#oh my god mouthwashing mentioned.

[canine-economy]

Daisuke’s Death and the Invisible Abuse of “Privileged” Children

tw: extensive discussions of child emotional abuse

Another mouthwashing text analysis before I post any polished art? Shocker. But I really really appreciate the reception on my Swansea post, especially as a new account! This Daisuke-centric analysis is gonna be a quick one (< this was a lie. long read ahead!) but he is a character who resonates deeply personally with me as a victim of abuse that looked very much like his own. I do plan on doing a larger analysis of his character, but the abridged version necessary for this piece goes as follows:

Daisuke’s treatment in the narrative—both his implied home life and Jimmy’s taking advantage of him to go into the vent—is another one of this game’s excellent portrayals of normalized (and thus invisibilized) abuse. Children are often cited as one of the most vulnerable classes of people, if not the most vulnerable (I acknowledge that Daisuke is not a child, but Mouthwashing implies that this narrative of his inadequacy has persisted throughout his upbringing and, to this day, he is dictated tasks and lacks independence, treated like a dependent. His youth is also an undisputed feature of his character and, most importantly, the cast treats him like a kid). Children’s dependency on adults and our willingness as a society to accept that the adults in their lives provide the most objective perspective on these young people renders them particularly prone to abuse easily swept under the rug or “justified” by wardens who possess the power to dictate the narrative. Jimmy’s engagement with Daisuke is an extension of the latter’s vulnerability. The co-pilot’s assertion that “he’ll be fine (…) mommy and daddy have him covered” at the birthday party represents a deference to Daisuke’s parents as adequate caretakers who will ensure his longevity and comfort on the basis of their wealth. And we know that Daisuke’s parents think the same—the Q&As reveal that they believe they are doing the best to secure their son a good future. However, the same Q&As indicate that they don’t actually engage with or understand Daisuke’s interests and that their approach to parenting him is entirely understood through their personal beliefs, not those of their son. And Daisuke clearly carries that quite close to his heart. He seems to struggle with identity and acceptance, seeking validation in the form of praise. Daisuke is defined through what he can do for others and not what he independently brings to the table, because that has never mattered where he grew up. The consequences of his parents’ failure to meet his emotional needs ultimately conditioned Daisuke to be perfectly available to be taken advantage of in a corporate setting defined by capitalist attitudes and hierarchies.

While it’s not concrete to say that Daisuke grew up in an emotionally abusive household, it is most important that we cannot dismiss the possibility and that his behavior as the outcome of some obvious degree of neglect is well-aligned with this theory. Moreover, the young man who comes out of that household is easily targeted by Jimmy’s abusive tendencies as a direct result of what he internalizes growing up. Daisuke is apparently financially well-off (contextually we can’t be sure if Daisuke’s family is upper class, middle class, or somewhere in between), and with that comes privilege. Even the way he packs—multiple personalized outfits, entertainment devices, etc—reveal that he’s used to certain comforts and hasn’t yet acclimated to the harsh expectations of companies like the Pony Express. But, especially where young people are concerned, it is all too easy to allow this privilege to act as a curtain between abuse and the outside world. We can acknowledge the privilege and also recognize that it benefits his parents much more than it benefits him as a young person.

Emotional abuse is complex and extremely damaging and Daisuke *does* show symptoms of at least being constantly verbally accosted and emotionally neglected by his parents to the point of permanently warping his sense of self. It also generated his overreliance on authority figures to tell him how to keep himself safe in their world. His mother apparently insulted him to his face (“such a slacker, she said”, and being reprimanded for being too talkative [from the Daisuke teaser]), and a lot of his negative self talk (“total screw-up”, “fuck up”, etc) is reminiscent of how people define themselves by parroting what they are called after internalizing consistent externally-imposed definitions of their identity. While these are not surefire indicators of abuse and I am not willing to diagnose a situation as abusive purely predicated on these factors, the behaviors Daisuke exhibits as a result share many commonalities with those of victims of childhood abuse. In fact, just about every time Daisuke speaks about himself in Mouthwashing, he mentions his failures and his work. It’s not lost on me that the teaser for the whole character is him pondering his mother and how she might not recognize him if he isn’t noisy and obnoxious. He personally puts a lot of stock in their assessment of him as lazy and annoying, but nevertheless tries to accomplish learning through the internship. Furthermore, Daisuke takes on a lot of his mother’s pain, hoping she doesn’t blame herself for the negative things that happen to him (even though in the same scene he reveals that she’s the reason he’s on the stranded Tulpar at all), indicating that he has taken responsibility for the feelings of people in his life even when those people are not his to care for and even bear responsibility for his pain.

Now in young adulthood, Daisuke rarely seems to have any sense of self beyond his parents and his work aside from one-off quips about baseball and babes. It suggests that he has always had to prioritize his parents’ desires growing up to avoid being treated unfairly and even cruelly, stunting his self-discovery. In abusive situations, your understanding of safety and your pursuit thereof are radically impacted and we see this manifest in Daisuke’s continuing willingness to accept those in command as the pinnacle of safety over what one might consider logical, personal acts of self-preservation. He equates safety with obedience, and I contend that that equivalence suggests a lot about how his parents reprimanded deviance from their plans. And not to be that guy, but it is kind of outright cruel to dump your utterly inexperienced teenager-to-early-20-something on a 1 year, no contact, unsafe space voyage in a failing industry knowing that he doesn’t have the necessary skillset yet. That’s what his parents do when they aren’t satisfied with his progress, and it’s intense and disproportionate and alarming! Especially for the dependent! They toss him into the deep end of the corporate machine and insist he learns to swim in such an oppressive, stifling atmosphere. It’s no surprise that he drowns, especially when he himself can’t recognize this as an unrealistic expectation and tackles it with everything he’s got because his parents are theoretically always right about what he needs. I don’t think it’s a stretch to say that normalized emotional abuse from the home and how it maps onto a victim’s adult life is a topic Mouthwashing would endeavor to touch on, because visibilizing invisible abuses of power in heteropatriarchal capitalist schemes is arguably the central undertaking of the game.

I don’t think Daisuke has evil parents or anything, rather that what we accept as “good parenting” and “good mentorship” is often negligent with regard to emotional needs and can easily become a source of heavy trauma for the children and mentees if that emotional aspect is stretched too thin in the pursuit of success. Not all abuse is intentional, and the dev Q&As imply that Daisuke’s parents thought they were sincerely investing in his future. They cared, just not in the best way for his wellbeing. Because capitalism emphasizes the individualistic pursuit of success above all else, it’s no wonder that a parent would think that the best thing they can give their kid is an avenue to prosper financially. But in doing so, Daisuke’s parents deny him the opportunity to define himself, to experience agency, and to build up confidence. Effectively, they create a young man so vulnerable to abuse by higher-ups (a manifestation of abuse that is often intentional at the systemic level) that he decides to climb into that vent at Jimmy’s discretion under the pretense that he will make somebody proud. Because that’s how Daisuke has been raised to understand himself and his place—the presumed screw-up boy as a default, making you proud by doing the right thing, who has learned to pursue that achievement to avoid the condescension and disproportionate backlash (e.g. the internship itself) that comes with failure. Everything circles back to his parents’ expectations that he makes for a good worker. When the cocktail knocks Swansea out, Daisuke makes an offhand comment about getting a bad reference—even in the most dire of circumstances, he can’t stop thinking about their capitalistic expectations for his “good” future.

I find that Daisuke really is such a good subtle portrayal of how parents with resources can get away with emotionally stunting their children because we perceive their ability to put a roof over their heads, food on their plate, etc as adequate parenting and even a privilege for the child when it should be the bare minimum. Jimmy certainly buys into it, and even some of the fandom parrots that, really and truly believing Daisuke is some good-for-nothing kid who doesn’t try hard when all we see is him working, including climbing into the vents to try and help despite not being assigned the work (foam scene, not his death). I find this reception shows how inclined we are to accept those narratives of the privileged child’s inadequacy before we address the parent for not fulfilling a child’s emotional needs, which are just as important if not more than the material.

To wrap this up with a quick discussion of the symbolism of his death in the context of the emotional abuse of children (which is the reason I made this whole post but I can’t talk about this guy without going off): Daisuke getting so badly injured trying to do what’s right is a very physical manifestation of the suffering he was already going through. It is the pain of constantly people-pleasing and of holding it all in when he’s lashed out at. He gets injured at all in the pursuit of appeasing Jimmy and (theoretically) Swansea, both of whom he blindly trusts despite how they treat him because he has always been expected to just adhere to the adults with authority in his life. Being talked down to by them is not new and has never been a reason to question their judgement. Daisuke sees this as a product of his own inadequacy as implied by other people, and not of external cruelty. He was raised not to question the system for fear of repercussions.

Jimmy is perfectly situated to coerce him into a dangerous situation because Daisuke has never been taught to say no. The safest option for a scared child is to trust their mentors, and an adult Daisuke does just that. Even Swansea’s teachings of safety are dismantled by Jimmy’s tactical use of captainhood to break the camel’s back. Authority. Daisuke must always listen to authority. Jimmy knows the vent isn’t safe. Swansea tells him directly and he observes the foam incident (if from a distance). For as much as he acts like he cares about taking responsibility for Daisuke’s safety, his individualistic pursuit of “fixing” things manifests in Jimmy again taking advantage of a vulnerable person on the ship. Jimmy doesn’t reconcile Daisuke’s eagerness to help with lessons on safety like Swansea does, but rather uses it only when it benefits him. Daisuke is taught by his upbringing to accept this kind of treatment—for safety, defer to the leader in the room even if it hurts and you don’t want to do it (just like he didn’t want to be on the Tulpar in the first place).

Then, once the intern is out of the vent and mortally wounded, Jimmy applies the mouthwash (a product to be sold, hauled in the interest of the corporation) to “help” sanitize the wounds. But the sugar content negates medical utility and only worsens the pain. We can interpret this as the application of material privilege, “sweetness”, that wasn’t actually any help at all to solve the deep wounds left by emotional pains. Mouthwash rids you of the bad taste but doesn’t kill all the underlying germs. One could argue further that in this scene, the mouthwash is specifically representative of the Pony Express internship: a rare stepping stone in the corporate hustle gained through privilege and presented as a boon. Like the mouthwash, the internship is imposed on Daisuke to try and “help” him succeed and be better, but it only elevates the pain by irritating the wounds and ends in his agonizing demise. However, this fine-tuned comparison isn’t necessary to my point. I find the broad implications of the mouthwash as an antiseptic immensely representative of parents and caretakers who don’t seem abusive to the outside world but who are actually subversively hurting their children and ultimately conditioning them to be victimized by capitalist attitudes. Our deference to material comforts and corporate opportunities as indicators of wellness renders us blind to where caretakers fail to address the emotional needs of young people. At the end of the day, Daisuke is still killed by the values his parents have instilled in him. It’s always the “captain’s” (literal or figurative) orders that seal the deal and cut off any of his autonomous doubt or dictation (for example, his desire to listen to Swansea and not go in the vent). His parents’ symbolic and saccharine gestures mean very little in the scheme of creating a person who can survive the pressures of the “real world” when malicious actors (JIMMY.) and the capitalist enterprise as a whole bear down on the cracks of an emotionally taxing youth.

A/N: Maybe I’m thinking about all of this too hard, but the beauty of Mouthwashing is that I’m never quite sure that’s the case as this game feels so deliberate. Anyway, as somebody who has clinically diagnosed PTSD stemming from childhood, this has always been a really important analysis to posit and I finally found the time to put it into words. I feel like Daisuke as a symbol is often overlooked by the fandom. He’s enjoyed, yes, but not really broken down like the others are. That diminishing of his importance and his feelings about the situation also feels like a symptom of his age. But that’s neither here nor there—like I said, I believe I could do a much more in-depth analysis of Daisuke as a victim of subtle abuse but this will have to do for now. A lot of my major points have been made, anyway! Perhaps video format would be best for something longer-form. 🌺

[spaghettito3]

It's always been Curly (Pre-crash Curly x Reader)

Captain Curly, the dependable captain of The Tulpar. That's who he was and will ever be.  ... Until you joined The Tulpar.

---

Or; a small look into Curly and his relationship with his name and title, with sprinklings of fluff.

ao3

It's always been Curly. Cur–ly; two syllables, a trip up and down the steps, the natural progression of things, finishing off a dance with a bow. It's Curly from the hiring manager of that fast food place when he'd made it just in time for his interview when he was 18, dressed in a suit; It's Grant from that awkward girl in middle school who decided she liked him after seeing him score a goal, then Curly once she knew him a bit more; It's Captain from his crew, and back to Curly again when they want to get on his good side. He was Curly.

He doesn't know how it all began, but eventually people started to favour his last name. It made sense, though; a name like Curly fits the bill for a dude with golden curls. He didn't mind that shift, either—two syllables always sounded better, together, than one, alone. He was Curly.

Grant is that one person sitting on the seat closest to the pick-up area of a coffee shop that you'd see for half a second when you go to get your drink. Curly is that dependable captain of The Tulpar with a crew that relies on him. Grant is that flower pot bought at a market years ago, left sitting at the back of the closet. Curly is a bundle of flowers packed perfectly in paper from that same market, just a few, more-populated stalls away. He was Curly.

So if that's the case, why do you insist on holding onto Grant so tightly?

When you introduced yourself to him and the crew last minute—courtesy of the Pony Express—you referred to him as Grant. Grant; one syllable, an unceremonious fall down the stairs, an abrupt stop, finishing off a dance with a trip. He'd been so used to everyone referring to him as Captain or Curly that a single word alone felt similar to when the wind back on Earth would sometimes suddenly pick up and make a mess of his perfectly styled hair. And despite seeing the mess you've made, you'd continue as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Grant this, Grant that. No mention of that blond curly-haired captain, save for the one you were choosing to call Grant at the moment.

It didn't bother him; he didn't let it bother him, not when he had a job to do and bills to pay and a freighter to man. Hell, it wasn't even about your usage of the name as well; just the reasoning behind why when everyone else called him Curly. Though it was starting to become less like a small gust of wind and more like a rocky, thorny, bordering-on-uncomfortable bump in the road, and his brain soon added that train of thought to the things he'd think about when he'd try to sleep.

He eventually cracked one sleepless night down by the kitchenette with you.

There wasn't anything special that triggered it; no mocking tone he'd sooner expect someone like Jimmy to use back at home, just a simple:

“Hey, Grant. Couldn't sleep as well?”

“Why do you call me that?”

He remembers the slight falter in your smile when he’d lost himself. Curly wouldn't start the conversation with that if he decided it was even a good idea to have that conversation at all. Your act wasn't hurting anyone; it was just a name. There was no need to confront you.

Though as much as he hated ever asking and wanted to take it back, to his dismay, you took it on the chin and chuckled. “It's your name.” Your eyes remained on his, your mug clink-clink-clinking as you stirred on it.

“Everyone calls me Curly.”

“Everyone calls you Curly,” you repeated. That's when you dropped your gaze, and he hated how his eyes immediately followed the line of sight down onto your mug, as if desperate to chase it. You continued stirring on your coffee—surely it's at a drinkable temperature by now—and he debated on getting his own cup. It'd be a waste of time to try to sleep now; no way that he wouldn't overthink and repeat this conversation ad infinitum in his mind.

Eventually, you looked up and he met your eyes at an embarrassing speed. His gaze flickered onto your lips when they quirked into a smile, as if you remembered something funny. You then, with a gentle hand, slid your mug over to him.

“What if Grant gets lonely?”

That was the stupidest thing you could've said.

After all, weren't Grant and Curly the same person? Why the need for that distinction? That's when he realised your eyes were still meeting his; unwavering, curious. You weren't looking at the curly blond hair, the Pony Express uniform, or the body he'd worked so hard to get—just his eyes.

Grant wanted to laugh—actually, he did laugh, it seemed, when a chuckle bubbled out of him.

“That makes no sense.”

He reached for the mug you offered and took a sip. Then, he lowered his cup to speak, his voice softer this time:

“...But I'm sure Grant appreciates the company.”

That was the stupidest thing he could've said. You told him as such with your own chuckle.

“I'll keep on sticking by Grant, then.”

His eyes flickered onto your lips again, and it became abundantly clear that you’d grin every time you said the name Grant; first, an ‘o’ shape with your mouth for the ‘gr’, then you'd widen the shape for ‘an’—before finally grinning to enunciate the ‘t’. Grant; one syllable, a hop down the stairs, a period in a sentence, finishing off a dance with the last step. He teared his eyes away and brought the mug to his lips again, a faint heat rising to his cheeks, but it was too late; now he wouldn't be able to stop noticing your smile every time you said his name or the way you said it.

Ever since then, every time he'd hear a “Grant!” he'd turn his head that way—no longer out of a sense of obligation, but because he wanted to. Because maybe if he turned fast enough he'd catch a glimpse of your smile mid-Grant… But then he'd probably turn his head right back, eyes wide in a panic, because oh god he's not supposed to be anticipating his crewmate’s smile like this.

He’ll think about the implications of his feelings as the captain of The Tulpar later, but for now… It's not so bad being Grant.

[spaciebabie]

maybe its just the cptsd talking (its always talking, Help Me) but i cannot help but continuously think about anya mouthwashing and that fucking scene between her and curly in the cockpit. i cant think of anything more devastating for an abuse survivor ta go thru. to know that people care so little for you and how you feel and the ways that you have been hurt that they will allow someone who abused you to stay on board a ship when you tell them that you want them gone. if i had been in anyas shoes i would have been pissed. and you know what!! i am pissed!! because the same fucking thing happened to me!! anya was driven to the point of fearing for her life because curly couldnt grow a fucking spine and tell an abuser ta beat it. thats what happened dude. and its so. ohhhh its such good story telling. and it rings so true as someone who has survived exactly this situation. and the way anya talks in this scene...."i know you're not going to protect me, so i might as well protect myself" (paraphrasing here) said thru gritted teeth. said thru tears that threaten to spill from her eyes. spat with venom, anger, hatred, even. and the abuse did continue. and she was right. but nobody will ever listen because anya will let anyone and everyone walk all over her because its what she feels she deserves. deep down. and she realizes that the only one who really has her back 100% is her. because everyone else who claims to care is fucking lying. and it was proven to her when curly said that he would "talk to jimmy" its rage enducing. i cant imagine what she was thinking nursing curly that whole time. the rage. the fact that his life was at her fingertips. it must have felt good. to have all that. to be able to decide if someone like him lived, died, suffered, the same way he did to her. there is absolutely no shot that she thought about killing him. she thought about it, and was probably so fucking angry and pissed, but then. as she always did as she learned to do redirected the hurt and anger at herself and took her own life. and makes me feel seen in a way that i have never felt seen before.

[naggingatlas]

'thats not his role in the story!' hm i wonder what the point of it is then. hm i wonder what the dead pixel scene means. hm i wonder what wrong organ are trying to say with the context of 'awesome male friendship' and 'corporate hell where the only woman onboard is constantly under ridicule, abused or forcibly forgotten yet is the catalyst' if not this. hm i wonder how curly's physical agony being a direct parallel to anya's mental agony, stripped of voice, agency, just like her, and being forced to watch what happens while not doing jack shit, just like he used to, plays a part in this. i wonder what the moral of him being the final girl says about living with the consequences of your inaction, because of sentimentality, because of status, career and social. hm i wonder whatever the fuck this game was trying to say. hm i wonder what else is on this person's blog Oh Lord there's yaoi penice.

[small-birdie]

mouthwashing is a game that deserves to be popular because it sounds incredible but holy shit does it also sound like someone designed it in a lab to be my worst nightmare specifically

[eddiernunson]

"Do You Want One?" | Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader | 18+

Summary: your cousin shows you around Hawkins High for your first day, and is surprised to say the least when her sweet cousin hooks onto Eddie Munson. Just seeing him brings a swoop to your stomach you've never quite felt before, and become desperate for more of him.

Warnings: late bloomer!reader, virgin!reader, mentions never having experienced lust of the sort or really understanding what it is, corruption!kink, little praise, taking of virginity, slight perv!eddie

Authors' note: I, myself didn't feel any sort of sexual attraction or lust until i was 15/16. I tried to write the reader innocent without being infantilized. Also, these photos are for aesthetics only, not much of the reader is described, except for height. Also, my editor pulled through, despite her busy schedule, thanks @forget-you-morelike-fuck-you! This is a birthday present to @bebe07011, always one of the first to read <3

Word Count: 9k

The subtle, yet annoying ring of your alarm yanks you out of your sleep, a sleep that took hours to settle into after anxious tossing and turning. A yawn overtakes your body as you sit up, looking around sleepily at the boxes that contain the contents of your room. You whine as the stars overflow your vision from the rubbing of your eye.

Your tongue clicks against the roof of your mouth, tasting the mint of your mouthwash when your mom pushes a bagel into your hand. Most of the kitchen is still in boxes, just a few appliances on the unnaturally bare counters. “Hey, Aunt Karen just called and said Nancy will be here any minute.” She offers, and a part of you feels for the bags under her eyes.

“Thanks.” You say, garbled with a piece of bagel in your mouth.

“Oh, and Mike is being a little testy, so he probably won’t move from the front seat for you.” She laughs, shaking her head.

You shrug, not caring. “I’ve been in the backseat for this long.”

Two honks out the front announce their arrival, and you ignore the anxious reminders she hurriedly spits out as you grab your backpack by the front door, already filled with school supplies from Texas. You shout an I love you to her as the Wheelers’ Station Wagon comes into your sight from the swung open door, finally out of her worried clutches that you’ve been in from the last week straight.

True to Aunt Karen’s word, Mike gave a defiant look when Nancy demanded he get out the front seat. Again, you didn’t care. “Sorry Mike has a ruler up his ass.” Nancy apologizes, her smirk reaching your own in the rearview.

You roll your eyes, a signal that it really doesn’t matter to you.

Hawkins, miniscule in comparison to that of your old home, Houston, passes by in the windows and you huff a sigh out at how much smaller your world has gotten. Your town, your school…you wish you could go back and give a reality check to the girl who patronized Nancy for it on the phone.

As promised, Nancy shows you to the front office and your first few classes. Being the new girl in the middle of a semester is absolute bullshit, but at least it wasn’t Forks, Washington levels of bullshit. That level of attention would’ve had you crawling under a bridge. Thank God only one teacher asked you to introduce yourself to the class. The rest of them couldn’t even be bothered.

Nancy sits alone at lunch, a notepad in her hand next to a near empty lunch tray. One thing you notice is that this school is much more categorized than yours was. It felt straight out of a high school dramedy, one you would criticize for being cliché.

Oh. Maybe it does some have truth to it.

“Hey loner.” You greet her, your butt hitting the hard plastic chair.

“I’m not a loner.” She huffs, hand moving absentmindedly as she writes. “My news team is getting this week’s paper done, we usually get it done during lunch.”

You roll your eyes, having noted the empty space on her tray. “You work too hard.”

“Nope. If you fail to plan, you plan to fail.” She answers, her signature side smirk on her face. Sometimes, only sometimes, Nancy doesn’t really have a serious bone in her body.

You gesture to the cafeteria, opening your fruit cup. “So, tell me about your very categorized cafeteria.”

She laughs, pausing in the middle of the sentence she’s writing. “So. There’s the jocks/cheerleaders, the nerds, the band nerds, drama nerds, science nerds—"

“Those are different from the regular nerds?” You ask, eyebrow quirked.

“Yes.” She deadpans. “Those are the kids without a clique,” she points, a bunch of kids not interacting, shyly nibbling at their lunches. “And finally, where my brother sits. Hellfire.”

It felt dramatic, but the table definitely earned their last but not least position. They stand out from the crowd, not seeming to care about fitting in like everyone else so desperately does. From the looks of it, individually, none of them would fit in the crowd. As a group, they stick out like a sore thumb. They don’t even care.

Nancy seems to be speaking, but she fades into the background. While you tricked yourself into believing you were observing the table, it occurs to you your eyes are fixated on the head of it, your heart beating out of your chest as you stare at him.

Him.

“Who’s he?” You interrupt Nancy, watching as his long frizzy hair curtain over his face. You didn’t even know someone in real life could be this good looking, you were sure it was reserved for celebrities in magazines.

Nancy switches her glance back and forth between your slack jaw and wide eyes and him. “That’s Eddie Munson.” She answers, her voice calculated. “The dork that I complained about Mike copying, remember?”

Your tongue reaches out to lick your lips, staring at him distractedly. A hot feeling in the swell of your gut overwhelms your senses. “You described a wet-rat loser.”

Nancy huffs in abrupt laughter. “That’s cause he is!”

“Him?” You ask, this hot feeling starting to radiate. You notice it’s especially hot in your crotch, a sort of…want you’ve never felt before. You’ve never craved for anyone this badly.

Nancy laughs in disbelief, surprised to say the least that her sweet cousin is openly drooling over Eddie The Freak Munson of all people. “I can put in a good word, if you want.” She teases, smirking at the way your eyes widen in panic.

“No, no, please don’t.” You insist, your eyes finally flickering back to her.

“Fine, you can drool from afar.” She muses. “Oh, lunch’ll be over in a handful of minutes. What’s your next class?”

“History.” You answer, viewing your crumpled schedule. God, not another boring lecture.

Nancy bites her lip, something she’s clearly not willing to share with the class. You don’t ask, still trying to catch your breath.

She walks you across the school to the classroom littered with historical figures and maps. She salutes you, telling you she’ll see you in AP Calculus right after this one. The look on her face never leaves it, she’s always got a secret right under the surface, but this one seemed more entertaining than the rest.

When you enter the classroom, the teacher tells you there’s assigned seats in this one and lucky for you, there’s one seat left. She directs you to the far-left corner, signalling to the one on the right. You shyly ignore the looks on your new classmates faces, all of them observing the face of the new kid who started so late in the year.

New faces are always hard to ignore, it’s just human nature to stare. Still, your stage fright is present in the forefront of your mind.

Your teacher starts the lecture by introducing you as a new kid, offering a wave to everyone that turns their head to look at you. Why can’t teachers just learn to be normal?

Your head is turned down, leaning on your elbow as she starts to explain a concept you’ve already learned last year. Are they sure they put you in a grade 12 class? At least this will be easier than most. Suddenly the heavy door opens, and your heart stutters as the man who’s taken over your every thought stumbles into the room ten minutes late.

“Mr. Munson! How nice of you to join us!” She greets, her scowl indicating that it’s anything but.

“You are so welcome, Miss. Greyson.” Eddie answers, his voice dripping in a tenor tone that sends a shiver down your spine. Not a lick of sarcasm comes from him, answering as if she was genuine.

She sighs, closing her eyes in exasperation. “Just go have a seat.”

Something in you suddenly realizes that the only available seat is right next to yours. A thrill takes over you, biting your lip excitedly as he struts as if he has all the time in the world.

After a brief stint on the projector, Miss. Greyson instructs the class to open their textbooks and answer questions on the following pages. “You may work in pairs.” She answers the many raised hands, and the room is filled by the harsh sound of desks groaning against the floor.

You get up from your desk, leaning into the teacher as she gathers the laminated sheets she had just used for the lesson. “I don’t have a textbook, yet.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry.” She replies, dropping her pile to shuffle off to her desk. “I completely forgot, in all the excitement.” She hands you the textbook that looks about fifteen years old, the spine cracked to oblivion. She leans in as you grab it, an apologetic look on her face. “I’m sorry about the placement of your desk, just ignore him. There was no one I hated in this classroom enough to place next to him.”

You resist the urge to raise an eyebrow, perplexed at her open disdain for him. It reminded you of the tone of voice Nancy had over the phone, wondering if the whole school was really this open about it. “I’ll live.” You answer, and she winks like you two share a secret.

Your textbook lands harshly on the desk, opening it to the page indicated in white chalk written on the blackboard. God, the reading is four pages, and the questions are a paragraph each. This much reading on the downfall of Mycenae? A jarring noise to your left surprises you, looking up to face his desk come closer and closer.

He leans over, a smile on his face that sends a thrill right through you. “So, how come I’ve never seen you around?”

He talks low, you spend the time hoping he doesn’t notice the goosebumps that trails over your skin. “Uh, I just started today.” You beg yourself to seem normal, to look him in the eyes like a decent conversationalist. You can’t bring yourself to, no matter how hard you try. Somehow you know when you finally look in those eyes of his, you’ll be too mesmerized to look away.

The printed words on the page make no sense, just a blur of boring text in black and white.

He leans back in his chair; you can feel his eyes planted on you. “Ah, makes sense. I would’ve remembered seeing your pretty face around.”

Oh my god he just called me pretty. Surely, he’s lying? Being in his line of sight and being considered good looking enough to him for him to even glance at was never in your wildest imagination, picturing him glazing right over you. Just a bug on the windshield. You gulp, pretending to be infatuated with the page in front of you instead of the man next to you.

“You shy?” He asks. In the corner of your eye, you see him leaning onto his elbow, his eyes staring a hole in your head.

Finally, you tear your glance off the textbook and onto him. God were you right about his eyes. How can a pair of brown eyes be so captivating? They’re a perfect chocolate brown, his mouth in a lopsided expression that sucks the air out of your lungs. “A little.” You admit, distracted by the sound of his fingers tapping rhythmically on the desk.

His limber fingers are dressed in chunky silver rings, the sight of his hands moving distractedly suddenly sends the heat you felt in your stomach earlier into a frenzy, the pull strong and overwhelming. “I can work with that.” A shy smile lands on your face, clenching your teeth as a method of resisting the urge to smile ear to ear. “Can I get a name?”

You tell him and hearing it from his lips is a vice and a half. “And you’re Eddie.” You say before he can introduce himself.

“So, my reputation precedes me.” He laughs, crossing his arms. “Or am I exactly like they said?”

You shrug. “Not exactly.”

His shoulders indicate a silent huff of laughter. “Care to expand on that?”

You shrug again. “You’re just…different.”

The look on his face indicates this answer isn’t good enough, but he doesn’t care to ask you to expand any further. As you work on your homework, finally settling your heartbeat and breathing rate, he writes in a notebook littered with graffiti. His left foot rests on the edge of his desk, the book resting on his thigh as he writes with the dull pencil.

He’s not doing any homework, but he’s at least letting you work on yours. The bell finally rings, dismissing you from your class and the room fills with chatter as everyone packs their bags. “You know where your next class is?”

You shake your head; having told Nancy you could work it out on your own. “Uh, no. It’s AP Calculus with Mr. Warner.”

“Mr. Warner.” He muses, his notebook in one hand and carrying a small metal tin. “Here, I’ll walk you.”

You pause, gulping as your bag rests on one shoulder. “You don’t have to do that.” You insist, suddenly realizing he’s about a whole head taller than you.

He smiles, his gaze making you feel…hot. “I didn’t ask, sweetheart.”

The way you gulp, your wide eyes darting back and forth between his, your teeth biting on your bottom lip nervously, Eddie was startled at the physical reaction and it was all going straight to his dick. The urge to shove his thumb between your pretty, plump lips is overwhelming, to say the least.

“Oh.” You answer, fingernails digging into the strap of your backpack. “Then lead the way.”

Eddie shakes his head, starting down the hallway to the other end of the school. As soon as he reaches the classroom, he turns around, leaning against the locker on his arm, neck hunching over you. Oh god, he’s gorgeous. “Will you let me take you out on a date, tonight?”

Every bone in your body wants to say yes, fingers just itching to reach out and touch his lithe hips. “My mom won’t let me go out on a Monday.”

So, that was not a No. “I would’ve asked for Friday, but I can’t wait that long.”

His admission drives you crazy, that heat ever present. Things like this just don’t happen. “Neither can I.” You admit, feeling scared of the rush that overwhelms you, yet scared of the idea of it never happening. You think quickly, biting your lip. “Think you can pick me up from my cousin’s house?”

He squints, crossing his arms as he leans against the locker. “Who’s your cousin?"

“Nancy Wheeler.”

His eyes bug out of the sockets, sighing in disbelief. “You’re cousins with Wheeler?” You nod, wondering if there’s any unspoken animosity between them. “I’ve dropped her kid brother off a few times, I know where she lives. You gonna tell your mom where you’re heading out for the night?”

You shake your head, sure he knows the answer, already.

Eddie huffs, hoping the crotch of his pants won’t give him away. “You ever snuck out before?”

“No.” You answer, looking up as the bell rings. “But I’m sure I can manage.”

You can’t place the expression on his face, somewhere between bewildered and amused.

For the record, it’s pure lust, having just met you and he’s already accidentally convincing you to sneak out for him. He wants you to, wondering if one day you’ll go so far to skip class to have fun with him under the bleachers.

His eyes leer down your body, watching as your skirt dances across your bare thighs while your feet can’t stay in place. He plays with his fingers absentmindedly, just barely resisting the urge to move them past the barrier and watch your face melt in pleasure.

“What time?” Eddie asks, eyes flickering up to your sweet face.

You think about it, knowing you’ll need time to grab at least a dress and get ready at the Wheelers’. “7:30.”

Eddie laughs, turning away from you and back down the hall to where you presumed his class was. “Pick you up at 7.”

“I-I said 7:30!”

“I’ll honk twice!” He answers, hand in his pocket like he didn’t just glue you into place.

The echo of his voice suddenly reminds you the halls are empty, only a few feet away from Mr. Warners classroom. You know more than anyone that AP Calculus students just aren’t late. Maybe he’ll give you grace on your first day.

You ignore the way every set of eyes switch to you, looking around the room for an empty seat. Luckily, Nance has saved one right next to you. “Hi, sorry. Couldn’t find it.”

“That’s alright, take this and have a seat right next to Miss.Wheeler, there.” He offers, gesturing to your cousin.

When the lecture ends and he assigns homework, she gets right to the point. “So, how was History?”

You sigh, rolling your eyes in exasperation. “You knew he’d be there.” You accuse, her grin affirming your assumption completely. “A warning would’ve been nice.”

“Not like you had to speak to him.” Nancy sighs, opening her textbook to the page indicated.

You stare at her pointedly, opening your book to a random page. “I sat next to him.”

Nancy instinctively knows something is up, seeing something was on your mind. “There’s something you’re not telling me.”

“You’ve barely given me a chance.” You comment sarcastically, looking over at her expectant face. “He…he asked me out.”

To say Nancy is surprised at this development would be simply, an understatement. “I’m sorry?”

You grin, finally letting that smile you’ve been hiding take over. “He’s picking me up at 7.”

“Like your mom will let you go out on a weekday.” She squints, knowing your mom’s tendencies to make you prioritize school over anything else.

“…which is why I need you to cover for me.” You hesitate, grinning shyly when she gives you a look of utter disbelief.

“Seriously?” You nod, pleading with her silently. “Fine. But you owe me big.”

You promise to make it up to her.

When the bell rings signifying the end of the day, your heart beats rapidly as the time for your date comes closer and closer. Nancy said she wouldn’t be able to help with your conundrum of the fact that you’ll need a dress and a way to get from your house to Nancy’s.

As you sit next to her while she writes a rough copy of an article wondering who you could possibly get to drive you. You might be shit out of luck. Like an angel, a freckled redhead appears out of nowhere. “Nance, is that the cousin?” She asks, sitting right across from you.

From the look on Nancy’s face, you’re unsure how close they actually are. “Yep.”

“Cool! I’m Robin, over-sharer, anxiety ridden, fast talker. Nice to meet ya.”

You take her extended hands, sort of hypnotized by her warm green eyes. “You too.”

“Hey, Steve busy?” Nancy asks, a million thoughts behind her head.

“Probably not.” Robin offers, getting up from the table. “Why?”

“Oh, she needs a ride.”

Robin eyes you, a smirk landing on her face. “I can convince him.” She side eyes, gesturing for you to follow.

You follow her around the school to the front where you face a handsome lanky dude sitting impatiently as he waits for his friend. When he turns the window down to ask who you are, you realize he’s not just handsome, he’s hot. God, you’ll have to reprimand Nancy for leaving that detail out. “What’s with the guest?”

“She’s Nance’s cousin. She needs a ride, would you mind?”

“What am I, a chauffeur?” Steve asks, face shifting into a deep scowl.

You stop Robin from responding, having an immediate comeback. “I had to listen to my cousin bitch about you for hours. Hours. I think I deserve a little compensation for my time, don’t you?”

Steve smirks, looking from under the hair falling into his face. “Whatever, get in.”

“Where you need a ride to?” He asks as you get into his backseat.

“My house.” You pause, hesitating to say the second location. “Then Nancy’s house.”

Steve squints suspiciously at you in his rear view. “Why two locations?”

“So my date can pick me up tonight.” You admit, glancing out the window shyly.

Robin turns in her seat, jaw dropping open. “Isn’t this your first day?”

You shrug, biting back a smile. “So?”

“Oh shit.” She glances to Steve and back to you. “Who? Do we know him?”

“Um, probably.”

“We know him.” Robin states.

“Turn here, third house on the left…” you tell him, getting out of his car as soon as it stops.

When you get inside your house, you explain to your mom you are way further behind on school than you thought you were and will need some time to get caught up. She asks how late you’ll be, and when you say midnight, she doesn’t even hesitate to let you go.

Thank god you don’t lie, because this should not be this easy. Your hands ruffle through the box of dresses by your bed, grabbing at a few you know look good on you. They’re stuffed into your backpack, cursing yourself for not unpacking your makeup earlier. Hopefully Nancy will be nice enough to lend you some. (You doubt it.)

You rush a love you out to your mom and back into Steve’s back seat, out of breath from running up and down the stairs so damn fast. God, the things you were doing for your goddamn date.

Nancy only lives down a few blocks from you, thus the easy carpool your moms figured out until you get your car. God, in Houston you could’ve just taken a METRORail, you didn’t need a damn car. You thank Steve profusely, thankful for his saving grace.

You would rather tell every member of Hawkins Senior class personally a fun fact about you than go out with Eddie in the same thing you wore to school. You’re shy, not pathetic.

“You don’t owe him anything if you tell us who asked you out.” She calls out of her open window, face full amusement. “C’mon!”

You wait as they pull forward, Steve shaking his head at his best friend’s shenanigans. “It’s Eddie Munson!” You shout, laughing as she shouts a what in utter disbelief.

You wave as they take off, thinking you and her could actually be great friends. She has the kind of spunk you look for in a friend, the same spunk you’ve witnessed in your cousin. A large part of you wonders why they’re not friends.

When your Aunt Karen wonders why she wasn’t alerted, you give the disclaimer you’re just there to catch up on the schoolwork. Your Uncle Ted insinuates Houston must be so far behind Hawkins, and you grit a smile in response, an indent on the tip of your tongue from your teeth. Most of your lessons from the school day you had learned last year, already earning top marks on those questions. The only class that was remotely hard was calculus.

It was borderline hilarious.

You run up the stairs, stomach in knots.                                                                         

Nancy is nice enough to let you use her makeup, grinning up at you with amusement as you ruffle through the dresses you so hurriedly packed. She gives a definite yes to a dress you knew stands out but worry at the way it just brushes against your thigh, and the neckline dives deeper than what you’re used to.

When it cascades down your body, the look in her stark green eyes tells you everything you need to know. This was the dress. Nancy is kind enough to do your hair, talking quietly with you as she curls your hair.

The half hour leading up to 7 has you lying on her bed, freaking out. She does the homework you’re supposed to be doing, answering your questions vaguely. She tries to make you feel better, grinning cheekily as she never imagined her sweet cousin going on date with Hawkin’s resident metal head.

When two honks occur down the street, you sit up starkly at the sound, biting your lip as you glance to her. “Go. I’ll distract my parents.”

She does, asking them for faux advice in the living room as you sneak past them to the front door, closing it with the most care you could muster. When you don’t hear any commotions, that gives you the go ahead to run down the street to the large van that sticks out, headlights on as it sits idly.

You peer up at him through the passenger window, waving as he unlocks it for you. The lopsided smile on his face starts that heat up again, like he turns on burners all over your body at will. The door shuts behind you, and you smile up at him shyly when he turns down the music.

“You look…wow.” He compliments you, watching the way your eyes look up at him, that beautiful shine.

You assess his outfit, a leather jacket worn with a graphic t-shirt and jeans with rips at the knee. He looked casual, but damn fine regardless. Him losing his metal accessories and devil-may-care look probably would’ve disappointed you, anyway. “So do you.” You offer back, taking in the way he looks as he starts his van and pulls out.

“Thanks.” He winks, turning at a traffic intersection. “So, there are several places we can go, the movies, Hal’s Diner, Benny’s Burgers, bowling alley, the Drive In, up to you, sweetheart.” He insists, driving his van around the small town.

The only thing you want at the current moment is to be in close quarters with him, with the need to kiss him crazy, a need you’ve experienced far too much this quickly. There’s only one thing that allows that. “Drive in.” You decide, the prospect of those same close quarters sending a thrill down your spine.

Eddie signals left, the drive-in location the opposite way from where he’s been driving. “Sounds good, love.”

Eddie doesn’t ignore the way you subtly avoid eye contact from him, shyly looking at your near bare thighs. By the way, were you trying to get a rise out of him with this wonderfully slinky dress you’re wearing? The moment you crawled into his van he was overthrown by your sweet perfume and the way your dress smooths over your gorgeous curves. It’s too hard, impossibly hard, to resist leaning in for your sweet scent, to nuzzle his nose in your neck. The idea that you don’t want to leave the intimacy of the van any more than he does is enough to bring the urge to readjust the crotch of his jeans.

By the time he pulls up into the far corner of the lot, turning on his radio so it connects with the movie mid-beginning credit scene, you take in the sparce parking lot, only a few vehicles spread apart sporadically. Well, you wanted intimate. You wanted close, now you've got it. His freshly showered self with the mix of his cologne just adding fuel to the ever-increasing fire.

This fire suddenly sends the need to squeeze your legs together, not completely understanding the feeling, but there’s an inkling. An instinct that on some level you know what it is, but no one ever warned you it could be this intense.

The first act of the movie is shared by you and Eddie laughing at the same jokes together, grabbing candy from his hands when he offers it. You sip on a straw in a glass coke bottle, if only to calm the nerves combined with heat that has completely overshadowed any sense you seem to have. Eddie leans back comfortably in his fabric covered seat, a hand landing on your bare thigh.

Oh, that turned up the heat several notches. It starts to become clearer that this heat is what can now be more clearly defined as a want. A want for…more of his hands, further up, him, close to you. Closer.

As your thighs tense and clench under his touch, Eddie can’t hold back any more like he planned. His other hand is tucked under your chin, lifting your big eyes to look up at his. His thumb brushes against your bottom lip, your mouth parting as you look up at him with stars in your eyes. “Can I?”

Your eyebrows furrow, breath stuttering as you peer up at him. You nod your head, glancing at his shiny pink lips. Every inch of air is tugged from your lungs as he leans forward, lips open as he places them on yours.

Eddie had every intention of kissing you delicately, the way he knows you deserve to be kissed, gently and patiently. As soon as the whimper leaves your throat and vibrates into his mouth, he forgets his good intentions. The kiss turns dirty, fast, the pressure of his spread hand increasing in the best fucking way, making your body fold involuntarily towards him.

Just when you’re enjoying the feeling of his tongue against yours, mewling pathetically against his lips, Eddie starts to kiss down your throat. You sigh, leaning back as that heat finally gains a resolve. Oh, god you're horny. Is that what that is? No wonder teenage boys are such perverts.

The combination of teeth and tongue is everything you needed and more; every muscle feeling like jelly as his lips and hands work like magic over you. Eddie licks a strip up to your ear, a startled and blissful moan filling up the car. He skips right past the pleasantries, past any inclination that you were anything other than wild for eachother. “You ever touch yourself, sweetheart?”

Only God knows why, but the dirty sentence just makes you hungrier for him, more eager. However, the answer to that jarring question is an honest and stuttered, “No.”

 Eddie separates from you, giving you a look, you can’t quite place. “Wait, really?” You confirm it, breathing heavily, gasping as his eyes visibly darken. “So, you’ve never cum before?”

The sentence makes your eyes widen, gulping at that gorgeous face of his. You think you know what he means, but you still need clarification.

“Orgasm, princess. Have you ever had an orgasm?” He asks, a hand placed on your cheek as he watches your reaction.

Oh. That’s what you thought. That’s an absolute and definitive, “No.”

His fingers increase their pressure, a reflex of from his reaction. God, you’re more innocent than he even knew. The idea of even teaching you what it means to get off sends a swoop through his gut, picturing you looking at him with those wide eyes as he corrupts you.

God, does he want to corrupt you. He wants to corrupt every inch of you, turn you into someone who begs him to skip class so you can guzzle on his cock. The way you stare up at him waiting for a response, eyes glazed over as you wait for him to continue kissing you, as if you don’t even remember you’re at a drive in to begin with.

His cock has never hurt so much from the blood pulsing through it, probably an angry red at this point.

“Can I give you one?” He asks, thumb starting to rub on your bottom lip again.

“An-an orgasm?” You stutter, voice squeaking through the question. He’s gorgeous, the way he stares down at you, those same chocolate brown eyes making that heat pool. Despite the fear, the arousal is greater. “Uh, sure.”

He smirks, watching your eyes dart back and forth nervously. “You’re sure?”

“Yes.” You confirm, pulling him for the kiss you so desperately crave. You weren’t sure how it happens, your hands having a damn mind of their own. Despite him pulling away, he slips back into the kiss easily, the hand on your thigh and hand on your face making you feel dizzy.

You’ve had kisses before, but you knew you were missing something in them. At last, you’ve found it, desperately clinging onto his kiss. God, he’s good at making you turn into mush, relaxing into his seats almost completely.

His hand inches up your thigh, waiting for you to protest. Your breath hitches as he gets closer and closer. “I'm gonna make you feel so good.” He promises, his hot breath turning you into a liquid. Finally, his hand lands on the cotton of your underwear, his strokes tugging mewls into his open mouth. “Shit, you’re soaked, baby. You even know how much you want me? Probably confusing, hmm?”

He puts pressure at the top, rubbing small circles and it feels like fire is set to your center, gasping as your concentration falls apart. His fingers feel good, in a way you didn’t think was possible. Words in your mind echo the thought of how damn good he feels, mouth attempting to tell him, but nothing comes out but wanton gasps.

Eddie watches you wither in his chair, legs opening for him. Sure, giving you an orgasm is a fierce turn on, but knowing you’ve never experienced any type of pleasure or want is sent straight to his cock. He remembers learning how good it felt to start rubbing his cock when it got hard, how often he started doing it when he realized it led to something.

All he wants to do is turn you into a pervert, one orgasm at a time.

That same warmth that’s made home in your gut starts to build, your thighs tensing up when it occurs to you what its building to. “Fuck.” You gasp, Eddie humming at the swear that leaves your lips. “Close, and I haven’t even really touched you, hmm?” He muses, lips starting to add a second sensation on your neck with his hot and wet tongue.

He pushes your underwear aside, fingers finally making direct contact with the wet slick of your folds. “Eddie.” You gasp. The skin on skin makes your head spin, clutching onto his leather jacket with desire. The pleasure jumps up thirty notches, that build reaching an all-time high. Nothing has ever felt better, never so fantastic. Again, now you understand why teenagers are such perverts.

“Let me see you cum, I can feel it coming, baby.” He whispers, licking his lips.

He slides a finger deep in you, the sudden intrusion alien but welcome. On the edge, you become even more completely desperate for him. How was his finger even better? How was that possible? The feat thrills you, happily and willingly giving into everything he gives you. “Damn. Baby. You look so fucking good, think you can cum for me?”

His fingers hook within you, and it pushes you over the edge you’ve been staring down, stars invading your vision, the heat you’ve felt everywhere, all at once. Your tight entrance pulses around his fingers, twitching, not aware of the loud, whiny moans that Eddie’s sure the concession stand less than twenty feet away can hear, but he’s proud of it, grinning maniacally at his hard work.

He guides you through it, thrusting his fingers as he watches you come apart under his touch. When you stop shaking, his hand rubs your pussy gently, admiring the slick that is now pooled down your thighs and even onto his chair. He smirks, catching your eye when they finally open to face him. “How’re you doing, love?”

You forget to be shy in your smile, grinning maniacally as you grab him, yanking him in for a hot, wet kiss. It’s even dirtier than before, attempting to show him how grateful you feel for his magical fingers. “That was…so…good.” You mumble, smiling wider when you can feel him do the same.

“Feels good, hmm?” He asks, his fingers still stroking you gently.

“Jesus.” You answer, thighs convulsing involuntarily.

Eddie chuckles, amused that it takes you cumming to cum out of your shell. “You’re pretty like this, you know?” You roll your eyes, and he can feel the dismissal of his compliment. “Can I eat you out, baby?” It shouldn’t be this embarrassing, but it is. You barely know any of this terminology, and he can feel you tense up below him, your once liquid limbs turning to steel. “You have no idea what that means, do you, baby?”

You shake your head, gulping in the embarrassment.

“That’s ok. Of course, I don’t mind helping you.” Eddie doesn’t mind. When he says that he’s under exaggerating, not showing an ounce of his true feelings. How much does it take for you to squirm under his dirty words? How much patience does he have before he begs you to let him shove his hardened cock down your throat. How long will it be until you’re riding him like a porn star? If he was even slightly sleezier, he’d bet on it with someone. “I’d make that pretty pussy feel even better with my tongue.”

Oh. That sounds miles better than anything your brain could’ve come up with. You bite your lip, staring up at him with pure want. “You’d do that?”

“If you’re willing to come into the back with me.” He muses, nodding his head to his elongated trunk. You turn your head, facing a fleece blanket placed on the floor of the van with a few pillows. Did he do this for you, or is it always this nice?

Eddie doesn’t think you can get any cuter, but when you nod excitedly, starting to crawl into the back before he can say anything, he’s proven dead wrong. He’s never been so happy to be wrong. As you crawl, he watches your ass, your underwear still pulled to the side as the shine on your folds is still visible in the light of the movie.

He smiles, crawling as soon as you land awkwardly on the floor of the van. You sit cross legged waiting for him, one spaghetti strap fallen off your shoulder as you bite your lip anxiously. It doesn’t help Eddie that the strap on your shoulder starts to reveal a breast, just peeking at the top of the nipple. He’s barely seen you, just at the tip of the iceberg of touching you, and he’s about to pop from the anticipation.

How are you doing this to him so easily?

Eddie leans in for a kiss, something as soft as he wanted to give you the moment he saw you sitting in the desk next to his, but his hormones got the worst of him. He kisses each bare shoulder, admiring the way you relax into it.  His long fingers reach to the already fallen strap, fingers brushing as he tugs it down further, fully exposing the partially exposed tit. Your heart races, loud, too loud, in your temple and you wonder if he can hear it.

Eddie can’t, as heartbeats are usually inaudible to the naked ear. He can hear, however, the way those sweet breaths get louder, faster, and even more utterly pathetic for him. Eddie feels a goal take over his mind like a parasite, one he welcomes with a bed made. He plans to make you moan and whine louder so that everyone within ten miles can hear how good you feel, what a good whore you are—he’s getting ahead of himself.

Right now, he focuses on making you feel comfortable, helping you become at ease so you will never be self-conscious with him, never afraid of being too loud, or too eager. He can’t imagine ever thinking otherwise with you. He thought he knew the definition of impossible, but now he knows he had no clue.

Every sensible, distinguishable thought has left your brain, too focused on how good his tongue and teeth feel as he expertly works on your beaded nipple. His brain is going a million miles per hour, yours left behind in the middle of a desert. His hand guides the other strap down your shoulder, fully exposing your chest, the soft material falling so it sits wrapped around your hips.

Teeth scrape against the curve of your breast, as if his tongue is attempting to taste every inch, every centimetre of it. One hand smoothing the skin just below them. Wet kisses trail down your torso, tongue dipping into your navel, the sweet swell of your stomach, his dull nails digging into your soft flesh, the pain adding to the beauty of the mixed sensations.

Your pussy is raging in fire, shouting for the same attention he had been so generous at providing. He feels your thighs tensing, attempting to provide friction for yourself where you need it the most. “Does it hurt, baby?” He asks, mouth now at the base of your neck. “Does that sweet pussy hurt for it?” You nod, rubbing your thighs like a damn cricket. “Oh, I know, I’ll make it all feel better, don’t you worry.”

He admires your face, the way your eyes are closed with the muscles beautifully crumpled up.

“Lie down for me, and I’ll eat that fucking pretty pussy.” Without hesitation, you lay down, shifting your body so you can lie comfortably on the floor of the van.

When you do, his hands tug at the fabric around your waist, not pulling it off you, just clutching it like a vice. They slink under it, fingers tight on the waistband on your panties as he pulls them down your legs. As they leave your feet, pulling them around your heels, Eddie stares at the drenched middle, fingers playing with the thick slick that had gathered. Eddie seems to have a talent for stealing the air from your lungs, doing so as you watch him taste them. “Taste so fucking good, sweets.” He makes a show of placing them into his back pocket, shooting a wink when you give him a questioning look.

He adjusts himself onto his forearms, both hands landing on the top of your thighs as his head dives in between them. Your thigh muscles tense in his hold, begging him for mercy, any kind. “Eddie…please…I need…I need—”

He chuckles, bending over your wanton body. “I love how you say my name, but I’m gonna make you scream it.” He mutters, the scent of your arousal making his vision fizzle.

Finally, finally, his tongue touches you, relishing in the immediate whine that leaves your lips. He hums against you, enjoying the way your legs move restlessly. The first touches are so delicate, your heels digging in his (still) clothed back and grinding your hips to force more contact. “That’s a girl, take what you want from me.” He praises you, hand stroking your thigh gently.

The simple instruction drives your hips to grind more, Eddie’s tongue licking up your slick folds harder in response. At this point, fire isn’t a hot enough word to describe the heat in your pussy. Eddie starts to focus on your clit, his ears suddenly muffled by your thighs abruptly closing on his head. He starts a rhythm, switching back and forth, listening to how your sweet whines answer him.

Any thoughts occurring in your head are long gone, all out of your mouth before your brain even knows you’re thinking it. You wonder how you didn’t think of this, ‘how the first thing you thought when you saw Eddie not how good he would look between your legs’?

Answer: the best thing you’ve ever seen in your life. (Spoiler, there will be better things.)

Eddie is more than happy to play with you, to listen how you react to every touch he provides. So far, his favourite sound is when his tongue enters your sopping hole, fucking it gloriously. It was the first truly uninhibited sound he managed to pull from you. Every decision he made for you was purposeful, doing his damn best to send you over the edge again. He wonders how willing he is to put off his own pleasure for the sake of yours.

Honestly, to hear you come apart repeatedly is 1000% worth it to him, even if he has to rut against the floor of the van.

“Cl-close, Eddie.” You tell him, that sudden ending sneaking up on you. “So, so, so, so, good!”

Eddie takes your admission with pride, and as the stars invade your vision, your every limb tensing as you cum, he keeps going.

In your post orgasm haze, the over sensitivity of your pussy is overwhelming. However, his continuing and relentless mouth feels so good you relish in it, absolutely sure your legs will be sore from the constant convulsing. You whimper through a hushed and delayed swear, your hands weaving through his curls and tugging on his scalp.

His thumb meets your clit, rubbing feverishly and driving another orgasm out of you faster than you ever expected. His name is music to his ears as you shout it when the orgasm takes over you. “Fuck, Eddie, mouth feels…ah!”

His brown eyes open, nose nuzzling your clit as he stares at you through those darkened eyes. His tongue licks a long stripe, chin resting the mound of your pubic bone. “Think you can handle a few more?”

Your chest heaves, struggling to catch your breath as you lift your head up to face him.  Your head feels like a weight, too heavy on your neck. Your mouth opens to answer him, but the weight of your head wins, landing back on the van.

Eddie works your clit again, watching your breasts move up and down as you struggle to catch your breath. “Maybe not that many more, hmm? Maybe just one?” …if he’s strong enough to hold back from giving you two.

Stopping at this point would give you a break you need, but at the same time you can’t bear to, Eddie’s tongue acting as a siren’s song. You’re hypnotized by him. “More, please. Please keep going.”

“I love hearing your voice beg for me. Your whimpers are the best thing I’ve ever heard in my life, sweets.”

Eddie dives in again, your choked whimpers telling any near neighbors that you simply don’t remember they exist. They’re not important enough to care about anymore.

As much as you are sensitive to every single touch, even over-stimulated, you welcome the next three orgasms he gives you. At the end of your third, or sixth, orgasm, Eddie rests his chin on your mound again, staring up at you as you recollect yourself. He’s patient, watching the light making its way back into your eyes.

Eddie nearly asks you a question, when your hand reaches out to grab him by his leather collar. He lets out a yelp of surprise, his fully clothed form an odd juxtaposition against your completely naked one. Well, save for the dress still on your waist. Your lips meet, tongues gliding against each other beautifully, and you taste yourself in his mouth. Even with your brain as foggy as it is, your body feeling as weak as it does, the number one thing you can focus on is getting those clothes off him.

Your hands fidget on the harsh leather collar, forcing it off his back. “Take it off,” you tell him, Eddie grinning cheekily in response. As soon as his jacket is off, you feel the graphic shirt start to come off with it. The reveal of his patched treasure trail, his bare skin against yours a marvel of sensations. You become impatient, attempting to hurry the process of taking his shirt off.

A symphony of laughter leaves his lips as his shirt finally is tossed off to the side, watching your eyes marvel at his tattoo littered chest. Your tits pressed against him pulls a groan from his lips, a sound that drives your legs to tug his tented jeans down against your bare pussy. If you thought his tongue felt good, it’s nothing compared to his hips against yours.

His voice is strained, dripping in husk. “Sh-shit, doll. I-I need you. Need to feel that virgin pussy wrapped around my cock. Need it so bad, please.”

Eddie begging like this being such a turn on is a surprise, to say the least. And from the pleasure he gave you, you’re willing him to do whatever he wants to you.

Whatever. He wants.

“Really? You want me?” You ask, whining as he ruts again.

“Desperately.”

Your hand moves down to the button of his jeans, undoing it with shaky hands and even shakier breathing. “You gonna take my virginity, Eddie?”

Somehow you knew this would make him crazy. You enjoyed it, enjoyed the crazy, adored his moan in approval. “I’m gonna take you, baby.” He grunts, starting to move his jeans down his ass, legs, taking his briefs with them.

He’s quick about it, tongue against your skin as he grabs the dress around your waist and slowly drags it down your legs, tongue dragging down along with it. Slyly, he holds a condom from his pants pockets between two fingers. “You ready?”

You bite your lip, making the bottom lip swell from the constant fidgeting. “I’m on birth control…” you admit, only on it to regulate a heavy flow.

He makes a show of tossing the condom over his shoulder, grinning at his crazy eyes. “Well, shit, darling.” He leans in, feeling the size of him as it brushes against your hip. He’s big, right? “Before I enter that pussy, I need you to do me a favour.”

“Hmm?” You ask, the only thing in your mind is how good his bulge felt when it rutted up against your heat. If that felt that good? Sex with Eddie…your mind goes dizzy from the need.

Eddie takes your hand resting by your head, wrapping it around his hardened length. The moan that leaves his lips is deep and rough. Your unsure fingers allow him to assist you, getting a hold of the rhythm. When you do, he lets you take over, face falling in your neck when your grip tightens. “Okay, I can’t take it any longer.” He whispers, gentle, goosebumps erupting in their wake. “Here, help me, will you?”

You don’t ask, only because you don’t have the chance to, when his hips help you brush the head of his cock against your wet entrance. You tease the two of you simultaneously, brushing it numerous times, both of you gasping in harmony. “Oh, you little tease.”

His hand replaces yours, whining as the head finally, finally brushes into your entrance. “Eddie.” You whisper, clinging onto him desperately. “S-so, so, so full.”

“Yeah?” He asks, both winded by the feel of you and by the blissed look on your face. Maybe if he kisses the middle of your eyebrow enough, he can settle every wrinkle you demonstrate from the pain beautifully mixed with pleasure. “Look at you, so drunk on it, did you ever think a cock could make you feel this good? Ever think how much you could want to be fucked so desperately?”

You shake your head, drunk on his words, drunk on his cock. “More, please.”

“Think you can take it?”

You whine impatiently, legs attempting to pull him in harder. “Eddie.”

He smiles as you fall into his trap, pushing in more than he knows he should. He can’t help it, the smile that takes over your face is the perfect reward. “I thought you were shy?”

You roll your eyes, knowing when someone is this close to you, has seen this much of you, there is barely any time to be shy. “Shut up.”

He listens, kissing you deeply as his hips start to move. Your hand weaves itself into his hair, whimpering into his ear as he hits, deeper, harder.

You can’t fully understand the sounds coming out of his mouth, the once coherent, cocky sentences turn into mumbled groans, and it’s refreshing to know he seems to want you as you did him, craved for you the same way. A string of words on repeat come from your mouth, just his name.

The only thing you seem to be able to think of is Eddie, Eddie, Eddie, EddieEddieEddieEddie…

“God, your tight pussy, I’m gonna cum soon…” At least, that’s what you think he says. “Gonna fill you up…” You tighten around him, enjoying the prospect of it. “Gonna see it dripping out of you.”

He doesn’t know how it’s possible you tighten around him more.

“God, you take me so well, it’s like you were made for me, made for my cock.”

Head? Empty. Cunt? Full.

Him? Perfect.

“Fill me up, please.”

“Listen to those dirty little words, gonna turn you into a filthy whore.” He whispers, whining together with you in bliss as his hips rut a final, harsh, jagged time.

Time seems to be endless, as he whispers in your ear, hands on his broad back when he settles, keeping his cock warm. Time is so endless; you don’t even notice the movie turning off and the subtle turnover of engines and wheels driving off past the van.

It takes a poor teenage employee to knock on the van doors, politely asking if you could leave because the drive-in is closed, and they need to lock the gate.

To say the way you avoid their eyes after hurriedly putting your dress back on turns Eddie on would be an understatement.

To say when you waltz with him hand in hand down the hallways the next day turns into a sideshow, would be an even bigger understatement.

You sit on his lap during lunch, curious to the reaction of the other boys sitting with him. When Eddie slips his hand under your skirt and plays with your clothed cunt, he knows he’s just starting to corrupt you as you attempt to seem normal.

He’s just getting started.

-

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Thanks for all the love!

[caotictimmy]

I was in fear that I was the only one with their brain completely rotted by mouthwashing and swansea appreciation 😭😭 good to know I'm not alone in this

We love Swansea😍😍 but yes guys I’m finally doing his headcanons. I’m sorry it took so long to start making it. I’m still not completely recovered from the side effects from my meds. But I love my man swansea sm. Gonna bit a little bit angsty but mostly happy. Gonna be Just like the rest of my headcanon.

Crushing - Confession

- It’s gonna take a long time for Swansea to like you. I think we all get this. He’s been through a lot in his life.

- Your guys relationship goes through stages before he starts to like you. Like different stages of trusts. But when he fully trusts you. He’s Inlove, like INLOVE with you. GOD I LOVE HIM SM.

- Swansea isn’t gonna be to noticeable he finally figures out he likes you. There will be hints. Subtle hints. But still hints.

- Like curly. He will treat you different. Not that much different. He’d be a bit nicer with you. Nicer with his sarcastic comments. Nicer with his insults. Just not being as harsh on you. He might crack a smile at you.

- Swansea will be protective. Not in a weird alpha male thing. He’s worried about your safety. Let’s say you wanted to help work on the broken vent. He will adamantly say no. He knows how dangerous some of the stuff he works on can be. He’ll let you watch but he doesn’t want you to get hurt. Not even a paper cut. ( doesn’t worry he doesn’t coddle you)

- If you ever do get hurt. If it’s not bad Swansea will help you himself (he’s trying to be romantic give this man a break.). If you accidently got cut put a bandaid or bandage on it. Scolding you for being so ‘stupid’ and getting yourself hurt. (He was really worried, you almost gave that poor man a heart attack)

- He’ll do little things for you. Saving you a seat next to him. Waiting for you to catch up to him. Saving you the last candy bar on the ship (much to Daisuke’s dismay). He doesn’t really mention that he does this stuff. And if you ask him about it he’ll deny and look at you like you’re crazy.

- Swansea is constantly thinking about you. In such a sweet way. Oh this reminds me of them. They would like this. I wonder what their doing right now. He always has you in the back of his mind. He also a romantic but he’s just emotionally stunted. PROVE ME WRONG.

- Swansea is gonna be a bit scared to try again. But you make him wanna try again. You make him feel like he’s in his prime again. So it might take a long time for him to confess.

- I think when he does confess, it would be late at night. You guys would be talking. Laughing the night away. Just having a genuine good time. He’d pause for a moment. Making you confused. You guys lock eyes

- “Y’know you can be a parasite sometimes. Always in my god damn head. You really made an old fool like me fall in love like I was back in my twenties.” He won’t directly ask you to date him but I think you get it

- When you say you wanna date him. He’ll just smirk. Wrapping an arm around you as guys continue your night. (He was absolutely terrified you’d say no.)

Dating

- Another dude he likes hearing you yap. It could be about anything. Be warned he will probably tease you. But he doesn’t do it in a mean way! His sarcasm is just his way of showing you love. But he truly does listen to you talk. Sometimes when you guys talk hell randomly bring up something you talked about like 2 months ago.

- I think his love language for receiving would be quality time and words of affirmation. And I think his giving love language would be quality time and acts of service.

- (receiving) I feel like Swansea likes you around while he’s working. Whether that be talking, listening to music, or just in silence. He likes having you around. I already talked about how much he likes listening to you talk. So that definitely plays a big role. So whether you’re yapping about how Daisuke almost broke his arm trying to get a pack of sugar, or doing your own thing next to him. He just wants you around.

- (receiving) He’s had a rough past. I think we all get that. So I firmly believe he’d love some praise. Whether that you talking about how handsome he is, or complimenting his skill. Swansea will act like he doesn’t care when you do this. But he does. He really really does. He’s not gonna tell you though.

- (giving) Said again. This man loves having you around. He’ll actively invite you to hang out with him while he’s working. Swansea is gonna act like it isn’t a big deal. But he really wants you to show up. So please don’t turn down his offers to spend time with him!!!

- (giving) Swansea will do small things for you. Saving you the last of cereal for breakfast(even after Daisuke begged to have the last of it). Doing your laundry with his, making you some food when he’s cooking. They’re not humongous gestures but he does them frequently. It’s like a second nature to him. Swansea isn’t thinking ‘I’ll wash their clothe cause I wanna be nice”. He just kinda does it. Like an unconscious part of him just makes him do these things.

- This man will always swing his arm around you. Like always. Whether that be walking down the hall together. Wrapping an arm around you during movie night(the crew definitely as movie nights sue me). He always has an arm around you. (GUYS I KNOW THIS IS SIMILAR TO CURLY GIVE ME A BREAK😭🙏)

- Do spa masks with him. He’ll call them stupid but trust me. You will have a lot of fun. It will turn into a gossip night. You can’t tell me this man doesn’t gossip at least a little bit. He doesn’t call it ‘gossip’. But this man is sassy when he’s ’talking shit’. Like Swansea bae… Just call it gossip.

- Swansea defiantly calls you nickname. Don’t get your pitch forks out yet please😔. I think his main nicknames would be toots, sweetheart. And other old timey nicknames.

- Daisuke looks up to you guys. He’s definitely more than once called you guys ‘dad and ___’ (keeping it gender neutral gang).

NSFW - DO NOT READ IF YOUR A MINOR OR UNCOMFORTABLE WITH NSFW (AFAB)

- We know this man is old. I think we ALL get it. So he’s not gonna have that much energy. But what he is gonna have. Experience and knowledge. LOT’S OF EXPERIENCE AND KNOWLEDGE. So your not gonna have to worry if your gonna be satisfied by the end of the night.

- SWANSEA PREP GAME IS ON POOOIIINNNNTTTTTT. He will make sure you are ready! I’ve said before, he does not like seeing you hurt. So I firmly believe he’ll spend a lot of time on prep. If you wanna give him some special thanks go ahead. All he’s really worried about is making it less painful for you.

- I do not believe he’s a selfish lover. No matter what anyone else says. I’ve seen people talking about how he would be selfish during sex. LOUD INCORRECT BUZZARD. Argue with a fucking wall. While he does like getting pleasured. I think he likes a good 50/50

- Cock warming king. Sometimes when he knows no one will bother him. Hell unbuckle his pants and just slide you right on. You guys haven’t been caught so🙏🙏 Try to make sure it stays that way.

- Call you a whole ass phone book ass size of pet names. PUT THE PITCH FORKS AWAY!! Honestly I feel like it just slips out. He’s not fully focusing on what to say. (I’m sorry. No im not sorry. He would not call you baby girl/baby boy during sex,.)

- Swansea prefers having these intimate moments in one of your guys bedroom. He’ll take a risk sometimes if he’s that horny. But he feels it’s more special in one of your guys room. He doesn’t get that thrill of it. (He also prefers the plushness of a bed.)

- Swansea loves holding you after sex. That post nut clarity really hits. He feels so special knowing you’re here with him. Willing to be so intimate with each other. He feels lucky that he has you. That he gets to try again.

- I feel deep in my heart he’s a grunter. I don’t think he’s like a loud one. But you’ll hear a grunt every so often, your gonna have to train your ears to really listen to it

- He talks you through it. ARGUE WITH A DAMN FUCKING WALL HE TALKS YOU THROUGH IT. He gets pleasure from it to, comeing at you that your doing good, that you can keep going, just a little longer. My opinion is better suck my dick.

Authors note: I FINALLY GOT IT OUT. Sorry it took so long but it’s finally out!!!

[niningtori]

violets are blue: a hanahaki au | oneshot

pairing(s): choi beomgyu x you, choi yeonjun x you

summary: you love beomgyu, your best friend, so much it makes you sick. literally. like, sick in the sense that your days are numbered as you try to fight off the hanahaki threatening to kill you every time he breaks your heart with his loving girlfriend, so you decide you'll try getting over him with the help of his girlfriend's friend, yeonjun.

genre: ANGST, melodrama, romance, hanahaki

warnings: lots of clichés, serious illnesses, and mentions of death

word count: 5.2k

notes: surprise! i didn't think i'd get this out just yet but here it is <3 please don't be mean (i'm fragile) and feedback is always appreciated!

it’s a bearable sort of pain, but it’s still painful, nonetheless. bearable is a very loose term, too, because you know if and when things continue as they are, you will no longer be able to write your symptoms off so casually. and as you lean over beomgyu’s toilet and watch purple petals stained with crimson red blood swirling down the drain, you know it won’t be long before your pain crosses from “bearable” to “hellish”. 

still, you manage to flush the evidence of your dying heart and take a good look at yourself in the mirror. your lips are nice and bloody, your makeup nice and smudged. you calmly take out the emergency mouthwash and makeup from your bag and get to work. after you’re finished tidying up, it’s almost like nothing ever happened. with a shaky smile and slightly reddened eyes, you leave his bathroom and prepare for the worst.

and the worst, it is. you just so happen to walk in to beomgyu’s living room while he plants a kiss on his girlfriend’s cheek as she giggles like mad. suddenly, your chest hurts even more than it already did and you find it hard to breathe. well, back to the bathroom you go.

-

you wish it were like the stories. you wish you could get some magical surgery to remove the flowers from your lungs — yes, even if it meant forgetting beomgyu. if you were a better person, you would say you’d rather die with your love than forget him; but as you’ve come to find out, you guess you’re not that selfless. actually, with the way things are now, you think it’d be better to forget. but unfortunately for you, there is no such solution in this world. 

as it stands, the only way for you to cure your illness is by finding another love, which you have been too stubborn to try, but as you die a little more and more every day, you realize you have to do something. beomgyu is getting more serious with his girlfriend with every passing day, and even before that, he never once looked at you like anything other than a best friend — which you thought was killing you at the time, in a figurative sense, but now it’s killing you in the most literal of ways and you’re desperate. 

you want to tell yourself that beomgyu needs you, and maybe he does, but he does not need your love the way you need his. the proof of this sentiment being that one of you is, at present, dying for the love of the other, and it’s not him. 

-

it’s hard to hate beomgyu’s girlfriend when she’s so fucking nice, so you stopped trying to hate her long, long ago. in another life, you might even call each other friends. in this one, though, it’s a quiet sort of dance where you neither push nor pull her too hard. if she’s there, you greet her with a smile on your face. if she’s not, you don’t ask about her. it’s a delicate little charade, but one you play the part in flawlessly. beomgyu commends you for being “so cool” with her, but you have no other choice. if you veer too much in one direction or the other, you run the risk of losing him for good. 

so she is, understandably, very surprised when you wait for beomgyu to go to the bathroom before asking her if she has any single friends.

“oh my god, really? i thought you'd never ask!” she exclaims, and you paste on a smile so sweet it’s sickening.

turns out, she has a lot of friends, unlike you, and many of them are, in her words, handsome. she pulls up a picture of a few of them and your eye is caught by one in particular. 

“who’s that one?” you ask, pointing to a black-haired boy with an undercut. 

“that’s yeonjun,” she grins. “oh, i just knew you’d like him. you’re totally his type, too. he’s gonna freak when i set you two up.” 

“what’s going on?” beomgyu cuts, and your short-lived giddiness is shot in the head almost instantly.

“baby, you’ll never believe it. she’s interested in yeonjun,” she declares, still as excited as ever.

beomgyu turns to you with a look you can only describe as odd. you never talk about dating with him. like, ever. you don’t even seem interested in the idea to the point where he very earnestly sat you down one day and asked you if you were asexual, to which you spent a very arduous few hours awkwardly explaining that you are not. honestly? he didn’t really believe it at the time, but he’s beginning to now, if only because you seem so incredibly flustered at the moment. 

“really? that’s great,” he says after a slightly off-putting pause, but thankfully, nobody catches it. “you know, for a second there, i thought you were gonna be our future kids’ single wine aunt forever. i’m glad you’re finally putting yourself out there.” god, he doesn't even know how much he hurts you, but he hurts you all the same. he’s spoken about marrying and having children with her, but to think that you fall into the “fun aunt” role in his future with her just makes you feel sick. you’d better pray that this shit with yeonjun goes well, because your lungs are starting to ache just as the thought.

“this is great,” she says, breaking you out of your trance. “how about this: we’ll go on a double date. that sounds fun, right?” 

“actually, i think i’d like to meet him on my own first, if that’s cool with you,” you say. the last thing you need is for the love of your life to be there on your first date with another man. what if things go wrong? or worse, what if things go right? beomgyu can’t be there for that. you can’t do that to poor yeonjun.

she looks disappointed at your words, but beomgyu cheers her up by pinching her cheeks and promising that you’ll all have plenty of chances to go out together if things go well. you try to smile, you really do, but you’re not sure if what comes out looks anything even remotely close to one. luckily, it seems like they’re too absorbed in each other to notice.

-

you haven’t talked much with yeonjun before tonight, opting to meet him in person to see if the chemistry is there before wasting any time with just “talking”. you simply don’t have the time to spare, and yeonjun seems equally as eager to meet you for reasons unknown. so now you sit all dolled up and glammed out at the back of a dimly lit restaurant as you wait to meet the boy you can only pray will save you. he must have no idea how much you need this. 

when you first see him, you’re taken aback by how handsome he is. you see beomgyu every day, and he’s the handsomest man in the world to you, but something about yeonjun is different. when he introduces himself and you get to know each other, his charisma charms you in a way you sincerely did not anticipate. he’s funny and goofy, which is just how you like them. you haven’t been on a date in god knows how long, but you’re starting to think that maybe this previously incomprehensibly doomed situation may not be so inescapable after all. that is, until he’s taking you home.

it’s dark outside and he graciously gives you his jacket like the gentleman he is, and you’re walking notably close together on the sidewalk, bodies brushing each other every few steps when he tells you something that just might change your life.

“listen, i really had fun tonight,” he says nervously, and it’s like you can feel the rejection before he even says anything more.

“but to be honest with you, my intentions aren’t exactly pure.” your heart drops. does he just want to sleep with you or something? that wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world, but it’s not what you need. you need to love someone and for that someone to love you back so you don’t get sick beyond salvation. the only way to get over beomgyu is by getting serious with someone else.

“then what do you want?” you question feebly. he stops walking and turns to look at you, placing his hands on your shoulders.

“i want to fall in love with you, and i want you to fall in love with me. i want us to be together forever. i need it, actually.” he says eerily seriously, and you’re confused for a few moments before it dawns on you. 

“you’re sick, aren’t you?” you ask, and his face hardens for a second before he nods.

“y-yeah, i'm sick. if you don't wanna see me again after this, i understand. i just —”

“it's okay. i am, too,” you say with a small, reassuring smile.

“you too?” he asks, eyes comically wide and pouty lips agape in an “o”. 

“yeah,” you tell him, and he’s quiet for a few moments before he laughs. it’s a cute, pretty little thing, and it makes you join him, too. 

“wow, maybe meeting each other was fate,” he says between giggles.

“maybe,” you reply. and for the first time in a long time, you think you might really make it out of this alive.

-

“and you won’t believe it, but he told me he spent the whole night with her!” beomgyu’s girlfriend says proudly. 

“... what?” he mumbles dazedly. 

“he said he went over to her place and stayed there all night, and on the first date, too!” she babbles. “now, he didn’t tell me what they did, but if i know yeonjun, i bet they —” 

“stop,” he cuts in. he doesn’t know why, but he feels that if he hears one more word about it, something will feel horribly wrong. it already does feel wrong, in a way, but he can’t quite put his finger on why. 

“why? aren’t you happy for them?” she asks confusedly. 

“i… i am. it’s just weird, y’know? she’s like… like a sister to me. nobody wants to hear about their sister’s private life,” he reasons, and she nods in response.

“i guess that makes sense,” she says. “but still, i’m so happy for them. especially him. he’s actually had a rough time, lately. i don’t know why, but he’s been acting kinda weird with me, so i —” 

“you’re here!” beomgyu says as you walk through his front door. he’s been expecting you. since your first date with yeonjun, he’s been eagerly texting you about it. you haven’t responded much, but he’s been chalking it up to how busy you must be with your new, well, whatever yeonjun is to you. he’s excited when he thinks about how he’ll get to see how you two interact with each other tonight since his girlfriend suggested you all hang out together, but part of him feels off about this entire situation. what he told her was the truth: it is weird to see you with someone, but maybe he’s just not used to it. you’ve never been openly attracted to anyone before, so it’s brand new territory to navigate. 

you greet him with a soft smile and not much else, which strikes him as odd, but yeonjun trails in after you, and all other thoughts go out of the window. 

“hey, man! nice to see you. it’s been a while,” he says, and yeonjun reciprocates the same excitement, going in for a side hug. 

beomgyu’s girlfriend goes in for a hug, too, and yeonjun freezes for a bit, but it goes unnoticed by everyone besides you. you look at him with as much reassurance and understanding as you can muster, and he replies with a grateful, shaky smile.

honestly, you weren’t terribly surprised when he told you that the object of his affections was the very person who holds the heart of the object of yours. she’s a bubbly, lively kind of girl, and it’s easy to fall in love with someone like that. if anything, it just makes you think that maybe yeonjun was right when he said meeting each other was fate.

the night is pretty fun, all things considered, and you find yourself not wanting to die while spending time with the loving couple, but that’s only because yeonjun is sitting next to you. when something particularly devastating happens, you grab each other’s hands and squeeze like you’re the other’s only lifeline. in a way, you kind of are. without him, you’d be on a one-way train to certain death, and without you, he’d be the same. 

things are pretty light, though, until beomgyu says he has an announcement to make.

“we’re moving in together!” his girlfriend cheerily cuts in before he can do the honors, and that’s enough to make any hard-earned progress go out the window. you feel your stomach churn and you’re finding it hard to breathe. you look very visibly ill, and while yeonjun is not doing much better, you definitely take it a lot harder.

“that’s amazing! i’m happy for you guys!” yeonjun chirps. 

“yeah. sorry, i think i need to go to the bathroom,” you mumble, and yeonjun concernedly looks at you before you subtly shake your head. in that brief look, you have an entire conversation. he asks if you’re alright and if you need him to come with you to spill your guts out, and you tell him you’re not, but you’d rather go alone.

while his girlfriend may not catch it, beomgyu certainly does. that odd, silent conversation that only yeonjun and you seem privy to. the fact that you two seem to have a level of understanding with words unspoken makes him feel suffocated, and there’s an unknown sharpness in his chest. 

he tries to join back in on the banter, but he can’t shake the uncanny feeling he has, so he excuses himself and follows you to the bathroom. 

now, he knows this is really fucking weird to do, so he almost doesn’t do it, but the sound of you retching makes him abandon all consideration of right and wrong. he presses his ear to the door and hears hushed sobs in between hacks, and it makes his eyes widen in horror and concern. 

he’s not sure how much time passes, but he hears the heartbreaking sounds die out, and then he hears the water run and you clearing your throat. he takes the cue to stop pressing against the door, and before long, you step out of the bathroom while looking perfectly put together. you flinch almost imperceptibly when you catch him right outside the door. 

“are you alright?!” he exclaims, but you just nod and begin to push past him, murmuring something about being fine, but that you and yeonjun need to leave because something came up. he didn’t even know you could move so fast, and he finds that he’s borderline chasing you to the living room where his girlfriend and yeonjun look up in surprise at the scene before them.

“do we need to leave?” yeonjun asks carefully.

“yeah,” you say shortly, and you’re booking it out of the door and onto the porch before beomgyu grabs your arm and spins you around to face him. his girlfriend hesitantly follows yeonjun outside and watches the entire ordeal as puzzle pieces begin to fit together in her mind.

“are you alright?!” he repeats, and you just face him with a withering, humbling look.

“i’m okay. i just don’t feel good tonight, but i’ll be alright. congratulations on everything, i’m sorry i can’t stay to celebrate.” and normally that would be enough to throw him off of your scent, but beomgyu remembers your muffled cries, and he won’t be swayed so easily. 

“what’s wrong? no bullshit. just tell me,” he demands in a way that is uncharacteristically solemn, but you can’t answer that. the only way to get him to forget about you is for you to distract him with the person he loves most.

“but your girlfriend —” 

“don't even start. what’s wrong?” he, well, asks isn’t even really the world, is it? there’s no room for negotiation in his tone. 

“i… i’m sick,” is all you can really say. 

“sick how? sick like you need me to take you home?” and he doesn’t really believe his own implication that it’s something so easily fixable, but he has to try. 

“i’m… i’m really sick. sick like i’m dying, sick,” you manage to croak out, and it’s everything he feared and more.

“what’s wrong?! do you need to go to the hospital?!” he panics, and you feel an overwhelming sense of dread. this is what you wanted to avoid because he can’t help you. nobody can. 

“baby?” the soft voice of his girlfriend pipes up from behind you. his gaze is torn away from you for just a moment, but that’s enough to make you ache.

“not now!” he snaps before turning his attention back to you, but it’s too late. you feel the sharp stems scratching at your lungs, causing a scorching sort of pain you can’t even put into words. slowly, you begin to cough — choke, really — and beomgyu is helpless to watch as you clutch your chest and hack up a mess of bloodied, tangled flowers. his eyes widen as he takes in the blood seeping from the corners of your mouth. 

“who?” he asks shakily as you finish coughing up the last of the petals, and you know he’s asking who your unrequited love is, but you don’t reply. you can’t reply. 

“who is it?” he asks again with more edge to his voice, but you still can’t muster up the courage to answer him. you could lie like you usually do, but you’re so tired, you just can’t anymore.

“baby?” his girlfriend repeats.

“what?!” he snaps, unable to help himself from losing his temper as he turns to look at her.

“it’s… it’s you,” is all she says, and his scowl drops and morphs into incredulity and dread.

“that's impossible,” he whispers, but one look at you and your twisted expression is enough to erase all doubt. “m-me? listen, you know i love you, but i —” 

“it's alright,” you coax, trying to placate him. even in your darkest moments, you're still putting his feelings first, and the thought alone is suffocating him. “i know. i really, really do. you don’t have to explain it to me.” and your “comforting” smile would be more convincing if it weren't stained red. 

“but you’re sick! you —” 

“i’ll be alright,” you whisper, and he’s at a loss for words at how calm you seem to be. how can you be so resigned? he looks at you — really, truly looks at you — for the first time in god knows how long, and he finally notices how different you are. your frame is lighter, your cheeks are more pronounced, and there are violet bags underneath your bloodshot eyes. how could he have missed so many signs? you’re dying, no way around it, and he was so busy playing house with his girlfriend, he had no idea just how much you were — are — suffering. it’s unforgivable, but he can tell you’ve forgiven him, anyway. how long have you been forgiving him? since the start of his current relationship? or even before that? 

“we should go,” yeonjun cuts in tentatively. you just tearily nod, and before beomgyu can say anything more, you’re in yeonjun’s car and driving away.

-

he calls and texts for days on end, but you don’t respond. at some point, he resolves to come see you in person. the way you looked the last time he saw you haunts him viciously. he just has to see you. he just has to be sure.

but when he shows up at your doorstep, you just look exhausted and even worse for wear. you don’t greet him, even, you just sigh and walk back to your bedroom before plopping down into the bed and looking at him with a look he can only describe as unreadable. 

“i just h-had to make sure you’re okay,” he stammers.

“i’m okay,” you reply gently. “i just need some time.” 

“b-but maybe if i —” 

“it won’t work. the only way out of this is for you to love me back, or for me to get over you. yeonjun is helping me, so it’s going to be alright, i think.”

“what if i —” 

“you can’t make yourself love me, beomgyu,” you say softly, the slightest tinge of a reprimand in your voice. 

“i… i can try,” he whimpers.

“yes, but i don't want you to. you have a girlfriend,” you patiently reply, but your seemingly unshakable patience just makes him more desperate.

“then what do you want me to do? i’m killing you!” he exclaims, and you wince as a sharp pain strikes your temples at the noise. he notices your response, and he just wants to die from the guilt.

“i don’t want you to do anything. that’s why i didn’t tell you.” how could you not want him to do anything? how could you possibly ask that of him? 

“h-how can you say that? how can you just expect me to watch you die?” he whines, tears spilling down his cheeks as he looks to you for a perfect solution that will never come.

“i’m alright,” you tell him again, but the way you wheeze afterwards suggests otherwise.

he goes to grab you, maybe to pat your back or maybe to hold you, he’s not really sure, but you feebly put your hand up to stop him before he gets too close. it’s an innocent gesture in and of itself, yet it somehow feels like you just smacked him across the face. 

“don’t touch me,” you say, but it’s more like a plea than anything else. “it’ll just hurt me more.” with that, your words devolve into a coughing fit and all he can do is watch as splatters of blood and stems stain the tissue you cough into. he never, not in a million years, thought that his touch would hurt you. it’s supposed to soothe you like nothing else. you know, the way your touch soothes him.

“i think you should go,” you suggest after your coughing has died down. he can see the aftermath of his mere presence etched into the tired lines on your face, and he feels less like a person and more like the scum of the earth. 

-

“what are you thinking about?” a sweet voice says, effectively pulling him out of his reverie. beomgyu is currently supposed to be cooking dinner with his girlfriend, but he’s spending more time spacing out than actually cooking the noodles he’s meant to be stirring.

“n-nothing,” he sputters, but her knit eyebrows and frown let him know he has to elaborate. still, he pretends he doesn’t notice her silent urging and returns to his task. 

he can feel her stare on him as he watches the pot, and it’s not very long before she sighs and says her next words.

“you’re thinking about her, aren’t you?” 

“what? n-no! i just —” 

“yes, you are.” and her tone isn’t accusatory, but it’s filled with a sense of knowing. “it’s normal to think about her, you know? she’s dying and —” 

“don’t say that! why would you say that?! she’s not going to die!” he yells, slamming down the fork he was using to stir and turning to face her. he’s visibly shaking with rage — which makes no sense given that he knows, she knows, and even you know that her words are true. 

“she’s going to die,” she repeats. “you need to accept that.”

“how can you expect me to accept that?! you two just expect me to be okay with her fucking dying! well, i’m not!” he cries, tears streaming down his face as his words get louder and louder. 

“... i think you need to take some time to cool down. i’ll stay with my parents, so do what you need to do. when you’re ready, just call me, okay?” she says, and he only sobers up after he hears the front door slam shut.

-

beomgyu stays in an odd sort of purgatory. he’s constantly torn between contacting you and leaving you alone like you so obviously want. he tells himself that you’re his best friend, so of course he wants to see you and comfort you, but it feels much deeper than that. like there’s something unsolved and untouched that he just needs to dig a little deeper to figure out, but as for what that something is, he can’t seem to quite grasp. 

with this in mind, he never, not in a million years, anticipated that you’d be here on his doorstep. but here you are. you look even worse than before, somehow, which he is surprised by seeing as how things with yeonjun seem to be going well if yeonjun’s instagram updates of the both of you mean anything at all. he invites you in and offers you a seat, but you refuse. 

“come on, sit down. you must be tired,” he urges, but you wave your hand. 

“i don’t need to stay here long,” you dismiss, and it hurts his heart. “i just need one thing from you, and i’ll be out of here.”

“you need something from me? sure, anything! w-what is it?” and he sounds so hopeful, so earnest. maybe there’s a way to undo what he’s done. maybe he can help you after all. no matter what it is, he knows he can do it.

“... i need you to reject me,” is all you say, but the words ring in his ears. reject you? how can he reject you when it looks like a breeze could knock you over?

“b-but why?” he stammers, and you sigh.

“i finally figured it out. i just need to hear you tell me that you don’t love me, then i think i’ll be able to fully let you go for good.” usually, you’d have a soft smile on your face in order to comfort him, but your face is blank except for your eyes, which seem more desperate than anything he’s ever seen. but your words confuse him.

“let me go for good?” 

“yeah. i think if i can just hear you say it, i won’t need to see you anymore. i won’t ask for anything else, i just need to hear it from you,” you say determinedly. but he’s stuck on “i won’t need to see you anymore”. what could you possibly mean by that? 

“what do you mean you won't need to see me anymore?” he asks, voice devoid of any ill intent, but filled with genuine confusion.

“i mean, yeonjun doesn’t like me seeing you for obvious reasons, but i told him that i think i’ll be okay after this.” his confusion turns into dread. things that were a mystery to him suddenly make perfect sense.

“i can’t,” he chokes out, and you’re visibly stunned before anger explodes inside of you. 

“you can’t? what the fuck do you mean you can’t? why can’t you?!” you seethe. you’ve done everything for beomgyu, you even almost paid the ultimate price for him just so you wouldn’t have to make him uncomfortable with your feelings. you’re quite literally dying because of him, and he can’t offer up a meager sentence for you?

“i… i can’t say it. please don’t make me say it,” he pleads. “i’ll do anything else — anything, i swear to god!”

“beomgyu, there is nothing else. this is the only way. i’m not asking you for much, just say it, then i’ll be okay.” but he can’t do what you ask of him. not when he’s realized what he just realized. 

“b-but i… i do love you. i’m sorry, i just didn’t realize it until just now, but i do. a-and if you’ll have me, i —” smack! and his pathetic speech is stopped by your hand meeting his cheek. 

“you are so fucking selfish,” you spit, voice low, but vibrating with rage. “more selfish than i will ever be able to understand.” 

“w-what do you —” 

“beomgyu, you have a girlfriend. a girlfriend who loves you. what about her? huh?” you ask, and his previous momentum falters, but you’re not even finished yet. 

“and if she gets sick, are you gonna leave me and tell her you want her instead? you can’t do that, beomgyu. i won’t accept that. i won’t accept your love just because you feel sorry for me,” you declare, voice cracking as thick, hot tears roll down your cheeks. he’s still speechless, so you somehow find it in yourself to continue.

“i’m not doing this with you right now. call your girlfriend, tell her you’re sorry, and tell her she doesn’t have to worry about me anymore. and even if i’m gone, don’t you dare tell her what you told me today, okay?” and it’s not really an ask as much as a demand. 

“i can’t do that,” he whispers, and you’re not sure if the ache in your heart comes from the briars encircling it or from how pained he looks.

“i know i’m selfish. i know i’m a bastard. but seeing you with yeonjun, or worse, not seeing you at all? that’ll fucking kill me. i just can’t do it. i don’t want to hurt her, but i don’t want to lie to her. or you. or myself,” he says shakily.

“what are you saying?” you ask. this is not how you anticipated things would go. 

“i’m saying that if you leave me, i’ll be sick,” he says shakily. “j-just the thought of that makes me…” and it’s a surprise to the both of you when he coughs like crazy, and it’s to the horror to the both of you when a pretty, blood-stained violet petal escapes his mouth.

“oh god,” you whisper. “you can’t do this.”

“i can’t help it!” he exclaims. “i didn’t know before, but it’s true. i just didn’t realize it. i’m just — i’m just sorry i didn’t realize it.” 

“beomgyu, it’s going to kill her,” you say, dread evident in your tone.

“i know,” he says tearily. “but it’s you. it’s always been you. we can’t change it.” 

“i can’t do this to her. it’s wrong,” is all you can say. 

“i can’t live without you, and you can’t live without me,” he replies. “w-whatever happens, can we please just figure it out together? i don’t think i can handle another day without you. i think it might really kill me.” he pushes your hair off of your sweaty forehead, and you know as you feel your heart lighten that you have no choice. if not for you, then for him. whatever happens with his girlfriend, you will try your damndest to make sure she doesn't have the same fate as the two of you. 

“okay?” he asks. 

“o-okay,” you tell him, because what else is there to say? 

notes pt. 2: lorddd i know this ending will be polarizing but what can we do... it is what it is :(

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[toutallyahoe]

━ hebrews 9:22 ,, mouthwashing

requested by: –

pairing(s): curly x male reader

word count: 1856

warnings: canon spoilers, cursing, character death(s), attempted murder, murder, deaths oh my god so many deaths help, j*mmy (ew 🤮)

a/n: yeah, im surprised it aint porn too

"Indeed, under the law almost everything is purified with blood..."

Pained laboured breaths left what was once a hopeful man's lips. Well, hopeful was far from what he had become over the years, crippled by the trials and tribulations of what life had put onto him— yet he persevered despite the doubts that ate him whole. Curly persevered despite it all...

But does he still want that?

Laying in the Medical Room's bed without any control of his own body— burnt body— without feeling any sort of pain that he wished he would just die was difficult. Even breathing was difficult but he was forced to do so. Forced to endure. But Curly wanted to die. More than he had wished in the past... but he can't. Forced to lay in bed, feeling helpless as he watched his crew... his friends... descend into madness.

If he could cry, Curly would. The pain of his entire body doesn't hurt as much as the pain and guilt in his chest. Well, Curly thinks so. He doesn't know if the pain in his chest is the guilt of eating him or just the normal pain of being burnt alive to the point his skin is gone. But Curly still felt sick and hopeless. So despaired by it all. Because despite being forced to lay in bed and watch helplessly as everyone descended into madness, Curly knew it was his fault. And it eats him up.

Anya had already said her good bye after she locked herself in the Medical Room with him. Saying how despite everything he had done (or lack there of), she forgave him. Curly tried to talk, to reach out but all it came was garbled mess of croaks and pained wheezes as his throat hurts from the pain. Curly had to watch helplessly as she finally decided to escape the nightmare that came to the Tuplar crew of the Pony Express... to them.

The pain in his chest worsened as Curly could hear a pained screaming echoing throughout the room and it took a second for him to realize who the screamer was. But once Curly realized, his heart dropped as he wanted to cry more. Daisuke showed up in his peripheral vision, looking worse for wear since he had last seen the younger man. Curly wants to cry harder seeing Daisuke all bloodied and hurt, with so many cuts and gashes as Curly realized that in order for Daisuke to come inside the Medical Room despite Anya locking it, it was through the vents that were connected to the Utility Room. The same vents Curly knew was dangerous... fuck.

Curly had believed in the past he was a good captain. The crew in Tuplar sang his praises after all to the point Jimmy always mentions how annoying it was. Curly would have brushed it off like all the times but he knew deep inside he did feel a sense of fulfillment to be called that. A good captain. Because it made him feel like he was actually doing something worthwhile with his life.

But he doesn't believe that anymore.

How can he? Failing Anya despite the trust she placed on him to confess what his friend— what Jimmy had done to her? Where did she have to take things in her own hands? Failing Daisuke from Jimmy's manipulation that the poor young man is now crying from the pain of his injuries as well as he was screaming at Anya to wake up? Failing Swansea where he had to watch the older man lose himself to the little bits of alcohol in the Dragon's Breath mouthwash they were delivering? And worst yet... failing you as he watches the happy man descend into despair along with the crew.

Curly felt useless as he laid there motionless and despaired in bed. He can hear Swansea cursing out as he and Jimmy dragging out Daisuke who was moaning and groaning in pain. He didn't hear Anya anymore... will never hear her voice ever again.

It all was a blur. Time passed by so quickly... not that Curly knows how long it had been. The pain made it hard to focus on his surroundings but he saw someone standing in front of the medical bed. Curly let out a pained croak when he saw it was you. The one who used to be a picture image of a calm and collected crew member of his who had bright eyes that looked at him with love and respect looked frantic yet oh so tired as your dull eyes are red and puffy from crying, tear stains on your sunken cheeks. Lips quivering as you looked down at Curly. There was panic and mania in your eyes. Curly dreaded it.

"Let's rest now," You said, your tone shaky and raspy. You bite your bottom lip to stop your lips from quivering until you tasted blood that grounded you a little bit. "We can rest now, right?" You asked as tears brimmed your vision on what you were about to do. You looked at Curly and gave a smile. A smile that Curly knew was far from genuine. It didn't reach your eyes. Not the same sweet smile you would send him when you two would wake up early in the morning, in bed together. Far from the one Curly is used too. It looks despaired, haunting...

Curly tried to talk, to reach out. But just like Anya, he failed. Like he always does.

"!!!"

Curly wanted to cry when he felt your hands wrapped around his throat. He wheezes in pain as his body thrashes automatically when you squeezed. It hurts! It hurts— but let him die! There were salty tears falling down his bandaged cheek, stinging him as he could see you finally breakdown. Losing it all.

"We can go together! Everyone is gone so let's go together like you said!" You said as a deranged laugh left your lips. "Aren't we in this together, captain? We can rest!" You put more pressure down Curly's throat.

"Please, just stop suffering already!" You wailed as your entire body was shaking. You desperately tried to tune out Curly's pained noises and thrashing as you sobbed. You didn't want to do this— but you had too. No one else was going to put Curly out of his misery. No one is giving your poor captain mercy.

Anya already died, her rotting corpse was beside you, slumped over the floor. Daisuke had his head split open by an axe by Swansea. You were there to witness Swansea put down the young man. You already knew Swansea was dead somewhere around the ship. Especially when you had heard two loud gun shots rang out eerily inside the Tulpar— Jimmy was fucking insane! You knew that oh too well as you watched that monster descend to madness.

You knew you only had so little time to do what you needed to do. To finally put Curly out of his misery because you knew Jimmy wouldn't. You can accept whatever responsibility is left when Curly is gone. Whether Jimmy kills you with a gun or you having time to get the axe and kill Jimmy yourself... it'll be fine as long as you take Curly out of his misery first. Because Curly deserves it.

"Please wait for me," You cried as you looked at Curly through your tears. "I'll be close behind, okay?" You say as you smiled. The blood from your bruised bottom lip stuck to your teeth as you smiled. You look deranged but Curly could only admire you. He wanted this. He wanted to die— to have the suffering end already. Curly just wished it didn't have to be you to put him down knowing how much you loved him.

"I love you," Curly heard you sobbed as black spots formed in his vision. Curly already had trouble breathing after the crash but he can barely gasp for air, not with your hands on his throat, trying so hard to kill him. Slowly, Curly's body stopped thrashing, too weak as the black spots continued on to fill his vision. He can barely see your broken face now.

He was going to die. Curly was going to die... and that's fine.

Curly just hoped you won't suffer painfully before you both are reunited once again in the after life. Hah, when did he even believe in an after life? Curly lost hope of a god existing so many years ago. But if there was a god, Curly hoped they would be kind enough to let him see you again after this. To see the others too. But mostly... Curly just wants to see you—

Bang

Thud

Curly let out a painful gasp as his lungs burned while greedily took a lot of air to fill it back up. His throat hurts so much. If he could tear up, Curly knows he would with his one singular eye left from the pain. Everything hurts. Fuck. It hurts...

Wait.

Pain... was pain part of death? Living was painful and Curly thought death would be more welcoming. Curly would have thought it would be peaceful like when the air was deprived from his lungs as you strangled him. When Curly knew he was dying as his vision darkened. You— where were you? Why was Curly's head ringing so loudly? Was... was he still alive?

Why... why was he still alive?

Why?

Why?

Why?!?

Didn't you promise to take him out of his misery? Was it all a lie? But the pain— the pain in his throat was real! Curly swore it! Where were you? Where were you?!? What happened?!?

Curly found his answer when he saw a shadowy figure where you once stood. Where you should be. And seeing the face of the figure, Curly wanted to cry and scream. Wanted to yell until his throat was raw and burned. Curly wanted to thrash his burnt body and cry.

But he can't. Curly can't...

"It's okay, I saved you," Curly heard Jimmy say. Curly wanted to bitterly laugh at his words. Jimmy didn't save him. Far from it. Jimmy depraved him from his peace! What more can Jimmy take away from him?!? Where were you?!?

Curly could only let the man whom he used to call a friend carry him without much of a fight as he was tired and still processing what everything just happened, wondering where you should have been. Did you chicken out on killing him? Was your love for him too much to kill him? Then where were you then?

Curly looked at Jimmy with dull eyes as he was carried away from the Medical Room. You were nowhere in sight— until Curly saw you... dead on the ground with a puddle of blood around your head... no. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO—

"Don't worry, Curly. I'll fix this..."

"And without the shedding of blood... there is no forgiveness of sin..."

[pinkshortbread]

🌺 Daisuke X Reader 🌺

Warning : MDNI ; Mentions of depressive thoughs since the crash of the Tulpar

ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGAGE !

[Comforting in any ways as possible]

....

..........

2 Months since the Crash

It's midnight. You've been struggling to sleep since the crash. Everything went wrong and you could do nothing about it.

The food shortage is almost empty.

Curly is left unreconizable, he is not the Captain you knew anymore.

Jimmy is a pain in the ass.

Anya is getting worried about the whole situation.

Swansea has been looking for a solution with the heating system for days.

It's cold, you're cold. You're nestled in your blankets but you're freezing. One of the blanket smells like your home since it was one of the items you have succeeded to bring into the ship. You miss your cat.

You swear you heard your door slide open.

"Daisuke...?"

No words, just his presence.

"Are you alright ?"

He is just there standing, saying nothing. After a little moment of silence, he slides the door shut and walks over to you.

"I just had a lot going on in my mind lately, sorry..."

He sits down onto your bed. He looks pretty tired. A few strands of his hair covered his eyes.

"The crash, huh ? Me too..."

You respond.

"I've been struggling to sleep since the accident, even more since the heating system is malfuctioning..."

You continued and Daisuke nodded.

He sighs, doing circles with the pattern of your bed sheets.

"Can I talk to you ? I need to get some things of my chest..."

"Of course you can Daisuke."

He moved next to you, laying onto your matress as he embraces one of your pillows.

"This whole situation has been stressfull for me actually. I try to keep myself together since you guys seem to fall into a back hole. We're almost running out of food. The cargo we were transporting... Mouthwash ? Damnit."

You look back at him.

"And Swansea had me doing the same tasks every single day, I feel useless. Jimmy is becoming even more and more irritable. I can't even talk about Anya, she's completely depressed. I can't do anything."

You bite your lip in anxiety.

"And Curly ? Have you seen Curly ? Oh god..."

Placing his hands onto his face, he groans into his palms.

"You're doing your best Daisuke..."

Between his fingers, he glances at you.

"I'm pretty sure Swansea is fond of your personnality, he is tiresome because he wants to give you the simplest tasks so you can't hurt yourself. Jimmy is Jimmy. Anya is taking the best care of Curly, I'm looking after her since I'm always in the area. I'm worried about her too..."

He shakes his head.

"I'm also nervous about the whole food situation since Swansea had been giving me the task to storage all of it but there's barely any left..."

Daisuke continued. You hummed.

"You're lucky guys I don't eat much..."

You chuckle, trying to lighten the mood but you shiver.

"I miss the warmth of my home."

You mumble.

Daisuke looks up at the ceiling. You could feel his breathing was shaky.

"It must be hard for you, I'm sorry. I've been talking but you must feel hopeless too. We're stuck here."

"Yeah, but I'm not alone at least."

You smile at him and he smiles back at you. His eyelids looks heavy, he has been struggling with sleeping too, you can see it.

"You look like you're about to sleep on my bed."

"Maybe I am..."

He chuckles.

"Daisuke...?"

"Yes ?"

"Can I... I'm cold... Can we hug ? I mean, If you don't want to, you can say no. It's just... It's getting even colder at night..."

"Sure..."

"Thank you."

"No prob..."

He moves closer to you, letting out a small sigh. He wraps his arms around your waist, gently pulling you closer to him. You could feel him relax his muscles even more, maybe being listened left him more lightweight.

Being close to someone since the crash felt right, you didn't have any sort of affection since the departure and you missed that.

"Goodnight..."

Daisuke whispers.

[earthearthearththearth]

can i maybe request daisuke x suicidal reader? its okay if your uncomfortable with writing that i completely understand😭

Don't you worry anon a little suicidal never killed no one!!! real note i'm sorry for whatever u may be going through I hope these are awesome sauce!!

TW mentions of being suicidal ofc

🌺Daisuke x Suicidal Reader🌺

-he ain’t a psychologist, not even close. And he’s not gonna know exactly what to say or what to do, but maybe it’s better that way

-It’s just nice to have someone who isn’t reciting the same things you’ve heard before. I mean, if you’re on the tulpar with him, he’ll really not know that much about your life, you know? Maybe it does suck that bad, but regardless of your reasoning or lack thereof wanting to kill yourself, he doesn’t want you to. Even if you’re not dating, he’s keeping an eye out

-Daisuke is already pretty attentitive of how you’re doing, always asking how your day is even though it’s more or less the same as his. 

-Late night talks just last longer than usual. If you’re telling him you’re suicidal, he’s gonna be like woah, that’s big. So he’ll be more open to you about the whole trying to find meaning in life thing. Maybe you’ll relate. He doesn’t want you to feel like he doesn’t care or like he’s not thinking about what you’re saying. You’re keeping that emotional object permanance. 

-He’ll keep an eyeball on you, especially when the ship crashes. He’s not naive and he’s not stupid. Okay, maybe a little, but he’s not a child. He might not get exactly what you’re going through, but if you go up to him and say ‘hello daisuke mouthwashing i’m actually suicidal yeah?” he’s going to think “oh this person’s suicidal thoughts are so rough that they’re telling daisuke mouthwashing”

-Like, he’ll think you’re telling him because you need help, not just for funsies. And he’s gonna ask you how he can do that. If you weren’t on a ship in the middle of outer space, he would make you cut up fruit. He’d do that regardless but he is a cut up fruit truther!!

-Just be honest with him about your bounderies because he’s already majorly clingy, but now he’s gonna be majorly clingy and actually aware of the expressions going on your face. He is so bad at reading the room oh my god. So now he’s laser focused onto you for at least a few weeks after you tell him

[jimmy-tulparco-pilot]

*throws the entire canon jimmy mouthwashing lore for you to read then leaves*

Here's what the actual jimbus nimbus the III did

IMPLIED ABUSE. (Can be interpreted as SA or Phisical Abuse)

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.

.

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(Oh my god Jimenez Lore drop? 👀)

Hi! Im the OP once more, and here's a little secret about me, more than an artist, im a medical student with the focus of becoming a psychiatrist and a psychoanalist. anyway here is a little something: Mentions of Abuse, under the cut and a little personal rant if you dont want to read you dont have to.

A lot that the Psychoanalists of Freud and Jung talk about is the co-relation of the bad parenting to ones trauma in development, if you were Abused as a child theres a higher possibility of you growing to be an Abuser as an adult, if you have been thought that your values as a person is defined by a certain something as a child there's a higher possibility of you believing that to your adulthood and that's what im going here about.

For the ones who dont know, i have a comic strip that works for Canon Jimmy and the tulpar crew, where the topics of Mental Health will also be aborded. more info about it on @analgesic-comic

Now a bit of a Personal talk, i know some people are getting mad that jimmy on this au hast done anything big assholish to anyone yet and that he hadnt r**ed anya and that its "out of character". But i will be honest, i made this for me to draw some silly goofy stuff, while i take breaks from my comic, my comic has a lot of heavy writing envolved and doesn't give much space for jokes, there's funny stuff here and there but still all of it is pretty heavy because its based of a psychological horror. So i made this Ask blog that aint even in the future. It's in the present to be able to draw the characters and get my mind out of some stuff.

I love drawing jimmy because i love his design, and i love drawing all the characters, but if every drawing i made of them was strictly related to canon i would never bring myself to draw any stupid stuff because my autistic brain would ran me on the "Oh no they wouldn't do that because jimmy is there, jimmy and curly are the only ones you can draw together because curly is the only one who turns a blind eye to jimmys actions"

On the ask blog, Jimmy keeps his personality, but he is getting MENTAL TREATMENT that is making him a little less insuferable, of all the answers most of them there's scenes of him trying to gaslight curly or being mean to someone so i think i madd quite clear he is not healed, i just made him not be a criminal.

[train-wrecc]

Champagne Problems 2

marcus baker x female!miller!reader

warnings: mentions of vomit, nausea, mentions of food, panic attacks, i think that’s all… 

fluff with a sprinkle of angst?

word count: 4.5k

italics = sign language

A/N: this will probably be a series bc i wanna add more to this :) i would've posted this earlier but i was struggling to edit the lil collage below 😭 also, i feel like the first one was better but i tried :/ & i will try to dedicate more time to writing bc recently i’ve been gaming a lot more + struggling to write an essay but anyways… try to enjoy?

unedited!

part 1 part 3

。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ

You thought the Baker's reaction to your pregnancy would be worse. However, when both you and Marcus signed the words while simultaneously voicing that you were pregnant, they both wore a look of shock on their face, Max sitting on the couch with a wide grin. She practically threw herself at you and Marcus, pulling you both into a tight embrace. 

“Oh my god, I-I don’t know what to say…” Ellen murmured, causing you to slightly frown, and Marcus to squeeze your hand in reassurance. Clint signed, “Well, at least I’ll be a young Grandpa,” He chuckled. Which caused a slight smile to grow on your face. “I wouldn’t say that this is the most ideal time for a baby, seeing as you both are so young, but just know you have our support, in whatever you choose to do. Being a grandma doesn’t sound too bad, the baby can call me Glamma!” Ellen began to ramble.

After you had told them your decision, they let you know that they’d be there for both of you, every step of the way. You felt the weight being lifted from your shoulders, pulling Marcus into a hug. You knew that you still had a long way to go, and you’d have to figure out how to raise a baby, where to raise your baby, and a lot more, albeit you had Marcus and he had you. 

。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ

You woke up due to nausea causing you to run to your bathroom, and fill the toilet with vomit. You felt a hand holding your hair in a makeshift ponytail, another on your back, rubbing soothingly. You knew immediately that it was your mother. Her presence seemingly relaxed you. “It’s okay, baby, let it out,” She murmured gently, her voice slightly rough due to the fact that she had just woken up. 

Once you were done spilling your guts, you pulled away from the toilet, the horrid smell of vomit hitting your nose, causing you to once again reach for the toilet. After you were finished, you slammed the toilet lid shut, leaning your head against it, a sigh escaping your lips. 

You sat there for a moment, before getting up, your mother helping you up, you quickly rinsed your mouth with mouthwash, following it up by brushing your teeth, as you tried to rid yourself of the taste of bile.

“Come on, why don’t you go get some more rest, darlin’,” Your mom ushered you to your room, tucking you into bed before placing a kiss on your head. You smiled at her before turning to face the window. You reached for your phone, debating on texting Marcus. However, when you saw that it was 4:30 am, you decided against it, not wanting to wake him up. You gazed out your window as you tried to go back to sleep. However, you couldn’t, you tossed and turned, the moonlight shining in your room, seeing as it was still dark out. Suddenly your window was thrown open, and a figure fell onto the wooden flooring of your room. You immediately sat up, slightly frightened before you heard the slight murmur of a “Shit,”. 

You turned your bedside lamp on, “Marcus?” You questioned the boy, “What are you doing here?” You gazed at him curiously. “Georgia told me you were up because of morning sickness, so I thought I’d come over, not only because she practically threatened me but because I wanted to see how you and the baby are doing.” He tiredly smiled, eyes slightly drooping. 

A gargantuan smile broke out on your face, a giggle escaping your lips, before you patted your bed, so he’d come to lay with you. “You didn’t have to come over, but thank you. And excluding the morning sickness, we’re doing just fine.” You responded, your hand finding its way to your flat stomach, which would soon be not-so-flat with a baby bump. Marcus placed his own hand atop yours, “I know, but I wanted to,” He grinned, before gently placing a chaste kiss on your lips. 

His hands found your waist, pulling you impossibly closer to him, cuddling you. “I can’t believe we’re having a baby.” He murmured. “I know,” You said, laying your head in the crook of his neck, breathing in his familiar, comforting scent, you let out a sigh. “What’s wrong?” He questioned. “Nothing, it’s just… I’m just kinda nervous about the appointment tomorrow- well, technically today.” 

One of his hands left your waist, placing it atop your head. “Everything’s gonna go great, we’ve nothing to worry about, alright?” 

“I know, I think it’s just cause, y’know it’s our first appointment…”

“Yeah, well let’s get some more sleep, everything’s gonna be okay, promise.” He smiled, before placing another kiss on your lips, causing you to smile against his lips. You pulled away, turning to shut off your bedside lamp. Out of the corner of his eye, your night light caught Marcus’s attention. He refrained from shutting it off, even though it slightly bothered him because he knew the gradual change of colors helped lull you to sleep, and you and the baby were the most important things in his life.

Marcus had drifted slightly away from you throughout the night- morning, which woke you up not even an hour later. You let out a whine, turning to find him practically at the edge of the bed, you scooted closer to him wrapping an arm and leg around his waist, the contact instantly relaxing you allowing you to drift off to sleep once again. 

Marcus had gotten up a while before you, at around 9:30. Your doctor's appointment was at 12:30, so he figured he’d let you rest for another hour, while he went downstairs to make you a good, nutritional breakfast for you and the baby. He looked online and discovered that he should make you oatmeal, and decided he’d pair it with your favorite fruit and juice. Marcus placed your breakfast on a bed tray, making his way upstairs to your room, before running into Ginny and Austin. “Hey, I made some oatmeal, you guys can go ahead and get some, while I give this to your sister,” They both nodded in response, a small smile on their faces, Austin saying thanks.

Marcus opened the door to your room, placing the bed tray with your nutritious breakfast at the foot of the bed. He made his way toward you, gently rubbing your shoulder to wake you. “Princess, wake up I made you breakfast.” He gently voiced in an attempt to get you up. You grumbled slightly in your sleep, nuzzling your head closer to his hand. “Come on baby, it’s time to get up and eat, we gotta get you ready for your appointment,” He kissed your cheek, caressing the other one. You stirred, eyes slightly opening. Your eyes met Marcus’s brown ones staring at you with nothing but love and pure adoration, a small grin grew on your face.

“Hi, bub.”

“Morning, princess, you sleep well?” He laughed.

“Mhmm, amazing with you beside me.” You smiled at him, leaning forward to press a gentle kiss to his lips. You stayed like that for a moment, as he returned the kiss, before quickly pulling away, nausea once again rising in you. “Oh god,” You murmured, getting up and making your way to the bathroom as fast as you could. Marcus was quick on your toes, as you lifted the toilet lid and threw up. Marcus gently held your hair away from your face, caressing your back. 

You pulled away, throat and back aching. “I’m so done with this morning sickness,” You groaned out. “I wish I could make it stop.” Marcus said, to which you responded with, “It’s okay, it’ll all be worth it,” You smiled at him. You went through the process of cleaning your teeth and mouth of the taste of vomit, before pulling Marcus into a tight hug. “I love you. Thank you for being here for me and the baby.” 

“It’s the very least, the minimum I should be doing, you don’t have to thank me, bub.” He replied, arms around your waist. “By the way, I made you oatmeal, so you and the baby can eat before we head to your appointment.” This caused you to smile at his thoughtfulness. 

“It’s the very least, the minimum, I should be doing, you don’t have to thank me, bub. After all, you didn’t impregnate yourself.” He replied with a grin, arms around your waist. “By the way, I made you oatmeal, so you and bub can eat before we head to your appointment.” This caused you to smile at his thoughtfulness.  

“Thank you, love, we appreciate you so much,” You said, your hand gently caressing your stomach which would soon have a bump, a sign of your healthily growing baby.

“Don’t thank me anymore, I’m just doing my part in making sure you and our baby are taken care of,” He insisted.

“Thank you,” You stubbornly insisted, a giggle escaping your lips. Marcus was about to lecture you once again before you shut him up with a kiss.

Marcus returned the kiss, as he pulled you closer to him, both of you melting into the adulation-filled kiss.

He pulled away, a whimper escaping your lips as you chased his own. “One more kiss, please?” You whined.

“You’re lucky you’re so cute.” He muttered, allowing you to press your lips against his own once again.

Once again, you eagerly kissed him, before he pulled away. “Alright, no more kisses until you eat your breakfast, sweetheart.”

“Fine,” you sighed dramatically.

Marcus guided you back to bed where your bowl of oatmeal sat on the breakfast tray, along with your favorite juice.

“Come on, baby, eat your oatmeal before it gets cold or else I’m gonna feed it to you myself.”

You sat down, stubbornly crossing your arms, “I was gonna eat it, but because you said that, now you get to feed it to me yourself.” 

He sat in front of you a laugh escaping his lips, “Fine by me,” He responded.

Marcus grabbed the spoon scooping oatmeal into it before lifting it to your lips. As you were about to eat the oatmeal, Marcus moved his hand, oatmeal getting smeared on your nose.

“Oops, I didn’t mean to do that, love, I’m sorry.” Marcus let out a quiet laugh at the pout on your lips.

“I think I deserve another kiss as compensation,” You murmured, Marcus giving into your wants as per usual.

。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ

Once you finished your oatmeal, you and Marcus got ready to go to your ultrasound. You insisted on doing your makeup because you wanted to look good to see your baby for the first time. 

“Love, you already look amazing,”

“I know, but I wanna look even more amazing,” You said with a small grin.

“Alright, do you want me to braid your hair for you, while you do your makeup?” 

“Pretty please,” 

Marcus had been practicing braiding your hair, along with doing other styles as well, because he refused to be one of those dads that didn’t know how to style their daughter's hair.

Marcus nodded, standing behind you, “Alright, what do you want, French, Dutch?”

(A/N: I think you can dutch braid most hair types like curly, wavy, straight, and really tight curls, so I decided to keep this part in, if you have really short hair I guess this might not apply to you sorry! Imagine whatever braid/style you want!)

“You choose, baby,”

He decided on doing two Dutch braids, liking the way you looked with them. “And… done!” He said tying the end of the braid with a hair tie. “How do they look?”

“Wow, they look really good, bub, thank you,” You smiled at him, looking at the practically perfectly done braids.

“Your welcome, love, are you ready now?”

“Yup,” 

“Alright, let’s start heading downstairs.”

You both made your way downstairs, running into Austin and Ginny in the living room, ever since you booked your ultrasound, they’d been begging to go with you and Marcus, and you just couldn’t say no to them.

“You guys ready?” You questioned them, and they both jumped up practically buzzing with excitement as soon as they heard your voice. “Yeah, we’ve been waiting for you two to hurry up!” Ginny exclaimed. “Alright… where’s Mom?” You asked. “Dunno,” Austin shrugged.

You let out a small sigh, before calling out for Georgia. “I’m comin’!” 

“Mom, we gotta go before we're late!” You called back. You heard footsteps on the stairs, before your mom, Georgia, appeared on the landing looking extra as ever, as per usual. Suddenly Max barged in, “Oh my gosh, guys, this is it, is everyone ready?! I’m so excited, let’s go, go!” 

Max and Ginny ended up riding with Georgia, and Austin insisted on riding with you and Marcus. 

。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ

Everyone sat cramped in the small appointment room, with you sitting on the examination table, Marcus holding your hand, as he stood next to you. Everyone was talking about everything and nothing at all at the same time, however, as soon as the ultrasound tech walked in everyone went silent. 

“Wow, it looks like we have a party in here!” She laughed, in an attempt to break the silence.

“Yeah, everyone really wanted to come with us.” You replied, giving a small smile to the woman.

“Well, it’s no problem at all, now, why don’t we get started? I assume you’re the father?” She gestured to Marcus, this prompted Max to pipe in, “Oh him? That’s so funny!” She laughed, “No, no, I’m the father.” She nodded seriously causing you to giggle quietly.

“Oh, uh…alright, we do get a lot of interesting couples in here.” The woman chuckled awkwardly.

“She-she’s kidding that’s- I’m the father.” Marcus nodded.

“Oh, okay…” She quietly answered.

“Alright, if you could just lay down for me, and lift your shirt a little just to expose your stomach, so I can apply the gel.” You nodded, doing as she said.

“Okay, it’s gonna feel a little cold,” She murmured before she applied the gel, “Now, this just helps the machine produce a clearer image as well as sound,” You slightly shivered as the cool gel met your skin.

(A/N: Idk what I’m saying tbh, just go with it…)

“Alrighty,” She grabbed the ultrasound probe, placing it on the skin where the gel had just been placed, “This can take a few moments to produce an image of the fetus,” She explained, moving the probe back and forth.

You simply nodded, as everyone intensely gazed at the ultrasound screen, just waiting for something to pop up. “So, it looks like you’re around 10 weeks pregnant, does that sound about right?”

You and Marcus nodded before she continued on, “So, because this is your first pregnancy, your bump can take a while to start showing, but you should start showing at around 12 weeks,”

“Now, I can’t seem to find- ah, there they are, oh my-”

“What, i-is something wrong?” You blurted out, beginning to sit up, worry immediately filling you as you gazed at the image displayed on the screen of the machine, Marcus’s grip on your hand tightened.

“Oh, no, no, nothing like that honey, it’s just- congratulations, you’re having twins!” She grinned.

“Twins?” Everyone exclaimed.

“Oh my god, we're having twins,” Marcus exclaimed, turning to you, he couldn’t stop himself from pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. You both pulled away, tears in your eyes.

“So, I’m seeing two placentas, this just means the twins are fraternal, not identical, right now the babies are about the size of a strawberry, now let me see if I can find their heartbeats,” She once again moved the ultrasound probe back and forth. 

“Aww, there just two little twin strawberries hanging out in your uterus,” Max exclaimed in the background, causing Georgia to laugh and Austin to question what a uterus was. Ginny attempted to explain it to the young boy without explaining too much, resulting in Austin understanding that a uterus was your tummy. “I have oatmeal in my uterus,” He told Ginny. Which prompted everyone to burst out laughing. “I’ll just explain it when you’re older,” Ginny murmured. 

A small yet strong thumping began emitting from the machine. “There they are, so far so good, the heartbeats sound nice and strong, the placentas seem to be forming properly, and everyone appears to be nice and healthy.” She smiled as tears escaped your eyes as you listened to the sound of your baby’s heartbeat, “Sorry,” You gave a teary-eyed smile to the woman in apology, Marcus gently wiped your tears with his thumb, before pressing a kiss to your cheek.

You were so happy your babies were healthy, but never in a million years did you think you’d be having twins. That was twice the crying, twice the cost, twice the feeding, and bathing. You tried not to show it but you were stressed. You and Marcus were going to raise not just one baby, but two small innocent humans, who were dependent on both of you. 

“Don’t worry, almost every single parent cries when they first see their baby, in your case babies,” She grinned, grabbing an antiseptic wipe to remove the gel from your stomach. “Well, I’m gonna print the sonogram images for you, before I forget to mention it on your way out don’t forget to schedule you’re next appointment, we recommend you come in at least every 4 weeks.” 

“Yes, we will do that, thank you,” You responded, pulling your shirt down, to its normal resting place now that the sonogram was over. 

You sat up from your lying position, “I-I’m gonna go use the restroom,” You hurriedly murmured, before walking out of the room. You let out a breath, searching for the restroom, once you spotted it you quickly made your way to it. You slammed the door shut, locking it, taking a few more deep breaths in an attempt to not panic. 

Albeit all you could think about was the twins in your uterus. Which caused you to slightly panic and spiral. But you were carrying twins you can’t panic, that’s not good for the baby. Before you knew it you were sitting on the restroom floor, having a panic attack. “I c-an’t do… t-this,” You quietly stuttered out through your tears, as they continued to cascade down your face. You tried to calm yourself down again but failed. 

Suddenly a knock sounded from the other side of the door, “Bub, are you okay in there?” You heard Marcus question. “Mhm,” You managed to get out, a whimper escaping, as you tried to hide your sobs. “Baby, let me in, I can tell you’re not okay, please,” He quietly said through the door, his head leaning against it.

“Okay,” You sniffled as you stood up, unlocking the door, and allowing Marcus to walk in. 

He immediately pulled you into a hug at the sight of you in distress. “What’s wrong, love?” He asked as you clung to him, tears rolling down your cheeks still. You attempted to get the words out, however, you’re breathing was too quick and uneven for you to get anything out. “Baby, you need to calm down okay? Listen to my heartbeat, and just follow my breathing, okay?” He told you in a questioning manner, pulling you in tighter, wanting to somehow squeeze out whatever was causing your tears.

You nodded, your head pressed against his chest as you listened to his calm heartbeat. Somehow listening to his relaxed heartbeat and being in his arms soothed you, following as he took a deep breath in and exhaled. Both of you stood there for a moment, a comforting silence enveloping you. 

“I’m sorry,” You whispered.

Marcus shook his head, “You have nothing to apologize for baby, just please tell me what’s wrong?” 

“It’s just- we’re having twins, Marcus, I mean, I was scared shitless when I found out I was pregnant with a baby, but now we’re gonna have two. I mean we’re barely gonna graduate, and I mean- how can we afford two babies!? I know you have your job, but- this is two babies, not just one anymore! And where are we gonna live? With my mom? Your parents? A-and what about college? I-I don’t know how you’re not freaking out, w-why aren’t you freaking out?” 

Marcus simply smiled at you, “Because I love you, Y/n Miller, and I know no matter what, as long as I have you, and our families, we’re gonna be alright. We’ll figure everything out, I promise you,” He said his hands now gently holding your face in his hands, so you could look at him. “Just please don’t stress about this, it’s not good for you, or our precious cargo,” He grinned. 

“You’re crazy.” You stared at him and all his calmness, causing him to laugh.

“Crazy in love with you? Yes, very much.” 

“I probably look a mess now,” You said with a slight hint of sadness, as you fell into his arms once again. 

“Well, if you look like a mess, then you’re the most beautiful mess I’ve ever laid my eyes on.”

“Hey!”

“What? It’s a compliment, come on,” He said, pulling you toward the mirror.

“See, still stunning, as always.” He told you, placing a kiss on the top of your head.

“Wow, my makeup looks pretty good still…” You said, grabbing a paper towel and patting the tear tracks away.

“That’s all you baby,”

“No, I think it’s that new setting spray I got.” You smiled lightly.

Another knock echoed off the restroom walls interrupting you, followed by Ginny’s voice, “Y/n/n are you okay in there? You’ve been gone a while… Marcus was supposed to come get you but he probably got lost, he’s kinda an idiot-” she was interrupted by a squeaky voice speaking up, “Hey, that’s not a nice thing to say, Ginny.” Austin said.

“I mean, is she lying though?” Max questioned.

“Honey, you alright?” Your mom called out after, as you and Marcus tried to contain your laughs.

“Maybe she’s not in there,” Max murmured.

You opened the door, being met with your family huddled around the door, “I’m fine guys, just a little worried, and hormonal, but besides that, fine.” You gave them a reassuring smile. 

“Well, come on then, we gotta set up you’re next appointment,” Georgia said, nodding toward the front desk. 

You all began walking toward the desk as you overheard Marcus, “Thanks for sticking up for me bud,”

Austin nodded, “You’re welcome, Ginny’s just a big old grump.” 

“You’re right about that, Max too,” He replied teasingly, causing both girls to roll their eyes as you laughed at the conversation taking place. 

。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ

You texted Padma images of the ultrasound seeing as she wasn’t able to make it. She congratulated you, her messages filled with love and excitement. Seeing as it was Saturday, the rest of the day was spent with your families, Clint and Ellen joining everyone at your house. They both sat in amazement as they stared at the sonogram images of your little strawberry twins.

“Wow, two healthy babies! We’re gonna have our hands full, again!” Clint signed.

“I know, I wonder if it’s because you and Maxine are twins Marcus,” Ellen murmured.

“Actually the ultrasound tech said something about it affecting ovulation, so Max would be twice as likely to have twins than me, or if one of our babies is a girl, she’d be more likely too. We just got lucky, I guess,” Marcus explained to his parents.

“Alright, remind me to never try for kids then, we don’t need two pairs of twins running around. That’s chaos is what that is.” Max laughed.

“I mean I’m sure you guys will be fine though,” She smiled awkwardly.

“Well, I can’t just wait to meet our little twins!” Georgia spoke, as you were all lounging around in the living room.

“Were they able to tell if they’re gonna be identical or fraternal? I don’t remember how many weeks I was when they were able to tell us, with Max and Marcus.” Ellen asked, Clint nodding in support of the question.

“They’re fraternal, thankfully, I don’t know how we would do it if they were identical. I mean we’d probably mix them up while they’re babies…” You answered while signing.

“There are actually a few tricks to tell them apart when they’re babies, like name bracelets or, painting their toenail a certain color, stuff like that,” Ellen responded.

“Yeah, and you guys might need to use some of those tricks, I mean, Max and Marcus looked almost identical when they were babies,” Clint informed you.

“Well then,” You smiled nervously, leaning into Marcus's arms even more. He rested his chin on the top of your head, as you sighed into his neck, beginning to feel slightly tired.

“You feel alright?”

“Mhm, just a little tired…”

“Wanna go nap for a little bit?”

“No, it’s okay, we can hang out down here a little longer if you want.”

“Y/n/n don’t make me drag you upstairs, if you’re tired, go nap,” Ginny said seriously. 

“Yes, ma’am, I guess I’ll see everyone later,” You said, before Marcus helped you up and to your room. He closed your curtains to block the evening sun, before pulling the sheets back, allowing you to get into bed. You lay down, letting out a sigh in comfort, patting beside you for Marcus to join you.

He gladly obliged, cuddling you once he laid down. You nuzzled your head into the crook of his neck, breathing in his calming and comforting scent. “You feel a little bit better about having twins?”

“Yeah, especially since your parents have experience in that department, I still can’t believe it.”

“I know, we’re having twins,” He murmured.

“Yup, I wonder what gender they’ll be…” You mumbled.

“Me too, but as long as they’re healthy, that’s all that matters.” He said as he caressed your back with his hands, rubbing it soothingly. 

“Mhmm,” You hummed, you’re breathing slowing as you began to fall asleep.

“Love you, bub,” You sleepily muttered.

“I love you too,” Marcus responded before placing a gentle kiss on your lips, “Sweet dreams, baby.” He whispered as you drifted off.

He pulled you closer to him as he began to drift off as well. Your favorite place was in his arms and his favorite place was you.

。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ

A/N: there are alot of like nicknames in this, lmk which one y'all think marcus would call the reader bc i really am unsure, also how do we feel about "princess" i think it's cute but ik it gives some ppl the ick... anyways have a great rest of your day/night/morning! 💞

[re-ikrmso]

rant about mouthwashing (game)

mentions/implications of s/a, abuse

saw this art. wont reblog because i dont want to be fucking precieved on there.

“curly didnt care about anya hes so cold” no. he didnt understand the gravity.

ive been a fucking curly . before anyone gets on my case about it, it was not related to SA. and been an anya too. dont say i dont fucking understand.

watched my friends give my…abuser? god. its. i dont know. i still hesitate to call ot any kind of abuse or s/a but it was definitely sexual and against my will. anyways.

watches my community/friendgroup give him a fucking slap on the back. you know what. i .

i cant even get mad at them for it. okay ive also had my fair share of being falsely accused/being framed for smth i didnt do so i have. issues (yeah sorry just one thing after another)

but like. i know. they let them off. with a slap. not because they didn’t care. but because they believed people can do better. Hell, I BELIEVED that it was somehow my fault. that i cohld not stop or convince my abuser to stop. I BELIEVED he couls be and do better. Would you blame me then? I bet people would. people dont like complex situations i fuckin guess. its just,

urgh. i dont think anyone wouldve been better if they were in curly’s shoes and curly fucked up with the situation but a main thing is that. he really just believed in the good of people. “hey, we’re both rational, thinking people. im sure we can sort this out.” but what he forgot was that that same rational thinking person made the choice to hurt others. i just.

“why did curly stay friends with jimmy” because he saw someone in a hard place and he wanted to help. its so. oh my god. curly haters. GET OFF MY FUCKING BLOG. anya haters too.

[kimaixun]

[Insecurity - SKZ x M!Reader]

You are SKZ’s close friend since you’ve been training under the same company with them. Due to your schedule being busy because you just debuted a month ago, you barely had time to hang out with them. They were very understanding though because, you went through the same thing when they debuted. And as what seems that god had given you a day off, you were very excited to hang out with them.

“I’m backkkkkkkkk!!!!!!” You grinned widely as you skipped into the dorm with chinese takeouts.

“M/N!”

“Hyung!”

All of them were surprised to see you. You put down the take outs on the dining table before taking off your jacket, tossing it on the chair. Bang Chan was the first one who opened his arm and you jumped right into them, nuzzling your head into his chest.

“Oh, I miss you so much.” Bang Chan cooed, kissing the top of your head as you guys hugged.

“Let’s just leave, it seems like M/N only misses Bang Chan anyways.” You chuckled upon hearing ChangBin’s word.

You broke away from the hug before turning towards ChangBin, practically jumping onto him. He loses his balance and fell to the ground with you still on top of him.

“You lost weight.” ChangBin said, holding onto your waist.

“We all do when we debut.” You replied.

You gave ChangBin another tight hug before turning to the rest of the kids, giving each one of them hugs. After chatting for awhile, you found yourself seated in the living room with them, the take outs food that you brought was shared amongst each other.

“You did WHAT?” All of them yelled almost, simultaneously.

“What?” You rolled your eyes. “I’m still alive.”

Apparently, you had just expose your secret of losing weight to them which was very unhealthy because it consisted of you only eating one piece of sweet potato each day and that was all.

“That’s very unhealthy.” Lee Know frowned.

“Eat more M/N, you need it.” You smiled as HyunJin gave you another piece of chicken.

“And how much did you lose from all that?” Jisung questioned.

“Just 16kg.” You replied, stuffing your face with food.

“WHAT?!!!”

“Hyung! That’s horrible, how could you?” I.N who sat next to you cling on your arm, pouting. “Omg, no more muscles.”

“It’s not that bad. At least, I’m still overweight though.”

“Overweight, my ass.” Seungmin rolled his eyes, “have you seen yourself? You’re skin and bone. Like, I swear I can break a bone if I flick your forehead.”

“Is it that bad?” You suddenly become self conscious. In all honesty, it wasn’t only your debut that made you lose weight, the stress and pressure that came with it was a bonus. Not to mention, some antis commented on how heavy you looked. You didn’t want to disappoint them.

“This isn’t just about debuting isn’t it?” As if he could read your mind, Bang Chan put down his food, gulping the soda and gave you a stern look. “M/N, are you being bullied?”

You looked at him in disbelieve, “b—bullied? No?” You didn’t mean to make it sound as if you were questioning him. It just came out of you.

“Oh you are being bullied. You’re stuttering. Who’s bullying you?” Felix interjected.

“I—-I’m not being bu—,”

“HERE IT IS! I knew it.” I.N suddenly pulled out his phone, showing the rest of them a fan page. You knew that fan page. It was the exact same one where you read all those hates from antis. “This is horrible. Why didn’t you tell us?”

“Cause it didn’t matter?” Again, it came out like a question.

“M/N.”

Oh no, you felt your throat close up, a churning stomach made you ran towards the toilet and there goes the rainbow. You felt tears escaping your eyes as you coughed every content that you just digested.

“Oh love,” You heard Lee Know behind you, rubbing your back soothingly. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”

“I….I didn’t want to burden all of you.” You hiccuped, wiping your mouth with the sleeves of your shirt. “I’m sorry.”

“Hey, it’s okay. Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.” Lee Know led you to the sink, giving you a toothbrush and mouthwash. You ended up, taking a shower and slipped into Lee Know’s sweaters.

When you were back at the living room, the rest had cleared up the takeouts and laid a huge comforter across the living room, you see them laying/sitting on it, waiting for you.

“Come here baby.” M/N smiled softly as JiSung opens his arms, inviting you to lay on him. You thanked Lee Know for helping you clean up before making your way into JiSung’s arm.

I.N scooted beside the two of you and link his arm across JiSung’s. You find yourself drifting to sleep from the comfort of the two.

“Sweetie.” Bang Chan calls out, “shall we make an promise amongst all of us that you would not do this stupid dieting every again?”

“I’m sorry and I promise I won’t do it again.” Y/N frowned feeling guilty for causing such disappointment to your loved one.

“I love you.”

JiSung was the first one to kiss you on the forehead. I.N was after him, followed by HyunJin, SeungMin, Lee Know, ChangBin, Felix and lastly Bang Chan.

“I love you guys.” You whispered before slowly drifting to sleep in JiSung’s arm.

[the-silly-superstar]

Gonna rant rq because OH MY GODDDDDDD MOUTHWASHINGS IN MY SKULL AND I HATE THOSE KILL JIMMY AUS

TW FOR PREGNANCY AND SA MENTION TOO, just MW stuff

I’m specifically DHFJSJDJDJAJSH at the AUS THOSE GODDAMN AUS. THEY KILL JIMMY WHICH DOESNT HELP. I LIKE THE ONES WHERE THEY GET HOME STILL- BUT ANYA WOULD REALISTICALLY HAVE THE BABY ONNN BOARD OR VERY CLOSE TO WHEN THEY GET HOME, AND SHE HAS NO MONEY TO CARE FOR IT SO SHED LIKELY GO IN DEBT. JIMMY, IF DEAD,  COULDNT PAY FOR THE CRIMES, OR PAY ANY SORT OF CHILD SUPPORT CONSIDERING ITS HIS. Things would be SUBSTANTIALLY WORSE for Anya if Jimmy died. Like oh my gODDDDD AHFHHAHDHDHAHDDHAHHDDH sorry for the intense capitals I just feel very passionate about this depressing little indie game with good writing and morally grey characters people can’t grasp because if they’re not exactly right or wrong like in the cartoons they’re automatically one.

Curly was a good guy, good intentions, but he messed up. He didn’t help Anya, and if I remember correctly he helped Jimmy get the job A LOT- which I get. They’re like- rlly good friends so you’d help a good friend. But like FHSJDJJSJDFHHAJDFKJDJSHFHFHSHFFHHDSHDIFIDJRHFJSIRIRIZJAJEIDIZJSORIDJFJJS this is probably gonna be a bunch of keyboard smashes since I just woke up and words won’t word FHSJDJFJSJDHRAHSHFHSHSJDHDHSHSHFJJDJDJDJA It’s just such a good game guys oh my god go vote it for “outstanding story” in the steam awards plz I don’t have an account :(