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hypnagogics · 7 months ago

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how soon is now? | part two

READ THIS FIRST 🇵🇸

previous chapter. series masterlist.

♡: hallway crush!ellie x uni student!reader

☆: the long-awaited second part of this godforsaken fic (lawd she’s given me trouble). appreciate y'all's patience as always, i'm a chronic procrastinator and perfectionist but what can i do. after this, i'm gonna take a break from this series. not saying i'll never write more, but wanna work on some other stuff for a while. thank you for reading! pretty please don’t hate me or show up at my house waving torches and pitchforks for this ending ok luv u gays in my phone. + a big thank you to @total-dxmure for helping me w/ some ideas for the last little bit!

♧:5.7k word count (lawd)

◇: sfw! miscommunication (sawry). fluffy moments, angst lowkey…both of yall cry at one point or another, reader has anxiety in the last chunk. modern au but joel isn’t alive in this, and they discuss it. maybe some rushed points here and there, i’m not really the proudest of this but needed to finish it anyway. potentially horrendous pacing but ok i think that’s all? idfk i may give y’all a little epilogue eventually, but don't dwell on it for the time being!

4 months later

Your friendship with Ellie was evolving wonderfully. You two were studying together frequently, and both your grades in the ghastly astrophysics class increased exponentially. Although that wasn't the only thing that was increasing at a rate too fast to fathom. Your crush on her. It was ripping you apart like wildfire, Ellie was proving herself to be such a wonderful person inside and out, and you were slowly but surely nearing your limit of how much it could build before you burst. A movie spin off of the Savage Starlight series had come to streaming, and Ellie had invited you to her place for a movie night so you two could watch it and discuss if it was a faithful entry in your beloved series or not.

Dressed in some comfortable pjs and armed with snacks of all kinds, your favorites as well as hers, the time had come and you were at her door. You straighten your posture and put your hair back in place, must look presentable, then knock, knock, knock.

You could hear some faint shuffling behind the door, then a few thudding steps until she opened it for you. She was dressed in an old, worn Nirvana tee, and red checkered pajama pants, damn she looked good, even when she was dressed with less effort than usual.

Ellie looked so pleased to see you, leaning on the doorframe. Why did she have to look so good all the time? “Hi! I’m so glad you came, ooh this is gonna be so fun.” She invited you in and took the snacks from your arms and placed them inside her room. “Oh yeah, I also put up some decor too so we can get into the Savage Starlight spirit.” Her eyes were wide and twinkling and when she stepped aside to let you see, she really had made her room so welcoming and comfortable.

The lights were all off save for LEDs around the room’s perimeter set to a dreamy violet hue, sparkly fairy lights draped around the frame of her bed which was set up so cozily. Her laptop propped up on a pillow, the sheets arranged in a nest-like formation with two spaces for each of you. She even had a few dinosaur stuffed animals placed in a row so they could watch too.

You were so flattered she'd do that and make the atmosphere so nice for the two of you, you could just tackle her in a hug and never let go.

The thing is you were scared she'd perceive that as weird and you didn't feel like dying of embarrassment, not today at the very least. Save that for another day, maybe. Oh, how you wanted to squeeze her so bad. Your imagination had to do for now.

She was standing there so proud of how she arranged her room into a mini theater, and you beamed at her, silently thanking her for making it so dim so she couldn't see your flustered expression in full.

“Ellie this is amazing!!” “You like it?!? These stupid lights kept on falling off but since this is an important occasion for us both I didn't give up. All for our love, Daniela.” She manipulated her voice and waved in the air with two fists, closed her eyes and put her hand over her heart, just being as dorky as ever.

Oh gosh, hopefully it wasn't going to be awkward. Sure, the two of you had grown to be great friends, but were you that close to be just, relaxing in her bed together? As long as your imagination didn't run too wild and you didn't overthink anything, it was going to be a fun time. Just two pals watching their favorite series, nothing more, nothing less.

She threw herself in the mess of comforters with a grunt, and saw you were hesitating. She patted the empty space next to her so you'd join her and the movie night could begin. “C’mere, don't be shy.” Well, no shit you were going to be shy. Suck it up.

You crawled in next to her, unable to look her in the eyes, while she got everything ready and rubbed her hands together excitedly. “Man, if they do our girl dirty, we’re gonna have to give someone a knuckle sandwich, you with me?” Her jokes and easy going vibes always made her so fun to be around, but unfortunately for you, you fell harder for her every time. “Yeah, Ellie. A knuckle sandwich for all of them.” You retorted with a chuckle. Once both of you were settled, she pressed play and so it began.

As the movie played, the two of you laughed and debated every plot twist, cursing the directors for not portraying your queen Daniela how she deserves, and snacked on candy until your stomachs hurt. It was going so well, the friendly hang out both of you needed after so many responsibilities in life. An escape. Occasionally sneaking peeks Ellie’s way, she was just so marvelously pretty. The shadows dancing on her features, illuminating her side profile perfectly, her long eyelashes and button nose, who wouldn't get lost in admiring her?

Of course you could never fully relax around her, or forget the crush no matter how hard you tried to push it down and just be friends. Every time she shifted next to you in the bed you felt your heart seize and the butterflies in your stomach turn into hornets. At this rate, they were going to turn into whole birds for fuck’s sake.

Nearing the end of the movie, the two of you were so invested, so captivated in the events, totally spellbound.

But then the film took a more emotional turn that wasn't in the comics. Daniela and her father had an absolutely vicious argument which left the two of you speechless watching it, which luckily got quickly resolved right after the two characters had a near-death experience together.

You weren't one to get emotional over silly, trivial things like fiction, but the way they showed this entire sequence was nothing short of heart-wrenching. You snatched up one of Ellie's patterned pillows and hugged it tightly to your chest, because cuddling her would have been much too bold for the likes of you. But what you’d give to do that instead.

Seems you were not the only one touched by the scene, as you began to hear some light sniffling from next to you. Looking over at Ellie made your heart break further into a million pieces. She looked lost in thought with thin lines of tears streaming down her plump, freckled cheeks.

You froze for a moment, not knowing the limits of your relationship with her and how you could comfort her best. So you cleared your throat and mumbled, “That was so sad…” You watched as she avoided your gaze and wiped at her face with the collar of her t-shirt, “Yeah, this kind of stuff hits me, feels a little personal y’know.” She has never opened up to you about her struggles before, in the short time you’ve known and gotten close with Ellie, it always seemed like she was there to help you out, not the other way around. This could be your chance to show her that you are there for her as well, and that she can always count on you.

Being curious but at the same time not wishing to pry too much into her private affairs, you quietly asked with the most gentle tone of voice you could muster,” You don’t have to, but I’m here if you ever wanna talk about it, Ellie.” You watched her out of the corner of your eye, anticipating however she reacts.

She stayed quiet for a beat before sighing deeply, and whispered, “We were having a fun time, I really don't wanna be a burden.” Her voice quivered, heavy with emotion, what could possibly be troubling her this much? You wanted to take all her pain and bear it yourself, she didn't deserve any sort of misfortune ever.

“You can tell me, don’t worry about anything, okay? I just want you to be all good.” You were comforting her so smoothly, putting her needs and well-being first as if it was always second nature, as if you two have known each other many lifetimes over, two souls meant to float together through the journey of life. Well okay, that was probably a bit much.

There were a few more seconds of silence as you let the question ring in the air, not wanting to press and jeopardize your cherished friendship with her.

You continue observing her, almost seeing the gears turning in her mind, the scales of reason tipping to one side then another, as she contemplates whether it’s worth spilling. Eventually, she does.

She roughly rubs her face then pauses the film playing on her laptop, sighs and huffs, before beginning to speak her story, all while looking away from you.

“Okay I don’t like to talk about this kind of stuff, but I trust you. A whole lot.” Your heart fluttered and face heated up at her comment, but you ignored it because there was something much more important on the table now. She continues, speaking quietly but quickly to get it over with.

“So, when I was a kid, I was an orphan and to be honest I don’t really remember my early childhood much at all, but when I was 14 my adoptive dad, Joel, took me in. And it’s been just us since then.” She stops to take a breath, then resumes reluctantly. “And well, we’ve had a pretty rocky relationship for a good chunk of these years, I never knew how to express my gratitude to him, y’know, for basically saving my life, numerous times at that. He was always my rock, and I appreciate him every day. He taught me so many things, and I don’t know what I would’ve done if he hadn’t come around. I was pretty hard to deal with back then.” She reminisces with an exhale of air, and you see her eyes refill with tears. “But I’m really bad at expressing that, and will kinda, lash out I guess when I’m met with kindness or tricky situations.”

You nod, listening patiently, and place your hand on her shoulder ever so gently, as a result making her raise her head to give you a small smile.

Ellie chuckled deeply, it almost sounded forced, then started to slowly wrap up her story. “And it seems that scene kinda hit me, because the wounds are still raw, or whatever.”

She sniffles again but doesn't respond, so you delicately inquire, “What do you mean?”

“He died last year.” Oof.

“Oh my, Ellie, I’m so sorry, are you-” She interrupts your condolences. “No need for that, I’m fine. Well, taking it day by day y’know. In the beginning it was really tough, I was angry at everything but most at myself for being such a jerk, and now I can't turn back time and tell him all I wanted to.” While you take a moment to think about what to say, she hums to herself and remarks, “That actually felt good to get off my chest, I haven't told anyone about it.” She lowers her voice so it’s barely a whisper. “Didn't have who to tell.”

“Sure you're okay? I'm always here for you.” You find your voice back to soothe her some more, to which she smiles at you again, only this time it actually seems genuine. There's definitely a lot of pain behind it, but the relief that she doesn't have to deal with the burden alone was evident on her face.

“Yeah, thanks. I guess I hadn’t processed anything, and that part of the movie made it all come out, damn I hate emotions sometimes. But I appreciate you being here for me. You're really easy to talk to, and I feel better now.”

And you would've never in a trillion years anticipated what her next move was going to be, you were so caught off guard, the realization lagged and it didn't immediately register.

She moved to sit on her knees in front of you, then threw her arms around your torso in a tight embrace. She hugged you. Clutched you so firmly against her own body, her strong hands landing in the middle of your back, where she rubbed in a circle. She smelled so nice, and was as warm as one of her heated stuffed animals.

Due to the surprising nature of the motion you let out a dumbfounded gasp, then returned the hug allowing yourself to rest your head on her shoulder. You wanted to stay like this forever, until the end of time, it felt nicer than you could've ever imagined.

The thought crossed your mind that she could feel the buzz pulsating through your body, you swore your heart was slamming against your ribcage so hard it was going to grow wings and simply fly right out of your chest, and join hands with hers.

While you were occupied with the way she felt against you, so close like this, chest against chest, and how your cheeks blazed with an inferno hotter than a thousand suns, you heard her grumble against your ear. “Not gonna make that same mistake again, and from now on, I'm gonna tell the people I appreciate just how much they matter to me.”

You were much too stunned to speak, but she wasn't. “So thank you again.” She finishes her little speech and pulls away first, but not before giving you one last big squeeze and letting out a noise of contentment as she does so, then shuffles over to her previous spot in the bed.

Not taking notice of the way you were at a loss for words, or about to set the room on fire with how flustered her actions made you. Her obliviousness was a common theme, it seemed. She clears her throat and claps, grabbing some more candy for herself, then says happily, “We still got the rest of the movie left, then we can do whatever after. I really wanna know how this ends.”

Naturally, your head is spinning, but you were too caught up in your thoughts to continue paying attention to the movie as much as you were before.

You felt awful for her, yet somehow, felt as if your crush on her had quadrupled in size yet again. You saw through the guard she put up, she broke down those walls and opened up to you. You were honored she trusted you so much, and only hoped that would never change. That, coupled with how remarkably good hugs she gave, has led you to the realization that you were properly in love now, things had gotten real. This was trouble. You vowed to always be there for her for whatever she could ever need, you'd drop everything to teleport by her side if you could.

Goodness, what were you possibly going to do now, instead of giving you the ick, or helping you with the task of getting rid of that stupid infatuation you were so plagued by, every experience felt like a deliberate ploy to just make you fall even further for her. You couldn't help but wonder just how much love a person can feel for someone, because it only continued to grow.

A couple days later.

Sitting in the cozy campus cafe, you were revising all your coursework. It was giving you a massive headache, but the warm and hazy lighting aided it a touch. The walls had cute plastic vines crawling up and down, and even though there was chatter all around you from the other patrons, it wasn't a distraction and in fact acted as some sort of white noise, everyone was talking in a nicely muted tone, it all blended to create the perfect ambience.

You waved down the waitress to get yet another cup of coffee, your third one of the night, that’s healthy, before trying to resume with your aggravating studies.

To your dismay, you've used up all your brain power for the evening, and could not force yourself to continue no matter how hard you tried. Maybe a few moments of peaceful people-watching would get you back on track?

You sip on the hot drink, then lean back against the comfortable booth seat to begin scanning around.

In one corner directly on the opposite side of where you were sitting, there was an elderly couple. They looked so in love, dressed in matching outfits, feeding each other as they shared a dessert, holding hands and conversing with a hushed tone, nodding and looking into each other's twinkling eyes. So cute, you hoped that was going to be you in the future.

Moving your line of sight to watch beside the couple, there was another student, their books and computer were scattered across the wooden table, piles of pens and pencil cases near falling over. They seemed to have fallen asleep, unmoving with their head laid tiredly across their crossed arms. The sight made you chuckle out of familiarity, you really felt for them, studies were hard.

But then a sound caught your attention. A bright, husky giggle fought its way over the ambience, reminiscent of a certain someone.

Your heart jumped, your ears perked up and you immediately became insistent on scouting her out among the patrons, this was a necessary mission.

Feeling highly nervous and antsy, you try to drown out the noise and focus on where she could be, and quickly enough, you find her.

Ellie in her natural habitat, she was so mesmerizing. Sitting far away from you where you could get a good view and hear snippets of conversation if you focused hard enough, but not close enough where she would notice your shameless gawking. She was sitting with a group of a handful of her friends, who all appeared to be gossiping and laughing with each other, you couldn't tear your eyes away.

Her smile was gorgeous, and you knew that, but there was something about just being a spectator which fascinated you, you could stare at her all day. Her energy lit up the entire room, and made your heart race.

Snapping out of your trance and trying to not be so obvious with your staring, you tried to look occupied, tried reorganizing your notes while still keeping an ear out to listen. Occasionally glancing over as well. Yes, it's true that eavesdropping is wrong, but you couldn't help yourself. Anyone would do the same, right?

The group's passionate discussion was making you extremely curious however, and you strained to hear what they were talking about. Among the muffled chatter, you heard a woman’s voice say the word crush, then an outburst of laughter, the loudest guffaw from Ellie herself.

You felt the budding panic start to form in your chest momentarily, but swallowed the lump forming in your throat and took a sharp intake of breath to calm yourself at once. They could be talking about anything, there's no need to jump to conclusions just yet. Fumbling around your bag for your headphones to listen to some of the song recommendations Ellie had given you, you’re led to discover that they are, in fact, dead. Of course.

Despite any and all wishes to stop eavesdropping on them and mind your own business and abide by what they say, ignorance is bliss, you simply couldn't. She was too damn captivating. Like a painting in a museum, like a statue at a town’s center, one that people stopped in their tracks to admire.

The way her eyes sparkled and gleamed under the warm lighting, her cheeks tinted a faint rosy hue from the exertion of laughing so hard, her sweet smile. She was too perfect. God, you hated crushes, being infatuated with someone to this degree couldn't be healthy. But what could you do? Just look at this angel.

Fidgeting nervously while still being entranced by the group of friends, you heard a man’s voice say the words “there’s no way”, followed by Ellie howling even harder than she had the whole time you've been watching them, and punch him forcefully on the shoulder.

The curiosity was going to swallow you whole, it was like a car crash you couldn't look away from. You felt your palms begin to tremble and sweat with worry, and anxious assumptions of all kinds running through your mind, were they talking about you? No, they couldn't be, you're just overthinking it. Relax, relax, relax.

You tried your hardest to control your breathing and soothe your spinning mind so you wouldn't spiral, until you heard something that absolutely shook you to your core.

The same woman from before, not Ellie, in a highly teasing tone of voice said your name.

You felt frozen, this couldn't be happening. All your worst fears were coming true at this very moment. You had to get out of there right away, this was too much to bear. Curiosity really did kill the cat didn't it, you wished you didn't comply with the morbid desire to know everything.

Panic-stricken like a deer in headlights, near hyperventilating at this point, the final straw was all three of them erupting into laughter simultaneously, with Ellie through gasps, going "oh come onnnn”.

Yeah that was it. Hot tears started pricking your eyes and you vigorously blinked them away before they started streaming down your face, as if you needed to be humiliated even more. You felt sadded, torn apart, betrayed. Sick to your stomach too. This time, for once, you really thought you had something going for you. From your perspective, albeit through rose-colored glasses, you were convinced she was being genuine with you all this time. How could you not be?

The late night study sessions, the air thick with tension, the conversations draped in a sleep-deprived haze, the walks to class together, the first fated interaction, the looks you two shared from across the huge lecture hall; the looks where you two just knew when to share a glance, was all of that fake? Was she leading you on purposefully because her friends thought it was funny, that you were a joke?

The tears threatened to spill and your stomach twisted painfully with the world-shattering realizations you were just served with, and you angrily shoved your belongings in your bag.

You were too caught up in your panicked frenzy to notice how disruptive you were actually being, your textbooks thumping and keychains jingling, but frankly didn't care enough to meet the numerous pairs of eyes observing your misfortune. Who could blame you, your whole world and everything you've known just crumbled before you.

You slung your bag over your shoulder noisily as a choked sob made its way up your throat, then speed-walked out of that cafe. You were never going to be able to go in there again unfortunately, shame, their pastries were so good.

Right as you tried to step through the door it got stuck, because the universe was being really nice to you today, and as you tugged on it to get it to open, you heard the friends lower their voices, but you could still make out a jumble of hushed words sounding something like, “oh no, is that…” Great, great, fucking great. The only solution to this was to change your name and ride up to Seattle for goodness’ sake, maybe throw yourself into a volcano as well just because.

Finally the door swung open after what felt like eons, and you stumbled outside into the chilly autumn air, feeling goosebumps spring up all over. Where you were going, you didn't really know. This cafe was new, so it would take some time to figure out navigation so you stood dumbly in the middle of the front lawn as you tried to orient yourself.

Once you think you've got it, you start your agonizing trek back to your little room, screaming inside of your head, until you're harshly yanked back mid-footstep by a vice grip on your arm. What the fuck was it now.

Ellie. The sight of her only made your tears increase in quantity and the emotion in your chest tighten. She looked a little disheveled, her eyes round like saucers, and she was gripping onto your arm so hard as if you were going to run away. You wanted to, but she still had a magnetic hold on you, even after all that turmoil.

Talking was painful with how much you were trying to keep a hold of yourself, but you managed out a choked, “Ellie, what?”

She looked befuddled, shaking her head ever so slightly and scrunching up her eyebrows, her gaze boring right into yours and following whenever you tried to break it and look elsewhere. Her hold on your arm softens, and moves to rest on your shoulder. “What do you mean what? You ran outta there like you were chased by a lunatic or something, what the fuck happened?”

Her tone startled you a little, why did she care so much? Noticing you jolt, she sighs and mellows her speech. “Sorry, what I mean to say is, I'm worried. Are you okay?”

You worried her? Heat rushed to your cheeks as you fought to break the increasingly uncomfortable eye contact, and all you could do was shrug. Your lip started quivering and you were losing the fight of keeping your composure, how wonderful. Despite everything she was being so sweet, way too sweet. You felt helpless at this point.

The words started pouring out of your mouth like a waterfall, you were properly sobbing now, falling apart and hiccuping as months and months of emotion spilled over.

You were blabbering about how you loved the friendship you formed with her, but how hurt you felt that she’d laugh about you, every possible insecurity just tumbled out of your lips, as you wiped at your teary face and runny nose and glanced at Ellie ever so often.

She let you talk for a bit until she saw you get even more upset, that's when she got a step closer to you, squeezed both your shoulders gently and kept a stern tone of voice to get your attention.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, slow down, I don't know what you're saying.” But you couldn't stop crying. Bottling up emotions was definitely a bad idea, because they were bound to burst sooner or later and unfortunately, you reached the breaking point. Sucking in some unsteady breaths as an attempt to regulate yourself, she was watching you patiently yet still cautiously.

Your voice was weak and shaky, but you were slowly feeling a little better. For the first time during this interaction, you meet her eyes. Why was she always so pretty? She was sculpted just to spite you, you were convinced. Tears welled up in your eyes once more, but you blinked them away. “Um…Ellie…” She nodded expectantly, wanting to know what was wrong. But you could not complete your sentence as yet another bout of ache washed over you.

To snap you out of it once and for all, Ellie grabbed your face. The sheer disbelief of her action was enough to stop your tears luckily, and she held your gaze while she used her thumb to swipe at the stray teardrops adorning your cheekbones. You wanted to die, what was going on?

Once your panic was replaced with fluster and stupefaction, she let you go, but was still standing really close to you. You felt jittery from it all, nervous, embarrassed and in love and everything under the sun all at the same time. You stared at her, then looked away, then looked at her plump pink lips which were set in a questioning pout, then back up to her sympathetic greener-than-grass eyes, fuck, fuck, fuck. The intensity of the situation had caused any sense of judgment or critical thinking to long, long gone, and so your body moved on its own and before you had a chance to form a solid thought or process what you were doing.

Smooch.

You kissed her.

Mouths colliding like magnets as you held onto the sides of her face, fireworks igniting in every single part of your body. Cradling her jaw as you closed the space between you two, the hurricane of emotion coursing through your veins as your lips caressed hers, and time felt like it had stopped. The months and months of excruciating pining had all led up to this very moment.

She instinctively kissed you back, you felt her breaths fanning your face. You were about to ascend to another dimension. Lingering against her for a little longer, you forced yourself to regretfully pull away, and laughed loudly at her state now.

Her lips were parted and she was gawking at you, you had broken her completely. Your own heart was working overtime, you were panting from the adrenaline of the situation, and could only hear the blood rushing in your ears.

She seemed to be in a coma, doing nothing but staring and breathing. You punched her arm playfully, your voice breaking.

“I’M IN LOVE WITH YOU, YOU FUCKING IDIOT.”

An frustrated confession tore itself from your throat, even the world's strongest iron bars couldn't contain it. You wiped at your face with your sleeves, a sad attempt to clear it of the residual salty tears that never once stopped their journey out of your eyes.

The sadness had left you, and you felt lighter now, truthfully. Had no idea how you would ever face her again after all this, but at least the cat was out of the bag and you had gotten that off of your chest. You both stood there in silence, now what was wrong with her? What a dork. Sucking on your teeth and kicking a pebble on the ground you admitted finally, “So, yeah. That's what's been troubling me, I guess.”

Her pupils were dilated and huge, as she scanned all over your features, her mouth opening and closing as if she was having an internal battle of what to say. She stood there almost appearing miles more shocked than you somehow, she looked as if she was going to have a heart attack and die on you, you found it funny, but concerning at the same time.

You watched her for a moment more, before accepting your disappointing fate and bidding her a goodbye. You cleared your throat. “Okay then. Cya in class. Bye.” You turned on your heel and began the walk back to your room, but this time for real, and didn't look back at her. Even if you wanted to, you couldn't, you wanted to leave this whole fiasco in the past. That chapter was closed, it seemed.

The only thing left to do now was call your bestie, Abby. She has been your cheerleader through this whole thing, through all this time, gave you advice and brought you back to Earth, and you needed her support now more than ever.

Right after you reached your dorm she was there in no time at all, after receiving your distress call she scrambled into action, with chocolates and boxed wine in hand. Maybe you should just date her instead at this point. Who else was left for you?

You talked and talked and talked to her about everything for so long, talking the night away just like old times, and she sat and listened to your every word, patted your back reassuringly as you weeped into her shoulder, then tucked you into bed at the end of it all. She left only when she was sure you'd relaxed fully.

You didn't fall asleep quite yet, and stayed awake thinking, pondering life and staring up at your ceiling. It turns out angrily confessing to the girl you've been infatuated with forever by impulsively kissing her and letting the whole campus know it was a tiring thing after all. You really did cause a bit of a scene, when you thought about it in hindsight.

But what was this all like from Ellie's perspective? You wished you could know what she thought, or at least gotten some sort of formal response. Her friend storms out of a cafe, kisses her and screams she's in love with her? It's certainly understandable she'd feel a little lost, or under great pressure to give you an answer. Her reaction did make sense though, after being met with such a shocking revelation. Wow, now that you were really thinking about it, she still did not know why you ran out of the cafe like that. You wished you could turn back time and redo this day, shame that wasn't possible. Were you two ever going to have a discussion about this, or had you just lost a friend for life. Oh no, you pushed that thought away as quickly as it appeared, you didn't have an ounce of energy left over to dwell on it.

You'd work out what you were going to face her next later, a very well-deserved visit to dreamland was way overdue. You felt your eyelids grow heavy and your breathing slow, so you turned on your side and snuggled into your bed, eventually falling into a deep, deep sleep.

Meanwhile on your bedside table:

Bzz, bzz, bzz.

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sugurizz · 1 year ago

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(SMUT/NSFW +18 - Minors DNI!)

𑣿 DJ! Choso who's animating the party you're attending. He's constantly focused on his set, barely minding the simmering crowds surrounding him. All the merged noises, laughs, loud voices and endless flashing lights seem to do little to phase him. Baggy yet enticing eyes only glued to the equipement under him, his skilled fingers push and pull on the different keys and buttons, making the perfect combinations of the newest hits, and driving the crowds crazier by the minute.

𑣿 DJ! Choso who you couldn't quite dart your glance away from. He was the calmest yet most charming, silent yet most graceful of all people who were around you.

And mayhaps it was just your imagination, or your bored self being already mentally checked out of the party, and wanting just to have a heated moment with him all on your own. But you could've sworn his dark irises often locked with yours, in less than a random way.

𑣿 DJ! Choso who has just finished animating his part of the night, briefly thanking the crowd and wishing everyone a pleasant rest of the night before making his way out of your sight.

and it was rather time for you to leave too. You felt quite dazed by the whole ambiance, having some growing headaches along the way. You looked for your jacket and put your handbag on, exiting the club in your glamorous dress and glittery makeup.

𑣿 DJ! Choso who was dressed in his teddy black hoodie. his meaty fingers wrapped around a freshly lit cigarette, eyes looking into the dim roadlights. You run into him just stepping out the building, making your glances lock for another time, only a bit longer, and deeper.

He took a final puff from his cigarette before stomping the flame down, letting a deep 'Hey' escape his lips.

You snapped out of it, just realizing you may have stared a bit too long. And thus you pushed a shy 'Hey' as well, almost dying of embarassment.

'Pretty'. He said as he inched closer, eyes boldly brushing over your thick thighs and puffy breasts, hugged by the fabric of your tiny dress.

𑣿 DJ! Choso who has you chilling in the back of his mc Laren, his arms wrapped tight around your waist seemed to distract you from your warm, cosy conversation. Though you weren't even complaining, his deep tone had your kitty throb, and the irresistible smokey scent of his clothes made you feel even more vulnerable.

𑣿 DJ! Choso who's suckling on your neck, squeezing the flesh of your butt into his large palms. Your poor dress is fully undone, nipples almost spilling from your collar and clavicles already sore from his plump lips on your skin.

'mmh...Sorry for leaving hickeys, 's bad habit of mine...'

you could feel how sticky your thong got. And his leg fevershly rubbing your pussy lips wasn't exacty helping, having you choke on your moans.

He unclasped your bra and fondled your breasts, tugging on your nips and nibbling till they're sore and raw. He leaned back against the backseat and folded his arms behind his head

'Wanna ride me?' A lazy smirk curled his lips upwards, staring adoringly at the way you struggled to balance yourself on top of him.

𑣿 DJ! Choso who's bouncing you up and down his big cock, his knitted brows and gritted teeth somehow made him even hotter. You fucked your little pussy on his dick till you almost passed out, hearing an adorable chuckle with a 'Aww, pretty babe's tired ain't she?'

He gripped your asscheeks tight and took full charge, thrusting inside you at the pace of someone who hated your guts.

'Ahh, Chosoo! I-I can't a-anymore! fuck!'

'Shhh...you're a big girl now arent'cha? know you can take me...Trust me'

He hugged you and pushed in deeper, his groans vibrated against your neck as you braced your pretty acrylic nails on his large chest with all power you had left.

'Aww poor babe, cock feels so damn good doesn't it, huh?'

𑣿 DJ! Choso who has you seeing stars, screaming your head out as you squirted on his abs.

'Come on, gorgeous, make a mess for me. cum till you cry on this cock.'

He pulled you in for the sloppiest kiss, whispering how proud he is of you cumming so good for him. You could barely string a few words together. Braindead from how good he fucked your tiny pussy.

𑣿 DJ! Choso who drove you back to your place and softly layed you on your bed...

.. You woke up the next day realizing that he kept your soiled thong as a little souvenir, leaving you a handwritten note with his number on in exchange..

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slayfics · 6 months ago

Note

Heya! Can I get a comfort/fluff one shot with Kirishima and fem!reader? They like each other but are clueless about it, but are really good friends. He is in a sad mood, feeling insecure about his quirk compared to others. Reader comforts/cheers him up and it leads to him finally confessing? 😚

Eijiro confesses his feelings for you.

1.1k words

You walked back to the common room of the dorms after finishing showering. Ready to relax with your friends for the rest of the night. The usual group sat in their spots on the couches. Hanta was having an animated discussion with Denki, while Katsuki sat with his hands in his pockets, pretending he wanted to be anywhere else. Everyone was accounted for, except for Eijiro.

"Hey," you announced yourself taking up the empty spot next to Katsuki.

Hanta and Denki greeted you warmly while Katsuki grunted. The four of you had the usual conversations about classes, assignments, and training. You expected Eijiro to come down and join you all any minute, but he never did.

You waited for a natural pause in conversation to ask, "Where's Kirishima?"

"Said he was tired and went up to his room early," Hanta replied.

"Oh," you mused gazing at the ground. It was unusual for Eijiro to be sleepy so early, that was Katsuki's job.

"Yeah, I thought it was weird too, but it was a long day," Denki added.

Hanta and Denki started up another conversation while you found yourself worrying about Eijiro. You knew he didn't do well in the training today and he had a tendency to be too hard on himself. It was likely being tired was just an excuse to wallow in his room.

"Go check on 'em," Katsuki said, so lowly you almost didn't hear.

"Hu?" You perked up looking at him.

"If you're so damn worried, go check on him," Katsuki huffed.

"I didn't say I was worried," You argued.

"Tch- ya didn't have to. Go," he demanded.

"You don't have to be so bossy about it," You rolled your eyes and stood up.

"Yeah, I do, or your stubborn ass wouldn't listen," Katsuki retorted.

"Sorry, can't hear you," You mocked as the distance between you and Katsuki grew while you made your way to Eijiro's dorm. Katsuki huffed but didn't argue any further.

After the short elevator ride, you were in front of Eijiro's dorm door knocking.

"I told you guys I'm tired," he called from inside his room, responding to your knocks.

"Oh, sorry I didn't know," you called back.

Hearing your voice Eijiro rushed to his door.

"Oh hey! Sorry, I thought you were Sero and Kaminari," he replied.

"So, you're too tired to talk to them but not me?" You joked.

Eijiro's cheeks flushed slightly, "I uh-," he stuttered.

"Relax, I'm just teasing you," you said saving him the embarrassment. "Can I come in?"

"Of course," he said stepping aside to make way for you. "So, what's up?"

You thought for a moment before deciding how to answer. You figured honesty was the best. "I was just worried about you. I know you had a tough day today. So when the boys said you went to bed already, I just wanted to make sure you were ok."

Eijiro grunted as he plopped himself down on his bed, "Was it that obvious?" He asked, placing his hands over his face. His shirt lifted slightly revealing part of his abdomen. Your own cheeks flushing now.

You sat down on the bed next to him, "I don't think it was to anyone else!" You tried to comfort him. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Eijiro let out a sigh, "You saw me today... my quirk was worthless."

"That's not true!" You try to combat him.

"Yes, it was! There was nothing productive for me to do in that situation. It's just... never mind it's stupid," he said cutting himself off...

"No, tell me! I want to hear," you encouraged.

Another heavy sigh and some silence passed before Eijiro took his hands off his face and spoke to the ceiling, "I hate my quirk sometimes. You, Bakugo, Kaminari... all have amazing quirks that could be useful for almost anything. I've been training so hard to try and make up for that... but days like today just remind me how far behind I am from you guys... Sometimes it feels like I'm never going to catch up. Or even when I make improvements, it's not enough because everyone else has to so I'm still miles behind. I always wanted to be a hero and help people but, recently I don't think I'm even needed. The world has enough heroes ya know?"

"Are you being serious right now?" You said angrily at Eijiro.

"Hu?" He sat up looking at you confused.

"You really can't see how much of a difference you made for your team in the training today?!" You asked.

"They would have been fine without me; they didn't need me. The outcome would have been the same," Eijiro stated.

You shook your head no aggressively, "You're so dense sometimes."

"Ok ouch," Eijiro exclaimed.

"I just mean... the way Koda froze on your team; you all would have lost. The only reason he used his anivocie is because of you!"

"So?" Eijiro asked.

"Don't you get it? There's so much more to being a hero than just your quirk. There's your drive and the comfort you bring those you're saving. Even though you may have felt useless on the inside you hyped your team with your endless positivity, and it made everyone fight so much harder. Your team won because you were on it, and you believed in everyone." You explained.

Eijiro felt his eyes get misty, "You really think so?"

"I don't think. I know, and so does the rest of our class. You inspire everyone with your big shark smile and... the way you look up to all of us, makes us want to be that hero you think we can be. You bring a lot to our class, it's why you're friends with everyone. Even the hard-headed Bakugo. You're going to be a fan favorite hero someday because of that, I know it," you smiled at him.

"Man," Eijiro exclaimed taking in a breath. "You always know what to say, no wonder I like you so much."

"Hu?" You breathed out, taken off guard.

"No! I uh just mean-," Eijiro tried to backtrack.

"Don't... Please don't take it back," you said, gaze meeting his crimson eyes.

Eijiro bit his lip, attempting to swallow his nervousness, "You're right that would be unmanly. I meant it... You always check on me, and have this way of getting to me when I'm in my head... I can't help but... like you."

"I... feel the same way," you confessed.

"What?! Are you serious?" Eijiro asked stunned.

You nodded shyly.

"Man, I feel like the luckiest guy in the world right now... would you... want to go to my favorite restaurant after class tomorrow with me?" Eijiro asked.

"I'd love to," you replied.

sinners: @unofficialmuilover @maddietries @fiannee @derangedmango @reneinii @peachsukii @pastelbakugou @abadbitchblogs @deluluforcarlos55 @pinkpurpledreams @that-one-fangirl69 @dreamcastgirl99

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temis-de-leon · 6 months ago

Text

Day 17 - Jealous kiss

Characters: Solomon x gn!MC

25 kisses challenge Masterlist

Main Masterlist

CW: none, just fluff. Developing relationship.

Getting used to only seeing the moon, especially an unfamiliar one, was something that took more of MC’s time than they would like to admit. The darkness, loosing track of time and the drop in temperature were one thing, but it was the lack of vitamin D what proved to be a significant problem. Their body weakened and their mood plummeted to the point where even Lucifer panicked.

Fortunately for all of them, the solution was as simple as adding certain foods to their diet, mainly fish, and of course the brothers bought enough to feed an entire army. In the end, however, MC grew sick of it and resorted to consuming vitamin D supplement pills.

Then they had the dilemma of finishing the whole stack of seafood that filled the entire kitchen, including the fridge, the freezer and the cabinets. Not even Beel could force himself to gulp it down and soon Satan had the genius idea of feeding it to the stray cats.

They would get rid of the awful smell that roamed the house and other cats would visit in hopes of getting more gourmet treats, because where else would they find salmon or trout? At first, obviously, Lucifer refused in fear of any animal creeping inside the house while no one was looking, but once Asmo begged for the damn dead fish to get out, no one dared to complain.

So that’s where they were, the Avatar of Wrath almost crying in happiness while cats climbed all over his body, his younger brother beside him taking selfies with the cutest kittens and MC in a more secluded space giving all of their attention to a particular cat. It had greyish blue eyes and striking long white fur, stained with dirt, but beautiful nonetheless.

A certain sorcerer with similar features stared at them while they cooed at the cat, kissing its nose, scratching its ears and massaging its little paws.

“If I didn’t know you any better”, MC said with uncharacteristic pompousness “I’d think you were jealous”

“Me? Jealous?”

Solomon’s expression was mischievous, but a glint in his eyes betrayed him. He was definitely jealous.

“You must be imagining things, my dear MC”

The term of endearment made their heart flutter, still vulnerable to his teasing even after weeks of endless flirting. Those who weren’t close to them already thought they were dating and after the kiss they’d shared a few days ago during RAD’s latest festival, they might as well be.

It had been a nervous gesture, too short for both of their likings, but MC hadn’t stopped thinking about it. The taste of soda on both of their lips, his hands on their waist, gently keeping them close.

The memory made them feel like a love-struck schoolgirl.

“From the way I see it, you’re simply being too selfish with your affections”

They turned to the side to look at him with an incredulous smile, hugging the cat close to their chest and rubbing its belly. Solomon’s eyebrow twitched at the sight.

“Whatever do you mean?”

“Isn’t it clear?”

“Enlighten me”

Solomon opened his mouth to speak, but his words got stuck in his throat when MC shimmied their way to his body, resting impossibly close to him and letting the cat smell his RAD uniform. He smiled with genuine care and scratched its chin, once again unknowingly increasing MC’s heartbeat.

“Look at him, how handsome he is” murmured MC, their head oriented towards the cat, but their eyes directly looking at the blushing sorcerer “His white hair, his grey eyes… I could kiss him over and over and over again…”

And so they did, hoisting it until their heads were at the same height and enthusiastically pressing loud kisses on the fur. It smelled bad, but they did it anyways.

“Are you being mean on purpose?”

MC laughed at his childish complaint, trying not to make too much fun of his pout and his crossed arms. He only looked at them again when they finally let the cat go and threw themselves at him, making Solomon gasp in surprise.

“You’re funny”

The whisper clashed against his lips and became inaudible to everyone but them.

This kiss was even shorter than the one they shared at the festival, but it eased Solomon’s frown and it made his small smile reappear. He hugged their waist before they could get too far and deepened the kiss, not letting them go until a delighted screech reached their ears.

By the time they turned around, Asmodeus had already taken a picture.

Taglist: @ourfinalisation @owlisbuffering @chizukimp4 @ravenredwine @darkflowerav @craftysclown @mehkers

#obey me #obey me! shall we date?#om! shall we date #om! swd #obey me x reader #obey me x gender neutral reader #obey me solomon #obey me solomon x reader #solomon x reader #obey me fluff #obey me writing #obey me drabble #25 kisses challenge

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floofeh-purpi · 29 days ago

Text

Through the Screen. (Pt. 2)

Self-aware! Obey Me x Gn! Insomniac! Reader

MAG EY KA MUNA EYYYY!!!! Also, off topic but I think it's now going to sound like a fanfic... 😭🙏

『Beloved fluffball/s mentioned below! 💜』

@rotin0 @cherry-blossom-sword80 @leniisreallycool @mc-cos-charm @imtotallynotthere @cosmo112 @cheeseburgercasserole @kanashi-aivy @dead-d0ves

Warnings: Cursing, spelling/grammar errors, it feels like I'm awake at 3am even though I started this shit at 8:13pm, you might be based by me in terms of some stuff going on w you (sorry), one mention of you being su*cidal, what the fuck im now half-asleep.

【Part 1】

• Ok, you sometimes voice call your friends in messenger (or whatever app you use to call them) for whatever reason.

• Lets say you might call them so that yall can play an online game that doesnt have voice chat.

• Fuckers they can hear you.

• As in the characters, they can hear you.

• Every foul word that comes out through your mouth? Yes.

• Those noises of you aggresively clicking your keyboard? Yes.

• The air conditioning doing its own thing? Yes.

• Hell, THE WAY THAT YOU BREATHE? YES.

• You dont know about that part yet

• So now that you know that they know how to make some changes to the game's code...

• Let's just say your initial reaction was legit: :0

• But realization risen upon you. Oh shit...

• If they'll break outta the game and into your phone, does that mean that they can see what you have on your phone, gallery, and the edits you saved on your phone thats crying for you to free some space in its storage. 😨

• Luckily, this new yet somewhat not-so new phone has the ability to hide away your apps, files, pictures, and videos into a hidden folder! :D

• You kept your more not child-friendly stuff into that folder in case your parents will check your phone.

• And I kid you not, what if they will somehow find a way to connect/join with your other devices too?! D:

• You decided to play Obey Me, since that's how you cope with the fact that quarterly tests are approaching your grades dangerously close.

• ...Tests be damned?

• Tests, be damned it is.

★ (this means timeskip)

• ...Maybe it was a bad idea.

• Because you're literally sweating bullets as you're looking at the first question written on the test paper.

Welp, I'm fucked.

• No shit, the very few questions that you know that you'll get right is your name and date.

• And not to mention that time pressure is a thorn to your mind right now.

Class, you have 30 minutes left!

• Sternly exclaimed the teacher, with students making stressed-out noises and sounding like they we're binge-watching anime last night. This was totally not targeted towards a certain someone in my school. Nope.

• You groaned along with the other students before you buried your face in the sweating palms of your hands and then moving them to your forehead to answer the next question. 29 out of 30 questions... you'd be finished right now if it was your favorite subject. But this test was easy. Way too easy...

• Hm...

• God damn it. You took your words back as soon as you saw the arch nemesis of your life.

• And... Is that x3+y3+z3=k?

...EAHHHGGHH—

• Why... You were so certain that not a single math teacher could've taught this yet.

• You we're so damn thankful that this was multiple choice. Omfg.

• Anygays-

Eeny meeny miny Moe...

(This divider means a longer timeskip.)

• Ok so, after all that suffering, you can finally get the hell out of this dumpster of a fucking school!

• You skip your way out of that shitty classroom, with the first thing– or rather person– to greet you was your non-fictional and only best friend! Yipee! :D

N/n!!! :D (N/n means Nickname)

• Exclaimed they, the person who has been with you through thick and thin.

We'll go to your house just like you promised, right?

• So bright, like the stars blanketing the night skies.

• Sometimes you wish you were like them.

• Cheerful, positive, an absolute sunshine up your face, not-so suicida—

Uhm... N/n?

• Oops. You spaced out again.

Yah, lesgo.

• After y'all went inside your... miserable excuse of a house (you know you havent cleaned this shit up for god knows how long.)

• Luckily, your parents (mainly your dad) was in an EXTRA good mood today, (they weren't present after they screamed profanities at you last night <3) so you had the house all to your yourself.

Don't worry, my parents aren't here today..

• You said, which eased the concern building up inside your best friend's mind after they remembered what you told them about your... 'normal' relationship with your parents.

C'monnn, let's study in the living room.

• You best friend whined before dragging your sleep deprived ass to your couch.

★

Wahhh! Are you sure this ain't corn syrup?

I think so. Yah. Wait I don't even buy that shit to shove it up the drawer's ass...-

• Ok uhmm.... What was supposed to be a study session turned into a cooking session.

• Bless Solomon for not being present in the kitchen. Yet.

• You were about add some extra spices to- what the fuck were you making again??? when your loud ass 6pm alarm rang.

Augh...

• You groaned. Your hands were oily as fuck and you needed to take your maintenance. Great timing up my fucking ass.

Yo B/f/n, pass me my pills. Please?

Yah su-

• You and your friend suddenly got a loud ass obey me notification on your phones. They at least still had the decency to pass you your pills even while they're still shocked at the kind of notification they got.

• I mean, no shit dipshit.

• Bitch how tyhe fuck did they know that you eat dinner at 9 in the fucking eveni-

• Oh..

• OH...

• You forgot they can practically stalk you through your phone and you haven't told your good ol' bestie about that now, did you...

• ...Oops. 🥰

If you think this is short, and its your first time stubling upon the dumpster collection of a blog thats also 95% full of reblogs, wait until you see that sagau series that i havent finished yet 😭🙏

Published: October 14 2024. 8:13pm.

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writingoddess1125 · 1 year ago

Text

I am your Biggest Fan~ Pt. 2

WARNINGS: NON-Con, $mut, Face-Fuck, Spit as Lube, Hair Pulling, Dom!Buggy, Unprotected sex, DEAD-DOVE, Tsundare Buggy

Dirty Nasty $mut is below. Be warned ⚠️

I may have went overboard with the length- Also my first time writing $mut! Please tell me how I did and what you'd like to see next!

Buggy the Clown x GN Reader

Part 1: Biggest Fan Pt. 1

Buggy grinned as he stared down at (Y/N) keeping barely any space between the two of them as he bit up and down their neck. Listening to the mild hisses in pain and whimpers of fear- It was too sexy for him and made him want more.

"Captian!" A loud voice sounded making he growl and turn to see Cabaji. Holding his blades with some blood smeared on his face and costume.

"What do you want!?" Buggy Hissed in irritation.

"Sir, We have almost finished with the village. The Marines are sure to be informed" Ah right- this was a small village it wouldn't haven't taken long to pillage the place.

Buggy opened his mouth to speak but ended up getting a hard hit to his mouth as (Y/N) Slipped under his arms and tried to run. Buggy grabbing them by their hair with lightning fast reflexes yanking them back towards him- ignoring their cry for pain. Buggy growled at this as he glared down at (Y/N) before sighing-

"We set sail then, Get a move on!

He yelled at his first mate who nodded and dashed away to echo orders. Buggy gave a low chuckle at the performer, gripping their hair harder.

"Ill let you get that one for free since youre so damn cute Doll~ But looks like we are gonna have to rush our little act back to the Red Top~!"

He said cheerfully, her personality like a rubber ball constantly changing as he harshly flung them to the floor. Watching them trying to scramble for a quick second before he placed his boot on their back to pin them before looking around to for something to restrain them with. His eyes landing on the satin ribbons from the show. Snatching them quickly.

"Oh don't you love the irony~"

He grinned as he overpowered them with ease and tied the satin ribbons tightly around their hands and ankles.

"Let me go! YOU CANT DONT THIS YOU DIRTY PIR- MMHPH!"

They squealed as he shoved one of their lace fabrics into their mouth. Smirking at the sight and fluffing himself as a job well done. Quickly at the sound of the fire he grabbed the performer and tossed them over his shoulder, making sure to give their exposed ass a nice hard smack. Which earned him a angry squeal, before he took off.

Running out of the blood soaked bar and to the streets- It looked like what sidewalks in hell must. Blood, broken glass, fire and bodies- bodies of those who wouldn't be able to handle the long road of the show biz or audience left like animals on the street. (Y/N) screams muffled through the lace gag as they witnessed the carnage. Buggy laughing maniacally as he ran through those streets, sliding in the blood comically like this was another one of his performances. Seeing his crew rip the jewelry from the necks of people before either killing them or tightening harsh shackles to them.

Buggy skipped down the street till he reached his ship, Watching the new group of audience members being herded in like cattle to their final resting spots their seats. (Y/N) at this point sobbing as they were hauled away from the horror down to the Captian's room and tossed roughly on the large bed.

"Whoo! Just what I needed to get my Mojo back in seemed- Really got a full house this time!~"

He laughed, Taking off his hat and kicking his bloody boots off. Looking to (Y/N) and their pathetic form on his bed, shaking and with tears running down their cheeks

"Awww~ Baby No, No crying. I wanted to run that mascara a different way... tsk.. So messy"

The Captian grumbled, Grabbing his own little makeup bag and a hanky. He smiled down at them as he crawled towards them on the bed, Sitting before them making sure they were pinned with his legs as he chuckled at the sight of them under him. 'So cute'

He hummed as he wiped their tears away before opening the makeup bag.

"Now if you keep crying, I'm gonna have to keep doing your makeup all over again! And that's really gonna piss me off- So lets stop thay crying~"

Buggy said the last part darkly, (Y/N) staring up at Jim with pure terror as he smirked at the sight but nodded shakily. Sniffling through the lace gag as they tried to stop the tears from flowing.

"Good~ Very good sweetheart"

Carefully he reapplied the mascara and touched up the eyeshadow with what he owned which wasn't much. He pulled the lace gag from their lips and held their cheeks tightly with one hand and a firm grip

"Now stay still for this~"

He hummed, pulling out his favorite red and painted their lips perfectly. A wide grin playing as he saw his finished work, Placing another love bite to his newest toys neck but this time sinking deeper then before making (Y/N) cry out in pain as he broke skin. Pulling back to lick the blood from his teeth as he saw the mark.

"P-Please let me go- I don-"

He grabbed their face again (Y/N) flinching from his touch as he reached forward to fix their hair so they looked perfect.

"I-I don't want this- Please let me go- I'm begging"

Buggy almost rolled his eyes- if it wasn't for how adorable they were he would have slit their throat for how pathetic they sounded.

"Listen, Just so we are clear~ I am letting you live as MY plaything it's either this or I slit your throat and throw you overboard and I reeaalllyyy like you so I'd rather not waste such a pretty face"

He said with a smirk, watching the gears in the performers face as they realized the situation they were in. Giggling at the sight of realizing they didn't really have a choice, which was perfect. Reaching down to pull at the ankle restraints, tossing one peice of the satin ribbons to the side. However keeping the wrist one.

"Now nod if you understand-"

(Y/N) left their stomach sink- This was it... they either be this manic clowns play toy or end up like the poor villagers- in those shackles or worse.. They nodded shakily, Trying to hold back the want of breaking into sobs. Buggy clapped his hand happily and smiled brightly, those watercolor eyes swimming with pure joy at them understanding and in his mind agreeing- He kisses their cheek at this like a mock lovers and ran his hands down their form with a excited glee.

"You're perfect, I knew you were from the moment I laid eyes on you- So pretty and talented. And best of all you haven't even stared at my nose! I hate it when people do that, yet you never did... My name is Buggy.. Captian Buggy. I wanna hear you say it-"

He said happily, locking eyes with them again with his twisted smile. A unnatural yet beautiful smile on his lips as he stared at them.

"B-Buggy.. Captian Buggy"

They whispered back which earned another kiss to the cheek. His eyes racking their form as they sat there, one pasty on their chest, the remains of their costume with the added satin ribbons. He couldn't help but get aroused by their appearance again, chuckling darkly as he stared at them. Without saying a word he grabbed them roughly by the shoulders and pulled them off the bed, Setting them on their knees as he sat infront of.

(Y/N) Looked up at him with wide eyes, noticing the large tenting in his pants as he sat infront of her. It didn't take a genius to figure out what he wanted.. Buggy chuckled as he admired (Y/N) for a moment longer before undoing his pants- Cackling as his as his cock sprung out of his pants like a spring.

"Pop Goes the Weasal~!"

Buggy cock like the rest of him was large and unruly, the head a deep pink with a base of deep blue curls. (Y/N) looked up at Buggy again, seeing him smirking at their expression of seeing this part of him.

"Don't be shy now~"

(Y/N) nodded softly, giving a small tug on the restraints for a second of hope however there was no give so that was that- Leaning forward they parted their lips and took Buggy fully into their mouth.

Their nose brushing against the unkempt blue curls as they carefully ran their tongue over the organ. Buggy grumbling out gentle moans as he stared down at them, his pupils blown up with desire as he watched them. Laying kitten licks down his cock and coming back up to gently suck on the tip of his cock, While it felt delightful Buggy was greedy and of course- Wanted more~

Grabbing their hair harshly and smiling as he slammed them down fully on his dick, feeling them squeak and gag in shock. Setting his own pace as he roughly forced their head to bob at unnatural speeds, Moaning out roughly as he did so. His hips starting to thrust into (Y/N) mouth, enjoying the sound of the mild gagging and noises escaping (Y/N).

He looked down and saw with joy the beautiful mess he had created- (Y/N) face was red with tears, messy mascara running down their cheeks and their hair a tangled mess in his gloved hands- But it was their mouth. Oh those dirty lips wrapped around his cock staining it red with lipstick that damn near made his cum right then and there.

Yanking them off his dick he watched them struggle to catch their breath, a delicate mix of his precum laying on their tongue and mix. While (Y/N) looked up at him with those watery eyes that made him burn. In his eyes they looked like a masterpiece.

"Fuck~ I don't think I can last long with you looking like that~ Guess we gotta rush the performance Baby!~"

He cackled as he quickly pulled them up to their feet by their hair smiling at the sob that broke through them. Quickly he pushed bent them over the mattress, Smirking as he made sure to tighten the satin wrist restraints and smiled.

(Y/N) panted hard, they felt their face pressed into the plush bedding of the mattress and their eyes widened as the peices started to fall into place. Glancing back as they saw Buggy undoing his shirt fully and Tossing it to the side, As well as taking off the bandana that held his hair up. Letting it fall lose down his back with a relaxed sigh before meeting the gaze of (Y/N) again with a crooked smile.

Like the survival instincts kicked back in they scrambled against the bed trying to squirm away and kicked their legs wildly. Buggy cackled and presses his lower half against their ass essentially pinning them- Using his legs to trap their own against the wooden bed frame.

"N-NO! Wait-t!"

They sobbed out but Buggy was quick in grabbing their hair again and yanking their head back.

"Now Now Now let's not make a fuss!~ I do think we've already crossed the line of no return"

He said with a laugh, using his free hand to grab their ass and pulled to give himself a nice view an access. Forgetting he hadn't removed the thong from them yet- however no matter!~ he used his thumb to move the fabric aside and grinned, 'So smart!' Ignoring the squirming from the performer begging and trying to escape he spit at the open hole before him with a grin before positioning himself.

"Good enough~"

Purring as he started to inch his way in. (Y/N) choked back a cry as they left him inch his way in, He was too large- Unfairly so! It felt like they were being split in half. That toe curling pain that borders on pleasure shot through their body as air seemed to evade their lungs.

"That's it... Fuck"

Buggy growled out from above them, Grunting as he slammed the last of himself into them having grown inpatient to wait anymore. His hands left their hair, instead positioning themselves on their hips, feeling the dig of his gloved hands into the soft bruised flesh. With barely any time to fully adjust he started to move-

A deep growl rumbled through his chest as he started to speed up the time of his thrust, (Y/N) felt hot like liquid fire was being drawed from their core from the forced pleasure pulling our rugged breathless moans as if they had been made for that sole purpose. A broken chores of moans and groans leaving their bruised lips at Buggys ruthless pace, Buggy moaned out loudly as he felt them tightening around him his hips starting to shudder.

(Y/N) babbling out incoherent moans and whimpers at the harshness of the thrust and the feeling of a orgasm so close to breaking through them.

"F-Fuck Fuck!"

He roared out, Slamming himself harder into them with a thundering speed. Pressing his chest against their back as he panted in their ear, his blue locks edged with sweat sticking to his forehead and fanning around (Y/N) as they screamed out moans- fresh tears running down their cheeks staining the mattress below as a forced orgasm ripped through their form- their body quaking from the force of the orgasm that shot through their body- Buggy grunting loudly as he slammed himself into them fully and came.

Buggy panted hard afterwards, Releasing their bruised hip and pushing how blue locks from his face. A series of panted curses leaving his lips as he pulled out of (Y/N) marveling at the damage he had done. Seeing them limp and barely functioning he scooped them up and placed them fully on the bed, Spreading their ass again to marvel at his claim.

(Y/N) laid there panting, The ache between their legs making it impossible to get comforble especially with Buggy's rough fingers rubbing against their abused hole. The world started to fade to black from the exhaustion from the day but Buggy's voice echoed around them with his twisted chuckle.

"I can't wait for tomorrow's show (Y/N)~"

Tag List-

@honey-eyed-munson

#buggy the clown x reader #buggy x reader #captain buggy #x reader #one peice x reader #one peice live action #one peice #buggy one piece #gn reader #dead dove fic

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porcalinecunt · 1 year ago

Text

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐓𝐄𝐍 — 𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆

💀 KINKTOBER EVENT

🎧 𝐁𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐊𝐀 𝐗 𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐄!𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

𝐜𝐰 — dom!baraka. sub!reader. ftm!reader. monsterfucking. general teratophillia. size kink. belly bulge. breeding. wall sex. public sex. dacryphillia(?).

an: i wonder if there’s any other baraka whores out there, since there’s literally nothing for him on here ;-;. anyways, he was perfect for this entry (besides syzoth) so please enjoy! especially since i finished this before midnight. 🫶🏼

“The disease is not easily gotten, but you can’t risk more exposure.”

Baraka’s own words, and they couldn’t be any more true. Tarkat is an entity of it’s own, slowly killing it’s victims and cruelly keeping the unlucky alive. Sadly enough, he would be one of them.

Despite Mileena’s rule, Tarkatens still had a long road ahead of them. There was still no cure to the illness, meaning Baraka and the rest of his colony had to hang on a little longer until hope finally reaches them. At least, he wasn’t alone.

Warnings, obvious or not, didn’t stop you from seeing him. You knew too well what would happen if you were to catch the dreaded disease, even the potential fate it had in store for you. But the heart wants what it wants, and it will always get it.

Admittedly, Baraka felt the same even if he didn’t want to admit it. There was something so heartwarming that a little human would still adore him despite the monstrous appearance he had. How you’d kiss his large teeth and nose or nibble on his pointed ears. The way you had to go on your toes to reach him for a hug made his decaying heart melt.

Although, you couldn’t help but allow your mind to wander. The mind creating fantasies that everyone would deem you crazy for. Baraka was a gentle one, but his size would state otherwise.

You should know, finding yourself pressed against the stone wall of an isolated area in the colony. Your legs wrapped around his waist as you gripped his biceps which were larger then your head. Baraka covered your mouth, preventing anyone else hearing your mewls and sobs that tore through your throat as you slowly took his cock. Your body shook violently, as he filled you inch by inch.

“B-Baraka!—‘s too big! too much!”

You whined, feeling his dick hit your cervix already in your abused cunt. Baraka growled, not used to the foreign feeling of his lover’s cunt squeezing around his shaft. It felt too fucking good to be real. He lifted you up by the hips, only to slam you back down onto him. He was essentially fucking his cock in you like a ragdoll, watching your head bobbing around and your eyes rolled back till they were white. Incoherent babbles went straight to the Tarkatan’s dick, as he let out low growls and praises.

“Yes, yes..just like—that..!”

It was all he could muster, increasing his pace. You grew louder and louder, staring down at the sight below you. A large bulge in your womb, disappearing as he filled it with his length before coming back and molding it’s shape into you. You clenched, almost cumming at the sight of it.

“Baraka, ‘m close..can’t wait ‘nymore..”

Your words slurred to the point of gibberish, as Baraka abruptly stopped. Before you could protest, he laid you down on the warm sand and lifted your hips up. Like before, he pulled you onto his cock and wildly fucked you like an animal in heat. His movement became sloppy, indicating he was close.

“Please, let me claim you for myself, y/n.”

His raspy and inhumane voice became gentle, even if it wasn’t obvious. Despite the way he fucks, Baraka couldn’t ever hurt you during sex. He sees it as a way of lovers, the most vulnerable and intimate moments together. Especially for him.

You nodded eagerly, wanting to be with the Tarkaten till the day the damned illness took him or both of you at once. It’s not the happiest ending, but it’s one better then being Shang Tsung’s lab rats.

With a couple more sloppy thrusts, Baraka painted your walls white while you coated his cock with your cum. A drawn out whine filled your ears, as your body shook violently until your back slumped onto the sandy ground. While catching your breath, Baraka pulled himself out and watched the mess he made in your pussy. The buldge slowly sunk in as globs of cum spilled out of you, seemingly never ending.

You chuckled, supporting yourself on your elbows to give him a kiss on his toothy mouth, a move that caught him off gaurd but quickly returned by licking your cheek, making you giggle.

Tarkat or not, Baraka is Baraka. Nothing would’ve ever torn you away from him, even if it killed you.

🎧 this work belongs to @porcalinecunt. reblogs and feedback are appreciated. <3

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bamboozledbird · 2 months ago

Text

IGNITE: A Teen Wolf S1 AU (Reader's Version) // Prev. / Chapter 5 / Next

Characters: Stiles Stilinski, fem!reader, Scott McCall, Lydia Martin, ofc, omc Pairing: Eventual Stiles x Reader, but man are we talking slow burn Word Count: 10.2k Warnings: Canon typical gore/violence, parental death (rip to your fake mom), depictions of depression (apathy, dissociation, 'numb little bug' vibes), depictions of a panic attack, animal death Tags: Canon has been lovingly scrapped for parts, author is a chaotic bi and it shows, prolific overuse of the em dash, the slowest of burns i fear

Summary: You can always smell ash long after the fire is gone. Perhaps, that’s why you still can’t breathe without choking on the past. It’s been four years since your mom died. Four years since she burned alive. Four years since you didn’t. You survived, but they must have buried your heart with her because most days you feel like a shadow, some horrifically sad creature caught halfway between a ghost and a lamb for slaughter.

You can’t scrub the bitter smell of hospital from your memories, not even with denial. Maybe, that’s why death and disease follows Stiles wherever he goes now. It’s been eight years since his mom died. Eight years since he didn’t. Eight years since he decided that he wouldn’t let anyone he loved die ever again. He survived, but Beacon Hills’ bloody underbelly is making it pretty damn hard for him to keep his promise.

Time never stops turning. The grief never dissipates. Children soldier on—but in a town where all the monsters under the bed are real, and old family secrets rattle in every closet, how long can two fragile, breakable humans survive?

Maybe, the real question is: How long will they want to?

Chapter Summary: You start to unravel some of the secrets hidden in Beacon Hill's other world, and Stiles manages to worm his way into discovering some of your own.

A/N: this took a minute, so i hope the length makes up for it! comments and reblogs are love, and i am tinkerbell. also check me out on ao3 (dork_knight) for the full lore version!

Tag list: @eaterof-concrete

Your anger fizzled with every mile you drove. By the time you finished your third loop around the Preserve, it was just a light simmer of irritation. The void was quickly filled with a different emotion: curiosity. There was a little dread in there too, perhaps also a touch of nausea, but the concoction was still potent enough to distract you from your...whatever that was with Lydia. Now that you were alone, trees blurring together in a ribbon of yellowing-green through your dash, all you could think about was the fire Derek’s family died in. Well, that, and another fire that was always lurking somewhere in your mind, hiding in the shadows, just waiting for the chance to jump out and strangle your heart.

Beacon Hills was a small town. A town where, until very recently, bad things hardly ever happened. What were the chances of two houses going up in flames four years apart? Of two houses burning down to the foundation in the blink of an eye? Of two homes becoming charred rubble and chilling memorials to the lives lost inside? As far as you knew, they were the only unnatural fires that’d occurred in Beacon Hills in the last century.

It could all be a coincidence, of course. Nothing. Just a delusional, grief-driven conspiracy. It would be best if you accepted that now before you fell too far down this rabbit hole. It’d taken you two years to finally realize that the police were never going to figure out what really happened to your mom, and those two years had been filled with a series of devastating misdirections, hundreds of dashed hopes and unanswered prayers to a god you no longer believed in. You knew better than this. You did. You knew better than to hope.

But…maybe. Maybe there was something there. If there was an elaborate plot afoot, you knew just the right conspiracy nut to turn to.

The last time you believed in magic, you were six. You had run the entire mile-and-a-half to Maggie’s dad’s store, hands bloody and cupped into a small nest. You’d almost choked on your quiet, congested whimpers, but after a few minutes of blubbering, you’d finally managed to spit out a few words, “You know how to fix him, right? You know everything.” There had to be a spell, you’d thought, with all the wisdom of a first-grade education. There had to be some magic flower or special potion that could make everything better.

You hadn’t noticed the look on Maggie’s face when you finally opened your fingers, but Maggie had to have been panicking once she saw exactly what needed to be fixed—cradled in your palms, was a tiny, twitching field mouse you’d found on your way home from school. His little chest had heaved so slowly as he laid limply in your hands, as if he’d already accepted his fate. You’d been so young then, too young to realize that Maggie was only nineteen and faked her confidence more often than she felt it. Nineteen had seemed so old at six, and now it was only three years away.

Maggie had known, of course, that the poor little guy probably wouldn’t live long enough to see nightfall, but she’d made the fatal mistake of looking into your big wet eyes: still so full of hope and belief in the impossible. Instead of telling you the truth, she’d just said, “I got this," and took the mouse to the backroom—where all the magic happened. You never ended up seeing the mouse again. You realized now that probably meant he died, but you appreciated Maggie letting you live in the land of make-believe for just a little while longer.

But that was ten years ago. Today, you knew that Mags was only mortal and Willowbark couldn’t actually heal fatal rodent wounds—but you were still hoping, against all hopes, that Maggie actually had the answers this time.

“Mags?” your brow crinkled as you searched for Maggie and her wild curls. Mags often got lost in the midst of all the chaos, just a small blip in a crowded collection of odd, Victorian-esque relics. You could usually spot at least a glimpse of whatever loud color Maggie was sporting that day. The yellows and pinks were always stark against the dingy backdrop, but today the only colors you could see from the front door were varying shades of sage, oxblood, and charcoal. “Maggie?”

A muffled cry sounded from the storeroom, “Back here.”

The door to the backroom was slightly ajar, and the purple lighting from the mini-greenhouse inside spilled through the crack. It cast a mesmerizing strip of dayglow lavender over the dangly earrings and mood rings for sale next to the register. “Bring me the shears, will you? The pink ones by Giz.”

You dropped your backpack behind the glass counter and drifted towards the sounds of Gizmo’s trumpeting snores. The stretch for the pruning scissors was a bit precarious; the little prince was batting his paws at something in the depths of dreamland and had no presence of mind for your fragile skin. You snagged the shears with minimal carnage and ran your finger along the cool edge, staring at the gleaming surface, “You’re into all local history, right? Not just the made-up stuff?”

Maggie took the shears from your lax hands and squatted next to the potted yew tree on the floor. It was just starting to blossom, red berries dotted sparsely around the spiky leaves—ripe for whatever ridiculous offering Maggie had planned. Maggie blew a ringlet out of her face and fixed you with a stern frown, “My ancestors were witches, and Dragons absolutely did exist. Just look at ‘dinosaur’ fossils from the—”

“Do you know anything about the fire the Hale family died in?” you looked down at your hands so that you didn’t have to see Maggie’s reaction.

You traced circles around a rosy stain on Maggie’s workbench, likely from ground flower petals or dripping pomegranate seeds, shoulders hunching towards your ears as you continued, “I mean, you’re around the same age as the older sister, right?” Laura. You couldn’t bring yourself to say her name, and the hypocrisy was stifling. You hated when people tiptoed around death, when they used pretty euphemisms like that could make what actually happened any less brutal. Less evil. Less unfair. But there was no softening grief. Death. Murder. There was no candy coat sweet enough to cloak the taste of rotting—and yet, you still couldn’t say her name.

Maggie went still briefly and then continued clipping branches, ignoring or not noticing the couple of leaves stuck to her fuzzy sweater. “Why?”

You gritted your teeth and stared a burl in the wood underneath your fingers, “Why do you think?”

Sighing, Maggie spread her clippings across the maple worktop and picked at a few yellowing leaves, “Where is this coming from, babe? I mean, that was a long time ago. I’m almost thirty, you know—ancient by most standards.”

You didn’t smile. Couldn’t. “Do you know anything or not?”

“No,” Maggie sounded genuine, but she kept her eyes on the red stains underneath her fingernails, “nothing more than what was on the news.”

The fact that Maggie didn’t make a quip or a stupid pun was even more telling than her refusal to look in your direction. You folded your arms over your chest and leaned your hip against the doorframe, “Sure.”

“Are you okay, babe?” Maggie wiped the berry residue off on her skirt, and the long hem swished around her ankles as she crept towards you. Her hand was cautious when she placed it on your rigid shoulder, “You aren’t skipping your meds again, are—”

Your eyes flashed as you shook off Maggie’s light touch with a jerk of your shoulder, “Is it possible for me to have a single feeling without everyone jumping down my throat about my meds.”

“I just worry,” Maggie said softly, and she reached for you again, waiting for you to pull away. She tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear when you didn’t. Your limbs were still stiff, and your face was still stony, but you let Maggie grab your hand. It was slightly sweaty, probably from all the indoor-gardening, but there was some comfort in the circles she smoothed over your knuckles. “You know I’m a worrier. Comes with the conspiracy theorist in me.”

You looked down at your feet and dug your toes into the concrete floor, “And my mom’s dying wish—I know.”

A bit of hurt quivered in the corners of Maggie’s reassuring smile, even though she tried her best to hide it, “That’s not the reason I do it.”

Your entire frame slumped with guilt, “I know.” And you did; you did know. You made Maggie drive you to the library every weekend before you got your license, and in return Maggie stole about a dozen of your sweaters once she realized you were finally the same size—Mags wasn’t just your mom’s weird friend from the neighborhood; she was family. She taught you how to make pie crust and scones, and she always read ‘happily ever after’ in the lines of your palms when you needed something to smile about. Maggie did a million little things for you without any appreciation, and you tried to remember every single one as you sat on the floor in front of the ‘Local Culture’ shelf.

Your nose scrunched as you looked over the titles on the spines, searching for anything that sounded even remotely real. Maggie knelt next to you, patch-work skirt billowing around her knees, and watched your fingers drum against the floor.

“Anything in particular you’re looking for?” Maggie bumped your shoulder with her own, and you grunted a little response.

“Nothing you can help me with.” Evidently, you thought with only a bit of bitterness.

Maggie didn’t say anything for a long time. You almost forgot she was there, and then her bracelets clacked together as she shifted. “Here,” Maggie pulled a thick journal out of the depths of her baggy cardigan and held it out with a complicated expression on her face—something halfway between a frown and a smile, “I think you’ll find this one particularly interesting.”

You looked down at the title and rubbed your thumb over the engraved font, “‘A History and Detailed Account of Beacon Hills Bloodlines’?”

Maggie nodded and shoved her hands into her skirt pockets, “Goes back all the way to the beginning—not literally, obviously. I don’t think they wanted to get into the whole ‘God vs. Big Bang’ debate, but it dates back to when the town was founded.”

“That’s…interesting, I guess,” you flipped through the pages and bit down on your tongue to squash the sneer curling across your lips. It was a nice gesture. You knew that—but what else were you supposed to do when the ‘History’ and ‘Detailed Account’ fell open to an artistic diagram of 'local werewolf packs’ genealogy lines. You were a little interested to see if the names were entirely fictional, or if the journal was an accurate record of Beacon Hill’s very own Werewolf Trials. Probably the first, you’d remember learning about extra hairy men and women being burned at the stake in social studies.

Maggie huffed out a little laugh and pushed her glasses back up the bridge of her nose. “I know you won’t believe everything in there, but who knows,” she shrugged and held out a hand for you to grab onto, “maybe you’ll finally be enlightened.”

You took her hand and hummed, “While you’re feeling so generous and bad for me ‘cause I’m functionally an orphan, could I get some more of that wolfsbane gunk?” You batted your lashes over the edge of the leather cover and grinned your most adorable smile—the one that dusted off a rare view of your dimples, “It can be my birthday present.”

It was an obvious ploy, but Maggie just laughed and poked one of your dimples, “Your birthday is months away.”

You picked up the speed of your blinking, approaching butterfly-wing territory, and rocked onto your tiptoes, “An early birthday present is still a birthday present.”

Mags watched you through narrowed eyes for a moment, “You don’t even believe in werewolves.”

You shrugged and smirked, “It works on humans too.”

“Please, please don’t make me an accessory to murder.” Maggie gripped your shoulders and shook you a little, fighting a smile, “I would not fare well in prison. They limit your internet privileges there—no Wi-Fi, babe. No Wi-Fi. I would be completely alone with my thoughts.”

“The horror,” your eyes glittered with your grin, and for a sweet moment you forgot about the journal in your hands and all the questions it wouldn’t answer. “It’s not for me,” you admitted, grimacing as Maggie’s lips puckered. The pursing of her lips, the hollowing of her cheeks—that always came before a very long and arduous inquisition. Maggie could be relentless when she wanted to be.

“And whom would you be giving such a precious gift to?” The thickness of her brows only magnified the suspicion in Maggie’s tapered expression, “A gift you called—what was it? ‘Useless’ and ‘stupid’ less than 24-hours ago?”

“Just because I think it’s stupid, doesn’t mean it’s a bad gift for someone else. I thought the Sonic Chia Pet I gave you was stupid, and you loved it.” You knew you won when Maggie started walking away from you towards the storeroom. You still had no idea how Curio Killed the Cat stayed in business when Maggie handed out inventory like candy, but presently its troubling business model was a blessing in disguise.

“Don’t disparage him,” Maggie crooned over her shoulder, “it’s bad luck.”

“If everything is sacred, nothing is,” you sniped, doing your best Vulcan impression.

Maggie smiled brightly as she hopped over the counter, sticking out her tongue, “I don’t think everything is sacred—just all the things I like.”

Speaking of things Maggie liked—you tucked your first gift under your armpit and held out your hands, palms cupped together. Your mouth curved into a cheesy grin as you said, “Trick-or-Treat.”

Maggie rolled her eyes, but her puckish spark dwindled when she looked at the vile of wolfsbane. It was balanced between her thumb and forefinger, glass reflecting the light, and you felt a bit like you were accepting the One Ring and a quest you weren't prepared for. “Be careful, okay?” Maggie hesitated before dropping the vile into your waiting hands, “I know you love Buffy, but resurrection isn’t so easy off-screen.”

You were a little startled by the concern wrinkling the corners of Maggie’s eyes. She looked almost more worried now than she did when you asked her about the Hale fire. “Like I said,” you carefully eased the wolfsbane into your corduroy skirt, “it’s not for me.”

Maggie's eyes combed over your face, searching for something, and then she sighed, “Just…don’t let anyone drag you into something stupid. I don’t care how cute he is; no boy is worth the risk of ruining your gorgeous face. It’s your money-maker, babe.”

There was a lot to unpack in those three sentences; you didn’t even know where to begin. There was, of course, the implication that you were going to join some kind of Scooby-Doo gang that dealt wolfsbane on the side. While the thought of going ghost hunting with a pair of boys who couldn’t make it to class without tripping over their feet was, in fact, asinine…that wasn’t the part twisting stubborn knots around your ear canal.

Your face was dragged down by a broody pout, “For your information, I’m not giving it to Stiles; it’s actually for a guy who isn’t the leading cause of pulmonary embolisms in Beacon County—and I don’t think either of them are cute.”

That wasn’t strictly true. You did think that Scott was cute, just like you thought Gizmo was cute when he pleaded for treats. You could see the appeal of Scott McCall, why Allison liked him, but you hadn’t thought someone was cute like that in a very long time. A person generally had to actually look at people to think they were cute, and you hadn’t looked beyond forcing one foot in front of the other and your nubby nails in years.

And as far as Stiles went…honestly, you hadn’t really considered the concept of Stiles as an actual person until Maggie had to go and imply it. You supposed, now that you were thinking about it, he had an objectively nice face: big eyes, button nose, nice jaw—but when you saw him in person, it was almost always covered with an infuriating smirk or making obnoxious sounds. You usually just wanted to shove it away from you. Sometimes, when Stiles was being particularly difficult, you even thought about flicking him right in his long-lashed, honeycomb eyes. You wondered if the Sheriff would arrest you if you—

That’s right, your eyes rounded with the thought, Stiles is the Sheriff's son.

The recollection rang through every single one of your thoughts and echoed along the caverns of your skull, sparing you from ruminating on something far, far scarier. You were much more comfortable with deduction.

Your brow furrowed as you pushed yourself over the counter to grab your backpack—sure that Maggie would misinterpret your impromptu exit, but too lost in through to really care—Stiles is the Sheriff's son. You forgot that sometimes. They were so different, after all, and you were certain that Stiles had broken the law at least a few times in his life, but he was. Stiles was the Sheriff's son, and he probably knew things that he shouldn’t. Things that were only kept in confidential files. Fortunately, you didn’t need to think that someone was cute to use them for information.

“Methinks the Lady doth protest too much,” Maggie chirped. She was fiddling with her branches in the back again, picking the berries and dropping them into a little stone bowl.

You scowled at the berries like it was their fault you were in this predicament, “Gertrude sucks.

“And yet she was correct,” Maggie tossed a berry at your forehead, and it landed dead-center on the tip of your nose, dripping a small trail of crimson juice onto your cupid’s bow. Maggie laughed until a burst of snorts consumed her giggles, and you scowled deeper as you wiped your nose clean with your sleeve.

“And yet, she’s the prime example of doing something stupid for a boy.” You made a point of flipping Maggie off before trudging towards the door.

You pushed the exit open with your shoulder—rushing to get home to your notebook and pens. Ideas had a way of slipping away from you; you liked to make them real. Tangible. Inked lines and loops that couldn’t be erased.

Maggie cupped your cheeks before you could slither away to your car, startling you out of your head. “Don’t be Gertrude. Don’t be stupid,” Maggie said, incredibly solemn, but the twinkle of mischief in her eye ruined the 'Yoda effect'.

You pursed your lips as your eyes flitted towards the side, “I’ll do my best to not marry my dead husband’s brother-killer.” The door swung shut behind you, cutting off the trill of Maggie’s laughter.

You spent the rest of the night on your bed, sitting cross-legged with your notebook spread open across your lap. You tapped your pen against your knee and watched the blades on your ceiling fan spin into a fuzzy Saturn ring until your eyes watered. You were trying, and failing, to think of a way to ask Stiles for help without him making a big deal about it—contemplating if it was truly worth all the aggravation.

Sighing, you sketched random swirling lines in purple ink. They interconnected in a pretty pattern that eventually took the shape of the maze on your pendant. There was no way out of the labyrinth without breaking down a wall; it was hopeless, a path that never ended. People who entered the maze would be doomed to walk in circles until they littered the ground with their decomposing skeletons—and oh how you envied them.

Stiles would never let it go; you were pretty damn sure of that. He would poke, and prod, and stick his upturned nose into your business until he'd thoroughly invaded your privacy and got all the answers to his meddlesome questions. He could never ju—

The sound of paper tearing dragged you out of your pitiful brooding, and you sighed. Your pen had ripped through the center of the maze. You held the page up to the light, and it shone through the hole, blinding you momentarily.

There was no escaping the labyrinth—there was only pushing straight though.

You spent a lot of your time observing people lately. It wasn’t as creepy as it sounded, at least you hoped it wasn’t as creepy as it sounded. It was just…ever since Stiles dragged you back into the present—kicking, screaming, and bitching the entire way—you had been…overwhelmed by how alive everything was. It felt like so much had happened in the last four years. Everyone had gone on living while you’d hidden away in your mind and rotted in your room.

You couldn’t put a name to the strange feeling twisting in your chest. You were angry, of course, so angry that people had the audacity to just… live, like there wasn’t a gigantic, bleeding void in the world that had yet to scar over—that might never truly close—but there was something else mixed in with the bitterness, something sweeter.

There was a certain kind of beauty, you mused, in the way they enjoyed such silly things. There was just something about the way they found joy in sparkly nail polish, and their favorite song, and a boy looking in their general direction that had you choking on a foreign warmth. Everyone had something, and it was beautiful to see people grow their worlds around the ugliness while you weren't so consumed with shrinking yours.

Leaning back against your locker, you watched two freshmen girls walk side-by-side until a flock of tropical-scented, lip-gloss-coated sophomore girls passed them. The taller of the two trailed after them, linking arms with a blonde in the back of the pack. The shorter one watched their hair swish over their shoulders until they walked around the corner, absently tugging at a beaded bracelet on her wrist the entire time.

In three weeks, she’d start eating lunch alone in the library, hiding in the dark book closet with outdated textbooks as her only companions. In five, they wouldn’t speak unless they had to. You gave the girl a weak smile when she accidentally made eye-contact. Sorry, babe, I read your future. You didn’t even need to see the girl’s palm.

You pushed yourself off of your locker and shook your head a little, regrouping your thoughts as you slid into your seat next to Stiles. He looked tired. He was slumped over his desk, chin propped on his folded arms, and his eyelids hung heavily over the exhaustion coating his directionless gaze. He barely acknowledged your presence, grunting a little and nudging your foot with his.

You hid your smile behind your English binder and turned in your seat to face him. “Hey,” you paused, bundling the meager bits and pieces of courage in your chest, and then said, “your perpetual nosiness—that extends to your dad too, right?”

Stiles’s head lulled to the side, cheek pressed against his folded arms, evidently too drained to sit-up. He trailed his squinted gaze over your face, eyes hooded and unblinking, “Why?”

“No reason.” You drummed your pencil against your desk and watched the long red arrow tick forward on the clock above the whiteboard. Stiles watched you fidget with a little sleepy smirk eased into the corners of his mouth, patient and still for the first time since you’d met. It was a shame you couldn’t revel in it.

You lost the stalemate after your desperation became too thick to swallow, “I need to see a case file. There’s like…nothing on the internet or in Maggie’s local history sagas.”

That got his attention. Stiles leaned forward, glimmering with intrigue and ill-intent, and said, “Which case?”

“None of your business,” you retorted reflexively. Stiles gave you an amused look and cupped his cheek in his palm, waiting for the inevitable apology. You withered against your chair and muttered, “Does it matter?”

He snorted and lifted a shoulder, “I have a right to know what I’m potentially putting my life on the line for; breaking and entering is a very serious crime, y’know.”

You huffed and glared a little at your clasped hands, “Somehow I know you’ve done worse.”

Stiles didn’t deny it. He just grinned proudly and scooted closer to you, “Seriously, what’s so important you’re willing to steal something from the police?”

“Not steal,” you corrected, a bit too petulantly for your liking, “just…borrow indefinitely.”

“Uh huh,” Stiles pursed his lips and almost went cross-eyed scrutinizing your face, “so what’s so important you’re willing to ‘borrow’ classified information from the police ‘indefinitely’?”

You paused, not entirely sure how to answer his question without spilling over the edges and ruining everything. “I don’t know,” you admitted quietly, bowing your head a little. You picked at a hangnail until it was tender and inflamed, “Just a hunch, really. It’s probably nothing.”

Stiles tapped his fingers against his desk, fast and furious, and let out a dramatic puff of air, “I could help you if you’d, y’know, tell me literally one single thing about it.”

“I don’t need your help,” you scoffed, feet sliding out in front of you as you sunk into your chair.

He cocked his head and hummed, looking far too smug for 7:45 in the morning, “Besides the whole ‘stealing my dad’s keycard and making it actually possible for you to read it’ thing, right?”

“You’re enjoying this way too much,” you mumbled, stalling the inevitable. It felt a little too much like losing to admit that you needed him—even though…you definitely needed him. It was a rather unfortunate fact you were fruitlessly still trying to deny.

Stiles rolled his eyes, neck too, and grabbed his backpack from the floor, “Forgive me for having a hobby.”

He opened his backpack, and you imagined, just for a moment, the zipper latching onto his mouth like a singularly-tentacled alien. It would solve all your problems; you could zip and unzip him whenever you wanted. If only. Sighing, you dropped your head against your knuckles, “Which is…irritating me?”

“Putting the pieces together,” Stiles dropped his coffee-warped, dogeared copy of Metamorphosis onto his desk and flipped to the assigned chapter. His eyes flicked from right to left, pace ridiculously fast, as he scanned through the pages. If it were anyone else, you would’ve assumed it was all for show. “I was a jigsaw kid,” he murmured, nose still stuck in his book.

Your lip stung as you gnawed on the cracking center, “If I tell you what I’m looking for, you’ll help me?”

“That,” Stiles punctuated his statement with a dramatic page flip, “and I might need a tiny favor from you.” He held his pointer finger and thumb together, almost touching, and flashed a toothy smile over the bent cover of his book, “Just an itty-bitty, very small, totally not a big deal favor.”

Your face turned thoroughly sour, “Oh god.”

Stiles rolled his eyes, like he didn’t just intentionally plant the seeds of dead bodies and false alibis in your mind two seconds ago, and huffed, “I just want to check on Lydia, okay? I think I’ll have a better chance of getting in through the front door with you.”

Your smirk flattened, “Why?”

His mouth hung open for a second, and then he shook his head firmly, peering at you through pinched lids, “You first.”

You fixed your gaze on your shoes, shifting your foot from left to the right, watching the fluorescent lights bounce off of the burgundy leather. The extra shine only made the scuffs on the toes more pronounced. “I want to look into the Hale fire, okay?” Your voice got trapped in your throat, so your tone wasn’t as biting as you wanted it to be, “Happy?”

You would’ve been content to keep staring at your boots until class ended, but your attention snapped back to Stiles when he inhaled sharply. He looked baffled, and maybe even a little green in the face, and you were starting to feel a little queasy yourself—nerves tended to turn your stomach upside-down and inside-out all in the same excruciatingly slow flip. His mouth was already ajar, but it took him several red-hand ticks to finally speak, “Why?”

“Nuh uh,” you crossed your arms and sat upright, rolling your shoulders back, “you go now.”

Stiles was still looking at you with an odd expression on his face, a little too distracted to be difficult. He answered you without any inflection in his voice, “She didn’t show up for homeroom.”

Your intestines unspun with your faint inhale and then immediately dropped to the floor along with your heart as you let out a weak, trembling exhale, “...and?”

Stiles recovered from his momentary lapse in vexation and leaned onto his forearms, "And it’s your turn again.”

You wished you had a simple answer for him, and, even more so, you wished you were a better liar. “There’s kinda no way to answer that without trauma dumping all over you,” you mumbled, intensively examining the fine ridges in your nails.

“I can handle a little trauma.” Stiles rapped his knuckles against the top of his head and smiled a little, “I’ve got nothin’ but space up here.”

People always said that—that they’d be there for you no matter what, that they could handle anything—and then they got a real good look at the ugly of it all, at the dirty hair and rotting kitchen, at the prolonged silences and self-absorbed isolation. People usually took off running pretty quickly after that. At least, Lydia had.

“There haven’t been that many residential fire fatalities here. Just two cases, actually.” You chewed on your thumbnail and shrugged, “I know they said the Hale fire was an accident, but…maybe there’s a connection.” You swallowed, and your boot squeaked against the floor when you kicked at the ground, “Or maybe I’m just a dumbass with too much spare time.”

Stiles stared at you, and you could see the exact moment he connected the pieces. You were expecting the usual nauseating sympathy, the well-intentioned kindness that always flirted with the edge of pity, oftentimes landing smack-dab in the middle of it—but there wasn’t a drip of pity in his eyes. They were filled with grief; for you or for someone else, you didn’t know. Maybe it didn’t matter. More importantly, perhaps, his eyes were shining with…relief, pure and simple relief that nothing else needed to be said.

“I’ll get you into the file room,” Stiles said, low and soft in his throat, and he didn’t look away from you until Scott slid in-between your desks. They did a complicated series of high-fives and hand-shakes with a few ‘knucks’ thrown in here and there for good measure.

Before Scott sat down behind Stiles, he smiled in your direction. You looked past him, assuming Allison was behind you, and watched a red-breasted robin flit around a tree through the window. You saw Scott’s hand move in your peripheral vision, and when you tore your eyes away from the streak of scarlet feathers and blue sky, your lips tipped into a timid smile. Scott was waving at you; he was smiling at you. You didn’t know when your world went from no friends to two, but it felt oddly…normal. Smiling back at Scott, dodging Stiles’s kicks at your feet, trying not to laugh at their goofy faces. It felt like it was part of your routine, exactly the same as organizing your pens and pencils on top of your desk at the start of class, and just like that: normal twisted into terrifying.

You chewed on the end of your pen when you felt Stiles’s gaze on the side of your face, “So…why do you want to see Lydia—besides your typical stalker behavior, obviously.”

“You’re gonna feel like such an asshole,” Stiles grinned a little and nudged your toes, but there was something strange tucked in the corners of his mouth, something a bit grim, a bit afraid. Whatever it was, his cheeks didn’t dimple with his smile, and you gnawed on your lip once you realized that you not only noticed their absence but you missed them.

You peeked at him from under your lashes and frowned when you saw that the crinkles at the corners of his eyes were gone too. Stiles’s grin eroded away to little more than a flat line once he started speaking again, “Jackson was attacked by…something last night—they’re saying mountain lion, but you and I both know that’s bullshit—anyway, she was pretty freaked out when my dad got there.”

You stiffened, spinal column drawing into a taut line from the crown of your skull to your tailbone, and your blood went cold. You already knew Lydia hadn't shown up for school today. You always knew—you felt Lydia’s absence just as fiercely as her presence. The air was just different somehow. You didn’t even have to look for her anymore; an innate rabbit-sense always reared its head when Lydia was too far away…when she was too close. Your instincts couldn’t agree on anything. They couldn’t decide if Lydia was a rabbit or a fox, and it was exhausting—but at the moment all you wanted, all you needed, was to make sure that Lydia hadn’t been torn apart by a monster with sharp claws and serrated teeth.

“And she isn’t here,” you finally said, barely above a whisper.

“And she isn’t here,” Stiles echoed, just as quiet.

“Okay,” your head bobbed with a decisive nod, knees moving before your mind had the chance to scold them, “let’s go.”

Stiles’s jaw unhinged alarmingly fast and comically wide, “Wha—now?”

You pushed everything on your desk into your backpack with a broad sweep of your arm and jerked your head towards the door, “Come on, before class starts.”

Stiles blinked at you for a few moments and then floundered for his things when you started walking out of the room without him. He stumbled into a desk in his rapid, ever-so clumsy efforts to catch up with you and twisted around to salute Scott’s empty chair. Apparently, neither of you had noticed his exit. It seemed it was a perfect morning for ditching class, but you didn’t dwell on the consequences for long. Your focus was single-minded and unwavering, and Stiles had to jog to keep up with your stalwart stride.

“Since when are you so helpful,” he muttered, slightly out of breath.

“I told you,” you gave him a wry smile and shoved the exit door open with your back, holding it for Stiles until he was halfway through the frame—and then you promptly stepped out of the way and watched the door swing shut on his backpack. Your lips twitched with a grin, “I’m a nice girl.”

Stiles yelped a little and looked over his shoulder, ensuring all his limbs were intact before yanking on his straps. His backpack smacked into his shoulders, and the heavy textbooks inside slammed together with a satisfying thump. You snickered and dodged his attempts to kick the back of your knees.

Glowering, Stiles switched tactics and tried to step on your nimble feet. Tragically for him, all the fire in his indignation was lost to his plush pout, “Since when?”

You rolled your eyes and waited next to his jeep, anxiously tracing little swirls in the dirt caked onto the passenger door, “Since I met you.”

You missed the look on Stiles’s face, but that was for the best. His honeyed smile would’ve changed your mind, and you had an ex-best friend to attend to.

****************************

The jeep was quiet for the first few minutes of the drive—at least, it was as quiet as a decrepit clunker could be. There were various clangs and squeals in-between the engine’s low rumble, and a soft indie song filled the silences in-between, but the air felt still. Stiles was intently focused on the road ahead, thumbs drumming against the steering wheel to a beat of his own making, while you picked at your cuticles, cycling between anxiety and denial. It was a subliminal game of chicken that Stiles eventually lost.

After a few false starts, Stiles blurted out, “You ever gonna tell me what happened?”

You stared straight ahead, through the bug-splattered windshield and down the winding street, “Nope.”

“Fine. That’s fine.” Stiles flexed his fingers against the steering wheel, straightening them to their impressive full-length, and then wrapped them around the wheel again. His grip was as tight as the grit of his teeth, “I don’t even want to know anyway.” You lulled your head to the side to smirk at him, but you kept your mouth thoroughly closed. Stiles’s gaze flicked in your direction briefly, and then he directed his eye roll towards the road, “I don’t. Keep your boring secret.”

You settled further into the passenger seat and propped your feet on the dash, grin warm with satisfaction, “I will.”

The beat of Stiles’s thumbs sped up, thundering against ‘9’ and ‘3’ while you hummed along to the trickle of piano and acoustic guitar strumming through the cracked speakers. The time on the dash display flickered from 8:15 to 8:16, and Stiles let out a long, drawn-out groan, “Will you just tell me! It’s killing me. Seriously, I’m going to credit you in my epitaph. ‘Here lies Stiles Stilinski: Another Victim of Gaslighting, Gatekeeping, and Girlbossing.’”

“They say you always remember your first,” you sighed dreamily, battering your butterfly lashes. The mole on the hinge of his jaw jumped with a harsh swallow, and you grinned.

Stiles snorted and then immediately grimaced like he was irritated with his mouth for having the audacity to laugh in the midst of his despair. “Good to know I’m just part of a pattern.”

“I don’t know about that,” you hummed, resting your temple against the window. The morning sun warmed your skin and washed your face with a glimmer of gold that glittered with the devilry in your eyes. You smirked at Stiles and poked the mole just below his earlobe, “I have yet to meet anyone as homicidally inspiring as you.”

He pulled a face to hide his smile as the jeep puttered to a stop against the curb, and you looked over his shoulder, blinking slowly. You hadn’t realized you were so close to Lydia’s house until you were parked in front of it.

The colonial estate loomed largely through the window. The long white pillars stood oppressively alongside the double entrance, and the meticulously manicured lawn screamed ‘keep off’ louder than any sign or barbed-wire fence. Lydia’s house had always been more like a monument than a home: an art installation, an antique, something to be admired not loved.

Tilting your head, you squinted at the familiar windows and counted along the second floor until you found Lydia’s room. The heavy purple curtains were drawn closed, and you were a little surprised that Lydia hadn’t redecorated in the last couple years. It was probably different on the inside; sixteen was a little old for dollhouses and princess crowns.

Growing up, Lydia’s room was stocked with every Barbie accessory on the market, and yet you always played Barbies at your house. Every single time. When her dad was home, Lydia’s house had teetered between too quiet and too loud. A constant vague unease hung heavily in the air, even with the volume on her CD player turned all the way up. No boy band could drown out all the screaming and icy silences, but you'd tried. Oh how you'd tried. It happened so often, you’d eventually gotten used to the noise, but you could tell it’d bothered Lydia, no matter how unbothered she’d tried to seem.

In comparison, your house was the Dreamhouse. It was so warm before it became empty. Your mom always had something baking in the oven, and Lydia had never looked more at home than when she was tucked on your window seat, plate of brownies by her side, with your mom’s gentle hands braiding her hair out of her face. You hadn’t ever minded sharing; Lydia needed the attention more than you did. She was so much softer than people gave her credit for, far more fragile than they’d ever know.

In spite of her current taste in boys, Lydia used to be a steadfast romantic. She'd always wanted to reenact the romance novels stacked on her nightstand, a little heartbreak before the inevitable happily ever after. She used to read so voraciously there was a new plot to perform every day. You were also a bookworm, but your tastes had inspired morbid hits such as Black Widow Barbie and Dreamhouse Zombie Outbreak. You'd usually take turns, or Barbie ended up falling in love with zombie Ken until he chomped on her arm.

“Not her brains,” Lydia had always insisted, “Barbie is the brains of the relationship.”

Lydia, you'd argue, Lydia was the brain. The only one that mattered.

Warm skin on your knuckles gently drew you back into the present. Stiles’s brow was pinched with concern, and his hand lingered on yours until you brushed him off with a shake of your head—but, as you’d come to learn the last couple weeks, Stiles Stilinski was nothing if not relentless. He leaned into your side as you walked along the lengthy driveway, sending you stumbling a few paces to the right. You glared at him, but it was watered down with stubborn affection. His mouth curled into a lopsided grin, and you forgot about the nerves wriggling up your esophagus until Stiles rang the doorbell. They came back full force when you heard a pair of high heels clicking towards them.

Lydia’s mom peered out the door. She looked confused as she took in Stiles’s smile, stretched far too wide to look even remotely casual. Then, her gaze landed on you and her face broke out into a bright grin, “Y/N?”

You’d almost forgotten how beautiful she was; beauty ran just as deeply as old money in the Martin family. Lydia was born with her mom’s golden-red hair and hazel eyes, and they had the same dimpled smile. It was always difficult to see anything beyond the brilliance of their perfect teeth and incandescent skin.

“Come here,” Mrs. Martin pulled you into a tight hug and cupped the back of your head with a steady hand. Your arms remained stiff by your sides, voice sticky in your throat. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d been hugged like this; the realization hurt more than you thought it would.

After a moment, your shoulders slumped, and you turned your face into Mrs. Martin’s shoulder. She still smelled the same, like patchouli and luxury, “Hi.”

She held you out at arm's-length, hands on your shoulders, and shook her head, “There’s no way that this beautiful young woman is the same little girl who tried to keep a frog colony in my guest bathroom. I can’t be that old.”

“You literally look exactly the same,” you smiled a little and rubbed your bicep.

“It has been far, far too long.” She smoothed out the wrinkles in your sleeves and then stepped back into the doorframe, “What can I do for you?”

“I…” your mouth went dry, and you looked everywhere except Mrs. Martin’s face. Your eyes flashed between the silver door knockers, the winding ivy, the sculpted shrubs. Everything was exactly the same. Nothing, not even the house, had noticed your absence.

“We came to check on Lydia,” Stiles nudged your shoulder, and you blinked a few times. Mrs. Martin was watching you with big emphatic eyes—and you hated it.

You swallowed and nodded, “Yeah…we brought her homework.”

“Come in.” She paused and pinched the bridge of her nose with freshly manicured nails, “She took a little something to relax herself, so please excuse…well, just be prepared.” Mrs. Martin sighed, and for the first time it looked like the last four years had actually aged her. She attempted a smile, but it was shriveled at the corners, “You remember the way, don’t you?”

A nod rolled up your neck to your head. You couldn’t find the words to tell Mrs. Martin that you weren’t the same girl anymore. You almost felt like her in this house: small, wild, still full of dreams. You crept up the curved staircase slowly, delaying the inevitable, and ran your fingers along the iron railing. You broke your arm falling off of it nine years ago. It was a nasty fracture that put you in a cast all summer, but it’d seemed worth it at the time. At least, you’d thought so. Your mom and Mrs. Martin hadn’t agreed with your assessment at the hospital.

You felt a twinging urge to run to the top of the stairs and slide down the railing until you became dizzy—and just like that, you were seven years old again, and you weren't scared of death or ending up alone.

“You coming?” Stiles called from the top of the stairs.

You nodded stiffly and pushed past him to the last door on the left. You held your hand on the doorknob and pressed your tongue against the roof of your mouth, scowling at the anxiety crawling under your skin. You were being ridiculous. It wasn’t like you were the one who ended up in an ambulance last night.

You rapped your knuckles against the door a few times, even though it was already cracked open wide enough to catch a glimpse of the raspberry walls and flower chandelier. “Lyds–ia. Lydia,” you cleared your throat and peeked into Lydia’s room, “it’s me. I mean, it’s Y/N.” Stiles nudged you in the ribs, and you sighed, “And Stiles.”

Lydia was face-down on her four-poster bed, slowly combing her fingers through her unbrushed hair. She smacked her lips together a few times, and then her head popped up from her mountain of throw pillows, “You still haven’t explained what the hell a Stiles is.”

You snorted and shot Stiles a pointed look. He pursed his lips and glanced around the room until he spotted a little bottle of pills on top of her vanity. He read the lengthy label and let out a low whistle, “Bet you can’t say, ‘I saw Sally sell seashells by the seashore.’”

Lydia swung her legs over the foot of her bed and leaned forward, eyes sparking with bullheaded determination. “I saw….I saw…” The light in her eyes faded as she drifted off to a place no one else could see.

You sat down next to her and grabbed her hand. You didn’t have to tell your body to move; it knew before you did. Finding Lydia when she was lost, it was like…swimming to the surface, shivering in a storm, bracing for a fall. It was an instinct so deeply rooted in your soul you couldn’t rip it out without rupturing an artery. You watched Lydia’s eyes focus on your face, felt her fingers lace with yours, and all you knew was the slow thump of Lydia’s pulse against your thumb.

Lydia squeezed your hand and swiveled to face you. Her eyes were still cloudy, but something warm dawned behind the fog. You felt the pit in your stomach roll. Lydia sighed happily, “There you are. I was looking for you.”

“Well,” you almost choked on the lump in your throat and struggled to support Lydia’s weight as she went boneless against your side, “here I am.” You searched for some assistance with Lydia’s rapidly sinking frame, but Stiles was busy poking around every nook and cranny in the room. “Stiles,” you snapped.

He wrenched his hand away from Lydia’s bottle of Dior perfume, purple just like the rest of the room, and clasped it behind his back. “What?”

You gestured violently towards Lydia's wilting spine and rolled your eyes when he tripped over a discarded boot in his, frankly pathetic, haste to get to Lydia’s other side. You gently maneuvered her until she was propped up against her pillows.

“Don’t go away again, okay?” Lydia licked her lips and looked like she was about to cry—so much like a scared little girl, your heart clenched. “I keep losing you.”

“I,” you stared at her with wide eyes, and the bottle of pills enveloped your peripheral vision, “I just wanted to see if you were alright…after last night.”

“Last night,” Lydia slurred, nuzzling back against her pillows.

“Yeah, last night,” Stiles folded his arms over his chest and arched his brow, “remember anything about it?”

“I remember…” Lydia looked like she was going to cry again, eyes glassy and round, but the chemical high quickly swept over the tide, “I remember a mountain lion.”

Stiles’s head tipped back between his shoulder blades, and his cheeks slowly puffed into pink little domes as he held his breath. Apparently, there was one thing more powerful than Stiles Stilinski’s obsession with Lydia Martin: his impatience. Stiles’s lips puckered as a loud sigh whooshed through his teeth. He crouched down to Lydia’s eye-level, “You remember seeing a mountain lion, or you remember them telling you it was a mountain lion?”

Lydia hummed and nodded until her hair fell in front of her face, “Mountain lion.”

“Jesus Christ,” Stiles reached for a stuffed giraffe next to her shoulder and shook it in her face, “what’s this?”

“Mountain lion,” Lydia’s head bobbed sharply.

You snatched the stuffed animal out of Stiles’s hand, scowling as you bludgeoned his arm with the giraffe’s head. “Leave her alone. She’s doped out of her mind.”

“Clearly,” Stiles snorted, watching Lydia curl a strand of her hair around her finger, completely entranced by the frizzy strands.

“What did you want her to say?” You smoothed a few stray hairs sticking up from the crown of Lydia’s head back into place and met Stiles’s gaze, face impassive, “Werewolf?”

He opened his mouth and gaped like a particularly brainless fish. Before he could come up with a coherent answer—or any kind of answer, actually—Lydia’s text-tone chimed. Stiles dove across the bed for her phone, but you smacked his hand with the giraffe before he could touch it. “You are so not reading her texts, lonely boy.”

“I was just trying to help.” Stiles flopped onto her vanity chair and crossed his arms, squirming sullenly, “She can barely string two words together, let alone an actual thought.”

“I’m sure whatever it is can wait until she’s good and hungover tomorrow.” You glanced down at Lydia’s phone and paused. It was a video file. From an unknown number.

“Hey,” Lydia poked her head up and pointed at Stiles until the weight of her arm became too much to bear. It fell on top of her stomach like a limp noodle, “You.”

“Me,” Stiles squeaked.

You muted the video and made sure Stiles was sufficiently distracted by the curl of Lydia’s finger before you pressed play. Nothing happened at first. The video was shot in a strange, almost voyeuristic style, and the lighting was terrible, so dim you could barely tell that the camera was facing a large window. You squinted and made out the video store’s sign flickering above the door. So, this was from last night. Weird—but at least it wasn’t revenge porn; that had been your first guess.

You’d almost given up on finishing the video, and then the camera angle moved. Two red eyes flashed in the darkness, a large…something smashed through the glass, and you bit down on your thumbnail so hard blood welled through the sidewalls.

It was a goof, obviously. Some kind of poorly edited creepypasta. A cruel prank someone sent Lydia after they heard what happened last night. Had to be. Your hands shook as you sent yourself the video, and then you deleted it from Lydia’s phone. Your number, you realized once you stopped seeing red, was still saved as ☀️✨Babe!!!!✨☀️ in Lydia’s contacts. It took you longer than it should have to delete the sent message.

“If you’re done fighting your erection, we should get going.” Your voice sounded remarkably even, considering how scattered your mind was. It was certainly more composed than the babble spewing from Stiles’s mouth.

“I do not have—it’s not like—I wasn’t—she thought I was someone else.”

“Ah,” your phone felt heavy in your pocket, “real boner killer.”

Stiles sighed through his nose, “New rule, you can't make fun of anything I do or say when Lydia's in my fuckin' lap. Starting now."

He must’ve known something was wrong when you didn’t argue. That, and the way you practically sprinted out of the house to avoid seeing anyone else. Your hands were still shaking when you crawled into the jeep, and Stiles shot about a dozen little furious, concerned glances in your direction, but you couldn’t seem to move your tongue.

Your bottom lip quivered. Your chest tightened until your ribs corseted your lungs. The screech of your ground teeth sent an unpleasant chill down your spine, but you’d rather choke on a chipped tooth than let the beast howling in your throat escape—the last thing you needed was to cry in the passenger seat next to Stiles Stilinski.

You were clearly losing your mind; everyone said it was only a matter of time—watching a loved one burn to death tended to have that effect on a person. Not that you remembered much, but you were clearly off your rocker if you were having vivid, day-time hallucinations of red-eyed monsters roaming the streets of Beacon Hills.

You wiped your sweat-damp palms on your dress and bounced your leg up and down, driving your heel into the floor over and over again—and then you felt a solid warmth over your knee. Your eyes were a little wild when you followed the trail of Stiles’s arm to his face, and the divot between his brows deepened when he met your gaze, “Hey, she’s going to be okay. You know that, right?”

Your head jerked with a quick nod, and you sucked in a few shallow breaths, “I know.” The air got stuck in your chest, and your heart flapped erratically as the back of your eyelids played reruns of a familiar film starring your narrowing trachea. You dug your toes into the dusty floor mat, scrambling for any kind of grasp on reality, and choked on your words, “Her mom always…had…the good shit.”

Stiles kept his hand on your knee and then shook his head, pulling over against the curb and putting the jeep in park. “You don’t have to talk, but you gotta breathe.”

It took you a moment to realize that he was squeezing your kneecap in even intervals. You inhaled and exhaled with the flex of his joints until the panic receded enough for embarrassment to heat your cheeks. You slammed your head back against the seat and stared at the steel roof. You hoped that if you ignored the tears bubbling along your lash line, they’d instantaneously evaporate before they could spill onto your cheeks, “Fuck. I’m sorry. I don’t usually…this hasn’t happened in a long time.”

“Nothing I haven’t seen before.” Stiles chewed on his cheek and pulled his hand back into his lap. He drummed his fingers against his kneecap and then spoke softly, “I used to get ‘em too. Sucked.” Stiles stared out the dashboard, watching but not really seeing dead leaves swirl in little circles over the asphalt, “Happened a lot after my mom died.”

You froze for a moment, and you couldn’t stop yourself from staring. You realized, belatedly, that you hadn’t ever heard the Sheriff talk about his wife, not even once in the last four years, even though he wore a gold band on his left ring finger. It hadn’t even occurred to you to ask.

You never had the right words to explain it. For a long time, you spoke in ripples at therapy, incomprehensible circles that skirted the point in an endless loop—but you realized, as you got stuck on the honey in Stiles’s eyes, you didn’t need the right words here. With him. In fact, you didn’t really need any words at all. “Me too.”

Stiles watched your eyes steadily, and his fingers stilled against his legs, “Yeah?”

You nodded and swallowed a little, “Yeah.”

A smile tugged on his mouth, tangled with too many paradoxes to parse in the soft, short moment humming between you. You smiled back at him, far more timidly, but that wasn’t a surprise. He was brave, you decided, much braver than you. It was contagious.

Your tongue darted out, licking your chapped lips, and you clung to the fragile current of courage lapping against the back of your teeth. “We just stopped talking.”

Stiles glanced at you, clearly confused.

“Lydia and I.” You knotted your fingers in the hem of your dress and tugged on it every time you felt the stopper in your throat start to swell, “We just stopped being friends after my mom died. That’s why I didn’t…I mean, there’s not really a story to tell. We were close, and then I woke up one day, and we weren’t anymore.”

Stiles turned until he was facing you, leaning against the door and struggling to find a comfortable angle for his long legs. “Most people…they’re okay with the funeral part ‘cause it’s pretty simple—y’know: hold hands, bring food, pretend no one’s crying. And then after comes, and they can’t figure out what to do because it’s over, but it’s not.”

“Limbo,” you mirrored his position and pulled your knees to your chest. You rocked the soles of your boots from heel to toe, like small patent leather boats adrift on a sea of faded nylon, “It’s limbo, and everyone else is so incredibly, hideously alive.”

The relief was back in Stiles’s eyes, and you were swimming in it. He nodded and bent his knees, scooching his feet until the toes of his sneakers were pressed against yours. “Yeah," he exhaled, and the moment felt important, like something you were supposed to remember on your deathbed. You tried to memorize the look on Stiles's face, but you didn't know where to start. How could you etch infinity?

“It wasn’t just her,” you admitted out loud for the first time.

“Yeah,” Stiles shrugged a little and gave you a grin that brought the dimples back to his cheeks, and you couldn’t help but smile at their reappearance, “but we can pretend it was, just for today.”

You let out a breath that felt like a laugh and lifted your toes, dropping them on top of his and pressing down until they were pinned beneath the tread of your boots. Stiles narrowed his eyes and wriggled his feet free, fighting your scurrying ankles with his tongue trapped between his teeth. His triumphant cry when he finally caught the tip of your laces was just enthusiastic enough to coerce another laugh through your clamped lips.

The soft smile Stiles gave you while you laughed made his body go lax and the back of your neck warm. You quickly bent over to retie your laces, and he turned to restart the engine.

“I should probably get us back to school,” Stiles ran his hand over his head. “My dad'll kill me if I get marked truant again.”

“It’s parent teacher conferences tonight,” you recalled as the words left your mouth. You slunk down in your seat, chin catching on the seatbelt, “I’ve never skipped school before. I have no idea what my dad’s gonna say.”

Stiles’s attention shifted from the road to your profile, “Really?”

“What?” you crossed your arms over your chest and blew your hair out of your eyes.

“Nothing,” Stiles tried to hide his smirk, but it was too sharp to cover with a cough, “it’s just…hasn’t everyone skipped at least once?”

“What would I even do?” The corner of your mouth tugged into a dry smile, “Visit my catatonic ex-best friend?”

Stiles nodded agreeably, and then his head danced from side to side, rolling over other options, “Or bowling. Bowling is fun.”

You grumbled a little in your throat and sunk further into the cradle of your hips, “I hate bowling.”

Stiles grinned, “Yeah, me too.”

Pausing, your bottom lip wormed its way between your teeth, “I’d play D&D with you, though.”

“Really?”

“Mhm,” you watched the sun disappear behind the tree line over the hill and ignored the feeling of being examined like a bacterial petri dish.

“See, we are friends. The best of friends, actually. Two peas in the proverbial pod.”

And, well, you couldn’t really disagree.

#stiles stilinksi x reader #stiles stilinski #stiles stilinski imagine #dylan o'brien x reader #dylan o'brien imagine #teen wolf #stiles stilinski fanfiction #teen wolf fanfiction #teen wolf imagine #stiles stilinski x reader #stiles stilinski x you

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bimir · 5 months ago

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it's not something strange or unique to say that after the last haikyuu movie, most of us got into it again, but at the same time, I know for sure that I'm not the only one who benefits the most from this re...union.

I went to see the haikyuu movie alone, and at first, it didn't hit me that much. maybe it was because I couldn't help but wonder how much I would have enjoyed it with my best friend, but we are grown-ups now and long distance.

after a couple of days, the internet was full of haikyuu content again, just like during lockdown, and because of that, I also got into it again and realized how much of a masterpiece it is.

haikyuu is well known, but in my opinion, it is underestimated and categorized by others as just a silly volleyball-sport anime. it saddens me so much that there are so many people who will never get to embrace this piece of art.

Furudate not only created a coming-of-age story, a story that inspired and still inspires generations to fight for their dreams, to engage in the complex mess of relationships, teamwork, and partnerships. haikyuu teaches you that if you really do have a dream, and if you are really ambitious, if you work hard for it, your time will come too. but it also teaches you that not choosing to be great is not a tragedy; your dreams of what a good life means can be different from the ideals of others: "life is unfair, but damn it, at the same time, it is really fair too."

so why did I go on writing about this? because I can't comprehend how haikyuu manages to be there for me at the best time—or the worst, better said—how it really took its "comfort anime" title seriously for me. I started haikyuu in my last year of high school: extremely stressed, depressed, and anxious, so scared of what the upcoming end would mean for me that I'd tricked myself into living by coming to the conclusion that I'd simply not make it to 18 if I didn't see a future for myself. it seemed only fair and the universe would do its thing, no? I know, kinda depressing and triggering, but it did help that miserable me then, it did help but not in the way I prayed it would. the universe didn't send me "death," it sent me life and hope through haikyuu. feeling so empty, so bland for such a long time, haikyuu managed to make me laugh and cry. it doesn't sound like much, but real ones know what I'm talking about. seeing their connection, their ambition, the troubles and feelings I was so desperate to put into words right in front of me saved me from my misery. I began to wish to live, to wish to be like them, to wish to fight, to wish to connect again with people.

now, after almost 4 years, I'm in my last year of uni. the main reason for my depression back then in high school was because I didn't know what to do with my life, what uni and career to choose. hell, I didn't know I would take this path until last autumn, but here I am, on my way to becoming a teacher. it's hard, really hard, but right now, after the new movie, I finally committed to start and finish the manga even though I knew bits and pieces of what happens. it was the best time to read it now. over these 3-4 years, I pondered why I couldn't start getting into the manga and see for myself what happens, but damn it was the best time to read it now. seeing them go all out on their path, learning that in order to succeed you need to fight and fight and fight, to push through, to overcome your limits, to push yourself, to not take it easy if you really want it, came at the best time as I got into a slump and a burnout from learning too much but also not learning enough. I've got to see all of the characters continuing to be pros while fighting for their way, but also choosing to let go of something they once loved in order to live a normal life.

haikyuu is like a reminder that there is more to life than just your high school/childhood years, that your path could take a 180-degree turn at any point, but at the same time, it makes you appreciate those times and not want to sweep your childlike wonder, your growth, and mistakes under a rug. Furudate was a genius for creating haikyuu, and I really hope and pray that haikyuu will continue to be there, to comfort and save future generations until the end of time.

#haikyuu #haikyuu!!#manga #anime #karasuno #nekoma #fukurodani #aoba johsai #hinata shouyou #kageyama tobio #oikawa tooru #kozume kenma #bokuto koutarou #miya atsumu #fly #jump #my writing #yapping

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savebatsfromscratch · 2 months ago

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Hey hey! I just finished a ridiculously complicated and long UQuiz about fandoms! Please take it! :D

I put my heart and soul into this PLEASE play it!! I like sharing stuff I like, it's fun I promise. <3

Edit: This is kinda aimed a little at whump enjoyers btw, not entirely but a decent bit. Warning for swearing, possible spoilers for any/all included fandoms, vaguely mentioned drug use in one answer to one question, and violence. (Fictional.)

Included fandoms: Shark Wars, Warrior Cats, Pokemon Adventures, Pokemon Diamond and Pearl Adventure, Hetalia, Percy Jackson, Gameknight999, Scratchcraft, the Pokemon Anime (with Ash as the protagonist), How to Train Your Dragon (books), How to Train Your Dragon (movies and shows), Spiderwicks Chronicles, and The Monkees.

Look under the cut for the "awnsers" to each question (after taking the quiz) if you want some context. XD This took me forever! (Warning, doing this will make this post very long.)

1. When your story gets serious, what do you want from it? 1. Pokemon DPA: A deeper meaning that gets the author in WAY over their head. 2. Warrior Cats: A deeper meaning that could be taken the exact wrong way if you so chose to. 3. Gameknight999: A deeper meaning that was probably not intentional. 4. Shark Wars: A deeper meaning that is mentioned explicitly once or twice and then never added to again. 5. Pokespe: A deeper meaning that needs a little thinking to make any god damn sense at all. 6. Pokeani: A deeper meaning that only seems to show up in half-canon material. 7. Spiderwicks: A deeper meaning that doesn't seem to have any actual bearings in reality. 8. HTTYD Books: A deeper meaning that CATCHES YOU OFF GAURD. LIKE, FUCK DUDE- 9. Scratchcraft: A deeper meaning that is pretty obvious if you ignore the fact that it doesn't actually exist. 10. Hetalia: A deeper meaning that is questionable at best. 11. Percy Jackson: A deeper meaning that hits really hard when you start growing up. 12. HTTYD movies: A deeper meaning that was better done somewhere else but I still cried. 13. The Monkees: A deeper meaning that just barely made it past the censors, and it as true to the real world as it could ever aim to be.

2. What do you want out of a protagonist? 1. Pokemon DPA: Overpowered. Also bites people on the ass. 2. Warrior Cats: I like to switch things up as the media progresses. :3 3. Gameknight999: Really traumatized but you wouldn't guess that at all from the concept of the story. 4. Shark Wars: Edgy but in a cringe way. 5. Pokespe: I like to switch things up as the media progresses. >:) 6. Pokeani: I can't tell if he's aroace or gay God Bless America. 7. Spiderwicks: I don't care. As long as they're in SOME SORT of a family- 8. HTTYD Books: Cursed by the repetition of history. 9. Scratchcraft: I want to pick my protagonist thank you very much. 10. Hetalia: Immortal, but silly. 11. Percy Jackson: Badass who everyone is scared of, but, like, they're so nice. :") 12. HTTYD movies: The more the merrier! 13. The Monkees: Someone funny, and maybe a little bit high.

3. What kind of antagonist really gets you going? 1. Pokemon DPA: Manipulators. 2. Warrior Cats: Just a little guy. :3 they kill people Just a little guy- 3. Gameknight999: At least a little edgy, preferably have motivations that don't make any sense. 4. Shark Wars: Kinda horny for no reason. lowkey 5. Pokespe: Utterly insane most of the time. 6. Pokeani: Idiots and/or common criminals. 7. Spiderwicks: Big scary beasts are good! Smart ones too! 8. HTTYD Books: Tumblr sexyman in a not-not-very-hot way. 9. Scratchcraft: Lowkey I could probably beat them up. 10. Hetalia: It's kinda weird to think of anyone as an antagonist. :( 11. Percy Jackson: Yeah. This guy would kill me and laugh about it. 12. HTTYD movies: Animal poachers are my favorite! 13. The Monkees: Is an antagonist really necessary? (Or is it the producer… hmm)

4. Pick a creature please! 1. Pokemon DPA: EXTREMLY overpowered magic penguin. 2. Warrior Cats: Cat who is cat-racist 3. Gameknight999: Minecraft wolf! 4. Shark Wars: Shark who is shark-racist 5. Pokespe: Traumatized rodent. 6. Pokeani: A weirdly athletic rodent 7. Spiderwicks: Fairies! 8. HTTYD Books: Dragon! (Sentient edition) 9. Scratchcraft: Cod God 10. Hetalia: A sentient piece of food. 11. Percy Jackson: Black Pegasus. 12. HTTYD movies: Dragon! (Pet cat editon) 13. The Monkees: Hmm... Monkee...

5. Pick an epic quote from one of the pieces of media in question. 1. Pokemon DPA: "I'm fine with being stupid!" 2. Warrior Cats: "Kill me. Kill me and live with the memory. Then tell the stars that you won." 3. Gameknight999: “You can only do what you believe you can do. I can do this,” 4. Shark Wars: “Let’s get you back where you belong before you catch your death.” 5. Pokespe: “If you can only achieve a dream by being deceitful, using others, and crushing their own hopes, that’s not called a dream, it’s called an ambition.” 6. Pokeani: "I see now that the circumstances of one's birth are irrelevant. It is what you do with the gift of life that determines who you are." 7. Spiderwicks: "We call them 'fairy tales' for a reason, you know. They're not real." 8. HTTYD Books: “We're all snatching precious moments from the peaceful jaws of time.” 9. Scratchcraft: "Goodbye everybody! I'm going to the sky!" (Storm, S2E30) 10. Hetalia: “It seems as if Americans like to be the center of attention even after they're dead.” 11. Percy Jackson: "If my life is going to mean anything, I have to live it myself," 12. HTTYD movies: "I wouldn't kill him, because he looked as frightened as I was. I looked at him… and I saw myself," 13. The Monkees: "If, uh, people say well, I can’t carry a note, I can’t, I can’t say, I can’t sing, I, I’m tone deaf. But nobody’s tone deaf, and if you love music, then you can play music."

6. How much violence are you feeling like looking at? 1. Pokemon DPA: The real fear happens when the comic relief finally stops. 2. Warrior Cats: Somehow the worst part is that hardly anyone seems to notice something is wrong. 3. Gameknight999: It's a game, but only to half of the participants in the conflict. 4. Shark Wars: Oh, that's torture and mass killings graphically detailed in a children's book, okay. 5. Pokespe: The blood was censored, but somehow you know it's there. 6. Pokeani: It's all fun and games until somebody randomly drops dead. 7. Spiderwicks: Everything is totally fine mom! My sister DIDN'T just get kidnapped by the fae! I promise! 8. HTTYD Books: Ultimately, it's never the violence that truly hurts, but the fact that you know it will happen again and again, and all you can do is try and make things marginally better while you are still here, crawling through the mud. 9. Scratchcraft: You get to choose how real any of this is. 10. Hetalia: A comedy with an underlying truth of extreme violence and war and the realization that none of these people can be friends forever. 11. Percy Jackson: Somehow we always seem to push through. ̶u̶n̶t̶i̶l̶ ̶w̶e̶ ̶c̶a̶n̶'̶t̶ ̶a̶n̶y̶m̶o̶r̶e̶ 12. HTTYD movies: We will always keep fighting! (But there comes a time that sometimes fighting the good fight is not actually the good fight anymore.) 13. The Monkees: It entirely depends if we're talking about slapstick comedy or the real deal here. (If you look too deep you'll find both.)

7. How do you like your fandoms. 1. Pokemon DPA: I'm fine with a small fandom. I'm not bothered by the bones of a (slightly) bigger one. 2. Warrior Cats: This fandom feels like being surrounded by a pack of wolves! thumbs down 3. Gameknight999: I have never been in a worse fandom. Seriously. Imagine being in a fandom of twelve yearolds on WATTAPAD that then transitions to DISCORD. This is what Hell feels like. (And I'm Catholic.) /pos I luv you guys but STILL 4. Shark Wars: Literally no other person in the whole world is perfect for me. :3 (PLEASE JOIN ME. PLEASE. HELP!) 5. Pokespe: This fandom feels like being surrounded by a pack of wolves! thumbs up 6. Pokeani: Most god awful takes you've ever seen because half the people here don't even like the content and the other half are eight years old. 7. Spiderwicks: What fandom? 8. HTTYD Books: When the fandom is just the size that you can't argue with each other over media or you'll fall apart. ok symbol 9. Scratchcraft: Tight knit fandoms on almost exclusively Discord and a children's coding website are good enough for me! 10. Hetalia: Honestly, I love the discourse. I'M SORRY I KNOW, I JUST- gets jumped 11. Percy Jackson: The memes are so unfunny it feels like it's stuck in the 2000s. 12. HTTYD movies: I don't even care if half the fandom is crossovers with unrelated fandoms, I want to have fun! 13. The Monkees: Pretty big and dedicated, once you get there. (Might have to sort through the graves of 2014 first though.)

8. If you were my mutual in this fandoms (HYPOTHETICALLY) what sort of content of fandom stuff do you like from a mutual. 1. Pokemon DPA: This whump fic is NOT weird, I promise! (>:3) 2. Warrior Cats: Whump fics every october. thumbs up 3. Gameknight999: 1 (one) 66,000+ word crossover fic and basically nothing else. 4. Shark Wars: Stupid meme edits. 5. Pokespe: Memes? ? Gore? ? Animating the same scene eight times? Yep 6. Pokeani: Uh… I did a ship week once? 7. Spiderwicks: Fancontent? glups 8. HTTYD movies: 80 billion reblogs once in a blue moon 9. Scratchcraft: Fanart that has absolutely no relation to canon. 10. Hetalia: The occasional shitty animation. 11. Percy Jackson: Old art posting. 12. HTTYD books: Gore art of everyone's favorite buff teenager <3 13. The Monkees: Literally over 1000 reblogs in two weeks, and then shutting up for a month.

9. (Sorry if that last question almost made you click away lol.) Now, pick a SILLY quote completely out of context! :D (And further apologizes if none of them are funny out of context. lmao) 1. Pokemon DPA: "Nah…he probably started a rock band! He's got the hairdo for it!" 2. Warrior Cats: "Okay, I'll bring back your stupid stick. Keep your fur on." 3. Gameknight999: "Theres another sign, it says…COM?" 4. Shark Wars: "It was not a good whammo. Not good at all." 5. Pokespe: "I wish [corporation name] would have a lot of customers. Preferably a hundred thousand people on the first day," 6. Pokeani: "I'll use my trusty frying pan as a drying pan!" 7. Spiderwicks: "It just figured that Mom would get back from the store NOW." 8. HTTYD Books: "…she had once stunned a stag with one blow of her mighty bosoms, and many a smaller animal had suffocated in their stern depths." 9. Scratchcraft: "SLAM DUNK!" misses horrifically (Storm, S2E30) 10. Hetalia: "YOU PEED ON THE FLOOR??!?!" 11. Percy Jackson: "Tremble before the horror of Diet Coke!”" 12. HTTYD movies: "I knew it. I'm dead!" 13. The Monkees: "Nobody even lends money to a man with a sense of humor!"

10. Pick a piece of an "outfit" 1. Pokemon DPA: A hairclip made with the symbol of a cult which brainwashed you 2. Warrior Cats: A cat collar. It's broken. 3. Gameknight999: Diamond leggings 4. Shark Wars: Tattoos put in place with sea urchin spines 5. Pokespe: Electricity proof (yet fingerless) gloves 6. Pokeani: An extremely rare baseball cap obtained by mailing in cereal box tops obsessively 7. Spiderwicks: A dress made by dwarves 8. HTTYD Books: A torn fire-proof suit (you must wear it to battle) 9. Scratchcraft: Red shirt with a watermelon (with a face) on the back. :) 10. Hetalia: Combat boots with questionable origins 11. Percy Jackson: A silver skull ring 12. HTTYD movies: A wing suit with a partially broken spring 13. The Monkees: Green wool hat.

11. Choose a location a protagonist (or perspective character) finds themselves 1. Pokemon DPA: A building rigged to explode, the only exits have malfunctioned 2. Warrior Cats: A dark forest. Bones crunch underfoot. 3. Gameknight999: A room full of gunpowder, lava sparks awfully close by 4. Shark Wars: Enemy territory, bodies float down around you 5. Pokespe: The rift of time, memories that you do not know fly by 6. Pokeani: A sunken ship on the bottom of the ocean, it is quickly filling with water 7. Spiderwicks: A dumbwaiter, it stops in a entirely closed off room 8. HTTYD Books: The mast of a sinking ship, lightning burns through the air 9. Scratchcraft: A mermaid gladiator arena, who needs to be serious? :3 10. Hetalia: An empty box of tomatoes, gunshots ring outside 11. Percy Jackson: A place so evil that you are too mortal to process it's true horror 12. HTTYD movies: The beach, making your final stand against someone you used to love 13. The Monkees: A large black box.

12. Choose an experience a protagonist has endured. 1. Pokemon DPA: You feel yourself begin to cry. No matter how evil this person is, you cannot help but forgive them. When will they understand? 2. Warrior Cats: You stand alone, suddenly in complete darkness. Overwhelmed by shame, you realize it is better for them all to think you are dead. 3. Gameknight999: You stand on a thin path under the world, your greatest enemy with a pickaxe in his hands. 4. Shark Wars: You find yourself in the deepest trench in the ocean as you are pulled down by a weight you cannot remove. 5. Pokespe: Ice freezes around you, crackling slowly up your arms as you scream for help. No one comes. 6. Pokeani: You feel your soul slowly begin to dissipate as your body turns to stone. 7. Spiderwicks: Your body shakes, skin burning as poison touches it. You lift your foot, revealing what is left of something you should have loved. 8. HTTYD Books: You have been kidnaped, and finally, your letter to your mother has been returned. You reach your skinny arms through the bars of your prison window to unravel the paper. You can't help but wonder what wonderfully army she might have sent to rescue you. What do you find? A resounding "No," you must save yourself after all. 9. Scratchcraft: Lightning rains down around you, but you smile. It's finally time to join the other gods in the sky. The people you once loved are nothing but shadows to you now. 10. Hetalia: You lock yourself in your room. Days, weeks, months, and years pass you by, but even three centuries of knowing your fate cannot prevent it from occurring. 11. Percy Jackson: As a person able to breath underwater, you are yanked into unfamiliar waves, for the first time ever, you know what it is like to drown. 12. HTTYD movies: The beautiful creature before you lays it's head on the earth, giving up. Your hands shake and the dagger falls to the ground. 13. The Monkees: You stagger through the desert, but when you have finally found a vending machine, standing there atop a drifting hill of sand, it doesn't give you what you wanted.

13. Pick another quote that made me feel emotions. (Side note, the HTTYD books series especially has a lot of great quotes. Just some unfair propaganda from me. :3 Can't be TOO serious can we?) 1. Pokemon DPA: "You're no big bad war machine? Y'know how I know that? … You're crying." 2. Warrior Cats: “My curse is to live forever, knowing what has been and what has yet to be, powerless to change anything.” 3. Gameknight999: “Sometimes we have to reach a little farther than we can, be a little stronger than we are, and do things that we normally wouldn’t be able to, because we must, to take care of those we love,” 4. Shark Wars: "You're a murderer!" "A realist," 5. Pokespe: "No matter how much I reach out to the brightness of the outside world… the darkness keeps dragging me back. No matter how hard I try, I never get to enjoy my freedom," 6. Pokeani: "We do have a lot in common. The same earth, the same air, the same sky. Maybe if we started looking at what's the same instead of always looking at what's different… well, who knows?" 7. Spiderwicks: "Don't you know me? Am I not your own self?" 8. HTTYD Books: "You, dear reader, I am sure cannot imagine what it might to be like to live in a world in which books are banned. For surely such things will never happen in the Future?" 9. Scratchcraft: "I'm am not smart and I should not have done that. Ha hA- Hope I didn't loose everything I own." (Saltyy) 10. Hetalia: "When I look into all of your stupid faces, I think how fun it will be to pound them into dust." 11. Percy Jackson: “Don't feel bad, I'm usually about to die.” 12. HTTYD movies: "A man will never how far he's willing to go until he steps to the edge and looks down" 13. The Monkees: "Um. Kidnapping man."

14. Window shopping! Pick a "iconic" cover/thumbnail with the name of the series cropped out! 1. Pokemon DPA: [A picture of the cover of the seventh book. It shows Hareta, Koya, Heataran, and Shaymin. It is mostly red.) 2. Warrior Cats: [A picture of the cover of Into The Wild. It shows an orange cat with green eyes among blades of sharp green grass.] 3. Gameknight999: [A cover of a book showing Gameknight brandishing a sword at a red Enderman. It looks weirdly off model for a minecraft book cover.] 4. Shark Wars: [A picture of the cover of the first book showing a very blue shark (Gray) with a smaller a green one (Barkley) next to him. There are others in the background. It is mostly blue.] 5. Pokespe: [A picture of the cover of book three in the Red and Blue arch. It shows Red and his pikachu Pika, as well as a few of his other Pokemon along the side. The background is green.] 6. Pokeani: [Part of a Poster showing Ash, Misty, Brock, and a whole lot of Pokemon. The background is white.] 7. Spiderwicks: [A picture of the first cover. It shows the three main characters looking down at a book with very different expressions. The drawing is brown tinted, but the area around it is blue.] 8. HTTYD Books: [A picture of one of the covers of How To Betray a Dragon's Hero, it shows Hiccup being carried above a lake by a red dragon.] 9. Scratchcraft: [The cover of StormLordZeus' final episode of season two. He is an armored minecraft man with glowing purple eyes floating in a lightning storm.] 10. Hetalia: [The cover of the first book in the series. It shows Italy, Germany, and japan on a white background.] 11. Percy Jackson: [The first cover of the first book. it shows a boy trudging towards New York City through the ocean, a golden sword in his hand. It is stormy.] 12. HTTYD movies: [A poster for the first movie. It shows a large black dragon (Toothless) reaching his nose out to touch Hiccup's outstretched hands. There is a wide moon in the background.] 13. The Monkees: [A screenshot from the Daydream Believer music video. Peter is playing piano, Davy is behind him, singing, Mike is playing guitar above them, and Micky is on the other side, also singing and playing tambourine. The room is rainbow striped.]

15. This quiz is all over the place, isn't it. Whatever. Time to pick the sort of media you would like to enjoy your chosen franchise/series in. 1. Pokemon DPA: A short(-ish) and sweet manga series. 2. Warrior Cats: It is critical that these books must have as many mistakes as possible. Also, there must be a LOT of them. 3. Gameknight999: Books where you eventually start wondering if the author proofread this stuff at all /pos 4. Shark Wars: Vaguely obscure children's books 5. Pokespe: A really fricking long manga series 6. Pokeani: This anime is WAY too long. 7. Spiderwicks: A short series of thin, but aesthetically pleasing books 8. HTTYD Books: Some surprisingly chunky books with a cool font! 9. Scratchcraft: Youtube videos where most of the series is deleted :( 10. Hetalia: Anything I can get my hands on. A webcomic, an anime, music, more than one musical for some reason, etc… 11. Percy Jackson: A book series that has several levels of optional other series to read with it :D 12. HTTYD movies: Movies and a whole lot of optional episodes if you want them 13. The Monkees: A two season TV sitcom from the 60s, a movie, several books from the people involved, and several albums of varying quality.

16. Pick a silly story I've had happen in relation to these stupid things. 1. Pokemon DPA: I thought it was a different series. Like, I picked it up and thought I was reading a different book series than I was. 2. Warrior Cats: I stayed up ALL NIGHT at Girl Scout Camp reading one of the books a few into a section of the series that I have never read before or since. 3. Gameknight999: I associate the smell of magazines with this fandom now, unfortunately. 4. Shark Wars: For some reason I could not find book two. Like. For four years. Why. I found everything else almost at once. What about book two makes it impossible to find. 5. Pokespe: I made it my mission to read through the entire series in a month every summer through middle AND high school. 6. Pokeani: My mother constantly apologizes for letting me watch this show. It's great. 7. Spiderwicks: On a four hour car trip, the only thing I brought to do was read this book. I get car sick when I read in a car. 8. HTTYD Books: When I was in like second grade I accidentally left one of the books out in the pouring rain at an aunt's house. It survived, shockingly. 9. Scratchcraft: I'm a thumbnail artist??? Idk how that happened woah 10. Hetalia: My friend and I were out watching this show in the middle of winter. She got minor frostbite. I wasn't even cold. skull 11. Percy Jackson: I read the first book instead of having Thanksgiving dinner with my family. It wasn't on purpose. Nobody could find me and I was too busy reading to notice how much time was passing until everyone was already gone and there wasn't food left. 12. HTTYD movies: This and Das Boot Directors Cut are my favorite things to watch on the TV. Yeah. 13. The Monkees: I was very upset in college and I prayed for any sort of distraction to make me feel better. A day later, I got so hyperfixated on this fandom that I could not think about anything BUT the fandom and began alternating between squeaking in joy and sobbing for about three days straight.

17. Thank God that's over! Woah, speaking of Him, pick an afterlife! (If there is no such thing in the series in question, I picked the next closest thing that appears in the media.) 1. Pokemon DPA: Chunks of earth float in the twisted sky. Somewhere you cannot see, a shadowy creature roars. 2. Warrior Cats: A life just like yours, but none of you can grow anymore. 3. Gameknight999: It doesn't apply. My code will be gone before I get there. 4. Shark Wars: A sparkling ocean, uncannily blue and full of voices, but calm. 5. Pokespe: Time is paused here. Music floats through your ears. 6. Pokeani: Not sure. Every time I die, I seem to come back. I guess it'll be a surprise? 7. Spiderwicks: Suspended in time on the back of a magical creature. If I reach down to touch the ground, I will finally disappear. 8. HTTYD Books: My death doesn't matter. What matters is what I do in my life. 9. Scratchcraft: A comedically timed Minecraft "YOU DIED" screen. 10. Hetalia: Well, I'm not ever going to die, first of all. 11. Percy Jackson: You have to be a hero to even remember living once you get there. 12. HTTYD movies: Presumably Valhalla? 13. The Monkees: Can't. The writers won't let it end. (They crushed it anyway.)

18. What "bad end" would you like to be a very easy possibility in something you read? 1. Pokemon DPA: The world has been restarted, made into something devoid of love and emotions. But you'll never live to see it, in fact, it's as if you've never lived at all. 2. Warrior Cats: A horrible drought robs a society of water, slowly, they all wither away. 3. Gameknight999: The virus bleeds out of the game, infecting the real world turning it into a nightmare. 4. Shark Wars: A horrible emperor takes over the entire world, cannibalizing or enslaving anyone who stands in his way. 5. Pokespe: The protagonist stays frozen, and unfortunately, the second follows in his footsteps. There is no one to stop change now. 6. Pokeani: A creature beyond all of humanity has decided that people do not deserve to live free. 7. Spiderwicks: The fae continue killing, families are lost to their power, the town twists, crackling into the trash heap at its center. 8. HTTYD Books: As they say, "If it doesn't end well, then it isn't the end!" 9. Scratchcraft: [I've got nothing. Honestly. I don't know how I've managed anything serious so far. Feel free to pick this if you don't like the other options lol.] 10. Hetalia: Well. Honestly. The whole thing kind of feels like a bad end? 11. Percy Jackson: The Old Ones take over again. There is nothing but suffering for humanity now. 12. HTTYD movies: Everything will continue just as it was. 13. The Monkees: Well. The band broke up.

19. Okay, if there are any fandoms you DO NOT WANT to be recommended, speak you peace now. (This will give you one point for every other fandom. Picking "no," will give you one point for everything, to even them out.) 1-13: [self explanatory]

20. One more question! Time to pick your own. >^w^< 1. Pokemon DPA: If you had the choice to, would you forgive the man who hurt you so badly? 2. Warrior Cats: If you had to break the rules to find your true place, would you do it? 3. Gameknight999: If a day for you was 72 days for your friends, how often would you visit? 4. Shark Wars: If you were a fish, would you eat another fish if they asked you to very nicely? 5. Pokespe: If you had to conceal your true self if it meant love from others, would you do it? 6. Pokeani: Would you pick ̶c̶h̶a̶r̶m̶a̶n̶d̶e̶r̶,̶ ̶s̶q̶u̶i̶r̶t̶l̶e̶,̶ ̶b̶u̶l̶b̶a̶s̶a̶u̶r̶, or pikachu? 7. Spiderwicks: If you were to find out faries were real, would you put your life on the line in order to see them? 8. HTTYD Books: Do you believe that it can ever get better? 9. Scratchcraft: If you were a god, would you play a quick board game before ascending? 10. Hetalia: If you were to live forever, would you take it seriously? 11. Percy Jackson: If you had the choice to life forever or be a target for the rest of your life, would you take the offer? 12. HTTYD movies: Will you keep fighting? 13. The Monkees: "Hey! Who turned on the dark?"

Fandom descriptions:

Shark Wars: Hm. Did you get kicked out of YOUR Shiver too?? Shark Wars is a book series by EJ Altbacker which goes through increasingly violent and terrible events in the lives of the main characters, all while aiming at a relatively young audience. It's one of those series that takes like thirty minutes to want to start reading the book (even as it's in your hands), but once you do, you literally can't put it down. Truly a masterpiece, if I, the only Shark Wars fan on the planet, can convince you. I highly recommend this series! It's a lot of fun! (Don't worry about the Shark Magic, it's martial arts if they say it is.)

Warrior cats: May all cats old enough to catch their own prey gather before highrock for a clan meeting! Warrior Cats is a book series written by a group of authors who, together, go by Erin Hunter. It follows the lives of a whole lot of cats, and it does so in a way that is shockingly gripping (and, let's face it, a little ridiculous), frankly, you couldn't really ask for a better middle school friend group roleplay. About a million characters, and about a million ways to interpret them… purrfect. (sorry) (The moon pool sure is cold at this time of night.)

Pokespe: The power of the Viridian Forest has bestowed upon you the ability to read something real good. The Pokemon Adventures (or Pokemon Special) manga is a very long running manga series written by Hidenori Kusaka. It currently goes from the Red and Blue games ALLL the way to Scarlet and Violet, and it does a great job too! It's characters are original and three dimensional (despite being based on game counterparts), and it's plots can be completely unexpected, even for someone who played the original games. I highly encourage getting into these series, or at least reading up to the third book. It's a lot of fun. Yes. We KNOW about the Arbok already, stop mentioning it!! Why do you think we're here!??!?

Pokemon DPA: …do you want to meet a god- Pokemon Diamond and Pearl Adventure is an eight book series by manga author and artist Shigekatsu Ihara. It centers around the travels of Hareta as he makes his way through the Sinnoh region. Very fast paced and with slightly odd humor, you may wonder why I like it so much, and to that I have to tell you that it is, in fact, my FAVORITE Pokemon media. I know. A little ridiculous. But who can blame me? The art, character designs, and story are all really good, and the action is nothing to scoff at. If you like something silly, just a wee bit violent, and a lot of fun, give this series a try! I could really use a friend in this fandom. XD We don't mind being a little stupid here. :3

Hetalia: Oh boy, here we are. Hetalia is a controversial manga, anime, and musical franchise started by Hidekaz Himaruya. It is a satirical telling of various points in history through humanized versions of the counties. It is absolutely not everyone's cup of tea, but it helped me to better understand (and find interest in) history, and if you like satire and historical situations, this may be the place for you. Uh… Make pasta not war?

Percy Jackson: Well. I didn't ASK to be a half blood. (And I guess neither did you.) Percy Jackson (which hardly needs an introduction) was originally a book series by Rick Riordan, and has since expanded into a (not very well liked) movie series, and a show, as well as many other connected series. Despite this, the original book series is by far my favorite, and if you are looking for something that is very funny, and very violent, it is the way to go. Have fun demigod! (PS: I think I saw the upstairs window glow, did you see that?)

Gameknight999: Ah. I see, you got hit with the digitalizer too! The Gameknight999 series is an unofficial "isekai" Minecraft novel series by Mark Cheverton. It can be considered childish, and most often found in book fairs at elementary schools, but it can have a much darker tone if you want to look into it. The fandom itself for this book series came at a difficult time in my life, and though I am unable to determine whether the fandom was an overall net positive or negative for me, the books were definitely a positive. They inspired creativity and community, while also being objectively hilarious in concept. Come, let's hold hands and frolic through our computer screens together. :)

Scratchcraft: Welcome new Scratcher! Click the "create" button to make a new project. :3 Scratchcraft is a Minecraft SMP that is currently in it's fourth season. What is interesting about this SMP, however, is that it was started on the website Scratch.mit.edu, and, also, that it is not very active. While the content itself in this fandom is few and far between, the community is incredible once you get your footing in it. The member who currently uploads the most goes by "StormLordZeus" on Youtube and went by "haunted_enderman" on Scratch. (His Minecraft skin is pictured in the result image above.) And NO, you can't ask to join Scratchcraft.

Pokeani: Sorry you woke up late, we've just got a Pikachu left! Oh well, no matter. The Pokemon Anime (starring Ash Ketchum as the lead character) was an anime that lasted for 25 years across 26 seasons and several movies. It is not my favorite Pokemon Media, but it is still one of my favorite fandoms of all time due to it's cast, great range of amazing to hilariously bad animation (only sparingly), and episodic nature. If you are looking for something fun that you can pretty much jump into whenever, the Pokemon Anime may be the right fit for you! Enjoy your journey, you hopeful Pokemon Master!

How To Train Your Dragon (movies and shows): Welcome to dragon training! The How To Train Your Dragon movies and shows were based on a wonderful series of the same name, but quickly fell completely off the mark. You may think, because I personally prefer the books, that this means that the movies are bad in some way. Absolutely not! Without spoilers, the first How To Train Your Dragon movie is my favorite movie of all time, and the second it's really all that far behind it. If you want something with incredible music, a great story, and a really nice message (not even to mention the characters and animation) try out at LEAST the first movie, and start branching out from there if it hooks you in like it did me. And, yeah, if you see that Night Fury, I heard pretty much everyone is looking for it.

Spiderwicks Chronicals: Must've taken the dumbwaiter up here huh? The Spiderwicks Chronicles is a short book series made by Holly Black and Tony DiTerlizzi. I must admit that I do not often post about this series, but despite that, it is one of my favorite fantasy series I have ever read. It's short, sweet, and very depressing when it wants to be. If that kind of thing sounds up your alley, who knows! Maybe someone just like you could encourage me and others to show more interest as well. (Don't forget to get some fairy bathwater in your eyes on the way out. Sorry if that's gross, it's kinda important.)

How To Train Your Dragon (books): Well, suffering swordfish, you've found your way here. The How To Train Your Dragon books series is a twelve book series by Cressida Cowell that follows Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the third and his friends as they go on wacky misadventures through the Barbaric Archipelago. At least, it is until the true extent of everything becomes clearer and clearer. If you want something that becomes surprisingly serious (while still remaining rather funny), and is incredible and exciting all the way through, try on these books for size. Isn't fate artistic?

The Monkees: Hey hey! We're the Monkees fandom! Some people say we Monkee around! The Monkees was a 1966 show about four people who wanted to be a band, but it was also a band made up of four people who wanted to be in a band. Depending on what you want, this fandom can provide you from anything from sitcom antics, to Real Person Fiction, to a really weird movie. -and of course, save the Texas Prairie Chicken.

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