#this is inspired by a scene in chapter 8 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sugarwarachan · 20 days ago

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hot for teacher

chapter three previous

pairing: shouta aizawa x f!reader

synopsis: You’re not expecting your day to fall to pieces at 8:21 a.m., but life hasn’t really been going your way lately. A string of lackluster dates, followed by two dead vibrators (with missing cords!), and the only outlet left for your mounting sexual frustration—the smut blog you diligently update—has been discovered by the one person you never wanted to find it: fellow teacher Shouta Aizawa. Who might just be the inspiration behind most of the fantasies you post about.

chapter cws: just enough plot to keep the porn coming, hizashi and rumi being super obvious in their meddling, Shouta ‘talks you through it’ Aizawa, more dirty talk than is perhaps necessary, the filthiest fingering scene i've ever written, soft degradation, ("good little whore" 🤭) d/s elements but never explicitly stated

word count: 3k

andy's notes: AHHHHHH i know this is late thank you all for waiting so patiently!! AIZAWA IS DOWN SO BAD I AM GOING INSANE

Rays of sunlight dance across Shouta’s face as his alarm clock blares. Scrubbing a hand over one eye, he hits the clock and rolls over, burying his face into the pillow.

Holy fuck.

He’s imagined you before. Knew you would look gorgeous spread out for him on any surface, but the reality of watching you cum, your mouth hanging open in that soft o, brow furrowed tight... He rolls his hips into the mattress in memory. Jesus Christ. If he’s not careful, he’ll have to rub one out before he can even start the day.

Shouta grabs his phone in an attempt to distract himself and immediately regrets it when he sees the text notification on the screen.

Hiz(ass)hi: signed us up for something!!!

He groans and presses call. It’s always better to find out exactly what his best friend's up to as soon as possible.

“What did you do?” he asks as soon as he picks up.

Hizashi doesn’t miss a beat. “Check your email yet?”

“I appreciate what little work-life balance I have.”

“Well," Hizashi coughs, "then you might not entirely love the surprise I’ve got in store for you, but it involves a certain you-know-whoooooo.”

“Fucking hell.” Shouta swings out of bed and passes a hand through his hair, nerves shooting through his stomach. “I’m serious, did you do something weird?”

He logs into his email, half-listening to Hizashi's explanation that he volunteered them both as chaperones for the upcoming debate team competition and texted you straight after.

“Perfect opportunity to spend some more time together,” Hizashi sing-songs, just as Shouta clocks your 7:35 a.m. reply.

Count me in!

An image of you tucked into his side erupts in his head, hair tousled from sleep and sex, tired smile on your face.

“You good, man?” Hizashi asks when Shouta lets the line stay silent.

Hasn’t he been wanting this exactly? A chance to get to know you more?

Shouta heaves a long-suffering sigh. “Yeah, I’m good. Just really wish you’d sat next to someone else in high school.”

“Yeah, yeah. Be sure to include me in your wedding vows.”

Shouta huffs a laugh and clicks off the phone.

He doesn’t know much about the debate team, except that he can hear Bakugou and Midoriya arguing from clear down the hall. Toshinori acts as the team’s usual advisor, but he’s been in and out of the hospital lately.

He imagines the last thing that man needs is accompanying a rowdy group of teenagers on an overnight trip.

He scans the remaining names. Todoroki, Jiro, and Yaoyorozu should behave themselves, at least.

Shouta: How many of us are going?

Hiz(ass)hi: 4. You, me, Rumi, and Y/N. See you tomorrow, sucker!

Shouta isn’t good in relationships.

That’s what he’s always told himself, but it’s not entirely true. He’s simply more deliberate, more exacting in what he wants than the typical person. He sees no point in dating frivolously.

Which is probably why he spent so much time deciding how to approach you.

When Hizashi came to him with his suspicions about your blog, Shouta gave himself an ultimatum.

One story. One glimpse into your head.

It wouldn’t be fair to you to form an opinion based on words alone; words he hasn’t yet confirmed aren’t simply fantasy. But the minute he reads the story, it unlocks a hunger in him that can’t be smothered.

He knows in his bones that it’s you. The intonation, the cadence; he can hear the way you talk to Rumi, the way you speak to the students.

And you’re fantasizing about someone taking care of you and fucking you stupid in ways he’s only considered in his head.

He never stood a chance.

It is a truth universally acknowledged that a last-minute, hastily-put-together trip will result in at least one disaster.

The minibus slowly rolling to a stop along a country road is precisely such an event.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Shouta murmurs under his breath, resisting the urge to bang his hands in frustration on the steering wheel.

You peek over his shoulder.

“Did we seriously run out of gas?”

He barely hears you; you smell like jasmine and vanilla, and if he’s not careful, he’ll turn around and haul you into his lap in front of everyone on this bus.

Rumi laughs uproariously, rousing the students from their slumber. Jiro glares at her. “You had one job, Yamada, and you couldn’t manage filling up the tank?”

“It was full when we left, wasn’t it?” he shouts back at her.

Shouto, ever-dependable, is already typing into his phone. “There’s an inn up the road.”

Midoriya folds his body over the seat to get a look at the screen. “Oh! Do you think it’s close enough to this one temple I’ve been reading about?”

“Oi!” Bakugou barks, sweatshirt laid across his face. “Could we prioritize where to sleep and not whatever nerdy-ass thing you want to do?”

“Enough!” Aizawa bites out. “Watch your mouth, Bakugou, you’re still representing the school out here. All of you, go with Yamada and Usagiyama and book us rooms for the night. Y/N and I will stay here with the luggage.”

He ignores Hizashi’s smirk over your head.

“Some luck we have,” you say, digging a toe into the dirt as the two of you watch the group disappear into the fading light. “Do you imagine they’ll have enough rooms?”

For the sake of his sanity, they fucking will.

But as Shouta looks down the road at Hizashi’s retreating form, he knows for a fact that he sent the wrong pair of people ahead to deal with room arrangements.

Hizashi and Rumi return in a borrowed car and a slapped-together reason for the teachers sleeping co-ed that nearly makes him want to punch Yamada in the head.

“You want to catch up on One Piece together,” is all you say, an eyebrow raised in disbelief.

As you and Shouta pile into the back of the car, you nudge him with a shoulder. “Glad to know they’re both as subtle as a brick to the face.”

He nudges you back, not caring that he’s being just as subtle as his two conniving friends.

The backseat is small, and he’s by no means a small man. Even without the bumps in the road that keep jostling you close to him, you’re already practically in his lap. Excited anticipation sets loose in his belly.

It’s been forever since he’s felt like this. Perhaps never, if he’s being honest. And by the time everyone is settled in for the night, he’s desperate to be alone with you.

“I hope you're clear that I’m not mad about this,” you say as soon as he shuts the door and faces the reality that it’s going to be very difficult fucking you in a way that doesn’t wake up the entire inn.

He takes in your face and smiles. “Not mad about this, either.”

“Should we talk about, like, ground rules?”

He likes how direct you are, but he also knows that a part of you is asking to stall.

“I’m no expert, but the color system works for me if it works for you.”

You nod, foot tapping an anxious rhythm into the carpet.

“Nothing has to happen. You know that, right?”

“Yeah, I know.” You smile softly, but there’s heat curling in the back of your eyes. “But I wanna feel what I felt the other night again. With you.”

He breathes out through his nose, and you grin like the little cocktease you are.

Seriously, can he soundproof these rooms?

“You didn’t happen to bring that pleated skirt of yours, did you?"

Your laugh is like honey. “I did happen to bring it. Should I wear it?”

“Please.”

“Got it, sir.”

The memory of your preferred words when you’ve acted out plays through his head as he suggests that you both wash up for the night.

When you come back warm and soft from the bath, hair curling slightly at your temple, you stop straight in your tracks.

Your eyes drop to his sweatpants and linger there.

“Eyes up here, sweetheart.”

“Sorry.” You smile sheepishly. ��I was, umm. Noticing.”

His dick jumps.

“You are really big.” You’re suddenly in front of him, one hand on his chest, the other trailing down his belly. “You know, I think I’ve been wet since last night.”

Shouta’s not entirely sure what sound he makes.

“Yeah, baby?” He hitches your thigh up. “Been a little needy for me?”

You whimper your answer, faltering in your exploration of his happy trail as he rubs the pad of his fingers along your creamy slit. Your underwear is soaked through.

“I feel like I’m losing my mind a little. Like I can’t get enough.”

“I can tell. You’re shakin’ just from this.” He pulls your panties to the side and sucks in a breath. “Oh, sweetheart. This little cunt of yours is practically drooling.”

Ignoring your little squeak, he scoops you in his arms and carries you to the bed, folding your legs on either side of his thighs.

“Have you ever been this wet for someone else?” He doesn’t know where the question comes from, when the possession grabs hold. He cups your pussy, one hand tight on your waist.

“No, never,” you breathe out, rolling your pelvis forward into the heel of his hand, and then you frown, bottom lip jutting out in what he knows is embarrassment. “I’ve never even cum while being fingered.” You lean forward, resting your arms around his neck. “I always thought there was something wrong with me.”

Oh.

He stills. “You trust me, sweetheart?”

You nod, a mixture of eagerness and apprehension that makes his chest squeeze.

“Red for stop, yellow for slow down, green for good?”

You wave a hand. “Yes, yes, I know all that.”

He raises a brow, but decides he can address your tone later. One problem at a time.

“Lay over my lap, y/n.”

You arrange yourself accordingly, brushing your tits against his thigh as you do so. His palm twitches.

“We’re gonna have a little lesson, sweetheart.” He caresses the back of your thighs. Your breath hitches. “Spread your knees wider, there you go. Lift your ass up for me, too, can you do that?”

Before he gives you time to think, he flips the fabric of your skirt over your hips and lands a crack on your ass. You squeal, fingers tight in the bedsheets.

“oh my fuck oh my fuck, harder,” you keen, thrusting your ass back at his palm.

Shouta bites down on his lip hard just to maintain some semblance of reason.

You’re fucking made for him.

“Did you say there was something wrong with you?”

Another smack makes the meat of your ass jiggle. You muffle the sound you make in the sheets beneath you and Shouta frowns.

“Nah ah, baby.” He lifts your chin up. “Let me hear you, huh? Can already tell you like being punished.”

“But our students might hear us, Shou,” you say, squirming in his lap. The nickname steals his breath. “I don’t want to be embarrassed like that.”

“Like that?” He raises an eyebrow and laughs softly when you rebury your face into the mattress. “We'll talk about that later, huh? But you’re right. Good thinking, sweetheart.”

Even that simple amount of praise makes your eyes glaze over. He doesn’t know if you fully understand how long he’s wanted someone to place their trust in him like this

“Grab the pillow, and use that to help stay quiet,” he directs you. “No one but me will hear you this time, okay?”

“Thank you.” You twist on your forearms to smile at him. “I know we do a lot of stopping and starting. Thanks for being cool about that, too.”

He has no idea what kind of scumbags have mistreated you before, but he’s happy to erase their influence on you however he can.

“Stopping and starting is par for the course.” He motions for you to sit up. “Should have done this first anyway.”

Shouta’s never been one to wax poetic, but the moment he presses his mouth to yours, he’s a goner. Your hands tangle in his hair and tug, demanding greater access. He grants it, grinning like a fool while you lick your way into his mouth.

“Stop smiling.” You pull away with a mock huff, but you’re smiling, too, and you don’t look annoyed in the slightest. “It makes it hard to kiss you.”

“We were in the middle of something.”

Your eyes gleam. “Are you gonna spank me again?”

He pulls you to him as a chuckle rumbles out of his chest. He cradles the back of your head and caresses the slim bit of skin exposed above your skirt. “Eager?”

You sigh and press your face into his neck. “Very.”

“Take your clothes off, then, and get back on my lap. Keep the skirt on.”

Shouta flips up the fabric again, massaging the exposed skin when you wriggle. The tips of his fingers brush dangerously close to your slit, and you drop your hips to chase the sensation.

“Ass up, sweetheart.” He jiggles his leg under you. “And answer my question.”

“Yes, yes.” A spark of irritation colors your tone. “I said there was something wrong with me.”

“Still believe that?” He finally touches you, knuckles sliding through your gummy folds, savoring the way your back bows at his touch. You’re soaking and trembling from this alone. “Your thighs are wet, honey. I’m pretty sure you’ll cum around my finger the second I slip it in.”

“Oh god.” Your voice is a reedy little gasp, high with embarrassment.

He sees the mirror across from you on the wall, and an idea sparks. Rearranging you on his lap, he spreads your legs wide and grabs your chin, directing your gaze to where your cunt drools arousal all over his lap.

“There’s nothing wrong with this slutty pussy of mine, is there, baby?”

The hitch in your breath is reward enough. A slow smile spreads across his face as you shake your head.

“That’s exactly right, honey. Nothing wrong with my girl.”

He teases your hole with the tip of his fingers. You shudder in his arms, keeping your eyes locked on his in the mirror.

“You think I don’t like seeing how good I’m makin’ you feel?”

This entire time his cock has been leaking pre and throbbing against the side of his leg. There’s no rush, he knows, because watching you like this will probably have him spilling in his briefs anyway.

He slides a finger up to the knuckle, plugging you up tight. Your eyes roll back in your head when he rolls his thumb over your swollen bud.

"What’s wrong, sweetheart? That bratty tone from earlier gone already?”

He adds another finger, the hand on your waist holding you still as you keep squirming. A feral part of him knows exactly how deep his cock is going to be inside you as he presses down on your lower belly.

“Maybe you’ve never cum like this before because no one’s given you what you needed. Ever think of that, sweetheart?” His gaze scorches you in the reflection. “No one knows how much you like your cunt stuffed up tight. Little whore likes being used a bit roughly, doesn’t she?”

The sound you make is sinful, a shuddering sigh of happiness and arousal that momentarily stops his breath.

“Please, Shouta.” You’re doing your best to be quiet, but he’s not making it easy on you. You fall into a prayer of pleas as he dangles you over the edge for just a little bit longer, the litany of praise and degradation sparking such headiness in your eyes he’s half-afraid he won’t be able to stop.

“Keep your eyes on us. There’s my girl.” He ruts his dick against your ass, groaning into your neck. “Can’t wait to sink inside you, honey. Gonna remold this fucking pussy to the shape of me.”

He doesn’t even know what he’s saying at this point. He needs to see you cum, needs to feel your arousal drip all over his hands.

“Let me see it, baby, let me see how much you like being my good little whore.”

He slaps a hand over your mouth just as you shatter around him, swallowing the majority of your keening wail by pressing your face into the side of his neck.

You go boneless and soft after you cum, limp in his arms and nuzzling into his chest like you belong there.

“Gonna go clean us up,” he says, pressing a kiss to your temple. You hum in response, falling back on the mattress.

He cleans you slowly, gently, and offers you one of his t-shirts to sleep in. You pat the space next to you, and he crawls in instantly, tucking you into his side.

“I didn’t know it could feel like that.” You look up into his eyes, happiness radiating out of yours. “Thank you, Shouta.”

As your breathing slows and you fall asleep, Shouta realizes that, truthfully, he didn’t know it could feel like that, either.

taglist: @phaticserpent, @magidzi, @hotlosergirl17, @luckybibucky, @heyithinkilike, @getoisinnocent, @personally4runa, @kennys-partner, @geektastic84, @bakery-angel, @constanttea, @aryuunachigiri, @sskorvid, @therefore-evermore, @one-scarred-mofo, @food4dead, @alphabetsoupyum, @cielito--lindo, @rentheannihilator, @juiceeypeach, @imastorytelleritsondvd, @ivydoesit23, @anotherfuckedupdayinthelifeofme, @deputy-azor, @ibby-miyoshi-nerd, @h3rmit-purrrrple420, @lousypotatoes, @hisbitch101, @greedygobbo, @ginevraxrogers, @alucardsdaddyissues, @minminroie, @honeyoru, @gothsquash, @aldebrana, @yansfanficwritings, @babypeapoddd, @fashionably-a-hippie, @junehasnotbeenfound, @citruki, @bitch-spaghetti-o

ONE LAST NOTE: If you want to be added to the taglist, let me know! I hope you enjoy this, I had a lot of fun writing it. Next chapter is the two of them being freaky and nasty and horny and fucking like bunnies

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jsbluu · 8 months ago

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left on seen - a park jisung smau

you, a first year college student at ncit university, "stumble" upon the twitter account of your campus crush, park jisung. you've had a crush on him since your junior year of high school, but he always seemed to have a flock of girls (one girl) chasing after him.

out of a boost of confidence (and maybe a little too much to drink), you decide to send him a dm. what's the worst that could happen? he has thousands of followers, it's not like he's ever gonna see it.. right?

wrong! will jisung reply to you and fall in love? or will you just become another girl lost in his dms. read to find out!

disclaimer: none of the characters in this smau depict the idol's real personalities. everything you see is completely fictional!

➨ pairing: park jisung x fem!reader

➨ posting schedule: wednesdays & saturdays at 5pm cst

➨ status: ongoing!

➨ genre: failed humor, suggestive innuendos, underage drinking, cursing, slowburn, “strangers” to friends to lovers, ANGST, sewerside jokes, an evil woman trying to come between them, jealous jisung, jealous y/n, for the sake of the story everybody is the same age, mentions of side effects from hangovers including nausea (absolutely NOTHING explicit as i do have emetophobia), random mentions of characters that are not technically introduced, SO much miscommunication it’s actually crazy, may or may not be a smut scene in this eventually..

➨ taglist: comment or send an ask to be tagged!

➨ a/n: this smau was heavily inspired by "score that goal" by @/lqfiles! score that goal was the first smau i ever read and i immediately fell in love. thank you for inspiring me to make my own! i'd also like to thank by bestie/loml for helping me create this entire thing, from the title down to the plot itself, i lub you >_<

y/n's friend group | jisung's friend group | honourable mentions

chapter 1: party time!

chapter 2: 13 reasons why

chapter 3: it’s so jover :(

chapter 4: new friends!

chapter 5: first day of class

chapter 6: study buddies (not!)

chapter 7: awkward silence

chapter 8: rem

chapter 9: alley oop

chapter 10: shared pages

chapter 11: three’s a crowd

chapter 12: jisung’s tweet

chapter 13: yes or no?

chapter 14: she said yes!

chapter 15: two to one (to two)

chapter 16: the aftermath

chapter 17: blooming confusion

chapter 18: yikes!

chapter 19: damage control

chapter 20: plan a

chapter 21: a long overdue apology

chapter 22: it worked!

chapter 23: jisung is STUPID (ft s’mores and mark)

chapter 24: he’s a directioner?!

chapter 25: a little TOO friendly

chapter 26: the bet

chapter 27: party time pt.2!

chapter 28: mistletoe by justin bieber

chapter 29: go with the flow

chapter 30: they’re onto me..

chapter 31: please invest in a diary

chapter 32: IDGAF!

chapter 33: get that d!

chapter 34: y/nsung official date

chapter 35: hallway couple

chapter 36: step back

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sofiatarot · 3 months ago

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PAC: A promise of better dayz

In this pick a card, we’ll be diving into one of the best days of your life – the moments you have to look forward to, a glimpse into the situations that will bring you immense joy and fulfillment. We’re looking at a promise of your future, the days that will make everything worth it.

TIP JAR - FREE READINGS - PAID READINGS

1.2

3.4

I was listening to THAT 2Pac song, and I just knew I had to take a peek at that day – that day we should all look forward to. Our everyday inspiration should be the faith in that better day, that better day that’s a promise. I don’t know if it’s just a coincidence or if there’s something in the air, maybe it’s the collective energy, but love definitely seems to be in the air. And honestly, it makes me a little emotional – knowing that we’re not, and never will be, truly alone.

Group 1

Cards: Page of swords (reversed), 8 of cups, queen of swords, death, king of swords, ace of pentacles (reversed), the hierophant, the tower (reversed), The star (reversed), queen of cups. (2 of cups at the bottom of the deck)

Okay, group 1... wow. Immediately, I’m drawn to this mix of the queen and king of swords – a powerful pair, matched in intellect and clarity. This feels like one of your best days is intertwined with a connection, potentially a destined partnership. It’s like you've been waiting for this person, consciously or unconsciously. And with the hierophant showing up, this isn’t just any connection. It feels fated, spiritual, like a union that changes the course of your life.

But let’s back up a bit. We start with the page of swords reversed and the 8 of cups. This is you walking away from something, maybe even feeling a bit lost or disillusioned. It’s like you've outgrown a situation or mindset, and that was necessary for what’s coming. The queen of swords follows, showing that you’ve gained clarity and strength from this journey. You’re decisive, ready to cut through the noise.

And then we have death – transformation, an end making way for a powerful new beginning. It’s like you needed to shed an old identity or belief to step into this new chapter. The king of swords mirrors the queen, showing someone who meets you at your level, intellectually and emotionally. This is where that 2 of cups energy comes in. It feels like a meeting of equals, a partnership that’s balanced, mutual, and deeply fulfilling.

Now, the ace of pentacles reversed is interesting. This might indicate a missed opportunity in the past or a delay in materializing something you’ve wanted. But The hierophant is here, almost reassuring you that the wait was necessary. It’s like the universe was orchestrating everything behind the scenes, aligning the timing perfectly.

The tower reversed tells me you’ve already gone through the hardest part – the breakdown, the chaos. You’ve rebuilt, and now you’re standing stronger than ever. The star reversed suggests that maybe you lost hope along the way, felt uncertain about the future. But the queen of cups closes this out, bringing emotional fulfillment and healing. There’s a softness here, a feeling of finally being understood and cherished.

With that 2 of cups at the bottom... yeah, this better day is undeniably tied to love, a destined partnership that brings everything full circle. It feels like meeting someone who sees you, truly sees you, and loves every part of who you are. This day will be a turning point, one of those moments where you look back and realize it changed everything.

Group 2

Cards: The hierophant, the hanged man, knight of cups (reversed), 2 of swords (reversed), 5 of cups (reversed), 7 of pentacles, the high priestess, 2 of pentacles (reversed), 8 of wands

Alright, group 2... the first thing that jumps out is the hierophant and the high priestess. This is no coincidence. These two together are like the ultimate spiritual pair. We’re talking about a connection that goes beyond the physical, something that feels almost otherworldly. This better day is tied to someone who just gets you on a soul level, someone you don’t need to explain yourself to because they understand you intuitively.

I’m looking at the hierophant and the hanged man together, and I feel like you’ve been waiting for this for a long time. It’s like life put you on pause, almost as if the universe needed you to be still, to reflect, to see things from a new perspective. And I get it – waiting isn’t easy. It can feel like nothing is happening, but this wasn’t time wasted. You were learning, growing, and preparing for this moment.

Then there’s the knight of cups reversed. I won’t sugarcoat it – this tells me there’s been emotional disappointment in your past. Maybe you opened your heart before and it didn’t go the way you hoped. It’s like you gave and gave, but didn’t receive the same in return. And that hurt, it made you question if real love was even out there for you. But then I see the 2 of swords reversed, and it’s like a breath of fresh air. You’re no longer stuck in your head, no longer torn between your heart and your mind. There’s a sense of clarity, a decision made.

Now, the 5 of cups reversed... wow. This is emotional healing, but not just the surface-level kind. This is you finally letting go of the past, releasing the grief and disappointments that weighed heavy on your heart. It’s that moment when you realize that all those tears, all those lonely nights, they were preparing you for something better. And the 7 of pentacles confirms this – you’ve been so patient, nurturing your dreams, healing yourself, doing the inner work. You didn’t give up, even when it felt like nothing was changing.

Then we get to the high priestess, and it all makes sense. You’ve always known, haven’t you? Deep down, you’ve always felt that something bigger was meant for you, even if you couldn’t explain it. This is your intuition guiding you, whispering that your patience is about to be rewarded. And then... the 2 of pentacles reversed. It feels like a release, like you finally drop what no longer serves you. Maybe it’s old fears, maybe it’s doubts, or maybe it’s a life that felt out of balance.

And then – boom – the 8 of wands. Everything starts moving. Fast. It’s like all the delays, all the waiting... it was building up to this. Suddenly, the path clears, and everything starts falling into place. I’m getting chills just writing this because it feels like one of those days where life changes in an instant. One minute, everything is normal, and the next, it’s like the stars align.

I can’t stop thinking about the hierophant and the high priestess. This is a spiritual union, and it’s not just about romance. It’s about meeting someone who speaks the same language as your soul. Someone who understands you without words, who sees the real you, the version of yourself that you sometimes hide from the world. This person... they were meant for you. It’s like you’ve danced around each other in past lives, always finding each other again.

And with the 8 of wands, I have to say it – this is coming sooner than you think. It feels so close, like you could cross paths any day now. And it’s going to be so natural, so effortless. You’ll look back and realize that all the waiting, all the heartbreaks, were leading you right here.

I keep coming back to those reversed twos – 2 of swords and 2 of pentacles. It’s like the end of confusion, the end of indecision. You won’t have to question this, you won’t feel torn. It’s going to be so clear, so obvious that this is meant to be. And that, that’s the beauty of this better day. It’s the day everything clicks.

This isn’t just a good day – this is one of the best days of your life. It’s the day you realize why it never worked out with anyone else, the day you feel everything fall into place. It’s the day your heart finally feels at home.

Group 3

Cards: 6 of wands, knight of cups (reversed), page of wands, king of pentacles, strength, 9 of cups (reversed), justice, the fool (reversed), 6 of cups, 4 of wands (2 of cups at the bottom of the deck, with judgment underneath)

Group 3... right away, I’m drawn to the contrast between the 6 of wands and the knight of cups reversed. It’s almost like you’ve reached a victory, you’ve got eyes on you, people admiring you, maybe even celebrating your achievements. But then, there’s that knight of cups reversed, like an emotional offer that’s delayed or held back. It makes me feel like there’s someone who wants to come forward, who sees you shining and feels all these things... but they’re hesitant. It’s almost as if they think you’re too good for them, like you’re out of their league now.

And then we get to the page of wands and the king of pentacles. I’m feeling two very different energies here. The page of wands is excitement, curiosity, this youthful spark of adventure. It’s like you’re ready to take on the world, eager for new experiences. But then the king of pentacles grounds all that fiery energy. This is stability, success, abundance. I’m getting this powerful image of someone who’s worked hard, who’s built themselves up from the ground, and is now ready to enjoy the fruits of their labor. It’s like you’ve mastered the balance between excitement and responsibility, between dreaming big and making it happen.

And right in the middle, we have strength. This is resilience, inner power, grace under pressure. You’ve been through so much, group 3. You’ve faced challenges that could’ve broken you, but you came out stronger. This better day is one where you look around and realize just how far you’ve come, how much you’ve grown. It’s that deep sense of pride in yourself, knowing that nothing and no one can shake you.

But then... the 9 of cups reversed. Huh. It’s that feeling of almost having it all but still feeling like something’s missing. It’s like you’ve achieved so much on your own, you’ve built this amazing life... but you want someone to share it with. And I’m looking at justice and the fool reversed right after, and it hits me – you’re ready for that new chapter, for that balance and harmony, but you’re cautious. You’re not about to take any reckless leaps. You’ve learned your lessons, and you’re not settling for anything less than what you deserve.

Then we get to the 6 of cups, the 4 of wands... and I can’t help but smile. These are such beautiful cards, so full of warmth and joy. The 6 of cups feels nostalgic, like reconnecting with someone from your past, someone who once made you feel safe and understood. And then the 4 of wands... celebration, union, pure happiness. It feels like coming home. And I can’t ignore the 2 of cups at the bottom of the deck, with judgment underneath. This is reconciliation. This is destiny. This is a soulmate.

I’m getting chills because this better day... it’s the day you’re reunited with someone who was meant to be in your life. Maybe you drifted apart, maybe timing was off, but they’re coming back. And it’s so beautiful because it’s not just about love – it’s about deep, soul-level understanding. It’s like meeting a mirror of your own soul. I mean, look at the combination – 6 of cups, 2 of cups, 4 of wands, judgment... this is divine timing. This is fate stepping in.

Oh, and I almost forgot – the judgment card below the 2 of cups. This is a wake-up call, a moment of clarity, of realizing exactly why everything happened the way it did. It’s like looking back and finally understanding the bigger picture. This better day... it’s the day you find closure, healing, and the love you’ve been waiting for. It’s the day everything clicks, and you feel complete.

I have to mention – the knight of cups reversed at the start... this could be them. They’ve been hesitant, holding back, maybe even afraid to reach out. But by the end of this, they can’t resist it anymore. The pull is too strong, the connection too deep. They’re coming forward, and it’s going to change everything.

This is the day your heart finds its home.

Group 4

Cards: King of swords (reversed), knight of swords, 5 of cups (reversed), 6 of swords (reversed), the high priestess, 2 of wands (reversed), the chariot (reversed), 9 of swords (reversed), 2 of swords (reversed), 9 of pentacles (reversed), 7 of wands (reversed) (ace of swords at the bottom of the deck)

Okay, group 4... wow, there’s so much going on here. All these swords... it feels heavy, like your mind has been in overdrive. It’s this overwhelming mental energy – overthinking, replaying situations, analyzing every little detail. I feel like you’ve been stuck in your head, trapped in a loop of “what ifs” and “should haves.”

We start with the king of swords reversed, and this hits me as mental chaos. It’s like you’ve been trying to make sense of everything, trying to find clarity, but the more you think about it, the more confused you get. And then the knight of swords comes charging in... this is impulsive, restless energy. It feels like you’ve been reacting quickly, maybe even saying things in the heat of the moment, or just feeling this urgency to get out of your own head. It’s like you’re trying to outrun your thoughts, but they keep catching up.

Then the 5 of cups reversed shows up, and I feel this release. This is you finally letting go of the past, of regrets and disappointments. It’s realizing that you can’t change what happened, but you can choose to move forward. And yet... the 6 of swords reversed is right there, pulling you back. It’s like something from the past keeps haunting you, something unresolved. It feels like you’ve been trying to heal, trying to move on, but there’s this one thing – or maybe one person – you can’t fully let go of.

But then the high priestess appears, and I get chills. This is your intuition, your inner voice that’s been quietly guiding you all along. It’s like you’ve always known the answer, but you’ve been avoiding it, maybe because facing it is scary, or because it would mean making a difficult choice. But this card... it’s a reminder that deep down, you already know what you need to do.

Then we get the 2 of wands reversed and the chariot reversed. This is feeling stuck, feeling like no matter how hard you try, you’re not moving forward. And it’s so frustrating because you want to move on, you want that freedom... but something keeps holding you back. It’s like being at a crossroads but feeling too confused or too afraid to take the next step.

But here’s where it gets interesting – the 9 of swords reversed. This is you breaking free from that mental prison, from the anxiety and sleepless nights. It’s like you’re finally realizing that these fears, these worries... they’re not as powerful as they seemed. You’re reclaiming your peace of mind.

And then the 2 of swords reversed... clarity. I feel this huge sigh of relief, like the fog is lifting. You’re no longer stuck in indecision, no longer paralyzed by fear. You’re seeing the truth, and it’s setting you free.

And the 9 of pentacles reversed... this is hitting me as a reminder that it’s okay to lean on others. You don’t have to carry this burden alone. It’s okay to ask for help, to admit that you’re not perfect, and that’s perfectly fine. And the 7 of wands reversed – you don’t have to keep fighting, keep defending yourself. It’s safe to let your guard down. It’s safe to be vulnerable.

And then... the ace of swords at the bottom of the deck. This is the breakthrough moment. This is that flash of clarity, that “aha” moment where everything just clicks. It’s the truth cutting through all the confusion, all the noise. It’s like suddenly everything makes sense, and you can breathe again.

This better day... I’m feeling it so clearly. It’s the day you break free from this mental labyrinth. It’s the day you realize that all this overthinking, all this worry... it doesn’t control you. It’s the day you finally listen to that quiet voice inside, the one that’s been guiding you all along. It’s the day you make peace with the past, with yourself.

And looking at all these swords, it’s like you’ve been battling with your own mind for so long... but on this day, you lay down your weapons. You find peace not by fighting your thoughts, but by accepting them, by understanding them. It’s the day you find clarity, the day you find freedom.

It’s the day you choose to let go, to forgive yourself, to stop overthinking and just be. And I can feel how liberating that’s going to be for you. This better day... it’s the day you finally find peace within yourself.

-xoxo🙏🏻✨️

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moonlitcelestial · 3 months ago

Text

Beyond the Lens Masterlist

Logbook Videographer!Reader x Poly OT8 Ateez

Main Masterlist

Disclaimer: This story is purely a work of fiction. It is not meant to assume or mock anything about Ateez, Atiny, or anything relating to what I do not know about being a videographer.

Synopsis: Capturing life’s favorite moments, that’s what you were paid to do. You did not expect things to go the way they have and end up where you have. Follow the reader in one of the biggest opportunities of their life. Being the Logbook videographer for your favorite group Ateez should be great, right?

The logo in the center is mine. Please do not reuse or copy.

There are a few characteristics that will be set in stone the following will apply:

Reader is female.

Reader’s height ~5’9” which is 69 inches or 175.26 centimeters,

Reader is nearsighted and has glasses,

Reader has a gothic/dark academia style,

Reader has lots of tattoos, and

Reader has 3 cats (Maine Coons).

THESE CONTAIN POSSIBLE SPOILERS!!! VIEW WITH CAUTION

Here is the link to Inspiration Pictures that I will be using. This will be updated as the story goes on.

Here is the Pinterest Board Masterlist I have for this as well.

Warnings: slow burn, cussing, conflict, angst, fluff, and obliviousness.

Author’s notes: I will warn you now, this will not be perfect by any means. I am doing this by myself and looking at things for so long makes you miss things. If you see anything please let me know. Let me know if you would like to be added to the taglist as well!

☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★

Word Count ~ 220,270

AO3

Inspiration Pictures

Pinterest Board Masterlist

Deleted Scenes

★☆☽ O ☾☆★

Prologue W/C 3,435

Chapter 1 W/C 1,845

Chapter 2 W/C 2,752

Chapter 3 W/C 3,003

Chapter 4 W/C 3,252

Chapter 5 W/C 3,814

Chapter 6 Remastered W/C 6,741

Chapter 7 W/C 7,291

Chapter 8 W/C 8,208

Chapter 9 W/C 7,878

Chapter 10 W/C 6,436

Chapter 11 W/C 8,491

Chapter 12 W/C 10,667

Chapter 13 W/C 13,731

Chapter 14 W/C 10,602

Chapter 15 W/C 9,888

Chapter 16 W/C 11,450

Chapter 17 W/C 14,207

Chapter 18 W/C 12,065

Chapter 19 W/C 16,739

Chapter 20 W/C 16,169

Chapter 21 W/C 12,311

Chapter 22 W/C 11,915

Chapter 23 W/C 17,399

Likes, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!

Thanks for reading!

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joequiinn · 1 year ago

Text

The Dos & Don'ts of Fake Dating | E.M. x reader | pt. 5

[chap four] | [all chapters here] | [chap six]

Summary | You propose a crazy idea to the resident freak of Hawkins, Eddie Munson. But maybe he was even crazier for agreeing to it…

Warnings & Notes | fem reader, slow burn, faking dating, opposites attract, bratty rich bitch reader, super minor revenge plot, not-quite-enemies-to-lovers

Author's Note | I'm very excited for this chapter because it's actually one of the scenes that inspired this whole fic! Before I knew what the hell I even wanted to write, I played this idea of a figure skating character over and over again in my head as I built up the story around it. I'm a little behind on writing the next chap, so it may be a slightly longer wait between this and the next one! Hope you all love it!

WC | 4.8k

Taglist | @costellation-hunter @daisyridleyss @damon-loves-pie @damp4eddie @delilaaahhh @em0220 @fromasgardandback @kthomps914 @lotrefcp @marrowfrog00 @mewchiili @munsonssweets @no-bueno-writer @rach5ive @sav12321 @sheneedsrocknroll92 @steeldaisies @stormgrl19

Chapter Five

You skated at least four times a week. You’ve done so since you were ten years old, when you decided that you wanted to take figure skating more seriously. Whether or not you had competitions, whether or not you were in the mood for it, you always stuck with your skating routine. With competition season coming up in November, you knew you’d have to start practicing more, putting in longer hours and more days in preparation.

Or maybe not. After all, competing was something that your mom enjoyed, that she encouraged wholeheartedly. Regardless of how much you enjoyed it, it didn’t exactly fit the teenage rebellion thing you had going on right now. Maybe you wouldn’t go to competition this year, maybe you’d skip out on your final season out of pure spite - now that would be cruel. Although a part of you hurt at that idea - because you really did love skating - you reasoned that it was something you had to consider.

Fridays were always very long days for you. While your peers would be set free to roam following the 3pm school bell, you had more obligations for the day. Once you left school, you crammed in as much homework as you could before hitting the ice rink by 4:30 at the latest to get your own practice in. Once that was done, you led a youth skating practice until 7pm, then you tried to squeeze in some more skating time before the hockey team took to the ice at 7:15. After arriving home at 8 o’clock or later, you crammed more homework so you wouldn’t have to deal with it over the weekend, and then by that point you’d be too worn out for anything else, so you generally slept late into the next morning.

This had been your routine for over a year now, ever since your own couch suggested that you needed to get more extracurriculars under your belt for your college applications. She had insisted that your resume would look far more impressive if you showed that you had teaching experience and “leadership potential,” an idea that really appealed to your parents, who were determined for you to get into a good school, maybe even on a figure skating scholarship. So, you ended up taking over the Friday night children’s lessons whether you wanted to or not.

You honestly despised it. You led children age 5 to 7, and they were a constant pain in the ass. You couldn’t raise your voice without one of them crying, you couldn’t leave them to their own devices without someone inevitably ending up hurt. Yet, you stuck with it because you were told to, because the adults around you insisted that you needed to. You couldn’t stand the way your coach would insist that this would help develop your skills, you couldn’t stand how your mother insisted “you’ll look back on this so fondly when you’re older.” These damned kids skating lessons were something else you’d probably drop soon, because you barely tolerated them as is.

While everyone else was at the football game, while Eddie was probably off playing his stupid fantasy game or doing something equally as nerdy, you were here at the ice rink, shouting instructions at children while parents and hockey players watched. Some of the parents had made it clear before that they weren’t fond of your impatient and mean teaching methods, but your coach always seemed to talk them out of pulling their kids from your group. She always argued something about you being the best skating in the county, but you weren’t sure how true that was - sure, you had your fair share of medals, but even with your ego you were pretty sure there were better skaters at your level.

“Come on, slackers, we’ve got five minutes left!” You taunted your group of 11 kids as they skated around the perimeter of the rink as a cool down. You zipped ahead of them, leading the charge as you skated backwards to keep an eye on them.

Many of the older kids had grown used to your abrasive coaching, but you could see that many of the newbies were still frightened of you, your loud voice, and your cold eyes. As a means of excusing your poor teaching style, you always said that skating was a tough sport and they needed to toughen up if they wanted to be any good at it. For how pretty and elegant figure skating could be, you knew from experience that competitive skating could be harsh, so you figured you were helping these kids prepare for it.

Because the Hawkins High hockey team had the rink after your group every Friday, many of them were already sitting on the sidelines, getting their gear ready or watching you work. The cocky part of you enjoyed the attention, but hockey players were stupid, so you rarely gave any of them a chance whenever they tried talking to you. Nonetheless, when you were in a good mood, you enjoyed putting on a bit of a show for them, shooting flirty glances their way or occasionally calling out remarks to them between instructing the kids. Tonight, you were paying them little mind, but that didn’t stop you from looking their way every now and again.

As you led the kids back to the center of the ice to wrap up the lesson, a lot of their parents were also waiting in the bleachers or out in the lobby. While you skated back and forth in front of your little army of children, going over some instructions for their next practice with your coach on Monday, your eyes roamed the bleachers. You gave a wicked grin to the hockey players that watched you, meanwhile you took in the parents with very little regards. It was as you looked over the clusters of parents that you saw a familiar face sitting at the penalty bench, and unintentionally you let your toe pick drag on the ice, which very nearly caused you to trip.

God damn Eddie Munson.

As you glared in his direction, hoping your momentary lack of balance didn’t make you look too stupid, you dismissed the kids before gliding towards the dasher board. Eddie, grinning like an asshole, stood up to meet you as children began to exit the ice. You braced yourself on the rail of the board, eyes narrowed at Eddie who appeared far too amused for your liking.

“What are you doing here?” You ask in lieu of a greeting. Eddie briefly glances over at the kids leaving the ice.

“You’re incredible with children.” He mocked, smiling far too wide for your liking; you narrowed your eyes while wondering just how long he’d been here, “Figured I might find you here.”

“That doesn’t explain why you’re here, though.” You respond coldly, gaze briefly looking in the direction of the hockey team to find a couple of them watching your interaction.

“You did say we needed to make plans, figure out how this was going to work,” Eddie started, taking in your red cheeks and slightly damp forehead that developed over the course of your skating lessons.

“I also said we’d talk about it next week.” You glowered a little, not worried if any of the hockey players saw it - maybe they’d simply mistake it for a lovers quarrel. Eddie grinned, holding his arms up as if he were a presenter on some dumb show.

“No time like the present, right?” Your unamused face gave him all the answer he needed, and his expression fell a little in annoyance, “And here I hoped I was being a good fake boyfriend by visiting you at the rink.”

“You’re being too good a fake boyfriend,” You jab.

Now that all the kids were off the ice, you slid towards the open gate; Eddie kept pace with you on the other side of the dasher board, meeting you at the gate and offering you his hand in assistance. You looked between his face and his outstretched hand with a glare, but eventually accepted his help, stepping over the barrier and onto the slightly cushy floor on the other side.

“I told you not tonight because I’m busy.” You walk over to the gym bag you left sitting on the nearest bleachers. As you sat beside it, Eddie shrugged with a carelessness that seemed almost false.

“Then I’ll go.” He answered simply as you removed your skates, “Just thought it might not be a bad idea to get to know you a little better. It’s not gonna be easy to fake date someone who you know nothing about.”

You shot him a harsh look while putting skate guards over your blades. You didn’t want to admit that he was right, but he had a good point, especially since you had already discussed it before. You sighed heavily through your nose, your cold eyes locked on Eddie’s.

“Can’t it wait? I’ve had a long day.”

Eddie studied you for a moment, leaning back against the dasher board before looking around the ice rink. You quickly put some worn sneakers on your feet and stood, picking your bag and turning away with the intention to leave. But Eddie’s gentle grip on your wrist stopped you from going anywhere, causing you to look between his hand and his face. As you two held eye contact, you realized that Eddie could be just as stubborn as you when he wanted; damn, was this going to be difficult.

“Let me buy you dinner - I’m sure you’re starving,” Eddie started, and for a fleeting moment you wondered if he thought your attitude was because you were hangry. You chewed your lower lip, eyes staring critically at Eddie for another few moments before you let out a defeated sigh, allowing your shoulders to relax a little. Considering that it had been nearly eight hours since your lunch break, it might now be a bad idea to eat something.

Eddie’s eyes softened at your silent resignation, the corner of his mouth pulling up. He finally released your wrist, nodding his head in the direction of the lobby, “Come on, you pick.”

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

Your pick ended up being a 24-hour diner downtown. Eddie showed clear confusion when you mentioned it, so you explained that - for whatever reason - the diner had become something of a tradition, where students congregated post-Friday night football into the wee hours of the night. You’d joined that crowd a number of times in the past, but had no more interest in it - what you were interested in was having people see you and Eddie out together.

You knew it would still be at least an hour before the football crowd arrived, but that wasn’t such a bad thing - it gave you and Eddie a bit of time to actually become acquainted, to learn more about each other beyond “ice princess” and “the freak.”

You studied Eddie while sipping on a chocolate shake, waiting for your food to arrive. He stared back at you unabashedly, and you figured you could be locked into this staring contest until the end of time given how stubborn you both could be. As if Eddie knew what you were thinking, he smirked, finally caving as he looked away from you.

“Not to sound cliche,” Eddie scratched the back of his neck, almost as if he were nervous, but you assumed that couldn’t be true, “but… tell me about yourself?”

You smiled at how dumb the question was - that was so cliche. It was as good a starting place as any you figured, but that didn’t make it sound any less silly and forced. You leaned back in your seat, still holding tight to your milkshake as if it were a lifeline.

Putting on your best Miss America voice, you replied, “Well, I’m freshly 18 from Hawkins, Indiana. I love long walks on the beach, snuggling up with a good book, and I hope one day we’ll have world peace.”

Eddie narrowed his eyes at you, although you could tell he was fighting back a grin, “You’re making this very challenging considering that it was your idea.”

You shrug, taking a big gulp of the chocolate shake, “I guess I’m just a challenging person.”

“You guess?” Eddie laughed mockingly at that, “You’re the most challenging I’ve met. So, how about you try relaxing a little or else no one’s going to buy that we’re together.”

You made a face at the near-insult, finally putting down your drink. You leaned your elbows on the table, taking in Eddie’s face for a moment, stubbornly resisting the urge to say anything. Again, he had a good point, not that you wanted to tell him that. Eddie appeared to have an idea as he mirrored your pose.

“Okay, we’ll go back and forth, a question for a question; how’s that?” You nodded, “Right. First question: Why me?”

Your brows furrowed a little in thought, pinning down a good answer while trying to recall what you’ve already told him, “Haven’t I already explained that?”

“Kind of.” Eddie rolled his hand in a motion that basically said “but go on.”

You bit the inside of your cheek for a moment while thinking, “Your reputation. People don’t know you, but your reputation is in the absolute gutter. No better person to turn to than the guy who everyone in the school already hates.”

Eddie nodded in acceptance of the answer, “Okay, your turn.”

You grinned a little, a question already on your lips, “Why’d you agree to it?”

It was something you’d speculated briefly throughout the week, as you thought that your trade offer might not have been a compelling enough reason for Eddie to agree to this stupid plan. And now you could finally get the answer you were looking for.

Eddie silently stared at you in consideration, and again it almost felt like he was able to read your thoughts somehow. Finally, he answered, “Curiosity.”

You raised a brow in question, to which he once more scratched the back of his neck - maybe that actually was a nervous habit, so you took note of it.

“We both know this idea is kinda crazy,” Eddie started, mulling over his thoughts before continuing, “But I wanted to see how it plays out. See if we can actually trick people into believing it. And I wanted to see if you were as awful as I thought you were.”

You balked instantly, an amused huff escaping your mouth, “‘Awful?’ Jesus, you keep acting like I’m the devil or something.”

Eddie made a face while shrugging, not disagreeing with you, “You thought the same about me. So, let’s call it square.”

Food was finally brought to your table, and you had to resist the urge to attack the greasy burger set in front of you; you didn’t need Eddie to see you act like a ravenous gremlin over some food, even if it had been over eight hours since you’d eaten anything. But you nonetheless dug in, albeit with far more control than your empty, growling stomach would have liked.

“Your turn.” You say around a bite of food, causing Eddie to smile in amusement and the unladylike action.

“Hmm…” He leaned forward, scrutinizing you as he contemplated his next question. Self consciously, you wiped at the corner of your mouth just to make sure there wasn’t any stray ketchup or grease sitting there, “Why ice skating?”

“Because it’s better than cheerleading.” You smiled at your own joke before giving a slightly better answer, “I always thought it was pretty. Nothing else to it, unfortunately; no deep story and significance to it.”

“Fine.” Eddie responded almost as if he was disappointed by the mundane answer.

“Why Dungeons and Dragons?”

“Your questions can’t keep being off-shoots of mine.” Eddie laughed a little, and despite yourself it caused you to smile smally as well.

“Says who?”

“Says me,” He responded while pointing at himself, “I get to come up with some of the rules now, remember?”

“Whatever.” You rolled your eyes with a degree of fondness, which you immediately found strange, so you tried to wipe the look from your face. Nope, you weren’t fond of Eddie Munson, not at all.

You went back to your food, hoping Eddie didn’t catch the amused look on your face. You spoke around another bite of food, “Do you have siblings?”

“None that I know of.” He replied around his own mouthful of food, “But I wouldn’t exactly be surprised if there were any out there.”

You cocked your head a little at the response; it wasn’t so much shocking or sad, rather it was unexpected and different from your own life. You made a mental note to learn more about Eddie’s family, if not tonight then at a later point.

“What’s your plan after graduation?”

You opened your mouth to answer, but then paused - what was your plan now that you were trying to make your own decisions? You hadn’t even considered it. Did you still want to go to college? Where? Studying what? You suddenly realized that you had no true plan for yourself, only the one outlined by your parents, and that realization made you nervous.

“Honest answer: not a fucking clue.” Eddie looked taken aback by the response, so you continued, “My plan before was getting into a good school on a skating scholarship, and studying something completely irrelevant. My parents expect my skating to carry me through life until some good, rich man sweeps me off my feet.”

“But that’s not your plan anymore?”

“That’s another question.” You give him a teasing grin, causing Eddie to roll his eyes, “First, answer me this: If you weren’t stuck in Hawkins, where would you go?”

Eddie grinned with an unexpected eagerness, “LA. The music scene there is insane, and I’d happily sleep on the streets if it meant I had a shot at making my own music.”

Your eyes softened ever so slightly at the unexpected, genuine response - admittedly, you didn’t peg Eddie as the type to have any real goals. But music? That was interesting to you since you weren’t even aware that he played any instruments. You wondered if he was actually any good at it, or if it was some foolish aspiration.

“Now, what’s your plan?” Eddie repeated, smirking at the look on your face - this was one of the few times you didn’t look like a total bitch, so he appreciated it. In fact, you looked relaxed and, dare he say, content; that was certainly unexpected from you.

When you shrugged, he shook his head, leaning forward again, “No, you come up with a plan right now. Don’t base it off what your parents want or what you think sounds like the right answer. What do you want to do with your life once we’re done with this shit hole?”

You contemplated, a mild concern washing over you as you stared at Eddie - what the hell did you want? And why did you suddenly feel so vulnerable because of the question. You had to rip your gaze away from Eddie’s, hardening your expression as you tried to think up an answer that felt right.

“I… I like art, I love clothes,” You started dumbly, glancing at Eddie through your lashes, expecting him to make a face at the lame answer, “I don’t know shit about them in a technical way, but it might be fun for college. Take painting or sewing classes during the day, skate until my feet hurt at night, maybe… I want to be somewhere big and interesting. New York, LA… fuck, even Florida for all I care, I just want out of Hawkins, out of this town.”

“Then I guess we’ll be those high school sweethearts that run off to LA together after graduation, huh?” Eddie smiled widely, and you allowed an amused look to cross your face.

“Oh, I’m sure.” You returned to your food as you tried to come up with a good question for Eddie. An intriguing one came to you, so you asked before you could second guess it, “How do you expect your fake girlfriend to act?”

Eddie’s brow furrowed; it didn’t appear to be due to him misunderstanding the question, but rather that it was unexpected; he even looked maybe hesitant to answer it. Again, he scratched his neck.

You lean forward a little, looking at him seriously, “Give me a good answer, okay? We’re just gonna keep going in circles otherwise.”

Eddie shrugged, “Maybe I don’t have any expectations.”

“Then come up with some.” You immediately counter, prodding the same way he had about your plans for the future. Eddie stared at you with scrutiny while chewing the inside of his lip, as if he didn’t want to come up with a response to the question. You waited, making a mock sweet face at him while you chowed down on your fries. You were going to demand an answer until he gave you one.

“Well, going off the rules you already established,” He made a bit of a face as if to mock the oh-so-sacred fake dating rules, “Aside from playing nice in front of others, it might be helpful if you were less stubborn; you’re like a damn bull.”

You gave him a joshing smile right back, “Fair. Is that it?”

Eddie quickly shook his finger; now it was just a back-and-forth game of you mocking one another, “Ah, that’s another question.”

“Oh, fuck off.” You rolled your eyes with a short laugh, “That is not another question.”

Eddie gave a fake look of apology, shrugging again, “Unfortunately, it is.”

You threw a french fry at him, which lamely hit his chest then landed in his lap. As he laughed and picked it up, you found yourself smiling fondly again, and you quickly tried to shake off the expression.

At that moment, the bell above the front door chimed, and immediately the diner was filled with rambunctious conversation. Your heart jumped a little, realizing the time, and you briefly glanced in the direction of the door; the group that had entered wasn’t your friends, although you recognized them. You turned your attention back to Eddie, who gave you another grin.

“Showtime.” He stated simply, and then a thought appeared to cross his mind, “You want another expectation? Tell me if anything I do is too much, but otherwise let me do what I do - you don’t need to be in control all the time.”

“Don’t I, though?” You countered haughtily, which was met by a flash of seriousness across Eddie’s eyes.

“No, you don’t. I know what I’m doing, okay?”

You studied him for a moment, not entirely convinced that he did, in fact, know what he was doing. Considering that you’d never seen him even interact with a girl before, you weren’t sure if he knew the first thing about dating or romance. But despite your doubts, you relented, relaxing your shoulders as if to show you were relinquishing some control.

“Fine,” You rolled your eyes nonetheless, forever obstinate as you mocked, “I’ll tell you if I don’t like something, but otherwise I’ll let you do what you do.”

“Was that so hard?” Eddie replied with a condescending smirk. You sneered before relaxing your face, knowing your friends were bound to appear any minute now.

As you stole another glance at the door, you suddenly felt Eddie’s fingers graze the back of your hand, drawing your attention back to him with a confused little knot between your brows. He held your gaze as if to make a point, as if to remind you of the conversation you just had, that he knew what he was doing. His hand simply sat on top of yours, your fingers ever so slightly lacing together - he raised his brows as if to dare you to pull away from him. You had to resist the urge to narrow your eyes at him and snatch your hand away, and in turn Eddie gave you a cocky grin before continuing to eat with his free hand.

Eventually, your friends appeared, although they didn’t notice you at first. They were all so full of energy as they excitedly spoke to each other, descending upon a few tables in the middle of the diner and pushing them together. The staff were used to it, although you knew from experience that they nonetheless hated it; you guys were always disruptive to the other patrons, and you figured that was never going to change.

You tried your best not to stare, but your eyes kept trailing over, kept studying the excited faces of the people you considered friends only a couple of weeks ago. After your eyes had drifted over for the umpteenth time, you felt Eddie lightly squeeze your fingers, causing you to unintentionally sneer at how strange it was to maintain this physical contact with him.

“Stop staring,” He instructed when you looked back at him.

With a quarrelsome look in your eyes, you did as Eddie told you, returning your attention to the half eaten burger on your plate, “Talk to me about something, then.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t care, just talk so I can pretend to be interested.”

Eddie looked mildly put off by that, and you realized that you’d taken your customary mean tone with him. You couldn’t seem to help yourself with your former cohorts nearby, it was as if their energy was rubbing off on you.

“You know what I’m going to talk about,” Eddie taunted with a wide grin.

Your face fell in realization, “Please not Dungeons and Dragons.”

“I’m gonna do it.”

“I wish you wouldn’t.”

“So, there’s this character, Kas, who has really interesting lore--”

You threw another fry at Eddie, and at that same moment, you felt someone come up alongside your table. You both look up to see Amelia there with a critical look on her face; your gaze drifts past her, noticing that a few people from her table were also looking at you and Eddie.

You met Amelia’s eyes again, giving her a wide, false smile, “Small world.”

Her eyes narrowed as she crossed her arms, “Yeah, I’m sure you just completely forgot we always come here after games.”

“Maybe she just wanted to see her dear friends.” Eddie chimed in mockingly, once again surprising you with his willingness to instigate confrontation. You laughed as a dumbfounded look crossed Amelia’s at his remark.

“I don’t know what the hell she sees in you.” Amelia snarked with a glare before turning her gaze back to you, “And I don’t know what the hell is going on with you, but it’s already getting pretty old.”

You shrug with exaggerated nonchalance, “Sometimes a girl just needs a bit of a change every now and then, you know?”

Amelia didn’t look convinced as she rolled her eyes with a dramatic sigh, “Yeah, well, this ‘change’ doesn’t suit you at all.”

Before you could respond with another quip, Amelia spun on her heel and briskly returned to her table. By that point, everyone there was watching and awaiting Amelia’s return, quickly huddling together to whisper conspiratorially once she sat down.

You and Eddie shared an amused glance; he went back to poking at his food as your gaze trailed back to Amelia and company. You happened to lock eyes with Duncan, who stared at you with harsh scrutiny, as if he wasn’t buying this thing between you and Eddie in the slightest. You gave Duncan a mocking while, starting to wave before flipping him off, causing Eddie to snort and choke on his food. You couldn’t help but laugh out loud as he hit his chest a couple of times, trying to clear his throat. The sound of such a genuine laugh escaping you was absolutely foreign to Eddie, but he decided it was a sound he enjoyed, even if it was at his expense; he made a mental note that he had to find ways to make you laugh more that didn’t involve him choking.

“You could’ve killed me.” Eddie croaked before laughing himself, his smile wide.

“You’re fine.” You teased, squeezing his fingers while giving him a false pout of sympathy, “You big baby.”

Eddie rolled his eyes in amusement, digging his wallet out while finally relinquishing the grip he had on your hand, “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

He tossed money onto the table and stood, offering his hand to you again. You quickly snagged one last fry before accepting Eddie’s hand, allowing him to pull you to your feet. He once again laced his fingers with yours as he led you through the crowded diner, and you had to fight back the desire to cringe in confusion at it. The both of you eyed the crowd of Hawkins High’s elite as they watched you back critically.

Once outside the diner, Eddie paused in front of one of the large windows and pulled a ridiculous face at the kids still watching you; he quickly tugged your arm, leading you back towards the van as you laughed again at his antics.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x you #stranger things #em #dos and donts

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princessleechan · 2 years ago

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choi seungcheol must die masterlist

📌synopsis: Mingyu wasn't the one with his heart broken. It was his little sister. And Seokmin's older sister. And Chan's best friend. Choi Seungcheol is a menace to society and needs to be put down. Immediately. The sure fire way to do it is to give him a taste of his own medicine: break his heart. 📌pairing: fem!reader x ??? (seungcheol, mingyu, seokmin, chan) 📌genre: slight angst, romance, humor, eventual smut 📌series tags: 18+ only, SMAU, inspired by “John tucker must die”, John tucker!seungcheol, college au, revenge fic, tags will vary from chapter 📌status: COMPLETED WITH BONUSES TO COME 📌started: oct 6th, 2023 - feb 18, 2024 📌Tag list: please reply to this post, send an ask, or dm to get updated

Profiles #1, #2, #3

Act I :

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10

Act II :

11 | 12 | 13+bonus written scene | 14+bonus written scene | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25

Act III

26 | 27 | 28 | 29 written scene | 30+bonus written scene(18+) | 31 | 32 | 33 | 34 | 35 | 36 | 37

Epilogue

Bonus:

#seventeen smau #svt #seventeen #seventeen x you #seventeen x reader #seventeen x y/n #choi seungcheol #kim mingyu #lee seokmin #lee chan #scoups #dokyeom #lee dokyeom #seventeen dino #seventeen scoups #seventeen mingyu #seventeen scenarios #plc.smaus💕#nana writes

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krokusplays · 23 days ago

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A Rising Dawn - Chapter 5

Mydei x (female) Reader

Fic Rating: Mature (will change for a later chapter)

Chapter Length: 4.1k

Fic Status: Ongoing (5/8)

Tags/Warnings: Fluff, Romance, Hurt/Comfort, Falling in Love, Learning to Trust, Sweet, Wholesome, basically no angst, no use of y/n, smut in a later chapter, set before the events of 3.0

Author's Notes: I'm really glad that most figured out what mythological figure Reader is based on. If you didn't: Reader is based on Andromeda. I had the idea for Reader's backstory and given how Mydei's backstory was also inspired by Perseus's story it felt so fitting <3 That aside, this chapter contains a scene I enjoyed writing so much ;; I hope you'll like it <3

Previous Chapter

AO3 Link

Summary: In the Holy City, daily life remained the same for the citizens despite the threat of the Black Tide lurking beyond the city's borders.

But sometimes, a brief encounter can bring about a new dawn for its residents. Chrysos Heirs and regular citizens alike.

Even more so when the Golden Thread has tied your fates together a long time ago.

The next few days and weeks were ridden with more playtime with the kids, more encounters at the store, more meetings to share food - often prepared by him - and more training sessions.

Mydei sparred with you, taught you more moves, and avoided touching you. He didn’t grab your wrists, didn’t hold you, didn’t physically adjust your stance… Though in the heat of battle - be it a sparring match far beneath his actual skill level - an entire lack of physical contact was rendered almost impossible.

It did not bother you.

When you brushed arms or shoulders, you didn’t flinch, when you stepped on his toes you winced because his feet were armored and that hurt but you didn’t retreat. Didn’t panic. Didn’t flee.

Whether these moments simply did not matter to you or if they became a result of you wanting to work on it, he didn’t know.

He did not pry.

It was not his business nor place to do so and yet, he deemed it a personal success for you. You met him in your matches more openly, with more confidence, a tad less hesitation to move - to act.

You were having fun.

And he found himself enjoying your encounters whenever he saw that soft smile on your lips that made your eyes shine and made his chest swell with a sense of warmth.

Maybe that’s why - after training - he was taking you to the small terrace overseeing the residential area of Okhema with Marmoreal Palace visible in the far distance. It was small. Hidden. Obscured by architectural structures that were built after the terrace's construction and demanded navigating through tiny alleys and old, partly crumbled stairs.

Nature has reclaimed this small place with time. Vines wound around the balustrade and up the walls of the buildings attached to the balcony, the shiny white colors of the stone have faded by now.

He liked it here. The peace and quiet. When he truly wanted no one to find and interrupt him.

And he found that your presence… did not disturb that.

Mydei crossed his arms in front of his chest as he watched how you walked to the balustrade and took in the view stretching out in front of you.

You lowered the basket you have brought with you to training to the ground without looking away from the sights, fascinated - awe-struck - with everything you were seeing.

Endearing.

You both basked in the serenity of it all. The subtle breeze, the faint sounds of leaves rustling in the wind, the clear blue sky. It calmed his pounding heart, the adrenaline still rushing through his veins after training…

You leaned on the balustrade, folding your arms on the smooth stone, as he joined you. He came to stand next to you, crossing his arms in front of his chest again and gazing upon the scenery unfolding before you.

His gaze fell onto you. You blended into the scenery like a painting adorning the walls of Marmoreal Palace. A soft smile on your face, brows a gentle curve, your dress swaying in the breeze…

You remained quiet as you observed and watched, your face calm. Relaxed. And for a while he found himself watching you rather than the view before him.

“You know,” you said without looking at him. Though he thought he caught an amused look cross your face for a moment. “This is kinda romantic.”

He suppressed the instinct to let out a “hmph”. Instead he averted his gaze and looked up ahead again, eyes catching a pair of birds flying together towards the horizon.

“There is no word for romance in the Kremnoan language.”

You looked at him then, a contemplative look in your eyes, though that soft smile didn’t fade away.

“Then, what would you call this?”

His eyes widened the slightest bit and his lips parted. You tilted your head as you undoubtedly caught the surprise - confusion - on his face. He looked away. His gaze unfocused.

Romance. A word he knew from the Romance titan but only a concept he was familiar with through tales and words on the streets.

Ptolemy often used to tell stories around the campfire. One of the books he’s brought with him after leaving Kremnos contained fairytales from distant lands. Laughter had filled the rusty air as he had laughed with his friends while Ptolemy read and Peucesta played a gentle tune to accompany him.

Those tales were fun. Amusing. Yet, nothing any of them ever took serious.

Not before he came to Okhema. And even then something he would acknowledge but not dare to think further about. Too afraid to come to realize all he has been missing and all the chances and opportunities that have passed him by on his long, arduous journey from Castrum Kremnos.

His thoughts turned back to Hephaestion. He remembered his laughter, how his scrawny figure shook when they all told jokes and found the tale particularly amusing, but he also recalled the red hue on his cheeks that was born neither from the warmth of the fire nor the honey brew.

Mydei remembered spending rare but cherished moments with him alone. By the side of the camp, when the fighting and traveling of the day has come to an end and when too much of the night still remained for him to ponder - worry - about the future of his people.

Hephaestion has been there. Always. Sought him out and found him when the thoughts became louder, when his determination threatened to waver, stood next to him in silence, basking in the scenery of the wilds. Serene. Peaceful. Happy.

He recalled how nice these moments have been back then. How his breath hitched when Hephaestion laughed, how in awe he has been when Mydei managed to prepare something special while in camp to eat, how one eye has always been on him in battle, even though that scrawny figure tore through enemies unlike any other Kremnoan warrior he’s known. He brought Mydei a sense of comfort he wasn’t familiar with, one he’s never gotten in any other circumstances.

Nothing has ever come close to these sensations. To being fine - comfortable - just basking in the presence of another person.

Only when he has reached Okhema, long after Hephaestion’s death, did he learn about the term romance and came to the realization that whatever it has been between him and Hephaestion was the closest to the concept he’s ever come to it.

It’s something he’s pushed into the furthest corner of his mind.

Mydei looked at you again.

And this? The here and now? Didn’t it feel exactly like those moments he’s shared with Hephaestion all these years ago? Familiar? Comfortable? Enjoying someone else’s company, wanting to preserve their smile…

Maybe it wasn’t the same.

But maybe it didn’t have to be.

Perhaps he was overthinking this.

“I don’t know,” he said finally as you were still waiting for an answer, looking up at him with a soft smile. Waiting. Anticipating.

If the answer was to your dissatisfaction - he couldn’t imagine it was anything but - you didn’t let it show.

Instead, you turned to him and took a step closer, your hand sliding over the stone of the balustrade while doing so. You came to stand in front of him. Close. Too close that you should be comfortable. He could touch you without his elbow leaving his side if he wanted.

Yet, he didn’t move away.

He looked down on you. You didn’t meet his gaze. There was an uncertainty in the way your gaze shifted around. Hesitation. Nervousness. Your eyes never found his but they also averted staying on the exposed parts of his chest.

Despite the confusion, his lips twitched upwards for a short moment. How amusing.

He caught the trembling of your hand as you raised it and his breath hitched in his throat for a moment when your fingers found the red fabric attached to his shoulder armor and held together by the belt around his waist.

You didn’t hold it. More cradled it. Let it slide over your open palm as if feeling the material, mesmerized by the texture. Your fingers moved with a gentleness that caught him off guard.

Yet, it was so expected from you.

And it made him realize if your hand brushed his skin, you would be able to feel the way his heart began to pound just a bit harder in his chest.

Your hands stopped trembling. Still, your movements were slow. Cautious. As if testing the waters. To see his reaction or to figure out your own level of comfort with the gesture, he didn’t know.

He remained unmoving in place and let you figure out whatever you were trying to get from him in that instant.

And he didn’t mind.

You have never deliberately initiated contact with him before. Not even when he pushed you to your limits during a sparring match - when the adrenaline pumped through your veins enough to cloud your mind.

And something about the way you moved your hand and observed the gesture with your own eyes with a softness no one has ever confronted him with, stirred something deep within him.

“I think I would like to know,” you said, your voice quiet and you swallowed. To hide your nervousness. To push back your hesitation. “What you would call this one day.”

And before he could reply - even think of a reply - you took a deep breath and stepped forwards.

Within a moment - no longer than a heartbeat - your arms came up and wrapped around his body.

Mydei froze.

Out of instinct his hands came up. To defend against an attack. To push the threat away. But, you were not the enemy. You meant no harm. So his hands hovered in the air. Awkward. Uncertain.

His mind struggled, fought against the sensations pushing down on him at this strange gesture. Unfamiliar. Confusing.

And Mydei was lost. He didn’t know what to do.

He knew what an embrace was. Yet the only times he ever came close to it was when enemies threw themselves at him in the midst of battle or when his friends threw an arm around his shoulders to celebrate their victory.

Never had another person sought his body - his proximity - for the sake of being close to him.

Never.

This body only knew death and the pain of rebirth, the marks of his curse visible for everyone to see.

And yet, you pushed yourself closer to him - you, who had every reason to avoid such contact - and relaxed against him.

Slowly - a hesitation in his movements that was so unlike him - his arms came around your shoulders. He told himself his inhibition came from the intention of giving you time to stop him, to escape the gesture, but deep down he knew he used it as an excuse to cover his own uncertainty.

He was the crown prince of Castrum Kremnos, a warrior of Okhema after all.

These arms could crush stone, tear through enemies like paper, and you were alright with them being around your body. You wanted them there. Holding you. Cradling you.

He wondered what they could bring you.

Comfort? Did it make you feel at ease? Safe?

He didn’t ask it out loud.

Your body felt warm against his.

A warmth that seeped through his skin and slowly engulfed every part of him until it made him feel lightheaded. Like a breeze that swept away all the nagging thoughts. Doubts. Worries. All irrelevant. Pushed back into the back of his soul that could not reach him in this moment.

This felt nice. Calming. Soothing.

The itch in his veins, the urge and yearning for battle running through his veins, railed in. Quiet.

And Mydei tightened his hold just a bit more. Held you closer, encouraged you to let yourself fall into him the very same way he was - albeit so very slowly.

You did.

There was a trembling in your form when his hold tightened but it faded away quickly. And when it did, he could feel how the tension left your shoulders but whether the quiet sigh he heard came from you or was a trick of the wind, he couldn’t tell.

When you - gently, slowly - pulled back from him, he lowered his hands without hesitation. To give you space. To move at your own pace.

Yet, the cold invading his body when the warmth of your body left his, almost made him chase the contact. Without thinking. Instinctual.

The realization left him puzzled. Bewildered at his own… neediness.

And yet, he didn’t find it in him to fight against it.

He was… comfortable.

You smiled, more to yourself than at him, your gaze turned to the ground as you put a little bit of distance between the two of you. He wondered what that expression was.

Joy? Relief? Pride?

Silence settled upon the both of you again. He did not know what to say and you were thinking - contemplating - and he didn’t ask. Didn’t pry. Yet, your slackened shoulders, the smile on your lips…

He did not think you were uncomfortable. And something within his chest stirred at the realization.

After everything, you initiated that contact - albeit slowly and with hesitation - and you looked like you enjoyed it. Felt comfortable with it.

You opened your mouth as if to say something but nothing came out. Neither did he know what to say now. His mind was racing, occupied by thoughts that have been quietened while you’ve been in his arms.

What did any of this mean?

Where would you go from here?

You took a deep breath. He found it fascinating that your smile never left. How peaceful you looked.

“I think,” you started, “we both have something to think about.” You chuckled with a finger on your chin.

He couldn’t disagree.

“I’ll… see you later,” you said, a soft smile on your lips and yet, you shied away from his gaze. Though the faint red hue on your cheeks let him know more than you probably wanted him to know. He didn’t push it.

This situation was as unusual for the both of you as it was new.

He let you go, watched you as your form left the balcony and vanished down the old, worn down stairs before he turned his eyes toward the sky. He crossed his arms in front of his chest.

What was he supposed to do now?

Never let his fellow Kremnoans know about this probably. The thought was tinged with amusement but it did hold a sense of truth. Such sentiments were not befitting a Kremnoan warrior, much less the successor of Kremnos.

Warmth and comfort. Not something one could find on the battlefield.

And still…

You have become a constant in his life over the past weeks already. One that gave him a sense of normality and peace. Playing with the children, encountering you when he purchased his pomegranates, training you, sharing a meal, you’ve been in his home before…

Instances of a normal life that hasn’t been granted to him before.

A sense of normality and peace that he didn’t mind.

He ignored the somber thought in the back of his mind that - in the face of the Flame-Chase journey - he had no idea how long he could make it last.

But he didn’t find it in him to oppose the idea of enjoying whatever this was between you.

And, did a mere embrace really bring such a big change to the both of you that it required him to rethink his place and fate in this city?

———————

The feel of Mydei’s body against your own lingered long after you have left.

Warm skin, a thumping - quick - heartbeat beneath your ear, strong arms around your shoulders…

You had acted on a whim. A feeling. And your heartbeat had threatened to burst out of your chest as you moved but… the tension, the hesitation - the anxiety - have been worth it because the feeling of safety that had followed was still clouding your mind now.

Maybe you shouldn’t have left so abruptly. And instead enjoyed the moment a while longer, basked in the scenery and that feeling blossoming in your chest.

But… you felt like he needed some time alone.

Perhaps you did as well.

Some time ago he had grabbed your wrist and the result was a flash of panic. And today…

You’ve tried. You’ve really tried to work on it. Allowing him to brush your shoulder during sparring, letting the metal of his gauntlet touch your hand when you handed him something. A fight against your instincts but whenever touch happened… it was fine.

Only with him, however.

At the store, a customer had brushed your hand when you handed them their bag - and you let it happen just to see if maybe… - but it was nothing like when it happened with Mydei. The cold sweat had felt dreadful, the hammering pulse uncomfortable, the instinct to recoil overwhelming…

Why wasn’t it like this with Mydei?

Because you trusted him? Have been through so much trial and error with him that you knew what to expect when being around him?

Or simply because you… liked him?

Your racing heart and lightheaded - pleasant - feeling occupying your mind should be more than an answer.

You’ve thought about… them when you approached Mydei. The way they treated you like less than an animal. But when his arms came around you… It all went away. And you knew that nothing could reach you here.

Not while you were in his arms.

He wouldn’t let it happen. Ever.

Yet, how to go from here?

And how did he think and feel about it? You noticed his surprise - shock - but… was it because he knew your story? Or because of the gesture itself?

You couldn’t imagine that gestures - affection - like this were common for Kremnoans.

He did reciprocate it though.

Regardless…

This hug has been the nicest thing that has happened to you in so long, how could you ignore that and pretend you didn’t want to experience it again?

Yes, perhaps you needed a moment to think as well.

———————

Mydei might imagine it. But ever since that day on the balcony, it seemed to him you didn’t even try to keep from engaging in any type of physical contact with him.

Maybe since that embrace he’s gotten more perceptive and aware of it, but you never pulled back during sparring sessions, willingly risking him brushing against you, your hands brushed - metal against skin - when you handed him a bottle of pomegranate juice or when you took the payment for his fruits…

Never something he particularly paid attention to before but now that he noticed, he couldn’t ignore it either.

Mydei looked after the kids as they left, running and laughing, as lively as before they came here. Nothing truly rivaled the energy of a kid. They have been on their feet, playing and practicing this entire time and a sense of fatigue was nowhere to be seen.

His gaze turned to you as you put back the bowls and small boxes into your basket. The fruits you’ve brought all gone. The kids didn’t leave a single slice. Good. At least they ate healthy. Also good that the effort you constantly went through to prepare it for all of them didn’t go to waste.

When did he start to consider that?

Mydei took the final sip from his bottle of pomegranate juice. Always a delight. Though one day he had to introduce you to the idea of adding milk to it.

He handed you the bottle again, noticed how the tips of his armored fingers met your skin - soft but the metal did not convey any sense of warmth - and saw how your eyes jumped to the contact but you didn’t say anything. And despite the flinch - instinctive and involuntary - you didn’t pull back.

He noticed how you stared at his hand. Contemplating. The gears in your head turning. But whatever you thought about, you didn’t voice it.

As he let go of the bottle and turned around to store away the training weapons the kids have left behind, your voice sounded behind him.

“Wait, Mydei… please.”

He turned around again, looked at you. You hesitated, looked away for a moment, before you took a small step towards him.

“Can you show me your hand?”

He furrowed his brows but curiosity and silent wonder remained in his gaze nonetheless. He obliged and held out his hand, palm pointing upwards. And waited.

You didn’t meet his gaze. Your eyes locked on his hand with a focus that seemed to drown out anything else. How odd.

You swallowed but reached up and took a hold of his hand. You didn’t grab it but cupped it. Cradled it in your hands with a grip so light, he barely noticed any pressure.

He let you prevail. Let you explore and satisfy that curiosity. Or were you trying to figure something out? How focused you were. What were you thinking about? What did this touch give you? This was not a hug. You were exploring his hand as if it was something unfamiliar, something new.

Maybe it was.

One of your hands began to trace his fingers. Your fingers slid along the metal, followed the black material, but when your other hand curled around his fingers to reveal his palm more to you, he noticed how your hand trembled.

And the realization hit him that your aversion to physical contact has been so much stronger or severe when it was about hands.

Your initial reaction at the store happened because the threat of your hands brushing had loomed over you. The panic and instinct to flee came about because his hand grabbed your wrist…

His brows furrowed.

Maybe you were realizing it just as he was in that moment. And perhaps this was what all this was about.

Mydei intended to pull his hand away. No need to put you through this when it was obviously a struggle.

But when he slowly retreated his hand, your fingers clasped around it with a pressure that made it abundantly clear that you didn’t want him to leave. Mydei frowned.

Your hands were trembling. Your movements hesitant. And yet, you raised his hand to your face.

And made him cup your cheek.

Mydei’s mouth opened but words evaded him. What were you doing? And as if his fingers could communicate his surprise, they remained stiff. Hesitant.

“Why?” he dared to ask.

“Because,” you said and closed your eyes but kept his hand in place with your own. “I wanna know that hands are… capable of more.”

His eyes widened at that. Caught off guard. He didn’t know what to say. But he thought back to what you’ve told him.

Hands had dragged you away, hands had treated you like an object meant to be sacrificed, hands had chained you to that rock…

Memories that haunted you to this day. None of them pleasant.

And he… he could relate to that. For when did he ever feel the gentleness and warmth of someone’s hand? His first ever memory that he could recall was fighting. It had ruled his entire life since then. He has fought, crushed enemies - of flesh and stone alike - while people in Okhema did not even offer him their hand in greeting…

Did he know that hands are capable of more than violence?

He looked at you again. How your so much smaller hands held his armored hand against your cheek, your eyes closed, the barest hint of a smile on your lips, the trembling of your hand ceasing as you leaned into it.

No one has ever cradled your head before with the intention of making you feel nice. Safe.

Neither has he ever used his hands to provide such comfort. Such reassurance.

Like that embrace. Just that this was different. It seemed… deeper than that. Though he did not find the words to explain the turmoil in his own soul at the realization.

Unfamiliar. But not unpleasant.

His hand so subtly curled around your cheek.

He did not know what to say, but he could follow your lead and give you that moment that you craved from him.

And all he could think about - as you stood there leaning into the gesture as peaceful and relaxed as you could be - was the wonder how soft and warm your skin must be beneath the metal and fabric.

#hsr #honkai star rail #mydei #mydei x reader #mydei x you #hsr mydei #my fic

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ismyevilregal · 3 months ago

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Tethered Shadows

Warnings: I have no idea what I'm doing.

Chapter One: Quiet Collisions

The insistent buzzing of my alarm dragged me from a dream where I was flying—weightless and free—over a city bathed in an ethereal, otherworldly light. Disappointment, sharp and sudden, pierced through the grogginess. 7:00 AM. Another day, another grind. I slapped the snooze button, the insistent buzzing replaced by a gentler hum.

Five minutes later, the alarm shrieked again, more insistent this time. I groaned, burying my face in the pillow. The scent of stale coffee and something vaguely metallic—the lingering odor of last night's takeout—assaulted my nostrils. Finally, I surrendered, throwing back the covers and swinging my legs over the side of the bed. The floor was a cold, unforgiving slab against my bare feet.

Morning light filtered through the blinds, painting thin stripes across the room. It wasn’t much—just a small studio apartment I’d been calling home for the past year—but it was mine. A safe little corner of the world. But at this particular moment, this studio apartment, once a source of pride and independence, now felt more like a prison cell. The peeling paint on the walls, the perpetually flickering fluorescent light above the kitchenette, the constant drone of traffic from the street below—it all seemed to conspire to dampen my spirits.

First, I stumbled toward the bathroom, the world a blurry kaleidoscope of colors. The mirror reflected a stranger—eyes bloodshot, hair a tangled mess, a faint shadow of a beard clinging to my jaw. I splashed cold water on my face, the shock momentarily invigorating.

Then I shuffled to the kitchen, bare feet padding against the cool floor. The coffee maker, a relic from a previous roommate, whirred to life as I poured water into the machine, the comforting hum filling the quiet. Something about the morning ritual was soothing, grounding me before the day's chaos. While waiting for the coffee to brew, I leaned against the counter, scrolling absentmindedly through my phone. A few unread messages from classmates about an upcoming group project. I made a mental note to respond later.

By 8:15, I was out the door, backpack slung over my shoulder and earbuds in, a playlist of lo-fi beats helping me navigate the crowded sidewalks. College was only a short bus ride away, and I used the time to skim over my notes for class. Balancing work, school, and what little social life I had was a juggling act, but I’d managed to make it work so far. Mostly.

My first lecture of the day was lively—a class on film theory that hooked me from the moment I walked in. The professor, an eccentric older woman with a penchant for dramatic hand gestures, paced the room as she deconstructed scenes from classic films. Today’s focus was on Hitchcock’s use of tension, and I found myself scribbling furiously in my notebook as she dissected a pivotal scene from Psycho. It was one of those rare moments where learning felt less like work and more like inspiration.

The grand entrance hall, usually filled with the hushed whispers of tourists, was eerily silent. The air was thick with anticipation, a palpable tension hanging in the air. I spotted Greg near the entrance, his face pale and drawn.

"You look like you've seen a ghost," I said, trying to lighten the mood.

Greg chuckled nervously. "Try surviving Professor Sharma's lectures. It's enough to make a grown man question his life choices."

After class, I grabbed a quick coffee and headed to my part-time job at the campus library. The familiar scent of old books greeted me as I walked in, and the quiet atmosphere was a stark contrast to the bustling campus outside. My shift was predictable: shelving books, assisting students who couldn’t figure out the catalog system, and occasionally sneaking a peek at my own assignments during the slower moments. I spent part of the afternoon helping a fellow film student locate obscure texts on 1970s cinematography, exchanging quick opinions about the underrated brilliance of The French Connection before returning to my duties.

It wasn’t glamorous, but I liked it. The library felt like a sanctuary, a place where time slowed down and the rest of the world melted away. Occasionally, I’d catch glimpses of students huddled over laptops, editing films for their projects, and it reminded me of why I loved what I did. Cinema wasn’t just a major—it was a lens through which I saw the world.

By the time my shift ended, the sun was beginning to dip lower in the sky, painting the horizon in shades of orange and pink. I grabbed a quick bite at the cafeteria—a less-than-impressive turkey sandwich—before heading back to my apartment. The bus ride was quiet, the city lights flickering outside the window as I leaned my head against the cool glass. My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I fished it out to see a text from Tara.

Tara: Hey, can you meet me at the diner around 6? I have someone I want you to meet.

Y/N: Someone?

Tara: Just trust me. You’ll like her.

Y/N: …Should I be worried?

Tara: Nope. Promise.

I stared at the screen for a moment, debating. Tara’s matchmaking efforts weren’t exactly a secret, but she’d never been this cryptic about it before. Still, I trusted her. If she thought it was worth my time, it probably was. Plus, it was a good reason to go out and relax a bit after a long day.

Y/N: Fine. I’ll be there.

The remainder of my evening before the meeting passed in a blur of small tasks: drafting ideas for a screenplay assignment, organizing my cluttered desk, and watching clips from a documentary on the rise of independent cinema in the 90s. By the time 5:30 rolled around, I was shrugging into a hoodie and heading back out the door, the crisp evening air waking me up a little more with each step.

The diner buzzed with a low hum of conversation, punctuated by the occasional clink of cutlery against ceramic plates. I wasn’t sure why Tara insisted on meeting here, but then again, Tara always had a way of picking the most unassuming places for moments she swore were important. The chipped laminate table beneath my fingertips felt oddly grounding, even as a sliver of unease twisted in my chest.

“She’ll be here soon,” Tara said, glancing at her phone. Her tone was casual, but her eyes gave her away. There was an eagerness, a spark that told me this was more than just another introduction. “She’s just…” Tara hesitated, searching for the right word. “She’s not great with people. Don’t take it personally.”

“Noted,” I replied with a small smile, though I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to feel. Curiosity? Anxiety? The mixture of both left my coffee cooling in its mug, untouched.

The bell above the door jingled, and Tara’s head snapped up. I followed her gaze, and that’s when I saw her. Sam Carpenter wasn’t what I expected, though I couldn’t have said what I had been expecting. I turned my head quickly to glare at Tara for a moment, but it didn't last long before my attention was back on her bigger sister again. Her presence was immediate, sharp-edged, and deliberate like she carried the weight of her own gravity. Dark hair framed a face that might have been soft once, but the years had hardened it into something unreadable. Her eyes were the kind that didn’t just look at you but through you, as if she were cataloging every detail.

She paused just inside the doorway, scanning the room with a wariness that felt almost instinctual. When her gaze landed on Tara, some of the tension eased, but only just. Sam crossed the diner in a few strides, her boots scuffing against the tiled floor.

“Hey,” Sam said, her voice low and even, almost flat. She slid into the booth beside Tara, her movements economical, like she’d planned each one. For a moment, she didn’t even look at me, her attention fixed on her sister.

“Sam,” Tara said, her tone light and encouraging. “This is my friend, Y/N. The one I told you about.”

At last, Sam turned her head toward me, and I felt the full weight of her gaze. It wasn’t hostile, exactly, but it wasn’t welcoming either. It was searching, measuring. The kind of look that made me want to shift in my seat but refuse to out of sheer principle.

“Hi,” I said, offering a small, non-threatening smile. “It’s nice to meet you.”

She didn’t respond right away. Instead, her eyes flicked to Tara, then back to me. I guess she was just as confused as I was. “You too,” she said finally, though it sounded more like a formality than anything genuine.

The silence that followed felt heavier than it should have. Tara, ever the fixer, jumped in to fill the void. “Sam just got back in town,” she said, her voice a little too bright. “It’s been… a lot, but she’s settling in. Right, Sam?”

Sam’s jaw tightened slightly, but she nodded. “Something like that.”

I didn’t miss the way her shoulders stiffened at the words. Whatever she’d come back from, it wasn’t something she was ready to talk about. The walls around her were practically visible, brick and mortar and steel, built to keep anyone from seeing too much. But it wasn’t my place to pry, not when I’d just met the woman.

“Well,” Tara said, leaning forward, “the two of you have a lot in common. I think you’ll get along great.”

Sam’s eyebrow arched slightly, as if she didn’t quite believe her sister. “Is that so?”

“Definitely,” Tara said, undeterred. “Just give it a chance.”

Sam’s gaze shifted back to me, and for a moment, there was something almost challenging in her eyes. “Guess we’ll see.”

It was then I realized just how much smaller I was next to her. Tara often joked about my height when she was feeling particularly mischievous, but we both knew we stood eye-to-eye. Sam, however, was a solid presence—a towering figure that only added to her intensity. The size difference was almost laughable, but I wasn’t about to let it shake me.

I wasn’t sure what Tara was trying to accomplish here, but one thing was clear: Sam Carpenter would be a puzzle. And I wasn’t sure if I wanted to solve her or if she was better left a mystery. But before I could settle too much into my thoughts, Tara cleared her throat, bringing my focus back to the moment.

"So," she started, a little too enthusiastically, "what do you two think of… Hitchcock?"

The question felt forced, like Tara was trying to find the safest possible common ground to get the conversation rolling. My lips twitched into a smile, appreciating the effort, but I wasn't sure it would land.

"Hitchcock?" Sam asked, her tone flat. Her arms crossed as she leaned back against the booth. "Never really saw the appeal."

I blinked, momentarily thrown. Not because I couldn’t understand the opinion—plenty of people thought his style was overrated—but because the way she said it felt almost deliberately provocative, like she was daring me to disagree.

Tara winced. "Sam…"

"No, it’s fine," I said quickly, leaning forward. I could feel that challenge in her gaze again, and something in me itched to meet it. "I get it. Not everyone likes the classics. What’s your style, then?"

Sam’s brow furrowed, as if she hadn’t expected me to push back so easily. For a moment, she didn’t answer, her fingers idly tracing the edge of the table. When she finally spoke, her voice was quieter, less sharp. "I guess… I like stories that feel real. Messy. People making mistakes, doing stupid things… stuff that actually matters."

Her words hung in the air, heavier than I anticipated. Tara shifted uncomfortably in her seat, and I wondered just how much of that statement was tied to Sam’s personal history.

"That’s fair," I said softly, not wanting to press too hard. "Sometimes the most compelling stories are the ones where you don’t know how they’ll end."

Sam’s gaze flicked to me again, and this time, there was a flicker of something in her expression. Not quite warmth, but maybe a hint of curiosity. "Yeah. Exactly."

Tara exhaled dramatically, breaking the tension. "Okay, great. We’re talking. Progress!"

I laughed, shaking my head at her antics. "Subtle, Tara. Real subtle."

"I try," she said with a wink. "Anyway, I’m gonna grab some pie. You two want anything?"

I shook my head, and Sam muttered a quiet "No," as Tara slid out of the booth and made her way to the counter. The silence she left behind felt different now, less heavy and more… expectant.

"So," I said after a moment, "what’s your story?"

Sam’s eyes narrowed slightly, as if she were deciding whether or not to answer. "Not much to tell."

I raised an eyebrow. "Everyone’s got a story."

She huffed a quiet laugh, though there wasn’t much humor in it. "Trust me, mine’s not the kind you’d want to hear."

For a second, I considered dropping it, letting her keep her walls intact. But something about her intrigued me and made me want to dig a little deeper. "Maybe. But how would I know unless you tell me?"

Sam studied me, her expression unreadable. Finally, she shrugged, leaning back in her seat. "I guess I’ll have to keep you guessing."

It wasn’t much, but it felt like a small victory. A crack in the armor.

For a moment, the conversation settled into a quiet lull, the din of the diner filling the space between me and Sam. I tapped my fingers lightly against the table, debating whether to push further or let the moment breathe.

"You always this mysterious, or is it just part of the charm?" I asked, a teasing edge creeping into my voice.

Sam exhaled a short chuckle, her fingers tracing the rim of her coffee cup. "I think it’s more of a defense mechanism than anything else."

I nodded, sensing the weight behind her words, but before I could respond, she glanced at me with something close to curiosity. "What about you?"

I tilted my head. "What about me?"

"You don’t seem like someone who gives up easily," she noted. "Why bother trying to figure me out?"

There was something almost challenging in her tone, like she was testing me. Maybe even daring me to step back. But instead, I met her gaze and shrugged.

"Guess I like a good puzzle."

Before she could reply, Tara reappeared, carefully setting the plate of pie between us both. "Mission accomplished," she declared, sliding back into her seat with a satisfied grin. "And I even got extra whipped cream."

She shot a look between the two of us, picking up on the shift in atmosphere. "Did I miss something?"

Sam reached for her fork, her expression once again guarded but softer than before. "Nothing important," she said, but the way her gaze flickered to me told a different story.

Tara arched a brow, clearly not convinced but choosing not to push. "Alright, well, I’m eating before either of you try and steal a bite."

I laughed, reaching for my own fork. "No promises."

As the three of us settled in, the conversation drifted into something lighter, but the undercurrent of that moment with Sam lingered—unspoken but present, like a secret waiting to be unraveled.

------

The next morning unfolded in slow motion, sunlight creeping in through the blinds like it had all the time in the world. But something was different. I felt lighter, more awake than I had any right to be. Maybe it was the residual warmth of last night—the easy conversation, the feeling that I had nudged a door open just a little.

A buzz from my phone pulled me from my thoughts. For a brief second, my pulse skipped—Sam? But no. Tara.

Tara: Morning! You survived my sister’s brooding. Congrats. Wanna grab coffee?

A grin tugged at my lips. Even through text, Tara’s energy was infectious.

Me: Morning. I’ll take that as a badge of honor. Where and when?

Her reply was quick—café, mid-morning. Just like that, the day had direction.

As I got ready, I caught my reflection in the mirror, my gaze lingering longer than usual. Maybe it was nothing. Maybe it was just another day. But for the first time in a while, something about it felt... new. Like the start of something. And I wasn’t sure if that excited or terrified me more.

The café was quiet, the air thick with the scent of fresh coffee and the low hum of early risers buried in their screens. I stepped inside, the soft chime of the door marking my arrival. I ordered a coffee to go, restless energy thrumming beneath my skin. My mind kept circling back to last night—Sam, the weight of her silence, the push and pull I couldn’t quite decipher.

Lost in thought, I barely noticed Tara until she breezed in, her presence a sharp contrast to my uncertainty.

"Hey, look who actually showed up!" she called, grinning as she made her way over.

I laughed, the tightness in my chest easing. "Wouldn’t miss it."

Tara pulled me into one of her signature hugs—warm, slightly suffocating, but somehow exactly what I needed.

"You ready for coffee? Or are you still in the ‘don’t talk to me yet’ phase?" she teased, eyes gleaming.

I exhaled, the tension unraveling bit by bit. "I think I’m awake now."

We settled into a table by the window, the city stretching beyond the glass, bathed in the soft glow of morning light. Tara had that effect—making even the most mundane moments feel like something worth being present for.

"So," she started, casual, but sharp. "How’s it feel surviving the Sam experience?"

I took a sip of my coffee, choosing my words carefully. "It’s... different. She’s complicated."

Tara smirked. "You don’t say. You’ve figured that out already? Impressive."

I hesitated before admitting, "I’m just trying to figure out where I stand with her. She’s got this wall up, but it doesn’t feel like she wants it there. I can’t tell if she’s just playing it cool or if she really doesn’t care."

Tara leaned back, tapping her fingers against her cup. "Sam doesn’t do anything unless it matters. She doesn’t waste her time. If she’s acknowledging you, that’s something." A flicker of something softer passed over her face. "She’s been through a lot. Letting people in isn’t easy for her. But if she’s letting you orbit, even a little? That’s progress."

I nodded, mulling over her words. "I just don’t know what she wants from me."

Tara’s grin widened. "Maybe she doesn’t know either. Doesn’t mean you shouldn’t try to find out. Just... don’t let her push you away. She’s good at that."

The words settled deep. Sam was a puzzle I wasn’t sure I should be solving—but the curiosity wouldn’t let go.

"Thanks for the advice," I said, half-smiling. "Guess we’ll see where this goes."

Tara raised her cup in a mock toast. "That’s the fun part. The not knowing."

I sat there, watching the world move outside, feeling the quiet shift in the air. Sam, Tara, all of this—it was unfolding in ways I hadn’t expected. And maybe, just maybe, that was the point.

Tara, ever perceptive, tilted her head, a sly glint in her eyes. "You should text her."

I blinked. "What? Now?"

"Why not? What’s the worst that could happen?"

A lot, I wanted to say. But I didn’t.

Instead, I unlocked my phone, my fingers hovering over the keyboard. Tara leaned in, smirking. "Be honest. Keep it simple. Something like, ‘Hey, I was thinking about our conversation yesterday. It was cool talking to you.’"

I huffed a quiet laugh, shaking my head. But she wasn’t wrong.

Hey, I was thinking about our conversation yesterday. It was cool talking to you.

Before I could second-guess it, I hit send.

Tara watched me, satisfaction written all over her face. "There. Easy, right?"

I let out a slow breath. "Not sure if easy is the word, but... it’s done."

She lifted her cup in a knowing gesture. "Now, we wait."

And so I did. Through the rest of our conversation, through the rest of the morning, through every casual check of my phone, heartbeat spiking each time it buzzed. But it was never her.

By the time I got home, the weight of the day had settled in my bones. I tossed my bag onto the couch, my phone still in my pocket, untouched. I told myself not to check it. Not to let it matter so much.

I busied myself with the little things—sorting through the scattered notes on my desk, flipping through a book I had no real intention of reading, absentmindedly scrolling through social media before locking my phone again. The air in my apartment felt heavier somehow, like I was waiting for something I refused to admit.

Eventually, I sprawled out on the couch, arm draped over my face, willing my mind to focus on anything else. It wasn’t working.

And then—

My phone buzzed.

I sat up too quickly, pulse hammering as I fumbled to grab it, screen lighting up in the dim room.

Sam: You too.

Just two words. But they unraveled something tight in my chest.

I stared at the message, reading it once, twice, three times, as if deciphering some hidden meaning within it. It wasn’t much, but it was something.

And something was more than nothing. When it comes from Sam, as I'm learning, something is actually a lot.

A slow smile crept onto my face as I leaned back against the couch, exhaling a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.

#sam carpenter x reader #sam carpenter #melissa barrera #tara carpenter #samantha carpenter x reader #fem reader

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