#screams throws my pencil out the window

[defensivelee]

me tempted to make the six lives!keppel backstory chapter an epic entirely in dutch

[fewderpewders]

nothing quite like looking up if something you feel is common and finding that there’s an actual name for the condition/behavior

[candiedspit]

Smear Frame (1992)

The night I got home from the hospital, we had peas and squash and good chicken. Nobody spoke. The radio spoke for us; vitamin deficiencies, lights spotted across Vegas, another building demolition. The first couple of days, I stayed in my room throwing a ball against the wall, doing long division in my head. The television playing a documentary about squid brains. On the third night, mama asked what I was planning to do.

You can be a thing in the world, she told me.

We were in the kitchen, the evening light staining the windows above the sink.

You do have a choice, she continued. But you choose to suffer like an idiot. Even the rabbit knows better than to follow the wolf.

Learn something, Jane.

And she left the room. I held her words in the belly of my chest, going over them again and again. That night, I got dressed in my trench coat and went out to the middle of town. The lights were buoyant and fresh, amazing slashes, amazing range. The moon was pinned against the skies like a cop’s badge. I stepped into Lousy’s which was a bar I had been to before. I liked it because it was dark and cold. I often pretended I was in a cave or in some sort of comet, minutes away from approaching the quiet tendrils of earth.

I ordered a Shirley temple and sat at the bar watching the bartender spin and shake and serve drinks.

What’s the drink with the longest name? I asked.

A terrible, unearthed bitter and lame dirt tonic, he said.

I mused on this for a while and eventually someone spoke to me. An older woman wearing red and large earrings asked me what time it was. I shrugged.

Maybe sometime around midnight, I said.

Don’t you have a watch? She asked. What kinda man doesn’t have a watch?

The question of my masculinity continues to come under fire, I laughed.

So, what’s your problem? She asked. Why are you here at maybe sometime around midnight?

I got out of the loony bin last weekend, I said. I’m trying to map out the world again.

How long were you in there for?

Six weeks, I said.

Do they zap your brain? She asked. I had a cousin like that, always in and out of those places.

How is he doing? I asked.

On the side of the road, she said. Begging for cash, not hiding the bad time he’s having.

That’s admirable. But no, they didn’t zap my brain.

Did they strangle you with Valium?

I was never sedated, I said.

Who put you there?

My parents, I said, I was seeing the holes in the plot, could see the failing strings in the fabric of the universe, the whole picture. I stoped eating, stopped sleeping. All I did was play chess with spirits and paint my nails over and over again. I showed the woman my hands. See? They’re clean.

The woman was quiet, sipped on her drink. I continued.

It was sorta nice, I admitted, not speaking to anyone but sounding out the idea.

Being taken care of like an infant who can’t speak. You get medication in the morning and you moan about the news. Someone starts screaming. Someone stops screaming. You go into a dreamless, milky sleep. And your roommate mumbles in his sleep, sweet robotic poems. And you don’t have a pencil so you commit them to memory; a fog roars, abstain, chapel, chapel, chapel. And you disappear from the world. Headlines float around every day and you wander around the unit making funny faces to entertain yourself and someone calls you and they ask how you are and you tell them you can’t wait to go home. And then you get home and the world is indifferent.

Cheers, the woman said.

And we clinked our glasses. Around three, the woman stood up and gave me her number and shook my hand and left. I kept the slip of paper in my coat pocket. I went out to walk by the river-end, watching the rising of the waters, the night reflected on the surface, dark rivulets. A sort of vile peace.

A couple of months afterward, I found work at a fish market. Slicing trout in half and packaging swordfish into white papers. The work was mindless, bleeding work. Nobody spoke to me. I smoked cigarettes. When I got home, the house smelled of blood.

A while later on, I called the woman. I was on my way home from work. I had not spoken to another human being in ten hours. I had forgotten what my voice sounded like. I could see myself getting slower by the minute. Words died in my head like vermin. The woman answered within four rings. I explained who I was. The boy in the trench coat. It was nighttime and we spoke for a while. You were drinking a tall martini and every so often would dive into your purse to fix your lipstick.

You sound different, she said.

I feel different, I said. I feel like an aspirin. I feel like a headache that won’t resolve.

Where are you? She asked.

By the river, I said. I like seeing the water enunciate. Where are you?

She told me she was making tea for her husband.

He’s not feeling well, she said. I’m doing what people say to do; ginger and saltines and warm baths. But he’s persistent with his pain.

Some people are, I said.

The clouds are fragrant tonight, I continued.

It’s getting late. I can see my mother checking the time, fidgeting in the kitchen then checking again. It’s something I relish. Getting home late. The worry she must feel. The worst things happen in your brain. Perhaps I fell down a flight of stairs. Perhaps I cut my hand open on a knife and I’m in the hospital bleeding out beneath the fluorescent lights. She has a feeling but doesn’t want to endorse the feeling in case it becomes a truth. And when I arrive at last, the feeling subsides and instead is replaced with a mute disappointment. I am the one she loves but not the one she missed.

I began to call the woman—whose name I never bothered to ask for, I wanted to name her myself—often. When I was on my lunch break barely eating a tuna sandwich. When I was smoking cigarettes. When I was in my room reading the newspaper and playing with myself. When I was half asleep.

Once, I was naked in bed with the radio on, and there was a sullen exasperation in my stomach. I felt as though I knew when I was going to die and if I focused long enough the date would come to me, would emerge from the foggy brain matter and I would be freed. I had been thinking of death for weeks. Death was my babe, my habit. I had visions of my own death. Dying struck by a moving car and being stuck in the tire. An aneurysm so I’m alive one moment and exploding the next. Being stunned by a bullet and feeling my cells gasp in unison.

Death is an orgasm, I told the woman one night. Death is a great, wondrous love. You go into the light. You feel peace for the first time in your pathetic silly little life.

You sound twisted, the woman said. Death is what you avoid, everything you do, you do to put death out. Your bravado is not going to protect you from what will happen or what has happened.

That winter I was sleepless. I slept for thirty minutes at a time, watched the sunrise slur into my windows, made tea for my parents and gutted samurai fish and wrapped tuna and walked around town, dreaming of poisonous gas. Sometimes, I choked on my visions.

One afternoon, I felt a pop in the back of my head and walked out of work during my lunch break. And walked straight home. When my mother saw me, she placed me on the couch and pointed a flashlight in my eyes and placed a cold towel on my forehead. I mumbled for the angels.

I had been in the hospital for two weeks when I called the woman, I had been blotted out and cast into a week of sleep. I was feeling alright.

What kind of dreams have you been having? The woman asked,

I don’t dream, I told her. I stumble in and out of sleep like a newly born calf. I feel like I’m full of milk, a white calmness in my arteries, a saline stillness.

Come see me, I said. Come see my blue scrubs and bandaged fingers and dirty acne and limp, sedated gait.

I will, she said.

It was New Year’s Eve when she came. The nurses had hung up garlands and the television played the ball drop in New York City; that mirage a thousand light years away.

We were given virgin champagne and the nurses counted down with us and the woman was there, her hand on my back.

Focus on living one breath at a time, she said. Count the breaths until you forget you’re even counting.

The year turned over onto her stomach. That night, I laid down and recounted the poem again.

Chapel. Chapel. Chapel.

[lawrites]

Rubens Can Suck It!!

Sweet Gotham S1! Edward Nygma x Plus Size! Female Reader

You are having an awful day when someone leaves a note on your desk, describing your figure. It sets you off, and Ed is the one who seeks to comfort you.

This fic features a LOT of insecurities, specifically around being plus size. It talks about the feeling of being seen by others and how shitty some officers at the GCPD are. But Ed is sweet. No warnings beyond that EXCEPT some dirty thoughts from Ed 👀.

It's been an awful morning and it's only 8 AM.

As a woman who works in a field primarily made up of men, especially a plus size woman, you have made your confidence into your armor. Yeah some of the officers could be pigs, (most of them, actually), but you do love your body and how it looks, so it doesn't bother you.

You enjoy wearing bold colors, pretty dresses, structured pant suits, and even pencil skirts to work most days. They make you feel infallible, and you KNOW you look cute in them. No matter what those tiny men say, you can get through the day feeling good.

And usually...it works. There are some days that you think everyone struggles with their looks, no matter their size. It's what happens when your society is constantly screaming "YOU CAN BE BETTER BUY THIS PRODUCT" at you from all angles.

And so, while you are beating yourself up for letting your confidence slip, you decide to go ahead and make yourself more comfortable while you get it back. Especially because trying to force it wasn't working.

Every glance in the mirror was followed by a critical voice, today. Your hair just didn't sit right, your chosen outfit was too tight and the textures were bothering you, and the high heels you sometimes wear would clack and bring eyes to you. All of that sounded just...exhausting, especially when you just want to get through the day and go home without drawing any attention to yourself.

While usually a pair of eyes on you wouldn't bother you, the thought of Harvey Bullock only staring at your tits when he talks to you, or Jim glancing up and down in what he thinks is a subtle way, or any of the officers giggling when you walk by...yeah it would take only one thing to set you off today, you can tell.

So, while it isn't the most flattering outfit you own, you throw your hair into a ponytail and pull an oversized sweater and linen pants on. Comfy, cozy, still professional enough, and properly disguising your body from any eyes, appreciative or insulting.

After that rollercoaster of emotions while you were getting ready, you don't have time to stop for coffee on your way in, which just adds to your mood. And, of fucking course, some guy decided to begin terrorizing Gotham at 7 in the fucking morning, so all public transport is delayed.

You barely manage to get to your desk by 8 AM with no coffee and already in a bad mood. Setting your stuff down, you dig your palms into your eyes, trying to fight off the urge to just leave. A small slip of paper in neat handwriting makes you smile just a bit, though.

What is always found on the ground

But never gets dirty?

You struggle for a second, your brain moving at a slow pace thanks to the lack of coffee. That is, until you hear footsteps and something blocks the lights streaming in from the windows. You gasp and turn towards Edward Nygma, who is standing right next to you and casting a...

"Shadow!" You blurt out.

He gives you one of his sweet, tight-lipped smiles and nods. "Correct!"

You force a cheery tone to your voice so you don't spoil his mood. Ed may be a bit...odd, but he is one of your best friends here, and he doesn't deserve to be brought down just because you aren't in a good mood. "Great! How many is that so far, Eddie?"

He immediately recites, "That would be 85 riddles correctly guessed out of 90 I have shared with you. 3 you needed a hint for and 2 you did not solve entirely."

You cross your arms in mock anger. "Hey! I did my best! Those ones were hard. It's almost like you wanted me to fail or something."

He hurriedly scrambles to get the next sentence out, "Oh! Oh I would n-never! I j-just..."

Whoops, guess your bad mood made that "mock" anger sound more like actual anger. You take on a placating tone, "Ed, it's ok! I know you just enjoy riddles. And sometimes that big brain of yours makes up a new one that stumps me."

You laugh, maybe a bit bitterly, now, as your bad mood forces itself to the front again. The next sentence is nearly mumbled, "I mean, it must be difficult, sometimes, making puzzles for someone who isn't as smart as you."

Ed seems confused more than anything, now. "I'm...I'm not sure what brought that on, but writing down riddles for you every morning is f-fun for me!"

You sigh, twirling a pen from your desk in your hand to avoid eye contact. "It's just...it's just one of those days, Ed. I couldn't find an outfit that made me look nice..."

Ed interrupts you with his insistence, but he still stumbles over his words, "B-but you always look n-nice!"

Your smile comes out as a grimace, "You're sweet, Ed, but everyone doesn't think so." You glance around to make sure that your next words aren't overheard. "I know that I can usually brush cruel insults away, because I try to tell myself I'm beautiful..." You choke out the last part of your sentence, cutting yourself off before you get too emotional in the middle of the office.

You get up and decide to leave the main lobby to get some of the shitty coffee from the break room. At least there you could better disguise the tears in your eyes. "It's really not a big deal, Ed. I guess I'm just not myself, today. Give it a day or two and I'll be more amusing."

And without waiting for a response, you hurry off.

He stands there awkwardly for a few moments, unsure how to respond to the dismissal you just gave him. Usually the two of you would talk for at least 5 more minutes.

Wracking his brain as he walks away, he tries to think of something to cheer you up.

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

Rubens

Flashes of his paintings fly through Ed's mind as he attempts to type out a sweet note to you. Every time he gets a glance of a plush thigh or your soft belly, he thinks of how he painted Venus, the Goddess of Beauty.

A voice he's been trying to avoid for a while now pipes up, Yeah, Goddess of only beauty? I'm sure that's all you're thinking about, Ed. How about Goddess of Se-

Ed cuts the voice off before it can finish that thought, but now he is unfortunately thinking about it, even at work. Rubens didn't paint all of his women clothed, especially Venus. Her nude form fuses with yours in Ed's mind, haunting him, taunting him.

There's just...so much he can play with. Your body...so much he can sink his long fingers into. He goes back to your belly, what he has ascertained to be the main source of your insecurity. He empathizes with that, but all he can think of whenever you wear something tight is bending you over in the medical lab on site and holding onto that plush belly as he-

Again, he cuts himself off. He would like to think that the other voice took over again there, but those thoughts were all him. He adjusts himself a bit as he sits at his desk, trying to be subtle.

Then he looks back at the screen in front of him, remembering your mood today, and that hits him like a bucket of cold water. He curses the tears in your eyes from old insecurities popping up again. He has seen you become more and more confident in your time at the GCPD, learning to ignore the pigs that giggle at everything that isn't "normal" to them.

Ed knows that feeling, and especially the taunts from those cops, well. He's off, to them. He never quite knows when to start or end a conversation, and he injects his interests even when he knows people are tired of them.

And that's why he likes (loves) you. You always smile and try with his riddles. You even continue to talk to him after, and are interested in who he is outside of work! That's rare. And if he could return that joy you have given him every day, it would be worth it for the possibility of you figuring out his true thoughts.

Unfortunately, while he has a mind for riddles, analytics, and all things mathematical, he has not been as blessed with poetry. So he wants to type this out...if nothing else than to keep you from feeling like you owe him something.

He types and deletes and types and deletes, looks at the clock, drums his fingers on the desk, and then types slowly this time. Reading it over, he nods at what he has written. It's not amazing, but he hopes it will make you feel like there are people in the office that are on your side, maybe even a secret admirer.

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

And now you're soaking wet. You just wanted to escape your desk and get a simple sandwich and the sky decided that it was a perfect time to begin a deluge right before you got back to the GCPD building. Why? God hates you, apparently. There's no other explanation that would satisfy your overdramatic mind at this point in time.

Luckily you managed to keep your precious food dry by stuffing it under your coat, but the rest of you is definitely not so lucky. You huff and start towards your desk. Bullock sees you on the way, starts a sentence of some sort, (most likely to quip at your condition), but the glare you send his way shuts him up immediately.

You end up collapsing at your desk and peeling off your outer coat, feeling the air conditioning of the building start to combine with your wet clothes to make a chill seep into your bones. Trying to ignore it but unable to suppress a shiver, you place your food on your desk...wait...is that? It is! Someone left a little typed note to you under the bag.

You pick up the note, giving it a quick glance to see if there was anything to connect it to someone. There are no initials or name...hmmm.

Your eyes read over the words on the page once...twice. And your heart shatters. How could...why would...how could someone be so heartless that they would taunt you today of all days?

There is a group of those rude, awful officers that like to congregate together around the water cooler, gossiping and laughing at anyone who wasn't them. But right now, one of them is talking while looking directly at you, and when he stops he throws his head back in laughter, with the rest following.

Holding back a sob, you crumple the letter in your hand and get out of the room as fast as you can without running. As soon as you are out of their sight, tears start streaming down your face and you run to a nearby empty room. It doesn't even matter what it is, you just care that it's empty and safe and lock the door behind you, collapsing against a wall and trying to catch your breath as you gasp for air.

You hold that position for only about 30 seconds, trying to muffle your sobs so they couldn't be heard by anyone outside, but apparently you weren't quiet enough. A quiet knock sounds on the door.

Tap tap tap

You do your best to school your voice, but it still comes out shaky as you reply "Please find another room."

But the voice that filters through the door is one you recognize well.

"Y-you looked cold, so I brought you an emergency blanket. Oh! And a-also your lunch."

You let out a sob, unable to stifle it. "T-thank you, Ed." And you walk over to the door to unlock it, opening it just a tad so he can't see your state.

But Ed is observant, and even with what little you present to him, he can see you are massively upset. Your eyes are bloodshot, and you are trembling, whether from the cold or from your current emotions, that he can't tell. He tries his best to gather some courage.

"W-would you mind if I sat with you for l-lunch?" He holds up your bag of food and you notice that his own lunch is clasped in his hand behind it.

Quickly, you try to consider if you are ready to fully cry in front of Ed, but his kind, if nervous, smile and his own insistence on joining you made you certain that he wouldn't be too judgemental.

You turn your head to the side to try and hide it a bit more as you step back to open the door. Your arm sweeps over to gesture to where you were sitting. "Be my guest, Mr. Nygma."

This makes him let out a nervous chuckle, but he enters anyway. You close the door behind him and lock it.

"I hope you don't mind, I just don't want anyone to see me...well..."

He nods, "That is perfectly understandable."

You both stand awkwardly for a few moments, but you eventually feel the floor calling to you again, so you nestle against the wall where you previously had collapsed. Ed slowly settles down at a respectable distance from you, his gangly limbs shuffling until he finds a comfortable position.

When he hands you your bag of food, he decides it's better to talk about what happened than sit in silence. "M-may I ask why you are upset?" You glance at him, and your eyes start to fill with tears again. He hurriedly starts to stutter through another sentence, "Oh! B-but if you p-prefer not to talk about it, t-that's ok!"

You shake your head, glancing down at the floor. "I just...I guess people like to take advantage of you when you're down sometimes, Ed."

You sigh, but begin feeling more angry than sad. "I mean, I've been in a bad mood all day, I got rained on when I was just trying to get some food, and then some asshole leaves me this."

You open your hand to reveal the crumpled note to Ed. He keeps his face as neutral as he can, recognizing it. Oh no, you fucked up, Ed! The voice in his head gleefully taunts.

Your sniffle brings him back, and you look down at the note, spreading it out so you can read it out loud.

"While you are not seen by others as a beauty

I cannot keep myself from glancing at your desk.

Your figure is full, and yet one word sticks truly,

I can only describe you as such: Rubenesque."

Ed ponders over the poem, while a bit rudimentary, it was full of his true compliments to you. But your face crumples when you get to the last word, stuttering it out.

Your eyes look to him, "I mean, Ed! How could someone write this?"

You see his face scrunch in confusion. "I admit, I do not quite understand. I see nothing wrong with the note?"

Feeling frustration well inside of you, you gesture with your hands wildly. "Nothing wrong? It's that word, Rubenesque!! It's an insult, I know it, especially with how those assholes were glancing at me as I read it, laughing once I was done."

Ed seems to be more confused now. "I was not aware it was an insult?"

You nod, and remember all of the times you have heard it in the past, "It's always been used by people who want to try and appear to be kind, but truly aren't. They call me Rubenesque in this snide tone, like it's something they can barely stand to spit out of their mouths."

Ed tries to interrupt, but you continue, softer now. "I just don't know Ed. The whole note seems to be mocking me...calling me full figured and not a beauty. Am I really that bad?" He shakes his head while you feel tears starting again, so you look down at the floor.

Now at a whisper, you barely get out the next words. "I just...I don't even want someone to like me anymore. I just want them to leave me alone." With that vulnerable confession, you sob, and bring your hands to your face, trying desperately to cover it. A shiver runs through you again.

After a few beats, you feel warmth around you, and you glance up to see that Ed has moved closer to cover you with the blanket he brought. His long arms stay in place in a hug after he positions it, keeping you close to him. You are a bit taken aback, as the most that Ed has touched anyone in the past was maybe a handshake.

He leans down so you can hear him, his voice more sure, now, even if it is soft. "Do you know about the painter, Rubens?"

You shake your head. "Is that where the term comes from?" He nods. Not feeling charitable, you grab the blanket and bring it closer around you as you grumble out, "Rubens can suck it."

He lets out a giggle at that, and you feel your heart warm at the noise. "I understand that you feel it is an insult...would you mind if I explain what it really means?"

You nod, because even if it is as bad as you make it out to be, at least you can hear his voice as he explains it.

One of his hands strokes the blanket surrounding you, right on top of your arm. "Rubens painted many different subjects, but the descriptor of Rubenesque usually refers to his nude paintings of women. Specifically, women like Venus."

You lift up your head to look at him. "Venus as in the Goddess of Beauty?"

He nods, gently. "Yes, among...other things." His eyes darken for just a moment before returning to his informative rant. "The women he paints are known to be full-figured, yes, but they are beautiful because of that, in my opinion."

You sit as still as you can, barely breathing, wanting to hear every word he says. A long finger comes under your chin and guides your face until you are looking right at him. "I wrote you that note. I think you are the definition of beauty."

And with that, he brings you gently forward, looking in your eyes the whole time. You let him, and lean forward to meet his lips. The kiss you share is sweet and short, but it fills you with a giddiness that makes you feel like a teen experiencing her first kiss again.

You separate smiling at each other, and Ed reaches up to kiss your forehead. "I apologize for upsetting you. I was trying to be a secret admirer."

You chuckle, "Yeah, well, it didn't help that I read the note as uncharitably as I could." You glance up at him, "I'm sorry for crumpling it up in anger."

He shakes his head. "D-don't apologize. I'll write you as m-many bad poems as you want." One of his long arms slowly moves down, and a finger traces your hip over the blanket. "Is this ok?"

You feel a warmth spark through you again as he makes contact, and all you trust yourself to do is nod. He nuzzles into your neck, whispering in your ear.

"I want you to know, right now, so there is no doubt, I love your body. These hips, your plush belly...even your soft arms." You feel his warm breath on your ear, and it makes you shudder. "They all remind me of art, and they make me want to..."

He trails off, and brings his hand away from your hip quickly, as if burned. You miss his touch, already, and confusedly ask, "What? Ed?"

You can't tell anything from his neutral face, but he gets up, suddenly, grabbing your lunches together again. "Let's find a better place for lunch, more comfortable...maybe with a table."

You nod, standing up with him. As you position the blanket around you, Ed wraps an arm around your waist.

"A-and...if you would like...have dinner with me tonight. I'll cook for you and...tell you more of my thoughts."

Your cheeks heat up, and his do as well. "Ed, I..." You think for a moment. "I'd love to have dinner with you."

He grins at you, again-one of his sappy, closed mouth grins-and leads you out of the room in his embrace. The two of you chat and giggle, seeking out a proper place for lunch and ignoring all of the stares you get. If you have each other, the rest of the world doesn't matter.

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[ihatedtoadmit]

The Windows To My Soul [6]

pairing: OT8 x fem! reader

genre: soulmates, fluff, crack

warnings: Please read the 'Summary' of this series, all are listed there!

word count: ~3.5k

summary: Everything comes crashing down, and somehow the explanation for it makes sense to your jumbled brain.

author's note: Since I had this written already and I'll get busy, I'm feeding you guys with a double update. Please don't forget to take your delulu pills, unlike me.

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All rights reserved. Please do not steal, repost or feed my work into AI. Thank you!

The next time my eyes opened, I was alone on the couch, the room plunged into darkness.

For a few seconds I just laid there, blinking at the dark ceiling, not knowing why I woke up so suddenly. I wasn’t particularly thirsty, my bladder wasn’t full and not even my leg was cramping viciously, as if it was out for my blood.

But then the pain registered in my brain.

It was that same, dull ache in my ribcage, just amplified twofold. It was a miserable constant throughout my whole chest, pulsing with every heartbeat, as if the two synced up and became one. Not only that, but it gradually started seeping into my left arm and neck, as if it was a slow working poison.

I sat up slowly, my back cracking along, something I had sadly grown used to after a few years. One of my hands raised up to my chest, just above where my erratic heart lied, massaging the area fruitlessly.

Why did I have such a useless, shitty body? It broke down every chance it got, ruining my little happiness in life constantly.

I sighed, carding a hand through my hair and swinging my feet over the edge of the couch, just sitting there, zoning out in the pitch black room. The pain was bad, maybe even worse if I was honest with myself for a second or two, but I could tolerate it if I really tried.

So tried, I did.

I quietly shuffled around the room after standing up, holding my arms out in front of myself as a safety precaution, knowing how clumsy I could get sometimes. I could hardly see anything, with the windows being completely covered and all. But thankfully, I somehow made my way to the front door without tripping over anything -a miracle in itself, mind you-. Now it was time to search for my bag and– ah, there it was. Fishing my phone out of it, I turned on the flashlight and used it to find my little sketchbook and pencil case I usually took with myself on my travels. They were similar to my headphones: something I couldn’t live with, their presence providing me with a blanket of safety.

Having successfully located and retrieved said items, I quietly sneaked back to the living room and sat down on the ground at the coffee table, knees popping and cracking as I bent them to be by my side.

I could use my phone's flashlight to doodle around no problem, so that was what I decided to go with. But only after ensuring my mask was on and my headphones were sitting over my ears snugly, then connecting the device to my phone via Bluetooth and disabling ambient awareness after I had retrieved it from the same lil coffee table. I needed to blast music into my ears, to not let any thought form or process in my mind, lest they consume me alive.

Lines formed on the paper as I was listening to Volcano by Han on repeat, soon turning into little skzoo figures goofing and fooling around. Some were tiny, held in a hand safely, while some were bigger, more backpack-sized. Scenarios that never happened were imagined on the paper, along with ones that were recorded and put up onto the internet. Sometimes, a ninth animal could be seen amongst them, as I was unable to stop myself from drawing my own character, even in the presence of the boys.

Time flew by without me noticing, my goal reached as I could shut the thought of misery and pain out of my head.

But then someone grabbed my shoulder, causing me to let out a small scream and throw my pen away into the 4th dimension.

I jerked my head to their direction instinctually, connecting eyes with Chan, someone who was rightfully looking surprised and maybe even scared. There was definitely a little scared in there. I quickly took my headphones off, the loud music only heard for a second before it automatically paused -pros of having smart headphones- and I immediately apologised to the startled male.

"Naur, naur, it's okay, sorry for startling ya. When did you wake up? It's still pretty early in the morning." "Oh, not too long ago." - I lied, not wanting to be a bother still. "I see. But still, you should go back to sleep if ya can."

I gently shook my head at his proposal, the ache in my body too great to ignore and enter the lands of dreams.

He hummed in response, yet his eyebrows furrowed slightly for just a second. I noticed them, even as he masked it with a light smile and changed the topic to what I had been doing, eyes already scanning over my pages filled to the brim with loose-lined sketches.

Realising I was literally drawing their stuff, skzoo, I quickly shut my notebook closed, embarrassed enough to consider digging myself a hole somewhere. I couldn't show it to them, no, never. Besides, they were mere sketches, nothing too spectacular.

Despite all those thoughts circling in my head, Chan whined and begged me to show him, having probably already seen it was related to his idol group. But I didn't budge, not even as he poked my sides and decided to tickle me in the earliest hours of the day.

Like, damn, he really fucking tickled my sides. The man showed no mercy, even though he knew what state I was in, having been the one who kept putting ice packs on it.

And I was just left there, wheezing and dying as silently as I could, not wanting to wake the others up in my losing battle for air.

But as luck would have it, they soon started waking up and decided to join us anyway. Well, him, really, as I was the victim of the two aussies now, left completely at their mercy.

Thankfully, the two soon stopped, probably due to my still very much injured arm and allowed me to catch my breath. And I did, desperately inhaling as much as I could as I laid there on my back, my breath hitching with every sharp pain that could be felt in my chest. It was as if a searing hot metal was pressed into my skin, the feeling moving in a strangely rule-abiding pattern. I shut my eyes closed, jaw tightly held together as I rolled over, not wanting to be seen grimacing, the feeling now slowly ebbing off and easing up a tad.

Soon the initial shock wore off and I could quickly sit up, my face not showing any signs of discomfort even as the hurting place now felt raw and throbbed relentlessly in sync with my racing heartbeat.

"Don't get me wrong, I would never pass on a good tickle session, but what was the occasion?" - Felix asked, laying partly on top of Chan, the two acting calm thankfully. "Oh yea, Eevee doesn't wanna show me her art. Even though I saw a Bbokari in there too." - Chan casually replied, having the gall to even pout, as if he didn't just release the little devil on me.

I stared at him incredulously, feeling wounded and betrayed.

Sure enough, Felix whipped his head over to my direction, eyes glinting with something I couldn't quite identify, yet it still caused a shiver to run down my spine. Without a second of a doubt I lunged at my sketchbook, holding it close to my chest and scrambling off of the floor before the man could take it from me.

He was very, very close to it though.

The sunshine incarnate pleaded with me, his voice turning whiny and higher pitched than usual, but it didn't work on me. I continued to run, run to my little bag and hide my little sketchbook in there, out of anyone’s desperate reach.

Somehow, by some miracle, I succeeded, zipping it back up right as Felix slammed into me.

Good thing I was already sitting, otherwise I would have fallen to the ground with full force. I would not have appreciated that.

"But Eeveeee, lemme seeee, pleaseeeee!!" "Naur." "Eeeveeeee, please please pleaseeee?" "F-felix-..." "Come on, pretty please with a cherry on top?"

I could only stare at him, at the famous idol, who had the body of a sculpture crafted by the gods themselves, just… whine and plead to see my shitty art.

"These…are only sketches, Felix. Really not something worthy to be begging for. Ask Hyunjin to draw you some next time."

His expression shifted, eyebrows pulled together and lips set into a slight frown.

"I want to see your art. Not Hyunjin's, Picasso's or anyone else's. Why would you say that?" "Because theirs is better. It's a simple fact."

He put his hands on my shoulders, holding me at arm's length, eyes fixated on me with a fierce fire burning inside.

"Don't say that, ever again. Jesus, you're just like Channie hyung."

His lips were slightly arched down and his nose was scrunched up, but I could only stare and etch the sight into my memory. He looked so genuinely offended at what I had said that I found myself at a loss for words, unable to argue.

Not getting any reaction, he pulled me up by my uninjured hand and led me back to the couch, where everyone else was already sitting, much to my surprise. Jisung's eyes lit up and he beckoned us over, wiggling his way into my lap somehow -only after putting my beloved headphones away, since they were in his stubborn way-. Felix was no better, practically attached to me with how he was hugging me and all.

I looked down at them; they were cheerfully chatting with the others as if this whole thing was completely normal, even though it felt like a fever dream, if anything. Not even the others were that phased by our position, at max you could see amusement dancing on their faces.

It was just so confusing to me, as I looked between the two and the others.

I had no choice but to silently accept it. I guess I had two cuddly cats now or something. Well, technically a quokka and a chicken, if I wanted to be extremely accurate.

"Right, Eevee, we're gonna order some food, eat and then get you checked by a doctor, ‘kay? Is there something you wanna eat in particular?" - Chan spoke up, breaking me out of my short daze. "Oh, uh, no thank you. I'm not hungry." "What, no, you have to eat something!" - Jisung's raised voice earned the attention of the others, heads turning to our direction. "Sungie is right, eat at least a lil bit." - Felix murmured into my ear. "But I'm fine, I usually don't eat breakfast." - I replied, earning some gasps and not so happy grunts.

Before I could even defend myself, Minho sent me the nastiest glare I had ever seen, making me shrink into myself and hide behind Felix and Jisung. Everyone started speaking in korean, while the two in my hold lectured me about the importances of eating breakfast. They were strict and didn't let me speak up, only when relaying my answers about allergies and food preferences to the others.

Yeah, no, these men literally just ordered me food and didn't let me even argue about it.

As Han was listing off all the japanese food he loved the most -mainly for breakfast- and how he wanted me to try them out too, that same, searing pain appeared in my chest. I clenched my jaw shut, teeth grinding together painfully as I tried my best to not show any discomfort on my face. I lowered my head slightly, hoping that Felix and Jisung would shield me from everyone's view.

It hurt.

The feeling radiated and seeped into my arm too, making me unable to pinpoint its source anymore. The limb felt numb, my fingers unable to feel the soft fabric of Jisung's shirt anymore. My breathing wanted to pick up, but I forced it to remain as unchanged as I could, hoping I would succeed.

My pulse was an entirely different beast though.

"Hey, are you okay?"

I looked down at the dark-haired boy in my hold; that now familiar, worried expression sitting on his face.

God damn it me, stop worrying them!

I put on a smile and nodded, hoping to convince him, even though they couldn’t see the expression from the mask that covered half of my face. I hoped to ease Felix’s nerves too with these actions, because he was looking at me the same way, causing the flower of worry to bloom in my chest.

"Your pulse says otherwise. And your hold on me."

Fuck. I didn't even realise I tightened my hold on his waist.

"I'm, uh, I just don't like doctors. I'm nervous about the visit."

It wasn't even a lie anyway, I really did dislike doctors, especially because I would most probably understand nothing from the conversation, since we were in Japan and it was harder to find an english-speaker person here than you would think.

My answer seemed to have placated them, because they settled back against me -the notion of gentle fingers drawing shapes on me not going unnoticed- and continued chatting. I joined in occasionally, whenever they directed a question at me specifically. But otherwise, I was back in my little shell, observing them and zoning out.

Because I was still not okay.

But soon enough, the food arrived and everyone bounded over to the dining table, loudly bickering and joking around. I was dragged there too -quite literally-, finding myself sitting between Minho and Seungmin. How, I had no clue. But their glares and menacing reputation must have had a say in it, if I had to guess.

The table was full of different types of foods, everyone able to find something that fit their taste easily. Before I could even think about what to choose, food started piling up on my plate, my own hands not even fully holding my utensil. Naturally, that meant it was the doing of the two men sitting next to me, Seungmin even explaining what was what innocently. I blinked at him and Minho, confusion most probably sitting on my face.

Nobody did anything about it though, as they just continued on as if nothing was wrong.

With a last, confused and tired blink I nodded back at Seungmin in thanks, picking up my chopsticks and messily eating -this sadly meant i had to pull my mask down to my chin, strengthening my racing pulse-. Messily, because my arm was slightly trembling and while I could use chopsticks, I wasn't a pro at it. And I was nervous as fuck. And also still not that hungry.

But somehow I managed to finish eating, without staining any of my clothes. Okay, well, the hoodie was still mine, something that kept slipping from my mind. The food was divine -i loved japanese food after all-, but I couldn't enjoy it well.

My neck, chest and left arm felt as if they were about to burst into flames and become ash, as if someone was prodding around with a sharp, ablaze rod and then pouring icy water on it afterwards, scarring the flesh permanently.

It felt stifling.

"Hey, you okay there Eevee?" - a soft voice asked from my right, my eyes finding a worried looking Seungmin there. "Oh, uhm, y-yeah, I'm just. Full, yeah, thank you for the food. It was really good. I'll, I'll be right back though."

I waited for a response after I rambled out my answer, gaining a slow nod.

Good enough.

I clumsily stood up, hitting my hip into the chair slightly in my haste, but it didn't matter.

I just needed to get away.

The moment the bathroom door was closed, I wrestled Hyunjin's sweater off and looked into the mirror.

There was a pattern on my chest and left arm, one even barely forming on the sides of my neck.

They were smaller and not connected, but the strange ink glistened on my skin with iridescent colours in swirls and lines, drawing out different, beautiful shapes. One was around my heart and breast, gentle feathers covering the skin and ribs resting beneath. The other was more sharp around the edges, yet the cherry blossoms softened up the picture just right on my bicep.

I–...

I had never gotten any tattoos in my entire life.

What the fuck was all this then?!

As I was about to rub at the mysterious ink, the pain flared up and made me dizzy, forcing me to grip the sink with all the strength I could muster up, lest I fell sideways into the bathtub.

Unfortunately, at that exact moment a knock could be heard, my lightheaded self barely registering the sound.

"Eevee, are you alright in there? You've been inside for an awful while…"

Shit, it was Felix.

I quickly gathered up the last wisps of my strength and went to the door, opening it up just enough for me to peek through. I still didn't have a shirt on after all.

"Y-yeah uh… about that. Can I have a weird question?" "Uhm, sure?" "What would you do if tattoos you had never before seen in your life randomly appeared on your skin?" "Huh?"

The man just looked confused and stunned amidst his worry, and rightfully so. I showed him my arm, extending it out through the gap. He gingerly held the injured limb in his tiny hands, running a few fingers over the newly appeared ink in fascination.

Before he could comment on it, I leaned against the nearby wall a bit too loudly, making him look up and let out a loud gasp.

"Eevee, are you in pain?! Hey, talk to me. Look at me, that's it. Where does it hurt?" - Felix asked as he forced himself into the room much to my dismay, taking my head into his hands and looking into my eyes. "My chest and arm…m-my…neck t-too" - it was all I could say without my voice fully breaking, the pain becoming worse and worse with every second. "Alright, okay, sit tight while I grab Chan hyung, okay? Don't go anywhere!"

And with that, he was out of my sight, his gentle warmth leaving as well. The air suddenly felt too thin, too warm and I had no choice but to slowly slide down the wall onto the ground, sitting there with increasingly hazier eyesight. Oh, and I still had my contact lenses in, that definitely didn't help with that situation at all.

A searing pain travelled through my neck, as if my carotid artery was about to burst into tiny pieces, as if its only goal was to leave me bleeding out on the cold tile floor.

It was as if no matter how much I breathed, no air entered my lungs.

Two figures then appeared in my vision, their sentences a bit muffled and far away sounding. But after a few seconds I could make out that it was Chan and Felix, their worry practically palpable in the scorching air.

"Eevee, can you stand? Eevee! Hey, don't fall asleep, stay with us. I'll… I'll carry you now, okay? Hold on tight!" - Chan said, carefully and hastily gathering me into his arms, Felix draping the red hoodie over my vulnerable form.

Chan's steps were short and quick, shouting out things I didn't understand. Felix was running next to him, talking to me, but only half of it was truly registering in my brain, and that was a generous estimation.

Chan's steps suddenly halted, making me look up at him. He was staring ahead, eyes wide and jaw tight. Following his gaze, I was met with an unknown man, formally clothed and dishevelled looking.

He was talking frantically, breath a bit short, as if he was in a hurry. I didn't understand any of it, of course, but I felt like none of the words were directed at me anyway.

Although when I heard someone mutter the word 'Soulmates…?', I looked at them, confused.

It was Chan once again, his eyes darting between me and everyone else.

The conversation kept going, but it was starting to turn into an argument between several people. The others had arrived as well, gathering around us. I didn't get what it was about, not until Felix uttered 'You're our soulmate?' as he looked at me.

Only then did my delirious eyes notice the others' stares, the gesturing at me, Chan's tightening grip on me.

It was so obvious looking back at it.

But…

"How? I'm..."

The last thing my brain registered were arms holding me tightly and panicked shouting surrounding me.

Next chapter

Taglist: @skzstaykatsy @vampcharxter @linlinaert @yoongibelike

[helpfandom]

OOO can I suggest the "If I break your legs, then you can't leave me." prompt for Irving from the hex? If you know you know ;)

>:) I had an immediate smile on my face when I saw this. You, you get my vision.

@lonleydweller

Tw: Breaking bones, Violence, heavy dependency on you - the reader, Guns, Death of side-characters, bombs.

🥀19. "If I break your legs, then you can't leave me."

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It'd been months since your game got destroyed, leaving you without a purpose, and yet Irving had a proposition for you! Thankfully, he could use a designer to help him out, so now you didn't have to go to that weird inn or end up in the void of rejects.

So naturally, you had accepted, wanting to avoid the unfortunate fate of it. And so for a few months, around four or five, you slowly worked under Irving, trying to understand his gruff attitude and harsh nature.

I mean, sure he's insulting to a lot of people, but he's been okay when around you, he's not mean to you, if anything, he's kind to you, in his own way. I mean, he took off his glasses around you a couple weeks ago, that's progress, right?

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That was two months ago, god what you would give to go back to that time and tell yourself to run away when you could have. He was, hurt, corrupted somehow, he must have, because he developed feelings. And as much as you wish you could pretend that he was just an unfeeling bastard, the way he holds you, crying into your shoulder from guilt, holding onto as if you're the last thing he might be able to hold on for a long time, his whispers of "sorry. I'm so sorry." It's hard to hate him. It's hard to hate him when he makes you feel like everything depends on you.

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"I'll be going now. Don't hurt yourself." He says, like you could, and walks out the door of your his house, the one he had you design, a mockery of your work at this point to trap you in the same home you designed as a safe space before he took you into your safe space.

He closes the door, and walks away to his office, that much you can see from the partially made windows, you never did finish animating those, and now it's a waiting game again. You slowly crawl over the house again, trying to figure out what to do again. Eyes flit over to the bookcase, thankfully you put a pencil in here before you realized why he wanted you to design a home you'd be comfortable in. The books aren't readable, he didn't program that in, but if you glitch it, you could open it to a blank page to write in.

It's been a boring few hours, there's only so many times you can try glitching the book into reality to draw one before frustration takes over. Throwing it down onto the ground in anger, it almost perfectly syncs up with the sound of alarms rising in the background, only now hearing due to being blinded by anger.

Now's the chance, the alarms on the door won't sound off as loud due to the other alarms, run. Taking the opportunity, you run and open the door, slamming it into the wall from how rushed you are. Running to the other side, the opposite of where Irving works, the assumption was right, the sirens on the door means nothing to the sirens in the facility, this might be the chance.

The chance to escape. Run.

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"MIR DAMN IT!" He yells, practically screaming. "They tricked the player into this?" He slams his fist on the desk, knocking over a mug filled with sunglasses. He looks over at the chipped thing and sighs. You gave it to him, before he became this mess. He looks back at the screen. "What am I supposed to do?" He frowns, and looks back at the screen. "What do they see? What does the player see?" They obviously see something, because if they saw what they were really doing, they would stop.

He starts typing on the computer. It must be Lazarus that the player controls, he was the only one from Vicious Galaxy that was a different protagonist. He finds the level they're on and smiles. He could fix this in time. He has to fix this. For you.

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Even though everything hurts from being cramped up in the house with nowhere to go, no way to stretch, you keep moving, you have to. Breathing heavy, you slow down and lean on the wall. You got a few floors down from the house and that should've put enough space between you and Irving.

Groondas litter the floor, blood seeping out from gunshots on their carcasses. What's going on? What happened? Why are people killing the Groondas? Just keep moving. Escaping his suffocating grip is more important than finding out why the sirens are going off.

You keep moving, walking now to try and ease a bit of the pain flowing from your muscles and skip past the elevator, there's an exit on this floor that can take you lower if you remember correctly.

BOOM!

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Irving looks around for just a moment when a bomb goes off, before the realization that Lazarus and Jeremiah are gone, the floors broken up into pieces and ceilings cracking under pressure. Shit. How is he supposed to deal with all of this mess?

Wait...

Are you okay? You're on a higher floor, the bomb could've cracked the house and hurt you.

He starts walking, beginning to run with a purpose.

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You tripped, how stupid that one of the few floors who didn't get too much damage made you trip and break your ankle? What kind of cosmic event timing is it that right as you get close to the exit that could help save you, you fail to walk now?

Gritting your teeth and riding adrenaline to go past the pain, you're so close to the exit now. Your hand is on the handle and it swings open to reveal...

Stairs.

The company did change the floor plan after all. A longing sigh comes from you and you start walking down, using the railing to avoid putting pressure on that foot.

One of the doors swings open on a different floor and frantic footsteps start running up the stairs. A flash of blue from an upper floor tells you all you need to know that it's Irving.

"No. No no no no. They have to be okay. They have to be." It slowly dissipates as he goes upward, the opposite direction of you. Thank Mir.

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Door swung right open against the wall, a book on the floor and the alarms going off.

No. No no no . no no no no no no no you can't be gone, you must have been taken, he treated you kindly, there's no way you would have escaped, you need him like he needs you.

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Running down the stairs, pain be damned, it's the final floor that isn't decimated. There's a window that leads to Secrets of Legendaria mockup, if you make it there then you can make it down to where a lower floor is for re-creation and make it out of the headquarters.

Frantic running and then tackled down before you make it to the window. "NO!" You cry out, and arms wrap around you. "Oh thank Mir you're okay, did Lazarus hurt you? Did Jeremiah?" He growls from the back of his throat. "Oh I'll do much worse then Vicious Galaxy this time. It will be much worse."

He stands up, still hugging you with a firm grip and looks you up and down as best as he can, noting your foot. "Oh no, no. They did hurt you." His grip gets noticeably tighter on your arms without him thinking and he breaks his grip when he realizes he's hurting you. "I'm sorry, I just..." He shakes his head and picks you up by the shoulders, gently placing you down and wrapping your arm around his shoulders. "C'mon. I need to fix this and you need to be safe."

You chew on your lip for just a moment, but the window is so close, so tantalizingly close. This is the chance. You shake your head. "No. I want out." You shove him, not very well but it's enough of a surprise to him that he genuinely stops for enough of a moment to for you to run before he snaps from his daze and yanks you back, nails digging into your skin.

"What? No. No! I need you, and you need me." He shakes his head, his glasses are slightly broken and it allows for just a mere glimpse into his eyes, deranged and red, pupils wide.

"No!" He shakes his head and pushes down onto the ground. "No." Something snaps in him, and he gets a smile on his face, already eerie enough to see a smile break upon his face, but the mere fact that he's not crying out in anger anymore is enough to send shivers down your spine. "If I break your legs, then you can't leave me."

He pushes you down further, strength so apparent by the fact that not even your meek struggles even break his focus. His hand grips your kneecap and he fucking snaps it.

A gurgle erupts in your throat, bile rising and threatening to spill from your lips as the mere sound of it cracking and then breaking, bone sticking out of your skin.

You scream and he shushes you with his other hand, moving his next focus to your other leg. It's a blessing that you black out from pain before you can feel the other leg snap.

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The next time you come to, you're laying down in a bed, him sitting next to you. "I'm so sorry." He mutters to himself, head in his hands. "I shouldn't have. I need you. I'm so sorry." You grip the sheets in anger and he notes the movement. "Oh thank Mir, I thought you would never wake up." You glare at him and look down at your legs, mangled and twisted and where they are most certainly not supposed to be.

He follows your eyes and refuses to look at your legs. "I'm sorry, but you just haven't realized how much I need you, and how much you need me."

[drysdaleknieslee]

Wipe Out - Part 2

I chose to keep the name but change the contents which made this part longer so thank you all for doing the poll.

Word count: 2000+ (i hope you enjoy this)

No warnings in this but rabid Rutger and sweet and blushy Luke!

“Luke needs a pen, Lia, but he doesn’t want to use ours for whatever strange reason,” said Ethan, snickering.

“Mr. Edwards,” said the professor, who looks like he does not have the patience for four rambunctious hockey players at 9 in the morning (neither do I), “is there anything you would like to share with the class that pertains to Economics?”

“No, sir. I’ll keep it down.” “I hope you will.” He said before continuing with the lecture.

A few more minutes go by before I feel something small hit the back of my head. “You can’t aim for shit, Fridge!” I heard Tyler whisper behind me. “So much for hand-to-eye coordination.” The Professor then puts on a video for the rest of the class that ‘carries a lot of information on the material we will learn in this class.’ He’s got his feet kicked up, watching the video as if necessary.

I feel the small object again make contact between my shoulder blades. That’s it.

I whip my head around before whispering, “If you idiots throw another piece of paper at me, I will lose my mind. Luke, here’s a pencil. Next time, ask. And Rutger, you do have terrible aim.” With this, I toss Luke my only good pencil and turn around to act like I’m interested in what the video is saying.

The rest of the class ended smoothly before we were dismissed. I have a two-hour window to give me time to find where I’ll be doing ski practice. As I walk out, I catch the four hockey players in the corner of my eye. They’re nudging Luke towards me as they seem to have inner turmoil before he finally faces me.

His cheeks turned a light crimson before making their way to me. “Hey,” is all he says while scratching the back of his neck, eyes facing the ground, “sorry about class today. The guys can be… well,” as we both look behind him to see the other three snickering like a pack of hyenas.

“It’s not a problem, Luke. Next time, though, ask me for a pencil. I don’t mind.” He cheers up at this, giving me that lopsided grin again. “Oh!” he digs in his pocket and pulls out the pencil I gave him earlier. “You probably want this back. It’s a good pencil. Don’t want you to think I was stealing or anything.”

“Keep it,” I say, giving him a small smile. “I’ve got a bunch of them back at the dorm.” “Are you sure?”

“Yeah. No biggey.”

There’s a ghost of a smile on his face as he sticks the pencil back in his pocket. Then I suddenly remembered practice. “Oh, shoot, I gotta get to practice. I’ll see you tomorrow! Bye, boys!” I say before heading to the practice site.

“Bye, Lia!” I hear the boys scream in sing-song voices. Yep, this year isn’t going to be boring at all.

Fast Forward to Practice

“Alright, ladies! Welcome to the first official practice for Michigan’s Women’s Volleyball. My name is Coach Z, and this is Assistant Coach Mills.” She said, gesturing to the woman beside her.

Coach Z played volleyball for a living. She was a tall redhead with piercing grey eyes. You can tell she meant business. The more I looked at her, the more I saw the Olympic rings tattooed on her left wrist. She went to the Olympics!? She’s the real deal! Coach Mills was way more petite, maybe at 5’6, than Coach Z’s 6’2. She was a brunette with glasses and wore her hair in a messy bun. She was going to be the nice cop out of the two, I can tell.

“This year is a redemption year. Last year, we took a hard loss at championships against Penn State, and I intend on us coming back stronger and harder. Hush it, Hannah!” she said to the snickering blonde in the back. Her face reddened immediately as all eyes were on her. “I know your sister and mother. Don’t try me,” Coach Z warned.

“Now that we have formalities out of the way, I want to see if you are conditioned enough to even get to championships.” Uh oh. “First, we’ll run four laps around the gym, two sets of 30 jumping jacks, two sets of 25 burpees, and then we’ll play some actual ball.”

We all stood in shock. No one moved. Coach Mills calmly pulled out her stopwatch and said, “Laps start now. If anyone is slacking or not putting in their best effort, we’ll add another lap or high-intensity workouts. Time starts NOW!”

We all start running around the court before they drop something else on us. I have no idea how this school is ranked 12th because these two ladies will kill us before championships are even around the corner.

We make it through the drills and the exercises before playing a scrimmage game. I’m on the yellow team, which represents the away team in this case. This is to give the coaches a look into the type of team they’ll play with. I noticed right away that there’s not a lot of communication. “Hey Hannah,” I say, tapping her shoulder after the first set, “you’re a hitter, right?”

“Yeah? Why?”

“Look for me next time you approach the net. I can’t send it to you if you are too early. And Lindsay”, I say to our Libero, “You’re a little late on getting to the middle. That’s why they keep attacking there. Maggie gives her some backup, too,” I say to our middle blocker.

After forming this plan, our side started gaining momentum and earning some points. We had to dig some to save a few, but ultimately, we returned and won the last two sets. Coach Mills dismissed us to the showers before Coach Z yelled my name and someone else.

“LI! Adams! I need to see both of you for a second.”

Another girl and I walk back onto the court. ‘Adams’ stands at 6’0, brunette with blonde highlights, and looks to be a senior.

Coach Z looks both of us over for a second before speaking. “How old are you, Li?”

“17, ma’am. I graduated early,” I say, answering her silent question to go along with her bewildered expression. “Jesus! Ok, Adams, here is our senior in command and our captain. Sorry, I didn’t introduce her to you all. I like seeing everyone act a fool before nearly shitting their pants because the captains have been there the whole time,” She said, snickering. Coach Mills rolls her eyes at this.

“I tell her every year to stop, but to no avail.”

“Anyway, Adams, do you think I would be a good addition to our captain roster for next year?”

Huh? I’m going deaf or forgetting English.

“I don’t see a problem with that. She brought her side back in the last two sets. She’s got a high volleyball IQ.”

I’m forgetting English. Are they talking about me? This is only my first day. Maybe if I try to translate in my head-

“Li!”

“Yes! Sorry, say that again?”

“We want you to be our second captain.”

“Uhm, this is a tremendous honor. I mean, I just got here-“

“Li, I have seen intense competition where you fall back and can’t make up those points. I sat here and watched you form a plan in 2 minutes or less and won a scrimmage game. You read your players and the court like no other. I don’t play with things like this.”

Do it. You know you can do it. Don’t second guess. You can’t fail something you never tried. This woman has seen an Olympic court. Do it.

“It would be my honor to be this team’s second captain.”

Fast Forward

The walk to my next afternoon class is exhausting. I’m going to feel this more in the morning. I stay awake during Bio and Humanities and barely pass college algebra. I walk out of the class and glance at my watch. 3:30 is what it reads. I have plenty of time to go to the library or crash in my dorm.

“Hey Lia,” I hear to my left, and I pray that it’s no one whose name starts with an E or an R. I glance, and I see that mop of curls. Luke. Suddenly, I had all the energy in the world and had to tell myself to calm down mentally.

“Hey Luke, where are you headed to?” Does that sound clingy? I hope not.

“Headed to practice at Yost. What about you?”

“Deciding on heading to the dorm or the library. I had practice this morning.” “How did that go?” he asked as we slowly walked towards Yost.

“Coach asked me to be the second captain. And I said yes.” “No way already! You must be perfect to be on Coach Z’s radar. Everyone here is afraid of her. But I’m happy for you. Captain.”

“Don’t call me that!” I say before playfully hitting his arm and him acting like I shot him.

“Well, I’m happy for you. Really.”

As we walked, I could tell he wanted to ask me something. He alternated between messing with his hair and shoving his hands in his pockets.

“Is there something you need to ask me, Luke?” I broke the silence slightly, startling him.

“Oh! I just wanted to know if you're not tired or busy and want to see us practice. You can study there, and I’ll walk you back like last time.” He rattled off in one breath.

He wants you to see how he plays. He WANTS you there.

“Sure, Luke. I’d like that.”

He gives me that lopsided grin that I like as we finally reach Yost arena. Almost all the guys and a couple of new ones are there.

“LIA!” screamed Rutger as he ran at me at full speed. Thankfully, another boy grabbed his hood before getting too far and nearly choking him. “Will you stop it? You don’t have to act rabid.”

“Dammit, Mark, you almost killed me!”

“If that’ll calm you down, then sure. Why do you think your name is Fridge.”

A blonde then takes up my vision with beautiful teeth. That’s weird. Stop that.

“Excuse the idiots that go by Rutger and Mark. I’m Luca.” Why are all these boys so big? And why are some borderline insane or borderline gentlemen?

“Luke wouldn’t have let him get far- OWW!!” screamed Ethan as Luke elbowed him hard in the ribs before muttering a ‘shut the fuck up!’

“Guys, come up before coach tears us a new one!”

“Coming, Adam dear,” said Rutger. This boy is going to be the death of me.

“Hey, I’ll see you in the stands, ok? Wait till I’m out of the showers, and I can walk you home,” said Luke, whispering. I confirmed him with an Okay before heading to the general stands.

I opt for more seats in the middle to give myself some quiet time before the guys come out. “Is this seat taken?”

I look up, and a blonde girl points to the seat to my right. “Oh no, it’s not. Have at it.”

“I’m Kayleigh, by the way. And you?” “Lia. Nice to meet you.” “Likewise. You here watching someone in particular?” “Um, not really. Luke invited me. I may watch some, but I’m mainly here for homework.” “I’m here for Rutger. Girlfriend has to support boyfriend.” I can’t control my facial expressions because she laughs at me. Rutger. Loud, rabid, and oddly lovable Rutger. HAS A GIRLFRIEND?? I mean, he is good, I can’t deny, but the boy acts like he runs on Red Bull.

“Judging by your face your surprised. He’s a sweetheart, trust me. He is hyper, though.” She says, giggling. Hyper doesn’t even explain the specimen named Rutger.

Just then, the boys come out and start doing drills. Kayleigh informed me that Luke was number 43, which I mentally noted. They all stop after drills to discuss drills with the coach before starting what I assume is the equivalent of a scrimmage.

“Hey, you want to move closer to the glass. You’ll see the ice a lot better that way?” Asked Kayleigh. I reluctantly agreed as we moved behind the glass behind the benches.

Seeing everything up close puts into perspective the difference between our two sports. It’s very high contact, and I cringe whenever someone contacts someone. Amidst all this, I see how passionate Luke is about his sport, just like I’m passionate about mine. His demeanor completely changes when he gets in his defensive position. During the play, he sees me, and I make a small wave and see his mood change again.

It's hard to see through the cage, but I see that lopsided grin again before Luca comes and makes a hit on him.

“Oh my God! Is he ok?!”

“He’s probably fine, but that did look bad.”

“EYES UP HUGHES!” yelled the coach from the ice.

He was slow in getting up, but overall, he looked fine. I could see his neck glowing red above his jersey's neck. I hope I didn’t embarrass him.

The rest of their practice went smoothly. I completed a good amount of my homework and could relax for what felt like the first time today. Kayleigh and I got to know each other better, and she helped me understand some of the hockey terminology and the game's overall play.

At the end of their practice, I did like Luke said and waited for him by the locker room when he finished his shower. I then realized I didn’t give Luke any contact information. Not even socials. How would I bring that up to him? “Hey Lia! I’m done now, so let’s get you home,” said Luke, freshly showered from the locker room. His curls were still a little wet, but thankfully, it was a bit humid outside, so maybe he wouldn’t get a cold.

“Hey, Luke. Sorry about you getting hit. I didn’t mean to distract you,” I said, avoiding eye contact because I felt terrible.

“Hey, it’s alright, please don’t feel bad. The guys just chirped me a little, but that’s all. I like it when you distract me.” I look at him, and I see that he means it. He didn’t hesitate to rephrase it, either.

“Well, I’m glad you're okay,” I said as we left the arena. We bid goodbye to the last of the guys and made our trek back to our dorms. The sky is a mixture of red and pink, signaling evening has come upon us. The breeze picked up a bit; Luke noticed this and gave him his Michigan hockey jacket. “Take this as a repayment for the pencil during class today.”

Luke would never admit it, but he loved seeing his jacket on her. It fueled the underlying feelings for each other, but it was too early for either to announce it.

The rest of the walk is silent but peaceful. Just like the day before when he walked her home. They were enjoying each other’s company. As they approach the dorm rooms, both take a chance to make the first move in their friendship.

“We have a few home games coming up. If you’d like, I can put in a good word and get you good seats in the student section,” said Luke, scratching the back of his neck.

“I think I can do the same for my games. Since I’m captain, I’ll try to convince Coach Z.” He chuckled at this.

“And if you ever need a place to study, you can always come to the arena, and I can walk you home only if you want to! Or we can meet in the library-“ “I’d like that. All of that.”

There’s that lopsided grin again.

We reached the dorm rooms quicker than expected, which was my chance to make the first move.

“Is it ok if I get your number or socials before you go? So that we can talk more outside of class and coordinate schedules?”

“Oh yeah, sure. May I?” I hand him my phone, and he types in his number and pulls up his Instagram so I can follow him.

“Thanks. For pretty much everything.” “Like what?”

“Orientation day, class, your practice, and just being helpful as I settle here. It’s comforting.”

His face turns red at my words as he scratches his neck and tries not to show a smile.

“Well, goodnight Luke. See you tomorrow,” I say, giving him a small smile before heading inside.

“Good night, Lia.”

I had a hard time sleeping that night thinking about today's events. It was a fantastic day. I hear my phone buzz beside me. I look at the glaring screen to see that Luke followed me back. He also sent me a message.

Lhughes_06: here’s our schedule in case you want to see us play

Lia.li.23: thanks, here’s ours too (picture attachment)

Lhughes_06: thanks! I’m glad you stayed for the whole practice. Luca didn’t hit me too hard. I’m too harsh for that.

Lia.li.23: haha sure! Get some sleep. We have a practice tomorrow, too, so if you have time between classes, drop by 

Lhughes_06: for sure. Good night Lia

Lia.li.23: good night, Linguine

Lhughes_06: Luca saw that, and now I won’t live it down.

[ohmyamor]

4:55 pm

warnings: violence, guns, death, reminder that this is not how I perceive ateez to be irl, it’s all just fiction

a/n: this isn’t the fic I intended on posting to celebrate hitting 50 followers (thank you guys so much :’)) but work kicked my ass this weekend and so the other fic is still in the works! Enjoy this small blurb for now~

You send a send a small smile to the woman in front of you, using your customer service voice to tell her to have a great day and to thank her for her business before placing a small rectangular placard on the counter that lets customers know you’re done for the day. 

Watching her back as she walks away, you let out a large sigh and lean back in your chair, hearing the satisfying cracks of your spine as you twist and turn. Settling back into your chair, you attempt to pull down the pencil skirt that has slowly made its way up your thighs. While working at a bank certainly has its perks, the professional dress code certainly isn’t one of them. 

Glancing around the lobby, you take notice of a few individuals left in the building. A woman is currently being helped by your coworker a few seats down and an older man sits at the check booth, scribbling something down. Considering the bank is about to close in less than a few minutes, you move to stand up and begin getting your things ready to go home. 

You’ve just managed to throw away some old papers and re-organize your desk when you hear the sound of the sliding doors opening. Allowing a tired, but gentle smile to fall on your face, you glance up and begin speaking. 

“I’m so sorry sir, but we are currently closed. You can feel free to come back tomorrow-”

A loud gunshot forces you to immediately shut your mouth and drop to the floor behind the counter. 

Someone in the building lets out a scream.

“Listen up!” a deep voice commands. 

“This is a robbery. Any person who attempts to flee will be dealt with accordingly. It’s up to you if you want to find out the details.”

Shaking, you place your hand over your mouth, tears lining your vision. 

“Am I clear?” the man barks.

A few whimpers are the only response the man gets.

In the year that you’ve worked here, not once has there been a robbery. Honestly, you didn’t think it would ever happen either, assuming these kind of things only ever happened in the movies.

You’re too wrapped up in your thoughts to hear the footsteps coming up to your window. 

The sound of something hard being slammed against the counter makes you flinch, and your stomach sinks when you realize the man is standing above you.

“You, sitting on the floor,” the man says. “Stand up.”

Slowly, you turn yourself around and shakily push yourself onto your feet. 

You make eye contact with a skeleton mask. 

The man standing at your window, who you assume is the one who fired the gun in the first place considering the handgun he holds in his right hand, stares you down. You notice that he wears a black and white skeleton jacket, and a mask with a skeleton face covers his own. You can see blonde hair resting atop his head, and the man is incredibly tall, to the point where you have to look up at him. 

“Do you have access to the safe in the back?” 

You realize he’s talking to you. 

Giving a hesitant nod, you opt to comply with his requests out of fear of getting your brains blown out.

The man in the mask nods approvingly. 

“Great. I’m gonna need you to go ahead and open it up for us sweetheart.”

It’s not a request, but a demand. 

Swallowing, you take the opportunity to glance at the men standing behind him in the lobby, taking notice of their attire. There’s about five of them, including the blonde one in front of you, and they all seem to have similar attire on-dark clothes with a skeleton mask covering their faces. They all hold some type of gun, while a few of them also hold large black duffle bags. 

The sound of a hand slamming down on the counter startles you and you flinch harshly. The blonde man leans through the window slightly, bending down as he comes eye-to-eye with you and tilts his head. 

“Did you hear what I said?” he questions, voice dark. 

You nod your head vigorously. 

“Then, why aren’t you getting to it?”

You open your mouth. 

“I-I don’t have the key on m-me,” you stutter, eyes darting between the man’s face and the gun resting mockingly on the counter. 

“So you don’t have access to it?” One of the men standing behind him questions. You can hear one of your coworker’s soft sobs echo through the lobby. 

Your eyes dart to where you think the voice came from. 

“The keys and access card are in my boss’s office, but he’s gone for the day,” you explain, hoping that if you give them the answers they want, they’ll just take the money and leave. 

The blonde sighs, looking behind him. 

“Jongho, San, keep an eye on the doors.” Two men, one with a black puffer jacket and another with short, dark hair nod before making their ways to the doors of the bank.  

“Wooyoung, watch everyone in this lobby and make sure no one moves an inch. If they try to escape, deal with them however you want,” another man with slightly longer hair lets out a crazed giggle and nods excitedly. 

“Yeosang,” a man with a studded leather jacket steps forward. “You’re coming with me and the little teller over here to get the things we need,” the blonde haired male turns back around and faces you, sending a shiver down your spine. 

Your hand, hidden under the counter, moves slowly across the bottom of the desk, heading towards the emergency button placed under every single teller’s counter in case of an event. 

It seems you’re not as subtle as you hope, though, when the man in front of you clicks his tongue. 

“And don’t even think about pressing that emergency button, little one. I can have a bullet in your head faster than you’ll be able to press it.”

You freeze, your blood running cold. 

The man with the leather jacket, Yeosang, if you recall correctly, has already begun making his way down the back corridor of the building. 

“Now then, let’s get going,” the tall man says.

You follow the blonde man and his accomplice down the hall, the sound of your heels clicking on the cement being the only noise in what seems like the entire building. 

You get the feeling that they’ve been here before, considering they need no help getting to where the vault is located. 

The three of you come to a stop in front of the big metal door. The blonde man nods towards Yeosang, who then proceeds to drop his duffle bag and open it, pulling out what looks like a large drill.

He steps forward and you can’t help but jump when he begins to unscrew the bolts securing the vault doors. 

You would think they would make these things more theft-proof, but apparently not. 

As the loud sound of the drill covers most other noises, you use it to your advantage and begin to ever so slowly inch yourself backwards. If you can just make it back to the lobby, or even an empty room, you might be able to call the police. 

You’ve managed to make it a few feet away from the men facing the vault when you freeze, feeling the cold barrel of a gun being held against your lower back.

A dark chuckle comes from behind you.

“You guys can’t even keep an eye on a single witness?”

The blonde man and Yeosang whip around, bodies tensing at whoever stands behind you. 

“Hyung.”

The man behind you tsks, urging you back forwards and towards the men. You end up standing against a wall now facing the new man. He dons a black and white blazer, and unlike the other men who originally came into the bank, he doesn’t wear a mask. His dark eyes bore into yours, and you notice how his dark hair is swept up with a few strands falling in front of his eyes. 

If it weren’t for the situation you were in, you would honestly find him quite attractive. 

“C’mon, doll,” the man smirks. “I think you can do better than that.”

You choose not to say anything, as his gun still points comfortably at you. At your sides, you can feel your hands tremble and you begin to fear that this might be the end.

The sound of the large metal door opening has both you and the man in front of you turning your heads. It seems Yeosang has managed to unlock the vault, and he and the blonde man work together to force the door open. 

The two men disappear into the vault and it’s quiet as you and the dark haired man wait in silence. 

After what seems like weeks, the two men come back out, the blonde one clutching some kind of paper in his hands. You realize with a start that he’s taken his mask off. Yeosang has as well, and the two men are unfortunately also incredibly handsome. 

The blonde one stares wide eyed at the man in front of you.

“We got it.” 

Just as he finishes speaking, one of the men from the lobby come running down the hall. It’s the one with the black puffer jacket. 

“We gotta go,” he says harshly. “Cops are on the way, Mingi says we’ve got 5 minutes tops before they reach us.” 

The man who still points his gun at you rolls his eyes. 

“That’s more than enough time. Let’s get going.”

You hold your breath, hoping that if they forget you’re there, they may just leave without doing anything to you. 

Your hopes are crushed when black jacket nods his head towards you. 

“And what about her? Want us to get rid of her? We already dealt with the other ones.”

Your feel bile rising in your throat at the implications of his words.

Did they kill everyone else in the bank?

All eyes are back on you, and you begin to feel like you might pass out. 

“No,” the dark haired man in front of you smirks. 

“I think captain will be interested in dealing with this one himself.”

Before you even have the chance to react, you feel something sharp and heavy hit you on the top of your head. 

The last thing you feel are hands grabbing at you before everything fades to black.

                                        ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

a/n: I had this idea come to me when I was driving home and listening to don’t stop full blast. It’s also definitely more dark than I’m used to writing so pls let me know how you liked it!

there also will most likely be no second part :( tbh when I thought of this idea it was mainly just a standalone thought, so unless I were to get inspiration for a second part, it will most likely stay as is!

[troloxyn]

Stuck. (Jason Todd x Reader)

Lord help me I am struggling on my first tumblr post ok!

You get a new job and your boy shoots it up 'cause bad guys, thanks Jason for making us unemployed

Word count: 2,072

~~

It couldn't get worse. Right? 

It wasn’t your awful job at the law firm, spending half of your day in a room with no windows, combing through hundreds if not thousands of papers full of extensive data for the assholes you ALSO had to serve coffee. You became suspicious rather quickly of the higher up's finely trimmed, almost cocky suits and their awful attitudes, their sly and lewd remarks behind your back, but it wasn't even them that was the problem at the moment. It wasn’t the dress code, the tight skirt and see through black stockings you were wearing, or your blouse that felt too tight after lunch. It wasn’t your hair, which you tried to brush into obedience with no avail, throwing it into a claw clip and trying to call it a day, or the fact that your glasses broke and were barely hanging on by glue. No, none of that was the problem. 

You’re a Gothamite. Awful shit happens all day, every day. You’ve seen Batman scorn through the sky like a blister in moonlight; you’ve witnessed bank robberies, murders, orphans. Hell, you were lucky to have a parent alive. Sure, you’ve been robbed blind, beaten up occasionally and so forth, but who hasn’t in this city? You took all the self defense classes you could, you didn’t have the arsenal like old man Bat to protect you. In the situation you were in now, you could almost laugh thinking about Batman. 

Yes, like Batman or any of his sidekicks could help you now. You didn’t know who or why they were raiding your office, but the symphony of spraying bullets ricocheted wall to wall, causing you to drop the coffees you were holding to fall to the ground. You could almost cry, as the elevator came to a halting stop, the hoist way becoming extremely claustrophobic. You heard the loud, extensive bang of an explosion, piercing your ears and forcing you against the wall from shock. You let out a scream as metal toppled through the actual elevator, trapping you into a corner, leaving you heaving in fear. Draft from the ceiling of the elevator fell onto your hair and eyelashes like an abominable snow. You coughed up the dust that sprayed on impact. You could almost laugh. This is how you die, your job in Gotham being shot up by probable gangbanger supervillains who possessed the strength and powers of God, a God that really fucking hated you right now. Screams, gunfire, the sound of flesh being torn through, beaten, ripped. That’s all you could hear, beside the creaking of the elevator, slowly dropping to your death.

Through the hole in the elevator, now a gaping mess that you could almost squeeze through if you tried, you attempted to move through this metal that collapsed. Squeezing through tightly, if you sucked in your stomach and pushed the scraps, you could almost get through. The sounds of gunfire increased heavily, you noticed. You didn’t want to accept this fate, you were getting angry now, rapidly cycling through phases. You reached your hand up, far up, trying to touch the hole that meant your freedom. You must’ve bumped into metal too harshly, because more came crashing down onto you. You screamed again, now hot tears running down your face in pain. You managed to push it off, but a large piece tore into the back of your pencil skirt, ripping it down the back. You groaned, looking back, the tight fabric now freed from its prison, your rear end exposed. Now you just wanted to die. "Goddammit," you muttered.

The elevator, once again, came falling down with an abrupt pause, descending deeper and deeper into your sealed fate. At this point, you could look up into the now even bigger hole, dust invading your eyes and covering your glasses, that you were so far down the shaft your voice echoed. You screamed, cried, begged for someone to hear you, but gunshots rained out your voice into a gutter. The sounds of guns and death came to a stop and you started to plead again. “Please! I’m stuck! I’m gonna die down here!" Your voice drained out as it screamed back at you in echoes through the tight walls. You began to cry, and very harshly. Your glasses fogged and your claw clip was falling out. There was blood running down your leg from the cut of metal and your hands were badly bruised and red from shielding your face from falling scraps. 

“Please, don’t leave me here. Don’t leave me here to die.” 

You stared through the hole, speaking to no one. The dawning of your death hit you. You were already so far down. You began to panic, unable to hold onto your breath, your airways clogged with dust and fear. Humor couldn't save you now. Your sobs became incoherent and rambled, words unable to form through your stuttering lips. You closed your eyes, shut them tight, vertigo crippling your mind. You were having a full fledged panic attack, so far in one that you didn’t feel the light thump above your head, or the mask staring through the hole, blocking the dim light. 

“You alive down there?” You yelped in fear, looking into a deep red mask. “Thank you,” You spat, unable to move in the trap of trash. “Haven’t helped you yet. What do you do here?” “Please, sir, please help me. I’m stuck,” You looked pathetic. 

“Answer the question.” 

“I m-make coffees and, and I file paperwork downstairs. I just started a week ago. I didn't even want to work at this job-" You shut yourself up quickly. This guy didn't give a shit. Your glasses fogged in the heat of entrapment, your hair a complete mess, your blouse ripped, your hands trembling. “I'm begging you. Please help me.” The man cocked his head to the side, eyeing and judging you. “Not really in my job description,” At this point, he was just toying with you. “Too bad Batman isn’t here to save you.” All she could do was laugh between her stuttered crying. “You thought that was funny?” The masked man asked, as she continued to laugh. She was still crying, shaking through her fear, her body racked and nervous. “Maybe I’ll have to help you. Would be a shame for a sense of humor to go to waste.” 

The man moved into the elevator with a lot more swiftness and ease than she did trying to get out. She got a better look at him now that he was inside, easily moving metal away from her body. He was wearing gray tactical pants and a tightly fitted long sleeved shirt, followed by a brown leather jacket. She noticed all the guns and trinkets of war he had on him, strapped to his legs and his belt. His sleeves were rolled up, revealing tanned, scarred skin. He must’ve noticed her staring, because he made a sly remark. “Am I making you nervous?” She nodded her head and he laughed at her. She was almost cute like this but he focused on helping her. Moving another piece of scrap, they both heard a loud rip, now, it was her stockings that were cut wide open, around her upper thighs. She let out a cry of frustration.

“Well, aren’t you having a bad day?” He grabbed her by her underarms and lifted her out of what remained, but she jerked back instinctively. “You want help or not?” 

“Sorry, sir. Excuse me.” He saw tears slip down her face as she shook. “My skirt..” He looked down at her exposed flesh and instantly looked up, sighing. His face heated a little. How dumb. Wasn’t a bad view, but this was also probably the worst day of her life. He took off his jacket and slipped it around her waist. She noticed his arms immediately, how firm and strong they looked. She recognized how much bigger he was than her, massive, almost. “T-thank you-” 

“Hush,” he muttered. She definitely stayed quiet after his command. He grabbed her by the waist, pulling her to the top of the metal. Climbing through the now cleared hole, he grabbed both of her arms and pulled her out. For some reason, being outside of the elevator was even scarier. Her heels were missing, so her tights were the only thing protecting her from the cold metal.

 “Might wanna hold on,” he said to her. The tone of his voice was so cool and casual for the guy who probably just took out half of her work base. This thought did not leave her mind, keeping her stun locked into silence as he moved around her. She stood, hands folded in on one another, doing anything to avoid contact with him. Maybe he wasn't a bad guy if he was saving her, she thought to herself. He was glad she didn’t see it but he smirked at her awkwardness. He grabbed her by the waist, earning an awkward stifle of noise from the woman. Bringing her close to his waist, she could feel his harnesses pressed into her body. What kind of hero needed this many guns? He placed his hand on her lower back. His grip was firm and steady. She felt almost safe in his grip and it made her feel guilt. He pulled out the grappling hook, shooting it to the top of the elevator shaft. “I’m serious. Hold on. Tight.” Shyly, she wrapped her arms around his torso, pressing the rest of her body into his. His breath hitched a bit. He didn’t know why he was acting like a touch starved teenaged boy.  

“Ready?” He asked. His voice was a little different. It was a little more gentle, softer, sweeter. He cleared his voice. Like he was talking to someone he knew. Being this close to his mask she could make out the color and shape of his eyes. He must’ve realized this, looking at her maybe a little too intensely, causing her to break contact and nod her head. His grasp around her body intensified and she grabbed onto him for dear life as they ascended the elevator shaft. It made him chuckle a bit, feeling her arms stiffen, her nails digging into his body. 

They made it to the top, his arm still around her covered waist, but before he allowed her to walk into the lobby he turned her around, grabbing her shoulders. Behind her, a blood bath. Her distant coworkers, hot shot, dirty lawyers and other criminals lay dead in piles. He stared at her the way he did before, where she could make out his blueish green eyes. 

“Listen… What’s your name?”

“(Y/N),” she replied quietly. 

“I’m gonna lead you out of here. But you have to keep your eyes shut." Police sirens reared around all corners like thunder. She was scared, scared of everything around her, the smells invading her senses and the thick feeling of death in the air. If she took one peak at the massacre, she knew she wouldn’t be able to handle it. She knew that everyone was gone. She nodded her head profusely, and he grabbed her hand with his gloved one. “Close them. Close your eyes.” She shut her eyes and they began to slowly walk. He noticed that she had no shoes, and blood stained the floor. She didn’t need to walk around leaving footprints of crimson. 

He lifted her up, carrying her in his arms. “Keep them closed, (Y/N).” She muttered okay as they made their way through the lobby, the sound of crunching glass underneath his combat boots. She knew why he was doing this, she wasn’t dumb. And she knew the only survivor of this massacre had to be the perpetrator, who was coaxing her in his arms and shushing her, reassuring her they were almost out. Her brain was too fogged to feel or decipher anything. The feeling of safety was enough for her. 

As soon as they were outside, police surrounded them, holding up guns. “Listen, I’m gonna need that jacket back,” He whispered to her as he put her down. “So I’ll see you soon.” 

And like that, he was gone. She had the feeling that no matter how far they chased him, it meant nothing. They’d never catch up. You didn’t even get his name. 

[chiiyuuvv]

Can u do junmin and reader being classmates and junmin liking her but he didn’t want to tell her because there was a rumor that the reader is gay idk lol

JEALOUSY - JUNMIN °

• PAIRING — junmin x female reader (yk the usual replace/ignore, brother!minjae, ???!jinsik

• GENRE — jealous junmin, highschool au, i achieved my word limit lets goooo

• WORD COUNT — 1378 I GOT OVER 1K IM SO PROUD OF MYSELF

• AUTHORS NOTE — yeah so um i changed the last part of the request. Thank you for requesting and sorry for the wait im feeling so lazy all of a sudden 😭

MASTERLIST!

Junmin huffs as he watches jinsik tuck a pencil behind your ear, you hands covering your mouth as you burst out into a fit of giggles, one of your hands removing to slap him on the shoulder repeatedly.

"Maybe she just has a thing for younger guys."

"Maybe?" Junmin turns around, his chin resting on his closed fist as he blinks at the boy. "Minjae, thats your sister." He deadpans, taking another bite of his biscuit. "Cant you tell me something??~"

"No can do buddy." Minjae pats his shoulders, a reassuring smile forming. "Thats her privacy.. gotta respect that." Junmin could see a small smirk on minjaes face, as if he knew what was going on, yet he wouldnt tell junmin a thing.

"Gotta go!!" Minjae waves before walking away, not giving a chance for junmin to question the latter. Junmin sighs, he hated the feeling of his chest tightening whenever you were around jinsik but there was nothing he could do, like he was trapped in that feeling.

He gathers some crumbs from his biscuit, throwing it away as he decides that it was his time to go too. "Junmin!!" He turns his head to the cheerful voice as he feels like he was stopped in his tracks. There you stood, happy as ever as you waved at him.

He wanted to wave at you back, but it felt like something was stopping him. Oh yeah, jinsik. The sparkly glow in his eyes soon fades into a lifeless black as he turns his head, walking away from your now frowning figure.

Slipping an earbub in his ear, he begins to walk to his next class, hopelessly thinking about what it would be like if you were his. He felt replaced as soon as ham jinsik walked through the door. He already caught the attention from the other highschool girls and athlete guys, yet he decided to hang around you.

And there he feels it again, the lurching in his stomach as he tries to shake past the thought. He liked you so much, everyone knew — except you, from what he assumed. He wanted to be the reason for why you were laughing. He wanted to be the boy that you rested your head on. He wanted to pass you silly notes in the middle of class.

Oh right, jinsik.

Pushing his bag to the floor, he sits at his desk, adjusting his music volume when he feels a tap on his shoulder. You. He thinks to himself as he looks up, a smiley boy waving at him.

"Hyung!! Are you going to minjae hyungs house after school? I heard we were going to play board games or something.."

"Hmm." The boy nods jinsik off, he wasnt in the mood to speak right now. He turns his gaze from jinsik, a small smile forming as he looks out the window, watching you joke around with your friends. Jinsik seemed to notice as he pursed his lips, a small nod before walking back to his seat.

With a final ruffle in his hair, junmin rings the doorbell, tucking his phone into the back of his pocket as he waits for the door to open.

When the door finally opens he is met with a kinda short, fox like boy as he watches the latter open the door wider for him. "Hey hyung." The boy greets. "We are all on the couch right now.. minjae is currently in the kitchen and-"

"Where is-"

"In her room." Hyunwoo finishes his sentence as a small blush appears on junmins cheeks. Was he really that obvious?

"Thanks.." junmin smiles slightly before walking into the house, slipping off his shoes as he makes his way to the couch. The room already looked chaotic with the amount of screams and shouts from the two other boys, not to mention the various dice all over the floor.

"BOW DOWN TO ME!!" one of them, sumin, seem to scream, rolling 2 dices as he begins to move his figure forward on the board. The game seemed pathetic as junmin shakes his head, making his way to the kitchen.

"Oh hey hyung!!" The same cheerful boy from earlier jumps from the kitchen island, junmin letting out a silent groan. "You know, i dont think we talk that much."

Because you stole something of mine.

"Mm." The boy hums, taking a drink out of the fridge, plopping in a seat near the dining room table. "You okay.."

"Mm yeah."

"Are you sure? Because it always seems like your mood shifts when im around.. did i do something wrong or-"

"Dont you have a girlfriend to take care of?" Junmin blurts out, finding his clenching fist under the table as he takes a sip from his drink.

"Girlfrie- THAT girl?? Dude thats my cousin." Jinsik bursts out laughing, junmins eyes going wide as he perks up in his chair. "Cousin?"

"Yeah im new to the area.. thats why im around her so much. Even if i wasnt why would i like that snot nosed, annoying-"

Junmin storms off to from where jinsik was standing to your room, almost tripping over a step because he was just so nervous. Jinsik was your cousin?? This is what minjae was hiding from him??

Almost out a breath, he gives your door a quiet knock, stuttering your name out his lips as he knocks again, this time a bit louder. And when you finally open the door, his heart breaks into tiny little pieces as he watches you rub your slightly red eyes. You frown before closing the door on his face, but his feet slipped into the little crack.

"What do you want?"

"Can we just talk? Please i'm begging you."

You finally open the door, a tear running down your cheek. You were mad — you had every right to be. The only thing you did was welcome the boy into your life, yet he pushes it away like its nothing. Like your feelings for him was nothing.

You gave him the chance to redeem himself yet he stands there, like a cat caught his tongue. You scoff, wiping the tear away. "Look, i dont know what i did.. but im sorry. I hope we could work this out or-"

Junmin couldn't take it anymore. You were crying because of him, he couldnt bear to see you like this. So he cups your cheeks, lifting your head up to give you the biggest kiss you've ever had. There was so much passion that it felt like your breath was swept away, a hand crawling on junmins neck to lightly tug on his hair, leaning the boy closer to you.

In attempt to keep his balance, he steps forward, making you step back. The process ends when you let out a gasp, your back hitting the edge of your desk, junmins lips never leaves yours.

His arms trap you in place as he tilts his head slightly, passionately moving his lips with yours as a hand removes from your cheek and down to your waist, pulling you closer as your body curves into his.

"So pretty.." junmin mumbles into the kiss before breaking it, his forehead resting on yours as he tries to catch his breath, both of his hands that were on your cheek and waist drawing small shapes on your soft skin, making your breath hitch.

"I.. I felt so jealous whenever you were around jinsik that i lost myself in that void. I didnt mean to make you cry, i really didnt. I swear i can treat you better if you give me the chance.. but i understand if you dont i mean i wouldn-"

"Junmin." You giggle as you stop his rambles. "You know, when the boys told me that you liked me as much as i did, i didnt believe them.. but i guess its all true now." You send him the goofiest of grins, causing junmin to look down, his cheeks dusting pink as he nervously smiles.

"And besides, why would i like jinsik?? That weird toe sniffer, wont touch grass toucher-" now it was junmins turn to cut you off, pressing a soft kiss on your nose.

"I dont know.. but im glad you're mine now."

[theshippirate22]

NASCAR!Steve/Mechanic!Eddie (Thinking of Someone For Whom He Still Burns)

this one’s for you @grimmfitzz my dear <33 you’re too good to me really I’m going to become undomesticated or something ;)

The house was still thick with gold. 

Eddie dragged his fingers down the cream walls on his way down the stairs, stepping softly so he didn’t break the perfect silence. Not that it was silent; Wayne left the windows open when he went out in the mornings. The white, transparent cotton curtains billowed out, bringing in the warm breeze with them. There was a lawnmower outside, giving some white noise to the gentleness of the house; must be Chrissy finding an excuse to have her headphones on all morning. She probably just got back from her run, still feeling the adrenaline, the restlessness, and electing to put it into something productive. 

The light was amber, the way it seemingly danced in through the walls to fill the house up with the same gold of the daffodils in the flowerbed right outside. The air smelled faintly of greenery, whether it was Chrissy’s grass shavings or Wayne’s precious flower gardens, Eddie couldn’t say. 

He filled a glass with water and sipped on it, washing the taste of sleep from his mouth. Flipped on the tv to add another set of lively voices to the sound of summer mornings. It was already tuned into the news, and he almost went to change it, switch it to cartoons or something, but he had already taken the toaster from the cabinet and suddenly breakfast seemed infinitely more important. 

“-nvestigating the disappearance of the famous racer.” The newscaster explained eagerly. “While officials at California Speedway are still waiting for his arrival, his managers have been holding press conferences to ease the fans’ anxieties.”

Eddie popped two slices of wheat bread into the toaster, and leaned back against the counter to see what was going on.

The film switched from the newscaster lady in a pencil skirt and a blazer, to another woman in a pencil skirt and a blazer, backed by a man with more freckles than should have been possible- Carol Perkins and Tommy Hagan, the caption provided. “We have no reason to suspect foul play regarding our client at this time. We’re sure it’s nothing more than a miscommunication or misunderstanding of some kind. However, if anyone has any information regarding his whereabouts, we urge you to come forward immediately.”

The toast popped out. Eddie burned his hand throwing them onto the plate. 

The newscaster returned as voiceover to footage of the racer- not that you could actually see him; in every shot, he was either wearing his helmet or turned away- from “Tuesday’s Indianapolis Race,” as the caption provided. “Starting last season as a complete rookie-“

“Turn that NASCAR shit off.”

Eddie startled, dropping his toast back on the plate, before realizing Wayne had just gotten back and rushing to swallow the bite he’d just taken. “Just a sec, I wanna see...”

“When competitor Billy Hargrove was asked about his absence, he said:” The clip cut to the grossest man Eddie had ever seen, with long messy, blond hair and the kind of mustache that just screamed I-disrespect-women. “I wouldn’t worry about it. He’s probably blacked out in a ditch somewhere and he’ll show up hungover as hell. In the meantime,” He looked dead at the camera, as if he was speaking directly to the missing racer. “I’ll be here hanging out with The King, buddy.”

The way he said the last word certainly implied nothing congenial about the relationship.

“Fans line the streets outside the Speedway-” The camera panned to corroborate. “-to catch a glimpse of his car. In lieu of last week’s interview, some fans are afraid of a darker story. After announcing on live television that he identified as bisexual, then going missing after just five days has his supporters truly hoping this is just a misunderstanding on his teams’ part.”

And back to the press conference and Miss Carol Perkins. 

“We cannot confirm or deny the rumors of death threats being sent to the team at this time. However, with any large announcement from anyone of any fame, there is expected to be public backlash, and our client’s coming out is no exception. We have worked continuously with security and law enforcement to look into any and all potential threats and provide reasonable protection against them. We have no reason to believe the disappearance is a hate crime in nature or related to the coming out at all. Once again, if anyone has any information-”

The tv shut off, the sudden black of the screen swallowing any of the color and Eddie cried out indignantly. “Wayne! I was watching that!”

Wayne’s flat expression didn’t change, but he answered softly, “It’ll just upset you.” 

That was true-already, Eddie’s toast was starting to taste like sawdust- but it wasn’t like people didn’t get hate-crimed every day. Especially people like Eddie. Like...

Damn, Eddie hadn’t even caught the missing racer’s name. 

Maybe the slimy misogynist was right. Maybe he had just blacked out somewhere, so hungover he forgot what day it was. 

Hopefully.

Yes it’s the plot of Cars (2006). I’ve never watched a NASCAR race in my life. I don’t know anything about NASCAR. This amuses me though so I’m doing it anyway because that’s where I am in my life. Anyway! If you’re interested in more let me know!

[dtorrieee]

★Not so careless ★

˚✧Kaveh x reader༉‧₊

↪sypnosis: You had a big fight with Kaveh. You guys haven't talked for weeks since then. You decided to talk things out with him. Which.. ended up bad?

↪note: I apologize if there's any mistakes. Just a reminder, this is just for fun. Enjoy <3

(also in here, you're also his roommate other than Alhaitham)

༉:Angst, some curse words, comforting, etc.

It was a long tiring day and your classes just ended. Your mood was already sour when you stepped into the dorm, and not even expecting Kaveh to be home yet.

However, there he was.

Kaveh was in the living room, pencils and sketches scattered on the table. You two had a (petty) fight and been ignoring each other for weeks now. It really wasn’t anyone’s fault other than both of your pride. Maybe it’s time to break the ice between you two— or maybe not.

You sighed and walked to the kitchen. You made a cup of coffee and put it on his table and spoke

"Dont stay up all night, you'll get sick and tired"

You turned back and was about to leave

It had been weeks since you both even exchange a simple word. He was almost in disbelief when he heard your voice, his eyes widen as he turned around and saw you right in his face.

“And what are you? My mom?”

Kaveh asks, raising his eyebrow as he stares at you, the tone had an edge, an insult to his ego.

You rolled your eyes.

"If i was your mom I'd abort you and kill myself"

It took moments for the words to register into Kaveh's mind. It was a lot to take in and his jaw almost dropped into the floor. And then the anger starts to kick in.

You’ve just crossed his limits, and he immediately lost his cool. Instead of backing down, he threw any sense of logic in the trash out the window—

He threw the cup of boiling hot coffee into your face.

Your eyes widened as the coffee landed on your face. It burned your face. Your eyes started to tear up. You didn't look at him in the eye and ran to your room, slamming the door.

He's breathing heavy, his whole body’s shaking. The fight just happened in a split second and he can’t believe what he has just done. He was about to follow you into your room when your door slammed in his face. He got back to the living room and sat down on his chair, still shaking from the coffee and the fight—

'I really just messed up.'

He thought.

the next day, Kaveh saw you with your school bag on your shoulder. You were about to leave the dorm, when he saw half of your face are red because of the burning from yesterday.

He was horrified. How could he been so stupid to throw the coffee like that? It just came out of nowhere,

He ran up to you,

“Wait!”

and he immediately grabbed a wet cloth,

“Here,”

He told you as he wiped your burned face off. His hands were still shaky and his voice almost cracked.

You took the cloth and threw it on the ground and glared at him

"I tried being nice. But instead of a thank you, you kept pushing me away. I tried everything since these past days and you're still so stubborn. And now, i hope you're happy because.. I'm not considering you as someone i know other than a psychotic stranger who lives with me."

“A p-psychotic stranger?"

He asked as his eyes widened.

“I am not some stranger! We have lived for almost two years together now! Who do you think I am? Your enemy?”

He yelled at your face.

"well are you my friend then? Absolutely not. So i guess enemy it is."

You yelled back.

He have never been this angry in his entire life before. Kaveh was usually the one who was hot-headed but now,

He grabbed your shoulders, his fists clenched,

“I am not your enemy,”

He yell at your face,

“I’m not some stranger who moved in with you a week ago, either.”

He took a deep breath and let go of your shoulders. Kaveh was the one who I needed to be calm here, and he has just made a fool of himself.

“I’m sorry.”

He said with a cracked voice.

You scoffed.

"What're you gonna do this time? Throw a knife at my back?"

"Shut up."

He screamed, his entire face is red.

“What do you want me to do? To get on my knees and beg for forgiveness? Is that it?!”

You glared at him.

"i want you to fucking leave me alone. Isn't burning my face enough for you already?!"

“Don’t make me look like the bad guy in all of this!”

He yelled at you.

“I threw the coffee at you because you called me your mother and said you’d abort me and kill yourself. How the hell do you expect me to not be mad?”

He yelled at your face as he pointed his index finger into your face.

“This wouldn’t have happened if you think before you speak or keep your opinions to yourself!”

You rolled your eyes and said:

"am i wrong tho?"

This was his breaking point.

With all the anger and rage in him, his hand swinged so close to your face, almost slapping you, but he immediately froze.

You looked up at him and spoke

"Why'd you stop? Go ahead, slap me. You're scared? Yeah that's what i thought."

You turned back and opened the door, leaving him there standing alone.

He sighed and left to grab his bag.

hours had passed.

When Kaveh got back to the dorm, it was already night. He went to the kitchen and he couldnsee you cooking alone.

He looked away and went into his room without saying a word, and closed the door behind him.

Some time later, when Kaveh was working in his room, there was a light knock. He can hear a soft voice from outside saying..

"I left some food for you on the dining table. Don't forget to eat, I don't want you getting sick."

After that, the voice disappeared.

Kaveh was deep in thought until he heard a sound of knocking on the door. Is he dreaming? he thought to himself. Is this reality? Is y/n really here?

He slowly stood up from his bed, and hesitantly opened the door.

“y/n?”

You scoffed and turned back, completely not in the mood to see his face at the moment.

You were about to leave but he grabbed your arm tightly.

"look. I'm sorry, i-"

Before he could finish, you snatched your arm back and rolled your eyes

"yeah, apologize all you want, i know it won't stop us from arguing everyday."

Your response hurts him.

“Why are you so mean to me?”

He asked you.

"I was really trying my best. But you were never satisfied."

“Can you really not see that it was wrong for you to say all those nasty things to me? Do you really think you can insult and attack me, and I’ll forgive you?”

...

"You were never going to forgive me for anything I do or say..."

He looked away, feeling hopeless and defeated.

You glared at him.

"And do you really think after burning my face with boiling coffe, I'll forgive you?"

He was losing his patience. And all of his guilt turned into anger.

“The coffee was all because of you, your nasty comments and what you’ve said.”

He yell as he grabbed your shoulder again and squeezed it tightly.

You pushed him away and screamed

"then.. just. Shut up and leave me alone goddamit!"

“You know what? Good riddance, you ungrateful brat,”

He was so worked up that his hand formed into a fist, and it landed on your shoulder again. He doesn't care if he hurt you, you deserve it.

“Leave and never come back!”

He yelled.

"its not like I'd care if you go missing!"

He turned back and slammed the door on your face.

'leave and never comeback..'

You thought.

'I see.'

The next day, Kaveh woke up. The dorm felt so empty. He walked around and realised your things wasn't anywhere. He checked your room and it was all empty.

He searched for Alhaitham to ask if he knew anything about you leaving, but he just ignored him. Which, didn't help at all.

He looked around everywhere, yet still not found any clue on where you are. Weeks passed, and he was starting to lose hope.

Until one day..

He was walking back from the market when it started to rain hard. So he decided to take a shelter. As he was sitting under a shelter, he suddenly saw a familiar figure. His eyes widened when he realised it was you, running from the rain, trying to find a shelter. Without realising him, you got into the same shelter as him and sat next to him. You panted from exhaustion and spoke

"e-excuse me. Is it alright if i-"

Before you could finish, you realised the person sitting next to you is Kaveh. Your eyes widened in shock. You stood up and cleared your throat.

"I'm sorry, I'll leave."

You stepped away, but then suddenly felt a hand grabbing you. You looked back and Kaveh said:

"stay.."

You sighed and went back to sit beside him. There was a long silence between you both. There's no sound other than the raindrops around. Finally, Kaveh spoke

"Where'd you go..? You made me worried. It's been weeks, please come back. I.."

He whispered quietly to himself yet you could still hear the sentence.

"i miss you.."

You looked away and answered

"why're you asking me to go back? Aren't you the one who told me to leave? Didn't you say that you couldn't care less if i go missing?"

Kaveh stayed quiet. He held your arms, you could see there was a little bit of tears in his eyes, but you couldn't really tell.

"y/n.. i really wished i didn't said that. And i didn't think you'd take it to heart and actually leave. I do care. I really do care about you, a lot. Please.. come back"

Looking at his pleading and beautiful eyes, oh how could you resist..?

You sighed. Then you smiled at him

"alright. I'll come back"

His eyes lit up in excitement and smiled wide

"really?! You will?! Oh thank God!"

Before you could let out a giggle, he immediately hugged you without thinking twice. You blushed hard, and he immediately let go when he realised what he just did. He cleared his throat.

"e-ehm. I-im sorry, i was too excited."

You giggled and booped his nose

"don't worry, i enjoy feeling your warmt."

You both smiled and talked more while waiting for the rain to stop.

The end.

Woah finally! Took me some time writing this. I hope you enjoyed! And again, sorry if there's any mistakes.(⁠ ⁠◜⁠‿⁠◝⁠ ⁠)

[zhounauts]

one hit is all it takes; k.gyuvin

☾₊ ⊹ when your high school's handball tournament gets a little bit (very) intense, and what would've been your team's winning shot, ends up in gyuvin's face (ouch). with the hit, gyuvin takes this opportunity to get closer to you, all while trying to act like he hates you.

CHAPTER 6 ! new feelings and soap are in the air

“you aren’t coming?” yunjin asks. you give her a look before both her a ni-ki burst out laughing.

“oh right! you got to scrub windows, boo hoo our poor ynnie,” ni-ki says.

“you ugly ass-” you exclaim, ready to pounce.

“i don’t think you want any more detention y/n, especially for attacking a student,”

“die, both of you,”

“so that was very hurtful,” yunjin says, “i would appreciate if you would apolog—”

“she’s violent! run!” ni-ki exclaims, as you grab another pencil from your pencil case, getting ready to throw it. you watch as your two friends disappear out of the classroom, giggling like goons and sigh. you gaze longingly (dramatically) outside your classroom window and watch as students make their way out of the school, ignoring your suffering. however your sad thoughts are cut off by your phone vibrating, and you groan knowing exacty who was texting you.

you groan, yet you stand up and make your way out of the classroom to carry Gyuvin’s bags.

“this is all your fault,” you grumble, mixing up soap and water.

“not this again,” gyuvin deadpans.

“if you didn’t come in and make a scene at the office we wouldn’t be here,”

“if you didn’t slam my face with a ball, that scene at theh office would not have happened, and we wouldn’t be here,”

“maybe you should’ve dodged it then,”

“maybe you shouldn’t have thrown the ball so hard,”

“well maybe i wanted to win— the fuck?!” you exclaim, mouth agape as soapy water drips down your cheek, “you didn’t just—”

“HEY!” gyuvin screeches, he goes to dip his good arm into the soapy mixture again before you yank it away just in time.

“i don’t think so!”

“well i think so!” gyuvin exclaims lunging towards you. you scream as his ungodly long arm almost grabs you and gyuvin laughs. quickly jumping away, (parkour skills) you hide behind a desk hoping that it can protect you from him.

“you just left the soap behind genius,” gyuvin taunts. you gape.

“fuck!” next thing you know, soaps flying through the air and you can’t stop laughing no matter how hard you try to stop it. not only that, you just can’t seem to stop the warmth that's rising up in your stomach.

prev masterlist next

TAGLIST ! @yeolaegi @soobincantswim @zuzushoner @mposkyje @rosinbae @beomibeom @eumppattv @onlyhoons @xinxinyy

taglist is open, send an ask or comment to be added!

if your name is bolded, means i'm unable to tag you

a/n it has been 2,500,954 seconds since i posted a chapter for this story.

i apologize, my school's starting tomorrow and i might cry and sob and punch the wall kick a chair break a toe dislocate my shoulder choke on

[possibly-in-wonderland]

Incorrect Creepypasta Quotes ft My Self-Insert Pastasona(?) bc Cringe Culture is Dead and I Want to Feel Alive by Fall Out Boy

like the title? lmfao i love self-inserts. anyway, i retired the old version of this character. she's not a demon anymore, but her stepdad is sort of a demon which has made her a partial demon? (idk how to explain it)

also featuring marble hornets and everymanhybrid (bc i feel like habit would tolerate her existence)

~~~

Alice: How do I ask someone out? Toby: Roses are red, violets are blue, guess what, my bed has room for two. Alice: No! Tim: Twinkle twinkle little star, we can do it in a car. Alice: Stop! Brian: Row, row, row your boat gently down the stream, merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily I can make you scream. Alice: I feel like the last one is verging dangerously into serial killer territory. ~~~ Toby: *is throwing stones at Alice's window* Alice: You have a phone for a reason, Toby *THUD* Alice: DID YOU JUST THROW YOUR PHONE AT MY WINDOW?! ~~~ Tim: Damn, the power went out. Jay: Don’t worry, I got this. Jay: *stomps foot* Tim: What-? Jay: *Sketchers light up* ~~~ Habit, with a headache: Advil me up, daddy. Alice: I will short out the language centre of your brain if you say anything like that ever again. ~~~ Habit: I know every song to ever exist it doesn't matter if it's from the past, present or the future. Alice: Oh yeah? Then continue this. Alice: I don't cook I don't clean- Habit: So let me tell you how I got this ring. Habit & Alice: ..... Habit & Alice: GOBBLE ME, SWALLOW ME- ~~~ Toby: I need life advice. Tim, sipping Gatorade and eating cookie dough: You came to the right person.

~~~

Toby: Why is everyone so obsessed with top or bottom? Honestly, I’d just be excited to have a bunk bed. Brian: Brian: I'm gonna tell them. Tim: Don't you dare.

~~~

Alice: Would you stab your best friend in the leg for 10 million dollars? Jeff: You stab me, and then when my leg gets better, we buy a big-ass house. Ben: You can stab me too, then we'll have 20 million. Jeff: Good thinking.

~~~

Alice: Let me show you a picture from last night that really upset me Jeff: Okay, but in my defense, Ben bet me 50 cents I couldn’t drink all that shampoo. Alice: That’s not what I wanted to- you drank SHAMPOO?!

~~~

Alice, holding a python: Guys I impulsively bought a snake, what do I name him Jay: You did WHAT– Tim: William Snakepeare

~~~

Alice, walking into their house: Hello, people who do not live here. Jeff: Hey. Ben: Hi. Toby: Hello. Tim: Hey! Alice: I gave you the key to my place for emergencies only! Brian: We were out of Doritos.

~~~

Alice: Dumbest scar stories, go! Toby: I burned my tongue once drinking tea. Brian: I dropped a hair dryer on my leg once and burned it. Jeff: I have a piece of graphite in my leg for accidentally stabbing myself with a pencil in the first grade. Ben: I was taking a cup of noodles out of the microwave and spilled it on my hand and I got a really bad burn. Tim: Tim: I have emotional scars.

~~~

[flimflamfandom]

The Hard Way is the Only Way, and the Only Way is Through

A story that takes place 1 week after the events of This story.

-

Calvin turned over in bed. Still there, after days. It was a week, now, and he'd been hold up in his apartment like some kind of wretched hermit. He got out of bed to start his day, throwing on a Henley and a plain pair of slacks.

Then, he heard a knock on the door.

-

Calvin walked over, looking scruffy and bleary. He opened the door to an impeccably dressed Mitzi May.

"Well," Mitzi said, "you've got a nice place, Freckle."

"...it's mostly Daisy money." He said. "But I can afford it with Times-Dispatch money, surely." He walked into the place.

"May I come in?" Mitzi asked.

"...sure." Calvin walked further in, and led Mitzi to the sitting room - a radio was on. It had been on for a while, now. The window was open, and the typewriter desk was covered with crumpled up pieces of paper and strewn about pencils.

There was a picture of Ivy on it. She was wearing a dress. It had a little note pinned to the frame, too.

Calvin walked slowly towards the couch. "Sorry if I'm sluggish...haven't been sleeping well."

"It's fine." Mitzi replied. She crossed her legs when she sat. "So, Freckle," she spoke plainly, "I need to see about your returning to work-"

"I can't." Calvin said. "I'll get someone hurt."

"It's your job to hurt people, kid," Mitzi shrugged and chuckled, but Calvin just...stared.

"You know what I mean."

"..." Mitzi looked down. "In the heat of the moment I wanted to absolutely throttle you." She said. "I'll be honest about that. But since then, I've managed to wrap my head around it just being a fluke. A mistake. You made a mistake, Calvin, everyone does-"

"I HURT her, Mitzi."

"She misses you. You're hurting her a lot more by not answering her phone calls." Mitzi said. "...we need you back at the Daisy, Calvin. The simple fact is no one in town can do what you do against Mordecai and the Savoys. We NEED you there. And we know you're going to be right for it."

"I just...I'd say I need time but I already took too much, and-"

"Sometime next week, gimme an answer, alright?" Mitzi stood, and handed him a slip of paper with the office phone number on it. "You're valuable. We will wait up for you." She turned to walk away, and before she left the doorway, she spoke once more, looking Calvin in the eye.

"Calvin? Answer your phone if it rings. It might be important."

-

It wasn't long until the phone rang.

Calvin hesitated. He took a deep breath, and picked it up.

"Hello?"

"Calvin? It's Rocky." Rocky sounded relieved. "Did Mitzi see you?"

"She did."

"Aces! When're you coming back, then?"

"I don't know." Calvin said. "I don't know if I will at all, really." He replied, sitting down. Calvin heard a bit of shuffling on the other end. Rocky spoke again.

"What!?" He sounded surprised. "I thought she'd convince you to-"

"She convinced me to consider. I'm considering...but I'm really not sure."

Calvin heard another pause, then some words - then, Rocky spoke, again.

"...Calvin, I'm glad you're at least okay. I'm proud of you for considering. I'll be by tomorrow, alright? I feel like I haven't seen you in ages!" Then, he spoke. "Also, Ivy is right here, do you wanna talk to her?"

"..."

"...I'll just...send her over, then."

"Rocky, wait, I-"

"See you!" With that, Rocky hung up the phone, and Calvin curled up on his couch. He looked out onto the silent room, and saw that figure, again - him, with horrible eyes - standing in his window. He thought he heard it laugh. He thought he heard Ivy scream again. he looekd down, and saw blood on his hands, and rushed to the sink, trying desperately to wash it from his fur.

"It's no use, boy," the voice said, "it's no USE!" The thing rushed him, and Calvin screamed, falling to the floor. He sat there, his hands wet, the sink running.

He whimpered.

He heard another knock on the door.

-

"Calvin? It's me." It was Ivy. She sounded tired and desperate. "Are you in there? Are you okay?"

"..." Calvin stood, and wiped his hands. he turned off the sink. he walked over to the door, and opened it.

She was standing there. She had a bandage around her arm, and wore a simple day dress. The claw marks on her hand were healing, and she looked to be walking okay. She took off her cloche and looked up.

"You look...well, for a guy who's been stuck in his apartment for a week you look pretty good." Ivy said. She hugged Calvin, and Calvin hugged her back. He just stood there, and let himself lean in. She spoke into him, uttering words he hadn't heard in a while.

"Are you okay, Calvin?"

"No. Clearly." Calvin motioned to the place. "I don't think I'll be okay again for a while. I..." He glanced at the bandage, then stared. Ivy shook her head.

"No. No, no, you're not getting in a tizzy over that. Go ahead and be upset it happened but I didn't lose my arm and I'm not disfigured forever." She spoke sternly. "I'm going to be okay. And you are, too, Freckle." She hugged him again, tight, and then broke away, sitting on his couch. She'd sat on that couch plenty of times before, but this time it was warm - he'd been on it, clearly, for some time.

"Will you come back to the Daisy?"

"I don't know."

"Hmm." Ivy nodded, and purred, leaning on Calvin. She looked up at him. "If you do, I'll be glad to see you. If you don't, you really oughtta visit. Your girl works there, I hear." She winked. Calvin, for the first time in days, smiled. It was a relieved smile.

"I thought you'd hate me."

"I was scared of you. In the moment, I was horrified. And for a while after. But it's not-...it's not like you do this every night, Freckle, you're hardly a wife beater!"

"I know but-" Calvin huffed. "I'm sorry. I'm so very, very sorry, and I know sorry doesn't help you heal faster, but I lost control and I should have been more careful and I'm sorry. I take full responsibility for it.:"

"It wasn't you at the wheel, Cal, it-"

"It was my hands that did it." Calvin said. "And I apologize, and I promise to never let it happen again."

Ivy blinked. "I-" She hesitated.

"...I accept your apology, Calvin, thank you." She held his hand, and looked down at it. "...and, I'll be honest, I'm glad you apologized. Means I don't have to do all the lifting here."

"Aye." Calvin said. "...can you promise me something?"

"Hmm?" Ivy furrowed a brow. She was expecting something to come out of his mouth - 'promise you'll still love me', or 'promise to be there for me', or something. She wasn't expecting-

"Promise you won't try to fix this...thing I have, aye?" Calvin asked. "It's my burden to bear, I ought to be the one to fix it."

"Pfft. I knew THAT." Ivy scoffed. "What, you think I know where to even START with that?" She shook her head. "...but just because something is wrong doesn't mean I won't be there for ya." She got a bit closer to him. "Because, broken or not, I still love you."

Calvin nodded swiftly. "I still love you, too. I want to be free of...of whatever it is that's in there, because I need you to be safe, and I'm what's keeping that from being true. The only way through this is through it, and I'm willing to go through it for you." The two of them stared at each other for a moment.

"Oh, Calvin-" Ivy launched into a hug, and squeezed him tight.

"Ivy..." Calvin looked down at her, and moved some hair from her face. "Mo Chroí..."

Ivy kissed him, gently. The first one in a week - normally they couldn't get off of each other, kissing wise. This felt like it lifted mountains off of their shoulders.

[ratsoh-writes]

She didn't follow up with her plan. Even if she could've obviously succeeded, since she was awesome, it was better for her to keep the monster like that. Yeah, it was much better. Sea would get down there, rant about everything, her father, her mother, her siblings, anything and anyone.

And the best part? He couldn't walk away, or tell her to shut up. He couldn't dismiss her or ground her for saying those things. He couldn't do anything bad to her, nothing. But she could, it would be too easy to just go to the potion stash and get some mint water to throw at him.

"-and he made me learn this spell that prevents others from reading my thoughts... since... you know..."

"The flayer mages..."

"Yeah, those noisy bastards. Dad says that it is time for me and my brother to begin protecting our brains..."

"I'm sure that... you need more protection than your... brother. Since he... since he seems to have no brains..."

"I know, right? I am better than him."

.

Week after week, month after month... year after year. Sea kept the secret, even making sure to improve on her proficiency in sound and illusion spells so that she couldn't get caught if she accidentally screamed. She often gave the monster food imbued in healing magic after she suspected someone went down to interact with him, and she gave him paper and pencils to play games with her, then a little inventory box with trinkets, new shoes... her name...

She didn't want to admit that the old monster had grown on her. Even if a few years later she caught on that he was trying to befriend her to maybe make her get him out. She wasn't mad at him for that, in fact, she told him that she had thought of that possibility, and that even if he managed to manipulate her into doing that -somehow- be would be too weak to even reach the main door.

"They wouldn't even let you take a step without opening fire."

She was playing a game of Go with him. He couldn't move his pieces, but she was kind enough to do that for him.

"Worth a shot... and I could be sneaky if I wanted to."

"Riiiight..."

She was 26 years old at that time, and was granted access to the basement now that she was a fully grown adult.

"And that's game. I win again."

"By cheating, you brat"

"I did not... and you have no proof."

"I have eyes, that's enough proof, punk"

.

After years in that hellhole, the prospect of running away had always sounded so nice in her head. Leaving all those bastards behind to go to another country and start again...

But she always put that dream in the back of her head, magically locked away. Mostly because her cousin, Oscar, had a habit of reading everyone's deepest thoughts if they weren't cautious. He had almost discovered Sea's secret once.

"-no. I don't remember how the outside looks..."

"Meh. Right now it looks like this place. Gloomy and humid. There is going to be a storm coming..."

"Is it...? Ah. You should close your windows tight then..."

She kept pondering about that conversation after a few hours. And it wasn't like she felt pity for him or something, but she ended up grabbing a camera to take photos of the outside, even the storm. Nobody questioned why she suddenly got a liking for photography, but it was better than having to deal with her and her crude personality.

And when she gave the printed photos to him, she... saw him cry for the first time. Or at least she was sure he was crying, since fire monsters don have tears.

"Thank you, Sea. I'm grateful for your gift"

"Yeah, whatever. Just don't ever think of escaping again, that would be bad for your health."

.

She felt like a hypocrite, telling him that when she herself wanted to escape as well. But... how could she do that? She had her mother and father's eyes on her almost all the time, not to mention the talks about making either her or a cousin the next head of her branch of the family. She didn't want that, she would rather lose her magic than take her father's place when he died.

And she had voiced that, many times. Her mother didn't take her seriously, her father didn't care if that wasn't what she wanted, her brother constantly got into fights with her for not wanting that opportunity... and she started to get sick of it.

Sick of everything, her family, her tasks, this house, to hell with them all! If lighting struck the house right now, she wouldn't help anyone... well, maybe Herald... but that old monster would probably take his chances during the chaos to escape if anything like that happe-

"Huh..."

(4/5)

Oh my stars. Is this the same sea??? Ok who got her in therapy and how did she get so far from this!!

More I say!! More!!!