#this the reason why relationships as friendships are ‘ditched’ | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

qierxing · 1 year ago

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A/N: An interpreted continuation of @shiny-jr wonderful fic. (checks calendar) Uhm, happy three month update to this series AND 1k notes on the first part! I would say sorry for the wait, but I really did need it LOL. Anyway, it's not super obvious, but the timeline is a bit all over the place in this part, because I'm jumping back and forth between past and present.

TW/CW: Immolation, violence, implied stalking+actual stalking, obsessive behavior, mild psychological and body horror, toxic relationships, Yuu uses it/its pronouns, we get a little meta in here, the boys are FIGHTINGGG I. II. | Isekai AU | Yan! Heartslabyul x Reader

“Who are you?” said the Caterpillar.

This was not an encouraging opening for a conversation. Alice replied, rather shyly, “I—I hardly know, Sir, just at present—at least I know who I was when I got up this morning, but I think I must have been changed several times since then.”

“What do you mean by that?” said the Caterpillar, sternly. “Explain yourself!”

“I ca’n’t explain myself, I’m afraid, Sir,” said Alice, “because I am not myself, you see.”

— Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, by Lewis Caroll

vi. Mourning

It is incredibly hard to get Yuu alone.

Whether it be by the forces of fate or just because so many vie for their attention, there is rarely, if ever, any time when someone is able to spend time personally alongside them. The only exception to this rule is Grim, who was practically the player's companion from the beginning.

So when Ace Trappola manages a rare chance to snag some one on one time with Yuu, he guns for it. Course, he had to time it perfectly.

It was just another night like any other. Ace and Deuce decided to come over to hang out for a casual sleepover as usual. The four of them did initially start out studying, before the textbooks and worksheets were being abandoned in favor of more exciting things, such as the deck of cards that Ace brought with him.

Sending Deuce and Grim off to get snacks through a won bet over a card game was easy as pie.

"Hey Ace?"

He hums in response, letting Yuu know he's listening. His nimble fingers shuffle the worn cards, flipping through them with practiced ease. Stacking them up quickly, he wonders if he should try to impress Yuu with another card trick to gain their enthralled praise.

"Do you…like…being my friend?"

The question makes him blink and look up in surprise at Yuu. It feels blasphemous to hear such doubt lingering in their words.

"Why? Scared I'm gonna ditch ya?" He teases.

Yuu doesn't respond, only giving a sheepish smile back.

"I-It's not like I don't like being friends with you." He tries to keep his cool. "I just-"

Yuu's smile doesn't falter. "It's okay, Ace."

He's reminded of his previous girlfriend in middle school. It was more of a fling than a serious thing, but it's something he remembers vividly. Their breakup, after all, was rather dramatic.

"You're too much, Ace. Sometimes you just take it too far."

What was even her name? Elizabeth? He could barely even remember, but for some reason, he still recalls the intense way her face was twisted in burning resentment. He tried to bury it in the past. He swore he would never fall in love or get into another relationship, preferring friendships over any kind of romantic trysts.

Now that he looks at Yuu, he already knows he's screwed up big time.

Yuu's gaze is no longer meeting his, instead staring into the fireplace that Grim had so generously set up earlier. The crackling blue flames reflect in their irises and in that moment, dread curls inside Ace's stomach. Yuu doesn't seem right.

"Hey…you okay?" He asks hesitantly, placing a hand on their shoulder.

Yuu doesn't move, still staring at the fire intently. He opens his mouth to ask again, but then they speak.

"If I wasn't acting like myself, would you still like me?"

Another question out of left field.

"Even if you somehow grow anemones on your head, Yuu's still Yuu, right?" His heart swells in pride at the way their lips quirk at his inside joke.

"Yeah…" they murmur back.

"Wanna see somethin' cool?" he says, holding out a card. Yuu tilts their head questioningly.

"It's the ace of hearts. What about it?"

"It's not just the ace of hearts!" Ace puffs out his cheeks. "Don't you know the meaning of this card?"

Yuu shakes their head.

"It means good news for yourself or someone close. Practically a lucky charm!" Ace waggles his eyebrows suggestively. "So how can things go wrong now that you have me?"

Yuu snorts and shoves him playfully. "Yeah, yeah, okay, Mr. Lucky Charm."

But it works. The foggy clouds clear from Yuu's eyes, finally returning them to the familiar luster he's used to. For the rest of the night, there is no hint of hollowness within them. And Ace hopes he will never see that sight again.

He should've known something was up since that night.

When Headmaster Crowley personally makes an appearance at their dorm, he should've realized it then. If there was anything that the old raven hated more, it was having to do more work than usual.

"That person wasn't an imposter." Crowley says, coughing awkwardly into his fist.

The solemn words echo in his head on end. The rest of the Headmaster's words start to tune out for Ace. Automatically, his legs begin to move on their own. The calls of the others chase after him, but he ignores them, racing out of the lounge and towards the mirror portal.

Because if you didn't hurt Yuu-

-then what had he done?

When he first arrived in NRC, he didn't even know that Ramshackle dorm existed. Not until Yuu came to reside there; until he had to beg for shelter from them when he was chained with that damn collar. He knew that they didn't have to take him in. But they did, and maybe that's why Ace couldn't turn his back after that.

The building before him is no longer the broken down hovel that he remembers back then. He remembers how the roof was almost caving in and wooden beams were always in danger of collapsing. Each knock on the entrance doors would send cascades of dust upon his head. Now, the walls are painted with a fresh coat of paint, the roof has new shingles, and the place actually looks like a house you could safely live in.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

"Prefect! Are you there?!" He yells, desperation leaking into his voice. "Please!"

Bang! Bang!

He's gotta be out of his damn mind, acting like some crazy person. But he can't help but be blinded by his fear. So he keeps hitting the door with his fists, praying, hoping, for…well that someone would open the door.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

"Yuu!!" He screams, and his voice echoes around him, mocking his helplessness. His fists are becoming numb from slamming the wood so hard, but he can't stop himself.

"Yuu–!"

"Oi! Ace!!!" A rough hand on his shoulder shoves him back and before he could knock the souvnabit-

"Ace, look at me!"

He's stopped by Deuce's fists meeting his in an even match of strength. Like an illusion broken, Ace stills and yanks his hands back.

There's only heavy breathing in between them for a long while.

"...they're not here." Ace snaps to look at Deuce, who only closes his eyes in a painful grimace.

"What do you mean, 'not here'?" Ace asks.

Deuce doesn't say anything for a beat.

"What do you mean they're–"

"They're in the infirmary." Deuce's words flow out in a breathless rush. "The Headmaster said that after you ran."

Fuck, he just acted like an idiot then. No wonder no one was responding to his absolute earth shattering door banging and yelling. Then the meaning of Deuce's words begin to sink in. Oh Seven, no–

He turns and before he could even step in the direction of the main building, his arm is yanked back.

He snarls at Deuce. "Let me go! I have to see the prefect!"

"Housewarden is calling you back." Deuce forces out through gritted teeth and closed eyes. "The Headmaster said that…they don't want to see anyone."

And like a fire put out, Ace's anger chokes to flickering embers.

He lets Deuce guide him back, all the way from the Ramshackle dorm, to the mirror portal, and then back to Heartslabyul's lounge where the other three are grimly awaiting them.

Ace half expects to be yelled at once he passes the threshold. Or get some kind of lecture on how he should have better manners than to just run off like that. It would've been just like his housewarden to only care about weird, arbitrary rules when there were other arguably more important matters.

But his housewarden sits silently on his gilded velvet throne with glassy eyes. There's no anger burning behind them, and the freshmen are terrified to see their once proud and fearsome queen reduced to this husk. He almost would rather him back to the state where he was barking out orders for them. The silence in the lounge is deafening.

Ace swears they must be all thinking the same thing.

Please let this be a bad dream.

He tried calling you. Texting you. Hell, he even tried messaging you on Magicam! Magicam, of all things!

Anxiety claws at his heart with each unread message and dial voice tone greeting. He has so much to say, to ask for-

Deuce wasn't faring well on his side either. He had also tried calling and texting you, to no avail. Grim, that traitor, hadn't come back to visit Heartslabyul at all since the incident. Never mind the fact he had only himself to blame for that—he thought at the very least the cat direbeast would have some sense of pity for their friendship and throw them a bone.

Ace tried two more times to meet you.

First, during your infirmary stay, when you were still unconscious.

The second time was when you returned to Ramshackle dorm with Grim.

Maybe the Seven were punishing him for his hubris. Or he supposes this is just karma. Because both times, he fails spectacularly at the front door of Heartslabyul. Because of this, he's the reason why Riddle had put them all on house arrest (with the exception of academic reasons, of course).

It's a declaration that would've been met with mutiny from all of them, if it weren't for the fact that even Headmaster Crowley had explicitly forbade anyone from showing up on Ramshackle's doorstep or trying to meet you. So he understands. Really! He does. He's seen how Riddle holes up in his room, muttering to himself while carrying out boxes upon boxes of crumpled paper. When he manages to snag a stray paper that flutters out on garbage day, Ace realizes that Riddle is also just as frenzied trying to reach out to you. Even if he is going about it in an old fashioned way.

He'll chip in to help. If his housewarden is left to his own devices, they’ll all be fossils by the time he sends what he deems a satisfactory letter.

And the faster they do this, the faster they have a chance of reaching you.

vii. Embalming

The most horrifying thing is that it doesn't seem to care about dying.

That cursed pile of ceramic shards had disappeared—no, pieced itself back together—and once again, it became the smiling face of Yuu, the being they all knew and used to adore.

Riddle Rosehearts immediately smashed it to pieces again under the weight of his magic.

No one had tried to stop their housewarden. Not even the faceless mobs. Even if they were all alarmed at the erratic behavior of their housewarden, they could not deny the fear of seeing something dead come back alive. With not so much as a dent or wound in them, for that matter.

The third time it happened, Riddle ordered for the remains to be dumped into the school’s incinerator at the highest heat level. Surely, that would be enough.

He watched as the incinerator roared and shuddered, shaking as if the pits of hell had opened. After a few agonizing minutes, the rumbling stops, and before he can even breathe a sigh of relief, the iron hatches creak open, and out strolls Yuu, perfectly fine and pieced together again.

It's magic. Or some kind of century old curse. Of course it is. After all, it was at a higher power than even Draconia's comprehension. Why he didn't consider the possibility beforehand is something he berates himself now.

What might be the most damning thing is that it has no fear or suspicion in its face; even after the multiple times it’s been maimed and torn apart. Not like you, who immediately closed themselves off at being hurt so thoroughly.

The irony isn't lost on him. The temptation of letting the puppet take its place back in favor of just bringing everything back to how it was is something Riddle could not deny. But now that he's actually met you, Yuu just seems more of a shadow of what he remembers during your interactions together.

It has your face. It acts like you.

But it's not you.

When Ace asks after the commotion at the Unbirthday party on how he was able to figure out that it wasn’t [First], he had to take a moment to gather his thoughts. Ace’s face changes into something of disbelief when Riddle merely replies with: “[First] takes their tea with two sugars and a dash of milk.”

“You were so sure only because of that?”

He doesn’t want to think what Ace’s face would look like if he had explained his whole list of reasons how he realized that the puppet wasn’t you. How he soaked up as much as he could when you came over for the tea party. Your expressions, your little habits, the way you fidget…it was all filed away in Riddle's head and later, his private notebook.

But that doesn’t matter now. Now, there’s an even bigger problem than the puppet resurrecting itself.

Grim is missing again.

This alone should've been more worrying than anything for Yuu, but it merely shrugs and says it’s not sure where he scampered off to. He's more than suspicious, of course, but there is no proof, which is infuriating already.

But without Grim, they are missing the key to finding [First].

The others raise hell once they hear the news Riddle reports at the weekly housewarden meeting. A new wave of tension washes over NRC and with it, an unprecedented deep disdain for the puppet. It returns back to classes unannounced, making Ace and Deuce rant to him about how weird it is that it’s trying so hard to act like nothing had happened. It attends school events with their camera, drumming up conversations like normal between all of them; despite the fact it gets ignorance or violence in response (depending on the person it greets).

But none of them are really sure on how to interact with Yuu.

The nicer ones, like Trey or Deuce, entertain Yuu with frigidly civil responses, in hopes of boring the puppet and making it flit away to another victim. Meanwhile, he and Ace have finally come together on an agreed opinion: that they would rather die before letting the puppet even think it could take [First]’s place.

“Go away.”

Yuu merely smiles in response to Riddle’s annoyed voice. The puppet leisurely lounges in the chair across the table from him. The school library is vast but empty, his authoritative voice echoing down the long halls. Several floating books flit past above their heads and the chandeliers above flicker with bright candlelight.

“I just wanted to keep you company.” Riddle purses his mouth in disgust. It’s invasive, it’s gross, and most of all it feels wrong to hear those words coming from Yuu.

“I didn’t ask for your company,” he replies coldly. “Shouldn’t you know that it’s bad manners to bother someone who wants to be left alone?”

“I don’t think you like being left alone, Riddle.” He flinches at the way Yuu’s eyes bore into him. “Well, then again, you sure like to pretend you’re fine, don’t you?”

His hand tightens around the textbook he’s reading about cursed dolls. There would be no point if he brought out his magical pen and reduced it to rubble. But he is tempted, if only to get some peace and quiet for just a few minutes.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Riddle says.

“Hmm…” Yuu hums into its hand, “...then I suppose I will just let you be. What a shame, I had something entertaining to tell.”

“What? What do you mean?”

Yuu giggles and waves him off. “No, no! You said you didn’t want my company now. Why should I tell you anything?”

He resists the urge to incinerate the book in his hands. “Fine! I would like your company. What is this ‘entertaining’ thing you want to tell me so badly?”

“Hmm…how insincere,” Yuu tilts its head coyly with a smile more akin to a smirk. “But I guess that’s the most I can get.”

“Since you’ve all been driving yourselves crazy, [First] is safe.” The floor feels like it’s been yanked underneath him. The puppet is smiling still, as if it’s all some big joke rather than the revelation it delivered. He can hear his blood roaring through his ears.

“You…” Riddle snarls, face heating into a bright red rage. “What did you do to them?”

It bursts into laughter at his face.

“Why, I only granted their wish!”

Its laughter is cut short by the sound of ceramic being crushed, and Riddle is left shakily breathing at the pile of shards that used to be Yuu. The puppet’s words churn over and over in his head.

What did you wish for?

It is currently 3:20 on a Wednesday afternoon.

In his planner, the bullet point neatly penned on the schedule shows ‘Studying for History Test’ in bold blue ink for the time slot. ‘History of the Queendom of Roses’ is laid open on his desk, to the chapter about the local mythos of the area, just as he intended. His notes from lecture are next to it, with several of his stationary needed to jot down annotations.

And yet, Riddle has yet to touch any of these items or actually adhere to his daily schedule—he’s too distracted by what he should do in order to reach the player.

Riddle's already embarrassed enough, resorting to handwritten letters with the best calligraphy he can muster. He's sent only a couple that passed his satisfaction, and they have all been met with judgemental silence. He’s hunched over another crumpled letter near ripping his hair out when someone knocks on his bedroom door. He quickly shoves the envelope under some textbooks out of frantic instinct.

“Come in.”

A familiar bob of red orange hair pops out behind his door, and Riddle raises an eyebrow at the underclassman who enters.

“Ace? What is it?” Normally, Ace would never be in his room if he could help it. If he was in Riddle’s room, it most likely meant he was either being scolded or punished. And Ace’s eyes are shifting side to side, as if he was trying to sneak his way in.

“Out with it, Ace.” He’s not in the mood for the underclassman’s shenanigans.

“Housewarden, you’re writing letters to the prefect, aren’t ya?” The question completely takes him off-guard sputtering.

“W-What does t-that have to do with you?” He tries to maintain his composure, but Ace is already giving him a smug smirk for the one up on him. Of all people, it had to be him finding out.

"I had an idea, Housewarden. Why don't we send them something with the letter?" Riddle blinks in surprise.

“...How smart of you for once, Ace.” It was so simple, yet he marvels at the idea's brilliance. Perhaps there was merit in trying this proposal.

“Hey! What the hell does that mean?!” His underclassman snaps back in a huff. “Whatever, point being, maybe we should switch it up instead of letters all the time.”

He crosses his arms, “And what do you suggest? There’s not much we can really send that hasn't been sent already by other dorms.”

Ace winces. Clearly he didn’t think about the other dorms with more affluent people; people who had more than enough thaumarks and prestige to spend it to appeal to you. Riddle can't blame him either: although he is at the top of the school and his parents are well known mages, it's not like any of that could help him here. All of them, in a sense, were stuck in that situation.

For once, he starts to resent not having more.

"Ugh, well…maybe it doesn't need to be so fancy, you know?" Ace rubs his neck, face scrunched in frustration. "Like…uh…you know-flowers! People send flowers all the time, yeah?"

This is true. And for Queendom of Roses’ residents, it has become custom to send bouquets with subtle messages left in petals and stems. Although he is a bit loath to admit that he isn’t as well versed in the language of flowers compared to hedgehogs.

"And what do you recommend, Ace?" He asks. "What would be the best flower to send to the prefect in our circumstance?"

"We got all these roses, why not send them that?" Ace responds, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. Riddle coughs in annoyance.

"Why not just procure some from Sam's shop? Today is Wednesday. Do you not remember rule 228?" He chides. Ace groans, rolling his eyes.

"Not the weird rules again…"

"Ace."

"Yeeesss Housewarden…" The card soldier mock salutes with a deadpan expression. "I'll see if we can get some flowers at Sam's."

"You better, or else it's–"

"-off with my head, I got it, I got it." Riddle seethes as Ace cuts him off and dashes out of his room before he could get another word in. So troublesome…

Still, there's nothing to do except wait for his card soldier to report back. He turns back to his desk, bringing out the crumpled letter from its hiding place. Running a hand over the crumpled pages, he attempts to pick up his pen again, but fails as his thoughts begin to wander.

Riddle only manages to pen a couple legible sentences when his door slams open, banging against the wall. He almost falls out of his chair in shock from the loud noise. How was Ace back so quickly?

"Have you not heard of knocking?!" He scowls, turning around to see Ace panting and sweating as if he had run a marathon.

"Never mind that, Housewarden, I saw them!" Ace shouts.

“What are you jabbering…” Riddle trails off in realization. “You better not be horsing around, Ace.”

“Do you think I would lie to you about this?” Ace retorts frantically. “I saw them at Sam’s shop working the cashier!”

For a moment, his mind races with this information. If you were working at Sam’s shop, it would explain why you weren’t showing up to classes, let alone in the hallways or rooms of NRC. It’s a clever ruse—classes may be over during this time of day, but nearly all of them were participating in mandatory club activities or study labs. No wonder no one else has caught on to this. Riddle rubs his chin in thought, settling back in his chair.

“What are you going to do now, Housewarden Riddle?” Ace asks hesitantly. His eyes are filled with some kind of anticipation and hope, no doubt wondering if he could get some leeway in his own agenda. Normally, he would go right away as there was no need to hesitate about these kinds of things.

But. Crowley’s stern announcement comes back to his mind and guilt starts to creep in.

“First, we’ll go with your idea, Ace.” He responds. “The ban hasn’t been lifted, after all.” Ace opens his mouth to protest, but he holds a hand up to interrupt him.

“But if that doesn’t work, then I’m sure even Crowley can’t say anything about coincidences.”

viii. Calling Hours

“I’m not joking around, you two.”

There’s very few times that the vice housewarden of Heartslabyul gets truly mad. His patience seems boundless, honed by years of taking care of younger siblings at home and then dealing with rowdy underclassmen in NRC. But even his saint-like patience could only stretch so far.

“I told you, we didn’t do it!” Ace scowls with furrowed eyebrows and crossed arms. Meanwhile, Deuce is silent by his side, face twisted with conflicting emotions. “You don’t even have proof! You just singled us out just because!”

“Who else was around the kitchen when I left it?” Trey asks, voice starting to rise in anger. “Did you think I wouldn’t notice you two lurking around before?”

The two freshmen began to speak out, voices rambling over each other and cascading into a loud shouting match that was barely intelligible.

“We just wanted to see if we could get something from the fridge, how were we supposed to know someone would-”

“Me and Ace just wanted to bring something along when we deliver the Housewarden’s invitation to-”

"You dumbass, don't just say that out loud-!"

It’s at this moment that Cater Diamond strolls in, takes one look at the mess of the situation and does a 180 back round to the door. But it’s too late, because the interruption is just enough for Ace to sink his hooks into him.

“Cater-senpai, you believe us, right?” Ace shouts after the orange head, making him flinch in place. “You saw us get the order from Housewarden Riddle!”

Cater turns around slowly like a door on rusty hinges, with an expression that screams of not wanting to be involved. "Oh Acey! Uhm, you mean the letter Riddle gave you two-"

"Yes!" Deuce interrupts in earnest, already trying to barrel his way to proving his innocence. "Housewarden Riddle entrusted us to deliver the tea party invitation ourselves personally."

Cater turns to Trey, who is rubbing the bridge of his nose, eyes closed with a tiredness that seems comically reminiscent of an old man. "Well, I'm not sure what this is all about, Trey, but maybe you should cut 'em some slack and let it go."

The other senior nods in reluctant agreement and the two freshmen all but nearly trample over each other trying to run from the tension filled room. But they're stopped in their tracks when Trey calls out again.

"Wait, you two." The duo slowly looks back with cautious eyes.

"You wanted to bring something to the prefect, didn't you?" Trey tilts his head to one of the many strange topsy turvey cabinets in the kitchen. "I have some leftover cookies that I made yesterday. Take them. I'm sorry for accusing you guys like that."

Ace and Deuce exchange confused glances, and although Ace looks away in denial, Deuce nods in gratitude. They leave the kitchen just as chaotically, this time with the aroma of lavender following them.

A brief silence follows their absence, while Cater raises an eyebrow at Trey.

"Sooo…care to spill the tea?"

"Don't even start." Trey groans.

Cater seats himself on one of the stools near the counter, waiting. Trey busies himself with cleaning the stoves and counter, trying not to meet Cater's eyes. Silence falls, but it's with none of the comfort that Cater is familiar with. Giving up, he turns to his phone, refreshing his Magicam dash mindlessly. This continues for a good while until finally—

A low sigh, then– "Somebody took my candied violets."

Cater looks up from his phone. Another beat passes, and he realizes it's not a passing statement.

"It's not like you to get this bent out of shape over your ingredients going MIA." Cater shifts his face onto the elbow meeting pristine marble while shoving his phone away. "You sure that one of the froshes didn't just end up taking them thinking they were for everyone?"

Trey lets out a rough guffaw. "You know better than I do that the others don't touch our stuff."

Cater taps his fingers on the polished white granite, hands already itching to grab his phone and check for updates, but he restrains himself. "That's…mostly true."

"That can only mean one of you guys has taken it." The hairs on Cater's neck raise at Trey's tone.

"Hey now," Cater grins, raising his hands in mock surrender, "you heard it from those two. I was with Riddle when he gave them that invitation."

"I know." Cater's fingers twitch as Trey carelessly tossed aside the rag used to clean the counter into a bucket. The soggy fabric makes a hollow sound against the wood, echoing rather loudly in contrast. "But Riddle would never do such a thing either."

Cater resists the urge to roll his eyes. It's true that their cute housewarden would hardly dare to stoop to thievery, but Trey's blind faith in him can be annoying at times. After all, didn't their little teapot tyrant threaten to kill the prefect at one point?

He supposes that was his fault, though.

"Then it's back to square one." Cater shrugs. "Besides, what were you even planning to do with them if you weren't gonna eat it?"

The baker runs a hand through his mussed forest green hair and frowns. "I was going to bake a cake with them as a peace offering to the prefect."

Cater's mouth forms an 'o' shape in realization. "That's pretty big brain."

"Yeah, but look how that turned out."

"It's fine~you were able to at least send cookies this time round." Cater finally cracks, digging into his pocket for the familiar grooves of his phone case. "All's well that ends well, right?"

Trey doesn't respond and Cater is too engrossed in his phone to look up to see his expression. He slides off the stool naturally, tapping through recent posts and comments, eyes laser focused on recent posts on his dash.

"Cater."

There it is. It's the most recent story reel by Ace(according to the time stamp, about two minutes ago). It's an inconspicuous black out picture with several cute teapot and teacup stickers decorating the screen. The banner message is short and sweet: 'Dorm tea party bout to get real this month 🤔😶'

"Cater." Cater's attention snaps back and towards his friend, who gazes at him with dark eyes.

"Please don't lie to me next time."

With that, Cater watches as his long time friend finally leaves the kitchen.

Thank the Seven he did. He might have been a decent actor, but Trey has been with him through thick and thin, and it's given him the annoying ability to see through his tells.

Really now. Trey knows that he hates sweets. Shouldn't that be enough of an alibi?

It's not fair that Trey already has everything to set him up for a good relationship with you. Even if they're all set back by their violent reaction to you arriving in this world, he's sure it would only take a couple tries with Trey offering genuine heartfelt food to get to you.

It's just not fair.

Isn't he fun to hang out with? He consistently gets compliments online for his suave looks and easy personality. So why couldn't he compare to-

He shakes his head. There's no point in overthinking it now. Cay Cay #3 had easily taken the cutely decorated jar of violets and discarded it in the dorm dumpster. Like candy from a baby.

He knows it's petty. But for once, he feels much better, knowing that he upset Trey's original plans to ensnare you.

Now, he once again checks Ace's story reel and screenshots it, while quickly pulling up the search bar. He just needs to level the playing field.

There can only be one fake bitch in this house and Cater has had enough of the competition.

“I wasn’t aware that you were going to visit me, Cater.”

The puppet tilts its head with a warm smile, but there’s a frosty undercurrent to the greeting. It’s clear that he’s not welcome, if the way it’s blocking the doorway of Ramshackle has anything to say.

“Yeah, I ended up losing something here. You mind if I look for it, Yuu-chan?” Cater asks innocently. “Promise it won’t take too long.”

“Hm, sure. But I don’t think you’ll find what you’re looking for.” Yuu's grin is sharp as a razor blade. It knows what he’s here for and it’s definitely taunting him. That little–

“Well, it doesn’t hurt to look~” He responds back airily. His fist curls around his phone in his pocket tightly. The puppet shrugs and walks off, leaving him standing in the doorway.

It’s been a while since he’s personally been at Ramshackle dorm. Cater remembers how Ace complained about the house being a real fixer upper, but then again, he doesn’t remember much of that, since Yuu always spent most of the time at Heartslabyul dorm. The renovations certainly made it much more pleasing to the eye and more importantly, livable by HOA standards.

There’s nothing to write home about the living room. The coffee table is bare and there’s no wrinkles in the sofa cushions at all. It’s a little eerie—as if no one even lived in the house in the first place. The only sign of living was perhaps the fact it is clean of dust or dirt.

Nothing in the kitchen either. He gives a wayward glance to the second floor, searching for any signs of movement. Couldn’t hurt to be thorough.

Rows of tall doors pass by as Cater opens each one of them. A storage closet, a spare room, an electric cabinet, another storage area–it all blurs by after the fourth door. There really is nothing, as if the whole house has been wiped of any trace of you. He's about to toss in the towel when an old, dusty memory crops up. His little freshman, Ace. Cater swears he had been making fun of Yuu for seeing strange things at night. Something about a mouse?

Right, their room! Why didn't he think of looking there?

His feet take him rapidly from memory to the door that was the third from last in the hallway in the east wing. He manages to wrench the door open to see a regular bedroom, bed sheets barely stirred. Before he can even put one foot in, a throat clears behind him.

"It's rather rude to go into other people's bedrooms, don't you think?"

You got to be kidding me. Cater turns around with the fakest smile plastered across his face. Yuu looks unamused, tapping its foot impatiently against the wooden floorboards.

"Just wanted to make sure, y'know?" Cater replies. Yuu gives a tight smile back. It goes around him and shuts the door with a hard thunk.

"Ever heard about how curiosity killed the cat?"

Cater shakes his head in surrender, "I guess I need to look elsewhere for my lost item."

The entrance doors slam shut behind him hard enough to startle several birds out the dead trees in the yard. Cater doesn't bother giving a look back as he strides out of the yard and past the gated fence surrounding the property. That glimpse was enough and much more. Cater smirks to himself, taking his phone out and sending a quick text message to the group chat. Yes, curiosity may have killed the poor kitty cat…

But satisfaction brought it back.

viiii. Eulogy

It might surprise people to know that Trey Clover's first real friend is Che'nya Pinker.

That's not to say that Trey had trouble getting along with others as a kid, oh no. Everyone in his neighborhood agreed that he was a very sweet boy, who looked out for others around him. When he wasn’t taking care of his baby sister, he would be asked by other parents around the block to look after their own children, whether that be playing soccer games with the more energetic kids or patty cakes with the quiet ones. So it isn’t a stretch to say that he’s friends with nearly everyone. But Che’nya was a special case.

Their first meeting is still burned into Trey’s memory.

“You see it too, don’cha?” The boy had greeted him while swinging upside down on a low hanging tree branch. Trey had half a mind to scold him for the dangerous action before he actually looked at him.

The first thing that takes Trey off guard is that he has eyes. They’re a shiny yellow, just a shade lighter than his. His pupils are long and thin, not round like his at all. He supposes it must be like a cat’s pupils—for he’s never seen anything like it. Then it’s his unique colorful hair, streaks of light pink intermingling with dark purple, making a strange striped pattern across the chopped uneven hair. Trey faintly recalls a certain cat from their local legends, whose fur boasted those very same colors.

“...What are you talking about?” Trey eyes him warily. The cat boy gives a cheeky grin. He vanishes and then reappears in front of him, albeit with missing arms.

“The people around us who wear the faces of strangers.” Trey’s skin gets goosebumps at the way the boy observes him. He is not looking through Trey, but at him. Their eyes are directly making contact. “But you’re different. You have the face of a friend.”

“And what do you mean by that?” Trey furrows his eyebrows. The boy's grin stretches wider in response. (His teeth were rather blunter than expected, but his canines were pointed.)

“You’re strange. I’m stranger. Together, we can both be strange,” the cat boy chirps back lightheartedly. “The name’s Artemiy Artemiyevich Pinker. But you can just call me Che’nya.”

Something in his mind had clicked then. It’s hard to explain the feeling–just that it felt like a puzzle piece put into place. He hadn’t known it then, but at that point, the hands of fate had moved.

Whatever the case may be, Trey was grateful to have Che’nya. Because now he knows that he isn’t crazy; not when he couldn’t see his parent’s faces nor his baby sister’s or even his other friends'. Che’nya too, only shrugs his shoulders when Trey asks him about his grandfather.

“The old man? Yeah, they say I have his eyes, but I wouldn’t know.” The statement is so casually delivered that Trey can hardly believe he’s talking about his only living relative and guardian. “His face does not mirror mine in my mind.”

Staring down at you, shivering with cold and hunger, he feels something churn in him again, just like that fateful day.

He has his orders from Riddle: bring in the imposter alive. Trey isn’t a violent sort and nor does he enjoy boasting his strength over others like a sadist. And he cannot deny the feeling of cold rage that day when Yuu shuts down, fear inundating him that he may never, ever, get an explanation for the world he was born in. Why he and Che’nya were special, why he had to witness Riddle suffer under his mother–what was it all for?

Your face. There is no blank stretched skin—he can see your wide open eyes, bloodshot and fixated on him. Your mouth too, shaped in a pained grimace, lips bruised and bloodied from previous skirmishes. Surely, surely, there must be a reason why you were here. Why you bear the same face as Yuu. You hold all the answers, if you would just cooperate.

“Hey, I’m not gonna hurt you,” Trey tries reaching out, but you scurry back into the hedges, squinted eyes wary and untrusting. You remind him of a frightened hedgehog, prickly spines bristled and body curled in to protect yourself. “I just wanna talk.”

“Go away, please,” the imposter quietly pleads. “Just pretend you never saw me! I swear I didn’t even know how I got here…”

Trey swallows hard.

“Just come quietly. Please.” He is the one begging now. “It’ll be easier for all of us.”

“For who?” The imposter barks a sharp laugh. Trey doesn't miss the way they wince in pain from their wounds. “For me? Or for you?”

He doesn’t have an answer. The sound of running footsteps has him turning, and when he looks back, you’re already gone. The only traces that you were there at all were faint splotches of red blood and crushed grass.

Trey wonders if this, too, was meant to be fate.

—

Trey’s been lovingly dubbed as someone reliable. Some consider him to be an older brother figure due to his nagging and supportive care. It's ingrained in him at this point from the years he’s spent playing babysitter. Trey knows the students around him are not his younger siblings who need constant watching (although their actions say otherwise).

But he worries.

Just a bit. Trey knows better than anyone that you can take care of yourself just fine. He's seen how you carry yourself within those hedges.

It's just that, he doesn't know if you're okay right now. How could he know? You've been silent even in the face of Riddle's unceasing letters. So of course he's just a bit unsure if you're actually okay, or if you don't trust them enough to say so.

Trey finds himself more frustrated with the ban they're under. Not because of the inability to see you, although that is part of it. No, it's because Riddle has managed to skirt around that rule to desperately grab onto you, and that was just enough to wear you down.

He thinks if he was bold enough, he could've tried.

As if it wasn't enough, even Ace and Deuce find their own way to get to you, snatching up the chance to deliver the monthly tea party invitation. It takes everything in Trey to clench his teeth and let go—even when Cater ruins his plans. He can't get mad here because it won't get him any closer to you. He has to be the bigger person.

If there is one thing Trey knows about Cater, it's that he absolutely hates getting sweaty or dirty. If Cater wasn’t trying to get out of running those P.E laps, he would absolutely be shirking any extra work assigned. So he's more than suspicious when Cater bounces up to him with a grin saying he could help cover Trey's science club duty of watering plants.

Trey likes to think he can tell when Cater’s lying. His close friend's happy go lucky demeanor often throws off others, but he’s been with him long enough to pick out his subtle tells. His eyebrow twitches when he’s particularly anxious and the corner of his mouth tends to perk up if he’s feeling particularly daring or desperate. Trey figures this must be something that even he can’t trust Trey with, if he’s going out of his way to take on extra work.

So Trey considers this repayment for letting him take his violets. He watches as Cater dashes off in labwear, waiting for a minute, before following after him. His duty was in the tropical zone of the botanical garden, so he has no worries even if he does lose him.

He nearly does a double take when he sees you walking in the courtyard hallways by yourself. And before Trey could rethink his actions, he follows behind you, eyes not leaving your form for a minute.

You look like you haven't slept well. There's dark circles under your eyes. He hopes you're brushing your teeth. There’s no signs of bandages or wounds that he remembers you in, which he supposes is one relief. Even if he so desperately wishes to cook you a proper meal—you look like you could fall over at any minute.

The realization your path is leading to the botanical garden comes just as Trey catches sight of the glass dome. He wants to rush in after you, but he stops himself just as the door swings close behind your form.

Cater is in there. It all makes sense now. Trey has to give it to him—Cater really does know every little happening in the school. But Trey knows him well too—and if he had to guess, even if Cater manages to talk to you, it won’t end pretty. His inability to be genuine will definitely only set you on edge and less likely to reciprocate.

The waiting game he plays is nothing compared to the silence he had to endure before. Trey doesn’t have to look to know that you’re the one slamming open the doors to the botanical gardens, labwear dirtied and face twisted in a frustrated anger. He watches as you enter Professor Crewel’s office again and after some time, pop back out in completely different clothes.

His chest tightens in longing as he continues to follow after (more from an instinctual drive now, rather than deliberate), trying to keep you in sight within the stone pillars. He wants to call out after you so badly and ask you what’s the matter, if you need help with anything. If there was anything he could do to make you forgive him for watching you bleed out on dewy grass. The sun is about to set, warm golden rays flickering between pillars and casting long shadows. Trey’s so enamored with following after you that he flinches back when the sun directly shines into his eyes, blinding him momentarily.

He barely manages to get a hold of himself. By the time his eyes blink away the blurry blots, he realizes you’re looking back at him. His breath stops. Your eyes are wide and frightened as they are that day, and his heart drops to his stomach. Both of you don’t move, merely staring at each other.

You finally break the connection, turning around and quickly walking away. Trey gasps, remembering to breathe, lungs screaming for air.

What was that?

x. Entombment

It's a nice sunny afternoon in the Heartslabyul domain. There weren't any track club activities nor dreaded remedial lessons. If anything, this free time would have been perfect for a nap. He hadn’t been up to any large shenanigans like this since the whole fiasco of [First] and Yuu.

“I don’t think this is a good idea.”

Ace scoffs, rolling his eyes. “You got a better one, loosey Deucy? If we don’t do this now, then all of us are stuck until Housewarden grows a pair of balls.”

Deuce Spade bites his lips. “I just think there might be a better way around this.”

“Yeah? And the sky is blue. Keep going, we don't have much time." Ace cranes his neck to the side of the bush, eyes warily looking out to make sure the coast is clear.

Deuce grumbles but continues plucking, some roses already tucked within his arms. They chose a bush the furthest away from the dorm, in a hidden corner where no arched windows could overlook them. It was necessary, because today was Wednesday, and the Housewarden would have their heads for plucking his beloved roses out of all the flora.

His fingers are bleeding already, finger pads torn from repetitive tugging on the thorns and stems. They couldn’t afford taking any of the gardening tools, lest they be questioned for what they were doing with them. Still, even he had his limits.

“Why is it that you aren’t helping at all?” Deuce snipes at Ace, who scowls back.

“You want to be caught by someone, genius?” Ace replies snarkily. “Someone has to keep look out.”

“Doesn’t explain why I have to do all the work.”

Ace rolls his eyes, deigning not to bother engaging in another futile argument that would lead to nowhere. Deuce is about to cut off a particularly stubborn rose when Ace pipes up again.

“...Did they ever respond to your texts?” Deuce only deflates in response. Ace’s mouth slants crookedly in an annoyed grimace. The two of them know full well what the answer to that was.

“Damn that cat…” Ace mutters bitterly under his breath. Deuce doesn’t say anything. He too, is finding it hard to not feel petty towards Grim right now. Weren’t they friends? He could’ve afforded to help them out somehow. But it’s no use. Their texts went unanswered. Headmaster had banned them from stepping foot onto Ramshackle grounds. It’s like you had closed everything off from them.

It’s why he doesn’t protest this plan, as reckless as it is. He’s not any better than Ace—he needs to see you. He and Ace were your closest friends, your first friends! He loved you. That had to mean something. If it didn’t, then…

“I think this is enough.” Deuce adjusts the messy bouquet in his hands, attempting to hold them without crushing the delicate petals. Ace looks over and nods in approval. He takes out crimson ribbons and a silk handkerchief and begins tying it around the stems in a very artful way that has Deuce’s eyebrows raising.

“Where did you get that?” Ace smirks in response at the interrogative question.

“Don’t worry about it.” Ace snatches the bouquet from his hands and slips in an envelope with the housewarden’s seal. Deuce silences the questions on the tip of his tongue. For whatever Ace has planned, he’s rather not know anything more troublesome than necesscary.

What he failed to account for was getting caught. Housewarden Riddle was beyond furious for what they did. It was only by Trey and Cater's gentle reminders that what they did was for all of them, that he only calmed down.

Deuce supposes three days with the collar is better than a week. Even if it is a heavy thing that weighs on his very soul.

He only hopes that you don't notice the thorns they forgot to trim.

—

It’s a given that although Trey is the right hand of Heartslabyul, Cater is considered the left hand of Housewarden Riddle. It’s been that way since Deuce himself enrolled in NRC, and possibly even further back. He hadn’t understood it quite then, but after some time, he realized something that he should’ve realized a long time ago.

To never get on Cater’s bad side.

There are events where the five of them gather outside of Yuu’s influence. Administrative meetings, monthly tea parties, and the occasional casual hang out. When you’re aware of how much of your life is affected from being not like the others, it’s common to side with those who are like you.

Cater had called the meeting this time. It was a bit out of the blue, at least for him and Ace. It’s only when they’re all gathered around the playing table in the lounge, not another soul in sight, when Deuce realizes Cater has that gleam in his eye. One that screams that he got a viral lead on a hot topic. His upperclassman must have been investigating.

"Remember how mirrors are considered to be portals?"

Deuce's neck prickles.

"Your point, Cater?" Their housewarden is impatient, not aware of what the question poses. His arms are crossed with his eyebrows furrowed in a frustrated glare. Deuce realizes that he must have been the one to send out Cater.

"There's a mirror in the prefect's bedroom." Deuce blurts out, and Riddle’s steely eyes snap over in surprise. Cater nods in affirmation.

"Yeah. I only managed a glimpse, but Yuu covered their mirror." Cater says.

“Hold on, you went into the prefect’s bedroom? Scratch that, to Ramshackle?” Ace asks. “Why are we just getting this now?”

“Because I just came back Acey,” Cater flicks his forehead, causing Ace to exclaim in pain. Trey smiles faintly at the action. “Also Riddle told me to keep it confidential—you two would have ran straight out if we had told you.”

Deuce sheepishly rubs his neck at Cater’s pointed sentence. Riddle rubs his chin in thoughtfulness, eyebrows still furrowed.

“But there isn’t anything magical about that mirror, is there?” Riddle asks, skepticism coating his tone. “The puppet could have simply covered that mirror out of an odd preference.”

“Acey, didn’t you mention that Yuu always mentioned seeing things in that mirror?” Cater responds, deflecting the question upon his underclassmen. Ace straightens as he and Deuce both exchange a glance.

“Yeah…something about a mouse in their mirror,” Ace answers slowly, face scrunched in an effort to recall memories. “I always thought it was just crazy dreams but…”

“Yuu was always insisting about it,” Deuce chimes in. “Said the mouse speaks to them and everything—that there was another world it was in.”

Trey and Cater share a furtive glance together before looking at Riddle. Their housewarden seems to be taking in the new information, closing his eyes in thought. For a while, no one dares to speak.

“What do you think, Riddle?” Trey finally breaks the heavy silence, and Deuce breathlessly releases a sigh. Leave it to Trey to speak for all of them.

“If the mirror in the bedroom is magical, then that changes things.” Riddle pronounces with conviction. “If that mirror potentially holds a dimension, then that would be the perfect place to trap someone.”

“Cater.” The orange head straightens to attention at the stern command. “Find a way to get the puppet out of the dorm for a while. We’ll need to look into this ourselves.”

Cater smirks and a chill runs down Deuce’s spine. While Cater still has an easy going look, his jade green eyes have darkened with a sadistic gleam.

“Roger that, housewarden!” His upperclassman chirps, already taking out his phone.

Riddle is already barking orders that each of them are to take up within this mission of theirs. But Deuce nearly misses his task, eyes stuck on Cater’s face as he scrolls his phone.

He catches a glimpse of a photo before it’s quickly clicked away. Deuce snaps back to Riddle just in time for Cater to shoot him a wary glare, checking to make sure no one else was looking.

Deuce is very glad he is working together with Cater.

#yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twst #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #my works #damn this is the most ive ever written.....insane

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anon55mystery · 2 months ago

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Ideas for a GF Lost Legends sequel or well midquel.

1). We get a story that features Ford working together with Dipper and Multi-Bear!

We learn more of their friendship and their interests.

Multi-Bear meets Ford! Him, Multi-Bear, and Dipper become an unlikely trio!

They all work together to find something or someone in The Crawlspace about Ford's past. Maybe also some information of The Oracle!

Also maybe some more flashbacks of Ford's childhood and maybe Multi-Bear shares some of his childhood memories too.

Also their love of the group BABBA and their hit song Disco Girl!

2). The second story can be about Pacifica working at Greasy's Diner.

After her parents lost their mansion for pledging their alliance to Bill. Pacifica has to find work to pay off her parents new house.

While at the start, she's her usually bratty and spoiled self. She slowly learns how to be nice and compassionate to others. Also because her, and her parents aren't wealthy anymore, no one is cowering before her.

Even when Pacifica is mean to her at first, Lazy Susan is is still cheerful and polite towards her, she even lets her stay at her place when her parents are "busy" wallowing in pity.

We also learn a little bit of Lazy Susan's past and why she's nice. Also her becoming Pacifica's grandmother figure.

3). A reconcile story of Old Man McGucket and his son.

We get flashbacks of what's his childhood like and what type of people his family were.

His friendship with Stanford, him giving an axolotl, and more of their friendship during college.

Some flashbacks of him when he was healthier, and his relationship with his son Tate McGucket, along with is ex wife Emma-May.

Maybe even some tension between Ford and Tate for understandable reasons.

4). A story of Wendy during high school, and still having adventures after The Pines Family left Gravity Falls.

She's still the awesome laid-back, rebellious teenager, we know and love, but this time we learn a bit more about her childhood and who her mom was.

We see the relationship between her dad, her younger brothers, and her mom before her disappearance (I like to think she disappeared when Wendy was twelve. Also I believe in this theory)

In the flashbacks, we get to see her dad training her and her brothers for an apocalypse, and her awesome fighting skills!

The origin on how she met Tambry, despite being complete opposites. Also her eventual friendships with Nate, Lee, Robbie, and Thompson.

We also see she still goes on adventures without Soos and The Pines Family. Sometimes she goes on adventures with her friends or brothers.

Maybe even while she's ditching school during a boring trip at the museum, she finds a something about her missing mom.

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 9 months ago

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AITA for ditching adults to hang out with children?

Pretty much what the title says. I (26F) enjoy the company of children more than adults. I find it hard to talk to adults. I'm always not talkative in their company. That's why, I only managed to keep only 2 of my friends that I grew up with, I feel as if people grow up and leaving me behind, and relate more to children. The only friendship I had at work quickly fell apart for many reasons, but the person being older than me and me not knowing how to talk to her was a big factor.

In family reunions that we have twice weekly, I tend to prefer running around and playing hide and seek with children and toddlers, or talking about their day, their favorite colors, making silly faces at babies, teaching kids how to write and draw etc etc. I'm able to pass this off as "babysitting" because "I love children but have none of my own", so no one found it weird yet and they can have time without having to keep an eye on their children, even in parties and weddings, I grab the nearest baby relative so no one will talk to me and potential suitors would assume I'm married, but the truth, I just find the things children talk about more interesting than adults and they understand me better. They are easier to talk to. I have better relationships with the younger relatives aged 0-16 but the more they grow up I start talking to them less and less. The cousins that are around my age and used to be my best friends growing up are now very distant to me because I don't know how to talk to them anymore, and I get along with their kids instead. They do often comment on this part though. "Why don't you talk with us" and stuff like that.

Specially oneday, my cousin (13F) had her friends over in the same time as we were gathered in their house. I went in her room to say hi and intended to leave immediately, but I saw they were playing a fun card game and ended up joining them. We were talking and laughing a lot for a while, until they asked me what grade I was in. My cousin laughed and told them, "she has a full time job!" And all of them were shocked but asked about my job and stuff. Thank God they weren't uncomfortable with it or anything, but my sister (33F) saw me and gave me a weird look that prompted me to leave. She exasperatedly asked my why was I doing that, since it was clear what I was doing doesn't count as babysitting.

I do think it's a non issue for adults to be friends with minors, however I question myself because 1. I'm sorta lying about the babysitting thing 2. I'm mainly friends with minors. I keep reading about how that's a red flag if an adult only interacts which children and I keep feeling like an AH for it. AITA?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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highway-tuna · 9 months ago

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When The Morning Comes

pairing: Danny Wagner x Reader

wc: 2.4k+

warnings: none

summary: Seems like it's just your luck that you get sick right before a date. But not just any date, a Valentine's Day date. But not just any Valentine's Day date, a double Valentine's Day date with your good friend, Danny. So much for being a good wingman. With nothing better to do, you settle into your coziest blanket and sulk, doomed to spend your Valentine's Day evening alone. Or so you think...

a/n: I saw @seenoversundown's GVF Valentine's Day Writing Event and decided to workshop this regular idea I had in the backburner to something more in theme! Hope you enjoy, I've written fan fiction in general for a long while, but this is actually my first one-shot. Happy Valentine's Day!

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

“I know, I know!” You groan into your phone, staring down at the bright, red glow of the electronic thermometer. You’d been feeling under the weather since this morning, but you didn't think it was this bad. The sleek dress hanging from the closet door practically mocks you while you already beat yourself up. “I didn’t think I’d feel this… shitty. I’m sorry.”

Danny chuckles over the phone, seemingly unbothered. “You sure you aren’t faking it? You’re always somehow not feeling well right before events.” He sucks his teeth and you can only imagine his dumb disapproving smirk. “Seems pretty convenient, (Y/N).”

“It’s not convenient, Daniel. It’s bad luck.” Collapsing into your bed, you sigh, practically radiating guilt. “Especially tonight. I feel terrible having to bail on this date. It’s like my first real date since…” A grin creeps its way across your lips as you giggle at the thought.

“Since our date?” The both of you begin laughing, a clear confirmation of his response. Danny was simply a friend of a friend of a friend before you two had met. New to the area and looking to start dating, a friend of yours thought Danny would be the perfect match for you. Instead of allowing you to interact in any way beforehand to let things naturally take its course, the casanovas that were your mutual friends decided the blind date approach would be best. And of course it wasn’t. The chemistry just wasn’t there. You were awkward. There was a lot of dead silence and extremely polite small talk. To make matters even worse, everyone had failed to mention he was fresh out of a relationship. Only after the fact did he tell you he wasn’t even looking for a relationship, that our friends had basically forced him to go on the date.

Lucky for you, he was always interested in making friends and that’s what you became. Good friends. Really good friends, in fact. Joined at the hip, your friends would say with a tacked on eyeroll for good measure. “Yes, since our date. No one could treat me nearly as well as you did that night.”

“Oh? Is that why you haven’t been on any other dates?” You both laugh at his quip, but it does leave a strange feeling in your chest. Unbeknownst to Danny, he was the reason you hadn’t been on any other dates. Sure, the date didn’t really leave you with any feelings, but once your friendship blossomed so did your unrequited crush. Being around Danny just felt… easy. Which is exactly why you had to leave it as is. It’s such a cliche, but it’s cliche for a reason. He’s basically your best friend at this point. To make things awkward or face rejection from one of the most important people in your life is something you’d go through hell and back to avoid. “I guess I’ll just have to cancel the date.”

Just the thought makes you feel even more guilty. “Danny, no. You can’t just ditch the girl. On Valentine’s Day, no less.” It’s a bit comforting that you don't have to go on a double date on Valentine’s Day and watch the man you’d rather date, date someone else. “Oh man, I should probably call him to cancel, right?”

“It’s fine, I’ll-”

“You’re going on this date, Danny. Let me know how good it went tomorrow, alright? Bye!” You end the call intentionally before he could utter another word. Searching for your date’s contact in your phone, you get a text notification that simply says one word.

Asshole.

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

Bundled up on the couch watching reruns of old shows isn’t how you expected to spend your Valentine’s Day, but here you are. Your eyes fall to the time on your phone. 7:36pm. If that damn thermometer didn’t say you had a fever, you could’ve been out right now at a fancy restaurant, eating fancy food, dressed all fancy. Probably still feeling like shit, but at least you would’ve looked great. Not like how you look now: hair matted down from resting in your pseudo blanket fort, eyes dark and weary, falling in and out of consciousness. It’s an exhilarating time.

Grabbing the phone, you scroll mindlessly online and occasionally check the status of your DoorDash order. A little comfort fast food should make you feel better, right? It’s supposed to be here soon. As you swipe through your socials, you see a picture of… your date and Danny’s date together? Which wouldn’t be too weird except for the fact that Danny is in none of these pictures. Your first instinct is to send the pictures over to him with simply a question mark. A few moments pass and you see that he sees your message, but doesn’t respond. Asshole.

A knock on your door startles you from staring at your phone. With an achy groan, you stand from your couch and peer out your window, hoping to see someone with a bag of food walking from their car, but no. Nothing from this view. They really must’ve dropped it off and zoomed away. You swing the door open, desperate for your food.

“Danny?” His name leaves your mouth in shock before you even process the rest of the view. A beautiful bouquet in hand, dressed equally as comfortable as you, and… your bag of food? You point at the brown paper bag, very confused. “How did you-”

“He was bringing it out the same time I was walking up to your door so he just sorta handed it to me,” he laughs, whether it be at the situation or at your general look of shock, staring at him with mouth slightly agape. It’s as if he could read your mind, ready to question him. “You really thought I was gonna let you spend Valentine’s Day by yourself, (Y/N)?”

“Well, yeah! You had a date!” You weakly shove him and chuckle.

“It’s fine. She was understanding. I had someone I needed to take care of.” The flush of your cheeks are impossible to hide. Narrowing your eyes, your mouth opens and shuts as you try to find a rebuttal, but nothing comes out. Accepting your defeat, you step aside and silently invite him in. He hands you your bag of food and beelines straight for the kitchen.

You watch him with your head tilted while he scavenges through your cabinets. “What are you doing?” He mutters something, but you can’t quite catch it. “What- Oh.” He pulls out a vase and fills it with water, setting the bouquet inside. With an almost childish look of pride, he stands beside it and gestures with his hands.

“For you.”

“Thank you… for the hand-me-down flowers.” He shakes his head, making his way back to your living room. A gentle squeeze of your shoulder while he passes that will surely echo in your head the entire night.

“I got them specifically for you. I canceled right after our phone call. These plans-” He motions to everything around him before tossing himself onto the couch, clearly getting comfy right beside your sick blanket pile. “-were already in motion.”

You sigh before sitting beside him, wrapping your blanket around your shoulder and placing your bag of food on the floor. “You really didn’t have to. Plus, you’re gonna get sick.” His hand waves dismissively and he tugs on your blanket, now wrapping around both of you. This closeness between you two isn’t unusual by any means, but tonight, there’s just something different about it. Maybe that’s hope or delusion talking. Or maybe you’re just loopy from cough medicine. Probably that.

Grabbing your food, he takes a handful of fries and puts them in his mouth. “I never get sick.” You snatch the bag back and start eating as well, begrudgingly sharing with him. Falling into idle chatter, the two of you get more and more comfortable. His arm draped over your shoulders, your head practically nestled into his neck. Just friends being friends. He really came here on Valentine’s to do… absolutely nothing with you.

Your eyes begin to slowly flutter shut on occasion, the weary and tired energy taking over you. “You okay?” He pulls away ever so slightly to glance down at you, just checking in. That small retreat from him causes you to instinctually latch onto him. The vibration of his soft laughter reverberates against you. “Alright, let’s get you to bed.” You groan, but comply as he stands from the couch, leaving you with an empty space that you long for him to fill. He takes your hand and guides you to your own bedroom.

Like a moth to a flame, your bed calls out to you. Without moving the top sheets or decorative throws, you face plant directly into a pillow and let out a heavy sigh of relief. It’s almost enough to forget about Danny, admiring you with a soft chuckle. You roll over and look up at him, standing at the foot of your bed. Just the image is enough to make you blush, considering this scene in another circumstance, but you quickly shirk those thoughts. Something suddenly comes to mind. “Oh, check my vinyls. I got a new one,” your voice comes out slow and groggy, tinged with your sleepy smile.

He steps over to your record player, crouching down to look into your box of vinyls. Sitting right in front is Hall & Oates Abandoned Luncheonette. You watch as a small grin crosses his lips. “One of my favorites,” he plainly mutters, sliding the record out of the sleeve and putting it on the turntable. When The Morning Comes starts to play, filling the space in your room.

“I got it because I remembered you talking about it. Hall & Oates is also just great so,” you mumble, the sleep still pulling you in and out of consciousness. Your eyes close for a moment and you feel the bed shift beside you. Opening them slightly, you glance over to see Danny laying beside you, his fingers tapping on his chest along to the beat of the song. Without a word, you cuddle up to him, resting your head against his arm. “Staying the night?”

“Of course.”

“Good.” You both chuckle at the response. It’s a little forward of you, but with how tired and weak you are, you let your walls come down. “Y’know, I’m really glad you came over tonight.”

“There’s nothing else in the world I’d rather do than spend time with you.” His eyes fall on you while he adjusts, bringing you into his arms. “Even if you’re practically dead right now.”

“I am.” You’re honestly glad the meds and the illness are making you as loose as you are right now. Because otherwise you’d be through the roof with all this attention and affection he’s giving you. “So dead, but I’m still happy you’re here. Does this count as our second date?”

He laughs and shrugs. “If it is, I think it went way better than our first.” His fingers absentmindedly rake through your hair as you continue to drift off. A small silence falls between you before he quietly speaks. “Maybe we should try that again…” Hearing that shocks you, but physically, you can’t hold your exhaustion back. A small mhm leaves your lips as you fall unconscious.

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

Sunlight pours into your bedroom, casting a soft glow across you. You yawn and try to stretch, but feel an assortment of your limbs tangled with something else, someone else. Looking over, Danny’s fast asleep, his arms wrapped around you in a bear hug, his legs intertwined with yours. It causes you to chuckle, but deep down, your heart races being so close to him. His dark curls falling over his face, his soft lips parted ever so slightly, the rise and fall of his chest as he breathes deeply.

In a moment of selfish desire, you take his hand in yours, trailing your fingers with a gentle touch along his skin. A twitch causes you to quickly withdraw. You feel him stir in his sleep, but he only pulls you closer. “Morning…” His voice, groggy and husky, almost startles you just as much as it intrigues you. It’s as if you can feel his hesitation, a hesitation you share as he loosens his grip, allowing you to fully turn and face him. Just inches apart, a strange feeling between you two lingers.

“Morning. Sleep well?”

“Amazing.” You can’t tell if he’s being sarcastic or not. “I can feel your sickness in my immune system as we speak.” Yeah, sarcasm.

“Well, I actually do feel better now.”

There’s a short pause, a moment where your eyes lock and a shared chuckle occurs. “Just admit you wanted me all to yourself last night, that you weren’t sick at all.”

“I was sick, but…” Feeling emboldened, you shoot back, “Maybe it was both.”

“Did you… hear what I said last night? Before you passed out.” For the first time in a while, you hear what seems to be nerves from Danny’s voice. Just in bringing it up, it seems obvious that he was being genuine. Something you would’ve casted off as just a joke because he wouldn’t really want to go on another date with you, surely.

Your eyes can’t help, but quickly flit between his lips and his own dark eyes, staring straight through you. “I did.” It’s as if he’s holding his breath, waiting for you to answer with actual awareness this time, but you hold back. If something like this is truly happening, you want him to fully repeat it.

“Do you want to try again?” The moment only grows in intimacy once his hand slowly comes up to your face, pushing aside strands of hair. “I think we’d have a better shot this time, (Y/N).”

You nod, causing you both to smile. “I think so too.” His eyes do the same dance as yours, admiring your lips. Accepting the invitation, he leans in, connecting his lips to yours. It’s a sweet and safe kiss, very brief. “You usually kiss girls before the first date?”

He laughs and shakes his head, rolling his eyes in a playful display of annoyance. “It’s basically our third.”

“God, our third date. Things are going pretty well for us, I guess.” Another kiss is shared before you pull away, giggling. “And we just missed Valentine’s Day. That would’ve been a perfect date.”

“What do you mean? Wrapped up on the couch with you coughing all over me was my dream date.”

“Oh, you’re definitely gonna get sick.”

“And it’ll definitely be worth it.”

#gvfvalentines #gvf #greta van fleet #greta van fleet x reader #danny wagner #danny wagner x reader #fanfic #oneshot

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glassartpeasants · 9 months ago

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Killer angst drabble cause why not

gn!reader

~~~

You knew how much Kid meant to him. It was obvious from the start of the relationship. Anywhere Kid went, Killer was right behind him. They were best friends since childhood so who were you to try and split them apart? But that didn't mean that it didn't hurt.

There's been countless times where Killer has ditched you for Kid. He wouldn't even notify you that he wouldn't show up, he'd just stand you up. You tried to explain to Killer that it hurt your feelings and if he could at least let you know that he wouldn't show up. It lead to a huge fight. Words were said, tears were shed and it ended up with you two breaking up for a week or two.

You tried to ignore the heartbreak cause you didn't want to make the crew uncomfortable. Hell you even talked to some people about leaving the Kid Pirates. After all, Killer was the reason you joined. So now that you two weren't a thing anymore, there was no reason to be on the Victoria Punk. The tension was too thick for you.

Yet the moment you had gotten ready to pack your bags, Killer approached you. He promised he'd do better and that you did mean something to him. You believed him the first two months but then he slowly started going back to how it was. Which left you to where you are now, watching the stars with your bag in you lap as you sit on the railing.

"The city lights look inviting doesn't it? It's a pretty city and island. Maybe I can stay here until a ship shows up to take me home." Your heart burned at the thought of never hearing Killer's voice again. Even if you didn't want to admit it, a small part of you had been ready to leave since the huge fight. Knowing you'd always be in second, third, and fourth place for Killer. You'd never be his first priority, no matter what happens.

"Not even a competition, and you still won Eustass Kid." Whispering to yourself, your aware of the tears slowly falling down your face. A sad little laugh leaves your lips as you wipe the tears away.

"Your crying." Jumping from the sudden noise, you snap you head around and see your soon to be ex.

"Yeah. I guess I am." A seconds silence fell over the two if you.

"What's wrong?"

"Just settling on my final decision." Even without seeing his face, you knew he was puzzled.

"Which is?" Taking a deep breath, you respond.

"That I'm breaking up with you." Killer’s body tensed at your words. The glassy look in your eyes had him realizing that this wasn't a joke or prank.

"I'm sorry Killer, I knew that Kid was super important to you when we got together and I thought I could handle you spending almost all your time with Kid. Unfortunately I've realized that I cant." Your lips tremble as you try to gently smile.

"I don't want you to lose a friendship you've had since childhood just cause of me." You feel the Victoria Punk start to move away from the island.

"S-Shit (Y/N) I'm sorry. I know I've been ditching you and that I promised that I stopped and you have every right to be mad-"

"I'm not mad. At least not anymore."

"But you should be! You should be mad! I made you a promise and I broke it after saying I'd change. Why aren't you yelling at me?! Why aren't you mad that I lied to you?!"

"Because I love you." Killer could feel his heart beating fast as the weight of his actions finally hit him. He tried to speak yet nothing came out.

"And that's why I have to go. Life is about living and learning. And we simply learned that we weren't meant to be. But that's okay, you'll finally someone who works out better for you." You start to put on your bag to get ready to jump off the ship and onto the dock the Victoria Punk was moving away from. Killer grabs your hand and pulls himself closer to you.

"I don't want someone else, I want you. You and only you. Give me another chance please (Y/N)." Facing Killer and his mask, you press a kiss to where his lips would be. Tears flow down your face knowing that's the last kiss you'd ever give him.

"I better see your name in the newspaper often." Slipping tour hand away from his quickly, you whisper one last thing before jumping on the very last edge of the dock.

"Goodbye Massacre Soilder Killer. I love you." You land on the dock and watch the Victoria Punk sail past the dock. And you watch with a heavy heart as Killer starts running to the end of the ship to catch you while screaming to stop the ship.

He looked at you and screamed your name as he sailed farther and farther away, watching you wave him goodbye with tears in your eyes.

#one piece x reader #massacre soldier killer x reader #killer x reader

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stregoniconiconii · 8 months ago

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I think a lot of people really don't get the Eddie Dustin dynamic. They think Dustin and Eddie are new best friends, that they are equal, which is not the case. Their dynamic is more mentor-student coded. Eddie said it himself he sees the people in his club as little sheep he saved, he never really was their friend. His world view also shaped Dustin's personality. This kid and his friends saved the world 3 times, they consider themselves heroes and yet by society standards they are seen as nerds and get bullied. Then there comes a dude who they think gets it, so they latch on. Even though he is not that different from popular kids who think they are better than the rest. His harmful opinions influence Dustin (I would argue even Mike) that they suddenly ditch their friend, are mean, failing school even though in Dustin's case he absolutely loves learning and so forth. Eddie brought out the worst of them which contributed to the tensions in s4 between Steve and Dustin (along with Dustin maybe being jealous of Robin tbh I haven't considered that way but it makes sense). You can't compare the Steve and Dustin dynamic with Eddie and Dustin because Steve never saw himself as something better than Dustin, he always treated him as someone equal which is why their bond will always be stronger than the bond Dustin has with Eddie. I really hope for s5 they somewhat touch on this. (Sorry for coming in your inbox like this)

Most people in this fandom don't get Eddie, full stop. They completely buy into the bullshit he spews about conformity and "the man", which isn't helped by the Duffers also leaning into it. Most egregious example being the supposed conclusion to Lucas' s4 arc. It's ridiculous precisely because Eddie does begin to learn that his assumptions/"doctrine" is wrong through his growing admiration for Steve and his bravery.

Eddie's relationship with his friends is absolutely not based on any kind of equality. He is looked to as a leader and not a particularly forgiving one at that. More like a tyrant. It's played for laughs but Mike and Dustin are genuinely anxious about how Eddie will react to not only Lucas not being available for DnD on one particular night, but him being unavailable because of a basketball game. Lucas didn't even want to talk to him himself, probably because Eddie has already shown himself to be unreasonable when it comes to DnD and basketball.

It's not purely Eddie's influence that leads Dustin to his meaner path, but he certainly doesn't help. Dustin has always been a know-it-all and cocky, he has a foul mouth, and he clearly has hard set ideas about other people that he finds very difficult to let go of. I think Eddie's main influence is in the us vs them attitude that Dustin adopts regarding the "popular" kids, but Dustin's overconfidence is definitely also because he has cheated death 3 years in a row. Nobody that was real to Dustin has died and he believes his plans are infallible... until Eddie dies following one of his plans. Yes, Eddie made the stupid decision to run into certain death for no real reason, but it is through Dustin that Eddie is connected to the larger plot. If he had just witnessed Chrissy's death and then hid, then he would have eventually been found by someone else and never directly involved with the Upside Down.

The thing I mentioned about jealousy over Steve and Robin's friendship, I think it's something that gets overlooked Way too much. Dustin was very invested in his idea that Steve and Robin are perfect for each other. We all know why they're not together, but Dustin doesn't. He just sees Steve being best friends with Robin instead of boyfriend and girlfriend like he had expected/predicted and that throws him off. 1. He was not right about something and 2. HE'S supposed to be Steve's best friend. He feels replaced. So, he tries to replace Steve. Not totally, because he can't, but Dustin Literally says to Steve "You're just jealous I have another older male friend". Dustin doesn't have subtlety. He's Trying to make Steve jealous and it is working!

Steve and Dustin's friendship was so fresh and unexpected. They're not supposed to be friends, but they are. Steve watches Star Wars with Dustin, Steve does Dustin's hair. They save each other's lives. Attempting to recreate that brotherhood with Eddie just...doesn't work. They haven't gone through what Steve and Dustin have gone through. Plus, you're right, Steve and Dustin are on a more equal level. There's elements of mentor-student with them, but most importantly they teach each other. Steve isn't leading Dustin down a road of enlightenment, he's just hanging out with his buddy. Eddie doesn't compare.

I have zero faith in s5, which I'm barely certain I'll even be watching. The Duffers lean too hard into fan service so they're going to recreate the Justice for Barb storyline but with Dustin and it's going to suck. The Duffers don't think it's a bad thing that Dustin snipes at Steve constantly or puts down his intelligence, because it's meant to be funny. Comic relief yay. The characters on this show are mean to each other, yes, but it's annoying to deal with when we see Steve apologise for going too far when he bites back at Dustin.

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crookedkryptonitebeliever · 10 months ago

Text

Best and Worst of Both Worlds (Part 6)

tw: reader being cringefail, vomiting and mild yandere

Part 7

You told him the address of a house five blocks away from your home. Although you prefer him over Montgomery at the moment, you're still not comfortable with him knowing exactly where you live.

He kept his eyes on the road and lips sealed. He looks neutral, but you would appreciate simply acknowledging what you said. An 'okay' would have sufficed, but he was silent.

Until he opened his mouth to speak a minute later.

"Are you sure?" He asked.

You were about to say yes immediately, but something about that question unnerved you. Why would he ask that? Of course, you're sure, it's your 'home'! You confirmed it and left the conversation at that.

He wordlessly nodded and proceeded to drive. You held the awkwardness in the air, Yves merely enjoying the noiseless ride with you next to him.

You began to subconsciously fidget, feeling uneasy not talking to him and worrying about him finding out you're bluffing about your address. You caused a burn on his hand, you ditched him and now you're insinuating that you don't trust him enough to even let him know where you live.

Well, it isn't your fault. He's the one acting strange and giving mixed signals. Wait... was it mixed signals or unclear messages? You don't know and you feel the urge to just swing the car door open, jumping out onto the highway feels more bearable than this.

Yves is just so confusing to you. He does things that are the textbook definition of flirting. But the friendship wasn't even established yet. Of course, you know that romantic relationships can exist after a day or two in the context of dating websites. However, you didn't meet Yves through one nor was he clear if he wanted to pursue a relationship with you. Maybe he's toying with you? Whatever the reason is, you don't think you should maintain contact with him if he makes you feel all kinds of uncertainties.

You asked yourself, why are you doing this again aside from your horniness or loneliness? He's most likely seeing you as this pet.

Right, you were guilty of spilling his drink and rudely leaving the cafe. Correct, you're doing this to make it up to him, he wanted your company for whatever reason and you're giving it to him. That's it, this doesn't mean anything else, he's definitely not interested in you. This is a transaction and nothing more, you have to cut him off from your life for your own good.

Who gives a damn if you offend him one last time, it's not like you were ever eligible for him anyways. It hurts for you to admit it to yourself, but you have to eat the cold hard truth.

While you're having your inner monologue, Yves periodically checks on your fidgeting from the corner of his eyes. Whatever you're thinking about, it's consuming your entire attention reserve, since you didn't even realize that he's been driving in circles around the block you claimed to live at.

In the end, his car slows to a stop. He parked parallel to the pavement, you hastily unbuckled your seat belt as he pulled on his handbrake.

He looks at you blankly. You expressed your gratitude by promising to get out of his hair as soon as possible. Swinging the door open, you stumbled out of the car. Yves switched the engine off before getting out as well, he helped you retrieve your bag from the back seat.

You tried to grab it off him, but he only strolled forward.

The dread grows larger and larger as he reaches the porch of this unknown house. He waited for you at the front door.

You sighed, trudging towards him in defeat. Still holding onto that glimmer of hope that he hands you the sack and leaves you alone for the night. Or forever.

But even when you're a foot away from the door. He's still there.

You clenched your fists and turned to face him. Staring him straight in the eyes, you needed to crane your neck up because he was too tall for you.

"I'm disappointed that you think my intentions were nefarious." His arms are crossed. "I was hoping you would be upfront with me about it."

At this point, you're too tired to go through his mental obstacle course. You gave him a firm apology, told him that you're grateful for the lift and you're going to be fine from here.

And as if the universe has a personal vendetta against you, a bright flash brightens the night sky. Shortly after, angry grumbling from rolling thunderclouds resonated throughout the air. Almost immediately after, a column of falling droplets appeared in front of you. Luckily you're under the foyer, or you would have been drenched already.

You turned your head to see Yves's take on this. He watches you while leaning against the wall; still holding your bag and his own.

Horrible. If you didn't have your precious study materials, you would have just danced in the rain. But those papers and your barely functioning laptop are your lifelines. That's your only means of inventory too, if it gets soaked, you won't get to carry as much tomorrow.

You hung your head low, looks like you just have to show him the audacity.

Luckily, you didn't have to. Yves walked past you, guiding you out of the temporary rain refuge with his palm on your shoulder. A shadow is cast above and you look up to see him holding a black umbrella, protecting you and him from the droplets.

He walked you back to his car and secured your precious university materials.

You suppressed a scream in your hands. He slid into the driver's side, closing his umbrella and keeping it next to his seat.

The muffled pitter-patters and soft squeaking of his wipers filled the quietude.

You're at your limit, you just wanted to go home. You don't want to be around him for a minute longer, you're mortified to death and the shame you're experiencing is indescribable. Why did you have to slip on that day? Why weren't you looking when you were running to the cafe? How could you be so clumsy?

Why did he come in at such a time that you just HAVE to rely on him? What are you to Yves?

"You're certainly an interesting person, (name)."

You whipped your head to him and stare in horror. Did you mumble all of that out? He ignored your reaction as he fixed his hair in the mirror.

"You're alternating between putting me on a pedestal and being disrusting of me." He closed his mirror and pushed his sun visor back. Yves looked at you with a softened, amused gaze. "You're bold, yet you fear rejection."

You kept your eye on him, unsure where he's going with his lecture.

"You think I am more intimidating, more unattainable than your friends. Yet, you also pull away the same as soon as they reciprocate your interest in them. Just as you withdrew back into your shell when I expressed my interest in you."

He placed his hands on the steering wheel and positioned his legs to the pedals.

"You think you have more to lose, more pain to feel. Yet, you never considered what you could have gained. Hence, you would sabotage any and every progress you had made, excusing your shortcomings as bad luck."

An intense wave of nausea wash over you as you let his words sink.

"Such a sad and difficult life to live. Don't you think so, (name)?" A teasing smile graced his rouge lips.

You were rendered speechless. Yves just read you to filth straight to your face. There isn't anything to say, how do you respond to something like that? Tell him that he's wrong? Sock him in the face for hurting your massive ego by serving you the harsh reality on a silver platter?

"I only want to take you home. Where do you live, (name)?" He asked, turning his headlights back on. The questions started emerging in your head, mainly wanting to know how did he discover the dynamic between you and your 'friends'.

The words seem to be stuck in your throat, you just gawk at him in disbelief. You end up just closing your mouth and began pointing at where to go.

He lets out a soft chuckle. "Good. You're improving."

In the end, you quizzed him about his knowledge.

"You were watching me. It's only fair I do the same to you."

You expressed a shocked, visceral scream in response. What else did he know about you? Well, he's right. You shouldn't have stalked him in the first place, it doesn't feel so good to be the receiving end of it.

You feel sick now.

"There is a small waste basket to your right." He informed without taking a look at you, as if he knew you're about to vomit. Did you... physically looked green in the face? How did he-

In the end, you had to seal your mouth shut with your hand as bile rose up to your throat. Frantically searching for that bin Yves was talking about.

He didn't flinch or react at all when you emptied your stomach into the plastic lined receptacle. The sound of your retching and the smell of your own puke made you throw up even more.

Oh god, you feel like you're about to die. What happened? Was your stress level high enough to cause such a reaction?

"What did you eat prior to our meeting?"

Oh. Well that made sense. The takeaway shop wasn't the cleanest to begin with and you ate in Montgomery's biohazard of a car.

You continued heaving and spitting into the basket as you tried your best to give him directions.

You stumbled out of the car, latching onto his mini bin now sloshing with liquid. He held onto your waist, keeping your balance steady as he holds the umbrella, have his handbag hanging onto his elbow and carried your backpack.

You struggled to unlock the door because of it's rusted keyhole. Your landlord is a cheap person, but this is the only accommodation within your meagre budget.

Finally, you got the door open. Yves invited himself in and took the liberty to switch the lights on. You're too tired and food poisoned to protest, you just went in and set the bin down before slumping yourself on the ratty, cloth sofa.

Too exhausted to even care that Yves sat right next to you. Too drained to notice that he's wiping the sweat and puke off your face using multiple disposable wet wipes.

Your bloodshot eyes watched him collect the dirtied towels and disposed of them in the house trash can nearby. He knelt down to tie the plastic bag full of stomach acid and your partially digested food securely, removing it from the area as well. He then disappeared off to somewhere, seemingly searching for something by opening and closing every cabinet.

He came back with a new change of a plastic bag, he lined his own waste basket. After that, he went away to wash his hands.

God, you hope that he's not using your cheapskate housemate's items, they're going to demand you to replace it.

He came back drying his hands with a paper napkin. Yves returned to his seat on the sofa, next to you.

"I enjoyed your company today." He whispered, keeping his volume down as to not wake your housemates. "I'm looking forward to spend more time with you."

You nodded and gave him a weak thumbs up.

"I'll need your phone number, (name). Could you do that for me?" He placed a warm hand on the top of your thigh, to get your attention from your sickened stupor.

You shrugged and weakly pulled your phone out of your pocket. It slipped your hand but Yves caught it in time. You unlocked it for him, he went ahead to dial his number in it.

Yves gave himself a missed call from your phone to give an illusion that he organically collected your number. It's not like you would notice this detail when you're too occupied fighting the urge to spew all over the living room. But he likes to be careful.

"Would you like me to stay with you?"

The question alone made you vomit into the bin again. Right after you sputter the last of the chunks, you said no. Repeatedly. You definitely do not want him here. You definitely do not want your housemate to grill you about a hot, rich and classy 'friend'. They're going to pester you into introducing them to him.

"I understand." He rubbed your back soothingly. You let out a grunt as you threw yourself back onto the sofa.

He repeated the entire ritual as before, except now he knew where to find the trash bags.

"Call me." He stood up and slung the straps of his handbag around his shoulder. "I'll take my leave now."

You mumbled 'bye' and something about locking the door as he left before closing your eyes.

Your eyelids drew open when you felt a pair of supple lips giving you an appreciative kiss on the cheek. Suddenly, the tips of your ears became boiling hot.

You hear his heels clacking on the creaky wooden floor. The hinges whined as he opened the door.

"Rest well." He wished you with a low voice.

You stared into the abyss as he closed the door, hearing the familiar click of the knob when he shut it behind him.

Today, you flunked your exams. Ate dubious takeaway in a weirdo's nasty car, caused your crush to burn his hand, ditched him halfway into the 'date', got caught red-handed not trusting your crush, got severe food poisoning, and puked in your crush's luxury car.

And that was all worth it for a singular kiss on the cheek.

You pulled out your phone one more time to check your reflection.

There is an obvious red, lipstick print right under your cheekbone.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere oc #yandere concept #yandere oc x reader #male yandere oc x reader #yandere x you #tw yandere #yandere male #oc yves #oc montgomery

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findafight · 1 year ago

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Jonathan’s line about Steve in vol 2 was so…. I don’t know. I mean yeah it straight up confirms that Nancy and Jonathan make fun of Steve behind his back, and like I get that I have never been in Nancy’s situation so obviously it seems more mortifying to me, but I would have felt so guilty in her place. I can’t imagine not shutting Jonathan up if he started shit talking about Steve. Like Steve would have been straight up unmentionable if I was Nancy. Idk.

I get that Duffers don’t treat their characters emotional lives seriously, but like. That’s why Robin being kind to Nancy in s5 despite Nancy’s uh.. well frankly appalling attitude towards Robin, makes zero sense to me. I really wanted Nancy to struggle being in Steve’s group. Not in the “she deserves it bhahaha” way, but like… Steve dumped his friends for her (which was good for him), and her expecting to get the same treatment and meeting Robin instead? Who actively dislikes her and for a good reason? Who is smart and cool and kind? That’s way more interesting than people kissing Nancy’s ass the whole season, while she is actively putting Max’s life in danger. Like, yeah in high school she is the chief editor of the newspaper, and at home she is the eldest sister, and with Jon she makes fun of Steve, and now none of these people are here, but Steve is here and so is his bestie. And Steve is as kind as always, but Robin dislikes her, and it is not just prejudice

Nancy Wheeler you wild girl! She has no guilt lmao She's like yeah steve was dumb and annoying and didn't enable my investigation, and jon goes yep, what an idiot. All while Steve is just like. bumpin around making friends with little nerds haha. Minding his own business blaming himself for the end of their relationship. You're right, it's kinda bonkers because even if we take the stance that Nancy didn't cheat (which I believe she did) like. she still had him as her second choice and as soon as he pushed back a bit and didn't give her the kind of support she wasn't telling him she needed (until talking about exposing the lab in the library where anyone could hear) she jumped ship and ran to Jonathan. Why would she want to talk about Steve? Why wouldn't she want to try to forget he ever existed as anything other than Mike's friend Dustin's older friend? Is that not weird for her?

(i think you might mean s4? but i can work with s5 too haha) It's so much more compelling to me to have Nancy and Robin at odds with each other because Robin is like a little guard chihuahua holding a grudge for Steve. She holds grudges so well let her do it more!! like jesus give him someone in his corner! And also for herself! She got so nervous and tried to explain and defend herself, and Nancy only really started to listen once they got into the hospital. Nancy has a not great plan that puts one of the kids in danger, one of the kids Steve is close to. (Max wrote him a letter!!) I think Robin would really see Steve's people as her people, even if she wasn't personally close to them she'd still feel comfortable around the younger teens because Steve is? Let robin be critical of this plan. Let her call it out or something. Give Nancy someone to push against, it's no fun if there's no resistance! I want Nancy to be the one wanting friendship with Robin, and Robin not being receptive to it. Nancy not having a relationship handed to her would be refreshing and I want to see how she'd try to win Robin's friendship.

Let Robin not want to work with Nancy because she's heard the rumours about how her and Steve ended, even though he only mentioned that he wasn't a good boyfriend ans wasn't what she needed so it didn't work out. Robin saw that one week Steve and Nancy had a fight, and a day later she was ditching with Jonathan? yeah something is fishy there to even the most socially oblivious person. Let Robin know Steve well enough that she knew he at least thought he was telling the truth but that there must have been more. Let Robin decide she was going to do the most cliche best friend thing and not be very nice to the ex that broke her bestie's heart.

ooooh anon what you're saying is so interesting because, yeah. Steve dumped Tommy and Carol for Nancy, and that was good for him, and then Nancy got with Jonathan who doesn't really have any friends in Hawkins. So she's always been her boyfriend's main person of similar age they're close to. But now Steve's got Robin. Who is funny and kind and weird and loyal and smart and sarcastic. Who is obsessed with Steve and who Steve is also obsessed with. And that, from a s5 stancy pov, is so interesting because now Nancy is now competing (in her mind) for her boyfriend/potential bf's attention with his best friend. Like Jonathan was focused on his family, obviously (and this caused strain for them too) but it's not the same socially as a best friend taking priority. Steve would still hold those relationships, because they're good for him and good for the others, and there's zero reason for him to abandon them this time.

I think Nancy would hate it. Like Steve would obviously give her tonnes of attention, but with him having actual close friendships not just with Robin but Dustin and Max (at least) too, she'd still feel like she was bartering for time with him. That is suuuuch a fun potential dynamic between nancy and steve and also nancy and steve's friends.

#findaanswers #Anonymous #I think an interesting thing about Nancy is she absolutely HATES when her romo partner doesn't back up her crazy schemes #we see it in s2 and s3 it's so interesting to me but I don't really see it talked about.#Nancy wheeler I wanna study you like a bug #stranger things #stranger things meta #nancy wheeler #steve harrington #robin buckley #stobin #sorta? yeah I talk about them enough it counts #stancy #I guess. more fail stancy than not but also just potential dynamic #finda's rambles

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starrclown · 9 months ago

Note

So what are your criticisms of LMK writing and writing decisions?

What do you like about LMK?

What do you dislike?

So sorry this is late. I can't really answer that first question for 2 reasons. 1. I havent read Journey of the West. 2. I'm afraid my biases towards characters (Wukong, Mk, Redson, Mei) might get in the way of my judgment towards characters I don't like.

For the second question, here's a list!

LIKES ☆

Tang and Pigsy's relationship. Even if it wouldn't be canon, their relationship is still cute.

Even though Sun Wukong wasn't intentionally trying to hurt Mei and Mk, it genuinely was a mistake, he still gets called out. I like his character growth from someone who is closed off to someone wo is beginning to open up.

Mei and Mk's friendship. Love it so much.

Nezha and Wukongs relationship. It's so funny.

How in the Manderin dub, Sun Wukong calls DBK his brother and PIF his sister in law. No I won't shut up about them.

How I understand why Azure did what he did and I feel sympathy for him but he still fucked up. (Trapping Sun Wukong, Redson, PIF, and DBK, other things.)

This is something I personally noticed but yall Macaque is so obsessed with Wukong. Dude he saves Wukong 2 times when he doesn't have too. It's so funny.

Sandy cannonically going to therapy.

Sandy as a character. Love him.

The way Mk and Mei look at Redson. Not even in a shipping way. Go back and look while Redson is monologing, Mk and Mei stare at her with this intense admiration. It's so cute.

Hunstman. He's my favorite character.

Spider Queen's weirdly romantic treatment of Sun Wukong. "YOUR MINE!" 🤨

SUN WUKONG MADE A ROCKET FROM SCRATCH Y'ALL.

Mk is just a noodle boy that lives above his dad and he likes his life and is completely fine being where he is.

Sunburst duo.

The baby monkies.

Lady Bone Demon is so evil and it's great.

DISLIKES ★

The bias between Macaque and Wukong.

How they drew Delivery Mk. I didn't like it.

DBK and PIF as parents. They are AWFUL.

How we never get to hear Wukongs story from WUKONG.

How Wukong gets treated like he's stupid by the fandom.

Why don't the characters have characteristics they should have? Like Wukongs red eyes and Macaque's six ears.

How Macaque said Wukong always runs away and the ditches him under a mountain.

Redson not getting his fire back.

I probably have more but I'm sleepy and on my period.

Asks are always open, art is always here, commissions are open, don't leave your friends under mountains.

- ⭐️StarClown⭐️

#lmk #lmk sun wukong #lmk mei #lmk mk #lmk azure lion #lmk princess iron fan #lmk red son #lmk demon bull king #lmk pigsy #lmk tang #lmk sandy #lego monkie kid #monkie kid #lmk macaque

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moonlightdreamzz · 1 year ago

Text

THIN APOLOGIES / PART 1

SUMMARY ✰ Mark is your boyfriend, and Vernon is your best friend. You're sick of Mark not treating you right, and Vernon is too. He's also sick of watching from the sidelines when he knows no one can make you happier than him.

PAIRING ✰ Idol!Mark x Idol!Reader x Idol!Vernon

GENRE ✰ ANGST & FLUFF

NOTE ✰ This is actually the first story I ever wrote in my entire life three years ago. It’s my baby. I said to myself, I should rewrite this because the original version was written like the beginner I was at the time. I hope you all enjoy. It’s so good.

Blonde by Frank Ocean has been playing on loop for hours over your speakers. For what seems like days, your gaze has been fixed on the candle blazing in front of you. There are numerous reasons why you can't take your eyes off its flame—the first being that if you do, you'll be forced to see all of the decorations and food you prepared for Mark, who has decided for the third time in a row that you aren't important enough to show up for. All of his favorite things are strewn throughout your living room, unused.

The second reason you can't tear your gaze away from the flame is that you're intrigued. The lavender-scented wax is nearing the end of its life after being used for so long. What happens when there’s none left? Does the flame die peacefully? Or does the jar burn and combust, leaving you regretting not extinguishing the flame sooner?

Sick isn't the word to describe how your boyfriend has made you feel over the past few months. You’ve tried to see the positives of his absence right now, but it’s utterly impossible. What could you say to yourself? At least you got ditched in the comfort of your own home this time, Y/N? And not in a restaurant, or a random parking lot his manager drove you to?

Mark always has his excuses of course. His favorite one to use was that you don’t understand the sacrifices it takes to be an idol. When the two of you first began to have issues, you took those words to heart. You know how much he’s sacrificed to be where he is, and you never wanted him to think you were that girl—the girl who got in a relationship with an idol and acted like she didn’t know what she was signing up for. As time passed, you realized that he was just manipulating you.

He’s so good at it too. Or maybe he’s just an incredibly beautiful man, whose doe eyes could convince anybody that he indeed is a good person—he just doesn’t think sometimes. You just wish he’d understand that you indeed do understand his life, it’s simply his unfulfilled promises that are so incredibly frustrating. Summer Walker once said, “it doesn’t matter how hard I I try, I say it nice, yell it out loud, write it down, I’m tired.” She damn sure was right.

“Why plan a date you can’t come to? Just tell me it’ll be awhile before I’ll see you again.”

“I’m sorry, baby. I thought I could make it.”

Your phone begins vibrating on your coffee table infront of you, interrupting the reflecting that you’re tired of doing anyways. You know it’s Mark, back again with whatever his reason is this time for not showing up. For a second, you consider not picking it up. Maybe if he knew what it felt like to be abandoned, he’d stop doing it to you.

You inhale deeply before picking up the phone, surprised at whose name is popping up.

“Vernon?” You whisper to yourself. You feel a brief burst of happiness before immediately shifting to concern due to the time of night.

You and Vernon have been close friends since debut. Some would say it’s because you two are the English speakers of your group, but you only saw that as a plus in your friendship. In reality, Vernon was a quirky, artsy, adorably curious boy, and you always felt this weird urge to…protect him. You figure he was drawn to how you never judged him, and how open you were about what you referred to as “Vernon’s philosophies”. He got your jokes, and you pretended you understood his. The rest is history.

Laughter escapes your throat, scaring you simultaneously as you can’t remember the last time you genuinely found anything funny. In the midst of your giggles, Vernon begins to FaceTime you, and you don’t hesitate to answer the phone.

You can see through the phone how hard he’s trying to be irritated with you, but you also notice how bad he’s failing at doing so. The corner of his pink lips are twitching, and his hooded eyes are melting along with it as neither of you break virtual eye contact with each other. This only makes you laugh even harder. His flawless features don’t hold long, and he’s smirking boyishly now.

“You really think this is funny, huh?”

“Absolutely.”

“Well you know what I think is funny right now? You’re alone right now.” He jokes.

“Ha ha,” You laugh sarcastically, “Am I really this worthless? Like be honest.” You question, a sad smile naturally creeping onto your features as reality attempts to set back in.

Vernon’s eyes roll aggressively, followed by a deep inhale. You know him. He wants to tell you about yourself, and remind you of all the times you promised him you’d have more confidence, just to end up asking him questions like this in the end. It takes him longer than you expected to find kind words to say to you, but you appreciate the fact that he cares enough to spare you, because he wouldn’t do it for anyone else.

“Don’t ever call yourself worthless. He’s the worthless one. If he can’t see how amazing you are,that’s his problem and you shouldn’t just sit here and take it, Y/N. That’s not even like you.”

“But…I love him.”

“Yeah...that always sucks doesn’t it?” He says, almost as if he’s speaking to himself and not you. “I know it’s late, but how about I come keep you company Y/N?. You deserve to be happy for at least a few hours don’t you think?” He chuckles.

He’s no longer looking directly at you. He’s looking at whatever is below him now. Vernon coming to keep you company isn’t a terrible idea. Right now, you so deeply crave to be around someone who actually cares about you, and he’s a clear candidate.

“Yeah! Let me get dressed and I’ll come pick you up.”

“Do really think I’d let you leave your house at this hour to do anything for me?”

“Well, how else are you gonna get here? You don’t have a car and I know your manager is knocked out.”

His boyish smile returns, and you already know a sarcastic comment is closer than around the corner. “You ever heard of uber?”

Now you’re the one rolling your eyes. Was this okay? I mean, the two of you are only friends, but Dispatch nor fans would care about that if they so happened to be stalking you. Him coming over late could turn into a whole situation that you aren’t in the mood to hear about.

“What if you get caught?” You question, although unconsciously do you begin to tidy up in your living room.

“I didn’t.”

He didn’t? Was he already—

Your doorbell ringing interrupts your thoughts.

“Vernon!” You scream through the phone, so many questions running through your mind.

“Are you going to let me in, or are we gonna hangout from outside the door?” He snickers slyly.

You should have known he was up to no good the moment you couldn't identify where he was from his surroundings. All you saw was darkness, but you imagined he was walking around his neighborhood or simply in the dark, because that was so Vernon.

With precision and quickness, you run to the door and open it. You’re still dolled up; face beat like it’s prom night from the date you should’ve been wrapping up by now. Vernon steps in, and for a second it seems like he’s frozen in place. It’s embarrassing, as you often got reactions like this when you dressed up because without an occasion, you were going to choose sweatpants, a graphic tee, and crocs everytime.

“Woah.” He utters.

“What? You just saw me on the phone, Vernon.” You question amusingly before walking to your kitchen to grab him a water.

“Thank you.” He whispers as he takes it out of your hand. “It’s just…you’re so…ugly.”

You know that he thinks you’re going to hit him immediately, so you wait an extra second before punching him lightly in his stomach.

“Shut up!” You laugh, loudly this time. It’s a rare occurrence these days for anything to unconsume your mind of Mark Lee, but Vernon’s doing that with ease right now. “You stay your ass right there and I’ll be back. I should probably take all this off.” You whisper while pointing to you and all your current glory.

“Take your time.” Vernon utters, no funny business in the room now. His smile is gentle as he nudges you towards your room.

You began walking in slow motion down your hallway. “Oh trust me, I will.” It doesn’t take you long to strip down to your natural state. You remove your clothes first, settling on a gray t-shirt you’ve had for years. If you didn’t have company, you’d stop it at that. You decide on some matching gray pajama shorts. The sight of Mark’s clothes in the drawer pisses you off all over again. As you remove your makeup, you can't help but squeal with delight. The wipes that you bought in replacement of the ones that took way too many to clean your face, was worth the investment.

The final touch is your bonnet, which you slip on your head with ease. Your icy feet drag over the hallway floor, a flood of fatigue washing over you.

“Awe.” Vernon coos when you reappear. In the midst of you getting ready for bed, he carefully placed all of the decorations you left out for Mark out of sight in the kitchen. He really wanted to throw it away, but that wasn’t his decision to make. Netflix is waiting for two of you.

“Don’t awe me.” You plop yourself on the couch so hard you’re pretty sure Vernon levitates for a second. You push the button to recline your seat, shutting your eyes right and leaning your head back with a sigh. “Thank you, Vernon.” You say the second you realize he cleaned up your clutter. The room feels less heavy now that you’re not forced to look at your wasted hard work. You feel his gaze on you, but energetically, you can’t interpret why he’s staring at you. You’ll settle on pity.

“Ah, I haven’t done much. Plus, you’ve always been there for me.”

Your comfort turns into guilt, recalling all the times you haven’t been there for your close friend in the midst of you and Mark’s relationship crashing. “Not like this.” You utter.

“Well, no you haven’t surprised me with a big box of donuts and a new video game,” He chuckles, “But you’ve been there for me. A lot of times unknowingly, if I’m being honest. Your presence alone…does a lot for me—I mean, for people.” He rambles. “Plus, I’m one of a kind, anyways.”

A smile creeps onto your features at him teasing you lovingly. You’re beginning to doze off, which typically makes you stare at things unintentionally. Your target tonight is Vernon, who is sitting extremely close to you right now. Your hand begins to entangle themselves in his locs, causing his eyes to flutter in relaxation.

“Enough about me.” You protest softly, “What’s going on in the life of Hansol, hm?”

“Nothing much,” He whispers, enjoying the feeling of your hands running through his scalp. His eyes are stuck on the ceiling, but you know he’s still listening to you. “I’m like a robot these days. I wake up, go to practice, go back to the dorm, sleep, repeat.”

“Why didn’t eat make the list?”

“Oh yeah, that too. But you know me. If I have to pick between sleeping and eating, I’m picking the first option.”

“Oh I know.” You can’t count on one hand the amount of times you scolded Vernon for sleeping too much, even though you do the same thing the second you get a break from schedules.

“Too much of a good thing, is a bad thing, Vernon.”

“Not everything.” He whispers, seemingly dazed out now. You’re ceiling wasn’t that interesting. He has something on his mind, but you’re not sure if you want to pick his brain. If he wanted you to know what’s on his mind, he’d say it. At the same time, you’re his right hand woman, and he’ll just have to deal with you being in his business.

Your eyebrows raise in an interrogative fashion. “Give me an example?”

“You.” He says simply. His eyes lock themselves into yours confidently, but you’re unsure how to feel. What was he trying to say? Is he flirting? Is he just being kind? It’s always been so hard for you to understand him when he gets like this.

“What about me?” Is all you can manage. You’re not sure why you’re nervous now, but you are. You hope you’re not making it obvious that his comment has made your breathing unsteady.

“I’m just saying it’s impossible to get tired of you. ‘Too much’ of you,” he air quotes, “would make the world a much better place.”

“You think so?” You question genuinely. “Mark doesn’t seem to think so.”

“Mark is a fucking idiot.” He spits out.

“I’m not gonna disagree.”

“I mean look at everything you did for him today, just for him to not show up?” Vernon begins to frantically point in all directions of your home, including at yourself as well as your kitchen. “What kind of boyfriend doesn’t come home to this?”

Silence is the only thing you can provide right now. One because he’s right, but two, because you’ve never seen Vernon so riled up on your behalf. He was the one always talking you off cliffs, not the other way around.

“Sorry,” He clears his throat. His voice is back to his regular tone now.

“Don’t be. Thank you for caring about me.”

You don’t know why, but you feel a desire to nuzzle into Vernon’s shoulder, so you do. Naturally, he wraps his arm around your shoulder to allow you more comfortability. Maybe it’s wrong, maybe it’s not, but it doesn’t feel wrong being in his arms right now. You know if you consider Mark, you should pull away, but when’s the last time Mark considered you?

“Is this okay?” He questions, his tone a mixture of hope and concern as he’s likely reading your mind right now. He had a knick for that when it came to you.

“It’s okay.” You decide. I mean, who’s going to catch you?

The two of you lay like that for the remainder of the night, watching a movie that Vernon puts on, but you can't concentrate. All you can think of is how you're lying in the arms of another man, your heart fluttering. That isn't supposed to happen. However, your thoughts are brief because you quickly find yourself dozing off in his arms that feel as if they never want to let you go.

It’s the wee hours of the morning when your phone rings, and then vibrates, indicating someone has called and texted you.

You and Vernon sleep through it.

TO BE CONTINUED

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