#on a different note pretty much everyone in my town and even in surrounding towns is or seems stuck-up as hell lol

[m-a-d-e-l-e-i-n-e]

I know that I wasn't ready at the time and it's really unhelpful to just dwell on things you did in your past that you can't change, but man it's sometimes hard not to think about how much I regret just not having gone to a four-year university right after high school so I could finally get away from home and my current situation that was and still is making me miserable and then proceeding to fail my community college classes because I was depressed

[apomaro-mellow]

Sunshower

Read on AO3

Written for @slavicviking for the @steddieholidayexchange !

When Steve Harrington had graduated, Eddie thought he’d be pretty much done with him. Not that they had a lot of face time before. He just thought, in the true fashion of guys that peak in high school, he’d fade into the town, get married young, show his face at the 20 year reunion. Maybe he’d catch glimpses of him around Hawkins, but not for very long. Eddie was planning on hightailing it out of here the moment the diploma was in his hands. So what if it would take another year?

The positive was supposed to be that he was NOT going to see Steve’s face in the hallways. It was a great misfortune to see him walking up from the football field with some kid. Eddie had just finished a deal by the picnic tables. Why Harrington was hanging with what looked like a freshie, he didn’t know.

Eddie would’ve known if he had a brother. So who was the kid? Curiosity got the better of him and he trailed a good distance behind them. He was a little surprised when Steve took him through the cafeteria’s kitchen doors, which had a broken lock. It was the school’s worst kept secret, but he never imagined The Hair sneaking into school during summer vacation. 

So what could he do but follow? 

What he saw as he crept behind them was Steve Harrington giving what must be a future freshman a tour of the school.

“Here’s the cafeteria. Honestly the food’s not bad. Their creamed spinach isn’t the best, but really who’s is?”

Steve led the kid with the curly hair out of the cafeteria and into the greater part of the school. “Here’s all the lockers. No you don’t get to choose one, but once you get assigned you can always switch with someone who’s got better real estate.”

“Does the location of my locker really matter?”, the kid asked, nose scrunching up.

“Do you want one right next to the bathroom?”

“....Boy or girls?”

Steve smiled. “Good. You’re learning.”

Eddie shadowed them for the whole tour, which ended up being about twenty minutes. Harrington was really showing this kid everything. And yet was giving him the most skewed tunnel vision of high school. Great, just what he needed his third time around as a senior. A mini-Steve. Steve was telling him which teachers would let him get away with coming in late, the best spot to sit in the classroom, what teams it was worth going for.

“Steve, it’s like you don’t even know me. Have you ever seen me dribble a ball?”

“I’m just saying that it’s a fresh start. You could be someone new”, Steve reasoned.

“Did you become someone new in high school?”

Eddie thought back to the proto-Harrington he knew in middle school. The answer was clearly no. He’d been on the baseball team back then and was pretty much just as self absorbed as he would’ve been in high school. Steve gave a non-answer about how everyone had different experiences and pushed the kid on. Eddie decided he’d heard enough. Enough to know this kid was under Steve’s wing, but clearly they had different interests.

So come the first day of school, Eddie wore his Hellfire Club shirt loud and proud. The air was still warm, which meant he did so without his jacket. That just allowed the emblem to show even more. He’d told the other members to also wear theirs. Normally Eddie waited about a week, scoping out the freshies before figuring out who he’d approach to join. But he’d already had his sights set on at least one boy.

Imagine his delight and surprise when said boy had two others hanging around. Eddie was hanging outside the school, his cronies surrounding him as they caught up from what happened over summer. The trio was loud. Very obnoxiously arguing over something. Freshmen tended to be more self-conscious, wanting to keep their heads down at first. Eddie noted the Weird Al shirt one of them had. These boys were the opposite of timid. Perfect Hellfire material.

Eddie waited until lunch to make his move though. Give them a bit of time to get acclimated and at least half a day to see where everyone stood. But when Eddie did get to them, he was glad to see both excitement and relief in their eyes. They were looking for somewhere to belong. And he could give it to them.

Screw any influence Steve Harrington had on them. Which was why Eddie made careful measures not to even mention his name. The guy had graduated. His reign was over. Actually, it had kind of ended back in 84 but who was keeping record? Dustin, Mike, and Lucas were great additions to the club. They had a passion for the game and a never-back-down attitude. Honestly, it was so great, that Eddie almost forgot that these kids knew Steve.

That is until sports tryouts started.

“You can’t honestly be thinking out trying for a team”, Mike said, practically slamming his lunch tray onto the table as he sat down.

“I’m not just thinking. I’m already training”, Lucas replied.

“Ugh”, Mike retched. “Don’t get me started on that. You spend more time with your dad than us now.”

“His dad’s not the one teaching him”, Dustin said. “Steve keeps bailing on driving me places because he’s coaching Lucas.”

Mike had a look of utter betrayal and was definitely about to say something in response when Jeff cut him off.

“You’ve got Steve teaching you? As in Steve Harrington?”

“Yeah”, Lucas answered, much to the jeers of the rest of the table.

“Gentlemen, gentlemen”, Eddie said, holding his hands up in a calming gesture. “We must not bar Lucas from his own choices. And as for Steve, well, let’s just be glad young Sinclair didn’t go to him for academic assistance.”

The others laughed at that and the subject was quickly changed to something else. The rest of them didn’t really want to talk about any of the sports teams, lest that get Eddie really going and off on one of his rants. Sometimes it was nice to have just a stress free lunch.

“He said that?!”, Steve shouted indignantly as he dribbled the ball around on the court. He and Lucas were at a public court. Lucas was getting some practice in with his dad, but whenever he was busy, Steve stepped in.

“He’s not your biggest fan”, Lucas said with a shrug.

“Yeah, well he’s no prize either. Don’t let him get in your head. There’s nothing wrong with the sports programs.”

“But they’re right about there being cliques. If I get on the team, can I even be friends with Dustin and Mike anymore if they’re gonna be in Hellfire?”

“You should go for whatever you want. High school only happens once.” Steve dribbled the ball a few times before giving a bounce pass over to Lucas. “Alright, show me your handling.”

Lucas followed Steve’s advice. He officially joined up with Eddie’s club. He loved DnD and he enjoyed playing with his friends. But walking around with a Hellfire shirt didn’t do good things for their reputations at school. The others took it in stride, but Lucas was tired of being called names and girls looking at him weird.

So as soon as the sign-ups for try outs was out, Lucas put his name down. He didn’t really announce it but he didn’t hide it either the first time the guys wanted to do something and he was busy. The reception was not so good.

“You actually wanna be on the basketball team?”, Mike was incredulous.

Eddie was leaning against the lockers, arms crossed. “I get the feeling someone put this idea in your head. Was it Harrington?”

“He didn’t put any idea in my head he just..encouraged me”, Lucas confessed. “He said I should go for what I want. You only get one life.”

“One life indeed”, Eddie nodded.

“And you wanna use it shooting hoops with Jason and his cronies?”, Jeff asked.

“They’re probably not all that bad. Steve wasn’t”, Lucas defended.

The opinions were mixed on that. Dustin, Lucas, and Mike knew what Steve had done that they couldn’t tell others. He had stood between them and certain death more than once. But they couldn’t tell Hellfire that.

“You guys don’t know what Harrington was like”, Eddie said.

“Are you saying Steve bullied you?”, Mike asked with a raised brow.

“Bullied? Pfft, no. Harrington and I barely crossed paths. I just know his type. I know what he’s about. And he and I couldn’t be anymore different.”

At first it was just a conflicting of ideals. Whatever Steve told them about high school, Eddie told them the opposite. And there was no telling one what the other said.

“Harrington’s an idiot.”

“Munson’s a loser.”

It made talking to either of them hard. Most of their days involved hanging with Eddie and when they saw Steve it was all they wanted to talk about. Sort of difficult to talk about Eddie without talking about Eddie, but they managed for now. 

Well, at least they did until the party got super deep into Hellfire. The campaigns were really involved, to the point of needing rides home from Steve when they ran too late. It resulted in quite a bit of petty glaring across the parking lot. Mike and Lucas had resigned themselves to the status quo remaining, but Dustin wasn’t satisfied with that.

It took quite a bit of doing, but what else brought people together more than a missing child? Dustin didn’t actually go missing. He simply concocted a plan with his friends to make it seem like he did and only to Eddie and Steve. He wasn’t crazy enough to get the whole town looking for him. Steve wasn’t crazy about Eddie tagging along for the search but the priority was finding Dustin.

“Why do you need that to find Dustin?”, Eddie asked, reaching a hand out to touch the nails in the bat, just to see it they were real.

“Don’t ask”, Steve bit out as they entered the woods.

Dustin thought getting them to work together would ease the tension, and it did. But only after bickering like children for a little while longer. Steve didn’t like how Eddie was undermining everything he’d been saying about high school. Eddie didn’t like how Steve had been trying to lead his sheep in the wrong direction.

“Yeah well before they were your sheep they were my-”

“....They were your…”, Eddie urged him to continue.

“Nevermind.”

“You and Nancy must’ve been pretty tight when you dated to get so close to her brother and his friends.”

“Me and those guys bonded outside of Nancy.”

“Is there a story there?”, Eddie asked.

“Yeah-” Steve froze when he thought he heard a sound before continuing. The sun was still high in the sky, so they didn’t have much to fear just yet. It didn’t hurt to be cautious though. “I just…I guess I just know how high school can be for kids like that. I wanted to make it easy for them.”

Eddie shook his head. “Doesn’t matter what kind of cheat codes you give ‘em. There’s always gonna be someone who makes it harder than it needs to be.”

Steve thought about thanking Eddie for giving them a place right away, but didn’t. Eddie thought of saying how Steve seemed to have changed, but didn’t. When they finally found Dustin, they laid into him hard, especially because he wouldn’t stop smiling despite his lie being revealed. All Dustin cared about was the fact they weren’t arguing with each other.

Mission accomplished.

Mission accomplished a little too well.

Now instead of having two friends who hated each other’s guts, Dustin had two friends who reveled in being shitty older brothers to him. Any time Steve picked them up from Hellfire (which he did with a suspicious amount of willingness now) he and Eddie traded notes on whatever it was that Dustin did that week. It was like a Henderson Briefing and the main objective was to either embarrass him or annoy him, sometimes both.

“I regret ever forging this friendship”, Dustin said.

“I think it’s the best thing you’ve ever done”, Lucas beamed.

Mike was grinning too. “It’s definitely the funniest.”

It got to the point where sometimes Steve and Eddie would hang out on their own. And wasn’t that just bizarre? What did they even do together?? The answer was mostly smoking, drinking, and shootin’ the shit. Even though Steve wasn’t able to tell Eddie any of the grimier details of the past couple of years, he was still able to tell plenty. And Eddie had no NDAs to speak of. 

They were sitting out by Steve’s pool one day in March, the weather just starting to warm up to be able to relax there without freezing. Spring would officially come soon and with it, maybe a day or two where they could actually take a dip.

“I’m telling you, the lunch ladies changed the formula. Something’s different about the meatloaf”, Eddie said, fully reclined in a pool chair.

”You’re implying that they actually cook that stuff in the school.”

“I’ve seen the vats of mystery meat stew, Steve. But some of the food is made on-site. And the meatloaf is one of them.”

Steve smiled up at the clear sky. They talked like this, high or not. Just the most inane things that he never wanted to end. What did he care about the food at a school he no longer attended? He cared when Eddie was the one talking about it.

“So you’re done with the loaf then?”

“I don’t even think it’s the same meat anymore”, Eddie said. “Or maybe they changed the seasoning…?”

Steve continued gazing up at the sky as Eddie mused on that. Suddenly a drop of water hit his head. Then another, then a third. He wiped his face and looked to Eddie, who was also blinking through drops. Wordlessly, they got up from their seats and went under the porch awning as the rain began falling in earnest.

“How is it raining? The sun is still out”, Steve said, reaching a hand out just to be sure it was still rain.

Eddie snorted. “Never seen a sunshower, Harrington?”

“No”, he answered honestly.

“Don’t sweat it. I’ve still gotta knock ball lightning off my strange weather checklist.”

“It’s just weird seeing it rain with no clouds”, Steve said.

Eddie watched the droplets fall in the sunlight. It was like liquid gold falling from the sky. He watched Steve’s face, no hard lines or sarcasm, just awe at seeing something new and wonderful.

“You know, some folks back where I’m from have a name for this.”

“You mean something other than ‘sunshower’?”, Steve tore his eyes from the rain to look at him.

“They say the devil’s kissing his wife”, Eddie stuck his tongue out. “Give you any ideas?”

He had been a hundred percent teasing. Eddie had just been talking. Flapping his gums. Doing his usual friendly flirtation style. He had no plan in place for when Steve actually kissed him. But when it happened, there was only one choice: to kiss him back. The rain provided some pretty romantic ambience in his opinion.

“So are you the devil in question?”, Steve asked when he pulled back.

“Only if that makes you my sweet, lovely little wife”, Eddie teased and then made kissing noises.

“Fuck off, Munson”, Steve laughed.

Feeling like they were on the edge of something, Eddie took the plunge and kissed him again instead of cracking wise. Steve softened so beautifully that Eddie wished he could go to the past and kick himself in the pants. He probably could’ve been doing this months ago.

“You know we absolutely can’t tell Dustin about this?”, Steve said against his lips.

“It’s none of his business anyway.” Eddie didn’t feel the need to mention that no one could know. He just put his hands on Steve’s hips and for once was thankful for the privacy the backyard gave them.

Weeks later, during the spring break from his darkest nightmares and the stroll through actual hell, Eddie would have an epiphany.

“That’s why you have that bat!”

[scekrex]

I'm so very obsess with your Overlord!reader storyline, it's just so soft, like it give me the vibe of 'bird in a gilded cage', but in 'the world outside is ugly and cruel and I want you to be surround with beauty and comfort' kind of way, just quietly comfy.

Also a prompt, how about for some reason or another, reader has to go to an overlord meeting but Adam is rather clingy plus he hasn't went outside since reader brought him there so he decided to take Adam with him while also making it a night on the town kind of thing. It's Hell but with reader long time there, he manage to find decent enough places to take Adam to. Obviously they got bothered, some even offered to buy Adam, but with the fact Adam is a still a powerfull angel and reader is longlived Overlord despite his relative anonymosity, they had a fun enough date and made it home unscathed

I love Overlord!Reader x Adam so fucking much, keep em asks coming bc I'll write for em til I die. Their dynamic is just absolutely adorable.

Bird of Hell's Paradise

I'm not likely to kick a head in, but I'll curb stomp a bitch if she objects at our wedding

pairing: Adam x male!reader

warnings: language

note: not beta read bc fuck you I don't have beta readers

“Adam,” you hummed softly as the first man wrapped his arms around your waist tightly. The entire week the former angel had tried to talk you into taking him with you, he had asked you over and over again but you had always refused. The world outside of the mansion was different, less pure and less safe. It was a battlefield, even without the exterminations hell was many things, brutal, bloody, cold-hearted and cruel. But safe enough for Adam to leave this place? No. On the other hand this realm would never be safe enough for someone like Adam to walk around freely, so the best you could do was to take him out with you, that way you could not only keep an eye on him but also prevent the first man to do anything stupid. And despite your mansion being shielded from the society of hell, you would not have to worry about him being alone at home.

“You can’t fucking leave me here, I wanna come with you to see what your ass is up to,” he pulled you flush against his body, his head resting on your shoulder. You sighed in defeat and that was when Adam knew that he had won, “Okay, you will keep me company for tonight’s meeting,” you agreed to his request and felt Adam’s grip on you tighten in excitement, a quiet, “Fuck yeah;” was heard from the man behind you. “After the meeting we could also stay in town a little bit longer than necessary and have dinner, if you would do me the favor and accompany me through that as well, darling.” The brunette placed a quick kiss to your jaw, “Having dinner with my very fucking famous boyfriend in town for everyone to fucking stare at us like we’re hot shit? Obviously I’m fucking in, babes.” Boyfriend huh? While the term sounded really pretty coming from Adam being directed to you, you had not expected the first man to use so meanful words to describe your relationship so soon, yet you were grateful the brunette mess was feeling the same way about you. “Then shoo, darling,” you chuckled softly as you pulled away from Adam’s warm touch and directed him to your shared bedroom, “Go get dressed, my dear.”

-

Well, Adam surely did not disappoint. Because for a reason that you had yet to understand he had chosen to wear the replica of the robe he had worn when you had found him nearly dead near the hotel. It was also the same robe the former angel had worn during exterminations in general, but who were you to judge your partner about his clothing choice? At least he was dressed appropriately for the meeting and that you thanked the lord for.

You and Adam had been the first to arrive after Carmilla, the others were yet to come. The top weapons dealer of hell eyed your company suspiciously, yet she did not dare to comment on it out loud, not when she knew the force of nature that Adam was and definitely not when she knew how defensive you were of the people close to you. “Carmilla,” you raised your voice as you took a sip from the tea that your old friend had offered once you and Adam had arrived. “Something is heavy on your mind, share your thoughts with me,” your eyes did not meet hers once, they were either on the drink in front of you, or on the handsome brunette man who had taken the seat right next to you. Carmilla eyed the two of you for a bit longer, then she spoke up, “You brought us the enemy, but I doubt you will have us let our way with him and show him the consequences of his actions.” Adam’s golden eyes were on you in an instant, he was not worried that you would hand him out, not at all. The former angel trusted you, he knew you would not treat him so gently at home for months and refused to take him with you to this meeting in the first place just to sell him to Carmilla and the other Overlords in the end. “No,” your voice sounded as tense as your body felt, was she trying to insult you? Did it seem like you were going to sell them Adam’s soul and body to have their way with him? The first man’s hand reached out for yours underneath the table and you took his offer of comfort gladly. “He is here as my partner, not as someone I will hand out to you. If you want his soul you have to tear it from my lifeless hands.” Alastor entered the room by Zestial’s side and hummed quite thoughtfully at your statement, “While that offer does sound tempting, I think I will keep it on the table for later,” the radio demon stated as he took his seat just like the friend he had arrived with. Adam narrowed his eyes at the sight of the redhead, they had history after all. Yet his anger was swept away by your thumb that started to gently caress the back of his hand.

Slowly the other overlords arrived, the Vee’s were on time for once and all of them had decided to give you the honor of their presence. The moth demon was quick to show interest in the man you had brought with you and he was not mannered enough to keep it to himself like Carmilla had been. “Hey there handsome~,” he purred towards Adam from across the table, blowing a cloud of smoke directly in his face - or at least that had been the plan, but you had been quick to block that tempting pink smoke of his, sparing Adam the pain of inhaling it. You had done that once and ever since then you tried your best to avoid the moth demon himself but also the scum he called friends. “Keep your shit to yourself, Valentino,” you growled at the Vee, fed up by his behavior already. Adam was yet again impressed by the switch in your language, when you spoke to the older Overlords you sounded so calm, so collected, like you chose your words wisely before you dared to open your mouth. But when speaking to the younger Overlords - such as the Vees - you talked like them. It was definitely something the first man admired, yet he craved to know what the real you was. Given that you spoke to him like you spoke to the more respected Overlords, he guessed that the calm and collected version of you was. Though he did not fully know.

“Oh,” Valentino responded, sounding a little surprised by your statement of protection, “So he’s on your leash already?” That caused Adam’s attention to shift from you to the moth demon that had tried to hit on him, “The fuck you mean I’m on his leash? I’m on no one’s fucking leash, cunt.” You nodded, confirming his words to be the truth as you added, “That does not mean you can fucking have him though, he is not an offer on the table. Not for you and not for anyone else.”

-

The meeting had been nerve wrecking and energy draining, especially with all of the Vees being there, Valentino had made quite a lot of comments that were meant to seduce Adam, but the brunette had always been quick to reassure the moth demon that he was not interested in anything the pimp had to offer. Rosie - while not amused about your specific choice of partner - had wished you both the best though, she was the sweetest lady in all of hell, that was for sure.

“What are you craving, my dear?” you asked as Adam and you walked through the streets of hell. Adam was visibly uncomfortable despite you having his back - quite literally, your arm was wrapped around the back of his upper body, slightly above his waist. His wings were pressed close to his sides and the usually prideful look on his face that would sometimes cause you to giggle got replaced by a look of uncertainty. You were not to blame him, he had never thought he would end up in hell after all, had always thought he was too pure to be casted down to spend eternity here. And even after you had found him he had kept telling you that Sera and Lute were to come for him. But they never had done so. And while that had been a punch in the guts for the brunette at first, he had been quick to seek comfort in you and the love you offered him. “Dunno,” he mumbled as his eyes carefully roamed over the buildings, they all looked so uninviting, this was different than your mansion and for a moment he wished to be back at your place, he wished to be back home.

“Look who we have here,” a shady looking Imp giggled as he approached the both of you. His voice sounded cracky, like he had been screaming for too long, his outfit looked run down and the horns on his head that had probably been white once were dirty and therefore appeared brown. Adam backed off immediately, he did not want to make physical contact with any of those shady people down here, no matter if they were sinners, hellborn people or overlords. They all would stain his purity and divinity. You extended your arm, pushed the dirty little Imp out of the way and continued your way to the restaurant you would always visit after Overlord meetings. “Then let me show you my favorite place,” you offered the first man a reassuring smile as you guided him through hell’s crowded streets, Adam was thankful to have you by his side. It was not that he was unable to handle himself, but the amount of eyes that looked at him murderously was surely something he had never experienced before. “It won’t reach heavenly standards of course, but I think you might like what they have to offer,” the brunette loved how cheerful and unaffected your voice was by all those sinners waiting to get their hands on Adam.

In a swift motion you turned around to shove a sinner out of the way that was about to touch Adam’s wing and probably rip out one of his glorious feathers too. In a low, angry sounding voice you growled, “I would not dare to do this if I were to be you,” as you looked down at the sinner that had flinched away from your boyfriend the moment you had turned to look at him. Without another word the little one ran away and you returned your attention to Adam, “I’m sorry hell is causing you so much trouble, love, but the people here are not exactly the positive and bright minded spirits you know from up above.” The brunette pressed his wings even closer to his body, careful for them to not touch the dirty ground that was mostly covered in sinner blood. “Not your fucking fault that freaking bitch of a demon fuck-up almost fucking ended me,” he responded as he looked at you for the first time ever since you two had left the building the Overlord meeting had been at. He was not feeling comfortable down here at all, his body language was so different from the one you knew. But you understood - or at least you thought you did.

The door was opened by one of the workers there and you and Adam were greeted by a strange look that quickly turned into a welcoming smile, it had its pros and cons to be so well known, that you definitely had to admit. Yet you were guided to a free table for two. “This shithole looks so fucking wild,” Adam commented on the restaurants decor, it surely was something special, nothing you preferred at your own house, but you were glad Adam seemed to like the atmosphere in here better than on the streets. “I’m glad this place makes you feel welcome because trust me when I tell you that it won’t get better - at least not in the Pride Ring,” that made the brunette peak up in interest. “So there’s better shit in another fucking ring?” His question was quickly answered by a nod of yours, “Yes my dear, I shall take you to Ozzie’s one day, you surely would like its vibe. The sin of Lust, Asmodeus, and his Imp boyfriend Fizzarolli run it,” you explained in delight, the theater restaurant that was located in the Lust Ring was your favorite place in hell’s seven rings. “The sin of Lust runs a fucking theater restaurant?” the first man raised an eyebrow like it was the craziest thing he had ever heard, “That’s like saying Sera runs a motherfucking candy store.” You chuckled at his comparison, though you had to admit that it wasn’t too far off, it did sound crazy for someone who did not know Ozzie. “The sin of Lust will surprise you, my dear, despite his interest in lust and desire he always preaches the importance of consent.” Adam huffed as his eyes flew over the menu, “You better introduce me to that fucker soon.” Little did Adam know that you had already booked a table at Asmodeus’ lustful lounge for the both of you.

[navstuffs]

The Pact

Pairing: Demon!Carlos Oliveira x GN!Reader

Summary: Living in a time where anything out of the ordinary is considered demoniac, your current dreams about a man, while a disease strikes your village, might put you in danger. 

Warning tags: HORROR FIC (14+), ignorant people, small stalker behavior from Carlos.

Author's Notes: fic 100% based on the end of vvitch movie and on the declaration on the church from Lestat to Louis in "Interview with the Vampire" (amc version). enjoy your reading and happy friday 13th!!

my hallowen's masterlist

You have never been normal. The sixth infant, the first (and only) to pass the age of five years old, you were curious since the start: "Where do the stars come from, Mommy? How does fruit grow from plants? How does the fire burn? What happens after we die?"

Your parents, thrilled about finally having a kid, didn't care much about your inquisitive personality. You would eventually give up on those questions and become a normal child like the others. 

Oh, how they were mistaken.

As you hit the teenage years, the merchant started to sell you books. The people from the village thought it was funny to see you walking around with an old book with no drawings. It wasn't like anyone would teach you how to read.

Your mom was the first one to realize you were actually reading the book. She knew a few words herself, and when she asked you what these were, you answered them correctly. When questioned how you knew this, you simply shrugged, stating, "I just do."

After having to promise that you would never tell anyone in your village you taught yourself how to read, your thirst for knowledge grew even more. Everything forbidden sure tastes better. It wasn't something your parents could stop you at this point, but they could only hope no one ever came to find out about this. It could put you in grave danger. 

You are running. Surrounded by tall black trees, you run into an open corridor. You don't feel any branches hurting your bare feet and aren't out of breath, so you suspect this is a dream. The only thing on the horizon is a distant orange light.

As you get closer and closer to the light, you swear you can feel the smell of fire, something burning. You stop by an open space, finding the people of your village in a circle and, in the middle of them, a massive blaze. Your breathing seems to stop as you push the crowd away. Your worst fears are confirmed when you see your dear library being burned. 

You turn around, facing the town leader, Percy, and before you can start to ask the reason for all of this, you notice he has no mouth. None of them have. They just stare at the fire as if enchanted, paying you no attention. You cover your mouth with your hands, holding back a scream. 

And that's when you see him. The one from your dreams, appearing in the middle of the crowd. 

He is tall, wearing a black long coat and boots. His black eyes shine with the orange light, different from everyone else's completely soulless. You want to run away, but your feet are locked into the floor. It is just a dream, he can't hurt you. He stops in front of you, observing you and up and down.  

That's when you notice you are naked. Not one single piece of clothing on. Your eyes widen with fear as the man slowly approaches you, his hand raising to touch your face. His hand is warm and comforting, gentle in your cheek. 

"We meet again." He speaks, his voice smooth as his touch. "So pretty…so lost." 

You close your eyes, not wanting to see more. Incredibly, you don't feel fear. No, you are just eager? Nervous? But no fear. Just waiting for what is supposed to happen, happen. You and the man know this. 

"We will meet again soon. Now it is time to wake up."

You wake up with a loud knock on your door. You raise yourself from the bed, confused and startled. You are not used to visitors: your parents passed away years ago, and it was just you now. You didn't even have friends anymore, especially after the disease started.

Everyone eventually got sick except for you. Everyone lost a family member except you (your parents were already dead, but the village members didn't seem to care about that part). You started noticing the strange stares, angry whispers, and even kids pointing in your direction, calling you a sorcerer. A seed of the devil. That behavior just made you more reclusive, which you figure is how you didn't get sick.

Another loud knock on your door wakes you from your trance. You get up from the bed, spying through a crack in your wall: a crowd is outside your house. You gulp, not wanting to open the door, Percy's voice telling you to get out or they will come inside. You, still in your sleeping clothing, open the door, a fierce expression in your eyes. Indeed, the whole village is there, holding torches. You are surprised they don't have pitchforks. Leading the group, Percy.  

"What is it?" Your tone of defiance scandalized half of the crowd, but you didn't care. They hated you anyway for being different. 

"We need you to come with us," Percy announces to some murmurs of agreement. 

"What if I don't?"

Percy nods slightly to the strong men at his sides, who seem to hesitate momentarily before they move forward, grabbing you one by each arm. You struggle as they pull you into the middle of the crowd, opening a circle. You try to ignore the similarity with your dream earlier as Percy proclaims your name. 

"You have been accused of witchcraft! We, in a consensus, have understood you are most definitely the cause of the plague that has killed so many." As he says that, circling you around, they let go of your arms, but you cannot escape. You are trapped. The villagers stare at you with disgust, fear, and anger. 

"Witchcraft? Don't I have a chance for a fair judgment?" Percy seems to ignore your questions, explaining your crimes to the crowd. Your anger builds up in your chest; you have no chance to defend yourself, no chance of a fair trial. The unfairness of the treatment that started when you were a kid. They always had looked for a reason to burn you.

You look down, feeling defeated as the anger burns your mouth. Your body shakes as you look for a way to escape. Percy continues inflaming the crowd, more angry screams directed at you.

"Burn! BURN! BURN!"

You should have left. You should have left as soon as your parents died and never looked back. 

The smell of burning hits your nose, and you raise your head to watch them fire your small garden. The one you with your mom and dad with so much care. You want to beg them to stop, but what use? In the court of public opinion, you are guilty of being born.

You are alone. Always have been.

The face of the man of your dreams flashes in your mind as the crowd's attention goes to your house. Inflamated by Percy's screams, they take their frustrations to your home. You, on the other hand, perceive the presence behind you before the men keeping you. It is him. 

Wearing the same coat over his messy black hair, he strolls towards you. You want to pinch yourself, believe you are still in bed, still dreaming. He stops right before you, unnoticed by everyone else except you. He kneels until your eyes stare back at his dark ones. 

"I told you we would meet again." You are too shocked to answer. The world is spinning much slower now, except for you and him. 

"Who are you?" You whisper.

"I go by many names, but you can call me Carlos."

"Is this another dream?"

"No. Not this time." 

Carlos gives you a moment to assimilate the whole situation before he speaks again. 

"I can help you. I can take you away, far away from all of this. This place hated you for being what you are. I can take you somewhere you can be who you truly are."

You listen to Carlos, his eyes shining with the fire around you. It sounds tempting, too close, so you can grab it with your hands. But what would be the consequences? You are too smart to know that when someone offers you so much, they ask you for more. You barely know Carlos anyway, just finding him in projections of your mind. Carlos, as if reading your mind, smiles. 

"It sounds insane, I know. Look around yourself," Carlos points to your home burning. Your garden. Frozen people screaming as they burn down the little you loved, the little you had, "You have lived around insanity for too long. I give you a chance of escape, I give you hope. All you have to do is nod that little head of yours, and you will be presented with wonders never seen by no human eyes."

It sounds tempting. It sounds too tempting. What do you really have to lose?

A slight nod is all Carlos needs to take you away.

You nod, and Carlo's smile grows.

Your surroundings finally go back to normal speed. The men near you jump away, alarmed as they notice Carlos near you. Almost as if he appeared out of thin air. Carlos gives you his hand, and you accept it. He raises you from the floor, covering you with his cloak. Percy walks toward you two, pointing his index finger.

"Who are you? Where are you taking our prisoner?" 

Carlos, shielding you from all of that insanity, answers with a low and dangerous tone.

"They don't belong to you to torment anymore. I would advise you to keep your distance."

Percy is shocked as Carlos starts pulling you away. The next set of events seems too fast to your mind to register: someone screams it's the Devil, and Carlos whispers for you to close your eyes. You can hear the screams, the smell of flesh burning, and Percy begging for his life in a pleading voice.

You are lying inside a wagon when you open your eyes again (or regain consciousness). It is dark, and you notice the stars up in the sky. There is no moon tonight. Carlos leads a majestic black stallion; you won't be surprised if he has red eyes. You don't ask about what happened in your village as you sit at his side, simply choosing silence. 

"You are okay?" You nod. "Aren't you going to ask me about what happened?" You shake your head, looking ahead. "Good."

It is not that you aren't curious, but you simply don't care enough about what happened to them. They never cared about you, so why should you care for them?

"Where are you taking me?"

"I told you. We have a deal: I will take you where you can live your life how you want."

"Are you the Devil?" There it is. You finally ask what has been in your chest. 

"Do I look like the devil?" Carlos laughs.

"I don't know. It doesn't matter anyway." You simply answer, shrugging, "Anything is better than before."

Carlos nods, his dark eyes watching you sideways. Maybe he shouldn't tell you now that he is indeed a demon, banished from hell, searching for someone to form a pact with him so he could regain full power. It couldn't be anyone. It had to be someone special. Maybe Carlos shouldn't tell you he had been keeping an eye on you since you were a child, his promised mate for life, the special human he needed to have. No, all of that could wait.

Now, you can finally look forward to the beginning of your new life, and Carlos will make sure you have one. No matter the cost.

taglist: @90sbee, @roseglazedlens, @scar-crossedlvrs, @daydreamrot. if you would like to be tagged in my halloween event, please let me know.

[jeonghaniehaee]

txt reblogs

master post

consists of txt fics i have personally enjoyed

order will go: name/link + author, synopsis, and my notes

you can probably tell my bias from all of my reblog lists…

read at ur own risk, some fics may be 18+ and not meant for minors

likes + reblogs for the original writer are appreciated from everyone 🤍

soobin:

all for a bet @/jjunieworld

choi soobin has always been the popular kid surrounded by his popular friends. y/n... not so much. one night, soobin and his friends make bet that soobin can't get y/n to date him in a month. unfortunately for y/n, they're a hopeless romantic.

notes: THE ANGST? THE FIGHTING? BEOMGYU LOWK BEING A BITCH? AAHHH THIS SMAU IS SO 💕💞💓💗💝💘💖

yeonjun:

📂 working on it..

beomgyu:

e-daters! @/suwbuns

moving back to korea from america, y/n is excited to reunite with her old friends and make new ones. what she doesnt expect is to find herself reuniting with her “ex-boyfriend” from 10 years ago who she dated over minecraft. what makes things worse? he happens to be her favorite streamer who she has been pinning after for years.

notes: it’s says to be announced so i’m going to assume it’s not finished but so far these are super funny and cute too 🤞(i might be a lil obsessed)

taehyun:

killshot @/wave2tyun

your life seemed to have taken a turn for the worse the minute kang taehyun stepped foot into the spy agency you worked at. wanting to take on a challenge to prove yourself worthy of the top position, your plans were turned upside down with his addition to the mission. you didn’t think things could get any worse, until they stated one clear, mandatory condition: the two of you had to pretend you were a couple.

THE ENDING IS SO CUTE OMG AND THE PLOT AND THE sSTORY OVERALL IS JUST 😭😭😭🥹🥹

february 14th @/jjunieworld

this has to be the worst day of your life. and just your luck, the day keeps repeating. over and over again. and you don’t know why. you get to relive the same day where you finally garner the courage to ask your crush, kang taehyun, out and get to relive the part where he rejects you each time.

notes: omg this story is so cute and even the parts of angsts are just *chefs kiss* istg all these taehyun writers are messing up my already taehyun messed up heart!!!

6:41 a.m. @/jjunieworld

you’re awoken early in the morning from taehyun’s alarm to go to the gym and decide to go with him. you end up distracting him from his routine with your staring and decide to encourage him with kisses to help him.

notes: super cute read and something to read after angst (read this after feb 14th from the same writer 🙏)

cherry wine @/wave2tyun

there were many things that you were good that. cooking, however, was not one of them. the minute your uni opened up a cooking course held by the culinary arts students, your friend made sure that your name would be the first one to appear on that list- without telling you about it, of course. but, what happens when the instructor is cute?

notes: this one is pretty sweet and such a attack to ur heart with how fluffy it is 🥹 a must read frfr

huening kai:

summer’s over @/hueningsloverr

many generations ago - like, many - your family purchased a beach house in a small coastal town a few hours away from where you were living growing up. and so, every summer right after school got out, you stayed at that beach house for a month and a half, until school started again. and it had been that way your entire life.

notes: omggg 😭😭 the emotions? the angst? it broke my heart but genuinely everything is oh sosososososo perfect 🥹

any recommendations to add? send in an ask and i’ll add it in🗞️

want me to make a different groups recommendation list? add in an request too 📃

[romeoisalesbian]

look man i just wanna ramble about romeo & juliet because it's a play that's near and dear to my heart

ok ok SO.

I feel like I keep seeing the take that Romeo & Juliet is REALLY about how dumb teens are and how their love was too impulsive and it's supposed to be a cautionary tale because their love gets them both dead.

And that's a fine takeaway I think! That's something you CAN get from the story. BUt I must confess it makes little sense to me.

I may be foolish, but I feel like everyone forgets about the whole familial conflict aspect of the play. like bro the first lines of the entire thign are like "hey guys there are these two families that ahte each other SO MUCH and they have FOREVER and now they're murdering each other." the first scene is about how the Montagues and the Capulets super duper hate each other so much so they're gonna square up in the middle of town with swords and shit after flipping each other off a few times

The turning point of the play, when it shifts from a silly romcom to a Balls Wrenching Tragedy, occurs firmly when Tybalt kills Mercutio.

THe actual romance aspect of the play is going FINE until this point! Romeo and Juliet the couple are pretty on the same page about everything happening in their relationship (even if that page is guided by impulse). Romeo is pretty jazzed at the start of the murder scene, and is in fact entirely unwilling to do the murder thing at all.

BUT! Tybalt is kinda a dick! And IS NOT willing to overlook the whole family-conflict-clown thing. And Tybalt's whole "i need to challenge romeo right this instant oh my god" impulse has very little to do with Romeo and Juliet's actual relationship. While a lot of adaptations have Tybalt see Romeo and Juliet being all Romantical at the party, textually Tybalt entirely is ready to brawl because Romeo showed up to the Capulet party at all and Tybalt is all Death Before My Rival Commits a Minor Social Faux Pas.

And Romeo murdering Tybalt and getting banished ALSO has little to do with Juliet or their relationship. His bro just died man. Yes it was stupid and impulsive, but man sometimes it's hard to keep your head on straight when your bestie just died (worth noting that Mercutio curses the family conflict itself when he dies!)

Like Romeo's issues all stem from that key interaction with Tybalt, who upholds the family conflicts above all else in every single scene he appears in.

Juliet on the other hand, is in the SHITTIEST situation. Her father is physically abusive towards her, and her parents are pressuring her to be married off to this random dude that is at best mostly well-meaning and adhering to general romance standards and at worst a massive creep (that's something that depends on acting and directing choices, I think. Paul Rudd Paris has never done anything wrong in his life). Juliet is trapped in this situation in which she is surrounded by pressure and abuse and familial conflict and death. It is reasonable to want to escape that at all measures, even if she acts impulsively and doesn't think through every single thing about the Friar's Genius Plan because god how could she in her circumstances?

If you're Juliet, your one escape from a shitty situation and environment is a boy who you firmly believe loves you, even if he has done some weird shit. If you're Romeo, your entire life has fallen apart because an ancient conflict resulted in your best friend dying and you getting banished for murder. What do you have to care for but someone who you think loves you and who you love amidst all the conflict?

To me, so much of the story hangs upon the familial conflict that the ending of the story is representative of a societal failure as opposed to a personal failure of our two leads.

No matter whether you see the relationship between local weenie romeo and local brain cell juliet as true love or as some passing fancy (i personally think it can be considered love but that's a different post for a different time, send me an ask if youre curious), it SHOUDLN'T end in several deaths and two suicides. The reason it does is because of a pointless family conflict our leads are brought up in.

[pommpuriinn]

꧁༒☬𝔀𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓪 𝓬𝓱𝓲𝓵𝓵 𝓴𝓲𝓵𝓵☬༒꧂

SYNOPSIS ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚ 𝐼𝓃 𝒶 𝓅𝓁𝒶𝒸𝑒 𝓈𝑜 𝓆𝓊𝒾𝑒𝓉 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓅𝑒𝒶𝒸𝑒𝒻𝓊𝓁 𝓈𝑜𝓂𝑒𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓁𝒾𝓀𝑒 𝒹𝑒𝒶𝓉𝒽 𝒾𝓈𝓃’𝓉 𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓁𝓁𝓎 𝒽𝑒𝒶𝓇𝒹 𝑜𝒻, 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝓌𝒽𝑒𝓃 𝒶 𝓃𝑒𝓌 𝑔𝒾𝓇𝓁 𝒸𝑜𝓂𝑒𝓈 𝓈𝓊𝒹𝒹𝑒𝓃𝓁𝓎 𝒹𝑒𝒶𝓉𝒽 𝓀𝑒𝑒𝓅𝓈 𝑜𝓃 𝓀𝓃𝑜𝒸𝓀𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝑜𝓃 𝓅𝑒𝑜𝓅𝓁𝑒’𝓈 𝒹𝑜𝑜𝓇𝓈.

STORY INCLUDES ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚ horror aspects, character deaths, unhealthy relationships, smut

AUTHOR’S NOTE ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚this is my first actual story so be gentle on me. I really wanted to create a horror story of txt falling sickly in love with a siren like girl, hope you find it interesting

PAIRING ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚ txtOT5 x oc

PROLOGUE

Mu Woods isn’t an innocent town nor is it a place full of crime either. It’s just a boring town with minimal history, people, and crime. The only special thing about the place is the teenagers’ drive to party on the weekends and causes a little noise to the town. They give color to Mu Woods which is usually grey. But recently the colors starts to bleed with the sudden shift in the air.

10:30pm, Saturday

It was a chilly night but that didn’t stop the loud booming bass coming from a two story house near the woods that surrounded Mu, which clearly got it’s name from. The poor house was packed with teenagers from all different grades even some who haven’t even entered the high school yet. It’s the middle of the school year everyone wanted the stress to sweat off their bodies from dancing, to drinking, and finally from lust.

That’s exactly what’s happening to Lee Jisu; the loving, innocent, girl next door Lee Jisu. Warm and sweet on the outside dirty and slutty on the inside. “Y-Yes! Don’t-mffp stop!” Jisu moaned, as a random senior was thrusting right into her swollen lips. “You’re one fucking dirty bitch.” The senior tighten his grip on Jisu’s makeshift ponytail. Doggystyle was Jisu’s favorite position since you didn’t have to see the person which means you can’t feel that bad about cheating. “I’ll make sure that piece of shit boyfriend knows exactly how much of slut you are after I cum into that pretty cunt.” He reached under Jisu and gave her pussy a good slap, earning a sweet moan. “Cum i-in me.” Jisu cried, as she lost balance with the rough thrusts burying her head into the pillow. Hearing Jisu moans boosted the senior’s ego even more. He pushed himself down onto her back and finishing himself deep inside her womp painting it with his cum. “Atta girl.” He groaned, pushing whatever he had left into her.

The two didn’t spend that much time together on the bed it was a ‘no strings attached’ type of thing for the two, plus miss sweet heart had a boyfriend downstairs starting to get curious of her disappearance. “Why are you with the kid anyway?” The senior questioned Jisu, as he watched her get dressed again. “Because he makes me look good.” Not giving good enough answer, but it didn’t bothered him. “To each their own I guess.” He shrugged, getting up from the messed up bed and making his way to the bedroom door before stopping. “Just call me whenever you want a real man to please you baby.” He winked and gave Jisu a spank on her ass before heading out first.

Jisu stopped by her boyfriend who was still talking and drinking with his little group. “Yeonjun~” she controlled her voice into a higher lighter tone one that really keeps the illusion going. “Darling!” He welcomed her with open arms and a bright smile. “I started getting worried for a second.” He wrapped his left arm around her shoulder holding her tight. Almost afraid of her leaving him again. “Sorry I was just not feeling well so I went into the bathroom and Hana came in with me. She was helping me, but then she started gossiping with me.” Just strings of lies were coming out of her mouth. Yeonjun just took it even though in the back of his head there was a bit of doubt.

Even though Jisu didn’t see it nor poor little Yeonjun there was someone lingering in the shadows that has seen Jisu’s two face ways, and wanted to help Yeonjun to set him free from his doubts. So let’s get the dead weight off his shoulders.

As the night continues and it was already the wee hours of the morning the party didn’t look like it was going to end anytime soon, so Jisu decided to get some drinks for her and Yeonjun to keep it going. Jisu went into the kitchen where all the parents’ liquor was at, “are you fucking kidding me.” Jisu whined at the sight of empty bottles all over the expensive marble counter top. Just as she was going to quickly give up she felt her phone vibrated, it was a message.

dad!: there’s some more outside in the back

Jisu: I told u to stop texting me!

If you couldn’t figure it out miss girl next door is a pretty good liar and knows how to hide secrets with code names that people wouldn’t really question.

dad!: don’t you miss me? come on jisu leave the son of bitch for a second and come with me let’s have some real fun huh?

Jisu was getting bored by the second hearing Yeonjun and his friends told about shit that didn’t interest her.

Jisu: fine. but it’s that last time ok!

dad!: don’t worry it will be the last time I promise. meet me by the lake so no one sees us

Luckily Minyeon another person in Jisu’s clique showed up in perfect timing. “Minyeon! Just the person I wanted to see.” Jisu gave Minyeon a fake smile. “Oh, Jisu-ah there you are I was wondering where you were. You’re always hiding somewhere huh?” Minyeon was clueless and was genuinely dumb to Jisu which always worked in her favor. Someone who’s beautiful and has a similar taste like Jisu, but had nothing going on inside that pretty little head of hers. Jisu giggled, “no, but what I will do is get us some drinks. I’ll be back ok.” Minyeon didn’t ask no further questions just smiled and nodded like the empty obedient girl she is.

There wasn’t much people outside since was already getting even colder than before, plus all the action was inside. The path leading to the lake was also the infamous path into the woods. Jisu didn’t know if it was the coldness of the full moon night or the eerie feeling she was starting to get that was led her goosebumps up her arms. She pushed the feeling aside as she spotted the lake that was reflecting the moonlight. “Alright I’m here.” She called out. Jisu scanned the lake and around the trees trying to see if she saw anyone. “Chanwoo! Where are you?” Jisu was getting irritated. “I don’t have all nig-”

Her phone vibrated.

dad!: come deeper I have the perfect spot love

Jisu gave one finally look at the distant house that still had her boyfriend there waiting for her. She bit her lip having a mental battle of going or not, but ultimately making her decision to meet up with Chanwoo. Again the feeling was there but Jisu was already way too into it to back out, plus to be fair she hasn’t seen Chanwoo in a couple of weeks since last time he fingered her in the movie theaters after her dinner date with Yeonjun.

“Ok I’m here.” Jisu sighed, yet no Chanwoo in sight. “Stop fucking with me Chanwoo.” Jisu furrowed her brows. A little chuckled was heard causing Jisu whipped her head around. “It’s not funny anymore!” Jisu chest started rising more frantically. The little snaps from the branches breaking caught Jisu’s eye before finally seeing a shadow. “Stop fucking around and come out!” Jisu yelled at the person. What scared her the most is that the person stopped and turned to face her. Jisu’s eyes widen at the sight of the person wearing a bunny mask that was cover with black fur and nothing else. No eyes, no mouth, no expression.

“You’re a freak.” Jisu spat out venom. “You’re mad I’m not bending you over and fucking you like a bitch.” The distorted voice spoke to Jisu. Jisu payed close attention to all the details of the person like how they wore a silky white dress with arm warmers. “You’re probably just another whore Chanwoo fucks huh? Sorry.” Jisu spoke in a fake apologetic tone. The person stepped closer to Jisu causing Jisu to start panicking, but tried not to show it. “Actually, you can keep him well…at least a part of him.” Jisu confusion was instantly replaced with horror at the sight of Chanwoo’s decapitated head that the person was just holding it by his hair. Jisu was about to let out a scream of panic, but the mysterious killer dropped the head and quickly pushed Jisu against there body covering her mouth. “Shouldn’t have been going around opening your legs and actually appreciated your soon to be ex boyfriend, but don’t worry he’ll be in safe hands.” A evil giggled was let out, causing Jisu to still try to scream but was muffled by the hand.

“Here I’ll give you something to actually scream about.” A small knife was pulled from the garter that was hiding under the silky dress. They struck Jisu’s left side of her stomach quickly pulling it out and throwing her on the dirt floor. “Let’s play a game ok? You try to run as fast as you can, and I’ll try to catch you.” They kept on taunting Jisu.

Jisu still have some fight in her and actually got up while pressing down on her wound trying to run, but the pain was soon getting to her. “Come on Jisu. You got this.” She whispered to herself. Unfortunately, she only made it to the lake the house was barely in sight. “Ah, ah, ah~” the killer pulled Jisu towards the little dock the lake had. “I see you got pretty far, but not far enough.” They crushed any hope Jisu got. Once they reached the end of the dock Jisu plead, “why? Why are you doing this to me? And who are you?”

“Well since you ask I’ll tell you.” They held on to Jisu’s hair tightly making her whimper in pain. “I want someone that you don’t deserve, and to get what I want I have to take out the one thing in my way. You.” Maybe if Jisu begged enough this will stop. “Ok then you can have Yeonjun! He’s all yours I won’t say anything or do anything I swear.” Jisu tried to find their eyes, but it was impossible with the bunny mask covering. “Just let me go.” Tears started running down her face. “Before you go I’ll answer your second question.” The killer completely ignored Jisu’s pleas and started revealing themselves to her. With what little Jisu had left since she was currently bleeding out from the stabbing she focused on the killer’s movements. They dropped the mask on the dock floor making direct eye contact with Jisu. “Y-you’re beautiful.” Jisu mumbled at the sight of the girl who had long jet black hair with bangs just above her eyebrows, black cat liner with a few moles on her face; one below her lip on the left side, one under the corner of her left eye, and finally one on her cheek bone on the right side.

“Aw, thanks.” The girl cooed, evilly smiling. “At least your last words were kind.” Before Jisu could say anything else the girl slice Jisu’s throat with the same little knife, and threw her into the water. “Did they actually care about you Jisu.” She shook her at the thought of nobody coming out to look for her. “Maybe I did you a favor.” She proceed to take out a cigarette and a lighter from her small pocket of her garter, lighting the cigarette and blowing the smoke out as she watch Jisu’s lifeless body float covered in her blood. 



[abirdie]

Gael Garcia Bernal: The Dear Heart Of 'Diaries'

Article from the Washington Post, 25 September 2004 (x)

By Hank Stuever

Gael Garcia Bernal: the Mexican actor, who is so very right now and here in town for, you know, just a day -- the whole thing with the big hotel suite and the half-eaten plate of fruit and dos publicistas tappa-tapping en los BlackBerrys over there. (Mujeres! Silencio!) He's promoting his new Che Guevara movie, The Motorcycle Diaries, and everyone who has seen it is going on and on about how saintly his portrayal of young Ernesto Guevara de la Serna is and how sumptuously the movie's 8,000-mile trek across South America unfurls onscreen and oh, btw, critics agree: Bernal's got Che's iconic, serious stare down pretty good.

Green eyes, we write in the notebook. (Big duh.)

Also can testify that Bernal is about 5 feet 7, though it long ago ceased to be news that the hotties of film are pocket-size. More notes: He turns 26 in November. He has a proud, long nose that sometimes blushes red when he laughs. He's wearing one of those Salvation Army-seeming plaid western-cut shirts that often turn out to be designer-label, a pair of deep blue vintagesque jeans and some scuffed lace-up boots the color of old asphalt. His hair is cut bubblegum-mishap short.

Awright, already, he's de-lish. Did we need to bring that dogeared copy of 501 Spanish Verbs with us? Of course not: Dude went to drama school for a while in London when he was a teenager; not long after he starred for six months in a Mexican soap opera called El Abuelo y Yo (Grandfather and Me), and this particular fact has dogged him in every interview. ("People think I did all these soap operas," he shrugs. "I did only that one. And it taught me a lot — it taught me I never wanted to do another soap opera.") When it comes to Spanish, he can bend it to his will, the way Nicole Kidman can do in English, with whatever accent directors like Walter Salles and Pedro Almodovar need him to speak in — Mexican, Argentine, Castilian.

During our interview, he spends an hour dissecting, in English, the current state of Pan-American politics, extolling his sensible, leftist-tinged childhood, and at one point he quotes from foreign-policy magazines.

We hold up our end of the conversation with such questions as:

"So, um, like, what do you do when you're not working?"

"When I'm not doing this?" Bernal asks, motioning around at the movie-star-with-movie-to-sell air particles of feature story nonsense. "I like to do all the things I cannot do as much. My common days are very different now. I would, if I could, I would be home" — Cuernavaca, just south of Mexico City — "and I would sleep until whatever time. Swim, play futbol. Read and go to lunches and the lunches become dinners. Visit family, organize a party for that night."

Halfway through the image of Bernal swaddled in high-thread-count sheets until whatever time, a half-theory privately knocks around in our pea brain:

Gael Garcia Bernal, or someone very much like him, is exactly why so many of us faithful, independent-minded filmgoers still cram ourselves into the creaky seats of dumpy art house cinemas, even as the years tick by and things like Netflix, the Sundance Channel and the nicer stadium-seating art houses came along to replace them. No, you want to see Bernal's movie surrounded by drabness, because you get a better transport to the happy, imaginative place that way. The stale popcorn, the Fandango.com ads, the bathroom with only two toilets. (Cineplex Odeon Dupont Circle 5, we mean you.)

We do it because we're always waiting for that next small-time heartthrob — male, female, or sometimes just the foreign scenery itself. It's the subtitles and the eyes. It's whatever we can't get from those American goofballs who do those blech movies that tend to be about guys who go on canoe trips where a horny bear in the woods tries to hump them. Or whatever.

Bernal would never do that to us.

Hollywood beckons and he rolls his eyes because it offers him roles like, uh, okay, here's the pitch: He's an undocumented leaf-blower yardman caught up in a caper that only Jackie Chan can make right, if only they could understand each other's Engrish, ha ha.

"I'm open," he says. "I am, I am. But so far in the U.S. what they have offered doesn't even get close to the kind of things that excite me. Nothing is quite right, so I think I'll just stick with what I'm doing. I have to stay … hmmm … congruent to myself."

And so that's why certain filmgoers are inclined to sneak off to his "small little movies" (as he calls them) in the middle of the afternoon, get the large Diet Coke and consider the combustion in contemporary Spanish-language cinema that the rare actor like Bernal can harness. You feel like you've just gone somewhere, talked fast, smoked cigarettes. They call him the Marcello Mastroianni of Latino film when they're not busy calling him the Marlon Brando of it.

All that smoldering, the aching of youth! One, please, for the 2:50 showing of Y Tu Mama, Tambien. (That hormonal breakout hit, a coming-of-age road trip from 2001 starring Bernal and his childhood friend Diego Luna — people mix them up, still.) Or the 4:45 showing of Amores Perros (from 2000, translating as wordplay for "Love Is a Bitch," a chronologically scattered tale of how one car wreck in Mexico City changes three lives). Or the 3:10 showing of El Crimen del Padre Amaro, from 2002, about the sinful lapse of a young priest (Bernal, natch) caught up in a small-town mess of church corruption. Its release in Mexico naturally put hard-line Catholics there in a state of non compos mentis, which both baffled and delighted Bernal.

Some of his key appearances have been as himself. Fresh from Y Tu Mama, he and Luna graced the Oscar ceremony last year, cleaned up in their tuxes, to present a small award, and Hollywood swooned. He was seen dancing all night at parties at Cannes. For a while he dated Natalie Portman (well, that's what the tabs reported) and you almost can't stand the fleeting idea of how gorgeous their children would have been. (Cancel that. They broke up.)

His movies are always in exotic, crumbly locations, and we are there, because Bernal is there: the back roads of the Mexican interior, or ascending to Machu Picchu as a soul-searching Guevara or click-clacking around the cobblestone streets of Spanish villas in transvestite stilettos seeking revenge against priestly pedophilia at a boarding school, as he does expertly in Pedro Almodovar's next surrealistic offering, Bad Education, which will open this year in New York. (It's scheduled to open in Washington in January. Sorry, kids. Delayed for possible Oscar-sensitive reasons of timeliness, and to not get in the way of Diaries. He's one of those stars: Two big projects colliding in the art houses of the world.)

If Salles' Motorcycle Diaries, which opens Friday, doesn't make you feel like an earnest college sophomore with a crush on the Marxist professor who teaches your Latin American history class, then we don't know what will. Predating the muss and fuss of the Cuban revolution, the film is an epic, richly hued journey into the formative years of Che, back in 1952 when he was Ernesto Guevara de la Serna, an Argentinean med student in his early twenties.

Ernesto takes a year off school to travel on a 1939 Norton 500 motorcycle with his best pal, Alberto Granado (played by Rodrigo de la Serna), across and up the South American continent.

Guevara, a devoted diarist as a young man, took notes about the people and places he saw, and the gulf between rich and poor (it helps to open his eyes when his rich girlfriend dumps him). The further Guevara and Granado go, the more Che becomes Che, seeing native people and their lives transcending the bourgeois notions of government and ownership and greed. By the time Che's working with lepers in the Amazon, Salles' movie (and Bernal) have reached a subtly beatific realm. In case you're not quite feeling it, Salles ups the noble-people quotient with black-and-white still portraits of the working-class people the young men encounter along the way.

"We prepared for four months," Bernal says of the research phase, and the crew shot the film more or less chronologically, following Guevara and Granado's original itinerary. "I read 1,001 books about the land and biographies [of Guevara]. We traveled. We practiced on the motorcycle three times a week. We asked permission from the gods, and also the local political and cultural centers…. When finally we started shooting, I wondered if we were prepared enough for this daunting task. We got on the bike and the road started to appear and things started to happen the right way, without you even noticing."

Bernal was born in Guadalajara and raised in Mexico City. Both his parents are stage actors. He has been thinking about Che Guevara for half his life — and even played the revolutionary in a two-part miniseries on Showtime about Fidel Castro, which he would appreciate it if everyone forgot. It goes back, for him, like most kids, to middle-school social studies class.

"It happens when you are about 12 or 13," he says. "When you grow up in Mexico you have a very strong connection to Cuba. As a kid you listen to this story, it's incredibly, incredibly exciting to hear. [The revolutionaries] changed Latin America forever and they changed the world. So you start early, identifying with where [Guevara] comes from, and identifying with his ideas in a way, and identifying with the struggle, and therefore you're able to agree with it or criticize it. Leftist ideas redefine themselves constantly. I think my generation is much more critical of what works in Latin American socialist movements and what didn't. There used to be a stigma that any leftist revolution had to come with violence. I don't think we believe that anymore," he says, mentioning Zapatistas in jungles who carry wood carvings of rifles instead of actual guns, just for the symbolism.

You think this sounds a little pinko coming from the mouth of a movie star? Well, you try embodying Che Guevara and see what you feel like talking about when it's over. When Bernal speaks of politics and the world, it's not with fire. He leans back. He almost whispers. It's seductive, in a way.

Early in the shooting, Alberto Granado, now 82, was visiting the set, Bernal says. And he offered this advice to the actor: "He told me, don't try to copy Ernesto's voice, or his mannerisms. He said, 'Use your own voice. All Ernesto was was a 23-year-old Latin American like you. Traveling around. Seeing things.' And I realized that what the movie needs is that universal experience. Granado was right. I have a right as does any person to tell the story of Che."

When it was over, months later, having lost weight to play the asthmatic Guevara as the trip takes its toll, Bernal found himself still wanting to travel.

When the film was finished, "I felt serenely confused, like in a serene state of almost understanding something bigger, and then not quite understanding it. All the time I felt like that," he says. "It redefined my priorities. I have moments where I understand what has happened to me, and then moments where I don't. I wanted to just get back on the road and travel to anywhere." (He sort of does that now, subletting apartments in New York and London, spending four months in Spain working with Almodovar on Bad Education, spending a little time back home in Mexico. He recently spent a month in Austin, shooting an independent film called The King in which he plays a character named Elvis — "the bastard child of an evangelist preacher," he says.)

He says he can't believe how hamstrung American actors arewhen it comes to saying anything political. He wonders if the United States has forgotten how to hold a real election, with real debates. He shows up in gossip columns lamenting the lumbering, impervious quality of American imperialism.

"The U.S. is a great nation that's becoming a war machine. But it is a great people, which can save it," he says. "Some of us fall into traps where we can't say what we think. But it shouldn't be this way. Actors are free. That's the nature of being an actor, to do anything you want to do, to say anything. It's why we're here. And if I were an American, I could be pigeonholed for what I just said."

He'd go on, but our lecture has to end here, for it is time to throw us out and escort in another reporter. It happens to be a student journalist from American University, and she seems excited to meet the Mexican Marcello Mastroianni, but trying to keep it all in check, remain cool.

She shakes his hand, ready and willing for her revolutionary inculcation in the hotel suite of Gael Garcia Bernal. She's exactly the age where a young woman's thoughts turn to putting that Che poster on the wall, and we envy her.

[sayheykid]

*banging pots and pans* TELL ME ABOUT YOUR OCS!!!

you don't have to twist my arm! my story is mostly focused on friendship and growing up through the lens of college athletics (my fake university and fake surrounding small town are characters in and of themselves)

the central storyline focuses on the baseball team, and several people on/around it. here are the ones you MUST know:

charlie: irish/italian guy from boston and it's obvious from everything about him. captain of the team, de facto dad. he is so so very tired and he acts like shepherding 35 guys is the biggest burden in the world but he would die for any of them and they all know it. he literally cannot turn off being the oldest brother no matter how hard he tries, and holds himself to unreal strict standards, whether that's in baseball, outside responsibility, his family or the numerous handyman projects he's taken on to keep his college house from falling apart. he's a right handed starting pitcher who still believes starters should throw 200 innings a year. he's also more in love with his girlfriend than any human being has been in love with anyone else ever.

ramón: he is both the most and least chill person you've ever met. lanky sidearm lefty pitcher who was born to be a bullpen personality and forced to start. he's loud and colorful and knows everybody. (those who don't know him know of him) he has the best hair on the team and is the designated dj. he does not seek out responsibility to the extent charlie does, but is a competent and respected alternate captain. functional disaster bi

tyler: first string catcher and the babiest boy in the world. i love him so much, he follows charlie around like a lost duckling and has been adopted as charlie's little brother/son. people know he's smart (mechanical engineer baby!!!) but don't realize the depth of his personality because he's pretty shy and it takes a while to get his sense of humor to shine through. he cannot grow a beard under any circumstances. only baseball player in history to be taller than his listed roster height. don't judge that he's from ohio, he couldn't help it.

jake: he's a center fielder and everyone knows it. shows off on the field but is very down to earth in every other aspect of his life. extremely suave and charismatic with a dazzling smile. probably the most involved in extracurriculars of anyone on the team, and should probably be president some day (dude you can't be athletic and smart and musical and handsome and a genuinely good guy. leave some for the rest of us). nigerian and has two moms<3 he was also the kid that took the bite out of the nerf football growing up sorry

sam: charlie's younger sister and captain of the women's hockey team in her own right. she's extremely fiery both on and off the ice, and can sometimes be a bit brash. when it comes down to it though, she's one of the most compartmentalized and action-oriented in an emergency. she grew up as the only girl with two competitive older brothers (ben is between charlie and sam) and the experience was absolutely formative. she takes everything as a challenge, and is more of a frat bro than many of the actual fraternity brothers at their university. all three siblings have adhd.

ellie: love of my life!! charlie's girlfriend and sam's best friend though it's hard not to love her, no matter who you are. she is definitely the even keel in the friend group - very patient and compassionate, and balances a lot of the different personality types at play. she's also the only non athlete, but is unequivocally an equal member of their dynamic. she once gave tyler a buzzcut (at his request) because she's the only one who could be trusted with the clippers. she's just very graceful and poised and the boys would be lost without her, charlie most of all. with that said, she has her own life and own priorities and is quite successful as editor of her college newspaper.

other notes:

charlie and ramón are the oldest, jake is a year below them, and tyler sam and ellie are all in the next year, one below jake and two below charlie and ramón

the four boys all live together in a house off campus (they have one more roommate but he's not as important to the story)

there is literally so much lore i am vibrating trying to cut more than 60 pages for charlie ALONE down to a paragraph. i didn't even get into my worldbuilding which is its own thing. i have brain worms i'm happy to share at any moment.

Thank you for asking! I'm glad my kids are getting out into the world

[siriannatan]

Witch's Captain - Convex (CubScar) Pirate!AU

I felt terrible the whole day and then I saw This art by @virtual-paint

AO3

Good Times, the most feared pirate ship in the seven seas. Just the mere sight of its flag had ships attempt a futile escape just to be pillaged and sunk by the cheerful crew. There were many myths surrounding the ship, its crew and, of course, Captain Scar himself. Deadly with a bow and a wielder of wild magic. Known for stuffing survivors of his attacks into small boats and shooting them himself as they tried to row to the nearest islands. Some said he's part siren due to his devilishly good looks. Others that he sold his soul to the devil for power. His ears told a tale of a sad kid from the slims, laughed off for his half-elven blood and desperately trying to become something more. Terribly enough to sign a deal with a rather dangerous being.

Sea Witch was a myth. A legend told to children to scare them from playing near the docs and make fun of new sailors. A shanty sang about them in taverns, deep in the night when everyone was a bit too drunk to care about possible consequences. But Scar knew different. He knew Cub was more than real... He was the very ocean gently swaying his ship where it was docked by the Skull Island - save heaven for pirates and all other scoundrels. Cub made Scar who he was now and all he had to do was run little errands here and there and... be Cub's once he could no longer sail. Scar was not quite sure what that meant but he had nothing to lose when he agreed. And of course, Cub occasionally visited Scar in his quarters deep in the night when most of the crew was asleep and Scar stayed up charting their next adventure.

Or, like tonight, when Good Times was docked and all the crew out in the town having fun, drinking and gambling away their pay. The ship was kept safe with Scar's magic and reputation as a ruthless pirate captain.

Scar always missed the exact moment Cub showed up. He never made any noise and knowing him he might have been there for a long time. Staring at him until he got bored of that and decided he wanted Scar to amuse him properly. Opening the window to let in the breeze. Scar always got tense for just a second when the glass rattled as it slammed open. He knew it was Cub but he stayed silent as a pair of cold, clammy hands rested on his shoulders, just for a second before they started to slip forward and under Scar's wide-open shirt, sending shivers up and down his spine.

"Working hard again, captain~?" cub hummed in his ear, drawing out the last word longer than necessary. "Planning another long adventure? Gathering stories for me?" the witch carried on talking, glancing at the map Scar has been hunched over for most of the evening.

"It can wait if you need me for anything," Scar shrugged, putting his quill away and closing the bottle of ink. He made the mistake of trying to work when Cub visited once. The next journey after that was filled with storms and sea monsters mess. He swore to himself never to annoy Cub if he could.

Cub was silent for a while. "No, there's nothing I need now, maybe other than you having a rest for a change," he said and pulled Scar away from his covered with maps and notes desk and towards the bed. Dropping his favourite coat down to the floor and giggled as Scar bit down any complaint he might have had about it. It was just a coat, he could get more. Cub was much harder to please.

"It's fine..." Scar assured as Cub pushed him to the bed.

"Of course it is, I'm here and not tormenting those two navy captains who think they can capture my chosen captain," Cub scoffed as he joined Scar on the bed. "Tell me about your latest adventure?" he asked settling up close to Scar.

He was as ever pretty and fickle as the ocean but Scar has never regretted accepting his deal. Even when he was plagued by bad weather after flirting his way out of Grian and Mumbo's clutches. "Okay, so it all started..." Scar started and Cub hummed an encouragement as the heavy fog set around the whole island.

[sophiaredwood03]

For all those who wanted to see an interaction between MC and King Louis-Ernest.

Notes: this was fun to write! MC did precisely what I wanted to do to this man.

This is longer than anything I've written before- 1099 words!

The land of Luxure is even more beautiful than how Fenn described it. As the boat approaches the dock, the buildings and streets become even more illuminated by the setting sun. Grabbing my satchel, I check that my permit is still there, before paying the ferryman and hopping off the boat.

You see, I’ve come on an errand from Colde. It’s strange that a student would be given this task, but the headmaster was busy, and all the S ranks were busy, and Fenn was still banished from his homeland. So I came instead. I've only seen the king once, and that was when we were deciding how to deal with Iritium and the aftermath. Even though I’ve been promoted to S rank due to technical issues with the ranking system, I don't teach very much, mainly because my magic is different from well… everyone. In fact, I don't teach at all, except help C ranks and stand in for various professors when needed. Most of my time is spent honing my skills, playing with Shifah and Robin and wandering the town. Incredibly carefree, unlike life back on Earth.

There’s a whole string of carriages near the dock. I select a small, comfortable-looking carriage.

 The driver gives me a really funny look when I tell him to go to Castle Luxure. Well, as long as he gets paid, he probably won’t care. 

A while later, I hop off the carriage. The castle… I’m not actually sure which one I’m meant to go into, because all I can see are…well, castles and more castles. I heard that the king had a lot of wives and children, but I hadn’t realised just how many. Until now, that is.

The guards all regard me with no small amount of suspicion.

“I have come on an official errand to see the king on behalf of the headmaster.” I hold out my permit.

The guards stare back at me.

“The headmaster, meaning the governor of Colde, that is.” Still more uncomprehending looks. All of a sudden, they surround me and grab me roughly by the arms.

“What are you doing?!” 

“Miss, you’re being arrested! If you want to cause less trouble for yourself, stay still!” One particularly burly guard claps handcuffs on my wrists. I very briefly entertain blasting them to the ground and making a grand entrance into whichever castle, before demanding to see the king and tearing him apart when I see him. No, no, stay calm. I’ve got more class than that. I’m sure His Majesty will understand when he knows the situation.

I was wrong.

The first impression I had of King Louis-Ernest was that he was quite invested in being a good king, etc cetera. I had to rethink that first impression immediately when he received me. 

Firstly, what self-respecting man (or king, in this case) would see criminals surrounded by piles and piles of his wives? Secondly, (and I do mean this) was he even fit to be a king? Because the way he carried himself gave off the general air of complete nonchalance to his responsibilities. I completely forgive myself for my rather skewed first impression of him, though.

“Well… well. Who would have thought that you, of all people, would have ended up a criminal?” King Louis-Ernest addresses me from his throne of pretty lasses.

I think that I was still in shock at that point, actually, because my brain completely failed me and didn’t register at all what he said. The room was quiet, apart from the whispers of various wives. Whatever you say about the man, it has to be acknowledged that he has good taste in women, if only for their looks.

I think that kneeling on the cold marble floor for a solid ten minutes must have given my mind a sudden shock, because I self-reflexively pushed away the guards and stood up.

“No matter if I am criminal or not, Your Majesty should not be subjecting me to such indignities such as kneeling on the floor. May I add that the floor is very cold and hard?” I glare angrily at him.

“Quite arrogant, aren’t you?

“I am merely stating facts. Ones which I am sure Your Majesty is well aware of. What would people think if they heard what you did today? And anyway, I came on official business.” I shot back.

“Of what sort?”

I have to take a very, very deep breath to calm myself. The headmaster had already written, way in advance, that I would be coming on his behalf and that I was to be treated with the same respect that they would treat him. The fact that King Louis-Ernest does not know of this means that he has been neglecting his official duties. That is incredibly serious and cannot be forgiven.

“Your Majesty.” 

The king takes one look at my face and shuts up. At least he has enough common sense for that.

“You have neglected your duties and treated an important and distinguished guest with disrespect. I have tolerated your tomfoolery until now but-” I pause and take a breath- “ I have reached my limit. Based on what I have seen today, you are unfit to be a king. You should be ashamed of yourself.”

“What basis does a criminal have to accuse me of such things? I could have you executed for blasphemy.” He regards me with a cool smile. 

“You must think that I am a naive, foolish young girl, entrusted with a task far too grave for me.”

King Louis-Ernests’ eyes widen, almost imperceptibly. I hit the nail on the head.

I allow myself a small smirk. “I’m right,aren’t I?” I take a step closer. He tenses. I can feel him gathering up his magic.

I slap him. Hard. Right across the face. He reels, stunned. Shrieks and gasps fill the room. Behind me, the guards ready their weapons.

Closing my eyes, I breathe in deeply again. Golden light shimmers gently, illuminating the whole room. “Don’t even think about laying hands on me. I will settle the business I came for another day. And-” I turn and look the disgraced king right in the eyes- “ don’t think you will get away with this.” Having delivered that last blow, I turn and stride from the room.

King Louis-Ernest faints and collapses into the laps of various wives.

I make my way out the castle. I think I’ll go and have a look at the town. And so, I wander off, the sun slowly making its way below the horizon behind me.

[mokeonn]

Ive been drawing for 10 years and no one wants my art and i live in a community of people who dont care for each other i reslly just dont see how it gets better for me in this case and i just wish i had you optimism

Well, I don't truly know your situation so there's a lot I can't comment on or give advice for. However, I am noticing some language in this message that gives me an idea (whether it's a good one or not is up to you) of what could help.

NOTE: I'm an unemployed 23 year old who is off their depression medication. I am NOT the one to go to for life advice, I'm just speaking from personal experience.

I think the first and easiest step is to take a moment, breathe, and just think. What do you want? Do you enjoy art as a hobby and would enjoy a non-art related job? Do you want art as a job/career, but you're not exactly picky on what that job should be? Do you have a specific dream in mind, i.e., comic artist/game developer/fantasy writer/illustrator/independent business owner? Because the answer to this question means a lot to what you should do!

For example: I'm all three.

I could absolutely keep art as a passionate thing I do for myself that I happen to post online while also working at, say, a library or a laboratory. I would love to make art my primary job/career, but I'm not very picky on how I get there! I have some ideas in mind, but if they're not a good fit, I won't be too upset. I would also love to be a comic artist/game developer, I am currently working on a comic and a game right now, actually. It's taking a long time, and it's going to take ages before I get to a point where I can even post things related to it online.

So I have a metric fuck ton of options. Let's make that clear, my goal in life is to just be happy, fulfilled, and surrounded by my friends. How I get there? Doesn't matter. As long as I stay true to my personal core values and it makes me happy, I am down for whatever. This absolutely gives me an advantage over someone who, say, only wants to be a professional animator or someone who wants to sell their knitted goods in shops and online.

So once you identify what you want to do, you gotta get ready for the next step: research. Ask yourself a million questions, find an answer, talk to other artists on or off the internet, find an answer.

For example: let's say you want to be a tattoo artist, but everyone in your area thinks tattoos are of the devil. Well, some questions to ask yourself would be:

How do I become a tattoo artist? What does that entail?

Are people the next town over more alright with tattoos? What about the nearest city?

Are these locations too far to travel to?

Would I have to move to make this dream a reality? Or could I start a tattoo community here?

How will I make the money in the meantime while working towards this?

And so on and so forth. In fact, imagine under every single one of these questions, there are sub questions that expand upon your answer, ask you if that answer is achievable, and ask you if that would make you happy. Like I'm taking dig deep, man. Get into the nitty and gritty of what you want to do and how you're gonna get there. Because, at the very least, this will give you some basic goals to work towards and ideas of what you are and aren't able to do. Don't be afraid to get out of your comfort zone! If you spend your whole life in your comfort zone, you're never gonna learn anything.

However, I think the biggest obstacle that gets in a LOT of artists way that I pretty much spotted immediately when I read this ask: having low self-confidence and being pessimistic is absolutely getting in your way.

I've been working on my self-confidence for the last 10 months, give or take, and to say that there is a difference is an UNDERSTATEMENT. I had extremely low confidence, possibly because of a lifetime of bullying, mistreatment, depression, and a childhood of undiagnosed autism... but in all honesty the reasons don't really matter. I made self depreciating jokes ALL the time (the really harsh kind that made people uncomfortable rather than laughing with me) I constantly held myself back from doing things because I didn't believe I could do it, I hid myself all the time (metaphorically because I rarely showed others the things I was passionate in and kept myself very private out of fear of judgement... and literally too. I never fucking left the house.)

I basically was my own worst enemy, and what got me out of it was working with my friend. One day, I made a self depreciating joke or something along those lines, and she just looked at me and said "You know, it makes me very said to hear you talk about yourself like that."

She then went on to explain how I was a kind and wonderful person and it made her sad to hear me say things like that because it wasn't true and it was only preventing me from seeing what she saw. I ended up crying because it was so kind, and I never even thought about that. Around that time as well, I had made a joke around my Dad, and he said, "You know, I wish you didn't talk about yourself that way."

Over the upcoming months, I started working on my self-confidence. My friend helped a LOT whenever I went to her place to help out with her art business. She helped me gain confidence in asking questions, because before I would just avoid asking out of fear. She never yelled at me or got upset at asking questions, and would compliment me or thank me for asking a good one. It helped me learn that if someone yells at me for asking a question, they're the jerk! They're the problem, not me!

I slowly switched my language from "I think I can..." to "I can", "I'll try my best", and similar language. I went from being afraid to trying new things because I was afraid of failure to feeling completely fine with trying new things because a majority of those new things are completely low risk! If it doesn't work out, it just doesn't work out! I didn't lose anything but a little bit of time! A year ago, if something didn't work out, you might as well thought I shot your puppy or something with the way I would cry and apologize. I got better at not apologizing all the damn time, because there's no point in apologizing for things that aren't your fault!

I went to a pretty awful show with my friend where pretty much everything went wrong, and during the show it ended up POURING. We had an absolute downpour of rain. It ended up destroying a ton of stock and packaging for transportation. I had to stop myself from apologizing so much, why? Because I don't control the rain! It's not my fault that we got rained on and things got destroyed! Apologizing is not the right thing to do in this situation because there's nothing to apologize for. I ended up being a huge help in putting things away, and when I later told my friend that I had to stop myself from apologizing, she said the same thing: "it's not your fault it rained."

I can safely say that since working on my self-confidence, my mental health has been at an all-time high. My medication is more effective than ever, I am no longer struggling with depression unless off my medication, my anxiety is pretty much gone unless off medication (I need to make it abundantly clear that I have chronic depression and anxiety and I need medication to be able to function and I know that my mental health struggles are nowhere near as bad on medication, because I am currently off my meds due to doctor problems)

I have been more willing to get out of my comfort zone, learn, try new things, and work towards actual tangible goals. Because I took the time to work on my EXTREMELY LOW (I can not emphasize enough how bad it was), self-confidence, with the help of those who care about me.

Your anon message absolutely tells me you do not have very high confidence in yourself. The way you talk about "no one wanting your art" (I don't know how you know that for certain), and how you wish you had my optimism because you see no options for yourself remind me SO MUCH of how I used to be. So my biggest message really comes down to this:

If you want ANY success in life, you're going to have to allow yourself to have it.

Having low self-confidence and being pessimistic is honestly just... denying yourself the happiness you deserve. You're going to have to work on that because you deserve that happiness.

[heavysoldat]

your teeth in my neck

vampire!bucky barnes x fem!reader

the only perk to living in a tiny, hyper-religious town, is that you know everyone. but you’ve always been desperate to be alone, to stay out of the crowds and out of public eye. so, of course, out of all people, the man in town no one knows has set his sights on you.

warnings: SMUT (kinda somno, dubcon, fingering, blood kink, slight innocence kink) stalking, slightly religious themes, small town bs

note: i’m a vampire fucker with a big fear of my own blood. call this exposure therapy. heavily inspired by midnight mass!

Maybe it’s the way your hair falls along the trim of your top. Maybe it’s the way your pretty chest falls up and down as you breathe; moving the sheets and causing your night shirt to flow. Maybe it’s the way he can feel the blood coursing through your veins, hear your heart beating out your lifeline that he craves. Whatever it is, it’s drawing him in.

It doesn’t even start as a hello.

Your father was the wealthiest man in your small, suburban town. Most men in the area worked for him, bled for him, and with a population of less than two hundred, that was practically everyone.

With his business going up, the family growing higher and higher in ranks, a party was held as celebration. A gathering at your home, guests found themselves in the sizable downstairs, brought together in a communal potluck with lights and live music— which was mostly played by older men with old instruments, singing southern blues on their guitars and banjos, or teenage boys who form bands out of their garage, slick with hair dye and horror themed shirts.

The men in town had practically surrounded you in a corner, hounding you for a chance at conversation. You’re young, pretty, one of the only single women in your town— and wracked with money from your father. But you didn’t seem interested in any of them.

James Buchanan Barnes was a mystery to anyone who saw him, and those few did. A man presumably ten years your senior, he only showed up at parties, at church, always uninvited, but never unwelcomed. No one knew how he could afford his clothes; no one had seen him work a day in his life. No one knew of his family. No one knew of him.

He was a figure not many had spoken to. Nothing but casual hellos at grocery stores, the singing during nighttime masses and hand-offs at potlucks— which you never saw him eat at.

When you had left the boys, dispersed from the group to grab something from the kitchen, you found yourself alone with the aforementioned man. As you reached for the fridge, his hand fell on your upper back, excusing himself as he grabbed something from a higher cabinet.

The moment his hand touched your back you felt struck with something you couldn’t explain. His skin was freezing cold to the touch, almost as if he had been carved out of ice — but his skin was so soft. So youthful.

“I don’t see you too much around here,” You find yourself speaking, voice quiet like a mouse, squeaking it’s way out of a hole.

He smiles, lightly chuckling to himself, before responding: “Don’t see you too much, either. Most talk I hear is you lock yourself in your bedroom all day.”

“I…” You begin, not being able to help the smile that forms, “I’m not much for crowds.”

“Hmm,” He hums. “Me neither.”

You knew something then and there. He was different from the other men you’ve met; no talk of your father, no talk of your wealth, no talk of your history. He kept everything about you, right now, here.

When he left the party, you felt this sudden emptiness, an unexplainable depth in your chest. It was strange, how he grabbed you with such little conversation, how only his hand on your back could light this fire burning within you.

James had left, tranced by the way you smiled.

Your voice was small and quiet, and so were you. You kept your head down, pulling down your skirt when you felt uncomfortable, picking at your cuticles whenever he looked into your eyes for too long. The way you huddled into yourself had him curious, unable to waver you from his thoughts.

He couldn’t explain it, not even to himself.

That night, he found himself wandering. Like his feet had their own path, guiding him somewhere familiar. It’s not the first time this has happened. Not the first time he’s been guided by nothing but the emptiness in his stomach.

When he gets to your window, perched on the tree outside, the time ticks by faster than he can imagine.

By the time the sun comes up, he realizes he’s stayed there all night. Watching you.

And that’s what he continues to do, every night. Every night for the next three weeks.

Of course, he sees you during the day, but barely— you’re both solitary, both lone creatures, but that’s what he likes so much about you. What draws him to you.

You barely notice how he stares at you during church, how he finds himself bumping into you during every grocery outing. How he finds every excuse to be next to you, to feel the warmth radiating off of your skin to fill his empty veins.

He doesn’t know what changes that night.

It’s a Friday, and he hasn’t seen you in three days— and he knows it’s strange, because he practically has your schedule memorized.

Your curtains are white and sheer, leaving him with easy glances to your form, wreck with sleep and peace. The moon is hitting your skin just right; the first full one in ages, lighting up your tone like a painting.

When his feet hit your soft carpet, he’s consumed with the smell of you.

Your room is lit by nothing but moonlight, illuminating your skin in a way that takes his breath away from him. His hand barely touches your skin, drifting down your jawline; curling his fingers at your chin to take a look at your lips, plump and soft. It almost pains him to leave them unkissed.

While he strokes down your neck, his touches are light, barely even there. He can’t help it. You’re too pure. Too good— he can’t hurt you, can’t press down hard enough to even leave the faintest of marks. He’s left with airy touches, scared that when he gives them the tiniest amount of pressure you’ll shatter like porcelain.

When he kneels on the bed, the mattress dips with his weight, the floorboards creaking underneath the metal frame. His hands are gliding down your waist, feeling your skin; as much as he can without removing your shirt, but he refuses to without your permission. He won’t let his eyes wander there without you saying he can.

As he continues, you start to stir; moaning to yourself in your sleep, eyebrows furrowing in a tight knit. Goosebumps are raising on your skin from how cold his skin feels.

He was right to be worried.

With the slightest faint of pressure onto your flesh, your eyes flutter open, slow and dizzy with sleep. They take some time to focus, and when they do— you jolt, head practically slamming against the headboard, but he grabs you, trying to hold you still as softly as he can when he covers your mouth.

“Please,” He breathes, quiet, begging. “I’m not gonna hurt you.”

James’ free hand, metallic, holds onto your pulse point, pressing down lightly and holding you still. You gasp at the movement, eyes fluttering, threatening to close with the pressure.

“I won’t hurt you.” He whispers. But no matter how much he promises, he knows he can’t help it. It’s in his nature.

When he releases his hand from your mouth, he can feel your breath fanning against his skin in heavy pants.

“Why are you in my room?” Is the first thing you ask.

“I don’t know.” It’s both a truth and a lie. His body guides him, driven by hunger and your smell, driving his unconscious body to wherever you may be. But he knows why he’s here. Knows why he wants to be here.

“What are you going to do?”

At your scared tone, his eyebrows furrow together hard, worry etching all over his features: “No, no, no,” He pleads, “Don’t worry. Please, don’t worry.”

Your eyes are scanning his face, filled with fear, trying to decipher exactly what his intentions are. They’re searching for something, anything, but hardly find anything other than his worry.

“Why are you here?” You repeat. Harder. Stricter.

“To look at you.” That, that’s the truth. But not the whole truth.

He can smell the way your pulse changes. The sight of him, above you, eyes glossy and pleading; you don’t know why, but it’s filling you with something. Something you only felt the night you met him.

“Will you let me hold you?”

It’s almost frightening, how fast you nod.

He leans down, careful not to press too much of his weight onto you, before lying his head down in the crook of your neck. His hands lay down by your hips, and yours find themselves tangled in his shirt, legs spread to accommodate him between them.

You can feel him inhale you. Can feel him nuzzle himself in your neck, like a burrowing bunny, desperate to get as close as possible.

A sharp prick of his fang catches in your skin, and you cry out to the air. Only the smallest drop of blood is released, like a papercut; but his tongue licks it up nonetheless. You can feel, hear him moan at the taste, vibrating against your skin.

“‘M sorry,” He says, licking the blood off of his lips.

You whine, legs squirming, “‘S okay.”

Your voice is as quiet as the night you met.

His hand, metallic, reaches to the other side of your neck, free from his skin, and presses down onto your collarbone. He’s rubbing up and down your skin, consuming your warmth, digging his face further into your neck as he does so.

You almost moan, feeling his body dig closer to yours, the zipper of his jeans rubbing against your pussy through your tiny little panties he’s seen so many times. His mouth opens, his hot breath scattering on your skin.

“Please do it again,” You whisper.

“What?”

“Bite my neck.”

James is silent for a moment, heart stopping at your plead, surprised that you would ask him such a thing. He’s so depraved, so desolate, so disgusted with the creature he’s become; and yet here you are, begging him to let it overtake him. Asking him to indulge in his own sickness. Something only the devil could’ve given him.

And he will. Gladly.

His fangs nick your neck deeper this time, careful not to hit an artery, licking up the blood that trickles down. You squirm and moan, panting and heaving like you’re out of breath. The taste of you has him reeling, has his skin feeling like it’s been electrocuted. He can’t get enough.

You dig your fingers through his hair, carding through each strand before you tug it, letting him dig his teeth deeper into your skin. He doesn’t even notice that he’s been grinding into you, until you let out a practically pornographic moan, ending it off with a whimper that has your lips quivering.

“I’m tingling,” You say, voice barely a whisper, still sounding like a whine.

He looks up at you, lips still wet with blood, “Where?”

You take his hand, the one on your collarbone, and guide it in-between your bodies. You press his palm against your clothed pussy, whining at the feeling, pressing against it. He groans, deep in his throat.

“You ever been touched down here before?”

You shake your head. That makes him smile.

When you let go of his hand, he begins to slide it up and down, rubbing his palm against your mound. You’re whining, pressing against him, unable to stop your legs from squirming.

“‘M gonna make you feel good,” James says, “But you gotta let me keep feeding.”

It’s a selfish offer, he knows that. Both things give him pleasure, both things keep him alive, both things he finds himself craving. Needing.

“Mhm,” You moan, teeth digging down into your bottom lip.

James’ hand slides underneath your underwear, tracing his fingers down your folds and through your wetness. He’s surprised to feel you practically drenched, almost wetter than the blood that dripped down your neck, covering his hand with your juices.

He rubs his fingers against your clit in tight circles, watching as you pant and squirm underneath him. He finds his head back in your neck, scraping your skin for the tiniest bit of scraps he can get, knowing if he gets too carried away he could hurt you— and that, he could never live with.

“It feels so good,” You chant like a mantra, “It feels so good.”

“I know,” He grunts, “I know it does.”

His fingers find themselves catching in your hole, one pushing it’s way inside as his thumb keeps rubbing your clit.

You cry out, and he shushes you. “You can’t let your daddy hear, okay?”

You nod with fervor. He’s careful to ease into you, stretching you with another finger, letting you adjust with long stretches of time. You barely feel him drinking you at this point, barely feel his fangs scraping your skin, too wrapped up in the pleasure he’s bringing you.

“I need more.” You pant.

“I know, I know you do,” He says, “I need you to come on my fingers first, I need it, honey, I know you can do it. You’re gettin’ real close, aren’t ya?”

You nod, eyes screwed tightly shut as his fingers get faster.

“Come on my fingers, squeeze ‘em real tight,” He’s grunting, unable to stop himself from grinding against you, “Then I’m gonna fuck you nice and good, okay?”

You let out a vulgar whine at that, feeling your high approaching like a race. When it gets there, it crashes through you almost violently, locking the muscles in your legs and ripping through your core. You can’t help but squirm against him, crabbing every part of him like a lifeline. He’s groaning with you, muffled by your neck.

James’ can’t help how quick he acts. He’s unbuttoning his trousers as soon as your breathing evens out, pulling his cock out and letting it slap against his chest and your tummy on the way. He pulls down your panties, letting them rest on your mid thigh.

You gasp, fingers clutching onto his shirt, “Is that gonna fit?”

He lets out a shaking breath, “We’re gonna make it fit.”

He circles the tip around your clit, bumping against it a few times, before it catches against your hole. He groans, deep and heavy as it goes in— you’re yelping, overwhelmed with the stretch, but he holds you down. “Take it, it’s okay.”

When he bottoms out, the dull ache in your core settles and you pull him down on-top of you. He stays like that; still and unmoving, just for a few minutes, trying his best to ignore the way his cock twitches so he can let you adjust.

When he starts moving, James starts with a subtle grind. He’s pressing you down into the mattress, his ass flexing as he moves, cock stretching you to your limit. He gets faster, his heavy balls slapping against your skin, face smushed against your chest.

“Yes,” He’s grunting, groaning against your skin, “Yes, take it. God, knew you’d be a good girl, so fuckin’ good for me— clenchin’ around me so fuckin’ tight, oh god, gonna make me cum so hard, so deep, up in that little pussy.”

Your legs wrap around his waist, pushing his cock deeper into you. You cry out when it hits that spot, the feeling almost painful. “Yes, yes, please, yes!”

His grunts are loud, the only thing you can hear besides the slapping of skin and your own whines. He’s manhandling you on his cock like a toy, all while praising you; such a good girl, taking this cock so well, gonna make me cum so fuckin’ hard, pussy’s like heaven.

“Mm,” You whine, “It’s- it’s happening again,”

“Oh god,” He says with a broken groan, “You gonna cum again?”

You nod.

“What would daddy think of you, huh? Think about his good little girl, fuck, cumming around a fat cock, just right across the hall— shit, begging for him to fuck her harder. Rejected all the nice men who’d court her proper, shit, just like that, just to let the no-name fuck her full.”

His teeth slam inside your shoulder, making obscene slurping sounds as he drinks you. That does you in— your pussy clenches down around him hard, squeezing his cock so tight it’s hard for him to even move.

“Yes,” James grunts, “God, yeah,”

His thrusts get sloppier, faster, balls slapping against you with reckless abandon. The blood drips down your collarbone and down to your tits, sliding against the curve of your breasts— barely covered by your tank top.

“‘M gonna fill you up,” He moans, licking up the excess that falls between your breasts, “Fill you up nice and good.”

With a few more thrusts, he ends with one final, heavy pound against your cervix, spilling his load deep inside you. You whine at the feeling of his cum filling you, legs squirming around him— finding yourself too restless.

James lays silent, holding you against him. It’s almost contradictory, the gentleness of which he’s holding you, compared to how he just took you apart with both his cock and his teeth. You find yourself falling into the feeling, nuzzling yourself against his palm.

His nose tickles your jaw, before pressing a much awaited kiss to your sweet, plump lips. “I’ll be back tomorrow night.”

You can’t help but smile. It’s ridiculous, how you feel like a fairy tale, like a princess who’s just found her knight and shining armor. Fulfilled.

“I’ll wait for you.”

“I know you will.”

[dimepdf]

Jonathan Byers x amab reader Harrington? Maybe Steve has a twin brother who comes home from another state and sees Jonathan in the school one day and finds him attractive? So he starts hanging out with him more, and they get really close, way too close even, and they start going out in private, and then one day Jonathan just rails him in his car?

WORTH YOU. + JONATHAN BYERS

masterlist. / taglist. / any request? synopsis. you'd spent a lot of time with Jonathan, and before you knew it, your feelings for him had surfaced. you tried to hide the uneasy feeling that surrounded you whenever you two hung out alone. author's note. the kissing scene is inspired by my favorite book “Perks of being a Wallflower”. I was literally reading it before writing it and went….wait. also sorry that its kinda long i got so into the show that i'm watching and just mashed together ideas.

[ ❥ ] pairing. jonathan byers x reader

[ ❥ ] word count. 7.4k

[ ❥ ] genre & warnings. 18+, male reader, twin reader, black sheep, top!jonathan, bottom!reader, heavy angst at the start, mentions of mental illness, outcasts, internalized homophobia, messy confessions, pining, first kiss, first time, not show canon cause idc, oral (m), jonathan giving that gawk gawk 9000, kind of discrete sex, fuckin in a car, fingering, unprotected sex, biting, grammaly is my beta reader sorry for the mistakes

You never considered Hawkins, Indiana to be a fucked up place; moreover, you just thought the town was pretty washed up, lacking adventure and difference. 

It seemed like there would always be people in your business, no matter the situation at hand, always judging you for some gossip that had slipped from your personal life. 

That had been the main reason you had to move away for almost an entire year, resting in the guest room of your grandparent's barn house across the states. 

Your father made up his mind that sending you away to live with your grandparents would be better than you continuing to stay with them and being rumored to be a "tainted" child in the Harrington family. You weren't tainted, or at least you didn't believe you were.

You found yourself to just be mentally ill in terms of your lack of happiness declining all because of your parent's lack of affection growing up.

Another trait that you had gained during your very confusing journey of rocky puberty was the weird gut feeling you would get for the other boys in your class. You knew it was odd to see boys the same way your brother would see girls. 

So you suppressed the feelings all the way until you wouldn't feel anything. But of course, people in Hawkins would talk. 

They would talk until it would lead to the solitude of your home, the one place that you had thought to feel safe. But that was a lie as long as your father lived there. 

People took notice of the way you would hang back, how you would rather be alone in your head instead of being a social butterfly like your other half, Steve. 

People could purely take you apart just from one glance. Steve cares a lot about his self-image as well as the public opinion of perfection screwed into his perfect little brain. 

You, on the other hand, were more carefree, wearing clothes that just felt comfortable and speaking in the same flat tone to everyone only whenever you had something to say. 

You truly were the Harrington family black sheep, which didn't fit your family's perfect image, so your father did what any parent would do with their mentally ill child in the 80s: send you away to be someone else's problem. 

That someone else being your kind and caring grandparents out in the sticks, their farm becoming your home for a nice handful of years, all the way until your grandparents decided that they couldn't financially care for you anymore. 

You didn't blame them as they sent you back home to Hawkins, having already returned to the years of grown trauma. You were less than happy to be back home. 

Along with seeing how much your twin brother had changed dramatically appearance-wise. Steve having gotten more toned from being on the basketball team. 

You were visibly more scrawny, your hair longer just chin-length, not even enough care to trim it, along with your lack of pale skin from spending most of your time on the farm outside with the animals.

Steve just seemed like the more sheltered version of you, like everything that could have gone right. 

You tried blending in with everyone; you tried. It seemed like people would instantly recognize you from middle school.

The rumored "other brother." eyes would be on you everywhere the moment you stepped foot through the Hawkins school hallways with your head held high and music blaring from your headphones. 

You were the mystery child that everyone wanted to know. You rejected the social cue, stomped on it, and kicked it out of your way. You didn't care for the social cliches or the weird "king Steve" title your brother had earned from being Mr. Popular.

Unknowingly, you had tipped the scale that had held your high school from tumbling apart. You were off the hinges, not following any of the "rules" that Steve passed on as advice. You saw it all as just silly things that silly people follow. 

Which was why you had taken a liking towards Jonathan Byers. 

You hadn't known the boy earlier in your childhood, not really recognizing him as any of the kids that you would play with down the street until you realized that when you were younger, your parents practically handpicked the children that you were allowed to be friends with. 

You guessed that was the main reason you attached to Jonathan so quickly; his outcast and shy demeanor just clicked with your personality. 

You just being polar opposites, him just wanting to keep his head down, although out of high school, you just wanted to stand up for yourself and have fun. 

The more you hung with the dark brunette, the more you realized how angry Steve would become with you, almost throwing a tantrum, seeing you sneak out only to find the Byers boy waiting in your driveway waiting to pick you up.

You didn't understand why Steve had been so pissed about Jonathan, not really caring much to listen to the whole thing with his new fling, Nancy Wheeler.

You chose to stay out of any relationships he had in hopes that he would catch the idea and follow suit.

It seemed like you had spent a lot of your time hanging out with Jonathan. If you weren't at school, you were at his place, and if you weren't at his place, you were chilling behind the counter keeping him company at his part-time job.

You two had become attached at the hip, spending so much time together that even Joyce would be surprised if she hadn’t bumped into you during the afternoons that she had been returning home from her job.

And before you know it, something clicks. Your suppressed emotions are now finally coming to the surface like a shaken can of soda.

When you realized that the feelings you had towards Jonathan were more than just wanting to be friends, you found yourself thinking of more. 

You were degrading yourself by thinking of your best friend in such inappropriate ways. But you were good at pretending, masking the uncomfortable feeling that shook around you every time you two would hang out alone. 

Jonathan had to pretend like he hadn't noticed, pretend like he didn't notice you slipping away from him. Getting into a heated argument with Steve, your own brother, calls you a freak. 

The one person that you had grown up with being the number one reason you felt so out of place in the world, you had to run to the only person that you knew would listen. 

Jonathan woke at you climbing through his widow the moon outlining your stumbling figure as you asked him if he wanted to go somewhere to talk with tears brimming your eyes.

Jonathan tiredly agrees to drive you to the Quarry. There you two sat on the hood of his car and just talked. You vented until you couldn't anymore, telling Jonathan how out of sorts you felt with your family falling into shambles. It was nice to get things off your chest. 

A peaceful moment of silence falls between you two. You can hear the sound of your heart lightly thumping against your chest just as you were about to call it a night. Before you know it, you turn your head and kiss the boy next to you. 

You kiss Jonathan Byers, not on the cheek, not a peck, but a full-on kiss on the mouth. 

A real kiss. The full-fledged kiss happens so quickly that Jonathan sort of freezes, his hands resting along your arm as he just lets your mouth attack. 

His not being able to process that your lips were moving against his mouth, the kiss doesn't last that long. You lean away and just sort of sit there, processing what the hell just happened. 

"I’m sorry." Your voice whispers as you look past Jonathan, your eyes unfocused as you try to make sense of all the sudden emotions washing over you. 

"No, that's okay." Jonathan replies, his tone laced with sincerity. 

"Really, Jonathan, I’m so sorry."  

"No, really. It's okay Y/N." There was another beat of silence as you two just took it all in. You could feel your chest rising with every deep breath you took. 

You hated it.

You hated feeling everything all at once. You didn't know what to do. You just wanted it all to stop. Before you know it, Jonathan is pulling you into a hug. 

It's not a crappy side hug thing that you give your relatives when you're visiting them during the holidays; it's a real hug, one that feels like he was single-handedly trying to pull you down from that gray thundering cloud you had mounted yourself on.

When you pull away from the hug, Jothan doesn't say anything. You both don't speak much after following his lead as he ducks back into the car and starts the engine, his headlights beaming awake as Jonathan halts once more, his hands hovering over his steering wheel. 

Before you could ask what's wrong, he moves in to kiss you again. 

And you just let him. You don't know why it felt so good or why he had done it. 

You don't do much but kiss for a while, at least until your lips feel like they are starting to swell.

It seemed like Jonathan had got the same idea. He pulled away with a sort of dazed look, shaking his head before returning his attention back to the wheel. 

He drives in comforting silence, your head resting against the glass of the window as your fingers grace the skin of your lips, almost like you could still detect traces of him left on them.

When Jonathan pulls into your driveway, reality hits you like thrown bricks. You don't know what to say to him, so you don't say anything. You just unbuckle your seatbelt and exit his car without saying a word.

That night you sleep staring out your window, looking at the stars as you place a pillow over your head, muffling out the bed springs from Steve’s room. You fall asleep thinking about Jonathan and how he kissed you. 

You don't say much to anyone during the morning, spending most of your day just focusing on your school work as the school day passes in the blink of an eye. 

The only hard part was ignoring Jonathan during the lunch period you had together. Your stomach was turning and you had met eyes from across the cafeteria.

You spin on your heels and dunk your tray of untouched food into the trash, deciding to spend your lunch period in a back hallway with music blaring through your headphones, waiting for the hour to pass. 

That was how you spent the rest of the day, hiding. It wasn't until the moon was up that you found your fingers ghosting over your lips, thinking about the kiss again.

You don't know what changed in your mind, but you decided that at that moment you needed to see Jonathan again, so you rushed down your stairs and passed the group of people that Steve had invited over.

Getting the old bike you haven't ridden since middle school out of the garage and onto the road, you biked the way to the main road that led to Jonathan's house. 

Your lungs felt like they were going to burst at every pedal, leaving you breathless as you just realized you were in your pajamas and socks pedaling fast enough to keep you warm from the nipping late spring weather. 

Finally, skidding into Jonathan's driveway, tossing the bike into the grass.

You don’t really have a plan on what to do once you have gotten to the porch of the home. 

Your mind is racing as you sort of just scratch the back of your neck before turning around and tiptoeing to the side of the house. 

You approached Jonathan's bedroom window, tapping slowly on the glass with your knuckle, flinching as the curtains parted. Jonathan glances down at you with a surprised look on his face. He was shirtless.

That was the second thing you noticed. You now knew that Jonathan had slept shirtless, along with the trail of hair that ran down his chest. You were gawking at him, eyeing him like meat. 

You don't say anything as he yanks open his window. You can't keep your eyes away from his chest, "Y/N? Dude, do you know what time it is?" 

"I'm sorry." You've got to stop apologizing. You need to learn other words than those two phrases, but it's all you can think of when Jonathan stands shirtless in front of you. 

Your eyes glisten in their wide state, Jonathan gesturing for you to come in as you struggle to climb inside through the window. 

His house is silent. You tumble onto the ground, falling flat on your ass when Jonathan sighs, leaning over you to close his curtains.

 "I'm sorry." You apologize again, standing up when Jonathan glances at you. As you take a step forward, your legs move on their own, closing the gap between you and him and pressing another kiss onto his lips.

Your fingers tangle in his hair as you try to ground yourself to anything. When his hands trail around your waist, grabbing you closer to him as his head tilts to the side, deepening the kiss. 

Jonathan is the first to pull away for the kiss. His brow resting on yours, his breath fanning against the skin of your cheek.

"Stop apologizing all the time." was all that he had said before kissing you again. 

With him taking the lead, you were starting to feel light-headed just like how you felt the day you had kissed him on the hood of his car. 

The neediness in the way he had wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer to him like he was afraid you would slip away again.

Your heart is hammering against your chest, feeling his tongue glide into your mouth. 

A moan coaxes from your throat as your hand rests against the broad middle of his chest.

The feeling of his cool skin against yours almost sent you into an orbit. Let him guide you backward until you sit against his bed.

"My mom’s in the living room, but Will’s sleeping in the other room, so we can't be loud," Jonathan whispered just inches away from your mouth. You didn't dare to speak, only nodding your head in acknowledgment, your eyes glued onto his mouth as you had craved them.

It was strange feeling so suddenly needy for him, so open with your emotions.

Jonathan smiles, almost like he had known that power he had over you, pushing you down to lie with your back against his mattress, kissing a trail down your neck before crawling on top of you. 

His hands adventuring alongside the exposed part of your shirt, getting rid of the cotton shirt as you both make quick work of your pants. 

Removing each other's clothes at a very frantic pace, you were both horny teenagers undressing each other for the first time, hands lingering against hot skin and lips swollen from kissing. 

You don't know how to feel when Jonathan slides his hands down your body, your hips twitching off of the mattress. 

Feeling his wet lips softly drag along the skin just below your belly button, eyeing your boxers as his tongue darts out to lick his lips. 

It was truly a sight to behold watching Jonathan eye the outline of your growing erection, staring at it like it was the most interesting thing he had ever seen.

"Do you want to?" He asked, glancing up at you through his lashes. You swore you had just remembered how to breathe. 

How to open your mouth and exhale normally, while watching yourself twitch just from the question.

You knew Jonathan felt it too; his eyes pointed down at your groin. He glances at your throbbing issues before returning his attention to you.

"P—please." You were too preoccupied with the growing need you felt in the pit of your stomach to take notice of how needy your voice sounded. 

You were desperate for his touch, as you felt dizzy watching Jonathan’s fingers duck under the elastic of your underwear. Your hips arched in response to his cold fingers against your hot length.

You know you have to be quiet, your arm slung over your mouth to muffle the lewd noises that have leaked from it. Your eyes close as your hips move independently, thrusting into his touch.

Jonathan begins to stroke your cock at an almost slow and agonizing pace, cursing under your breath as precum spilled from your tip and coated his hand. 

The sounds of your labored breathing and his fingers slickly jerking off your girth ripple outward throughout the dark bedroom. 

You couldn’t even look at him without feeling dizzy. The brunette averted his gaze shyly, his face flushed pink as his mouth parted.

"It makes me feel…weird when you watch." What the fuck, what the fuck? Your mind was an orbit of howling, intense hormones.

You were almost convinced you had died and this was your heaven, getting a handjob from the most adorable guy that you had laid your eyes on. 

With no one around to see the sinful act that was unfolding, something about how flushed Jonathan looked with him holding your cock made you feel so...discombobulated. 

Jonathan just focused on making quick work with his hands, feeling you finally relax against the mattress, your legs hanging off of the edge as he sat on top of your thighs. 

The weight was driving your body insane. It hadn’t helped when Jonathan surged forward. His guiding your tip passed through his lips and sat flat against his tongue, rushing all the blood to your dick.

"H–holy fuck." You stifled a grunt, your hips bucking against his mouth, his hands resting down on your hips to stop you from fidgeting. 

"Be quiet." Jonathan chuckled like your dick wasn’t in his mouth at the moment, the brunette wrapping his lips over the hilt of your cock.

His tongue poked out of his mouth, inexperienced on how to take your entire length inside without gagging. 

You never expected getting sucked off to feel so…good. 

Sure, you masturbated like any other old teenager your age, but it was always just you and your hand going at it to the poster on your wall of Arnold Schwarzenegger and his bare muscular chest as the Terminator. 

You have the poster taped up just above your headboard along with a row of other movies that you considered to be the pinnacle of film history.

 It was a nice cover-up from your family, having posters of male eye candy in the room for other pleasures. 

You watched as his lips, glistening spit-covered lips, took you into his mouth deeper, allowing more of your length in his mouth until his nose tickled the bush of your pubic hair. 

The feeling of his tongue swirling around the trace of your vein threatened your stability; the feeling of hitting the back of his throat made your toes curl against the carpet and your head leans back.

The sound of his little gag makes you want to live there, having your dick down his throat for the rest of your life. 

Your thighs twitched under him, feeling Jonathan grab your balls with his other hand. 

He twisted his fingers, unsure what to do with them, before simply fondling them in his hands. It was enough for you, more than enough. Honestly, you have never felt so turned on in your life.

His head bobbing up and down your cock, you didn't know how long you went last at the sight of his puffed-out cheeks and wet lips, just drinking in the sight as time went on, not wanting the moment to end from the overwhelming experience.

Your fingers were threading through his tough, short brunette hair, trying to ground yourself onto anything that you could reach, feeling the heat from your building orgasm creep towards your boiling point. 

You haven’t been so turned on in your entire life. The pleasure of having your dick sucked for the first time almost tortures you. 

You wondered if Jonathan had felt the same way, wondering if he too was hard under his briefs. 

So turned on from sucking your dick that there would be a dark stain of precum along with the material of his underwear. 

You weren't able to tell, but the thought alone did something to you, your fingers digging into his scalp, fisting around his hair tighter.

"F—fuck." you whimpered pathetically, Jonathan’s mouth parting from your cock with a string of spit connected to his mouth, your chest caving at the sudden loss of warmth. 

"If you’re gonna…do it. Can you do it in my m—mouth?" You could only nod at the lewd request, your body settling once he had engulfed your cock once more, assuming that he just didn't get cum stains all over his bedsheets as he sucked at the head of your tip.

Your teeth sink into your arm to stop yourself from moaning at the top of your lungs as you cum down his throat. 

Jonathan manages to swallow everything the second it hits his tongue. you were impressed and, honestly, just more turned on. 

Wiping the corners of his mouth with the back of his hand. You sat up, realizing that he had been straddling the entire time. 

Your hands were reaching for his hips, and you hesitated before deciding to lean in to kiss him. 

"Jonathan?" It was a record-breaking time how fast Jonathan had shot up from your lap, crawling under his blankets as you leaned down to throw yourself to the floor, tumbling under his bed the moment your face had hit the carpet. 

The door just opened minutes later as you watched the dim light from the hallway leak into the bedroom, only being able to see Joyce’s shoes as she stood stock still at the doorway. 

Jonathan’s soft breathing coaxes his mother into believing that the boy is truly asleep. humming to herself before shutting the bedroom door, making you exhale a held breath.

 As quickly as the door shut you and Jonathan had snuck out of the bedroom window, your feet pattering against the dirt as you run for your bike. 

Your head turned towards the house, afraid that Joyce would catch you sneaking out of her home at an unruly hour. 

Though your worries were settled, you got to the main road and back to your home in one piece. 

You'd think you’d be able to cut the kid some slack after giving you the most jaw-dropping, sheet-clenching head that you’ve ever experienced in life, but nope. 

It seemed like after the blowjob accident, you were becoming even more distant with Jonathan, continually dodging him in the halls and skipping lunch for a full week.

You didn't know how long you could keep the streak going, biking to and from school every day as an amazing form of exercise, but Hawkin's weather was unpredictable.

Like today, the mornings were high and dry, the sun beaming out enough that you swore you would melt the moment you had stepped foot outside, and then the gray clouds tumbled in, rain soaking your entire outfit as you hurled your bike up the road.

Huffing as your chain had popped the moment you had barreled over a deep puddle that had sent you flying from your bike. The injuries were minor, but your ego had taken a hit. 

And it was like your day was planned to get worse. Jonathan spotted you stranded on the side of the road. 

Just the sight of his car pulling in next to you made your blood run even colder than the freezing temperature it already was from your clothes being soaked.

You prayed that your face masked the obvious uncomfortableness you felt as your clothes stuck tightly against your skin, a shiver running down your spine as you watched Jonathan’s eyes trace down your figure. 

"You wanna ride?" He smirked, his tone hinting at a playful reference to something more sexual. 

You popped the trunk of his car, stuffing your bike into his trunk and sliding into the passenger's side, your face flushed as you buckled in. 

The car ride continued in uncomfortable silence. Every time Jonathan would gesture, his mouth would open just to close, not really knowing how to break the ice. 

A handful of minutes passed before you realized Jonathan was driving in the total opposite direction of your home. Turning into the woods, you recognized the road instantly. He was driving to the quarry. 

The moment he had shifted the car into park, Jonathan gripped the wheel with both hands, his head leaning down, a low grunt erupting suddenly as you grimaced from the cold.

Your head turning, you noticed his head tilted, his gaze fixed on you.

"What?" you asked, your tone flat.

Jonathan smirked, not hiding the fact that he was gawking at your mouth. Maybe it was because your face had flushed, making you look so fucking…attractive to him. 

"Huh?" he hummed, making a scene of tearing his eyes from the trance your mouth had seemed to put him in. 

"You're staring." He didn't even seem to bother with an apology like he wanted you to know that he wanted to kiss you.

"I know, I can't help it." His hands reach out to comb through your wet hair, letting his fingers scrape through your scalp, involuntarily leaning farther into his touch. 

It was the type of touch that made you realize how much of an asshole you were for ignoring the only person that seemed to care about your well-being in this shit town, the only person that you were too scared to care about. 

The last couple of days, you felt empty, following some pointless routine, turning corners and taking the longer route just to avoid the obvious feelings you had for the boy.

You missed listening to his confusing music talk about bands that you didn't even know existed till then, or the small "concerts" of songs you would play air guitar to as Jonathan belted in his pitchy voice to Will as you drove the younger Byers kid to school. 

If your feelings were obvious to you, it didn't take rocket science to know that Jonatan knew that you liked him. 

Even when your dick was in his mouth, you were afraid that it was all just some stupid prank, like he was going to pull away at any moment and degrade you for having such feelings for another male.

You just wanted to go back in time and stay, stay in the infinite where you could just be together with Jonathan without all the emotional stuff involved.

You just wanted to be able to kiss him whenever you wanted, do the things you would see Steve do to the hopelessly romantic girls that had fallen for his suave charm. You wanted to be with Jonathan like Steve was with Nancy.

It was like Jonathan had known you were thinking too hard about something, tugging at the collar of your shirt and suddenly leaning you in closer to him.

Your lips parted by reflex as he locked eyes with you, his head slightly tilting like he was waiting for you to run away, waiting for any sign of hesitation.

You couldn't handle it anymore. Your heart was not built strong enough to handle the chase. You decided to make the first move, surging forward and finally breaking the distance between you two. 

You never knew Jonathan could be so touchy. The feeling of his fingers combing through your hair and settling a fist into the nape of your neck. The feeling of his palm gliding against your cheek like his fingers were guiding your face into his lips.

It all just felt so good, deepening the kiss, feeling the wet front of your shirt press against his more dry, warm chest. 

A low moan vibrated against your mouth as your tongue slid into his mouth.

As if you couldn't be any more turned on, the feeling of his hand wrapping around your neck made your adam's apple bob against his grasp.

You thought it was insane how quickly your body went from freezing cold to smoothing hot in minutes, how quickly Jonathan could turn you into a human heat torch with his simple touch.

Jonathan just knew how to make you feel so relaxed like he knew your body better than you knew yourself. 

The way he would coax small whimpers from your mouth, how good his fingers felt trailing under your shirt, how desperate he made you feel leaning as close as you could get without the gear shift digging painfully into your ribs. 

You couldn't recall how long you were making out with Jonathan, and honestly couldn't think about anything other than the feeling of his mouth against yours, so time yourself.

The moment he pulled away, there was a damp, wet stain every place you touched him.

He was nearly as wet in your sweater as you were, and his fingers were pruned from playing with your hair. Despite having an advantage in body heat, he was now shivering from the cold. 

You were both panting like you had just learned how to breathe for the first time, the sound of his harsh breathing being washed out by the loud thumping drum of rain hitting against the small car.

He looked just like a mess as you were, lips red and swollen from your sloppy excuse for kissing, pupils dilated so wide he almost reminded you of a cat, the way his face was almost a perfect shade of pink, like all the heat from his body had rushed to his face.

"Okay so," He sighed, with a shy smile on his face, his tongue tracing over the bottom of his lip. 

"So we’re on kissing terms again, but not talking. I like kissing you… a lot. But I think I would prefer you to actually talk to me a bit more."His hand was stretched out in confusion, yet his smile never flattened. 

You felt stuck, your mind trying to regain enough sense to find words and scramble them around to form an actual response. 

“I—I don’t, well I don't know what you like, want from me I guess? Like does this make us like…official or what?”

"official," you repeat the words like they had tasted funny? Did you want to be official with Jonathan? The title was so vague in meaning that you didn't even know what it meant. 

Did it mean that Jonathan wanted to have a title for whatever you two were doing? Were you even gay?

"...Boyfriends?" You answered, watching him grin over at you while playing with the cuffs of his shirt, and an eyebrow was raised. 

"Boyfriends?" Jonathan repeated with a questioning tone, as if he wanted to hear you say it again. 

"I want you to be my boyfriend." You spoke softly, afraid that anything could go wrong—

"I kinda want to fuck you really badly right now." oh. 

He seemed to enjoy watching you squirm as if he could hear the bolts and springs banging around in your head as your lashes fluttered, your gaze blank, and your mouth hung open agape.

It only took you a few seconds to follow him to the back seat and perch in his lap at an awkward slouching angle.

 It was like Jonathan could read you like an open book, kissing you along your neck as you struggled to ruin your wet jeans. 

The feeling of his thumbs gently rubbing against the bare skin of your hips as you sat up to straddle him was soothing. 

"I don't really know what I'm doing, but I just want you to feel good, okay?" It was a comforting warning, before the pain of his two fingers thrust into your asshole, coating it in a thin layer of his own spit, the burning sensation leaving you whimpering into the curve of his neck. 

His other hand helps you hold yourself in the air, lifting your thighs for enough room for his arm to slip under and touch you, his fingers thrusting inside of you at a slow pace, Jonathan listening to the hitch in your breath to control himself as his fingers twist gently fucking your hole. 

Your whining and fidgeting made him chuckle. It was weird how quickly the pain had subsided. Your eyes were squeezing shut tight one moment, then you were rocking against his hand the next.

Just getting used to the feeling that was taken away, Jonathan removed his fingers and shifted his hips up to slide down his pants, his cock springing from his briefs, neglected and leaking.

Your forehead rested against his as you slowly lowered yourself onto his tip, not bothering to muffle the slutty whimpers that passed from your mouth and echoed in the car. 

Jonathan felt his dick twitch, the ache in his thighs to thrust farther inside of you, the burning need to sink himself deeper inside of you.

But he was a gentleman and let you set your own pace, your arm hooked onto his shoulder, the other fisted against the leather of the backseats.

You slowly sank yourself down onto his erected cock, a content grunt shared between the two of you as your arms wrapped around his neck. 

Your thighs shifted up before slamming down a shock of pleasure, leaving you whimpering and mumbling nonsense into his ear. 

Jonathan grunted, letting you use his body wholeheartedly. 

The position he sat in was comfortable enough for him to chase your thrusts with his hips, having to use most of his strength to help you squat into position. 

His hips slammed against yours greedily, the car rocking from the moving weight taking him as far as you could handle inside of your body.

Jonathan fucks his hip into you hard and fast. The hot feeling of his thick girth spreading you open as he fucked into you. 

While his fingers wrapped eagerly around your cock, his wrist twisting messily against your cock, struggling to find a rhythm with both things occupying his hands.

You felt everything all at once, your orgasm striking you over the edge. As you spilled all over his hand, your hand fisted into his hair as the other held you upright, gripping onto the back seat. 

Your muscles clench around him, your climax rippling against his cock.

"That was really, really hot," Jonathan said with a smirk. You leaned up to place a kiss against your collarbone and another just on your chin. 

"But I'm not done." He was kind enough to take a moment for your orgasm to subside. 

He allows you to relax once more before moving to lie down with your back against the seats, squeezing himself between your legs, giving you one more kind smile, resting his forehead against yours.

His hand hooked under the bend of your knee and pressed himself against your puckering hole. The moment he started moving inside of you again, you felt so sensitive everywhere, moaning his name like it was a prayer. 

Jonathan's sucking hickeys into your neck didn't help one bit. You were moaning under his lips as you leaned your head back, accepting your fate. 

Screwing your eyes and grabbing onto his shoulders, Jonathan could barely contain himself from the sight of your scrunched up, pleased face. 

Thrusting in roughly, hitting the spot that made your body want to melt against him every time. 

"Oh, fu—shit." With his legs trembling and fingers digging into the plush of your hairy thigh, you were suddenly aware of how hot it was in the car, sweat rolling from the hairline and making the skin on your back stick to the leather of the seats. 

You had no choice but to ignore it at the moment, getting your guts literally arranged, biting your lip and curling against the cramp forming in your thigh. 

The slight discomfort was just the price you were willing to pay. It was already forgotten the moment Jonathan had gripped your length that had been slapping against his chest.

 stroking you through his thrust, your back arching up into him as his muscles tensed, his entire weight suddenly shifting to lie on top of you as he was quick with his hands, pulling out of you and climaxing loudly against your chest. You didn't know how much you had in you, or if it was humanly possible to cum so much. 

Your orgasm is unrolling before you can even realize what's happening. Your second orgasm is already in full swing. 

His long, slender fingers were trembling as he pressed soft kisses against your lips, the moment becoming more intimate as you wrapped your arms around him and held him close while you felt his cock softened and pressed against your stomach. 

You rested in each other's arms for a calm moment, the sound of rain painting chorusing together with the sounds of each other breathing. 

"Kinda disappointed I couldn't make you my personal twinkie." Jonathan teased, pressing his face into your chest, enjoying being wrapped around so close to you, even being covered in each other's sweat and cum. It was a loving moment that you too enjoyed. 

Humming in agreement, not to the twinkie part, but to the fact that you two were content with the sex, closing your eyes and taking in the moment.

As much as you wished to fall asleep with Jonathan in your arms, you knew Joyce would freak out not seeing her son home after school without a word, warning to spare the single mother's heart attack of thinking her child went missing. 

"Come on, we gotta get dressed." You whispered, your thighs wrapping around his torso and squeezing around him in a playful manner, which only made him whine and curl closer against your chest.

"No, I wanna die here, just like this."

"What if I told you we could go to my place and shower together if no one's home?" The bribe was enough for him to lift his head up and look at you. His face was still flushed as he smiled dreamily.

"Well, how am I supposed to say no to that?"

Bonus: Steve finds out.

It was a mistake to ever invite Jonathan over to your place. You had almost been dating the guy for a year and every single second he had alone with you left you sore in places that you couldn't even explain with your face flushing. 

Being a gay couple during the 90s didn't help, and neither did living in a small rural town full of close-minded people afraid of change. 

Any moment that was away from the public was a break away from everyone else's eyes. Being openly affectionate wasn't something you could do around Hawkins.

 It was just the risk you two lovers took, and with your parents out of town most of the time, it wasn't a problem. 

Being able to make out in the room in the house whenever Steve was away without being bothered.

It was all good, until the times that you wanted to hang out with Jonathan. Sometimes having to beat the boy away with a stick (metaphorically). 

"I r—really have to finish, ah." You struggled against Jonathan's lips, his mouth latched onto your collarbones, nuzzling his head into your neck. 

The brunette hummed against your skin, his fingers trailing up your thigh and squeezing your already growing erection. 

It was like he had a bullseye target telling him the status of your dick at any given time.

"You're doing a lot of complaining for someone that's about to get their dick sucked." He mumbled, trailing soft kisses along your shoulder, a hiss escaping your mouth the second his teeth teasingly sank into your skin. 

Jonathan apologized with his tongue dragging along the abused spot, sucking splotchy red marks into your skin until he was satisfied.

You knew it would be a mistake to invite your boyfriend over to study, with your household empty, your parents on a work trip, and Steve was gone hanging out with friends after school. 

You were supposed to have your nose tucked away in the study packet you had for your science test, hoping that with the passing grade Jonathan had he would help you, but instead he was crawling into your lap, marking bruises all over your body. 

You sighed, dropping your pencil when Jonathan took your face in his hands, tilting your chin up to peck you on the lips. 

"Is this what it's like to have a boyfriend? I’m just your personal sex toy every day of the week until you suck me dry?" Your hands are grabbing at his loose hips, halting him from grinding against you but not putting much of a fight against the sudden display of neediness from your partner. 

"Maybe!" Jonathan hummed, latching his mouth against the skin of your neck once more. 

You exhaled a chuckle, your hands swirling alongside his hips, your thoughts starting to blank in the way Jonathan's hips rubbed against your own, the boy having so much control over you it was starting to be concerning. 

"Jonathan," you moan, tilting your head back as one of his hands wraps around your neck. His hips grind down on you with even more pressure. 

Just as you reached down to undo his belt, a shout of surprise broke your two apart. "What the fuck!" Steve screamed, his brows furrowed as he stood stock-still in the doorway of the family living room.

The room fell silent, only the sound of your heart hammering against your chest as Steve stared at the two of you with wide eyes. 

"What are you doing here?" Jonathan asked, his tone careful as he peeled himself away from your touch, still sitting in your lap, feeling your erection pressing into his thigh. He knew that the last thing you wanted was for your brother to see your boner. 

"What? What am I doing here? What are you doing here? On top of my brother?" 

"Oh God, were you two about to have sex? What the fuck, what if dad came home early or if mom saw you?" You grimaced at the thought, your head leaning into Jonathan's chest to cover your face from the embarrassing situation, wanting nothing more than to crawl into a hole and stay there at least until your erection went away.

"I mean, what the hell, when did you two even start hooking up? When did you become…gay?" Steve asked, his voice just laced with confusion, raising an octave with every question. 

Jonathan sighed, crawling out of your lap and replacing his presence with a couch pillow. While you lift your head, fingers interlaced with his, knowing that the tender look that Jonathan gave you was meant for comfort.

You struggled to find your voice, not even wanting to share this part of your life with your family. You never expected it to come out this way. "So, we've been dating—" 

"Wait, you're dating? Like, this is a whole… thing?" gesturing towards you two, you flinched as Jonathan grunted in annoyance at his tempting already running thin, seeing how uncomfortable you were. 

He knew that it had to happen one day, the day that your family, his family, his friends, and all of Hawkins knew about the relationship that you two had.

"Steve," Jonathan barged in, firmly squeezing your hand. "Yes, we’re dating. We've been dating for almost a year now, and honestly, it's been a pretty good fucking year. I'm sure Y/N was going to tell you at some point. It's just that we love each other and want to do anything to keep our relationship that way. " 

"You’re in love?" Steve mumbled, staring at his twin brother with a tinge of jealousy passing through his emotions before he settled with just being happy for you. 

"Well...then I'm happy for you."

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[loafslibrary]

Runaway (Revali X Reader) - One Shot

Word count:

3383

Description:

You and the rito have had feelings for each other for years, yet Revali won’t admit to it. You can’t keep your life on pause forever, waiting for him.

Finally, you decide to confront him...

Theme/Category:

Major angst, breakup, sad ending

Warnings:

N/A

Authors Note/s:

So… this isn’t my best work looking back on it now 😅😅

Wrote this because I've been playing a lot of Breath Of The Wild recently since its one of my comfort games, and Revali is one of my favourite characters from that game!

Told you all I was coming back and I thought what better way to get me back into the swing of writing then typing up an angsty one-shot with one of my favourite characters!

Enjoy! - 🍞

The summer breeze gently caressed your skin as you stood on the landing pad next to Akh Va’quot shrine, looking out at the view surrounding Rito Village. You watched as the setting sun trickled over the land, bathing everything in a golden honey coloured glow. A handful of clouds littered the sky, occasionally causing a shadow or two to slink across the body of water and surrounding cliffs.

You spent a lot of time in Rito Village; Revali being the main reason why you were here so often.

It was always a long journey from Hateno Village, but Revali would always make it worth it with the time you would spend together. He was intelligent, quick-witted, a skilled archer. It was to no surprise that you had fallen for him, as much as you told yourself not to. Despite knowing it was a terrible decision. You had assumed he had fallen for you too.

He was so gentle with you. He treated you differently to everyone else.

There was the morning after you had stayed the night at the Swllow’s Roost, he had offered to walk you to the village entrance to see you off on your journey home. You remember how he had called you beautiful, even when you were only half awake, you hair had not yet been styled and you still had the remanence of sleep in your eyes. The rito didn’t call just anyone beautiful. You remember how that one afternoon last spring, his beak gently brushed against the shell of your ear as he whispered “Aim a little higher, darling”, while he taught you to use a bow- his bow to be exact. You refused to use it at first, worried you would break it, yet he insisted. You remembered how he held you close on that chilly winter afternoon walk and said how once the both of you returned to the village, he would make you a hot drink to warm you up. You remembered how concerned he was that you would catch a cold. You remembered that one evening he had finally made the journey to visit you in your hometown, (In all the years you had known each other, he had only done this once) and how you had spent your evening together under the stars on the edge of the village, away from the eyes of the other towns people; laughing, dancing, exchanging stories.

The kiss.

Or what you believed to be how ritos would kiss one another.

“You don’t mean that!”, you laughed as you playfully hit his feathered shoulder.

“I most certainty do! Do you think a rito like me would lie?”, he asked, leaning a little closer with that cocky look of his plastered across his features. “You’re the pretties hylian I’ve see. Dare I say, prettier than Princess Zelda herself”. This only made you laugh more, a deep blush creeping across your cheeks as you shushed him, lightly pummelling his shoulder in your flustered state. “Your cheeks are turning red. I can’t say I blame you for having that reaction when you have someone like me complimenting you”.

Feathered fingers gently grasped your face and turned you to face him.

“Someone like you?”, you echoed his comment, snatching his wing away from your face and holding it gently in your grasp. “Someone like you…pompous, arrogant-“

“OH! So that’s how you see me?”, he laughed, and you joined in. If anyone else had said this to him you knew his reaction would be very different, but since it was you... “And here I was, thinking you loved me”.

Finally, your laughter had come to a stop, both of you catching your breath.

That was when he slipped his wing from your grasp and wrapped it instead around your smaller frame before he pulled you in to him and laid the maxilla of his beak against your forehead.

You felt your heart flutter for a moment. You were sure this was a rito’s equivalent to a kiss. You had only ever seen this interaction performed by couples. It was a sweet, romantic gesture.

And revali was doing this with you!

Before you could begin to overthink, you allowed yourself to relax in his grasp and be in the moment, feeling at peace, contempt, loved. Everything in the single moment was perfect.

It was memories like this that broke your heart, because despite all of this, he had never told you he loved you. He had never made his feelings clear. He had never made whatever your relationship was publicly known.

You had known the rito for four years now. The two of you had never agreed to being romantic partners, yet you acted like so much more than friends; how you would both find any excuse to be close to the other, how your touches always seemed to linger a little longer than necessary… How Revali had confessed on that late evening on the bridge connecting Rito Village to the outside world that if he had to take a bride one day, he would want someone like you.

You couldn’t go on like this. You couldn’t wait forever, stuck in this limbo, wondering what the two of you truly were. Was there a future for the two of you? You didn’t want to carry on being known as the hylian that’s always around Revali. You wanted people to know that you were more than that and not some hopeless fool.

You needed to hear that he thought of you as more than that.

You wanted to hear that he wanted you the same way you wanted him.

You needed to make a decision.

You had already rejected other hylians, gorons and zoras alike, turning down some that others had only dreamed of being with. You were slowly becoming the laughingstock of your friend group, and all for what? To stay in your sorry state, believing you may have a shred of a future with the rito?

So, this time, you weren’t so hasty when the goddess Hylia blessed you with a second chance to find happiness.

You had met him in Kochi’s Dye Shop. You needed to dye some materials for a scarf you were making (ironically for the one that was the source of your problems), and he was dying an old, faded tunic back to its once vibrant grass green.

You found out his name was Link.

Link was quiet, but dedicated, hardworking, sweet. You had seen him around the village a few times. He was always willing to help anyone who asked. You couldn’t help but admire that about him. He was well respected, popular amongst women, and you had to admit, you couldn’t help falling for his charms a little too.

After your initial introduction, the two of you began saying hello in passing, stopping to talk to each other if you had the time. There had been a night or two he had made time for you from his busy schedule, and you had shared a meal by the fire. He would tell you stories of the adventures he had been on, the people he had met along the way, and about his duties as Princess Zelda’s newly appointed knight. He was funny too. Most wouldn’t expect it due to his usually reserved nature.

Sometimes, you couldn’t help but think of Revali when with the Link. How you should be laughing at his jokes, asking how his day was…and a sense of guilt would was over you.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?”, the rito’s voice shook you from your thoughts.

Just his voice prickled your skin with goosebumps and got your heart pounding.

You looked over your shoulder, seeing him standing there, chest puffed out proudly and his wings clasped behind his back as he walked towards you. The scarf you had once made him had recently been replaced with a teal blue one sporting a print of Devine Beast Vah Medoh, indicating he was the newly selected champion of the rito.

Of course it would be him.

“Yes, the view is always beautiful here”, you agreed, your tone a little melancholy as you turned back to said view.

You listened to the approaching footsteps as Revali made his way to stand next to you. “How do you know I was talking about the view?”, he asked, his vivid green eyes glancing in your direction with a playful smirk gracing his features as he stood next to you.

A lump began to form in your throat.

“How have you been?”, he asked gently you only gave a weak smile in response.

“I’ve been okay…”, you responded, not sure what else to say. “Congratulations on becoming the rito champion, you deserve it”. The lack of warmth and familiarity in your tone was immediately picked up by Revali, yet he chose not to comment on it just yet, unsure if now was the correct time to do so.

“Thank you”, was all he could say in response to your comment to begin with. “As you know, I’ve trained for years to be a worthy defender of my people”. You only nodded your head in acknowledgement at his words in response. When you didn’t bother to continue the conversation further, he finally asked, “Is there something wrong?”, always being straight forward and to the point unless he was taking the time to taunting or tease someone. When he was making fun of someone, he would pretend he didn’t know what he was doing; like how he would love to give others back handed compliments if they dare challenge him.

“I mean, you did miss the most targets during practice, but I’m sure you’ll improve eventually”, and “You’re pretty good for a rito who can’t fly in formation”

It was clear though he had no suspicion as to what could possibly be troubling you. He had no idea of the torment he had been putting you though.

You were silent for a moment, wondering if you should just push your feelings to the side and continue chasing this fantasy just to save yourself the possible heartbreak that was to follow this conversation.

“Revali… what are we?”, you asked.

There it was. The silence. The sickening feeling settling in your stomach. The dryness in your throat. It was as though the whole foundation of your world began to quake the second that question left your mouth.

Revali was still silent. He just stared at you.

That was all you needed to know exactly how this conversation was going to go.

“Why would you ask that?”, he asked, his tone of voice was like how he would speak to the other newly appointed champions. It was professional, directed… Unfamiliar to your usual conversations with him which usually held an air of adoration and softness.

You finally turned to face the rito fully, staring directly into his eyes. “We have known each other for four years now, Revali”, you pointed out. “During this time, you’ve never once mentioned how you truly feel about me”.

“I don’t see why you’re bringing this up”, he spoke coolly, making your blood begin to boil.

“I have spent four years of my life waiting for you”, you finally snapped harshly, your tone causing the rito’s eyes to widen, his piercing green eyes boring into you. You had never spoken to him like this before. “I can’t wait another four years, or eight, or sixteen”. You already sounded exasperated. Years of pent-up emotion bubbling to the surface. First was frustration. “Incase I haven’t made it clear enough, I love you Revali… I am in love with you”.

The air was filled with more silence, unsure of where to take the conversation next. The only thing that could be heard was the wind. Revali’s beak opened for him to speak, but he quickly closed it again.

“So you don’t feel the same?”. Your throat felt tight, and it made your voice break slightly, causing the rito’s eyes to widen. You had never once let your emotions get the best of you around him, so seeing you so upset was new.

“Why does it matter how I feel?”

“Because I want a life with you!”

Revali pulled his gaze away from you, not being able to look you in the eyes… the eyes he loved so much. The eyes that could ruffle his feathers with a single look. The eyes that held all the answers. “You know that’s not practical”.

“How? How is it not practical?”, you shot back and that was when you finally saw his mask crack. His own frustration and pain seeping through. He would also hardly let his emotions get the best of him. He was a rito champion. He had to be professional- a role model for all his race. They all had their eyes on him. History had it’s eyes on him. He couldn’t let them down when so many people were looking to him.

“What would the other rito think if I were to take you as a bride”- There it was. It was like a knife had just been plunged into your heart. You knew he was very private about his personal life, but it hadn’t crossed your mind that he was worried what others would think of your relationship.

“I can’t mate with you”, he pointed out, “We can’t create offspring together! Isn’t that the whole point of marriage? To settle down, leave a legacy behind”, he huffed, turning his back to you, looking out at something, anything, just so he didn’t have to see the growing pain in your eyes any longer.

“I can’t make love to you the way I need to”, he added flushing with embarrassment under his layers of perfectly preened navy feathers. “I can’t make love to you the way I want to-“.

“But I don’t care about that. Just having you in my life is what I need”, you chocked back tears that were threatening to fall. You didn’t want to cry. You didn’t want him to see you crumble.  

“Well, I am part of your life, aren’t I!? Isn’t that good enough?”, he exclaimed, turning to face you once more.

“You know what I mean by that, Revali. Don’t play dumb”, you warned him. A pregnant pause fell over the two of you then. You both just stared at each other for a moment, as if you were truly seeing one another for the first time- not just your happy personas you both wore when deep down you both knew you longed for something more. “I’ve already rejected countless courtships and marriage proposals, praying to the goddess Hylia that you would finally ask me to be yours”, you confessed. “I can’t keep waiting…”.

You both wanted more… So why couldn’t Revali just accept that?

“Perhaps you should take up the next offer. It would be better for both of us”, Revali chimed in with a bitter laugh. You felt sick. It was like someone had plunged their hand into your organs as began squeezing and twisting. It hurt. The love of your life was giving up on you, after you gave him everything.

You gave him everything.

“Well, I guess I will”.

With that, you could see his muscles tense. He had dug himself this grave, and now he had to lay in it. He had said it without thinking, like he always did when he was emotional. A fury began to build within him. He was angry at you for not arguing back. For not telling him that you only wanted him. He was angry at himself for not just allowing himself to love you. For not allowing himself to be with you. “Good luck finding some as good as me then; The Rito Champion”, he grumbled in his snobby arrogant tone that he never once directed at you before.

“I have, as a matter of fact”, you fired back, your jaw clenching as you tried your best to maintain your composer.

“Oh, is that so? And who would that be?”, he replied in a mocking, patronising tone. You had never been on the receiving end of this side of his personality before. You knew Revali could be rude, self- absorbed, egotistical. But how he was acting now was just vile.

He was cruel.

He was mean.

He was not the Revali you loved.

“His name is Link”.

The navy rito’s eyes narrowed at the mention of this name, knowing exactly who it was, and his feathers ruffled up in agitation, not being able to hide his emotions any longer. “Link?”, he repeated.

“Yes”.

“The princess’ newly appointed night?”, he scoffed, to which you only gave a single nod as your response. This was his breaking point. “How pathetic”, he began. “Are you sure you want to make that decision? Settling for a silly boy who plays with swords”, he spat his words with so much venom. Your face couldn’t help but contort in pure disgust at his attitude. “He can’t offer you anything of value. He’s small, weak. He probably doesn’t even know your name!”,

“Revali, stop”.

“I haven’t even met him yet, but I can tell he is no match for me”.

“Revali-“.

“He’s probably a strange looking thing anyway; with those pointed ears and fleshy body”, your eyes widened in disbelief at what you were hearing. “Why would you want to be with a hylian anyway? What do they offer in comparison to a rito?”, he spoke before he could think of what he was saying. This comment struck something in you, and in that moment it felt like your whole world was tumbling down.

“I AM A HYLIAN, REVALI!”, you yelled back.

And that was when it all clicked.

He was embarrassed of you. He was scared that the other rito’s would think less of him if he were to settle down with a hylian. Like he had mentioned previously, you couldn’t have children together to carry on his legacy, you couldn’t fly, you’d stick out like a sore thumb living amongst the rito. You would be a burden.

And then your tears began to fall.

Revali’s own eyes widened as he had realised what he said. The raging fiery anger than once burned behind his eyes now replaced with worry, fear, regret.

“I-… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it-”, you didn’t give him another moment of your time, barging past him and heading straight for the stairs that spiralled down the giant stone pillar that led to the exit of the village. “I wasn’t thinking! You know I don’t think any less of you because you’re a hylian!”, he called out, turning a few heads as he tried to catch up to you, but you wouldn’t stop. Not for him. Not ever again. That was one advantage you had as a hylian. You were used to relying on your legs to transport you from place to place, meaning you could outrun the rito any day.

You finaly made it to the archway of the village, heading towards where your horse was tied up in the stable, but to your surprise, the champion landed in front of you, giving you no choice but to face him.

“Please… I didn’t mean what I said. I-…”, he was desperate. The thing that truly mattered most in his life was about to leave to most likely never return. It felt like everything was unravelling in his grasp. “Please… I love you”.

“I see now that we would be an ugly match”, you said, barely able to speak as it felt like there was a gaping hole where your heart had been only moments ago. You made your way to your horse and climbed up, tying a cloak up and pulling the hood over your head in attempts to hide the tears that would not stop falling. “Perhaps in another life… things may have been different for us’, you sobbed softly.

“Please… I need you… I was angry- I didn’t-“.

“I wish you well Revali”, and with that, you set off on your way home to Hateno Village, allowing the wind to dry your tears and praying to the goddess Hylia that every thought a feeling of the rito you used to love would disappear. Forever.

[theficblog]

BLACK UMBRELLAS

XIAO DEJUN

Prologue: It wasn’t easy to hold onto your emotions when you find yourself in the same dine-in where your ex boyfriend sings. The pain was too much to bear.

Genre: Angst + Ex boyfriend Xiaojun

Wordcount: 1,308

Warnings: None

People meet. There is this glance-passing interaction. Then comes the lure of human nature. I know you like me, you know I like you. There are a hundred faces you see every day, some of whom understand this theory of yours. Life is all about fun, and in your world, emotions and sentiments kill the fun. 

Relationships are meant to be for a night, or maybe if it was for some rare chance, more, and then in the morning, everyone has their own path to take and it's best if they bury the past behind. 

Amongst your lengthy list of boys, the one that lasted the longest on the pitch was for around five months. 

There was no denying you had fun, and this fun was very different from your past ones. 

Simple things with him brought you absolute joy, whether it was going out to get melon popsicles in the summer heat or clicking pictures for the gram in the trial rooms and never actually buying them. He laughed at your worst joke, he got up from the bed to switch off the lights, and he let you have the last slice of pizza. He lent you a shoulder to cry on, he gave you the best cuddles. He was different. 

-

This evening, the streets and the sky were both grey and deserted. As the clouds veiled the stars, the dusty wind swept through the concrete. Those sounds were eolian. Everything that was carried away by the winds, including leaves and twigs, empty soda cans, discarded polythene, and other debris, flew here and there. 

What was also grey and deserted was your heart. You were lonely.

Being physically surrounded by people all the time, sharing laughs and gossip, did not always necessarily bring happiness. Times like these made you miss him the most. 

A dine-in that appeared to be new in town caught your attention. "The Melting Pot", the board read with huge yellow and red lights. You decided to step in. It would be good both for your body and heart, you needed some comfort. 

The smell of the wooden furniture and the smells of their cooking mingled together beautifully in the low light. You secured a table near the enormous glass. The raindrops traced their way down, taking unprecedented paths, going with the flow while it was bucketing down outside. 

It would have been pretty subtle and swift if it were not for what happened next. "An unusually long day. But it's not too bad because you're warm~" These words mixed themselves in the atmosphere. No, it was not just about those painful lyrics. It was the voice, and it was his voice.

You froze at the moment, a sudden rush of numbness running through your veins that was accompanied by a warm and welcoming feeling in the heart, as if it could make you cry instantly.

"You are a miracle to me, I wish you could see it

Spreading all over me, a gift called you

You're my night and day~"

He proceeded with the song, perfectly hitting all the notes with those guitar chords. His voice held so much pain, a pain too much to bear. Oh! It was breaking your heart. 

Thanks to your long hair and black baseball cap, your face could not be recognized. You took it as an advantage to face the man. He sat there on the only chair in front of the wall studded with golden fairy lights, adding more to his glow in an off-whitish sweater, resembling a baby lamb. His dark hair concealed his forehead, and his hands were occupied by his rustic brown guitar, something very dear to him. 

"Cause I can live with it, You're my everything~"

He finished tonight's performance, leaving the room with applause and also tears in your eyes. 

"Ma'am, I'm sorry, but we are closing." Another man dressed in a three-piece informed you, you took a glance at your phone and left the table soon after you paid. 

The exit was towards the left, but you took the right instead, intentionally. Your eyes followed the man, who was now packing up. 

"Dejun?" you called his name, with a tone that depicted absolute pain, regret, and need at the same time. 

He turned back to face you, still smiling. It was not a smile from the heart, you knew him. His lips curved that way every time he was vulnerable. 

"Last time you looked at me like that, you broke my heart." He stated, fidgeting his head and fingers, turning away his eyes from you. He stayed like that for a minute or two, continuously looking towards the left, shaking his head and swallowing that lump in his throat before turning back to his task. You knew he was on the verge of crying anytime.

"I never wanted to hurt you!" You broke down in tears. 

Xiaojun paid zero attention. He hung his backpack, carried his guitar case and left, walking away right past you.

Even if you wanted to let him go a few months back, for some reason, this time, you knew you could not afford it. 

You followed him in the streets. It was still heavily raining, but the winds ceased, making it suitable enough to walk. You were following his figure, the one with the same black umbrella as yours. 

"Why are you doing this to me?" He said sternly, without turning back. He must have realised you were following him, for yours were the only footsteps on the street other than his.

The silence could still be heard, along with the rain.

"You said you were bored of me." He added. 

The glass of silence stood still again for seconds, then shattered by the noise of the delivery motorbike. "Vroom!" It went by slowly.

"I love you!"

You screamed at the man with all your might. 

"I dialled your number a thousand times. Why didn't you ever pick it up?

The shouting continued. Xiaojun stayed the same, he did not move, and neither did he look back. 

"I know I don't deserve this but don't leave me alone Dejun!" You fell on your knees as you let your emotions out. Your umbrella fell to the side, being terribly crushed by the rain. 

It was difficult to tell your tears apart from the raindrops. 

"If you loved me as much as you said, then please don't ever call me again. I don't think I'll ever be over you". Xiaojun stated, trying his best to hold back his tears. The pain could still be heard in his voice. 

"Who do you think of when you sing all these songs?" 

"I want to protect your days and nights. You are a miracle to me, I wish you could see it.~”

You still remembered these words. They were buried in your heart with those memories. The happy times of life when he would sing this song for you, only for you. 

The black umbrella fell out of Xiaojun's grip. It was upside down, just like your umbrella, which now had the rainwater overflow. It was not easy for them to keep burdening themselves with that weight of pain, much like your hearts. 

You were both drenched in the water, and in the pain.

He finally turned back, crying.

The moment was too hurtful to bear. 

The rain was gloomy, but it was also ecstasy.

It was ecstasy for you when he held his arms open, allowing you to come back to him. He dropped everything that was precious to him, to get back the one most precious of them all. 

You got up from your knees and ran to him, not caring about slipping and falling, because you had these arms to hold you. You and your heart. 

"After a long wait, you're the one~"

You're my everything.

SONG IN THE FIC - NCT U - My Everything

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