traffic and…” You started but he didn’t want to listen. 

“I don’t care, Y/N. You should have left earlier then. We were waiting for you for almost 20 minutes! We don’t have this room reserved for long!” Minho was angry. 

“I’m so…” You started but again was interrupted by someone. 

“Okay, no need to actually fight… let’s start the practice again, all right?” Felix said softly and looked at you with a slight smile. “You remember the routine?” 

“Y-yes, I remember.” You answered. 

“Good.” Said Hyunin and turned on the music. “Let’s begin then.” 

The practice was good, but the tension between you and Lee Know was strong. You couldn’t understand what got into him. You did your best and gave more than 100%. You were a perfectionist so you always tried to be better and better.

Dancing with the danceracha was most of the time fun. But this time you couldn’t enjoy it as much as you would like to. Minho was harsh and pointed out each mistake that you made or at least the mistake that he thought you made. 

You were tired. You didn’t know what actually was happening with your body. You couldn’t stay straight most of the time. Your muscles ached and you felt a little dizzy. Your body didn’t want to cooperate with you at all. 

“Minho, I need a break.” You stopped the routine in the middle, panting heavily. “I really have no strength and my body is…” 

“I don’t care Y/N, you said that you remember everything. Just focus and dance again.” He said, rolling his eyes, creally annoyed. “You need to master these movements.”

“No.” You said looking at him. “I will not dance again now, I need a break. I’m tired.” 

“Let me repeat it, Y/N. No one cares that you are tired. We all are! You are messing up the whole choreography. I’m not going to change the routine again, just because you can't focus.” 

“Oh, I’m sorry that I am tired and my body can’t dance properly.” You rolled your eyes, snapping at him. “Maybe if you weren’t a douchebag you are right now and let me take a break just for ten minutes as you did with Hyunjin and Felix I’ll be in better condition to dance once again. I told you, my body…” 

“Maybe if you practised more you wouldn’t be as tired as you are right now?” He raised an eyebrow. “Instead of spending time gossiping around you should come here and practise often!” 

“First of all I don’t gossip! And second of all it’s none of your business what I do in my fr…” You couldn’t finish the sentence since Hyunjin interrupted you. 

“Y/N, just listen to the hyung. He’s right. You are messing up the choreography. And we are as tired as you are of repeating it all over again . You need to focus.” 

“I am focused! And stop interrupting me!” You raised your voice annoyed that Hyunjin is taking Minho’s side. “You both think that I don’t do anything?! I am trying to be as good as you guys are!” 

“Then try harder!” Minho shouted. “It’s not the first time you are messing something up! You are always messing things up! You think being an idol is supposed to be a light job? It’s not a playground Y/N! We are all tired of you and your constant excuses and being fucking tired. If it’s too much then… ”

“I don’t have any excuses! What the fuck you are talking about Minho?!” You were pissed. “I get that everyone is stressed out because of the comeback but don’t yell at me just because you are ruthless fucking douchebag, who thinks that by being mean…” 

“Call me a douchebag once again and I swear I’ll…” He started but you interrupted him. 

“You’ll do what, hm? Hit me?” You looked at him provocatively and Minho clenched his fits. 

“Okay, Allright.” Someone entered the danceroom. “Calm down everybody. Calm down. What’s all this fuss about?” It was Chan, who looked at you and Minho, seeking the explanation. Behind him the rest of the Stray Kids entered the room and looked at the two of you. “Why are you fighting? Everyone in the building can hear you.” 

“Apparently Y/N is once again tired of actually doing nothing.” Minho said venomously. “She doesn’t want to focus and I had to change the choreography too many times and…”

“Apparently Minho is treating me worse than he treats others.” You said sarcastically, rolling your eyes. “He doesn’t let me take a break while Hyunjin and Felix rested all the time!” 

“Hey! That’s not true!” Felix and Hyunjin said at the same time. 

“Y/N I told you that you are messing the choreography up and…” Minho started once again.

“And I fucking told you that I’m tired, okay?! Why is no one listening? I have no strength recently and…” You interrupted him. You could feel the tears that formed in your eyes, both because you were pissed and just sad. 

“And that’s enough, watch your tongue Y/N.” Chan said firmly, sighing heavily. He didn’t let you finish your sentence. “Y/N, I heard from the boys that the only thing you've been doing recently is complaining. And I actually observed it by myself. If you need a longer break, we can talk with the managers about the hiatus and…” he looked straight into your eyes. 

“But I don’t want to go on a hiatus! What are you even talking about right now? Why is no one listening? You know what? I’m done for today.” You said, feeling like you were going to cry. You literally felt betrayed but all of the boys. “I need some time alone, ya know? I am done with all of you.” You grabbed your belongings and left the practice room, leaving all the eight men behind you. Nobody even tried to stop you. 

……………………..

A few hours have passed. You took a break and spent some alone time outside the building. You had time to rethink and calm yourself down. Maybe they were right at some point, but at the same time they didn’t listen to what you were going to say. It felt like you were just some kind of burden for them or they were annoyed with you with no further reason. 

After a long while you decided to come back to the JYPE building once again. It was really late and you were sure that no one was even there. You went straight into the danceroom, where you were going to practise. In the upcoming comeback, you not only had the performance with the danceracha but also had your solo song and MV as a part of SKZ-REPLAY. And at this point Minho was right. You had to master everything. 

You took off the hoodie you were wearing and put on the music. The routines weren’t that hard as you thought before. After some time of practising you, being content with the results of your hard work, decided to talk to somebody and share your thoughts. You were still upset with the boys so instead of calling them or your manager, you decided to make an Instagram live. The only people that you could rely on right now were your fans. 

“Hello guys, this is Y/N from Stray Kids.” You greeted your fans with a bright smile on your face. “How are ya?” You asked them and started reading some comments. “Am I in the practice room? Yeah, I’ve been mastering the movements for the new comeback… Uhm.. No, no I’m here by myself.” 

The fans started asking you questions about the comeback, the track and the boys and you tried to answer most of them with a big smile on your face. But it didn’t feel real. After a few more questions your smile started to drop. You didn’t want to show your fans emotions you were actually hiding all day, but eventually the bubble just burst. 

“Y/N is everything all right?” You’ve read out loud as the fans started asking you more serious questions. “Actually… no. Nothing is okay, ya know? I’m tired of being in this band. No, I am fucking exhausted! Don’t get me wrong, the guys…” You started and suddenly smirked looking straight into the camera. “Or you know what? Fuck it. Get me all wrong!” You laughed a little. “Maybe if I say what I’ve been trying to say recently, you’ll actually listen. Because believe it or not, there are people who don’t listen.” You let out the little giggle. But it wasn’t a happy giggle. You were trying so hard not to show the emotions that culminated in your body, that now you couldn't even pretend. 

Your fans started to be more concerned about your mental state. The people who were watching you at that moment were just scared. You didn’t act normal. You smiled at the camera, but there was something in your smile that no one could even name. 

“I’m happy! I’m happy! I’m happy today!... Hey! Put on a happy face!” You sang and started laughing. And your laugh was echoing in the empty room. Everyone who was watching your live was scared. But you didn’t care. The comments have stopped. No one dared to say anything. People were just looking at you but they didn’t know what to do.  

……………………..

At the same time that you were having a mental breakdown in front of thousands of people on the Internet, eight men sat in your dormitory, accompanied by managers, and watched you silently. They were either horrified or concerned, or both at the same time. Mixed emotions consumed them.

They were sure that they were the cause of your breakdown. Recently, they haven’t been very understanding. They didn’t want to listen to your silent cry for help. They were too focused on themselves that they didn’t see that you also had been experiencing a hard time. The instant remorse immediately seized them. 

“...And I guess, they’ll never listen, ya know? Because I’m a girl.” Was the last thing you said before smiling creepily into the camera and tilting your head to the side. “But let me tell y'all a secret…” You said whispering. “I don’t need them anymore. Not at all.” You started laughing again, but this time you laughed hysterically. There was something in your voice that made everyone, who was watching your live, shiver. Something’s changed. The switch had been switched and there was no way back. 

It was the only thing you added before you truly switched. They looked at your live with horror in their eyes. 

“Hyung… We have fucked things up. We all did.” It was I.N. who dared to speak, breaking the heavy silence. And those words will stay with them for a really long time. 

@ihrtlix

[ravs6709]

To Be Engulfed In Silence- Ivantill

Word count: 1.4k words

or read on ao3 here!

hahahahahaha alnst fanfic... haunting me

my own look at Till post r6 (came up with idea before r7, but only now decided to actually write it), and then a bit of r7. so you should know the vibes of this already... its admittedly a bit less ivantill and more r6 reflection (and so one-sided mizitill is present too)

Warnings: Till spends most of this fic choking himself. its not really graphic but its still a major point of the fic so keep that in mind if sh is triggering (i cautiously have it rated m on ao3). also brief reference to till being assaulted.

•~•~•~•~•~•

Till was no stranger to seeing things that weren't real. He dreamed of Mizi all the time: a bright pink light in his dark world, golden eyes and a sweet smile piercing his soul, his reason to live. He dreamed of her in his sleep, and while he was awake too, reaching for the warmth of her hand while rough ones grabbed at his head again and again however they pleased.

Warmth that he could never have. He knew Mizi would never love him, but would it be wrong to keep wishing that she would? Was it wrong to cling to her, to hope that someone who was so full of love could love him too?

After she went missing—missing, he could only hope that she was only missing, since the segyeins didn't know where she was, and that she hadn't been killed—how was he supposed to function? How was he supposed to navigate this cold, dark world, without a warm light?

He had stood on the stage, empty and hollow and unfeeling, fully prepared to die. But then Ivan—

Ivan had kissed him. And choked him.

His body trembled. The light on his collar, which for once wasn't muzzling his mouth, was red. It wasn't until his next breath was a cough did he realize that his own hand had wandered up to his neck, fingers pressing down on his throat. It took several seconds to bring himself to loosen the grip, his body gasping for breaths.

Hollow. Unfeeling.

How had it felt again? He'd closed his eyes, surrendering to the hands on his neck, prepared to die, even directly from Ivan's hands. Ivan, who had grown up with him. Who had been all in his personal space. Who was—

Who was dead. Who kissed him. Who held him by the neck. Who didn't even hurt him at all. Who was dead.

How much could Ivan have hurt me? Till wondered idly, fingers tightening against his throat again. His eyes fluttered shut, fingers gripping until his body instinctively fought against his own actions and he had to let go again.

It hadn't hurt, back then. But it felt like it should have.

He slowly opened his eyes once more, mind feeling hazier by the second. He readjusted to the dark room, white catching his eye. Ivan stood in front of him, white suit contrasting his dark eyes that had always been an endless abyss, eyes that Till had never been able to understand. He said nothing, just staring at him with a blank expression.

Not right. That wasn’t the right expression.

“You asshole,” Till rasped, his hand having never left his neck. “Why’d you have to do that?”

Ivan kept silent, kneeling down in front of him, but far enough to be out of his arm’s reach. He smiled, the kind of smile he usually wore when pissing Till off.

And he was pissed. “Why’d you do it?” he asked again.

Why?

Ivan’s hand reached up, thumb brushing against his snaggletooth. This expression was much more familiar to him, but it wasn’t right either.

“Fucking talk to me,” he said, words he could never imagine saying in his life.

Ivan still said nothing. Just kept looking right at him. Till averted his gaze, hand inadvertently squeezing at his neck once more. It didn’t hurt. It did. It should have hurt, It hadn’t. And Ivan was still quiet.

He looked down, the Cure music sheets scattered on the ground before him. Sharp lines were scratched over the lyrics, forming a face he couldn’t quite get right. He’d been smiling, but not in a way that Till had ever seen from him before. He couldn’t understand it, and proceeded to scribble over it.

“Ivan,” he called out, voice shaking. He could barely hear himself. “Tell me why.”

Why’d you kiss me? Why’d you smile like that? DId it really make you that happy?

He pressed down harder on his throat, eyes burning with tears just a little bit. It was hurting now, when it hadn’t on stage. He’d been too accepting of the idea that Ivan would strangle him to death. He hadn’t. And not due to a failure in trying. He’d really thought that Ivan would kill him like that. Not the natural way of him winning and Till losing since he’d given up on singing, but had been more than willing to believe that Ivan would resort to brute force. He wondered if it was stupid to even think about it now, since one of them would have had to die on the stage anyway.

He’d just assumed that the corpse would be himself.

So why’d you have to choose to die like that? Why’d you look so happy to die for me?

Ivan was still there kneeling in front of him, shaking his head ever so slightly. Till’s free hand pried himself off from his neck, reaching out to him. The tips of his fingers reached just a few centimetres short.

Not that it’d matter. Till was no stranger to seeing things that weren’t there, and Ivan was now one of those things too.

His hand twitched again, aching to wrap around his throat once more, but restrained himself. Ivan stared at him, then gave him an odd half-smile, nodding his head. He turned away, into the dark and out of his field of view, and then he was gone.

Where are you going? Don’t leave me too, he thought deliriously. You can’t disappear on me just like that.

He stared at his still outstretched hand, cold and empty. He couldn’t reach for Ivan, not even like this.

What if that day, he hadn’t let go of—

His throat burned with all the multitude of whys and what ifs, all the questions he needed to ask Ivan. Not that a ghost of a man could ever answer them, but he needed something. Till looked at the next song’s lyrics for the final round, reading the words and guitar chords again and again until the segyeins had dragged him out.

•~•~•~•~•~•

Cold, corpse-like fingers wrapped around his throat, pressing down just so, before pulling away. The owner of those hands pulled away with a smirk on his face, but Till tried to pay Luka no mind, trying his best to push down the feelings that threatened to burst.

He’d been doing okay enough on singing, on winning, on surviving, since he had unexpectedly made it to the final round, despite everything.

…not the same sensation. Ivan hadn’t pressed enough for it to hurt, unlike here. But his bottom lip still tingled at the reminder of how Ivan had kissed him, snaggletooth biting into him just a little—

His hands had been so gentle, despite the force of the kiss. Gentle as his smile, as blood spilled from his lips and he fell to the ground, dead.

Distantly, Till could hear the crowd cheering for Luka, could only vaguely hear his own voice repeating rehearsed words. The crowd sang along to the chorus, his entire world spinning. Complete lack of focus, nothing to latch onto, not until cold fingers tipped his chin up, dark eyes staring into his soul.

Ivan, he wanted to call out, the touch feeling oh so real. His world was still spinning, and spinning and spinning and—

Pink hair. Golden gaze. Mizi.

The words that had been stuck in his throat were set free with a passion he hadn’t felt in a while, and he ran out towards her, the two of them reaching out for each other.

With a sharp pain in his neck, Till hit the ground.

His vision went dark around the edges as he was pulled into her lap. Her face was so close, he didn’t think he’d ever been this close to her in years, not since they were children and they were sneaking around and she’d pressed against him as they tried to hide away.

She was crying. He didn’t want her to cry, even though a small part of him felt relieved that she cared enough to cry over him.

I’m sorry, Mizi. Don’t cry over me.

He tried reaching up for her face, but he had no strength left.

I’m sorry.

I’m sorry, Ivan—

•~•~•~•~•~•

Idk if i'm gonna write anymore alnst fanfics (hyu///luka is spinning rn, but no guarantees) but if anyone wants to join taglist just let me know!

[darksigns-exe]

Sweet Like Honey - Hearts Like House Fires

Warnings: Mentions of Alcohol consumption, anxiety attacks, infidelity, swearing, slight angst Word Count: 2.9k Read on AO3

For someone who prefers noise to drown out his own thoughts, he feels oddly at ease sitting next to this practical stranger. He can almost feel her settling into the chilled air. Silence is something he doesn’t award himself very often. And to share it with someone else feels like a form of intimacy that he isn’t exactly used to.

The music outside continues to boom. He can hear it even through the noise-cancelling headphones. Maybe he should be out there. This is as much his success as it is theirs. Noah has poured just as much if not more of himself into this album, but the idea of stepping out there and mingling with people who only care about their music now that it’s picked up in speed feels like the last thing he wants to do right now. 

He wants to be happy about this. The album has turned out so much better than expected and yet the bitter stench remains. The biting and clawing under his skin rarely leaves these days and it’s easier to hide behind the walls of sound than to actually face it. He knows that, as soon as he steps outside this door, they all will ask about her and then he’ll have to explain it all over again. The thought alone is enough to shatter his heart for the hundredth time that day. 

Maybe he should have expected it. It’s all been going too well. They’d been too happy, of course, something had to go wrong. He just doesn’t know how he didn’t see it coming. None of that matters now though. It’s done, he’s the one who has to deal with the aftermath while she’s off with that asshole doing god knows what. 

He’d long drawn his conclusions from it – or rather it had reaffirmed conclusions he had hoped were wrong. If he doesn’t want to get hurt he has to keep people at arm's length. He doesn’t want to be one of those miserable loner dickheads, but he’d rather be alone than allow himself to be subjected to this kind of fuckery again. 

It’s been exactly three weeks and five days since Noah found them in his bed and he swears that the stench of his cologne still hasn’t washed out of his sheets. The sofa in the studio isn’t as comfortable but it’s better than that. He is well aware that they all know that he hasn’t slept in his own bed in almost a month. Everyone except for Nick has had the decency to ignore that detail. He should have known that Nick would be the one to point out that he was only driving himself deeper into that hole. 

Has he listened? Of course not. 

Noah is stubborn above all else and this self-flagellation feels like the best thing he deserves right now. 

Really it’s his own fault. 

He tries to drown the laughter and cheering from outside. Maybe he could brave a quick excursion into the kitchen to fetch himself another drink. So far no one has come looking for him, perhaps that is a good sign. Maybe they’ve finally given up on trying to get him to leave it behind . God knows he tries, but three weeks doesn’t feel long enough to leave five years behind. 

Noah pushes away from the desk. Before he opens the door, he listens for a moment. He can’t hear much above the blaring music. He cracks open the door enough so that he can survey the kitchen. Someone is standing by the sink, her back facing towards him. He doesn’t recognise the girl, but that doesn’t mean much. He pushes out of the studio and into the kitchen. She doesn’t hear him enter and if he’s quick enough she won’t even know that he was here in the first place. He still tries to be quiet in his approach. He makes it to the fridge before he hears a startled yelp from behind him. 

“Jesus – fuck .” 

Noah finds her with one hand pressed to her mouth and the other to her chest. Wide, brown eyes stare at him still in deep shock. Her chest is heaving with deep breaths as she tries to calm herself down again. 

He’s stuck at the other end of the room. Something in his chest chokes up. Even at this distance, he can see the bright red under her eyes, the smeared makeup that faintly stains her cheeks. He doesn’t need to be a genius to know that she is just now gathering herself again. He knows the shaking of her hands, the trembling in her breath too well. 

The still open fridge beeps with alarm and Noah finally finds himself able to move again. Her eyes snap away from him and towards the main room of the house as if she is expecting someone to join them. 

“Are you okay?” his voice crackles with disuse.

Those wide eyes find him again and the sliver of fear that still lingers behind their warmth shoots through him like lightning. He doesn’t know her name or who she came here with but that absolute look of panic hurts in a way that is way too close to home. The idea that someone in this house – someone he might know – might be responsible for this makes him nauseous. 

Despite all that she nods because of course, she does. He’d do the same thing. 

“You don’t look it.” 

She clears her throat, swallows around a breath “Just a bit of panic.” 

Noah doesn’t understand how someone can look so absolutely devastated but still sound so sweet . There’s a little lilt of an accent that he can’t quite place in her voice. It’s faint but present enough to intrigue him. 

“I just didn’t hear you come in.” he hates that she sounds as if she’s trying to convince herself rather than him. 

He nods “Do you need something? Water?” 

He’s already back at the fridge without waiting for her answer. She’ll say no and try to worm her way out of the situation, he’s been in those very shoes all too often in recent weeks with Nick on the other side of the playing field. 

“I was gonna sit outside for a bit if you want to get some air?” 

The lie comes a little too easy, but maybe whatever tactics Nick has used on him might work on her. She gives a meek nod but waits for him to make the first move towards the sliding door. 

She steps outside behind him. 

It’s still warm outside even though they’re quickly moving towards winter. Not that it ever gets really cold here. The winters here are nothing like the biting cold from his childhood. She still wraps her arms around her body. He finds a somewhat out-of-view spot on the steps that lead down to the yellowed grass and sinks down. She sits next to him and while his feet reach all the way down to the soil, hers rest on the step below the one she sits on. 

“Did you come here with someone?” he asks eventually.

“My friend dragged me here just to disappear with some guy.” there’s a hint of amusement in her words. 

“Who’s your friend?���

“Tasha?” 

Of course, Tasha would be the one to ditch a friend just to get laid.

“I’m not surprised.” 

He watches as she fiddles with the label of her bottle “You know I couldn’t even leave if I wanted to.”

“Some friend you got there. I can go find her if you –”

“I’m never gonna hear the end of that.” this time she actually laughs. 

Noah makes the fatal mistake of looking at her. In the dim light, he can make out the little crinkles around her eyes, the way her nose scrunches up. She catches him looking at her. That smile stays and claws its way into his chest. It’s entirely out of left field and he doesn’t have the opposition to fight it. The feeling sits on his chest like a stack of bricks. Unmoving and heavy. It’s oppressive in a way that he really doesn’t want right now. 

“I’m Noah.”

“Bee.” 

Oh of course her name is as sweet as she looks. 

She holds her hand out for him to shake. He takes it and tries very hard not to think about how his hand practically envelopes hers. He doesn’t let go immediately, instead, he pulls her arm towards him to inspect the lines and patterns that decorate her skin. It’s some kind of floral motif. The time he has spent hovering behind Nick tells him it’s neotraditional. Noah turns her arm a little and she lets out a giggle . 

He can’t let himself be drawn in by her. This — if anything — has to remain friendly, purely platonic. 

He does release his grasp on her eventually. Bee remains close to his side though. He thinks that maybe the proximity helps to ease the probably still-wired nerves in her body. Or maybe he’s projecting. 

“Does that happen often?” He doesn’t know why he asks. It’s none of his business. 

“What do you mean?”

“The anxiety.”

“How do you —“

He lets out a dry laugh “Know it when I see it.” He shifts, so that can look at her properly “Listen, I'm not gonna pry. Not my place. All I want to know is if someone in here made that happen.”

She’s quiet for a suspiciously long time. And Noah watches as her manicured fingers pick at a loose thread in her jeans. It’s all a little too familiar. 

“I think it was just the noise. I don’t really know.”

They both know that it wasn’t just the noise, but Noah also knows that him trying to dig an answer out of her is the last thing she needs. He decides to drop the topic and instead allows the silence to simmer between them. 

It’s comfortable. 

For someone who prefers noise to drown out his own thoughts, he feels oddly at ease sitting next to this practical stranger. He can almost feel her settling into the chilled air. Silence is something he doesn’t award himself very often. And to share it with someone else feels like a form of intimacy that he isn’t exactly used to. There is no place to hide in the quiet, no place for his thoughts to go. In the quiet, he can’t distract from the fact that he is about as lost as she looked when he first saw her leaning on the counter in front of the sink. 

It becomes too much eventually. The dark at the corners of his vision keeps creeping in and instead of trying to shake it, he finds another momentary distraction. 

“I’ve never seen you around here,” he asks and the sudden noise makes her jump just a little. 

Bee places the now empty bottle next to her on the stairs “I’m only here because Tasha didn’t want to go alone.” 

“Can’t believe Tash’s never brought you around before.” 

“She offered.” the words come quiet and he gets it “Just been…busy I guess.” 

“I feel like I’d know if you’d work at the shop, so it’s not that. And if you’d for a label Tasha would have made you come around sooner.” he wonders out loud. 

Noah likes to think that he’s fairly good at reading people and so far she isn’t giving him the feeling that she doesn’t want this back-and-forth to continue. 

“You’re still like super cold.” 

“Alright…something creative?” 

“Cold.” 

“Academic?” 

“Warmer.”

“Tasha knows people that know things?” 

Her body seizes with one of those laughs that is more of a forceful exhale. It’s sweet. 

“I thought she only knows hot people and guys in bands .” his attempt to keep her laughing seems to be successful “Alright academic…you’re not a doctor of something are you?”

She shakes her head “Not yet at least.” 

“Big plans. I like that.” he swears that her cheeks get a little bit pinker at that “Not a doctor…so probably not medicine. Law? No, you don’t strike me as a law person. Languages?”

“Warm.” 

“Do you know how many languages there are?”

Bee looks more than amused at his incredulous expression. She shakes her head “I’m a paleographer.”

“A what now?”

Her body shakes with laughter. It’s warm and gentle and most of all it’s genuine.

“I work with mediaeval manuscripts and writing systems. Deciphering and dating and that kinda stuff.” She explains “I’ve been teaching for a couple of years, but I want to do more research again.”

It’s like he’s opened a dam because she doesn’t stop talking after that. There’s passion in every word and even though he only understands about half of the things she’s throwing at him he can admire how much she loves what she does. It’s almost as if the girl in front of him has been swapped out at some point because the timid and insecure words she’d offered before were now so emblazoned with love that it makes his head swim a little. He can easily see her in the front of a classroom swaying those bored faces. 

And she isn’t talking down to him either. It’s a full onslaught of terminology and when he asks what a specific term means she explains it with so much practised patience that he actually feels as if he’s learning something.

For the first time in almost four weeks since he found himself swimming in the middle of this near-endless void he doesn’t feel as if he’s drowning anymore. Bee doesn’t know about any of it. She barely knows who he is, bar his name and a few arbitrary details, but the last hour and a half has been the most meaningful conversation he’s had in ages. It feels as if he’s known her for years and in an odd way he feels as if he’s been missing her. 

It’s refreshing to talk to someone who is entirely removed from the madness he deals with every day. She has her own entirely different madness that couldn’t be more different than his. He wants to hear all about it, every trivial detail. She listens with the same attentiveness as he awards her and he thinks that for once someone actually hears him. The topics between them shift and change with the wind. It’s easy — comfortable. 

There’s a spell of silence between them when he notices her shiver. Noah debates himself briefly before he tugs off his sweatshirt and unceremoniously drapes it across her shoulders. He can feel her seizing up for a second when his hands touch her shoulders. She relaxes again after a few moments and to his surprise she slips it over her head. She swims in the garment that runs a little too large even on him and Noah doesn’t miss the little laugh she lets out when she tries to arrange her arms within the sleeves. 

“I can fit another one of me in this.” She says quietly.

He could probably fit himself into it as well if he tried hard enough. For a second his head drifts off into dangerous territory when he wonders how warm her skin feels, how soft it’d be. He shakes the thought from his head as quickly as he can. 

Arms. Length. 

She’s telling him about her cat, a little black thing named Barnabas when the sliding door behind them shifts open. 

“There you are.” Noah doesn’t have to turn around to know the source of the voice “I’ve been looking for you. I’m gonna head back home if you want a ride back.” Tasha comes to lean against the bannister next to him “I hope this asshole has behaved himself.” 

She throws a rather pointed look towards Noah. It’s deserved in a way. 

“No no, he’s been…very nice.” Bee quickly gets up on her feet “I think I should probably head back with you.” 

Noah wants to offer her a ride back but they’ve just met and he wants to spare her the awkward no thank you . That way he can keep her separate from himself for a little while longer. Tasha mumbles something neither of them really listens to before she heads back inside. 

They stand suspended in silence for a while. When he had previously felt so comfortable in the silence, he now feels bare and exposed in her eyes. The words he could say hang between them. The options are endless. 

“I’ll — I’ll see you around?”

A quiet way to say don’t let me become a stranger. It’s non-committal enough. 

She nods “Sure…I’d like that.”

“Good.”

It’s an unspoken promise. Unseen fingers that beg not to let the other vanish into the dark. 

She takes a step towards the sliding door and Noah thinks that this is it. That she’ll leave and this little bubble will pop and he’ll return to the space in the studio that is almost moulded to his frame now. 

She stops before she opens the door “Thank you, Noah. Really.”

Thank you he wants to say. 

“Don’t worry about it.” He says instead “Happy to help.”

She huffs out a laugh and pushes up the sleeves of his sweatshirt “I’ll go — Tash’s waiting.”

“Sure.” 

And then she does leave. He watches her slip through the crack in the sliding door, his sweatshirt still on her back. Bee waves to someone inside — Nick he assumes before she’s finally out of view. 

Noah doesn’t go back inside immediately. He sits back down on the stairs for a little longer. 

The drowning feeling doesn’t come back immediately. Only when he lies back on the sofa does it start to settle in his chest again. Maybe he should have asked for her number. Just to stay in touch. As friends. 

He doesn’t know that halfway across the city a young woman realises that she went home with the sweatshirt of a guy she barely knows. And he doesn’t know that she feels just a little bit warmer at the thought of him. Or that she lies awake wondering if she should have asked for his number. To stay in touch. Nothing more.

[zoe-is-amazingg]

Could I request maybe Steve or Billy or JJ (I’m so sorry I’m so indecisive) where you’re at a party and a guy is being strange and invading personal bubble and Steve/Billy/JJ (whichever) steps in and is like jealous but justifiably and is just protective or however you think they’d react?

I’m so sorry and I hope this is okay, this is my first time requesting something and I feel like I’m about to sweat from stress and nerves

Too Close For My Liking Man

JJ Maybank X F!Cameron!Reader

W/C - 1.0K

Summary - Some guy is invading your space and JJ doesn't approve.

Warnings - Angst, fluff, swearing, alcohol use and alcohol + drug mention and that's abt it i think!

You toss around in your bed sheets as you hear booming music over the speakers Rafe set up in the house. Fuck him. You had a test at school tomorrow and you did not need this. Rafe didn't understand, he fails school and Dad still pays him money for motorbike fuel and crack. You fail and he'll disown you. Rafe was so privileged, and you hated it with every bone in your body.

Your phone buzzes on the nightstand, you sigh and turn it on.

Sare-Bear 🐻

Babes, you need to come down here rn. Rafe is going to kill you.

Why?

Your little crush arrived.

Shit. Read 11:23 am

--------

You put a proper tight dress that you had for any occasion, you weren't about to show up in a baggy T-shirt and worn-out jeans. 'Your little crush arrived.' She meant JJ, a pouge. She was right, Rafe will kill you. As long as you reach JJ before he does. You put on heels and walk out of your room and down the stairs.

"Hey! Hey! Y/N! I was hoping to see you here!" JJ exclaims as he brushes your shoulder with his fingertips. "What the fuck are you doing here?!" You half yell, you grab his wrist and lead him into your bedroom.

"We're already in your room princess? I thought you would've had some drinks first before we got in this position." He smirks. You shake your head and try to not say something back like you usually would. He looks at your bookshelf and scans the books with his fingers. "Answer the question." You mutter out.

"Uh, I'm here because the pouge were having drinks at the chateau, right? Anyway, Kie and Pope went somewhere and John B, I don't even fucking know, but I turned on the TV and started thinking about us!" He explains and you tilt your head ever so slightly at him. "In what way?"

"Well, we flirt, all the fucking time right, so what if we were more." He asks, taking a step closer to you, you were still at the door, fingers crossed no one will come in and ask why you had a man-whore of a pouge in your room. "Uh, two things, one, my dad will kill me, two, Rafe would kill both of us."

"But I just think that you're so pretty and th-""Look, JJ, I really am flattered, but we will never work, you're a pouge, I'm a kook and my parents and sibling will kill my ass." You interrupt him and he nods. He looks so sad; you would do anything just to make this moment never exist. Fuck the test tomorrow you just broke a friendship with someone who meant some much to you and as what he is saying to you makes so much sense to your heart it doesn't as much to your brain.

He steps closer to you and places a kiss on your lips so softly and breaks the kiss. You really wanted more, but you wanted alcohol more now. "Bye, Y/N." JJ mumbles as he leaves. Shit. Shit. Shit. You wish with everything that you could retake those words and never of said them in the first place. You wish that you let him finish his goddamned sentence.

You slowly walk out of your room and down the stairs. You walk into the kitchen and find a bottle of Malibu and slowly pour out shots for yourself until a guy comes around and slowly starts making small talk with you. "So, what are you doing all alone?" He asks you.

"I actually live here for your information." You slur. He smirks at your remarks and cups your elbow. He tries to pull you in, but you push away. "Have you had one to many, princess? I didn't know you lived here." You sigh and push off the counter and try to go to the bathroom, but he stops you and holds your waist.

As soon as he said princess, that's when you wanted nothing to do with him. It reminded you too much of the friend you just lost about thirty minutes prior to when he came around. Fuck, you really couldn't get out of talking to him, could you?

"So, are you dating someone? Or are you mine for the taking?" The guy asks and you nod your head. He was holding your waist hard, too hard. You wanted to disappear and never see him again, but as soon as you try pull away, his grasp on you grows stronger.

"I'm-""Taken. By me, so please, step away, you're standing too close for my liking man." You hear JJ say, the look on the creeps' face as he backs away from you and JJ takes you to your own bedroom. You hug him as soon as the door closes and your press a kiss to his forehead. "Thank you so much, I don't know what I would've done without you." You whisper in his ear. As soon as you back away, your eyes go to his lips and his hands slither around your waist. Your lips hover inches away from each other's as you decide to break the gap and kiss him. Your arms twine around his neck and you giggle as you both break the kiss.

"I think we might just make it after all." You smile

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------A/N - Please request things if you want! I have a couple that I am working on but here is the people that I write for ***

Taglist request here **

@idky5

[rdhadastroke]

So this straw-masked dumbass decided to do a thing and share some personal tips about writing fanfiction/writing someone else's character/writing in general!

Please keep in mind that I am a hobbyist writer, not a professional! These are just suggestions/things that help me that may or may not work for you, please feel free to correct me or add your own anecdotes :)

Tips for getting ready to write:

Make sure that you're in an environment where you can concentrate.

Whether that be in a quiet room, a chatty café, or blasting your eardrums out with music, whatever gets you in the groove is good. Not everybody can focus in the same environment, so your choice of surroundings for when you right aren't going to be the same as everyone else's. I (personally) listen to long video essays, my current favorite song on loop, or a playlist about the story/characters.

Clear a space for where you want to write.

Clear the space of excess clutter and keep only what you need. If what you need to write is a lot, that's fine! Having too much going on at once in your writing space can overwhelm and/or distract you. I know from personal experience.

Have all of your materials at hand.

Character sheets, previous stories, note paper to jot down ideas, rough environment & scene sketches... Whatever references and tools you need, keep them with you! Also, keep a glass of water or some other drink nearby. Hydrate or diedrate, my friends.

Make sure that you won't be interrupted while you're writing.

This may not be an option for those of you living with your parents or a roommate, but it's ideal for your creative flow to go undisturbed, uninterrupted, and unwatched. Is your father really watching you write your fanfic? No, probably not, considering that he's snoring. But it still feels weird to write when he's sitting in his armchair right behind you. No, I am not projecting my experience onto the reader under the cover of an absurd joke, why would you say that?

Now that setup is out of the way, let's go over some actual writing stuff:

Always, always, always block out what you want to write before you actually write it.

By "block out", I mean give a basic summary of the events you want to take place in that chapter or segment. I usually do this event-by-event because I struggle to carry on a story without an outline, but you can do it by chapter or by paragraph if you'd like. Make jokes in your mini-summaries, and phrase things in wacky ways (that convey things to you effectively)! You don't have to be too serious about it. After all, if you're in a lil silly goofy mood, you can get an epic sentence like this:

If you get stuck on a part of a story, move on and save it for later.

If you're anything like me, you understand the screaming, crying, pissing, pants-shittingly frustrating experience of not knowing how to describe something or figure out what should be said next. As angering as it is, it's okay. Just write a mini block-in for what you want to happen, want to describe, or the general tone of what you want to be said. Or use a keyword that you can Ctrl+F for to finish those pesky scenes when you're ready. If your writing software can do it (I have no clue if any one program does this, I only use Google Docs), mark the spot for review to return to it later. If you're one of those frighteningly powerful people who write stories by hand, highlight it and paste what you want to go there over it once you're ready. If you aren't familiar with this infuriating part of writing, you're a lucky bastard and I envy you immensely.

If you have writer's block, there are 8 potential strategies (that I can provide) you can use to alleviate it.

These are NOT surefire fixes for writer's block and are EXTREMELY subjective and results will vary from person to person, but they can potentially help you.

Read a book. Sometimes reading how another author writes (dialogue, scenery, figurative language, etc.) can help you get a better grasp of what you want to write, and how you want to write it. You might even get inspired to make a different story, which bleeds into the next point.

Work on/start a different story. (This isn't always the best way to get out of writer's block, so if you can't get a word down, this probably won't help.) Sometimes changing what you're working on can free up the ink clogged in your pen, for lack of a better phrase, and give you an, "aha!" moment.

Eat and drink something. Brains don't work when they don't have fuel, so feed your machine. Frequent maintenance keeps an engine running smooth, so occasionally get a snack and make sure to keep hydrated.

Take a walk and get some fresh air, and touch some grass for the love of god. Jokes aside, getting your body moving can excite your brain into working and clear some brain fog, since exercise gives your brain a dose of serotonin. As silly as it sounds, sitting in the sun and touching some grass can actually make you feel nice and rejuvenated, it helps me a lot. Even if you don't go outside, moving around is a good way to give your brain a break.

Talk to a friend and get their input. Their ideas can get you through a tough spot and inspire you to get writing again.

Look at pretty pictures and distract yourself from what you're doing. I have pictures of art pieces and doodles I like hanging in front of the desk where I write, and losing myself in pretty stuff helps me work through what I'm struggling with.

Jot down notes by hand on what you're trying to do. Planning things out on pen and paper, despite being tedious, imprints information in your mind and can be useful to your writing needs

If you're writing a fanfiction, look at the source material. Chances are, there's something there that could help you along.

If you don't have the motivation to write anything, don't.

This isn't the best advice for someone who's on a time limit, but works wonders for passion projects and fun stories. Very few do their best work when they force themselves to do it. Besides, there's no point in having a hobby if you don't get joy out of it and overly stress over it.

Writing someone else's character? No problemo, here's some fanfic help:

Always look at the source material, and don't be shy to explore new territory with the character.

It's important to stay true to the personality of a character when you're writing someone else's creation, but don't be afraid to throw in some headcanons and artistic flair. Remember, there's a difference between writing a character unrealistically (pertaining to personality, likes, interests, and universe/world/time period) and changing the circumstances of the original story. Characters are people too, and people react differently to the same thing depending on the world around them. A character may not have [x] trait if [y] event never happened, likewise [y] event never would have happened if this character didn't have [x] trait. Take into consideration the people around the character, as well, as they can also affect what the character does and how they develop. Change up small events in the original source material's story to get a different story and a different reaction out of the character. Experiment, and have fun! It's your story, write it your way!

That's all the advice I have for now, and I hope I was helpful! :)))

[blueink01]

Ch. 2: Immediate Murder Professionals

The Next Day at the Imp City-

The Chapter starts at the I.M.P building that recides in the Imp city in Pride ring. The sound of the busy streets can be heard in the background.

The scene transitions to a closed door labeled "IMP Headquarters", with a crude sign made from a sheet of notebook paper that reads, "Meeting in progress" with a smiley face drawn next to it. Inside, Blitzo is walking in front a whiteboard on the wall as he lectures his employees

"Alright. Now, I know business has been... a bit slow lately, yes. It's no one's fault, okay? I'm not naming any names here.." He looks at Moxxie.

"Moxxie." Moxxie gives him an incredulous look in response.

"Now, does anyone have... any bright ideas on how we can get business drummin' up again?" Millie leans over the table with her eyes sparkling. "What about a car wash?"

"We're in hell, Mills, no one gives a fuck about clean cars." Yn replies to her idea. Blitzo thinks for a second.

"Wh- Ooh! What about a billboard?" Blitzo waves his hands with an enthusiastic flair as sparkles fly out. Moxxie rolls his eyes.

"We can't afford a billboard, sir." Blitzo wraps his arm over Moxxie's shoulder.

"Helpful, Moxxie. Really glad you're in the room right now." He pushes Moxxie away.

"Have you guys forgotten what service we provide?" Blitzo turns on a TV that shows the I.M.P. crew brutally murdering people from the overworld as they are paid to do. Blitzo whacks a man in the face with a mallet, Moxxie is blown away firing a shotgun through the mouth of a man tied to a chair, Loona swings a man back and forth in her mouth, Yn snaps a persons neck so that is spins around a few times before falling off, and Millie decapitates someone with a harpoon and laughs. Everyone is watching the TV, with Loona, Yn, Millie, and Blitzo eating popcorn.

"Ahh, those were the good times." Blitzo smiled.

"I don't need any reminding, sir. Considering you blew most of our salaries on an obnoxious TV ad last week. One that you then additionally paid to have run for a full three hours on a channel... nobody watches." Moxxie said.

"Uh, hey. Excuse me? What's "obnoxious" about a super-fun jingle, alright? It's a fun distraction when an advertisement's spittin' bullshit!" Blitzo explained.

"People love musicals, sir." Millie added.

"That's true." Yn agreed.

"Exactly, Millie! And we're basically doin' a musical." He does jazz hands.

"Are you gonna crush my musical theatre dreams like my dad did?"

"Sir--"

"Cause, right now? All I see is just my dad's asshole talking to me! Crushing my dreams of being who I truly am inside."

"Are you tryin' to crush his dreams, Moxxie?"

"Wow, Mox. That's fucked up, I thought you were a classy man." Yn said in a flirty tone.

"I-- What?" Mille leans closer to Moxxie in a flity way.

"I thought I knew you." She playfully sticks her tongue out at Moxxie as she blushes and rolls her eyes affectionately.

"I can't believe you, Moxxie!," She tearfully holds up an employee of the month plaque with Moxxie's picture on it. "After I made you employee of the month!" Yn chuckles while looking at the photo of Moxxie.

"Okay, sir! I'm sorry; a commercial jingle is not comparable to musical theatre. Nobody actually likes the jingles!" Moxxie said.

"I liked it." Millie supporting Blitzo.

"Me too. It was good." Yn added.

"Do not--" He points at Yn and Millie. "Do not agree with him in front of me!"

In the I.M.P. commercial-

"Hi, there! I'm Blitz! The "o" is silent, and I'm the founder of I.M.P.!" He gestures to the logo as it appears on screen, then disappears. Two pictures of Blitzo in different scenarios show while he speaks. The first shows he wearing two top hats through her horns, a monocle, and twiddling a fake mustache, while standing outside of a burning building with a sign that reads "Orphanage for Elderly Blind Newborn Dogs" appears. The second shows Blitzo wearing an angel costume at a coffeehouse happily throwing an empty coffee cup in a trash can, instead of the recycling bin right next to it.

"Are you a piece of shit that got yourself sent to Hell, or are you an innocent soul who got F**KED over by someone else?!" The commercial cuts to a demon guy wearing an Ohio sports jersey, giving a testimonial, while Blitzo holds a cardboard sign in frame that reads "Some guy who hired us!!".

"After lovingly killing my wife for f**king the delivery man, you can imagine my surprise when I wound up here, after the state of Ohio killed me! I really wish I could stick it to that yappy jogger who saw me hiding the body!" The Demon Guy Shares.

Blitzo is speaking to the camera and holding a grimoire, while Moxxie and Millie are arranging lit candles on the floor in a pentagram while Yn is putting guns and drugs into bags. While Blitzo speaks, his eyes narrow as he does a magical gesture with his hand and a flaming portal appears on the floor. Moxxie and Millie run off in surprise. She tosses the grimoire aways as she walks up to the portal.

"Well, luckily for you. Thanks to our company's special access to the living world, we can help you take care of your unfinished business by taking out anyone who screwed you over when you were alive!" He falls backwards into the portal. The scene transitions to a person with their arms crossed and a thought bubble appears depicting another person being crossed out as the commercial jingle vlavs in the background.

"~When you want somebody gone,~" A dead body falls near the person as they notice and look up.

"~and you don't want to wait too long~" Yn, Moxxie, Blitzo, and Millie are shown in a circle logo. Blitzo holds her arms out as Moxxie holds up her rifle, Yn holds a cane sword in a slashing motion while smiling and Millie holds up her spear. A letter "I" appears to the left of them, while a letter "P" appears on the right of them. The four together form a letter "M", thus spelling the initials I.M.P.

"~call the Immediate Murder Professionals!~" Yn, Blitzo, Moxxie, and Millie are inside of their building and Moxxie throws a grenade out the window. The four cover where their ears would be as an explosion goes off. A severed arm goes flying.

"~Hand grenade or cyanide,~" Blitzo is shown hanging someone with a rope as Millie finishes writing a suicide note and Yn is throwing bags of drugs around the room.

"~We'll make it look like suicide~" Blitzo is shown electrocuting someone, Millie is shown hitting someone on the head with a mace, Yn is cutting someone's limbs off and Moxxie is shown strangling someone.

"~The Immediate Murder Professionals!~" The I.M.P. logo spins around quickly as the scene transitions to Blitzo creating a portal to the living world in a wall, then jumping through it. He is followed by Yn, Millie and then Moxxie, who trips over the grimoire and falls into the portal.

"~We do our job so well,~" The four come up through the other end of the portal and adjust themselves.

"~Because, we come straight out from Hell!~" The I.M.P. trio suddenly look shocked as it appears they have accidentally teleported to a church in the middle of a service. A female preacher and the congregation look back at the demons in confusion/fear.

One bearded man, however, has his head laid back as he sleeps with earbuds in. Millie is shown struggling to remove a knife from a naked couple who are in 69 position, while Yn is covering Moxxie's eyes, and Blitzo examines a pair of panties.

"~We'll kill your husband or your wife~" Blitzo stabs someone tied to a chair repeatedly in the head while sporting a goofy expression.

"~We'll even let you keep the knife~" A quick sequence then shows the four assassinating their targets in numerous horrific ways, such as with a medieval torture chamber, riding a shark, burning someone alive, suffocating someone with a pillow, playing on a grand piano after it crushed someone, and using an electric chair. In the final scene, the four are hiding in a bush in a park and Moxxie is about to shoot a blonde woman looking at her phone from behind.

"~We're the Immediaaaaate... Murderrrrrr... Profession--~" Moxxie accidentally shoots a boy passing by, eating an ice cream cone.

"AUUUGH!" The boy collapses as Moxie looks on in shock. Yn, Blitzo and Millie turn their eyes to Moxxie in surprise.

"Wow, Mox."

-Time Skip in Hospital-

The boy is wheeled into a hospital operating room on a hospital bed by a doctor, a pink-haired nurse, and a blue-haired nurse

Pink-haired Nurse: "Doctor, he's not responding!"

Blue-haired Nurse: "Cool water, stat!" The pink-haired nurse whacks the boy in the face with a bucket of water, doing nothing but leave a large welt on his face.

Blue-haired Nurse: "It didn't do anything!" The boys tongue flops down from his mouth.

Doctor: "Dammit! I'm not losing another one." Everyone has their defibrillator paddles over the boy.

Doctor: "CLEAR!" They all zap the boy and he wakes up with a gasp.

Doctor: "Holy shit! It actually worked." Yn, Blitzo, Millie, and Moxxie are waiting outside the boy's hospital room. Blitzo is reading a magazine, while Yn and Millie comfort Moxxie, who looks devastated. The doctor comes out of the room with a clipboard.

Doctor: "He appears to be in stable condition, but he'll need surgery." He looks up from clipboard.

Doctor: "Now, what insurance provider do you freaks have?"

"The fuck is insurance?" Yn quickly stands up and punches the doctor through a wall. Outside of the hospital a window breaks and the boy's hospital bed flies out. The boy is unconscious in the bed, while Millie, Moxxie, Yn, and Blitzo are holding on for dear life as they plummet screaming to the ground. The bed is stopped by a rope that has become tangled around Blitzo's foot. Blitzo slams his face into the bed, the rope snaps, and they all continue to fall.

"~Kids die for freeeeeee!~"

Back at I.M.P.-

The scene cuts back to the boardroom. Yn, Millie and Moxxie are sitting across from Loona, who has her feet up and is watching a video on her phone of Moxie getting hurt

"I'd like to go on record and say that incident was Loona's fault. Dispatch is supposed to give us the right info on the target. It's very simple." Moxxie jesters to Loona.

"Oh, sit on a d*ck, Moxxie." Loona replied still on her phone.

"YOU sit! Sit on... a... and the... d-- DO YOUR JOB!!" Moxxie yells.

"Hey, now. We don't blame our screwups on Loona, okay?! She didn't do anything wrooooong~" Blitzo hugs and nuzzles Loona, who snarls at him in response.

"...Are you kidding me, sir? She's awful!" Moxxie insulted.

"She's not that bad." Yn said defending Loona.

"What?!" Moxxie yells, looking at Yn shocked while Loona smiles.

Flashback with Loona-

Loona sits at her desk, reading a magazine called "Monthly", Her desk phone rings with the sound of a cute puppy barking as the ringtone.

"Hello, I.M.P." Loona answers without even looking up from her magazine.

<Loona, I got stabbed! Call Yn or Mox-> Loona suddenly hangs up, disinterested in the conversation. Next, she is in Blitzo's office.

"Happy Adoption Anniversary, Loonie! I got you a little somethin'." he presents her with a gift.

"Is it a cure for syphilis?" Loona interrupted Blitzo figuring out what was in the present.

"I... Oh..."

"THEN, I DON'T WANT IT!" Loona snatches the present and angrily slams it on the floor.

"UGHHH!" A large swarm of spiders suddenly emerge from the present box and swarm Loona up to her neck.

"I'm sorry! It was spiders!" Blitzo is suddenly hiding outside of the office window.

"Goddammit." Yn walks over to Loona with a small box.

"If it's not the cure for syphilis, then don't bother."

"It is the cure." Yn said. She looks at the spiders, her eyes glowed yellow than red scaring the spiders away.

"It is?"

"Yeah." Yn hands her the box and she opens it seeing the cure. She hugs Yn while her tails is waving around.

"Now we can have some fun later~" Yn blushed heavy red at the thought.

Loona is then shown at her desk, watching an online video of Charlie performing "Inside of Every Demon is a Rainbow".

"Um, c- excuse me. Did you just fax me an ad for weight loss.?" Moxxie approaches her with a flyer for "Chub B Gone".

"No."

"Wha-- Why- Why would anyone send me this?"

"C'mon.." She looks up at Moxxie. "You know why."

The next scene shows Loona rummaging through the break room fridge.

"Whoever left the fucking... avocado salad in the fridge, I'm taking it, because I have the worst hangover right now!" Loona turns around to face Millie with a red box in hand as she shuts the fridge door with her foot. She rips off the lid and drinks the salad.

"Why would you drink on a work night?" Millie questioned.

"I'm hungover from this morning, dumbass!" Loona angrily responded back finishing up the salad. Yn and Moxxie enter the room and notices Loona with her box.

"Isn't that my lunch?" Loona drops the box on the floor.

"Y'know what?! I can't take this assault right now! I need to blow off some-" She kicks the box at Moxxie, knocking her out of the room and surprising Yn and Millie.

"-f**king steam!" She picks up Yn and moves her to the side. Loona runs out of the break room and out into the street.

"AAAAAAAAAAH!" Loona runs up to a succubus lady passing by on the other side of the street, pushing her baby in a stroller.

Loona kicks the stroller high into the air and storms off, while the demon lady stands there in disbelief. The scene transitions to Loona at her desk, telling Yn and Blitza about a caller.

"Blitz! Yn! That clingy, rich asshole is on the phone! Says it's urgent and wants to talk to you! He sounds a little DTF-y." Yn, Blitzo and Moxxie are standing by a water cooler. Blitzo throws his cup of water on the floor.

"Oh, GOD, it was one time! If we hadn't slept with that privileged asshole, none of us would have access to the living world." Moxxie stares in stunned silence.

"..You what?"

Flashback in a Bedroom-

Stolas is sleeping naked in bed. He is hooting like an owl and there are feathers everywhere. Blitzo, who is partially nude, walks away quietly with the grimoire in hand. Yn puts on her clothes and she cracks her back.

"How can a bird be that thirsty and kinky?" Yn question, she can feel her lower half of the body is sore.

"Got the booook, got the booook! Got this fuckin' heavy book!" Blitzo keep repeating himself.

Blitzo reaches Stolas's balcony and lays the grimoire on the ledge. Grunting, he attempts to step up on the ledge using the grimoire. Instead, the combined weight sends both his and the grimoire falling forward off of the balcony. Yn runs towards him and grabs his tail but she too falls off the balcony.

"Fuck!" "Oh- Oh, SHIT!!" Yn and Blitzo lans on the cake that Stolas's wife and her friends are having, splattering pieces of it all over them.

"Oof! Sorry, we fucked your husband."

"Sorry for the cake." Blitzo picks up Yn and runs off.

End of Flashback-

"BLIIIITZ! NN!"

"Yeah! Yeah!" Yn yelled back as she pinches the bridge of her nose and a hand on her hip.

"WE HEARD YOU ALREA-!" Yn and Blitzo are in his office, talking with Stolas, and playing with a bobblehead of Moxxie while Yn is sitting as far away from Blitzo as possible knowing that she's gonna hear some fucked up stuff.

"Sooooo, what can we do you for this time, Stolas?" Stolas is shown talking on his phone from a fancy mansion.

"There's a political candidate causing trouble up on Earth for a few of my associates. He's trying to convince people global warming exists."

"Doesn't it?!" Yn asked.

"Well... yes. But, more people die if nothing is done about it. And it gets lonely here~"

"Okay, well. Yeah, that makes sense." Blitzo replied.

"You know what happens when I'm lonely, Nn and Blitzy?"

"Oh boy... Here it comes..." Yn said as she is leaning back.

"God-f**kin'-dammit." Blitzo pulls his phone away and talks to himself.

"When I'm lonely, I become hungry. And when I become hungry, I want to choke on that huge **** of yours, ****** Nn's ****** and lick all of your ****, before taking out You're ******, and ***** with more teeth until we're screaming ****** like two FUCKING babies--!" Yn is looking blankly at a wall while clawing her ears out. Blitzo, who's visibly disturbed, on his phone Stolas name is listed as "creepy mouth (aka one night stand bird d*ck)" with a call total of 48 seconds. as he hangs up, a knock out noise plays.

He snaps his cellphone in half, smashes it with his desk phone, tosses said desk phone away, pulls out a blender, puts the cellphone pieces in it, and blends them. Blitzo turns and hands the blender to Loona, who was standing nearby.

"Eat this!" Loona drinks the blended cellphone mixture.

"And then y'know that bridge over the freeway?"

"Yeah?" Loona raises her eyebrow as she says.

"Take my car and sh*t off it.." Yn said intensely.

In the Meeting Room-

"Look, the point is, Loona is a valued member of our family, and we don't get rid of family." Loona looks up from her phone and briefly smiles, touched by Blitzo's words.

"We aren't a family, sir! You are the boss! We are the employees! You treat her like she's some troubled teenager! She's more like a meth-addicted homeless woman you let man the phones!" As Moxxie rants, Loona continues looking at her phone, slowly flipping Moxxie off.

"That is offensive! Without homeless people.." He walks over to window and raises blinds, "I wouldn't have HALF the joy and laughter I do in this life!" Blitzo puts his face up against the window, cracking the glass, and sees a homeless demon, looking sad and holding up a sign that reads "Money helps. Satan bless." A succubus is on her cellphone and turns away from the hobo. Blitzo smugly waves at him, before lowering the window blinds.

"While we're on the subject of "family", can you stop finding me and Millie outside of work?" Moxxie looks at Blitza annoyed.

"Come on, sweetie! It's not that big a deal!" Millie said with hand jesters.

"Overreacting much." Glass shattering noise plays as Moxxie makes a stocked face.

"Excuse me... WHAT?!" He looks at them both.

Flashback-

Moxxie and Millie are preparing dinner in their kitchen

"Honey, can you get me the butter?"

"Sure, sweetie." Millie opens the fridge door and finds Blitzo inside as he hands her the gross, viscous butter.

"Spoiler alert: the butter's spoiled!" Millie giggles. Moxxie throws the diced carrots into the soup.

"What's funny, honey?"

"Really impressive wordplay."

"WHAT THE--?! WHY ARE YOU IN OUR FRIDGE?"

Later that evening, shows a building, Inside their Moxxie and Millie are asleep in bed. The former is tossing and turning as the sound of a cat purring can be heard. Moxxie opens his eyes and sees Blitzo standing on him, looking him right in the eyes.

"Whatcha dreamin' about?"

"I was dreaming my parents were being murdered while Yn is destroying my and Millie's a**es, but now... I'd like to go back to that."

In the next scene, Moxxie is singing the end of "Oh, Millie", as Millie joins in on some parts. "~Of all the imps in Hell,~"

"~it's for her that I fell~"

"~It's for him that I fell~"

"~Oh, Millie~" They close their eyes to kiss, but Moxxie notices Blitza outside the window holding a camcorder.

"Are you fucking filming us right now?!"

Flashback Ended-

"Just... stop... doing that!" Moxxie scratch the table.

"I don't see what the issue is! There somethin' you don't want me seein'?" Blitzo shrugs.

"No!" Moxxie's eye twitches in anger.

"You a baby-wenner-hammer?" Yn and Loona snicker at the same time as Blitzo talks.

"Sir, what you say and how you act is totally INAPPROPRIATE!" Millie lays her hand on Moxxie's shoulder.

"Calm down, Mox! You're gonna have another panic attack!"

"I AM CALM!" Moxxie starts whimpering in anger while looking back at Blitzo.

"Shh-shh-shh. There, there." Millie pats his head.

"Look, I don't judge the boring couple stuff.." He motions his hands to imply sexual activity, "...you do outside work hours. So, don't... judge me!"

"Oh, I do judge you, ma'am! Quite a lot, actually!"

"Mox, he's our boss!"

"No-no-no, it's fine Mills, your husband is just... how do I say this without being offensive? retarded" Blitzo smudged.

"Does immaturely insulting me make you feel better about your sad, single life?" Blitzo leans towards Moxxie.

"It actually does." Loona then jumps in on the confrontation.

"The only reason you have a wife is because you're easy to manage!" She looks away from her phone to glare at Moxxie. Millie slams her hands against the table, looking at Loona with anger.

"No, he's not, you BITCH!" She flips Loona off. Loona growls at Millie.

"This is priceless." Yn leans back in her chair while eating popcorn, enjoying the show.

"Do not talk to my receptionist that way! She's sensitive!"

"Yes, I am!"

"You guys are all f**king a**holes." Yn, Blitzo, Moxxie, Millie, and Loona's eyes all widen in surprise. They look at Eddie, the boy Moxxie accidentally shot earlier. Eddie is lying on a table with three wires from a heart monitor attached to his stomach.

"Oh, shut up, kid! You're lucky to witness this!"

"Ugh, this company is such a mess!" Moxxie pinches bridge of his nose.

"Alright, let's get back to talking about my outfit."

"Nobody was talking about that, Blitz."

"Which is why I'm tryin' to get that ball rolling. So, how does it look? It's good, right?"

"Sure... Let's go with that.." Yn said.

"It's been a literal hell.." He detaches the tubes of the heart monitor, "having to pretend to be paralyzed so you f**ksh*ts wouldn't kill me! But, now I want that. I want death!" He points at Blitzo.

"You are a selfish, greedy clown. And I'm a kid! We're supposed to like clowns! Even the creepy ones!"

"Hey, now! That's not very-" Eddie interrupts Moxxie, intimidating him, "If I wanted to hear from a spineless jacka**, I'd rip out your spine and ask you some sh*t." Millie slams her hand on the table, the other gesturing at Moxxie.

"That's my husband you're talkin' to!"

"That's your husband?!" Moxxie and Millie snarl at Eddie, "I figured you for a sl*t. But, I didn't know you needed d*ck that bad!"

"And You!" He points at Loona.

"What? What about me?"

"Nothing. I don't talk to dogs. I'm a cat person." Loona gives a wide-eyed glare, whines at Eddie with anger, and goes back to looking at her phone.

"Wow. Y'know, kid, you are a huge piece of sh*t." Yn said.

"Yeah. He's kind of a piece of sh*t." Everyone in Union agreed.

Eddie looks at Yn, "Don't do it..." he points at him.

"You-" Loona's eyes widen as she receives a text message.

"Oh, f**k! Guys, I just got a text from our client! Guess he was the right target after all."

"Who?"

Him." Loona points at Eddie.

"Him?" Yn looks At Eddie.

"Me?"

"Yup." Loona responds smugly, without looking up.

"They wanted us to kill an actual child?"

"That's what they're sayin'."

"Well, Christ on a stick. I guess there is a God."

"АHHАННННН!" Before he can shoot Eddie, Yn makes fire slowly climb up Eddie's body, he screams as he's skin is slowly being turned into ash.

Yn lifts her hand making Eddie crashe into the wall, all of his skin gone from his body, he lands on the table while his eyes turn to Xs.

"Damn it, Lovely! I wanted to do that!" He throws his pistol onto the floor.

-Time Skip-

Then blood covers the screen, then reveals Yn, Blitza and Moxxie kicking Eddie's corpse, Millie stabbing him, and Loona recording everything on her phone.

"Y'know, folks? With this company, I really wanted to prove that we're capable of doing the same things anyone else can. Like killing people!" Blitzo and Moxxie are shown wearing full hazard gear, dismembering Eddie's body with a hacksaw and chainsaw respectively. Blood splats on the screen again, then shows the group by a dumpster putting Eddie's body parts in a garbage bag.

"So, from us here at the Immediate Murder Professionals group, we promise to settle your unfinished business or your money... is gone and you're never getting it back, and you can write us a bad review but we'll play dumb to it, because it's Hell and no one f**kin' cares." Blitzo hugs Yn, Moxxie, Millie, and Loona, the latter's phone flying out of his hands.

"Y'know, even though this kid was a target... he's still a child. And it's important that we handle this going forward respectfully." He wraps his tail lovingly around the group. The group all smile as the scene cuts to a newscast, showing Eddie's mother tearfully holding up a bad drawing of her son. A male news reporter holds a microphone up to her, looking disinterested. The headline on screen says, "Mom sucks at drawing own kid", while the ticker bar constantly reads "There is a missing boy! Yet another missing kid!"

"Please! If anyone has seen my little Eddie, please contact us at-" Eddie mother is interested by a bag full of Eddie's bloody body bag suddenly falls into her arms.

"OHHH!" Eddie's mother and the news reporter look up in shock as the camera follows their gaze. Yn, Blitzo, Moxxie, and Millie are shown looking down on them through a portal. Blitzo smiles and waves.

"You're welcome!"

"You're a sh*t mom, ya wh*re!" The four disappear in the portal as it closes.

~Ending with a Cut To Moxxie singing to Millie~

Previous Page: Ch. 1: The Hazbin Hotel

Next Page: Ch. 3: The Murder Family

Beginning: Front Cover