#what if you were a paranoid piece of shit and you had one person you trusted and That Happened To Her

[bandtrees]

“Sasha.” He murmurs into her mouth. “Yes.” She confirms. It’s me — I know — Me too — You’re welcome — like a cold reader. The kind of con he would have laughed out of the Institute. But his head’s worn down, his heart even moreso. He’s tired of thinking. —— John has one assistant he still trusts.

woe, spooky little john(not!)sasha thing i wrote be upon ye

[cardansriddle]

Teach Me (part 2) - (tom riddle x fem!reader)

part 1

warnings: smut. public sex. unpretected sex. not proofread bc i'm living on the edge today.

A/N: okay we all know i'm shit at writing smut so feel free to judge. i am not at all satisfied with how this turned out but oh well. you ask and i shall deliver.

buymeacoffee <3

༻♛༺

You were on edge.

With every step you took in the castle grounds, with every turn around a corridor, you expected to hear the not-so-hushed whispers and the not-so-subtle dirty glances thrown at you for your indecent behaviour. 

But they never came.

You were growing paranoid with every passing day, and you had convinced yourself that the Slytherin boy who had seen you and Tom in a compromising position was just waiting for the ideal moment to blast the bomb and bring on your ruination. 

You glanced at your friend sitting next to you, on the seat that you usually reserved for Tom, but now that you were trying to avoid him, you had forced your friend to sit near you. 

"Heard anything interesting lately?" You subtly questioned, knowing she could never resist the temptation of gossip. She smiled mischievously and leaned forwards so that her words would not be heard by unwelcome ears. 

"Walburga Black was caught in a broom closet..." She took a dramatic pause and widened her eyes. "With her cousin!" She whisper-yelled, and you were quite sure the students sitting in front of you tensed and shared a curious glance with each other at the new piece of gossip. 

Despite your inner disgust, you only chuckled weakly and your eyes strayed around the room in search of—

Tom was staring at you. There was no particular emotion displayed on his face, but you could tell he was displeased. You quickly turned around to face your desk in front of you, willing your heart to slow to a steady rhythm. You cursed the way he could affect you just with his stare.

"Are you alright? You look flushed." 

You smiled at your friend. "It's just hot in the room. I am fine."

Yet all throughout the class, you were uncomfortably aware of his gaze at the back of your head.

So when the professor dismissed you, you rushed to collect your things and sprung to your feet to make your swift escape. You were almost out the door when a hand grabbed your arm and pulled hard enough to have you crashing into someone's chest. 

You were about to yell at whoever had pulled back, but when you lifted your gaze from the green-silver tie wrapped around the culprit's neck, you could not find the words. 

Tom was staring down at you with a raised brow as if daring you to utter a word. "Come with me." And before you could object, he was dragging you with him, hand tight around your arm. 

"Tom! Let me go." You whisper-yelled, throwing glances behind your back to see if students had caught on to the scene. But fortunately, they were blissfully unaware. "Someone might see us. Let me go!" You attempted once again, but Tom only shot you a dark glare.

When he made a sharp turn to the left, you realised you were in one of the abandoned hallways. "Tom Riddle, unhand me this instant!" You raised your voice before tugging your arm out of his grip, and he looked at you in mild bewilderment. 

"You have been avoiding me." He broke the pregnant silence, brown eyes piercing right through you with their intensity. 

You threw your hands in the air in frustration. "Are we seriously doing this here? Right now?" 

He cocked his head to the side in interest as he watched your antics. When his gaze did not relent, you sighed and decided to just go out with it.

"What do you not understand? I am quite sure you are aware that if the boy ever decides to open his mouth, I will be ruined."

He hummed, those intoxicating dark eyes still watching you. "That still does not explain why you have been running away from me." 

"Are you serious? I am mad at you, Tom! For the smartest person in this school, you are pretty damn idiotic to me—" He frowned at that, "—And you stood there and did nothing when he witnessed us! You could have spoken to him and convinced him not to say anything, yet all you—"

"I obliviated him."

"What?"

"After you left, I obliviated him." He repeated as if he was stating the obvious. 

You backed away, unsure how to proceed with this information. 

"I thought you would figure it out." He added with his brows pinched together. You gave him an incredulous look, silently asking how in the world you could figure that out magically.

"You are horrible," You muttered.

He rose a single brow, trying to hide his amusement, and in a mock inquisitive tone, he proceeded to ask, "Oh, I am?" 

"Yes! It has been hell for me while you were allowing me to live in this miserable state." With an angry huff, you pushed him on the chest with all your might. He barely even moved from your attack, and if anything he was fully smirking now, which aggravated you even more. "I hate you!" 

As you were about to push him once again, he managed to grab a hold of your wrists and held them against his chest, causing you to stumble straight into him. You looked up at him from your position, and your breath hitched in your throat at the nonexistent proximity left between you. His eyes were a shade darker, just like they were on that day when he had kissed you. You could only assume it was desire pooling in his irises, drowning the warm brown shade in its wake. You licked your lips almost subconsciously, and his gaze dropped to watch the action.

"Tom?" You spoke hesitantly, your voice small and breathy. 

"Do you wish for me to teach you more? Hm?" He whispered hoarsely, breath fanning against your mouth and you could not help but lean closer. "Do you wish me to teach you how to pleasure a man?" He gulped, and you were transfixed as you watched him close his eyes as if he was imagining every possible scenario of you doing those things to him. When his eyes reopened, they were burning with an emotion that made your knees tremble. "Or perhaps I could show you all the ways a woman could be pleasured?" His hand rose to caress the skin of your cheek. You nodded, not being able to form any coherent words with the obscene way he was speaking. 

He tutted, displeased. "I need to hear you say it."

"Please, Tom. Yes. Please." 

Your desperate plea was all he needed before he brought his lips down to connect with yours in a heated kiss. Your mind began to feel dizzy as he moved his lips against yours, and you quickly freed your hands from his hold in order to weave them behind his neck.

He began pushing you back until you felt your back hit the cool texture of the wall, and he pressed into you desperately. 

"Someone could see us," Came your strangled whisper when his mouth travelled to the spot where your jaw met your neck, but he did not answer you as he bit into the delicate skin, marking it with his teeth. Your hands grabbed a hold of his hair and tugged at it to yank his lips from your neck, and he let out a low groan of your name at the action. 

"Let them see." He murmured before reconnecting his lips with yours. "Let them witness how I ruin you for everyone else, so they know you are only for me."

You whimpered at Tom's words. You had never felt such desire in your life. Never had your blood burned so desperately for someone. You wanted all of him. You wanted him to consume you whole. 

Tom pulled at your school robe, doing a quick work of undoing it until it fell and pooled on the floor.

His grip on your waist tightened as he ground the constricting material of his pants between your legs, and you gasped at the feeling of his hardness pressed against you. "Tom, please." You begged once again, all shame and embarrassment gone from your body and replaced with only raw need.

Tom's hand left your waist and began travelling lower. He bunched up your skirt, and you whined when the tips of his fingers teased the skin of your inner thigh. You felt him smirk against your lips at the effect he was having on you. He skimmed his knuckles against your closed heat, causing you to throw your head back against the wall and flutter your eyes shut. "Stop teasing me."

"You are so wet for me and I have barely even touched you," He said as he pushed your underwear to the side and finally touched you where you needed him the most. A moan left your lips at the feeling of his fingers sliding against you, and you wondered not for the first time if Tom would be your undoing. You were overwhelmed with pleasure, and you felt him breathe faster against the skin of your throat as if he was enjoying this almost as much as you were. 

His fingers made a mess of you, and you were chanting his name like a prayer, uncaring of the possibility that someone could discover you.

"I need you."

Your hands dropped to his pants, and you hastily attempted to undo them, only for Tom to pause his ministrations with a displeased hum. "Greedy girl." You watched, utterly transfixed as rose his fingers and put them in his mouth as if to savour your taste. Your cheeks burned at the sight, and you swore you had never seen anything so obscene in your entire existence. 

"Beg for it."

You almost choked. "What?"

"You want me? Then you will beg for me." 

You shuddered at the commanding tone, and something about it made you even more desperate. Desperate to please him. 

"Please." You pleaded. "Please, Tom."

He got rid of his pants while you begged with no shame, but he did not seem entirely satisfied with your cries. "What do you want? Say it." He demanded, and you felt him tease you right where you needed him, yet he held back, not quite pushing inside you. 

"I want you to ruin me." You breathed out, and you hoped he would not ask you to say anything else because you were not sure if your brain would be able to string up a sentence together. The sensation of him rubbing against you was enough to clog your brain, and you forgot all else except him.

He tightened his grip on your hip, and you briefly wondered if he would leave a mark. "Good girl." Is all he muttered before pushing forwards and sliding into you torturously slowly until he filled you to the brim. 

It was painful. But in that pain, there was a particular type of pleasure you had never experienced before. You were convinced you would descend into madness at the feeling of him filling you completely. You could not tell where you began and he ended, it was as if you were one. 

Tom dropped his head into the crook of your shoulder, groaning your name in a way that almost pushed you over the edge. "Tell me I can move."

"Yes. Please, move."

At your plea, he exhaled and rose his head so he could watch your face instead as he drew back. You gulped, hand tugging at the nape of his neck because he was already pushing back inside of you. You felt so full of him, eyes rolling into the back of your head as you relished in the euphoria that washed over your body every time he rolled his hips against yours. 

This was a sin. The aching pleasure in your body had to be a sin. You never thought it was possible to feel the way you did at that moment, and you swore you would sin for the rest of your life and burn for it if it meant you could relive this moment over and over again. 

When you opened your eyes, Tom's gaze snapped up from where he had been watching your hips move against his and there is a darkness in his eyes, as if he was ready to devour you whole. 

"You feel so good. All for me. Only for me."

The lewd sounds of skin slapping against skin echoed in the hallway, and you quickly pulled him closer so you could connect your lips with his in a kiss. His grip on your thigh tightened at the action, to the point where you were sure there would be marks in the shape of his fingers the next day, but the thought only spurred your pleasure. As if that was not enough, he pulled away from your lips to latch his mouth on your throat, biting, sucking, and kissing until you knew that the skin of your neck would look like a warzone. 

"Tom...I—I'm..." 

He exhaled sharply and quickened the pace of his hips. "I know, I know." 

Your body was getting caught on fire with his every hard thrust, and you felt yourself approaching your high, the fire burning brighter and brighter in your body until—

"Tom..." You moaned as you felt yourself peak, and your eyes shut in ecstasy. 

He continued to thrust into you, his movements becoming sloppier and sloppier, chasing his own relief. He gasped your name into your mouth, and you felt him spill himself inside you, reaching his high. 

Your head dropped against his chest, your body limply melting in his hold from exhaustion. Both of you panted heavily, trying to regain your composures, and you heard him chuckle lightly. 

"What?" You asked, finding enough strength to raise your head and look at him. He was wearing a lopsided smirk, and you subconsciously reached out to brush the sweaty strands of his hair back, as if it was the most natural thing to do. 

His eyes flicked between your own, glinting with mirth. "When you first asked me to show you how to kiss so you would be prepared for your future husband, I never imagined it would lead us here."

"Well, Mr Riddle, do you think my husband will be satisfied with what I have learned so far?" You teased with a smile, which turned mischievous when he suddenly glowered as if offended. 

"What I think, darling is that you are delusional if you think I would let anyone else near you now that I have had you. Let alone wed you."

His gaze roamed your features, and for the briefest of moments, you wondered if you imagined the flash of red in his eyes. 

"You will have no husband to impress. You shall remain as my student and I will teach you how to satisfy me." 

You rose a brow at his words, and you could not help but ponder if he was simply jesting, or if the territorial tone in his voice was actually serious. "Oh? And what if the student becomes the master? What will you do then?"

"Then I shall learn how to worship your body until you know no one else's touch but mine."

And when he lay his forehead against yours in an uncharacteristic display of affection, you knew he had no intention of ever letting you go. 

༻♛༺

taglist: @faerienotfound @orangepact77 @ariesbutalibra @a-mj-a @darkmoviesquotespizza @444s0ul @amarisout @daechgustinad @feestyles @lillywise-the-dancingclown69

(let me know if you wish to be added or removed from my general taglist)

[03jyh23]

🌏⌇atlas┆song mingi

│part of goes to waste the series based on my favourite keshi songs

│listen here

rapper!mingi x non-celebrity!reader

│synopsis: in the heart of bustling seoul, you and mingi shared a luxurious penthouse apartment. despite the grandeur, loneliness consumed you as mingi's skyrocketing fame distanced him from the loving boyfriend you once knew.

│genre: lovers to strangers, angst

│trigger warnings:  heartbreak (obviously), mature language, mention of past trauma and pain

│words: 8.9 k

│playlist: empty box an album by song mingi, tracklist: after hours, too late, killing me (english), wait, paranoid, drunk, lonely heart, empty box (english)

│reminder: what you’re about to read is purely fiction, so let’s keep it separate from reality.

!minors do not interact!

— hi there! finally, here's the next part of goes to waste series. i had to take some time off after publishing 2soon (check it if you haven't yet), which was a truly personal piece, but now i'm back! atlas is very loosely inspired by the song; it's more about the vibe the song gave me than the actual lyrics. i also changed the original synopsis quite a bit because i honestly didn't feel like sticking with the first version. same as with 2soon, i spent some time creating a playlist, and if you do decide to listen, i hope you enjoy the songs i've chosen. oh! and if you read through my small author notes, then you're lucky because i can finally reveal that both the reaper (jongho) and right here (yeosang) will be published as a mini-series (but only after finishing finding our way back)!

love, monika ♡

i’d be so grateful for a little love – a tagged reblog or comment would truly make my day!

│taglist: @skittyneos │@kyeos4ng │ @vcutparis │@hoeforalbedo

You were sitting on a bed in the bedroom you shared with Mingi in your very own luxurious penthouse apartment in the bustling center of Seoul. It hasn't been long since you moved in here, but the vastness and elegance of the place made you feel even lonelier than ever. Mingi was out, performing at a sold-out arena show, and the glaring reality was that you weren't there to support him. It wasn't that you didn't want to attend; the painful truth was that he simply forgot to invite you—his girlfriend of the last 4 years, someone who had stood by his side through thick and thin. You looked at the floor, your eyes catching the sight of your suitcases and bags packed meticulously with your belongings, ready to move out of this once cherished home. The thing was, you couldn't quite leave without seeing Mingi one last time. Your heart ached at the thought of parting without a final goodbye, and it didn't let you go. You didn't know life without Mingi, and the prospect left you shit scared. The very thought of navigating through your days without his presence was enough to send shivers down your spine. However, you couldn't pretend any longer that Mingi hasn't changed. The boy you once fell in love with, who was caring, attentive, and always made you feel like the center of his universe, seemed to have vanished. In his place was someone distant, preoccupied, and seemingly indifferent to your feelings. You tried to rationalize his behavior, blaming it on the stress of his career and the constant pressure he was under, but deep down, you knew it was more than that. The connection you once shared felt like a distant memory, and the reality of who he had become was impossible to ignore. 

It all started not even a year ago. Mingi's song went viral on the internet, and he gained a massive following in a span of three days. From being an independent artist playing in clubs for maybe a couple of hundred fans, he went straight to signing a contract with a major company, making huge checks and selling out arenas in a span of minutes. The transformation was almost surreal. One day, you were cheering him on from small, dimly lit venues where you could see the sweat on his brow and the fire in his eyes as he performed. The next, he was being whisked away to luxurious studios and high-profile meetings with industry moguls. It felt like you were living in a dream—or a nightmare, depending on the moment. Suddenly, the simplicity of your shared life was replaced by a whirlwind of glitz and glamour. Mingi's phone never stopped buzzing with calls, texts, and notifications. Invitations to exclusive parties, collaborations with big names, and interviews with top media outlets flooded in. While his career skyrocketed, your relationship seemed to plummet into an abyss of neglect and misunderstanding. As he became more entrenched in his new world, you noticed changes in him. The boy who once couldn't wait to spend a quiet night in, watching movies with you was now constantly on the go, his calendar filled with events that didn't include you. The intimate conversations you used to have, were replaced by strained, hurried phone calls and text messages that felt more like obligations than genuine connections. Despite your best efforts to be supportive and understanding, the growing distance between you became an insurmountable chasm. Mingi's success had come at a steep price, and it felt like you were the one paying for it. The man you had known and loved for years was slowly slipping away, replaced by someone who seemed more like a stranger with each passing day. 

The night was getting later, and there was still no sign of Mingi. Maybe he wasn't planning to come back today; maybe he was too busy with his new rapper friends to even care to come back. You couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment and frustration. You glanced at your phone, hoping for a message or a missed call, but there was nothing. Well, it wouldn't be the first time he had left you waiting, feeling like an afterthought in his increasingly busy life. You tried to occupy yourself, turning on the TV and flipping through channels, but nothing could distract you. The boy who once couldn't stand to be away from you was now someone who seemed to have forgotten you existed.  

With every passing minute, the reality of your situation became clearer. Mingi might not come back tonight, tomorrow, or even the day after that. He was out there, living his life, while you were stuck in a place that no longer felt like home. You still vividly remember your first day in this apartment; it was a momentous occasion. Mingi had received his significant check from the tour ticket sales, as well as the royalties, just a week passed since, and you were moving into the luxurious space. The excitement and anticipation were palpable as you both looked forward to starting this new chapter in your lives together. You left your one-bedroom apartment with a tingle of sadness, each corner filled with cherished memories of the life you had built together. However, the excitement and anticipation of creating a new home in a spacious, luxurious penthouse overshadowed any melancholy you felt. You both dreamed of this moment, envisioning a future filled with endless possibilities and new adventures. The thought of decorating the new place, hosting friends, and building new memories brought a sense of joy and hope. It was a new chapter, a fresh start, and despite the nostalgia for your old apartment, the promise of what lay ahead made the transition feel like the beginning of something wonderful. So, you never thought you would be leaving this place like this. Heartbroken. The walls that once echoed with laughter and joy now felt cold and distant. Every corner of the penthouse, which had been a symbol of Mingi’s dreams and aspirations, now seemed to mock your pain. The spacious rooms that once brought a sense of freedom now felt like a labyrinth of sorrow. You recalled the countless evenings spent planning your future together, the whispered promises of forever, and the dreams you had woven into the very fabric of this home. Now, those dreams lay shattered, scattered like fragile pieces of glass. The weight of your decision to leave pressed heavily on your chest, making it difficult to breathe. You never imagined that the place which once brought you so much happiness would be the same place you'd have to walk away from. 

You promised yourself you wouldn't wait longer than 3 AM, and as the hour approached, you picked up all your belongings and took them to the hallway. Each step felt heavier than the last, the weight of your decision sinking in deeper with every passing second. You glanced once again across the apartment, taking in the memories etched into every corner of the space that once felt like a loving home. With a heavy heart, you left your keys on the kitchen counter. As you put your shoes on, you paused for a moment, feeling the finality of your actions. You were ready to turn off the lights and walk out of the door, the silence of the apartment echoing your own sense of abandonment. Just as you reached for the switch, the doors opened with a soft creak that seemed to reverberate through the entire space. 

There stood Mingi, his face pale and eyes wide with a mixture of shock and disbelief, as if he had seen a ghost. His presence, so unexpected and surreal in that moment, made your heart skip a beat. The silence between you was deafening, filled with the weight of unspoken words and unresolved emotions. For a split second, neither of you moved, as if frozen in time. 

"What is going on?" he asked, his eyes finding your gaze as he swallowed hard. 

You took a deep breath, feeling a lump form in your throat. "I can't do this anymore," you replied, your voice trembling. 

His expression shifted from confusion to concern. "What do you mean? What are you talking about?" 

"I mean us, Mingi. I'm not even a part of your life anymore," you said, tears welling up in your eyes. "I packed my bags. I'm leaving." 

Mingi's eyes widened in shock, and he took a step closer. "Leaving? No baby, you can't just leave." 

You shook your head, feeling the weight of the decision pressing down on you. "I deserve more than this. I'm done. We're done," you said, almost out of breath, your voice trembling with a mix of anger and sorrow. 

Mingi's face contorted with emotion, his eyes pleading as he reached out to you. "Please, let's talk about this," he said, desperation lacing his voice. 

You looked at him, your heart breaking all over again. "It's too late, Mingi," you responded, trying to keep your resolve strong even as tears streamed down your face. "I'm so sick of pretending everything's alright, that you haven't changed," you continued, your frustration bubbling to the surface. 

Mingi stepped closer, his hands reaching for yours, desperation evident in his voice. "What are you talking about? I'm still the same, I’m still your boyfriend who would do anything for you." 

You took a deep breath, your voice trembling as you confronted him. "Are you even aware my birthday was a week ago and you haven't showed up to the party?" 

Mingi's face fell, a look of guilt and realization washing over him. "I... I didn't know. I'm so sorry," he stammered, but the damage was already done. 

"So no, Mingi, you are not the same. My boyfriend would show up to my birthday party, hell he would organize it himself. And you know what you did that night? You were sitting in a fucking club with your fellow rappers doing God knows what," you spat, the pain in your words cutting through the air. "My boyfriend loved me, he wanted to spend time with me, he cherished me, he would never leave without kissing me and telling me he loves me," you said, your voice cracking. "You are not him." 

Mingi's shoulders slumped, the weight of his actions finally seeming to hit him. "I messed up. I know I did, and I'm so sorry," he whispered, his voice cracking. 

‘’Sorry is not enough,’ you took a deep breath, your eyes filling with tears. "I'm so sick and tired of justifying your shitty behavior in front of my parents, our friends, and most definitely myself. Every time they ask me where you are or why you're not around, I must come up with excuses. It's exhausting, and honestly, I'm tired of lying for you." 

Mingi's eyes filled with tears, his voice breaking as he whispered, "I never wanted to let you down. I know I've been distant, but I never stopped loving you." 

You shook your head, "You don’t love me, Mingi. Actions speak louder than words, and your actions have clearly shown me where I stand in your life. When was the last time you took me out, huh? When was the last time you asked me how I was doing? When was the last time you made love to me, not just fucked me after your show, huh?" you demanded, each question hitting him like a blow. 

Mingi's face crumpled as he absorbed your words. "I didn't realize... I thought you understood how busy I've been," he mumbled, his voice tinged with regret. 

"Busy? We all have busy lives. But love means making time, no matter what," you said, wiping away your tears. "I can't keep waiting for you to remember that." 

Mingi's tears began to flow freely, his voice barely a whisper. "Please, don't go. I promise I'll change, I'll make things right," he pleaded, but you could see the doubt in his eyes. 

"Since you went viral, you haven't even taken me to your shows, to the afterparties. I don't know your new friends. Do they know about me?" you asked, your voice rising with each word. Mingi's hesitation spoke volumes, and you felt another crack in your already shattered heart. "That's what I thought," you murmured, more to yourself than to him. "If they don't know about me, then maybe you don't want them to. Maybe that's why it's easier for you to forget I exist." 

Mingi's eyes widened, realization dawning on him. "No, it's not like that," he tried to argue, but the conviction in his voice was gone. The silence between you grew heavier, filled with all the things left unsaid over the past months. 

"Tell me honestly, now. You're rapping about fucking bitches and maybe that's really what you're doing in those clubs, huh?" you spat, the accusation hanging heavily in the air. 

Mingi's face paled, his eyes wide with shock and hurt. "How could you even accuse me of that?" he asked, his voice trembling with a mixture of anger and pain. "I would never do something like that to you. You mean everything to me." he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper. He took a step closer, desperation in his eyes. "I swear, it's not what you think. Those lyrics, they're just part of the persona. They don't mean anything." 

You let out a bitter laugh, the sound echoing through the silent apartment. "Is that supposed to make me feel better? That it's all just an act? Because it doesn't. It just makes me feel like I don't even know who you are anymore," you retorted, your voice trembling with emotion. "You spend all your time with these people, living this life that I'm not a part of. How am I supposed to believe you when you say it's not real?" 

Mingi's shoulders slumped, the weight of your words pressing down on him. "I know I've made mistakes. I know I've been distant, but I never wanted to hurt you. I thought you understood how much pressure I'm under," he said, his voice cracking. 

"Being under pressure doesn't give you the right to treat me like I don't matter," you shot back, wiping away the tears from your rosy cheeks. "You used to make me feel like I was the most important person in the world. Now, I feel like I'm just another obligation, something you can push aside when it suits you." 

Mingi's eyes lit up with a sudden realization. "Please give me a moment, I know what will make you stay," he said, his voice filled with a newfound sense of urgency. Before you could respond, he turned and rushed towards the bedroom. You stood there, your heart pounding in your chest as you listened to the sounds of Mingi frantically ruffling through drawers and opening cabinets. The noise grew louder, punctuated by the occasional clatter of objects being moved aside. After what felt like an eternity, Mingi emerged from the bedroom, his face flushed and his breath heavy. Clutched tightly in his hand was a small, elegant box. He walked towards you, his eyes never leaving yours, and with shaking hands, he opened the box to reveal a stunning, custom-made Tiffany engagement ring. 

"This... this is what I was waiting for," he said, his voice trembling with emotion. "I wanted everything to be perfect before I asked you. I know I've messed up, but please, give me one more chance. I love you, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you." Tears welled up in his eyes as he held the ring out to you, his entire being pleading for forgiveness and another chance. You stared at the ring, the weight of the moment pressing down on you as you tried to process everything. Mingi took a deep breath and then, in one fluid motion, he dropped to one knee, holding the ring up towards you. His eyes were filled with desperation and hope, the tears streaming down his face reflecting the sincerity of his words. "Y/N please, marry me," he whispered, his voice breaking. "I know I've been distant, and I know I've hurt you, but I want to make it right. I want to spend the rest of my life making it up to you, showing you how much you mean to me. Please, give me another chance." You stood there, your heart pounding in your chest as you looked down at Mingi, the man you had loved for so long, now kneeling before you with a ring in his hand. The future you have always dreamed of was right there in front of you, and you cried harder at the sight. The ring, a symbol of the life you had envisioned together, glittered in the dim light of the penthouse. It was everything you had ever wanted, yet the weight of the disappointments and heartbreaks made it difficult to embrace. The tears streamed down your face, mixing with the raw emotions that had been building up inside you. You couldn't help but think of all the broken promises, the lonely nights, and the feeling of being forgotten. The ring was beautiful, but it couldn't erase the pain that had accumulated over time. 

Mingi kneeled there in front of you, his eyes filled with a mixture of hope and desperation, waiting for your response."Now we have enough money to book the beach venue you dreamed of," Mingi started, trying to control his own tears. "I will order you a custom dress from the designer you told me about, inspired by the Disney princess you loved since you were little," he added, his voice trembling with desperation. "And we will go to Belize for our honeymoon," he continued, his words coming out in a rush. "We will rent a whole house by the beach, just like you always wanted. Every morning, we'll wake up to the sound of the waves, and every night, we'll fall asleep under the stars. There won't be a single day when I won't prove to you how much I love you," Mingi's voice cracked, his eyes pleading. "Please, give me another chance. Please marry me. I promise I'll be the man you fell in love with, the one who would move heaven and earth just to see you smile. We’ll make new memories, beautiful ones that will overshadow all the pain I’ve put you through. I swear, I'll spend every moment making it up to you, showing you that my love is real and unwavering. So please, please say yes." The image he painted was truly everything you ever wanted, the plans you made together on countless nights, dreaming of a future filled with love and happiness. The beach venue, the custom dress, the honeymoon in Belize—all of it was exactly what you had envisioned. It was as if he had taken every whispered wish, every secret hope, and turned them into a tangible reality. His words, filled with desperation and promise, tugged at your heartstrings, making you yearn for the life you had once believed was possible. The thought of waking up to the sound of waves, falling asleep under the stars, and creating new, beautiful memories was almost too tempting to resist. In that moment, you saw a glimpse of the life you had always wanted. You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath as you tried to steady your racing heart. The weight of the moment felt almost suffocating, but you knew you had to make a choice. When you opened your eyes again, you looked at Mingi, your voice barely above a whisper, 

"I can't," you choked out, your voice barely above a whisper. The words felt like shards of glass slicing through the air. You saw the hope in Mingi's eyes flicker and fade, replaced by a look of utter devastation. His shoulders slumped as he dropped completely to the floor, the ring slipping from his grasp and falling to the floor with a loud echo. You heard him cry out in agony, and it broke your heart all over again, shattering it completely. For a moment, the silence was deafening, filled only with the sound of your ragged breaths and Mingi's soft sobs. You stood there, frozen, the weight of your decision pressing down on you like a physical force. Every fiber of your being wanted to rush to him, to take back the words and make everything alright, but you knew deep down that it was too late. 

Mingi's tears flowed freely now, his face a portrait of anguish. "Please, don't go," he pleaded, his voice raw with desperation. "I need you. I don't know what I'll do without you." 

"I'm so sorry, Mingi," you said, your voice trembling as you took a step back. "I wish things could be different, but I can't keep living like this." 

Mingi looked up at you, his eyes red and swollen with tears. "Please, don't leave me," he pleaded, his voice cracking with desperation. "I can't lose you. I'll do anything to make it right, I swear." 

You shook your head, "It's not about what you can do, Mingi. It's about what you haven't done." With a heavy heart, you turned towards the door, picking up your bags. Each step felt like a thousand, the weight of your decision making it almost unbearable to move. As you reached the door, you paused, looking back at Mingi one last time. The sight of him, broken and pleading, was almost too much to bear. "Goodbye, Mingi," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "I hope you come across something more than better, something that brings you true happiness and fulfillment. And I’m so sorry it’s not me." With those final words, you turned the knob and stepped out into the hallway, closing the door softly behind you. The echo of the door click reverberated through the empty penthouse, a stark reminder of what you were leaving behind. 

eight months later

It was a Saturday evening, and you were lying in your bed, scrolling through TV channels because apparently your best friend forgot to pay for your Netflix subscription. These past months, you were figuring your life out from the base. With your breakup, everything changed. You were now living in a small apartment, shared with two of your friends to make the rent cheaper. You hadn't saved up much while being with Mingi, mainly taking part-time jobs to be available whenever Mingi needed your help with his career—booking a venue, simply helping around with scanning tickets or delivering merch. You used to spend your days running errands and managing small tasks that kept his career afloat, and in return, he assured you that you didn't need to worry about your own income. Then, when the money came, he simply wouldn’t let you work, claiming what was his was yours, and he had more than enough. His generosity was comforting, but it also left you unprepared for the financial independence you now had to face. So apart from dealing with the heartbreak, you’ve also been struggling a bit with a reality without him. 

Now, as you lay in your small bedroom, you couldn't help but reflect on how drastically your life had shifted. The luxurious apartment you once shared with Mingi was now a distant memory, replaced by this compact space that you now called home. It was filled with laughter and companionship from your two friends, but it also served as a constant reminder of Mingi’s absence. 

The breakup had not only shattered your heart but also forced you to reevaluate your priorities and rebuild your life from scratch. Every day was a struggle to find your footing, to rediscover who you were without Mingi, and to carve out a path for yourself. Despite the challenges, you were slowly learning to embrace this new reality, one step at a time. 

After a long search, you finally stumbled upon a music award show where a band you liked was performing, and you found yourself intrigued. A few other performances passed; the MC announced they would reveal the winner for the Album of the Year in the rap category. Despite trying to ignore all updates about Mingi, you knew he had released a new album earlier this year, so seeing him being nominated didn’t surprise you. You couldn't help but feel a mix of emotions as his name was mentioned. You saw him through your TV screen, his hair now cut short and dyed a vibrant pink, a stark contrast to his previous look. His nose was pierced, and you must admit it made him look even hotter. He was wearing a sleek black blazer with nothing underneath, the simplicity of his outfit highlighting his confidence. He looked absolutely gorgeous, his features as handsome as ever, capturing your attention completely. You couldn’t help but smile, a wave of nostalgia and admiration washing over you. Your heart began to beat faster with the excitement and joy of seeing him again. 

And of course, Mingi won. You didn’t know exactly why, but you couldn’t help yourself—you clapped your hands enthusiastically. You were so incredibly proud of him and his achievement. With a wide smile on his face, he stood up from his seat, took a deep breath, and confidently hopped on stage. He walked over to the microphone, adjusted it to his height, and paused for a moment to gather his thoughts. "Thank you, everyone," Mingi began, his voice steady but filled with emotion. "This album means the world to me, and it wouldn't have been possible without the incredible team behind me and the fans who have supported me through everything." He paused, taking a deep breath before continuing. "I want to dedicate this award to someone very special to me, someone who was with me since my early days." Mingi's words hung in the air, and you felt a lump form in your throat. You knew he was talking about you. The memories of your time together, the sacrifices you made, and the dreams you shared all came rushing back. Despite the pain and heartbreak, a part of you was deeply touched by his acknowledgment. He continued, "I know I've made mistakes, and I've hurt the only person I have ever loved. But this album represents a journey of growth and redemption. It's about learning from those mistakes and becoming a better person." The audience applauded, but your mind was elsewhere, lost in the whirlwind of emotions Mingi's speech had stirred within you. You couldn't help but wonder if he truly had changed, if he had finally realized the impact of his actions. As the applause died down, Mingi took a step back, holding the award close to his chest. He looked directly into the camera, his eyes seemingly searching for yours through the screen. "You know," Mingi continues, "this special person told me that since I gained popularity, I’ve been only rapping about fucking bitches, and she hated that." Mingi smiled and looked at the award in his hands. "So, with this album, I came back to my roots, to lyrics that truly mattered and reflect who I am." As the applause echoed around him, Mingi took a deep breath, feeling the weight of his words and the emotions they carried. He remembered the countless nights he spent writing, the struggles he faced, and the moments of doubt. "I don’t know where she’s at now, what she’s doing," he paused, running a hand through his hair, his eyes filled with regret "I wanted to be a man and respect her decision to leave me, so I never reached out." His voice cracked, the weight of his words sinking in "Because the truth is she deserves way better than me." He swallowed hard, his eyes glistening with unshed tears "I don’t even know if this will reach her, but if it does, I just want her to know that I still, very much love her." A tear finally escaped, rolling down his cheek "And that life without her is shit." He took a deep breath, his voice barely a whisper. He glanced around, seeing familiar faces of fellow artists and friends who knew his story then he looked straight at the camera. "So, to my ex, to the one I prayed to end up with, thank you for breaking my heart. This one is for you." He raised his award and bowed. As he left the stage, you couldn't help but feel a surge of mixed emotions. The love you once shared was still there, buried beneath the pain and heartbreak, but his words made you wonder if there might still be a chance for redemption and healing. You sat there, stunned and overwhelmed, tears streaming down your face. The raw emotion in Mingi's speech had reopened old wounds, but it also made you question if there was a possibility for a new beginning. 

Too caught up in your thoughts, you didn't notice when the cameras started to broadcast live from backstage. An elegant reporter, dressed in a chic green dress, stood waiting with a microphone in hand. Her eyes sparkled with anticipation as she spotted Mingi approaching, clutching his award tightly. She greeted him with a warm smile and a nod, gesturing for him to join her on a plush, cream-colored couch set up for the interview. As Mingi took his seat next to her, the reporter's smile widened. "Congratulations, Mingi, on your incredible win tonight!" she began, her voice smooth and professional. "How does it feel to take home the Album of the Year award?" 

Mingi took a deep breath, trying to steady his emotions. "It feels surreal," he admitted, his voice slightly hoarse from the whirlwind of emotions he had experienced on stage. "This album was a labor of love and a journey of self-discovery. Winning this award means the world to me." 

The reporter nodded; her expression empathetic. "You've mentioned that this album, Empty Box, holds a lot of personal significance. Can you tell us more about the inspiration behind it?" 

"The title of the album, Empty Box, symbolizes a metaphorical space where I have placed all the love I couldn’t give, oh god I hate to call her that but, to my ex-girlfriend." Mingi's eyes welled up with tears, and he swallowed hard. "It encompasses not just the love, but also our unfulfilled dreams, the cherished memories we created together, and the mistakes we made along the way." He paused, taking a moment to gather his thoughts, his emotions visibly overwhelming him. This album reflects my journey, regrets, and lessons I've learned. Each song is a chapter of that story, a piece of my heart that I hope resonates with those who listen." He took a deep breath, his voice cracking as he continued, "I wanted to create something that speaks to the pain of losing someone you love, the guilt of not being able to give them what they deserve, and the hope that maybe, just maybe, we can all find a way to heal from our past mistakes." Mingi's eyes were filled with a mix of sorrow and determination as he spoke, his words carrying the weight of his emotions. He looked directly into the camera, his eyes searching for a connection with those who might be watching. "To anyone out there who feels like they've messed up, like they've lost their way, I want you to know that you're not alone. We all make mistakes, we all have regrets, but that doesn't mean we can't find a way to move forward. This album is my way of reaching out, of saying that it's okay to feel broken, it's okay to struggle, but it's also okay to hope for a better tomorrow." 

The reporter nodded, her eyes reflecting the depth of Mingi's words. "Thank you for sharing such a personal journey with us, Mingi. Your honesty and vulnerability are truly inspiring." She paused for a moment, letting his words resonate with the audience. "What's next for you? Are there any upcoming projects or plans you'd like to share?" 

Mingi took a deep breath, a small smile breaking through his tear-streaked face. "Right now, I just want to take some time to reflect and reconnect with myself. But I promise, there's more music to come, and I hope to continue growing both as an artist and as a person." 

The reporter's eyes sparkled with curiosity as she leaned in slightly. "Is this album some type of closure for you? Are you ready to go out there and find love again? I bet there's plenty of girls, or guys who would die to have a chance with you." 

Mingi took a moment to reflect, his eyes distant. "In many ways, this album has been therapeutic for me. It's allowed me to process my emotions and come to terms with my past. As for finding love again, I think it's important for me to focus on healing and personal growth first. Love is a beautiful thing, but it requires a strong foundation." 

The reporter nodded, her smile warm and understanding. "Thank you for your honesty, Mingi. Your journey is truly inspiring, and I'm sure your fans appreciate your openness." 

Mingi smiled back, a glimmer of hope in his eyes. "Thank you. I'm grateful for the support." With that, the interview concluded, and Mingi stood up, shaking the reporter's hand before walking away. As the camera panned out, you turned off the TV, your mind racing with thoughts and emotions. And you knew you needed to see him again. You've been staying strong since you left him, but now, the wall crashed down and you couldn't stop your racing heart, you couldn't prioritize your mind screaming at you not to do it. The memories of your time together flooded back with an overwhelming force, each one more vivid than the last. The late-night conversations, the shared dreams, the laughter, and even the fights—they all played in your mind like an old movie reel. Despite the pain and the heartbreak, you couldn't deny the love you still felt for him, a love that had been buried but never truly extinguished. Your emotions were a tangled mess, a mix of longing, fear, hope, and regret. You thought about the life you once envisioned with him, the future that seemed so bright and full of promise. Would it still be possible? Could you find a way to rebuild what was broken, to heal the wounds that had festered for so long? As you sat there, your heart pounding in your chest, you knew that you couldn't ignore these feelings. It was as if something was pushing you towards him, giving you a nudge to take a step towards reconciliation. The thought of seeing him again both terrified and excited you, but you knew that you had to follow your heart. With trembling hands, you picked up your phone and stared at the screen, your mind racing with a thousand thoughts. Should you call him? Text him? Show up at his door? You took a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves, and made your decision. You were going to see him. 

You run to your closet, your heart racing with anticipation and anxiety. You put on a hoodie as the autumn air was getting colder, layered a denim jacket on top for extra warmth, and decided to go. Living on the opposite side of the city now, getting to Mingi's place would take more than an hour, but you didn't mind the long journey. As you left your room, one of your roommates looked at you, her eyes filled with curiosity. 

"So, I guess you heard the speech?" she asked, a knowing smile playing on her lips. You could feel the pride welling up inside you, making you even more determined to reach Mingi and share your feelings with him. 

"Yeah, I did," you replied, your voice trembling with emotion. "I need to see him." 

"Honey, I know you want to, but don't forget why you left him in the first place," she said gently, her eyes filled with concern. "You were heartbroken and exhausted. It took so much strength for you to walk away and start rebuilding your life." She paused, her expression softening. "I understand that his speech stirred up a lot of emotions, but please, think carefully about this. Remember all the nights you cried yourself to sleep, all the broken promises. Just don't lose sight of why you made the decision to leave. You deserve to be happy and to find someone who truly values and respects you." 

You nodded, taking her words to heart. "I know, and I won't forget. But I need to know if things can be different now. It's just, I am so proud of him, and I just wish he knew that" you whispered to your roommate, your voice filled with a mix of hope and determination. Your roommate, who had been silently listening, came closer, her eyes reflecting concern and empathy. "I know we've been through so much, and the pain was unbearable at times. But seeing him up there, pouring his heart out, made me realize that a part of me still cares deeply for him. I can't ignore these feelings. I spent so many nights crying myself to sleep, feeling hurt and abandoned, but maybe he's changed. Maybe he's truly learned from his mistakes. I need to see for myself if there's a chance for us to rebuild what we once had, to heal together and find a way back to each other." 

Your friend reached out, gently squeezing your hand, her touch offering a silent reassurance. Her eyes softened as she spoke, "I understand why you feel this way. It's not easy to let go of someone you love, especially when there's still a part of you that believes in him. But you need to be sure that he's really changed, that he's willing to put in the effort to make things right this time." 

You nodded, feeling a lump form in your throat. "I just wish he understood that despite everything, I don't hold any grudges. I want him to know that I forgive him and that I'm willing to give him another chance if he's ready to make things right." Your voice trembled slightly, the weight of your emotions making it difficult to speak. 

Your roommate gave you a warm, encouraging smile. "You have a big heart, and it's clear that you still care about him deeply. Just make sure you protect yourself too. If he's really changed, he'll show you through his actions, not just words. Take it one step at a time and trust your instincts. You deserve to be happy, and if giving him another chance feels right to you, then follow your heart." Her words offered a sense of comfort and clarity, helping to ease the turmoil inside you. You took a deep breath, feeling a renewed sense of hope. 

"Thank you," you said, your voice filled with gratitude. "I need to do this for myself, to know if there's still a chance for us." With that, you hugged your best friend and stepped out into the autumn night. 

The journey to Mingi's place felt like an eternity, each passing moment filled with a mixture of anticipation and fear. As the bus drew closer to his building, you couldn't help but feel a surge of doubt. What if this was a mistake? What if you were setting yourself up for more heartache? But the memory of Mingi's heartfelt speech and the love you still felt for him pushed you forward. 

When you finally arrived, you stood outside his door, taking a deep breath to steady your nerves. With a trembling hand, you knocked, the sound echoing through the hallway. To your surprise, the door is opened by an elderly man, dressed in an elegant suit. His eyes widen in surprise as he sees you standing there. "Good evening, sir," you say hesitantly, trying to mask your confusion. "I’m sorry for the late visit but I'm here to see Mingi. Is he already back?" The man's expression shifts from surprise to bewilderment. 

"I'm sorry," he replies, his voice carrying a hint of confusion. "But I believe you have the wrong address. Nobody by the name of Mingi lives here." He looks at you sympathetically, as if trying to help you figure out your mistake. 

Your heart sank, and you felt a wave of confusion wash over you. "But this was his address," you murmured, feeling lost. 

The elderly man gave you a kind smile, "I moved in here few months ago, maybe he was a previous owner of this apartment?" 

Your heart sank even further as you realized that Mingi had moved. "Thank you," you said softly, turning away from the door, feeling a mix of disappointment and confusion. As you walked back to the bus stop, the doubt began to creep in again. Maybe meeting with him would be a mistake? The universe seemed to be throwing obstacles in your path, as if trying to tell you something. Perhaps it was a sign that some things are better left in the past, that moving forward meant leaving certain chapters closed. You couldn't help but think about all the reasons you left in the first place, the pain and the heartbreak that led you to this very moment. Was it worth reopening old wounds for a chance that things might be different? As you boarded the bus, you decided to give it one last shot, you took your phone out. You scrolled through your contacts and found Mingi's number, your finger hovering over the call button. Taking a deep breath, you pressed it and held the phone to your ear, your heart pounding as it began to ring. After a few moments, you heard a familiar message on the other end, "The number you have dialed no longer exists." 

The automated message echoed in your ear, a stark reminder of the distance that now separated you from Mingi. You pulled the phone away, staring at the screen in disbelief. How could it be? You had been so certain that reaching out to him was the right thing to do, but now, it felt like the universe was conspiring against you. You tried calling again, but the same message played, confirming that Mingi's number had indeed been disconnected. A sense of finality washed over you, making the reality of the situation sink in even deeper. It felt as if a door had been firmly closed, leaving you standing on the outside, unable to reach the person you once held so dear. As you sat back on the bus, the city lights blurring past the window, you couldn't help but feel a mix of emotions. Disappointment, sadness, and a lingering sense of what could have been. The memories of your time together replayed in your mind, each one a bittersweet reminder of the love you had lost. Deep down, you knew that this might be the universe's way of telling you to let go, to move forward with your life. With a heavy heart, you put your phone away and leaned back in your seat, taking a deep breath. As the bus continued its route, you gazed out at the city, the lights flickering like distant stars.  

six months later

You just started your shift; the day was going to be long and tiring. With holidays fast approaching, people were buzzing to buy new goods. You were working as a manager in one of the luxury shopping centers, a position that demanded a great deal of patience and resilience. The opulence of the surroundings was a stark contrast to the stress that came with the job. The elegant displays and high-end brands attracted a clientele that was demanding and often indifferent to the staff's efforts. Managing a team in such an environment was no small feat. You had to ensure that everything ran smoothly, from inventory management to customer service. The rich customers, with their endless requests and high expectations, often tested the limits of your endurance. They seemed to suck the life out of you, leaving you drained by the end of the day. Yet, you couldn't afford to show any signs of fatigue. Your role required you to maintain a calm and composed demeanor, addressing complaints with a smile and ensuring that every shopper left satisfied. The holiday season only amplified the challenges. The influx of customers meant longer hours and heightened pressure. Each day felt like a marathon, with waves of shoppers flooding in, eager to make their purchases. The store was a hive of activity, with sales associates rushing to assist customers, restock shelves, and manage transactions. Amidst the chaos, you had to keep a watchful eye, ready to step in whenever issues arose. 

You were on your way to the staff area to take a break for lunch, feeling exhausted from the busy morning shift. The holiday rush had turned the shopping center into a whirlwind of activity, and you were grateful for a brief break. Just as you were about to reach the staff area, one of your co-workers called out your name. You rolled your eyes, already anticipating another request or issue that needed your immediate attention. With a deep breath, you turned to face her, trying to mask your frustration with a polite smile. 

"I'm really sorry to bother you, but we have a situation that requires your expertise. There's a particularly demanding customer, and the supervisor has tried everything but just can't seem to handle it. She asked me to find you because we really need your help with this. Would you mind stepping in to assist? I know you're on your way to lunch, but it would mean a lot to us." 

You sighed internally, knowing that this was part of the job. "Alright, lead the way," you replied, forcing a reassuring smile. Following your co-worker, you mentally prepared yourself for yet another challenging interaction, hoping that it wouldn't take too long so you could finally enjoy your much-needed break. 

She led you to one of the private dressing rooms. From a distance, you could hear a female voice demanding something from her, you supposed, boyfriend. "Oh baby, what do you think about this one?" you heard as you approached the door. Your heart skipped a beat when you recognized the voice that responded—it was Mingi. You stopped in your tracks, your mind racing. The reality of seeing him again, and with someone new, hit you like a ton of bricks. But you took a deep breath, steadied yourself, and pushed forward, opening the door to the dressing room. Inside, you saw Mingi standing next to a woman who was examining herself in the mirror, holding up an elegant dress. The room was filled with an awkward tension as Mingi's eyes met yours. For a moment, time seemed to stand still, the memories of your past flooding back with a vivid intensity. 

Mingi's expression shifted from surprise to a mix of emotions—confusion, regret, and perhaps a hint of longing. The woman, oblivious to the charged atmosphere, continued to admire herself in the mirror, adjusting the dress and waiting for Mingi's opinion. 

You felt like the air was taken out of your lungs. He was here, standing before you, after so much time had passed. Memories of your time together flooded back, each one more vivid and overwhelming than the last. You had to swallow hard and clench your fist to keep the act up, to maintain your composure in front of him and his new girlfriend. The mix of emotions inside you—shock, longing, regret—threatened to break through, but you knew you had to stay professional. This was your job, your life now, and you couldn't let the past disrupt it. "Excuse me madam, I’m a manager here," you said, your voice steady despite the turmoil inside. "Is there anything I can assist you with?" 

"Oh yes, we've been looking forward to buying the limited-edition shoes from the new collection," she said, her eyes lighting up with excitement. 

You took a deep breath at her words, trying to maintain your professionalism. "I'm really sorry to inform you about this, as my coworker already told you, madam, the shoes I believe you are referring to are only available for special order." 

Her enthusiasm faltered slightly, replaced by a look of disappointment. "Special order? Is there any way we can place one now?" 

"Unfortunately, the special-order period for those shoes has already ended," you explained gently. "They were available for a limited time, and we are currently out of stock. However, we do have a selection of other exclusive items that might interest you." 

You caught Mingi's eyes boring into you, his face pale and expression frozen. He stood still, as if rooted to the spot, and he seemed to not even breathe. The intensity of his gaze sent a wave of emotions crashing over you, each one more overwhelming than the last. You felt your eyes watering, a rush of emotions threatening to spill over. You blinked quickly, trying to get rid of the tears and maintain your composure. This was neither the time nor the place to let your feelings show, but the sight of him, so close yet so distant, made it nearly impossible to hold back the tide of emotions. 

The girl in front of you sighed, clearly disheartened by the news. Mingi, sensing her disappointment, placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "It's all right," he said softly. "Let's take a look at what else they have. I'm sure you can find something you'll love." 

She turned to you with a sharp expression, her tone shifting to one of impatience. "Do you even know who my boyfriend is?’’ 

You swallowed hard, forcing a polite smile despite the tension. "Yes, madam, I'm well aware. Please allow me to show you some other exclusive items that might catch your interest."  

"Baby, won't you do something about it?" She once again turned to Mingi, her voice carrying a hint of frustration, but his eyes never left yours, the unspoken words hanging heavily in the air between you. 

Mingi shifted uncomfortably, his eyes meeting his girlfriend for a brief moment before he turned to you again. "I'll see what I can do," he said softly, trying to soothe her. 

You took a deep breath, gathering your professionalism. "As I mentioned earlier, the special-order period has ended, and we are out of stock for the limited-edition shoes. However, if you'd like, I can take your contact information and notify you if any new limited editions become available in the future." 

The woman sighed, clearly not satisfied, but nodded reluctantly. "Fine, let's do that then." She handed you her information, and you quickly jotted it down, aware of Mingi's gaze still lingering on you. 

"Thank you for your understanding," you said, handing back her details. "Is there anything else I can assist you with today?" 

She shook her head, her disappointment evident. "No, that's all. Come on, baby, let's go." As they turned to leave, Mingi hesitated for a moment, his eyes locking with yours one last time. You could see the unspoken words and the regret in his gaze, you silently hoped he would say something, anything. You gave him a small, professional nod, and without a word, he turned away, following his girlfriend out of the dressing room. Once they were gone, you let out a breath you hadn't realized you were holding. 

You realized that the man you loved was no more. Instead, you met with someone who wore his face, who had his voice. Someone who was a stranger. The warmth that once radiated from his eyes was now replaced by an unfamiliar coldness. It was as if time had reshaped him into a different person, one that you could no longer recognize. The memories of your past seemed like a cruel illusion, a reminder of what once was and what could never be again. You realized with a heavy heart that the essence of the man you fell in love with had faded, leaving behind a mere shadow of who he used to be. 

Don't talk to strangers, they say, or you might fall in love. And when that love fades, those familiar faces turn into strangers once more. The irony of it all stung deeply. The very person who once knew you inside and out had become an enigma, a puzzle with pieces that no longer fit. As you watched him walk away, hand in hand with someone new, you couldn't help but feel a profound sense of loss. The man you once knew, the man you once loved, was gone. And in his place stood a stranger who bore his likeness but none of the familiarity. 

The journey of love had taken you full circle, bringing you back to a place of solitude and reflection. The lessons learned were etched deeply into your soul, a testament to the transient nature of relationships. You couldn't help but wonder if you would ever recognize that familiar face again, or if he would forever remain a stranger, a fleeting memory in the tapestry of your life. 

[candyskiez]

usually I hate possession plots but god,I love the possessed hunter plot. because it's just so painfully resonant as an abuse victim. especially to anyone who's been abused by bigots.

like. this outside force you once loved, you spent so much of your time trying to please, so much of your time begging for the approval of, isolates you. they cause you to grow paranoid and angry, snapping at people and pushing you away from your support system. makes you seem crazy to your loved ones, making them doubt your mental health and making you question your sense of reality because you can't tell what's real or not anymore (gaslighting, baby!) you're cut off and overwhelmed. you get put in situations where you're forced to do things you don't want to, you're in so much pain, you're being treated like something with no wants or thoughts of their own. you're stripped of your autonomy. you're belittled for what you wanted and told THIS is how you're supposed to be, and you're so miserable. you're pitted against your loved ones. your abuser tries to make all your loved ones hate you so you come back to them, so they don't lose you. and belos being a horrifically realistic portrayal of an IRL abuser makes this so much worse. he craves Caleb's attention and tries to force hunter to fill that void. nevermind HES the one who robbed himself of caleb in his life by killing him. he tries to make hunter his shoulder to cry on, his therapist, his punching bag, his doctor. uses him to look at himself and go "see! look how good I'm doing! my family is back and he finally loves me again!" , he is obsessive and horrible and cruel and so horrifically realistic. he strips hunter of his autonomy, and in the shit that will start sounding familiar to people who grew up in bigoted families:

forced him out of what made him most comfortable. literally grew out his hair against his will, treated how he'd changed his body and wardrobe to make himself more comfortable as something that tainted him.

also just. holy shit the violating him like that. just the fucking undertones. it's fucking horrific.

and that's why him fighting back is so huge. because he has the strength to say, no. fuck you, no. this is my goddamn body. this is my goddamn life. he takes all these things he LOVED. he loved, that belos had taught him he was sinful and a horrible person for not despising (hm, allegories) and says, fuck you, I WANT this. I want this, I love this, you tried to teach me to hate it but I don't. I love it. I love it, and you didn't break me. I want to leave the coven, I want to leave you. you hurt me, and I said sorry. you used me, and I said sorry. I am done being sorry. I am done feeling bad. I want this life you're trying to take from me. I want to go to the boiling isles and I want to have a life there, in that world you hate so much. I want to go to the boiling isles and be sinful and disgusting and everything you hate and I will love it. I will be happy. I will be free and everything you hate. and I miss when I thought I could please you, because it was simple. but I am happier as a heretic and as a sinner, and you can't change me. I tried to change myself for you, I just ended up miserable. you can't make me something I'm not. I tried. and I am done trying. I am hunter. fuck you, my name is hunter. my name is hunter, and you hurt people. it doesn't matter if you were trying to help me. you hurt me. and I am done, and I am leaving, and most of all I will never let you hurt anyone else like you hurt me.

and he fucking got it, man. he fucking got it. he went through HELL and he still came back swinging. the death feels symbolic to me almost? losing a part of you in traumatic events and you have to live without that part. and you got out but you lost pieces of you in the process, and that stays with you.

but he keeps going. he kept fucking going man and THAT is fucking amazing to me. he kept going. ohhh my god. I wish I had this when I was 13. hunter isn't as massive of a hyperfixation for me anymore by a long shot, but goddamn. I love this dude. I LOVED the possession scene so fucking much and it will always resonate with me so, so hard.

[webslingingslasher]

please angsty queen give us “ranting to a close friend/parent about what they're upset about before they make confrontation just to make sure they aren't overreacting” and “why are you looking at me like that” 🫢

more fluffy than angsty, but i still put some in there bestie.

*mcu peter

Dating a superhero was hard. 

Go figure, right? You don’t think anyone would think it’s easy but the big thing, the real problem in dating one, was that you felt like there was no way to bring up your issues without being selfish. Lately, there was no such thing as Peter time. Dates were pushed off or canceled, he would have you come all the way to his just so he can get pulled away, or get halfway to yours and bail. 

For two weeks straight it hasn’t felt like you had a boyfriend. 

But how do you tell him you feel neglected while he’s out there literally saving people? Hey, Pete? Oh yeah, no, no, it’s nothing, just feeling a little left out, can you stop that guy from dying and come cuddle? Yeah, it was hard. 

One side feels bad, the other is shameful. That side says that Peter could take time away, that he couldn’t always save everyone, that sometimes he could just leave things to the police. But that’s a dark side you’d never talk about, ever. 

You just really needed to talk about it, with anyone other than Peter. You couldn’t tell your boyfriend that he was lacking in his department because he was being a hero. 

“MJ, thank god.” She was the best person to talk to, she took no sides and told it how it was. She could also keep a secret, the only time you let a person play a fence is MJ, she knows too much to ever pick a side. 

“Hola,” She snaps a piece of her apple off, and looks down at her book. Your head looks around the lunchroom, curly hair is nowhere to be found, you need to speak quickly. 

“I need your advice,” you lick your lips and lean forward, she dog ears the page she’s on and closes the book, “go on,” paranoid you look around once more. 

“It’s about Peter.” 

MJ flickers her eyes up, a hand is placed on your shoulder, a kiss dropped on the top of your head. 

“What’s about Peter?” 

You freeze, he’s Spider-Man but you swear he’s rubbed a sixth sense onto you, you just knew he’d pop up. 

“Your birthday’s coming up,” he laughs and sits next to you, “no it’s not,” you look to MJ for support, she gives none, you picked a shitty excuse. “It’s like, seven months away, we have to start planning.” 

Peter takes a bite of your sandwich, “now? Who are you inviting, the whole city?” 

You tsk, “there goes the surprise.” 

You reach to steal a fry, he lets you take three. “You’re lying and wanna talk to MJ about me, don’t you, squidward?” 

Your nose scrunches, “is it normal to let the other person know you’re about to shit talk them in a relationship?”

 Peter thinks about it, MJ watches with a smirk, “I don’t think so, it’s normal to vent.” 

“Do you ever shit talk me?” 

He looks into your eyes, you don’t want to know, “I wouldn’t call it shit talk, MJ, would you call it shit talk?” 

She swallows a bite of apple, “nah, you more panic call than anything.” 

Peter hums and looks at you, “five minutes good?” 

You tilt your head, “to do what?” 

Peter nods at MJ, “to shit talk, I’ll leave five minutes before lunch ends, if that’s enough time.” 

You look him up and down trying to figure out his game, he seems sincere. “You seem really okay with this, I don’t trust it.” 

He shrugs, “babe, we’ve been together long enough. I know you’re not mad at me, I can tell, so I don’t think the conversation could be too damaging.” 

You’re still weary, “fine, five minutes.” 

Peter leans to press a kiss to your temple, “deal,” he looks to MJ, “hey, what was that thing Jason whispered to you in class?” 

MJ cackles, “okay, listen to this,” you follow in conversation until Peter looks at his watch, he kisses your cheek, “times up, see you later.” 

He sends a salute to MJ and finds his way to the double doors, pushing out. 

“Yeah, I could see how you’d want to shit talk him.” 

You groan, “he makes it so hard! Like, this is why I need to talk to you, I feel so evil when I think about telling him bad things.” 

“Okay, what’s up then?” 

“I don’t feel like I have a boyfriend anymore, MJ.” Her eyes widened, “oh shit.” You sigh, “he’s constantly running out on me, canceling dates, not replying for hours at a time, and I feel so shitty because I get so annoyed but I know he’s doing it for a good reason.” 

“And you’d feel selfish telling him because you know what he’s doing when he cancels.” 

You point, “ding, ding, ding. I’m just getting to this place where I feel like I’m being neglected. I don’t like feeling like everytime I’m with my boyfriend I’m on borrowed time. MJ, I…” The words burnt your tongue but it’s a thought that's been on your mind, “MJ, I don’t know how much longer I can do this.” 

MJ frowns, she couldn’t imagine you two not being together, you just made sense. 

“Want my opinion?” 

You nod, MJ clears her throat and shuffles forward. Her hands intertwined and rested on the table, “He’s Spider-Man, but he also needs to be Peter Parker. You deserve to have time with your boyfriend, he needs you to tell him that he’s not splitting his time enough. It doesn’t make you selfish to want Peter.” 

“I should tell him, you think?” 

“If you don’t it’ll turn into resentment, then there’s no coming back.” 

You accept her advice, it confirms how you’ve been feeling, you’ll talk to him and he’ll fix it, then it’ll be okay. 

—-----------------------------

Peter caught you after lunch, his hand wrapped yours and he placed a kiss to the back of it. 

“Consensus?” 

“We should talk.” Peter wouldn’t admit it, but that made his stomach drop. You were talking about him to a friend and then said those words, it didn’t sit well with him, a wave of panic hit him, he didn’t want to talk to you, he was scared of what you would say. 

“Yeah, of course, baby. After school? You can come over, May’s gonna be out all night, we have the place to ourselves.” 

It sounds like a perfect opportunity, if you play your cards right Peter may even spend the whole night home with you. You press up on your feet to place a kiss on the corner of his mouth, “sounds perfect,” it settled his nerves some. 

He felt even better when you sat on his lap during the train ride, your arm wrapped out his neck, his own was wrapped around your waist, sharing headphones you rested your head against his. Peter felt like you were loving up on him, and you were, but mostly because you felt touch starved from him, and this was the first time in a while you had him all by yourself. 

Peter tapped your thigh when his stop came up, you stood with his hand intertwined with yours. They swung the whole walk back, talking about school and May’s new friend from work, throwing in plans for the weekend, it sent a small pang to your heart, you were scared of them failing. 

He tossed his keys on the kitchen counter, his backpack sitting on a bar chair. “What’s up?” 

“I, uh,” you pause to think of the right words, “I’ve been feeling a little-” Peter’s police scanner went off, a bank robbery. You felt the air leave your lungs, you couldn’t even talk about the problem because of the problem. 

“I’m sorry, baby. I need to go.” He dashed to his room, quickly stripping to get his suit on. You couldn’t handle it anymore, you follow him and stop him as he’s pulling his suit up his waist. 

“Peter, I really need to talk to you.” 

His eyes flit to yours, he pulls his arm through a sleeve. “Baby, I gotta go. We can talk later.” 

You feel bold, maybe this is the wrong time but MJ is right, resentment is building. 

“No, Peter, we need to talk.” 

He presses his chest, his suit conforms. You hate the sight of it right now, a thought of hiding it passes by. 

“And we can talk later, there’s nothing pressing. I have to go.” 

“Our relationship is pressing, Peter.” 

His eyes narrow, “are you saying it’s on the line?” 

You look at the window behind him, “it will be if you leave.” 

The scanner bleats in the quiet room, they’re requesting back up. Tension is building, you both are die hard on your stances, neither wanting to bend. 

“I need to go, someone could need me.” 

Your words cry out, like you’re pleading to him, “I need you!” 

Peter breathes in and out, he feels bad but he’s needed elsewhere, you’ll be okay, others might not. 

“You have me, I promise. But, really baby, I need to go.” 

You blink tears in your eyes, you’re telling him you need him and he’s leaving, he’s ignoring, he’s brushing you off, he’s not taking you seriously. 

He pulls his window open, you can’t believe he’s leaving. 

“If you go then I’m leaving, I’m not going to wait around for you. Not anymore.” 

Peter doesn’t know what that means, “promise me you’ll stay here, I’ll come right back, I promise. Then I’m all yours, okay?” 

He doesn’t even give you a chance to respond, swinging off before you could even get words out. It hurt, and he didn’t believe you. He thinks he can just get away with things, that no matter what he did or how long he disappeared you’d be waiting. 

Well, he was wrong. You didn’t need this, not anymore. This time, Peter could come to you, you tried and he refused to listen. If he wanted this relationship then he’d fight for it like he did Spider-Man. 

You packed your things and left, when Peter came home an hour later you were gone without a trace, he tried to call you but all he got was your voicemail. 

—---------------------------

The next morning he came, almost, running up to you. “Hey! I tried calling you last night.” You didn’t sound nearly as happy to see him as he was, “I know, I ignored you.” His eyebrows pinched, “why?” You pushed the arm he had around your shoulder off, it was petty but you were proving a point, things weren’t fine and you won’t pretend they were. 

“You didn’t want to talk to me, I didn’t want to talk to you.” 

Peter hated to fight, this was bordering on fight territory, he wanted to avoid that at all costs. 

“Hey, if this is about last night I’m sorry, I really am. Come over later, I promise I’ll listen.” 

You sigh and shake your head, “you know, Peter, I’m really tired of you promising me your time then taking it away.” 

“I’m not doing it on purpose, you saw how it went down yesterday, there was nothing I could do.” 

There was, it was to choose that you were the more important thing at the time.

“Peter, it’s getting really hard to have a boyfriend I can’t rely on.” 

Internal panic hits again. “What does that mean?” 

You look him over, “it means I don’t really want to talk to you today.” And with that, you walk away. 

—---------------------

Peter was in a funk all day, you stayed true to your word and stayed away unless you needed to talk to him. He understood that what you needed to talk to him about was important, so he decided it was important to him too, he also really missed holding your hand all day. 

You weren’t even home for four hours before he was knocking at your door, Peter could deprive himself from you fine, but when he was aware of it he counted every second. Your plan worked. 

“Hi.” 

“Hi.” 

“Please talk to me, I miss you.” 

You opened your door and gestured for him to come in, he followed you right to your bedroom. He takes a seat on your bed and looks at you expectantly. You didn’t know how to start, you just tried being honest.

“I feel like you don’t spend time with me anymore.” Your words were small, you feel so selfish. 

“I don’t-” 

“For the past couple weeks I’ve felt like I didn’t have a boyfriend, it feels like everytime we hang out you run out on me for something Spidey related. And I hate telling you this, I’ve been bottling it up but MJ said it would lead to resentment and I don’t want to resent you and ruin the relationship, so even though I feel really selfish I just have to tell you this.” 

He’s waiting on you, he’s letting you speak your mind. 

“I know you’re doing important things, and I know the city needs you but I need Peter. I need my boyfriend, I need to have date nights and personal time and I need to not feel neglected.” 

You’re rambling, you need him to talk. He’s looking at you weird, it’s a new look, you can’t place it. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” 

Peter feels choked on words, “I’m sorry. I’m just… really sorry.” 

“I don’t know how to tell you without feeling bad. I don’t want you to feel like you have to make a choice, I don’t want you to choose, I just want-” 

“-Me to choose you sometimes.” 

You breathe out, “yeah.” 

“I get it. I may be Spider-Man but you’re dating Peter, and you need him more right now. I can do that, I’ll plan things better. We can do a designated date night, nothing but earth ending situations can break it. And from now on maybe Spidey doesn’t need to go out for every cop call.” 

You nibble on your bottom lip, “really?” 

He reaches forward to grab your hand, “I don’t want you to resent me and I don’t want you to resent Spidey, I just get so caught up in it sometimes, I need you to ground me.” 

“You’re not mad at me?” 

“For needing me and wanting to spend more time with me, your boyfriend? I could never. Let’s make a schedule, we can plan around Spider-Man. I could do a few hours with you after school then do Spidey after you leave? Or if you want I could-” 

You cut him off with a kiss and thirty minutes later he’s on top of you kissing up and down your neck, his lips ground themselves to yours, you can’t remember the last time he’s touched you like this. His hands slide up your shirt and you exhale into his mouth, you jump when his scanner goes off. 

“All units to Goldburg’s Golds and Gems, active robbery and hostage in progress.” The radio scratched the voice of the operator, Peter barley breaks from your mouth, you hold your breath and wait for the apology, the promise of one last time. 

Instead he reaches out to the scanner and turns it off, he returns to kissing you, then trails down your neck. 

“You sure you don’t need to go?” 

Peter’s words vibrate against your collarbone, “let NYPD’s finest handle it, my girl needs me more.” 

With that he tugs your shirt off. 

[wonysugar]

it’s so over for me…. ch. 15

hiding spot (half written)

the loud thud of the door shutting against the frame made you flinch, you quickly turned off your phone and focused on not breathing too loudly. it was a life or death situation for you, basically.

on her end, it was, more than anything, really fucking annoying that she fucked you while she was drunk. and the thought that you probably still hated her despite all of that gave her goosebumps. she wanted to talk to you, she really did.

but how?

she was a stuck-up self egotistical bitch who only thought about drugs, booze, and coochie. how could a well-mannered and distinguished person such as you like her?? no chance, she thought.

she sighed heavily as she finished putting on her top, utterly unaware that you were in the same room as her. grabbing her phone from the counter next to the bathroom, getting ready to call up ning to pick her up–

hic.

she paused in her tracks, eyebrows furrowed as she turned her gaze to the couch, eyeing it and the weird strange noises coming out of it.

oh how fucking lovely, hiccups, now, is what you thought, in a state of immense panic from hearing her slow and loud footsteps approaching your hiding spot, you spoke up, you had to.

you said your first actual words to her, and they were ridiculous,

“aeri, i swear to god if you keep walking towards this couch, i will run out of this house butt naked.”

her eyes widened, she immediately recognized your voice and backed away. “y-y/n?? what the hell are you doing behind that couch? also why are you naked..”

“don’t ask questions and just- turn around, i need to get dressed.” you ordered her, and she obliged immediately, muttering a weak okay. you stood up and put on your outfit from yesterday, yknow, the one that reeked of liquor? yeah, you didn’t exactly have the luxury to get changed, so.

“okay. i’m done.” you sighed eventually, watching her slowly turn around, you were finally facing her properly after all of these days, weeks? it felt like she was after you for what seemed like years, at this point.

it was weird, seeing her in front of you in a setting where she wasn’t drunk, nor was she glaring at you. this time, she was just kinda looking at you. and you were looking at her back. it was a surprising, and kind of awkward, but very welcomed comfortable silence nonetheless.

until she spoke,

“why do you hate me, y/n?” she suddenly asked, her voice small. she seemed… incredibly distraught and hurt by the potential fact that you do hate her. you’ve never seen her this way?

you scoffed, looking away in slight embarrassment, “who said i hated you? okay well.. i kinda do but.. i was moreso scared of you at first.. kinda.”

when you looked back at her, all you saw was a baffled expression on her face, confusion visibly taking over her whole brain.

this was probably gonna take a while.

-

“so yeah, despite the fact that you made me paranoid for like a good week, glared at me everytime we passed by each other and indirectly threatened to murder me on twitter, i don’t hate you or anything.” she was listening to you throughout the whole thing, guiltily nodding along to your words, embarrassingly excited over the fact that you remembered everything she did, but that wasn’t the point.

you added, “like yeah, sure, i thought you were an annoying self-centered piece of shit at first, and, you kinda are! but it mostly just turns out that you simply don’t know how to talk to women.” she kept nodding, until that last part.

“i do talk to women, not too fucking much.”

“talking to women and giving women suicidal urges are not the same thing, aeri.” you smirked at her, enjoying the reactions you were getting out of her.

she dramatically groaned, mumbling a small still counts as she was fighting back a smile. a real smile. it wasn’t a wait-until-i-get-you-hoe kind of smile, it was moreso a oh-you’re-so-funny-i-need-you-so-bad kind of smile.

upon looking at her smiling this genuinely, you felt.. inexplicably warm? you wanted to deny it, just like you’ve been doing throughout this whole thing, but you couldn’t anymore.

she was insanely pretty.

you jumped from the unexpected sound of your ringtone accompanied by the just as sudden vibration that you felt in one of your front pockets, all of it interrupting your train of aeri-filled thoughts. you pulled out your phone, looked at the contact name and immediately tensed up.

you forgot that heejin was waiting for you.

“fuck- aeri, i gotta go. heejin wanted to meet up and i like- completely forgot about it, sorry..” you waved at her as you rushed to the door, not even looking back at her. “see yo—“

“y/n, wait.” she exclaimed, not super loud, but it was loud enough, so you heard, then you turned to look at her.

meeting her gaze again, she stumbled on her words when she saw your face, as if she was fully expecting you to just go when she called out to you.

“i… i-i wanna talk more. so. give me your fucking number. please.” she demanded, looking as nervous as ever, like she forgot that she whored herself out for you in the bathroom just last night.

and you, looked like a dork that was being asked out for the first time with how wide your smile was, because you apparently also forgot about last night.

-

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[mgparker]

recruitment gone… right?

platonic!steven grant/marc spector x teenage!reader

summary: who in their right mind sends a teenager to recruit a dangerous vigilante all on their own? oh sam and fucking bucky.

warnings: teenage avenger reader, inaccuracies, clueless steven being an overall mess and a huge cap fan, violence, swearing, gen z shit? perhaps idk, 2k word count

request: ‘can you do a father figure Marc Spector/Steven Grant x A teenage avenger who was sent to recruit him? I imagine the reader being a typical Gen Z kid with a sarcastic sense of humor, but meaning well.’

notes: loosely based off this request i got MONTHS ago. i’m so sorry it’s taken forever this has literally been in my drafts for a year. not a whole lot of father figure-ing going on but i think it’s a funny little neutral recruitment blurb/one-shot. enjoy. also not sure if this is gen-z enough but i was not going to make this obnoxiously “relatable”

“It shouldn’t be too hard.”

“Sam, I want you to think about what you just said. Then think about who you’re talking to. And then… consider the possibility that your plan might actually work if you send Barnes.”

A distant voice shouted through the speaker of your phone. “No can do, kid. Recruitment is below my paygrade now!”

You rolled your eyes, shuffling down a busy sidewalk in the midst of London. “Oh, I’m sorry. I forgot I’m talking to the big champs now.”

You heard Sam chuckle in amusement, and you could imagine him shaking his head at your words. “You know what you gotta do. The sooner you get it done, the sooner you can get back to base. Kick some ass with the big champs.”

“Yeah, yeah,” it was time to get serious. “Got it, Wilson. I’ll check in later.”

Instead, it was Bucky who answered. “You’ve got this, squirt!” 

Rolling your eyes, you didn’t even give Sam a chance to get a word in before you were ending the call, stuffing your phone into your pocket and narrowing in on the bus stop ahead. 

This is stupid, you thought as you waited a safe distance away. You couldn’t risk your target spotting you before you could properly assess them. Who in their right mind sends a teenager—a freaking teenager—to recruit one of England’s most dangerous vigilantes?

You’re not scared—you were far more than capable to defend yourself, even against the famed Moon Knight—but it feels out of your way, something you’ve never been asked to do. But of course, as an Avenger, this was your duty.

You couldn’t help but think of this whole thing as a personal attack. With Bucky Barnes and Sam Wilson assuming the mantle of interim leaders of the Avengers (or rather what remains of them), this whole mission seemed like their version of a practical joke. 

Those two loved you with all their heart, you didn’t doubt it, but they take the role of “fun uncles” a bit too seriously. 

But anyway, this recruitment... This isn’t fun. Not in the slightest.

This is like being a salesperson. 

Shudder. 

Finally, you catch sight of your target—Steven Grant, an extremely sleepy, stumbling gift-shoppist who had appeared at the bus stop surprisingly early for once.

He seems gentle enough, guard mostly down, clutching his bag with a paranoid grip but that was the only thing tense about him. He’s technically older than you, not ridiculously so, but a bit younger than Sam.

You watch as his lips start forming some words; it’s subtle, nothing anyone would really notice unless they were analyzing him piece by piece like you currently were.

Ah. You realized with a pleased smile. Steven Grant and Marc Spector are working together. 

You’re snapped out of your thoughts by the sound of the bus arriving, squeaking loudly as it stopped in the street. 

Showtime. 

There was a click in your brain, or that’s what it felt like at least, and a quick scanning of your surroundings made it easy to instantly blend in. 

Steven Grant was having a decent morning. He actually woke up in time, ate a decent breakfast, and rushed out of the house with ten minutes to spare. 

Even Marc had been pleasant this morning, making unusual small talk as Steven went about his business, getting ready for work. 

And everything was well. Up until now—as he stood in the bus, trying to keep himself from falling asleep on the passengers around him, despite the extra shot of espresso he’d slipped into his drink this morning. 

Steven. 

He jolted awake, pulling his head away from a man’s shoulder with a small ‘sorry!’

But before he could doze off once more, something odd came over him. A strange tingling feeling, as if he was being watched. 

It snapped the drowsiness right out of his system, eyeing everyone suspiciously. 

You feel it too, don’t you? Something isn’t right. 

“What—” He mumbled quietly, searching for the source but coming up emptyhanded.

There was nothing peculiar or odd about his fellow commuters. 

So, he continued about his day, feeling that unsettling eye on him at all times but unaware as to its source. 

It was only when his shift was over, that he was walking home, that he decided this charade had gone on for far too long. 

Despite Marc’s pleas to let him front, Steven stopped in his dead tracks, away from any curious eyes. 

“Oi, who’s there?”

Great job, Steven. If that isn’t the most cliché thing to say before the main character gets killed in a horror movie. Marc sighed. 

“Shut up,” hissed Steven quietly. “You know I don’t watch horror movies—”

Steven blinked and suddenly you’re there, standing in front of him as if you’d been there the entire time. 

“AH!” 

The scream echoed down the alley, high-pitched and nearly startling you into a similar yelp. 

But you were quite used to your presence spooking others, it’s a part of your abilities that you’d never been able to control. 

Chest heaving and cheeks tinted with embarrassment, Steven gave you a suspicious glare. 

“Oh, it’s—it’s just a kid,” he tried to brush off his embarrassing reaction. 

You scoffed, a bruise to your ego. “Not just a kid.”

“Well, I know what I’m seeing,” Steven argued. “And you look like a child—“

“Firstly,” you’re staring at Mr. Knight’s suit, taken aback by the change in his appearance that you’d apparently triggered by startling him so bad. “I’m seventeen. Second, I thought you had a whole—“

You aimlessly motioned around your head in a sort of halo way, confusing the ever fuck out of Steven who just stood there blankly.

“A whole w-what?” He gaped, desperate to know what you— a complete stranger — had to say about his kickass suit.

“You know, a whole cape thing goin’ on.”

Ha! Colonel Sanders.

Steven wished there was a way to punch Marc.

“Now, you’re just talking about my lesser counterpart,” Steven shrugged, trying to hide the fact that he had just been offended to the core.

“Ouch, hard feelings?”

Steven pulled his lips to the side. “You could say that— wait. How do you know about—?”

“Let’s cut to the chase,” you interrupted. “I was sent here on behalf of an organization that is really interested in having you join our ranks. Normally, they’d send someone else but you’re stuck with me so—“

“What organization? What ranks? You’re hiring?” I guess we’re both interrupting each other now. You fought the urge to roll your eyes. Even if the task was annoying, you wouldn’t be returning to base with a new recruit if you hit him with a bunch of attitude.

Patience was not your strongest virtue. “Not exactly. As soon as you put that blade down, maybe we can talk some more.”

Steven looked down with a jolt, as if he hadn’t realized he’d been white-knuckling the weapon since you appeared.

Slowly, he started to store the blade before Marc cut in hastily. Hello? Are you seriously letting a kid tell you what to do? A kid who appeared out of thin air?

Steven caught Marc’s glare in the reflection of a small puddle, the road damp from London’s regular showers. He looked much more menacing than Steven, even with his half-assed suit. 

He hadn’t said it yet, but Steven knew Marc was aching to take over. And it was probably the smartest option- Steven wasn’t the best at confrontation. 

“Don’t hurt a minor please,” he pleaded quietly. Marc narrowed his eyes at the notion. But he nodded his head dismissively.

With a sigh, Steven allowed Marc to front.

All the while, you minded your own business as well as you could, staring at the sky suspiciously. You wouldn’t be surprised if Sam had sent Redwing to spy on you. Not because he didn’t trust you of course, but because him and Bucky loved to get a laugh in whenever they could. 

“Alright, let’s cut the bullshit. Who sent you? Harrow?” 

You nearly gave yourself whiplash from how fast your head snapped forward. 

The suit was different, cape billowing behind him, and eyes even whiter than before. They seemed to glow-- no, they were glowing-- and glare into the depths of your soul. You were almost intimidated.

“Who the hell is Harrow? Absolutely not. Since you asked so nicely, I was sent on behalf of Captain America.”

Captain America? He gripped the crescent blade tighter. 

He considered your words carefully, staring at you with the utmost suspicion. Lip curling up, head already starting to shake in disapproval, annoyance consuming him altogether— 

“That’s bullshit.”

“That’s- that’s amazing!”

You couldn’t help the smirk on your face. “It is pretty cool,” you shrugged thirty minutes later, chewing through a particularly large bite of your warm bagel. You were sat in the corner of a small, dingy bakery. What it lacked in aesthetics, the bakery definitely made up for in flavor.

“Do you think you could maybe, like I dunno, introduce us?” Steven asked with an excitement that barely kept him still in his seat.

You’re surprised he hasn’t gathered the attention of everyone else in the bakery, but for once, you’re not the one worried about being on the opposite end of a judgmental eye.

Being an Avenger in these post-Blip days isn’t as easy as it was before… stack that on top of being a ‘child’ and it’s the perfect recipe for disaster.

‘They’re too young!’

‘They can barely contain their abilities!’

‘The Avengers already ruined our lives before! Why should we trust a child?!’

Even if you denied it a million times, there was always a small part of you that craved their approval. Their vote of trust…Maybe this mission would help with that, once they learned that it was you who got the infamous bad-guy-turned-good Moon Knight to join the world’s mightiest superheroes…

Well, maybe it wasn’t exactly you who got Steven to willingly agree. But there was absolutely no way in hell you were ever telling Sam that it was his pull that got the deal sealed.

“Sure,” you smiled back at Steven who just about died at your response. The coffee in his mug jostled out and splashed onto the table. “Big Captain America fan?”

“As of late,” Steven grinned. “So, when do we leave? Is—” He gasped suddenly and lowered his voice to a whisper. “Is Captain America coming to pick me up?”

Jesus Christ. Marc groaned. This was a fucking mistake. 

Steven ignored him and looked at you expectantly.

You glanced up from your phone where you’d been rapidly typing something up. You did a double-take as you processed his question.

“Absolutely,” you deadpanned. “He’ll send a car for you. Probably meet you at the airport with his private jet.”

Steven’s eyes grew wider with every word. Marc was scowling in the reflection of the window behind you.

“Bollocks...” he breathed, staring down at his lap in disbelief. 

You narrowed your eyes at him.

“I don’t even know what to say. I mean, who—who would’ve thought they would send a seventeen-year-old to recruit little ole me—”

You saw something click in his brain. He looked up with glazed over irritation. “...you’re... you’re not being serious.”

“Of course, I’m not being serious, Grant. I got here alone and I’m more than capable of getting us back to base. You can save the fangirling for when we finally touch down alright? He’ll meet us there.”

Steven pursed his lips at you. 

Rolling your eyes, you finished your text and locked your phone with a click. “I’m being serious this time.”

Excitement poured into his gaze again. You’re not sure how Marc feels about it, only that after explaining yourself in very, very specific detail, he was open to the discussion. But it must be a mutual decision at this point. You doubt Steven would’ve gotten this far if his counterpart was fighting against it.

“Marc is on board?”

“Absolutely.”

Don’t lie. I’m regretting this more and more each second.

Steven continued. “Should I... should I pack my bags?”

“Yeah, that’d be a good idea,” you agreed nonchalantly.

“... now?”

You tapped your phone and glanced at the time. “If you want to make our flight in less than an hour, I’d say so.”

“Bollocks!” Steven exclaimed, nearly knocking the table over on his mad dash out the door. 

You snickered as he slammed into a lady on his way out. 

—————> the big champs + bucky

you: i’m expecting a promotion when i get back. and for you two to get off my ass already 

redwing’s bitch: I told you it wasn’t going to be too hard. Proud of you, kid

you: 😐

you: thanks i guess... expect a meet and greet when we get there. he’s probably going to be up your ass. steven’s your biggest fan. marc not so much.

you: and don’t worry bucky, they didn’t mention you at all <3

bucky bitchy barnes: fuck off. I have a fanbase. It’s on tweet.

you: wtf is tweet

bucky bitchy barnes: Don’t fuck with me you know what tweet is. 

you: my brother in christ... you mean to say twitter :,)

bucky bitchy barnes: I hate, no DETEST, your generation. 

ha ha

— elle <3

[dietmountaindewbae]

young Al anon again, when I mean Dom. I meant horrid cocky piece of shit 20 year old Alex being merciless because he sees the reader as just a groupie from his new fame

xxi. your band is all the rage

alex turner x reader

word count: 6348

summary: Glastonbury festival (2007) was here, you and your friends adventure into the festival, but on the way you get lost, and you run into the boy that was taped to your bedroom walls (fwn! Alex) you didn't expect what would happen next...

warnings: sp*t, or*al, dr*gs, alc*ohl, degr*ting

song recommendation: paper planes by M.I.A

───── ୨୧ ─────

The lingering pre-euphoric feeling of being in Glasto watching and hearing your favorite band live with your most real friends, drinks being poured down your throat like water, and breathing pot smoke like part of the oxygen was magical, it would be hard to forget this year, you recently moved to London for college living in a little flat with your two best friends, and a small puppy that was like your son, staying up late and sleeping until the next day, you had saved up enough for Glasto, all the money that was for the rent ended up in there, but it was worth it, the muddy boots, thick leather jackets, long belts, short skirts, and broken tights, busted knees.

"For fucks sake!" You screamed trying to find a signal in the middle of the field, looking so lost and silly with your arm up high in the sky all stressed up, you had lost your friends after Amy Winehouse went up the stage, and you spend hours trying to find them, and you began to feel worried, and paranoid, the whole day you were stuck together like glue, but then drinks swung one after the other and you were pissed throughout the concerts and suddenly you were alone singing with Amy, somehow you managed to find a spot with one bar of weak signal, you choose to follow that signal until it was getting stronger which let you thru some bushes in the darkness you battled your way out, you walked for a few moments depending on your phone's light for illumination until somehow, you managed to find the camp where everyone who headlined was, you sneaked around when you saw some security walking around the place, you sneaked your way thru some bushes until you found reception again, the trailer that you were hiding behind, for your luck had the door unlocked and you hide from security.

"Shit, shit, shit..." You whispered over and over again, as you tripped over something that knocked you to the table, the moment the lights went on your heart dropped to your stomach as your paths crossed with none other than the boy with a shaggy and short haircut that you've been crazy about for years wearing some denim jeans and a black long sleeve shirt, the one with his face all over your room, you looked for him in magazines and in person he looked just like a normal human.

"Um... excuse me... who are you looking for?" He was alone with his eyes a bit swollen and his hair made a mess as if he had just woken up and was trying to decipher wether he was dreaming you or not, you didn't realize how stupid you were by going inside the trailer, face red, you looked everywhere and anywhere for a quick answer since your brain couldn't develop one.

"I- um..." You awkwardly giggle, "I'm just lookin' for my mates, I lost them or they lost me... I-I dunno... I-I'm sorry I should go, I'm such a prick" Your knees were bruised, but you managed to get yourself up and fix your dress.

"But... how did you get here?" He said, looking at you like you were the dumbest person alive.

His eyes roam your body with no shame, his breathing short as he sees the way your mouth moves as you speak, how your eyes have this little sparkle whenever he looks at you, and how you couldn't hold his gaze for more than a second, your brain taking pictures of his faces, "That's a good question, I've been wondering that myself too... I just found a little bit of reception here, and-"

He clears out his throat cutting you off, "You know what? It don't matter... you can stay, just don't go inside anyone's trailer like that again doll, you can get in serious trouble" He called you a doll, and you smiled to yourself at the fact that Alex fucking Turner had called you a doll, "Want a drink?" Holly fuck, you cursed into your head.

"Sure... yeah that'll be cool" You walked around the monkeys trailer as Alex turned on his blender, throwing on some ice in two cups, all the things that you wanted to say, and scream simply couldn't be spilled out of your mouth as your mind took pictures of every bit of the messy trailer, you could spot Matt's drumsticks, and Nick's bass, you were more than excited when you saw Jamie's owl strap hanged in the settee, and when your eyes ran across Alex's little hard covered open notebook, you wanted to read it so badly.

"Margaritas!" He handed you over a cool red plastic cup, sitting beside you on his olive green settee, "Cheers, love" He watched you pour his margarita down your mouth with the biggest look of relief, he smiled, eying you up and down from the side, you bet you were looking dirty and sweaty, your dress didn't hide much of your body, it made your legs longer with your gold dress and leather belt around your hips, with your dirty rain boots, and your trashed eyeliner with gold sparkles on your eyelids, but not only was your face that captivated him, your smooth legs with bleeding bumps on them, if he looked more higher he could see your pair of black knickers.

"Fuck, I never thought this would happen..." You admitted, pushing your hands through your hair, the palm of your hand on your forehead.

"What?" He leaned in closer.

You sighed looking down at your cup because you couldn't look at his face for long, "It's my first festival" You said with a smile, "Well it's our first festival, and I dunno... I saw this coming but I was hoping it wouldn't happen, losing all of my girls just like that" You snapped your fingers.

"This is what happens when you give young girls more booze than they can handle" He chuckled while you awkwardly laughed at his comment, maybe that was his sense of humor, he saw you smiling so he took that as a sign that you were getting into him, his body began to close the space between yours very slowly, leaning in, "To be honest, I'm sort of glad you crashed here," His arm rested on the head of the couch, his fingers lightly touching your shoulder, "To finally have someone that's easy to talk to" You smiled not quite sure to take what he said as a compliment but you politely took what he said as something possibly positive.

"Well... thank you," You said, smiling and resting your head on his hand, his fingers intertwined with your hair, you felt embarrassed about the way you had rudely woke him up just a few minutes ago, you thought it was the right moment to apologize since he had gone quiet, but what he did was admiring your face, "When I... crashed here, where you asleep?" You asked kindly, he nodded his head, "I'm sorry for waking you up" His hand pats your thigh gently, and you look at him in the eyes, and he shrugs with a smile.

"I'm happy you did though, I dunno why but whenever I'm 'bout to play at any festival I just have terrible nightmares, then you came and I thought I was still dreaming" You blushed at the comment, even if it was a cliché, he was just as you imagined he would be, sweet and shy, handsome as well with a touch of cockiness for some spice, you noticed he wasn't as smooth sometimes when it came to flirting but at least he didn't say anything stupid, he was a dork.

"What was it about?" He shrugged smiling to himself again, he stared into your eyes, something in them thrilled you when they shine.

"About me shoes...." You both break into laughter, he sees that familiar spark in your eyes, your smile charming him, so he decides to leave behind his shyness and take a chance with you, "Can I tell you summat?" You nodded, "This is me first Glasto too, so why don't we make it unforgettable together?" Your head raised when he proposed you to stay with him, his hand landing on your knee.

"You reckon?" He said yes with his head, "Really?"

"Yeah, I can write your girls on the list, we'll have a party after the show ends," With no doubt, you said yes, "You're welcome..." You told him your name and you heard him say it back at you with a smile, you pinched yourself to prove that you weren't dreaming this, but this was real, Alex Turner knows about your existence and asked you to stay with him.

"I don't think I need an introduction, right?" You giggled saying no, "Right then, follow me doll, we're almost up" He put your margarita down, and grabbed your hand turning off the lights of his trailer and grabbed a black coat on the way out, on the walk backstage he never dropped your hand, properly holding it, fingers intertwined, his hand soft, and his fingertips bumpy and thick, you went thru the woods his hand gripping yours tightly until you were at the back of the big pyramid, it was so strange looking at it from that angle but it was still magnificent, there was a big white tent right next to the stage, security stopped you and Alex before going inside.

"She's with me, we also have more people coming with us," Out of his pocket he took out his wallet, sliding some money into the palm of his hand, the big man that was twice the size of you and Alex, nodded his head.

"Names" That's the only thing he said, you wrote them down on a piece of ripped paper he gave you and went inside with ease, the place was poorly illuminated but you recognized everyone, your pulse speeding up when you saw that iconic 60's bee hive black hair of hers, walking towards you with her black tank top, leather belt around her waist and beautiful red skirt and her big eyeliner.

"Aye, kiddo!" Amy approached the both of you with a cigarette trapped between her teeth, "It's wild out there, I just wanted to tell you to have fun, it's big and I'm sure after this you lots will only go up and up" She blew the smoke at your face, you were honored, "And who is this?" She greets you with a big friendly hug and kiss on your cheek, you tell her your name and she scans you up and down, "You look very fit"

You internally screamed, "You were amazing out there, me and my gals were-"

"Meh, a bit shit," She said making you laugh, "But have a nice night, I'll see you at the party right?" She repeated your name and you were only able to nod your head and she said goodbye to you, walking to her trailer with her security.

"Shit, I can't believe that just happened" You covered your mouth, "Amy, just... bloody hell" Alex laughed along with you.

"I know, big fan as well, she's just lovely... come to meet the rest" The rest? you were about to enter into a coma if you met the rest, "There's a signal here as well" Shit, you forgot about that, you walked away for a moment phoning your girls.

"Chelsea?" You yelled, there was a lot of noise but when she said your name you were relieved, "You won't believe what just happened but I'm in the back of the fucking pyramid with Arctic Monkeys and I just fucking saw Amy!" Your friend began yelling like a little child but you managed to explain to her how to get there, "Find Gracie," She promised you she would and to phone you when she was there, you finished the call, and Alex waved his hand at you with a big smile, you ran to meet him, your heart rate speeding when you saw the rest of the guys together.

He pulled you in, his arm around your waist, sticking your body next to his, and introducing you to the guys, "Lovely to meet you" Nick said hugging you and padding your back, Matt and Jamie did as well, and Katie who's Jamie's girlfriend gave you a big hug.

"Finally, a girl! I was tired of all of that testosterone and cologne" Katie pulled you away from Alex, "You don't mind if I steal her away from you for a couple of minutes, do you Al?" He looks at you and back at Katie, she practically had already claimed you.

"Mmm, just don't take long, I want her to see our set" Katie raised her beer and nodded.

"Sure you do... come" She grabbed your hand pulling you to a corner, "I've been dying to fix my hair and makeup!" She said, "Do you mind holding your light and my purse?"

"Oh, no, not at all!" You held your phone up, as she took her lip gloss and mirror out from her little Prada purse, "Shit, I don't know where my bag is" Her laughter was contagious, you were put at ease by her presence.

"You're lovely, do you mind?" She gave you her mirror and you held it up for her as she fixed some gloss on her lips, and some powder on her face, patting it gently on her nose and under her eyes, "Here, have some too," She pats it into your face, taking out some of your runny makeup with her fingers, she put some pinkish lipstick on your cheeks and her cheeks, lastly applying more gloss on your mouth, "Done, let's go back before Al yells at us" Your phone began to buzz like crazy.

"That was fast, my mates are here, I'll be back" She held your hand, she was compromised not to leave your side.

"I'm coming with you" She quickly put her things back in place and ran with you to the entrance hand in hand pushing everyone away with a lot of 'excuse me' and 'sorry', you hugged both of your girls tightly, all of you relieved you were back together, all in one piece.

"Fuckin' hell, where did you guys go?! You left me!" You yelled at them and Chelsea hugged you so hard your lungs ran out of air.

"Gracie saw me running to the bushes to throw up and then we lost you, and then she lost me but I'm fine now!" When Chelsea got drunk she acted like that, that's how your friend was and more than being mad at her you were happy that now you were together.

"Girls, this is Katie!" Katie kindly hugged the girls and all of them already knew who Katie Downs was, the rockstar model girlfriend, a goddess to many girls, all of you looked out to her for pulling Jamie Cook, and now when you went back inside, and saw Alex with that evil cocky smile on his face you could tell he was looking at you shamelessly, when you walk into the room it was hard for Alex to not picture those black knickers falling to your ankles, and that dress to the floor, or your bruised knees getting new ones, you were something else, and Alex wanted you, when he saw you so messy, and so sexy, he just wanted to get to see more of you, get a peek of what was behind that dress.

This time when he saw you, his arm possesively around your lower back, his hand falling to your hip gripping it tight and playing with the studs on your belt. Chelsea quickly caught up on him and the way he was whispering things to your ear and making you laugh, his nose taking a sniff of your scent, he was desperate for the party to come.

"Monkeys!" The staff announced, and Matt alongside Nick were the first to go running up the stairs. Before Jamike walked in, he pulled Katie to a dark corner in the staircase to kiss her deeply gripping her sides tightly, you and Alex crossed looks with each other as you saw them kissing, you blushed when Alex pulled you away to a dark corner before he came up the stairs, caging you in between his arms.

"Aren't you gonna wish me some luck?" One of his hands dropped to your ass gripping it lightly, he bit his bottom lip with a smudge smile, looking at you needy like a teenager, you smiled, taking a step close and kissing his cheek.

"Good luck Al" That's all you said, his smile was quick to come off when he didn't get what he wanted, you could see it crystal clear but you wouldn't let that man go without something to hold on to, you grabbed his hand stopping him, "I'm not done with you yet..."

"Alex!" They yelled but he ignored them when you put his hands on your lower back, your arms wrapping around the back of his head, living a lingering kiss on his mouth, opening it to slip your tongue inside his mouth, his hand went up to your neck, his grip loose around it but his thumb caressed your skin, you took your lips off from his mouth, and he leaned in for more, but you attacked his neck nibbling on his skin, and whispering in his ear, "Would you sing one for me, Al?" Your eyes tender, he smiled and gave you a peck.

"Mmm, yeah babe... just wait for me, I'll show you summat else after I wrap it up here, enjoy the show" He went back with the rest, all of their heads turning to you and Alex, of course, they knew what was going on but you couldn't care less.

"Be careful" Chelsea said, she was more rational than Gracie who was more boy obsessed, she loved boys so much that she, of course, would support your decision to stay with Alex, "You know rockstars, they hit it, lit it and quit it," You hummed as a yes, you were cornered, in the wonder, would it be worth it to spend the night with Alex or to hit and run before he does that to you?

The crowd screams wildly as they see them walk onto the stage, without saying a word they begin to play, everyone recognizes the song in the very first strum of his bronco, and the crowd sings the lyrics along with Alex.

"So who's that girl there? I wonder what went wrong so that she had to run the streets she don't do major credit cards"

As the show settles down after the first song ends, the next no one begins back to back, Alex shared his excitement with the chanting crowd you were dancing and jumping thru the whole gig, "We'd like to play a cover for you Glastonbury, ladies and gentlemen, it's like I said before, you know it only happens once...we're fucking like thrilled, thrilled and we just wanted ...like make it out for everyone to have a good time you know?"

He kept smiling whenever he looked at you in certain lyrics that he dedicated to you when he sang 'Diamonds Are Forever', you had no words to describe how euphoric you felt when you turned 18 you thought your life as a teenage girl was over but you still feel like that young girl that hopelessly wore her heart on her sleeve, when Alex looks at you, a fire in your belly spreads wildly, you couldn't control it, you wanted to be all over him, you didn't care anymore, it was pure young lust, and it was something he wasn't hiding either. At that moment, when he saw thousands of people waving their arms, chanting, clapping, jumping, and throwing themselves, the monkeys felt that they'd made it, all of them had an itch inside their tummies, and all of them could feel it in each other, this was it, this is their moment, this is when they begin.

Alex's lips leaned in closer to the microphone, announcing the next song, "This is called 'Leave Before The Lights Come On' ladies and gentlemen.... and I should stop saying ladies and gentlemen, that must be about the fourteenth time" He quickly turned to see if he had made you laugh, he knew he had embarrassed himself in front of thousands of people but when he saw you smiling he felt fine.

[...]

His intentions were clear, right as he came down from the stage bathed in sweat his hands landed on your hips, there was a spark in his eyes that was hard to control, that fresh concert euphoric bliss that had his eyes so deeply dilated, that angst he couldn't control like an itch on the roof of his mouth, he couldn't console, he wanted to do you and only you.

"Mate, everyone's going to Lily's tent, we'll see you there, reyt?..." Matt said, Alex just nodding focusing your eyes on you.

"Shit, Chelsea and Grace!" Little did you know that they were also hooking their selves with the guys from Fratellis, specially Chelsea as you imagined, you turned to look at Alex and you fetched them.

"Lily's... now" That's the only thing you said but everyone was gonna be back in the trailers of course, either way you managed to get them all, including Kasabian, Fratellis, Amy, and The Killers were there too, you were baffled by the amount of people you met and all the pictures you took with each of them, but it didn't take long until you had to get out for a necessary cigarette break.

Just when you had relaxed and sat on your legs to enjoy your cigarette you heard someone say, "There you were" Your heart speeds when you see Alex, and you quickly stand up and keep smoking.

"I lost you, with all of those girls in there... I thought you had forgotten about me," You said with a hint of annoyance, he nudged his head to the side and said no.

"I'm not finished with you yet... I could have all of them and you know that, right?" That was very hard to accept but who were you kidding? He was right, then he took your cigarette away, pulling you in and pressing your body against him so you could feel how hard he was, he blew the smoke into your mouth wrapping you up in a poisonous and addictive kiss, "Don't flatter yourself" Your cheeks painted dark red without you noticing it, he grabbed your hand and let your way to his camper, both of you knew exactly how things were going to go down.

Alex couldn't wait any longer both getting excited by the anticipation, the ride to his campsite was too far for him, his need for you was too hard, and he needed to get it out of his system, the kiss was enough to get him hooked, he couldn't get you out of his head the whole gig, and the euphoria, and the bliss, and you... he knew you were more than willing, he pulled you to a bench, settling you on top of him.

He pulled your face to his, slipping his tongue inside you the moment your lips parted to kiss him, his hands gripping your ass tightly, your dress riding up to your hips and that was enough for him to take advantage of, feeling your smooth skin and digging his nails into your ass, you sighed when that piece of thin fabric in your body rubbed against the roughness of his blue denim jeans, "Quite needy" You whispered, at that moment he thrusts his hips, you felt that piece of hard meat coming in direct contact with you, your underwear was so thin, you could feel him entirely.

"You couldn't expect for you to just leave me like that, now do you?" He chocked, "I know what you want" His eyes look down to his bulging boner, you oblige, knees on the ground, your hands on his jeans, stroking him, but he already had figured out exactly what to do with you in his mind, he quickly unbuckled his belt, he didn't want to waste more time while you just wanted to warm him up and tease him to get him more worked up, he took out his cock from his belt your eyes widening at the size, you looked up at him, he was impatient pulling your head down to his cock.

Your mouth closed around him but barely did anything, a big sigh of relief left his lips, and you smiled your eyes coming in contact with his, "I don't have all night" He said demandingly, you began to gather up a steady pace, sucking hard but not going too fast, swirling your tongue around his red tip, while your hand strokes the rest of his dick, "Are you gonna blow me or what? You're wasting me time"

He pulled your head back and your hands gripped his thighs to not let him go, "No, no! Wait... I'm sorry" Here you were, down on your knees being the one that apologized to him because you weren't doing a good enough job in Alex's eyes, but he still had a little trace of goodness, and the chances of him treating you more like shit would make you better, he could see how hard you tried, how much you wanted to please him, he wouldn't let down a chance like this, a girl that would beg to suck his dick.

"Sorry won't make me cum, just get down you fuckin' cunt" You leaned in forward, pushing your hair behind your ears, sliding his cock down your throat, he chocked out a groan, his whole body relaxing on the bench, and sighed and said, "Fuckin' finally..." You tried your best to keep your breathing steady, but you couldn't stop gagging around him, his size too thick, you drew some of his cock back, going back to rimming his cock with your tongue, he pulled your head back, and your mouth drooling, "Hey, is this your first time sucking a dick, you lazy whore? Don't act like you can't do better than just gag," Sliding back your comments about his arrogance you took him in.

Alex moaned as he kept watching you suck him more harshly, your cheeks hollowed the outline of his cock could be seen on your cheek, the exaggerated moans that fell from his mouth could tell you than more than enjoying your warm, wet, and greedy mouth he enjoyed himself, he only saw you as that, as something he could use to play with, to make himself feel higher, more confident, and you liked that, you liked how much he enjoyed himself so you began to do the same, your hand sliding down in between your legs, and it was obvious, you were soaking wet by now, you enjoyed giving him head so much, him fucking your mouth like it was your pussy, and possibly spilling his cum down your throat, and how much of an asshole he was with you, how little value he gave to you, it pushed you to be wilder, to try harder, to not be scared of him being more rough, you could vividly picture him fucking you, your walls contracting around nothing by the thought, your clit swollen from rubbing it in harsh circles, the vibration of your moaning making him moan louder and louder, he smiled when he saw you touching yourself.

"You're a dirty little slut touching yourself like that, you like how I feel in your mouth huh?" He asked, "You'll like it more when I fill it up" You moaned loudly as your fingers slid in easily, your fingers fucking your hole harder, "You dirty fuck, I'm gonna fuck your mouth until you can't breathe" He pulled your head down, gathering your hair into a ponytail, thrusting his hips, your screams muffled by his cock, you couldn't stop him, he had lost it the moment you kissed him, and now you were paying for it.

Then, the moment you heard people approaching Alex quickly drew back his cock from your mouth, putting it back inside his boxers and zipping up his jeans, he grabbed your hand picked you up from the ground, and dragged you around the tent, behind a three, both of you could hear the music close, and at any moment, anyone could see you two together and that was so thrilling, it's not like he cared, but he wanted to remain some things private, he leans in forward slowly, backing you up against the tree cupping your cheeks, "Kiss me" You closed the space between you and his body, at first he enjoyed the deep kiss, tasting your warm mouth, something about you was quite addictive, you didn't know if it might be the tiniest trace of nicotine or the fact that he just wanted to feel your insides more than just wanting a simple blow.

Alex flips you, face against the tree, his hands dropping to your hips pulling them forward, "Are your little fantasies coming true? You can't lie to me, I knew you were thinking of summat like this... just wanting me inside you this whole time... and you didn't say anything..." You heard the sound of his zipper coming down, you gripped the wood tighter as Alex pushed your dress up to your back, he finally saw what was underneath your golden dress, that thin pair of black knickers, he pushed them aside, and pressed his fingers down on your clit making you sigh, he smiled to himself gathering up a slow tempting pace.

"You're such..." You were cut off the moment his fingers finally made their way into your panties.

"Such a what?" You couldn't stop gasping as his fingers began to fuck your hole more vigorously, deeper, you couldn't stop moaning his name out loud, even if you tried, he filled you up to the top, your legs losing balance, "Such a good fuck, babe?" You whined when he took himself out of you, rimming his dick on your cunt, spreading your wetness all over it.

"Mhm" You whimpered, the tip of his cock was used to rub your weakest spot in circles, you could feel him smiling to himself, whatever happened to that 19-year-old boy that won your heart with his shyness in his interviews, reserved, quiet, a sweet kind smile, now he was all over you, treating you like a trashy whore, but you loved it, it boosts his ego, but nobody had seen this part of Alex Turner, or even felt it, "You are Alex" You whimpered.

"Be quiet sweetheart, or they'll hear you..." He enters you and keeps fucking you like a doll, pressed against you so tight you were seeing the stars in the black sky shining like diamonds, reflecting in your eyes, you felt butterflies fluttering in your stomach, his lips pressed against your neck, sucking on it harder to leave his little stamp, his mark, "I bet everyone would be glad to know you got fucked by me..." You didn't know how did he have the strength to keep talking to you while he fucked your insides so good. His lips were so soft against your skin, his cock reaches to a place that covered your flesh in goosebumps, his nose tickling your nape, his hands gripping your tits, squishing them together, kneading them.

"Oh... Alex," You gasp, he had such a delicious rhythm that burned your body and his, the tension making the air thicker, harder and harder for you to catch your breathing, you trembled, your cheeks burning hot as your pussy only got wetter, and nipples got hard.

"I felt that... tell me what it is..." He drawled, but you couldn't sound a syllable, you grabbed his hand, sliding down in between your legs, your back arched as his fingers press down on your clit, your head on his shoulder, your long neck so beautiful in his eyes, his other hand chocked your neck, he kissed you as best as he could, rubbing your clit harder as he feels you contracting, your pussy made a mess, wetting your inner thighs, feeling those tickles, and his dick was pushed deep inside you, only to make you finish all over him, your eyes turning white gasping for some air, making you feel lightheaded, and he let go of your neck before you passed out, but you were sure it wasn't because you couldn't breathe, it was because he fucked you so well, "Now is my turn..." He gathered up a giddy pace, so fast that the sound of his hips colliding against your body sounded like applause, your ass turning tender and soft like a piece of dough, he was coming to an end, and so did you for the second time, he pushed himself harder, "Cum all over me cock, you dirty cunt... fuckin' do it" He flicked your clit and you came again, not being able to stand on your feet any longer, he pulled out of you fast to cum on your back, the warm fluid dripping down your hips and bum, "Shit, shit... oh fuck" He gave himself a few strokes to squeeze everything out when he opened his eyes again he began to panic a bit, he researched in his jeans for something to clean you up.

You quietly giggled and kicked your panties off your feet, "Just use these" You panted, he grabbed them and he pushed his lips together.

"But I'm gonna ruin them" He pouts, you wave it off and he cleans up your back, once he is done, you take your coat off, wrapping it around your waist, he feels bad about it, and you can see it on his face, "What's wrong?"

"Ruined a sexy pair of knickers," Your fingers brushed the hairs on his forehead, and you kindly smiled at him, pecking his lips.

"It was for a good cause," You made him laugh, and it was the silliest, sweetest, and most contagious laugh ever, you've heard it before on the radio when they interviewed them, but it was nothing like real life, "Besides, I always keep a spare on my purse" He pushed his eyebrows together, smiling, his smile was the one that made your insides melt.

"Now I'm curious to see what's inside that magical purse of yours," You looked at him with a hint of sadness in your eyes, knowing that maybe it was time for you to go your separate ways as you walked together, but at least for today, he didn't want you to just disappear, so he grabbed your hand and you walked back together, you found a bathroom in the way where you could change, and he waited patiently outside for you, telling your how sorry he was over and over, but you truly didn't care. 

You had the time of your life, partying with him and the monkeys, Lilly Allen had turned the party into a costume party, you saw Alex changing into a green dinosaur onesie, drinking beer, and dancing with you dressed like an angel, with sparkles in your eyes and a white dress that Amy lend you in exchange for your golden dress, you kept dancing and drinking until the sunrise with him, smoking some weed with him and Matt in the back, Alex played with you, he stuck with you throughout the whole night, pinching your bum, kissing the back of your head, but mostly he spent most of the time craving the taste of your mouth, kissing you with angst and possession since there was another guy, James from Klaxons that wanted to kiss you, he wouldn't leave you alone, both of you felt like you were flying like planes running and rolling around the grass watching the sun peek behind the giant pyramid. And then, your memory went blank, you had woken up from the floor with your knees and elbow bleeding, blood on your wings and broken fishnets, Chelsea lying on your thighs and Gracie hugging you close, you glanced at your clock, it was 8 in the morning, you woke Chelsea and Gracie up, taking them with Jamie and Katie who kindly gave them water and some food, then you had another worry, it was Alex.

"Have you guys seen Alex anywhere?" You slurred to Jamie and Katie, then Jamie grabbed Katie's hand and went outside with you, you heard the sound of Alex's grunts, and you followed them until you saw him wrestling James in the mud with his dinosaur onesie, his eyes just as red as yours, "Alex!" James was in the mud and Alex quickly went running back to you zigzagging, you couldn't help but laugh so hard it knocked you to the floor, your body and head still felt light, he laid down next to you staining your costume with mud, "What the fuck, Alex?"

"That fucker wanted to kiss you!" Alex's voice sounded a pinch higher when he was drunk, he was annoyed that you kept laughing, "What? He needed to know that you're mine, he can't kiss you"

"So brave!" You teased him, cuddling close to him, "How much grass did we smoke? Jesus... I'm so tired" You turn your head to look at him but he is already staring at your lips, stealing a kiss from you.

"We could go back to the trailer," He pinched your chin, his thumb caressing it gently, and a smile crawled to your lips.

"You're not that tired, are you?" He said no with his head, his hands sneaking to pinch your bum, making you giggle like a child and blush hard.

"I'll do everything, you just have to lay down... and look pretty just like now" He kissed your temple, piggybacking you back to the trailer, closing the door shut.

A/N 

Happy Alex Turner day everyone! 💘

[eashmo]

-Scream Queen - 18+

Warnings: Smut, small knife play, Teratophilia i guess, friends to lovers.

A/N: pretend that scream came out in 1980 and not in the 90s. Also happy halloween ya filthy animals.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

1984

Tonight was Halloween,which happens to be one of my most favorite holidays. but instead of getting dressed up and going out to get shit faced drunk with Steve and Nancy at Tina's party, I was chilling at home, all by myself, my little brother was with Dustin and the rest of the boys and my best friend was doing business at the halloween parties that are happening around town. so, here I was. watching the horror classics and my most favorite movie, which was Scream. There was something about ghostface that made me tingle. i was in the kitchen getting some snacks together when there was a thump on the top floor. 

"the hell was that?" 

My house phone began to ring. 

"hello?"

"y/n!” Mrs. Wheeler.

"Oh hey, Mrs Wheeler, how are you?"

"I'm doing great darling, I was calling because Y/B/N just asked if he could stay over, I told him it was alright but I wanted to make sure it was alright with your parents."

"Well, they are out of town, but I don't mind that he stays over. He loves your house more than ours, especially if it involves D&D." we both chuckled at that and said our goodbyes. 

There was a loud crash which sounded like it came from my room.

“It better not be carver and his fucking goons” I walked up the stairs, i'm really not in the mood to deal with their shit. Last year they decided to toilet paper my entire front yard. They like to torment us misfits of this town. Thinking they are better than everyone because they have money and such. 

when I came into my room and the first thing I saw made my heart drop. My window was wide open, and my bedside lamp was knocked over. I don't know if I was getting goosebumps from the cold autumn chill flowing through my small room, or I was making myself paranoid to actually think Jason is going a little overboard. my  heart was pounding hard, leaning out of my window i saw no sign of jason and his friends only kids that were going door to door, my brother and his friends cleaned out our stash of candy before other kids in the neighborhood could get to it so i didn't bother leaving the front porch light on to indicate that the house had candy. 

I huffed and slammed the window shut. I was about to turn around until a leather gloved hand clasped over my mouth, I let out a muffled scream.

“Curiosity killed the cat, darlin." A dark, deep voice disguised with a voice changer whispered into my ear, sending chills up and down my spine. I felt a long piece of metal make contact with my throat. It was most definitely a knife. I started to struggle against the mysterious person's hold. His hand slipped off my mouth.

“Jason i swear to god you are crossing the line this year!”

"Shut up, or I'll slit your pretty little throat, and I'm not that asshole." he said, then began to chuckle deeply when he realized I relaxed against his hold when he told me he wasn't jason. But I soon went stiff again when the man began to pull me backward from the window. He quickly spins me around. his attire. was dirty, beat up white Reeboks, black ripped jeans, a leather jacket paired with the infamous white ghost face mask. The mysterious man smelled of weed and cigarettes  which was an all to familiar smell to me. so i played along.

"So what do you want?" I snapped. 

 “You've always been so feisty” he let out a low chuckle. He used the tip of the knife to trace my collar bone gently. “I just wanna play with you before I kill you."

“Is that so, Mr. Ghostface?” I smirked. He pressed the knife harder into my skin, causing a small cut to appear, and a single stream of blood began to flow. This caused me to moan softly. 

"Hm you're a little horror slut aren't you" he lifted my chin with the knife, i wished i could see his face that was hidden under the mask.

"My my, you are a pretty looking thing. Wearing nothing but panties and a thin tank top” he commented as his free hand found my throat. 

“Doesn't sound like you are complaining” I breathed. 

"You're right, princess. I might consider letting you live for you to be my personal plaything. How's that sound?" the man said with a playful tone. the pet name fully confirmed my suspicion on who it was. The only person I know that calls me princess was Eddie, who I've had a crush on since elementary school. And thanks to Steve babbling his mouth one day at school. I finally knew he returned that same affection.   

"Deal," I smirked. 

 “Hm, that's what i thought princess lets see how much of a horror slut you really are then, shall we? Shirt off and get on your knees." he demanded, slowly taking off my shirt letting my tits bounce free as I lowered myself onto my bedroom floor. 

"I can't wait to wreck this pretty face of yours,' he groans.

“take my cock out. Now". undoing the jean button and zipper quickly, I swiftly pulled him out. I licked my lips to the site of his cock. Eddie cock was standard. But it was deliciously thick and veiny, not waiting for his approval. I placed a long lick from the base of his cock all the way to the tip, giving it a good suck causing him to immediately buck his hips which pushed him further down my throat. "s-shit" he growled, this time his voice sounding a bit breathy. "just like that" his breath hitch when I went faster, swallowing him completely causing tears in my eyes. 

"you're sucking me so fucking good." he said as he placed a hand on the top of my head he started to face fucking me, wet noises and gagging began to echo in the room.

"shit, fuck y/n" he groaned and threw his head back. My thighs began to clench together when I finally heard my name which made me hum a moan causing him to almost cum down my throat. He grabbed a handful of my hair and abruptly pulled your mouth off of him with a wet pop. 

"I want to cum in that pussy," he said growling.

"Then do it, Munson."

“H-How did you know it was me?” His voice sounded like he was pouting behind the mask. 

“You called me princess, and I know your smell” I giggled. He sighed as he gently caressed my face with his leather hand, and the other removed the voice changer.

 “I don't wanna stop Eddie” I looked up at the black holes of the ghost face mask. “Strip for me, but leave the mask on and also put your rings back on” I said as I grabbed his leather clad hand, bringing it to my mouth and using my teeth to take the glove off him. He groaned deeply at the sight. He quickly put them back on and stripped. I stood up from the ground, and my knees were screaming at me from giving him a blow job on the wooden floor. 

“Mr.ghostface? Arent you going to fuck me” i batted my eyes.    

"Indeed princess, i'm going to have you dying over this cock" his now ringed hand went to my neck squeezing it lightly as he backed me into my bed. I fell back with a soft thud as he stood before me. 

"Let's get these off, shall we?" Eddie immediately cut off my panties with the knife. I was unbelievably wet. 

"So wet for me babygirl" his fingers gently ran down up and down my slick slit, making me jump slightly at contact.

"Such a sinful sight," he was prepared  to completely ruin me. Thank fucking god i thought, he suddenly pushed himself into me fully.  “E-Eddie” I whined. The feeling of him stretching my tight cunt made me gasp at finally feeling full. The feeling I didn't know I was missing from him, I was already addicted to him but now I'm also addicted to his cock.

"Fuck y/n, i should have done this sooner, you're so fucking tight." he groaned lowly as he tightly grasped my hips and his thrusts got faster.

“Yes you should have” my eyes immediately rolled to the back of my head as his cock pounded into me.

"f-fuck. Your cock feels so fucking good, Eds" i began to moan loudly, his head back falls and he lets moan out.

"You take my cock so well princess, it was made for you, y-yes…..take it just like that." he leaned over me, the mask was cool against my warm cheek as he pounded me deeper into the mattress. 

"E-Eddie Im abo….." I breathed heavily, gripping the sheets, my knuckles turning white.   

"Cum for me babygirl '' with that i saw stars and it felt like my body was on fire. I clamped down so hard on his cock he let out a loud moan in my ear. He contined to fuck me through my orgasim "damn princess, squeezing this cock so fucking hard." he breathed.

"Eddie!" I continued to moan as I felt another orgasim on its way.

"You're mine!" he growled.  I ripped off the mask from his face, I wanted to stare into those beautiful big brown eyes as he fucked me. His long hair is now curtaining our faces. 

“This pussy is yours, I'm yours, always have been.” with my words he began to moan as he filled every inch within my pussy with his seed.

My second orgasm hit me harder than the first. It felt like I was ejected out of this universe.he was right i died and gone to heaven. Eddie collapsed on top of me. Our sweaty bodies are melting into one.  

"holy fucking shit that was amazing" we both said at the same time which caused us to burst into laughter. 

“So y/n? I've been wanting to ask you this since I first met you in elementary…… wanna be my girlfriend”

Giggles “you are truly an oblivious idiot Munson, it's about time you asked me”

“Is that a yes?” 

“Yes it is Mr.Ghostface.... also, does that mean i get to live?" i gave him the puppy dog eyes.

"Maybe, if you are a good girl," he says as he slips out of me.

Masterlist

2023

[seventeendeer]

TF2 analysis - on cultural references, context as characterization, and how to analyze comedy

-taps mic- HELLO, TEAM FORTRESS 2 COMMUNITY !

A while back, I received an ask requesting analysis of one of my favorite video games of all time and special interest of 12+ years, and you know I just had to go and turn that into a several thousand word essay for the reading pleasure of the people.

Because that shit got way too long, I’ve decided to put it into a post of its own. Hopefully a big title and no previous context being necessary will give more people an incentive to read it. I spent a long time on it and I think it’s pretty cool, and I would love some nice attention for my effort. ;w;

The ask I received went a little something like this:

Below the cut, I will be replying to these questions individually. It touches on everything from Cold War propaganda to the media landscape at the game’s launch in 2007 to first-person shooters as a genre - all to gain a better understanding of author intent, expected audience reaction, characterization and themes.

Anon previously requested help writing more accurate fanfiction, and damn it, that is what they are going to get!! and MORE

Introductory disclaimer:

First of all, for clarity's sake: this analysis is going to specifically talk about TF2 as seen through a fandom lens. I'm going to be talking about the game as a piece of media, creator intention, and the fandom's reactions to the game and extended canon - that is, the slice of the TF2 fandom that is interested in the characters, in the world and in doing at least semi-faithful fanworks.

I will not be touching on TF2's wider playerbase or meme culture. I greatly enjoy both, but they are not relevant to the post I made that sparked this anon's questions (I will link this post in the replies, in case anyone is curious).

I also have to disclaim that any references I make to real world history in this post have to be taken with a hard grain of salt. I've done my best to fact-check everything, but I am not infallible! For a better understanding of the historical elements I talk about here, please do your own research, and approach my claims with a healthy amount of scepticism, same as you would any unsourced social media post. (Readers may notice examples I give below primarily feature Soldier, Spy and Scout. This is because I feel I have the most solid grasp on the historical events and media that informs their characters, compared to the other classes. All the classes contain these contexts and meta complexities, but in an effort to not talk out of my ass too much, I have decided to focus on the characters I feel the most confident dissecting.)

>1) What tropes was the game parodying/what cultural contexts would you say are essential to understand, in order to better understand the game?

The characters of TF2 were specifically designed as satiric takes on national stereotypes depicted in American propaganda media during the Cold War. Two easy-to-explain examples to illustrate:

- Soldier embodies the ideal of a "red-blooded American" who is strong, brave, hyper-masculine, hates foreign superpowers, loves the vague ideal of "freedom" and firmly believes America is the greatest nation in the world. He prides himself on having personally murdered nazis in the past, despite actually having accomplished no such thing (comparable to the US taking a disproportionate amount of credit for defeating Nazi Germany in World War 2; at the time, WW2 was a very recent cultural memory that made for good propaganda fodder). He fears, hates and dehumanizes communists (as Soviet Russia was the US's highly-villified opponent during the Cold War). The satiric angle: he is depicted as so brainwashed by propaganda that he has become immune to facts and logic. He is horribly sadistic, brutal, paranoid and xenophobic. The ideal he is based on is portrayed as shockingly and disproportionally violent and illogical to the point of being laughable.

- Spy is based on how the US viewed France during the Cold War: as a weak, cowardly, “unmanly” nation. At the time, France was depicted this way because they were perceived to have surrendered to Nazi Germany early on in World War 2 out of cowardice. Spy is one of the least macho of the mercs, he is ineffective when fighting enemies head on, and his main method of attack is reliant on trickery and “not fighting fair.” The satiric angle: Spy isn't actually much of a coward - he is more intelligent, more tactical and more resourceful than many of the others, and simply doesn’t feel the need to risk his neck when he could be working smarter, not harder. The other characters are portrayed as a bunch of meatheads for picking on him. The negative stereotype he is based on is portrayed as largely unearned and ridiculous. (Though note that Spy is also depicted as an upperclass prick to contrast with Engineer being working class; in that dynamic, Spy is depicted as a pompous asshole, while Engie is depicted in a more favorable light. The characters are multi-faceted and no class is universally “better” or “worse” than the others, but right now I'm specifically focusing on the "Cold War stereotype" aspect.)

Notice how, while these two characters have different nationalities in-universe, they are both based on stereotypes seen through an American lens. Notice the way the American character is based on a comedically deconstructed ideal, while the character from a nation the US did not view favorably at the time is depicted as falsely judged by an unfair and ridiculous metric.

The entire TF2 cast and universe revolves on this axis! It takes old American ideals and prejudices and uses them for comedy, adding exaggeration and caveats to make those ideals look absurd.

It’s a parody of media produced in the US during the Cold War, which contained massive amounts of propaganda. It satirizes the political ideals that were glorified in said propaganda media.

Very important extra cultural context: this satiric depiction of old war propaganda was specifically designed to be instantly recognizable to TF2's central demographic at the time of release in 2007.

Older Valve games like TF2 were very specifically made to appeal to pop culture-savvy, nerdy young adult gamers. This demographic was expected to see the characters and think "oh hey, it's like a funny version of X character type I've seen in movies!"

Because those kinds of movies were still everywhere at the time. The Cold War ended in 1991. TF2 was released only 16 years later. To put this into perspective: the Legally Blonde movie came out 22 years ago, in 2001. Think about how many Legally Blonde memes are still floating around the web today, how fondly remembered this one movie is and how often it’s still referenced in contemporary media. Now consider that media produced during the Cold War was fresher in the cultural memory at the time of TF2′s release than Legally Blonde is for us today.

TF2 was never meant to be seen in a vacuum. It was always meant to be in conversation with old media that it expected everyone playing to be extremely familiar with.

I'll say that again: the cast of TF2 are based on Cold War stereotypes - comedically exaggerated - so they would clearly read as parodies to people in 2007.

Those are 3 different overlapping lenses to consider when approaching the characters.

The characters are more than just funny cartoon men with guns and an unusual amount of differing accents. They are commentary on older media trends.

Now, someone might ask - why did the developers choose this specific aesthetic and tone for their online shooter video game?

The developers have stated multiple reasons, including wanting the characters to be immediately recognizable both physically (they generally look like the stereotypical depictions they're based on) and audibly (the differing accents and regional dialects make it easy to identify which class is yelling in your ear mid-combat during gameplay).

However, I also have another theory:

It's been confirmed TF2's comedic tone was designed to combat a lot of negative aspects of shooters in the genre at the time of its creation. I have seen developers discuss that they were going for a lighthearted atmosphere to discourage player hostility.

I, personally, also think it is extremely likely the developers opted for satirizing old war propaganda partially in order to combat the tendency of other shooters often being war propaganda. Valve has always been a politically left-leaning company, with a history of depicting military-like forces and unchecked capitalism in a negative light (see the Half-Life and Portal series, respectively).

By depicting the cast of TF2 as generally unhinged, illogical and clownish, they were able to communicate to players: "War is dumb, nationalism is dumb, whatever Call of Duty has been telling you is cool is actually illogical and copying it makes you look like like an idiot. That being said, we all sometimes wish we could beat the shit out of other people in the desert with a shovel, so let's get our aggressions out in a safe, non-serious environment with no consequences. Come play pretend you're a murderous sadist blowing up equally unhinged people with us, it's silly, but it's so fun."

I believe everything from the cartoonishly over-the-top, non-permanent deaths to the deserted, remote environments, to the lack of any truly innocent or defenseless characters was all a carefully crafted foundation made to encourage players to make the informed decision to leave their inhibitions and moral hangups at the door. They wanted players to have fun and go nuts engaging in military-like violence, without encouraging pro-military attitudes in their playerbase.

For an example of a game that royally screwed up doing the same thing, just look at Overwatch - it tried to preach a "wholesome" vibe that was completely mismatched with its gameplay. Overwatch tries to justify extreme violence as Okay When Good Guys Do It To Bad Guys, which ... yeah, again, that is straight up modern military propaganda, on purpose or not (and knowing the US military’s tendency to pour money into video games that glorify war, “on purpose” isn’t as much of a stretch as one might think). Paradoxically, TF2 comes out both looking and feeling better to play, because it handles aligning player emotions VS in-game actions much more elegantly. It accounts for common pitfalls in its genre. OW jumps into those pitfalls with both legs and instead ends up looking shallow and nauseatingly twee.

Of course, all of this is personal speculation. Whether or not this was the reading that Valve intended, I do believe it's a big reason why TF2 has remained so profoundly loveable over the years - it uses its writing and art direction to put the player in the perfect mindspace to Fuck Shit Up.

It's a fantastic example of how to carefully and artfully craft something extremely stupid for maximum intended effect. It uses the strengths of comedy as a genre to its absolute fullest.

Unfortunately, because of cultural shifts since the game's release, newer fans do end up missing out on a lot of what makes this game so expertly done. Many newer fans don't come into the game with the base cultural knowledge it expected of its original audience. To gain a better grasp on the characters and enjoy this piece of media as it was intended, I think it will be extremely helpful to familiarize yourself with the material it is referencing.

For an introduction to media produced and influenced by the Cold War, I would recommend the Wikipedia article Culture during the Cold War as a starting point.

(I have skimmed, but not read, the full article; I encourage readers to be especially source-critical when engaging with pages like this that detail themes of history and propaganda - it's a starting point, not a finish line!)

>2) What themes/layers do you feel the fandom has lost sight of, over time? (or never really managed to acknowledge to begin with?)

Some of this is covered in the previous section, but I'll use this question as an opportunity to talk about another thing I feel is overlooked by fans (and, frankly, the writers of the newer comics too), especially when creating fanworks:

The fact that the characters are extremely dependent on their setup and narrative context to be likeable.

Something I think fandom culture struggles with in general is interpreting and handling fictional characters not as real, independent people who exist in a vacuum, but as the sum total of countless moving parts inside a narrative all working together to create the impression of a real person.

In a comedy, characters are especially dependent on presentation to feel like themselves. It is not enough to loyally recreate an arbitrary list of personality traits in order to create accurate fanworks - recreating the sorts of situations they get into, the kinds of people they interact with, and cherry-picking the information they have access to is neccessary for bringing out what makes the characters so charming!

This is especially important when interpreting and handling a cast made up exclusively of characters who are mean people with bad intentions, bad opinions and a complete lack of adequate self-reflection across the board.

Canon makes them all come off amazingly likeable, but this is because the writers were manipulating tone, relationship dynamics, setting, and much more to show off the characters at their most distinct, least detestable and absolute funniest.

Overlooking this aspect of writing comedy characters often leads to a very common pitfall in many, many fandoms out there - following the logic of a character's canon personality to a place they don't like, and getting rid of those personality traits to combat their own discomfort.

Making characters too kind, too understanding, too progressive, etc., is an endless source of micharacterization in fandoms in general, but especially in fandoms of media where the characters are a bunch of dicks in canon.

To be clear, I fully understand where this is coming from. Fans get attached to characters like these because they're funny (and intended to be loved!) - realizing that a character you really like would logically react in an unlikeable way if you put them into certain situations feels bad. No one wants to turn a character they love into something they find they don't love anymore.

But this is where carefully engineering your setup and narrative comes into play.

Example:

A lot of TF2 fans are queer. Queers flock to TF2 because let’s face it, the campy vibes and silly fun masculinity and weird women are like catnip to us.

But a lot of queer fans go into the fandom aspect of the game and find that ... wait, shit, these characters are not exactly pillars of progressiveness. Reconciling some of the extremist political views of the characters with queer narratives, with queer values, seems a daunting task to some. Because what’s a queer fan to do? Portray a character they love in a way that makes them unloveable? Painstakingly depict shitty, uncomfortable characterization in the name of “realism” that ultimately detracts from their own and other people’s enjoyment of the story? That’s not fun. Fandom is supposed to be fun. So, what, do they just portray the characters as miraculously having perfectly amicable social politics by the standards of the larger queer community in 2023?

Some do, of course, for their own comfort, and it’s understandable, but it’s not good storytelling. It’s an excessively shallow way of interacting with media - the fanfiction equivalent of confidently sitting down to write an in-depth, flowery review of a horror movie you watched with your hands over your eyes during all the scary parts. You cannot create fanworks that are even remotely faithful to the spirit of the canon while deliberately ignoring the core themes and author intention of the canon you’re working with. These things are, unfortunately, mutually exclusive. TF2 characters are meant to be wrong about most things politically. Hopefully my reply to the first question in this post adequately illustrates why that’s so important.

But the good news is that bastardizing canon in order to avoid making characters unlikeable also isn’t necessary.

There’s a reason Soldier, in canon mocks his enemies for everything from failing at masculinity to being disabled, yet doesn’t have a single homophobic line:

The people writing his lines figured it would detract from the character. It would hurt real people’s feelings and make the character less fun to play as, so they didn’t include it. No excuses, no explanation; it is simply omitted for the sake of likeability.

(For contrast, notice that the writers did not extend the same kindness to certain other minorities, like fat people - playing as Heavy fucking sucks when you’re fat, because every other class hurls fatphobic abuse at him. This is a fuck-up on the writers’ side; they failed to identify this type of humor as meaningfully detracting from the experience for a significant amount of players, and so ignorantly decided to include it.)

This is what I mean by “setup and narrative context.” I also like to call this “maneuvering”, because it involves selectively portraying a character in contexts and situations where they shine and instill the intended audience reaction, while steering them away from situations where they would logically act in ways that counteract how the audience is intended to feel about them.

Fanworks can absolutely do the same thing! Fanworks can even take the technique further, because they’re not bound by limited time and focus, the way the original work is!

Sticking with the above example of wondering What The Hell To Do when portraying a character who, due to the ideal he’s satirizing, should by all rights be on the wrong side of history in relation to queer rights, let me make a bold statement:

Soldier TF2 is not homophobic. He's a nationalist, a right-winger, a sexist, a xenophobe - but he's not homophobic.

Why? Because he just so happens to never encounter any gay people in canon. They happen to never cross his mind. He's thinking about other shit. If there's a Pride riot in Teufort, he just so happens to be looking the other way.

Soldier TF2 is not homophobic, because he can't think for himself. He's an idea, a fraction of a bigger narrative that he does not exist outside of.

And if he needs to encounter gay people in a fanfiction, don’t just passively follow the logic of his character to that uncomfortable place none of us enjoy going to - use that maneuvering! Make him misinformed, make him misunderstand, give him incomplete information - the character is not only a face with personality traits attached, his soul is also in the context of the story!

Make him homophobic, but he's pretty sure only Europeans can be gay (just look at them!), and it's already so damn sad that they weren't born in beautiful, paradisical AMERICA, so he pities them instead of hating them. Make him think he's successfully being homophobic, but he has misunderstood what a gay person is and thinks it's a particularly venomous type of snake (men who kiss other men are fine, why would he care about that when there are HORRIBLE HOMOSEXUALS slithering around in the desert that he needs to go blow up right now before they bring this glorious nation to ruin). Make him homophobic, but literally "phobic" - he's shaking and crying hiding inside a cupboard, and his newly-outed gay friends have to lure him out with canned meat and a trail of small American flags, treating him like a feral cat that needs a little time and space to get used to people.

That's funny. It's likeable, it's charming. He isn't portrayed as a good person, or woke in a way that clashes with the themes of his character, but with a little maneuvering, he is faithful to what makes him such a legendary character in canon - being a silly caricature that brings us joy.

If Soldier himself needs to be gay? There are ways to make it happen. Same approach. Get creative. Make it silly. Go for thematically appropriate comedic explanations, not cop-outs or realism*.

That is what I think the TF2 fandom is lacking - understanding of how to manipulate context to make a character feel like their own unique, lovable selves.

Characters are not just visuals and personality traits. They are also what happens to them, what they conveniently find out, what they happen to miss.

This is the same for every story, but it is especially important to understand in a comedy. Doubly so in a whimsical, hyper-violent, morbid comedy like TF2.

It's one of the most important layers to be able to recognize, and an even more important one to be willing to try to recreate.

*Unless you feel like doing a deliberate deconstruction, in which case, go ham, sometimes actively engaging with canon means doing some real weird stuff to it to make a certain point on a meta level. This is obviously different from the issues I described above.

>3) "even the newer official comics don't even seem to really "get" the original game" … I've had a nagging sense for years now that the TF2 comics don't really match the game, tonally -- which has admittedly soured my enjoyment of them -- but I've never been able to put two and two together and fully determine why that is. What would you say they've failed to "get" about the work they're based off of?

While I very much love the newer comics on their own merits, I do think they are wildly removed from the game, and lack a lot of depth by comparison.

I believe the greatest failing of the comics, especially the long-form comic, is that the writers do not seem to be aware of either of the subjects I covered above.

They do not handle the satirical aspect well. The newer comic writers don't even really seem to be aware that there is a satirical aspect - they treat the world as just a silly version of mid-1900′s media, with a narrow focus on silver age comics (which were primarily superhero comics, not an easy genre to match with TF2′s more grounded setting - see the comic’s limp attempt at doing a Superman parody with Sniper) + a dash of the Man’s Life magazines (would have been a good match, if not for the fact that it’s primarily used as aesthetics, with no attention given to themes the way the game does with its own media references). They attempt to write parody only, and even the parody aspect is a hollow effort. Crucially, the writers don't seem to have much of an opinion of the old media properties they're parodying, and without opinions to guide a parody, it becomes shallow and lifeless. "Mid-1900′s media was a bit silly, right?" isn't enough of a hot take to justify its existence. It needs an axis on which to spin to feel complete.

Reiterating the point I made in my answer to question 1: the game's satirical aspect circled the point that was "American media made during the Cold War pushed a narrative that was illogical and ridiculously misaligned with reality."

Its absurd humor is grounded in reality and follows a thematic red thread that the comic does not. As a result, the comic (again, primarily later entries) loses a lot of the sting and edge of the game.

Even though the comic attempts to be more serious and "dark" at certain points, the much more silly and easy-going game (and Meet the Team videos, not to mention) comes out looking more mature, interesting and layered, even though many of the layers remain subtextual. The game is fully married to comedy and has no intention of "getting real", but it is loyal to the spirit of satire. It has opinions. It has bite.

In the game and early supplementary material, there is a dread and horror in the subtext that the comics tried to bring to light later on, but the comic writers didn't know what the scary thing behind the curtain was.

The scary thing was - is - the Cold War.

The scary thing is the dread injected into the genre it's satirizing by people who wanted American readers and movie-goers to be afraid. Scaring people into compliance, into finding a sense of safety and comfort in their national identity, was the entire purpose of many, many pieces of media released at the time.

The comic writers didn't notice the subtext and figured they had to make up their own reasons for why the world of TF2 is so utterly fucked.

They didn't understand the cultural context, and they missed the mark entirely.

This also hindered the comic writers' ability to reproduce the game's humor and characterization. Without understanding where exactly the game's humor was coming from or why the characters were so likeable despite being horrible people, they lacked direction. They made the characters at the same time too impassionate, too stupid, too uncaring, and too nice. All together, the characters became less interesting, less likeable.

Example:

- In the game, Spy was not intended to be Scout's father. Spy having a relationship with Scout's mother emphasized Spy's craftiness and intelligence (undermining the enemy team not only through brute force, but through infiltrating their personal lives), and showed off the strengths of his aforementioned "softness" and sentimentality (he's the only mercenary shown to have consistent luck with women). It also emphasized the flaws in Scout's worldview, and his status as the team underdog, and showed a clear contrast to Scout's non-existent love life. Spy came out of the situation funny and likeable because he 1. was portrayed as cool and capable in a way the other mercs aren't, and 2. his softer side is simultaneously humorously endearing, consistent with the rest of his characterization, and highly informed by the satirical aspect of his character in a way that clicks perfectly thematically. Scout comes out of the situation likeable because his ego is balanced out by his bad luck - you can simultaneously see that he's trying too hard and why he's trying too hard. Spy and Scout's dynamic in-game is also fun and interesting, because you have a tough, hyper-violent, wannabe-macho young man who is desperate to gain the respect of both his team and his enemies getting freaking owned by a guy who is nowhere near the impressive-tough-guy ideal Scout strives to embody. The game's satirical points inform the characters and their actions, which gives the comedy depth and nuance, which in turn makes all characters involved fun to watch and easy to get invested in. It is the establishing of and subsequent pointing-and-laughing-at an ideal that produces engaging, character-driven comedy in this situation.

- By contrast, the comics decided that Spy was Scout's father. Spy's motives for getting involved with Scout's mother is no longer about gaining intel on his enemies. In this version of events, his motives are reduced to merely wanting to reconnect with an old flame. This completely undermines the dynamic described above, for multiple reasons: the situation no longer shows Spy as having a particular skillset that sets him apart from the other mercs, he is no longer portrayed as emotionally "softer" than the others (in fact, having left a poor woman to raise and feed 8 kids on her own while he was off enjoying his upperclass life makes him look incredibly cold in a way that is distinctly unfunny; I don’t think the writers thought this part through), Scout's comedic poor luck is no longer on display, and the "macho character is humiliated by the type of guy he respects the least" satirical aspect no longer works. There is an attempt to replace it with a mutual "ugh, I'm related to this guy?" running gag, but it's a very pale substitute for the layered, strongly characterized, thematically appropriate dynamic present in the original game. Spy comes out of it looking like more of a cowardly, cold-hearted fuck-up than a hilariously brilliant tactician with a heart. Scout comes off way too pitiable, because he is not responsible for his own misery here, and the person horribly bullying him and picking apart his self-esteem on the battlefield is his absent father who abandoned him as a child. He's not an objectively badass character who nonetheless fucks himself over in humorous ways trying to chase an ideal that objectively sucks - he's just a regular shitty guy who ended up in bad circumstances because of things outside of his control.

The comic writers didn't understand what Spy and Scout respectively represented in the game, and because of this, they didn't realize they were taking the characters off the rails and making them much less interesting as a result. They didn't realize they were killing off an endless source of comedy that supported the game's satirical angle in a fun, unique, dynamic way.

It resulted in a flat, flavorless subplot. It had some superficial attempts at "heartwarming" moments ...

... but here's my take: if the writers wanted to include more warmth and sincerity in the comics, wouldn't it have been way more heartwarming if Spy started treating Scout as his son even though he wasn't?

Would it not have been way more endearing to see him look out for his girlfriend's child, not because he has any personal ties to him himself, but because he knew if anything happened to Scout, his mother would be devastated?

Why not build from there? Why not make it an active choice? Why not preserve the existing dynamic and themes, and just follow that narrative thread to its logical conclusion?

Spy has an established sentimental side. Scout is desperate for approval. The reluctant surrogate father/son development practically writes itself. It would have been such a good way to explore TF2's themes more explicitly, too!

But again, the comic writers did not seem to realize the game even had themes.

I do like the newer comics. I do think they're really fun, and I did even enjoy the "Spy is Scout's father" subplot in its own way. But this complete inability to identify the game's themes, and thus the source of all its comedy, and thus the red thread defining characterization - it resulted in supplemental material that was lackluster, directionless and unable to scratch the same itch the game does.

They're good comics, but they're hardly TF2 comics.

>4a) … Sheerly out of curiosity, how do you feel Expiration Date holds up, in comparison?

Similar to the way I dislike Spy being revealed to be Scout’s biological father for coming off as a stilted, superficial attempt at being “heartwarming,” I also immensely dislike later supplementary material trying to promote Ms. Pauling to Scout’s recurring love interest for the exact same reason. Expiration Date pushes this subplot way past its breaking point and shows off extremely well why the “jerk characters are secretly a bunch of softies” treatment is so deeply, deeply out of place in TF2.

Back in the early comics, Scout hitting on Miss Pauling was played as a joke at his expense. He was an idiotic, sexist guy incapable of talking to a pretty woman without trying to fuck - she was a highly skilled and deviously manipulative minor character who mostly existed to show off how dangerously competent the Administrator and her people were. Scout acting like an utter dumbass too entrenched in his own limited worldview to notice what was happening right in front of him was important characterization for him, Miss Pauling’s quiet, calculating efficiency was important characterization for her boss, and their clashing personalities set the tone for the dynamic between the entire team of mercenaries and the conspiracy going on right under their noses.

Expiration Date chose to eliminate these layers and invent a completely new conflict for these two specific characters to go play with in a corner, which had nothing to do with their original characterization or the larger plot. Scout is now portrayed as being genuinely in love with Pauling, even noticing small details about her mannerisms and knowing about some of her interests, even though the entire point of their original interactions were that Scout was so busy trying to live his tough-guy-with-a-pretty-girl-on-his-arm fantasy he did not bother to listen to or learn anything about the women unfortunate enough to cross his path, allowing Pauling to carry out her job without causing suspicion.

Instead, Scout’s sexist approach to interacting with women is played for sympathy (”he’s actually a romantic underdog because the lady he likes accurately clocked him as an idiot!”) and inadvertently validated (”once she gave him a chance, she found out he’s actually a pretty okay guy!”).

In the process, Miss Pauling loses far too much of her usual competence, being visibly freaked out over having to perform a job she’s been shown to handle with grace in the past, and being taken aback by what should by all rights be routine weirdness in this world, all so she can have an eye-roll-worthy forced positive reaction to the entire experience at the end of the short, in a weak attempt to justify why she comes to like Scout more despite all the trouble he’s caused for her and wants to spend more time with him in the future.

The romance subplot is only made possible because the characters are heavily edited compared to their past portrayals, is only able to develop in the direction it does by aligning itself with the values of a character who existed to be a laughable, obviously-mistaken caricature, and is only able to distill a happy ending to the whole mess by stripping the other character of personal standards and agency.

Scout and Pauling are frankly two halves of a whole shitshow in Expiration Date, because the writers either didn’t notice or didn’t care about what older works were gunning for - all they saw was that Boy Liked Girl, Girl Did Not Like Boy, and that just wouldn’t stand! After all, everyone likes romance, right?

Scout, as he is portrayed in the game and in the early supplementary material, is one of my absolute favorites of the mercs. I find him incredibly funny, and the way his hyperactive, fun-loving, jokey traits overlap with his intense bloodlust (literally - he’s the class with the most weapons available that cause bleed damage!) and barely-suppressed rage makes him fun and fascinating. The little man has so much unchecked ADHD and cultural trauma he just has to go and kill people about it, which is just so intensely relatable in the “forbidden mood” way TF2 handles so well.

Unfortunately, I get the impression he has in later years fallen victim to the curse of being a skinny young white guy character, making him a target for writers who think every series needs a relatable everyman protagonist for either themselves or the audience to project onto (and who think skinny young white guys are the most relatable people around, for reasons you can probably imagine I’m not personally very fond of).

TF2 absolutely does not need a character like that, and butchering Scout’s established personality in the name of “relatable” and “wholesome” is first of all Some Bullshit, and second of all a lost cause. The character simply has too much baggage as an over-the-top caricature to be comfortably rewired into an author- or audience-surrogate. He’s always going to come out looking like an asshole - whether this aspect of his character turns out likeable or unlikeable is entirely controlled by whether the story itself acknowledges it.

I did find Scout and Spy's dynamic to be quite well done, though, especially if you ignore the "Spy is Scout's father" reveal from the later comics.

The idea that Spy didn't have to go and do all that, but has grown a soft spot for Scout purely because his girlfriend clearly loves her incredibly annoying boy and her happiness is his happiness, is perfectly in-character. Scout has also long been established to desperately crave approval from his teammates, and on paper, the idea of putting him in a situation where he had to let go of some of his macho man dignity, imitate Spy more closely and ultimately win a tiny bit of that approval he's been looking for is interesting and plays well with the game's existing themes.

It's just a shame Scout's motivations ended up being conjured out of thin air, in direct conflict with past characterization, for the purpose of enabling a schmaltzy, tonally dissonant romantic subplot.

tl;dr, I'm conflicted on the subject of Expiration Date. It's funny, it's cute when it's not trying too hard, and seeing the mercs dick around off the clock getting into stupid shenanigans together is something I've always wanted to see in a longer animated format. It’s largely a good time and a fun watch, despite its questionable gender politics and trope-y execution.

However, like the newer comics, it suffers immensely from writers who are simply unable to identify the themes, characterization and comedy style of older material, and thus, in my opinion, falls way, way short of its potential.

>4b) I'd be very curious to hear your thoughts on Emesis Blue, should you end up watching it.

I'll be sure to share my opinions if I ever get around to watching it!! I'm super curious about it. As I mentioned in another post, what little I've heard of it seems much more on-point thematically, and even with the characters being so far removed from their official characterization, I really get the impression this is a deliberate, informed choice, in stark contrast to the newer official supplementary material. I’ll be sure to drop some words on it if I ever get around to watching the full thing!

Anyway, that about wraps up my thoughts! If you’ve read this far, thank you for sticking with it, and please do consider reblogging - I’ve spent an insane amount of time writing and re-writing and fact-checking this, and I would love for it to reach just half of all the people who were curious about my initial posts on the subject. :’)

Follow-up questions are very welcome, though to be clear: I’m not really interested in “debating” the subjects I’ve talked about here. I know I posit a lot of hard opinions in this post and not everyone is going to agree with me and that’s fine - if you feel differently, I invite you to simply ignore me and write your own take on your own blog. No hard feelings, I just don’t enjoy those kinds of discussions. (Corrections on any factual mistakes I’ve made are of course encouraged).

[sleepyconfusedpotato]

Hello, Sleppy! There is one thing I have always wanted to know about Jade but did not dare ask. Tell me, please, what happened to Jade and Simon in the original CoD universe? I saw a sketch of crying Jade, was it her reaction to Simon's death or in your universe he managed to survive? P.S. - I am sorry if you do not like this question at all.

Okay so since I rarely post about the OG!MW2 anymore, I'm just gonna reveal the whole plot to you guys (ʘ ͜ʖ ʘ)

Be ready cuz this is kinda long - these are the canon divergence that I constructed in the events that my OC's are inserted into the OG!MW2 plot.

So, Jade was actually sent by the MI6 to track down what actually happened that made Russia attack US out of nowhere. Because that Zakhaev Airport massacre sounded and looked FISHY as HECK. Being the MI6 she was, Jade had to report regularly to her handler in MI6 (141 didn’t know this. It’s her personal gig). She met Soap Ghost and Roach there, but her first meeting with Ghost was bad and blab la blaaa SHE OPENED GHOST'S MASK. She also met Ellie (another OC I had for Gaz who’s a medical corps leader in 141. Gaz died in the OG!MW, she was still saddened but she’s very glad to have Jade in the base).

There’s also another OC that I have named Bara. He’s a lone Indonesian Denjaka sniper lieutenant that got sent by the country to capture an Indo defector among Makarov’s cause. Because of political reasons, he’s not a 141. Bara’s like an ally that pop out sometime somewhere like a spirit. 141 themselves were still very suspicious of him, but when Bara saved Meat and Royce in Rio, he gained their trust, and 141 would help him find the defector as Bara would help them on their missions.

Now, sometime in the middle, Jade was captured by Makarov and got tortured by him. Jade intentionally didn’t escape and held the pain in to gain some info herself from anyone inside the room or from Makarov himself. And that’s where the (How about you check who you surround yourself with) and Jade’s gears started turning inside her brain. She released herself and ran amok around Mak’s place, and found some data about “anonymous source” that said there’ s mole among Makarov’s group in the massacre (we know it is Joseph Allen) and she SENT THAT STRAIGHT to MI6. Ghost and the boys found the compound and rescued a badly injured Jade.

So like, along the story, Jade found bits and pieces, put two and two together, and by the end, Jade’s 90% sure that Shepherd’s onto something shitty.

NOW HERE’S THE CANON DIVERGENCE IN LOOSE ENDS MISSION.

As Jade, Roach, and Ghost went to Makarov’s base at the Georgian-Russian border, Jade actually took the time to read the posts, notes, and all the info that were sticked to the boards, tables, and walls. In fact, as Ghost and Roach was busy fighting off Makarov’s goons, Jade READ that shit (because at that point she didn’t trust Shepherd AT ALL).

And you guessed it, she found out that Shepherd is the mastermind behind every damn thing.

So when Roach transferred the data to the DSM, she did her magic and unbeknownst to everyone, she SENT ALL the proof to MI6 on the spot.

Jade then told Ghost and Roach about everything, and they did NOT trust Shepherd anymore. So when the general told them to go the fields, they declined and decided to hold the fort inside the house. Shepherd knew something was wrong, so when he kept pressing the three to get out of the house, but again, the three didn’t oblige, the general and the shadows decided to finally go to the house.

Shepherd and the Shadows cleared the whole area from enemies and tried to find Ghost, Roach, Jade,and the others in the house. One by one, the SC people got killed with stealth. Things led to another, and chaos ensued inside the house. Shepherd could’ve burnt down the house with the 141 in it, but Shepherd’s paranoid that Jade had done something, and he NEEDED that DSM.

Shootout happened, and Jade got one of the SC as a shield with a gun to his head. Shepherd told Jade to give him the DSM, and convo happened, Shepherd finally revealed his motives. And now he had to get rid of the three of them.

AND THEN, MI6 contacted Jade, saying that the proof about Shepherd’s doing had gone public. The whole thing was his doing all long, and now the world had turned all their forces towards finding Shepherd. Russia, US, now began their search on Shepherd! WOOHOO

Panicked, Shepherd yelled at SC as reinforcements came, along with Price and Soap who came straight fom Kazakhstan to the place, Meat and Royce (who survived Rio), Archer and Toad, everyone came to help.

CLIMAX ENSUED, and Ghost got shot twice protecting Jade from Shepherd’s bullets.

As Jade held Ghost on her arms, Price and Soap, with Nikolai’s help, chased Shepherd who’s desperately tried to escape and killed him. Minus the Soap getting stabbed.

Don’t worry, Ghost survived because ELLIE WILL NOT let him leave Jade like Gaz left her too fast. So Ghost survived WOOHOOO.

The Jade crying sketch was, indeed, a cry of relief as Ellie told her that Ghost was going to be fine (❁´◡`❁). She wore Ghost's jacket to comfort herself during the times Ghost was unconscious, and this sketch came out!

Everybody lives, no WW3, no MW3. This is REAL MOVIE ASS SHIT but it’s what’s in my mind!

I have the whole ass fic about the post-Loose Ends angst at the ready if y'all want it.

[yellowcry]

Did you hear the birds singing?

Saturn wished he was strong enough to stand up for Jupiter. But he didn't, now dooming him to existence in complete loneliness

Did I just write fic about planets? Yep, you can't stop me

He feels like the worst friend to ever exist. How he seen Jupiter, the biggest guy in here, his best friend, turning away and disappearing into the black sea of nothingness. Vacuum of space closing behind him, swallowing yellowish and pink strips.

Saturn wanted to scream, beg the Sun to listen and reconsider. Even if for a moment. He was. It hasn't been only Jupiter's gravity to throw X off the solar system. They didn't even mean to do this. Just a little overboard of gravitational force, and the ice planet had pierced through the Kuiper Belt. Leaving nothing but debris or asteroids.

Saturn remembered the shock, pure horror in Jupiter's face. Even if it'd been billions of years, a countless time to grow past it, there was no way to forget.

Two of them. Not one.

They didn't mean to. Jupiter just was afraid and Saturn wanted to help his gigantic gassy friend. Nothing of this was meant to happen. But Jupiter gave just one look to him, the moment Saturn tried to say a word in their defence. Not even the fact they were together.

Jupiter took all the blame on himself. Pulling it inside with his massive gravity. Until it drowned in the mass of his thick clouds. Saturn just floated, witnessing how the most important person in his life was going away. Banished to the periferia to rot away with nobody by his side.

He should've fought for his friend. Because now he was cast aside. Thrown out of the solar system.

Part of Saturn wanted to believe, hold onto the last pieces of hope. X had returned four billion years after. Maybe if he waited long enough, Jupiter would come back and clear things up. But he knows better than actually believe it. This type of isolation won't go best on the ex-biggest planet of the solar system. Jupiter was falling apart millenniums ago. Neptune millenniums. The guilt of the past mistakes seemed not to only keep going, but growing more and more. Making him spin around his axis so fast, it made Saturn dizzy just to watch. And he was the second in speed. Because Jupiter was afraid, terrified of what could've happened if X returned. And lately, in the last Mercury years, this was getting more and more visible. To the point when their moon notices Jupiter wasn't doing well. Raising questions of what was happening to him. 

Still, Saturn was pushing to keep their mouths shit. Even if the wind inside him was howling from worry. While Jupiter kept insisting they had to come clean. But Saturn was so sure their mistakes won't come biting to them. If only he had listened to Jupiter. He was the smartest planet, older and wiser than everyone else. He knew better but Saturn didn't want to believe the past wasn't just left in the past. Holding into the last rings of hope until there was nothing left. He desperately tried to keep Jupiter in check, not let him to fall apart completely. Even when the bigger planet was growing paranoid. When his voice became illegible murmurs of someone coming after him. If only he supported his giant partner and helped him to confess before it was too late. Maybe Jupiter would still be allowed in the Solar system. But Saturn never tried to help him.

Jupiter was crumbling and Saturn did nothing to stop it.

And it was obvious that solitary confinement wouldn't do much good for his state of mind. Neptune gone crazy in his orbit, and he still had Uranus and his moons. Jupiter was left with nothing but endless cold vacuum. The fact X somewhat kept his stability was shocking already, And with the fact Jupiter was drowning in paranoid thoughts, sometimes slipping all the way to the Kuiper Belt, it was no doubt he wasn't suited to live in the outer space. Saturn didn't want to think of it, imagine his closest friend hanging out. No source of gravity to hold onto except for himself.

As much as Jupiter assured him that is was fair. After all, X lived like this for eons because of simple mistake. So now he got his membership back and put the person who caused it on his place for the rest of eternity.

Maybe Saturn should've left with Jupiter. He threw X out too, he was just as guilty. But he wasn't strong as this. Not strong enough to defend his friend's honour. Not strong enough to help him and leave. To give Jupiter the last friends, at least somebody to hold onto. Jupiter had such a great sense of justice he was ready to punish himself with the most severe way.

No matter what other planets or Sun said, Jupiter was the one who banished himself. Because if he didn't confirm that X said truth, nobody would believe this. Jupiter had way more respect than some planet most weren't even aware of until that very second. If Jupiter just denied everything, nobody would question the honesty of his words. He could escape justice without bating an eye. But instead Jupiter allowed himself to be punished. Maybe it wouldn't be fair to X or anyone else, but Saturn wanted his best friend to be alright more than anything else. But he did nothing and allowed Jupiter to drift away. Left to suffer for accident that was eating him up as long as Saturn could remember. And now it was too late to go search for him. Space was too big and there was no way to find anything, no matter how strong Jupiter's gratuity was. 

He stared in the blackness that lied far after their system. Beyond Sun's control. Where, for billions of Astronomical units, existed nothing. And now where his own best friend was forced to live because Saturn couldn't protect him.

"How are you doing there?" He whispered into the void, searching for an answer between the debris of the asteroids.

Space didn't reply.

[sandwichlover22]

Dom!Abby & Gunplay

Includes- Fingering: Abby receiving reader, Head: Reader receiving

This one is written in first person <3

I always fantasize about this and find it hot, so I wanted to share

: ̗̀➛ Me and Abby were on patrol together during a snowstorm one day and had to find shelter. We eventually found an opening into an abandoned building and had to clear it out. There was a couch and a table, also, It had 3 runners, so we cleared it out quickly and set up camp.

: ̗̀➛ Abby and I were close friends already, so it went smoothly. After we set up camp, she said, "I'm glad it was you I got stuck with," confidentially. "Yeah, I am glad too." Abby and I were having a deep convo about if a revolver or a Glock was better.

: ̗̀➛ Abby is so adamant about her guns and so specific it is almost like she is obsessed with them. I didn't mind it; I quite liked it, actually.

: ̗̀➛ While I was getting ready to sleep, Abby was on the verge of falling asleep but randomly got up and checked her guns, reloading them, taking some apart, and putting them back together. {what was she doing?} I thought to myself.

: ̗̀➛ I got up to see why she was messing with her guns {Maybe she is paranoid?} As I walked up to her, she did not notice me. I didn't say a word and was watching her; she was fixated on these guns like they were her children.

: ̗̀➛ I never noticed how hot Abby is, not until now, at least. "Oh shit, you scared me," - "Sorry, I didn't mean to sneak up on you; just wondering what you were doing here for so long." I blurted out quickly after so it didn't seem weird that I was watching her. "Sorry for coming off rude... Wanna see something cool?" She said in a fun tone.

: ̗̀➛ "Sure, what is it you wanna show me?" - "Okay, hold the handle, then hold this part here; I'll show you how to take it apart." She was holding my hand, guiding me on how to do it; her hands were so much bigger than mine.

: ̗̀➛ She started to slow her movements and become softer and breathing heavier. I felt her breathing down my neck and her thighs on my butt. It was almost like she did it on purpose. I didn't stop what was happening because a little piece of me knew we were just friends, but what would it hurt?

: ̗̀➛ "Abby.." I started, but Abby said, "Y/N, just let it happen." She spun me around, looked me in the eye, and started kissing me. I obviously kissed her back, I knew I'd probably never get this chance again, so I took it.

: ̗̀➛ Everything started escalating quickly as she ripped my shirt off, then hers. We kept kissing more and started taking our pants off next; before we moved onto the couch. I was on top of her, and she guided my hand down to her pussy, and I started fingering her.

: ̗̀➛ Her breathing got really heavy and coarse as I went faster. She started moaning and telling me how good I was doing. "You're doing so good, Y/N," she would tell me, or "Yes, just like that." She was so hot when she did that. I started playing with her clit making her praise me even more. "Oh fuck, right there, you're doing amazing."

: ̗̀➛ She squirted over my hand and called me her "Good girl." She quickly jumped on top of me and started making out with me, grinding on my thigh and started moaning, and then I started kissing her more and she grabbed my waist.

: ̗̀➛ She quickly got up, stuck her fingers in me, and kissed me while choking my neck. She was fingering me with her ring and middle finger and playing with my clit with her thumb {Clearly, she knew what she was doing.} "Oh fuck.." I moaned, "You like that?"

: ̗̀➛ She started to make me cum, but she told me to wait. "You can't get too excited; we just started." She let her grip loose on my neck and started kissing me from my lips to my neck and my boobs, and then she got to my pussy and kissed it and started eating me out.

: ̗̀➛ "Fuck Abby, I can't.." I moaned out. "You have to cause I won't stop." She started licking my clit faster and fingered my pussy simultaneously. I squirted all over her face breathing heavily and sweating.

: ̗̀➛ She wiped her face and kissed me

»»———-　<3　———-««

[mxlktxa]

ᴍʏ ᴛᴏʀᴍᴇɴᴛᴏʀ

ᴍᴏᴅᴇʀɴ!ᴀᴜ ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ; ᴍᴏᴅᴇʀɴ!ᴇʟʟɪᴇ ᴡɪʟʟɪᴀᴍꜱ x ꜰᴇᴍ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ (ꜱʟɪɢʜᴛ ᴀʙʙʏ ᴀɴᴅᴇʀꜱᴏɴ x ꜰᴇᴍ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ) ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀꜱ; ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ*, ᴅɪɴᴀ ɴᴏʟᴀꜱᴛɴᴀᴍᴇ (ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴᴇᴅ), ᴊᴇꜱꜱᴇ ɴᴏʟᴀꜱᴛɴᴀᴍᴇ (ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴᴇᴅ), ᴀʙʙʏ ᴀɴᴅᴇʀꜱᴏɴ, ᴇʟʟɪᴇ ᴡɪʟʟɪᴀᴍꜱ ᴄᴡ; ʟᴀɴɢᴜᴀɢᴇ, 18+ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ, ᴘʜʏꜱɪᴄᴀʟ/ᴠᴇʀʙᴀʟ ꜰɪɢʜᴛꜱ, ɴᴀᴍᴇ ᴄᴀʟʟɪɴɢ, ᴠᴜʟɢᴀʀ ᴛʜʀᴇᴀᴛꜱ, ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ɢᴇᴛꜱ ɪɴᴊᴜʀᴇᴅ/ᴡᴏᴜɴᴅᴇᴅ (ɴᴏᴛ ꜰᴀᴛᴀʟ), ᴇʟʟɪᴇꜱ ᴀ ᴅɪᴄᴋ (ᴏʀ ᴀᴛ ʟᴇᴀꜱᴛ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴡᴀꜱ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ɪ ᴡᴀꜱ ɢᴏɪɴɢ ꜰᴏʀ) ᴡᴄ; 2.7ᴋ, 14.6ᴋ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀꜱ

˗ˏˋ ‘ʏᴏᴜ ᴛᴏʀᴍᴇɴᴛ ᴍᴇ, ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴀᴜɴᴛ ᴍʏ ᴅʀᴇᴀᴍꜱ’ ´ˎ˗

It had been months since I had broken up with Ellie. I spent three years in a shitty relationship with her, being ignored, argued with, beat on, lost some friends, lied about, cheated on. And that’s not everything. She was an amazing person for the first three or four months but then slowly trickled into being so… Undesirable. Abusive. Repulsive. Vulgar. I told my side of the story to anyone who would listen but it only lost me a few more friends since Ellie apparently was a champ at making herself much more likeable and convincing. Not to Dina, Jesse, or even one of my other exes, Abby. She was the biggest sweetheart.

During the first two months of me trying to forget and move on— in reality, I just spent crying and beating myself up— she would stalk me at my work place, follow me wherever I went, sent messages begging for me to come back on different socials and don’t get me started on how many numbers and accounts she’s used when I ignored and blocked her. She even asked Abby about my whereabouts and tasks, threatened to kick her ass if she didn’t tell her anything. She doesn’t even like Abby! It was a living hell. I had to move maybe two times and switch jobs just to get away for a maximum of three months. But now here I am. Seven months with peace, somwhat still heartbroken and feeling like shit but nonetheless moving on and a little happier.

I jolted awake, gasping softly and rubbing my eyes slightly. I flipped onto my stomach, to hug the pillow I was laying in and try to clear my head, rid myself of the images of the little nightmare I had.

“Did you have a good nap?” Abby chuckled, noticing I was waking up. Looking to my nightstand, I squinted at the screen, trying to see a bit better, being reminded that I was supposed to be watching a movie with her.

“Shit,” I whispered, “Abby, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to knock out,” I huffed, rubbing my eyes again.

“It’s not a problem.”

“I just haven’t slept a bunch lately and I’m so paranoid.”

“Y/N.”

“I know I shouldn’t be, I should calm down and chill out but—.”

“Y/N. It’s fine. You’ve every right to be afraid right now and you don’t need to explain yourself. I understand,” Abby’s words gave me a bit of comfort, relaxing my muscles and just smiling at her.

We both knew there was still some sort of connection between the two of us but we held off on getting back together. Mainly since I wasn’t trying to see anyone in a romantic manner for a bit but also because Abby swore she would wait until I was ready. I know it seems like we’re already offical to some with how much we talk and hang out but I swear we aren’t. Not yet. She was just the biggest sweetheart. Dina and Jesse were busy almost all day everyday with their little music career but they checked up on me just enough.

“Did you like Coraline?” I asked, finally coming back to my senses about how long I’d been staring at this woman, shyly looking away and shaking my head.

“Yeah, it was pretty good,” she said, “I loved the final form of the Other Mother, that was super cool,” Abby admitted with the biggest smile on her face. We both went silent for a second, tension growing and my expression faltering.

‘You fucking come back here, you stupid bitch! I’ll fucking kill you!’

Suddenly, I was cold and afraid. Bits and pieces of my dream coming into thought just to harass me. The room was only getting colder and any blanket I threw on top of myself didn’t help. Mind you I had about three thick blankets in the room.

“Tell me what happened, babe,” Abu spoke with confidence, immediately catching what she said, “Er, Y/N. Sorry.”

“No, it’s okay, don’t… You’re fine,” my eyes met my phone screen finally, “I had a dream that I was finally fed up with Ellie so I got a restraining order. Once she was aware, she didn’t give any fucks about it and broke into my house, demanding I dismiss it or she would kill me,” I shrugged.

“Have you put placed one on her?” Abby looked to me with worried eyes but her face showed confidence, “nevermind, you just… yeah.”

“Big dummy,” I giggled, reaching for my phone and getting under my blanket, “do I still talk in my sleep?”

“Yes, actually. There were some things you said that I couldn’t pick up on but we did have a full conversation.”

“What? About what? What did I say?”

“I’ll send you a recording. It was funny,” Abby chuckled, shaking her head. I shook my head and sat up, walking downstairs to the kitchen.

Abby and I sat in a comfortable silence, doing our own things at the time. I set my phone up against a little jar before I went to search for a snack and something to drink, glancing over occasionally Abby was minding her own business, doing whatever research she was doing this time. Last time, she was trying to do research on some pirates, Henry Avery or something.

After about ten, fifteen minutes, I turned to the camera seeing that Abby was already staring at me. I grinned at her, a piece of toast in hand and a cup of apple juice in the other.

“Butter and jelly?” Abby asked. I only nodded at her, taking a bite of my little snack, “you love that stuff.”

“Best thing I could ever have.”

“Above your fruit bowls?”

“Definitely not,” I scoffed, taking all my belongings and going to the living room, “do you think you can come see me tomorrow? I wanna go out,” I whispered, continuing with my toast.

“Where do you wanna go?”

“Maybe we can see Dina and Jesse, get some lunch or something… I don’t know.”

“We can figure something out, no worries,” Abby shrugged, reaching for her phone, “listen, try and go back to bed, yeah? I can pick you up tomorrow morning and we can figure it out,” Abby smiled at me, looking me all over.

I nodded at her, immediately going to finish up my toast and put my apple juice away. I walked upstairs, peeking at Abby who was settled and waiting on me. My head met the pillow, Abby and I yawning in sync.

“Abby?” I whispered, hiding half of my face in my pillow, “should we just say fuck it and make it official? I think I’m ready to start over. But with you.”

Abby chuckled, nodding, “I want whatever you want. You know this.”

“Then I guess you also want some sleep so we can go out tomorrow,” I brought the phone closer to my face. Abby copied the action kissing the camera before I could, “goodnight, Abs,” I hesitated yet sighed softly, “I love you, Abigail.”

Her eyes lit up, filled with joy and surprise, “I love you too, Y/N.”

We waved at the camera before hanging up on each other. I held my phone to my chest, all giddy and excited about getting back with Abby and getting to possibly hang out with her, Dina, and Jesse.

I glanced at my phone, getting a hold of it to check if I jad amy notifications. I wished I hadn’t though.

‘open the door we need to talk’

I read the message from the unknown number that was showing up, my entire body feeling cold and stiff. I thought this was over. I thought that I could finally have peace. I changed my number and have moved so much, I don’t know what else I could possibly do!? This had to be a dream, a joke. It was Dina fucking with me. No, no, it’s Jesse, he’s doing this.

Shaky fingers tapped the message, typing insanely slow, deleting and re-typing, wanting to send a message that wouldn’t escalate the situation and would make her go away.

‘??? wrong number???’

You idiot. Why would you send that? She knows when I’m playing dumb, she always did. Fuck me.

‘y/n dont fucking act like this yk who it is and yk better than this’

‘ellie just go home. its been so long just let it go’

‘scuse me?’

That door is definitely getting kicked down.

‘ill call the cops’

‘sweetheart youre not that stupid’

‘you dont know that’

‘ik that you should open this door before i kick it down and drag you to the car now lets fucking talk’

My mind raced with multiple scenarios, Ellie coming in and sending me to the hospital, forcing me to pack and move back with her, Ellie trying to pleasure me and coaxing me into coming back to her, and sweet talking me. Giving a genuine, sincere, heartfelt apology. So manny kisses, hugs, apologies, everything. She’d tell me she loves me and take me out so much more than she did before. I could see it now, Ellie taking her time to—

“Open the door wider,” Ellie demanded, leaning in the crack of the door and grinning softly at me, “I just wanna talk babe… I’m not gonna hurt you.”

Fuck, when did I even come downstairs? “Ellie. I’m tired I don’t wanna talk. You aren’t supposed to be here.”

“I’m not asking you again,” she cut me off, hand behind her back so obviously reaching for her switchblade.

“Ellie.”

“Open the door!”

The door was kicked open, knocking me back which allowed Ellie to storm in, shutting the door behind her, backing me into a wall.

“Shh, shh, it’s okay, Y/N, it’s okay,” she whispered into my ear with a faux, sweet tone, “I just wanna talk, okay? Let’s talk.”

“I-I don’t want to.”

“Yes you do, baby. Come sit. Just like we used to, come sit with me and we can talk.”

I didn’t even get to make up my own mind. I was dragged to the couch, nearly thrown down. Ellie finally revealed her switchblade, the cold metal against my chest, slight pressure being applied. I sat, horrified to even breathe or move even just my eyes away from her neck.

“I missed you so much,” she whispered in my ear, “you know I love you, yeah? I would never do anything to hurt you.”

“Ellie,” I whimpered at the blade being taken away from my flesh, dragging my feet up as carefully as possible so I could position myself to push her away whenever I was ready.

Ellie’s forehead connected with mine, her other hand coming up to caress my face with such gentle and loving hands. That didn’t make me forget about the switchblade in her hand, it only worried me more.

“Why’d you leave, babe? Hm? We can work this out, I’ll change. I promise.”

“You’ve said that countless times, Ellie. Each time you never changed, only got worse,” I complained, “you would ignore me when we were out together which is embarrassing, you cheated on me whenever I told you I didn’t want to be intimate with you, you sent me to the hospital, disrespected my parents and so much more!”

Ellie went from caring and cautious to angry and unreasonable. Too quickly. My hands shot up to her chest, regretting that I raised my voice at her.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to yell at you, I’m sorry.”

“Shut the fuck up,” she huffed, “I don’t know who you think you’re raising your voice at but it’s definitely not me,” her fist clenched on my shoulder, knife coming in contact with my thigh, “you’re gonna fucking act right.”

“Fuck you,” with that, I kicked her away from me, sending her over the table and on her ass. I bolted up the stairs, nearly tripping over a few steps but successfully made it to my room, locking the door.

“You stupid, fucking cunt!”

I searched my bed for my phone, grabbing it from under my pillow.

“Y/N! Come out right now!”

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck! Abby. Call Abby!

“It’s about to get real fucking stupid in this house, come out right now!”

Please, please, pick up.

“Hello?” Abby hummed.

I sighed, quietly thanking god as I wiped my tears away and sniffled before replying, “Abby, please, it’s Ellie!”

“What?”

“Ellie’s here! She’s trying to get in the room! Can you please come!? I’m so scared!”

Abby didn’t even respond, I could only hear her blankets shuffling and soon the rattling of her keys, “try to call Dina and Jesse too, okay? I’m on my way.”

“Please hurry, Abby,” I hung up and texted Dina and Jesse, begging that they would at least read the message.

“You have three seconds to open this door or you’re in for it big-fucking-time!” Ellie was banging on the door, cracks already so evident within the door.

“Go away, Ellie! I don’t wanna talk and I don’t want to be near you!” I cried, gunning it to the window after sliding my phone beneath the bed.

“I don’t give any fucks on what you want! Open the fucking door!”

I opened the window, attempting to punch out the screen but I had no strength to do so and I didn’t think kicking it would do any better. While I made my weak, sorry attempts, Ellie was just starting to do real damage to the doors. My body went into overdrive, pushing, punching, and shoving the screen.

“Leave me alone!”

A few more punches had done the trick, instantly crawling through the window. Only to realize if people see me on my roof they’ll either think I’m crazy or they’ll just stare. I didn’t really have time to think about that as Ellie had barged in the room, storming over to yank me from the window and to the floor.

“What’s going on in that stupid fucking head of yours, hm? And Abby? What’s going in with Abby? You back with her? Hm?” Ellie’s words were almost muffled as I was trying to recover from how hard my head had collided with the floor.

“Ellie, stop it,” I whined, seeing two of her and whimpering with my hands in front of my face. Ellie pulled my up by the hair as her switchblade sat on my thigh, “please don’t, Els.”

Everything froze. Ellie stared at me while my vision started to fix itself. She seemed please, almost. Her lips rested on my neck, sucking and biting on mu flesh as the blade now sat on my abdomen.

“I’ve missed hearing that.”

“Stop it.”

“You know I love you, babe.”

“I don’t wanna do this, Ellie.”

“Shh, just relax.”

“Fuck you.”

Our eyes met. I was terrified, she was was well beyond livid. I furrowed my brows, wincing lightly at her. Her expression showed that she was apologetic yet had no intention of truly apologizing for what she had just done.

She had stuck her switchblade right in my midsection.

“Ellie?” I whispered, hand coming to meet the new wound she’d given me, “did you?”

“I tried to stop it. But you don’t fucking listen,” she spat, withdrawing the weapon and walking away.

My phone rang from beneath the bed. Glancing at my little gash, I wailed at the sight, deciding to crawl to it anyways.

Abby…

With my bloody hand I held my wound and the other gave attention to the call, “Abby?”

“Y/N? Are you okay? Is she still there? I’m about to pull into the driveway right now.”

“She,” I whined, applying pressure to stop the bleeding, “stab wound. It’s not too deep. It hurts so bad. She’s gone.”

“She stabbed you?”

“Just focus in staying awake, yeah? I’m coming up!”

Just as she promised, I heard a car pulling in and a door slamming shut. Her voiced echoed from outside and on the phone, breathing completely uneven.

“Abby!” with all my might, I begged for her, dropping the phone and struggling to even stand, “Abby, help me!”

I met her at the top of the staircase, falling into her arms, gradually blacking out. I could barely make out what she was saying. ‘Okay’? ‘Got you’? That’s all I could make out.

I don’t know why Ellie had such a hard on for me but I do know that she won’t be moving on anytime soon.

I just want to be safe. I just want her to leave me alone.

When will this be over?

————————

ᴀɴ; ɪ ꜱᴛᴀʀᴛᴇᴅ ᴛᴀᴋɪɴɢ ᴍʏ ᴏᴡɴ ꜱᴄʀᴇᴇɴꜱʜᴏᴛꜱ ʜᴏᴘᴇꜰᴜʟʟʏ ʏᴀʟʟ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴇᴍ ᴀɴᴅ ɪꜰ ɪᴍ ᴍɪꜱꜱɪɴɢ ᴀɴʏ ᴄᴡ’ꜱ ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ʟᴍᴋ

[lawlietkitty]

Kazuichi Soda x reader 🔧

”Nightmares”

The nighttime announcement has already went off hours ago, but I still can't seem to get any sleep.

I glance outside my window, looking at the night sky. The moon is shining bright as always. Staring up at the stars always seems to calm my mind.

My thoughts start to calm down, and I feel as if I'm finally ready to fall asleep. But my piece was suddenly disrupted by someone knocking on my door.

-shit, who could it be? It's like 3 in the morning. Why the hell would someone knock at my door at 3 in the morning?? What if they're here to kill me??! Ok I need to calm down.- I think to myself, taking a deep breath. Why am I so paranoid?

I hear the knocks again, but this time, followed by a familiar voice:

-Y/N? Are you up? Can I pleaseee come in??

Oh. It's just kazuichi. But he sounds kinda worried, almost scared, it seems.

I quickly get up and rush to the door. When I open it, I see the pink haired boy with a rather sleepy face, as if he had just woke up.

-Are you okay? Did something happen, Kaz?

Before even answering my questions, he walks inside my cottage and sits in my bed.

-Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. I just had a nightmare that's all.

I-... is he serious? Did he come here in the middle of the night because of some... nightmares??

-Gosh, are you kidding me?? You scared the shit out of me! I thought someone tried to murder you or something!

-WHAT, why would you think that?!

-Well, I never expected you to come here at 3am because of some stupid nightmares! Seriously, Kaz, how old are you?

-HEY, they weren't just some stupid nightmares, ok?? They were... about my dad... - his voice got a lot quieter when saying that last part. Fuck. I shouldn't have said that. Kazuichi has some serious issues regarding his father, but he's never talked about it directly. He always acts as if what his father did to him is something normal, which shows how used he is to being abused. For him to say it in such a sad voice ... it must have been a fucked up nightmare. I feel bad for him.

-Oh, I'm... sorry, I didn't know that's what it was about. Sorry I didn't mean that. - I say, now sitting next to him.

-No, it's ok. I know you were just joking.- he says, looking away, avoiding looking me in the face. It looks like he regrets saying that, or maybe he's just embarrassed.

The atmosphere is starting to get heavy, which is something unusual when I'm around kazuichi.

-Do you wanna talk about it, maybe? I'm not the best at advice but I'm a great listener!- I forced a smile, sitting down next to him.

-No, don't worry. The more I think about it the more it makes me feel worse.

-Are you sure, Kaz?- I rest my hand on his shoulder, and he turned his head to face me.- You know you can always talk to me, right? I understand what you went through.

-I just... want to distract myself right now, if that's ok... But... thank you for being so kind, Y/N. - he gives me a sweet smile, and I can see a slight spark in his eyes. That, right there, is my weakness.

I pull him in for a hug. At first he doesn't react, but he then gives in, hugging me back, wrapping his arms around my body. We stay like that for only a few seconds, but those few seconds felt like they lasted an eternity. I wish they did.

Kazuichi is not only my best friend here, on the island, but he's also the one person I come to when I need anything. If I need help, advice, someone to hangout with, someone to chat with, eat with, laugh with. It's him. I may see him as more than just my best friend, but he doesn't know that, and will most likely never know. What if he thinks it's weird and doesn't want to be my friend anymore? What if he laughs at me and makes fun of me? So many things could go wrong, and trust me, I've thought about every single one of them. I just can't risk losing someone so important to me.

He pulls away from the hug, stares at me for a couple seconds, and then looks at the floor, trying to hide the flustered look on his face.

He's so adorable. His little side smile, his rosed cheeks that match the color of his eyes, the way he plays with his own fingers when he's nervous. I love everything about him.

-Y/N?

He called for me, taking me of my trance.

- Is it ok if I sleep here for the night? I just... really don't want to be alone right now.

-Oh, of course, don't worry about it.

-Really? If you want to, I can actually sleep on the floor, I just don't want to make you uncomfortable.

-Oh, no no! It's ok, don't worry. Here, - I pat one of the pillows - you can stay on this side of the bed.

He takes off his shoes and hat, and starts pulling down the blankets so he can lay next to me.

-Hum... are you gonna sleep with your jumpsuit?

-Huh? Oh, I usually take it off to sleep but, again, I really don't want to make you uncomfortable or something, you know. I don't want you to think I'm some kind of creep.

- But that's gotta be really uncomfortable to sleep in. You can take it off if you want to. It doesn't bother me.

-Huh? Are you sure?? Well, I guess I can keep my shirt on.

He takes off his bright yellow jumpsuit, wearing only a white tank top and black underwear now.

He lays next to me, and we both just stare at the ceiling in silence. But that comfortable kind of silence, you know?

-Hey, Y/N... what would you do if... you really wanted to say something to someone, but if you did, it could either destroy your relationship with them, or something really amazing could happen. But the person is really special to you and you don't wanna risk losing them.

Hm, how interesting. Sounds a lot like one of my problems.

-Ok, just tell me, who's the lucky girl?

-WHAT? WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?

-COME ON, I'm not stupid, you know! Just tell me who it is.

-I'm not telling you, ur gonna laugh at me. - he said making a pouty face, that I find simply adorable.

-im not gonna laugh at you, Kaz!

-Promise?

-Promise.

And with a straight face, he stares at me, deep in my eyes and takes a deep breath. Before I could even gather my thoughts, I feel his lips pressing against mine. My face starts burning up. I instinctively pull away. What was this just now? Did Kazuichi just...

-Oh my god I'm so so sorry! God I'm so fucking stupid. I- I'll just leave. - he said, shaking his hands around, nervously.

But before he got the chance to stand up, I pull him down again and put my arms around him in a hug.

-uh- y/n... what are you doing?

-I'm not letting you leave. You said you wanted to spend the night here so that's what we're doing.

- But- what I just did- you dont...?

-I like you, Kaz. You can kiss me as often as you want, from now on.

His face immediately brightens up, now forming his usual smirk.

-oh? It's that so? So I guess it would be ok if I just did this? - he starts kissing me repeatedly around my face. We both laugh, while still hugging

The silence once again returns, but this time, it's feels comfortable. We both just stay there, in each other's arms, enjoying the silence, eventually falling asleep.

So that was it! :D I hope it wasn't too bad for a first try. Apologies for any English mistakes, I tried my very best ^^ as always I'm open to criticism, so please don't be afraid to give me advice!! Tysmm byee ^_^

[neonponders]

For @billyhargrovebingo 💙🚙

~ read on ao3 ~

B2 - Free Space (Haunted Camaro)

• • •

Old cars have personality.

Billy knew what he wanted as soon as he saw her. The car market had gone in the direction of making cars look like soap box derby contestants. He wanted a car that looked like a car. Like pizzazz on wheels, an exoskeleton of the driver, and a really stylish boom box for his superior taste in music.

She was a little retrofitted from other Camaro models, but Billy liked that just fine. No other car would look like his. Between her age, remodeling, and the fact that this car had been in an accident already, she was a hell of a steal. The biggest chunk of his money went into having her painted. Billy wasn't the type to have a random red door and a green bumper, but he could certainly enjoy the ever so slightly murky, sapphire blue that made his baby girl gleam in the early dawn light.

Billy learned his car inside and out. He knew how she purred, knew her high speed roars, and every tone and pitch of her tires on any surface...

Billy knows the sound of a human voice. There's something about the sound resonance of a voice that carries differently. A voice just moved a certain way on the ear; arrived at the ear with a tangible difference.

He could hear someone humming even with the car's speakers blasting. That's how it started. Billy kept hearing a voice in his car.

It drove Billy nuts. Scared the shit out of him first, thinking that someone had gotten into his vehicle without him being aware. Made him circle his vehicle like a pacing dog every time he came and went from his car.

One time, it was just a split second as he put groceries in the back of his car...but he shut the trunk and thought he saw a shadow in his rearview mirror. But he was seeing it through the rear windshield - plenty of glares on the curved glass and it was gone as soon as he blinked anyway.

His annoyance swung back into fear when the humming returned. Billy had been tired of his tapes so he indulged in the radio for once, at the risk of same old hits beating themselves over his brain. There were worst things than Fleetwood Mac to serenade the drive along the California coast...

Would you stay if she promised you heaven?

Billy blinked.

Taken by the sky.

Billy knew a voice over a speaker, over the phone...

Love's a state of mind.

Billy knew a voice right next to him. He looked in the rearview mirror, and saw the biggest brown eyes he'd ever seen. They were a little a little tilted...sad looking. Too young to be so sad.

Until those irises flicked to meet Billy's tropical water eyes, and smiled.

"Stop the car."

Billy didn't understand, until he realized he was driving off the road and toward the rocks that tumbled down into the jagged surf below.

A large hand reached past him, and turned the steering wheel the same time his car seized up. In an instant, Billy lurched to a stop on the ocean-side curb. Dirt and sand sprayed into the thorned brush, creating a beige cloud around him.

The voice was gone. Billy was the only person sitting in his car.

Billy didn't have a name for the cold, alarmed sensation gripping his spine. The only words he had made him feel stupid and paranoid. Regardless, he pulled an illegal U-turn and parked in front of the local library.

Hours went by, until his eyes burned from reading newspaper scans. His search was already a narrow funnel of variables, how could this take so long? A ghost haunted his damn Camaro, which gave him, at most, fifteen years of a window to find a car accident that would have killed somebody...

A piece. A piece is all that would be needed...right? His car had a lot of pieces, from all over the country.

Sometimes it wasn't the wreck that killed a person, but the wounds afterward.

Billy was at a loss and too exhausted to read anything else. On a whim, as he walked past the librarian counter on his way out, he asked, "Hey, did you ever hear about a car accident that killed a guy? Like a young guy. My age."

Her eyes widened as if she had already been thinking about such things. "Why, yes. People your age are too young to be dying. Of course I'd remember such a thing. Take your pick: there was that poor girl who died in her boyfriend's motorbike accident in Oregon. There was a whole VW bus of youths who drove into a lake - hot boxed out of their minds and unable to get out of the vehicle. There was another young man who died in Indiana under bizarre circumstances - "

"Him," Billy took a guess. "What circumstances?"

"Oh, well, from what I remember, there'd been children driving the car."

Billy's brows furrowed and she nodded. "My astonishment, exactly, but apparently he was already injured. The kids were trying to get him to a hospital, but the poor fools hadn't bothered putting a seatbelt on the young man. When they crashed, they all stayed put, but he didn't make it."

"Do you recall a name?"

"I'm afraid I don't - not the boy's name, at least. But Hawkins. Hawkins, Indiana is where it happened. Beautiful lake country."

"Thanks," Billy grinned, far too brightly after a discussion about teen catastrophe. He went back to the newspapers and found the articles immediately:

Hawkins Senior in Fatal Accident

Hawkins Sheriff's Department Pushes for Seatbelt Awareness

Hawkins Police Ticket Fees Go Up After Teen Fatality.

Steve Harrington's Obituary. With a picture and everything. It was his senior photo, grinning from ear to ear in some kind of rented tux jacket, shirt, and clip-on bowtie that all the men had to wear for the yearbook. His hair was inflated two inches above his hairline, and glossy under the photography lights.

Steve hadn't worn a tux in Billy's car. Billy couldn't believe he even retained such details after a scare like the one that morning, but...

A jacket. Steve wore a simple athletic jacket and a collared shirt. And a watch. A gold-rimmed watch had been on the hand that stopped the steering wheel.

Billy printed every article focusing on Steve, paid in dimes to the librarian, and jogged out to his car.

Billy drove to the beach. The horizon beamed with neon orange, shadows, and the screams of amateur volleyball players.

Billy gazed at the picture of Steve Harrington. He looked handsome, in a high school dreamy sort of way.

Steve Harrington.

Steve was the only son and child to Robert and Annette Harrington. He was a proud varsity student of Hawkins High School. Steve was co-captain of the swim team and the basketball team, as well as a contributive member of the Prom Committee, Student Council, Key Club, Future Business Leaders of America, as well as a beloved babysitter to the Hendersons and Wheelers. His parents are valued members of the Hawkins community, making Steve a bright light of prospects -

"I didn't have any of those."

Billy had been reading under his breath. Now he looked up at his rearview mirror at the young man sitting right in the center of his back seat. "Hey, Harrington."

He'd been looking out the window at a family packing up their car to go home after a long day at the beach. Then his attention rotated to Billy, who fanned his face with the papers. "I guess those little Hendersons or Wheelers were the ones who killed you?"

Steve blinked slowly, almost like he was tired. "I don't remember."

Billy shook his head gently, as if to say, You don't have to.

Instead, he asked, "What did you mean? You didn't have any what?"

"Prospects."

"With all these extra curriculars, nobody was offering you jobs? No schools lined up begging for your family name on their alumni?"

Steve shook his head, looking sad again. "I don't remember."

Billy exhaled a quiet huff. He pursed his lips, nodding as if coming to a decision. "Well, you seem to be a permanent resident in my car. How does that make you feel right now?"

"Like you have bad taste in music."

Billy couldn't help but laugh at his stupid luck. "Jesus," he cursed, setting an elbow on his open windowsill to prop his head. "I get a pretty boy all to myself and he's a total snob."

Steve's eyes squinted at him, like he was needing all cylinders firing to work through his thoughts. "Who are you? I know your music and I know your dates, but I don't know you."

Billy glared at him in the rearview. It wasn't great, having someone know about his cover-up dates with girls, the out-of-wedlock sex they had, or all the men Billy had in here. Then again, who was a ghost going to snitch to?

"Billy. Billy Hargrove."

Steve smiled. It was almost like the sunlight actually touched his skin. Almost.