#just because you are hiding behind the screen it does not excuse you from being abusive

[puck-luck]

code-breaker | jack hughes

warnings: pining!, unprotected p in v, lots of miscommunication but it is resolved duh, lmao uhhhhh jack fucking his best friend's sister maybe? kind of a big plot point fasho, a lame excuse for a squirt, cum on da body (chest), eating come, lots of banter, tiny TINY bit of angst and insecurity on fem!reader's part pairing: jack hughes x zegras!reader request: cappy's "sister of the best friend, lake house, etc. sister makes the first move and the guy tries to turn her down out of loyalty to the other boy and she gets a little hurt and insecure thinking he's rejecting her and she's like "am i really that bad?" with her voice craking and he's like fuck then... smut!" wc: 4327

Jack is here. 

Jack, who you’ve been in love with since your twin brother started hanging out with him when they were in NTDP together. Jack, the New Jersey Devils’ prized star, the number one pick. Jack, the most annoying and most attractive brother of the esteemed Hughes family from Michigan. Yes, that Jack is here– ‘here’ being your apartment that you share with your brother in Anaheim now that Jamie has moved out and away.

Jack is here. You are here. Trevor is not.

“I didn’t know you were coming,” you tell him awkwardly, still holding the door open and blocking the doorway. You’re all too aware of your lazy, solo-movie-night outfit as you stand in front of him. You’re clad only in a big shirt, one that normally reaches the middle of your thighs but has ridden up since your hands are raised and resting against the doorframe, and your favorite pair of panties. You did laundry earlier and showered, your big exciting thing of the day being that you could but on your favorite underwear and be lazy as soon as you finished the chore of folding your clothes. “Trevor’s in New York right now.”

“I know,” Jack says, a hand on his suitcase. The other is clenched by his side. “I have a meeting in LA tomorrow so he said I could stay here while he was gone.”

“Oh,” you reply, feeling silly. It would’ve been nice if your brother had told you that Jack was coming and staying here while he was gone, considering you’d made plans to be alone all night tonight. Trevor always does shit like this– he makes plans and then forgets to tell you until someone shows up or he has to leave to meet them. It’s frustrating. “Come on in, then.”

You move to the side, gesturing for Jack to enter the apartment, and he does. His suitcase rolls in behind him, just a little carry on, and he leaves it beside the door where he kicks off his shoes. 

Your hands make their way to the hem of your t-shirt, tugging at it. “I’ll, uh, go change into something more–”

“No, don’t worry about it,” Jack interrupts, waving you off. He clears his throat. “You don’t have to change on my account. I’m interrupting your night of–” 

He looks to the couch and the coffee table, littered with a bowl of popcorn and a bottle of wine that you had been drinking out of, straight from the spout. Your movie is paused on the screen, a silly Disney Channel movie that had come out when you and Trevor were children and still hadn’t lost its touch yet. You’re hoping that Jack doesn’t recognize the screencap, but Mel’s Lemonade machine fills the screen and if he’s seen Lemonade Mouth at all, he’ll know what movie you’re watching.

“Disney Channel and wine,” Jack finishes, pinching his lips to hide the amusement in his voice.

You frown, even though you want to burst into laughter with him. It is silly, what you’re doing, but you were supposed to be alone and who are you to be ashamed of your guilty pleasures?

“Don’t make fun,” you admonish, crossing your arms with a pout. “I thought I had the apartment to myself.”

“I’m not making fun!” Jack denies, holding his hands up in surrender. “I think it’s nice that you’re having a me-party.”

He’s referencing the other time he’s interrupted when you’re having a movie night on your own, when you watched The Muppets (2011) at the lake house because the boys were out on the boat and you had gotten a nasty sunburn the day before, so you’d stayed in. Jack had come back early because he was hungry, making the boys drop him off at the dock before going back out, and caught you red-handed with his favorite kind of pretzels and a half-full bottle of margarita next to the blender. 

You blush, glaring at him slightly. “Shut up, Jack.”

“No, this is perfect,” Jack continues, glowing a little as his shit-eating smile builds. He walks over to the couch and plops down, grabbing the bottle of wine and taking a swig before wiping his mouth. “I’m already dressed for a lazy night in, I shouldn’t waste it.”

You roll your eyes. “You’re such a dick,” you complain. “You know you don’t want to watch this movie with me.”

“Why not?” He challenges, another tilt of the bottle pouring the fruity liquid down his throat. He spreads his legs when he sits as all the boys do, taking up as much space as he can. 

“Because you won’t like it,” you say. “And because I wasn’t planning on having you here.”

“Were you planning on having someone else here?” Jack teases. “Popcorn, red wine, a movie, no pants… I think I see the writing on the wall.”

“No, God, shut up, Jack!” You repeat with a huff, returning to the couch and curling up against the opposite arm, far away from the boy. “Just be quiet while I watch my movie. If you’re good, I’ll let you have some popcorn.”

Jack wiggles his eyebrows at you, sticking out his tongue. You pull at the bottom of your shirt again, making sure that your panties aren’t visible when he looks over. This is already humiliating enough– you don’t need your long-time crush seeing your underwear, too.

You hit play and turn the volume up loud enough to drown out any comments Jack might make. You’re lucky the movie is short, because he’s an antsy boy who loves to talk, just like your brother, and you can tell that he’s anxious to start another conversation.

As the credits roll, you mute the television and turn to him. “What?” You demand, sitting in criss-cross-applesauce and shoving your hands into your lap to stretch your shirt over the space between your legs. 

“You really didn’t have plans tonight?” Jack asks. “It’s a Saturday night and you live in LA. You’re in your twenties. You didn’t want to have anyone over?”

You flush, but it’s less out of embarrassment and more out of anger. “Judgemental much, Hughes? Not all of us have people throwing themselves at our feet any given day of the week.” You grind your teeth, clenching your jaw and taking a deep breath. You stare at him, refusing to break eye contact. Jack shouldn’t be allowed to form opinions on your life. You know exactly what he’s insinuating– why aren’t you out there getting laid, Y/N? and it’s frustrating because it’s the same question you ask yourself whenever your friends text about their recent hookups or whenever Trevor brings a girl back to the apartment. 

More than anything, you don’t want Jack judging you. You know that your Saturday night plans are lame, but that’s why you wanted to be alone. 

Jack falls quieter, your reaction diluting his crooked, toothy smirk that he reserves for the people he knows well. “I’m surprised you don’t have– people. Throwing themselves at you.”

He’s awkward when he says it, too awkward not to make you suspicious.

He’s avoiding eye contact, picking at his nailbeds. 

“Would you?” You ask, directly to the point. You’re making a point, too– you’ve known Jack for years and he has never, not once, implied that he thinks you’re desirable. 

Jack says nothing, running his fingers through his hair and looking down. 

You nod to yourself and stand from the couch, still tugging at your shirt. You’re pulling it even lower now, the neckline dipping and stretching as you cover your legs up as best you can. “That’s what I thought,” you say quietly, a cold feeling washing through your chest and pressing down on the skin that your heart beats beneath. 

“I would,” Jack calls, just as you walk away. You’re positioned right in front of the door that leads to your bedroom when he says it, head hanging towards the ground so that he doesn’t see the frown on your face. 

His silence was a rejection and his afterthought is even worse. Nonetheless, you turn to face him. This time, it’s your silence that rings throughout the space.

“I would,” Jack repeats. “If, y’know. You weren’t–”

“Trevor’s sister,” You say, filling in the blanks and finishing his sentence. You nod, a tight, close-lipped, and pointed smile on your face. “You don’t have to explain, Jack. I realized a long time ago that my world would always revolve around Trevor.” Your hand is on the doorknob now, twisting it and cracking your door open. Your bed is right there and you can collapse into it in mere seconds, able to let your tears leak into your pillow silently as you remind yourself that you’re not as good as your twin brother once again, just as soon as you get these words out. “I know I can’t do or say the things I want to with the people I want to because they’re always thinking about Trevor.”

You could add, And why would you be any different? You know him best. Of course he’s the one you’re loyal to, but you decide against it. It’s too petty. It’s too mean. It’s too– real. 

You look at him one last time to bid him goodnight, already craving the following day when his meeting is over and he heads back to Michigan, far away from you and your un-desirability. The tight smile returns to your face, trying to smooth out your upset yet resigned features. It’s always the same thing. It’s not Jack’s fault, really, it’s not. You’ve imagined this conversation in your head many times and each time you think rationally, you know that this is how it has to be.

He’s Jack Hughes, for God’s sake. You’re just Trevor Zegras’ less successful, lesser known twin sister.

“Trevor would kill me,” Jack says on a whim. “Really. He would. He would stand me up and punch me, right here.”

You’ve got one foot in your bedroom and one foot out. Despite the ice piercing through your chest, you can’t find it in yourself to be rude and close the door on him. You turn to face Jack again.

He’s sitting forward on the couch, hands clasped in front of him like a prayer. He moves them when he talks, lowering them and spreading them and gesturing with them. He’s always done that, ever since you’ve known him– it’s another way that he calls attention to himself and takes up space. It’s part of the reason why he’s so charming– he knows how to use his hands, how to touch someone to politely get them to move or to pull them closer or to playfully shoo them away. 

“If I had a sister, I’d do the same thing to him,” Jack continues. “It’s just– we can’t go for each others’ family. It’s against the code.”

You nod, slowly, exaggeratedly just to show him how nonsensical that sounds. “You realize it’s not up to Trevor to decide who you go out with,” you say. “That’s kind of your choice, Jack.”

“It’s not that simple.”

You shrug, then look away. Outside the living room window is a dark night, leaves blowing with the wind. 

“It could be,” you say after a moment. You’re not surprised to hear how resigned you sound. You learned to live with this a long time ago, so you know that pointing out how easily things could change is futile. You say it anyway. “If you wanted it to be. But, I get it. I’m your best friend’s sister. Maybe if I wasn’t, you’d consider–”

“I have considered,” Jack interrupts. “I’ve– well, you’ve seen it. All the guys have.”

You’re lost. It’s like he’s speaking in code. “I’ve seen what?” You ask, monotonous and silently yearning for your bed. Your patience is growing thin.

“You can’t be serious,” Jack responds with a laugh. He buries his face in his hands, muffling the noise. “Are you?”

“I’ve seen what,” you repeat, straight-faced and not entertaining this sudden bout of humor from the brunet boy.

“How I look at you when you’re in those tiny little swimsuits on the boat, or how I laugh when you make one of your stupid jokes that aren’t funny to anyone but you and Trevor,” Jack says. “You really never noticed?”

Now he’s just dangling your hopeless crush in front of you. You assumed he had noticed sometime over the years, but this is overkill. He’s never felt the same– that much is clear. It’s cruel that he thinks he can lead you to believe otherwise as a means to further tease you for being alone tonight.

You shake your head. “I never noticed because you never did any of those things, Jack. You’re just saying that to say it.”

He’s up in a flash, coming towards you and placing a hand flat on your bedroom door to prevent you from closing it and ending the conversation. “I can’t believe you don’t believe me,” Jack says.

“I don’t think it’s funny that you’re making fun of the little crush I’ve had on you since we were kids. You don’t feel the same way and I’m not an idiot.” You move to close the door again, but Jack pushes it open again. 

“You– I’m not making fun,” Jack stammers out, looking surprised. He leans forward, narrowing his eyes. “You have a crush on me?”

Your jaw drops and your face flames with humiliation. You thought he knew that you liked him and that he was making fun on purpose– and now you’ve accidentally revealed your massive, well-kept secret to his face. This was never supposed to happen. “You didn’t know?” You hiss, covering the lower half of your face with your hands. 

“You have a crush on me,” Jack repeats, a smile spreading across his face. He steps closer, prompting you to back away.

“No. No,” you moan out, feeling positively ashamed and destroyed. Tonight is not turning out as you hoped it would.

Jack’s still smiling, closing your bedroom door softly behind him as he follows you into your room. 

You knock into the edge of your bed and sit, sinking into the mattress. Your hands are still pressed over your mouth as Jack kneels in front of you, prying your hands away from your face and holding them gently. 

“You have a crush on me,” Jack says for a third time, his voice soft and subtly optimistic. The corner of his mouth curves up into the tiniest of smirks and you swear your face couldn’t get any more red.

All you can give him is a frown and a devastated wobble of your bottom lip. 

“Well, this changes everything,” Jack says, regaining his ability to joke, it seems. His next question is rhetorical and makes you swallow hard. “Who gives a fuck about Trevor when you feel the same way I do?” 

“You’re– you’re serious,” you say, still a thread of disbelief sewn into your words. “You weren’t kidding. You actually– thought about it.”

“Thought about it?” Jack asks. “Fuck, Y/N, I almost told you right before you left last summer, but then you said you were talking to that guy.”

You roll your eyes– that guy had only been in your life for about a month and you had only mentioned him because Jack had mentioned a girl he wanted to see. You tell him such– “I only brought him up because everyone was talking about their romantic interests and who they were interested in, I didn’t want to seem like a loser. You had some girl, too, Jack.”

“Some girl– that was you,” Jack reveals incredulously. “I thought I was being so obvious.”

“You weren’t obvious at all!” You deny, mouth open in a scoff. 

“I thought that you mentioning that guy was your way of letting me down easy!”

“Yes, Jack, because I was going to reveal my feelings for you in a room full of both of our brothers. Good idea. You fucking idiot!”

Jack laughs aloud, throwing his head back. His face scrunches up and he smooths his face with his big palm at the end of his amusement. He fixes you with a look of glee and astonishment– something only hindsight can bring to his expression. “We’re so fucking stupid.”

You shake your head, laughing with him for a moment before he swipes a thumb over your cheek, which stills you. 

“Fuck,” he sighs, smile still gracing his face. “I can’t believe–”

“Me neither,” you say.

“Can I–”

“Absolutely.”

Jack’s rising up, kissing you and laying you back on the bed so that he can completely cover your body with his own. One of his hands cups your cheek, while the other grips your hip, atop your underwear but underneath the big t-shirt that is now riding up your body as you move. Your hand is on his bicep and his chest, clutching his sweatshirt. The strings dangle down into your space, brushing against your clothes and tickling you.

His hands memorize you like a topographic map, clutching at your dips and curves and anything else he can get his hands on. 

“Wanna take this off,” You mumble against Jack’s mouth, tugging at the collar of his sweatshirt.

Jack pulls back immediately, reaching behind his neck to grab the collar of his top and bring it above his head. He balls it up and drops it somewhere on the floor. 

“That, too,” you tell him, about his t-shirt, before he can bend back down and kiss you senseless again.

Jack chuckles and pulls it off, too, leaving him half-naked just like you. His chest is tanned and swollen from his recent workouts in Michigan since his shoulder surgery, something that Trevor had told you about but about which you’d never checked in. You’re gentler on that side of his body, especially as he comes back down into your space and you get to touch him. You run your hands over his muscles. You feel out the ridges of his body, trying to match his own confident movements as he feels you up.

One of your hands makes its way to his v-line, something you’d seen over plenty of boat trips. You’d always wanted the opportunity to touch it, to trace it, to watch it bend and flex as he rolled his hips. You’re being afforded that opportunity now and it is sweet.

“I thought you might like that,” Jack murmurs. “Caught you staring once. Was the same day you wore my favorite red swimsuit out.”

“I still have it,” you tell him, gasping a little when his hand slides up to your chest. He tweaks your nipple, then his hand retreats. 

“Mm, a treat for tomorrow,” Jack says. “I’m gonna have you walking around in that thing all day just so I can look at you. For now…”

He trails off, pushing the bottom of your shirt up and leaving your lips to attach his to the freshly revealed skin of your torso. He kisses up your body with each inch he reveals, between your breasts and up your neck. He pulls your shirt off, letting it join his own on the floor, and gets his first proper look at your tits.

“Been waiting to see these,” he continues, eyes fixed on your chest like he’s being hypnotized. He places his hands on you and squeezes, feeling your supple flesh between his fingers. You moan out at the sensation, the noise spurring him on. “Wanna know a secret?”

“Yeah,” you agree, nodding and tugging at his joggers, hoping he’ll get the hint and remove them.

“‘ve wanted to come on these tits since I first saw it in a porno,” Jack reveals, still mesmerized by your chest. “Thought about it a hundred times.”

You can’t help but laugh. “Come on my tits all you want, but you have to fuck me first.”

“Guess your Saturday night wasn’t so boring after all,” Jack says before he stands from the bed and tugs his pants off. He joins you again, wrapping your legs around his waist and kissing over your face. He grinds against you, his clothed cock sliding against your damp panties in a way that has you both keening into each others’ mouths. 

“Guess not,” is your reply, cut short by another moan when Jack’s hand claims your chest again.

You move without speaking after that, fueled only by the desire coursing through your veins after years of pining and aching for the other. 

Jack feels you out and eventually discards his own underwear before removing yours, returning to the missionary position that you had assumed as soon as you had first kissed. It’s sweeter this way– and you both need to see the other’s face, to feel their breath mix with your own. Your chests are flush together, your nipples scraping against the defined and broad swoops of his skin. You grind against each other for a few minutes more, his dick sliding between the wet lips of your pussy with nothing blocking it. He groans into your ear as your juices coat his length, eyes closed in a grimace that is completely charged by his pleasure.

“Condom?” is the last thing he asks, with you shaking your head and replying, “Pill.”

He lines himself up, mouth agape with a choked breath as he thrusts into your tight, wet heat. Your head finds the mattress beneath you, your back arching up as he fills you. You can feel his veins sliding against your walls, the blunt and weeping tip of his cock poking at your deepest parts.

He moves like a man possessed and fighting the beast– like he wants to let loose but at the same time, restraining himself. When you tug on his hair, the subtle waves that he’s been growing out over the summer and hiding beneath his hat in every picture you’ve seen, and whine out his name, Jack’s control vanishes.

He starts to piston his hips into your cunt, burying his face into your neck and letting out ecstasy-fueled whimpers each time you clench down. He curses in your ear, voice a little higher than it normally is, and the intimacy and vulnerability of the moment has your heart clenching. 

“J– J–” You chant, mewling as his cockhead drives against the back wall of your pussy in hard thrusts that make your head spin. 

“So good,” he grits out, kissing over your neck and catching your earlobe between his lips for a moment before dropping it. One of his hands is splayed over your hip, the other securely planted next to your head. “So tight.”

“Coming,” you warn, your fingers finding his bicep and clenching, fingernails digging into his skin so much that you won’t be surprised if you break skin. Your voice is high, too, octaves higher because of the pleasure you’re experiencing.

“Fuck, yeah, baby, come on my cock,” Jack pants out, the hand from your hip coming to rub circles over your clit. 

It sends a shock up your spine and has your hips bucking up to meet his, your entire lower half shaking as your climax approaches. Your eyes roll into the back of your head and your vision goes spotty when you do come, just seconds after his groaned encouragement. Your entire body tenses, freezing with Jack still inside of you, making it damn near impossible for him to continue pumping his hips. 

He slides from your opening as you’re coming, bringing some of the slick with him in a feeble excuse for a squirt. His dick bobs, hard and an angry red that might be the most beautiful color you’ve ever seen in your hazy, post-orgasmic state.

Jack comes up to straddle your stomach, stripping his cock quickly with a tight fist, chest heaving. You know he wants to come on your chest, having already given him permission, but your mouth opens and your tongue lolls out in an invitation that Jack can’t deny. He shuffles up further on his knees, his whimper sounding pained as his milky cum spurts from the tip of his cock and lands along the flat of your tongue and your lips.

His spurts grow weaker, although he’s still stroking his dick in a fervorous pace, whining a little more at the oversensitivity. His cum makes his way to your chest, just dripping down the length of his shaft and pooling over your tits. 

You reach up with one hand and trace your fingers through the seed, causing Jack to sway a little on top of you at the sight. His cheeks are flushed and pink, eyes blue and clear like he can’t believe what he’s seeing. Your fingertips brush your nipple, spreading the cum over it before you bring your hand up to your mouth and suck the remaining liquid off of your skin, swallowing it with a hum.

Jack is off of you in a flash, pulling you on top of his lap and joining your lips. The last of his cum, painted across your tongue in a thin layer, mixes with your spit as he kisses you. He’s desperate, filling your mouth with his tongue until you can barely breathe, tasting himself on you until it’s indistinguishable– where you end and he begins.

It takes a long time for Jack to finally pull away, for you both to come down from your highs and take a breath.

In typical Jack fashion, he can’t stop himself from joking around.

“Trevor’s really going to kill me now,” he says. “There’s a chance he’ll never let us be in the same room again.”

You laugh, knowing already that neither of you will be willing to let this– whatever this is– go just because your brother has something to say about it. “In that case, we’ll just have to sneak away.”

notes: I WANTED TO NAME THIS "BFB" AFTER THE VICTORIOUS SONG SOOOOOO BAD!!!!! but alas. it's best friend's sister. maybe some other time. blahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. well now wait that's a good idea...

[ryker-writes]

Your angst fic had made me go into angst creative mood. Twisted wonderland Character/s of your choosing of younger sibling that have chronic illness but hide it from their family. Often when to the toilet to cough out blood to avoid suspicious. Even went as far as asking the dr to keep it a secret because they don't want to burden their family and wanted them to enjoy their life because they already suffer so much and the distance actually help. Until sibling collapse and went into coma and the Dr had to break the news that they don't have much time left.

If it not to much- I'm feeling very angsty-

Oh my the heavy angst. This is so sad tho but I love it. These actually ended up longer than I thought they would be. I just had too many thoughts and it hurt my soul to write this because it's so sad but I enjoyed it

sorry not sorry if anyone cries <3

Characters: Leona, Idia, and Malleus

warnings: Mentions of blood, implied reader death, angst, no happy ending

Request rules and Masterlists

Leona:

you knew you should tell Leona about your condition

he was your older brother and he should know

but Leona was pretty protective and would drive himself mad demanding that somebody find something to help you

and he would spend all of his time worrying and fussing over you

so you didn't tell him

you wanted him to enjoy things and be happy

he's already struggled so much growing up and you don't want to burden him more

also you wanted to peacefully enjoy the time you had with everyone without a lingering sadness in the air

so you pleaded with the doctor to keep it a secret

and thankfully they did

all you had to do was hide the blood that you may cough out

so your bathroom trips became more frequent

Leona even joked that you should see the doctor about how much you have to go to the bathroom

but he didn't know the truth, and he was happy

that's all you wanted

until one day you woke up feeling weaker

you tried to fight it and carry on as you normally would

but for some reason you just couldn't

it was when you were walking in botanical garden towards Leona

black spots started to cloud your vision and you felt like you lost control of your body

the last thing you heard was Leona shouting

Leona was very worried when he saw you collapse

and you weren't responding to him either

he rushed you to the infirmary as quickly as he could and demanded that the doctor sees you immediately

when the doctor tells him that you're in a coma and don't have much time left, he's angry

how could you not tell him about your illness

he would've tried to help you if you just told him

Leona will spend most of his time by your side, waiting for you to wake up

he's not going to waste a moment somewhere else

he doesn't know what to do with himself

he's so angry with himself for not knowing sooner and not being able to do anything

you have to wake up, you just have to

Idia:

the Shroud family was a strange one

most of the family were shut-in's that were pretty isolated and lonely

your big brother Idia was a prime example of this

he spent most of his time behind the screens and barely interacted with other people

and he didn't really have friends either

both you and Ortho wanted him to be happy

and that's why you didn't tell him about your illness

if he knew he would isolate himself further and bury himself in trying to help

he would sacrifice his own health for the sake of you

and you couldn't let that happen

though you did hope that somehow he would be able to be happy and have a friend before your illness took over

it was difficult to keep it hidden

Ortho regularly does scans on you and Idia's health so he knows if something is wrong

so he knew, but you had to convince him not to tell Idia

it was a long process and filled with tears but he gave in eventually

and so when you would spend time with Idia, Ortho would be a little sad but hide it well

when you made and excuse of going to the bathroom Ortho knew what was happening and would make up some excuse to Idia about you drinking a lot of water or something

but then one day you were walking through the school halls with Ortho and Idia's tablet

it hit you so suddenly that you didn't even have time to react

as you coughed you could feel the blood sputter out and onto your chin

this coughing fit seemed worse than the rest and you couldn't stop

it hurt and even brought you down to the ground, and after a bit you passed out

Ortho was quick to help stabilize your condition and take you to the infirmary

all that came from the tablet was panicked noises and frantic questions

once the doctor checked up on your condition, he gave them the bad news

you had been sick for a long time and it's led you to a coma

with the way your condition was progressing, you didn't have much time left

Idia was so confused

how could both he and Ortho not notice especially when Ortho did health scans

but Ortho didn't answer and Idia could just tell that Ortho already knew

Night Raven College was buzzing with gossip that day

some were saying they saw Idia Shroud himself quickly walking through the halls and others denied that it couldn't be true

the notorious shut-in would never even leave his room or go outside Ignihyde

but the rumors were true

Idia Shroud had left his room and walked through the halls to the infirmary

and he stayed there all day constantly checking up on every little change in your condition

and when he wasn't checking on your condition he would sit there quietly and think

why did this have to happen?

why did it have to be you?

it wasn't fair

Idia was making the stressful trek through the halls every day so he could stay by your side in case you woke up

as he sat there he would play some of his video games and tell you all about it like he normally would, but this time you weren't able to respond

Malleus:

Malleus didn't have a lot of people he treasured in his life

those in Diasomnia were like his family, but you were actually his family so he treasured you dearly

he was always looking out for you and doing everything he could to make sure you were happy, and you wanted the same for him

so when the doctor had informed you of your illness and what would happen, you didn't want to tell him

Malleus would be crushed at the news

He had always been someone who was lonely

and you were like the one person he had that wasn't required to be around him

if he were to learn that you would soon be taken away from him, he wouldn't be able to cope

and you wanted to see him happy as long as you would be here

you couldn't tell him and instead kept it hidden from everyone

Malleus never questioned it much when you ran off to the bathroom

he would just ask if you were alright and once you said you were, he wouldn't ask past that

and so many days and even weeks past as you spent time with Malleus

he seemed happy and you were happy to see him like that

but it was when you were going on one of his gargoyle walks when the world started to spin

you wanted to ignore it and act natural before Malleus could notice, but it was all to much

your legs seemed more tired than usual and you fell to the ground

you could hear Malleus ask you repeatedly what was wrong but you couldn't answer

then the world faded to black

The great Malleus Draconia was terrified

you weren't responding to him and he didn't know what was wrong

his healing magic was amazing, but he couldn't heal injuries he didn't know about

so he picked you up and teleported the two of you to the infirmary

the doctor had to stop whatever they were already doing when the fae prince himself demanded his assistance

and the doctor checks up on you and tells Malleus everything

you were sick, now in a coma, and you were running out of time

the room was quiet for a minute as Malleus processed what the doctor said

and then, thunder

the worst thunderstorm Night Raven College has ever seen has been summoned

lightning was striking all around the campus and many students were taking shelter while terrified

but the infirmary was the safest place from the storm

Malleus sat by your side quietly pondering his thoughts

he was angry

not at you but at your illness for doing this to you, life for cursing you this way, and mostly at himself

he should've been able to see the signs before it got to this point

he should've been there for you

he should've helped you

how ironic it is that one of the most powerful mages was so helpless to save the one person they treasured most of all

Lilia, Silver, and Sebek came to find him after the storm started

and when they did, they didn't even say anything, but felt the heavy atmosphere

Lilia tried providing some comfort, but Malleus just stayed silent

for days after that, his three guards stood outside the infirmary and prevented anyone from disturbing the two of you

the storm persisted and Malleus never left your side

he would sit there for hours silently wishing for you to wake and be okay

even though he knew that was unlikely

but he wouldn't leave and possibly miss you waking up

that was simply one event he wouldn't miss

Malleus was never good at noticing how quickly time passed

but as he sat by your side, he was painfully aware of every passing second that you lie there

[patroxlos]

home base . ch1

"friends who have dinner once a week" - 2.5k words

ultraman: rising (2024). kenji sato x reader

master post. ao3 link.

next: ch2. "friends who reconnected and who certainly don't want to be more"

where you're left sitting alone at a restaurant and your best friend thinks it's funny to use ultraman-caused traffic jams as a reason for why he's late.

---

30 minutes. You told yourself 30 minutes.

30 minutes and then you’ll stand and leave because you have the dignity not to wait around.

Because you know that if he doesn’t show up by then, he won’t show up at all.

You are seated at the corner of a neighborhood restaurant. It is family-owned, with recipes that boast three-generation longevity, yet it still maintains a calm and quiet atmosphere at this hour in the evening. Just enough for a celebrity to blend in without risk of being hounded by overeager fans. You have carefully taken this into consideration when you selected the spot. When you had proposed the time and place to him, you particularly noted that he may like their famous yakisoba.

You wonder whether he places as much thought about you as you do with him.

“Hello, are you ready to order?” You are asked. You have only had a water and a side of popcorn karaage.

It’s time. Half an hour of sitting all alone in a booth too big for you was getting a little humiliating. You should stand and go.

“Yeah, I’ll have a platter of the signature yakisoba?”

Oh what the hell.

You gave a smile to the waiter.

“The solo serving?”

“Oh no, I really do mean the platter.” Your smile aches a bit as the waiter kindly reminds you it is good for two to three people. “Yes, I have company.”

And if said company does not show, you will have the noodles packed up and sent to his house. How sweet.

You slump in your seat as the waiter leaves. You’re trying your best to be understanding— you really are, but this is getting too much for you. Your eyes flicker towards the TV above the restaurant bar, playing the news of a Kaiju attack in Roppongi.

Maybe he got stuck due to the traffic? You soothe yourself as the screen shows Ultraman getting struck by the tail of the raging monster.

You scoff. No way. It’s too far from the Dome.

Everyone uses Ultraman as an excuse to be late to work. You will not put it past the amazing Ken Sato to do the same.

He stumbles into the restaurant half a serving of yakisoba later.

You pause mid-chew to watch how his eyes dart all around the restaurant, frantic and panicked. You glare at him even if he can’t see you. You did pick a booth that would be easy to hide in. It is working well in your favor as you see him hopelessly look for you. At least he has the decency to feel bad about arriving an hour and a half late.

He talks to the waiter, who starts guiding him towards your booth. You sit up straighter, ready to give him the coldest shoulder you could muster. Ready to tell him off for his perpetual tardiness. For wasting your time.

His eyes finally meet yours, and his posture fills with relief. “Hey!” He leaves the waiter behind as he jogs towards your table. Fuck.

“Took you long enough.” You do not know why you greet him so warmly as you stand up, and he leans in to give you a side hug before sliding into the booth with you.

“I was so scared for a minute that you already left.”

Your smile stretches a little tighter. “I was just waiting for your usual text saying you can’t make it. I guess I got a little worried since you didn’t send me anything this time, Ken.” You try to keep your voice even and pleasant, wrestling down any inner goblin that threatens to spill out what you truly feel.

“I am so sorry, it was a little traffic with the KDF and the Kaiju business. Got really distracted trying to dodge the debris on my bike.” He sounds genuinely apologetic. He always does.

“Did you see Ultraman?” You ask.

“Huh? What about him?” He has a little jump at the start.

“He fought the Kaiju?” You tilt your head. “In the middle of the streets.”

“Oh yeah, he did. Quite heroic I must say, from what I saw.”

You wish you could call him out for lying like that to your face, but you notice the rigidity of his shoulders and the forming bruise on his face. You decide to let it go. Again.

“Rough practice?” You say, sympathetic. He looks like a wreck. Maybe he just lied so I wouldn’t have to worry.

Ken makes an exaggerated stretch, his cocky attitude seemingly unbruised. “You could say that again. But don’t worry, I’m on top of my game.”

You remember the news coverage of the past few weeks saying that he is at an all-time low in his career. Every poorly timed dive into the dirt and rough swing of his bat have been televised for the nation to see. He notices the concern etched in a growing frown you couldn’t control.

Even if it has been a few months since he arrived in Japan, he knows you well enough to brace himself for your eventual comments about his deep-set eye bags. You don’t say anything.

“Yakisoba?” You push the platter towards him. “The noodles aren’t that warm anymore though.”

“I’ll be fine. Haven’t eaten all day so I just need something in my gut.” He waves off your comment as he begins feasting like a man starved. He groans, delighted with the savory sauce and chewy noodles. “Man, you sure know how to pick ‘em.”

Your chest puffs a bit at the compliment. You were about to reply when his watch beeps red. You glance down at the watch face as it says ‘CHECK-UP NOW’ at the front. “Am I keeping you from an appointment?”

He inhales two more mouthfuls before saying “Nah. Wanted to get here as soon as possible. I’ll get to it after we call it a night.”

“You’re keeping your doctor waiting?”

He snorts, holding his chopsticks in one hand and reaching for his water with the other. “She’ll manage. I want to be here with you.”

On any other day that would have warmed you up, but this time it left a sour taste on your mouth. “Really? I wouldn’t have been able to tell.” You say before you could stop yourself.

He pauses, before setting down his glass. “Huh? What do you mean by that?”

You panic. You do not want it to come out like this. Avoiding eye contact, you fumble to find the right words. “I-It’s just…you’ve been leaving me hanging lately that it…yeah.” You finish lamely.

“Ah…” He looks like he got slapped across the face, cringing from the guilt. “I’m so sorry— I don’t mean to. You know how much you mean to me. You’ve been my only friend since I’ve moved back here.”

“Only?” You cannot believe it. It has been more than two decades since the two of you were sneaking around his father’s laboratory, trading baseball cards underneath a steel table as your parents discussed science and business. More than two decades of him in the States, where the only contact with each other is limited to video calls and your occasional family trips to Los Angeles (you do not count your impulsive flights).

He sucks in air through his teeth. “Hurts to admit it but yeah. I haven’t…vibed with anyone else lately. I’ve just been swamped with all this work and—“ he took a deep breath. “—At least I didn’t leave you hanging tonight?”

You bite your tongue. Not now. Don’t say anything now. He obviously has so much on his plate.

But can’t he understand that you are busy too?

“Yay…?” Fuck. Why do you sound like that?

He fully put down his chopsticks now. “You’re kind of off tonight.”

“Oh, I’m off?” You feigned ignorance.

“Yeah…you have a problem?” He raised one perfectly sculpted eyebrow.

“I should be asking you,” You try to be sincere, because you are. You are worried about how hard he has been pushing himself lately. Instead, your words are stilted, defensive. “Well…You…”

“Me…?”

“I— I mean how has adjusting back home been?”

He seems uncomfortable when you say the word home . Ah. You slump back into your seat, cursing yourself for making this awkward.

“You don’t have to answer that I just…”

“Is this about my stats?” His words are sudden, cutting.

You blink, lost at the direction this conversation is suddenly going. “I’m sorry?”

“Because I’m well aware this is my weakest season and I don’t need a lecture from you right now about how it’s been going.” The yakisoba was growing cold on the table.

“Kenji you know I hate talking about business when it’s just the two of us. This isn’t about your play.”

“Oh so this meeting wasn’t about pulling my player sponsorship?” He barked sarcastically. “Because that’s just what I needed! On top of the threat from Coach to trade me to the Tigers. Me, Ken Sato. Traded!”

You throw your hand up, signaling a pause. “Woah slow down, I don’t know anything about that. You’re going to the Tigers?”

“No!” He snaps. “My coach just threatened me.”

“Why would he threaten you?”

“Because of my stats this season! God I thought you were paying attention.”

“I am! I have to because I have to monitor your progress.”

“So this is about your sponsorship.”

“It’s not about the sponsorship! I only wanted to see you!” Your heart is pounding. You forgot he can get mean. Really mean. You know he was like this but he was never like this with you. “Fuck, man, can’t we just be friends who meet up for dinner once a week?”

He senses his mistake, and tries to reel himself back in even if he already got himself worked up and overheated. “I just don’t need another thing on my plate right now. Hell, I didn’t feel like going tonight but I dragged myself out here for you.”

If he can be short-tempered, so can you. “Do you want a fucking medal?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“If you don’t want to see me then I think we’re done here.” You grab your bag and stand up. “I paid for the meal already. Get it packed. It’s still good microwaved.”

“Where are you going? Sit down.” He begins standing up himself. “I didn’t mean it.”

The waiter stands awkwardly nearby, unsure about whether he should intervene. Both of them are drawing attention. Some other dining customers surreptitiously pull out their phones. That’s the baseball player right? Ken Sato. And that’s the scion of the—

He follows closely behind as you leave the restaurant. You see your bodyguards already preparing the car to leave, but before you can approach them he quickly grabs your wrist. “Wait. Please.”

Sighing, you turn around to face him.

“Can we talk?” He was careful with his words this time. “My bike is parked there. Can you at least hear me out before you go?”

“Kenji–”

“ Please .”

Something is different about him tonight. Or maybe it didn’t start tonight, but it has been like this ever since the season started. For a moment, you can place yourself in his shoes. You feel his constricted breaths, his fatigue. Something is wrong.

“Okay.” You signal to your guards to wait, before following him towards his bike.

The gravel crunches beneath you both. He leans against his bike as you stand in front of him, arms crossed.

He takes a breath, before saying a concise “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For talking to you like that.”

“I didn’t realize the famous Ken Sato apologized.”

He scowls. “Can you make this anymore difficult?”

“Okay, okay. I’ll ease up. Now what’s going on with you?”

He wrings his hands in the air before letting them fall to his sides. “I … A lot has been going on. I can’t explain everything but. I know that I’ve been messing up a lot lately and I really don’t want to mess this up too.”

“Kenji,” you say softly, taking a step forward. “You’re an ass but we’re still friends.”

He groaned. “God thank you—”

“Wait,” you cut him off. “I’m still…hurt.”

He stood up straight at your words.

You shrug. “I have also been really busy. It isn’t easy following in my dad’s shoes, running the family business. I’ve only been doing this for a few months and already I feel like I’m ready to quit.”

Ken laughs. “I understand that way more than you realize.” There is a hidden meaning behind his words that you’re not sure you can pinpoint at the moment.

“Despite all that, I also know that I want to reconnect with you. It’s been so long since we’ve been in the same location, and I knew it would be hard for you to adjust back to living here. I want you to feel like you can rely on me but now it feels like I’m only a second thought when I constantly put in the effort to put you as a priority.”

“You’re my oldest friend,” he admits. “I didn’t mean for you to feel like that.”

“I know you didn’t and that’s the worst part.” You are somber.

“I can’t— I can’t put in the time to fix this now.” He is resigned, yet realistic about what he can offer at the moment. “But please give me time.”

You nod, bringing up a hand to rest on his arm. “Kenji, I’m not the type of person to abandon a friend when he’s obviously going through something. It hurts but I understand.”

The relief seems too much on his body that he takes a step forward and engulfs you. You hear your guards at a distance start to shuffle forward, but your hand signals for them to stand down before you return Ken’s shaky embrace. He is hunched over to rest his forehead on your shoulder.

“If you need me, all you have to do is say so…” You murmur close to his ear. “I’ll give you the space you need, just don’t forget that I’m here for you.”

He seems to shake a bit more in your hold, almost as if he’s struggling not to cry. He doesn’t though, and he releases you from his arms. “I’ll call you?” His voice much smaller than normal.

“The famous Ken Sato? Calling me?”

He cracks a smile, rolling his eyes. “Shut up. I’ll email your secretary for your availability so that the next time we meet, I will be the one adjusting to you.”

Huh. “That’s…oddly considerate of you.”

“You act like I’m normally not.”

“...So you’ll send an email?” You quickly change the subject, which doesn’t go unnoticed by him.

“I am considerate!” He defends himself.

Both of you stand in the parking lot well longer than a few minutes. You have said your goodbyes at least three times by then, but it is natural after the tense moment in the restaurant to just take in each other’s presence. You wave him off as he finally got onto his bike, exchanging promises that you will give each other time to figure out whatever you both needed to figure out. You trace the red of his rearlight through the streets until it no longer could be seen.

[fallinforerling]

LOVE ISN'T ETERNAL. chapter 12 - jb

ೃ⁀➷ jude’s masterlist

ೃ⁀➷ jude’s taglist

ೃ⁀➷ masterlist

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

After seeing for yourself that nothing could affect Jude’s performance or relationship with one of his teammates, you felt more relaxed. The conversation that you needed to have with him was still very present in your mind, but at least you found yourself relaxing through the almost two hours of the game due to the added time. You were worried for Jude’s physical state since the DT didn’t make any changes, but he seemed more than fine running around like he was just two minutes into it. 

The four of you were chatting while watching intently through the screens, all of you making jokes about Jude’s faces after a missed goal, commenting sometimes about a tiny mistake or how unfair the referee was against a particular player. Jobe made sure to keep you entertained during the recess, giving you tiny plates full of food from the catering area, both starting a game of ranking them like you were Gordon Ramsay. It was a great time, and when the match ended, you felt a bit sad. The games always felt like mini-vacations. 

You made your way back to the dressing room, celebrating that BVB had won the match. You knew Jude would be thrilled; you could tell the players were extra happy since a lot of songs and shouting could be heard meters away. 

“I think we should wait around a bit more; they’re going to take showers and all that.” Jobe said, sighing. “I’m exhausted.”

“That’s because of all the food we had.” You said, jokingly poking his stomach. 

“Ha, ha. What about you? That’s about the size of a three month pregnant belly” He poked yours back. 

“Rude!” You hugged your "belly," making your best offended face. “How do you know it’s not, in fact, a pregnant belly?” 

“Excuse me?” Gio’s voice startled you, coming from behind. 

“Gio, my god.” You laughed, turning around to face him. He had a happy but surprised expression. Your brain clicked when his eyes went straight to your stomach. “No! No, no, no… That was a joke. No pregnancies.” 

“She’s just bloated.” Jobe added, laughing when you gave him a nasty look. “What? You are.” 

“Stop it, dear.” Denise said, trying to hold her laugh. “Hello, Gio, my dear. How are you?” 

“Tired but good, Mrs. Bellingham. Thank you!” 

Right then, Jude came up, walking next to Marcus, laughing and chatting. He was covered in sweat, but still looked amazing. Your heart did a little thing that made you almost groan, and when he looked up, both of you smiled at each other from afar. He gave Gio a little side-eye once he was next to him, but nothing else. You pursed your lips tightly together, so the smile you wanted to hide didn’t escape. 

“Who wants a sweaty hug?” He asked, already looking at you. 

“She does.” Jobe, being the traitorous little devil he was, pushed you directly into him. 

“No!” Jude didn’t let you move from the prison of his arms, pushing you into his chest, rubbing his neck against your face, and putting his sweaty jersey (that he had taken off) around your neck. “Ugh! Gross!” 

“What do you mean by “gross”? This is the smell of victory, love!” He kept rubbing himself into you, making you laugh and groan out of disgust at the same time. 

“You’d been running and tackling people for two hours! You don’t smell amazing.” You muttered against his chest, giving up on escaping his embrace. 

“Whatever you say.” He replied once you were free. His jersey was still around your neck; you grabbed it with two fingers, not believing that he dared to put that shirt full of grass and sweat on you without hesitation. 

“Hey there.” Marcus said after Jude was done with you, smiling at all of you before entering the dressing room. 

You all said hi, and when some other players came in as well, Jude followed them, shouting that he would be out soon. You awkwardly waited a little bit farther away with Jude’s family, avoiding the knowing looks of Denise and the eyes of Jobe, who kept smirking at you and taking photos of the sweaty shirt that was now hanging from your arm. 

“Very funny.” You said to him, covering your face after he shot some photos very up-close. 

“Of course it is.” Was the only thing he said, laughing while showing his father the results of his photoshoot. 

Jude did as he promised, and after fifteen minutes he was out of the dressing room with fresh clothes and a big smile. You knew how happy he felt after every win. You all waited a bit more for the rest of the team. Adeyemi and Gio came out a bit later than Jude, walking straight to you.

“Hey! Are you coming tonight?” Adeyemi said as soon as he was near enough. You thought he was talking to Jude, but his eyes were on you, so you just gave him a tiny smile and shrugged. 

“Sorry, where?” 

“To the pub. Some of the guys want to celebrate later.” Gio said, paying no attention to Jude’s eyes, which seemed to be digging holes in his skull for how hard he was staring at him. 

“I don’t think so, we’re pretty tired.” Jude replied for the both of you, smiling with only his lips. “Maybe another time.” 

The disappointed look on Gio’s face was evident, but he replaced it with a smile immediately. 

"Okay then, next time it is.” Both of them said their goodbyes and went on. 

You looked at Jude closely while you followed his parents, who chatted a few steps ahead. You nudged his arm, smirking when he gave you the look again. 

“Stop it with the jealousy thing, Bellingham.” He blushed a little, avoiding your eyes. “Not hot.” 

“I’m not jealous.” He said, smiling once you nudged his arm again. “Just making sure that Gio gets out of his head the idea of having a chance with you.” 

“And rubbing your sweaty self against me is the best option for that, right?” 

“Rubbing my sweaty self against you is always the best option at any given opportunity, darling.”

“You guys know I’m right here, don’t you?” Jobe’s voice was next to you, sounding disgusted. “Stop with the sexual innuendos in front of me, please.” 

“We weren’t-” 

“Sorry, bro. I got carried away.” Jude smiled when you pushed his arm. 

“Everything I’ve learned about your relationship was against my will.” Jobe said before walking a bit faster so he could be next to his parents. “I’ll treat you like the plague.”

“I’m so sorry, sweetie!” You shouted, laughing when he just gave you a disgusted look. “It won’t happen again, I promise!”

“Just let him be.” Jude hugged your shoulders, lowering himself until he was next to your face. “What about we just do a movie night? The flight is in the afternoon— enough time to sleep in and eat something, don’t you think?” 

You raised an eyebrow, pretending to ignore how close his lips were to your own. 

“Are you inviting yourself into my house to sleep?” You whispered, enjoying when his face grew redder by the minute. “How bold of you, sir.”

“Not like that, obviously!” He said immediately, looking like a tomato by this point. “Just like… Quality time!” 

“Oh, so you don’t want to?” You acted offended. His face went through all the states of confusion. 

“Well, yes, of course, but...” He stopped mid-sentence, frowning. “No, no, I’m not letting myself say something stupid right now!” You laughed, making him smile. “I knew you were going to make me all confused! I’m just out here wanting to watch a movie and sleep with you like a good Christian couple!” 

“Christian couple?! Oh, my god. We’re far away from that.” You couldn’t stop laughing, feeling some tears run down your face. “You’re going to use me as a pillow! I’m going to be buried under 75 kg of an exhausted footballer.” 

 “It’s not like you aren’t used to it.” He kissed your cheek. You couldn’t help but smile. 

Looking ahead, you were almost at the exit, so you grabbed his hand, trying to get his arm off your shoulders. He gave you a confused look, but you just pointed ahead. 

“We’re almost out of here. People are going to take photos of you.” It wasn’t like you cared by this point, but you knew he was very private. 

“Let them.” He simply said, taking your hand with ease. “If you want to, of course.” 

You looked at your intertwined fingers, feeling like you were in front of a different person. He didn’t care? Your eyes returned to his face; he was smiling and walking like nothing was important enough to make him care about it. You tightened your hold around his fingers, looking straight ahead. You passed photographers from the staff before making it outside; they all took some photos of not only you, but also the other footballers that were walking behind you. It was a weird experience. 

“Mom, Dad. We’re going to head home, is it okay if you get my suitcase from my room?” He said, already leading you to a different hallway than his parents. 

“Sure, dear.” Was all that Denise had to say. Her eyes were sparkling with something that made you look away again. She definitely knew. “Very well, remember I’ll pick you up in the afternoon, okay? I want both of you ready.” 

“Yeah, Mom. Don’t worry.” Both of you gave them a final hug to everyone before going separate ways; you didn’t know where you were going, but you figured it was fine. 

“Who’s driving us?” You asked after saying goodbye to some more people that apparently knew Jude. They all looked at you with curiosity, like asking themselves if Jude had always been holding hands with someone while walking around the hallways.

“I don’t actually know. Here, put this on.” He covered your eyes with… sunglasses? 

“Why would I need these?” You tried to take them off, but he stopped you. 

“Just leave them on and follow me, darling.” 

You were suddenly out of the building; you heard voices shouting names and other things that you couldn’t understand, and when you looked up, you realized you were walking by the main entrance, where fans waited for the players to come out. People were flashing photos, startling you a bit before Jude made it to a black car, opening the door and allowing you to get inside first. 

“Wow.” You said once the door closed, taking the glasses off. “That was... an experience.” 

“Can you get used to it?” He said with a smile, greeting the driver and giving him your address. 

“Are you used to it?” You ask instead, still watching how many people were near the car, asking for a sign or photo. “Aren’t you going to sign something?” 

“Maybe? I don’t want to if it makes you uncomfortable.” 

Being honest? It did make you a bit uncomfortable, but just because you weren’t used to it. People never paid attention to you in the way Jude was used to. You just shrugged, figuring that maybe it would be a couple of minutes. 

“Mate, I’m going to roll down the window for a moment. I’ll be quick.” 

“Sure, no worries.” 

So you just stayed there, awkwardly avoiding the gaze of the few people that acknowledged your presence in the seat next to Jude’s. They seemed curious, but again, they had Jude Bellingham singing their goodies and shirts, no time to gossip about who you were. Which was appreciated. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

“Finally.” You said once the door was locked behind you. 

“I’m so tired.” Jude hung from your shoulders, making you groan from the extra weight. “I don’t think I can watch that movie after all.” 

“Oh, so all this was an evil trick to get into my house, you pervert?” It was pretty funny to joke about it since it was obvious you weren’t going to have sex tonight… Or soon. 

“Stop it with that!” He laughed, hugging your shoulders a bit more. You held his forearms, stopping by the kitchen. “I truly want to spend time with you without the sweaty body rubbing.” 

“No way you just called sex “sweaty body rubbing," Jude.” He leaned against the kitchen island, shrugging. 

“Isn’t sex just that? Well, the basics of it.” 

“Can we stop talking about sex?” You were getting a bit nervous by the way he was looking at you. “Are you hungry?”

“You started it! And not making it better by asking if I’m hungry right after it… But yes, I’m pretty hungry. For food.” 

“No need to make that clear, sir.” You smiled. “Grilled chicken, rice, and salad?” You said, already opening the fridge. 

“Please do. I’ll help you.” 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Jude stayed in the kitchen doing the dishes so you could hop in the shower. 

If you were honest with yourself, you were a bit nervous about having him a few meters away from you while you were fully naked. It was stupid since you knew he really meant it by saying he just wanted to spend quality time; sex wasn’t even on your future plans. But you couldn’t help it. It felt too dangerous. 

After finishing, you got dressed inside the bathroom, just in case an accident happened. Luck wasn’t a thing to be tempted right now. 

“There you are.” Jude said once you got out of the bathroom. He made himself at home, already wrapped in the covers. You could tell he was absolutely pleased to be allowed in your bed again. “Wait, do you have any of those masks that you like to put on?” 

“Do you want to do that?” 

“Yeah! Why not? My skin has been a bit dry lately.” 

You laughed. 

“Very well. Go wash your face.” He got up fast, making you smile with his excitement. “Use the blue one!” 

“Okay!” 

You went through your vanity drawers until you found the little box of face masks. You used to put them on together a lot. When he got out of the bathroom, you made him sit on the vanity; you made sure to get all the spots and get it really smooth on his face. He was so relaxed that you almost kissed him. 

Not now. Not-now. 

“Ready?” He asked, opening his eyes.

“All ready. Let me put mine on.” You grabbed another package. 

When everything was ready, you both sat on bed, waiting for the twenty minutes to pass. He even offered to brush your hair, which you accepted. He gave amazing scalp massages. It all felt so domestic and back to normal that it made your heart ache. Even when you were ready to let all go back in Scotland, you realized this thing happening right now was something you’d missed. You missed him a lot. 

“I had a great time today.” You told him, taking his hand. “I missed it.” 

“Thank you for coming. I really missed you. Having you with me today made it all better.” He kissed the back of your hand. 

You stared at him, not caring that his face was covered in a silly face mask, and felt the urge to kiss him again. You weren’t fooling anyone, especially yourself. You miss him, you love him... You want him back as much as he wants you. You’d told yourself a million times that you needed more time, more space, and a bit more healing. And you had it. You had all that, and you still wanted him by your side no matter what. 

He was an asshole two months ago; everything that had occurred the past months were because of the miscommunication, the fear. But you knew, no matter what, that you two could make it work. You loved him so very much. 

“Jude?” You asked suddenly, feeling the need to say what you were thinking or you’ll explode. 

“Yeah?” He put his phone down, giving you his sole attention. 

You swallowed, taking his hand a bit harder to make sure he was there with you. 

“I’m ready to give us a second chance.” 

He frozed, blinking rapidly. If it wasn’t for your rapid heartbeat and your own fear, you would have laughed at his face; between the shock and the face mask, he looked very funny. 

“Are you-” He got out of the covers, getting closer to you. “Are you sure?”

Now you laughed for real, taking his face between your hands. 

“Yes, I am very sure.” You gave him a little peck, looking into his eyes. “Are you taking up my offer?” 

“If I’m-? Hell, of course I am. Come here.” 

He took your face in a fast movement, kissing you so deeply you thought it was a dream. You waited for so long to be kissed by him again. You returned the kiss with all the love and force you could, showing him that you’d missed him as much as he’d missed you. You both fell into the bed, laughing when the face masks fell off; his eyes were sparkling while giving you the most beautiful smile ever once the kiss was over. You giggled when he started to kiss your cheeks and neck, playing with his hair when he stayed on the crook of your neck. His scent was so familiar that it almost made you cry. 

Maybe it was a curse, but you sure loved this man with all your heart. May God help you. 

“Thank you.” He spoke after a while, kissing your neck once more before looking into your eyes. “I promise I’ll never-” 

“Don’t promise me anything.” You interrupted him, putting your fingers on his lips. “Just do it, no more words. Prove it to me.” 

He looked deeply into your eyes for a few seconds before kissing you shortly. 

“I’ll spend the rest of my days proving how much I love you if it’s necessary.” 

This time, it was you who kissed him.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚⋆·˚ ༘ * JUDE'S TAGLIST

@mentalbaddie | @taintedstranger | @mrs-dasilvasantoss | @mbapbaesluvr | @erensfavgirly | @cinderellawithashoe | @yoitsmo07 | @seajjin | @kakuchosbff | @peterparkerbae | @alwaysclassyeagle | @itsjuspenny-blog | @lbsmainblog | @youngjayla | @freetimemachinequeen | @chaeryeongstuff | @lazyreadergirl | @trentismine | @ironmaiden1313 | @wavessmile | @jul1ettt | @daydream-er | @citrusjunosart | @pierre-gasssllyy | @avianawrites | @topguncultleader

[armpirate]

Anti-romantic || JJk | Ch. 5

Pairings: Boxer!Jungkook x fem!reader || Enemies to lovers, neighbors

Genre: smut, angst, fluff, curse, illegal boxing, violence

Warnings: fuckboy!Jungkook x reader, smut, dirty talk, curse, mention of tarot and fate

Summary: Jungkook had always been carefree when it came to love. He always believed he was worth sharing himself with everyone, and thought it was selfish of him to ever think of keeping himself exclusive to just one person.

And maybe that was exactly what got him into the big problem he was in.

A curse that kept him away from love didn't seem an issue for him. The fact that his ex-girlfriend thought he'd be affected by the idea of the girls he slept with running away from him after sex was ridiculous. She actually did him a favor, and took a burden away from him.

At least that was what he thought at first.

He had never found himself thinking of the possibility of repeating with neither of his hook ups, because they disappeared before he was able to even think about it. But when he makes the mistake of sleeping with the sexy neighbor that lives in front of him, he finds himself hoping to get the chance for a second round every time their paths cross.

Y/n hated him the second he set foot inside the building by the way he started making her life a miserable mess for no reason. Sleeping with him was a big mistake she wasn't thinking of repeating. At least not until he came up with the excuse that she rejected him for a curse. Not only she thought he was annoying, but she was also convinced he was crazy. 

There was no way she could take him seriously.

Aprox. time of reading: 18 minutes

Chapter warnings: [Violence] Illegal fights [Smut] Blood licking, mentions of sex

Previous || Next

MASTERLIST

She felt her arm twitching, before the rest of her body reacted to the sound of her phone buzzing and blasting some music. She could tell it was still night when her eyes opened, with her room only being lit by the screen of her phone.

Her hand reached for the shaky device on her nightstand. She let out a sigh when she saw Jack's name on her screen, before she answered the call and laid her phone against her ear to be able to hide her arm under her blanket again.

—Do you know what time it is? —her voice sounded sleepy and tired.

After what happened with Jungkook a few days back, she had finally been able to keep up with some of the rest he forced her leave behind, only to be interrupted again by one of the sources she managed to find the little time she worked in that newspaper.

—I thought you'd like to hear the exclusive I have for you, but if it's not the case…

—I swear if it's another dumbass breaking a Record Guiness for the longest fart in history, I'll go wherever you are and kill you with my own hands —she threatened.

She was too tired, too annoyed and too done with life to deal with something like that again.

—And how does an illegal fight in South Shore sound?

Her eyes suddenly opened at the mention of that, sitting on the bed almost instantly and causing her phone to fall over the blanket.

—…I have to take a flight in thirty minutes, yet I'm giving you some golden info for you to treat me that way.

—Jack, shut up. What are you talking about?

Y/n had been after that information for months -or more so, almost a year-, but whenever she thought she was getting somewhere, it always ended up with a wall blocking any chance she could have of finding out more about it.

—Ah, so now you're interested?

—Unless you want me to show up at O'Hare, you better start talking.

—I have a friend who received a message for it after he started training at some gym. Apparently, some owners and trainers introduce their fighters to it —she heard him sigh—. It's tonight, at eleven. It'll be in that abandoned nylon factory near the bay. Do you know where it is?

—I think I know, but could you send me the location?

—Sure.

Before she was able to celebrate it, Jack's voice got her attention again.

—Whatever you do, please be careful and try to be as discreet as possible. I know you already know how dangerous the people in there are, but I don't want you to risk yours and my friend's asses.

She hung up the call, assuring Jack that she'd be as careful as possible about it, while also being sure that it'd be a chance she wouldn't allow to pass. She'd have to ask her boss for the company's car though, and that probably wouldn't be easy.

—3A, do you know what fucking time it is? Have those phone calls at a normal time —Jungkook whined on the other side.

Her eyes rolled instantly after hearing his muffled voice through the wall. For the first time, she was regretting that awful hole she chose to do out of desperation a few nights back.

Opting to simply ignore him, she left her phone back on the nightstand, connecting it back to the charger before she rolled in her bed to find the right position to fall asleep again.

Her fingers tapped nervously at the wheel plastic cover, feeling everything she ate piling up at the entrance of her stomach as if it were planning to go all its way up her throat. For one second, she thought if it was really worth it. She had gone too long after it for no reason, it wasn't like it was going to change anything for her, and it also was a superficial story no one would care about after reading it. It was the type of story that entertained people, but that created no complex thoughts after "Oh, wow, some people are doing something that doesn't affect me at all. Let me pretend to be concerned about it, before I jump to the sports section". She remembered how even the chief editor was surprised with her election, when there were many good articles to choose from that week: elections, manifestations, a worldwide celeb's scandal… yet she stagnated to something that would go unnoticed.

There wasn't a lot of control to get inside. Actually, there was no control And she guessed that it could be because no one, except for the people who received a message, would know about that fight. She was convinced that the few people who went there either bet money or fought.

The smell was heavy as she stepped inside, walking among the crowd. It wasn't anything putrid, or that couldn't be bearable, but the humidity from the walls -because of how old and unattended the place was- was noticeable in the air, and she wondered how healthy breathing that air was.

It felt uncomfortable walking through those people, trying to make it as close as possible to the improvised boxing ring, but she still did it, making sure the hood of her jacket wouldn't move as she tried to cover her face and hair as much as possible -and she wasn't the only one doing that.

Her heart raced as she got closer, managing to see the spots from fresh blood on the floor before the two fighters started a new round. And it felt like it'd escape through her mouth when, holding her phone tight in her fingers, she moved it through her sleeve as little as possible to just let the camera peek over to film the whole thing.

She was forced to move when one shoulder suddenly blocked her view, although maybe that'd be better to cover up the whole thing closer to the ring. Once she thought she had enough of that fight, she moved to the side, escaping from the crowd and also getting closer to where some of the fighters were.

Her heart beat fast for one second, as if it had a sudden electric shock when she felt someone pulling from her hood.

—Hope you know you can't record here —a thick voice warned at her back.

She was ready to reply to that accusation, hiding her phone deep into her sleeve as she turned on her tracks. His almost folded eyelids, positioned in a challenging way, widened when he realized it was his neighbor in front of him.

—What the fuck are you doing here? —Jungkook spoke first, widening the way his eyebrows were furrowing.

—I could say the right same thing —she replied back, moving away from him.

Jungkook sighed, looking away for a mini second before his eyes were back on her. Having to be there was bad enough, but seeing the last person he wanted to see there made it worse. Ever since their paths crossed, it seemed like he wasn't able to escape her, especially after what happened the last night they were together in the same place.

—Are you a cop?

—It's not your business —she replied back.

Having her there would only be a big distraction he wouldn't be able to deal with. Jungkook didn't want to know why she was there, or how she knew about the fight, he was just thinking of having her leave as soon as possible.

He sighed exasperated, realizing how that conversation would take them nowhere. She wasn't going to give away her reason, so there was no point in arguing with her about it.

—If you're smart, which after these weeks I doubt —he added, referencing the several encounters they had had ever since he moved in—, leave and delete whatever it is you've filmed. You don't wanna deal with the people here.

—Jungkook, you're next —they both heard at the side.

Y/n just scoffed at that, looking back at him. If his black tank top, and his black shorts weren't enough for her to tell, that person confirmed it for her.

—Seems like you aren't that smart either.

There was no point in arguing with her, he knew she wouldn't listen even if he told her to go home because the people in that place had robbery with violence as the most mild crime. His eyes dropped on her quickly before his lips twisted, tilting his head.

—Do whatever you want, then.

Those were the last words he dedicated to her, before he walked past her body and disappeared among the crowd. It wasn't like she had much of a choice when it came to what she wanted to do. On one side, she knew she wouldn't get to know what she went looking for, but on the other side, she needed more content for the article.

The crowd suddenly seemed more invested in the upcoming fight, surprising her when she heard the chants and growls as the two fighters were presented.

Rodric "The Bully", and the Doberman of Busan.

She rolled her eyes at what she believed was Jungkook's name. "Doberman of Busan", someone had to be kidding her.

In the ring, Jungkook tried to contain his need to break Rodric's nose before the bell even announced the start of the fight, after he whispered how he was dead meat and how he'd eat him in a matter of seconds.

It wasn't a comment that surprised him in any way, but that still annoyed him.

The fight started with the two of them slowly meeting each other at the center, throwing daring glares over their gloves as they tried to guess who'd be the first to attack.

All his confidence was gone towards the end of the second round, his face was covered in blood that spilled down from his eyebrow and his broken lip. After falling a few times, and standing up before the count reached the fourth number, he was already feeling dizzy, hardly managing to see through that blurry gaze he was already suffering from.

He had good resistance, but he was better at attack than that night. Maybe the fact that his neighbor was among the crowd played an important factor. Checking on her, while trying to make sure no asshole would bother her and no guard would catch her filming played as big favor for Rodric -who smirked at him whenever he got up and got ready to be beaten.

His body fell flat on the floor again when he received a hook, after he heard Y/n complaining while trying to get rid of Jimmy's grip.

At that point of the fight, where the count didn't even matter, Rodric smiled, getting ready to give him the final punch as he walked towards his body.

Jungkook tried to stand up, or at least roll on the ground by himself, but his body reached a limit that night. Most parts felt numb, only being aware of the way Rodric made him lie on his back.

The devil seemed to be on his side that day though, seeing everyone panicking around him when the place was suddenly lighted by blue and red lights, along with several cops telling everyone to stay still in their places.

His back collided against the ground again, when Rodric let go of him, not without promising the next time he wouldn't be as lucky. He didn't expect the night to end as bad when he received the text for the fight, but there he was: lying on the ground and getting ready to be arrested and taken to the police station.

As soon as Jimmy found more important his freedom than whatever it was that she filmed, Y/n got ready to leave as well. Until she saw Jungkook lying on the ground, not even attempting to move.

She was genuinely thinking of leaving him there. Maybe that was the answer to her prayers for the past three weeks.

She clicked her tongue when she found herself bearing with all the pushes and pulls, walking against the flow to reach Jungkook.

—We need to leave —she whispered to him, helping him to get up and walk by hooking his right arm around her neck.

Jungkook managed to open his plump eyes, looking down to see her dragging him to the nearest exit until the two of them reached an old car, where she pushed him to the backseats.

While he looked conscious from the outside, it actually seemed like his body was moving automatically, following her guidance and doing what felt right. He wasn't even aware of how fast she drove from the center to their building until she dropped his body over her couch abruptly, making him moan while he closed his eyes.

She could've left him on his doorstep until he regained some consciousness back, and she would be lying if she had said she didn't feel tempted to, but she still allowed him to step inside her place. She also helped him get rid of the gloves and the bandages carefully, scared of him being injured or hurt after the fight.

—I can do that myself —he mumbled, moving his hands away.

—Fine —she dropped his hand hard over his thigh, getting a low groan from him—. Do it yourself.

For one second she forgot she was dealing with the pain in the ass Jungkook was.

Although she was annoyed, she still moved around her place, trying to get the few things she had to cure the wounds on his face. She looked after him, but it didn't mean she wouldn't use it to her advantage either.

He hissed, squirmed and moved his head away every time she pressed hard on the places she wanted to heal, finding some joy in his pissed off expression. She also prepared some ice cubes covered in a rag, ignoring his stretched hand to press it directly on the wound on his eyebrow until she saw him holding it.

Jungkook looked around her place, finding the similarities in structure, but seeing it completely different from his own. Her house seemed cozy, ready to bring calmness to anyone who stepped inside. Her furniture was also black and white, but the different accessories over them created a huge change. Like the thick purple blanket that was over the backrest of her couch, on his side, or the big world map that was over his head. She even had pictures displayed over the cabinet next to her door, and a jar filled with bright pink flowers.

Just like he expected, her house was as feminine and delicate as she seemed.

His head moved in her direction again when he heard her hissing and huffing. Y/n looked at the broken screen, cursing at that man who dropped her phone against the floor when he caught her filming. At least she'd be able to use the videos and pictures it took her so long to get, but she'd have to repair the screen or get a new phone. And both options were too expensive to think about lightly.

—Look at what you did —Jungkook frowned at her accusation.

—Me? I already told you not to film there.

—If you hadn't reached out to me, and shouted how I should stop filming, no one else would've noticed —she dropped the phone over the coffee table.

—Sure, because you were so good at pretending you were doing nothing suspicious… —he squinted his eyes— Who else would've thought this —Jungkook lifted his right hand at the level of his chest, in the most unnatural posture ever— was suspicious if it hadn't been for me.

Jungkook dropped the rag over the couch, finally standing up to confront her.

—I'm the one who should be mad. Look at my face —he pointed at it with his two indexes—. If you had stopped recording when I told you and gone home, I would've been able to focus on my fight.

—I didn't ask you to focus on me —she replied back—. Oh, also…

Jungkook looked confused when she crossed her living room, opening one of the drawers of the furniture next to her table and seeing her walking back to him.

—I also didn't ask for your eighty dollars —she handed him the money.

The morning after she got stuck outside, he managed to hear the conversation she was having with her mother, as she ranted and hell opened beneath them at the several curses because of how expensive the locksmith was.

Leaving the eighty dollars at her footstep was his way to apologize for the way he treated her the previous night. She was confused at first, but was determined to return it to him when pride went back to her and was big enough to forget how she drooled for him all over his face.

—It was my fault you got stuck outside.

—It wasn't, I should've checked first —she sighed—. I don't want your money, and you didn't need to make up for shit —she left the money in front of him at the coffee table.

—But you still blamed me for your broken phone —he replied.

Y/n sighed, looking down at her phone when she realized the argument with Jungkook would take her anywhere. It didn't matter if she had to buy a new phone, because she'd probably be able to opt for better articles and more recognition after she posted her reportage. The screen suddenly went dark before she could even enter the gallery, going completely useless although the battery was at fifty per cent still.

—No —she whined—. No, no, no, no, no

Not like it would change a thing, but she let out her desperation, moving her thumb over the screen as if that would make her phone react. She gasped, and cracked a whimper, dropping the phone from her hands when she felt her fingerprint being sliced.

It wasn't a deep cut, she definitely wouldn't lose her finger. It was more the type of cut she could get with a sheet of paper, but it still was bothersome and some blood started to leak.

She wasn't aware of Jungkook still being there until he stepped closer to her, hearing his sigh over her before he took her wrist and looked at the tiny and thin wound. She was expecting him to do anything, but her body froze when he raised her hand a bit more to wrap his lips around her finger.

The tiniest bit of pain disappeared, because all her senses were too focused on the way his warm mouth felt around her finger, and how his slick tongue moved around softly. Her cheeks started to burn when his eyes sank in hers, as if he were trying to read her thoughts.

Not like they were too complicated to guess them though.

She gulped thick, regaining some senses back.

—Don't you know how dangerous it is to do that? —she tried to break off the moment.

Letting go of her finger with a loud pop sound, he smirked at her.

—What are you talking about now?

—Licking someone you don't know's blood. Apart from the amount of bacteria that could come out of your mouth, you don't know if I'm sick…

—Holy shit, you're like a walking encyclopedia. Are you even sick to say that? —he raised his eyebrow.

—No.

And she certainly wasn't worried about the consequences of what he did, but the reaction and effects it was creating in her body.

—Then what are you so worried about? —he rolled his eyes.

—I'm just trying to let you know that… —he interrupted her again.

—Fine —Jungkook nodded—. I'll lick something else instead.

While she was still trying to process what he meant, Jungkook hooked his fingers around her nape, in an attempt to pull her closer. Although she moved back before he was able to lick her lower lip.

—Do those lines actually work with anyone? —she challenged, lifting her eyebrow.

—Why? Jealous?

—More like going through a first stage of second hand embarrassment —she pushed him.

Jungkook huffed, letting his eyes go to the back of his head as he let go of her body, walking back to the couch and dropping his body lazily on it with a sigh.

—I bet you do much better with that rottweiler attitude —he scoffed.

—I'm better with actions, indeed.

Jungkook's gaze followed her as she walked over him, stopping in front of his legs. It was so hard for him to tell what her intentions were, that maybe that was what drew him to her that way.

She slightly separated his legs, pushing her knee against his until there was a small gap in his thighs. He suddenly felt nervous, gulping thick when her knee fell so close to his crotch, making the place he was sitting at sink a bit on that spot. He moved under her nervously when both of her knees were positioned on each side of his body.

—Are you nervous? —she purred close to his lips, tilting her head.

—You'd need to do much more than this —he lied.

If Y/n leaned closer to him, Jungkook was sure she'd be able to feel the way his heart pumped against his chest like crazy, beating racing up when her breath moved from his lips to his neck.

—Did you take off your piercings? —she suddenly asked.

—Yeah —he threw his head back—. It's… It's better for the fight. Do I look better without them?

—Hmm, it's not that —she rubbed her lips against his—. I wanted to know how it'd feel to pass my tongue over them.

Jungkook's words got stuck in his throat, and soon she had his body trying to hold back the way it squirmed when her tongue traced the line of his marked jaw, starting from the superficial hole his piercings had left.

—I bet you thought I'd end up riding you on that crusty couch of yours after shaming me —she whispered.

The mere image of Y/n taking every inch of him, with her tits bouncing with every move of her hips, got him twitching in his pants, grasping at the fabric of her couch while holding back from touching her.

She licked her lips, rubbing her lips against his before she moved to the other side with a dangerous smile, making him flinch when her breath was then on his left earlobe.

—I probably would have if you had insisted a bit more.

—Why don't you ride me here, then?

She smiled, leaning on him to ghost a kiss on his lips, pushing him back against the backrest when he attempted to kiss her instead. His lower lip was trapped between her teeth, being pulled lightly as he felt all of his skin burning with something so simple.

—It seems like my rottweiler attitude actually works.

Everything she helped to build up was destroyed within seconds, when he stopped feeling her warmth caging him as she moved to the free spot next to him to get up next.

—You look better now, so why don't you walk home and deal with that? —she mocked, pointing at the noticeable bulge under his shorts.

—I can snap my fingers and have three like you showing up at my door —he huffed as he got up.

—Snap your fingers and disappear with them, please —her chuckle made him feel heated.

—You think you're the big deal.

—I got you hard in less than a minute by just licking your ear, judge by yourself.

—You really don't know what you're missing…

As he kept talking, Y/n started to push him towards the door, finding it hard to control his body as she tried to open it.

—Ever heard of what a multiorgasm is? —he went on, ignoring how she was kicking him out— Sex with me is on a whole different level of any other thing you've ever experienced. I…

Her door shut in front of his face before he was able to finish the sentence. Jungkook just stood there, looking at her door for a few seconds before he turned around and sighed after looking down at his bulge.

That woman was so twisted and cruel.

Taglist: @jk97bam @ttanniett

[ladykailitha]

The Places We Hide Part 1

I know, I know. I have soooo many WIPs that I’m working on. But this one just hit and wouldn’t let go.

It’s based on a quote from one of my favorite TV shows “In Plain Sight” in the pilot episode: “We all live in hiding. In one way or another, each of us conceals pieces of ourselves from the rest of the world. Some people hide because their lives depend on it, others because they don't like being seen. And then there are the special cases, the ones who hide because... because... because they just want someone to care enough to look for them.” -Mary Shannon

Which feels like such a Steve quote.

*

Eddie finished his beer and was about to get up and get another one. He figured since he was up, he’d ask Steve if he wanted another, too. He looked around at the crowd of people that was piled up in front of the large screen TV, but didn’t see him.

Eddie shrugged. He figured he had gone to the bathroom or something. So he got up and grabbed another beer from the fridge. But when he came back Steve still hadn’t returned. He set the can down and wandered off, looking for the missing boy.

He came back to the front room and frowned. “Hey, anyone seen Steve?”

Dustin barely even glanced up. “He does that sometimes. He’ll be back.”

“Excuse me?” Eddie asked, his eyes wide and his head tilted forward.

Robin looked up at him. “It’s just something he does. He gets a little overwhelmed, so he goes to cool off.”

“Yeah,” Will said. “He’s asked us not to check up on him and to trust that he’ll come back.”

Eddie’s eyebrows went up. “And you lot believed that shit?”

Everyone was looking at each in confusion.

“Yeah,” Dustin said. “Why wouldn’t we?”

Eddie threw his head back. “Never mind.”

They all just shrugged their shoulders and went back to the movie.

Eddie threw his arms in the air and went to the one place he hadn’t looked yet. The pool. He got the viewing room or whatever the hell it was a sighed in relief. Steve was out there smoking a cigarette.

The skies darkened as storm rolled in. Eddie sat down on the couch and set his elbows on his knees, watching Steve smoke. He wasn’t sure if should go out there. Maybe the party was right. Just let him unwind and Steve would come back to them.

But as he watched, the skies opened up and began poring down rain. Eddie figured Steve would at least come into where Eddie was to get out of the torrential downpour. And thought he was right when Steve stood up.

But he was wrong. Oh god, was he wrong.

Steve tilted his head all the way back, letting the rain hit his face. His arms were slack at his waist, cigarette no longer burning in his right hand. Eddie wasn’t sure how long he stood there watching this boy fall apart, but he had to do something.

He grabbed his leather jacket and held it over his head. He opened the door to the pool. “Steve!” he called, but it was drowned out by the rolling thunder.

“Fuck!”

He dashed out to where Steve was standing and pulled the jacket over both of them.

“What the hell, man?” he asked.

Steve slowly lowered his head. “Go back inside. You’re going to get soaked.”

Eddie’s eyebrows went up. “A bit pot calling the kettle black don’t you think?”

Steve blinked and Eddie could almost see the lights come back on behind his eyes.

Steve looked around in shock as if he finally noticed he was standing in the pissing pouring rain with Eddie’s jacket over his head.

“Shit!” he cried, grabbing Eddie’s arm and hauling them both inside. Once they were back inside that weird little room that was both enclosed but outside Steve came to stop.

“Sorry, Eds,” Steve said. “I don’t know what came over me.”

“I do.” Eddie started shaking out his jacket, trying to dry it out.

Steve’s eyes snapped to him and then he bowed his head. “It’s fine. It doesn’t happen that often.”

Eddie licked his lips. “And how often is ‘not that often’?”

Steve sighed. “Most of the time people aren’t around for them, but two or three times a month?”

“So almost once a week?” Eddie asked, anxiety coloring tone.

Steve blushed. “I mean, I guess. I don’t really think it about if I’m honest.”

“Steve...” Eddie began. “You spend so much time taking care of everyone else, who takes care of you?”

Steve furrowed his brow. “What do you mean?”

“I mean you come out here all by yourself,” Eddie said waving his arm around them, “and black out. You tell everyone to leave you alone. And I’m willing to bet that they tried to be there for you but you somehow convinced them that you were fine, when you clearly aren’t.”

“I am,” Steve protested. “I am fine. I just get overwhelmed sometimes and I take a break. What’s so wrong with that?”

Eddie let out a frustrated moan and dug his fingers into his eye. “Because if it was just that you would have come in when it started raining.”

“I was just enjoying the rain for a bit,” Steve argued.

“Dude!” Eddie growled, trying to rein in his temper. “I literally saw you come back to life. You were completely gone. You had checked out. Blank. Do you understand?”

Steve threw his arms in the air. “So what if I was? What does it matter?”

Eddie closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He grabbed Steve by the arms and shuffled them both over to the couch. He sat them down. “It matters because you could have gotten hurt. What if you had walked into the pool in that state or got struck by lightning?”

Steve looked down at his lap. “Oh.”

Eddie started running his hands up and down Steve’s arms. “I’m really worried about you, sweetheart.”

Steve looked up into his eyes. “I didn’t mean to worry anyone.”

“I know,” Eddie murmured. “So answer my question: who takes care of you?”

“I–” Steve almost said he had Robin. But that wasn’t quite true. They looked out for each other, sure. But he still hid things from her. Things like this. “No one.”

Eddie pursed his lips. “My uncle Wayne has this theory about the people that hide. Some hide because they don’t want to be found, but there are some that hide because they hope that someone will care enough to come looking.”

Steve smiled. “I like that.”

Eddie grinned. “I figured you would, sweetheart. Because that’s why you’re hiding, isn’t it?”

Steve nodded. “My parents are never home, and when they are, it’s always yelling and disappointment. So when they’re gone I fill the house with people as much as I can.”

“But sometimes the noise is too much,” Eddie reasoned.

“Yeah,” Steve admitted. “It’s stupid. I invited them over I want them here, but my ears start ringing and everything seems turned all the way up.”

Eddie nodded. “So I guess my question is: do you want me to come find you when this happens?”

Steve looked away, blush staining his cheeks. Eddie cupped his cheek and gently turned him to face him.

“Do you, sweetheart?”

Steve inhaled sharply. “Yes. I don’t know why it’s you. But yes. I want you to come find me.”

Eddie pressed their foreheads together. “Then let me know when this happens, even when it’s when no one is around. I’ll come find you.”

Steve nodded. “I will I promise.”

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

[princeescaluswords]

I need to thank you for opening my eyes to something as well as showcase reading a point of view matters, even if one doesn't realize it. The Stiles as the main character stories has flooded ao3 so much that when I started my own W.I.P I didn't even question the elimination of Scott. And even when I added him I didn't question my dismissal of him as important. Becoming a member of the Scott defense squad I see now that that is a very bad way to go. Even if the focus gets sift to Stiles as a main character it does not take away the fact that the main character is the main character and has importance. And unfortunately a trinkle down effect of reading so many stories that tell a particular story It causes the readers to have a mindset of what a character is like even if they don't realize why that character was written that way in the original piece that portrayed him that way. And even worse when they don't take in the source material it paints a picture that doesn't showcase the character in the best light. Even though I saw the source material and loved it It did not stop me from going down this route because of everything that I had read. So again I thank you, and the rest of the defense squad for opening my eyes.

Let me make things perfectly clear: there is absolutely nothing wrong with writing a Stiles-centric story. There are no ships involving Stiles that should not be written or explored. My involvement with End Racism on the OTW isn't because Stiles will never be my favorite character. It's because there is a vast majority of people who claim to be Stiles fans, Derek fans, Sterek fans, Steter fans, or fans of any other ship which involves white characters who are not actually motivated by those characters but instead by racist fury because Teen Wolf never pretended to be anything other than a story about a Latino teenager.

It's not about one story. It's about all of them together. It's about the fact that the OTW's policies for AO3 aid and abet a large part of my fandom to indulge in racist fantasies without regard to the parts of the fandom damaged by it, and they do so by hiding behind a screen of polite indifference and pearl-clutching about freedom. And from everything I've read and seen, it's not just my fandom.

Teen Wolf is simply the fandom in which I witnessed it. Look at that picture up there from Night School (1x07). It's a pretty classic horror shot, no? Now think of the majority of stories on AO3 where

Peter's murder sprees and selfishness are excused because of the fire.

Derek's terrible decision making and massive trust issues are excused because of what Kate Argent did to him.

Stiles's lies and outbursts are excused because of his mother's death and the nogitsune.

Isaac's brutality and indifference are excused because of his treatment by his father.

Yet, Scott is dismissed as 'whiny' and 'ungrateful' because he didn't immediately see being a werewolf as a positive thing. There was an untagged story yesterday which has Stiles wishing Scott would get his head out of ass and realize all that being a werewolf had done to him was cure his asthma, get a girlfriend and make first line.

What's the difference between these five characters? This isn't one story, or ten stories, or a hundred stories, but literally thousands of stories that contain these tropes.

Hey, remember when Peter literally beat Derek into submission and savaged Lydia to get Stiles to cooperate?

Remember when Derek tried to murder Lydia for something she didn't do and drive Isaac away by throwing glass at his head?

Remember when Talia Hale covered up her brother's and son's involvement in the death of a young girl and badgered a woman to carry her child to term?

Remember when Scott told Stiles that it was wrong to kill the victim of a mad scientist's experiments and lying about it and maybe he should go talk to his dad?

And yet, I can guarantee you that there is only one of those four alphas who is portrayed consistently as an obtuse tyrant. (Hint: it's not the white ones) And this isn't one story, or ten stories, or a hundred stories, but literally thousands of stories that contain these tropes.

And it's not just the lead. Let's take a look at how the fandom treats secondary characters on AO3:

Talia Hale (1 episode): 5190 stories

Laura Hale (2 episodes): 8760 stories

Jenna Geyer (mentioned once; name is fandom generated): 617

Claudia Stilinski (1 episode; impersonated for 8 episodes): 3079

Derek Hale's Father (never appeared or mentioned): 843

Noshiko Yukimura (16 episodes): 470

Ken Yukimura (20 episodes): 261

Satomi Ito (3 episodes): 284

David Geyer (5 episodes): 351

See a pattern? You should. As I said, it's not one story, it's thousands.

No one's saying that you or anyone else shouldn't write fictions that focus on Stiles or Sterek or even stories where Scott is a terrible person. It's the trends. If transformation is what AO3 and OTW tout as their purpose, and that transformation is about variety and exploration, why is it always the white characters that get the benefit of it? When it comes to transformation, why do characters of color get erased, caricatured, or robbed of their narrative roles?

Don't tell me that it isn't damaging.

Do you know how many times I've encountered a person who entered Teen Wolf fandom through AO3 and Tumblr who believed that the characters of color are either terrible (such as Scott and Deaton and Braeden) or unimportant (such as Boyd or Mason or the Yukimuras)? More than I or anyone else should be comfortable with. But this is part of the mechanism. There aren't little racism fairies that visit people in their sleep; it's not a bacterial infection; it's not the work of a secret cabal. Cultural racism is maintained by institutions, and it is transmitted by institutions, and this is one example. OTW and AO3 are two such institutions.

Thanks for writing. I'll take what you told me as a compliment.

[violivs]

NMTDaily: Football Antics Part Two

- Aww I forgot about Ursula’s friendship with Dogberry and Verges. They’re so cute. Stealing the muffins.

- I just really love how Ursula bonds with people by helping with their video blogs. And she bonds with Hero over baking. Ursula makes things and helps other people make things and that makes her happy. I love that. She’s a sweetheart.

- All this is another example of how judgmental Beatrice can be, saying the year nines are weird and Ursula shouldn’t hang out with them. She says what she’s feeling and doesn’t think first.

- Pedro! The Prince of Messina! I love the Summer Lovin moment, he really always was a theater kid. It’s very cute. It is, of course, also foreshadowing.

- Pedro immediately brings up Ben. Is he testing Bea’s reaction to see if she seems interested in Ben, similar to the way Ben is about to be all “is Pedro your boyfriend?” I see you, Pedro.

- “How’s Benedick? Still pirouetting through life?” One of my favorite little lines there, lol. It’s just life, so keep dancing through! (Speaking of being a theater kid, lol)

- “He changes friends as often as he changes shirts” is not supposed to make me so sad! Ben always being too scared to show his real self, hiding behind being the loudest and the funny one, hopping from friend to friend and never building too deep a connection with anyone because he doesn’t believe it will last. Because when it does get deep, he gets scared and pulls away. And to an outside view it just looks like he’s fickle and doesn’t care. Just so much meaning there. AND he fails to notice that he’s been Pedro’s friend for like five years now, so some of his friendships do last! Having an “I can’t keep a friendship” complex AND at least one years-long friendship you take for granted at the same time is a massive social anxiety mood. I did not develop that headcanon for him until the promo photos for Lolilo came out, but there was still evidence in NMTD!

- And Bea audibly groaning and being annoyed that Ben’s new best friend is Claudio, because she wants Hero to be happy but she does not want Ben hanging around them more.

- “You did the thing! You’ve gotta be ready for anything Claudio!” Ugh I cringe every time lol but also Ben is adorable at the same time?

- Sometimes you really need the subtitles, because I have never noticed Bea and Pedro’s little exchange there before! B: “Honestly that’s so typical.” P: “They’re always getting on top of each other.” That’s one for the Ben/Claudio crush truthers for sure, lol

- cringeeeee ugh Ben why do you sound like you’re about to hit on Hero I’m uncomfortable. Hilarious that he’s apparently forgotten who Hero is though, given that he definitely remembers Beatrice.

- He apparently also has never heard of YouTube before this moment. And we’re off to the “everything you say is SO wrong and annoying, I HAVE to correct you” races!

- Pedro with the self-preservation instinct just immediately making a run for it. He has been here in between these two arguing before and he did not like it.

- I was wondering why Bea didn’t make an excuse to avoid Ben by going off with Pedro just then, but I realized it’s because of the camera and tripod! She couldn’t leave without her stuff. Trapped by the vlog! Lol

- Ben’s immediate emotional response on seeing Bea again just being “I’m extremely threatened by the idea that you might have a boyfriend, please tell me you don’t.” like. Buddy. Pal. Who were you ever fooling? Incredible.

- And speaking of cringe. We are getting the establishment of Benedick seeming to be just another one of the misogynist guys, because every time he talks about women I cringe so hard I can’t look at the screen. I hope Beatrice makes fun of him for “I could explode your universe” literally all the time after they start dating.

- She is so not having it, and her disinterest just makes him go even harder trying to get under her skin. I love these annoying teenagers SO. MUCH. *cracks up laughing*

- Poor Ursula, not as quick as Pedro to avoid being stuck in the middle. Lol

- But the thing is, Bea just took the wind right out of Ben’s sails because “you’ve never scored anything off the football pitch” is TRUE. He talks big, but he’s actually not very experienced at all. That’s how I interpret the flustered “you’d be surprised about what I know”, anyway. And it’s a smart adaptation for a teenage version of Mr “Ladies Love Me But I Love None” from the play, if so.

- Bea sees right through him. He can’t hide behind bravado with her, she already knows it’s bullshit. And that’s why realizing he loves her is going to be so scary for him.

- And he storms off, leaving Beatrice pleased as punch because she wins by default. If she pushes his buttons long enough, he gives up. “You always end on a jade’s trick” indeed. And she ends smiling, because she likes sparring with him (and winning). The day wouldn’t be complete for her without it.

- Someone in the comments points out that Ben forgot to pick up his football uniform shirt that he dropped, and I don’t know what’s funnier, him waiting for her to leave and slinking back to grab it, or her taking it home and then tossing it on his desk the next day at school with another insult about how gross it is, setting off another argument (while all their classmates roll their eyes).

- And then there’s the fact that Beatrice, who just hates Ben so much, can’t stop herself from replying to a comment about him in the comment section with a complaining link to his new YouTube channel! They are obsessed with each other! It is wild. (Also a very in-character way for TCW to use Bea to make sure that the audience knows to follow Ben’s channel for his part of the story.)

- All I can think of is that tumblr post about looking at your enemies to lovers ship in their “I hate your stupid face” phase and cackling like “ohhhh just you wait, you are gonna LOVE that stupid face!” They’re gonna love each other SO much, and they’re gonna be SO mad about it! It just makes me so happy!!! 🥰

💖🥭🦩

[beevean]

You know what the Belmont's treatment reminds me of?

Samus in Other M

That game wanted so bad to depict Samus as someone with depth, someone who has feelings and enotions and trauma and can cry etc. But the end result had her do jack all in the actual story and for her to be denigrated by other characters who were shown to be more competent.

Except that with Sakamoto I can believe that he genuinely wanted to do Samus justice but went overboard with the weakness aspect because he had his head way too far up his own head

While with NFCV you cannot tell me that the writers don't know that the Belmonts (or others) being treated as sad tragic little meow meows who get treated like shit and need to be rescued/corrected often. These guys are on social media, they are literally part of the fandom and take part in discourse occasionally, so I can't believe they aren't doing this on purpose. Maybe Deats himself doesn't wish for this effect but someone must because it's far too consistent and convenient

... forgive me for what I'm about to say.

Samus in OM is atrocious and we all know that, right? Yes, she has those small cool moments in cutscenes as a token of respect for her skills, but overall she's weak, she's ineffectual, she won't stop praising a man who by all means acts cold and spiteful towards her, she's pretty much forbidden to do anything of substance in the plot, we see this gratuitous sequence of her writhing on the floor in pain after being shot that is nearly fetishistic...

... but the characters respect her.

Well, Adam doesn't, or at the very least, he doesn't respect her as she deserves. But the others? They know who Samus Motherfucking Aran is. Anthony is very friendly towards her. The scientists trusts her. Is it enough? Of course not. But somehow, some fucking how, Trevor and from what I've seen Ricther slip even lower than that level, because they're insulted and laughed at left and right, by their own friends most of all.

I genuinely felt sorry for Trevor who was pushed aside in his own story in favor of Fanservice Central Alucard and Muh Deepness Isaac, and when he was on screen the story beat us over the head that he's a washed up alcoholic who swears left and right and yeah he lost his family but they were weirdos anyway. Richter has a more pleasant personality from what I've seen, but apparently Annette steals the show as expected, the same person who looks down on him and gets away with calling him "useless as fuck", and he doesn't really do anything of substance either.

Oh, and what about Juste? Oh yeah I ain't forgotten about him. Juste, who became yet another Trevor, another jaded bastard after the loss of his family, who can't use his magic anymore, who is a prick to Richter who is a prick to him in return, who can't even help him unlock his magic - no, the memory of Annette does it.

Oh, and do you remember how Dracula recognized Trevor as a Belmont because he threw ineffectual punches at him? How he recognized the power of the Morning Star... who didn't even scratch him? How this sends the implication that the Belmonts kept fighting Dracula... and lost to him? The complete reversal of the games, where the only Belmont who didn't manage to kill Dracula at first was Christopher and anyway he tried again some time later?

Leon so far is the Belmont that came out of it the most unscathed, and even he was reduced to the level of "random crusader who decided to fight Dracula for shit and giggles"

So no. There is an undeniable pattern here. Deats can hide behind the excuses he wants, but again: whoever thought that promoting the show by using Annette's line was a good idea... well, they had to draw that conclusion from somewhere.

also fuck you nocturne for pushing me to say one (1) decent thing about om that other piece of shit game. goddamnit

[hgejfmw-hgejhsf]

Find the Words!

Thank you @anincompletelist and @theprinceandagcd for two tags in this game!

*cracks knuckles* Let's see what my WIPs have, shall we?

My words are: make, hide, square, edge, atmosphere

AND

hope, smooth, skin, water, paper

After the cut for length and suggestibility (on a couple)

Word: make WIP: Henry hurt/comfort

“I think,” Alex starts, wondering if this is one of those moments that his mom meant about flying too close to the sun before he realizes that no, being in this car and leaving this way is. So he quickly adjusts course, “I’d like to go back. To make sure Henry’s okay.”

Word: hide WIP: A deleted scene from Take Your Time

You’re the sun. Shining your warmth down on the icy waters. Bringing an end to the darkness. But also shedding light on the destruction that has been wrought. I strayed from the light for so long because I feared what I would see when I could no longer hide behind the excuse of blindness to the truth of my own existence. Cold-hearted. Turning back all who venture near out of fear. And now I realize precisely what that all means. I’m not the unsinkable ship. I’m the iceberg.

Word: square WIP: None of the above, I'm afraid haha

Word: edge WIP: The Notebook AU

“What the fuck is all this security doing here?” Alex asks as June blows a kiss to Nora that she catches and apparently uses as some sort of secret fuel for her bumper car, jettisoning it head-on into the wall and screaming as she does it. He glances at the surrounding perimeter along the edge of the carnival, security guards in suits with earpieces like something straight out of a spy movie standing unmoving nearby.

Word: atmosphere WIP: Also none of the above!

Word: hope WIP: DNC fill-in-the-blanks

It remains even after collapsing, physically and mentally spent, into sheets that are not his own, and sliding his own calloused fingers over his bare skin in the desperate hope that the memory of Henry’s soft fingers playing a muted melody over his ribs might come back to him. It lingers despite the sight of Henry’s face, pixelated and blurry in the dark of the night on his phone screen, enough to make him come with just a few strokes of his hand at the tenor of Henry’s voice. It hums through his body, until he has no choice but to seek refuge against the closest nearby structure to regain his composure, for every single second that all six of the senses he was blessed with aren’t filled with Henry.

Word: smooth WIP: Lake house 5+1

The sun is just beginning to start its descent to the horizon for its well earned slumber after another perfectly dazzling summer day spent bringing new freckles to life as previously undiscovered landmarks on a map of soft, smooth skin, dancing in narrowed blue eyes rarely unhidden from behind dark glasses, and bleaching already golden hair to a resplendent color unnamed by nature. Alex lounges on the hammock, drifting somewhere in that blissful heaven between sleep and waking, when you can feel the breeze on your skin as your subconscious slowly concocts the perfect dream of long legs and nimble fingers and effervescent laughter. Henry lies beside him, his sun kissed skin warm against Alex’s leg, an anchor to the consciousness he can slowly feel slipping away with each passing moment.

Word: skin WIP: Drunk Me

But privately, he wondered if he’d ever have the chance to meet the boy who he so deeply admired for his ability to exist entirely beneath the world’s spotlight without so much as a flinch to indicate that it ever made him uncomfortable. Alex, on the other hand, had taken to pressing his lips to the key around his neck before each public appearance, a grounding technique that reminded him he always had a quiet home to return to when all was said and done. Henry, on the other hand, had nothing but palaces behind wrought iron gates. He hoped maybe someday they could be friends, and maybe he could even show Henry where he grew up. The Texas sun on his skin would definitely be warmer than the glow of ancient chandeliers.

Word: water WIP: Alex's bedroom canon divergence (movieverse)

He smirks at that thought. At Henry, standing in a steaming shower, with water dripping from his golden hair and collecting in dewdrops on his eyelashes, the suds from whatever expensive body wash he uses that keeps him smelling like clean linens and fresh grass even in the dead of winter sliding over his bare skin to reveal 10 small purple bruises in the shape of Alex’s fingertips. A part of Alex he won’t be able to wash away as easily as buttercream melts and slips down a drain.

Word: paper WIP: NYE Get Low Alex POV (movieverse)

“I’d be a writer…live in Paris,” Henry explains, and it suddenly makes so much sense. Like a piece of a puzzle sliding perfectly into place and revealing an entirely new image. Alex can see Henry, the same Henry who waxes poetic about Byron’s poetry for as long as Alex will tolerate and then some, sitting inside a coffee shop in Paris with a stack of paper and a pen, scribbling furiously, his eyes bright and alive with the same passion Alex can sense when he speaks of the work of other famous writers. Alex can’t help but smile at the thought.

I'm going to make this an OPEN tag, because I know a lot of people have already been tagged, and I don't want y'all to feel overwhelmed by all the words! @kiwiana-writes as the person I know with the most WIP options, you know you're always open to do this...but only if you want!

The words the random generator came up with are: proud, ceaseless, worried, dark, and pointless.

[eyesoverinfinity]

Cooking show au

Episode 3: Jello from the other side

The intro plays, it is a Introduction to all 8 of the hosts of this show: Zoey, Louis, Francis, Bill, Ellis, Nick, Rochelle and Coach.

Then the logo appears:

The logo dissipates to revel the camera zooming in on the hosts, as pre-recorded clapping plays.

Louis steps forward.

Louis: Welcome to 8 in the kitchen! The show were we make food and may regret it later! As you know we couldn't do our Halloween episode on Halloween because....

The camera cuts to the hosts hiding behind one of their tables as the mercenaries fight Merasmus who has made their food come to life.

Louis: reasons...

A pause. Then Louis snaps out of his trauma induced trance.

Louis: Anyways, Ellis is the one with the recipe! Ellis what are we making?

Ellis: Oh man, have I got a recipe for you!

Ellis leaves the set and pulls in a whiteboard. This whiteboard has the picture of a ghost on it.

Ellis: After our last attempt at this episode we got left with a lot of ectoplasm. So I decided we could use it!

Louis: Excuse me what?

Ellis: We are making Ghost jello!

Spooky sound effects play.

Ellis: Now with real ghost!

Francis: I hate ghosts.

Bill: Ellis, have you thought this through?

Ellis: TO THE GAME PLAN!

A sheet of blueprint paper rolls over the camera to show the transit to the ‘game plan’ screen. Chibi versions of all the hosts are seen.

Ellis: I've already done the first bit, get the ectoplasm and put it into a can for later.

The blueprint shows Chibi Ellis picking up goo that's green even on the blueprint and putting in a jar.

Ellis: Now, we have to mix it with the other ingredients. Gelatin, Boiled water, Holy water, salt and fruit juice.

Drawings of these items appear.

Bill: Why salt?

Ellis: it's a surprise ingredient that'll help us later.

Zoey: SHHH, do you want to be sued by Disney? Because that's how you get sued by Disney.

Ellis: Damn it, sorry!

Ellis: It's important that we add the holy water last, because it makes the ectoplasm disappear before it imprints it's taste.

The ectoplasm has holy water added to it, a holy choir sounds and the ectoplasm gets wings and a halo and flies away. Chibi Ellis is shown gobsmacked.

The camera zooms out to the chibi's.

Ellis: Interesting to note, it doesn't matter which religion blesses the water, it has the same effect.

Rochelle: Even Satanism?

Ellis: Um... that was the exception.

A fire is shown coming out of a jar. Chibi Ellis tries to use a fire extinguisher, but it doesn't work. The camera comes back to the real people. The Ingredients are all there, Ellis is holding the ectoplasm, that seems to be trying to float away.

Louis: Ellis is this safe?

Ellis: Nope!

Coach is seen looking at a Bible.

Ellis: whatcha doing Coach?

Coach: Trying to figure out if eating ghost remains is against my religion or not.

Nick: I think it's against every religion.

Zoey: Does Atheism count as a religion? Because I think this is against that as well.

Ellis: Come guys, since when did not being able to eat something ever stop us from making it?

Rochelle: Oh we'll still make it, we just want to burn it afterwards.

Ellis: Good enough for me!

A time-lapse plays, it shows the hosts mixing the gelatin, boiled water and fruit juice together.

Ellis: Ok! it's time to add the ectoplasm! Be careful, as it might try to escape.

The other hosts look at each other uncertainly. Ellis just smiles as he adds the green goo to his bowl. The camera zooms it to get a better look, there is some static as Ellis mixes the goop in but otherwise it looks as you would expect.

Ellis: Now, make a ring of salt around the bowl so if the ectoplasm possess the bowl it can't hunt you down for revenge. Then we leave it for 5 minutes so the taste soaks in.

Coach: We aren't really leaving this alone, are we?

Ellis: nah, I'll stay. The camera crew will too, right guys?

Excuses can be heard from of screen.

???: Will there be cola?

Ellis: Sure!

???: Then I'll be there!

A new person appears on screen.

Ellis: Thanks Whittaker.

Whittaker: No problem kid, there's nothing I wouldn't do for a good cola. But if that bowl right there attacks us I will shoot it.

Ellis: Well I see no down-sides!

A time-lapse happens, Ellis and Whittaker play cards with Whittaker occasionally pulling a variety of different guns at the bowls. The time lapse ends with the other hosts returning.

Ellis: That was fun! Now, the most important part of the recipe. Pour holy water on it so you won't be possessed by your own creation! Any blessing will do!

Words appear on the screen "8 in the kitchen holds no reasonability if the blessing doesn't work." Ellis adds the holy water to the bowls, they hiss with a barely auditable mouse like scream.

Ellis: So, who wants to try? I know I'm going to.

Coach breaths in deeply.

Nick: Coach no.

Coach: Ellis, I'll eat this as well, but only. ONLY if we both go to church Immediately after this.

Ellis: Ok!

Coach and Ellis eat the jello as the other wait nervously.

Coach: Hey, It tastes like a better version of that 'Hi-C Ecto-Coolers' drink from when the first ghost busters came out!

Nick stares at the jello in disgust.

Nick: It kind of looks like it too.

Zoey: What, did they make the drink out of ghosts?

Francis: I don't know, what DID they make the drink out of.

Rochelle: I think they were supposed to be tangerine flavoured.

Coach: Bullshit, they tasted like toxic liquated ghost-.... remains...."

There is a pause.

Ellis: Well, that's it for this episode. we're going to look into this further and hopefully not get sued.

Everyone: Bye!

The theme song plays and the credits roll. A post credit scene shows Rochelle on the computer late at night, researching the Hi-C company. With the words 'we're coming for you Hi-C' on the screen.

[ambientbroth]

Self Diagnosis Autism Entry 8 (I think)

I left and did some reflecting

I watched a bunch of YouTube videos and dove into the side of self diagnosis becoming a very popular trend and topic discussion.

Becoming embarrassed of myself and what I choose to type out behind a screen I realized a couple things based on some of the more popular takes on why self diagnosis is not valid

Do they realize it’s a disability? Why do they want to have that disability?

I for sure know people go online and fake disabilities. I also know that when someone does that, it does mean there’s something else wrong but maybe not the disability they are fronting. I didn’t want to relate to Autism, I actually tried out all the other “common” disorders (by tried out I mean to do excessive research until I proved to myself I couldn’t relate to the disorder) but I so far I can’t disprove my Autism. I catch myself stimming, unable to bathe myself because I just like being in the bathroom for hours, unable to connect with people unless it’s a special interest, with many burned bridges, and failed coping mechanisms but finding Autism coping mechanisms to be extremely helpful. I could go on.

Even if you have the symptoms it doesn’t mean you have it. Correlation does not equal causation.

This is actually true but it’s so confusing for me. I demonstrate so many traits in Autism, some I’ve never made up, and the only explanation I can’t cross off is Autism. I know there are people to argue against it but I can’t disprove my love for dark and small spaces - so much I use to wander away from family events to hide in the trunk of cars, find new dark hiding places in every house I lived in; a closet room, a corner and couch, kitchen cabinets, boxes, under desk, and bathrooms. I can’t disprove the fact that when someone touches me it’ll feel like acid is burning me, or when I’m touched somewhere I feel it in my belly button?? The amount of times I’d been called a brat or my over sensitivity to sounds and lights and people and my own emotions being used against me. I can’t disprove my inabilities, the ones that I need to function. I’ve gotten away with so much of my behavior because I’m conventionally attractive, it’s not a brag, I needed and still need a lot of help.

Negative experiences in life don’t need a medical diagnosis

This is also very true. Like if you suffer with depression, anxiety, and or ADHD you don’t need that to necessarily tell you, you have sleep problems. It doesn’t make the sleep problems go away. It’s the fact that you’re experiencing them and need support. This is I do agree with. There’s a different between “Negative life experiences” and “being disabled”. Being socially awkward and over stimulated does not mean you have Autism. You can tell it’s a disability when you demonstrate “negative traits” of Autism as well as the “regular traits” I’m not using it as an excuse to be a bad person, I know this and my partner knows this. However, when it gets bad it gets horribly bad. It takes half the day or most of the night. It needs to be cared for with patience because I’m unable to be that myself, I might unalived myself if it was up to me to care for it. It happens less frequently now due to the proper coping mechanisms under Autism. Before my Autism discovery, I was having meltdowns 2-3 times a week. It was exhausting. I was always at a battle with my job, my relationship, my inward opinions of myself. It’s debilitating you have to know that it’s not just negative experience.

It’s just a label they give themselves it’s doesn’t actually help them so what’s the point?

I kinda already went over this but it helps in other ways rather than just finding comfort in the label itself. Like I said, finding the right coping mechanisms. I’m starting to unpacking what I was diagnosed with in adolescence and noticing how the therapy and coping strategies never actually connected with me or rarely helped or explain myself. I never really had anxiety attacks and I wasn’t really depressed so I felt like I had imposter syndrome - and my mom made it worse (but that’s not the story today lol) The panic attacks had were due to overstimulation, emotional processing, alienation, changes - which is common! But the coping mechanisms like:

“Okay you’re having a panic attack let’s focus on the senses” like THAT would stress me out even more, that made me feel worse.

Other than coping mechanisms, there’s also learning sign language and wearing noise canceling out in public (also as a coping strategy) but it helps.

Even if I may not have Autism, I’m finding, within myself, ways I’m improving my quality of life. It’s the most my life has ever felt explained.

[innovativestruggles]

To my lovely beautiful DaiSuzu fans,

I recently received a very rude ask from a toxic Daiharu fan telling me how all DaiSuzu shippers are “disgusting” and “gross” for shipping relatives, and how they “can’t stand straight people and their need to always force heterosexual ships,” especially in relation to “Daisuke and Suzue who clearly do not have mutual feelings for each other.”

Not only do I find this incredibly offensive but I see it as extremely discriminative as well. This goes far beyond the realm of shipping and enjoying anime content and debates. It is a deliberate and personal attack on DaiSuzu shippers and the real people behind the screen. 

This person’s behaviour is absolutely repulsive and completely hypocritical. To group people in the same bracket as gross and disgusting just for shipping characters is beyond belief.

I have chosen not to publicly post the ask because I will not be spreading negative content. And I know it is probably what this troll wants. I want to let this person know that their behaviour is abusive, disrespectful and NOT okay.

I am already seeing an escalation of abuse towards Suzue and DaiSuzu shippers post-Episode 8. I am disgusted with how this fandom operates and its treatment towards other fans and women in general (fiction or not!). Because as soon as there is some sort of intimacy between heterosexual couples (re; Daisuke and Suzue), toxic fans feel the need to express their anger and frustration on DaiSuzu shippers who are happily minding their own business.

Keep your bloody opinions to yourself. We do not want to hear it. I am appalled by this vile behaviour and I can see why some fans have dropped the show completely. It’s because they do not feel safe expressing their opinions and their ships and their love for their characters. You toxic daiharu shippers need to take a closer look at yourself and how your abusive behaviour impacts on others.

I have already posted my own reason as to why I ship Daizue. Do you think us DaiSuzu shippers would just waltz out there and decide to condone incest? Ffs! Our reasoning behind our shipping of DaiSuzu is much more complex than you deciding to ship two male characters who breathe the same air.

To the novel readers who are invested in Daizue’s relationship. I am so sorry that you feel misunderstood and berated by toxic anime fans. I am sorry that they undermine your interest in both the novel and the anime. You have the rights to ship Daizue in the novel as much as in the anime, and feel frustrated that the anime screwed up Suzue’s relationship status to Daisuke. You also have the rights to feel unsettled and confused and unsure and still wanting to ship Daizue in the anime without having toxic fans accuse you of shipping incest. It is confusing as both a novel reader and an anime watcher and I completely understand the limbo position you are stuck in when it comes to DaiSuzu.

But please remember this. Those toxic daiharu fans are responsible for their own actions, and it is not any of us DaiSuzu shippers’ fault for wanting to enjoy the anime and ship these two beautiful characters. 

Daizue’s relationship status at this stage is still unknown. The anime creators have propositioned intimacy/romance between Daisuke and Suzue from the OP. It is clear as day. Any non-anime watcher who looks at that OP of Daizue would immediately think romance. So if that is what the anime creators are bringing across to fans then there is even more of a reason not to be embedded with feelings of guilt for shipping them.

I say this once more. Our little group of DaiSuzu shippers may be small, but we will not stand for abuse of fans or of Suzue. Suzue may be a fictional character, but the fact that she is hated because she is female and because she is a threat to daiharu, is internalised misogyny at its finest. Considering the vast majority of toxic daiharu shippers are women themselves, it is atrocious that you even think along the lines of condoning violence against women. And just because it is a fictional female character, it does not excuse you from being misogynistic. It spills over into your own perception and values of women and girls in the real world. Please be mindful of how you portray yourself to others online with regards to hating female characters - because that is an extension of who you are as a person.

Anyways, my precious DaiSuzu shippers, thank you for being so supportive! We are a great community amongst such a toxic fandom. We all keep each other going with our love for Daisuke and Suzue! 

Rest assured that novel Daisuke and Suzue are very happy to hear that we ship them because that was how their relationship was made - for each other ❤️❤️

Yours sincerely,

A novel reader, an anime watcher and a frustrated DaiSuzu shipper

[xiaosmoon]

the boys as your roommate in college

parings: xiao, childe, & albedo x gn!reader

warnings/content: mostly fluff, mentions of injury (cuts & bruises)

-> xiao

being roommates with xiao was interesting to say the least. when you first met him, he literally never talked to you unless he had to.

if you didn't know any better, you could've swore you were living with a ghost. the only greetings you would exchange were good mornings and good nights

after two months of this nonsense, you decided enough was enough. when you came back from your long day of classes, you confidently approached xiao's door with your chest puffed and head held high. you knock firmly, trying to hold onto your faltering confidence.

"come in." the response was muffled through the door. you slowly unlock and push it open, peaking your head in first. the room was very dark. the curtains were closed and not a single light was on. well, except the blaring bright screen of xiao's monitor that was very focused on. you assumed he was gaming; it's all he ever does.

his eyes remained focus on his gaming, paying no mind to you. "um xiao, are you busy? i can come back later." you were just about to peep your head back out before xiao stopped you. "i'm not busy. what's up?" his attention still not on you.

you inhale deeply, walking into his room and closing the door behind you. here goes nothing. "i- uh, well. here's the thing; i really hate how we never talk even though we live under the same roof! i know nothing about you, your interests, your personal life, literally nothing! and i really wanna talk to you because you seem like a cool person but you're really giving me the impression you hate me." that came out a lot faster than intended.

xiao's cheeks were flaming. he removed his headset and paused his game, turning around in his chair so he was face to face with you. "um, i'm sorry." he softly confessed, avoiding your gaze. "i don't really get along with people. but we can be friends, or uh at least try. sorry for being a douche."

you were satisfied with his response. after that day, you invited xiao out to lunch all the time to study. you guys even began having weekly movie nights!

you soon found out that xiao actually has a twitch account with two hundred thousand subscribers. he invited you to join his stream onetime and his fans went absolutely insane.

comments like "are they your s/o???" "omg who's that xiao, they're so hot wtf??" "y'all have to be dating" flooded in and xiao couldn't hide his blushing. he couldn't deny the comments assumptions, he ended up developing a little crush on you.

but he wouldn't confess anytime soon, afraid of messing up the amazing relationship you two shared. (or really because he doesn't know how to confess)

-> childe

you were surprised this boy wasn't in a frat when you first met him. spoiler alert: he was.

when you had asked him why he wasn't living in the frat house, all he said was "the boys are too rowdy. i prefer my personal space."

you found that very hard to believe. he was out partying every weekend and had at least two girls on his side at all times.

"come on, come to the party with me! you never go." he pouted, bending over to rest his elbows on the kitchen counter with his  irresistible face resting on his palms. "for the hundredth time ajax, i don't feel like spending my lovely friday night surrounded by sweaty bodies & puking college students." you placed a lid on the pot of pasta you were cooking.

"ugh you're a party pooper." he dramatically groans & comes around to where your finished garlic bread was. "besides, it's not like you have anything else planned!" he says taking a big bite of the bread.

"well excuse you," you snatched the bread out of his hand, leaving you with a very sad childe. "i have a date with edward cullen!" "you've seen twilight a million times." "your point being?"

one night, childe didn't come home. you had assumed he was at another one of his hook ups or he had just crashed at scaramouche's. but the next morning, you saw childe sprawled across your couch with the nastiest cuts and bruises you have ever seen. there was an open first aid kit on the coffee table showing that he at least attempted to clean himself up.

"you idiot." you whispered to yourself. you shook him awake gently, not knowing what other injuries this dumbass might have. he stirred and let out a groan, "5 more minutes, promise."

you were not having it. "ajax you better wake your ass up right now or so help me god i will throw a vase at you." he sat up so quick you flinched a bit. your eyes scan his shirtless body, evaluating all of the injures. without thinking, you begin to trace the bruise on his right shoulder.

"what happened to you? and more importantly why didn't you wake me up?" you mumble, still fixated on the bruise. childe's cheeks heated up at the skin to skin contact. he never blushes. "uhm i didn't wanna bother you? waking you is basically asking for death." he teased lightly. you snap your gaze up to his. "ajax, i'm literally a pre-med student. what else is hurting?"

childe explained how he got into a physical fight because someone was insulting you. he of course wasn't having it, so he beat the other guy to a pulp. the guy wasn't as good of a fighter as childe was of course, but he managed to get a few hits in. after that day, you looked at childe in a new light. he protected your name and got hurt in the process; something that meant a lot to you.

slowly, childe started changing too. no more random hookups, no more partying every weekend (he even joined you on your rom-com movie nights), and no more recklessness. he realized that he wanted to be a better person for you. a better possible love interest for you. and before he knew it, he had fallen hopelessly in love with you.

-> albedo

being roommates with albedo was a surprise waiting for you everyday. his room was practically a science lab. at random times in the middle of the night, you'll occasionally hear a big bang from his room. this night, it was particularly very loud. rushing over in your sleepwear, you'd slam his room door open to see a puff of dark grey smoke coating the room.

you pull your shirt up over your nose and attempt to swat the smoke away with your hand. "cough cough, albedo? are you okay- cough." you could barely make out his figure in the thick smoke, but continue to walk towards him. before you could take another step, albedo bolts towards you, grabbing your wrist. he runs out of the room, dragging you with him. once you're out to safety, he shuts the door behind him.

"y/n! are you alright, let me see your eyes. can you breath fine?" he grabs you by the shoulders and brings your body very close to his. the lack of space between you is enough to make you forget everything. "i- um, i'm- i'm fine albedo. what happened? what was that?" you managed to speak. once he's sure you're alright, he pulls away a bit and loosens the grip on your shoulders. he looks at his bedroom door, "an experiment went wrong. i wasn't expecting the outcome to go wrong so horribly." he returns his eyes back to you with an apologetic smile. "i don't think it's safe for us to sleep here tonight."

after that incident, you and albedo both agreed that no more experiments should be tested in the dorm. (the RA may or may not have also banned him from it) you did feel bad for albedo, so you offered to assist him at the college laboratory on your free time. you were a biology major so it worked perfectly.

you guys had long nights full of laughter and fun in the lab. most nights security had to kick you guys out because you lost track of time.

overtime, albedo was sure that he developed romantic feelings for you. he's never felt this way about anyone before. he wants to confess, he truly does, but he just doesn't know how to go about it.

[brett-is-afraid]

k actually? chuckle sandwich boys and minor, ftm, reader is a little brother figure to them and them defending him, on the internet or irl. im thinking about that time u wrote ab ted protecting reader from a pedo :( i have no idea if this makes sense. it doesnt have to make sense 🪲

Sure thing!

Ted

Bullying strikes a nerve within Ted, it's the quickest way to piss him off.

He's the quickest to react to situations, blocking people without giving them more than one chance if he notices anything going on.

He'll always check in with you after the stream to make sure you're okay.

He gives you a safeword of sorts to use if you need to get out of a situation.

If you're in chat, he doesn't want you to feel pressured not speak up for fear of upsetting people. So, he gives you the word and he'll make up an excuse for why he needs to go.

If you two are out somewhere, he has no shame in making a scene. If someone's going to be bold enough to be mean, he's bold enough to confront the situation.

He's a physically imposing guy, so you definitely have scary dog privileges.

People in real life tend to not say anything because of Ted's size and fear of a confrontation.

Sometimes, they'll still push him online because they don't think he'll do anything and they can hide behind a screen.

But he absolutely calls people out on their shit.

He's got a lot of words that'll cause their message to be automatically held for review by mods.

Charlie

Charlie gets the most worried about this kind of thing because he's seen a lot of weird and rude stuff in his time.

That being said, he would be the least likely to have a direct confrontation.

He doesn't want you to get hurt and he refuses to let people be mean to you around him.

It bothers him more when it happens online because he wants you to feel safe and happy being on the internet.

For the most part, his chat is a pretty good place where he doesn't have to worry about it too much. But sometimes stuff still happens.

If it's online, he blocks it without warning and makes sure he keeps a close eye on it.

If it's in person, he'll do his best to get you out of the situation and reassure you that nothing said was true.

If it's a situation where he can report the situation to someone, he definitely will because he doesn't want anyone else feeling that way either.

He'll focus more on if you're okay than actually confronting anyone.

If you don't see it then he won't mention it and will do his best to avoid going into details if you or chat asks.

Schlatt

Schlatt is probably the middle ground between Ted and Charlie when it comes to how he reacts.

It's a hard line for Schlatt when he's live. His chat and he himself makes a lot of jokes, but he always tries to make sure it doesn't get out of hand.

Because of how his chat is, you were a bit anxious to spend time there. Especially after you came out. But he makes sure his chat is safe for you and isn't going to be upsetting.

He makes it clear there are some topics that are off limits and people aren't allowed to make jokes about them.

Any trans jokes are a hard no for him and he blocks without warning if he sees any of it.

Not wanting to focus on negativity, if he has to give a warning, he keeps it short and pretty much down to just "don't be a dick."

If people keep pushing, he's quick to call them out on it before blocking them and moving on.

When stuff like that does happen, he tries to lighten the mood. He'll make so many jokes with you and try to keep the spirits high.

If it's in person, he'll be way more likely to actually confront someone than the other two. There have been times when you genuinely thought he was going to end up fighting someone for how they treated you.

[who-is-page]

I keep seeing the whole "staff is pedophilic and transphobic" stuff floating around, but every Google document I've read on it only showcases fandom drama and argues why so-and-so fandom/ship that a staff member was a part of or reblogged is terrible/evil/bad/etc., rather than showing anything demonstrable of actual IRL pedophilic actions and transphobic attitudes. While I think we can all agree that the author of HP is awful, I don't think someone shipping characters from the books actually counts as them being transphobic or a TERF in any way. And note, I'm saying that as a trans person; I'm not interested in petty flamewars and faux fandom activism. Someone being a part of one fandom over another does not really change my life in any observable way, and I'm a little sick of people implying it does or using it as a cudgel to bash other people and accuse them of things that might not be true. I need real, actual transphobic rhetoric and not just ... Draco and Hermione ship art ... to believe that someone is actively, maliciously against trans people. In the same way, avoiding Harry Potter like the plague does not actually make you a perfect little angel of gender activism who's actively working towards trans rights and equality. Sorry, but not sorry! No one in either scenario is doing jack shit! Go to a fucking protest, donate actual money or goods to a trans person in need, and support trans-owned projects and businesses if you want to claim you've done actionable change, because I'm sick of arm chair activists who don't actually do shit but then act as though their word and online harassment campaigns are single-handedly saving lives everywhere. You're not helping anyone.

The way staff handled target harassment of one of their members was probably overly-harsh, but I was also on this hellsite when Tumblr ruined one woman's entire career in ecology because of baseless accusations of zoophilia(iirc), so I'm also not exactly sympathetic to the deleted after witnessing what that stuff can do to someone's career. Something something fuck around and find out. I'm especially not super sympathetic given now my dash is just fucking covered in "if you have ever liked [long list of seemingly fucking random fandoms and fictional ships] you're an evil, no-good person in your core who probably wants to vandalize buildings and kidnap children!!!! But we all already knew that because we're the Elect good pure beans who have never touched those Evil Fandoms isn't that right followers :)" type commentaries because of it.

This is just a personal rant, but as an out trans person who was openly queer and homeless for five years, who's actually affected by and faces real-life transphobia pretty fucking regularly, this drives me nuts. It's fucking fandom wank and it has literally zero moral judgement values whatsoever attached to it by virtue of its existence. People are just using it as an excuse to sit on their ass and claim they've 'helped fight against transphobia,' when in reality they're too terrified to step away from their computers and work to tackle the actual physical injustices trans people regularly have to wrestle with. Unfortunately, some of us--like me!--don't get the option to just hide behind a screen and pretend that if only we could eradicate all Harry Potter fans from the universe, we could magically rid the world of transphobes.