#i just wanted to write this out of my system

[randum-famdoms]

Something I have seen people complain about is when the story “stops” for a character to mentally think about their feelings regarding something.

I think that’s bullshit.

Like, okay. Think about it. How fast is your train of thought? Faster than your reading speed, right? Do your thoughts all happen in neat little sentences, or as more of a nebulous and/or choppy half-formed thing that *you* understand, but would sound like nonsense on a page?

Also, the character probably isn’t actually taking as long to think these things as you are reading it. “Character A feels xyz about this” isn’t taking ten seconds to actually happen, feelings coexist with action!

Now, there is a time and place for introspection. It is my personal philosophy to have the amount of introspection reflect the pacing of a scene. Fast battle scenes will be far more action-heavy and introspection-light compared to, say, a calm breakfast.

I think it balances the annoyance over pages of introspection completely breaking the flow of an intense section of the story (at least, from the perspective of the reader), while still maintaining some of that wonderful interiority (which is actually a new word for me, and I adore it).

I’m the first to admit that I am far from an experienced or professional author. I don’t have a professional editor, and my only education is via Highschool and middle school classes (and while I was always in the advanced classes, a few even college level, they were still restricted by being part of the American education system). I definitely can think of times where my grasp on the interiority slipped. Especially when it comes to describing things that wouldn’t necessarily be noticed by the pov character, simply because I as the author do know about it and think it’s funny or important.

I’d imagine a good rule of thumb regarding this would be to treat it like dialogue. People always say to read your dialogue out loud to notice any problems. Well, just act out the scene as though you are the pov character. Not necessarily irl, but in your head. (And maybe even irl if you can manage it, it can’t hurt!) What way are you facing? Would you be able to see that annoying dog? Would you focus on the person you are talking to’s face, or their hands? Is this activity one that you would space out during, or does it require laser focus?

Basically, all the things you would not think about if you imagine the scene like a movie as you are writing.

Picturing the scene as a movie can be helpful, particularly for things like imagery. But it does have its shortcomings, as op said.

It can work thematically for some stories, but when it comes to most writing that is not third person omniscient, it’s definitely something that can cause the reader to feel… distant, I guess. Less immersed.

It’s also something that, sadly, many writers will have to teach themselves and seek out to learn, because, as OP said, it’s becoming harder to find in modern works. This is doubly so do people who mainly read non-published works. I will sing the praises of fanfiction until the day that I die, and maybe even after, but the fact of the matter is that 99% of fanfiction authors are self taught. They may not know how to incorporate interiority. They may not even have ever read a work that had it.

I know a lot of people say that you should read the “classics”, and you may be thinking that could help here, but I for one am a fierce defender of not putting up requirements to be considered a writer, and that includes required reading. Yes it can help you learn skills, but so can more modern works. I learned a lot from reading Percy Jackson, and other lesser known books, and none of them are considered classics on par with The Great Gatsby or Shakespeare.

Instead, I propose this: if you want to get a better grasp on writing with interiority, try actually consciously focusing on your day to day life for a little while every day. Focus on your train of thought, on the things you focus on, on the things you see.

If you want to read something, great! Ask for recommendations, go to your local library and flip through books until you find one you think you will both enjoy and which has a good grasp of the concept.

First and foremost, however, in any writing, is to remember how we as humans actually live and interact with the world, and you’ve got a primary source of research at all times: yourself. Exclusively using other texts as sources will only ever end in a very broken game of telephone.

A lot of fiction these days reads as if—as I saw Peter Raleigh put it the other day, and as I’ve discussed it before—the author is trying to describe a video playing in their mind. Often there is little or no interiority. Scenes play out in “real time” without summary. First-person POV stories describe things the character can’t see, but a distant camera could. There’s an overemphasis on characters’ outfits and facial expressions, including my personal pet peeve: the “reaction shot round-up” in which we get a description of every character’s reaction to something as if a camera was cutting between sitcom actors.

When I talk with other creative writing professors, we all seem to agree that interiority is disappearing. Even in first-person POV stories, younger writers often skip describing their character’s hopes, dreams, fears, thoughts, memories, or reactions. This trend is hardly limited to young writers though. I was speaking to an editor yesterday who agreed interiority has largely vanished from commercial fiction, and I think you increasingly notice its absence even in works shelved as “literary fiction.” When interiority does appear on the page, it is often brief and redundant with the dialogue and action. All of this is a great shame. Interiority is perhaps the prime example of an advantage prose as a medium holds over other artforms.

fascinated by this article, "Turning Off the TV in Your Mind," about the influences of visual narratives on writing prose narratives. i def notice the two things i excerpted above in fanfic, which i guess makes even more sense as most of the fic i read is for tv and film. i will also be thinking about its discussion of time in prose - i think that's something i often struggle with and i will try to be more conscious of the differences between screen and page next time i'm writing.

[meglosthegreat]

So... everyone pretty much hated Veilguard's "secret ending", right? Beyond speculation about the Executors themselves, I haven't exactly seen anyone excited about its presence, and for that matter, haven't seen many people talking about it at all.

The closest way I can describe my initial reaction to it was an immediate, visceral disgust. I think I remember uttering at my screen something along the lines of "Fuck off! What the fuck?! Are you fucking kidding me???" and ever since then I've wanted to put into words exactly why it made me feel that way.

For the 88% of you (according to Steam achievement statistics) who didn't see this ending due to not picking up three very specific codex entries by complete chance, you can watch it here. In short, the clip depicts a mysterious voice who sounds suspiciously like Matt Mercer talking about how a group of shadowy figures has "balanced, guided, and whispered" over scenes of villains from the previous DA games, implying that these shadowy figures have been at least partially responsible for all of the bad things happening in Thedas, towards some unknown nefarious purpose.

Now obviously, this sucks. This is hamfisted, unimaginative writing that simultaneously retcons and re-contextualizes elements from DA's past that absolutely no one thought needed further explanation, as well as being exactly the kind of irritating sequel-bait tactics that people have largely grown tired of these days. But why does it suck so much? Why did I feel such palpable distaste for this scene?

For starters, it simply reeks of entitlement, and a lack of respect towards Bioware's own past games. Remember those villains you loved and thought were compelling? Well, their own personal, very complex and thought-out motivations were really just the Executors whispering in their ears the whole time! Loghain making a difficult and calculated decision at great personal cost for a greater good he truly believed in? Executors. Bartrand succumbing to his own greed to the point that he betrays his only family and devolves into a tragic husk of himself? Executors. Corypheus and the Magisters breaching the Golden fucking City??? Executors.

Ignore the infuriating lore ramifications for a second and consider: what do all of these things have in common? They're all instances of complex character motivation; of people in this world doing things for their own reasons that ended up having massive ramifications. In short, they're not events that can be explained easily in terms of black and white morality. And from what we've seen in Veilguard, the current dev team has a serious inability to work with any story elements that do not have absolute moral clarity: the Venatori and the Antaam are Evil. The Shadow Dragons and the Crows are Good. Any nuance; any potential questioning of this duality is quickly explained away or snuffed out.

And that's exactly what they're trying to do, retroactively, with the rest of the series. Having a hard time deciding whether Loghain was right or wrong? Well, worry not, the Executors are Evil and if they were guiding him the whole time, then what he did must have been Evil too! Grappling with how the plot of DA2 was about the inevitable tragedy of a series of oppressive systems reaching their natural breaking point? Well, wrestle no further, for if the Executors were involved then Meredith and Bartrand must've been Evil, no question! What the Magisters did was definitely Not Great, and what do you know, there were consequences for it that they and the whole world very much did pay for. But if the Executors were behind it all, then it was someone else's fault, some Evil power reaching in and making them do what they did, rather than their actions being the result of a horrific series of power abuses done by actual people.

Which leads me to where my initial disgust comes in. Because in a world which has always had core themes of power and its many abuses, actions that have consequences, and the idea that there are no true higher beings; every horrible thing that has ever been done was done by people, the simple act of putting shadowy figures behind key moments in history completely debases and neuters all of those themes. The whole point of Dragon Age as a series up until this point has been to illustrate the complex relationships people and societies have with power, choice, and morality. To remove that link - to place an external force between those characters and their choices - is to rob the series of any meaning whatsoever.

There is a staggering difference between the messaging of a game that tells you ordinary people are to blame for society's wrongs and a game that tells you a secret shadowy faction of evil forces are to blame for them. The former invites thought about one's own society; it has the potential to be uncomfortable and difficult to reconcile with. The latter assures its audience of the fantasy it is couched in. It gives the audience a boogeyman to be angry at, and in so doing deflects any potential for introspection. And that, I think, is the real point of the scene in question.

In a time where our media has become inundated with bland, unchallenging liberal politics, the idea of "cozy" stories have become a growing trend. These types of stories often sport a broad rejection of complicated themes, painful emotions, and nuance, preferring instead to provide a "safe" place to escape to. And with that "safe" space comes a directive not to engage in critical thinking about a work, and not to draw any message from that work and apply it to the real world. Yet this is exactly where Bioware seems to be heading nowadays.

Veilguard has already been faced with heavy criticism about playing things overly safe; removing anything that might be potentially uncomfortable for the player. And the end credits scene is no different. Don't think about things too hard, it whispers to you seductively, in Matt Mercer's soothingly Evil voice. See? The Bad Guys were behind everything, all along.

[bitchface24-7]

COYOTE UGLY - VIKTOR X READER

synopsis: When you’re not at the lab researching and developing Hextech, you’re in Zaun at the BDSM club Coyote Ugly as the bartender. Having this job ensures your team has enough money to continue working without any headaches. Well you’re in for a massive migraine since the man you’ve been in love with since you were kids is gonna find out about your dirty little secret.

warnings: secrets, bdsm etiquette, dom!viktor, love confessions, abelist comments (Viktor refers to himself in a negative light twice, referencing what others have called him) traffic light system, spanking, afab terms used for the smut section, dirty talk, vaginal sex, unsafe sex (wrap it before you tap it), creampie, squirting, I’m gonna write this as a 5 + 1 kinda deal. Ok? Ok. Grammarly is my beta

genre: m/f

p.s. This fic very obviously references Coyote Ugly (2000), and I know it is a bar in the movie but I didn't want to do a whole plotline on The Last Drop vs Coyote Ugly; and I didn't have the energy to write and characterize Silco LMAO. So I hope none of y'all are mad I tweaked it to be a BDSM club/bar instead. I've loved this movie ever since I was a kid. Now I'm tempted to do a Practical Magic (1998) fic too 😭😭

The Five Times Viktor Gets a Clue About You, and the One Time His Suspicions are Confirmed

One.

Viktor’s known you for almost two decades by this point. You’re well into your twenties and can do whatever you please. But Viktor’s got suspicions regarding you. Your excuses, your secrets. He knows you better than he knows himself.

So when you walk into the lab one day with a stack of cash, both Jayce and Viktor can’t help but look at you as if you were a project they were working on. You’ve peaked their curiosity and suspicion.

“So,” Viktor starts as you give the money to Jayce, and walk back to your desk, “Where did that money come from?”

You lightly scoff, “Don’t worry about it, V.”

“Of course I’m going to worry about it! That’s a lot of money miláček! Please tell me you got it legally.”

You whip around with a snort, “Don’t worry Viktor, it’s all legal. I just got paid from my second job. I already took a cut for myself; the rest I’m donating to the lab for our research.”

Viktor’s lips thin at that. You already took a cut for yourself and still had that much money to just… give away?

“Whatever you say, miláček.”

You’re gonna regret that. You’ve just peaked Viktor’s curiosity; and what’s the saying?

Curiosity killed the cat… but satisfaction brought it back.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Two.

Viktor’s curiosity is peaked once more when he sees a glimmer of sparkle at your navel as your shirt rises, as you try to get something off the shelf for him.

Viktor hums as he puts his pen on the hem of your shirt to lift it a bit more. You gasp as a fresh breeze brushes against your abdomen.

“Whats this, hmm?”

You sputter a bit before dropping your arms and tugging your shirt down quickly, “Nothing.”

“Nothing? Your belly button is magical and shimmers on its own?”

You sarcastically hum, “How’d you know?” you add a dramatic gasp, just because you can. Viktor quirks an eyebrow at you, “You can just admit you got a piercing. Its quite common down in Zaun.”

“Whats the fun in that.” You pout, “I got it forever ago, a bit before we left for the Academy actually.”

“You got your navel pierced when you were seventeen, and I never found out about it until you were twenty-six and I was twenty-eight?”

You playfully shrug, “Guess you aren't as observant as you think you are.”

Viktor clenches his jaw, “Don’t tease me miláček. You won't like where you end up.”

“Try me.”

With that, you walk away with a sway to your hips as Viktor's grip on his pen tightens to the point he thinks it's going to snap in half.

You're going to regret that.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Three.

“What is that?!” Jayce exclaims as you lounge on the couch, taking a small nap. “What? What! What're you screeching about Jayce?”

“That!” he squeaks, “On your lower back! Is that a…”

Viktor finishes the thought, “A tattoo?”

You twist your torso and look down. There's the perpetrator, a small tramp stamp that kind of looks like the Hexcores magic, and in the centre is a heart.

“Yeah.” you casually state as you go back to nap.

“Why does it look like the Hexcore?”

You take a quick peek over to Viktor before muttering, “Why not? I care about you guys and decided to get a tattoo to commemorate it.”

Jayce awes a bit but Viktor just narrows his eyes at you. There's more to it than just that. Because if not, then why did you put it in such a… risque place? Unless you wear low-rise pants or extremely cropped shirts; no one would ever see it.

Unless you're completely naked.

Viktor rubs his nose as you reposition yourself, your hip jutting out as your top rises even farther.

Viktor casually stands up and walks over to where you're resting on the labs couch. Lightly touching your lower back, he feels you flinch as he presses his hand harder onto the fully healed tattoo, “You must be cold, here. Let me fix that.”

And with that, Viktor pulls up the fleece blanket to cover your torso.

You look to Viktor and your eyes have darkened, your lids slightly narrowed. Your lips are lightly pursed as you examine Viktor. Viktor just smirks at you.

The longer this goes on, the more clues Viktor gets.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Four.

Jayce keeps pacing in the lab. Back and forth, back and forth. Viktor is worried Jayce is going to wear the floor down to the baseboards.

“Are you okay?” Viktor quietly asks, looking at Jayce in concern. He's never seen him so… frazzled before.

“No. There's a small gathering happening later today with the council members and high-level individuals. There was supposed to be a bartender to make the meeting not as mind numbing but the one Mel booked previously is sick. Now we need to find a replacement for…”

Jayce looks at his watch and runs a hand through his hair, “Three hours from now.”

Before Viktor can put his two cents in, you pipe in, “I can do it.”

Jayce whips around to look at you, a manic gleam in his eyes, “You’re not joking, right? You can actually bartend.”

You nod once, “I can actually bartend.”

“Shes not lying Jayce. She was a part-time bartender at the Last Drop when… when Vander was the owner.

Both you and Viktor look down, Vander was a good man. He took care of everyone as if they were his own kids.

Jayce clears his throat, trying to dissipate the mournful aura in the lab, “Wow, you're like a wolf in sheep's clothing. Many hidden talents.”

You snort, “More like a coyote prowling in the forest. Challenge brings mastery, dear Jayce.”

Viktor quirks an eyebrow at you. That's an… odd choice of words. No one ever refers to themselves as a coyote unless they frequent…

Oh.

Oh.

Everything is slowly piecing together, he just needs one more piece of proof before he pounces. Viktor almost feels like he's insane; he's a frequent member of the well-established BDSM club down in Zaun; Coyote Ugly. He's sure he would’ve seen you before. But there's the off chance you work when he's not there. He only goes on Saturdays, on a bi-weekly schedule.

Maybe you knew that and planned your schedule around Viktor's desires.

For this last bit of proof, Viktor’s gonna bring his attitude from Coyote Ugly to the lab. Hopefully, he doesn't traumatize Jayce (or you if he's wrong.)

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Five.

Viktor is good at what he does. Many people look at him and assume he's a virgin due to his disabilities. They think he's submissive due to the fact he's more lean and lithe as a man.

He's not.

He can get anyone down to their knees. He can get anyone to listen to him. He doesn't typically use this power in his day-to-day life, but he's going to bring it to the lab today. Luckily for him, Jayce had a mandated meeting to go to and couldn't weasel his way out of it.

He sees his target in the corner of his eye.

You.

You're standing by the blackboard, wobbling in place. Viktor isn't sure how well you've slept, if you've eaten anything today, or if you've even taken a break.

Viktor gets up from his own spot, and makes his way to the small kitchenette in the lab and prepares a basic sandwich and sweet milk for you. He places the items onto your desk and you're none the wiser.

Its not until Viktor clears his throat do you look away from the blackboard.

“You can barely stand straight. Here, come take a small break. Eat something.”

You smile lightly at the care, “Oh Viktor, I’d love to but I can't. I'm on the verge of a breakthrough; I can feel it! If I stop now, I wont ever complete this runic sequence!”

“I insist.”

“No, I really can't—”

“Sit.”

With that, you sat down at your desk immediately. You've never heard Viktor's voice go like that. So dark, so commanding, so… sensual.

You feel almost ashamed. Here Viktor is, making you food, a drink, and worrying about your health. And you were too much of a brat to see it.

You take half the sandwich and bite into it as your stomach growls at you. Shit, he's right. You haven't eaten in several hours and now your body’s catching up to you.

Viktor tilts his head, observing you.

“You were right, thank you.”

Viktor puts his hand on the nape of your neck and squeezes. You shiver and lean into the touch.

“You’re welcome. Don't make me have to do that again.”

You look up at him, your eyes wide and glossy. Your lips pouted lightly. Viktor's grip tightens on your nape and you somewhat successfully suppress a whine.

That's the final puzzle piece.

“I wont.”

“Good girl.”

And with that, Viktor can see you blue screen.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Plus One.

Viktor's changing up his routine, visiting Coyote Ugly on a Friday rather than his usual Saturday. The trek down to Zaun wasn't too bad, but the difference is air quality was highly noticeable.

Slowly but surely, Viktor makes his way to the club. He's in his usual outfit for this scene, an all-black ensemble with the buttons of his shirt undone almost dangerously low. He can feel the looks of desire shot his way. He's always on the top of the submissive’s lists at Coyote Ugly. And every coyote he's taken has been incredibly satisfied.

But ever since this theory of his sprouted, he's been hyper-focusing on it. On you. So he hasn't been able to take any of the coyotes to bed. They're desperate.

But there's a certain coyote that's already caught his eye.

He sees you working the bar as if it were second nature. Mixing drinks, pouring shots, opening beers, and chatting up the patrons. You seem so at home here.

Viktor gets a lovely eyeful of your outfit when you hope up on the bar with a megaphone, “Same shit, new day! We follow the rules and—”

All the patrons echo your words back to you, “We don't touch your girls!”

You smirk, “And with that, let the party begin!” a bell is heard ringing in the background but all Viktor can do is appreciate your sexiness.

You're in an all-black outfit as well, but its all leather. Your top is closed by a single button, so Viktor damn near gets an eyeful of your breasts. He can see your abdomen down to the top of your navel, your belly button piercing glittering in the club's lights.

Your leather pants are skin tight and low enough that Viktor's worried you can't bend over in them without flashing someone. He sees you turn around to hop off the bar and there it is. Your hexcore inspired tattoo.

Viktor feels his pants tighten at that. Its almost like a branding in his mind. Look at that. She's mine.

A few girls get up onto the bar and dance to the songs playing on the jukebox. With a distraction in place, he makes his way to the bar to order a drink.

Your back is to the bar as you clean some glasses, “What can I getcha?”

Viktor ensures his voice is loud enough so that you can hear him, “A whiskey sour, miláček.”

The sounds of cups almost breaking puts a smile on Viktor’s face. He's got you just where he wants you. You whip around with a deer-in-the-headlights look, “Vi—Viktor! What're you doing here?! You usually come on—”

“Saturdays. Yes, I know. But I've heard wonderful things about a certain bartender and wanted to see her for myself. The only bartender I've ever met is Thomas.”

You inhale sharply, “What gave me away?”

“Little things. The money, your body modifications, referring to yourself as a coyote.”

You hit your forehead with the palm of your hand, “I'm an idiot.”

Viktor shakes his head, “No, you just got too comfortable. Besides how you reacted a few days ago when given an order sealed the deal.”

Your face feels hot, almost unbearably so. Goddamn it.

“Does this… ruin anything between us?”

Viktor scoffs, “Absolutely not! Do you know how long I've fantasized about a scenario like this happening?”

“I have an idea…” your tone is breathless as your eyes are as wide as saucers. No way is this happening. No way are your dreams coming true.

Before anything else can happen, you do a special knock on the bar. Thomas whips his head over to look at you and seems shocked.

“This is officially a Code V. I need you to man the bar tonight.”

Thomas just smiles and takes over no problem, you hop over the bar and stand next to Viktor, a beaming smile on your face.

“A Code V?”

“When I officially get the man of my dreams, I get to have a shift off. No ifs, ands, or buts!”

Viktor smiles sweetly at that.

“So…” you add before your confidence dissipates, “Wanna go upstairs?”

Viktor knows that private rooms are located upstairs if you want to… have some fun. He just nods, a sly smirk on his face, “Lead the way, miláček.”

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

You and Viktor rush up as best you can to one of the private rooms. Before anything happens, Viktor enquires if you know about the stoplight system. You do. And with that, you two touch each other in a way you’ve been dreaming about since you both started puberty.

A bit of kissing here, a bit of groping there. Before you know it, Viktor’s fingering open your pussy as you whine and pant at the pleasure Viktor is presenting your body with.

It’s wet, slick, and so hot. Viktor’s hand is slapping against your clit, causing a loud schlick sound that makes your ears burn in embarrassment. Viktor just revels in the sounds and faces you make; he never thought you could get any prettier. Looks like he was wrong.

“Please… Please… Put it in.” You beg, your eyes watery at the constant assault Viktor is giving your g-spot. Viktor kisses his teeth, “Put what in?” He cockily asks.

“Y-your cock. I want your cock in me. I want to fuck you into the bed. Please Viktor, please? I want it so bad… I need it…” You beg, your voice wobbly in your desire. Viktor growls low in his chest as removes his fingers from your pussy. “You're such a good girl, begging for me. C'mon sweetheart, I'm all yours.” With that, you ensure Viktor is comfortable as he sits up against the headboard, you saddle him and slowly sink onto his wonderful cock.

You gasp out a long drown out moan at the feeling. Viktor’s pushed right up against your g-spot, he’s stretching you out. Your pussy is moulding itself to Viktors cock, nothing else in this world will satisfy you now. One hand holds your waist as the other rubs your back.

“C’mon.” In a low, throaty voice, you moan. As if you had to use additional effort to get the words past your parted lips. Your voice is whiney and breathy. As if putting Viktors cock in you knocked all the air out of your lungs. When you lower yourself more, Viktor, who is rubbing your back with his free hand, feels something deep inside his gut tighten up a little more as you persistently try to fit the final few inches of his cock inside. You feel dizzy at that, you're so stuffed… and there’s a few inches more.

Needy. You're so fucking needy; and Viktor loves it.

He squeezes, quickly prickling your flesh beneath his fingertips into a supple hue. Viktor wishes he could mark you like that for good, wishes that squeezing hard enough would leave bruises and indents to last a lifetime. Last several lifetimes. Even if you aren't aware of it, you still attract admiring looks from other people, which irritates Viktor. Ever since you two were teens, people would look lecherously at you. And you never noticed. But at the mere thought of everyone seeing you so marked up, something wild, primal, and almost startlingly possessive gets hold of him. Even though Viktor would know who did it, they wouldn't.

They would question who defiled you so throughly; and not once in their tiny minds would they think Viktor “The Cripple” “The Weirdo” fucked you so good you're bow-legged for days. With a trail of hickeys down your neck and chest, red marks on your wrists and a glazed look in your eyes. Viktor needs to calm down, he’s getting ahead of himself.

Before he can stop himself, Viktor tangles his fingers into your sweaty, untidy hair. You shiver at the feeling. His hands are so strong, so beautiful to look at.

“Viktor! Please! Please let me move! I need it…”You beg. You've needed this since you were fifteen and you noticed how handsome Viktor was becoming.

You lean closer to Viktor, your tits close enough to his face he can easily suck a nipple into mouth. This small shift caused his cock to press even harder into your g-spot; making a long whine and a few tears to slip out of you. Seeing that causes Viktor to freeze a bit before asking, “Colour?” At that you desperately cry out a pathetic, “Green! Please!”

If Viktor had shown even a tiny bit less restraint, the pitiful little "please" that slips from your mouth might have killed him right there.

You start to bounce, a nipple still firmly in Viktor's mouth. One hand stays on your hip as the other tweaks your other nipple. You use the headboard as support to ride Viktor to your heart's content. Fuck his cock is huge, you swear you feel it in your lungs. You could've been doing this for ages. You pitifully whine at that thought; so much time wasted.

“You look so pretty like this, you know,” Viktor mumbles appraisingly as he lets your nipple go, rocking back and forth at an almost painfully slow pace, trying to give you even more pleasure. Your thighs are trembling, splattered with lube, sweat, and an unprecedented amount of wetness from your arousal. You make a tiny, barely there noise in response, pushing weakly back against him. Viktor holds you still. “So fucked out, just for me. So cock-drunk aren’t you? My little fucktoy. My good girl. My prettiest girl” Viktor showers praise on you, who just groans at the sweet attack.

You pull up as far as you can against Viktor’s strength, the head of his cock catching on the entrance to your pussy, before dropping back down aggressively and picking up a steady rhythm. Viktor lets out an appreciative moan at that. Fuck you feel so good. He's gonna become obsessed with your pussy after this. Viktor's head tilts back to rest against the headboard as he moans, you pepper hickeys all across his pale neck. He's not the only one with possessive tendencies.

You go faster and faster, rougher and harder with each bounce, but you still take into account Viktors weaker leg. You're both moaning, yours goes up a pitch when Viktor starts to rub your clit.

Viktor whispers into your ear as he ravages your pussy, “You like that? You slut. Do you like having my big cock stretch you out? Do you like me abusing your g-spot, moulding your pussy into the shape of my dick? Nothing else will ever satisfy you again, will it Pretty Girl? No. It won’t. You’ll be desperate to have my dick rearranging your guts again.”

You just moan and starts to cry at the whispered words alongside the pounding your pussy is getting. The knot in your stomach is getting tighter and tighter, you instinctively know you can’t cum without permission. So you ask,

“Viktor… Can I cum? Please? Can I cum?

Viktor just snarls at that, nipping your ear and slapping your ass with a heavy groan, “Oh fuck… you’re such a good girl aren’t you? Asking for permission to cum without me even having to telling you. Cum. Cum right fucking now.”

And you do. With a gush of liquid, you cum hard. Your body jerking, eyes rolling into the back of your head, with your mouth ajar in a silent moan that trickles down to a pleased whine. Viktor starts to fuck into you, wanting to cum too. You start to overstimulate yourself, desperate to feel Viktor cum.

Little “Uhs.” are punched out of you at each thrust due to the painful pleasure. In no time, Viktor cums too. His hips pressed flush against yours; his sharp hipbones causing a nice bruise to form. You both simultaneously moan at the feeling of Viktor pumping you full of his cum. The two lose their strength and flop down onto the bed.

You're cuddled up, now efficiently cockwarming Viktor. You're both our of breath, and immensely pleased.

“We should clean up.” Viktor pants, you giggle breathlessly, “I don't think I can move.”

The silence is comfortable, enjoyable. You’ve almost fallen asleep when Viktor casually states, “I love you. I've loved you since I was sixteen.”

You look up at him and give him a sweet smile, before pressing your lips together in a loving, passionate kiss, “and I've loved you since I was thirteen. Looks like I've got you beat.”

Viktor just chuckles as he runs a hand through your hair, “I'm exhausted. We’ll get cleaned up when we wake up.”

“I couldn't agree more. But I want a round two before that.”

“Seriously?!”

You slap Viktor's chest playfully, “We could've been doing this for a little over a decade. I'm making up for lost time!”

Viktor kisses your forehead and contently sighs, “Can’t argue with that miláček. Can't argue with that.”

With how vigorously you two went, it’s no surprise you fell asleep in a few minutes. Wrapped up together, as content as can be.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

That's a wrap! Please be nice to me, I haven't written smut since like 2022-2023. Hope y'all liked it!

For the tattoo, search up “cybersigilism heart tramp stamp tattoo” on pinterest to see what kind of tramp stamp you got LMAO

[chrissturnsfav]

dunno if u fw tay swift but.. imagine chris and reader at a party and like they are bestfriends but they are both secretly in love with eachother. and in the song “Dress” by taylor one of the lyrics goes like “i dont want you like a bestfriend. only bought this dress so you could take it off” so basicallyyy true love and looking into eachothers eyes in love missionary type sex 😛

if this would be a bit too long to write, i apologize but i am jot a writer and i cannot execute the idea myself 🙏

𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒 > 𝐁𝐄��𝐓 𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐒

you and chris confess your love to each other through a taylor swift song, leading to a passionate exchange.

ᰔᩚ fluff, smut, unprotected p in v (wrap it b4 you tap it), passionate sex, friends to lovers, softdom!chris, alcohol consumption, use of pet names, finger sucking, creampie

ᰔᩚ w.c. 1,756

the party is a blur of laughter, music, and neon lights that spill through the house. people are everywhere—dancing, talking, leaning into each other in dark corners—but your focus is on chris. it always is—especially with a few drinks in your system.

he’s standing next to you, holding a half-empty beer, his shoulder brushing yours every so often. each time it happens, it sends a quiet thrill through you, one you’ve gotten too good at hiding.

"so lemme get this straight," he says, grinning at you in that way that makes your heart trip over itself. "you actually thought karaoke at me, matt, and nick's birthday party was a good idea?"

you laugh, rolling your eyes, even though your face is already heating up as you talk over the loud music. “it was fun! everyone had a good time.”

"you sang lauryn hill and it was fuckin' horrible," he teases with a chuckle, his tone dripping with mock seriousness. "i don’t think anyone is over that yet."

"well, here you are, still bringing it up even though it was five months ago," you fire back, smirking. “seems like you were impressed."

his grin softens into something warmer, something that makes you struggle to breathe. "maybe i was."

you can’t tell if he’s joking or not, and it’s dangerous, this game you play. this flirting that feels too real sometimes, like it’s about to shift over into something else. something neither of you can take back.

the music shifts, and suddenly, "dress" by taylor swift is playing. the melody thrums in your chest, and the lyrics weave their way into the air between you.

i don’t want you like a best friend…

you glance at chris, and he’s already looking at you. it’s subtle, but his smile falters for a second, his eyes darker, more intense.

"this song," he says, his voice quieter now, almost drowned out by the music.

"yeah," you manage, trying to keep your tone casual, even as your pulse races.

he takes a sip of his beer, but his hand shakes just enough for you to notice. "it’s like… a lot, isn’t it?"

"depends on how you hear it," you reply, your voice steady, but barely.

his eyes flicker to yours again, holding your gaze for just a beat too long. it’s enough to make your chest ache, the unspoken words between you heavy and impossible to ignore.

"you alright?" you ask softly, leaning in so only he can hear you.

he huffs a nervous laugh, running a hand through his hair that falls over his forehead so perfectly. "yeah, just…" he hesitates, his brow furrowing like he’s fighting himself. "i need to say somethin'."

your heart lurches. this is it. you can feel it, the edge of something inevitable.

"okay," you whisper, your throat dry.

he looks at you, his expression so open, so raw, it almost hurts. it feels like his usual confidence has diminished into something softer. "the lyrics are hittin' a little too hard," he hints. "i dunno if i want you like a best friend."

your breath catches, your grip tightening on your drink. “chris…”

"i mean, i do—" he stumbles over the words, his voice rushing now, like he’s afraid to stop. "you’re my best friend, and that’s fuckin' everything to me. but it’s not… it’s not all."

you blink, trying to process, trying to breathe. "not all?"

he steps closer, close enough that you can feel the heat radiating off him. "i’ve been tryin' to ignore it, but it’s you. it’s always been you. like..i dunno, kid. i guess i just don't wanna pretend anymore."

his words hit you like a tidal wave, washing over every doubt and fear you’ve carried for so long.

"chris," you say again, your voice trembling now, but he’s already shaking his head.

"it’s okay if you don’t feel the same," he says quickly, his eyes dropping to the floor. "just felt like i needed you to know."

you reach for his hand, your fingers brushing his, and he looks up, startled.

"you’re not wrong," you say, barely able to get the words out.

his eyes widen, and for a moment, he just stares at you like he’s trying to make sure he heard you right.

"this dress," you continue, your voice steadier now, but still soft. "i honestly only wore it so you’d notice."

the way his gaze darkens, the way his lips part like he’s about to say something but can’t find the words—it’s intoxicating.

"i noticed, ma," he murmurs, and his voice is rough now, full of something you’ve only dreamed about, and then he smirks. that stupid, sexy smirk he always does. the pet name sends shivers down your spine, ma, it rolls off his tongue as if he's been wanting to call you that all his life.

before either of you can think, before the moment can slip away, you grab his hand, pulling him through the crowd. he follows without hesitation, your fingers intertwined like they were always meant to be.

you weave through the hall until you reach a bedroom, pushing the door open and dragging him inside. the music fades into the background as the door clicks shut behind you, leaving just the two of you in the quiet space.

you barely have time to look at him before his hands are on your waist, his lips crashing into yours like he’s been holding back for years.

and maybe he has. maybe you both have.

his kiss is everything you’ve imagined and more—urgent but tender, full of all the things he’s never said but you’ve always felt.

his hands grip your waist like he’s afraid you might disappear, and you’re not much different, your fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer, needing him closer.

"fuck," he whispers against your lips, his breath shaky as he pulls back just enough to look at you. his eyes are wild, full of something that makes your knees weak. "i’ve wanted to do that for so long."

you laugh softly, the sound breathless and giddy. "me too. me fucking too."

he groans, resting his forehead against yours. "why didn’t we do this sooner?"

"we’re stupid," you say, grinning, your hand slipping down to rest on his chest.

you can feel the steady, frantic beat of his heart under your palm, matching your own. "clearly."

he laughs too, and it’s the best sound in the world, low and warm and full of relief.

"i was so scared," he admits, his voice quieter now. his thumb brushes your cheek, his touch featherlight but grounding. "scared that if i said anything, i’d ruin everything. that i’d lose you."

your chest tightens, and you shake your head. "nah, you could never lose me, chris. never."

"same goes for you, you know," you add, your voice soft but steady. "i was scared too. but i couldn’t stop thinking about you. couldn’t stop wanting you."

his lips curve into a small, almost shy smile, so different from the confident, teasing chris you know. "so, what now?" you ask.

chris answers your question when he has you flat on your back on the random bed, your dress hiked up to your waist, his jeans and boxers resting mid thigh. he's holding onto your thighs with a gentle yet firm grip, giving you slow, hard, passionate thrusts.

your arms are tangled around his neck, little, soft moans leaving your glossy lips, lidded eyes staring into his as he pants against your face with his forehead pressed against yours.

"you feel—fuck—feel fuckin' amazing," he groans softly, his lips ghosting yours, swallowing the little moans you breathe out.

you whine, your eyes rolling back. you knew chris would be good, all those stories about his hookups gave him a reputation, but you'd never think you'd ever be under him. you also never knew he would fuck you almost like he loves you, but not as a best friend—as a lover.

"chris," you gasp, arms moving to cup his face and cradle it in your hands, eliciting a whimper from his pretty lips. he moves one hand from your thigh to gently grip your wrist, moving his mouth to press a soft kiss to your palm that makes your body shudder.

"been wantin' this for so fuckin' long," he grunts softly, brushing his lips against yours making chills course through your body.

"m-me...too," you mumble through whines, pressing your lips to his jaw, sucking and kissing at his skin.

chris gasps softly, hissing in pleasure as he bites his bottom lip and closes his eyes, "fuck, keep doin' that and you're gonna make me cum."

you let out a giggly moan against his jaw, laying your head back flat against the bed. "m-mmph," you whine, a little more high pitched as your back arches off the bed, your gummy walls squeezing his lengthy cock. "m-m'close...chris...close..."

he grunts above you at the feeling of your tight pussy squeezing around him, tightening his grip on your thighs, his thrusts growing a little faster and sloppier, "fuuuck...gonna make me fuckin' cum, pretty girl...jesus..."

"c-chris—chris," you whine louder, your eyes rolling back as your jaw falls slack, a knot tightening deliciously in your belly, one you've felt before with other guys, but this time it's different. it's so much better.

"yeah, c'mon baby," he mutters, lidded eyes staring into your closed ones. he gently grips your jaw, brushing his thumb over your plush bottom lip. "open those pretty eyes f'me, wanna see you."

you force your eyes open, lidded and glossy with tears of pleasure, panting against his thumb as your walls squeeze around him tighter and your thighs begin to tremble.

chris smiles sweetly down at you as he gets closer, his thrusts even more uncoordinated and sloppy. "there she is, my girl," he groans softly, gently pressing his thumb into your warm, wet mouth.

his words make your body shudder, a loud gasp leaving your lips as you cum. jolts of pleasure make your thighs shake, your nails sinking into his clothed back, "oh my god," you cry out in ecstasy around his thumb, your jaw falling slack, your eyes still on him.

"i know," he coos, groaning softly at your whimpers and pants as you swirl your tongue around his thumb, "o-oh, fuck, baby, fuck...shit..." he grunts softly.

his body shakes slightly, his hips stuttering as his eyes roll back and he grunts, his fingers digging into your thigh as he cums deep inside you. you've never felt so full, your wet pussy stuffed full of his cum making you whimper in pleasure.

after cleaning up, you both step back into the party, the two of you still glowing with the electricity of what just happened, everything feels different. brighter.

𝗮𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗿'𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲: i'm not a swiftie so i hope i executed this well enough! also sorry if it was a lil corny eek.

thank you for reading!! <3

tags: @sturnobsessedwh0re , @idrk2292 , @mattsbrat , @ribbonlovergirl , @sturnhyyhblog , @matthewsroses , @mattsdemi , @emely9274 , @frankoceanfanpage , @ifwdominicfike , @marrykisskilled , @strnilolover , @cayleeuhithinknott , @forgottxen , @sophand4n4 , @sturnsrecord , @purpledragon222 , @faiyaz555 , @jocelyncsblog , @freakiolos , @slut4chris888 , @chriss-slutt , @ilovedanielcaesar , @annsx03 , @snoopychris , @chrissweetheart

@chrissturnsfav ™

[a-commas-a-pause]

Ok I'm absolutely on board with the fact that AI is useless from an educational perspective and also fraud but I'd like to gently push back on the idea that chugging an energy drink and writing a paper in 40 minutes that was meant to take days is actually valuable to the student at all. The only circumstance under which I'd (very hesitantly) recommend doing that is when the assessment is summative (i.e.: counts towards your grade - especially in the UK many of them don't!) AND you're depending on that grade to open the next door you need open AND you've already tried to get an extension on the deadline and the institution is not playing ball.

The very fact that students EVER end up in a position where this is necessary for them is less of a ''time-honoured tradition'' in my opinion and more of a horrifying exposure of the flaws of our current education system. Panic makes it almost impossible to actually learn and even if it didn't, putting students through this stuff instead of just letting them have an extension (and providing them some extra resources for mental health and/or time management skills if it's not an isolated incident) is inhumane. You should not have to pull an all-nighter to get your degree. You should not have to do that! It's not a necessary part of the process and it's insane that we've started to act like it is, out of some vague sense that suffering is noble.

I know this isn't the point of the post, and I agree with everything that's been said here about chatGPT! But as someone who got through a very stressful undergrad by learning to ask for extensions on important deadlines, and someone who is now part-time on the educator side of things, every time a student sends in work to me at 3am or later (almost every week, when I'm working) I want to cry a little bit. It's not even a summative assessment! You can skip this week and fully hand it in after the end of term if you like, and I will mark it in the break! Please get some sleep.

chatgpt is the coward's way out. if you have a paper due in 40 minutes you should be chugging six energy drinks, blasting frantic circus music so loud you shatter an eardrum, and typing the most dogshit essay mankind has ever seen with your own carpel tunnel laden hands

[ylangelegy]

like real people do ☢️ seungcheol x reader.

little is known about the apocalypse of 2017. a century later, archivists are now unveiling the relics they found from those who lived through that time.

★ seungcheol x reader.  ★ word count: 2.1k ★ genre: alternate universe: apocalypse, alternate universe: soulmates (the only way for your scars to disappear is when your soulmate kisses them goodbye), angst, romance. ★ warnings: major character death. depictions of death/violence, injuries/scars. established relationship; suggestive scenes but no real smut. set in a fictional apocalyptic world. doubling down on the angst warning; i cannot say with any certainty that this is a happy ending. ★ footnotes: this is part of my follower milestone event. viv gave me an inch (a request for angsty seungcheol) and, in turn, i am giving her a mile (a whole thing instead of just a ficlet). mahal kita, @heartepub! this will be the last hozier brainrot i offer you— for now. + much thanks to @gyubakeries and @tusswrites for beta reading! love you both to the end of the world. ❤️‍🩹

↻ ◁ || ▷ ↺ like real people do by hozier. apocalypse by cigarettes after sex. i know the end by phoebe bridgers. fourth of july by sufjan stevens. interlude: i’m not angry anymore by paramore. atlantis by seafret. end of beginning by djo. nobody’s soldier by hozier.

When the fish started dying, you did not think: This is how the world will end.

Why would you? The decimation of marine mammals and seabirds didn’t make the news. The misguided scientific breakthrough that triggered everything was kept under wraps.

It isn’t until much later, until the damage is irreparable and the Rapture is imminent, that you will realize it. 

The world as you know it is ending— but at least you have Seungcheol.

There’s some cruelty in the timing of it all. The two of you had just moved in with each other, coasting on the honeymoon phase of a long-term couple with a new thing to share. The paint on your apartment’s walls had yet to dry when the government declared a state of national emergency.

Dozens of other countries followed suit not long after, all blaming one thing or the other. Food crises. Social unrest. Cultural collapse. 

“This is crazy,” Seungcheol grumbles. 

The television is playing clips of a hurricane tearing through the Philippines. Extreme weather conditions, the reporters are saying. Due to the rise of CO₂ levels. 

You and Seungcheol are sprawled out on the floor, watching it unfold. The furniture store meant to deliver your couch has delayed shipment until further notice. 

Seungcheol has always been the sulky type, though the expression on his face nowadays has been less of his trademark pout and more of a serious frown. You can feel his growing agitation in the stiff way he holds you, in the set of his eyebrows. 

“It’s crazy,” you agree quietly, resting your hand on his knee in a bid to calm him a bit. “But it’ll pass.” 

Your touch seems to give some sort of reprieve. He rolls his shoulders. He unclenches his jaw. 

“It’ll pass,” he echoes, reaching out to intertwine your fingers. 

Neither of you knew just how wrong you could be. 

April 8, 2017 

Weird times. Cheol knows just how anxious I get when I’m cooped up, so he encouraged me to pick up journaling. I’m not sure how much this will help, but it’s worth a try. 

It’s been a month since everything has essentially gone on ‘lockdown’. The news says that all of this started because researchers wanted to regulate harmful algae. Their genetically engineered virus ended up infecting all algae, and now the majority of phytoplankton are just... dead. 

I don’t know what to write about. Terrible oxygen levels? Seafood costing a fortune? This ‘work from home’ system everyone is trying to figure out? 

I guess I should just write about the good stuff. That way, when I look back on these entries, I can remember something good.

Today, Cheol tried to fix a leaking faucet himself instead of calling for a plumber. We flooded the kitchen floor, and ended up wet from head to toe.

I cooked pasta, called mom and dad on Skype, and watched the latest episode of Santa Clarita Diet. 

Once everything opens up again, Cheol and I have to visit my parents. (And ‘get better screwdrivers’, he claims.) 

When Seungcheol first kissed you, you did not think: This man is my soulmate. 

It had been a clumsy, shy thing, traded way back when the two of you were high schoolers still stealing away from your eagle-eyed parents. Seungcheol liked to wax poetics about how it was perfect even though you know that first kiss was more a clash of teeth than anything. 

You don’t discover the truth of everything until a couple of years into dating. Seungcheol had gotten into playing basketball, and, one evening, you absentmindedly pressed your lips to a scar he had at the bend of his elbow. 

The mark smoothed out instantly. 

Seungcheol had giggled at the development before spending the rest of the night kissing every inch of your skin that he could reach— injured or not. You still think it’s one of your best memories as a couple. 

Kisses that healed scars. You hadn’t believed in the stories yourself until it had happened to you, until you realized how fortunate you were that your soulmate wasn’t halfway across the world or something. No, you had your soulmate, and he was more than willing to kiss away all your wounds. 

You had counted yourself as lucky. You still think you are, even now, as Seungcheol strokes your hair and holds you to his chest in the pitch black darkness of your apartment. 

His voice is quiet and small when he speaks up. “I’m sorry.” 

“What for?” you mutter back. 

“I’m sure this isn’t what you imagined,” he says. “For us moving in together and everything.” 

An amused snort escapes you. Of course that would be your boyfriend’s concern. There’s the rotational power outages and the merciless prices of goods due to inflation, but Seungcheol is worried about your expectations not being met. 

You shift in his hold. The days have been getting warmer and warmer, and the evenings are no exception. Seungcheol has taken to sleeping shirtless. You’re a couple of celsius away from doing the same. 

“It’s not your fault that we decided to move in together for the end times,” you say into the skin of his bare chest. 

He gives the small of your back a light thwack. “What have I said about the apocalypse jokes?” he chides lightly. 

You roll your eyes. He shouldn’t see it in the darkness, but he knows you all too well. “And don’t roll your eyes at me!”

His reprimand draws a short laugh from you. Even that feels like a monumental effort, like it's a waste of good air. 

Seungcheol doesn’t care. He doesn’t care about the two of you waking up in pools of your own sweat, doesn’t care that there are whole government newscasts on how to preserve oxygen in enclosed spaces. 

He holds you like a lifeline and kisses you until you’re breathless. 

“Cheol,” you whine against his mouth, the protest already at the tip of your tongue. The end is near; sex should be the last thing on your mind. 

But then Seungcheol’s fingers toy with the hem of your shirt, and he sounds so, so sweet when he mumbles, “Yes, soulmate?” 

That’s always gotten to you. 

“Unfair,” you groan as you work on shucking off your own clothes. “You’re so unfair.” 

In between giggles, he kisses every part of you. Again, and again, and again. 

June 15, 2017 

Cheol and I are on the run. 

He keeps telling me not to call it that because it supposedly makes us sound like criminals. I think it’s just funny, and God knows I need something to find humor in. 

As badly as I want to say “we have gone through worse before,” that would be a lie. We’re out of our apartment and trying to make our way to some place where there’s better air quality. In the meantime, we’re living out of his car. It’s so funny to me that I’ve started laughing until I’m crying. 

Anyway, the good stuff: Today’s sunset painted the sky purple. We snagged some still-cold cans of Sprite in an abandoned 7-Eleven. Cheol spotted a family of ducks crossing the road, pointed it out, and said “us, soon!”

Us, soon. It feels dangerous to hope, but that’s all I seem to do nowadays. That and being on the run. (Cheol made me strike out that last part, but whatever.) 

When Seungcheol finally admits to you that he is scared, you did not think: This means that things are much, much worse than I thought. 

Maybe because there were bigger concerns, like the car’s blinking fuel warning light and the scratches littering Seungcheol’s arms. Like the fool that he was, he had gone against your well-meaning advice to not look for help. 

He did not return unscathed. 

Your lips are pursed in a thin line as you rip open a Band-Aid. It’s one of the few that the two of you have left, and Seungcheol seems to remember the fact. He reaches out to stop you. 

“Hey, c’mon,” he urges, obviously trying to aim for levity. “You know there’s other ways we can fix me up, right?”

The frown that tugs at your lips shows that you’re still less-than-pleased at his little stunt. 

“Maybe if you didn’t head out in the first place,” you grumble. “We wouldn’t need any of this.” 

Seungcheol looks like he might push back, but seems to decide against it at the last minute. Instead, he wraps his fingers around your wrist and gives you a gentle tug. 

“It won’t happen again.” His tone is edged with remorse, enough to almost convince you. Almost. 

“No more playing hero?” you ask. 

A corner of his lip twitches upward. “No more playing hero,” he concedes before tugging at you again. 

You let him. You move closer into his space until you’re practically in his lap, until you’ve got a better view of the angry red cuts on his skin. 

Tentatively, you press chaste kisses to the injuries. Seungcheol’s hands find purchase at your waist and he tilts his head back, letting you work your magic. He’s quiet as your lips trace over each gash and wound, as you take away all the hurt with the ghost of a kiss. 

After a moment, he mumbles, “Is it bad that I want you right now?” 

“Seungcheol.” 

“Okay, okay.” A beat. “I want you all the time, actually.” 

“Shut up!”

The sound of his laughter fills the car. It’s enough to have you forgetting his murmured confession of fear, the vulnerability that he had tried so quickly to cover up with affection. For a moment, there is nothing else in the world except this, except you, except him. 

September 23, 2017

Is it weird to say that I’m starting to forget what it was like before all of this happened? Cheol is trying to assure me that it’s to be expected, that we’ll all be back to ‘normal’ soon, but I don’t even remember what normal is like anymore. 

I can’t forget. I don’t want to forget. And so here is a small list of things I took for granted: 

The first breeze that tells you winter is coming 

The kindness of people who don’t know you 

The smallest fish in the sea

Date nights with Cheol 

Clean water 

Breakfast

My parents

Cheol says there might be some biodomes ahead. Oxygen-regulated habitats. It sounds like something only the rich can afford. We don’t have a lot left between the two of us, and it’s getting harder to jump from building to building. 

But there’s something waiting for us on the other side— right? There has to be. 

May the best of my todays be the worst of my tomorrows. 

When the gunshot rang out, you did not think: This is it.

Seungcheol never gave you any reason to think that way. He had held your hand as you raided rundown grocery stores. He had positioned himself in front of you when there were stampedes. The world might have been ending, but he was with you.

He was with you even when the strangers you ran into started getting more aggressive. He was with you even when fights would break out over necessities like water and medicine. 

“People are dangerous when they're desperate,” he’d tell you softly— still his rational, kind self even when faced with the worst of mankind.

He was with you. He was kind. He was yours. 

Even when the bullet lodged itself right between his ribs. 

There is not much that you remember after that. 

The people dispersed. The cause of the fight— a can of chicken noodle soup, once your comfort food— lay forgotten on the floor.

The love of your life, staring unblinking at the sky.

When you sink to the ground, you’re moving purely on instinct. Your quivering lips press over his chest, over the red blossoming and staining his shirt. 

You kiss him. Again.

And again. 

And again. 

December 1, 2017

The kisses don’t work on bullet wounds. 

▸ Archivist’s note: The following entries are undated and some portions had been redacted/deemed untranscribable. We are led to believe that the author struggled to cope in the aftermath of their soulmate’s death. For posterity, we have still reprinted their final entries.

You’re so unfair. 

I still want you. 

Things I took for granted: ███████, you, ███████, youyouyou. 

What now? 

My love, it’s only a matter of ███████—

▸ Archivist’s note: Nothing follows.

This concludes our transcribed logs. The full collection can be viewed at the National Museum of Remembrance.

It is our deepest regret that the author is unnamed and that they cannot be properly credited. However, we know of two things with certainty. 

We know of a man named Seungcheol, and we know that he was loved. 

[milktrician]

Hello hello! :D

SQH-SY siblings au for the ask game, please?

I'm pretty sure I wrote this after someone wrote a text post about the idea but idk if I would be able to track that down, or if it existed at all and I'm misremembering. Anyway, I didn't really have a set plot in mind after I wrote this short snippet other than it would be very funny for Shen Yuan to try and actively sabotague Shang Qinghua's efforts to become head disciple of An Ding while looking as innocent as possible. I don't think I'm going to write anymore for this idea as I have other wips I want to focus on but feel free anyone to write out their own interpretation! Anyways, here's what I wrote a few weeks back:

[ Activation code: “Dumbfuck author, dumbfuck novel.” System automatically triggered ]

What? What the fuck is this?

[ Host is in the midst of transmigration! ]

No—what? This is a dream, Airplane’s stupid fucking writing must have made me pass out!

Rrgh! I need to punch the fucker IRL!

[ Host would like to see Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky? ]

YES!

[ Beginning transmigration… ]

What?

“Oh! It’s a boy!”

“W-Wait what? Doctor, didn’t you say it was going to be a girl?”

What the hell?

He feels himself get wrapped within a cloth, and suddenly he's enveloped in warmth. He’s being…held?

Any attempt to move his limbs is caught by the cloth wrapped around him. His tongue presses against toothless gums, and his vision is too blurry to make out anything.

No…

“Haha, well surprises always happen! Did you have a name in mind if you two had another son?”

“Ah, well I suppose we never gave any thought to it. A-Yu, you’re always good at coming up with names with your little stories, how about you name your little brother?”

No…

“You…ah, shouldn’t it be up to you two? Like erm. Tradition or something? Like this is a whole baby I sh-shouldn’t be responsible for the name he’ll be called for the rest of his life!”

A woman then laughs above him, 

“A-Yu, I think I’m much too tired to think right now. You’re a smart boy, any name you come up with I’m sure he’ll appreciate it.”

He…died. 

Transmigration’s real!?

AND HE’S A BABY!

Oh—whoever this person is, please don’t name him something stupid.

[ Don’t worry Host! This System has you covered! ]

“…Yuan?” Whoever “A-Yu” is, he said that like he wasn’t even sure of it himself! Thank god he still has his old name in this life at least.

“Shang Yuan…I like that.”

System…where have I transmigrated?

[ This System operates in line with the design concept “YOU CAN YOU UP, NO CAN NO BB”; we hope to provide you with the best possible experience. It is our sincere wish that during your time, you can fulfill your desires and, in accordance to your wish, ‘see Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky’ ]

[ Congratulations! Congratulations! Congratulations! Important things must be said three times! ]

What now?!

[ User has completed his wish! ]

I…did?

[ Entering Limited Sandbox Mode! Feel free to explore within the constraints of the plot! ]

[ We hope you enjoy the world of Proud Immortal Demon Way! ]

WHAT?

“Ah! He’s crying, give him here.”

“Ahh. You’re so cute lil bro! Cutest baby in the whole wide world!”

A-Yu, or Shang Hongyu, is his new older brother in this life and is maybe eight or nine years older than him. He’s apparently very smart for his age, and their parents are already tutoring him to take over their father’s business.

He hears his older brother sniffle,

“Too bad you’ll probably never see me again in a few years.” he says, “I’ve gotta head to Cang Qiong and make my way up An Ding in the next few years.”

Hold on a second.

His older brother holds him tight against his chest, and from here he can feel his breath shudder.

“I’ve never had a sibling by blood before.”

He’s brought to his sibling’s bed and his brother lays next to him lazily.

“Just a few more years and you guys won’t have to see me again.” his brother says to noone, “They’re…surprisingly good parents, didi. Once they don’t have me to worry about, they can spoil you as much as you want.”

Geez, what kind of weird complex do you have?

Though. Shang surely is a common surname right? Lots of Shangs to go to An Ding!

System where in the timeline are we?

[ System is currently in maintenance for future updates! ]

Fine. He’ll figure it out his own way!

His own chubby fingers are able to grab onto his brother’s robe.

“Gege.” He says, to the best of his ability with his shitty little baby mouth.

He doesn’t expect his brother to burst out crying and start to hug him tight.

[sha-brytols]

someone: do you think anders is a good person

the part of my brain that engages in genuine critical media analysis: i think it's disingenuous to label him through the lens of a binary good/evil paradigm because what makes him such an interesting and engaging character is his status inbetween a human with complex emotions and desires and flaws that will never fully align with each other, and the singleminded focus and purpose of a supernatural entity that is literally justice incarnate and has no capacity for nuance and whose very nature is fundamentally incompatible with humanity but the two of them are so deeply connected that they make up a single identity that's constantly at odds with itself and this struggle causes him to act in ways that aren't always clean and often land him and those around him in impossible positions. i think he was morally justified in doing what he did to the chantry but i also believe he understood the magnitude of what he was doing which is why i inherently disagree with the notion that characters like varric or sebastian were wrong in their reactions because that's the very nature of violent revolution—people get caught in the crossfire and are harmed despite their innocence and regardless of the righteousness of the action at large. if someone killed your mom to protect a hundred orphans you probably wouldn't come out of the experience full of love and admiration for the person who killed your mother because regardless of the outcome they still fucking killed your mother. anders destroyed people's homes and lives and there's a conversation to be had about how he gaslit and exploited hawke, his own potential lover, into being an unwitting accomplice even though we know through meta knowledge that he was perfectly capable of doing it on his own and very likely only wanted hawke's involvement because he needed a powerful figure to become the rallying symbol for his cause. the reality is his very nature would have never allowed him to choose hawke and his friends over his goal because to do so would have been fundamentally selfish and antithetical to his newfound identity as one who champions the needs of the many at the expense of the individual. it's a beautifully tragic story about the lengths a person would have to go to in order to enact any sort of meaningful change while constrained in a system that benefits from their powerlessness, and how that process cannot exist without suffering and pain on both the individual and collective level. i also feel like if anders was written by a person with a degree of compassion and awareness for not only the character they were writing but just what living as a vulnerable and targeted minority is like then the narrative and message would have been vastly different than what ended up on screen because, ultimately, the game wants you to look at the stark injustice of a child being ripped away from their family to spend a life locked away in cold isolation where they're at constant risk of exploitation, abuse, death, and even a complete removal of their personhood, and think that there's room for compromise. it's a narrative that perpetuates the myth that passivity and tolerance in the face of oppression is more virtuous than burdening the masses with the discomfort of seeing their own culpability in sustaining it. a better game would have challenged varric and sebastian while also affirming their anger instead of just the latter. a better game would have explored hawke's reaction in a deeper manner that examined their relationship with the system, their own internal biases, and how anders affected their worldview.

the part of my brain that was on tumblr in 2014 and is still extremely petty and spiteful: he should have blown up the conclave while he was at it

[mallowmaenad]

just wanted to specify amd correct some things as an autist that watches my little pony like almost every single day, actually. No exaggeration. Anyway:

-The racism monsters actually only appear when the ponies are too racist to each other, though they are absent from G5 and their names are very close to an american indigenous word you are not supposed to say.

-I do think there are reasons why the G5 movie is bad related to the pony racism that I think is only made worse by tying it into G4 and I think people are more mad about that and the wiping away of the new status quo it does in the process than just "the ponies being racist"

-There is an episode where an envoy of yak diplomats comes to equestria and they try really hard to make them feel at home with pieces of their culture with the lesson learned being that they aren't able to understand the nuances of their culture and shouldn't try to imitate it and should instead share parts of their own culture with the yaks

-I don't think that episode with Yona was about subjugating her into pony culture it was a part of a wider plot to impress a pony boy she was going to like, magic-school-prom with by following pony beauty standards and manners with the lesson being that he doesn't care if she does and likes her for her

-its a fucking kids show theyre not "sending out missionaries" or teaching "superior pony values" its friendship its fucking friendship they're teaching people about friendship because Twilight Sparkle is The Princess of Friendship thats her fucking job to spread Friendship As A Concept throughout the realm thats why she built the school because seasons 1-8 was her learning about friendship and teaching others about it and became the Authority On Friendship in equestria she basically has a masters degree in being friends and getting along with people and wanted to build a school that taught these lessons en masse.

-there was like 1 guy on the school board who disagreed with the school being integrated who has a change of heart after being rescued by the main group of students the story focuses on in the school

And like, also, I don't think anyone is actually "racist" in my little pony if you look at what racism actually is, nobody is being systemically oppressed in equestria, there are episodes throughout the show written about things like unfamiliar people and situations, interacting with people whose culture differs from your own and other similar lessons and because the ponies are characters in a children's show and not real life adults. They are going to act in ways that we would deem inappropriate for an adult to act towards people who look or act different from them because thematically, they are demonstrating a situation that a child might encounter with less knowledge and emotional intelligence than an adult would have.

They don't for example, shun Zecora and spread rumors that she's a witch because the writers of MLP want to show that the mane 6 and ponyville are a bunch of backwards racists but to tell a story about how just because someone seems strange or scary to you at first because of the way they look and act, doesn't mean that they actually are. Later in the series they approach versions of this issue in different scenarios and angles and from the standpoint of writing a show for children, that's really good.

I think one valid point to bring up is what the series does with the character Daring Do who starts out as essentially, rainbow dash's self insert while fantasizing as she reads a series of pulp action novels Twilight lent her that was later just turned into a real pony which came with a lot of messy foibles, mostly, going from making her essentially a fictional pastiche of indiana jones in-universe to a pony that was actively stealing artifacts from indigenous cultural sites, and they do end up having an episode addressing this that I thought was very awkward and stilted because maybe it's difficult to teach about imperialism with kid gloves on, maybe the episode could've been written a lot better or made at a time that wasn't literally when the series was just about to end for good. Not to mention if it is even appropriate how they sometimes depict these indigenous people Daring Do is taking from.

There is racism in My Little Pony I think would be productive to discuss in a serious light, but this upset over children's cartoon characters doing things to set up lessons about why things like racism is bad or using such a heavy-handed term to describe things as light as a joke about a reaccuring pun or god forbid, wanting to teach people different from you about friendship is some outrageous overly-padded-video-essay type shit and I wish we'd stop making jokes about tumblr having poor reading comprehension and start actually improving our reading comprehension instead of cobbling together reasons to make fun of a cartoon because it sounds vaguely righteous and leftist on a surface level reading to a userbase that will agree with anything that sounds vaguely righteous and leftist.

i'm gonna be honest i don't get why they say everypony instead of everybody in mlp. it's not like the word everybody is human-specific. the ponies have bodies. the word everypony, however, is pony-specific in a world where ponies are not the only people in their society, which means it would be more accurate and inclusive to use everybody instead of everypony. it all makes no sense to me

[lemon-shark-gamer]

The Genshin Impact fandom is fascinating to me when it comes to fanfics, because I feel like I struggle to find any fics that really *get* the characterization of certain characters and I'm loathed to write my own because dammit I just want to read the specific itch I crave without resorting to creating it. Give me three more months and I'll cave in.

For example, Diluc is one of my favorites and I find his backstory fascinating in terms of his father Crepus possibly being more morally ambiguous than most fans are willing to admit and how little we know of Diluc's murder spree in Snezhnaya.

For example which Harbinger(s) did he have a run-in with? Will we find out more about the secret intelligence network that took him in, that he apparently had a high position in? Did he ever find the answers he was searching for? The list goes on.

It's hard for me to find the specific characterization of him I crave for in fics because I think his platonic relationship with Kaeya is incredibly nuanced and complex but I feel like his character often gets assassinated for Kaeya angst but like, the man had the worst birthday ever?

Imagine being Diluc, living through a literal worst nightmare. Your dad is dead after you failed to protect him yourself. Not only is your dad dead but he died after wielding a delusion--you dont even know what a delusion is but its clearly bad news. Why the fuck did your father have it and how?

On top of this, the Favonius Knights--the organization you proudly served and the very organization that your father heavily encouraged you to serve--insists on covering up the truth because it makes them look bad. The Favonius Knights, who are supposed to be honorable and uphold integrity, are anything but that.

Then your adoptive brother, who you've known for years and trust with your life, shows up and tells you he's been spying for a foreign nation since you were kids with the intent of harming Mondstadt and everything about your relationship is possibly all one big lie and well--how do you not snap??

Now, I'm also incredibly fond of Kaeya and he was just as traumatized by Crepus's death. He was wracked with guilt for *feeling* relieved that he didn't have to worry about betraying his birth father for his adoptive father since Crepus was dead. He anticipated Diluc's anger and felt like their duel was a punishment for his lies.

To me, it hints that Kaeya probably didn't reveal the truth expecting Diluc's understanding, but rather he knew how he would react and perhaps he wanted Diluc to strike him down in that duel. Or at the very least, he wanted to distance himself from Diluc and cut off ties in order to avoid emotional attachment stopping him from his mission.

I personally head-canon that Diluc withdrew upon seeing Kaeya's vision because well--why would the gods bless Kaeya with a vision if he truly had the intent to harm Mondstadt? So in spite of what Kaeya revealed, he isn't a threat. But there's still a lot of hurt there to navigate through.

I think it's fascinating seeing where they stand in present game because Kaeya obviously has the ideology of working the system from within. He stayed in the knights (even taking over his brother's position) and with Jean rooted out the Inspector and his cronies.

Meanwhile Diluc just isn't that type of person. He doesn't settle, he refuses to work in a system he views corrupt, he rather accomplish what he can outside of it. Curiously, he doesn't challenge the status quo beyond being vocal of his distaste of the Knights.

This is head-canon fantasyland, but I like to envision Kaeya and Diluc do use a lot of the same informants and collaborate on intel relating to the safety of Mondstadt (especially since Diluc can move in ways against the Fatui that the Knights can't due to political reasons) but they struggle to have the same connection as before.

For example, Diluc's story quest--Kaeya was essentially giving Diluc an alibi with the Knights. Even if Jean damn well knows who it is, they still have to have official documentation stating otherwise.

Kaeya is good at reading people, he has to be given how he was raised to be a child spy. But I like to think he struggles to read Diluc like before. Diluc is much more jaded, pessimistic, quieter than before. He prefers to work on his own as much as possible. From Kaeya's pov, the only person he's seen Diluc willing to fully trust enough to work alongside with is the Traveler, and he states as much.

The opposite is true of Diluc. Kaeya was his shadow, a quiet but inquisitive, witty observer. Cavalry Captain Kaeya is much more outgoing and friendly, his charm on full display. Did he ever really truly know Kaeya or did he only show Diluc what he wanted him to see? Is Kaeya happier this way?

Fanon often depicts Kaeya as essentially being barred from the dawn winery from the duel by Diluc himself, but I don't think that's quite the case. Much rather, given the reason he told Diluc that night, I think he views himself as undeserving due to unresolved guilt.

Canon seems to hint at all of this through his hangout and Hidden Strife, the latter of which is unfortunately a time-limited event that occurred before I even played (hoyo please stop having heavy lore drops occur in time limited events).

I think the two want to trust each other again, but both are afraid of destroying the tentative truce they have so they leave all of it unaddressed. Kaeya refuses to be completely truthful ever again and Diluc acknowledges the past but refuses to discuss it. The tragedy in their relationship that neither is at fault for what happened--it's a twisted emotional mess of grief and heartbreak.

The last point I'd like to touch on is the parallels between Kaeya and Diluc both being essentially child soldiers for their fathers' causes.

For Kaeya, being abandoned in Mondstadt to be a child spy is the most overt. For Diluc? Despite Crepus's strong ambition to be a Favonius Knight and to have a vision--neither happened for him. In Diluc's vision story, it states that he views his vision being a result of their "shared" ambition, hinting that his vision was granted after Diluc's strong resolve to achieve his father's dreams for him.

We know Crepus heavily encouraged Diluc down this path at very young age, given Diluc received his vision at age 10 and became the youngest Captain at age 14. In some ways, I'm sure Kaeya was a bit jealous of Diluc for having a loving father present in his life that was overtly proud of him.

I am not saying Crepus wasn't a good father, I think he cared immensely for Kaeya and Diluc both, but I do think he did some morally grey shit.

Diluc abandoning his vision is fascinating and it's almost never explored in fics. He is the only vision holder we know of (aside from the Inazumauns whose visions were taken by force) that had their ambition for their vision shaken in such a way that they voluntarily discarded their vision for a time and only took it back after reigniting a new ambition to have it (and as far we know the only allogene that faced no negative setbacks from using a delusion long-term without their vision present).

I don't know where to end all of this, except if you have ragbros fic recommendations that you believe cover it in a more nuanced way, let me know!

[ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused]

Can you pls do a fem s/o and Kang sae-byeok head cannons 🙏

a/n: HOLY SHIT OKAY. this is so terribly long and i'd be more than willing to write a whole fucking series about this if need be. i almost cried like... two times while writing this because it's so cheesy and perfect, and it gives sae-byeok the life she deserves!!

SO, popular girl!reader x basket case!sae-byeok highschool au.

you're genuinely so sweet but your little clique are made up of people with that aren't so nice to people like sae-byeok.

you aren't mean! a lot of people just so happen to like you and know your name! and yeah, they invite you to some of the biggest parties at your school, but so what? it's just a large gathering!

but sae-byeok doesn't know that, and honestly? she doesn't want to.

she's not looking for anything with anyone, especially not with a person like you.

think of like a cliche scene from a movie: you're walking in the hallway with your group of friends, and you pass by her.

you guys lived in two different worlds that were never meant to collide... and yet they did.

it was a simple formula really.

with it finally being your senior year (going by american school because i know nothing about the korean school system 😭), that meant new classes.

and you had absolutely no friends in this one.

seats were taken up by friends that had found themselves together, while you just stood there like a fish out of water.

but then there was sae-byeok, sitting in the back of the class by herself, lost in the world happening outside the large window to the left of her.

and she was beautiful.

the sun hit her golden skin just right, illuminating her dark, dragon-like eyes that look like they could pierce your soul if they wanted to.

for the first time in a long time, you're hesitant as you approach the long counter for two.

"excuse me? can i sit here?" your voice is quiet, sheepish, and when she finally looks up at you, all your blood rushes to your cheeks.

she takes a moment to scan the classroom, before looking back out the window.

"sure." it's blunt, curt, monotone, a collection of synonyms to describe someone who's not interested in casual friendly conversation.

the bit of light inside of you dims, but nonetheless you take a seat next to her.

it's awkward, but you turn your body towards her, putting on a cheerful smile.

"hi." you say hopefully.

all the girl does is throw a look at you out of the corner of her eye before looking away again.

"uh my name is," you tell her your name. "what's yours?"

"does it matter?"

"i would like to think so. were gonna be sitting next to each other for the rest of the year, so i'd like to get to know you."

she finally turns her head fully, giving you a once over before meeting your gaze head on. "I don't want to know you."

"oh." you say, taken aback. "well, i'll be here when you're ready then."

after that, she didn't talk to you much, but you were sewn into each other's lives, whether she liked it or not.

of course you noticed her; how could you not? she was the prettiest girl you had ever seen.

though she basically acts like you're not there, you know she's watching you.

sometimes you can feel her gaze when you're doing your work, or when you're taking notes. it's like she's analyzing you instead of just trying to get to know you.

then, the class project happens.

both of you are forcibly paired up, and you're not too sure how she feels about it. all she does is look at you and say, "it looks like were partners, now." in that dry tone of hers.

you're over the moon about it, but you really try not to show it, though you're sure your smile gives you away.

"i'll do my half and you can do yours -"

"or you can come over to my house after school to work on it!" you offer enthusiastically.

yeah, you're so fucking obvious.

she just stares at you before looking at the paper that holds the instructions on it. "sure."

"great, awesome... here's my phone number so i can send you my address."

"mhm." she hums.

"can i finally know your name now?"

"... sae-byeok."

having her over at your house for the first time was... overwhelming to say the least. you stress cleaned the whole house, your light pink room glistening beautifully.

it got easier afterwards though, seeing her.

she finally talked to you at school, and through the project, you had learned about her ten year old brother, and her parents.

she was still blunt and dry-witted, but it became easier to understand her little by little.

your old friend group had noticed your absence, you often cancelled on them to hangout with sae-byeok after school.

sometimes she'd even bring her brother with her, and that was the first time that you realized that she trusted you.

your feelings grew, even as the project deadline had passed and you both had presented and got a good grade on it.

a part of you worried that things were going to go back to the way they were, but pleasantly they didn't.

things were going good, with your head in the clouds and most of your time being taken up by your lover girl, you were sure nothing could get better than this.

then, you were stopped in the hallway by your clique while on your way to your class.

"you've been ghosting us." one of the girls said.

"don't tell us it's for that weird girl. you know she doesn't have any friends, right?"

"c'mon, you're just making yourself look bad by spending time with her."

their cruel words bounced around in your head, and you had finally had enough.

"it doesn't matter if she doesn't have any friends or if you think she's weird. i like her. i like spending time with her. that should be enough."

things got better after cutting off your group of friends, and if sae-byeok noticed, she didn't say anything.

she honestly forgot they existed because of how much of your time had been spent with her; at lunch, at home, on the phone, or at school.

the thing about sae-byeok is that it wasn't that she was bad at expressing her emotions, it's just that she did it in a way that was different.

like buying your favorite drink while she was out, or sharing her umbrella with you if you forgot to bring one.

she would chide you of course, but there was a part of her that preened at the idea of being able to take care of you.

it was strange, having these new emotions for somebody, but she can't say that it surprised her.

she knew from the first day that she met you that you were different.

it wasn't as if she had no idea who you were, she's seen you around with your group of friends before, had seen how they treated others, had even been at the tail end of their "teasing."

but every single time without fail, you'd be right behind them, scolding them on their choices to be mean to people.

sae-byeok found it a bit redundant, seeing as though you had still hung around them, but appreciated the sentiment nonetheless.

of course she still held a grudge, and had no ambition to actually get to know you at all as a person, but that didn't mean she couldn't look at you.

admittedly, you were very pretty; with your flowy skirts and tops, and your cute little adornments.

the outside matched the inside, and so when you asked her to go to your house to work on the project, she felt that maybe... just maybe, you were worth a damn.

and she was right.

she learned your little habits, what you found funny, how genuine kindness seemed to flow through you regardless of who you were with, especially with her brother.

now, sae-byeok has never cared for any school wide function: homecoming, prom, any kind of dances really.

she's never had anyone she's wanted to take, so what was the point of going?

but you seemed very stressed about it.

sae-byeok didn't want to be that kind of person, but you would tell her anything and everything, even if she had nothing to offer you back, so surely you would tell her if you had a crush on someone, right?

she didn't like the feeling of jealousy, how it bubbles under her skin like an itch she can't scratch. it makes her irritable, and you don't deserve that.

but why can't she just muster up the courage to ask you then if it bothers her so much?

you were stressed, because not only was it time for prom, but sae-byeok had been acting weird; blowing you off, missing calls or texts, seeming distant even though you weren't even a seat apart.

you had no idea what was happening.

did she have someone else?

you know she wasn't a big fan of sharing her personal feelings, but you thought you guys were close enough to talk about your love lives.

you wanted to take her to prom so bad it made your bones ache, but you were scared.

what if she said no? even though she never implied she liked girls, she never said she didn't.

what if you've been reading the last couple of months wrong? she had been a lot more caring with the way she did things!

she would occasionally bring you your favorite drink, or even pay for your lunch when you went out.

she had even gone out of her way to put her arm around your shoulder when you cried during the notebook!

it wasn't like she was allergic to physical touch but, you guys just didn't do that.

okay, maybe you've wrapped yourself around her arm while you guys had been walking a time or two, and yeah she's even held your books when she walked you to your next class, but those things could mean anything!

you internally groaned, your head falling backwards and your eyes landing on the ceiling above you.

"hey, sae?" you forced yourself to say, lifting your head up.

wide, dark eyes looked up from her book, attaching themselves to yours. a silent gesture for you to continue.

"what do you think about prom?"

she stares another beat before looking back down, seemingly uninterested. "i think it's stupid."

"oh," you nod quietly. "well, i'm thinking about going." you see her body stiffen before feigning relaxation.

"okay."

"okay." you reiterate, any courage you had dying as quickly as it formed.

your heart breaks a little bit when you pick up your own book, tears burning in the back of your eyelids that you rapidly blink away.

she was right, maybe it was stupid.

the night of prom isn't as exciting as you wished it would have been.

you still had a handful of friends that were willing to hangout with you even though you had been cast out.

they tried their hardest to brighten up your dim mood. they didn't know much, but they probably figured it out, seeing as though sae-byeok wasn't currently glued to your side.

being all dolled up made it easier to be sad, because at least you were melancholic in a cute way.

you had been looking at your phone all night, and yet there was nothing from her.

how was it that you could feel so lonely in a room full of others?

the gymnasium was swimming with people, crowds upon crowds of them stretched from one wall to the other.

the lights were off, the room illuminated by the strobe of colors from the dj booth.

the ground was covered in confetti and balloons, and yet all you could think about was how you'd rather be anywhere than here.

couples gathered up; hands around waists, arms draped over shoulders, and backs hugged.

you picked at your freshly done nails, peeling at the glittery pink gloss.

"hey."

your eyes tore themselves away to gaze up at... sae-byeok?

"sae?" you said in disbelief. "you came!"

she shifted in place uncomfortably, it was clear she was out of her element.

you took the time to get a good look at her, and when you did, butterflies erupted in your stomach.

she was dressed in a suit, her eyes smeared with a bit of dark shadow. there was no mascara or eyeliner to be found, but it was so imperfectly her.

"why are you sitting here by yourself?"

"i -" you shook your head, smiling sheepishly. "i mean - i didn't come with anyone."

"you look pretty." she says.

"thank you." you finally give her your award winning smile, which was adorned with a shy flush.

the music slows down and you gaze at her nervously. "did you come for me?"

"why else would i be here?"

"true." you reply with a laugh.

there's a beat of music drenched in silence.

"dance with me." she says with a slight demand.

"dance with you?" you ask dumbly.

"isn't that what you do here at things like this?"

"yeah - i... yeah i'll dance with you."

she extends her long hand and you take it, your already damp body heating even more at the feeling of her skin against yours.

you can feel people staring, and you aren't sure if it's because she's wearing a suit, or if it's because you're you and she's her, but in the moment, it's the last thing you were thinking about.

your arms find themselves around her neck, and her hands land on your waist.

you're alight with nerves, your body trembling in fear, excitement, and anticipation.

you both begin to sway with no rhyme or reason, and you swallow the lump in your throat.

"sae..." you begin. you can't look at her, so you focus on the black bow-tie on her delicate neck.

"i know this is probably going to ruin everything, but i can't hold it anymore. every time i'm with you, it hurts. it hurts because of how much i love you." you ramble with a disbelieving laugh.

you can tell she's stopped moving, but she doesn't remove her hands from your waist. they don't tighten or tug you closer, they just sit on your body like dead weight.

"i'm sorry i fell in love with you, kang sae-byeok." you finally look up at her, and there are tears in your eyes. "it was just impossible not to."

her eyes are wide, disbelief swimming in her irises; but there was also hesitation, fear. she didn't know what to do, or what to say.

"when i first saw you, i thought you were the prettiest woman i've ever laid my eyes on. even if you were a bit mean about it." you laugh again wetly.

you giggle anxiously, untangling yourself from her and shrinking into yourself in defense the longer she takes to respond.

"i - i get it if you don't feel the same -"

she cuts you off by grabbing your hand, tugging you with her as she begins to walk, the soles of her torn up black converse scruffing the shined flooring.

the music dies behind you when the doors open and you're walked into the starry night outside.

"sae-byeok."

"i didn't want to do this inside." she says and when she turns to you, her eyes are glazed over.

"don't expect a big confession from me, but i like you too." she's standing like she's on the defense.

it was your turn to be in disbelief. "you do?"

"i already said i did."

you just laugh once more, and shake your head. "i don't need a big confession, sae. i just need you. just like this. just like now."

you both have a long way to go, and who knows if this is forever, but you think that's just fine.

[drowned-captain]

The Rebound - Pitfighter! Vi x Fem! Reader - Ch. 3

A/N: Writing fight scenes are HARD AND I TRIED MY BEST IMSOSORRY. SHORT AND SIMPLE I GUESS. Also I just wanna note that this fic is gonna be a semi-slow burn cause I don’t plan on ending this fic too soon. 

MDNI (18+ only).

TW// Mature themes like violence, drinking, possible drug use, infidelity, mean/triggering thoughts, BEGINNING OF TOXIC CODEPENDENCY 

Word Count: ~ 4.5k

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When the announcer calls out Violet’s name, she cracks her neck and knuckles before walking to the center of the ring. The crowd is hollering for her, and she looks around at the blinding lights. The light amount of alcohol in her system made it all less overwhelming; it’s just another day. She looks forward to beating the absolute hell out of her opponents. She needs this. She needs to blow off the steam that consumes her entire being. 

Her opponent was then called to the ring, a burly dude twice her size. He laughed at her as he took his place in front of her, looking down with a sneer. Vi puts her fists up and wrinkles her nose slightly while she glares up at her opponent. The second that the bell rings, the thug strikes first. 

Violet feels the ache of the blow onto her forearms. With a yell, she deals a blow to his gut. He snarls at her, kicking her to the floor. Violet rolls, avoiding being stomped on by the brute. She springs to her feet from a lying position, but the foe avoids her kick-up. The evasiveness of the challenger fuels her rage. It gives her a speedy boost, and the cartilage of his nose crunches upon impact, quickly speckling her face with warm crimson. He staggers backwards with his hand over his nose, leaving a window of opportunity. She uses all her might to tackle him to the floor, pinning his arms to the ground with her knees. Her fists fly to his face, painting her knuckles red. He manages to sit up, using his strength to free his arms and shove her off of him. 

The two continued to fight it out, the two of them paying no mind to the heckling of the audience.

*

“Who ya betting on?” A somewhat raspy female voice asks you. You briefly glance at the cloaked person next to you before quickly turning your attention back to Vi. 

“Vi,” you answer, your eyes glued to the fight before you. You’re at the edge of your seat struggling to keep yourself from springing to contribute to the crowd yelling at the fighters. That guy is huge! There’s no possible way that this would end well for everyone betting on Vi. 

“You seem pretty tense. You got no faith in her, or what?” she asks in a somewhat playful tone. You look at her again, but her hood is shadowing her face pretty well. You can only make out the glow of red-violet irises. 

“I haven’t placed a bet before, so I’m a little nervous,” you turn away again.

“I’ve been betting on her for a while. She almost never loses, so you’ll be fine,” the cloaked woman says with a dismissive wave of her hand, “You’ll be swimmin’ in cogs in no time!”

The crowd and yourself exclaim at the sound of Vi’s opponent’s jaw cracking. You cover your eyes, cringing at it being loud enough to hear from where you were sitting. The thud of the brute’s body onto the floor signified the end of the match. The cloaked woman laughs, jumping up from her seat and cheering at the scene. Most of the crowd cheers harder when Vi is announced the winner.

You couldn’t stop yourself from cheering at the success of the fight. You were utterly relieved that you probably would not have to resort to stealing. The audience starts to disperse to collect (or to give up) their gambled cogs.

“So, where do I go to collect the–?” you wanted to ask the woman, but she was gone. You look around in a daze, trying to find her among everyone else. When that failed, you just followed the happiest looking people in hopes that they were on their way to do what you also needed to do. 

*

Violet meets up with Loris outside of the arena. She takes the black leather jacket that he was holding on to for her, muttering a thank you before donning it. 

“You walking home this time?” He asks as they walk together against the crowd.

“Of course not. We’re going out again,” she says without even looking at him. Her eyes remained straight forward towards the path of her favorite bar.

“You don’t think we should give it a rest this time, Vi?” He asks. 

Violet scoffs and shakes her head, “No. My body and hands are fucking killing me. I need something to numb it all with.” 

Loris stays silent, not wanting to argue against it. He has tried to convince her to cut back on the alcohol before, but it mostly ended in her cussing him out for it and drinking a lot more than normal. Other times she just ignores him. This whole situation was not fine— to him, at least. Vi usually pays for his drinks which would normally make him happy, but his concern has been growing because it seems like she is indulging more and more every day. It’s been getting hard for him to watch her go down this kind of path, and she refuses to get herself out of that downward spiral.

“I might sit this one out tonight,” he says, “but I’ll be in the area to make sure you get home safe as usual.”

“Yeah, just leave,” Violet growls bitterly, shoving her hands in her pockets and walking a bit faster, “You never want to hang out anymore.”

“I’m still here for you, Vi,” he says, hovering his hand over her shoulder, but he stops himself and drops his arm to his side instead, “just be safe. Alright?” He slows his pace, watching Violet walk ahead of him. 

Loris pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs, dragging his hand down his face as he slows to a stop. He then saw that Vi had stopped in her tracks in the distance. He followed her gaze to people in line collecting their winnings. He shrugs, turning on his heel. There’s no use trying to figure out what Vi might be thinking over there.

Violet is frozen in place and absolutely fixated.

You are collecting your earnings from the bet you placed, fighting the urge to get too giddy about it. You think about going home, but the thought of your little rush of happiness crumbling into ash once you enter your apartment and remind yourself of things…

It’s better to celebrate instead. It has been a few days since you had a little drink after all. You pocket your tiny windfall of cogs and head towards that party strip of Zaun. 

You weren’t too worried about being mugged for your earnings because some people were already preoccupied with fighting each other over larger bets. You personally didn’t get too much; eight cogs can only help you win so much. You make a mental note to stay vigilant in the future once you can afford to bet a little more and win much more.

You look around the street as the neon lights reflect off of your (s/c) flesh. You didn’t have the intention of spending too much money—you have to start saving up for next month after all. Better yet, you have to start saving to at least move apartment units. That might take for-fucking-ever, but at least it would feel like a fresh start after all you’ve been through in that shitty relationship. You stand aside to let other people walk by and do a little eenie-meenie on your surroundings, and chance leads you to select that bar you visited a few days ago. Must be fate.

You cross the street towards that bar with a little pip in your step. Your mind was preoccupied with which beverage would be the best (and not too expensive) to celebrate the success with. The bouncer let you in, not seeming to recognize you. Luckily you arrived a bit early, so the dance floor and the bar were not too busy. You quickly sat at the bar before it could get any more occupied.

“I’ll start off with some water,” you say to the bartender. Zaun’s tap water was far from clean, but you didn’t want to accidentally upset your head and stomach like you did the last time. You’ll deal with your potential kidney problems when you’re older. 

You were given a plastic cup of good ol’ plain Zaun water. You took a little sip; already used to the strange aftertaste of it. You drum your fingers on the counter while you think about what kind of poison you want. 

The barstool next to you scrapes against the floor which makes you shut your eyes automatically. There were plenty of other empty seats at the bar, yet someone decided to choose the seat right next to you. On instinct, you rotate your stool just a tad to send a silent message that you were not interested. 

“Two shots of raspberry vodka,” says the voice next to you. Your eyes slowly open upon hearing that familiar voice, feeling the whoosh of air from the bartender walking by to grab some shot glasses.

You slowly turn your head, instantly recognizing Vi. You had no idea that Vi frequented this bar in particular. In fact, you didn’t expect her to even be here or in the party district at all given how brutal that fight was. Regardless, you didn’t stare. There’s no way she would remember you, right? She was absolutely intoxicated! You were pretty out of it yourself, but you were able to remember that night. A part of you felt a bit anxious about if she actually remembered the conversation you two had that almost resulted in her getting aggressive with you. You quickly glance at her again to see if her ‘handler’ was with her, but he wasn’t. Shit. 

You grab your cup of water and take another sip as you feign cluelessness.

The bartender returned with Vi’s shots, and she slid one towards you. It clinked against your water cup right when you put it down. You look at Vi, who was already in the middle of drinking her shot. She put the empty shot glass down, clearing her throat. She turns her head to look at you, her eyes calculating.

“You seem familiar,” she tells you, resting her elbows on the counter. This less shitfaced version of her didn’t seem that bad, but you did just watch her break someone’s jaw not even an hour ago.

“I don’t know a damn thing about you,” is the best response you can give her, but you say it in the most polite tone you can muster without it sounding too fake. Your statement jogs her memory a bit, and you pick up on the glimmer of recollection in her eyes. She looks at the cup of water you protectively held in your hand, her fuzzy memory of you clearing up a bit.

You grab the little shot glass that she slid to you, giving her a nod of acknowledgement, “Thank you for the shot, by the way.”

Violet glances at the water cup you set down before looking back at you again. 

“What was your name again?” She asks as you down the shot.

“(Y/n),” your tone was careful, still unsure of her intentions. Even if she was a little more sober than the first time, you shouldn’t let your guard down.

“Ah, I remember,” she says gently, “Listen, whatever I said to you the first time. I’m sorry for it. I don’t remember exactly what I told you, but…” she trails off. 

You just nod, “Thank you for your apology, Vi.”

It was so unusual to see a tough looking girl like Vi— who beat the absolute crap out of a dude who towered over her— sound so gentle and sincere. Despite her intimidating, punky appearance, she seems pretty alright.

The two of you sit in silence for a moment before she speaks up again, “So you came to watch the fight, huh?” 

You nod, taking another sip of your water.

“I honestly thought you were a goner the moment I saw that guy walk into the ring, but you ended up wiping the floor with him.”

Vi chuckles, feeling unusually shy. She has had plenty of people compliment her on her fighting, but for some reason it hit just a tiny bit different coming from you. 

Vi opened her mouth to say something, but you spoke up first, “I’m also sorry, by the way. It was rude of me to assume things about you. For all I know, you could just be having a good time every day in your routine. And… there I go again. Assuming stuff.”

But you were right the first time. Vi couldn’t remember exactly what you said before, but she remembered feeling very defensive over it. 

“Water under the bridge,” she shrugs. 

There was another moment of silence. The awkwardness was starting to make you feel uncomfortable. 

The bartender comes by and gives Vi a bottle, “Here’s your usual.”

You look at the bartender and ask him to surprise you with anything. 

Vi takes a swig of her drink, wiping her mouth afterwards. You smile a bit, trying to strike up a conversation to break the silence, “You must be pretty popular at this bar. The bartender already knows what you like.”

She shrugs, her facial expression hardening just a tad, “It’s nothing to be too proud of.”

Whoops! You weren’t sure if that insulted her. 

You then looked at her hands, then at her face, “Are you in any pain at all? You seem to keep it together pretty well.”

Violet was caught off guard by your question, “Yeah, I am,” she averts her gaze. She knows that you probably meant physical pain, but it felt good to hear somebody ask her a question like that. If only you knew about the emotional pain that she was in. She would love to talk about it; there is a sense of comfort in sharing things with a stranger after all. She wasn’t sure how to instigate that conversation. A part of her was still feeling embarrassed for how her first impression might have been to you.

You simply nod in acknowledgement, unsure what to say. Should you say sorry? Would that be weird?

The bartender returns with some kind of cocktail for you. Violet looks at it curiously, then watches you take a sip. It tasted kind of nasty, but oh well. You contemplate just leaving because it didn’t seem like Vi was receptive to conversation at the moment. But your curiosity kept you planted to the barstool. After all, Vi is going to be your ticket to keeping yourself fed and housed.

“So, what’s the secret to winning every fight? Besides being the strongest person in the ring,” you inquired.

Vi seemed to relax a bit, and you couldn’t help but notice a sense of relief in her eyes and body language, “I could tell you, but then I’d have to fight you,” she joked. You laughed a little bit, happy that Vi seems a bit more relaxed.

“I wouldn’t want your hands to hurt even more than they probably already are,” you snorted. 

The two of you sit with smiles on your faces. You try to down more of your disgusting spiked sugar water, physically recoiling after a mouthful of it. Vi snickers at your reaction to it, then curiously surveys the inside of your glass after you set it down.

“What even is that?”

“I don’t even know. Dumpster water with syrup, probably,” you explained, drinking some water.

“May I?” Vi reaches for your beverage, and you nod. After she takes a sip of your mystery drink, she puts it down and shakes her head, “Wow, yeah. That’s pretty bad.”

“Here,” you hand her your water cup. She takes a sip of your water, staining the rim of it with black lipstick. She looks into the cup of water, her face softening. 

“Hey, (y/n),” she begins, her eyes still glued to the cup of water, “Could I confide in you about something?” 

A rush of nervousness flows through you, but you tilt your head curiously.

“Sometimes I wonder if I’ll ever get out of this cycle. It's like... fighting, drinking, rinse and repeat. But nothing ever changes,” she sets the water in front of you, grabbing her own drink and rotating it in her hands. She shifts in her seat, fingers drumming against the glass. You stay quiet, waiting to see if there is anything else she wants to share.

“That’s just how I feel right now. Thanks for letting me spew that on you,” she takes a long drink from her bottle.

You look down at your own alcoholic beverage, “If I’m being completely honest with you, Vi, I came here to celebrate because I needed to celebrate. But I’m honestly not so sure what I’m celebrating anymore.”

“You’re trying to numb something, aren’t you?”

Your eyes quickly darted to Vi, your eyebrows raised in surprise, “Is it obvious?”

“You’re not the only one,” she commented, “I guess we have something in common.”

She holds out her bottle to you, and you hesitate before taking it from her and giving it a taste. It was definitely better than the concoction you were trying to stomach. 

The bar was starting to get progressively noisier, and the music was gradually being cranked up. The two of you have to lean closer together to keep on chatting. The bartender would come back with more drinks for Vi, but she seemed to be taking her time with drinking them. She was more preoccupied with talking to you.

“I guess I can say that I’m somewhat relieved to know that I’m not the only one stuck in a loop,” Vi shares. The two of you were so physically close that you were able to see some of the scars on her face. Her smeared black makeup didn’t completely hide some of her bruises. Some old, some new.

“I’ll tell you what makes me chase my tail if you tell me yours,” you bargain. 

Violet feels her guard wanting to come back up, but what the hell. It’s not like she has anything else to lose.

“Heartache and heartbreak,” she admits. Your mouth hangs open a bit. Vi looks at you expectantly as she waits for your own reason, “So what’s got you on repeat?”

“Would you believe me if I said it’s the same as yours?”

“Hah! Hurts like a bitch, doesn’t it?”

You laugh a little, surprised by her bluntness. “Yeah, it really does.”

For a moment, the two of you sit in companionable silence. The noise of the bar swirls around you both, but it feels distant, like you’re sitting in your own little bubble.

“Are you new to getting your heart broken?” you ask her. Your eyes scan over her appearance.

Vi looks down at her clothing, feeling her face heat up in embarrassment, “I’ve been heartbroken before, but this time was different. I don’t know if I’m ready to drop all the details, though. Ugh, it’s all just so stupid.”

“No it’s not,” you interject, “it really does fucking hurt. We can feel what we want to feel about it all. Sure, we can act out. Feeling is not stupid. As long as we don’t fall further than expected…”

You found yourself being somewhat of a hypocrite. Letting yourself rot at home was one thing, but now you’re looking for excuses to go out and drink rather than pulling yourself up off the floor and facing your grief head-on. And here you are giving lectures that you wished someone would tell you. But wait! You need this. You have to go out from now on, remember? Betting on Vi’s fights is supposed to help you. This is beyond your control for sure; everything is fine. 

Vi, on the other hand, hung on to your words. In a way, you made her think about what she is doing to herself. She then wondered if you, yourself have ever been a party person before your situation. She hoped that casual drinking was a part of your routine. Or are you falling into bad habits like she is?

But the truth is that neither of you were ready to separate yourselves from this kind of lifestyle. The pain of being home and alone hurt too much. 

Vi pauses for a moment before asking, “Ever think about what comes after?” Glancing at you sidelong.

“After heartbreak?” you clarify, toying with the straw in your drink.

She nods, “Yeah. Like... do you keep looking back, or do you find something to push forward?”

You take a moment, considering her question. “I think I’m still trying to figure that out. I’m just kind of stuck. But I do know that in the end, moving forward is the only choice.”

Vi hums in agreement, taking another swig of her drink. “Moving forward sounds nice. I just don’t know what the hell that looks like anymore.”

Her words hang in the air for a beat, and you feel an urge to respond, but you’re unsure how much to say. Instead, you offer softly, “Maybe it doesn’t have to be a huge leap. Just... a step at a time.”

Vi looks at you, really looks at you, her expression somewhere between skeptical and thoughtful. “A step, huh?”

“Yeah,” you say, shrugging. “Baby steps. Like... sitting here and actually talking about it with someone.”

For a second, you think she might scoff, but then her lips curve into a wry smile. “Alright, you get a point for that one.”

You search for the cogs in your pocket, leaving some on the counter. Vi watches you, her face flashing with a bit of anxiety, “You’re heading out?”

“Yeah, I gotta go home before it gets too late. Plus, it’s getting too rowdy here.”

“I can buy you another drink,” she offers, pushing your cogs towards you.

“Agh, nah. After what I was just given, I don’t think I’m in the mood for any more.”

“Let me pay for your drink, (Y/n). It’s the least I can do for your company. You shouldn’t have to pay for a drink that sucks after all.”

“Are you sure?” you ask, “You don’t have your own bills to pay?”

“I get paid pretty well in The Pit. I insist,” if her voice didn’t give her away as pleading, her eyes certainly did. Her silvery-blue irises contrasted against all the black eyeshadow she wore, making them even more intense to look at. For a person who can whoop ass, she very much had a ‘kicked puppy’ look to her.

“Fine. Just this once, though,” you stand up, waving the bartender down. 

A feeling of relief washed over Vi, “Thank you.” She wasn’t sure why she was thanking you, “Stay safe out there, alright?”

The bartender comes back with two plastic cups of water. You leave one of them with Vi.

“It seems like you have to catch up on your drinks,” you note, “better stay hydrated if you’re going to finish all those bottles.”

Vi turned her head to the counter before her. The bartender, who was already so familiar with how much Vi drinks on the daily, had left a bunch of bottles there. All but one of them were untouched. For the first time in a while, Vi felt overwhelmed with how many beverages were waiting for her. It really put things into perspective.

“Heh, right. You should remind me to drink more water next time,” she grabs the cup of water that you left her and swirls it around.

“Next time, huh?” you echo.

“Yeah, but as long as you don’t get too naggy about it,” she replies, her voice holding just a trace of warmth beneath its usual edge.

“Alright, well… be safe tonight. It really was nice talking to you, Vi.”

She huffs out a laugh, shaking her head. “I didn’t think I needed that conversation, but I did. Thank you. You as well, (Y/n).”

As you head for the exit, you can feel her gaze linger on you. Something about it leaves you wondering what she’ll do next—and whether you’re about to find yourself pulled deeper into her world.

As soon as you step out into the street, you hear Vi call out to you. When you turn around, she is squeezing her way through the crowd of strangers.

“(Y/n)! Wait, real quick. Are you coming to the next fight?” 

“Maybe!” You shrug. Of course you were going. You need the money!

“Well, if you do, let’s hang out again.”

Vi was trying to read your face. She didn’t know if she was coming off as weird or desperate. Little did she know, you were very on board with this idea. Not only do you get to have a reason to not return to the apartment, but you finally get to make a friend. 

You nod slightly, a smile creeping up on your face, “Sure. Let’s hang out again soon, Vi.”

She watches you leave before returning to her seat. Luckily nobody decided to steal it (everybody knows that they’d get torn a new one if they dare steal the champion pitfighter’s seat). Vi looked at all the unfinished bottles before her with a blank expression on her face. She decided to finish at least two more bottles, leaving the other ones untouched. After paying for her drinks and yours, she takes the cup of water with her. 

Loris was already waiting for her outside. He immediately puts a hand on her shoulder to steady her walking, but she shrugs him off and just walks her usual route. She brought the water to her mouth and drank it, but she took her time with it compared to the way she downs alcohol.

“You feelin’ alright?” he asks, observing Vi’s movements for any signs of wasted dizziness. But she seemed a little more sober than usual, which struck him odd. 

“Never better,” Vi responds. Her tone was dry, but there was something about her energy that definitely shifted. He notices the water cup in her hands but doesn’t say anything about it. 

Vi says goodnight to her friend before heading up to her little studio apartment. The door pushed away some glass bottles. The clinking noises normally wouldn’t bother her, but tonight she groaned in frustration at them. She shoves them all to a corner with her boot and silently tells herself to throw them out tomorrow. Vi passes the old, dusty cup that you gave her during the first night and she does a little double-take. With a small chuckle escaping her lips, she stacks the new one on top of the old one.

End of Ch. 3

Ch. 1 Ch. 2

Ch. 4(IN PROGRESS)

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

Taglist Cupcakes: @ren-ren23 @captain-crabbo @baylegend6

[hypnzo]

Hey, how are you? I discovered you today and I loved your writing, I was on tiktok, I saw this video (https://vm.tiktok.com/ZMk5AaFVN/) and at the time I thought of Percy Jackson, I would like to know if you could write something for Percy based on this video, please

Underwater with you : “Well that went horrible.”

Percy Jackson x Reader

Warning !! : English is not my first language and there might be possible mischaracterization.

(hello, I'm fine! Thank you for asking and thank you for liking my content :) ♡)

You love your boyfriend, really you do, but as you utter out those words the more it felt like you were just trying to convince yourself to not completely lose it.

You adore his sarcastic remarks, his stupid-yet-lovable grin that is always plastered on his face, you stayed with each and every side he's shown you and yet...

You look to the side, you see Percy pumping up the inflatable swimming pool that he insisted you both bring like it was some sort of raft.

As you made your way to him, he stopped pumping for a few seconds to look at you—his earlier expression that was full of focus was replaced with endearment and softness the moment he laid his eyes on you.

“Hey pretty,” his voice filled with warmth and you couldn't help but bite the inside of your lips out of guilt for even being annoyed at this man.

You couldn't deny that the moment his eyes held onto your gaze, you felt your annoyance melt away, breaking into a soft sigh that you let out of your system.

“Are you really planning on doing this?” you couldn't help but ask for confirmation while you crossed your arms and raised a brow at him.

“Of course,” he says, making his few last pumps before tightly sealing the floaty from suddenly deflating, “besides, what is there to be scared of? Water is practically my father's domain, I say we got this.”

“I say this is absolutely idiotic, Percy.” you looked at him, not out of irritation, but out of amusement. You couldn't stifle your chuckle for any longer, especially not when he's looking at you like that.

“What's so funny?” he raised a brow, tilting his head to the side before he leaned in against you, sliding his hands on your waist to cup your sides.

“Do you really want to do this?”

“Definitely.”

“And–” he cuts off your words with a soft press of his lips against yours before he assures your concern.

“And if somehow we end up in the waters, we'll let the floaty get lost in the ocean, and I will save you.”

“...Fine.”

Somehow Percy managed to get you to hop onto his idea... You weren't the going to lie about how much you regretted for agreeing with his antics, but it was far too late.

You both are already being driven by the ocean water, far away from the land, however thanks to Percy, he occasionally plays with the water currents, changing the direction of the waves to whichever direction you choose.

“Where to now, pretty?” he says, his hands linger on the water as his gaze made it way into your eyes.

“East.”

And that Percy followed as the changed pressure and directions of the waves floated you both to the east side.

The sea breeze felt amazing whenever it brushed against your skin. The wind blew highly but it was neither too humid or too cold to bear, thankfully it sailed just right.

Everything felt nicely done. It was silly, sweet, fun, and you couldn't deny the smile it brought to your lips. Percy just knew how to company and ground you with his presence in the best way.

“Do you like it?” he murmured against your head and he planted a soft kiss on your head, down to your temple.

“Perhaps.”

“Is it because of me?” he accidentally let out a giggle, but that didn't stop him from nudging you lightly and wiggling his eyebrows.

You couldn't stifle your smile even if you tried, so you decided to just look away while your lips tugged slightly at its corners, “you're such a weirdo,” you muttered out but your tone lacked its annoyance.

“I'm not hearing a no,” he teased in a sing-song tone, which made you both laugh in your place. “I know you love me, angel.”

“Of course you do.” you raised an eyebrow but leaned against him, before you continued, “Well, it is fun.”

“With?”

“...With you,” you smiled and pinched him lightly on the arm before you press a soft kiss on his cheek.

“I knew it.” his grin widened as he squeezed your arm in exchange for your light pinch on his arm.

While you both decided to buy some time by just chatting about randomly things and how your whole week has been, it seems like the ocean has been eyeing on the two of you without notice.

Percy, out of the blue, suddenly pulled out a laptop and placed it on his lap. It looked a little too much like the literal laptop which perked up your concern.

“Isn't that going to send our signals to the monsters?”

“No, not really. It functions just the same as a laptop would, but it doesn't send our signal.”

“...How can you say so?” you raised a brow at him, feeling a bit skeptical.

“Well, Leo made it...” he scratched his head, “I think that says a lot about this laptop.”

“I guess so.” you glanced at the laptop and back at him, leaving a sigh out of your system.

“Let's have a little trust in Leo, yeah, pretty?” he says, pressing his lips to your temple once more.

“But why did you bring that to our date?”

“I thought maybe we could watch some movies while the ocean strolls us to wherever it feels like.”

...

“Seriously?” you couldn't help but let out a light chuckle out of amusement, because of how silly the thought in process was.

“Seriously.” he tried to sound serious, but failed to stifle in his laughter, so you both just point out how silly his idea was. However, you weren't going to lie about how sweet it was of him for even deciding to plan this whole date out.

Percy managed to pack some popcorn for you two to snack on, with him occasionally insisting he feeds you some of the popcorn to which you obviously declined him from doing.

Everything was going great—Percy was beside you, it was peaceful, and relaxing. It felt like it was soothing you away from the amount of things piled up on your control, letting you rest yourself for a tiny bit.

But it seems like the ocean read your thoughts and decided to jinx your thoughts in process just to spite you and your day.

You both didn't realize the giant wave that was coming in close, forming its way to the both of you, while the two of you were distracted by the movie to realize what was happening.

“No way he did that.” Percy muttered out quietly, eyes perched on the laptop, while occasionally popping out a popcorn in his mouth, yet somehow his attention never left you.

Minutes went by and you lost focus on the movie when you suddenly felt the floaty rocking back and forth a little too much for comfort and that was when you realized the giant wave about to topple the both of you off of the floaty.

You swore you heard your stomach drop and saw just how pale you've gotten when you saw it coming closer and closer...

“Percy.”

“Yeah, angel?” he blinked his attention off of the movie to look at you. Seeing your expression, he glanced at the direction you were looking at.

“Oh.”

Percy wasn't able to control it as much due to the water already making its way and immediately knocked the two of you out of the floaty, leaving you stranded on the water, but you'd be lying if you said you weren't more concerned about his laptop.

“Percy!” you shouted to try and look for him. As you paddled with your feet and hands, suddenly you felt someone wrap their arms around your waist, enveloping you fully with their warmth.

“Percy.” your voice lowered when you realized it was him. His hair was wet and he had that sheepish grin of his perked out on his lips.

“I told you.”

“I know you did.” he chuckled lightly as his words were murmured on your shoulder before he pressed a soft kiss on your neck.

Without a word, he gently dragged you underwater, his hands holding you close which felt a lot like reassurance.

You blinked hesitantly but when you opened your eyes, you could see clearly without the water pressure stinging your eyes.

Breathing became easy as well and you knew it was all thanks to your boyfriend. Suddenly, he pressed a soft kiss on your cheek as he let out some bubbles which made both of you chuckle.

“What happened to your laptop?”

“Is that really what you're more worried about, sweetness?” he raised a brow with his usual grin that complemented his obvious amusement from your question.

“Well.. what happened?” you say as you rested your forehead against his, holding yourself onto his shoulders.

“Well, what happened was,” he started, tightly holding your waist a little more before he continued, “you were my main focus and I let my laptop drown, as well as letting the floaty mindlessly drift of far into the ocean.”

“You're an idiot.”

You felt him tuck your hair behind you ear, letting the comfortable silence linger a little bit more, before he pressed his lips against yours, the bubbles forming into a tiny heart that rose and popped as it launched itself upwards.

“Let's get back on land, yeah?” he says, ending the kiss with a peck on your cheek.

He started to paddle through, his hold still strong onto you, as you both rose up from the waters and you saw the land was nearby.

Percy twirled you once more under the water before you both floated up, gently setting you down on the land as you both laughed about the day.

“This day was silly...” you smiled softly while you traced some patterns on the sand.

“I'd say you loved it.” he giggled out, tucking your hair behind your ear, pressing his hands on the side of your cheek.

“Of course I did.” you spoke as you leaned into his touch which felt so natural to do. Without another word spoken, Percy leans in and traps a much slower kiss onto your lips while his hold on you remained.

“You look beautiful.” he looked deeply into your eyes, his tone revealing a hint of endearment that made you feel giddy.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

[fashionteahouse]

i wonder - edward cullen x reader

<<prev >>next

As you tossed and turned you thought you were going crazy.

It was normal to think of someone, but you’ve never experienced someone taking up your entire mind.

You hadn’t touched your keyboard. You only stared at it. You haven’t played since your fingers knew what the Cullen’s grand piano had felt like. You look down at your fingers before closing them into fists. You wonder how much things had changed.

Walking outside, bundled up, you slightly jump from the sight of Edward, once again leaning against his car.

Waiting for you.

“Oh! Hello.” your parent greets beside you.

“Hello. Do you mind if I take Y/N to school today?” he asks politely. You watch the scene unfold without saying anything.

“I don’t mind.” they reply as they look at you, look at him.

“Are you ready?” Edward takes his eye contact and puts it in your direction. You just nod.

Your parent tells you they will see you later before adding, “Young man you shouldn’t stand outside in the cold like that. You will get sick.”

“I have a very strong immune system.” he says with a grin and your parent does nothing but shake their head and mutter, “You kids.”

Edward opened and closed your passenger door for you.

You silently just hold your hands to the hot air that flowed out of the vents. He didn’t say anything either.

You slowly would take looks from the corner of your eye before watching the snowy road in front of you.

No words were said, but he still walked you to your locker to put your coat away.

You tried very hard to focus. You looked down on your eraser covered quiz that the teacher had issued. You sigh to yourself as you brushed the eraser crumbs away.

Lab day.

You looked next to you, your lab partner was absent.

“Y/N?”

You look up to your teacher after you had collected the necessary materials for the day’s lab.

“Yes?”

“Your partner isn’t here. Do you want to work by yourself or do you want to join a group? It’s up to you.”

“Um…” you say and slowly take in your options. Other partners started to already get to work, the small chatter swirled in the science environment.

“By myself.” you say.

“Okay.” they reply with a soft touch to your shoulder and walk to another group, checking up on what they’re doing.

You write your name on the worksheet.

“Can we work together?” you hear and you immediately look up.

Edward’s eyes weren’t shy as he peered down at you.

“S-sure.” you say. You watch his body move to sit in the spot your partner usually sits in.

He then takes control, doing most of the work as he lowly tells you the answers.

“I could’ve helped. I’m not entirely useless.” you whispered as the teacher told a group to stop goofing off.

A small chuckle comes out and he says, “I know. I just want to get done faster.”

“What’s the rush?”

He shrugged before looking at you and you look down.

“Is something wrong?”

You shake your head.

“Then what is it?”

“It’s nothing..Am I..Acting like something’s wrong?” you ask as you write down the answers that he pushed in your direction.

“It’s just…You aren’t your talkative self.”

You just nod silently.

“I have a lot on my mind.” you say.

“What is it?” he immediately asks.

“Nonsense. Things that aren’t really all that important.” you brush off.

“I have a lot on my mind as well.” he says after you both looked at the scale and write down the ounces.

“What is it?” you ask.

He sighed softly, only a bit before looking at you with a soft grin, “Why did you really stop playing yesterday?”

You sit back in your chair a bit, “Because..” you say with a shrug, “I wasn’t trying to make it seem like I was a show off or anything.”

“That was your moment to be a show off.”

“Well..It’s over now.”

“It doesn’t have to be.”

You look at him in question just as the bell for the first half of class ending, rings.

As students went to their lockers and used the bathrooms, you and Edward stayed seated at the lab table.

“What are you doing after school?”

“I have a piano lesson today.” you tell him.

It seemed as though Edward tried to think of something else to say.

“After that?”

“Going home…” you say with a slight shrug.

The class resumed after the small break. The teacher closed the door back.

“Are..Are we finished?” you ask as Edward takes both of your completed worksheets in his hand.

He nods and placed the sheets in the bin. The teacher grins a bit and goes back to typing on their open laptop.

You then pull out homework.

“Where did you move from?”

You tell him.

“That’s not far…” he mused and you nod.

“Has it always been one parent?”

“Divorce.” you answer in a small voice as you fly through the homework. You just did not feel like doing it later.

“Where are you going to college?”

You pause your writing and look up at him with a pitiful expression. He’s amused by this.

“I really don’t want to talk about all of that right now.”

You’ve heard enough of it at home.

“May I ask why?” he asks.

“It’s just..Not my priority right now, alright? I…” you say and look down to the pencil that’s clutched in your hand, “I don’t even know what I’m going to major in, let alone choose a school.”

“Music.” he says as if it’s very obvious.

“I’m afraid it’s not a safe career option.” you say.

His eyebrows furrowed a bit, “Why isn’t it?”

“I guess my lovely parent has nightmares of me being a homeless but talented musician.” you mutter. This makes him laugh a bit.

Walking side by side in the halls, he stops before the cafeteria is in view.

“Skip your lesson.”

You whip around at him as if he was crazy. He just plainly stared at you.

“Why on Earth would you ask me to do that?” you ask.

“We can work on your song for your competition recording.”

“That’s why I going to my lessons.” you say and nudge his arm.

“I can teach you superb notes to play. Something that isn’t repetitive.” he insisted.

“You don’t even know the song I’m playing.” you say.

The people you sit with at lunch walks past, questions that you know you will have to answer to at the table, is painted on their faces.

“Tell me.”

You tell him.

He shakes his head slightly, showing disapprovement.

“Come on..That’s elementary for your skill level.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. I’m not skipping my lesson. Plus, I don’t want to get trouble when I’m supposed to be there and I don’t show up because I was getting my own special lesson from you.” you say and you walk away at that.

They did ask what you two were talking about.

“We had to work together in science today. It’s nothing.” you wave off.

A new chapter was taught in history. In the dark room that was lit up from the teacher’s screen, showing what needed to be wrote down, the class took notes. Jasper was back in his seat in the back of the class.

You slid your coat on and watched as Edward stood in front of you. He did something that surprised you.

He extends his arms and zips your coat up for you. You blinked.

“Thanks.”

He only nods.

“Here to convince me?” you poke at him.

“It seems you have your mind made up.” he says.

He tells you goodbye as you walk to the car that your parent was in.

As they drive, you notice that you’re going in the direction of your home, not to the place where the lesson was held.

“Where are you going?” you ask.

“We have to talk.” they tell you.

“Okay..”

“I feel like we should pull back from lessons-“

“What?”

“Y/N, sit back.” they say as they take a glance at you.

“No.” you say. They give you a look. You sit back.

“Why? Why are you doing this to me?” you ask desperately.

“You need to be more focused on what you’re going to do with your life.”

You cross your arms as you felt like you were going to cry.

“I know what I’m going to do with my life…Just please don’t take this away from me. Please!” you beg.

“What are you majoring in?” they ask as you both come to a stop at a red light.

You didn’t have an answer. You couldn’t blurt out an answer because they will hold you to it.

“See? Maybe this summer we can put you back in but for right now-“

“This summer?! That’s like…” you quickly count on your fingers, “Five months from now! What am I going to do until then?”

“Study. Really get down into what you are going to go to school for. If you’re going in my profession, I can start pulling some strings now but otherwise, get some letters of recommendations ready so you’re not scrambling all around last minute. Then, we gotta start doing tours of schools. There’s a lot to be done Y/N and now’s the time to start getting prepared. You can always tinker around with your piano once your business is taken care of.”

You slump back in your seat and let the rest of the lecture go in one ear and out the other. It was completely unfair.

You press down on your keyboard sadly as you couldn’t think of giving it up.

You barely spoke in the morning as you got dropped off at school. Your parent still wished you a good day. You were planning to have the most terrible day.

“How was your lesson?” Edward asks as you shoved your belongings in the locker and slam it shut.

“No more lessons until the summer. Yay me.” you say and storm off. He keeps up.

“Why?”

“Because.” you huff out angrily, “Because..Apparently it’s only pleasure and not at all business.”

“I’m sorry..” he says.

You give him a quizzical look, “Why are you apologizing?”

He opens and closes his mouth and opens it again, “It’s unfortunate..”

You nod and start to go inside of the classroom but his hand touches the hand that was at your side. You look at him.

“We can practice after school.”

You shake your head.

“Nah..”

“Why not? Isn’t that what you want?” he asks.

“It is but…You’ve done enough as it is.” you tell him.

You felt his eyes watch as you walk to your seat and sit down.

Quizzes were passed back. You read the score.

“6/10”

Your teacher leans down to quietly speak to you, “I know you can do better than that.”

You nod.

Your acting skills were then put to the test when your lab partner gushed to you about why they missed the day before. A college tour.

The teacher walks in and everybody has a seat and new notes on the new lesson were taken.

Edward walked to the spot you two always sit, in the back of the library but you walked in another direction.

You needed time to think. You sat by yourself as you stuck your headphones in and listened to music quietly.

You felt a hand touch your shoulder.

Taking them out, you look up to find Edward.

“Study hall is over.”

You rise and he actually waits as you gather your things.

“Kind of sucks you are a year below me. You have more time to figure things out, if you haven’t already.” you say. A small grin appears on his face, “What makes you think I might have things figured out?”

You take a quick look at him as you both walk in the halls, “You just look it.”

“Look it?”

“Yeah. Like…You have yourself together.”

“Like I have myself together.” he mused.

“Correct.”

“What else do I look like?”

You chuckle a bit, “You just…I don’t know you just seem mature. Especially for your age.”

“I’m mature for my age?”

“Are you just gonna repeat everything I say?” you ask with a smile.

“Maybe..” he says and the brunette that you have seen around, looks in both of your direction. She prolongs her eye contact before books slide out of her hands.

You watch as a boy eagerly picks them up. You look to see that Edward was watching the scene unfold right with you.

You then continue walking.

“She’s not my friend.”

That’s what played in your head. You don’t know why it stuck out to you but it kept replaying as you ate your lunch.

“I wonder if he’s lying.” you thought in your head but you then wondered why you even cared if he was or not. It’s not like you liked him or anything. You just thought he had a good looking face.

“Is Edward Cullen dating Bella Swan?” you couldn’t help but blurt out at the table.

A girl next to you looks at you with a snigger, “As if. I’m surprised a Cullen is even talking to you.”

“Why?” you ask.

“They talk to no one. They would be freaks if they were ugly. That’s what makes them so interesting. Rich, smart, good looking, good family, but they never talked to anyone here.”

“Edward talked to Bella.” you point out.

“Yeah for like a second. Then, it went back to him being to himself.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. She almost got crushed by some van and apparently he was there beside her when it happened.”

So, that’s why they were both at the hospital. That’s why the nurses commented on it being hectic that day.

“Huh.” you replied in thought.

“Yup. Some kid named Tyler who couldn’t control his own van. The van was skidding down ice and everything. She’s so lucky she didn’t get crushed. The paramedics came and everything.”

“Wow. I came right after all of the excitement.” you comment and laughs circled around the table.

You felt a nudge after you walked out of the cafeteria.

You look and display a grin.

“Hey, Alice.”

“Hey, you.” she says and she’s skipping at your side, linking her arm with yours.

“Wanna come over after school?”

You sigh a bit, “I really wish I could. I got a lot of work to do.”

“You do? It was a pretty relaxed day, at least for me.” she says.

It felt like she caught you in a lie.

“It-Its not homework. Honestly..Can I be honest?” you ask. She nods as she encouraged you. You wanted to say what was on your mind but you couldn’t form the words. You opted for something else instead.

“I don’t think I can come over today. I have to start researching for schools. I don’t feel like hearing another lecture.” you say in a tone that screamed pity.

She smiles a bit, “Why don’t we do so together? I might need ideas.”

“Darn you.” you say with a slight point, “Why do you have to have an answer for anything?”

She laughs as Jasper says hello to you. You both walk into the classroom together after you greet him back.

In your last class of the day, you let your parent know that you won’t be needing a ride home.

Edward was there when you came out of the classroom. You nod a greeting.

“Alice told me you’re coming over.” he says as you both walk to your locker.

“Yeah.”

“What changed your mind?”

You open your locker and don’t say anything.

“She asked me. We are researching schools together.”

He snorts. You look at him.

“Alice had her school picked out since forever.”

“So she lied?” you deadpanned.

“I wouldn’t say she lied. You said you wanted to research schools. She offered to do so together. She can still research schools with you even with her own picked out.”

You shrug on your coat and your coat is zipped up from him. He opens his hand. You look at it. You watch as it moves towards your backpack and he eventually holds it in his hand.

You place your hands in your pocket.

“You never wear one.” you observed.

He doesn’t say anything.

Sitting at the family computer, you were bored. You were more interested in Alice’s conversation than the descriptions of what a school was offering on the big screen.

“Fashion?”

She nods.

“You’re so lucky your parents are letting you major in that.” you say.

Her eyebrows furrowed a bit, “You have your music.”

“Yeah but..” you then shake your head, “Not to go get a degree for. I’ve been told, it’s pretty much useless.”

“Nonsense!” she says.

“Exactly.” you sigh out.

“She can’t take lessons anymore.” you hear Edward’s voice speaks out.

“What?!”

You giggle at her outburst.

“Y/N, I’m sorry.” she says.

“You weren’t the one who took it away from me. I will be okay.” you say.

Jasper comes into the computer room, peeking his head in.

“Alice are you ready?”

“Coming.” she says and turns back to you and gives you a quick hug before following him out.

“Where are you going?” you ask.

“We’re visiting a..Family member. Edward..Are you coming?”

You watch him shake his head.

“See you.” Alice says and grabs Jasper’s hand.

The room was silent and you scroll a bit before looking at Edward who was watching you.

“Why didn’t you go?” you ask.

“Didn’t want to.” he says. You nod and look back at the screen.

“You said you wanted to hear me play.” he says.

“Uh huh.” you say.

“Come on.” he says and you see that he’s leaving out. You exit out of the browser and follow him.

He pats the spot next to him on the bench. You sit as you concentrate on his fingers.

It was like an orgasm for your ears. Your eyes were stuck to his fingers. His fingers moved with such speed and precision. The music that produced from him and his piano was the most loveliest sound that your ears had ever heard.

When the song was over, he played around with some notes. It reminded you of a hotel lobby.

“I’m not ready at all.” you whisper.

“What?” he asks with a small chuckle.

“There’s definitely going to be people who play like that.”

“I doubt it.” he quietly but confidently says.

You don’t say anything and you press on the weighted key with one finger.

“Do you want me to teach you that song?” he asks.

You look at him with wide eyes.

“What song?” you ask. He chuckles again.

“The song I just played.”

“Yeah, right.”

“It is a competition. It’s about being the best.” he says.

You shrug a bit.

“When’s the deadline?”

“Next month.”

He nods, “Okay. That should give us enough time.”

“I didn’t say yes.”

“But you want to.”

You retract your hand from the keys.

“How did you get so good?” you question.

“Years and years of practice.”

“You…Not to give you a big head, but you play very good. Like, better than some composers I’ve heard.”

He smiles as he looked at the keys.

“You let me teach you, you’ll win. What’s the prize? Money? Scholarship? What?”

“Money but, I don’t really care about it. I just wanted to be able to have the experience of winning something like that…I want to be able to say, well hopefully say, ‘I won that.’” you admit. He doesn’t say anything but you can tell he soaked in your words. You look away from his gaze.

“You do that a lot.”

“Do what?” you ask and glide your finger across the keys one time.

“You don’t like looking at me.” he says.

You pause your movements.

“What do you mean?” you ask quietly.

“I mean that you don’t like looking at me. You look away from me all the time.”

You shrug, “I’ve never noticed.”

“You’re not even looking at me now.”

You breathe of a small laugh but you still don’t meet his eyes.

“That doesn’t mean I don’t like looking at you.”

“Do you like looking at me?”

“I don’t…Know.” you answer honestly.

“I like looking at you when I’m talking to you.”

You don’t say anything. You instead shift a bit in your bench. You slowly look to him and his expression is warm but he took in your face. His eyes moved about subtly as you both blinked at each other.

You look away with a small but breathy chuckle.

“You did it again.” he says.

“We didn’t talk.” you reply.

“We’re talking right now.”

“You’re intense..” you comment.

“Is that bad?”

“I don’t know.” you answer honestly.

He taught you the beginning part. He made you do it over and over and advised you to practice when you got home. It definitely was a challenge.

“Thank you teacher Edward.” you joke.

He zipped your coat up and smiled, “You’re a very good student.”

You walk out of his house and you look to him, “You zip my coat up but you never thought to zip yours up?”

“I’m not cold.”

“Edward, are you sick in the head or something?”

He laughs. Laughs as if it was a joke made by a comedian.

He opens the car door up and you sit in the car.

He drops you off and before you get out, “Can I pick you up tomorrow?”

Your backpack is in your lap and you say, “It’s fine. You and your siblings have been good to me. I won’t ask you to do too much.”

“It’s not too much on my part, Y/N.” he says and the look on his face was sincere. You just nod.

Over dinner, you had to explain yourself.

“We were studying.”

“Did you study for schools?”

You groan as you set your fork down.

“Yes. I did.”

“Okay. What school?”

“I want to major in music.”

Their own fork clatters as they look at you.

“Y/N. We are not having this talk again.”

“It’s my passion.” you say.

“I know that-“

“Do you? I don’t want to work a job where I’m unhappy.” you say as you poke at your food.

“I don’t think you should hang around that boy anymore.”

“Really?” you ask.

“It’s like you’re distracted.”

“How? My homework’s done, I’m doing what you’re asking, please don’t strip my entire life from me.”

They don’t say anything.

You worked your fingers with your keyboard with your headphones plugged in.

Newfound determination came out as you practiced.

So that’s how it went.

He would pick you up from school, walk you to your classes, you would look up in science as you worked with your lab partner and catch him staring, and he would walk you to his car after school.

You both worked together on the song he was teaching you. He was mature with his criticism. It felt like you were in an actual lesson and he was an actual teacher. He knew his stuff.

You felt yourself improve each day. Your time at the Cullens lengthened to the point, you wondered how come you never seen them eat dinner.

The sky was darkened, mostly due to the ending of daylight savings time and you sat quiet in the passenger seat.

“What’s wrong?”

You look to him focused on the road and you shake your head, “Nothing’s wrong.”

“You haven’t said anything since we left my house.” he says.

“Just…I’m just…Do you and your family eat?” you blurt out.

You watch as his lip curled up in amusement.

“Yes. We eat.”

“You guys must eat really late.”

“Yeah.”

“What’s your favorite food?” you ask.

“You wouldn’t like it…I’m a vegetarian.”

You eyed him but didn’t say anything else.

You reach for the door but he calls your name.

“Yeah?” you answer.

He’s hesitant, but he forces it out, “Next week, after we record your solo, can I take you to dinner?”’

“As…Friends?” you ask.

“Whatever you want.”

“I’ll think about it.” you say with a smile. He formed his own as he watched you walk inside your home.

It was surprising. You dreamed about playing the piano. You dreamed about playing the piano with Edward.

You yawned a little as you felt him put an arm around you as you both walked the halls.

“You didn’t get sleep?”

“Not really.” you say quietly and looked at his limp hand that was attached to the arm that was around you.

At lunch, the question was dropped like a bomb.

“Are you and Edward dating?”

“No. We’re just friends.” you say casually as you bit into your lunch.

Giggles circled and you furrowed your eyebrows, “What?”

It was a study hall day, you and Edward sat really close to each other in the back of the library.

“People are thinking we are dating.” you say with a straight face.

He slowly grinned.

“I heard that too.” he says.

“I don’t want you to think I’m trying to make our friendship weird. I really appreciate all that you’re doing for me. Same with Alice and everyone else.” you say.

“So, have you thought about what I asked you?” he asks and you look down from his eyes.

“Um..Not really. I’ve been too tired…To really think.” you say.

“If you don’t want to, just say no.” he says.

“When I say I don’t know, it means I’m not sure if I want to or not.”

“What makes you so unsure?”

You just stare at your hands.

“Why did you give me that song out of all songs?” you ask, changing the subject.

He notices but goes along with it, “It reminds me of you. It fits you.”

“Whatever that means.” you say with a slight chuckle.

“It’s true.” he answered.

The week went by fast. Too fast.

It was the weekend. He waited outside of your home as you got into his car on an early afternoon.

You aimed the camera at you as it stood up tall on the camera stand.

You wring your fingers a bit before looking at him. His hands are in his pockets as he looked at you.

“I’m..Kinda nervous. This never happened before.” you admit.

“Just pretend you’re in your room by yourself.”

You nod and walk to the piano.

He stands by, ready to hit record.

You roll your shoulder back before positioning yourself and gave him a slight nod to let him know that you were ready.

He gave you a small thumbs up and you play with determination.

You surprised yourself as you owned the keys on the grand piano. You were thankful that he let you use his. The weighted keys were pressed down as the musical sounds filled the room. Your eyes followed your fingers and you were focused. The nervousness that you felt earlier rolled off of you by each second.

When you were finished, you look up to see a small smile and a small clap.

“You hit it right on the nose.”

“Thanks.” you say as you scratch the back of your neck.

Nothing was said as you scooted off of the bench and walk to the camera that was currently in his hands.

“I thought about it.” you say. He meets your eyes.

“Thought about what?”

“We can…Sit down for dinner. Thank you for letting me use your piano.”

“I told you, you were free to use it.” he says but his smile didn’t fade as he broke down the camera stand.

You nod and sit on the sofa as you watch the video of you.

“Are you proud of yourself?” he asks.

A small smile formed, “Yes.”

The rest of the Cullens made conversation with you as you lounged in their home.

You found out that they had traveled to different cities. They had great stories to tell.

You noticed they all had the same eye color. Questions ran deep.

Edward reached and opened the door for you as you walk in.

“Table for two.” he holds up two fingers.

You stare at his glass of water, untouched.

“This smells really good.” you say as the waiter sets your plate down. “Are you sure you’re not ordering anything?” you ask.

“I’m okay. I ate a big breakfast.”

As you chewed slowly, you began to think.

You swallow.

“Edward…Do you…Have an eating disorder?” you ask quietly.

“No.” he says with a smile. A bit of relief forms in you but you’re still confused.

“I’ve been with you almost all day and not once have I seen you eat. Or your family.”

“We just…Have a special diet is all. But really, I’m okay. I ate right before I picked you up.”

You nod.

Valentine’s day rolled around. People walked the halls with small teddy bears and candy from their own relationships.

You open your locker with your coat in hand.

The teddy bear was as big as the space in your locker. You look to Edward. He looks to you.

“This from you?” you ask. He nods.

You hold it up with two hands. The smile stretched across your face.

You set it back in your locker. You hug him. He hugged you back.

“You shouldn’t have.” you say to him with a grin.

“Do you like it?”

“Yes. I love it. Thank you.” you say. Your eyes then look about and you see people are walking past and staring.

“Is there something on me?” you ask in a whisper. You don’t remember dropping toothpaste on your clothes that morning.

“No.” he says with a slight chuckle.

You close your locker after making sure the bear was safe.

“Then, why are people staring?” you ask in another whisper.

You both start to walk and he puts his hand around your back and places his hand on your arm to pull you close, “They’re just curious. You have nothing to worry about.”

A dance was coming up in May.

You had no plans of going. That’s all your lunch table talked about.

“It’s girls ask guys. Are you asking Edward?”

“No. I don’t even want to go.”

“What?!” the entire table asks.

You shrug.

“You’re just going to do nothing but sit in your room?”

“Whatever.” you say as you playfully roll your eyes.

“We have no lessons today.” you say as Edward wasn’t going in the direction of your home.

“I know.” he says. You sit back in your seat.

You sat next to him on his couch in your room after you both finished homework.

“You don’t have a bed?” you ask as you noticed something missing.

He looked around.

You looked around with him.

“Are you going to the dance?” he asks changing the subject.

You look to him and shake your head.

“Why not?” he genuinely asks. You shrug, “We’re just going to be seeing the same people that we see everyday but just in different clothes.”

He chuckles at that.

“It’s your high school experience.”

“If you want me to ask you, just say that.” you say with a grin.

The look that displayed on his face make your heart thump, making you almost retract your statement due to nervousness.

“I want you to ask me.”

“Do we…Go as friends?” you ask.

“We could.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

He gets up and holds out his hands.

You eyed him as you get up as well, placing your hands in his cool ones.

“Does it bother you that your hands are cold?” you ask.

He shakes his head, “I’m used to it.”

His thumbs brush the back of your hands that made you let out a small breath, you look up to him. He was looking down at your hands but slowly looks up into your eyes.

Soon, he keeps one of your hands in his and placed one of his hands on your back.

“What are you doing?” you ask as you grinned.

He twirled you as if you both had done this time and time again.

“We should practice.”

You both slow danced and you both were amused.

He gave you a hug when you were about to unlock your front door.

“You should get in your car. You will get sick.”

“I’ll be okay.” he says near your neck.

Weeks rolled by slowly. Your dreams were consisting of more and more of Edward. You seen him basically everyday. Even on weekends.

You sat up late in the night. Your heart thudded.

You dreamed that you both kissed. Your mind was distracted.

You stopped raising your hand in class. It was as if he infected your mind to only think of him.

The teachers took notice.

At lunch, your friends invite you to Port Angeles for clothes shopping for the dance.

As you waited for one friend to get out of the dressing room, you thought about changing your mind.

It was to the point where your heart started to race when you were near him. Even when you thought of him.

Your first acceptance letter that came in the mail made your parent let off of your back.

“See? This is a great school too.” they say with a pat on your back. You nod.

You received an email. Stating that you won. You blinked at it.

You gasp and run to your parent.

“I won!”

“Won what? A scholarship?” they ask.

“No. The piano competition. I won.”

“Oh. That’s nice.” they say.

“I’m getting a check in the mail soon.”

“Good. You can put it towards your schooling to get the things that you need.” they start to stay on that topic. You tuned them out.

You nervously pace as you clicked on his contact. One ring.

“Hello?”

“Thank you. Thank you so much.” you just say.

“You’re welcome….What did I do?”

“I won.” you say with a smile. He congratulated you, telling you that he knew you had it in you.

“I’m not coming to school tomorrow.” he tells you.

“Oh. Why?”

“Family emergency. I’ll see you after though.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

It was like you were in a daze. The entire family did not show up. The teacher’s words morphed together. It was as if you were in a time warp.

You hugged the large teddy bear that he had given you when you got home. You didn’t know if you were going crazy but it freshly smelled like him. The bear rested right under your nose.

The weekend came and he calls you.

“I want to take you somewhere.”

“Okay.” you tell him.

The meadow was beautiful. You had to tell yourself to breathe. You felt his cool hand interlaced with yours and you let him tug you.

“How do you find something like this?” you ask.

“I like to explore.” he says quietly.

He pulled you to him as he took both of your hands. He looked down at you.

He brings you in closer with both arms around your shoulders, you look up to him.

“I have to tell you something.” he says quietly. You nod.

His gaze burns into yours, “I don’t want to go to the dance as friends.”

“That’s okay…I didn’t really want to go anyway.” you say. He chuckles softly before shaking his head. He then straighten out his facial expression.

“I still want to go with you. Together.” he confirmed.

“As in…?”

He only blinked as he peered down at you. You look away as you notice that you two were in a tight embrace.

The next day, he knocked on your door.

You let him in with a grin.

You both hug. You then take his hand and your parent allowed you to go with him and his family to play baseball.

“Isn’t it going to rain?” they ask him as Edward zipped your coat up.

“We’re trying to stick a game in before it does.” he answered. He takes your hand and you’re following him to his car.

In the clearing area, the sounds of thunder was from the sky.

Alice grins, “It’s time.”

You thought that you were dreaming. There was just no way an average person could leap that high or run that fast. You had no words. You were very impressed and entertained.

The soft drizzle of rain dropped down as Alice threw the ball with a fast whizz. You heard thunder but instead of quick flashes of lightening strikes, you look up in the sky and see Edward and Emmett slam into each other. They’re on the ground laughing.

Alice throws, Rosalie is at the plate and cracks the ball with the bat. Once again, the loud struck of thunder surrounds the field but you knew it came from them.

“Y-you’re out.” you tell Rosalie. She gets up and whispered, “You could’ve let me slide with that one.”

“Cheating! You’re out!” Emmett says with a joyous grin. She flashed him an annoyed look.

“It’s just a game, babe!” he says.

You shrug with a soft smile as you help her brush the dirt off of her pants.

Jasper steps to the plate next and flips his bat impressively. Alice throws the ball and Jasper hits it and you watch as her eyes suddenly grow big.

Alice yells a time out that captured everyone’s attention. Before you knew it, your arm was grabbed by Edward as the family circled around you. It was as if they were hiding you.

“Let’s go.” Edward says to you.

“It’s too late. They were leaving when they heard us.” Alice whispered in slight panic.

You heard Alice hiss out in a whisper, “Cover Y/N’s scent.”

“Scent?” you wondered in your mind.

“You’re okay. Just stay quiet, okay?” he whispered to you, to calm you down. You nod slowly.

You look up to Edward looking at you out of the corner of his eye as he glued his hand into yours. You look down, his foot taps a steady rhythm. You wondered why he did it.

You hear Carlisle speak.

“Thank you.”

You peek and see three figures standing in front of the Cullens.

“I’m Laurent, this is Victoria and this is James.”

“I’m Carlisle and this is my family.” Carlisle says as gestures with his hands.

Laurent greets everyone.

You watch as Edward glared at someone. You didn’t want to look who it was.

“So…Could you use more players?”

There was hesitance and Laurent smiles, “Just one game.” he says with one finger up.

“Oh, alright. A few of us were leaving so you can take their spot.” Carlisle says and throws the ball back to Laurent. The girl however, Victoria, caught it with such insane reflex, you held back a gasp.

Slowly, Edward tugs you away. The family moved with his movements. Carlisle kept them talking. The rain started to pour more heavily.

Edward practically threw you in the car and he was already starting the engine before you could click your seatbelt in. You watch as the others form into a game.

He drives in silence.

“I shouldn’t have brought you here. I’m sorry.”

You do nothing but stare at him.

He dropped you back off at home.

“I’m sorry, Y/N.” he says again as the rain poured down behind him. You both stood in front of the front door.

“We have to talk.”

“Okay.” he says with a nod.

You give him one last look before shutting the door behind you. The rain poured much heavier. You stare out of the window.

Hours went by. Your phone rings. You answer.

“Do you want to talk?”

You watch your wall, “Yes.”

“Okay.”

“Just tell me the truth Edward…Your family are like…Superheroes or something. They jump really high, run really fast, super fast reflexes, and you all have the same eye color. Those people..In the field, their eyes were red.”

There was silence before he spoke again, “You’re right.”

“What are you?” you ask. You felt like crying. It felt scary in a way.

“I don’t want to tell you over the phone. I want to see you when I tell you.” he whispered.

You set the phone down and cover your eyes with your hand.

“Y/N? Are you there?”

“Yes.” you say after you pick your phone back up.

He doesn’t say anything else.

“Edward….We can’t see each other anymore.” you say softly.

“Y/N..I promise to tell you everything…Just not now. Please?”

“How long do you want me to wait? I just want the truth. I’ve been truthful to you.”

“You have. I just don’t want to mess this up…Us up..I really like you.”

“I like you too….But..I’m afraid all things that we like might not be good for us.”

“Y/N.” he begged.

His tone made you breathe in.

“What did Alice mean by my scent? Why were you hiding me from the red eyed people? Are they dangerous?”

“Yes. They’re very dangerous. Your scent would’ve enticed them.”

“What does that mean?” you ask softly, trying to gain understanding.

He lets out a frustrated sigh, “I want to tell you everything in person.”

“But we will be at school. Our time will be limited.”

“Can I come over?”

“What?” you ask as you never snuck in a boy before. It was almost midnight.

“I’ll sneak through your window. I won’t make a sound. I will answer everything truthfully. I promise. I…Just don’t want us to be apart.”

You think for a moment. You wondered what could go wrong. He’s patient on the line. As long as you’re on the line, he was okay.

“You promise you will answer everything?” you ask.

“Cross my heart, hope to die.”

The statement made you chuckle a bit before he joins you.

You hang up with your head spinning. In a way, you thought back to things and how things used to be. You didn’t know if things were ever going to be the same. You were a bit scared of the soon to be answers to your soon to be questions. Not knowing what to expect, you just unlock your window without opening it. You then have a seat on your bed and hug the teddy bear that he had given you tight to your chest.

[kyywritess]

CHAPTER 10: KNOW ITS FOR THE BETTER

pairing: aged up!katsuki bakugo x fem!reader

summary: After six intense years in Japan, YN LN has firmly established herself as a renowned gym owner. She's known by many pros for her charm, strength, and boxing abilities. She has a strong support system and amazing friends... her life in Japan was everything she dreamed it would be.

But everything changes one fateful night when a mysterious package appears on her doorstep. No note, no return address—just a plain box wrapped with a single pearly pink ribbon. As she unravels the contents of the box, she’s drawn into a dark, twisted mystery that seems to reach deep into her own past—a past she thought she had buried when she left her old life behind.

wc: 3.5k

warning: Guns, blood, car accident (let me know if I missed anything)

an: this was actually the hardest chapter to write, my brain has not been working properly. This chapter shows what Bakugo was doing the night he found out about James and Morettis daughter (chap 8). While Y/N was taking Milly to the cabin and figuring out Morettis location, Bakugo was plotting behind her back. Anyways enjoy 🫶

“Dynamight, we’ve found something.”

Bakugo stood in the middle of your home, surrounded by officers and detectives tearing through your personal belongings. The scene was chaotic, and the constant rustling of drawers, the clinking of metal, and the shuffle of paper filled the air.

He wasn’t sure how he’d arrived at this point. All he could remember was staring at the picture of the young girl—the one that had sent his mind spiraling. From there, everything became a blur. Thoughts of you, of Moretti, of connections he didn’t want to make but couldn’t escape, tumbled through his mind. The sinking feeling in his stomach wouldn’t go away.

Rage began to churn in his chest. The next thing he remembered, he was barking orders, directing his best detectives to enter your house. He hadn’t expected you to be here—didn’t want to look you in the eyes as his team scoured every corner of the home you’d made.

It felt wrong, even as his anger justified the intrusion. This was an invasion of privacy—bordering on illegal. But he didn’t care. The truth was the only thing that mattered now, even if it meant crossing lines.

“Sir?”

A younger detective called to him from down the hallway. Bakugo turned to find the officer standing at the door of your bedroom.

Walking down the hallway, his gaze landed on the framed photos that lined the walls. They were snapshots of your life—moments you had chosen to remember, moments that once made him feel like he knew you.

One of those photos caught his eye, a picture of you and him together. It was taken after his birthday celebration. You’d begged him to take a picture with you. The photo was simple—he stood beside you, dressed in his usual attire, while you held onto his arm with a soft, playful smile. His eyes were focused elsewhere, but he remembered the night vividly. He remembered the warmth of the crowd, the laughter, the sense that something unspoken had passed between the two of you.

Now, the sight of that photo made him want to destroy it, to wipe away the reminder of how wrong everything had become.

“We found a safe in the closet,” the detective said, breaking him out of his thoughts. “We’re working on opening it now.”

“Good. If you don’t get it open soon, I’ll blow it open myself.”

“Yes, sir.”

As the officers worked on the safe, Bakugo took a moment to assess the room. His eyes scanned the surroundings, noting how much it didn’t match the woman he thought he knew. The room was too dull, too plain, for someone as vibrant and energetic as you.

The beige walls felt sterile, the white sheets on the bed lacking even the smallest touch of personality. It didn’t feel like you. It felt like an imposter.

He wondered if this was where you went to grieve in silence. If it was him, he’d feel suffocated by the emptiness of the space.

“Sir, come take a look at this.”

The detective’s voice broke through his thoughts again. Bakugo stepped over, looking down at the contents of the safe with growing unease.

A M1911 pistol rested on the first shelf, and beneath it, a picture and a clear bag containing something shiny—was that a necklace?

“Is it loaded?”

“No, sir.”

“Put the gun in the evidence bag.”

Bakugo’s eyes shifted to the photo, his stomach twisting as he picked it up. It was a picture of you and Moretti’s daughter, the little girl smiling with her toothless grin. And you… you looked so young, so full of life in the selfie you’d taken with her.

A sick feeling washed over him as the realization hit—this wasn’t just some random photo. It was proof that you were connected to Moretti in ways he hadn’t wanted to believe.

He slipped the picture into the evidence bag before his eyes fell to the necklace. It was a simple gold charm with the letter “N” etched into it. His fingers traced the surface as he turned it over, trying to make sense of it, but nothing clicked. He shoved it back into the bag without thinking.

Every inch of his body ached with betrayal. You were someone he’d trusted, and now he found out you had been lying to him the entire time. The woman he had secretly loved, who had kept him in the dark.

Turning away from the bedroom, he made his way back to the living room, the weight of what he’d just uncovered sinking deeper with each step. He was seething now—his body shaking with fury, the kind of anger that made it hard to breathe.

“Bakugo?”

Kirishima’s voice reached him just as his hands began to tremble. His red-haired friend stood frozen in the doorway, his expression a mix of shock and disbelief.

“What the hell did you do, Bakugo?”

Bakugo’s teeth clenched. He didn’t care about what anyone else thought. He didn’t care about the way this might look. To him, the truth was clearer than ever.

“She’s working for Moretti.”

“What? What are you talking about?” Kirishima’s voice was laced with confusion, clearly not following his train of thought.

“Moretti’s daughter is her damn daughter. She’s the reason he’s even here.”

“No, man… you don’t know that. Calm down.”

Bakugo was beyond calming down. His voice rose, dripping with fury.

“Don’t tell me to calm down!” His fist clenched, ready to put it through the wall if only to release the frustration coursing through him.

Kirishima shifted uncomfortably, his eyes darting to Bakugos shaking hands. His heart sank as he pieced together what Bakugo must’ve found. “Okay,” he said carefully, “I’m not saying it doesn’t look bad. But we don’t know the full story yet.”

“I know enough.” Bakugo’s voice was lower now, but no less deadly. “She lied to us. She lied to me.”

Kirishima hesitated. “What if she didn’t? What if there’s more to this? Maybe she had a reason—”

“Reason?” Bakugo barked a humorless laugh. “You think there’s a reason good enough to keep photos of another man’s daughter? The man who’s been killing innocent women?” His voice cracked, and he abruptly turned away, his fists shaking at his sides.

Kirishima stepped closer, his voice softening. “I’m not saying Moretti isn’t scum. We both know he is. But we’ve got to be smart here. If we go off half-cocked—”

“I’m done talking,” Bakugo growled, cutting him off. “I’m done sitting around waiting for the truth to slap me in the face. I’m ending this. Tonight.”

“Bakugo, no!” Kirishima’s hand shot out, grabbing his friend’s arm. “Don’t do something you’ll regret. If you go after her now—”

A feminine voice cut through the tension, freezing both men in their tracks.

“Katsuki.”

Bakugo’s head snapped toward the sound, his breath hitching. Standing in the doorway, her figure silhouetted against the dim light, was the last person he wanted to see right now. Her gaze was steady, unreadable, but the slight tremor in her voice betrayed the storm brewing beneath her calm exterior.

YN POV

You had headed back home to grab a few things for the cabin, expecting a quick in-and-out trip. But as soon as you turned onto your street, your stomach dropped. Red and blue lights strobed against the darkened houses, and cop cars lined the road like a barricade.

Your heart pounded as you pulled to a stop, barely managing to put the car in park before you stepped out. Your house was the center of the commotion, its front door hanging ajar. Officers milled about, some talking into radios, others examining the scene.

Anger bubbled up, hot and unrelenting, pushing past the confusion. Your house was supposed to be your safe space, a sanctuary. Now it looked like a crime scene.

“What the hell is going on?” you demanded, striding toward the nearest officer.

“Ma’am, you can’t be here,” the officer said, holding up a hand to stop you.

“This is my house!” you snapped, your voice rising despite your best efforts to stay calm. “Someone better tell me what’s going on right now.”

Detectives swarmed your house, tearing through your things, rummaging through your personal items with no care for your privacy. Bags of evidence piled up on your kitchen table, and a detective nearly barreled into you.

You froze in the doorway, your heart hammering in your chest. Among the chaos of the ransacked house, the sight of Bakugo and Kirishima arguing in front of your kitchen was the last thing you expected.

“Katsuki,” you managed, your voice trembling slightly despite your attempt to sound steady.

Both of them turned at the sound of your voice, but it was Bakugo who held your gaze—and the look on his face nearly stopped you cold. The fury in his eyes was unmistakable, a storm raging just beneath the surface.

“What the hell are you doing here?” he spat, his voice venomous and sharp enough to cut.

Your stomach twisted at the sheer hatred in his tone. You opened your mouth to respond, but the words caught in your throat.

Kirishima stepped forward, his expression a mixture of concern and frustration. “Hey, Bakugo, chill out for a second—”

“No,” Bakugo snapped, cutting him off without looking away from you. “She doesn’t get to ‘chill out.’ Not after this.”

“What are you talking about?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. You felt like the ground beneath you was shifting, threatening to collapse entirely.

Kirishima noticed your stillness and laid a hand on your shoulder, but you yanked it off immediately, still frozen by Bakugo’s gaze.

“You raided my home?” 

“And I had a damn good reason to,” he snarled, his anger unrestrained.

“Why?” The words slipped out of your mouth, a mix of hurt and confusion.

Bakugo said nothing. He just glanced toward Kirishima.

“Detain her.”

“What? Are you out of your mind? She didn’t do anything!” Kirishima’s voice cracked with disbelief.

“I said detain her. That’s an order.”

The room was spinning. Your head felt light as Kirishima reluctantly moved toward you, his hands on your wrists, but he was gentler than Bakugo. You didn’t fight him, though. You knew it would only make things worse.

“It’s okay, Kiri.” you said, forcing a smile through the tightness in your chest.

Kirishima’s expression faltered, but he complied. He cuffed your hands behind your back, ensuring they weren’t too tight.

As Kirishima gently guided you toward the door, his grip more protective than forceful, you stole one last glance at Bakugo. But he wouldn’t look at you. He just stood there, staring at the floor, his fists still trembling at his sides.

You didn’t fight, didn’t plead anymore. The truth was about to come out and you couldn't stop it. 

---

The ride to the precinct was silent.

The cuffs were uncomfortable, but you refused to let the discomfort show. You sat with your back straight, eyes focused on the road ahead, trying to push away the suffocating feeling of betrayal and hurt threatening to take over.

Kirishima sat beside you, silent as well, his expression hard to read. He hadn’t spoken much after putting the cuffs on you. But you could feel the disappointment radiating off of him, just like you could feel Bakugo’s fury burning into your skin, even though you weren’t looking at him.

Your mind was racing, replaying every moment, every word, every glance exchanged between you and Bakugo.

There was a part of you that wanted to scream, to yell at him for thinking the worst of you. But you knew that wouldn’t change anything. It wouldn’t make him see reason, or make him understand what you were trying to protect.

Kirishima’s hand on your shoulder felt comforting, but also distant.

"Y/N..." He spoke your name softly, like he didn’t want to push you further. “I know this is hard, but... you’ve got to trust me, okay? This will all get figured out."

You shook your head. “It’s not that simple, Kiri.”

"I know," he murmured. "But I’m here. I won’t let anything happen to you."

The words were kind, but they did little to calm the storm inside of you. How could you explain everything? How could you make him, or Bakugo, understand that there was so much more to the story than they could ever imagine? 

“Hey, slow down a little, will ya?” Bakugo’s gruff voice cut through the tense silence, pulling your attention away from your frantic thoughts.

The driver didn’t answer. His grip on the wheel tightened, knuckles turning white as the car weaved recklessly through traffic. The engine roared as he pressed harder on the gas, the speedometer needle climbing past 80 mph.

Bakugo shifted in his seat, glaring at the man behind the wheel. “Did you hear me? Slow the hell down!”

But the driver wasn’t fazed. His eyes stayed fixed on the road, jaw clenched, a sinister focus etched across his face.

Bakugo turned his attention to you and Kirishima in the backseat. “Put your fucking seat belts on. Now.”

Kirishima reached for his belt without hesitation. 

​​“I can’t,” you muttered, lifting your cuffed hands slightly.

“Shit,” Kirishima hissed, moving to help you before pausing. 

The unmistakable click of a gun echoed in the car, and you saw it—

“She leaves her seat belt off.”

The barrel of a gun pressed against the side of Bakugo’s head, his reflexes too fast for most, but this time, he was trapped. The driver held the weapon steady with one hand, the other gripping the wheel as the car swerved dangerously close to the divider.

Bakugo’s ruby eyes sharpened into daggers. His growl was low and menacing, each word laced with a promise of violence. “You really wanna point that thing at me? You won’t even have time to regret it.”

“Shut up,” the driver snapped, eyes darting to the rearview mirror to catch you and Kirishima. “If anyone moves, I’ll put a bullet in his skull.”

Kirishima started to speak, his voice cautious. “Hey, man, let’s not—”

“Quiet!” the driver barked, his voice cutting like a whip.

“Kirishima,” Bakugo said through gritted teeth, his tone eerily calm despite the gun at his temple. “Put her seat belt on.”

“No!” the driver roared. His voice rose in panic and anger as he glanced at you. “I said leave it off! If anyone tries anything, I’ll kill you all right here.”

Your breath hitched as you locked eyes with Bakugo. His jaw was set, his teeth grinding audibly. The unspoken rage in his glare was enough to shake anyone to their core.

“Kats, leave it,” you said softly, your voice trembling. “Just... don’t.”

The car surged forward again, narrowly missing a merging vehicle. The tires screeched as the driver veered into another lane, the momentum slamming you against Kirishima. Your heartbeat thundered in your ears.

The car was speeding recklessly now, weaving through traffic at a breakneck pace. If he crashed, you knew there was no chance of survival.

You leaned closer to Kirishima, keeping your voice low enough that the driver wouldn’t hear. “8237 Alpine Avenue,” you whispered, your eyes fixed on him.

“What?” Kirishima’s brows knitted in confusion as he glanced at you.

“8237 Alpine Avenue,” you repeated, your tone urgent and unwavering. “Don’t forget that address.”

“Y/N, what are you talking about?”

You leaned in closer, your gaze locking with his, every word you spoke heavy with determination. “If something happens to me, find the girl. She’s your priority. Do you understand? Promise me.”

His face paled, and his mouth opened to argue, but you didn’t give him a chance. 

Bakugo’s sharp voice pulled your attention back to the front. “You think you’re getting away with this?” he spat at the driver, his tone a mix of rage and scorn.

The driver sneered but didn’t respond. The tension was unbearable, and every nerve in your body screamed for an escape.

Then Bakugo’s voice cut through the chaos like a detonating bomb. “WATCH OUT!” 

The driver’s reaction was split-second—he jerked the wheel hard to the left to avoid the oncoming truck. The car swerved violently, tires screeching against the asphalt. Horns blared as other drivers slammed on their brakes, narrowly avoiding the spiraling vehicle.

The world seemed to tilt as the car lost control. You felt the terrifying weightlessness of your body being thrown forward, held back only by Kirishima’s arms as he shielded you with his bulk.

“Hold on!” he shouted, his voice barely audible over the cacophony of metal scraping and glass shattering.

The car spun out of control, skidding sideways before tipping. The deafening sound of crunching metal filled the air as the vehicle flipped.

Once.

Twice.

Your head slammed against the side of the door, stars bursting across your vision. The cuffs on your wrists dug painfully into your skin as you struggled to brace yourself.

“Y/N!” Kirishima’s voice was frantic, his grip tightening like a vice as he tried to keep you from being thrown around the cabin.

Then two gunshots rang out next.

The sharp crack was almost drowned by the chaos, but you saw the flash of the barrel as the driver fired in panic. The bullet shattered the windshield, fragments of glass spraying like deadly confetti.

Bakugo roared, his instincts kicking in despite the chaos. He lunged forward, slamming his elbow into the driver’s wrist. The gun flew from his hand, ricocheting off the dashboard and landing somewhere in the wreckage.

The car hit the guardrail with a bone-jarring crunch, flipping one last time before coming to a grinding halt on its side. Smoke and steam hissed from the crumpled hood as the vehicle groaned under its own weight.

Silence.

For a moment, the world seemed frozen, the air heavy with the acrid scent of burning rubber and gasoline. Your ears rang, the sound of your own ragged breathing the only thing grounding you.

“Y/N,” Kirishima rasped, his voice pained but steady. “Are you—”

“I’m fine,” you choked out, though your entire body ached. Blood trickled down your temple, and your hands were trembling as you tried to move.

A groan from the driver’s seat snapped you back to reality. The man was slumped over the wheel, dazed but alive.

Bakugo, however, was anything but dazed.

He kicked open what was left of the passenger door, his movements sharp and deliberate despite the blood dripping from a cut above his brow. His crimson eyes burned with fury as he reached in, dragging the driver out by his collar and slamming him against the side of the wreckage.

“You’ve got five seconds to tell me who sent you,” Bakugo snarled, his voice a lethal growl.

“Katsuki!” you called out weakly, struggling to sit up as Kirishima worked to try to free you from the wreckage.

Bakugo ignored you, his grip tightening on the driver’s shirt. “Five seconds,” he hissed, raising his fist. “Then you’re gonna wish you didn’t survive this crash.”

You tried to shift, to push yourself upright, but the moment you put weight on your left leg, a sharp, searing pain shot through you. It wasn’t just pain—it was like your body refused to move, as if the limb had simply given up.

“I—I think I broke my leg,” you stammered, your voice trembling as you clutched at the car door for support.

Kirishima’s head whipped around to look at you, his expression shifting from panic to something darker as his eyes traveled down to your leg. He crouched down, his hands hovering just above the injury as he took in the sight.

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath, his face paling. “That’s not a break. You’ve been shot.”

Your breath hitched. You glanced down at your leg and saw it—the dark stain of blood spreading across your thigh, dripping down to pool at your feet. 

The pain in your leg was unbearable now, sharp and throbbing with every heartbeat. Your body screaming at you to stay conscious even as your vision swam.

“Fuck…” you groaned again, the dizziness hitting you like a wave. “I’m dizzy…”

“Hey, no, no, don’t do that.” Kirishima’s voice cracked, his worry palpable. “Don’t move. I’m gonna get Bakugo. Just hang on!”

You watched as he climbed out of the shattered car window, his movements frantic but deliberate. The muffled sound of his voice shouting for Bakugo was the only thing anchoring you to reality, though even that was fading fast.

The car felt like it was spinning, the metallic scent of blood and smoke filling your lungs. Each breath was harder than the last, and your eyelids grew heavier despite your best efforts to keep them open.

From outside, the sound of screeching tires from cars appearing and distant explosions shattered the chaotic silence. The fury in Bakugo’s signature blasts reverberated through the air, shaking the ground beneath the car. It was as though the world itself was trembling in response to his rage.

Your head lolled to the side, the edges of your vision darkening. The last thing you remembered before everything went black was the roar of Bakugo’s explosions, louder now, like he was right outside the car.

And then, nothing.

---

TAGLIST: @emmaafinchh @faetoraa @iissza @theasgardianmexican

[martinsharmony]

After I got a divorce I lost my job. I spent the better part of 2 years unemployed. I had to change careers because I couldn't find a job in my chosen field anymore.

I had been applying to so many jobs and written so many cover letters that I didn't know who I was anymore. I felt like I was just changing who I was to fit any job I applied to.

This thing? I can do that! That thing! Yes! That's me! Even if I didn't feel it was because I desperately needed a job. I would say anything to get it. Doing this was getting me no jobs.

I had a breakdown one day. I ended up writing a brutally honest journal entry of sorts about who *I* am. Warts and all. Basically it was a "fantasy" cover letter. One that I really wanted to send.

Here it is:

Who am I?

I'm tired of trying to make it appear that I'm something I'm not: World class, best in field, expert at everything. I'm taking a different approach. This is me, honestly. Hopefully I will be a good fit for your needs.

I love designing websites and graphics. My creative style is traditional and highly detailed, with a bit of whimsey thrown in. I have been told my designs are well suited for corporate projects (particularly internal). They are not cutting edge, but I think they are pretty good.

My technical knowledge varies. I'm expert at most Adobe products in general (particularly Photoshop), as well as Windows and PCs. My knowledge in HTML and CSS is a little bit behind the times (I'm transitioning from tables and CSS1 to HTML 5 and CSS 3), but I'm learning. I have used a Mac before but haven't for some years. I happen to love trouble shooting and I can do light tech support. There are a few programs which I do not have much work experience in per se, but I'm confident that given the chance, I will become expert. I'm not afraid to admit that I don't know how to do something and ask, or use Google to find out how.

I am loyal. Aside from the short term contract job I just worked, my average tenure at places of employment has been nearly 4 years, with the longest being over 8.

I am honest and take people at their word. I give them the benefit of the doubt and believe people and companies (managment) have good intentions. Taking advantage of people, talking people into things and "gaming the system" are not in my nature. I tend to be a bit literal.

I am easy going. I get along with most people and working with a team is one of my favorite things about working.

I am dependable. I have been called tenacious by a former manager. I do not leave tasks unfinished and I take responsibility for my projects.

I am motivated by deadlines. I once took the initiative to take control of a major compliance project in danger of missing its deadline and rescued it by completing many of the courses left unfinished and creating the rest on my own. It had a visibility of over 3000 employees.

I enjoy production and administrative work. I work well when I know what needs to be done and the task is not nebulous. I take direction well.

I can manage projects that I feel I have an ownership stake in or know a lot about. I even feel that I can grow into a leadership role and perform it well once I understand fully all the parts involved and the players. I don't personally believe in managing or taking charge of that which one does not know anything about (but I do realize that other people can do this just fine).

I am detail oriented and meticulous. I tend to catch things that other people miss. I read policies and guidelines and follow them. I once managed a complicated ongoing project that required immense attention to detail involving coordinating with 3 teams, the print vendor, multiple shifting deadlines and thousands of files. Deadline and resource management was essential.

I'm analytical. But I'm also creative. I believe this gives me a unique perspective on creative solutions for usability. I enjoy problem solving and research.

I'm not world class or the "best" at anything. Who am I to say that? I'm realistic. I try to do a good job that satisfies all the parties involved. I enjoy pleasing people and making them happy.

A short time later I applied to a job that was in a different field through the referral of a former co worker. I took that journal entry and turned it into a cover letter.

I figured what the hell. Might as well. I didn't expect to get the job.

I got the job.

The only things I removed were the phrases in pink, and I added this at the end:

I am a helper. I enjoy pleasing people and making them happy. I try to do a good job that satisfies all the parties involved.

Give me a call or email if you would like to know more. I look forward to hearing from you.

Have a great day :)

The lady that hired me eventually became my friend. Later on she told me my cover letter is what got me the interview. She said it really stood out. And when she met me, she liked me.

Reading this over again, most of these things are still true about me over 10 years later.

huge shout out to past me for making a cover letter template that i can fill in with bullshit fairly quickly. do you guys want it?