#despite how they’re speaking to each other they fucking HATE each other

[puppy-the-mask]

Fell and Ave things- Tw; Dark Humor, body horror, implied organ removal/human experimentation. Making light of a fucked up dynamic

Fell: good morni- why are you bleeding? I haven’t even done anything yet

Ave: hm? Oh yeah that. It’s a human thing, we bleed sometimes

Fell: well stop it

Ave: I can’t- it’s against my will. my body does it on its own like every month or so.

Fell: gross, why?

Ave: I dunno, you’re the one with the human anatomy book. You tell me.

~~~~~

Fell: It says here that it’ll stop when you’re 50

Ave: dang

Fell: …how old are you?

Ave: I dunno, how long has it been since you kidnapped me?

Fell: a couple months

Ave: oh, then I’m 16 now. Happy birthday to me

Fell: hmmmm… happy birthday indeed

Ave: 6-6’’’

~~~~~~~

Ave: … what did you do this time

Fell: birthday present

Ave: I’ve woken up strapped to the table, theres nothing you could’ve done while I was out that I would ever consider a present. Did you poke around my organs again?

Fell- pushing a biohazard bin behind him: technically no…

Ave: what the actual fuck is wrong with you

Fell: I’m the only one that gets to make you bleed @_@🔪

[allthingswhumpyandangsty]

WHUMP PROMPTS INVOLVING COLLARS

trigger warnings: torture, dehumanization, blood and gore, PTSD (everything in this is entirely fictional meant to inspire writers)

whumper making whumpee wear a collar with whumper’s own name on it, so that everyone knows who owns whumpee.

collar that will only keeps on tightening around whumpee’s neck until whumpee says please.

prong collar. except instead of a dog, it’s wrapped around whumpee’s neck.

whumper having two different collars for whumpee, one with the words “good dog” engraved on it and the other with the words “bad dog”, depends on how whumpee behaves that day — whumpee is terrified whenever whumper puts the “bad dog” collar around their neck, because it means they will get punished; and so they try their very best to always be a “good dog”.

whumpee trying to remove their collar by themself by scratching and digging their nails into their skin until they bleed.

collar with barbed wires that bite into whumpee’s neck each time whumpee moves or breathes. the chances of infection and necrosis are high if left on and untreated for too long.

whumpee not being able to stop absentmindedly trace their fingers over their bruised neck where the collar used to be, no matter how long it’s been since their rescue.

post rescue. whumpee having difficult time speaking, eating or drinking water due to the bruises around their neck that were inflicted by the collar they were forced to wear — this could cause them to stop talking or eating, or it could cause them to talk and eat less.

whumpee wanting (needing) whumper to own them. they beg whumper to please put the collar on them again. please please please please don’t abandon them.

whumpee having been brainwashed into thinking that having a collar around their neck means they’re not a stray. thus they think caretaker is going to abandon them because caretaker didn’t put a collar around their neck like whumper did!!!!

whumpee having a panic attack. they’ve lost their collar; the collar was their shield telling others to fuck off because “this one is already taken”. but now there isn’t a collar around their neck anymore, they are going to scent an unowned meat, and they are going to crawl out of the shadows to feast on whumpee.

whumpee attacks whumper, but they are abruptly stopped when whumper activates whumpee’s shock collar, leaving whumpee convulsing helplessly on the floor.

whumpee having PTSD from the collar where they, even without the collar, think they cannot breathe and so they start panicking.

whumper telling whumpee to wrap a collar around whumpee’s own neck by themself. whumpee having no choice but to obey when disobedience only means excruciating pain. they’ve learned their lesson the hard way.

whumper making sure whumpee sees themself wearing a collar by holding up a mirror in front of them. “look at you. surrender suits you. you’re so pretty with a collar around your neck.”

whumper letting whumpee choose which collar they want.

whumper, upon recapturing whumpee, holds whumpee’s old collar in their hands as they slowly approach whumpee. the sight of the collar alone is enough to break whumpee down.

whumpee having an episode in which they attack every doctor and every nurse who’s trying to help them. caretaker hates to do this, but they have no choice but to threaten whumpee by saying they will have to put a collar on whumpee again if whumpee isn’t behaving, knowing what whumpee went through during their time with whumper. it works because whumpee, despite trembling like a leaf, stops trying to hurt themself and the hospital staff right away. and the fact it works breaks caretaker.

whumpee burning their collar after they escape whumper.

caretaker applying salve on whumpee’s neck to ease the pain caused by the collar whumper made them wear.

whumpee being extremely paranoid and not letting anybody get close to their neck, without having a panic attack, after their rescue. caretakers are trying their best because, in order to properly treat whumpee, they have to be able to inspect the damage on whumpee’s neck so that they can offer treatment accordingly.

whumpee feeling the needs to always wear a scarf to hide the bruises around their neck that were caused by the collar whumper made them wear.

whumper making whumpee say thank you and kiss the back of whumper’s hand each time whumper puts a collar on them.

whumper clasping a collar around whumpee’s neck without no warning, catching whumpee off guard. by the time whumpee realizes what’s happened, it’s already too late.

whumper giving whumpee a collar that matches whumper’s dog’s collar. so now whumper has two pets!

whumper pulling whumpee in for a kiss on the lips, by yanking the chain attached to the collar around whumpee’s neck, eliciting an involuntarily moan from whumpee.

whumper touching their hand to the collar around whumpee’s neck, running their finger over it and leaning in to breathe the scent of whumpee’s hatred, fear, and possibly arousal.

[bandgie]

Only if You Say Yes | Armageddon Event

Request: Pride | Park Sunghoon (ENHA) by anon song!

warnings! MDNI18+, fem!reader, college au, jealousy (mutual), hurt/comfort, fwb→lover/exes→lovers (depends how you look at it), alcohol mentions (no one is drunk) reader makes out with Jake, sunghoon is a bit of an asshole and controlling lol, PIV, no protection, failed pull-out method, make-up sex, semi-dom reader, cowgirl, brief fingering

notes! I kinda went off im sorry. trying out the angst I guess. last rec of the event!! (thank god)

5.4k words

It doesn’t bother you at all. Not how her hands caress his shoulders and pull him closer. Not how he leans into her touch, a shit-eating grin on his lips like he knows you’re watching. Even if they’re practically glued to each other on the couch, acting as if they’re anything more than fuck buddies - it doesn’t bother you in the slightest.

The reason your chest aches and your face feels hot is because of the alcohol. Jungle juice from college parties never sits right with you. This drink isn’t an expectation, but shit, you didn’t think it’d make your heart race.

“Fucking creep.” Sunoo sneers unashamedly. “Look at Sunghoon, looking at you like that bitch isn’t sucking off his face. I hate that guy.” He looks at you, an eyebrow arched and pouty lips forming a frown. “I can’t believe you hooked up with him.”

Hooking up with him would be an understatement. Sunghoon is a good lay, a great lay if you want to be honest. He was as good with his words as he was with his dick. You knew nothing would ever blossom beyond a good fuck, but damn. Why does he have to keep eyeing you like he knows?

“It’s whatever.” You shrug, eyes moving to the sea of people in the cramped apartment. “I don’t care.”

But Sunoo knows better, the smile settling on his lips says it all. “Right. Well, I think you should get your freak on girl. You’re having dick withdrawals. It’s bad for the heart…and pussy.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes despite a grin creeping on your lips. “Oh my god. You’re stupid.” Sunoo laughs with you, his pretty eyes turning into moon crescents. It makes you feel lighter like Sunghoon’s stare is nothing more than a fly buzzing around you. “But I think I’m done with hookups for a while. I have assignments to do and shit.”

“Ugh! Babe, you’re such a stick in the mud. Just a quick little make-out never hurt anyone.” He wiggles his eyes suggestively. “Could also make a little someone jealous.”

When you roll your eyes again, it’s pure irritation. “Anywho, I wouldn’t even know who with. Unless this is your way of asking me, and if so, I accept.” You pucker your lips, closing your eyes and leaning in only to be met with the palm of Sunoo’s smooth hand.

“Ew! Bitch, be serious. You know damn well you are not my type. I’m talking about Jake!”

That makes your eyes open and tilt your head so look at your friend. “Jake? I don’t think we’re very uh…compatible.”

Sunoo’s gaze fixes behind you. His hand lowers to his side and he smirks. “Guess we’re about to find out. Hey Jake!”

Speak of the fucking devil.

He comes from behind, and the sound of his heavy shoes echo like an omen. Jake nods in acknowledgment to Sunoo, eyes bouncing between you both. “Hey. Didn’t expect to see you two here.”

The black shirt clings to him nicely, the outline of his pecs visible. He wears a silver chain around his neck that only accentuates his jawline. And when he smiles, he directs it at you. “Especially you. I thought you’d be too busy moping.”

A look of shock ripples through you. It takes a few blinks and the awkward opening and closing of your mouth before you say, “W-what? Why?”

Jake looks confused for a second. He turns to the couch at the other side of the room where Sunghoon is now squished between two girls.

You take a swig of the burning alcohol. 

“Weren’t you guys dating or something?”

Sunoo snorts, quickly covering his mouth and pinching his nose. You look at him, but his eyes tell you that he hasn’t said a peep about anything. You look back to Jake. “No? Where did you hear that from?”

More confusion etches on his masculine features. “Uh…Sunghoon?”

This time, Sunoo can’t contain his laughter. His giggles cause the people around him to look, but all you can focus on is the sincerity in Jake’s words. “What?”

“Oh, fuck me.” Sunoo’s face is flushed. “I need a drink.” Before you could even hold him captive, your friend quickly weaves through the drunk swarm of bodies to leave you and Jake.

Whatever. “What do you mean he said we were dating?”

“Okay, he didn’t use that word, but pretty much. I don’t wanna say too much, but he was basically acting like you two were an item.”

You shake your head. “Bullshit. Is that why he’s about to have a threesome on the couch right now?”

Jake sighs. “Well, now it’s different. He didn’t really tell me much other than that you dumped him-”

“We weren’t even dating.”

“Fine. That you told him to buzz off and he’s just trying to find a rebound. Listen, I know you don’t believe me, but Sunghoon was really…into you. He stopped hooking up with other people when he started seeing you.”

You hate the way your heart clenches. Like him keeping it in his pants is something romantic. “I…I don’t believe you.”

Jake shrugs. “I know. Sunghoon is a bit too prideful to admit when he likes someone. Sorry you had to put up with him.”

Despite the lump in your throat, you give a weak smile. “I did it to myself. I should have known. But if you’re really sorry, you should make out with me.”

Jake laughs with nervousness. “I think you’ve had too much to drink.”

“Hardly. This tastes like shit.” You wave the cup in the air, causing the liquid to slosh inside. “I’m being serious. About kissing. I think I need a rebound too.”

Most men are put off by the idea of having seconds, but Jake isn’t most men. “But me? You know I’ve been friends with Sunghoon since high school, right?”

You nod, trying so hard to hide the smile coming on your lips.

Jake grins widely. “Oh, I get it.” He leans down, an arm propping up on the counter and tilting his head so his mouth perfectly aligns with yours. He smells expensive, like not even a drop of liquor has managed to soil his clothing. “You’re too pretty to be so cruel.” But he doesn’t kiss you, not yet.

His nose touches the tip of yours and lowers until it grazes your chin. A breath gets caught in your throat when he trails over your jawline, finding the spot beneath your ear so he can whisper. “Is he looking?”

You’re almost scared to look. Jake places his hand on your waist to give an encouraging squeeze, but to most, it seems like he’s feeling you up.

And when you find the courage to glance at Sunghoon, that’s exactly what he’s thinking now. Even from across the room, you can see his pupils blown wide. He’s stiff despite the girls chatting and kissing on his neck. They’re trying to tug him back onto the couch, their glossy lips pouting and pleading, but Sunghoon looks as though he’s about to run to you.

“Is he?” Jake’s accent snaps you back. You’re now conscious of his lips brushing your neck, how he switches from one side to the other to give the illusion of leaving you marks.

And shit, with how his fingers dig into your back, you kind of wish he would.

“Y-yeah. He looks pissed.”

You can feel how Jake’s chest rumbles with laughter, vibrating your own. He pulls away from you, but not far at all. His eyes stare into yours mischievously. You nearly forget that this is the boy who gets the best grades and is on his way to valedictorian, but being Sunghoon’s friend also means he likes to think with the head in his pants too.

“Good. Let’s give him something to get real mad at, yeah?”

And when he leans in, you welcome him. His head tilts down while your’s tilts up. His lips mold against yours roughly, shoving his tongue deep and exploring your taste.

You let out a squeak. Logically, it’s better to start hot and heavy. Make Sunghoon see how desperate you are for each other, but you yearn for the sweet kisses Sunghoon gave you. His tongue would caress your own, coaxing it into his mouth so your spit could mingle and mix, forming strings when you pulled away.

But with Jake, you let him take full reign. There was something almost…hot letting someone have control. Jake didn’t care how your teeth clashed or if drool seeped from the corner of your mouth. He licked it back in as if he expected it, putting his tongue on yours quickly. 

It took a moment for you to catch up with him. To move your lips so you could catch his muscle between them and suck. 

He shivered. You could tell Jake wanted to keep going with how his arms wrapped around your torso and pulled you close, but he broke away. “No wonder Sunghoon’s so fucking obsessed with you.”

Sunghoon. You turn to the side, forcing Jake to land on your cheek but he quickly recovers. You scan the couch for any sign of Sunghoon, but he’s gone. The girls who swarmed him now look dejected, their annoyance clear. 

But Sunghoon, where is he? You’re distracted by Jake’s mouth leaving open kisses on your neck and throat, but even then, Sunghoon should stick out like a sore thumb. 

Jake’s lips bush over a sensitive spot and you shiver. An involuntary moan escapes your swollen lips and he eagerly laps his tongue over the skin. His teeth bite hard enough to make you whine, but that’s nothing compared to the yelp Jake lets out when he’s suddenly ripped away. 

The loss of his body leaves you cold but Sunghoon’s fired eyes make you hot all over again.

He has Jake by the back collar of his shirt. The knuckles on his first are white as if begging to turn pink and red from letting his anger out on Jake’s pretty face.

Sunghoon doesn’t even have to say a thing. The look he gives his friend is full of warning and Jake straightens up immediately, nodding and silently surrendering to Sunghoon’s piercing gaze.

“She’s all yours, bro.” And with that, he leaves you with a wink.

Maybe it’s because of the arousal and adrenaline coursing through your veins, but you’re not as scared as you were before. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“What’s wrong with me?” Sunghoon takes a step closer, anger dripping off his tone. “You’re sucking on my best friend's face and I’m not supposed to say anything?” 

The people around you two have moved away, a wise choice. 

You cross your arms. “Obviously not. I didn’t see you having an issue when those girls were all up on you. Why is it when I do?”

Sunghoon’s face morphs into cold humor. “Oh wow. What? You wanted to make me jealous or something?”

You burn red. “I did not!”

“You so did.” It feels like a punch in the gut when he laughs. “You think I give a fuck who you wanna make out with?”

“No shit you do. You wouldn’t have pulled him off me if you didn’t.”

Sunghoon’s eyes slide to your neck, right where Jake had been sucking. You doubt it’s purple, but you can bet your money it blooms with pink. You almost want to cover it with your hand, but you rather like the way Sunghoon’s jaw ticks. 

“I’m not arguing with you here.” Before you can argue that he can at all, he pulls you by the arm. He doesn’t even bother weaving through the crowd, he bustles through it. Most people move aside, but the drunks are pushed by his shoulders and left to mourn their spilled drinks.

You catch Sunoo’s eyes. He’s got a man attached to his back, grinding against him to the beat of the music, but Sunoo doesn’t sway his hips at all. There’s worry in his eyes. 

You shake your head and mouth, It's fine.

It’s all you get to say before Sunghoon drags you into the nearest room and shuts the door. Neither of you knows whose pad this is, the posters on the wall say it all. But Sunghoon walks around the room like he owns it.

Cocky bastard.

“I don’t want you around him again,” Sunhoon speaks with authority. “Don’t give me that shit and say you like him. I know damn well you don’t.”

You put your weight on one hip and huff. “And if I do? What? You’re gonna forbid me from speaking to him?”

“Yes.” Sunghoon stops pacing. “I haven't seen you in a month. And when I do, you’re trying to get in my friend’s pants?” Something like hurt echoes in his eyes. “I hate that.”

Fuck, you’re shaking. Your core trembles and though you try to blame the sensation on Jake, you know it’s Sunghoon’s dominating aura making your stomach clench. “You don’t think I hated seeing you with those girls? Letting them kiss you like they…like they own you? But I didn’t go over there and start a catfight, did I? No. You did. Acting like you’re my fucking boyfriend or something.”

He’s seething, and shit, you’ve never been so fired up. Anger and arousal mix within. Slick moistens your underwear seeing Sunghoon stride to you. Your stomach dips when he backs you against the wall.

You almost moan when his jaw tenses. 

“I’m trying really, really hard not to yell at you right now.” Sunghoon’s lips quiver when he takes a shaky breath. “I told you I didn't want a relationship. You said that was fine. Then all of a sudden, you start getting clingy and shit. Yeah, I think it’s cute, but then you dump me. Out of nowhere, out of the blue. So yeah, I let some chicks feel up on me to feel a little bit better about myself, and who do I get to see?” His upper lip twists into a snarl. “You.”

He’s leaned in close, neck bending and eyes boring into yours. Still, that does the opposite of intimidate you. “See? That’s the fucking issue. All you ever think about is yourself. You wanted a quick fuck. You wanted a relationship without the commitment. Did you ever think about how I felt being in this…weird fucking tango? Going to places with you, going over your apartment, telling you where I was and who I was with. But when it was me asking the questions, I was the crazy one. I was too clingy. Did you think I liked hearing that?”

The realization settles on him as if he never put himself in your shoes. It makes your chest burn with anger. 

“Exactly. You’re too selfish to even think about me.”

“That’s not true.” Sunghoon is quick to shoot you down. “That’s all I ever did.” His gaze softens and his hand leaves his side. You feel the back of it graze your cheek as if you’re something gentle.

Tears sting your eyes. “Don’t lie to me.”

He shakes his head. “I’m not. But I know you don’t believe me.”

You recall Jake’s words. How he claimed Sunghoon chose you to be the only person he was sleeping with. It sounded improbable, but with the way he’s looking at you now, it feels like it could be true.

“But isn’t this what you would’ve wanted anyway? You get to do whatever you want without someone in your hair. The only reason it bothers you so much is because I’m the one that broke things off. You’re stupid ego couldn’t take it.”

It rings true. You see his eyes look at the floor ashamed, and you feel your heart break a little from his lack of rebuttal. 

“It’s not that.”

“Then what?” Your voice shakes. “Why are you so mad about me moving on?” A scoff breathes on your lips. “You’re acting as if you like me.”

You regret the words the moment they come out. Sunghoon’s entire face changes. Even the air in the room grows rigid, almost scared. His wide eyes tell you that you’re treading on dangerous territory. 

But once the lid opens, you find yourself pouring out. 

“You’ve never even said it. All this time, I was feeling like a burden. Like the thought of me other than sex was revolting to you. It sucked, but I put up with it.”

“I didn’t ask you to.”

“Because you didn’t have to!” You yell for the first time. It sounds good to finally let your emotions show even if tears flow free. “Sunghoon, what aren’t you getting? It wasn’t just sex for me, not at the end. But you…you pushed me away.” Your throat hurts so much like it’s raw from screaming. “You made me feel like I was fucking insane.”

His face blurs, but you can make out the pain in his eyes. 

“I wanna hear you say it.” You blink the tears away. “Tell me.”

But Sunghoon gulps. For the first time, this cocky asshole is stunned. You’ve seen him get his way using his charm or confidence, but right now, it looks like he’d rather claw his skin to escape.

“Jake told me. About how you ditched your hookups when we were…seeing each other.” You’re throwing Jake under the bus, but you hope he’ll understand when Sunghoon inevitably rips him a new one. “He thought we were dating. Dating, Sunghoon. You can’t tell me you only thought of us as just sex.”

Seeing him turn into a puddle makes you both anxious and assertive. It makes you want to push him to confess while running away and pretending you never even saw him tonight. 

But only one of those options is possible. “Say it.”

Sunghoon’s hand trembles on your face. His mouth can’t decide whether it wants to yell or cry, but it’s silence he screams. It deafens your ears to the point that all you can hear is your heart drumming in your chest. You think you can hear his too if you try hard enough. 

The thumping of the party downstairs is the only noise you can rely on.

“You fucking coward. I should have never said yes to you.”

Escaping his arms will be easy. Sunghoon seems too stunned to do anything, but you’re quickly proven wrong when he cages you in and presses his body against yours. You mean to push his chest and yell, but the sight of his watery eyes stops you.

He can’t look at you. It’ll make the dam he tried so hard to build break. But he’ll be damned if you leave again.

“I…I’ve never dealt with something like this.” He closes his eyes. “I’ve never had to worry about someone. They weren’t even in my head. But when I met you…” Sunghoon has to take a deep breath. You feel his inhale on your face as if he’s breathing you in.

“It was the first time I cared about someone other than myself. It…It scared me. I wanted you close, but not too close. I wanted everyone to see that you were mine, but that I wasn’t yours.” He laughs humorlessly. “That sounds so fucked to say out loud.”

“But that’s what I was thinking. I was so fucked. I am fucked. I was- I am selfish.”

Sunghoon leans in. You inhale a sharp breath but it’s his forehead that meets yours. His weight feels good, almost perfect against your own.

You’ve missed the warmth of his skin, the beauty mark next to his eye that you can see so clearly. But it’s his eyes that hold the stars. 

“Especially now, because all I’m thinking about is how I can be yours again.”

There it is, his confession. Not that you can be his, but that he can be yours. It’s so subtle that you want to pretend it doesn’t count, but you can’t deny the way your heart flutters. How you yearn to feel his kiss again even if your lips are soaked with tears.

Sunoo’s voice rings in your head. You can perfectly hear him screaming at you to laugh. Tell him that you’re flattered, but you aren’t interested.

Hurt him how he hurt you.

But that’s not who you are. No, the person you are nods, wrapping arms around his neck and finally putting your lips where they ache to be.

It’s like they never forgot. Even in the weeks he hasn’t seen you, Sunghoon knows how to kiss you. His lips are gentle, hardly eager to taste your mouth. Jake may have known how to get the party started, but Sunghoon knows how to make you feel. It’s all too easy for him to tug at your heartstrings, making you move in any way he wants like a puppeteer. 

And it seems like you can do the same.

He opens his mouth when you do. He moves his tongue in time with yours. Sunghoon lets you hold the back of his neck so you can tilt his head, getting a better angle to suck on his tongue. 

He moans into your mouth. It sounds more than pleasure, but relief. As if he’s been aching for you just as you have been for him. You almost don’t want to believe it, but you pull another whine from him when you tug on his hair. 

The taste of saliva and tears dance on your tastebuds. It feels oddly comforting, the raw taste of emotion and need on your lips. You kiss him deeper, harder, until his hands find your waist and he backs into the bed. 

He pulls away to sit down but he’s quick to yank you onto his lap.

“Still like me on top, huh?” You can’t help but recall how Sunghoon used to constantly ask you to ride him. Facing him, reversed, it didn’t matter. He had both of his hands on you constantly, whether it was groping your breasts or ass. 

He smiles, “You know I never liked doing any of the work.”

To that, you groan. Sunghoon ignores your pretend displeasure to nip at your bottom lip, pulling the skin and watching it bounce back into place. 

His lips attack your neck, kissing and sucking every inch. He gently pulls on your hair to ensure no spot is left unmarked. You can’t help but notice he focuses on the spot between your shoulder and clavicle. 

Right where Jake left the faintest blemish.

You want to tease him, but all you can do is moan. He knows that’s your favorite spot. It’s so easy to get you to tremble, to grind on his hips like you’re doing right now. The only issue is that someone else knows too.

It bothers him. You can tell from how hard he’s sucking. Gently, you push his shoulder until he lets up, salvia on his lips as his cloudy eyes lock with yours. 

“If you’re gonna be that rough, I’d rather you do it here.” Putting your hands on the hem of your shirt, you tug it off. The material slips easily. You silently thank yourself for putting something on that wasn’t so tight. 

Your bra is plain, but your breasts still look divine in them. Sunghoon doesn’t wait for you to throw your shirt on the ground to get his mouth on you. His lips are hot on your skin, his tongue even hotter. The shirt slips from your hands to pool on the floor and your fingers thread in his hair. Sunghoon takes the pulls and tugs as compliments. 

His hands trail up your waist, moving away for a brief moment to spill your breasts the cups. 

And his hips dig into your cunt when he sees your nipples are already peaked. You watch him lick his lips, watch how his brain can’t decide whether he wants to stare or taste.

The decision is made for him when you press against his face. Sunghoon cups the sides to push your boobs in his face, tongue lavishing your supple flesh. 

“Fuck.” He doesn’t bother hiding his hips rocking into yours. He used to act like sex felt mediocre, but his raging boner gave him away every time. You thought it was funny how his uninterested eyes were completely different from the precum that slid down his cock when you stroked it, but this… this makes your stomach heat with exhilaration. 

One hand remains on your breast while the other slides to your hip. He presses you down on his erection and grinds. You know he can barely feel a thing with jeans in the way, but his hot breath wafts on your nipple like he hasn’t gotten his dick touched in forever. 

But you don’t dwell on it too much. It feels good just to have him suck on your bud and hit your clit. His tongue goes around your darkened flesh before he hollows his cheeks. You moan, moving at the same pace as his hips under you. 

You’re so wet. The slick sticks to your underwear so much that dry-humping him doesn’t feel uncomfortable. You’ve felt chafing before, how sometimes it would just rub the wrong way. But with Sunghoon, nothing is ever the wrong way. All you can think about is how good it feels, so much so that getting up to pull his cock out seems distant.

But you’ve missed the feel of his hard-on. It rubs your pussy just right and it’s all too easy to find the angle you know would make you finish.

And when Sunghoon bites on your nipples and pulls, you know you’ll cum soon. 

“Wait. Wait.” You tremble in his hold. Your voice sounds too weak. You don’t think he heard you, but you feel his mouth pull off your bud and his hips cease. It takes a moment to find your words, to ignore how your cunt screams at you from pulling away when you were so close. 

“Imma cum.”

Sunghoon grins. “Is that not good?”

You shake your head, still panting. “No. Too soon. I need it inside.”

The all-too-cocky smile finds his lips. It’s the one you loathe, but with your mind hazy and cunt pulsing, you can only be glad to see it. 

It means he’ll do anything he can to keep hearing you praise him.

“Yeah? Take it out for me then.” It’s almost condescending the way he speaks. You take a mental note to never feed his ego again.

But you don’t, not right away. You stand on unsteady legs instead. The shorts clinging to your legs feel uncomfortable and you sigh in relief when unbuttoning them. You don’t bother making a show getting undressed, but Sunghoon watches like it’s award-winning.

Strings of arousal cling to your underwear when you slide them off. The cool air hits your cunt unwelcomed and you let the clothes pile with your shirt.

“Fuck, baby.” He bites on his lower lip before clenching his teeth. “You look so pretty for me.”

You shyly giggle. You suppose it’s okay if he strokes your ego.

He wants you back on his lap. You can see his eyes planning all the ways he wants to ravish you, but you have other ideas in mind. “Your turn.”

Sunghoon looks confused at first, but he quickly sees what you mean. His lips twitch, almost wanting to say, I told you to take it out for me, but he doesn’t. You see him nod, shrugging his shirt over his head and wiggling out of his jeans all on his own.

Good, he’s learning. 

Sitting back on his lap is a reward. Grabbing the base of his cock is a silent, appreciated gesture when you line him up.

Sunghoon finds your waist fast, unable to keep his hands off for even a second. He waits as you slap the tip on your clit. It elicits a hum from your lips and you look into his eyes in a daze. There’s need in them. His blown-wide pupils match your own. 

And when you sink down, he moans.

Restless hands dig into your flesh. Sunghoon doesn’t try to set a pace at all. He lets the sounds of your bodies meeting match your tempo. 

You wanted to go slow, you did. You heard his confession, you tasted his tears, so it’s obvious that you wanted to explore his body in the deepest ways he never let you. 

But with the music blasting downstairs and the adrenaline of being in someone else’s room, you can’t help but lift your ass and slam it down. The head of his cock barely has time to get acquainted with your pussy. It glides all too quickly to properly bury into your cervix. 

Not that you really mind. You can feel the veins and curve of his crown rub your walls this way. 

He leans back, propping with one elbow while the other stays on your hip. You smile when you see him looking at your breasts. They’re love-bitten, riddled with bruises that go to your neck. 

Sunghoon looks like a painter admiring his work.

“You look so fucking good.” He licks his bottom lip. “I’ve missed you.”

You burn with praise. It makes you ride faster, leaning forward so your arms cage him between them. Your hair forms a curtain around your flushed face that Sunghoon pushes away. 

Maybe it’s his eyes you’re supposed to look at, but you’re captivated by his body. His defined chest twinges with pink. His stomach clenches in pleasure, the hard lines of his abs making an appearance. 

You don’t know how you manage to push him down completely. Your hands pin his shoulders with ease and all he can do is helplessly grip your thighs as you ride him.

“Likewise.”

He lets out a strangled moan that you suppose is him laughing. Sunghoon furrows his eyebrows at the new angle. He’s able to hit you deeper this way, his cock buries in your cervix nicely.

But even with the sight of your pussy creaming around him and pooling on his pelvis, he can still playfully glare. “Asshole.”

You giggle like it’s a pet name. Expecting him to change overnight would be foolish. But even then, you somewhat like the arrogant fool you’ve fallen in love with.

So you say nothing in return. Instead, you lean closer. His lips are swollen and you suck on them. His tongue messily swipes in your mouth when you open it. The kiss is nothing more than a way to be closer, to moan into each other's mouth as Sunghoon finally moves his hips.

And it feels like everything on your body is on fire. Your knees were getting tired, the burn in your thighs barely tolerable. Now, all you have to do is hover while Sunghoon thrusts. It feels deeper than what’s possible. Like the pleasure travels from your cunt to your head.

The pain in your legs numb and the only thing on your mind is how good Sunghoon is fucking you. Your walls clench, oozing with so much release that you think he might slip out, but he doesn’t.

“Right there!” The sound below should drown out your cries, but you don’t care if anyone hears you. “Fuck me harder! Pleasepleaseplease…”

You don’t have to beg, but Sunghoon likes it when you do. Your cunt spasms and warms until the heat floods his cock. A drawn-out moan tumbles from your lips that he eats. You’re panting and whining while his tongue invades your mouth. Salvia drips from your chin, but you can’t even notice with how he’s still fucking into you.

And just when you feel lightheaded, he cums. It’s too late for him to pull out, too late to stroke himself on your face to completion. Still, he tries to save it.

Sunghoon slips out while still squirting from his tip. The strings shoot your inner thigh and his caving stomach.

He’s still breathing hard when he kisses you, ignoring how his chest screams for oxygen. And when he pulls away, the first thing he looks at is your cunt. Sunghoon should feel worried that half of his cum is in your womb, but when watches it drip from your swollen pussy, he feels proud.

“Yeah,” he says to himself. You feel deft fingers play with your folds soon after. Sunghoon laughs when you squeal from overstimulation, but he shoves the cum back in anyway. 

You almost can’t feel his fingers. Your walls are mostly numb, but you still moan and tremble from his knuckles gliding in and out of you.

He buries his digits until all they can do is wiggle. “Keep it in. I want you to walk out of here with my cum dripping out.”

If you had more energy, you’d groan. Seems like he still has a lot to learn.

[i2ycat]

two wrongs don’t make one right

pairing lee heeseung x fem!reader synopsis mistakes always happen, whether you mean to make them or not. but it’s not a question of ‘do you like heeseung?’ anymore, it’s more so: ‘why do you like heeseung?’. or in which, two wrongs just don’t make one right genre college!au, slight fluff, angst, established relationship word count 3k+ warnings cursing, crying, toxic relationship between heeseung and reader, implications of a professor x student relationship, heeseung is implied to have possibly cheated, reader cheats w sunghoon, everyone is of age, bitchy & manipulative characters, reader is insecure, small mention of smoking weed, lmk if i missed anything else lyn speaking it’s been 2 months since i last posted anything oh my…. erm! here’s a little fic before i disappear again lol <//3 i don’t condone anything that happens in this fic or any of their decisions!!!! main masterlist

reblogs and comments are very much appreciated!

The weekend had rolled by faster than you could blink. One second, you’re rotting away in your room and the next, you’re hopping on one foot in front of your mirror, hastily getting ready for the day because you’re running 30 minutes late to your 10am coding class. You’re usually the type to wake up earlier than your alarm, but you were staying up way later than you usually would’ve the night before— staying up late to talk to your boyfriend of 7 months, Lee Heeseung.

Known to be the academy’s most influential guy, Lee Heeseung was, and still is, quite the character. Simply calling him influential would be a grave understatement though, because he descended from a family of powerful politicians and businessmen, even having the biggest corporation in all of South Korea— Lee Tech— as part of his familial pedigree.

It’s no secret that he has the entire world at his fingertips, and at any given moment, he could burn it if he wanted to.

But like how everything else in this world is unfair, Lee Heeseung wasn’t just disgustingly rich, he also inherited his mother’s celebrity looks— evident in his sharp features and overly charming personality. He has girls constantly eyeing him left and right, up and down, even when you’re around.

You went into this relationship knowing full well the certain costs it had to your own happiness and well-being. In the 7 months you’ve been seeing each other, you’ve never felt so insecure in your entire life. And despite his constant reassurances, you know that he couldn’t even begin to imagine half of the battlefield you were facing.

No matter how much you try to deny it, you were subconsciously fighting for his attention against people who were born to be at the same status as he is— in terms of wealth, power, and looks. You always hated being born into a grassroots-level family, but you knew that being salty about your birth-given circumstances would change absolutely nothing. So you worked hard as fuck to be able to get into such a prestigious university. You threw the entirety of your youth away to be able to be the first in your family to go to college, and here you are, barely hanging onto your scholarship because of some boy you met at a party almost half a year earlier. 

They’re only admirers, he said. It was just you and him, he said. You just needed to trust him, he said, but that’s something easier said than done, especially for you.

“Running late again?” The security guard monotonously inquires. He’s seen this exact scene about a thousand times and more with other students before you, so he’s chopping the late slip and handing it back to you like clockwork, but this time with a small smile, one that didn’t reach his eyes. It was as if he had a good day but not good enough to warrant the toiling of doing such a challenging task.

Not that it mattered to you anyways.

You ducked your head in an informal ‘thank you’ before hurriedly leaving the stale office and into the hallways.

The hallways always seemed unending whenever you were running late, the rows of windows you ran past would multiply tenfold and the clock’s hands would run faster than it usually would— it felt as if time was warping everything within its reach.

Finally, the running reached its stop. You bent on your knees to catch your breath, the late slip crumpling in between your fingers in the process.

One.

Two.

You counted.

There was no reason to panic. Just walk in, hand the slip and sit your ass down. The visual in your head was clear and it somewhat helped to calm down your nerves. So with one last deep breath, you turn the brass handle and walk in.

You’re so damn dramatic.

The doors creaking reverberates in the small auditorium, easily catching everyone’s attention. You gulp down the lump in your throat as you watch your professor pass you a look of disapproval. It made your heart drop, because you were his best student and you hate disappointing people who expect great things from you. Your let your gaze angle towards the carpeted floors, making your way to the seat closest to the door.

When you feel as if you’ve disappeared into your seat, it was as if you could breathe again. You were finally away from the spotlight and people’s unnervingly curious eyes ceased trailing your every move. You should really start sleeping earlier or you’d have to get used to this.

“Hey,” Erin, your seatmate, whispers. Her voice tried to be as discreet as it could in a whisper… it didn’t really work. The professor gave her a stern stare as a form of warning, though you could tell it had an entirely different undertone, even from a mile away. It left a bad taste in your mouth, having to bear witness to such unprofessional exchanges of looks in an academic setting of all places. Erin, who bites her lip, scribbles whatever she was going to say to you on a torn piece of paper.

“Wanna know a secret?” It read with two boxes just right underneath it: yes or no. You look at her with a dumbfounded look plastered all over your face. You knew she was childish to a certain extent, but was she really that childish? Nevertheless, you tick the box on the left and send it back to her.

Cause you know, curiosity killed the cat.

You should’ve seen the conniving smirk plastered on her lips but you were too focused on your thoughts to notice anything else around you. She scribbles once more then folds it, dropping it into your hands with the hastily written warning facing you: “read it when you get home. preferably alone lol ;)”.

Then, class is dismissed.

You watch her get up from her seat and blend in with everybody else rushing out of the room, not missing the heavy glance she passes at the professor. You didn’t even want to stay any longer to see what happened next, so you started haphazardly shoving things into your bag instead, remembering to pocket the small note into the depths of your jacket.

When you leave the room, Lee Heeseung is already standing there, in all his lazy-fitted glory— messy bed hair hiding under a hood, donning the black hoodie you both bought as a couple’s set for valentines last week and the black sweatpants you bought for him to match.

“Hello, beautiful.” He coos, engulfing you in a tight one-armed hug. It gave you the opportunity to take in his woody yet elegant-smelling perfume, the same Jo Malone one he wore everyday.

Your heart swelled in its place, appreciating how, without fail, Heeseung would wait for you outside your classes whenever he could, even if they ended really late— late enough that he should be at home resting, but instead, he would spend that time waiting for you like the good boyfriend he is.

“Hey,” you smile into his chest. “Ugh, I woke up late again today thanks to a certain someone.”

“Wonder who that is? Maybe I should give them a word or two about keeping my princess up so late.” He pulls you from his chest to cup your face, coaxing you to fall deeper with that sweet smile of his. It never fails to make you feel like you’re the only girl in his world, like he’s got your back no matter what.

It was dangerous for such a smile to have the ability to make you forget about all your problems, even ones pertaining to him.

“You’re such a dork,” you roll your eyes at him as you push him away.

“At least I’m your dork, so naturally… it cancels out.” A boyish grin spreads across his face so innocently that you can’t help but press a kiss on his nose, immediately prompting him to blush a crimson red at your sudden display of affection. “What was that for?”

“You looked cute,” you shrug.

At this, Heeseung turns an impossibly darker shade of red. “You can’t just say things like that so casually and expect me to be okay.” The way he attempts to cover the blush in his face behind his hands makes you laugh, completely and utterly endeared by him.

“I’m sorry. Next time, I’ll give you a heads up, yeah?”

“You’re so mean.” He pouts.

When you got yourself entangled with the Lee Heeseung all those months ago, you didn’t think that he would have such a boyish and cute side to him. His public persona had always been this untouchable, charismatic guy who could get anything he wanted with a snap of his finger, so you could imagine the whiplash you experienced when the first time you ever kissed him, he blushed so deeply you thought he was drunk.

It made you feel special, being the only one to have ever brought out this side of him, like you had him wrapped around your finger.

“Yeah, but you can’t ever bring yourself to hate me.”

“That… is very true, I’m afraid.” Heeseung sighs, catching your hand in his. “I’m kinda hungry, right now. Sushi?”

“Sure.”

—

Over the course of your entire life, there’ve only been a handful of times where you’ve been betrayed by people you trusted: first when you were twelve, being wrongly accused of having cheated on a test by your then best friend; second when you were the only one to have been thrown under the bus by people you thought were your close group of friends for smoking weed in your highschool’s bathroom cubicle; and third when you found out that Heeseung had been with Erin during the one-week break in your relationship.

The note passed to you by Erin from earlier in the month stays ripped into pieces in the palm of your hand. You’d forgotten all about it until a few hours ago, and you wished it had stayed that way. But you know by now that things never go your way.

You and Heeseung were on break for about a week, citing that you were not in the mental headspace to be dealing with a relationship at that moment in time because of your slipping grades, and he understandably obliged, even kissing your forehead goodbye as you left his apartment.

Erin’s written confession, if you could even call it that, echoes in your mind like a blaring alarm.

from girlie to girlie, your boyfriend came onto me while you guys were on your little break. must say, your boyfriend is talented at making people cry ;).

All you needed was a week to heal and sort your shit out before you went back into his arms, and he couldn’t even wait that long?

You felt sick to your stomach and you wanted nothing more than to scream your aching heart away, to be left with nothing more than a void. At least then, you would no longer feel the hurt and betrayal Heeseung inflicted upon you with his actions, and the months of torment you’d endured just to seem worthy to stay by his side.

Did he even ever truly love you like he said he did?

The more you dwell on these thoughts, the more you could feel yourself physically slipping into a state of mental numbness as you stayed motionless on your spot on the carpeted floor.

It wouldn’t be until a few more hours later that Heeseung would enter your dorm, tired as ever from his basketball practice. It was routine for him to crash at your dorm on Tuesdays and Fridays—whenever he had basketball practices— because it was more convenient for him to get to his 9am class the next day from your in-campus dorm, compared to his condo that was 20 minutes away. Adding that you gave him the energy he needed for the days ahead, but now you’re contemplating whether that part was even true or not.

“Sweetheart,” he calls out to you from the entrance. “I’ve got to tell you about what happened to Jay at practice today-” he cuts himself short as he spots your leaning figure, head tucked into your knees, surrounded by torn pieces of paper.

“Y/n?” He quickly runs to your side.

“Seungie,” you meekly whisper as you lift your head, tear-stained cheeks and bloodshot eyes finally coming into clear view.

“Did something happen? What happened?” His hands make quick work to caress your face, tucking stray pieces of hair behind your ears and wiping tears away with his thumb.

Even after knowing what he had allegedly done behind your back, you couldn’t help but feel your heart pounding. This was the sweet, caring Heeseung you knew and loved. And so the thought that Erin could’ve been lying to you, flitters across your mind and nestles itself there.

“You wouldn’t lie to me, right?” Your voice sounds hoarse and quiet, yet the silent pleading rings deafeningly in your ears. You felt so pathetic crying in your living room about a boy who might’ve technically cheated on you, then finding yourself putty in his hands the moment he shows you the version of truth you’re familiar with.

Why are making up excuses for his behaviour?

Gosh, your roommate would kill you if she knew how much of a loser you’ve become in Heeseung’s presence.

“Of course not, baby,” he pulls you into an embrace. “There’s nothing I could ever lie to you about.” Did this ease your trust issues in any way? No. But it did assure you that Erin was still nothing but a serial liar, wanting nothing more than to see other people’s relationships fall apart for her own selfish entertainment… you think.

You hum into Heeseung’s tweed pullover.

It was always like this. You don’t know how many times you’ve gone through the same thing, and you don’t know how many more times you can go through without fully losing your sanity. But you can’t seem to find it in yourself to pull away, no matter how exhausted your heart and soul becomes.

—

“Can’t believe you stayed with him, even after knowing what he did behind your back.” Erin sneers from beside you, clearly amused by your course of actions these past few weeks.

“Whatever I do is none of your business,” you bite back through your teeth. You’ve never liked Erin, but even more so after the stunt she did that almost cost you your entire relationship with Heeseung. You should’ve known that she never had good intentions to begin with, constantly lying through her teeth. “I know you lied about it.”

She raises an eyebrow at this, “You think I’m lying? Oh baby, you’re really so fucking gullible.” Erin could practically see the cogs turning in your brain, if the furrowing of your brows were anything to go by. “I’m saying that Heeseung has you completely under his thumb, and you’re dumb enough to believe anything and everything he says,” she plays with her pen, swirling it around her finger as she eyes you. “It’s whatever though, Heeseung likes good girls anyways.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, I think we both know very well.” She smirks, tapping the pen on her temple once then twice, before shifting in her seat back towards the front of the lecture hall.

Just what was her fucking deal?

It leaves you with more questions than answers, as you watch her diligently jot down notes from beside you. After today, you were for sure going to switch seats because there was just no fucking way you could survive the rest of the year this way.

—

You don’t know how you ended up here. The first minute you were being dumped by Heeseung, and the next you’re waking up with a raging hangover in his best friend's bed.

Heeseung technically didn’t dump you, telling you that he wanted a break the same you did all those months before. And you technically didn't end up in his best friend’s bed by complete choice. You were drunk out of your mind at a party last night, one that your roommate had dragged you to after seeing you in your depressed state for the past week. But no matter the excuse you try to conjure, it still doesn’t excuse the fact that you cheated on your boyfriend.

Your heart beats sporadically at the sight of Sunghoon’s bare back facing you, not because you’re flustered but because you’re instantly hit with the gravity of your own drunken choices.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

With heavy feet, you stumble out of his bed and start navigating through the mess of discarded clothes, and soon after, Sunghoon eventually stirs awake from the ruckus you were unintentionally causing in his shared dorm room. “Y/n?” He groggily calls out to you.

Fuck.

It didn’t take Sunghoon very long to figure out why the fuck you were in his room half-naked, piecing together the clues that lay around the expanse of his dorm. He clearly didn’t need to be a genius like Einstein to figure out that you and him had a drunken one-night stand. You—Heeseung’s girlfriend—and him—Heeseung’s best friend—had spent the night together. Intimately.

Right around the three-second mark, the same level of anxiety sank into his stomach. 

Fuck, indeed.

“I made a mistake.” Your voice trembled, tears starting to blur your vision as hot panic courses through you.

“Hey, we were both drunk,” Sunghoon says, sitting up at the sight of you still half-dressed and starting to break down at the foot of his bed. “Heeseung doesn’t have to know about this. We both made a mistake, and don’t blame yourself because you weren’t the only one, okay?”

“But, fuck, it doesn’t change the fact that I cheated on my boyfriend. What the fuck was I thinking?” Your fingers fly to tousle with your hair, pulling at the roots to try and ease the pounding in your head.

You weren’t any better than all the people you were disgusted by, seeing as you’ve stopped as low. Memories from last night flash through your mind, as if to haunt you; the party, the flashing lights, the drinks, the kissing, the skin against skin. You felt so fucking sick to your stomach.

“We didn’t mean to sleep with each other. We were just drunk.” Sunghoon reasons, but no amount of gaslighting could change what’s already been done.

You were either going to live with this aching thorn by your side forever, or own up to your mistakes like a normal human being with a moral compass. With how deep you’ve fallen for Heeseung, you couldn’t bear losing him, yet both options entailed losing him one way or another.

It’s best not knowing what could potentially hurt, right?

Right.

© i2ycat 2024

[yanderenightmare]

JJK ! The Itadoris

TW: poverty, drugs, family trauma

Thinking about the Itadori twins, all their baby brothers, and their older brother Choso – who, after their parents and grandfather died, has been their sole caregiver.

Which has in no way been any easy task. 

It’s like Shameless up in their house. Stuff’s either broken or crudely fixed with superglue and duck tape. The bills are piled in a wobbly stack in the kitchen, and everyone who can walk is expected to chip in. The walls are riddled with mold, and the bathroom looks like it hasn’t been washed in, well, ever.

But somehow, they make it seem like the most loving household on the block.

Yuji and Sukuna share a room, even though they hate one another and have fought each other with fists and kicks ever since they first learned how to. They'll fight over the smallest things, having always needed to share all their clothes and toys with one another – always up in the other's business as though they're living in each other head. They’re always riddled with cuts and strips, their knuckles wrapped tight in bandages they have to boil and reuse.

Sukuna is more troubled, and Choso has often made the decision to throw him out on the street, but the unwanted cretin always crawls back to crash on the couch when he has nowhere else to go – riddled with unwashed wounds, looking so beaten and starved, the older brother can’t help but take pity on him. Sighing heavily when carrying him up to his room, even when the urchin growls at him to piss off.

Yuuji has always tried steering his twin in a better direction – making him go to class, signing him up for college after high school, getting him a job – but Sukuna has always been in love with the streets and doesn’t want to partake in any pesky conformist rituals like his brothers are sworn on doing. He speaks loudly about it when he’s drunk or on other stuff – how they’re delusional sheep for thinking they could ever simply smile their way into another life – that being slumdogs is what they were meant to be ever since their parents decided to fuck off.

It's a shame… because you can tell he’s actually very smart. Smarter than Yuuji, who by no means tries very hard at school but always comes home with a C+ letter marking his assignments. You’re sure he’d get higher if he applied himself a little harder instead of goofing off in silly after-school clubs. And as for Sukuna, you’re sure he could be valedictorian if he bothered.

Sometimes, he’ll show up in class. Almost always with a new tattoo on his face or arm – from what you can see – you’re sure there’s a lot under his shirt you can’t. He's such a punk, lighting up a smoke in class before the teacher comes in, his muddy sneakers propped up on a poor sucker’s desk.

He smells of liquor and smoke when he swaggers passed you on his way out after the teacher barked at him to go to detention. He never goes, and you wonder why he would even bother coming – but you understand when you see him parole the hallways like he’s some tyrant king overseeing his domain – and you understand it even more when you see him dealing.

It's insane how different the twins are. You know twins often compliment each other, but Yuuji and Sukuna straight-up reject one other. Because Yuuji is the sweetest, most thoughtful person you’ve ever met, and despite humble beginnings, he’s always proudly boasting about all his younger brothers and older brother Choso – and though he rarely ever mentions Sukuna, you can tell how he’s troubled for his twin’s sake.

You admire Choso. He’s as old a brother as older brothers come. Doing everything for the sake of the younger ones. Packing lunches, helping with homework, drawing baths, and washing clothes. Yuuji helps with a lot of it, but still, the brunt of the decisions rests on Choso’s shoulders.

But despite the heavy bags beneath his tired eyes, he’s always got a lazy smile on his lips. So much love when he tucks all his kid brothers in at night, kissing their foreheads before crashing on the couch at the end of the day – a cold beer and a slim rolled joint in his hands as a little treat.

He always stays up and waits for Sukuna to come home – getting a little antsy if it starts to rain outside, hoping he’s not got himself caught up in some dumb gang again.

He rubs his face, hair disheveled in two top-knots – the TV on low so as not to wake the entire house. But Yuuji comes down the stairs after a while anyway, saying something like, “I’ll go look for him; I think I know where he is…”

And he’s almost always, always, at the graveyard with a bottle of vodka, sitting in just a thin shirt and soaked cargo pants in the pouring rain, all his cigarettes a mushy mess in the mud as he leans his head and back against the cold tombstone of their parents.

“D’you plan om sleeping out here?” Yuuji calls out through the storm, and Sukuna peels his eyes open with a scowl.

The alcohol has made him warm, but still, he’s so cold he can’t feel anything at all. He’s so pale he’s turning blue, and the markings he’d played off as tattoos run down his cheeks in blackish streaks.

Yuuji sighed at the lack of response, crouching down with a hand reached out. “Come on; you’re driving big-bro insane with this bullshit-”

“Fuck off.” He grunts back – his voice is so hoarse and so weak, Yuuji wouldn’t have heard it if he hadn’t expected it.

Still, it riles him up. “If you die, I’m not burying you here. Only family deserves a slot-”

Sukuna growls, staggering into a leap, he tackles Yuuji down in the mud – gracelessly crawling on top of him with his hands around his neck.

But he’s been drinking, and the cold has made him weak, and Yuuji easily turns it around on him – pinning him beneath himself with fists wringing his shirt.

“Jeez, bro- let’s just go home, okay?” He sighs, dismissing the attack. It’s not like it was anything new.

“If I step one foot inside that hellhole, I’m gonna burn it down- with you and everyone in it,” Sukuna mutters back, laying still in the sludge of wilted flowers and downtrodden grass.

Red lines his eyes – and Yuuji can tell, even in the rain…

“Yourself included?” He asks.

His eyes ease up from a narrowed scowl into simple weariness, looking off to the side. “It’s bullshit…” He mumbles. “To fuck us up only to leave…”

“D’you want ‘em to drag us down with ‘em?” Yuuji purposes, his fists loosening their grip.

Sukuna frowns in thought, bitterly accepting his brother’s point. In all his dim glory… Yuuji has always been smarter when it comes to matters of the heart.

“Curse them.” Sukuna grumbles under his breath, and Yuuji gives him a smile.

In all his shitty glory… his twin brother is pretty cute when he pouts after all. 

“Wanna piss on their grave?” He quirks through his smile.

Sukuna doesn’t answer, but accepts the hand reached down to him after Yuuji jumped to his feet.

And as they stand there in silence, the rain stops, and the warmth of their piss hitting the cold stone slab makes dew rise along with the morning sun on the horizon.

“There.” Yuuji shakes despite being soaked through and through. “Now let’s go home.” 

[florenceafternoon]

━。゜✿ jily fic recommendations ✿ ゜。━

Some more AUs I've been loving. I'm trying to alternate between AU and canon verse rec lists so bear with me. Remember that if you like a fic you should definitely let the author know as such.

For reference, anything in italics is taken from the summaries on ao3.

theogony by @clare-with-no-i

The trip that Lily Evans expects to go on is the annual pre-dissertation jaunt to Athens with the rest of her Classical Civilizations PhD program. The trip she does not expect to go on is to 479 BCE, right on the cusp of one of the most important battles in the Greco-Persian war. Now, she has to navigate antiquity as she tries to find her way back to the 21st Century, God—or gods—help her.

James wants to win this war. No, James needs to win this war. He is a man of honor and duty, and even if it means dying a gruesome, bloody death, he will go down in history as one of Athens's great warriors. He will suffer no distractions; not even beautiful ones who speak strangely and refuse to listen to his orders.

 -- OR: The Outlander-Meets-Ancient-Greece Jily AU that no one asked for Maya dreams of.

I can't believe it took me this long to read this fic but OH MY GOD!! Clare's writing is phenomenal, I've known this for a while now, but THE DEDICATION TO HISTORICAL ACCURACY, I'm so impressed. If only I could put even half that amount of effort into my major essays for school. EVERYONE GO READ THIS NOW

Sweathearts' Special by @tinyluminaryzombie

What happens when your coffee shop nemesis, asks you to pretend to be a couple?

Or "I’ve been staring at the stupid cupcakes for the past hour, and they look way too good. Anyways, would you be willing to join forces and pretend to be together for the free cupcake and coffee?”

Welcome to Pettyville by @women-inthe-sequel

When Lily Evans accidentally sends a text to the wrong number, she isn’t expecting to find the right person behind it. She can’t stop talking to Prongs. The only thing is, Prongs can’t stop talking about the girl in his class. What could go wrong, other than the number?

A love square but it's just the same two idiots

Tall Dark and Glasses by @jamesunderwater

Tall Dark and Glasses (or TDG as he is more affectionately known) is the mysterious, painfully good-looking stranger who has been frequenting Lily's favourite coffee shop for months now. But despite having an embarrassing acronym for him, Lily, a burned-out STEM major, is too comfortable being a wallflower to go up to him herself. Thank god for playing cards, I guess.

coffee shops and copious amounts of sugar by @mystinkysocks

James decides to finally start revising, the coffee shop he attends introduces him to someone new!

As someone who spends an ungodly amount of time studying in public (at cafés and libraries), all I dream of is to one day live out my very own coffee shop AU

Unlicenced by @ohmygodshesinsane

Lily Evans begrudgingly agrees to get in the car with classmate and sometime-foe James Potter and his not-quite-earned P-plates after a particularly rubbish day.

Drop-Off also by @/ ohmygodshesinsane

James Potter takes Lily Evans home, and wants to make something clear.

Disclaimer that they’re Australian in this AU. You guys don't understand how much Lily Evans means to me. I want to give her a hug.

pretty, pretty boy by rosiemary0 (on ao3)

Pretty face, with golden brown eyes and strong cheekbones (one of which is adorned with a smudge of charcoal). Pretty hands—very, very pretty hands, Lily’s thoughts interject—which hold a jar each, one with water and the other paintbrushes.

Or the one where James is an artist and Lily hates socialising.

I'll Manage by @kaymardsa

James and Lily fall in love during the war.

In which Lily runs a refugee camp and James is an ex-sniper

I can't remember if I've recommended this fic already but again I recently re-read it and wanted to share

'Tis the Fucking Season by @thequibblah

Six-year absences. Yearly photograph burnings (figuratively). Low-cut tops. Two nosebleeds. Little red notebooks. The Past, with a capital P. The desire to pour your heart out to strangers (maybe pathologically). The desire to do unspeakably bad things to one James Potter. These are the ingredients that make up Lily Evans's holiday season.

Shelby the cabbie is in for a fucking ride.

I have been searching for this fic for two months and nearly gave up. An absolute classic that everyone should read!!

Two's a Crowd also by @/ thequibblah

Regency AU in which "the only thing Lily Evans can share with the Earl of Devon is a healthy dose of mutual dislike."

In Search of Something More by @kay-elle-cee

In the sunlit garden of her sister’s home, Lord Potter had promised Lily a life of her own design, with minimal expectations—her presence at community events, companionship, and an heir. As the two stumble into the routine of marriage and work to make a life together at Stinchcombe Hall, unsolicited feelings provoke each to start wondering if this is merely a marriage…or if it could be something more.

No, I will not shut up about this fic. Anything that Kelsey writes is bound to be amazing but this one holds a special place in my heart. Note that this is an ongoing fic though. I tend to recommend completed works but this one is too good not to include.

Pinkest Bluestocking of the Ton by @wearingaberetinparis 

Dearest Reader, the ton are abuzz with the latest gossip, and so it is my honour to impart to you the news that the Duke of Peverell has returned to London at last! A year after setting off on his tour of Europe, Lady Peverell's son has returned and rumour has it that his mother is preparing for the most joyous of occasions: a late summer wedding that sees her son wed the next Duchess of Peverell. It is my sincere hope that you have stored a bottle of wine for this most delightful of upcoming events for if ever there were a more determined mama, this writer is Icarus and this society paper has been scorched for flying too close to the sun.

A Jily Regency Romance inspired by Shondaland's "Bridgerton".

Again this is an ongoing fic, but it's too good not to include in this rec list! I haven’t caught up with all the chapters yet but I love the story so far!

A Heart of Coal also by @/ wearingaberetinparis

They say fortune favours the bold, yet Lily Evans was given her death sentence at seventeen. As soon as midnight strikes on the eve of her eighteenth birthday, her heart will turn to coal. Gryffindor knight James Potter, however, is the last to accept such a fate. For while Lily Evans’ curse foretells her death, his foreshadows a life without his unrequited true love at his side.

Fairytale AU in which the love is requited they're just idiots

Three Lemons and a Dragon by @thelighthousestale

Once upon a time, there lived a Prince named James who had to save his father's Kingdom by getting married. One day an older woman gifts him three lemons that will lead him to his true love.

Dillweed in a Fancy Metal Can by @eastwindmlk

When Lily gets dragged to a Renaissance Faire, she reluctantly agreed to go to the jousting event where she is pulled into the show against her will, or is it?

Lily represents me

Queen Foxtail also by @/ eastwindmlk

Once Upon A Time...

There was an arrogant prince who turned down every suitable match and drove his parents to do something drastic. Marry him off to the next merchant that steps through their gates.

across the universe by rcdwings (on ao3)

“So, you’re saying that in these other worlds, James Potter and Lily Evans exist, too?”

She hadn’t expected to hear that, hadn’t even thought about it that way. She was too busy thinking about if in those other worlds, she and her friends could be seventeen and free instead of the war torn teenagers they were. Now that he’d put it that way, she couldn’t help but let her mind wander.

“I would assume so,” she swallowed. “Not sure what we would be like, though.”

A beat, then a soft hum. “Anything,” he smiled at her, “There are countless worlds, right? We could be anything.”

only love can hurt like this by @fireblts 

Lily doesn’t quite know everything, but it feels pretty close.

The main thing she still doesn’t get is soulmates. Love doesn’t seem like something that should be painful. Or rather, love seems like it’s painful enough on its own without any help.

Soulmate AU - whenever your soulmate is hurt or in pain, you can feel it too.

Soulmate AUs are my comfort genre of fics. I haven't been feeling to well lately and rediscovering this fic was a delight

The Librarian of Hogsmeade Village by @ohmygodshesinsane

Lily's work as a librarian in the small village of Hogsmeade has kept her occupied for the past six years, forever keeping the wheels of the town on the track. As the holidays approach, she prepares to settle in with a nice mug of tea and a well-thumbed old book. When a new resident and his son arrive at her weekly story-reading, with cheeky smiles and big hearts, those plans are tossed out the window in favour of chasing love, for once - not escaping it.

Lily living the cozy life of my dreams. I think it's well known by now that I love reading about single parents and well James with his baby boy always puts a smile on my face.

Spitting Image by @charmsandtealeaves

James Potter always knew he wanted to build a family, he just hadn’t found the right person to build it with - yet. Freezing his sperm at Gringotts Sperm Bank was a no-brainer really. He’d have children when he found the right person, and now he had an insurance policy. Then Lily Evans walked into his place of work with her son - the spitting image of him.

linking this art that the talented @constancezin drew inspired by this fic

Every time I see that Ray has updated, reading the new chapter becomes the highlight of my day

The Stag Prince Across The Sea also by @/ charmsandtealeaves

The realm of Hogwarts had lived for decades in a carefully negotiated harmony between the leaders of the four clans. However, when the time came for son to marry daughter, the Slytherin King refused to offer his daughter's hand to any of the other grand houses’ suitors. As the Slytherin King departed the shore, bound for the ship that would allow him to escape across the Green Sea, he cast a curse on the great families.

“Let ye be marked. Marred by tooth, hoof, and claw. May your sons never be fit for any bride!”

Slytherin invoked an ancient magic, which transformed each family's eldest son into creatures under the light of the full moon. The Kings searched far and wide for a cure to no avail while trying to keep secret the wrong that had been done to them. Years passed and with them grew a sense of unrest, a kingdom on the precipice of collapse...

what love is, I think by @potterandevans-blog-blog

It's James Potter's birthday, his nineteenth to be exact. Some people, if they're lucky, find a tattoo on their back on their nineteenth birthday, a tattoo that can help them discover their soulmate. And if the antlers on his back are anything to go by, James might just have a soulmate of his own out there, somewhere.

oil be there for you by @abby10fanfic

Texting/Social Media AU: Lily and James haven't spoken for 2 years. But that's all about to change thanks to Peter and his involvement in an essential oil pyramid scheme. Featuring boss babes, toxin-free lifestyles, binding contracts, and a very oily journey.

[demonicchicken1121]

Alastor, Rosie, and Cannibal Town: an Analysis (I’m fucking at it (Alastor Posting) again)

Ok I know that a lot of people have already been talking about this, but I really want to analyze Alastors behavior in cannibal town and how it’s so much different than how he behaves literally anywhere else.

Alastors true motives, personality, opinions, etc are widely debated in the fandom. Does he actually care about Charlie or the hotel? What’s his beef with Lucifer? Why did he make a deal and who was it with? Al is such a mysterious and closed off character, and his demeanor changes so frequently that no one in or out of universe really knows much about him. I personally think that the closest we get to seeing Alastor in his truest and most authentic self is when he’s in cannibal town.

From the moment they arrive, Alastors demeanor changes dramatically, even from a few moments before, when Charlie was venting about her relationship issues. He seems genuinely excited to be there and see Rosie, to the point where he seems to forget he brought Charlie here for a reason (hell I think he forgets Charlie is even there at a few points.)

Al and Rosie HAVE seen each other since he returned to hell, at the overlord meeting, but they didn’t really have the time to interact. Even so, they are so in tune with each other. This man was gone for seven years and here they are gaslight gatekeep girlbossing like nothing happened.

But once they actually have the opportunity to interact outside of the overlord meeting they’re super excited to catch up. The only other time he shows this much enthusiasm to see someone is with Mimzy, but things quickly goes south when she puts the hotel is danger. Alastors friendship with mimzy feels very onesided, and it seems that she only shows up when she needs something. While Alastor and Rosie clearly ask each other for favors, it feels a lot more equal in a way where they each get an equal amount of benefit.

And while we haven’t seen much of them yet, I get the vibe that they hang out in their free time and respect each others boundaries and schedules. I think Al went through cannibal town hoping to see her in the prequel comic, but figured she was busy after the extermination and instead asked some of the residents to say hello on his behalf. But that’s just a theory, a gam-

Also just a little thing I noticed, when rosie is joking about Charlie being too young for Alastor, Charlie looks visibly annoyed, but Alastors body language and expression don’t change. He tends to react relatively strongly when anyone (Angel) makes a move on him or assumes he’s dating anyone, but I think he knows Rosie well enough to know she’s joking.

Alastor lets his guard down so much in this part of the episode. He’s really in his element and his behavior seems so natural and genuine.

I love how he’s so willing to just roast Susan. Every iconic duo has that one person they fucking hate and will not be subtle about how much they fucking hate them. It’s especially funny with alastor, who’s usually really pretentious and passive aggressive when he insults someone, but with Susan it’s just

“✨Ornery old bitch?✨” also this is the only time in the entire series that alastor swears in a genuinely humorous way. In almost every other example, he is trying to intimidate someone or piss them off, and also when his staff was broken.

And speaking of his staff, I think it was actually a big deal that Alastor let Charlie use it, even tho it was for a very short time. This does show that whether or not he actually cares about her, Alastor does have a certain amount of trust and respect for Charlie. Despite that, I don’t think he would have done this if he wasn’t in cannibal town and with Rosie. The staff is clearly very important to him and likely holds some amount of his power, given how he reacted when it was broken.

As weird as this sentence is out of context, I think Alastor feels very safe in cannibal down. Rosie and probably the other cannibals genuinely like and respect him. it speaks volumes that not only he let Charlie use his staff, but he put himself in the position that would leave him vulnerable to Rosie if Charlie were to turn on him. While he knows it’s highly unlikely that would happen, I think it’s still worth noting that he intentionally left himself in such a vulnerable position in cannibal town and nowhere else.

Something else interesting I noticed, is that “ready for this” is one of the only songs that Alastor is interacting with another character, and isn’t competing for the spotlight. He is walking all over Vox in “stayed gone”, and getting walked all over by Lucifer in “Hells greatest dad”, but here, he’s very in tune with everyone else. He and Rosie are on equal footing and he feels secure enough to fade into the background a bit, harmonizing with the cannibals and letting Charlie take the lead.

So yeah, I feel like Cannibal town is alastors home in hell. His relationship with Rosie is probably the most positive relationship he has in the whole show. I think viv has mentioned that Alastor wasn’t a cannibal before he died, and I’m not sure if that’s still canon, but if it is, I can definitely see him becoming a cannibal when he became friends with Rosie. I can also see Rosie being one of his first friends in hell, maybe they even rose to power together. I’m clearly getting into some more speculative headcanons because I do what I want, but I’m putting them in their own section.

Now for headcanons with little to no substantial evidence ✨✨✨

I do actually really like the idea that they became friends very quickly and rose to power together. I like the idea that they were friends before Alastor became this super powerful force in hell. It also makes sense that he would trust someone who wanted to be his friend back when people weren’t constantly asking for favors or testing his power. Bc I do think that there was a short period of time between him arriving in hell and rising to power. (I have a lot of ideas about how he got his powers which probably will get its own post, but to brief, he wasn’t super powerful when he arrived in hell.) it makes sense that him and Rosie would have become friends in that period.

When he did start rising to power, I think Rosie would have guided him, given that he was a relatively new sinner. She would help him find overlords to target, possibly even letting him recruit cannibals to help him take them down. After he was finished broadcasting their screams, he would return their bodies to Rosie for her to sell. Maybe any cannibals who helped him would get discounts or first pickings.

This makes sense to me bc not only would it help explain why Alastor has never seen Rosie as a rival or a target, but also it would help explain why they’re so close. Nothing builds a friendship better than overthrowing incredible forces of power. Also they totally square dance on the weekends.

Viv please I need an episode that’s nothing but these two dicking around in cannibal town for twenty minutes.

[syoish-aot]

"I Found You" - EREN/READER - REVERSE ISEKAI (part 8 - FINALE)

reverse isekai, time travel, memory loss

post canon

reader/eren

word count: 3912

<- PART 7

*note: This part includes the song "Until I Found You" by Stephen Sanchez (spotify / youtube) and I very strongly recommend listening to it once that scene starts. You'll be able to tell when to play it.

And now, for the end:

*****

You thought that with Mikasa here, Eren would finally start to act more normal.

You thought wrong.

In fact, it almost feels like he’s avoiding you more now. 

You can barely catch sight of him in the crowded restaurant, as the hours pass and everyone gets a little more drunk. On the occasions that you do see him, he’s always tucked away in a corner talking to Armin. Or Mikasa. Or Jean or Sasha or Connie.

The fact that it’s them isn’t weird, they’re his best friends, but what is weird is that you’re not included. What is weird is the way the conversation comes to a sudden stop when you approach. What is weird is the sudden tension that washes over Eren as his back straightens, he takes in a breath, and his eyes immediately go to anywhere but you. 

It’s. Weird.

And it hurts so much that you constantly have to remind yourself not to cry.

You’re trying to piece together what happened. What you did wrong. But you genuinely have no idea! Last night had been date night. You’d gone out to see a movie that Eren had been dying to see and then you came home. You and Eren made dinner together before you fell into bed and passed out next to each other, feeling like your life was perfect.

But then you’d woken up this morning and things had been far from perfect. 

Things had been the exact opposite of perfe-

“You look like shit,” Hitch says as she leans against the bar next to you.

“Lovely to see you too, Hitch.”

Hitch is more of a friend-in-law than anything. A member of Eren’s social circle that you were sucked into when the two of you started dating. The only times you've really been “close” to her have been during drunken meet-ups in bar bathrooms when you've both sobbed about how pretty the other is while vowing to be best friends for life.

Normal girl stuff.

“Trouble in paradise~?” She teases as you roll your eyes and take another sip of your drink.

“No.” You immediately answer (despite the obvious lie).

Hitch laughs. “Alright, so the way you keep glaring at your boyfriend is some new form of foreplay then?”

Your cheeks burn. “Hitch that’s- you’re so gross!”

Hitch shrugs. “I’m just calling it like it is.” 

Her eyes follow yours and she looks over at Eren. He’s on the other side of the restaurant with Armin, speaking in hushed tones with a serious expression on his face. 

“I’m worried he’s about to break up with me.” The words tumble out of your mouth before you can stop them.

In a shocking turn of events, Hitch doesn’t tease you about it. “Really?” She asks seriously.

“...yeah…”

“What makes you say that?”

“He’s just-” you sigh, “he was so weird this morning and he’s been avoiding me all day. When he looks at me it’s completely different from the way he normally looks at me. It’s like he’s- like he’s mad or something. I don’t get it.”

Hitch shrugs. “Did you guys get into a fight?”

“No.”

“Then he’s probably just being a weird guy about something. I bet you said something stupid and now he’s all in his head. Men are like that, you know. Stupidly emotional over the tiniest things.”

The world really must be fucked, because what Hitch is saying almost… makes sense.

“At the risk of regretting this,” you start before you tear your eyes away from Eren and look over at her, “what should I do?”

Hitch snickers and smiles that stupid Cheshire cat smile that you hate. “If it were me,” which you’re glad it’s not, given Hitch’s awful track record, “I’d give him a nice little reminder of what he’d be missing if he left.”

“Like what?”

“Quickie in the bathroom. I dunno.”

Your cheeks burn for the second time. “Hitch it’s the opening night of Niccolo’s restaurant!!”

She laughs loudly. “And what a perfect way to christen the handicap stall!”

“I can’t believe you…” You mumble as you stare back at your glass.

Then again… maybe she’s not completely wrong. 

Not about screwing your boyfriend in the bathroom of your friend’s newly opened restaurant, of course! But about giving Eren a reminder. It didn’t seem like an awful idea, anyway.

You stare down at your drink.

And then you chug the rest of it.

*****

“So we’re just born again or something and it’s- it’s like no one even cares about before?” Eren asked, scowling at the table he and Armin were sitting at. Mikasa had filled him in about how everyone’s memories get triggered at some point, but she’d left it at that after they’d gotten distracted talking about-...

His eyes naturally trail across the restaurant until they fall to you.

His cheeks flush.

Damit.

He looks away.

Armin laughs softly. “I know it’s confusing right now, but you’ll get used to it.”

“Doubt that,” Eren mumbled as he returned to the subject at hand. He takes a nervous breath. “I-... I killed too many people to get off that easy.”

Armin was silent for a moment. “Yes we-... we did.”

Eren slowly looks over at Armin. Armin, who was staring into his glass as he ran his thumb up and down the condensation, seemingly lost in thought.

“The thing about this life though,” Armin starts, “is that everyone has an understanding that it’s… it’s different. None of the stuff that happened before happened here. Yes, you still need to make amends but- but everyone gets it. Everyone understands that our last lives were complicated and instead of focusing on that we just try to enjoy the chance we’ve been given to live again.” 

Eren looks around the restaurant at the people he knew hundreds of years ago who are alive again under completely different circumstances. 

Marco is playing darts with Reiner, Annie, and Bertholdt. He hits a bullseye and all four of them cheer. 

Sasha is sneaking a french fry off of Gabi’s plate. Gabi smacks her and with a scowl but Sasha flashes her a peace sign and sticks the french fry into her mouth. 

Samuel wraps an arm around Connie’s shoulder and ruffles his short hair as Daz laughs next to them. 

And then his eyes fall to you.

You, chatting with Hitch, of all people, at the bar.

You’re blushing about something, and he can’t help but admit to himself that you look cute when you do it. His heart does what it’s done all day when he looks at you and it starts pounding in his chest. He doesn’t get it. He really doesn’t get it. Who are you and how do you fit in with everyone here? You’re the only person in the entire restaurant that he doesn’t know, and yet the way you talk to everyone makes it seem like you’ve known them all just as long as he has.

Maybe even longer.

“You’re probably wondering who she is.” Armin smiles.

Eren’s cheeks turn slightly pink (again) and he quickly looks away from you as if he’s ashamed that he’d been caught.

And he is, sort of.

He is ashamed that he doesn’t remember someone who seems to matter so much.

“I wasn’t wondering…” Eren lies.

Instead of prodding, Armin just laughs and takes a sip of his beer. “Not everyone is like us,” Armin tells him, as he places his glass back on the table. 

“You mean reincarnated or- or whatever this is?”

“Yeah,” Armin replies, “exactly.”

“Why’s that?”

“No one knows.” Armin answers. “We all have our guesses, obviously, but it’ll be impossible to ever prove any of them right.”

“What do you think?” If anyone had it figured out (or at least mostly figured out) it would have been Armin.

Armin pauses for a moment. “I think… I think that this life gets given to people who deserve a second chance. People who didn’t get to live happily the first time around, so now they can try again.”

“What’s your proof of that?”

“No proof,” Armin laughs, “just a feeling.”

“Hm.”

“What?”

“Nothing.” Eren mumbles. “You’re just… different now.”

Armin throws his head back and laughs. “Hopefully not too different.”

“Nah. It’s a good thing. You were too much of a know-it-all before.” The corners of Eren’s lips tug into a small smile as he says it and it feels- it feels good to smile. He didn’t get to do much of that in his last few years alive. 

Armin scoffs before he laughs. “Rude Eren, rude.”

Eren’s smile grows wider as their eyes meet and he feels… alive.

For the first time since he woke up, he feels alive.

“Hey, Eren.”

The smile immediately wipes off his face as you appear next to him.

Coffee. Marker. Spaghetti and wine.

Eren rapidly blinks as he reaches up to rub his temples. “The fuck is-”

Your hands are in his. You pull them away from his head and Eren’s eyes flutter open to see you right in front of him. Just like how he’d woken up that morning.

He quickly looks over at Armin, wordlessly asking for his best friend to save him.

Instead, Armin smiles and says: “I’ll give you guys some alone time.”

“But Armin I-”

“What?” He asks with a short laugh. “Don’t tell me you don’t want to spend time with your girlfriend?”

Eren’s mouth slams shut. He feels like it’d be weird if he denied it because obviously the version of him that knew her would have been jumping at the opportunity. 

“Don’t stress about it, Eren,” Armin tells him as he places a hand on Eren’s shoulder. He suddenly gets a suspicion that his friend knows about the random thoughts that keep coming to mind. “Just take it slow and you’ll figure it out.” Armin pats his shoulder before walking away.

“R-Right…” Eren mumbles.

Ever so slowly, he looks back to you.

Your hands are still holding his as you stare up at him. Eyes wide, lips slightly parted and taking in shallow breaths. It looks like you’re studying him. Watching. Waiting for some sort of clue that’ll give you a big grand “ah-hah!” moment. 

And it makes his heart race. 

His fingers twitch with the desire to reach up and tuck a piece of hair behind your ear as if- as if he knows what it would feel like to do that.

As if he’d done it before.

“Follow your instincts,” Mikasa had told him, “no matter which lifetime, you’ve always been pretty good at doing that.”

Eren swallows a lump in his throat and, for the first time all day, he lets the part of him that has been begging him to talk to you, to be next to you, to touch you-

He lets it take over.

He lets his instincts take over.

His fingers delicately ghost across your cheek, which starts to warm under his touch. He tucks a piece of hair behind your ear but his fingers linger there for a moment longer, admiring your soft skin and the way it sends a rush from his fingers right through to his heart.

Laughing as you walk through the park on campus. Taking pictures at your university graduation. Drunkenly stumbling down the street after a night out.

This time it’s not single sensations with no context of where they’re from. This time the thoughts- the memories, Eren realizes, are more vivid. More real. And it’s you, clearly you, front and center in all of them.

It’s you.

“I’m-” he speaks without even knowing he’s doing it. It’s his instincts again. The part of him that knows you. “I’ve been- um… distant.”

“Yeah..” you answer softly.

“I just- My head’s all- I-”

“Eren.” You cut him off and he immediately looks back at you.

The night sky. The stars. A swirl of green and blue.

You smile as you reach up to cup his hand, the hand that’s still against your cheek, in yours. “I love you.” You tell him.

The words tumble from Eren’s mouth before he even has a second to catch them: “I love you too.”

“Let's clear up some space, guys!” Niccolo calls as everyone begins to push the tables aside to make room for a dance floor.

You and Eren, snapped out of whatever moment you’d been having, jump apart.

Before the music even starts Sasha excitedly dances around as she pulls Niccolo along with her in anticipation. 

Yesterday, you would have done the same thing as Sasha and tugged your boyfriend to the dance floor without the option of saying ‘no’. But today- today things are different and you still don’t know why.

You’re worried that if you asked him to dance he’d…

The music starts and you can’t help glancing over at Eren only to realize he’s already looking at you.

Your cheeks flush a light pink in response and, for some reason, his do the same. There’s a moment of hesitation, a moment where you think he’s going to turn away and avoid you like he’d been doing all day.

And then…

Georgia~

Eren holds a hand out to you.

Wrap me up in all your- I want you…

You slowly take it.

In my arms- Oh, let me…

He pulls you closer.

…hold you

His other hand presses to your lower back.

I’ll never let you go again, like I did

Oh, I used to say~

And then you’re slowly moving, just the two of you, sucked into your own little world as you become completely oblivious to everyone around you.

He avoids your eyes but still finds a way to steal little glances here and there. He seems-

Embarrassed. 

Just like he did the day you accidentally ran a black marker over his new shirt.

I was lost within the darkness, but then I found her- I found you

“Welcome back, stranger.” You smiled at Eren as he entered the coffee shop for the second time.

Georgia, pulled me in I asked to- love her

“Are you asking me on a date?” “Don’t laugh, you’ll hurt my ego.”

Once again You fell, I- caught you

You both jump as you walk side-by-side and your hands accidentally brush against each other. You look over at him at the same time he tries to steal a glance at you. And then you both burst out laughing.

“I would never fall in love again until I found her”

You kiss for the first time on a park bench.

I said, “I would never fall unless it’s you I fall into”

“I love you.”  “That’s… so cringe.”

I was lost within the darkness, but then I found her

You excitedly threw yourself into his arms as he placed his last moving box in your apartment.

I found you

The memories come back to Eren in vivid flashes as you move around the dance floor. It should be overwhelming- having two lives suddenly meshing together in his head but it’s- it’s not. It’s-

“Eren?” You ask, just like you’d been doing all day and never receiving an answer. “Are you okay?”

He slides a red velvet box into his bedside table before you burst into the room and ruin the surprise.

“Yeah,” Eren answers softly, “I’m-...” 

I would never fall in love again until I found her

“I’m great.” He smiles.

I said, “I would never fall unless it’s you I fall into”

His hand comes up to cup your cheek, gently stroking his thumb across your skin.

I was lost within the darkness, but then I found her

Your lips meet.

I found you…

You come to a slow stop on the dance floor as you kiss, the memories of his lives- both of them, settling in their entirety in Eren’s mind.

He might not have known you in his last lifetime, but he found you in this one.

And in that moment, to Eren, that was all that mattered.

Eren pulls away, smiling down at you as his thumb brushes across your cheek. He wonders what would happen if he did try to explain it to you. Sure, he might sound crazy, but he has a feeling that you’d believe him. That you’d understand. That you’d hear him out and be just as equally amazed as he is when you realize what an amazing opportunity he’s been given, they've all been given, to live for the second time.

So maybe he’ll tell you one day.

Maybe they all will.

Eren settles on the promise to himself. The promise that one day he’d be honest. For now though, he just wanted to enjoy the life he’d been given. 

And the fact that because of it, he found you.

********

“It looks great, Niccolo,” Eren tells his friend with a wide grin as he firmly shakes his hand. “Bet you’ll have the most popular restaurant on the whole block.”

“My only competition is a bakery that’s closed every day but Sundays,” Niccolo replies.

“See? You’re already killing it!”

Niccolo laughs and shakes his head. “Glad you could make it, Eren.” He says, patting Eren’s shoulder as he passes him a knowing glance. “And… we’re glad to have you back.”

You aren’t entirely sure what Niccolo means by it, but you figured that today was weird enough that you aren’t going to question it.

“Nicoooooooooo…” Sasha drunkenly drawls as she leans against the door of the restaurant. “There’s no more wineeeee…”

“Oh god.” Niccolo sighs.

You snicker as he turns around and catches his shit-faced fiancé before she ends up face-first against the pavement.

“Ready to go?” Eren asks, wrapping his arm around your shoulders before he presses his lips to the top of your head.

“Yep!”

You and Eren were one of the last few to leave. Everyone else had gotten way too drunk to stay any longer, but Eren hadn’t wanted to go home. He was having too much fun dancing, laughing, and bouncing around the room like a complete social butterfly.

“You had a lot of energy tonight.” You joke as the two of you walk down the street. 

Eren laughs. “I was excited.”

“Yeah, I could tell. I think you talked to everyone there, even Annie.”

He scoffs. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You normally try to avoid her after that time she threw you over her shoulder and kicked your ass.”

“No, no, no you’re remembering that wrong.”

“I am not!”

“Totally are. I kicked her ass, remember?”

“Okay,” you snicker, “just keep telling yourself that.” 

It doesn’t take you long to reach the train station. Eren’s arm is still around your shoulder as you take a seat on one of the benches. The sign above the station indicates that your train should be there in five minutes, but you don’t really care how long it takes.

With a sigh, you lean against Eren’s chest and he secures his arm around you, rubbing your shoulder as he does it.

“Cold?” He asks.

“Nah.” You reply. 

He pulls off his jacket and places it around you anyway.

“Now you’re gonna be cold, dumbass.” You mumble, tightening his jacket around you nonetheless.

Eren scoffs. “I’m too sexy to get cold.”

“So you’re saying I’m not sexy?”

“Eh.” He shrugs. “You’re alright.”

You playfully slap his chest but he grabs your hand before you can pull it away. “Hey.” He says seriously as he curls his fingers around yours.

“What?”

“I’m sorry.” He kisses the tips of your fingers. “For… For being weird earlier.” He kisses you again.

“...It’s okay.” You mumble.

“No, it’s not. I was being distant for no reason and it was probably really shitty for you.”

You curl your fingers around his and squeeze his hand as you look down into your lap. “It-… yeah it kinda sucked.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Eren reassures you.

“Then… what happened?”

He opens his mouth to say something, but just as quickly closes it again. “It’s-... It’s not something that's easy to talk about.”

He thinks about the promise he made to himself earlier. The promise to tell you one day. To tell you the entire story, not leaving out a single detail, starting the moment he woke up from a weird dream in Shiganshina and ending when Mikasa’s blade met his neck.

He needs time though.

Time to think about how to say it. To tell it. To put it in a way that he can convey how wrong he was in his last life and how much better he wants to be in this one.

Time.

One of the two major things he was missing in his first life.

Time and…

“It’s okay, Eren.” Your words cut through his thoughts. “Just tell me when you’re ready.”

The way you look at him, with so much trust in your eyes, makes Eren smile.

So he promises it to himself again. He promises that he’ll tell you, one day, after a little bit of time.

Eren reaches over to cup your cheek in his hands and pull you in for a kiss.

You sigh against his lips as your eyes slide closed and the comforting familiarity of his kiss makes everything in the world seem right.

It makes everything seem perfect, once again.

And you don’t want to change a single thing-

Crisp hospital sheets. The afternoon light against his bandaged face. Brightly coloured pills in a paper cup.

You freeze as Eren pulls away from the kiss.

“Are you okay?” He asks.

“I snuck you an extra apple, don’t tell anyone or they’ll accuse me of picking favourites.”

“Hey,” he brushes his fingers across your forehead.

“Why would I skip out on the festival, it sounds like fun!”

“What’s going on?”

Fire. Rubble. Screaming.

He calls your name.

A grip. A squeeze. A pop.

“Can you hear me?”

The deafening sound of complete silence. Followed by the terrifying sight of pitch black.

Your eyes flutter open. 

You don’t recognize where you are. You don’t recognize the sounds, or the smells, or the loud voice that comes from nowhere saying: “next train arriving, please stand behind the yellow line”.

But you do recognize something.

Someone.

And the sight of him, freshly shaved, hair cut and styled, free of bandages with no crutches to make up for a missing leg- it makes your heart flutter, just like it always did in that hospital room.

You smile, because what other reaction could you possibly have when you’re looking at the man you were forbidden to love, but loved so deeply despite it. 

You say the only thing that makes sense, given the miracle before you:

“Are we in heaven, Mr. Kruger?”

Suddenly Eren knows exactly who you are.

Suddenly, he remembers why he’d tried so hard to forget.

“She’s distracting you, Eren,” Zeke said, his baseball on the bench between them. “She’s not,” was Eren’s only reply.

But now Eren knew he could never forget again. Not the longing. Not the guilt. Not the feeling of bones breaking, the smell of fresh blood, or the bursting of flesh between his fingers.

“Then kill her,” Zeke said casually like the words didn’t mean a single thing.

No. Eren would never forget again.

He’d never forget how it felt when he, the attack titan, crushed you in his hands and discarded your lifeless body against the battered streets of Liberio...

[THE END]

[rocketinthesky]

Hi! Hope you're having a good time💜 Any opinions the Haasbands? (Kevin x Nico)

OMG HI! Hope you’re having a great time too

As for the ask game

HAASBANDS?!? BOY DO I HAVE SOME STRONG OPINIONS ON THIS !! So sorry op this might be posted a bit late cuz i have TOO MANY THOTS AND FEELINGS OVER THEM OK LETS START:

Obviously, the HISTORY. Ik the most “relevant”/spoken about F1 rivalries are brocedes/lestappen these days but we really have to look into Haasbands cuz they’re THE enemies to lovers story, like actual rivals who fell hard for eo.

We all know about the infamous “suck my balls” comment from Kevin, about Nico and Kevin butting heads on track, how they apparently hated eo till suddenly they’re teammates and they mesh so well tgt that Nico calls it a fucking “romance”.

There’s soooo much nuance to their dynamic to unpack here though. The general consensus is “guard-dog kevin” and “level-headed nico” but LETS TALK ABOUT THE INNER WORKINGS OF THEIR DYNAMIC PRE-MARRIAGE OK. In an interview, Kevin talked about how the “hatred” was one-sided, that despite the hot-headed comment during that interview, Kevin has never disliked Nico, rather he always respected the older as a fellow driver.

This flips the “level-headed nico” characterization on it’s head because look: pre-marriage Hulknussen was basically a one-sided rivalry where Nico was a petty bitch and giving Kevin the silent treatment, whilst Kevin was leaving all the rivalry and anger on the track, more or less wilfully oblivious to the “enemies” narrative. He respected Nico as a person and just was chill with him off track, but on track Kevin fights for his life no matter who he’s up against.

Now post-marriage Haasbands arc brings us two dudes who are much more mature, definitely have a much different perspective in life (cuz of the families they’ve built). They’ve grown as people obv and when they were more or less forced to be co-workers they had to suck it up like real adults and act like professionals.

But when they were actually working tgt, they found that it was easy. They got along on a fundamental level. Kevin always held that respect for Nico as a driver and person and when Nico actually allowed himself to give Kevin a chance, to talk to the guy and see him for the person he is off-track, not just as the aggressive and fearless fighter in the car, he grew a genuine respect and appreciation for Kevin as a person.

Among all the ships, i’d say Haasbands is the most sane one. They go from genuine rivalry/one-sided hatred and one-sided ignorance, to a friendship, mutual respect, peaceful relationship.

Obviously that’s just the brief overview of it but let’s not overlook the INSANITY within their dynamic cuz i am in no way discounting “guard-dog kmag”. He’s a fiercely protective warrior on the track and we’ve seen firsthand how he will fucking kamikaze for fhe sake of nico getting a point, how he will openly speak up about anything unfair that happens with Nico, like with nico and daniel’s crash this year. Kevin is a man in love and he’s a man who will lay his life on the line for it.

NICO. He’s level-headed alright. He’ll very calmly with the sweetest smile on his face threaten any lifeform that harms Kevin in any way. He’s a sweetheart sure but he’s just as nuts for Kev as kev is for him. His raw thoughts on Kmag’s race ban is a prime example of it.

These two are like actual fuckin husbands, they’ll protect eo to the end. And the domesticity between them makes me gag like ok get a room guys we get it yall are in LOVE

the kmag birthday clip? Them watching sports tgt outside of WORK duties? The way they’re constantly complimenting each other without faltering, almost tryna one-up eo in a compliment battle in the driver rankings videos? The compliments outside of those too like they are genuinely obsessed with each other?! I could go on but we’d be here all day so. Just know they’re sickeningly, tooth-rottingly sweet with eo

Welp i’ve rambled long enough lmao sorry if u subjected urself to my disjointed thoughts i just have so many Feelings™️ about haasbands they’re one of my otps lol they’re just so PERFECT they’re THE enemies to lovers like real fuckin enemies to lovers.

(As for my nsfw thoughts i think they’re pure switches but Nico lets his short gremlin male-wife take care of him more cuz he’s very fond and will do wtv Kevin wants THANK YOU)

[slyvester101]

After everything that happened with Crunchbite (the bastard) and Junior’s probably horrific and painful birth, I imagine Tucker is more than a little wary about letting strangers near him.

He gets this hollow feeling in his gut when he’s around people he doesn’t know, gets an itch in his skin if he’s touched by someone he doesn’t trust. His throat tightens and his heart squeezes and his hands shake. He’s not able to sleep well around strangers, has to keep his back to the wall or else he’s waking every five minutes to make sure no one’s snuck up behind him.

He spends his whole diplomacy curled up in a ball in the corner of his room with Junior tucked under his chin, keeps his distance from the soldiers stuck on his missions and keeps them away with sharp smiles and horrible flirting that would make anyone cringe away.

At the desert temple, when he’s all alone with nothing but hostiles banging on the door, Tucker laments in how much he misses touch, misses the freedom of being able to hug someone without fear of harm, of being able to know if a touch was friendly or manipulative. He misses Blood Gulch. He misses blue team. He misses his son.

Even after Sidewinder, Tucker still isn’t in the clear, isn’t allowed some respite with his team because the latest member is yet another Freelancer who was chasing to kill them not even less than twenty-four hours ago.

His skin is buzzing the whole time they’re being shown around their new base by Caboose, his heart not settling despite the action being long over, his brain screams as someone grabs his shoulder. He screams out loud too, it seems, because the hand is pulling back quickly and a soft apologetic voice is echoing through his head.

“Are you okay?”

“Don’t fucking touch me, asshole.” Tucker all but hissed before he stormed away, unwilling to let this new prick see the way his hands shake and the way his face has gone pale.

He hates it. He hates it. He hates how he can’t even stand close to the fucker without feeling ill, can’t help but track his every movement and every word for some kind of malice or cruel intent.

He finds none.

He’s kind to Caboose, politely nodding along to whatever he rants about and keeping him out of trouble with much kinder words that Church was probably physically incapable of speaking. He’s kind to Tucker even though he’s been nothing but a paranoid asshole the whole time they’ve been at Valhalla, never taking offense to the distance Tucker puts between them and respecting whatever lines Tucker draws.

It takes a long time for him to feel comfortable enough to let Washington touch him, not quite as long to start giving him shit like he would’ve with Church. Slowly and cautiously, they fall into a groove that’s uniquely theirs and Tucker feels like he can finally breathe in his own goddamn house.

His trust in Wash is cemented when Carolina comes into the picture and constantly steps in as a barrier between the two, Washington knowing that Carolina would try to scruff or yank Tucker around for his big mouth and that Tucker would probably rip her hand off if she tried. He’s the only reason the two aqua soldiers don’t kill each other. That fact becomes undoubtedly true when Wash choses Tucker over Carolina, pointing his gun at her as she threatens Tucker.

Caboose was always a steady presence to the chaos in his head, the gentle giant sometimes being the only reason Tucker didn’t fall apart at the seams while he cried his fears into his chest, but Wash is a different kind of support that Tucker didn’t know he needed, one he doesn’t think he’s ever had.

It doesn’t stop him from getting that itch in his skin when he’s surrounded by strangers, it doesn’t stop the sick feeling he gets when he wakes up from a nightmare, it doesn’t make everything better.

But Tucker thinks, kind of incredulously, that maybe he can finally be safe with these two by his side. Maybe, just maybe, he can really let his guard down and have someone else watch his back.

Maybe he can finally let someone in.

[nnnyxie]

CAN’T WAIT ANY LONGERRR

So this one is angsty (if you squint) basically reader is Bakugos little sibling (by like a year or two to not make it weird) and they grew up together…And this is kinda mean!Izu x reader but whatever

Izu one day just randomly reflects on Bakugos bullying and is like well fuck him and decides to date his younger sibling to fuck with Bakugo as ‚revenge‘

Failing to inform them he was only dating them to fuck with their brother. He‘s still doting and sweet and oh so loving(he also failed to realize he fell for reader fr)…and on one random Tuesday they just overhear him speaking about it like on the phone to his friends being like „yeah Kacchan is totally pissed it worked like a charm“

Reader absolutely breaks down and runs to Kacchan for comfort because big brother is always the solution🤞 so then Izu dosen’t even realize and tries talking to reader and they just cut all contact and Izu panics and realizes what he feels for them but it‘s too late hehe. (I need some sort of happy ending for reader😭)

Bonus ofcourse would be lots and lots of groveling before they eventually restart, or reader moves on if you‘re not the second chance type..revenge is always the answer🫶🏻 idk both ends would be cute Idk when I turned into an angst Whore I used to be a fluff addict😞 #𖢥 izuku anon

SOBS!!! DRAMATICALLY THROWS MYSELF ONTO THE FLOOR!!!! CLAWS AT MY ENCLOSURE!!!!

i’m not much of a second chance person when it comes to this stuff but……. i like fluff……. so we shall see how the ending goes…….. it’s a wild card for the both of us???

(ps there is swearing bc it’s me…) (pps i did add a part where he said ‘fuckin with my blood’ but i originally had like— an adopted sibling in mind?? so just read however you’d like!!) (ppps i added some comfort from our girlies and kiri bc i LOVE them)

for this we’re gonna pretend like the boys have had no progress in friendship and that they HATE each other with a passion and that season 6 didn’t happen!! AND that they’re in their second year while you, darling reader, are a first year at UA!!

okay so. despite katsuki being such an asshole and probably the most difficult person to deal with— he has such a soft spot for his little sibling!!

he makes it known that if anyone fucks with you— he’ll beat them worse than they could ever imagine. you thought his normal threats were bad? oh sweetheart, these are far worse!! he’ll go into solid detail and even give ‘warning’ hits.

enter izuku, your longtime crush. ever since you were kids, you have always liked him. loved him, even. you admire how ambitious he is and how far he’s come.

izuku was dense about your crush at first, in all honesty. it wasn’t until he overheard your conversation with katsuki in the dorm stairs one day!!

it was something along the lines of “you can’t love that nerd!” “but i do! and if he feels the same i don’t want you ruining this for me!” “you’re too good for him! plus you’re too young to date anyways!” “katsuki, i’m not a baby anymore! look— if he ends up rejecting me then i’ll tell you. and you can do whatever you want, okay?” “okay. and if he accepts then, i’ll punch him too.” “katsuki no—”

izuku usually isn’t the type for petty revenge but— katsuki has hurt him for long enough. so this would be a great way to get back at him, right..?

now let’s dive into izuku’s little plan—

like i said before, he isn’t one to do this sort of thing. he really isn’t but— katsuki just… fuels a fire in him that he can’t put out.

izuku thought this little idea was crazy (it is), so he confided in someone about it— can you guess who?? wanna know who??? the one and only…

kaminari denki!!

that is correct, he confides in kaminari. see— izuku doesn’t tell kaminari that the person is katsuki’s little sibling.

izuku just tells him “i want to piss this guy off by dating their younger sibling but, i feel like that’s crazy…” and kaminari says “nah dude, if that person is a piece of shit then i say go for it. i mean— if they’re shitty then their sibling probably is too!”

which is very incorrect— you and katsuki aren’t alike.

well— you are?? but also aren’t??? if that makes sense

anyways… izuku was STUPID and took his advice.

so— izuku enacts his plan. he’ll fake confess to you, in front of katsuki. it has to be in front of him. he’ll date you for a bit to make katsuki mad, lead you on a little, then break up with you. easy peasy right?

wrong.

first off, he did confess in front of katsuki but, katsuki punched him right in the face.

second, when you accepted his confession, katsuki punched him again. this time in the stomach.

but hey— anything for petty revenge… ig…?

anywhooo y’all get into a relationship!! and it’s a dream for you, truly. you’re with the person you’ve been in love with for basically your entire life!! and that person loves you back!!!

literally everyone is jealous because you’re the couple. the blueprint. the outcome. the relationship. (or so you and the others thought….)

the relationship is… healthy? i mean, it is healthy if you ignore the fact that izuku is doing this all to piss off katsuki!!

and oh my god— katsuki is fucking angry. he’s always ‘mean mugging’ izuku. he isn’t doing anything,,, physical because you chewed him out for it. like— you really laid into him when he punched izuku. and you had a very lengthy talk with him. so, he’s keeping his hands to himself— for now.

okay moving on from that??? kaminari doesn’t put two and two together when izuku starts dating you— as much as i love him, he isn’t the brightest bulb in the box! yes he’s smart but c’mon……..

which actually brings me to how you found out!!!

so……. one day you and izuku are just walking down the hall to go to his room, y’all planned a cute movie night!!! (which he was really looking forward to) when the lovely kaminari denki comes strolling up to him.

“hey dude! how’s that revenge thing going? it’s been what?? eight?? months— you piss off the guy yet? is he totally mad that you’re with his sibling?” kaminari had the widest grin— he’s so dumb, bless his heart.

“izuku, what does he mean?” “i— kaminari, i don’t—” “huh? he’s dating some guy’s sibling to piss him off cause the dude’s a total piece of shit and i thought maybe the dude’s sibling was shi—” “kaminari! stop it!” izuku slapped his hand over the blonde’s mouth. all you could say was ‘oh’ then you ran towards katsuki’s room, hoping he’d be in there.

“wait— was— was the guy katsuki and the sibling was them!?” kaminari shouted in surprised (jfc…). izuku sighed with a nod. “dude you fucked up. like really fucked up. they were a total hottie?? and super cool?? plus katsuki is gonna be really pissed.” “i know…”

izuku felt so guilty because he was genuinely beginning to fall for you— like seriously!! he’s in love with you and now everything is ruined. i mean, he knew he’d have to tell you at some point because, no relationship should be built on lies but still !!

when you told your brother— he felt beyond pissed, angry, furious, etc. his emotions were indescribable. katsuki genuinely wanted to kill izuku. yeah, he’s always said ‘i’ll kill you’ but it’s not like he ever actually meant it.

but this time—

he really did mean it. he felt like he could commit murder.

“outside.” katsuki grabbed izuku by the collar of his shirt and dragged him through the dorms.

“wait— kacchan just let me explain!” he panicked, he wanted to tell katsuki that he did love you. that his intentions weren’t good at first but his feelings became real very quickly!

“what dumb ass excuse could you possibly have that would make this fuckin’ situation better!?” katsuki’s left hand sparked as he tossed izuku outside the doors.

“i— i’m not trying to make the situation better! i j-just want to explain!” “you have one minute before i blow your head off.”

“i did it to make you mad at first but— but, i ended up really falling for them! seriously! i w-was going to tell them!” “why the fuck would you even think about doin’ that shit!? even i wouldn’t go that low!” katsuki’s hands grew hot. he was on the verge of becoming a murderer.

“i’m sorry! i really am! i just— i was so mad at you and it was petty revenge!” izuku’s hands were raised in defense. “that shit wasn’t revenge! that was fuckin’ with my blood!” katsuki raised his hand to izuku’s face, getting ready to blast him— but he was stopped. “bakugo, midoriya. nezu’s office, now.” a very tired sounding, aizawa demanded.

while that was going down— you were left in katsuki’s room, crying on his floor.

“uhm— hey, it’s just us…” mina, jirou, and kirishima walked in. you wiped your eyes and nose, you didn’t really like being seen in a vulnerable state. something you and katsuki had in common.

“so we uh… kinda heard about what happened from kaminari.” jirou whispered as her jacks poked together. “i’m sorry, he’s a loud mouth…” “and uhm… your brother isn’t exactly quiet either.” kirishima looked to the ground beside you.

“i kinda heard their conversation… midoriya said he loves you…” mina sat beside you. “so what are you gonna do? are you gonna hear midoriya out..?” you shrugged.

even if he really did begin to love you, how could you ever trust him again? and— what if he was lying to your brother just to get an easy out?

you felt sick— and you felt like a fool. you felt so stupid for thinking that your brother’s enemy could actually have feelings for you. you felt like an idiot.

“i think… i think that, maybe, i could hear his explanation but… i won’t forgive him or give him another chance. i can’t trust him again. plus, i’d look like a fool going back to him…” you mumbled into your arms, your knees were to your chest. the three just gave an understanding nod, then, huddled around you for an awkward but, warm, group hug.

“alright.” you heard your brother’s gruff voice from the doorway. “you three, out. now.” he pointed towards his friends and you watched them leave.

“so… what happened?” you asked, your brother plopped down beside you. sitting in his usual ‘delinquent’ position. “almost murdered him. got stopped by aizawa. got scolded by nezu. now ‘m suspended for 5 weeks. gotta do supplementary classes n’ shit.” “i’m sorry, kats.” he scoffed and gave you an ‘are you fucking serious’ look. “why the fuck are you apologizin’!?” you fiddled your fingers, “i got you in trouble…” he rolled his eyes and lightly smacked the back of your head. “idiot, you didn’t. was all me.”

there was a bit of silence, it was a comfortable one. you and katsuki always shared this sort of quiet.

“did they tell you what happened?” he asked in a hushed tone, referring to his friends. “yeah…” “and…?” “and i’m not gonna forgive him or anything. he lied to me. why would i wanna be with a liar? plus, what if he was lying about actually having feelings for me now? i can’t trust him again.”

katsuki gave you a small, smile. one that said ‘i understand. i’m sorry he did that. i’m here for you. and i love you.’

when it comes to him, words weren’t needed most of the time. looks could tell all. and that look told you everything you needed to hear.

i’ll be so real— i was very a teensy bit drunk writing this… so like if it doesn’t make sense or anything i’m so sorry

[eddiesghxst]

ALL I WANTED

part one | part two | part three

————

18+ — MINORS DNI

pairing: rockstar!eddie x rockstar!reader

summary: your band, Daughters of Vampira, and Corroded Coffin hate each other and are struggling to keep a clean image in the media; so, in an attempt to solve the issue, your managers try to come up with a solution.

contains: enemies to lovers trope, alcohol consumption, smoking, cheating (reader is cheated on by her fiancé), themes of misogyny/sexism, and eddie being a dick <3

word count: 12.9k

| Daughters of Vampira setlist | Corroded Coffin setlist |

-story masterlist- | -main masterlist-

You were a musician. A rockstar. On your way to being one of the greats. Your band, Daughters of Vampira, was a small, feminist rock band out of Hawkins, Indiana. You created this band with your friends, Robin, Nancy, and Max, an outlet the four of you used to sing and write your little hearts out. You hit it big when you all moved to Los Angeles, playing at some lame bar when a producer walked up to you after the show, saying she wanted to see more, handing you a business card. 

Then boom. 

Everything was up from there. You got signed onto a record deal– played shows, signed autographs, walked carpets, and did interviews. Your wallet was a bottomless pit. En route to being wed, you got engaged to your production assistant turned bassist, and all was well— until about five minutes ago.

You came home from a day at the studio with your band, crafting a new song, playing with guitar riffs, and imagining lyrics. This track was going to be big; a song about your love for your fiance, a tale of how magnetic and beautiful every second was and will be.

You unlocked the door to your shared apartment, kicking off your sneakers, when you noticed a pair of red heels, which is weird because you hate heels. Maybe they were your friend Angie’s shoes; she knows where you hide your spare key and sometimes sneaks in when you’re not home. Furrowing a brow, you cautiously set your bag and keys down, looking around you for any more clues— her bag or her keys, anything. Your socked feet softly pad across your cold, wooden floors as you walk into the apartment's threshold, glancing into the kitchen. Nothing. You turned to the living room, unknowingly holding your breath—still nothing. Suspicion itches in your mind as you take in the space around you. You turn the corner to your bedroom and see the door left ajar. 

You almost think nothing of it; you wouldn’t be mad at Angie taking a nap in your room; she’s your childhood best friend, but then you hear it— the two voices. The first voice is your fiance, Scott, and the second is an unknown woman.

They’re laughing. They’re whispering about something you can’t hear either because they’re either speaking too quietly or your sudden rage is filling out the space in your ears; you’re not sure which it is. You quickly glance back towards the door, eyeing the heels for the second time— your heart drops.

It was Angie. Those were her heels; you helped her pick them out, for fucks sake. You storm up to the door and swing it open without a second thought, and your eyes widen at the sight before you. You had so badly wished your mind was playing some sick trick on you, and you were just hearing things. You were wrong.

Your fiance and childhood best friend, Angie, are sprawled out in your white-sheeted bed, heads laid on your pillows tousled, under your roof— and both incredibly naked. 

Despite the anger, your eyes quickly fill with tears, salty pools of resentment and betrayal threatening to spill over. Scott sees you in the doorway and scrambles out of bed, hastily grabbing a pair of boxers to pull over his bare hips. You can hear him sputtering out excuses, apologies, and reasons through the fog— so many words that sound like nothing but white noise to you. 

He stumbles his way over to you, hands reaching out to grasp you and raising in surrender when you yank away from him. You can hardly think; a cloudy moment where you feel as if the floor has been wiped from below you and you’re free-falling in some shitty excuse of a dream. 

“Sweetheart, please just listen–” He didn’t get to finish his sentence; the palm of your hand cracked down against his cheek to stop whatever bullshit excuse was coming. Angie shrieked, jumping out of bed, still with no clothes on, as she hurried to his side, an obvious two-against-one— that’s clarified when she shoots you a pointed look, fire building up in her eyes— and you can’t believe the audacity. 

Scott looks back at you, cheek red with the sting of your rage as he points a finger at you, “Don’t you dare fucking touch her,” he scolds as if you were a child, warning you to leave the cookie jar alone. You scoff, your mouth falling agape as you laugh humorlessly. “Me? Touch her?” You point to the naked girl. Your neck heats in fury as you shake your head, “That is rich, Scott.” 

You step back, eyeing both of them and ignoring the lump in your throat as you speak, “So, how long has this been going on?” They stare at you like they’re fucking clueless, and it ticks you off to no end, “In my own fucking bed? With my best friend?” Your tears are hot as they begin streaming down your cheeks, and the harsh swipe of your wrist to wipe them away stings, but you refuse to let them see you cry. Your mind is cluttered with questions, but they come out like bullets, firing round after round. 

Angie takes to answering you, saying your name to halt your questions, “We– we’re in love, and… and he doesn’t..” She looks to Scott for guidance, her eyes pleading for him to help her. Your fingers shake in anger.

“I want to call the wedding off,” Scott says, looking you in the eyes while he and your best friend link fingers. They look fucking stupid, standing there naked and feigning unity– you almost want to laugh. You scoff again, folding your arms over your chest like that would hide your pain from them, despite the evident ghost of tears still clinging to your skin. 

You glance around the room, around at the life you had planned for yourself, for him. Pictures of your engagement day, the closet you two shared, the fucking bed you shared, the life the two of you shared. More tears fall, and you don’t bother brushing them away this time. You nod, defeated.  “Yeah, that’s– yeah, we can… we can do that.” You wipe at your tears, fingers shaking with agony as you swallow the words. 

Your ex-fiance reaches out for your arm, and you back away, like he’s contagious– like his touch carries the heat of the sun. “Don’t touch me,” you snarled, watery gaze boring into his brown eyes. 

“The wedding’s off, so… Take your shit and,” you look at your childhood best friend— your ex-childhood best friend, and your heart aches. This fucking hurts. Your teeth dig into your lower lip as you dismissively wave your hand towards the clothes strewn across the floor, “And take her shit and get the fuck out.” You turn to leave but stop when Scott speaks, “I can’t just do that; I–” He stutters at the stab of your glare, “I need to call a truck so I can carry everything.” 

You laugh, tilting your head, “Nah, don’t worry, I can help you with that.”

You pace to your apartment window, swinging it open and ignoring the confused voices behind you when you start picking up various items. Scott’s eyes widen as he watches you storm over to the window, a heap of his things in your arms. He scrambles to you, yelling as you toss his stuff out the window. He’s looking out the window, watching them fall, “Get. The. Fuck. Out.” You shriek after every item you throw: his computer, acoustic guitar, books on Logistics, and How To Save Money Like A Businessman. 

You flutter about the room, shaking Angie off when she tries to grab you, ignoring her when she falls to the floor in a heap of naked limbs. You pick up a pricey statue that was Scott’s, ignoring his protests, courteously tossing it out the window to join his items. 

You storm out of the room, glancing around for any of Scott’s stuff. Yes, this was your apartment, but you were working on sharing it— sharing it with him. Your fiance. Ex-fiance. You skirt out to the living room, the two lovebirds hot on your tail and begging you to stop. You walk over to the balcony doors, pushing them open and ignoring the sound of the doors cracking against the wall, some picture frames falling to the floor. 

Pictures of you and him. 

You pick them up and toss them over the balcony, looking around for any other fallen pieces. You thoroughly sweep your apartment— as thoroughly as you can through your tears of rage, gathering jackets, shirts, and shoes and carelessly tossing them over the balcony. You ignore them as they hastily put on their clothes, brushing past them to pace to the door.

Your gaze is hot and heavy on Angie’s heels. Those shiny, blood-red, smooth pumps. They oozed sex appeal and smirked at you, asking, daring, challenging you. Angie scrambles to you, yelling for you to put them down, yelling that they were Jimmy Choos, that they were expensive— like you would care. 

You shrug her off as you walk back to the balcony, hanging them over the ledge and turning to gaze at her as she watches with tears brimming. Pathetic. You look into her eyes and drop them— one by one, “Fetch,” you whisper hoarsely.

Angie begins to cry, turning and running to Scott, who points an accusatory finger at you, “You’re a fucking crazy bitch. You couldn’t just end things like a civilized human fucking being?” He exclaims, “You are fucking insane!” He grits out, holding Angie by the waist. “I’ll be back tomorrow, and you better have my shit,” he says scathingly.

When they both have an appropriate amount of clothes on— Angie settling for one of his oversized shirts and panties, him with sweats— Scott hastily searches for his keys. You watch them both, numb and unmoving, and it feels like your body is vibrating in a storm of emotions. Scott finds his keys and wallet, yanking Angie by the hand and hauling her out the door, but not before he shoots you a glare— a look that tells you it’s over. Completely done with no room for redemption— you don’t care either way.

The door slams shut, and silence fills the space. You stand there for what seems like eons, basking in the fizzling heat of your emotions before shuffling towards your bag near the door and pulling out a pack of cigarettes. You search for your lighter, growing irritated when it seems to be missing. You toss your bag to the floor with a curse and walk to the gas stove, turning the knob until a rim of flames arises. You slip the cigarette between your snot-slick lips, ducking your head towards the stove top and watching the cancerous stick catch fire. 

You stand upright, inhaling and puffing out the smoke. You grab your flip phone, shuffling towards the balcony for fresh air while you make a call, but to your dismay, a crowd is gathered below your building, watching and taking pictures. At closer glance, you realize these people are none other than paparazzi— the very bane of your existence. They’re already recording; you can hear them chattering about what they suspect is happening, making up stories for the cameras and soon-to-come tabloids. 

Then, to make matters worse, Scott and Angie skirt out from the building entrance and start picking some items up, the paparazzi asking various intruding questions. Scott has enough grace and respect for you to deny a comment, opting for catching a taxi with Angie instead. With a roll of your eyes, you walk back into your apartment and busy yourself doing a shitty job clearing the mess you’d made. However, like clockwork, your phone rings.

You know it’s Miss Sinclair; well, Erica, as she always corrects you. Your music manager, a firecracker, that one, but overall a good friend on your side. 

You answer, taking a drag from the cigarette as you step onto your terrace again, breathing out a cloud of smoke. “What?” You ask snappily into the phone, glancing down at the crowd of people taking pictures of you. Assholes.

”What? What do you mean, what?” Erica hisses through the speaker. “What the hell do you think you’re doing, Tiger?” A nickname she has for you that originated from God knows where. “Yeah, like… what’s up?” You play dumb, smiling sarcastically and waving innocently to the cameras below you.

“Why the hell do I have people blowing my line asking me why you’re tossing shit onto the streets of Los Angeles like it’s a goddamn Goodwill?” She impatiently asks.

You shrug, even though she can’t see you, “Dunno. See you tomorrow at the studio.” You pull the phone away from your ear, hearing her shriek and yell at you, commanding you not to hang up. You slap the flip phone closed, ending the call; her words cut off. You take another drag of the cigarette before flicking the bud off the balcony at the intruders, watching them back away to glare at you, yelling a few curses. You flip them two middle fingers in response before turning to walk back into your apartment, closing the doors behind you. 

You’re going to write a song. A kickass song.

“And then I threw all his shit out the fucking window,” you chuckle, retelling the story to your drinking companion, Robin Buckley, the drummer of your band. She smirks and downs another shot of vodka, “Yeah.. you uh,” she grimaces and smacks her lips at the bitter drink, “you created quite the stir earlier today,” She points at you and winks, picking up her forgotten glass of whiskey beside her and holding it out to you, in cheers. 

You sigh and smile, and inevitably you clink your whiskey-filled glass against hers as she says, “To shitty men and new beginnings— preferably with women,” she winks again, laughing along with you as you lighten up from her joke. You down the rest of your drink and put your glass down, sucking your teeth before rolling your lips inward as you stare thoughtlessly, the whiskey leaving burning kisses in your throat. 

The loud, underground celebrity-only bar drowns out behind you. What were you going to do? You had so much planned with Scott, an entire fucking wedding, a home, maybe even kids. And as if that’s not enough, you wrote an entire song about him. You were almost finished with it, so close to recording it and putting it out, maybe with tour dates to match. 

Now it's gone. Dead and buried. 

A whole song, written in 4 weeks, about your love, the love of your life, your supposed forever person, and he threw it all away. You knew love wasn’t easy. It never was, especially not after your rise to fame. It was hard to find time for date nights, for sex, for just seeing each other and talking. But you would’ve never imagined this to be how it ended.

You can’t help but feel as though this might have been your fault. Some small, pessimistic, mean part of you nagging that you could’ve prevented this if you had just changed. You tried to make time for Scott, you really did, but you got caught up in the music— the music for him. You worked tirelessly at it. For Scott to hear this song and immediately know it’s about him. You wanted it to be a wedding gift, maybe, to play it at your wedding for everyone to hear your love. You had never been so soft in a song, so open and disgustingly lovesick, and you wasted it all on him. Maybe it was your fault; perhaps it was for the better—

“Hey, you okay?” Robin cuts through your thoughts, “You went a little quiet there,” she smiles softly, playfully nudging her shoulder against yours. “Yeah,” you nod, “I-I’m good. Great.” You nod along with your words, trying fiercely to believe them.

You were not good, nor were you great. You were, to put it nicely, fucking wrecked. You were humiliated. How could anyone be okay after something like this? It was bad enough he cheated in the first place but with your best friend? You lost two of your closest people within the blink of an eye. It hurts more that they got each other while you got nothing but ghosts and memories. Scott was there for everything, your first real concert, the after-parties, the carpets. He was there for all of it. And he won’t be there anymore, and that hurts.

You shrug, laughing nervously and rubbing the bridge of your nose in distress, “I just can’t help but think that— that maybe this–” You motion your hands uselessly. Robin quickly interrupts you before you can finish your thought, “No. Do not go there. Are you insane? This,” she motions lazily over your figure, copying you, “was not your fault.” She shakes her head, sincerity laced within her voice and gaze. “Believe me when I say that— I would tell you if you were a crazy bitch, trust.” She smiles and nudges you again with her shoulder, pulling a laugh from you. 

You sigh, rotating your neck to stretch it out, rolling your shoulders, “So, like, what’s up with you?” You ask to lighten the mood, leaning on the bar counter with your elbows. It works because she laughs and nods, looking down at the glasses of whiskey as the bartender wordlessly fills them back up. She traces her finger around the rim of it, still nodding, “I-I’ve been good, you know,” she glances at you and shyly looks away when you begin to smirk, “Just sorta.. Hangin’ out, I guess. Shootin’ the shit,” she shrugs, and you laugh. “Yeah, so when did you guys hook up?” You say over your glass rim innocently, laughing even harder when the girl turns red in the face and sputters over her drink. 

“We did not hook up!” She exclaims, wiping the drink from her lips. “Me and Nance,” she shakes her head, “we just… We, like, hung out, you know?” She shrugged. You mockingly raise an eyebrow as she keeps talking, “And like smoked a bit and maybe drank and then like, there was a movie involved, and then she kissed me and—” You interrupt her rambling with a wave of your hand, “Alright, no more details. You totally hooked up,” you laugh, and she blushes harder, laughing and shaking her head, “Definitely did not.” she scoffs.

“You definitely did.” You challenge.

“Did not.” She shoots back.

“Did.”

She groans and shakes you, “If I pay for your tab, will you shut up?” she offers. You pretend to think dramatically for a moment before giving in and nodding, laughing when she slams a one hundred dollar bill on the counter and gets up, picking her leather jacket from behind her chair. “God, you are so annoying,” she complains, shucking her coat over her Daughters of Vampira band t-shirt. 

You get up, shrugging your leather jacket on and snickering, “Nah, you love me,” you teasingly say, shoving at her shoulder. She smirks and shakes her head, heading for the exit, “Yeah, you wish,” She pushes the door open and steps outside into the chilly Los Angeles night, immediately shoving her hands into her pockets. 

You opt for taking the damaged, smashed pack of cigarettes out of your pocket and pulling a matching lighter out. The lighter has a siren with long, blonde locks and a green, shimmery mermaid tail. You pull out a cigarette and stick it between your lips, igniting the flame and holding it up to the end of the cigarette. You bask in the warmth emanating from the flame, a soft heat kissing your nose. You pull the lighter away and puff, blowing the tobacco back out.

“Man, all I wanted was a peaceful drink, and I got verbally berated instead,” Robin jokes.  You laugh, blowing smoke in her face before stopping, looking ahead. You freeze, and not because of the air; the cogs in your brain start moving, fired up with the fuel of alcohol and the lightheaded buzz of nicotine. You still your movements, looking at your friend, “What did you say?” you ask slowly, pulling your gaze from the busy car-filled street. 

Her face heats up, eyes widening and hands flying from her pockets to raise in defense, “No, I mean, like— I was kidding. I wasn’t being serious—” you interrupt her by waving your hand hastily that was holding a cigarette, before looking at it and tossing it carelessly to the side. You aimlessly shake your hands at her, “No, what did you just say?” You stare into her eyes, watching as she tries to connect the dots. 

She raises her eyebrows in confusion, shrugging before saying slowly, “All I wanted—” You stop her, snapping and pointing, walking away and walking back, obviously pacing. “Yes! Yes— that. It’s perfect.” You stop pacing for a second, standing with your hands on your hips. Robin laughs nervously, fiddling with her zipper jacket, “Uh, what is happening right now? Am I in trouble?” she jokes anxiously, but you ignore her. 

You were thinking. Thinking hard. 

All I wanted. All you wanted? All I wanted. 

You repeat it to her, mumbling the words, gaze still focused on the ground, “All I wanted.” You say, pulling your eyes back up to hers. “Uh.. yeah– All I wanted…was a drink,” she parrots back, nodding dumbly, placating you like a small child doing a math equation. 

You smile mischievously, “Robin, you’re a fucking genius!” You all but shriek, earning some glances from the sidewalk. You pay no attention to them, but Robin does, grabbing your shoulder and pushing you into a walk, looking around her to not draw attention to the both of you, but it’s difficult when you’re wildly smiling and humming out a guitar tempo. 

“Dude, what are you talking about?” She stresses, “Please tell me what’s happening; I have no idea what is socially acceptable to say right now,” she explains nervously, hand moving to grasp at your elbow, keeping you in motion. “Robin, we have to go to the studio right now,” you beg, looking her in her eyes, your gaze shining in inspiration. “What? No, what? Why?” She steps in front of you and halts your walking, “What is happening?” she pleads, leaning forward and pressing her palms together in a praying motion— silently asking you to please elaborate. You move past her, still walking, still thinking. 

Robin jogs to catch up to you, “Tell me what you’re thinking, please,” she begs. You look at her and smirk, “I have an idea for a song,” you conclude. Upon hearing this, Robin smiles like the fucking Cheshire cat.

“Hit me, Tiger.”

Eddie can’t help but laugh when his friend tells him what happened. He pauses for a moment, staring at Scott and waiting for him to say it was just a joke, but he never does, and Eddie nearly dies of laughter, the rest of the band along with him.

“Holy shit,” Eddie gasps between laughter. Gareth snorts, raising his eyebrow in shock as he speaks, “She threw your shit out the window?” 

Scott rolls his eyes, flipping the brown-haired boy off, sipping his beer, and leaning back into the red leather couch. Eddie shakes his head as he swivels around in his chair to mess with the studio soundboard, “That’s what you get when you fuck crazy bitches, man,” Eddie laughs, glancing up to watch Jeff mess around with chords in the sound booth. He listens as he speaks, “I mean, sure, she was hot,” He shrugs, reaching over for his box of cigarettes, “Insane tits or whatever, but at what cost?” He snorts. 

Scott shrugs, downing the rest of his beer and tossing the bottle into the small trash bin near the soundboard. 

“I mean, the sex was definitely good, but she just— I dunno, man,” he shakes his head and dismissively waves his hand, “She’s too much of a firecracker. Angie is way more docile,” he concludes. He snickers as he thinks it over, “Easier to deal with,” he smirks, reaching down to the floor to pick up another beer. Gareth snickers and Eddie grimaces with a shake of his head; he then smirks as he slides a cigarette between his lips, “Nah, the firecrackers are the fun ones, man.” he speaks around the paper as he lights the cancerous stick, sucking and blowing out the smoke. “So, what now?” Gareth asks, taking a swig of his drink as he looks at Scott. 

Scott shrugs, opening the glass bottle of beer and sipping it, “Yeah, y’know… no wedding, I’m with Angie, whatever,” he says, and Eddie chuckles, glancing over his shoulder for a moment, “Yeah, I get it,” he nods, taking another drag off his cigarette, lost in his thoughts. You’re a crazy bitch, but you fuck so good… A lightbulb goes off in his head. 

“Wait, guys,” he swivels around in his chair to face Gareth and Scott. The two boys look up at him as Eddie speaks, “We’ve all had crazy girlfriends, right?” His gaze bounces between the boys as he puffs on the cigarette before standing up and pushing the bud of it into Gareth’s bottle, much to his dismay. He ignores Gareth’s complaints, ignoring the boys laughing at him, pacing the room, mind swirling to the sound of Jeff’s guitar. 

Through the fog of chords and lyrics, Eddie continues speaking, “All of our ex-girlfriends— and ex-fiances,” he blindly points to Scott as he paces, ignoring when Scott scoffs, “are crazy bitches,” he points out, looking back at the group. “I mean, I can’t remember the last time I had a normal fucking girlfriend,” he snickers. The boys look at Eddie as if they’re concerned, confusion written across their faces that Eddie could care less to ease, “This is fucking inspiration, boys! Let’s write this shit down,” He leans on the soundboard, “Let’s expose this chick,” He snickers.

He walks into the sound booth and grabs his guitar from the stand, pulling the strap over his neck as he nods toward Jeff, “Keep playing that,” he orders. Despite his masked confusion, Jeff continues to play the riff he’d been tweaking. Eddie steps up to the mic in the middle of the sound booth, reaching for the headphones to slip them over his head, leaving one ear uncovered. He gestures to Gareth through the glass, motioning for him to tag along.

Gareth puts his beer down and walks in, glancing at Eddie in confusion, “You gonna tell us what we’re playing or?” He sits behind his drums as Eddie tweaks the strings on his guitar. “Just follow along, man.” Eddie distractedly mumbles. Gareth and Jeff glance at one another— Eddie often has moments like this, and they have yet to get used to it. Gareth shrugs, picking up his deeply mangled drumsticks and tapping a beat to Jeff’s strings.

Eddie mumbles to himself, fingers ghosting chords over the frets as he nods his head to the beat. He picks up with Gareth and Jeff’s sound, shredding along to create a fuller sound, the images of the music he’d composed in his mind coming to life just below his fingertips. Scott watches from outside the sound booth, standing up to lean over the soundboard. He watches, intrigued, as they play together, wordlessly tweaking until they all compliment each other. Scott reaches over with a smirk and hits the record button just in time for Eddie to chime in on the mic, finally spitting out the lyrics they’d all be waiting to hear.

And it’s fucking good. 

“Alllriiight!”

It’s raunchy, unhinged, and all things dirty. On top of that, it’s a massive fuck you to Scott’s ex, and Scott can’t keep the grin off his face as he adds the bass to the track, snickering at the words Eddie sings. They work on the song all day, throwing in new verses and tweaks until they feel satisfied for the time being. They sit outside the sound booth and nurse a round of beers as they play the song, listening to what they have so far, grinning and nodding along to the beat, laughing at the absurdity of the lyrics.

“Hey, you’re a crazy bitch, but you fuck so good, I’m on top of it.”

“It’s good… as much as I hate to say it, it’s good.” Scott laughs, rolling his eyes when the boys cheer. Sitting on the swivel chair in front of the soundboard, Eddie reaches out and nudges Scott's foot with his own, “You might get a few slashed tires when she hears this, you know.” He snickers over the rim of his beer bottle.

Scott laughs and shrugs, “Can’t be any worse than what she’s already done.” He jokes. The boys all laugh, watching Jeff as he raises his beer in the gesture of a toast, “To crazy bitches.” The boys all raise their beers in unity, parroting back, “To crazy bitches!” They clink their drinks and laugh, taking sips.

“You’re crazy, but I like the way you fuck me.”

“Think of me when you’re out, when you’re out there,

I’ll beg you nice from my knees.

And when the world treats you way too fairly,

Well, it’s a shame, I’m a dream,”

Your voice filters through the speakers, thick studio headphones skewed on your head as you fiddle with the soundboard knobs and buttons. You sigh and push the headphones to rest around your neck, rubbing your hands tiredly over your face. You take a glance at the clock— 4:34 AM. Goddamn. You had truly been here all night. After your night out with Robin, drinking your feelings away, and your quick epiphany moment, you guys caught a taxi straight here and got to business. That was at 10:46 PM. 

Poor Robin, you put the girl through the wringer. Making her drum out new beats, forcing her to pluck out a bass riff to the best of her abilities. The rest of your band was, without a doubt, asleep, and you didn’t want to bother them with your antics. And, of course, you all were close, but it was just different with you and Robin. You guys could be together for hours and never tire of one another. You just clicked. 

Maybe it was also the fact that you didn’t want to face whatever awkward encounter was bound to happen between Robin and Nancy, opting to wait until the morning to see them face one another. Robin was fully asleep underneath the sound booth, using both of your jackets as a pillow. Her fingers are wrapped around the beer she’d been drinking; hand cuddled up to her face. You pull out your cigarettes from your pocket, pulling one stick out and sliding it between your lips. You light it up and puff on the cigarette, glancing at Robin beneath the table before reaching down and carefully snagging her beer. You take a quick swig, quietly listening to the song. 

“All I wanted was you,

All I wanted was you.”

The guitar that comes in right after is powerful. It’s beautiful; it showcases your anger, your betrayal, your heart that still aches. This was supposed to be a love song for Scott, but after tweaking a few lyrics, it quickly became a song laced with hatred and resentment— a piece of heartbreak and anguish you’re still clearly sorting through. But that’s all that love is, right? Just two people fighting and slashing at each other until one inevitably gives in and waves a white flag? 

You down the rest of your stolen beer, still taking drags of the cigarette and blowing it back out. It wasn’t unusual for you to be the only one here at ungodly hours of the night, but it was one of the first times you were here with your friend and bandmate. Knowing she was here for you after such a chaotic, hectic day, supporting you even at unreasonable hours, was nice.

You replay the lyrics repeatedly, playing with the weak bass Robin was barely able to play. You should go home; you know you should, given how late it is and the dryness that begins to seep through your eyes, but you hate the feeling that runs through your bones when you think about what used to be your and Scott’s home. You don’t want to go home. Home is where everything ended. Home is no longer home— not after what happened. Home is where you’ll go to relieve the day over and over again until you get tired enough to pass out. 

And then it hits you; lyrics, more heartache hits you. The song was initially titled The Only Exception, but the words changed after playing around for several hours. You stuff the cigarette bud in the beer bottle, letting it fizzle out as you get up from your swivel chair to try and find a notebook— a notepad, napkins, or something, but you only find a pen. Frustrated with your lack of writing materials, you look at your surroundings hungrily before your eyes land on Robin’s bare arm. 

You pace back to the soundboard and reach underneath to yank on Robin’s arm, waking her up for a split second. You ignore Robin’s grumbly and slurred “What the fuck?” and proceed with your task as she inevitably falls back asleep. You yank the pen cap off with your teeth and begin jotting down lyrics on Robin’s pale, freckled, tattooed arm. 

“I think I’ll pace my apartment a few times,

And fall asleep on the couch. 

Wake up early to black-and-white reruns,

That escape from my mouth.”

Scott and your favorite thing to do was watch old 1950s classic films. You guys watched them so much, watched so many of them, over and over again, that you could quote them to one another. Tears begin to well up in your eyes as you write these lyrics down, some falling on Robin’s arm and smudging the ink. You curse and press your palm to the running ink to dry whatever can be salvaged from your sloppy work. You drop her arm to the ground and hear her briefly groan as you pace back into the sound booth, picking up your black guitar from the stand and pulling the strap over your upper body. 

You move your headphones around your neck to sit over your ears, waiting for your next move. You start strumming out a guitar riff, basking in the glory of the echoing sounds and its full, tough ring. You push your lips to the microphone and begin mumbling, playing with more lyrics in your head before you sing.

“I could follow you to the beginning,

Just to relive the start.

And maybe then, we’d remember to slow down.

At all of our favorite parts.”

The tears are freefalling now; the dark eyeliner you’d spent the past hours smudging leaves roads of sorrow against your skin. You and Scott were together for seven magical months. Yeah, it was quick— pathetic in a different light, but you’d been mindlessly in love. And fuck, would it have been a mistake if you did end up marrying him. He was a production assistant and a bassist with no new lines of work coming, opting to freeload off his friend’s band, Corroded Coffin, playing with them at shows whenever they needed him. 

And it’s working for him so far— until it doesn’t. As much as you hate to admit, Scott is talented. He’s good with his instrument and has a good ear for sound, but despite his talent, he has no real drive— no actual want to succeed and be at the top of the music pyramid with you. As you continue to play with the guitar, you stop for a second to wipe your eyes, thoroughly smudging your makeup now and probably making you look insane. 

Scott had good moments, though. When it was good, it was good— spontaneous nights out, making out in alleyways like lovesick teenagers, and every second feeling like a movie until the credits rolled— but when it was bad, it was really fucking bad. Fights, stupid arguments, bickering, breaking expensive items, and threatening to leave each other until he makes it up to you with mediocre sex and breakfast in bed the next day. You loved him, you did, and you believe he loved you too, but you just can’t pinpoint where it all went wrong. 

You stop strumming the guitar and huff waterily, setting the guitar back on the stand and ripping your headphones off your head before tossing them to the ground. You sit on a metal, foldable chair beside you and lean forward to push your head into your hands. 

You really blew the fuck up on him. Did you overreact? Did you honestly act like a crazy bitch? Fuck, maybe you should apologize. 

You can hear Robin in the back of your head, nagging and begging you to stop thinking self-destructive thoughts like this, telling you you’re insane for even thinking of apologizing, but you just can’t help it. You venture down the deep, dark, but welcoming rabbit hole of psycho-analyzing every romantic relationship you’ve ever had. None of your relationships have lasted— the ones in high school, obviously, but you’ve been out of that shit hole for years now, yet you’re still playing the never-ending game of kiss and tell.

Life in Hawkins was a weird, dull one. All the boys you brought home never shared the same interests as you and certainly did not like that you had a mind of your own. They didn’t like the clothes you wore, or the makeup you did, or the music you listened to. They thought you and the rest of the band were stupid and wasting your lives trying to be something big with the weird sound you carried. Nothing about you or the people you hung out with fit the cookie-cutter shape of Hawkins, and you learned that the hard way. 

You were more of a dirty secret for boys in your school. Nobody wanted to express their love or attraction to you openly, but they sure as hell did so behind closed doors. Your first boyfriend, Brady, was a star on the wrestling team; he didn’t mind showing you off much because nobody had the guts to talk shit about him— too scared to get sucker punched. Brady lasted a few months before you eventually cut ties with each other. 

There were a few others after Brady, all meeting the same dead end you’re so familiar with. Although there was one guy— Eddie Munson— people believed you would be perfect for each other. You liked the same music, dressed relatively the same, and had shitty high school bands nobody wanted to listen to. Logistically, it was a perfect match; the only problem was Eddie Munson is an asshole. 

Scum of the earth, piece of shit, grade-A asshole.

Scott was friends with him, and on occasion, you would sometimes cross paths at parties or hangouts with mutual friends; and every single run-in you’ve had with the man left you with a splitting migraine and an itching impulse to smash his head through a window. He’s awful; he doesn’t respect you or any woman for that matter, he acts like he’s a living god, and he and his shitty band won (stole) that fucking music contest in Hawkins back in ‘87, and you’ll never forget it. That’s how you met him, and your guys’ race to the top hasn’t let up since.

And now that you think of it, it’s not surprising that Eddie and Scott get along so well— they’re both sexist assholes. 

You’re milling in your thoughts for what seems like hours, tears dried and itching against your skin. You’re not sure how long you sit in the sound booth, but before you know it, Robin’s hoarse voice is cracking through the speakers of the sound booth, “As much as I think you’re a musical genius and love the way you work in mysterious ways, it’s extremely late, and we both need to catch some sleep before tomorrow.”

Your face twists in confusion, “Tomorrow? What’s special about tomorrow?” You ask, your voice cracking. Robin shifts on her feet, brows furrowing at your confusion, “We’re meeting with the record label. Remember we’re playing them our new album?”

Fuck. You completely forgot about that, and all of those songs, except for maybe three, are based around your stupid ex-fiance that just dumped you for your best friend. You sigh, dropping your head in your hands and running your palms over your face. You let out a long groan into your hands, not even hearing Robin opening the door to the sound booth and walking up to you. Her chilled fingers wrap around your wrists to pull your hands away from your face. Her blue eyes are tired and full of love and warmth as she squats before you to gaze at you, “Talk to me.”

Tears brim your eyes at her soft voice, and you wince— you really wish you could stop fucking crying. You rub at your teary eyes and shake your head, “It’s just—” you sigh and blearily blink down at Robin, “they’re all about him, Rob.” You frown.

Robin patiently waits for you to find the words, comfortingly squeezing your tear-dampened fingers. “Every song on the album is about him and I… I really don’t wanna spend an entire tour singing about him.” You softly speak, avoiding her gaze.

The brown-haired girl shuffles closer to you, ducking into your gaze and shrugging, “That’s okay,” she shakes her head, “We can scrap it. I mean, the label might be a little pissed, but just… play them what we did tonight, and I guarantee you they’ll extend our time.”

You furrow your brows and shake your head, “What? No. Robin, the song’s not finished—” “We don’t get another chance with this, Tiger. We either play them what we did tonight or give them the album.”

And you know Robin is right; she does not want to give you an ultimatum, but it’s the inevitable truth. You can either play the song and hope it’s the best thing the label has ever heard, or you suck it up and play them the album full of bittersweet words that leave a sticky residue clogging your throat.

You look at Robin, her patient and tired gaze locked on your face. You chew on the inside of your cheek, thinking it over for a moment— and it could work. The new song you’d just recorded is insane— nothing you’ve ever done before and, without a doubt, has a groundbreaking sound. It could work.

Max and Nancy are going to kill you tomorrow.

You nod your head, “Okay,” you breathe. Robin’s lips slowly stretch into a smile, “I’m gonna play it for them.” You nod. Robin shoots up to her feet with a cheer.

“Perfect! Now wipe those tears, and let's get the fuck out of here.”

You and Robin look like hell. You’re sporting heavy undereye bags with dark circles, while Robin opted to cover her evident lack of sleep with a pair of dark shades. Nancy and Max look concerned when they see you both sitting in the lobby of your label’s building. Nancy, of course, chastised you for your lateness while Max just snickered in the corner. Max suddenly makes a face as she speaks, “Why do you guys look like you’ve been hit by a bus?”

Robin tiredly groans, shifting in her seat with a yawn, “Stayed at the studio late.” She mumbles. Nancy’s eyebrows furrow in confusion, “Why? I thought we had everything ready for today.” She points out, obviously concerned. Nothing would ever get done if you didn’t have Nancy in the band. Now that you look at her, she has a manila folder in her hands, most likely stuffed with questions, comments, concerns, budgets, and more. She was more like Erica’s assistant than your bass player. But fuck, could her skilled fingers pluck out a riff.

You suck in a breath through your teeth, glancing over at Robin, who seems to be now passed out behind her glasses, offering you no help. You scoff. Of course. You mentally punch Robin in the face. You fidget with the rings on your fingers as you begin to explain. “So, basically,” you start, “I came home yesterday and found Scott and Angie fucking in my bed, so I threw their shit out the window and then called Robin,” you barely pay attention to Nancy and Max’s widening eyes as you spew out the events of yesterday. You knew they already knew, probably from Erica or the fucking tabloids. Hell, the whole fucking world knew, but they acted like this was their first time hearing about it. 

You ramble on about the events, telling them about you finding inspiration and dragging Robin to the studio, drunk, only to decide to scrap the album you’d all been working on for the past few months. 

That last bit of information didn’t go so well, however. 

“You what?”

You wince at Max’s sneering tone, glancing at Nancy to try and get a read on her expressionless face. “Please tell me you’re joking,” Max says, voice teetering on the precipice of panic. You wish Robin would wake the fuck up. “I… I know I’m really taking a leap of faith here, but I need you guys to trust me on this,” you plead, gaze hopefully bouncing between the two women, “Please.”

Max folds her arms across her chest, tongue rolling against the inside of her cheek before she shakes her head, “I swear if this fucks us over, you’ll never hear the end of it from me.” She breaks, and you’re just thankful she agrees to follow your and Robin’s plan. She turns around and walks over to plop into the seat on the other side of the lobby, glancing at you before speaking, “Sorry about Scott, by the way…” she mumbles. “Maybe it’s a good thing; I never liked all those love songs anyways…” She smiles apologetically, and you huff out a chuckle.

Nancy nudges her foot against your leather boot, “You were out of his league anyway. He was dumber than a rock.” She adds to Max’s apology. You snicker and thank them for their condolences. Nancy sits on the chair next to Max and sighs heavily, “Did you tell Erica about the change?” she asks, already flipping through her folder. You pretended you didn’t hear the question, which was not a good idea. 

The two girls begin to panic at your eerie silence. Nancy’s face falls, and Robin fucking snores, “You did tell Erica, right?” She presses. Your silence says enough.

Max groans, leaning forward to sink her head into the palm of her hands, “We’re so fucked.”

And when the time comes, you’re not exactly sure what the label is thinking. All the board members wear the same unwavering expression as they listen to All I Wanted. You glance at Nancy and Max, who are both visibly shaken with nerves; Max’s leg bouncing at an ungodly rate beneath the table, and Nancy’s poor fingers picked to shreds. Robin, who’s now awake, is busying herself with doodling random sketches on the napkin in front of her, and you’re— well, you’re hardly breathing. 

Erica looks thoroughly pissed; you don’t doubt she’d thought about strangling you the second you announced you were scraping the album. You could tell she was itching to make some phone calls as her stone-hard gaze stayed on you throughout the whole listening session. You pretended you didn’t notice her.

When the demo ends, a thick silence settles over the room, and you lean forward, pressing pause on the track to prevent the CD from repeating. You awkwardly scratch the side of your neck, “I-It’s not done; I’m still working on it, but um—” You glance at the table of faces and gulp. You haven’t been this nervous in longer than you can remember. “I know it can be something. Something big.”

James, the CEO of the record label, clears his throat and leans forward, pressing his elbows onto the thick wooden table. A burning cigarette hangs between his fingers as he points to the middle of the table where the CD player sits, “This is about Scott, yes?”

All eyes are on you, and you have no choice but to nod yes. James takes a drag of his cigarette, eyebrows furrowing as he silently thinks. You glance at your friends, a wave of nerves washing through your body at the anticipation. “What happened yesterday can never happen again. You almost ruined your image. Almost.” He finally speaks, his stern gaze locked in on you. You almost want to shrink in your seat, feeling like a child being scolded in the principal's office as he continues to speak. “You're a good talent, but if you don't know how to act like a grown woman, you won’t have a place here.” 

You scoff and open your mouth, a smart response on the tip of your tongue, until Robin harshly kicks the heel of her leather boot into your ankle. You hiss in pain, sucking on your teeth to poorly conceal it. You relent and nod your head, “I understand.”

James nods and flicks the ashes of his cigarette into the ashtray beside him, leaning back in his chair with a heavy sigh, “Now,” his lips split into a smug grin, a grin that tells you that you won, “Get this track finished by the end of the week. I want it on air by Monday morning.”

Monday morning, Eddie is hauling ass down I-405, without a doubt breaking many traffic laws he could care less about, given he’s late to his studio session with the band. When is he not late? He’s got a cigarette hanging from his lips and the smell of last night's alcohol on his clothes. As he meticulously swerves and weaves in and out of LA traffic, he jams his finger to turn his radio on, flipping through static, noise, ads, shitty pop music, and landing on a seemingly decent Rock station. 

He takes his cigarette out of his mouth and puffs the rest before tossing it out of the open window. His hair tousles from the wind, and he bats the curly strands away whenever they fly into his view. His ringed fingers grip the steering wheel, swerving out of the way of a truck before honking and throwing up a middle finger. What he misses during that exchange is the introduction of the song.

“Next up is a new hit single named All I Wanted by Daughters of Vampira! Daughters of Vampira will be going on tour soon; stay tuned for details!”

Then, the music starts when he finally starts to slow down after narrowly missing the truck.

“Think of me when you’re out, when you’re out there,

I’ll beg you nice from my knees.

And when the world treats you way too fairly,

Well, it’s a shame, I’m a dream.”

Your voice filters through his car stereo, unbeknownst to Eddie, and he glances down at his music console. He slowly turns the volume dial up, intrigued by the sound and wanting to know where it’s leading. When the ferocious guitar shred comes in, his face twists in approval, turning the volume even louder as he bobs his head to the tune. Whoever’s band this was, is fucking good. It’s not every day you hear a good Rock song sung by a woman, he thinks.

“All I wanted was you, oh,

All I wanted was you, oh!”

Eddie’s not sure why it takes him so long to realize the voice playing through his speakers is none other than the lead singer of that stupid fucking feminazi band Daughters of Vampira. He nearly chokes when he realizes it’s your voice, turning the volume up to max and listening to the words.

It’s… sad. The lyrics are like the gut-wrenching heartbreak you see in movies, aching and drenched with the grief of a love that was supposed to be great. And your voice is so fucking raw, so angry, and filled with pain that it brings Eddie to a stand-still, the skin on his arms raising in tiny bumps at the sheer emotion. Eddie almost forgets he’s in his car until he hears the car behind him honking, the man behind the wheel yelling at him to go now that the traffic light has turned green. He doesn’t move an inch, afraid he’ll miss a beat of this slice of heartache.

The song ends, and Eddie turns off his radio, choosing to spend the rest of his ride in silence as the gnawing feeling of guilt settles in his gut. By the sound of it, Scott really did a fucking number on you— tore your heart out, chewed it up, spit it out, and stepped on it like a spider on a sidewalk— and Eddie knows what that feels like; he’s had his heart broken before so he knows what it feels like to be so angry at the love you had for a person. It’s a shitty feeling.

So, Eddie’s not sure why he decides to be an asshole and tell the boys about your new song, but he does. The second he enters the studio, he tells Gareth to turn on the radio.

“...Why?” Gareth questions with a tone of suspicion. Eddie brushes his question off and walks to lean over the desk, turning the radio on and beginning to switch through the stations. “Uh, Eddie… we’ve got some work to do, man, we don’t have time for—” “Shh, just give me a second,” Eddie snaps. 

“It’s gotta be playing somewhere.” Eddie mumbles, eyebrows furrowed, ringed finger going overtime on the dial, abruptly stopping when he finally hears it. “This is it! This is it; just listen.” Eddie turns the volume up and stands up to his full height, hands on his hips, and chews on his lip as they silently listen to the song.

Jeff is the first to speak through the sound of drums and intense chords, “Why are we listening to this?” Eddie waves him off, telling him just to wait— just wait until the verse.

“I think I’ll pace my apartment a few times,

And fall asleep on the couch. 

Wake up early to black-and-white reruns,

That escape from my mouth.”

Scott’s eyes widen, striding over to Eddie’s side and gazing at the boombox in shock, “No fuckin’ way.” He breathes. Eddie looks at Scott as he reaches over to increase the volume. Gareth twirls his drumstick between his knuckles and deeply sighs as he leans back in his chair and kicks his feet up onto the soundboard, “Dude, no offense, but why are we listening to this shit?” He asks. Scott turns to the boys and points back to the radio, “That’s my fucking bitch ex singing about me.”

Jeff and Gareth’s eyes widen, both boys leaning forward in their seats to listen to the lyrics. Scott curses and reaches over to shut the radio off, letting a thick silence fall over the room. Jeff is the first to break and nervously laugh, and Eddie grins, Gareth falling into a fit of laughter behind Jeff’s. “Why the fuck are you guys laughing?” Scott sneers.

Eddie chuckles, reaching out to rest his hands on Scott’s shoulders and turn him to face each other, “You don’t get it, man,” Eddie begins. Scott’s eyebrows furrow in confusion, and Eddie smiles mischievously, “This is the perfect time to drop Crazy Bitch.”

You nearly blow a gasket when you first hear Corroded Coffin’s new song. Nancy did quite a good job of bringing you down to somewhat of a levelheaded state and getting you to understand that killing Scott or slashing his tires wouldn’t be the wisest of decisions to make. You still aren’t convinced.

You try your best to ignore the song, switching the radio to a different station whenever it plays, but it seems like that fucking track follows you wherever you go. A week after the song's release, you’re walking down the street with Robin, browsing the stores that catch your eye and chatting about whatever comes to mind.

You hardly notice the crowd gathered outside the store you are in until Robin points it out, nudging your side and nodding towards the window, “Looks like we’ve got company today.” she mumbles. You curse, shelving the shirt you’d been looking at as you grumble to Robin, “Seriously, how the fuck did they find us?”

You suppose the rest of your day out won’t last much longer, so you and Robin decide to make your way home, stepping out into the crowd and shoving through a sea of flashing bulbs. 

Over time, you’ve mustered up the strength to ignore the questions paparazzi throw at you; questions about who you’re dating, your sexuality, your political beliefs— questions of generally no substance or anything to do with your music. You’ve become numb to the reality of your life being plastered on tabloids and riddled with lies; it doesn’t really hurt you anymore. 

However, you’re still a human being, and you have moments where you crack, and today seems to be one of those moments when a man yells out, “You were seen dumping your ex-fiance Scott's items into the street! So is the song true? Did you and Eddie Munson have an affair? Is that why you and Scott broke up?” 

Robin tenses, glancing at you and silently pleading for you to just keep walking. Ignore, ignore, ignore.

You glare but smile at the man, flashing your white, shark-like teeth, “If you wanna know so bad, why don’t you ask Scott and Angie yourself?” You sneer. 

A few of the men snicker, one whistling and commenting about you being feisty, but you ignore it and continue as you and Robin finally reach your car, “And for the record, I wouldn’t touch that asshole with a ten-inch pole. His dick is small.” You grin sarcastically, opening your car door and getting in without another word. You hear the crowd erupt in more questions outside your car, some scribbling stuff down on their notepads and some laughing.

You groan in annoyance, buckling yourself in and starting the car as Robin settles in the passenger seat. You don’t miss the chance to flip the mob of men off when you drive off, leaving them behind with screeching tires. It’s silent until Robin chuckles, and you glance at her, “What’s so funny?”

Robin shrugs and shakes her head, “Nothing,” she says, “Just that Erica’s gonna murder you.” You roll your eyes and slide a pair of shades on. “When is she not wanting to murder me?” 

The media erupted after your comment about womanizer and rockstar Eddie Munson. Many fans came to your aid, voicing the truth of the breakup and defending you and your band. In contrast, many other fans— Corroded Coffin’s cult of assholes— came to Eddie’s defense, stating that he was only doing charity work to get your name in the papers. That you were fucking your way to the top of the music industry and much, much more deeply misogynistic statements. 

You didn’t care for any of it. You, your friends, your family, and your band knew what actually happened. The best part is that Scott knew the truth, and he was a shit fucking liar. He couldn’t cover up what happened if his life depended on it. It made you think of how he could lie about the affair for as long as he did. You don’t dwell on that thought for too long, growing tired of digging deeper into the pit of despair Scott had so happily tossed you into.

At the end of the day, your image is in shambles, and if your image is fucked, then so is the bands. Daughters of Vampira wasn’t booking anything; shows, meet-and-greets, autograph signings— nothing. Even though All I Wanted was an enormous hit and ended up in the charts, people couldn’t get over the fact that you, the lead singer, tend to be explosive. You would’ve felt bad about this if Eddie’s image hadn’t suffered the same fate. 

Eddie and his band immediately stopped booking shows after their song Crazy Bitch. Of course, it was a big success, but only because the drama fueled it. Young women stopped throwing themselves at the band and instead opted for screaming, “Woman haters!” and “Sexist pigs!” at them whenever they were out. It had been fucking rough, and it only got worse after Eddie commented to the paparazzi while he was out on a coffee run in the streets of Los Angeles.

“How the fuck do they always find me?” Eddie grumbles to himself, putting on a fake smile for the group.

Eddie was rocking a pair of shades, thinking of ways to quickly escape the mob, when a young boy approached him from the crowd. He had a Corroded Coffin shirt on with a photograph of Eddie clenched to his chest as he kindly asked for an autograph. 

“Sure, kid,” Eddie crouches down to the boy’s height and gently takes the photograph and Sharpie, "who am I signing it for?” He smiles softly at the boy, “For Thomas, sir!” The boy politely says, his eyes shining in excitement. “Thomas, sick name, man.” Eddie compliments, yanking the cap off with his teeth. He signs his name with a Let’s fuckin’ ROCK! in the corner, putting the lid back and handing the photo back to the boy. 

He smiles when the boy squeals in excitement and offers him a fist bump before standing up to his full height. “Thank you, Mr. Munson!” Eddie snickers and nods, “‘Course, but hey, don’t call me Munson; call me Ed,” He smirks, and the kid laughs. “Mr. Muns– Ed, I have a question for you,” the kid shyly asks. 

Eddie’s heart implodes at the cuteness of this little shithead and chuckles as he responds, “Shoot, kid, I’m all ears,” Eddie ignores the flashes from the cameras, taking photos of this pure and innocent moment. He ignores the coos from the women, from the kid’s parents, all of it, just zoned in on this small child meeting his hero. Him.

“Ed, is it true that you hate girls?”

And just like that, the moment is over.

Eddie turns red in the face and forces a harsh but nervous laugh. The crowd closes in upon hearing the exchange and begins asking a multitude of questions. The parents snag their son away and start expressing profuse apologies that Eddie waves off. “Nah, nah, the kid’s fine. But uh, to answer your question, no, that isn’t true, Tommy boy,” he says, looking at the child standing beside his mother’s legs. He takes out a pack of smokes and opens it, sliding a cigarette between his lips as he adds, “I am a really big fan of girls,” he flashes a dazzling smile around the stick and does finger guns at the small kid before he turns and begins to walk away. 

He’s forgotten all about his coffee, and now all he wants is to get the fuck outta there. 

He lights the cigarette up and ignores the crowd of paparazzi following him, cameras still in motion. He rolls his eyes, body buzzing in annoyance from the kid's question and the crowd. He continues walking the street as more questions and fans approach him. As Eddie signs a woman’s photograph, a cigarette hanging from his lips, an interviewer comments with a camera already zoned in and recording Eddie’s face. No doubt this will be on MTV tonight. No doubt he won’t hear the end of it from Dustin and Steve.

“Eddie, did you hear what the frontwoman of Daughters of Vampira has said about you? Can we get a response?” He shoves the mic into Eddie’s face.

Eddie’s lips break into a grin, but he doesn’t look up from the autograph he’s signing. “Yeah… yeah, I heard, and y’know what? She can come find out herself if it’s small or not,” He looks up and smirks right at the camera, “Have a nice day.” He smiles tightly at the interviewer and hastily flags down a taxi, hopping in and yelling at the driver to step on it. He watches as the crowd grows smaller and smaller with distance, his heart thundering in his chest. He takes deep breaths to slow his pulse down, to stop thinking of you. 

It never seems to slow as his mind can’t move on from you or that damn song.

Both the managers of Corroded Coffin and Daughters of Vampira are pushed to the limit with you and Eddie. Dustin Henderson and Steve Harrington are co-managers of Corroded Coffin, mainly because Steve has the money and Dustin has the brains to man the operation. All Steve really does is cut the checks and warn the team when to cut back on the extracurriculars. 

Erica, Steve, and Dustin are all from Hawkins and are quite familiar with each other due to living in a small town where everyone knows everybody. They, along with all members of Corroded Coffin and Daughters of Vampira, all sort of grew up with one another in the 80s and have always been on this whimsical journey together. As the years went by, you all drifted, more so because of the competition, but aside from the band, the managers stayed relatively civil with one another. Erica, Steve, and Dustin stayed in touch because sometimes they couldn’t handle the two bands, which is why Erica summoned the two boys to a bar in downtown LA.

Erica Sinclair is seemingly always tested by you and has no idea where to go or what her next move should be. She has times when she feels like a single mother dealing with an angsty teen, and when those moments teeter on disastrous, she makes calls— the call.

“I mean, I have just had it up to here,” Erica moves her hand up in the air to emphasize her annoyance, “with these girls, I mean, my god!” She shakes her head as she sips her red wine, the two boys nodding from across from her. “Trust me,” Steve scoffs, “we get it.” 

Dustin nods, taking a sip of his Shirley Temple and smacking his lips before adding, “We’re in the same boat too— with Eddie,” Dustin starts, drinking his Shirley Temple out of a bendy straw. 

“Yeah, he’s always been a pain in the ass, ever since high school,” Steve continues, sharing a look with Dustin, who tiredly nods, “But it has never been this bad. Normally we can get a hold on him running his mouth, but it’s just been…” Steve falters and trails off, struggling to grasp the words to explain Eddie’s childlike behavior. Erica nods, “I know what you mean,” She makes a face and holds her wine glass out to cheer with them. Dustin clinks his Shirley Temple, and Steve clinks his beer, them all taking a sip.

“Both band’s images are terrible. It won’t be long till we’re losing more money,” Steve grumbles, taking another swig of his beer. “I think we should just lock them all in a room together till they get along,” Erica jokes, earning a chortle from Steve and a cackle from Dustin. They all sigh in unison, a comfortable silence falling over them. 

Suddenly, Dustin sits up straight, aggressively snapping his fingers before pointing to Erica.

Steve jumps and makes a face at Dustin, grumbling about how annoying Dustin’s theatrics are. Erica rolls her eyes, already used to the boy’s antics. “Well? Are you gonna tell us about your nerdy little lightbulb moment or keep making a scene?” She sneers over her wine glass rim, taking a sip. Dustin looks back from Steve’s annoyed face to Erica’s tired one, basking in the dramatics.

“Why don’t we do just that?” He finally says.

Steve and Erica share a look. Typically, Dustin has these moments, and Steve and Erica have to entertain them, but Erica thinks Henderson might be onto something. Steve scoffs and leans back in his chair, “I doubt they’d last a week locked in a house before one kills the other.” Steve mumbles, clearly missing Dustin’s case in point.

Erica, however, knows just where Dustin’s mind has gone— to the motherland of brilliant-fucking-idea. Erica puts her glass down and leans her elbows on the table, resting her chin on the backs of her folded hands. “When you say just that, you mean…?” She looks at the boy quizzically, praying he means what she thinks he means. Steve puts his hand on the back of Dustin’s chair and leans forward, “I’m not really picking up on this guys,” He uses his other hand to lazily gesture. Dustin ignores Steve and nods slowly, “Oh hell yeah, I mean that.” He says, smirking mischievously. Erica and Dustin share a grin, a playful gleam in their eyes. Steve groans on the side in annoyance.

“Let’s book a fuckin’ tour bus, boys,” Erica concludes, and Dustin erupts in cheers, the two of them clinking their drinks. Steve finally understands, and his eyes widen, “Oh! Holy shit, that’s fucking genius.”

Erica laughs and finishes off the last of her wine. “Tiger is gonna kill me.” She smirks and shakes her head, sighing. Dustin and Steve share a look and chuckle a little bit, “Her reaction won’t be as bad as Munson’s. He’s gonna fuckin’ lose it.” Dustin says, slurping on his straw.

A few weeks pass before Erica, Steve, and Dustin manage to rally both bands in a conference room. The tension in the room is almost unbearable. For the most part, the band members seem more interested in knowing why they’ve been summoned together— the real tension is at the end of the table, where you and Eddie sit across from each other. Eddie wears a snickering grin to go along with his darkened shades, and you— well, if looks could kill, everybody in this room would be six feet under and crossing into the afterlife. 

You’re pissed. Annoyed that you’re being forced to breathe the same air as that fuckface Eddie Munson, and Eddie could not be more pleased with himself. Eddie gazes at each of the girls across from him; Max, who’s glaring at your managers and bouncing her knee in evident impatience, Nancy, who couldn’t look more uninterested if she tried; and Robin, who seems more intrigued with the wood paneling of the wall to look at anything else. He makes the mistake of looking at you, earning him a nicely silver-wrapped middle finger which he winks at.

“If you two are done acting like children down there, we’d like to get this meeting started,” Erica announces from her seat at the head of the table. All eyes turn to her, and she sarcastically smiles, opening her mouth to begin speaking until you cut her off, “Whatever fucking bullshit you three have planned, I won’t be a part of it. Not with this asshole.” You gesture to the curly-haired boy across from you.

Gareth and Jeff snicker, and you glare at them, ignoring Robin’s elbow jabbing into your side. “It’s funny that you think you have a choice, Tiger,” Erica says, tilting her head with a grin. You begin to bounce your leg impatiently, jaw clenching as the ticking time bomb in your mind begins to speed up. 

Dustin clears his throat and stands up, gathering everyone's attention as he clasps his hands. “Let’s cut straight to the chase,” he begins, “Your music careers are fucked.”

Jeff breathily laughs to the side, and Erica glares at him, quickly diminishing his obvious amusement. “Somehow, the seven of you have managed to obliterate your band's image in less than a month,” Dustin points out, picking up a stack of magazines before him and walking calmly about the room. He tosses a magazine out into the middle of the table, “Misogynists,” another magazine, “Anti-feminist,” another magazine, “Chauvinists,” another magazine— the final one, “Woman-haters.”

You all look at the magazines silently until you mumble, “Sounds about right,” causing Eddie to scoff and roll his eyes beneath his shades. “What? You’re mad the media is finally realizing how full of shit you all are?” You prod with a tilt of your head. “At least nobody’s saying I should be sent to a fucking ward.”

Your eyes narrow, and you begin to form a response, but Erica rises from her seat loudly, startling the room as her loud voice booms through the space, “The media is tearing both of you to shreds,” she leans forward to press her palms against the cool wooden table, heated gaze darting between you and Eddie.

“Both of your bands aren’t booking gigs, and you're losing money faster than you earn it,” she points out, watching as you all cower from the truth. She waves a manicured finger between both sides of the table, “This stupid little fucking back and forth you’ve created either ends here or on the road.”

Robin’s face twists in confusion, a raspy voice speaking up for the first time, “On the road?”

Steve turns to her and grins, “Yes. On the road. Together.”

Gareth leans forward in his chair, confused as he speaks, “What, like a retreat type deal?” He questions. Dustin slaps a paper down in front of him, “No. Tour. Nine months, ninety-two shows.”

Gareth doesn’t get much time to take in the information on the paper before Eddie snatches it out of his hands, shades pushed up into his hair as he leans in to gape at it. A list of tour dates, an ongoing and never-ending fucking list.

“You’re not serious.” He says. Steve chuckles at the end of the table, nodding his head, “As serious as a heart attack.”

You’re next to snatch the paper away for a gander, ignoring the rest of the room as everyone erupts in a fit of protest. You stand with your back to the table as you gaze through each date, your neck heating up with anger as your fingers crease the paper. You turn around, face twisted in rage, wrinkling the paper in your shaking fist as you storm up to where Erica stands, waiting for you to say your piece with an unwavering impression.

You hold the crinkled paper up as you stand before her, “You’ve lost your fucking mind if you think I’m doing shows with these pieces of shits.” You sneer, tossing the paper onto the table. Erica raises an eyebrow, looking at you as if you’ve gone off the deep end. The room enters a thick silence at your outburst, all eyes on the standoff between you and Erica. “Call the tour off, or I’m out.”

“What?” Robin leans forward to gaze at you, eyes widened in shock at your words, “You’re not leaving the band, Y/N, you— you can’t.”

You ignore Robin and step closer to Erica, eyes burning into her gaze as you speak, and Erica has never seen you this angry in all her years of knowing you. “Call it off.”

Erica will let you believe you have the upper hand for your peace of mind, but when it comes down to reality, you both know you don’t stand a chance against her force of nature. Erica is calm and uncannily patient as she speaks to you, “You’re at a dead-end street, Tiger,” she starts, “You either make a way, or you go back to Hawkins with your tail between your legs like everyone expected.” 

Erica sits back in her chair, not even bothering to look at you as she busies herself with the paperwork before her when she adds, “You make the call.”

You glare down at her, throat closing in anger and betrayal. You don’t say another word as you storm out, leaving the room with a booming echo of the heavy glass door slamming shut. Erica sighs, settling back in her chair and gazing at the rest of the band members, who are all silently fuming in anger. “Now, does anyone else have something to say or something of substance to add, or are we done here?” Eddie rises from his seat with clear annoyance, “This is bullshit,” the force of his movement sends his chair back to the wall as he walks out of the room, just as angrily as you had previously done.

The remaining band members sit in silence, avoiding each other's gaze, and Steve breathily laughs, “Well, Dustin, you were wrong,” he teases, smirking when Dustin and Erica turn to him. “Eddie took that pretty well.”

The band members glance at the managers, and Dustin sighs as he leans back in his chair, twisting his mouth in thought and tapping his pen against the table.

“This is gonna be more work than I thought.”

————

a/n: AHHH, YOU'VE MADE IT TO THE END!!! WE HOPE YOU LIKED THIS AND LOVE THEM SO FAR; more to come sooonnnn <3

————

teeny taglist: @tommyvelvet @oeuryale

[nct-krown]

‘ 𝙷𝙾𝚆 𝙼𝙰𝙽𝚈 𝚃𝙸𝙼𝙴𝚂 𝙳𝙾𝙴𝚂 𝙾𝙽𝙴 𝚁𝙴𝙻𝙸𝚅𝙴 𝙰 𝙼𝙾𝙼𝙴𝙽𝚃 𝙱𝙴𝙵𝙾𝚁𝙴 𝙸𝚃𝚂 𝙲𝙾𝙽𝚂𝙸𝙳𝙴𝚁𝙴𝙳 𝙸𝙽𝚂𝙰𝙽𝙸𝚃𝚈? ’

PLOT hyunjin and jade were stuck in a vicious cycle that trapped the in a house of glass. until everything finally shatters around them

CHARACTERS hwang hyunjin ˒ jade-bella li ˒ gina liu

mention of mimi ( @inter-stellar-jyp ) & haechan of nct

WORD COUNT 2.1k

GENRE straight up angst

a/n this is entirely from hyunjin’s pov to try explore their dynamic in a way that would better highlight jades toxic and borderline abusive nature.

TW/ contains slight violence and abusive language. heavily explores toxic relationships. please proceed with caution.

[ nov ‘21 ]

being around jade was draining.

hyunjin knew that that’s not what a good boyfriend would say when talking about spending time with the person they’re in love with , but it was true. he always felt absolutely drained of life when he was around her for too long.

without fail any genuinely romantic and heartfelt moment they’d had was ruined before he could even bask in the warmth of it. and 9 times out of 10 it wasnt hyunjin ruining the mood, it was jade and she was at it again. all it took was a notification to set her off as if they hadn’t just been staring into each others eyes whispering how they loved each other more than words could describe. as soon as he felt the shift in her mood he found himself compulsively opening his phone to check the time or for a text from the members- the only messages she’d accept - that would force him to leave early.

hyunjin knew what they had wasn’t what love was supposed to feel like. when they were good it felt leven better than any love song could describe but when they were bad they were cataclysmic. and so he still found himself dreading the time he got to spend with her. he knew that the way that they fought wasn’t healthy, it took him an embarrassingly long time to actually acknowledge that. the fact that they spent most nights fighting and fucking, was not normal. he knew because they weren’t always like this. but he had come to accept that that was how they were. and he just needed to adapt to jade and tread lightly. but that wasn’t okay … and he was starting to go crazy.

he was living in a loop, arguing about the same thing over and over with the same points and same reactions every time. how many times could one person live the same scenario before it was considered insanity.

“are you just gonna sit there and stare at me hyunjin? who is mimi and why is she checking if you’re still coming?” jade snapped her fingers in his face, breaking him out of the daze he’d fallen into. his frustration threatened to fade as he looked over her again. her face was pretty as always but the scowl on it seeped with venom. that was what had his heart steadying. despite her beautiful eyes staring holes into his own he couldn’t live this insane cycle anymore.

“like i keep saying, mimi is just another idol at jyp.we hardly fucking speak ,” he spoke softly as he ran his hand through his long black hair. hyunjin genuinely felt like he was losing his mind. he was reliving the same moment over and over again with different girls he knew being thrown in each time.

this was nothing new for them. jade was constantly complaining about every minute thing hyunjin would do.honestly speaking hyunjin never actually did anything, it was always what jade thought he’d done. her conscience was constantly filling in blanks in a way that always made hyunjin look like a cheater and without fail he always disproved them. he would never do to her what she did to him.

there was even a time jade had tried to end his lifelong friendship with heeyoung over her sensing “bad vibes” and that had been almost 2 years ago. she did not care to listen to how she was the closest thing he’d had to a sibling. she hated heeyoung from the moment she met her and still did. heeyoung may have had a crush on him but they tried and never went beyond an awkward and awful kiss that no one even remembered. she refused to believe him and so she had become a forbidden topic. 2 years …they had been living this was for 2 whole fucking years.

“clearly you fucking do she called your fucking phone. do you think i’m stupid?”

hyunjin threw his face in his hands as he mumbled, “oh my god jade.” he groaned softly , throwing his head back. he just wanted to return to their comfortable cuddles, “can we not do this today? just come back to the bed.” he pleaded but jade was unfazed by his words.

“we’re only here because of you hyunjin. all you do is be disrespectful then get upset when i rightfully fucking call you out!”

hyunjin closed his eyes for a while before opening them slowly , “disrespectful? organizing to practice for my job is disrespectful?” his words came out more condescending than he intended and he knew how she would react.

“you’re actually so dumb hyunjin. why the fuck is it okay that mimi can call you at 8 fucking pm.”

he hated when she called him stupid or dumb and she knew that. he hated how she always undermined his intelligence despite him constantly achieving well in school. she would call him names whenever he upset her and it hurt him in a way he couldn’t move on from. someone who loved you would never say that.

“answer my fucking question hyunjin.” jade’s voice raised slightly , it was the type of detail only he could pick up on. she was about to lose it. and no matter how fed up he would get with jade seeing her so worked up never made him feel good.

jade let out a loud dramatic huff as she rolled her eyes, “so what you have nothing to say?”

“no jade i don’t!” he stared blankly at her. “she just wanted to talk about practice. what do you want me to do she’s my fucking colleague i can’t ignore her.” he stressed the word colleague growing unbearably irritated the longer they spoke.

jade folded her arms across her chest pressing against her boobs and making them pop out slightly. he didn’t mean to focus on them but jade always looked sexy when she was mad. which explained why these fights ended the way that they did. right now he hated that she was so hot. “if that’s true why the fuck does she have your number. colleagues don’t need your number.”

“how else is she supposed to contact me for practice.” he stressed the last word, unable to understand how she was reacting the way she was when the answer was so obvious. “jade have you not done a collab stage? you know what i’m talking about for fucks sake.” he’d given up on his usual calm approach. his exasperation was so obvious and jade hated when she could not bend conversations the way she wanted them to.

jade clicked her tongue as a response to the sass in his tone. “yeah and our staff organized it. it’s weird that you have her number hyunjin.”

hyunjin had grown tired of trying to de-escalate the situation. it was hard to not jab back when she was purposely pressing all of his buttons. she was purposely trying to break him the way she always did. convince him she was the only thing that made him worth anything but there’s only so much breaking he could take before shattering.

“oh ?me having my co workers number is weird?”

jade nodded her head dramatically as if to say ‘duh without words. that was enough to stop him from holding back. he was done.

“but you still having hyuck’s fucking number in your phone is totally normal right jade!”

the flood gates had opened.

the silence that followed was as loud and frightening as a clap of thunder.

jade rolled her eyes. “we’re in the same fucking group hyuni. ” she placed her hand on her hip as she stared down at him he sat on her bed. despite her affectionate name for him she was clearly trying to intimidate him with her stare. making him feel below her. “he’s actually my co worker. you bring this up every fucking time.”

hyunjin groaned loudly as he threw his arms up,“yeah jade cause you fucking cheated on me!” he yelled, feeling all his emotions overwhelm him once again.

jades jaw dropped as her eyes narrowed. trying to recover to not show him how his defiance had thrown her off she quickly clenched her jaw as her body tensed in a way only hyunjin would notice. and he always did. she was in defense mode.

“oh my god it was months ago, get over it”

it was now hyunjin’s turn for his jaw to drop. trying his best to keep his voice level he let out a long sigh as he got up from the bed. it groaned at the loss of weight on top of it.

“get over it?” he questioned quietly as he approached jade towering over her. he knew that their height gap- although usually adorable- was intimidating. it was clear that the atmosphere had shifted, their anger heightened as well as their mutual sexual attraction. jade saw the opportunity to wrap him back in her web and took it.

she softly placed her hands on his chest and attempted to shove him as it was a joke but he knew her true intentions. he barely moved. she tried 3 times following that. this time she could barely hide her anger. she quickly reset as she batted her eyelashes the way that always made his knees buckle. with a sultry smirk she stepped closer to him, “get the fuck over it!” she punctuated each word with a stab into his chest with her freshly manicured finger. she smiled sweetly as if she hadn’t just screamed the most disgusting words in his face.hyunjin wanted nothing more than to wipe the smug look off of jade’s face. how dare she.

the eye contact they held was intense. everything about them was intense. from their love to their sex and clearly to their fights. and neither of them could deny the sexual tension that bubbled between them but that day hyunjin refused to cave like he always did.

“hyuni…” she drawled out his nickname as she alluringly grabbed him by the pocket of his hoodie. she looked up at him with her signature sweet doe eyes. he was not going to fold even if the feeling of her right hand gently touching his cheek had the strings of his chest tug in the way that always reminded him that he loved her. he subconsciously leaned into her, their lips a whisper apart before she spoke.

“we can’t dwell on that forever…”

and just like that any sweetness he felt dissipated into thin air. he pulled his head away from her face so fast it caught the small girl by surprise. hyunjin shook his head as he gently removed her from his body. he can’t let the familiarity of their cycle trick him into staying again. it was taking away pieces of him and he had to do something about it.

without another word hyunjin grabbed his gym bag that he’d thrown carelessly on the floor when he entered. “what are you doing?” jade questioned as she watched him gather his belongings. “hello?” she attempted to gain his attention once again clapping loudly between the syllables of the word .

hyunjin refused to answer because he knew how this would end. she’d sweet talk him with her usual ‘i love you so much you make me crazy” and her intoxicating kisses making him ignore everything in an attempt to cling onto the glimmer of hope that they were still in love. it would end with him having to cancel on mimi and just to inevitably fight once again over whatever other tiny thing she’d nit pick at. and at the end of it all they’d make up after a round of life changing sex leaving hyunjin questioning everything .

he paused with his hand on her room door handle. his mind couldn’t help but run wild with all the images of him turning back to her and kissing her at the crown of her head as she wrapped her arms around him , eyes teary as she softly kissed him.before he could overthink it anymore, hyunjin swung open her room door not bothering to look back at her but by the sound of feet pattering behind him he knew she was following him.

“the silent treatment? really hyunjin? are we fucking 12?” she yelled as she followed him through her dorm not caring to be discreet. she was never one to care about on lookers often loving the spectacle of it all. there had been multiple occasions where she’d have outbursts with hyunjin always begging her to go somewhere private but it never worked. they were that couple.

hyunjin could hear doors opening as he paced towards the corridor. as he reached for the back door that he usually took to not be seen by any staff jade firmly gripped his wrist.

“if you walk out that door hyunjin i swear to god…” she warned between clenched teeth as her grip tighter, her stilleto nails digging into his skin, leaving deep dents and grooves behind.

“or what jade?” he sighed looking at her with a blank face. her face was red with anger, imaginary smoke coming out from her ears like a cartoon. yet she still looked so beautifully captivating. he wanted to look at her longer but he couldn’t be spellbound once again.

jade let out an angry huff out of her nose , “you’d be fucking stupid.” she spat the words in his face, his lack of reaction only worsened her already overwhelming anger.

he hated when she called him stupid. she knew that. hyunjin was a firm believer of love being worth fighting for , hence why him and jade had come to so many loud plate smashing blows yet he stayed. you have to fight for things that matter. but jade knew the words that hurt the most and constantly berated him with them. surely someone that loved you wouldn’t purposely try to hurt you… right?

hyunjin yanked his wrist out of her tight and lethal hold before staring directly into her sparkling eyes.

“guess i’m fucking stupid then.”

with that he swung the door open as jade screamed in frustration. “hwang hyunjin get back here right now! oh my god hyunjin! where the fuck are you even going?” her words came out muddled as her anger consumed her.

hyunjin said the sentence he knew would sting the most right now. she needed to hurt the way she constantly made him hurt. “i’m going practice with mimi.” he said calmly, not looking back as he descended down the staircase.

jade didn’t say anything but hyunjin could hear her incoherent yelling. before he could process anything hyunjin heard the sound of shattering glass giving him a fright and making him spin around faster than what felt humanly possible. his eyes focused on the stream of water that cascaded down the stairs like a tiny waterfall. jade had thrown the vase that held flowers he’d gotten for her down the stairs as she glared at him. he could tell she was crying by the way her eyes shone. the streaks down her cheeks were barely noticeable but he could see them as if they were highlighted.

hyunjin felt his heart shatter so loud he felt it ring in his ears. the flowers scatter around with shards of stained glass that he painted like the sunset. some shards landing right in front of his new converse sneakers. he felt the familiar sting in his eyes as he continued to just stare at the scene happening in front of him. did she mean to throw the base down the stairs because she didn’t care about his attempts at trying to bring them back to their old selves ? … or was she aiming at him and missed. either way he felt a sob get stuck in his throat but he swallowed it down. she couldn’t know she hurt him. that’s exactly what she wanted.

how could something that feels so perfect simultaneously feel like the worst thing that had ever happened to him.

he hadn’t even noticed how long they stood there just staring at each other until he faintly heard gina’s voice from within the dorm. “jade is everything okay?”

“perfect. she spat the words out with so much venom that hyunjin felt his skin burn just at the sound of them. hyujin nodded as he watched her slam the door shut leaving him alone in the stairwell of water, shattered glass and peonies. he felt as if any light inside him had vanished, leaving him just as dim as the light above him illuminating the dark stairwell. he was drained.

jade drained everything out of him.

[irlplasticlamb]

PLEASE tell us all about rhaelor omgomg

OH MY GOD ❗️i’m so excited to talk about my mellow marshmallow ❗️❗️❗️

rhaelor is the youngest child of alicent and viserys, born almost a year after daeron (so they’re basically irish twins 🫶).

appearance: he’s very tall (almost as tall as aemond), with long, lanky limbs, prominent wrist and hip bones, and LOTS of freckles (i headcanon hightowers to be super freckled so he got it from his mom!!! let me be delulu in peace). he has excessively long hair (he has refused haircuts ever since he learned how to speak), more white than usual targaryen gold-silver, with a few streaks of pale ginger (because i thought it would be funny for him not to have the perfect targ look). alicent is the only one to notice his eye colour is exactly the same as rhaenyra’s, probably because she’s a massive dyke (same alicent, same).

personality/skills: rhaelor’s very sensitive, prone to histrionics and a massive mommy’s boy. he’s charming, well versed in court pleasantries and a gigantic gossip, which is probably why despite his dramatic nature, he’s so popular amongst the ladies at court (he’s like their token little gay boy but in a slay way). rhaelor is very into traditionally feminine things, adores all stuff soft, expensive and shiny. he LOVES art, being an excellent harpist, singer and lace maker. he’s TERRIBLE when it comes to combat though, hopeless with sword and barely passable with bow and arrow. he tends to be quite lazy and avoidant when it comes to anything that does not interest him, preferring to lounge around, engage in his hobbies and blabber to any poor soul who’s in his closest vicinity. he’s also so uninterested in serious politics and princely duties that it makes him even more useless. he’d probably prefer to be a pampered courtesan than son of a king and if not for alicent, who knows? maybe he would end up leaving and becoming saera 2.0.

relationships: so as i mentioned, rhaelor LOVES alicent so fucking much! refusing to ever leave her side for long, to the point where when daeron gets sent away to oldtown, he is allowed to stay in king’s landing. he hates to see her sad and sometimes spends hours upon hours playing and singing music to her. although rhaelor can be as frustrating of a son as aegon, i think alicent does have a soft spot for her flamboyant little creature.

when it comes to his siblings, while rhaelor is quite fond of all of them, it’s aegon who he has the best relationship with. they bond over wine (oh yeah, rhaelor’s a massive drunk as well, the „YAS GIRL LET’S PARTY” type to aegon’s „I’M GONNA FUCKING K1LL MYSELF IN 3 2 1”) and silly gossip. aegon and rhaelor have three brain cells combined, which results in a lot of stupidity (and headache for their poor servants).

aemond finds rhaelor annoying, a bit pathetic even, but rhaelor has that magical way of wrapping him around his finger anyways. maybe because he can be so helpless at times and aemond is Targtowers’ Guard Dog Deluxe. they have a funny relationship, full of bickering and little digs at each other, finding common language in aemond’s love for history and rhaelor’s of art.

helaena baffles rhaelor and the stupid lad does NOT know how to interact with her whatsoever. he’s probably a bit jealous of her being a girl because, well, what is a targaryen without a little gender envy 🫡 they do share some sweet moments though, long hours of helaena working on her embroidery and rhaelor on his lace (probably yapping like crazy that boy does NOT shut the fuck up)

and daeron, while they don’t have much in common with each other, they’re so close in age that they just get along well. daeron is very lenient with rhaelor, finding his freespirited, spoiled behaviour rather adorable and harmless. rhaelor thinks of daeron very highly, often talking praises of him (only half to annoy his other older brothers).

rhaenyra though? they barely have a relationship because he’s so much younger than her. he does not acknowledge her as the true queen solely because he loves aegon so much, he’s stupid as fuck when it comes to politics (and logical thinking lmao).

miscellaneous: rhaelor enjoys cross dressing, finding women’s fashion much more “darling and superb” than men’s. he takes great care of his skin and hair. especially hair, only one servant is allowed to touch it because he’s so particular about the way it’s treated. he hates meat, having a great compassion for animals, and rarely eats it. it gives very much “white woman putting animal lives over human” energy though because he does NOT acknowledge smallfolk as real, breathing, feeling beings. he DOES have a dragon, a slender pale-gold thing called starling. starling gets injured early in life, though, stunting her growth and making her unable to fly for longer periods of time. rhaelor LOVES her, think of an old lady and the cat she’s owned for like 18 years. that’s rhaelor and starling energy.

[uraharasandals]

uhhh so I was giggling about aventurine with a friend and it kinda spiralled out of control so have this teehee

I tried to make them hate fuck the whole time but I got stuck so this ended up being slightly...healthy? (I know, shocking for me) But I'm excited for Ratio to drop and honestly Aventurine too

Main source of inspiration: Aventurine looks like a power bottom

pairing :: dr. ratio x aventurine word count :: 1.4k warnings :: r18/nsfw content (minors don't interact pls), hate-fucking, unprotected sex, mild ooc ratio, written before 1.6 update

CAT GOT YOUR TONGUE? (NO, BUT YOU DID)

“Not so proud of ourselves now, are we?” There it is again, that absolute shit-eating grin that Ratio itches to slap off his face, that remains plastered all over his fine features despite being pinned down like a butterfly to a board, and dissected as much under his hands. And yet. “Come on, don't be shy, say something. Veritas.”

A delicious shiver runs down his spine as Aventurine speaks again, and Ratio swallows. It's the way his name rolls off the blonde's tongue, almost like honey - except it's dangerous, obviously a trap. Velvet-laced knives, mayhaps. 

Beauty with a jagged edge, like the stone he takes the name of for his pseudonym.

Ratio swallows again, then hisses as Aventurine tightens around his cock, shoved deep into him. “Don't do that.” He tries to sound authoritative, but it comes off weak, trembling. Aventurine takes it as a cue to clench again, making him let out a small gasp in spite of himself. 

“Do what?” The blonde tilts his head at him, almost innocently, as if he wasn't underneath him and flushed with arousal. “You need to be clear, Veritas.”

There it is. That wretched enunciation of his name, dragging through his lips. And was he hallucinating, or did that bastard moan it? 

Saliva runs dry in his mouth, leaving him nothing to swallow the third time.

Aventurine notices his silence, and chuckles. He slides his fingers into the dark purple locks curling against the base of his skull and pulls, slotting their mouths together. Ratio lets him have the kiss, their lips moulding together naturally and more like two men in love and less at each other’s throats (though one could argue that is attractive in its own right), and when Aventurine pulls away, there's almost a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes, clarity in the hazy lavender. “I can ride you, if you’d like.” 

And there it is, his way of checking in – despite the nature of the offer, there was no saccharine seductiveness in the statement, only a matter-of-fact tone laying an invitation on the table. In a way, it’s strangely reassuring, how he doesn’t treat him as something fragile or like glass, how he maintains the snake-like hold on him even though they’re on bed, skin against skin, laid bare open. It makes the real Aventurine less attainable, which is good. That means he is still allowed the leisure of concealing his true emotions behind a mask, because despite the vulnerability, that is one thing he refuses to do, the one agreement he made to himself. 

It keeps things casual, distanced. With an air of fantasy surrounding it, almost as if he was playing make-believe. 

“Tempting.” Ratio regains his footing on the edge, smirking down at him. “But I think I’d like to try something else today.” He rolls his hips forwards experimentally, and relishes on the widening of Aventurine’s eyes as he gasps, a delicious shiver running through his entire body. “Especially since a certain someone decided to be so generous today.” 

Aventurine shrugs, nonchalance laced in the action, but his flushed features – likely from arousal – makes it hard to believe, especially with the sultry glance still evident behind the long golden lashes. “Suit yourself. Don’t cry about it afterwards, though.”

Ratio scoffs, hooking a hand around his pale thigh, before arranging his leg so it props on his shoulder, stretching him open further. “Don’t worry. The only person who’s going to cry tonight is you.”

“Oh, going to scold me like one of your students, are you, Doctor?”

Before Aventurine can get another word in, he responds by leaning in, pressing his lips against the other man’s mouth so he could shut up, for Aeon’s sake. The yapping coming out of him quickly turns into a series of delightful moans, the blonde gasping and whimpering as Veritas fucks him, slamming his hips against the other’s and hitting that spot inside of Aventurine that makes him make those pretty noises again, over and over until his cock leaks precum. He smirks in appreciation as the wet sounds of skin slapping against skin fills the room, more slick forming between them as his cock leaks more precum, almost as if he wants to fill Aventurine up.

“Why, does that turn you on?” He asks, almost in disbelief, as he continues to pound into Aventurine’s hole, but the other man was already gone in the throes of his own pleasure, and Ratio finds himself mesmerised by the display in front of him as he pants, blonde hair sprawled across the pillow like a halo. He looks like an angel this way – he thinks to himself – except that is true only in the literal sense of the word, but the deception is easier to fall for when he's like this, spread open on sheets and without his flamboyance, just himself. And right now, this view is only for Ratio's eyes, which only makes him more aroused. “Talk to me, Aventurine,” Ratio taunts, relishing in how easily the man underneath him is being taken apart. “Do you like this?” 

The blonde nods, gasping as he hits his prostate again. “Feels good…more, please. More, Veritas – “

“Well, since you’re asking so nicely – “ With a small grunt, he slams back in again, stretching his hole further. Aventurine turns his neck as he moans, trying to squirm away from the overwhelming onslaught of pleasure, but a firm grip on his wrist against the headboard stops him from escaping, and he whines. Ratio could feel his cock throbbing harder, and impulsively — against his own logical instincts, frankly – he surges forward, biting roughly on the pristinely pale expanse of skin on Aventurine’s neck. 

The blonde moans loudly again as his teeth grazes on the skin, catching and surely leaving marks. For a moment Ratio loses control of himself, overcome with the thought of making Aventurine his own, and nothing but his own, attacking his neck with renewed fervour. The blonde squeezes his eyes shut, and with a sense of satisfaction, Ratio notices moisture gathering on his eyelids, and he decides to lean up to kiss them away. Aventurine hisses at the contact, but does not push him away, merely guiding his hand to his own cock, and Ratio complies. He silently relishes in the pretty noises that Aventurine makes in response to the additional stimulation. “I - I’m close, Veritas, I’m close - ”

“Good.” Ratio gasps. “Cum for me.” He watches as the blonde shudders, mewling as he comes undone, white spurting all over his fingers as the scholar continues to stroke, his hole fluttering around his cock, milking him. A hoarse groan escapes his lips as Ratio’s hips stutter, fucking him through his orgasm. He is briefly aware of how slender and small Aventurine is underneath him, shaking from the aftershocks and whimpering from the overstimulation as he continues to thrust into the heat. “Hold on – ”

Ratio ignores the desperate sounds coming out of Aventurine as he chases his own high, slamming his cock into his hole again and again until he groans, the pleasure causing stars to dance in the back of his eyelids as he buries his face into Aventurine’s neck, moaning against the sweat-drenched skin. He’s briefly aware of his cum spilling out around his cock, soiling the sheets underneath, and the thought fuck, we have to change them dances across his mind before Aventurine’s scent demands his focus again, and then it’s Aventurine, Aventurine, Aventurine all over again.

For a moment, the room is silent as they slowly come down from their highs, though broken as Aventurine pulls him down for another kiss, this time sloppy and wet. Ratio returns it hungrily, letting the blonde nip and lick at his lips greedily, almost to devour him. “You taste good,” Aventurine manages to say, finally catching his breath.

Ratio scoffs, but it’s all in good nature. “First time?” 

Immediately, the blissed expression on the blonde’s face drops, and he almost laughs. Aventurine is like a cat at times, Ratio thinks to himself, the way he pulls away and gets affectionate completely at random intervals, and right now it’s one of those times as he bites on the inside of his wrist as some sort of comeback, successfully making him wince out of surprise. Aventurine grins, looking like a cat who just finished a bowlful of cream.

“Cat got your tongue?” Ratio prompts, enjoying teasing Aventurine when he’s fucked out like this, the only time his flowery language doesn’t make an appearance.

“No, but you did,” is the only warning as the blonde pulls him down for another kiss again, this time slightly more gentle as he grins against his lips.

[hyperraduo22]

my long list of random dps headcanons

+ includes spencer and stick !! :))))

• neil only has problems with reading in one eye and still to this day cannot figure out why. he assumes it’s genetic atp

• meeks and pitts do not like excessive gore in movies although pitts is more prone to dislike body horror— they won’t get physically sick from looking at gore they just generally don’t like it and get easily squeamish from it

• pitts likes pink lemonade simply cause it’s pink

• whenever knox gets a fortune whether from a fortune cookie or one of those mechanical tellers, he takes it so seriously for the next two weeks

• meeks and todd are slow eaters

• neil is the pickiest eater out of all the poets although he’s slowly learning to get over it and try new foods. cameron and meeks try to encourage him little by little since they used to be picky as well but got over it

• todd has sensory issues when it comes to texture. if he feels something he doesn’t like for a long period of time, he could possibly get anxious and start crying from it. example: he absolutely hates the feeling of shedded snake skin and will never ever stick his hands in those “guess what you’re touching” boxes at those wilderness exhibits— bro is traumatized from it

• despite popular belief of neil hating roller coasters, i think he has a neutral opinion on them and there’s some he can tolerate and some that he does like. although he’s very picky with roller coasters and there’s some he absolutely refuses to go on even with todd

• cameron actually likes trains a lot and hyperfixates on them (and yes there’s a bittersweet story behind it from his childhood)

• pitts loves anything s’mores flavored

• stick knows how to bake really well and the dps always ask (more like beg atp) to be his personal taste testers cause they know the finished product will be delicious

• meeks cannot eat spicy food for the life of him. he tried cajun food once and he loved it but some of the cheyenne peppers knocked him tf out- like his face was redder than his hair

• knox loves rooftop dining (rich bastard)

• charlie has a personal barber that he always goes to even when he becomes an adult

• todd’s mom is a lesbian (( i wanna post my dps family headcanons so bad cause this deserves context😭 ))

• pitts grew up with a compromised immune system and spent his days inside a lot during late elementary school and a little bit into middle school. since meeks was also pressured to do good academically at such a young age and ended up staying inside more often, the two bonded over that and meeks didn’t mind taking care of pitts when he got sick<3

• charlie and cameron are really good at golf

• cameron prefers taking chewable pills whenever possible since he has trouble swallowing larger pills

• meeks can name the 50 states in alphabetical order off the top of his head

• todd and pitts have that friendship where they always support each other no matter if they both know what they’re doing/saying is dumb and absolutely wrong by all logical standpoints

• pitts is better in biology and anatomy. the only reason why he’s passing chemistry is cause he’s good with remembering chemical reactions and organizing his work during lab projects. otherwise stoichometry fucks him up badly

• todd chews on the ice whenever he has certain cold drinks

• stick crochets in his free time— he even crocheted a blanket for spencer and spencer still uses it to this day :(((

• spencer can get really invested in dramas or sports shows and end up having really dramatic reactions at the things that happen on tv— stick has witnessed this once and bro was dying laughing the entire time. every since then, the duo watch tv together and it feels like a therapeutic bond between the two

• ^speaking of spencer and stick, they’re childhood besties!! they have that bond where even when they separate for long periods of time, they’re able to reunite and catch up/have nothing change between them

• because todd loves bird watching and meeks loves stargazing, they invite each other whenever they’re doing those activities and hype each other up whenever they spot something rare (ie. rare bird species or a rare celestial event) <3

• because stick likes to feed hummingbirds around the campus from time to time, todd sometimes joins him so he can also appreciate the birds

• whenever he reads up that an eclipse is coming up, meeks gets all the poets together on the rooftop to watch it

• pitts actually knows how to play a few songs on piano but hasn’t touched a piano in a very long time

• charlie learned to play clarinet in a orchestra/symphony that played for the town and raised money for local charities—that’s right. he’s so rich that his parents didn’t enroll him in private lessons but rather a more professional band class with other kids. he originally wanted to try out the oboe just cause (he also secretly loved the oboe solo in that one tchaikovsky piece) but his parents obviously made him do clarinet instead. he would later teach himself saxophone

• charlie has an immunity to ibuprofen and some other over the counter drugs (don’t ask why. he’s probs the type of person that gets headaches or body aches easily- whether self induced or not- and took so much ibuprofen over the course of a month that it doesn’t work anymore)

• cameron has sensitive teeth and gets toothaches easily from cold foods like ice cream. therefore, he’s careful with his portions when eating certain desserts, takes smaller sips when drinking water at restaurants (or he just asks to have no ice in his drinks), and he prefers drinking room temperature water

• stick is scared of butterflies- like i’m talking bro has a full on phobia of them cause of some traumatic childhood incident- but still thinks they’re really beautiful :(((

• ^because of this- when walking outside, spencer will make sure there aren’t butterflies nearby for stick. he’ll either swat them away or gently pick them up and make them fly away elsewhere like the true best friend he is🫡

• no matter the circumstance, spencer just does not give two fucks about true crime whatsoever. you can make him watch a true crime doc and he’ll either get bored or be like “really? that’s all the killer can do?” “…couldn’t they like- i don’t know- not enter a complete stranger’s home??” “i could’ve beaten up that guy you know.”

• knox and spencer have a brotherly relationship and have known each other since middle school. knox would invite spencer to tag along with him and charlie, obviously tease him in the middle of class, and he’d ask for help on school work. plus knox and charlie have stood up for him on multiple occasions and help raise his confidence in social situations

• stick has hypoglycemia (low blood sugar) episodes from time to time. sometimes they sync up with spencer’s random nosebleeds and they both sit in the nurse’s office together.

—————

okay now i wanna post dps family headcanons and stick and spencer headcanons now🏃‍♂️🗣️

let me and todd’s lesbian mom cook