#CLOWNS IN MY FUCKING NOTES I HATE IT HERE

[toaster-trash]

“Aaron Tveit is a tenor he shouldn’t have been cast in a baritone role”/“Sondheim is rolling in his grave rn”/“He sounds too cute and unthreatening.” Genuinely shut the fuck up oml how does it feel to be boring asf 😭 He played the role extremely well, the songs sounded great in his vocal range, he WAS extremely threatening, and y’all are just being petty and puritanical about this shit. I’m a hardcore fan of Josh Groban and Len Cariou’s interpretations of the character, but Aaron Tveit did just as good of a job playing Sweeney Todd as anyone who came before him.

Sweeney Todd is a show that is and always has been continuously reinterpreted and played around with, while still keeping its core characterisation, plot and themes, which, just saying, were way clearer under Tveit’s portrayal of the character than for example, some of the “classic” baritone portrayals like George Hearn (iconic as his performance was, totally rewatching my 1982 proshot DVD on loop over here). He captured the sympathy and tragedy of the character whilst still being feral, aggressive, passionate and threatening, he’s a great actor and apart from the very mild set-back of his vocal range just being higher, he’s probably the best portrayal of Sweeney Todd I’ve ever seen. And even then, his vocal performance was far from bad — I’d totally stick it on in the background if he had any songs professionally recorded. He just doesn’t have the deep oomf that Josh Groban had, but if we’re going to talk about Tveit’s Todd being too “cute”, I’d totally say the opposite — as much as I absolutely love Groban’s interpretation of the character to bits, he arguably kind of lacks the feral aggression other actors who’ve played Todd have.

And, as for “Sondheim is rolling in his grave”, excuse me?? Sondheim has always been explicit about wanting an actor that can sing over a singer that can act. He reworked the structure of “Send In the Clowns” specifically for Glynis Johns because “she couldn't sustain notes,” his words. Not that either Johns or Tveit can’t sing, but you get the picture — yeah, no, Sondheim would absolutely not be rolling in his grave because a tenor played a baritone role he wrote extremely well and opted a couple notes higher than they were originally written.

Also, while I’m on the subject, listen, ok, I love the original 1979 cast recording so much that Angela Lansbury was my top artist (😭), and Annaleigh Ashford is actually my icon oml I absolutely adore her, but bsfr the hate on Sutton Foster was wayyy out of order. I’m not really a fan of a lot of the stuff she does (no harm to her or anything, just a personal preference 🤷‍♀️), and I think her portrayal of Mrs Lovett was a LITTLE bit surface level at times, (imo she didn’t REALLY have the same super strong characterisation that Ashford brought to the table tbf?), but for the most part she was actually really really funny and her chemistry with Tveit was on point, and she was still really good during those serious scenes too.

And don’t get me started on that one time I read a comment that said “Sweeney Todd is not a comedy”….bro… some of these people don’t even know what the fuck they’re talking about 😭

[neurotypical-sonic]

do people just not know how boycotting works. or how rallying together to make a difference works. what other examples can I use to make it make sense. okay pretend that someone is fund-raising, and their goal is to make $1000. you may think "man I can only afford to donate $1, and thats such a small amount and it wont make any difference at all, so why bother."

that might be true! $1 isnt a lot of money, and there is very little you can do with $1!! okay, so now pretend that one hundred people who see that post think the exact same thing. "Why bother contributing when what I do makes no difference?" and so none of them contribute that single dollar.

If they all decided "It may not be much, but I can contribute what I can" then suddenly that fundraiser has been given $100. Thats a significant amount of money, and much more than $1!!

do you fucking understand. why is everyone so fucking defeatist. "There is nothing I can do as an individual to make a difference" no one is asking you to single handedly stop wars. People are asking COMMUNITIES to come together to make a difference. Chose to be apart of that community.

Apes together strong. Lets break into Area 51, they cant stop all of us. Whatever fucking slogan that works for you

[miallurk]

In these days i realized i like art and writing and creating and shopping and taking walks and talking to people and cleaning and helping and studying and doing things but i'm just. too stressed, tired and burned out to do them. How great!

[aggravatedanarchy]

I don't know what the perfect goverment is or if there could ever be one, so I will not pretend that I do, but my latest fantasy has been "if you very obviously and blatantly lie to the public, you are immediately put to death by firing squad."

Yes this is related to any and all state department briefings I have seen thus far.

[raventhekittycat]

Seriously im never joining any eng speaking fandom ever again. if my hyper fixation in conan dies out ill prolly leave this blog other than using it as an archive. the japanese twtsphere really is the way to go.

[softspiderling]

illicit affairs - part two | r.c

summary:

"Speaking of, why don’t you stay over tonight? It’s late, and I don’t want you walking home by yourself.”

“You’re not gonna drive me?” You asked with a pout and he rolled his eyes.

“I’m too tired, don’t make me. Just stay over.”

“What? And leave in the morning like I’m one of your hook ups? Please.”

OR; Rafe makes an outrageous suggestion and you? You give in.

pairing: rafe cameron x reader

warnings: mention of drugs, talk about sex (nothing graphic yet) but the later parts will have smut, so 18+ MDNI!

word count: 2k

author's note: pt. two out so soon?? there's gotta be smth fishy going on 🤭we finally get into the PLOT! i hope you enjoy my lovelies, don't forget to leave a comment/like/reblog or share your thoughts with me in the inbox.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

pt. two: "it's born from just one single glance"

A week after the party, it was the first Friday in a while where the four of you didn’t go to a party. After spending a day out of the sea to test out Topper’s new boat, you got picked up some pizza and settled down in Rafe’s living room, where you were still in the same spot several hours later. The empty pizza cartons were stacked on the floor and the four of you strewn out on the couch and various seats.

“You want another drink?”

Rafe was waving his empty glass in front of you, a lonely ice cube clinking in it, an expected eyebrow raised.

You squinted at him, nodding. “Can you get me a coke please?”

“Sure.”

Kelce perked up in his seat at the prospect of another drink. “Hey, can you get me another beer?”

“No,” Rafe answered, without even looking back as he left for the kitchen. “You know where the fridge is.”

“What?” Kelce muttered with a frown, looking over to you as he slumped back down. “You know where the fridge is, why is he getting you a coke?”

You only shrugged with a grin, making yourself comfortable on the couch now that you had more space, while Topper clapped Kelce on the back in consolation.

“Come on man, you know she’s his favorite.”

“Hey!”

Grabbing a pillow from the couch, you shucked it at Topper, making him yelp when it hit him square in the face.

“Don’t talk about me like I’m not right next to you,” you scowled. “And I’m not Rafe’s favorite.”

“You’re a clown if you actually believe that.”

“Fuck you, you’re a clown.”

Topper tossed the pillow back at you, narrowly missing your head by an inch and the pillow fell to the floor behind the couch, landing just in front of Rafe’s feet as he returned.

“I was gone for five minutes, what are you guys fighting about now?”

“Precious over here thinks she’s not your favorite.”

You glowered at the other two boys, while Rafe settled back on the couch next to you, pressing a can of coke into your hands. He took a sip of his drink, eyeing you briefly and shrugged, pursing his lips in agreement.

“Nah, you’re definitely my favorite.”

You stuck your tongue out at Topper when he gave you a knowing look, instead focusing on opening your coke. “Whatever. It doesn’t mean anything, you two shitheads don’t make it hard for me to be anyone’s favorite.”

“The fuck is that supposed to mean?” Kelce grunted with a frown and you raised a brow at him.

“You literally had sex in Rafe’s bed last year,” you said, before turning your attention to Topper. “And you’re still obsessed with Sarah.”

Rafe let out a noise, making clear that he was fully agreeing with you. “What she said.”

Topper, while satisfied he had proven his point, still rolled his eyes and Kelce crossed his arms, annoyed.

“I hate it when they team up like this.”

“Shut up and get your beer.”

The next couple of hours passed easily, just as it always did when the four of you came together to talk shit. While you did enjoy going to parties every now and then, you really appreciated just hanging out with your friends and talking about everything and nothing in the safety of the four walls of Rafe’s home.

Only you and your boys. Just the way you liked it.

“Alright, I think it’s time for me to go,” Topper said, breaking up the group with a yawn, shaking his head to stay awake as he sat up. “I’m beat.”

“Can you give me a ride?” Kelce asked, standing up and Topper nodded, turning to you.

“Do you need me to drop you off too?”

You stretched your arms, legs long draped over Rafe’s lap as you laid lengthwise on the couch. It was nearing one am and you really should make your way home, but you were far too comfortable to move, having spent most of the day in the sun, which was catching up to you now.

“I think I might stay for a while longer, thanks though.”

Topper clicked his tongue, ruffling your hair, messing it up for good measure as he and Kelce said their good byes, their voices getting quieter as they strolled to the front, the door shutting in its hinges. It wasn’t long after until you could heard Topper’s truck start, and then pull off the estate grounds.

Finally, it was quiet enough for you to hear the music, which was drowned out by Kelce’s constant yapping. You loved him but he was such a chatter box when he drank beer.

“Isn’t Sarah coming home tonight?” you asked into the sudden quietness, combing through your hair with your fingers, trying to get rid of the knots that have formed since you’d laid on the couch for the whole night. The estate had been quiet apart from the four of you causing raucous in the living room.

“Please,” Rafe scoffed. “She’s staying with John B more nights than not, I’m this close to kicking her out for real.”

“Oh come on,” you laughed, leaning up to shove his arm a little. “She’s in love. Leave her alone. And don’t act like you don’t enjoy being the man of the house and having it all to yourself.”

Rafe grinned to himself, shrugging his shoulders a bit like you weren’t absolutely right. Like you said, you knew him. “Eh. Maybe. House tends to get a little quiet sometimes... Speaking of, why don’t you stay over tonight? It’s late, and I don’t want you walking home by yourself.”

“You’re not gonna drive me?” You asked with a pout and he rolled his eyes.

“I’m too tired, don’t make me. Just stay over.”

“What? And leave in the morning like I’m one of your hook ups? Please.”

“Give me a break,” Rafe huffed. “You know damn well you’re not one of my hook ups. They don’t get to stay till the morning,” he paused, turning his head to look at you inquisitively, and you knew that look all too well. He was about to be nosy. “What about yours, anyways?”

“My what?”

“Your hook ups, precious. Haven’t seen anyone around since Jack.”

You shrugged. “Cuz there wasn’t anyone else since Jack, you know that. And he wasn’t a hook up, he was my boyfriend.”

He was quiet, but you could basically hear the gears in his head turning. “I know you’re not into hook ups and shit, but don’t you need to get off sometimes?”

“And risk hooking up with weirdos like Moany? No thank you. I don’t need anyone else to get off.”

Rafe rolled his eyes. “I know, jesus. I’m just saying… Sex by yourself isn’t as good as sex with another person. If you know what they like. Not everyone has freaky requests like Monique. And if you’re compatible, you know the sex can be insane.”

You eyed him suspiciously, not sure if you liked which direction this was going. He wasn’t about to suggest the two of you having sex…. Right? Because that would be just crazy.

“… jus’ getting sick of having to get to know a new girl every time, ‘s exhausting.”

“You know you can have sex with a person more than once right?”

Rafe scoffed, leaning his hands behind his head. “Yeah, but then they start getting comfortable. I don’t need that right now.”

You waved your hands around, trying to stop Rafe’s train of thought before it could get any further.

“Rafe, stop beating around the bush. The fuck are you on right now?”

He swirled his drink around, downing the last of it before shoving the glass on the table, looking at you.

“What if… We fucked?”

“What?” you stared at him incredulously, like he had just grown a second head.

“I mean, not relationship wise. Casual. Friends with benefits.”

“Friends with benefits,” you echoed, dryly. “Are you insane?”

Rafe scoffed, shaking his head at you, not bothering with a reply. You thought that was the end of it, trying to calm your heart down, as it was nearly jumping out of your throat, when you felt Rafe’s hand splaying across your bare legs. His fingers brushed your inner thigh, making you tense and you glared up at him.

“Seriously Rafe?”

“Seriously Rafe?” Rafe mocked you, reaching out to tuck your hair behind your ear, the other hand starting to trace circles into the skin of your thigh, like it was the most normal thing for him to do. “We both know that if you didn’t want me touching you, you’d have kicked me half ways across the room already.”

You wanted to protest, but your words died halfway down your tongue, knowing it was no use with the way Rafe was looking at you. Also, he was a 100% right. Turning away, you stared at the ceiling, trying to ignore how his finger tips left your skin tingling, thinking of the most random things to calm yourself down.

There was no use of lying to yourself, a part of you wanted to say yes.

You knew Rafe didn’t do relationships, has never had a girlfriend in all the years you’d been friends. What if being friends with benefits was the closest thing you could be for Rafe? Not only his best friend, but a step further? What if this was all you could get with him?

“This is a bad idea.”

“Why?”

“You’re my best friend.”

“Exactly. You’re my best friend, I don’t have to tell you anything because you know exactly what I like and what I don’t.”

“Not when it comes to sex!”

“Okay okay, calm down, I was just making a suggestion.”

Rafe trailed off, dropping the topic, his fucking hand still on your thigh. He wasn’t looking at you, but you could tell that he was biting back a grin, and you hated to think that you were going to give in.

“We’re not telling anyone, you hear me? Not a single soul. Especially not Top and Kelce, they would never let us live this down.”

He turned his head, the corner of his mouth ticking up knowingly. He was your best friend after all, he knew what to say to convince you of his argument. “Those two knuckleheads don’t need to know everything we do,” Rafe said as he leaned in, but you stopped him halfway, your hand on his chest.

“If this affects our friendship in any way, or or…. If it gets awkward or someone… Just, we stop, okay? No lying to get your dick wet.”

“Have I ever lied to you, precious?”

“Uh, yes. Remember when you, Top and Kelce snuck into my gard- oomph.”

Your sentence was cut short when Rafe pressed his lips against you in a soft kiss, his hand cupping the back of the neck. He pulled away, his breath hot on your face. Your lips parted a bit, shock coursing through your veins. You had wondered how it would feel to kiss Rafe for so long, and you had to admit, that the real deal was so much better than anything you could’ve imagined.

“You talk too much,” he mumbled against your lips and you rolled your eyes, brought out of your haze. This was still Rafe. Your best friend.

“Shut up.”

Fisting his shirt, you pulled him closer to you, lips hot as they interlocked. He leaned forward, both of his knees bracketing your waist, one hand moving from the back of your neck to the front, so he could cup your face. Suddenly, you were surrounded by him and if you weren’t so distracted by Rafe’s tongue slipping into your mouth, you’d be freaking out right now. This felt like a fever dream; your hands moving automatically down his torso, sneaking under his shirt, nails grazing his chiseled abs and when Rafe let out a honest to god whimper, you knew you were done for.

There was no going on back.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

author's note: am i sorry about the cliffhanger? ask me later👀

[zooone]

as above, so below

╰┈➤ a grumpy grim reaper falls in love with an optimistic angel.

one sided hatred to lovers; grim reaper!wilbur x angel!reader

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 - here it is, my magnum opus. even tho its not done! i had to split this fic in half, so unfortunately there will have to be a part two :( very sorry. but on a lighter note, HUGE HUGEEE thank you to @harbingerofheartbreak. as per usual, she helped me visualized the entire thing and even made some of the plots and ideas that i used. in fact, the original fic was supposed to be a grim reaper x human, but it was florence who thought of the grim reaper x angel prompt and i could not thank her enough. furthermore, she helped keep this fic going and constantly pushed me beyond my limits to do so. the fic was started july 21st and it was supposed to be shelved after a couple weeks, but she made me keep going. she is the best forever and ever go read ynaf. additionally, another big thanks to @starsyoubreaklikesugardust for being another little beta reader for this fic. she always has the greatest ideas known to man and i wanted to run everything by her bcuz it was like having van gogh rate my painting. i had to share this with her earlier than i thought cuz she was threatening me but we dont have to talk about that smile. both of these people helped me so much, and i will forever be in debt to them.

all in all, please please enjoy and give this your love pretty please <3

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - talk of death, religious aspects, and swearing

she had a lot of questions about wilbur.

not the type of, "what's your favorite color?" or "what's your favorite band?" questions. more like, "on a scale of one to ten, how much does being a murderer really affect your mood?"

all of these questions would go unanswered. including "what's your favorite band?" no matter what, she just could not crack the code of wilbur soot.

to say he was intricate would be an understatement, and her ongoing curiosity would surely be the death of her.

unless he had something to do about it.

-

he stomped away from her on the rooftop as she followed after him.

"i told you to leave me alone," wilbur grunted, trying to speed walk past her with his long scythe trailing behind him. "is that so difficult to understand?"

"i just- i just wanna talk-" she panted, trying to catch up to him. her white dress flowed beneath her, but wilbur tried not to think about it too much.

"no." he made a sharp turn to fully face her, making her nearly bump into him.

her frown was illuminated by her golden halo, making her hair look almost cloud-like. her eyes glimmered like the entire sun was like a clown nose on her face, despite them arguing in the cold of night.

she pouted, crossing her arms over her chest. her halo also lit his face up, and she saw the permanent frown and scrunched up eyebrows under his dark hood.

"why not, wilbur?"

he looked at her like she asked if the moon was real.

"you ruined my job. again." he punctuated his sentence with her name, saying it like he was curling at the nasty taste of it.

he always hated her. there was no mistaking it. he hated the way she giggled and danced around just because she could. he hated the way she spoke, always sounding so bright and happy and fucking naive. he hated her big white wings and her shiny halo.

"there you go talking about your job! like its all that matters to you," she yelled over the continuous honking cars beneath them. "do you even care about anything else in life?"

they weren't even supposed to interact, her being an angel and him being the prince of death. but he was always out doing his grim reaper duties, and she couldn't help but stop him.

he just wanted to follow orders from mumza- the queen of death. every single day that he existed, he had to take the lives of those who were ready. it ate him alive, but it was his only purpose.

"i can't care about everything else in life if i have to care about everything else in death," he grumbled under his breath, making her go silent. he liked her silence, loved it even, because that meant she couldn't criticize him for everything he did.

he would tell her about how angry the job made him. that if he could just switch spots with his brother, the stork, he would be the happiest being in hell. that he hated being the grim reaper almost as much as she hated him.

but if there was anything he really hated, it was opening up to people. and vice versa.

the last time he remotely opened up to someone, it was his mother, and he barely remembered the conversation. it was all the way back when he was welcome to smile. all he could recall was it being something about love, whatever it meant.

"will you please leave me alone now?" he sighed, rubbing his hand in his eye. he watched her eyes go from their usual large state to becoming droopy. she silently nodded her head.

"sorry. goodbye, mr. grim reaper," and the title tore him to shreds. it angered him, over everything else, that all he would be to her was an evil being.

yet, he watched as she jumped from the rooftop, fluttering her wings until she flew away. as she looked back over at him, he couldn't place the odd feeling left in his stomach. if it was guilt or hatred, he would never know.

he would continue to travel, picking up the souls on his way. she always thought he was lucky for being able to travel wherever he wanted. she always wanted to befriend the humans- in fact, she wanted to befriend everyone, but she found it impossible when she was constantly being held back.

he arrived back to hell's palace, a bag in one hand, and his scythe in the other. his head drooped down, avoiding any unnecessary eye contact with the other demons.

that hope would be short lived, however, as a demon took his shoulder as he walked.

"wilbur!" he spoke cheerfully, as if he wasn't living among lava pools and ash.

"quackity," wilbur responded in the same, monotone voice. it made the demon groan.

"quackity-" he mocked, changing his shape to an exact replica of wilbur's. mimic demons, they were called, and they were able to take form of any other being, even adorning their voice. it came in handy for most demon's entertainment, but it certainly didn't faze wilbur.

he stared into the mimic of his face, hating what stared back at him.

"oh come on. that usually works on people," quackity frowned as he twisted himself back to his natural state. he began poking wilbur with his blackened hands. "just give me a little giggle, wilbur."

"no." he'd said the word so much that it rolled perfectly off his tongue. "and for fucks sake, please put on a shirt."

quackity laughed loudly. "we're in hell, wilbur! its hot as- well, hell down here. don't tell me you haven't thought about walking around shirtless either." he paused, putting his hands on wilbur's dark outfit, "or.. hoodless.."

wilbur glared with an unamused look on his face, shrugging quackity's touch off of him and trying to continue walking along his path. walking away from conversations never worked to end them, yet he still tried it.

it would be the second example today that his tactic never worked, because quackity continued to walk along with him into the palace.

"what's the catch today?" he said it like it was a cheer. "did you get the big numbers? beat your high score yet?"

he would say he could feel his blood boil, but the flames in hell already did that.

"no. i don't keep track," he explained simply, pouring his bag's content into the soul sorter. it went to the fates to decide whether the soul was good or bad. simply enough, the good souls would be transported to heaven and the bad ones would stay. sometimes he imagined them debating over a soul's purity. the sound of screams every time he opened the bag would never become easier to stomach.

"bummer," quackity hummed. "why don't you try to make the job a little fun?"

"because i don't want to, okay?" he raised his voice. this time, quackity caught the memo and stayed quiet, except for a "shit, okay." under his breath.

wilbur walked along the palace's stairs, leaving quackity alone in the lobby without another word. this time, walking away from the situation made it stop. the third time really was the charm.

he set his hood down to his shoulders with a sigh, being able to fully see the gold and red palace for what it was. all of the vibrant and bright colors that quite literally clashed with the flames. it was scary and huge, but it was home to him. it was all he'd really known.

he went up to his room, laying on his bed with a groan. sometimes he wished his bed was quite literally made out of feathers, because his back always ached. tommy always said it was because of his "fucking posture", but wilbur knew he had no room to talk. just the thought of him jumping into a big pile of fluffy feathers made his bones ease a little more.

he would spend the night rolling around in his not-feather bed, having issues with his sleep. it was such a frequent problem for him that it was barely even a problem. just how he existed.

and, meanwhile, she would spend her "night" (in quotations. it never got dark in heaven.) staring up at the sun, wondering what sort of buttons she could've possibly pushed with wilbur to make him hate her. it was a recurring thought, but it kept her up too frequently.

the worst part about waking up was simply that. waking up. wilbur would roll out of bed, fluff up his hair a little bit, put on the same clothes, and be going. he went through the same routine every day and he hated it. but at the same time, if anyone disrupted his routine, he'd be angered.

"wilbur!"

and his routine was ruined.

"morning, tommy," he muttered, wiping the sleep from his eyes with a yawn. he couldn't be bothered to be angry this early, and definitely not to tommy. "aren't you supposed to be in heaven right now?"

"i'm on break," tommy said in a matter-of-fact tone. he stretched his arms and his wings with a groan, leaving some stray yellowed feathers behind. "delivering babies to peoples' doors is quite the workout."

wilbur barely registered his words, staring idly past tommy. his eyes wandered more on a decoration on a table behind him. he didn't even notice that tommy had continued speaking until he put his hands on his hips and sighed.

"yeah. both mum and dad really like me!" tommy spoke, ruffling his hands through his hair until he realized his goggles were in the way. the mention of phil darkened his mood.

"mum told you to stop calling him 'dad'," wilbur spoke monotone and simple, as usual.

and as usual, tommy groaned at wilbur's monotone voice and simple words, slouching down. "she also told you to stop being so fucking gloomy."

wilbur felt the need to do a lot of things; one- hit tommy with his scythe, two- tell tommy what a privileged asshole he sounded like, and three- do both at the same time. but wilbur had an okay-ish perception of tommy, growing up alongside the boy took a lot. but as annoying as the boy was, he was wilbur's company. even if he would rather swallow his scythe than to admit it aloud.

instead of acting on his mental list of intrusive thoughts, wilbur only sighed. he didn't bother to pick the conversation back up, his eyes wandering to the decoration again. had they always had that there? it looks off-centered.

"well," tommy noticed wilbur's spacing and patted his shoulder as he walked towards the stairs. "good luck today."

wilbur stared blankly through the fringe of sweaty hair on his forehead. inside, he was trying to form whatever a smile was. "thank you, tommy."

he watched as tommy jumped down the stairway, yellow tufts of hair flying with him. he heard a shout from down below, "and don't forget to fix your posture!"

wilbur scoffed in response, sounding more uninterested than he intended to, but ultimately pulling his shoulders back. a new day! a new window of opportunity! is what wilbur would think, if he wasn't wilbur.

he grabbed the railing of the stairway, his pale thin hand contrasting with the gold. he stared at his feet the entire time stepping down. he'd already forgotten about "fixing his posture".

he made his way down the lobby, not getting a chance to speak to his mother due to the abundance of demons lined up, trying to tell her that she was making a mistake. it was typical, but it still left bags under her eyes. wilbur only gave her a timid wave as a greeting before exiting through the palace's doors.

he dragged his tacky shoes through the red dirt beneath him, watching as tiny rocks rolled along his feet before stopping. he almost ran head first into the elevator due to how long he kept his gaze down, but luckily he saved himself from the mental embarrassment.

he stepped inside, proving his identity to the machine far more times than he needed to. mimic demons would always try to steal his finger print to use the elevator and get themselves back onto earth, but it was never successful. he had a keycard, just in case the identity proving didn't work. tommy had the same.

as the doors parted and he made a careful step out, he did his daily greeting to the guard (his daily greeting being a casual glare and a furrow of his eyebrows) and used his scythe to poke himself out.

from the surface, it would simply look like a boulder being turned over. but as wilbur stepped onto the grass, he took a moment to breathe. the air on earth was far better than the smoke in hell. he would spend a great deal of time taking a couple deep breaths, appreciating the silence, oh the lovely sound of absolutely nothing-

"wilbur! there you are!"

he almost screamed. instead, he only turned to the source of the way-too-cheerful voice, saying her name in utter disbelief. "what are you doing here?"

he didn't speak as if he were asking a question. he wasn't actually interested in why she was here in the grass with her elegant white dress and her annoyingly wide smile, using her wings to shield herself from the sun, even if they were translucent.

"i was waiting for you!" she squeaked, getting up from her spot in the grass and practically skipping up towards him. she had what looked to be a gardener's nightmare in her hands. "this is for you!"

before he could say another word, she pushed his hood off of his head. she had to use her wings to reach the top of his hair, but she was still able to run her hand through his brown waves. and as she giggled, she placed her makeshift flower crown on his head.

she pushed herself away- still hovering on her wings, and took a long, meaningful look at him. "you look great!"

"i feel disgusting," he said with anger, taking the weeds out of his hair and stuffing them sloppily into his bag. "why did you do that."

she looked at him with a frown, but still tried to make herself sound happy. her halo flickered softly. "it.. it was supposed to be a gift for you."

"yeah? well i hated it," he squinted his gaze down at her, and she could feel herself shrinking the more and more he looked.

she stayed quiet, the halo above her head still flicked on and off. she looked at him with nothing but a frown, lowering herself so that her feet hit the ground.

what she failed to notice was that he unfurrowed his brows ever so slightly upon seeing her upset.

"let me just get going, okay?" he spoke, trying to make his voice a little bit softer but still keeping the agonizing punch in there.

she spoke quieter now. "i have one more thing for you."

wilbur flinched, fully expecting a glitter bomb to come out of her pocket. but to his surprise, it wasn't.

she pulled out a pack of gummy worms, handing it to him with a pitiful smile on her face. he took it, examining it slowly.

"why is it open?" he took another look at it and realized it was almost half empty.

"umm.. i got a little hungry waiting for you," she mumbled, playing with the hem of her dress. "you were taking a little bit long."

"and speaking of which, i've been talking to you for a little bit too long," he retorted, crumpling up the bag of gummy worms in his palm. the sides of the bagging were practically fighting with the cage he made out of his fingers.

he began to walk in the opposite direction, debating in his mind exactly how long it would take to make his way out of the field and to the nearest trash can. she quickly followed behind him, almost tripping on herself in the process.

"hey- i didn't expect a hello from you, but a thank you would at least be nice!" she yelled as he speed-walked away with his grumpy walk and stone shoulders. "i'm talking to you!"

"and i'm not," he grumbled, fiddling to put his hood back onto his head as a way of closing himself off.

"just-" she flapped her wings, trying to be alongside him. "just have some gummy worms, please?"

he glared, slightly squinting from the piercing light of her halo. "maybe later."

"right now."

as much as he didn't want to, he stopped dead in his tracks. his stare was hurtful and his hand clenched onto his scythe. that was the most demanding he'd ever heard of her.

there was a voice in his head telling him to leave, to just let her have the last word and be gone. but he felt like he couldn't move.

"excuse me?" he only said, scrunching his eyebrows up.

"i want you to have them right now," she enunciated her words, crossing her arms and trying to copy his expression. she was fighting her usual bright smile under her pursed lips. "in front of me."

he blinked, almost starstruck. "why?"

she seemed nearly surprised at his one word question, her stern voice softening slightly. "you look like you haven't been taking care of yourself," as she spoke through a pout, he could feel his face warming up, like tiny little punching bags beneath his skin. "i wanna make sure you're eating."

he hated the feeling of his cheeks going warm. he slept in hell, obviously he knew what warmth was. but for some reason it felt even weirder when it was behind his skin. he cleared his throat with a cough.

"this? you think this is healthy?" he held up the crumpled, half-empty bag, speaking with his forceful actions.

she went quiet again, only speaking loud enough for him to hear. "i couldn't afford anything else at the gas station."

the feeling of warmth in his cheeks soon boiled over into anger. "you couldn't afford anything else?" he repeated in disbelief, "you are quite literally an angel! you're invisible to the human eye! it is so easy for you to steal."

"but i don't wanna be a bad person!" she copied his raised voice, standing on her tiptoes as almost a challenge. "i leave money in the cash register for the man. you know, he's really struggling. he could use the money. his name is robert, i think-"

"i don't care!" wilbur screamed, cutting her off completely. she flinched at his voice, feeling overwhelmed tears start to prickle from her eyes. she hid behind her wings, afraid that he might do something drastic.

he felt his shoulders shrink at her reaction, but ultimately grumbled and opened the pack of gummy worms. he hesitated, holding out the candy in front of him.

she opened her eyes from her flinch, and saw him sniffing the gummy worm. a smile spread across her face. "you just.. take a bite out of it."

"i know," he muttered. he was already mad enough that he had to eat it, he didn't want to be instructed on how.

"oh.. okay. i mean- i just kinda assumed that you didn't know because i don't think there are gummy worms in hell. they'd get all sticky and stuff. at least, that's what i've heard. are there really no gummy worms in hell?"

he looked at her with no amusement on his face. she looked right back at him, however, wanting an answer to her long winded question that was somehow said in a singular breath.

"no… no there aren't," he spoke slowly, raising an eyebrow at her. "are there gummy worms in heaven?"

why was he making conversation with her? he should be out collecting souls right now, not talking about stupid little gummy worms with this stupid little angel. he mentally slapped himself in the face, cringing with a shake of his head.

"no, there aren't," she batted her eyelashes like she was trying to think for a moment. "but phil sometimes gives me money for gummy worms. i share it with the others!"

he was barely registering her words, his mind still clouded with the mental boxing match he was having with himself. he was being stupid. not even the mention of phil was able to knock him from his thoughts.

"hey," she waved her hand in his face, acting as the referee and stopping his boxing match. he was almost at a knockout. "you've been making that face for a while. do you not like gummy worms?"

wilbur didn't know how to really respond to the question, having never even tried gummy worms before. he looked back at her. she had her full attention on him, waiting for another answer that he would hopefully not blunder.

"it's.. it's fine."

he definitely blundered.

he ignored it, not ready for a round two fight, and put the gummy worm in his mouth.

she leaned forward. "how is it?"

it was about the best damn thing he's ever had.

"it's.. okay, i guess."

"great!" she jumped- fucking jumped. "im sure you have to be on your way for your very important job-"

he completely forgot about his being the grim reaper, straightening up suddenly with widened eyes and tightening his grip on his scythe. he cursed under his breath, running towards the direction of the city.

"hey, i didn't finish!" she called out, catching up to him once more with flaps of her wings.

"i can't talk. you've already made me late enough," his hood almost fell off in the wind with how quickly he was running. "fuck, mum's gonna be pissed."

she would, in fact, not be pissed. she was always far too busy to even greet wilbur or tommy, and they hadn't done any sort of domestic activity in what felt like an eternity. he tried to convince himself that he didn't care, that she was just busy with being the queen of death, but it was extremely lonely.

there wasn't any time for them to really speak. they were both always busy and family meals were long forgotten. in fact, wilbur had never eaten in front of another person before. the most he'd done was eat some boring, rotten food while sitting on his floor with tommy- and even then, he was only picking at it idly with his fork.

he found comfort in eating alone. there was no one there to judge him or to argue. it was just him, his thoughts, and the literal grayed out food they had in hell. but there was something always so reminiscent about having food with another person, even if it was just something like dessert.

"oh," she sighed, moving her wings idly. she watched as he ran away without another look. her arms swung at her sides in an almost confused fashion. "okay. um- hope you like your gummy worms! bye wilbur!"

at least she didn't call him mr. grim reaper again.

he didn't care, anyway, just trying to get to work on the job he obviously hated. but when he stopped to catch his breath, he couldn't help but stare at the pack of gummy worms in his sweaty palms, the colorful designs contrasting his dull looking hand.

he looked around. it looked like there were no cheerful angels in sight, so he figured himself to be safe. he popped another gummy worm into his mouth, scrunching his nose at the taste of something so impossibly sweet. it was a pleasant change from the tasteless foods in hell, and the addictive sweetness coated his tongue for a while.

he stuffed the rest of the pack into his bag, appreciating how empty it was without the souls inside it- a temporary feeling.

wilbur already felt like he'd wasted enough time, and got to work. bringing people to death's door wasn't exactly the easiest job.

he started with a car crash, wincing at the amount of shattered glass and blood everywhere. he fell sick to his stomach with a nasty feeling bubbling up in his throat. all those years dealing with death and it still never got easier to see the causes.

he held his scythe up slowly, shutting his eyes in a flinch. he thought of a thousand things all at once, trying to focus on one. they have to die. i have to put them out of their misery. they're dying because they have to, not because i chose to.

he took a breath, feeling like needles were going up his nose and into his lungs, and swung the weapon down.

it sunk through the person's body without struggle, opening up a passageway for him. he removed his scythe carefully, as if it would hurt them.

he sat on his knees next to the car. although his body was phantom-like against the gravel, he could still feel the roughness under him.

he held a cold hand to the person's back, trying to ignore how it looked to see the life drain from under their eyelids and filter out onto his palm. as soon as he could no longer feel a nauseating pull on his hand, he lifted it gently. he watched as the soul threaded directly off the person, catching onto his fingertips.

he didn't bother to take a closer look at it. the last thing he wanted was to remind himself that these people were actually human. he only took it in his palms, mushing it until it turned into a small circular shape. he put it in his bag, not caring to look at what else was in it.

wilbur would continue to follow through with that sequence throughout the day, as he usually did. scythe, hand, soul, bag. when he was growing up, mumza told him that he would be used to it in no time. but as "no time" passed, he still felt like throwing up after each day.

he made his way down the elevator, his shoulders stinging with the weight of his bag. the souls were practically weightless, but gathering so many into his bag made it sag down. he held his scythe with two hands, his arms being too sore to function properly on their own.

tommy was waiting for him at the steps of the palace, ignoring everyone lined up at the doors. his elbow was on his knee, and his face was being held up in his palm. he had been playing with a stone, trying to break it with his fingertips.

"wilbur," he automatically sprung up upon seeing his brother. he used to go in for hugs, however stopped shortly after wilbur started discussing how much he hated them. "mum wants to see you. says its important."

wilbur took time to react to his words, feeling like his bones weren't his. he only hummed an, "oh. okay," as he made his way up the steps, his feet barely dragging behind him.

"wait-" tommy called out, making wilbur almost freeze on cue. "i was.. i was wondering if you wanted to hang out by the fountain.. of wishes. the one up there. like- like we used to..?"

wilbur's breath stalled, stopping in his lungs. he'd barely even remembered it, but was holding back a smile at the memory.

that smile became easy to suppress as it slowly disappeared. he remembered all of it.

"mum doesn't want us talking to phil," was all wilbur muttered. he finally took a breath, his chest rising and falling with a sigh. "sorry."

"its not like that anymore!" tommy tried, throwing his hands up in the air in an almost child-like fashion. "they've changed, phil especially! i talked to him the other day, and-"

"mum doesn't want us talking to phil, tommy," he enunciated it slower this time. watching tommy's shoulders shrink, a sinking grayness fell over his face like a cloud was above him.

"yeah. okay," tommy sighed with a shake of his head. he played with the calloused skin on his fingers. "you're right."

wilbur stood there for a great deal of time. as much as it physically pained him, he felt a trapped sensation in his chest.

"tommy?" he spoke softly, barely enough for the both of them to hear. "you're a good kid."

he left before tommy could respond, expecting the boy to make some stupid remark about how soft he was turning. tommy didn't react that way, however. he stood alone on the steps, taking breaths watching as wilbur walked away.

wilbur made his way past the screaming, impatient people. he was always hateful towards loud noises as they made his skin crawl. he thought maybe that was the reason he hated the angel's voice so much.

there he went again thinking of that stupid angel. if he'd given her any more room in his mind, she'd have to pay the rent.

shaking his head from stupid thoughts, he called his mother's name, gaining her attention.

"wilbur," she spoke softly, her voice too tired from all the demons and ghosts she spoke to. her black hair hung over her face messily, but it was covered by a large lacy hat. "how are you?"

wilbur knew she wasn't actually curious about how he was feeling. it was just a filler for the missing years of his childhood.

"i'm doing well," a lie, "tommy said you wanted to talk to me?"

he saw his mother's face light up, as if she'd just remembered something blatantly obvious. wilbur could imagine her thoughts- "oh, thats my son, i forgot."

she fished for something on a table near her large throne. it looked more shiny than any angel's halo. damn it, why was he thinking about her again?

"here," she handed an envelope to him with her large hand. he hesitated in taking it. "the messenger said it was for you. you don't usually get mail, so i figured it was important."

wilbur stared at the wax seal, the intricate pattern almost painful to stare at for too long. "are you sure this is for me? im not-"

"im so sorry, wilbur," her eyebrows disappeared into the shape of her hat as she put a hand to her black gown. "i have to get going talking to these people," she motioned to the line in front of her. "i also have a super busy day. i have to-"

"its fine, mum," he cut her off just as she did to him. he couldn't feel any remorse for his lack of formality. "you're.. doing great."

he spared himself from the long speech his mother always gave about how busy she was. it was always a drag to hear. tommy said it was her way of indirectly apologizing for not giving him family meals- but wilbur always thought that if he was right, she would directly say it.

in all honesty, however, he missed being able to sit next to someone and eat something.

the black lipstick on her face formed into a smile. "thank you, wilbur," she sighed, her body already facing the demon she was talking to last. "and tell me what the letter is!"

"i will," another lie. he was really great at them because she could barely ever hear them.

as he was going to the soul sorter, he turned the letter over in his hand, squinting at the written address. it read, "hell's palace (if it's real! i've never been there but i've heard about it!) for wilbur!" with a bunch of hearts and smiley faces. wilbur felt himself go sick to the stomach, nearly tripping on himself.

it was probably that stupid angel trying to give him a pity letter that he didn't want. he scowled at the thought as he emptied his bag into the soul sorter.

that dumb little angel, who did she think she was? did she genuinely think that wilbur would soften up to her because of a little letter with hearts all over it?

but as wilbur was coming up with more mean adjectives, items had been rejected from the soul sorter, and fell out.

it was her flower crown and gummy worms.

wilbur felt his angered expression slowly fade away like sand in an hourglass. he stared at the objects on the ground by his feet.

he was reminded of her soft smile as she put the flower crown on his head, her gentle touches to his hair like he was delicate. or how she forced him to eat fucking gummy worms because of his health.

he could feel the tiniest sliver of a smile peeking out from the corners of his lips. no, what was he doing? that angel was always so judgemental of him. from the moment they first met, she was always criticizing his job and she was always being rude to him.

but, she still cared about him.

wilbur didn't know how to react to that thought. his stomach felt like it was clawing its way out of him, and that weird, warm feeling came back to his face. he hated it.

he bent over, picking up the flowers and gummy worms. he held them in his hands and under his robe, just in case someone saw him holding them.

he quickly went up the stairs, cutting the corner to his room so that no one saw him. he set the flowers, gummy worms, and letter on his desk, his hands propping him up. he stared, yet again, at the objects until he realized- he hadn't even opened her letter yet.

he took a sharp inhale, his fist pressed so hard against the table that he didn't even register the fact that his hands were shaking. he leaned back, taking the envelope with him.

sure enough, it was from her.

"dear wilbur!

hi! i hope this delivered to the right address. i thought mail would be easier in the afterlife, but it really isn't. i hope you're okay!! i hope you didn't hate the gummy worms too much and that you are taking care of yourself! get plenty of sleep please.

i was writing to ask if you wanted to meet me for ice cream! i asked phil, and he said that ice cream would melt in hell too, so i wanted to have some with you. i can show you all the good flavors and everything.

it would be tomorrow, i've listed the time and address below. i hope to see you there!

ps. you better come with a full eight hours of sleep!"

he read over the letter at least a thousand times, his eyes glazing all over the hearts and smiley faces that she used to punctuate each sentence. he felt like he was going to throw up his ugly, beating heart. he didn't know if he should write back or even show up.

it would be his first time properly eating in front of someone in a while, and the thought made him nervous, almost.

as if to taunt him, tommy burst into the room, the sudden loud noise making wilbur scream. he hid the letter on his desk behind him.

"woah," tommy put his hand up to almost shush wilbur, as if he were some wild tiger. "calm down, man."

"sorry-" wilbur straightened himself up, coughing out of awkwardness. he felt his skin melting off of him, and he wanted something to make the tense air easier. "tommy, can you cover for me tomorrow?"

oh god. was he really that desperate to start a conversation?

tommy's eyebrows disappeared into his golden tufts of hair, a confused look grazing his face. "you want me to what?"

"cover.. for me?" he couldn't even believe the words he was saying. "i have a.. thing tomorrow-" no he didn't. he wasn't gonna go. "and.. i need someone to do my job."

"what thing? its not like you have a.." tommy's words trailed off as he stared at his brother in terror. "do you?"

"do i have a what..?" wilbur spoke with confusion as tommy gawked at him. he stage whispered, as if someone were watching.

"do you have a date?"

wilbur's chest bloomed with an awful sensation, his heartbeat picking up and pounding against his ribs. "what? no, i-" he felt like his mouth was stuffed with tar and feathers. "no, of course not, tommy."

"okay! okay," the boy held his gloved hands up in defense, backing away from a powder keg in the form of his brother. "but, whatever it is, how do i cover for you?"

wilbur dropped his tensed shoulders. "you always talk about how easy my job seems, right?"

"what?" tommy screeched, his gold wings flinching with him. "but- but you're the prince of death and i'm the prince of life! how am i supposed to do that?"

wilbur felt his stomach churn at the comparison. he hated the way people would always say "the prince of death" like it would curse the next seven generations of life. his eyebrows furrowed like caterpillars above his eyes.

"then at least pretend that i'm working," he muttered. "it's gonna be easy. i'm sure mum won't even notice."

tommy's lips shifted as he bit the inside of his cheek. he knew wilbur was right. mumza barely said hi to him too.

"okay," tommy sighed as his shoulders fell in defeat. he pointed a finger at wilbur, "but you owe me big time!"

wilbur nodded in response, shooing tommy away with a flick of his hand. tommy listened (although not shutting the door properly), and left his brother alone in his room. the letter was still hidden behind him.

he sighed, feeling his lungs shrink intensely. he had no clue what to do or how to pull it off.

wilbur went to sleep earlier that night, trying to fulfill her promise to get eight hours of sleep. when he woke up, he could feel his bones almost moving on their own. it felt odd to not have the burden of being the soul taking grim reaper.

he looked at himself in the mirror. he looked nothing short of depressing.

he walked over to his closet, sighing as he was face to face with the same rotten black robes he wore. people always trashed on tommy for owning the same white, red sleeved shirt, but wilbur wasn't any better with his duplicates.

he groaned, his head falling in a near defeat. though, he could see a small glint of yellow. hesitating, he picked it up, taking off his cloak to put it on.

it was a really old sweater that phil got him many years ago. back before everything went down the gutter. he ran his thumb down the frayed material. by some miracle, it still fit him.

he looked at himself in his mirror, scowling when he saw who stared back. he looked nothing like how he usually did, and that slight bit of color changed him. the yellow fabric, even when old, still popped out more than his pale skin did.

still, something felt like it was missing. his glasses, maybe? he set the frames on his scrunched face, pushing it up his nose with the back of his hand. that didn't seem to work.

he looked over at his desk, his bottom lip plumped out as he thought. he gave a long stare to the flower crown, feeling his chest tighten and warm with a disgusting feeling. he picked up the flower crown- more delicately than he'd like to admit, and placed it on his tufts of brown as he stared at his reflection.

his mouth hung open. he looked completely different now. there were so many colors and shapes for him to process. and were the dark spots under his eyes really that prominent?

although, even with the wave of confusion, it felt almost comforting. he tried his best at a smile, but shook his head. too far.

wilbur shuffled through the underworld quickly, trying his best not to be seen- and especially not by quackity.

"tommy," quackity stage whispered, gaining the boy's attention. "what the hell's he doing?"

tommy took his place beside quackity, looking to where he was pointing. he scowled. "dude, i kid you not, he's got a fucking date."

quackity scoffed a laugh before looking at tommy. his face was still scrunched in disapproval, his wings idle behind him. quackity’s expression dropped. “wait- you’re serious? he’s actually got a date?”

“that’s what i’m thinking!” tommy’s voice screeched suddenly. he looked and sounded like a bird. “i’ve never seen him wearing something so.. colorful. and look at his fucking posture!”

they watched in amusement as wilbur jammed his finger on the elevator button, trying to get the doors open as he looked around frantically. he hadn’t even noticed, but his shoulders were in fact more pushed back.

he stared at his reflection in front of him, bringing a hand into his hair to even it out. flowers were still scattered around in his hair and it was as if he were producing a trail of petals behind him. he let out a groan as the doors finally parted, and he stepped in.

“who is it with?” quackity asked, holding his chin. his other hand was dug into his pocket. a small, rectangular figure lining the fabric. “do you know?”

tommy turned to quackity with a serious look on his face, as if he were speaking about a universe killing secret rather than who wilbur was eating ice cream with. “you didn’t hear it from me,” he emphasized his words, “but i keep overhearing this angel talking to phil about wilbur. its weird- especially when you think about how phil and wilbur think about each other.”

tommy grimaced at his own words. he could tell how much it cut the mood. it was practically taboo to say wilbur and phil’s name in the same sentence- let alone even mention phil in the underworld. even with tommy trying to get them to forgive each other, the thought of them ever eating at the same dinner table was unfathomable.

quackity interrupted the tension filled silence by asking the angel’s name. tommy gave it without a second thought, but eventually had to repeat it for quackity to properly hear. they were stood outside the pit of lost souls, a place that the forgotten demons would go. they served no purpose in hell as long as they were somehow remembered by someone on earth. it was always a loud area, having literal burning souls inside.

“huh..” quackity hummed, repeating the angel’s name again. “you think they’ll become a thing?”

“no, definitely not,” tommy huffed, laughing as if quackity was telling a knock-knock joke. “he’s too grumpy to actually function around another being.”

“i say give the guy some slack! he deserves at least a chance," quackity protested. "twenty bucks."

"you're betting on his love life?" tommy asked, but quackity stood still with a smirk on his face with his hand out. "fine. deal."

as they shook on their bet, tommy grumbled, his wings tensing up with him. a plan was forming itself in quackity’s mind, his hand patting the lining of his shorts.

“he’s probably up there making out with her right now.”

wilbur, in fact, was not. he was standing on the distant sidewalk, watching her from afar. she sat on the concrete with her legs crossed, looking like her mind was in another galaxy. wilbur on the other hand, stood with his clammy hands at his sides. his palms never sweat as badly as this, and it was making him unsettled. he tried his best to wipe his hands off on his sleeve, but it only made them damp and warm. he sucked in a breath, ignoring it and walking up towards her.

when he caught her eye, her never-ending smile only widened. she stood up to properly face him, looking at him from the top of his flower-ridden hair down to his shoes. “wilbur?”

“hi.. hi-” his voice cracked, and he tried to cover it up with a fake cough. now his throat wasn’t working. “um, i didn’t know.. i wasn’t sure if.. i-”

“you look really nice!” she interrupted, saving him the embarrassment. he let out a mix of a smile and a relieved sigh, muttering his thanks. “and it looks like you actually slept.”

“i did,” he mumbled, adjusting the collar of his bunchy sweater. suddenly, he could feel every texture touching his body. “eight hours.. just like you asked..”

“it wasn’t so difficult, was it?” she giggled, and the noise stabbed wilbur a thousand times in the stomach.

“actually, it was,” he bit the inside of his cheek, rocking back and forth on his heels with nervousness. “my bed is a literal stone. i wish it were made out of feathers.”

“maybe your dream will come true some time! come on, let’s make a wish,” she tilted her head, closing her eyes and putting her palms together. “i wish wilbur’s bed was made out of feathers!”

“..is that gonna work?” he tilted his head in her direction.

“hm.. i don’t know. but i always like to try it,” she hummed with satisfaction, putting her hands back at her sides. “can i tell you a secret? i’ve always wanted to visit the fountain of wishes.”

the name rung a bell all the way in the back of wilbur’s mind. he remembered his father telling him stories every night about the fountain of wishes. he scowled at the thought of hin. phil would tell wilbur that his only wish was to meet a beautiful woman, but look where that got him.

“what would you wish for?” he asked, trying to shift the gears of his mind.

“i don’t know,” she said, contently, leaning forward to grab his hand. “maybe i’ll think of something later.”

wilbur flinched, something she didn’t see because she was dragging him into the store. he wondered if she could feel how damp and warm his palms were, but it looked like she didn’t mind. for some reason, their hands seemed to magically fit together like puzzle pieces.

his mind was churning again, thinking about the unknown feeling running through him. he felt suddenly aware of everything around him, and it was awful. yet, she kept giggling and smiling like it was just another day. he envied her power of optimism, even if it was the same thing he disliked about her.

uncomfortably, his mind felt as if he was put in a room of a thousand people, contributing and understanding each one of their conversations. as overwhelming as it was, it was how his brain regularly worked. how he somehow managed to get even an ounce of sleep every night, he'll never know.

his thoughts were unraveling before he could roll them back up, feeling tired of aimlessly following the long film of this and that and-

"do you have a favorite flavor?"

it all snapped away.

"uh- um, well, um-"

how was she able to do that?

"oh, right," she giggled. somehow, in the thousand person room that took place in his mind, her small laugh was the only thing bouncing off his skull. "you've never had ice cream before."

unable to process the sudden quiet of his mind, he simply shook his head. "n-no, i haven't."

"try this!" she held out a scoop of her favorite flavor and wilbur stared at it like it was a cure to the common cold.

shakily, he took it. even if it only existed as a transparent-phantom thing, he was surprised that it didn't slip out of his sweaty hands.

"do.. do i bite-"

"just give it a small lick. i know it'll be cold, but it'll taste good," her words felt like a small promise to him, the most comforting thing he'd heard in a while. yet, it was like talking about the weather to her.

god, what was the feeling? he couldn't exactly pinpoint it at all.

he followed her directions, scrunching his brows in a slight concern as he stuck his tongue out. she was right, it was cold. terribly cold. he thought his tongue would get stuck to it like in the old christmas movies tommy forced him to watch.

and yet, it tasted terribly good. it was such an unfamiliar feeling on his tongue, but it somehow had a certain kick that he enjoyed.

he smacked his lips a couple times, and nodded slightly, mumbling his words. "y-yeah, i like that one."

"great!" she spoke, going over to grab the ice cream scooper. the real thing stood still on the table, but the translucent version was in her hands as she scooped up some of the flavor. as long as she put it back in the right place, nothing would be messed up too badly.

as she finished up scooping her cone, she sighed dramatically. "oh gods, i forgot to get cash."

"you don't need to give him cash, angel, he won't even notice."

his tongue went numb- not from the ice cream, but from the small nickname he'd given her.

it was a small gesture, and he could probably play it off, but it stirred his intestines until he felt like throwing them up. he'd never willingly give someone a nickname. ever.

and the worst part? she noticed.

"did you call me angel?" she stopped her fit of panic over invisible cash to look at him, the corner of her mouth lifting in an asymmetrical smile.

"well- yeah, because you're.. you're an angel," wilbur stumbled, unable to pull something out of thin air. he's lied many times. to his mom, to tommy, to quackity. but for some reason lying to her didn't feel right on his tongue. "a-and you.. have a halo.. and stuff.."

she noticed how he fiddled with his fingers, and decided to spare him of the embarrassment by switching the topic to her day. she seemed passionate with talking about every small thing she'd done, and wilbur admired her attitude.

wilbur prided himself in his writing. his pen and paper were like a magical escape from his burdens. he had a specific way with words that would always get him praised by his parents when he was younger. but despite that, he was completely lost on a word to describe his feelings.

she dragged him back outside without a care in the world, looking around like she owned the place. she pointed to a bench, talking about how it was her favorite bench (to which wilbur began to wonder how one could have a favorite bench), and began guiding them towards it.

in the midst of her excitement, however, she made a wrong step on the curb and yelped. wilbur noticed this quickly, bringing a quick hand to her waist to catch her.

"woah, are you alright-?" he brought her back up carefully, checking to make sure that her and her ice cream were still intact. he checked both off in his mind.

"yeah- yeah i'm fine-" she muttered, and it was the first time he'd ever seen a glint of gloominess on her face. "sorry- that was embarrassing-"

"no need to be embarrassed," wilbur's tone was calm. not a monotone calm, but an assuring calm. one that was stranger to her too.

his hand remained still on her waist, his fingers trembling in such small beats. “wilbur?” her gaze slowly met his, and she could see a small droplet of worry beneath the pools of his irises. “can i tell you something?”

he nodded slowly, eyebrows furrowing in such a concerned manner that it almost cut his forehead in half. with his hand still on her waist, he guided her carefully to the bench.

she looked at the pavement, her words coming out in a string of small mumbles that made him feel like they were the only two beings ever. just him, an angel, and a bench. “i don’t.. i don’t usually tell people this,” she fiddled with the hem of her dress, her wings draping over the back of the bench. “but.. the- the way i-i d..”

wilbur stared at the angel- the carefree, optimistic, happy angel; while she broke down bit by bit. he felt like he was almost breaking the law, that he wasn’t allowed to see such a sight. but most importantly, he felt like he needed to help.

he was always gentle, there was no denying it. he spent a lot of time as a child examining bugs (which he called “friends”) and making sure they were okay. and the urge to care for anything in need grew with him, even as everything else changed.

he noticed that his hand was still on her hip, and he drew her closer to his body. the small gesture made her startled, but she quickly grew accustomed to his touch. she felt safe, and wilbur knew that.

she took a deep breath, and spoke. “we were playing a game of hide-and-seek,” she whispered, “i-i was always clumsy, everyone made fun of me.. nobody..”

her words trailed off again, and wilbur felt his heart aching. “nobody..?”

“nobody really.. liked.. me,” she huffed, her face turning away from him. he could tell that she didn’t speak about this much. “everyone hated me, actually. like you do..”

his heart was wrapped in thorns.

it was the clearest thing she’d said. like she had so much time to think about it and deduct it. he wanted to say something, wanted to grab her by the shoulders and shake her and scream at her. but he didn’t. he couldn’t- he felt paralyzed.

“i guess i tripped and fell or something, a-and i-” a bile swelled her throat. “it hurt. a lot. i was- i was screaming and crying for help b-but everyone ignored me. except for..”

her head lifted as she looked at him. it was the type of look in which he could study each pigment on her face, and he’d be able to use the rosiness of her cheeks to paint a breathtaking portrait.

“except for you.”

she smiled. and even through tears, her expression lit up the earth.

“me?” he whispered softly.

immediately, she nodded. she was so close to his face that she could see a tiny cut to the right of his adam’s apple. she suppressed a giggle as she thought about him struggling to shave, making all sorts of faces into his mirror.

“i was so scared and alone.. and then you came along with your big scythe and your scary hood. and you plunged your scythe into me chest- gods, i was so scared,” she giggled briefly at the thought, but her expression was genuine. “but you gave me peace.”

she leaned closer, wanting to wrap her arms around him and die a second time like that. but she knew he’d hate it.

“it was all i wanted in that moment.”

his eyes were droopy, staring from her left eye, to her right, and down at her parted lips. she was nothing short of beautiful. looking at her for that long felt like a mere privilege, forcing him to be speechless.. he squeezed her hip tighter just to hold her.

“i.. i wanted to thank you..” she whispered, so quiet that her vocal chords barely buzzed.

in his peripheral vision, he noticed how her eyelids fluttered softly. his sight blurred as she leaned in closer, and-

“but you always hated me.”

she leaned back in the seat, and wilbur’s disappointment split him in two. she was right there- right fucking there, but she was so out of reach. the only barrier? his own loathing. the irony of hating his hatred felt like a stab wound to his thorn-crowned heart.

and the worst part; she was unphased.

wilbur gulped as a stack of words piled themselves in his throat. that nasty, overwhelming feeling running through him again. “angel, i-”

“so, what’s your favorite color?” she asked in a light tone, licking at her ice cream.

a wave of dismay washed over his face. he couldn’t think. “t-teal?”

“really? i wouldn’t have guessed that,” she swung her legs beneath the bench, clearly unbothered by wilbur’s confusion. “you don’t really dress like a teal-lover. do you think the moon is real?"

what?

"no, bad question. hmm. what’s your favorite band?”

his heart fell into the pit of his stomach, thorns poking at his sides creating a terrible sting on his abdomen. he opened his mouth to speak- maybe cry and release his feelings; but nothing came up. not even an answer to her stupid question. it was nauseating.

she began talking about the sort of music she liked, but none of it struck his brain. he felt sick. he wanted to scream and sob and punch something. but he sat still like he was posing for a renaissance painting.

“hey, that reminds me,” she stood up abruptly, pointing her finger upwards, despite going unnoticed by wilbur. “i gotta get cash for the ice cream man! i’ll be right back.”

he didn’t even realize she spoke, even when she was repeating his name and trying to get his attention.

why was he disappointed at the lost opportunity? why did he want to curl up in a ball and tug his hair out? what was that stupid feeling that was haunting him all afternoon? it was tearing him apart limb by limb. what was the word, what was-

oh.

oh.

it was love. he loved her. it was as simple as a four letter word.

the last time he told someone he loved them, he was begging his father not to leave. as he watched the man- the god- his father walk away, he realized that the word meant nothing. it only brought him pain; and if he didn't love, he didn't have to feel that agony.

his stomach turned, breathing becoming alarmingly shallow. too many memories flushed his mind, and his throat tightened.

"hello? wilbur?"

"don't come back." he stood up suddenly, ice cream falling to the ground next to him.

"what?" she flinched, staring up at him with terror on her face that he didn't even read. he was so blinded by his anger. the light of her halo flickered.

"i said, don't come back." it was almost a subconscious thing, how he lifted his hand into his hair and threw the flower crown onto the sidewalk. right next to his ice cream.

his throat burned harshly. all of his muscles tensed up in such a way that definitely wasn't healthy. he could barely even hear his own words through the pounding in his ears, and he most importantly couldn't hear her heart ripping in two.

"wilbur-"

"stop. stop this. stop following me everywhere, stop- stop acting like you care-" his hands balled up into fists at his sides, "stop everything! i never want to see you again!"

and that was all that was needed for her to turn around and fly off, and that was all that he needed for him to realize what a complete moron he was.

his walk home was nothing short of shameful. and this time he walked through hell with messy flower petals in his hair and a stupid yellow sweater and dumb tears in his eyes.

he didn't realize that quackity, a man who was about to lose twenty dollars, was watching him from afar. he cursed under his breath, biting his bottom lip until his hand brushed against his pocket.

tommy's keycard.

-

he looked at himself in the reflection of a lava pool, making all sorts of scrunchy and over dramatic faces. he experimented with the way the hood fell over his hair and how it made his furrowed eyebrows look.

he made his way to the elevator, admiring how the scythe looked when he tossed it around in his hands. and when it asked for a confirmation of identity, he pulled out the keycard, swiping it before anyone could see.

he'd continue to try to do tricks with the scythe until he got to the top, waving a hand to the guard until he realized he had to stay in character. his lips suddenly pursed and his eyes became hooded.

to his delight, an angel was there waiting for him.

"wilbur-" she stood up suddenly, her hands shaking at her sides. the light in her tear filled eyes was nearly gone, the glow of her halo barely there. "i wanted to a-apologize-"

"come with me," he spoke, as monotone as he could. his hand reached out towards her, and she hesitantly took it.

with uncertainty written all over her face, she spoke nervously. "where.. where are we going-?"

"i want to make up for what.. happened.. last night.." he muttered, dragging her underground.

she held her flickering halo carefully as they zoomed to the elevator, watching him jam the buttons with his finger. she'd never seen someone so eager.

as soon as the doors parted, he forced her inside with such an anticipation she couldn't pinpoint. it made her feel uneasy, how weird he had been acting.

"wilbur?" her voice came out as more of a squeak, taking his other hand in hers. she looked right at him with swelled eyelids. "this.. this isn't a trick, is it?"

his eyes widened, eyebrows unknotting a crease on his forehead. "what?" he practically laughed, "why- why would it be a trick?"

"i don't know.. you just seem.." her voice wavered, eye contact faltering. "nevermind, it's stupid."

"look at me, love," the nickname was.. new. "i don't want to hurt you. i'm gonna make everything up, okay?"

she hummed an agreement, eyes fluttering to make contact with his. his face was soft, just like the other night. but something seemed missing.

"i wanna show you everything about my home," the excitement in his voice was almost raw. "i live in a palace, did you know that?"

"i didn't," she smiled, a forced one. "are you gonna show me around?"

at that, the elevator's doors opened, and she was hit with a sudden wave of heat that nearly made her fall over.

and he almost didn't catch her.

tears started to swell up her eyes as she clung onto his arm, nails digging into broken fabric. soft yelps came out of her mouth.

"love, are you alright?" he spoke worriedly, and the amount of emotion in his voice made her even more lightheaded.

"i-i am-" she whispered, getting back onto her feet. "its just- y'know- what.. what i told you last night..?"

he nodded his head, a soft "oh" coming out of his mouth. but it didn't seem like an ounce of actual empathy lied behind his eyes. a tint of red glazed it instead. she felt odd.

did he not remember? or did he choose not to?

when she was able to walk properly, he led her around. if it wasn't for the burning pit in her stomach, she'd be extremely excited. but she had a feeling that something deeper was lying under the lava pools.

"this is the palace," he sighed, gesturing to the building. "isn't it cool?"

"it is.." she muttered. this awe, she could not fake. the large, intricate structures of gold and red and the occasional fire bounced off her glassy eyes. "can we go inside? maybe you can show me your room-"

"i.." he stiffened up suddenly. "i don't think that's a good idea."

"oh.." she muttered, trying to read his firm facial expression. but she couldn't.

a thick silence fell upon them. the only noticeable thing was how her halo flicked on and off with inconsistent beats.

"hey, i have to.. do something.. how about you stay here until i'm finished, okay? maybe you can talk to my mom or.. or talk to the hellhounds," his voice was unconvincing, but she still nodded, even as disappointed as she was.

and she watched him walk away, turning the corner away from her. she couldn't help the overwhelming feeling of disgust rummaging through her. the constant stares of demons around her didn't make anything better.

her feelings were mixed. maybe he's having a good day or- or maybe he's really considering peace between them.

but what if it really was a trick?

her soft facial expressions fell into her lap, weighing her options. she always sought to find the good in people, always trying and trying to think positive. but even after she revealed everything- everything she couldn't admit out loud, he turned her away. and there was no right explanation for that, no matter how beautiful his palace was.

she straightened up, fists clenched at her sides. she wasn't going to take it. after going through so much of his hatred for so long, she didn't like him practically making fun of her death. she hated it.

she was going to look for him and tell him all of her raw feelings.

as he rounded the corner, his back hit the wall and his knees failed. his breathing was labored as he ran a blackened hand through his changing hair. he could feel the skin literally crawl off of him, and he was delighted to have his normal look back.

quackity sighed against the wall, catching up to his quickened breath. "now all he has to do is find her. and they're forced to make up. and i win my twenty bucks," he muttered under his lips. "god, quackity, you genius."

his laughs felt amazing to churn out. pretending to be wilbur was exhausting him to the core, but it was worth each and every penny of the twenty dollars he'd be receiving soon.

but, through all of his buzzing victory, he didn't notice an angry little angel looking for a certain grim reaper. he didn't notice her stomping around with her fists clenched at her sides.

and he definitely didn't notice her tripping and falling into the pit of lost souls.

-

wilbur's day went on horribly.

he didn't get any sleep. not that this was any different from usual; but this time his night was spent tossing and turning in his stone bed trying to think of how he was going to talk to her.

his bones ached when he got up, and no amount of stretches could heal the knot in his neck.

work was even worse. especially considering the fact that everytime he heard some sort of high pitched noise, he'd think it was a little angel fluttering her wings at him, and then he'd be able say the speech he had written up in his mind.

he was regretting his word choice of "i never want to see you again" on top of his regret for the rest of his blown out word vomit.

but as he walked from the elevator to his palace, he couldn't help but hear a sort of cry for help. and it sounded oddly similar to the angel's.

"wilbur? w-wilbur.. i know- i know you hate me but this- this hurts -"

was it?

"its not fffunny anymore- i know you got your kick out of tricking- me- but this is- ow!"

it couldn't be.

"i won't bother you again! i promise! just please- let- let me out of here- help me.. please..? it's- it's -"

he'd been hearing her voice in his head all day in somewhat intervals. but this felt more real, more raw.

he stumbled on his feet. he knew where it was coming from. he heard noises of desperate cries from it everyday, but the thought that this might be real? it scared him to his core.

worry rushed over him quicker than second thought, and he rushed over to the pit of lost souls in a panic. hoarse, raspy screams of "angel!" flew out of his throat as he scrambled to climb the volcano-like structure.

-

she still had a lot of questions for wilbur.

not the type of, "what's your favorite color?" or "what's your favorite band?" questions. more like, "wilbur? hello? please help- this hurts- are you still there?"

and she was starting to lose hope in the fact that those questions might be answered.

one things for sure; her curiosity will be the death of her.

unless he's got the courage to do something about it.

11.4k || 8.12.23 || masterlist here!

taglist (dm or send an ask to be added!) — @sixofshadowandbone @theoneandonlyyeti @harbingerofheartbreak @starsyoubreaklikesugardust @mcr-pr-fob @sapphic-soot @flynn-thebin @puppyburbites @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @merakiaes @aimi-chann @axthrial @lololol00 @deadphantomsociety @hometown-smile @qweengigi @kisstheskin

thank you so much for your read, i appreciate all of the support <33 a part two is indeed coming soon!! stay tuned

[darnell-la]

Do you cream or squirt?

word count: 2.4k

pairing: sub!dom!steve harrington x nervous!reader x dom!eddie munson

note: please comment, like, repost and follow us for more. we’d also like if you guys could message us some ideas for our next book. we getting active!

WE DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION FOR ANY COPIES OF THIS OR ANY OTHER OF OUR STORIES!

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3rd person pov

“Oh, I know you’re not talking about lasting long, Munson. Didn’t you just have a 10-second jerk-off session last week?” Y/n brought up a story he had told her and Steve a few days ago. 

“That doesn’t count! I was being edged,” Eddie said, remembering how hard that day was for him when they were all out at the mall. Thinking back on it only angers him. 

“By what? Magazines?” Y/n laughed with Steve as Eddie cliched his knuckles until they turned yellow. “Chill, it’s just a joke,” Steve said. “Jokes? Okay, well, how about you tell us about the day you creamed your pants when you know who showed up at the pool last year,” Eddie said. 

Y/n hasn’t heard of this story yet, and Steve planned to keep it that way. “Oh my god, because of who?” Y/n asked, really wanting to know who it was. She’s too nosy, and that nosiness is a lane she probably wouldn’t be able to process or handle. 

“Was it Nancy!?” She shouted, making Eddie laugh. “Oh, it sure wasn’t Nancy. It was someone way hotter than that,” Eddie locked eyes with Steve, trying to push Steve’s buttons since he constantly clowns Eddie with y/n. 

“It’s no one,” Steve said as he broke eye contact with Eddie and flopped back on Eddie’s beg, getting his head lightly against the headboards. Eddie and y/n laughed at Steve’s clumsiness. 

“Oh, cmon’ Steve! How bad did you cream your pants, that you don’t want to tell me? I’ve heard worse. Trust me,” y/n said. 

“How about you ask Eddie since he’s the 10-second man,” Steve said. “It’s not like he didn’t rub one off after,” Steve started getting personal, and y/n knew it. She loved this side of them. It was so fun. 

“Cmon’ bestie! Tell me about your 10-second mission. Don’t gotta be embarrassed,” y/n looked at Eddie as Steve chuckled in the background, knowing Eddie didn’t have the balls himself to tell her. 

“Doesn’t matter,” Eddie replied. “Oh, now it doesn’t matter!? That’s hilarious!” Steve laughed as y/n rolled her eyes. “C'mon’! It’s not that serious,” y/n needed to know. She hates not knowing things. 

“Hey, since you like these dirty secrets, how about you tell us yours, huh?” Eddie began getting defensive. “Like what, Eddie?” Y/n asked because her sex life has always been boring, and they know this. 

“Tell us if you cream or squirt,” Eddie fought back. Steve’s jaw dropped at the demand. He would love to know to make his fantasies more realistic, but having it asked so randomly, shocked him. 

“What? Fuck no! That’s different,” Y/n said. “No, it’s not. We’re all besties here, right? I tell you when I get my cock suck, and you can’t even tell me if you cream?” Eddie said, shocking y/n to the core. 

“It’s not important,” the young lady said, not wanting to tell them about herself like that. “Oh, now you don’t want to share secrets? C'mon’, tell me. It’s all fun and games after all, right?” Eddie said, locking eye contact. 

“I- I can’t just- Guys, I can’t just say things like that,” she said. “Why not? It’s not like we’re gonna judge you, ain’t that right Stevie?” Eddie asked Steve. “Yeah, of course not,” Steve said as y/n tried making herself comfortable on Eddie’s bed. Now she’s nervous and they can both tell. 

“Besides, whatever you say will be hot either way,” Eddie said, definitely shocking y/n. Yes, they all flirt, but during a time like this? She’s never experienced it. Ever. 

“C'mon, princess, it’s not that hard. Squirter or creamer?” Eddie asked as he shifted himself closer to Y/n, pressuring her to tell them and to make her feel a type of way. Maybe he can pull off what he’s been thinking about for a while now. 

“I- I uh, I cream a little but I call myself a squirter. I uh, I usually squirt a lot though. A little too much,” y/n nervously said. Eddie clapped his hands as Steve’s jaw dropped again. He can’t believe she told them. 

“Well, look at that. It wasn’t so hard, right?” Eddie asked as y/n nodded her head hesitantly. “Now, why have you been hiding such a thing from us, hm?” Eddie asked as he laid a finger on y/n’s thigh. 

“B-Because I didn’t think it was uh, it was something serious,” she replied. “Well, now you know, and you know not to keep any more secrets from us, right?” Eddie asked. “Y-Yes,” Y/n said. 

“Yes, what?” Eddie asked, shocking y/n all the way now. “What?” She asked. “Yes, what, y/n? You know what I want to hear,” Eddie said as his fingers trailed to her inner thighs. Steve stayed in the back in silence, growing hard at how nervous y/n was. 

“I don’t know what you want me to say, Eddie. Like, what are we even doing right now?” Y/n said as she tried pulling Eddie’s hang away but he kept his position. 

“I think it’s pretty unfair how much you make us cum to only the thought of you when you could have been cumming on our cocks like you say you can,” Eddie said. 

“What!? Eddie, I- I don’t know what’s going on but-“ y/n tried saying. “I want you to show me how much that pussy comes,” Eddie began leaning over y/n. 

The girl leaned back, trying to avoid body touch until she realized she was leaning back into Steve. She went to get up, but Steve pulled her up close to him as Eddie got comfortable over her. 

“Don’t panic, sweetheart. We just wanna feel you, okay?” Steve whispered in the girl's ear. “Guys, wait! We can’t be- I can’t do this,” she said. “And why is that? Afraid you’re gonna soak my bed? It’s fine, doll face. I’ve wanted that for years,” Eddie said. 

The metal head made his movie and connected his lips to y/n’s. She instantly melted into the kiss as Steve snaked his hands around her and groped at her tits. 

“You like this, baby? Just say red if you don’t want this,” Steve said as he began touching the girl, eventually gathering himself to pull her shirt up and let her tits free, out of her bra. 

“S-Steve,” y/n moaned at the boy's pinch around her nipples. “I-I can’t guys. I just can’t,” the girl whined at this new feeling. No one has ever played with her tits like this. 

“Yes, you will,” Eddie pulled away from their kiss and began tugging at her skirt. “Wait- Wait, Eddie, you can’t- Wait, no, I don’t- Eddie,” y/n didn’t know what to say. 

“Ssh, doll face. Let me feel your cunt. You’ve been making me wait for so long,” Eddie slightly whined as he kept tugging at her clothes while he pulled his loose jeans and boxers down, just enough for his rock-hard cock to spring out. 

“Just look at him, y/n. He’s begging for it,” Eddie pouted, finally getting y/n’s skirt off. “Little panties? You were right earlier, Steve. They are pink,” Eddie looked up at Steve, already close to cumming, just by touching her nice-sized tits. 

“You know, you’re not so slick wearing all of this around us. Don’t tell me you're wearing this shit, not to be noticed by one of us and used. They’re just so — pretty,” Eddie traced a finger up along her clothed wet folds. 

“Never knew our bestie was a whore. You wanted us to stuff you, hm? Just tell me, princess. Tell me you’ve always wanted this,” Eddie began slowly pulling her panties to the side. 

“Fucking say it, or you’ll regret making me wait,” Eddie threatened as he ripped her panties clean off. “I’ve always wanted this!” Y/n cried out. Eddie saw a drop of bodily fluid leak from her cunt as she spoke. 

“Fuck, I’m gonna fuck you ‘till you can’t breathe,” Eddie said before making his way in between the girl's legs. “Eddie,” y/n said low, still not knowing if this was right. 

“Let him use you, sweetheart. Don’t wanna make us mad, right?” Steve asked as he pinched down harder on her nipples, making her cry no. “No!” She whined as her back arched. Eddie hadn’t even slipped in yet. 

“Now, let’s see if you were telling the truth. Don’t hold back on me, Angel,” he said before pushing at her entrance. Eddie pushed forward until he was completely in the whiny girl. 

“Wait!” Y/n cried out at the sudden feeling of being filled. She’s never felt so full in her life. “E-Eddie,” y/n gripped the long-haired boy's shoulders as Steve shifted his hips. Fuck, he’s close. 

“Too much,” y/n got out as Eddie pulled back, but thrust back in, to stretch her out enough before he did what he wanted with her. “Get used to it, or you’ll just be crying on my cock,” Eddie said, inches from her face as he pulled back out, then slammed right back into her wet hole. 

“P-Please!” Y/n begged as she felt herself soak his cock, only making it easier for him to fuck her. “Eds!” Y/n moaned as tears streamed down her face. “I’m so full,” he cried as Eddie smirked and Steve groaned in her ear. 

“When I tell you, she’s a tight one, Harrington. I fucking mean it. She’s sucking me in like a fucking fleshlight,” Eddie groaned as the sound of his balls slapping against y/n’s ass, filled the room. 

“Agh,” y/n’s eyes rolled and her head fell back. “A-A lot, Eds, a lot!” Y/n cried as she felt herself clinching around Eddie like she’s never done before to a cock. He can’t believe it. He can’t believe how dick drunk she’s been for him all this time. 

He let that thought sit in his mind as he picked his paste up to fuck her harder. Why did she keep this from them? All the times they’ve gone to the bathroom in public to rub one off, knowing she would have been so easy to get on her knees and suck them dry. 

“You’re in for it, y/n,” Eddie growled in her ear as he connected a free hand of his to her neck, tightly. “Eds! Eds!” Y/n cried in pain and pleasure as her walls clenched around his veiny cock before she finally exploded. 

“Eddie!” She moaned loud as her cunt released everything Steve and Eddie needed. Y/n’s head stayed back and eyes stayed fucked out as Steve still played with her tits and Eddie pumped into her like he’s never fucked before. 

“P-Please,” y/n begged for mercy as one hand reached up at Steve’s hair and the other to Eddie’s. “Please fuck me,” she begged, feeling another orgasm around the corner. 

“Oh fuck,” Eddie groaned with a chuckle, as well as Steve as Eddie connected his last free hand to y/n’s waist. “You wanna take me now, baby? Wanna suck me fucking dry of my cum? What a fucking slut. I bet you made Steve cum already, hm?” Eddie asked as he looked behind y/n. 

Steve nodded his head fast with a whine, still grinding against y/n’s back like a starved sex slave. “Gonna fill this cunt up, baby. You have no fucking choice,” Eddie slightly moaned as his thrusts got sloppy. 

“Fucking hell, I — Baby, I- I’m cumming,” Eddie moaned in y/n ear, not noticing but tightening his grip on her neck and waist. She couldn’t complain though. Y/n loved the feeling of his grip on her neck. 

“Holly fuck!” Eddie whined as his hips bucked a few times. His cum leaked from the weak girl's hole as Steve dropped his head back onto the headboard. 

“Agh,” y/n moaned as she tightened around him again. This time he pulled out and let her squirt all over his lower body and bed. “Fuck, that’s a lot, baby,” Eddie groaned as he disconnected his hand from her waist and rubbed her folds, making sure everything comes out. 

“Mhm,” y/n shifted. She’s never been this overstimulated before, and they can tell. “You fucking like that?” Eddie leaned towards her face, hand still tight around her neck. “Should I fuck this pussy full again?” Eddie asked, but y/n couldn’t speak back. 

“I will,” Steve said. “Oh, shit,” Eddie chuckled as he got up. Steve moved from under y/n, showing how weak and limp she got. She still leaking her and Eddie’s cum. 

“You just lay there and look cute. I’ll do the work,” Steve moved y/n on the bed, the way he needed her as Eddie sat right next to her face. “Hey, I’m still hard. Put that pretty mouth to use,” Eddie looked down at y/n as she struggled to keep her eyes open. 

“Wait, wait. Baby, what color do you say when you need a break?” Eddie asked as Steve stroked himself in front of her entrance. “R-Red,” y/n slurred. “Should we go red?” Eddie asked, slightly worried. 

“No. I just wanna be fucked,” y/n said low as she looked up at Eddie. “Don’t worry, doll face. You will,” Eddie said right before Steve shoved his cock into her already wet and used cunt. 

As y/n moaned loudly, Eddie used that chance to push his tip into her mouth. “So fucking- oh my god,” Steve’s legs began to shake at the amazing feeling of his best friend's cunt so wet and tight around him. 

“That’s it, baby. Suck me up,” Eddie rubbed y/n cheek as he lazily thrust into her mouth. “You’re our personal whore, you understand? No more of these wacky links. You’re ours,” Eddie made rules. 

“And if you disobey anything we give you, princess, you’re fucking dead,” Steve said. “Understand?” Eddie asked, but y/n just looked up at him. She understands, but what will they do if she doesn’t comply. 

“One chance is all you get,” Steve said as he grabbed y/n’s legs and pushed them back, causing him to fuck into her cunt deeper at a new angle. “Fuuuck!” Y/n cried as the clapping and gagging noises in the room grew. 

“You’re so fucked,” Eddie chuckled as he leaned over a little bit to rub y/n’s sensitive bud. “Agh, no!” Y/n cried at the feeling of everything. Even Eddie’s cocky pushed further into her throat after he leaned over and Steve picked up his paste, causing her body to jolt back into Eddie’s cock. This is definitely all she wanted. 

[ms-demeanor]

since twitter has become actively hostile to its users, so they came to tumblr, and reddit has become actively hostile to its users, so they came to tumblr, what do we do now that tumblr is becoming (more) actively hostile to its users? i’ve been here for over a decade so i know tumblr users are the type to cling on despite everything and revel in undoing every change, but i’m so tired of the way this website breaks the way it fundamentally works in order to appeal to new users. the twitterfication of the site seems so much worse than when people jumped ship after the porn ban, and even then, only small communities (and twitter) cropped up as solutions. you might not be the person to ask for a definitive answer, but i figured a tech blog might be interested in considering - what do we do when there’s nowhere left to go?

Okay so, I mean this very seriously: how has tumblr meaningfully become like twitter?

I don't personally find the sidebar view obnoxious and it seems to me like just another layout change that's pretty typical to tumblr. New users are getting signed up with a bit more emphasis on algorithmic feeds, but that is still very easy to change (MUCH easier than on any other social platform) and the algorithm has been there for everyone for quite a while, we just typically don't notice it because a lot of long-term tumblr users don't go into the "for you" feed.

I don't think that tumblr *has* fundamentally broken the way that it works to appeal to new users. My dash now is still very much like my dash in 2019, and still very much like my dash in 2018 (though much less pornographic). Reblogs are still reblogs, likes are still likes. Replies, for all that they seem like they've been around forever, are new and good and I think they work well. I'm irritated that the notes menu doesn't have a "view all" option but I think that's a worthwhile tradeoff for an easy way to see tags.

I *do not* understand why tumblr has broken linking back to previous reblogs but I don't think that's out of an effort to act like twitter; it is a bizarre choice that I dislike and don't understand but I also don't think that it has fundamentally changed the way the site works and i mean you've been around long enough that I'm sure you've had the same experience I have of going into the notes of a post and randomly clicking until you found a version that you wanted to reblog without a bunch of bullshit at the bottom. Tumblr has always kind of sucked, this change DOES suck but it doesn't suck in a way that is particularly novel or insurmountable. (For instance, I think this change sucks MUCH LESS than when they made posts with links invisible to the search, that is something that is genuinely bad that has been long lasting but doesn't get brought up much in lists of the ways that tumblr has gone wrong)

Tumblr *is* changing, but I think it is changing more incrementally and less terribly than other parts of the internet. I also hate the floating clown, the login walls, the dash-only view for blogs (you can't archive it and I HATE that), and - to an extent - the new lightbox on mobile. And I dislike that less than I thought I would but I don't think it's a fundamental change that necessarily impacts my interactions with the site - it *adds* a feature that I don't care for but it doesn't *break* anything that I require to have a good time on tumblr - in that way I think of it very much like Live. People hate Live so much and I find that perplexing because it is so easy to simply ignore it.

But that's not really your question; that's just some stuff I want people to think about because as much as tumblr has changed in the last two years it is nowhere near as fucked up as the recent things that twitter and reddit have pulled.

So, as to your question: where do we go?

Well. Not to be an extremely old person on the internet, but damned if I don't miss email lists. And forums. God I miss forums. Neither of those things has all the bonuses of platforms like twitter or reddit or tumblr or facebook, but they were great ways to hang out with people you liked on the internet.

The internet is changing. I can feel it, you can feel it, I'm pretty sure we're all like cattle in a field lifting our noses and hearing some distant rumbling and becoming slowly aware that it's almost time to run. There's a coming stampede and it isn't here yet but you know it's on its way. You're not imagining that, that's how things feel right now and there are a shitload of things contributing to it.

Things like SESTA/FOSTA and KOSA (which has not passed yet but is a big red flag waving on the horizon) have been eroding away the way that users on various platforms can function. Some platforms have consolidated in ways that harm users; some new platforms have popped up and shaken up the map of the internet; some platforms are being torn apart brick by brick by owners who don't care about the users. It kind of seems like people are actually looking up and realizing that advertising is A) bad and B) doesn't actually work and I think we're running straight toward another advertising-based crash like we saw in 2017. It feels like all the desperate things that tumblr is doing is just rearranging deck chairs on the titanic as the internet as a whole starts to sink into the ocean.

Honestly, I don't think it's that bad. I think it *feels* bad, but I think we're looking at a slow whimpering death of the platforms, not a bang. I think tumblr is going to hang on at least for a few years and I think it's going to end up like livejournal and myspace, which both still exist as websites that are recognizable as updated versions of the sites they were in 2004-2010. The thing that I think would really, honestly hurt tumblr in a fundamental way is if it moved to a more algorithmic and data-sales based model of advertising, and I think that's still pretty distant. I think Automattic is aware that killing the chronological feed would be the one unforgivable sin that would cause a mass exodus and a final crash, and I think when we see that, when we can't just scroll through the feed and see what our friends did that day in order of when they did it, that's when the party is over here.

But that's still not answering your question.

So, where do we go? What do we do? Well, for now, I'd say it's a good time to get contact info for your friends across various platforms. Get email addresses, get phone numbers.

Now is also the time for you to set up a personal website. NeoCities is currently the best place to do this, though it takes a lot more effort than just starting a blog on tumblr. I think that various oldschool blogging sites like Wordpress and Blogger/Blogspot/whatever the hell the google one is are a better place to have your emergency backup than a more platform-y platform if you aren't up to doing something with NeoCities.

If you've got the ability to do so and a group of people who are interested in the same core subject, set up a forum. There's a decent amount of off-the-shelf forum software out there and a text-and-small-images forum isn't prohibitively expensive, but it's never going to be huge and you're never going to have the kind of spread and virality and random connections that you would on a platform with millions or billions of users.

If you can't set up a forum, setting up or joining a discord server for your friends is a decent enough option at the moment, and may be a very good option for people who are looking to keep their interactions more private.

But yeah i think right now is a great time for people to start setting up their own personal websites, to start visiting actual webpages again, to start bookmarking their friends' websites, and to start collecting contact info that isn't tied to platforms.

[partycatty]

i am so desperate to top dark star!johnny he makes me so horny mad, like someone humble that son of a bitch. it so doesn’t fit him to be topped but 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️

UGHHH UR SO ME FR!!!! LMFAOOAAO i love pathetic men!!!! i love projecting my kinks onto my fics — WHAAAT WHO SAID THAAAT????

for those unfamiliar with dark star!johnny

dark star!johnny cage > payback

you have had it up to HERE with the white man's utter nonsense.

warnings: you humble evil johnny sexually. 😀 no but fr this is nsfw, bratty johnny and he hates it, he says "stop" and "no" but we all know he's lying and he loves it (afab reader)

notes: i was so excited to write this i don't even think it's coherent i'm literally barking gnawing frothing foaming i crawled to my pc to boot up the game to make gifs of him for future use bc i know DAMN well i will come back to this clown

masterlist &lt;3

i will microwave him.

part 1* / part 2* / part 4* / part 5* / part 6*

•lord have mercy where do i even begin.

•alright, so let's paint a picture here.

•dark star!johnny may have stupid amounts of money, but he's a fucking idiot. he didn't spend a single cent on you for christmas! he'd argue with you for hours, saying both "i am the gift!" and "i buy you enough shit the rest of the year and now you want more?"

•when you argue to the point of running out of new things to bring up, you decide to angrily drop the topic entirely and move on with life. that is, until you hear johnny's muffled voice call from you from upstairs as you begin to prep dinner several days after the holiday.

•"sweet cheeks, a hand would be nice!" he shouts, a suspiciously evident grin in his tone of voice. you roll your eyes as his persistent cocky nature, but your frown turns into a little gasp when you open the bedroom to your shared door.

•this absolute idiot is sitting face down ass up on your silk sheets, tied down nice and tight with a thick red ribbon. a bow rests on his neck and broad chest. The Coat is discarded on a chair beside the bed, but everything else is still on. he smushes his cheek against the sheets as he desperately tries and cranes his head to look at you.

•"heeeey babe," he'll meekly greet you, shimmying his shoulders. "i, uh. i was going to surprise you. but i kinda fell forward and couldn't get back up. it was supposed to be a sexy pose but i tied my arms down before anything else and i can't prop myself up."

•"you're a dumbass," you reply back with a frown, not entirely amused as much as he is. "you think this makes up for your fuckup?"

•"...yes?"

•"no! and you know what? i'm gonna fucking enjoy this whether you like it or not!" you sigh with exasperation, slapping his clothed ass pretty hard, the sound of contact echoing in your large bedroom. he lets out a whiny shout, trying to tug his hips away from you out of desperation and ending up flopping onto his back.

•"hey! not fucking funny. i hate when you do that," he'll complain with a scowl, but his protests are hard to take seriously when he flips over and reveals an angry boner throbbing against his pants.

•"yeah, that's why you have a raging hard-on," you reply with a dramatic groan, grabbing a handful of his thick shaft through his dress pants. he yelps again, twitching his hips upward as you feel his heartbeat through his cock. "i'm not helping you up, johnny. this is payback. for christmas."

•you climb on top of him, hovering your lips right above his in a sickeningly sweet way. johnny, like the needy whore he is, tries to lift his head up and capture your lips, but you cut the attempt short when you expertly undo his belt in a swift one-handed motion and squeeze his dick through his boxer briefs. his once puckered lips open to let out a deep, strained whine, and you feel a warm wetness in his pants as you milk the pre-cum from his tip with your grasp alone.

•ohhh he is in AGONY. ds!johnny literally HATES when he's not in control, and even though he feels his dick get impossibly harder, he's still writhing at the thought of not being the leader.

•"come on, dollface," he'll try to protest with furrowed brows, but you see the way he bites his bottom lip. "don't play mean. that's not how this was meant to go."

•you don't even reply to his annoyance, you just stick a finger between his neck and the ribbon around it, tugging it and sending a wave of pressure on the sides of his neck. his eyes involuntarily roll back as you temporarily choke him with his own doing.

•"you're gonna take it, aren't you? the torture?" you ask, palming him through his underwear and holding his face close to yours. his expression contorts instantly at your roughness. "how are you gonna fucking like it when i treat you like shit?"

•"you'll regret it," he groans out in an attempted threat, but it ends up sounding more breathy and gravely than intended. "you'll fucking regret crossing me like this."

•he's literally the one that had the genius idea to tie himself up. he's a Grade A idiot for putting himself in the situation to begin with. or maybe he likes it :)

•you hastily tug your own pants off, shaking your leg to throw them aside. once you're free of the fabric, you pull down johnny's pants too, since he hasn't got the ability to do it on his own. sure enough, his underwear is already definitely stained, and yours is getting there. the sight along made a wetness pool in your panties. something about such a cocky, annoying man finally being put in his place was starting to drive you a little wild as you straddle his hips.

•you shove your panties aside and settle them in the crack between you pussy and thighs, and return the gesture to your boyfriend by tugging his waistband down and unleashing his little jonathan (sorry). his pink, angry cock springs free and slaps against your tummy. you giggle.

•"ha, ha. very funny. untie me now," johnny whines again with a frustrated tone, but there's a hint of blush on his cheeks as he looks away from your body on top of his. his anger contorts into needy moans when you wrap your fingers around his dick, stroking at a medium pace and coating himself in his own precum. "ngh, fuck — stop it, i'm not fucking playing around — aah —"

•his back hopelessly arches as you lazily stroke his dick. when you decide he's hot and ready enough for the real thing after he turns into a blabbering mess, you hover above his dick and grab two fistfuls of the ribbons; one on his neck and one on his chest. his pretty lips part as he catches his breath from the sudden movement, eyes darting across your features.

•as he tries to make sense of your bold move, you sink down onto his throbbing cock and fully take him in your walls. he's unable to writhe and squirm as you hold him in place firmly. johnny's eyebrows knit together and he swiftly moves his head to the side, his sunglasses crooked and dropping on his hooked nose. when he finally gets the strength to look down at your pussy engulfing his length, he whines at the beautiful sight and involuntarily bucks up to relieve the strain. you immediately let out a little shout of discipline and pull his upper body toward you.

•"my pace or no pace," you warn through gritted teeth. "don't pull that shit again."

•"or what?" he replies with a cocky grin, his horniness absolutely dripping from his voice. "you don't scare me." as he tries to play right back, you slam yourself down on his cock again without warning, his tip kissing your cervix invitingly. his eyes widen and he yelps out pathetically before turning it into an angry groan. "you're such a fucking bitch. i hate you."

•he starts to spew more utter nonsense about hating you and you being a bitch as you start to actually ride him, for once at your own pace. he's typically fucking up into you but this time he's tied down and taking it like a good boy! you needed this, though, to let out your frustrations with him lately. it's incredibly funny that, yes, he could technically just start bucking his hips into you, but you take note that he's actually listening to your threat and allowing himself to be used. you remind yourself to ask him to top him more often. i doubt he'd say yes.

•your pace becomes a relentless combination of slamming his cock and grinding on it to stimulate your clit, and johnny has now turned into a whimpering mess. his perfect hair was sticking to his forehead and flying out in all directions, his sunglasses were just barely hanging onto the bridge of his nose. all the while, he's still sputtering complains about being used and begging you to stop, but they sound hungrier than disgusted. your deep moans drown out his whines and cries, and you frankly don't really care about how he feels.

•you've officially fucked him stupid. he can't even get a proper word out as he's now trying to literally break the ribbons and give him access to his hands, but he's so horny he can't find the strength he typically has.

•"b... stop — babe — 'm gonna cum if you — aah, oh you fucker —" johnny starts to twitch and whimper, thrashing his head side to side as he gets closer toward release. you don't really give a shit though, as you're now chasing your own orgasm as your grinding becomes increasingly uneven. you grab hold of his neck to stabilize yourself, and the coil in your core snaps, your body sending waves of blissful pleasure through your entire being. you're violently reminded of your boyfriend's impending load when he throws away all command you gave him and starts fucking up into your sensitive pussy, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes as he pathetically tries to get himself there, too.

•you're acutely familiar with how his cock throbs when he's about to cum, and you use this information to your advantage as you abruptly pull yourself up and away right as he shoots his load. he lets out a damn near cry for help as he makes a complete mess of himself. it shoots up high, painting his stomach and chest as his hips thrust into nothing.

•"YOU FUCKING —" he groans out, eyes clenched shut as his desperation makes him act out. "I WANTED TO CUM INSIDE. YOU KNOW THAT'S MY FAVORITE. AND YOU RUINED A PERFECTLY NICE SHIRT!"

•all you do is return to straddling his hips, sliding your panties back into place and catching your breath.

•"but you look better like this," you reply lowly, taking a flat palm and putting it on his stomach. "all tied down and fucked out. i could get used to it. besides, this was my gift, wasn't it?"

•as his head tilts back to regain his composure, you snap a quick photo of his cum-stained shirt, flushed expression, and weeping dick.

•"consider this payback," you chuckle, wiggling the photo in front of his eyes. "i might just post this everywhere if you don't get me anything for my birthday next."

•"delete that, you cunt," he hisses back, once again trying to free himself. "untie me now. fun's over."

•"nah, i'm good," you reply, your annoying boyfriend being restrained giving you a dangerous amount of confidence. "i think i'll just leave you here. not before cleaning up your cum with your coat, maybe."

•"DO NOT USE MY COAT. IT WAS EXPENSIVE."

[powpowstuff]

TW: Mentions of: death, grief and sex.

Author's note: Hiya ! Here's the second part of Jason's story. I'm sorry things got out of hands and a little cheeky. It's getting hot in here ! Please tell me if you like it and if you'd like another part ! Enjoy :) xx

Two weeks had passed since you last saw Jason. There were no traces of him in the city since then, although you and Batman had arrested a few of his henchmen. When you had told Bruce about your encounter, he was as stunned as you were and determined to find him too.

You returned home that night at 5 am after a gruelling patrol. Exhausted but grateful for the distraction it provided from thoughts of Jason, you ascended the emergency fire stairs and entered through your living room window. The light unexpectedly flickered on, casting a soft glow across the room. Turning to investigate, your gaze fell upon the lamp next to your reading armchair. And there he was.

Jason sat there, legs casually spread, one hand supporting his tilted head as he gazed at you. His presence filled the room with a tension you could almost touch. For a moment, time seemed to stand still as you both locked eyes, the weight of unspoken words hanging in the air.

You nearly tripped on your rug, caught completely off guard by Jason's presence.

“We need to talk,” he said, his gaze unwavering.

“I… I’m sorry, I’m just so surprised to see you here,” you stammered, your voice betraying the mix of emotions flooding through you. Despite knowing he was alive now, his appearance still felt surreal, like seeing a ghost. Looking into his eyes brought a rush of memories flooding back, memories of the life you once shared, now suddenly tangible before you.

“I have a few questions. First one: how can you still work with the old man?” Jason leaned forward, elbows on his knees, hands clasped together, his eyes fixed on you.

You settled onto the armrest of your couch, keeping a measured distance from Jason, though every fibre of your being longed to be closer. His aloof demeanour made you cautious; you knew it wasn’t the right time to bridge the gap, not yet.

“After what happened…” you began tentatively.

“After I died, murdered by a lunatic clown he never wanted to kill, you mean” he cut in sharply.

His words sliced through the air, leaving you momentarily breathless. The anger and resentment in his voice were palpable.

“After that…” you continued, gathering your thoughts. “I was consumed by hatred toward Bruce. I held him responsible for what happened to you. I…”

“He is responsible” he interjected, reclining back into the armchair with a bitter edge to his voice.

“I hated him” you insisted, trying to meet Jason’s gaze. “For so long… After five years, I realised that hating him wouldn’t bring you back. I needed to keep myself occupied, to help the people of Gotham. I…”

“Oh, so you worked with him to keep busy” he scoffed sarcastically, a flash of resentment in his eyes. His dismissive tone struck a nerve, igniting a spark of anger within you. You knew he had endured unimaginable hardships, but his demeanour made it seem like your efforts had been effortless.

“I know you’ve been through hell and back, Jason,” your voice cracked with the weight of your emotions. “You didn’t deserve any of this. But losing you wasn’t easy for me either. I was going mad. We were so young, Jason. I was so lost without you. You were always the one taking the lead, my light in the dark, and suddenly, you were taken away from me. I felt so alone.” Tears streamed down your face, each one a release of years of suppressed emotions, anger, sorrow, and grief all crashing over you at once. “I started going out on the streets at night, just looking for danger, hoping that beating the hell out of anyone would make the pain go away. I…”

You took a deep, shaky breath. “I spent all my time wishing it was me instead of you, hunting down that fucking clown in hopes of killing him. But every time he mentioned you, I froze, and he beat me senseless with a crowbar!” You stood up, stepping toward the armchair to face him directly. “So yes, I went back to Bruce. We had a long, meaningful talk and shared our grief. He’s filled with guilt and sorrow too. I did no good alone; I was lost and confused. The only way to get back on track, to train better, to be better, was to work with him and put an end to that fucking clown.”

You wiped your tears and let out a deep sigh. “Fuck, Jason. I know I’ll never understand how hard it was for you, and I know you had it worse. But it wasn’t easy for me either. So yes, I went back to Bruce, I work with Bruce, but that doesn’t erase everything that happened. It doesn’t erase all the anger and sorrow. Not a day goes by that I don’t think about you, that I don’t wish you were here…”

Jason stood up, now towering over you. He gently held your chin, tilting your face up to meet his gaze.

“I thought you had forgotten about me,” he murmured, his voice a breathy whisper. His eyes into yours, filled with a mix of longing and uncertainty.

“I could never forget about you…” you whispered back, your heart pounding as you got lost in his eyes.

“I was put in the Lazarus Pit. I went... totally mad, to say the least. There was a time when I lost my memory. But as soon as it came back, all I could think of was you. I was terrified that after all this time, you had forgotten about me…” His voice was husky and low, as his lips inched closer to yours. His hand slid from your chin to the back of your neck, his touch sending shivers down your spine. His other hand settled on your lower back, pulling you firmly against him.

“You still love being in control,” you whispered, your breath hitching. “What are you waiting for ? Kiss me, you fucker.”

Jason chuckled softly, his breath warm against your skin. “Giving orders now? That’s new.” He moved closer to your ear, his voice a tantalising whisper. “I think I like it.” He tightened his hold on you and captured your lips in a kiss filled with both love and fiery passion. Your bodies pressed against each other, the kiss deepening, conveying years of desire and longing.

When he finally pulled back, he gazed into your eyes, his own filled with intensity. “I said I had a few questions... Here's the second one: will you let me make love to you?”

You bit your lip, your voice barely above a whisper “Yes, please.”

You felt at home, a feeling you hadn’t experienced in far too long. His hands were everywhere, holding you, feeling you, igniting a fire that had been dormant for too long. His touch was urgent yet tender, as if he was memorising every inch of you.

He ran his hands down your thighs, his fingers trailing a path of heat. With a swift movement, he lifted you effortlessly, pulling you closer. You wrapped your legs around his waist as he carried you to the bedroom, his lips never leaving yours. The air was thick with anticipation, each step echoing the pounding of your heart.

As you reached the bedroom, he laid you gently on the bed, his body following yours. The room was dimly lit, shadows dancing on the walls, but all you could see was him. His eyes, dark and intense, held a promise of unspoken passion. He hovered over you, his breath mingling with yours, creating an electric tension.

Jason’s hands explored your body with a fervent need, his touch both familiar and thrillingly new. He kissed you deeply, the years of separation melting away in that single, passionate connection. His kisses trailed down your neck, igniting sparks along your skin. His hands roamed over you, relearning your curves, your warmth, your very essence.

With each touch, each kiss, you felt a flood of emotions, relief, joy, desire. His hands found yours, fingers intertwining as he pressed his body against yours. The sensation of his weight, his warmth, made you feel alive in a way you hadn’t in years.

He paused, his eyes locking onto yours, searching for any doubt. But there was none. Only love and longing reflected back at him. He kissed you again, slower this time, savouring the moment. His lips moved against yours with a mix of tenderness and urgency, as if trying to make up for lost time.

The passion was undeniable, a fire that consumed you both. The night was a blur of heated kisses, whispered confessions, and intimate caresses. It was a dance of rediscovery, each movement a testament to the love that had endured the years apart.

As dawn approached, you lay wrapped in his arms, the afterglow of your reunion wrapping around you like a warm blanket. You rested your head on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. His fingers traced lazy patterns on your back, a silent promise of never letting go again.

After ten years of waiting, it was the most passionate and loving night you had ever experienced. You felt complete, your heart full, knowing that despite everything, you had found your way back to each other.

[poetryandfluffycats]

Starstruck

A/N: yay! more kidnapper Nikolai! I'm thinking about making this into an actual chaptered fic with lore and shit instead of just random drabbles, but that's way in the future. for now, enjoy this brainrot.

Pairing: Kidnapper!Nikolai Gogol x fem!reader

Content: Nikolai sets up a wonderful date for the two of you down in the basement! And you realize that you may be developing some... unwanted feelings towards the jester.

Warnings: kidnapper au, stockholm syndrome, first person writing, mainly fluff<3

Words: 755

Oneshot under cut!

I walked in from the bathroom to a scene of nothing but pure beauty. A blue hue reflected off the usually boring walls of the basement, courtesy of the projector Nikolai had wheeled into the room. The device was portraying something of a time lapse of the night sky, stars twinkling and spinning in their constellations. Blankets were spread out all across the floor, all of them having some sort of spacey print. Stars, the sun and moon, the solar system, comets, you name it, it was there.

Sat in the middle of the blankets with his back rested against the bed frame was Nikolai. He didn't look like Nikolai, though. No face paint, no crazy eyes or smile, no jester outfit. Just a normal man in his-you guessed it-space themed pyjamas, a stranger to the clown I had grown to know.

"You mentioned wanting to see the stars again" He stated simply, patting the empty space beside him. His tone was so foreign to me, sounding almost like an apology. "I figured, if I cannot bring you to the stars, I will bring the stars to you"

I was quick to join him, sliding my head into the crook of his shoulder and inhaling. He smelt different without all that makeup on, more like natural manly musky scent and less like a chemical sweatshop mixed with undertones of blood. "You remembered..." I mumbled, reaching a hand behind his back to play with the end of his braid. "Thank you"

"Of course! Anything for my love, my little space queen! Oh, and I have another little surprise for you, but that's for later! First, stargazing"

Nikolai rambled on, wrapping an arm around my waist and pulling me in close. Our legs tangled together in a messy heap, his bare feet brushing against mine. I made a note of how cold they felt.

I hummed in agreement, turning my attention back to the projection against the wall. I had always wondered about what was out there, beyond our universe. If there was life somewhere else, a whole world we didn't know about. Maybe it would be better than this one, well fuck, anything would be better than what I was currently going through. I'd choose living in space over Nikolais basement any day, anyone would.

To be free, Nikolai talked about that alot. About how this was freedom down here. Being free of any laws the government forced onto society, being free of judgement and hate. It was just me and him here, this was being free.

And there was something about the way his mismatched eyes stared into mine when he said it that made me want to believe him. That this was where I was meant to be. Moments like these only furthered that idea in my brain, and it was the worst feeling ever.

A shooting star flew across the screen, a flash of light in the night sky. It lit up Nikolais face like fairy-lights, and if I didn't know any better, I would have said he looked angelic. His white hair glowed blue in the light of the room, eyes sparkling, lips parted, and cheekbones sharp as knifes.

"Make a wish, Kolya" My body felt like it was moving on its own accord as I brought my hand up to cup his jaw, tracing my nail over his bottom lip. "It'll come true, you know"

Maybe this was what Stockholm Syndrome felt like, maybe that's why I felt so starstruck staring at this cold-blooded killer.

"My wish..." Nikolai trailed off, leaning into my touch and closing his eyes, a faint but genuine smile playing on his lips. "... does not matter. I have everything I need in my life right now. What is your wish, my dove?"

I pondered the question for a second. My real wish was to fly amongst the stars, but that was stupid. He'd just laugh if I told him that, and that would ruin this new found peace I liked so much. So, I lied. Told him something he would want to hear instead.

"I want you to show me that surprise you said about, that's my wish"

"Aha! Of course, come here"

His lips were on mine in a heartbeat, soft and slow, unlike every other time he had stolen a kiss from me. There was a strawberry taste on his lips, chapstick? Had he applied that just for this? Cute, so damn cute.

Shit, I was falling for the enemy.

[illneverrecover]

god dammit i like it (M) | changkyun

➛pairing: Im Changkyun (I.M.) x reader ➛genre: card shark/gambling Changkyun, cocktail server reader, poker!AU, hurt/comfort, smut, angst, fluff (in that order). ➛word count: 9005 (oof) ➛rating: M ➛warnings: excessive alcohol use, cursing, dirty talk, very very soft femdomme energy, oral sex (female and male receiving), changkyun begging, unprotected sex, creampie, cock warming, very brief mentions of blood, more soft clown changkyun. ➛summary: One last game, he tells himself. Just one last game, and he'll have enough money to take care of you the way you deserve, to show you how much you mean to him, to give you the life that you want... as long as he doesn't get caught. ➛notes: My second time writing Changkyun and as always, it's for the one and only @taetaesbaebaepsae. She had commissioned me (back when I still did those) to write something based on the God Damn MV, and then patiently waited for me to get my life together. I thoroughly enjoy creating new ways to hurt you with your ult bias, so I hope you enjoy this one! I did edit this one, but just barely, so please be gentle with me. Let me know what you think! ➛song: God Damn - I.M | Habits (Stay High) - Tove Lo (Hippie Sabotage Remix) ➛tagging: @taetaesbaebaepsae @lvupmushroom @thiccasswonhoruinedmylife - thank you for letting me use your likeness for this, and for looking it over to make sure it would truly hurt Kristy's feelings. Teamwork makes the dreamwork, bbs.

He’s an idiot, but you already knew that. 

The alcohol in his gut sloshes as he moves to stand, his glass painfully empty. Changkyun stumbles towards the bar, the thrumming in his head keeping pace with the bass thumping through the speakers of the club. 

His eyes are glassy, faraway when he reaches his destination, the cup fumbling out of his grasp as he indicates to the bartender he wants another. The bartender looks him over, seemingly debating on following through with the request, but he turns to grab the bottle of whisky regardless. 

Changkyun hates it. Hates that he’s so drunk, that you’re not here, that the guy serving him thinks he’s a mess. He knows he’s an idiot, that he should stop. Put down the glass and pick up his phone. That he should just call you and tell you he’s sorry for being such a moron all the time, and that he’ll listen to you from now on. That he does love you, and wants to take care of you, and he can fucking prove it, if you’ll let him.

But then he recalls the look in your eyes when you caught him – the disappointment, the pain – and he reaches for his now refilled glass, taking a swig before facing back towards the club. 

He doesn’t deserve it – doesn’t deserve you, to provide for you, to do any of it. Not when he’s such a jealous asshole, not when he’s such a fuck up. You deserve the world. Someone who can really give you what you need. 

Fuck, he wants to be that. There’s some moments when things are good, when you’re tucked into his arms in bed, sleeping softly beside him that he thinks he might be that – someone who can provide, be reliable, strong. But then he remembers your fights; his words of jealousy and anger, his avoidant nonchalant fake ass attitude, his fragile little ego shattering with a flick of your eyebrow and a sharp word. 

So he leaves his phone in his pocket, instead slinking back towards his booth before dropping into it. It was easy to ignore his friends’ questions, to insist that he was fine, to pretend to be more interested in the tray of shots being dropped off at the table. He accepted the small glass, slamming it down before he could think about the burn, about the empty churning in his stomach.

 It was easy to ignore his friends, but damn, Changkyun was tired of pretending he wasn’t fucking exhausted of trying to be okay without you. 

It had always been push and pull with him.

From the minute Changkyun had walked into Yvonne’s, the lounge where you worked, you could feel the snap of electricity, the buzz of magnetism that pulled you to him. He would’ve stood out from his clothing alone; his lithe form draped in a bright red perfectly cut suit, shirtless under the vest to show off his tanned, broad chest. The combination of cut and color was lethal on him and he knew it, his dark hair swept back to allow the full potency of his sharp gaze. The group of men he was with were also impeccably dressed and attractive, but there was something about him that had your eyes following him, unable to look away.

Luckily for you, he had seemed to feel the same way.

His friends had gone to sit at the Baccarat table in Kat’s section, but he had stayed behind, noting which tables your body was sliding between as you delivered drinks before he made his selection at the blackjack table at the end of your section.

He couldn’t keep his gaze off of you, ordering more drinks than he was actually playing cards you were certain, but you weren’t going to stop a paying customer. The table he was at was pretty low stakes overall; the crowd was a bunch of casual players, but he had enough money to keep up with the table, so they were willing to ignore his flirting. 

You were also trying to ignore it, playing into him enough to ensure your tip would be secure, but also knowing that this was likely all just fun for the rudely handsome stranger. And if there is one thing you enjoy doing, it’s having a little fun – especially while at work.

But there was something in the way he looked at you, the way that he spoke to you, that had you hanging on a bit more than you’d care to admit. You wanted to tell yourself it was just the fact that he looked like that in that suit – that his tattoos and cocky smirk on top of it all was just too  much for you – but you knew it was more than that. 

It was when you were dropping off his umpteenth cocktail that he finally made a move, his tattooed hand wrapping around your wrist to stop you and slide a piece of paper into your palm. 

“When do you get off?”

You smirked, trying to ignore the sudden rush of blood in your veins at his skin touching yours. “Why? Who wants to know?” 

His face deadpanned, his mouth dropping to a pout, and the juxtaposition of such a cute expression on such a lethal man made you laugh.

“I don’t even know your name,” you clarified, pulling away from his grip and tucking the paper into your apron.

“You could call me whatever you wanted,” he replies, voice low, glare fixed on you, “but others call me Changkyun.” 

The same things that had drawn you to him also made you roll your eyes, his cockiness frustrating just as much as it was attractive. He insisted on waiting until you had finished your shift, ensuring that you  made it safely to your car before reminding you about the paper tucked into your apron pocket. 

“It has my phone number on it so you can text me and let me know what time you want me to pick you up tomorrow.” He had murmured, his face so close to yours that you had forgotten to breathe. 

“Pick me up, hmm? Well aren’t we feeling awfully sure of ourselves,” you replied in a shaky breath, hating how much he was affecting you.  “What are you picking me up for?”

“I was hoping to take you on a date, but if you have things you need to do - errands, work - that’s fine with me too. Just let me take care of you.” 

It was as easy as that, the way he slid into your life. You hadn’t believed the offer, not really, but decided to text him anyway. You had some things to do before your shift, why use your gas when you could waste his?

But Changkyun was effortless, showing up in gray sweats and a black t shirt promptly at the time you requested, ready to chauffeur you all over town. He kept up with your teasing about his sad fuckboy music he was listening to, and let you mess around with his AC without complaint, like he had been doing it for a hundred years. 

Maybe that’s how he broke your walls down – acting so nonchalant, while also being dependable, always showing up when and how he said he would, always ready with an easy smile and a light joke. 

It could have been days, maybe weeks, but it didn’t take long for you to realize you wouldn’t be able to stay away from him. That you didn’t think you wanted to. 

Which was a complete contradiction to what you had told him – that you weren’t interested in anything serious, but if he played his cards right, you could be convinced for an evening of fun. An offer he had declined, telling you that he would wait until you changed your mind and wanted him fully. An answer that had infuriated you to no end, but one that felt inevitable. 

It was the 14th or 15th day of hanging out that he finally said the words, putting the feelings out into the space between you. His “I love you” came out rushed, as if the words had pained him, but the flush of his cheeks and shimmering soft eyes had you cracking, reaching for him to smash your mouth into his own. 

The kiss was unlike anything you had ever felt; the intense rush of heat nearly choking you when his tongue traced the seam of your lips, seeking entrance. He groaned when you had opened, the feeling of his tongue on yours sending the kiss deeper, starved for each other. He tasted like whisky mixed with the faint hint of gummy bears he was always snacking on, and you were drunk on his mouth, drunk on him. You don’t even remember if you had said the words back, the volatile energy between you now snapped and now your full focus until it was fully satiated. 

Changkyun slotted into your life like he had always been there. The familiarity of it soothed you, brought you a deep peace that you didn’t know you needed – but there was the other side of you, the one that had never allowed anyone to get this close, that was terrified of what this would mean. That knew letting someone in also gave them the power to break you. 

It was always a push and a pull with him, an intoxicating desire to give in, to let your heart find a home with him – mixed with the fear that eventually, that home would be ripped away. 

“Fuck,” Changkyun cursed, and your fingers tangled in the hair at his nape, tugging. 

“No marks,” you reminded him, though you would be lying if you said you didn’t love the feel of his mouth at your throat. His tongue was laving at the junction of your skin between neck and collar bone, suckling it between his teeth before soothing it with sloppy kisses.

You had been pressed against the wall of your apartment, him latched to you like a man starving until you had coaxed him down the hall towards your bedroom, letting him push you down onto the bed before resuming his work on your neck.

“Mmm,” he acknowledged, though he didn't stop his ministrations. “I wish I could mark you up, make sure everyone at Yvonne’s knows who you come home to.”

You had let out a breathy giggle, eyes rolling though he couldn’t see it. His silly jealousy over the stares you got while working at the lounge was just that - silly, nothing of merit - and yet, you couldn’t help but play into it just a little bit.

“Oh yeah? Who’s that?” you whispered, using your hand in his hair to guide him to your mouth, only stopping his descent when he was a breath away. 

“Don’t play games, sweetheart,” Changkyun leaned forward, nipping at your bottom lip, and your grip deepened. “We both know I’m the only one you’d let stick around this long.”

He was right about that. 

Closing the distance, you melted your mouth into his, letting him take control of the kiss for just a moment before you tug at his head once more, dragging him down your body. He complied quickly, pressing small kisses into your flesh as you guided him lower. 

“I don’t know,” you breathed, eyes hazy as Changkyun settled between your thighs, a groan leaving his throat when he saw you had forgone any kind of underwear beneath your skirt. “That one guy at table 7 was tipping really well, I bet I could-”

Your words were choked off with a moan as Changkyun dragged his tongue from the bottom of your cunt to your aching clit, giving it a singular swirl with the offending muscle before pulling back. 

“What was that?” he asked, but he didn't wait for a reply, not before delving back between your legs. He lapped at your center, taking his time tasting you before he settled up near your clit, sucking it between his lips. 

Any retort you had been working on died as he made quick work of you, sucking and licking until you were bucking up into his face, both hands tugging at his hair to hold him in place. He had become pliant beneath you, molding himself just where you needed in order to push you over the edge. Just when you felt like you couldn’t take any more, that you were going to snap, Changkyun slid two fingers inside of you, curling them upwards. 

“Please, come for me, sweetheart,” he begged, murmuring against the heat of your flesh. “I want it so bad.” 

His words were your undoing, and you find yourself doing exactly as he asked, moaning out his name as he takes you over the edge, his mouth and fingers working you through it in tandem. 

You exploded, white bursting behind your eyelids until you were boneless, unable to do anything but ride out your orgasm at the will of the man in front of you. Changkyun made sure to taste every drop of your release, slowly sliding his hand away from you only to quickly replace it with his tongue to lap at you until you were shoving him away. 

You wanted to make him feel as good as you did in that moment, wanted to return the favor, so you pushed him off of you and onto his back, switching positions to settle between his legs.

Hands tugging at his boxer briefs, Changkyun complied to your silent request, lifting his hips until you could drag them off. You were quick to palm his erection in your hand and squeeze, relishing in the hiss he rewarded you with, your thighs squeezing together. 

“Please,” he groaned, and fuck did he beg so prettily. “I just want to be inside you already, let me be inside you, yeah?”

Teasing the head of his cock with your lips, you hummed, playing as if you were considering his words. The truth was, having a beautiful man like him pleading you for anything was your kryptonite, and you would give him anything he asked for as long as he sounded like that.

Taking a final swipe of your tongue over his sensitive flesh, you gave him a smirk, moving until you straddled him, hovering for just a moment. Grasping his length, you line him up with your dripping cunt, sinking onto him slowly, tortuously. 

You may be giving him what he had asked for, but only because you wanted to, because you had deemed it aligned with your desires. Changkyun gave you full control over your pleasure, and you took it greedily. 

Once fully seated, you moaned, hips beginning to undulate and swirl against his. Pressing your palms into his chest, you began to work yourself over him, sliding back and forth until you were panting, thighs burning. 

His eyes searched yours, waiting for permission before he did anything more than take what you were giving him. “Fuck me, Changkyun,” you gasped, voice teetering into a whine. “Wanna come on your cock.”

Changkyun didn’t need to be told twice, didn’t need any more instruction before he was thrusting up into you, pelvis meeting yours. His hands tugged you down until your chest was flush with his own, his mouth seeking yours and coaxing it into a filthy kiss. 

“Fuck, yes, please come on my cock,” he rasped against your lips, his pupils blown as they make contact with yours. His gaze was intense, searing, but you couldn’t look away, didn’t want to. You wanted to be engulfed; consumed by him. “Use me, baby.”

Slamming down onto him, your pace began to turn frantic as he matched you thrust for thrust, each connection against your tender clit sending you further into oblivion. 

“You feel so good, Kyun,” you praised him, adjusting until your face was pressed to his neck. “So good for me, so perfect.” 

His answering moan reverberated in your chest, his arms tightening around you as his pace turned punishing, and it drove you crazy how something as simple as your words has him frenzied, falling apart beneath you.

Drunk on the power, you felt yourself hurtling towards your climax, nails digging into the skin on his back as he relentlessly slammed up into you. “Fuck, yes,” you cried, letting yourself go, giving in until you were over the edge, orgasm overtaking your senses. 

It was too much for Changkyun; the way your scent was all around him, intoxicating him, the way you were moaning curses and his name, the way you were clenching so fucking tightly against his cock. Before he could stop himself he was chasing his high right alongside you, shuddering as he pumped his release deep, unable to still his hips even when you were mewling from the sensitivity. 

Panting heavily against each other, you had tried to pull away only for Changkyun to roll you beneath him, pinning you under his weight. He was still fully lodged inside you, face nuzzled into the curve of your neck, his breath warm against your still sweaty-from-sex skin. 

“What are you doing, Kyun?” you chuffed, making a feeble attempt to lift his weight before letting him resettle against you. It was all for show, the response he expected from you. The truth was  you didn’t mind it - the feeling of him still inside you, the familiarity of his lips on your skin, the intimacy of it all - you didn’t mind it if it was with him. 

“Just let me hold you like this for a bit, hmm?” he mumbled against your neck, and you hummed your agreement, letting your eyes fall closed. He pressed a few lazy kisses to your throat before his breathing became measured, even, and you decided joining him in slumber wouldn’t be such a bad idea.

“Promise me,” you murmured, voice thick and lazy. You were still naked and draped across his chest, listening to the calming beat of his heart. You had already woken and showered, deciding that clothes weren’t necessary before jumping back into bed together. That was several hours ago now. The smoke coming from his cigarette was curling up towards the ceiling, leaving a dreamy haze in the room. 

“I’d promise you anything,” he replied quickly, taking a drag, “but what specifically am I promising you this time, sweetheart?” 

“No more going to Kihyun’s high roller floors, Kyun. I know the pots are bigger, but you don’t know those men at those tables - not like I do.” You paused then, taking a shaky inhale. 

Being in your line of work, you were no stranger to dangerous men, however you purposefully stayed away from serving on those floors of the lounge for a reason. Those men were the worst of the worst, and even if they weren’t, they rubbed elbows and served those who were. Either way, the money may be sweet, but the risk wasn’t worth it. You made better than you ever had at the lounge with the sections you served,  and that was fine with you. 

But Changkyun had always wanted more. 

Ever since you had told him about your lofty dreams - the ones that you had saved for yourself in the darkest parts of the night, when your mind was racing and you couldn’t sleep - he hadn’t let them go. Truthfully, you always loved the idea of retiring your waitressing shoes and being able to finally write full time, working on the novel you’ve been imagining for years in some quiet home somewhere, tucked away from the world. But it broke you to see Changkyun willing to risk his life to see it come true by hanging around that crowd, placing higher and higher bets at Yvonne’s most hazardous tables. 

It was strange for you to accept that he would even want to do this for you, to support you in this way, but he always knew how to soothe those concerns, promising you that he genuinely wanted to care for you before gently ribbing you to stop being so damn stubborn. 

However, it was his stubbornness that had been creating a wedge between you. 

“They’re bad people, Changkyun. And I don’t mean like - scamming old ladies for their pension money bad, either. I mean like extremely shady dealings with people who are involved with things that would get them sent to prison, bad.” 

His free hand fell to your head then, smoothing your hair back as he took another puff of his cigarette. 

“I know they are. I’m only just polite enough for the rules of the game, I never engage with them more than that. I’m not there for friends or connections, just the money.” He took a final pull before dropping the spent butt in the ashtray on the bedside table, his other hand moving to rest over the one you had placed on his heart.

“I get that, but it doesn’t take much to get on their bad side. It could be the slightest thing. Sometimes, just winning is all it takes.” 

He sighed, but let the silence linger, instead letting himself get lost in stroking your hair softly. You were about to say something again, to make sure he had heard you, when he finally spoke. 

“I just want to take care of you, you know?” His voice was low, thick with emotion, though he tried to swallow it back. “Give you what you deserve.” 

That pain came back, the one deep in your chest, and you sat up to face him. “I know that. But I already have everything that I need, right here.” 

You tap his chest once, twice - his hand still firmly resting on top of your own. 

He met your gaze, giving you a small, cocky smirk, as if his eyes weren’t shiny with unshed tears. “What, you mean this hot body?” 

You scoffed, eyes rolling. Maybe you should’ve called him out on his side stepping, forcing him to vocalize that look he had been giving you, but instead you fell back into step with your teasing. It was, after all, the familiar dance between you two. 

“No, stupid. I meant you - you’re all I need. The rest of this shit is just noise.” 

“I bet I can make you make some noise–”

“Changkyun–”

“Okay okay,” he laughed as your soft touch turned into pointed jabs into his chest, sitting up to wrap his arms around you and stop your onslaught. “I hear you, sweetheart. You’re right. I’ll stay away,” he said, pulling you up and back until you’re leaning against his chest, arms still wrapped tight around you.

“Promise me?” This time when you say it, you made sure your eyes were locked on his, made sure the fear you felt was evident behind the words. 

“I promise.” 

It felt like a sign from the universe. Well, either that, or a promise from the devil.

But sometimes, those can look the same. 

The posting for Kihyun’s upcoming game had just gone up, but it was already making the rounds. Games like these were advertised in a certain way - you had to know where to find it in order to play, and the regular gamblers all knew the common message boards to keep an eye on. Changkyun hadn’t been looking for it, wasn’t even checking the forums anymore – but had gotten a text about it from Joohoney, a screenshot of the flyer accompanying his message of “Bro, did you see this shit??” 

A high stakes game, in two nights. The winning pot large enough that he would be able to retire you permanently, and he wouldn’t be too far behind you, honestly. You were already off work that night, plans in place for a girls night with Kat and a few of the other servers, so you wouldn’t be at Yvonne’s. 

It would just be one last time.

One last game, and with enough luck, he could finally give you the life that you’ve always wanted, provide for you in the way a man should.  Sure, you wouldn’t like it – the idea of him going to the tables again –  but that was only if you found out, and the chances of that were slim.

He could win the money and set it aside, give himself a week or two of regular games to make it seem a bit more feasible. A few days of being off your feet and back on your laptop would have you forgetting about work anyway, and the top floor of Yvonne’s would fade quickly away from your memory. 

It had to be a sign. He could do it, could pull it off, could be the man that you deserve. 

His fingers hovered over his phone, the reply ready to be sent to Joohoney. It would be just as easy to delete it, to tell him that he’s done with that shit. To text his best friend back and tell him that he can’t, because he told you he would walk away and stay away from those men. Joohoney might give him some shit, but he would understand, likely wouldn’t push the matter. 

But the money…

It didn’t take long for Changkyun to do the math; it would take months at the regular tables to get this kind of money, and that’s only if he kept winning. Which didn’t seem like long in the grand scheme of things, but when he thought of how your eyes lit up at the idea of writing full time, made it seem like it was centuries. 

You wouldn’t have to know. It would just be one last time. 

He pressed send on the text, foot tapping nervously until he saw the read receipt pop up under his message. 

“I’m in - one last game.”

You were mad at him again, but your friends didn’t need to know that. 

All they needed to know was that you were in the mood for a girls night out, and if they knew what was good for them, they’d be there in their sluttiest outfit ready to indulge with you. 

However, it only took you ordering the second round of shots to have Bri’s questioning stare fixed on your own.

“So, what did he do this time?” she deadpanned, sipping from her straw. 

“What? Who? I don’t know what you speak of,” you replied. “I’m just enjoying a night out with my friends.” 

“Sure, okay,” Kat nodded, giving a convincing performance of someone who actually believed your nonsense. “If he didn’t do anything, then why isn’t he here, buying us all drinks?”

She had you there. Changkyun was always wanting to show up on your nights out – not to crash them, but so that you and your friends could enjoy your time without having to worry about a single thing. He covered the tabs, made sure everyone was having fun, and ensured each person got home safely – all while staying tucked away at a nearby table until you needed him, never putting too much pressure on you. 

It had pissed you off the first time he had suggested it, but after he showed you what he meant, showed you how he could be supportive in the shadows while still letting you shine, you had slowly given in. Part of you loved being able to enjoy yourself with your friends while knowing he was always looking out, even if he wasn’t directly visible. 

“Maybe he’s busy.”

Twin glares pinned you to your seat, and you allowed several beats of the bass blaring in the speakers to pass before caving. 

“Okay, fine, yes. We’re having a slight disagreement,” you conceded with a sniff, “over something that happened at work.”

“Wait a minute - is this about what happened with Vanda?” Kat questioned, mentioning the newest server at the lounge. She had only started a few weeks prior, but had been making a lot of work for you - constantly acting like she knew what she was doing in front of management, only to flounder and follow you and the senior staff around asking a million questions the minute they weren’t on the floor. 

It wasn’t her confidence in her lacking serving skills that had bothered you, not really. It was more so how the minute she did get called out on a mistake, she was quick to try to throw you and your friends - the same people who had just been helping her ass - under the bus. 

You had told Changkyun about an incident earlier in the week of this exact scenario – she was flirting with another customer instead of checking on the tables in her section, and a patron of hers ended up getting up to go to the bar to order a drink. It wouldn’t have been a huge deal, mistakes happen after all, except she had immediately told the manager on duty that you had promised to cover that table. Which was news to you.

“Are you serious? After all the help you’ve given her?” Changkyun had shook his head, irritation evident in his voice. “Did you tell the manager the truth? Who was on?”

You had smothered a smile at the question, trying and failing to hide how much you loved him wanting to know more about your life. 

“It was Amy, and yeah, I told her. She believed me, but still. I don’t get it, I’ve never done anything to that girl.”

“Want me to show up to Yvonne’s and request her section with the guys, give her some shit? You know how annoying I can be when I want to,” he offered, brows raised in a teasing lilt, but you could tell by the line of his mouth that he meant it. 

“Yes, I do know how truly annoying you can be. It’s almost like a super power.”

He grinned then, a full one, and you wanted to kiss his stupid mouth. 

“But no, it’s fine. I got this. I know how to handle people like this, and having anyone else fight the battle for me will only make her more bold about it.” This wasn’t your first rodeo, after all - you had been serving a long time, and doing luxury serving at Yvonne’s for even longer than Vanda had been out of diapers. If there was one thing you knew how to do, it was handle people. 

But did Changkyun listen to you?

Well no, of course not. 

He did exactly as he had threatened - showed up the following day with his full group of rowdy friends, sitting in her section and dedicated to being the most obnoxious people Vanda dealt with all night. They didn’t do anything harassing or illegal, just toed the line of being pretentious drunk pricks gambling and drinking – sending back drinks for being made incorrectly, asking for complicated cocktails and shots, requesting a rundown of the entire menu before telling her they were no longer hungry.

Kat and Bri had found it hilarious, stating that your boyfriend’s malicious compliance of the rules while still making Vanda run around so much she was pouring sweat was truly an artform. And there was a tiny piece of you, deep in your soul, that was pleased at the lengths he was willing to go for you. 

But you were also pissed, because you had been exactly right. It did nothing to stop Vanda from sending bullshit your way; if anything, it had spurred her on, the following shift of yours even more annoying and mind numbing after hours of her questions and subtle sabotage.  

“Yes, it’s about what happened with Vanda! I told him to let me handle it, and he didn’t listen. I know he meant well, I get that, but still. He didn’t listen.” You had known his heart was in the right place - you hadn’t questioned that. But it didn’t negate the fact that it made you feel so small when he didn’t listen to your requests. 

“I thought that was hilarious,” Bri said, arm reaching out for another shot glass. She had one already prepped in front of her, but preferred taking her shots two at a time. “But I get it. Vanda’s been worse since.”

“I can handle Vanda, I don’t really care about that. But it feels like our fights are usually because he just doesn’t listen to what I’m telling him. It’s like he thinks he knows better than me.” 

Deep down, you know he didn’t mean it in this way, but it was like he didn’t trust you - your judgment, your read on the situation, whatever it is – and that hurt, especially when you had worked so hard to open up that piece of yourself to him. 

“And I know that I’m not always right, and it’s not like I don’t want to hear his opinions, but I don’t like the choice being taken from me. Or worse, dangled in front of me like he’s going to consider my feelings, only to have him do whatever.” 

Downing her two shots in rapid succession, Bri shook her head, reaching for her chaser before speaking. “I think that’s part of the problem, he thinks he is considering your feelings. He thinks he’s standing up for you and fighting for you. He thinks he’s taking some of that burden off your plate.” 

“I don’t need, I mean, I don’t-”

“When is the last time you let anyone fight a battle for you?” Kat interrupted, elbows leaning on the table to make direct eye contact with you. “You tell everyone that you got it, that you can handle it. And we’ve seen you do it, so it’s not that we don’t believe you. But sometimes, we want to help you, for no other reason than we love you. And we can.” 

The direct read into your defenses had your throat tightening, and you blinked back the tears that threatened to form and ruin your makeup. 

“He should listen and take your feelings into consideration, absolutely,” Kat continued, voice gentle, “but also, you should let him support you and help more. I think if you let him be there for you in smaller ways, he wouldn’t feel the need to be the knight in shining armor so much.” 

There was a lot of wisdom in your friend's words, and you had taken a moment of silence to chew on it, to let it sink in. 

“He really loves you, you know that, right? So stop being a dumb bitch about it,” Bri deadpanned, but her expression was soft, “and let him love you. And you know I say that with affection.”

“I know,” you said, nodding at your friends. As much as it wasn’t easy to admit, they had a point, which also meant that maybe Changkyun did, as well. “Thank you both, seriously.” 

It had only taken one text message, a quick “This tab isn’t going to pay itself” with a kissing emoji to have him showing up at the bar, settling into a table a few down from your own with a wink and a sly smirk, where he proceeded to wait out the evening, taking care of you and your friends as always when the time came. 

“I’m still annoyed with you,” you had panted against his mouth when you got home, letting him push you up against the wall and cage you in with his arms. He was on you like a starved man, and it had made your buzz intensify, making you drunk on him, his kiss. 

“Of course, I understand,” he mumbled, words barely intelligible in the urgency of his lips. 

You had to fight to pull away, using one hand on the base of his throat to push him back for a moment to catch your breath. 

“But, also, thank you. For what you did with Vanda. And for always wanting to protect me.”

If Changkyun noticed how soft your voice got, he didn’t say anything, instead leaning down to press his forehead against yours. You could tell he was going to say something – probably something devastatingly sweet – and you needed to finish what you were going to say, before the bravery lost you. 

“I’m not used to having someone who wants to fight with me, or for me, you know.” 

“I know,” he replied in a rush, like he had already known your confession, knew what you were going to say long before the words had formed.  “I know, and I also shouldn’t be an ass and push all the time. But I will always protect you, yeah?” 

Nodding, you fought back tears for the second time that evening, but this time you didn’t shy away from letting him see the emotion in your face. 

“You’re mine, and I will always fight for you, sweetheart.” 

This time when he kissed you, it was slow, purposeful, heated. Like he was going to  make sure you felt and wanted for nothing other than him, his touch, and that you could allow yourself to fall into him forever and would always have a safe place to land. 

Maybe it wasn’t so bad, to be vulnerable with someone, to let them in, if you could feel like this. 

Or maybe it wasn’t so bad, only because it was Changkyun. 

Tonight was the night, and everything was in place.

So why did Changkyun feel a ball of anxiety forming in the base of his gut?

Everything had been going according to the plan so far, not that there was much of a plan for any of this. It mostly relied on you and your friends being away from Yvonne’s for the night, which was easy enough since you were all off on the same evening. A rarity that you all were going to take advantage of, and had planned for movie night with drinks and sushi take out over at Kat’s place, an event that was common enough that Changkyun knew it usually ended in a sleepover. 

He had dropped you off an hour prior, kissing you gently and shouting a greeting down the hall to the girls before heading back to the car, ignoring the feeling of guilt roiling in his stomach. He had just kept reminding himself that he was doing this for you, doing this so he could support you and give you the life that you deserved. 

It was one last time, one last game. 

But that pit didn’t dissipate as the evening went on, not even when he met with Joohoney who had insisted he take a shot when they arrived at Yvonne’s to help with his nerves. It had burned his esophagus, blurring the edges of his tension a bit, enough that he felt confident walking through the lounge next to his friend.. 

“You good?” Joohoney asked, slapping a hand on his shoulder. 

Changkyun nodded. “Yeah, just really wanna win some money, you know?” 

Joohoney had given him an understanding grin before guiding him past the tables in the lower section of Yvonne’s towards the stairs leading up to the high roller tables. 

“It's our lucky night, Kyun,” Joohoney said, pausing in front of the door leading to where the game was about to begin. Through the heavily frosted glass, Changkyun could see several bodies already seated at the few VIP tables, and he felt his pulse spike.  “We’re going to win.”

“I hope you’re right.”

The sleepover at Kat’s had been just the reset you needed. 

A night of screaming at the television, drinking cocktails and eating your bodyweight in sushi with your friends was healing in more ways than one, and you had left the next morning feeling lighter and more content than you remembered in a while. 

 It was surprising to find your apartment dark and quiet when you returned, as you had assumed Changkyun would be there waiting for you, like he always was. You had given him a key long ago, figuring there was no point in pretending like he didn’t spend all of his free time glued to your side, but not fully ready to give up the independence of living alone quite yet. 

Sending him a quick text, you let him know that you’re home and about to catch up on sleep before your shift later. He replies quickly that he had fallen asleep at his place after a late night with Joohoney, but that he would be there once you got off work. 

Nothing had felt out of the ordinary, and you felt energized enough from your nap to get ready quickly, getting to work much earlier than you normally would for a shift.

You should’ve known something was up the minute you walked into work and saw that Vanda had a shit eating grin on her face.

She kept sneaking side glances, watching you with a scrutiny that made you uneasy. She’s normally more obvious in her attempts to annoy you, and her passive aggressiveness is setting your teeth on edge. 

After the third glare and giggle on your way to drop off more drinks, you decide you’re going to confront her and ask her what her deal is, when she beats you to it.

“Did you have fun last night?” Vanda questions, a stupid smirk on her face. 

“Why do you care?”

“Seemed like Changkyun did,” she continued, like you hadn’t asked a question. Your stomach dropped.

Raising a brow, you wait for her to go on, not wanting to give her any more satisfaction. She clearly knew something that you didn’t, and she was already well aware of that fact. 

“How much did he actually end up winning last night? I mean, him and Joohoney were upstairs until last call, and he seemed pretty happy when he left.”

Instantly, your throat tightens, unease now unfurled into full blown anxiety. He was here last night? If he was here last night, and with Joohoney upstairs, no less…

“I didn’t manage to hear how much he won, just that Changkyun shouldn’t worry, because you would never find out.”

It was enough. You had heard enough. 

It was surprising how quickly you switched into autopilot, spinning on your heel and striding out of the room before your throat tightens, before your vision fully blurs. Vanda says something more behind you, a lilt of concern in her voice, but you can’t hear her, not anymore. 

 Your mind quiets as your body takes control, moving you to find your manager to tell her that you need to leave, before grabbing your purse and coat, and leaving the lounge. Turning towards your apartment, your rage fuels your step, gut churning with the betrayal of knowing the only reason why Changkyun would be upstairs at Yvonne’s last night, why he would be leaving looking so pleased with himself. 

The wind bit at your face, chapping your lips,  but you didn’t care; needing the night air in your lungs and for the anger to be burned out in your movement before seeing him. 

Because once you walked out your anger and faced the betrayal, you would need to deal with the deep seated fear for Changkyun’s safety, and how the hell you would be able to protect him now. 

Changkyun wasn’t expecting you so early when you barged into the apartment, and the mix of confusion and excitement quickly bled away once he saw the look on your face. 

He strides towards you, grabbing your shoulders, concern knitting his brow. “Are you okay? What’s wrong?”

Blinking, you allow yourself a moment to stare at him, to drink in his full mouth and stupid handsome face, before you swallow around the knot in your throat. 

“Tell me it isn’t true, Changkyun.” 

You hate how your voice sounds; weak and strained and like you’re just bone deep tired, defeated. Maybe you are. 

“What are you talk-”

“Tell me that you weren’t upstairs at Yvonne’s last night,” you sigh, irritated with the ruse. “Tell me that you didn’t go and do the exact thing that you promised me you wouldn’t, and that I didn’t have to find out from fucking Vanda, of all people.”

Pulling away, you slide from his grasp, tucking your arms around your middle so that you wouldn’t be tempted to reach back out for him. It was tortuous, how much you want to reach for him, even when your heart is breaking. 

“Sweetheart, I just- it was just going to be one last time, one last game. The pot was too good, it was enough to get you set up, so you could quit,” he lets the sentence hang, almost waiting for you to interrupt, but when you stay silent, he continues. “Joohoney made sure everything was good, and we won just enough to get what we needed, not enough to rock too many boats. I had it under control.” 

Closing your eyes, you let the last sentence settle around your shoulders like a heavy weight, the same old feelings bubbling up. “It wasn’t about you being in control or not, Changkyun. It was about listening to me, actually listening to me. You promised.”

It was on the last word that you broke, that the tears started to fall, and for once you didn’t turn away, wanting him to see. 

“You promised me you would stay away, and then you didn’t. You hid it. You thought you knew what was best for me, instead of just listening to me.” 

Pain laces Changkyun’s face as he takes a step towards you, only pausing when you take an equal step backwards. “I’m so sorry, I don’t think I know better, I just-”

“Please leave. I’m done.” Your voice is low but measured, certain. 

“Baby, please, let me just explain, and- and-”

“I don’t want to hear an explanation. I want you to leave.” Tears continue to fall, but you don’t drop his stare, willing him to understand just how serious this all is, how serious you are. 

He wants to fight it, wants to say more, but something in your eyes must convince him, because he keeps his mouth shut. Instead, he moves back to the couch, grabbing his coat and phone, before making his way to the door. His gaze is mournful as he gives you one last look, lingering, before shutting the door behind him. 

You aren’t sure how long you stand there, unmoving, before the autopilot kicks back into gear, forcing your limbs to move. Heading towards your room, you place your phone on the charger before you curl into your bed, surrounding yourself with the blankets and the lingering scent of Changkyun. 

And then you let yourself break down. 

Changkyun was drunk. Too drunk. 

He shouldn’t have taken that last shot, especially not after that last drink from the bar. It was too much, but fuck it. Who cares?

“I’m not sure what I’m doing,” he mumbles to himself, not caring how crazy he looks. He wishes someone would just give him some direction, tell him what he would need to do in order to fix this. 

He didn’t listen. He never listens. 

And now he’s lost the only good thing he’s ever fucking had, the only reason he got up each morning and what’s the point, if you’re gone? 

Fuck. Fuck. 

Sliding down low in the booth, he lets his head hang, the whisky glass precariously dangling in his hand. His body felt so heavy, so numb, and yet the anguish deep in his chest only worsened, throbbed along to music blaring in the club. 

If only he could apologize, he’d beg for mercy, he’d promise he’d never fuck up like this ever again. Explain how you were right - how he doesn’t need the money, or any of that shit, as long as he had you. 

He needs you.

His heart is in a vice grip, squeezing so tightly that he thinks he might explode from his body, his skin, until he’s nothing but red.

Pain suddenly licks up Changkyun’s palm, and he looks down to see the glass cup gone. In its place are thousands of tiny shards, twinkling in the dim club lights, reflecting everything back to him. More red, but this time welling in his palm, pooling in the deep lines of the skin. 

“What the fuck, are you alright dude?” 

Changkyun thinks it’s Joohoney who asks him, or maybe it’s Hyungwon? It doesn’t matter either way, because it’s not you.  

He goes to stand, to ask for a bandage or a rag or something, but instead his vision blurs, the room spinning. And then he’s flat on his back, blinking up at the cacophony of lights, faces coming in and out of focus, but not the one he needs, not the one he’s looking for. 

He can faintly hear his friends talking to him, feel them digging in his pockets for his phone, but he can’t be present anymore. It’s too torturous, too heavy. Much easier to close his eyes, to think about your face. To let himself get lost forever. 

He’s happy to die here on the floor of this stupid club, imagining your smile, your laugh, your lips as you say his name.

Changkyun just wants to take care of you, just wants to give you everything that you deserve. How can he do that if he’s here? If he can’t listen? 

He lets the darkness swallow him.

Changkyun isn’t sure where he is. 

He feels like he got hit by a truck, his head specifically feeling like it had been trampled on, though it’s his right palm that's aching in time to his pulse. 

Without moving, he opens his eyes slowly, trying to take in his surroundings. It’s dark, wherever he is, and his head is propped on a pillow, body stretched out on a couch. He can see a small trash can directly in front of him, as if whomever brought him here wasn’t sure if he’d be capable of finding a bathroom if the contents of his stomach decided to make a reappearance, and he groans.

Fingers swipe through his hair, easing the pounding in his skull by a fraction.

“Hi, sleepyhead. How are you feeling?”

Changkyun thinks he has to still be sleeping, must be having a very good dream if it’s your voice he’s hearing, your scent he’s inhaling as he settles onto the pillow. He smiles to himself, not wanting to speak and having the dream fade too soon. 

“Changkyun? Are you going to answer me?” This time, you peer over him, leaning down to stroke his face. You let your fingers linger briefly on his cheekbone before lightly touching his lips.

His eyes snap open. 

“Is this real?” He asks, voice hoarse, gaze searching your own. He doesn’t feel strong enough to sit up quite yet, but you don’t seem to want to make him, either. “Are you really here?”

“Technically, you’re here at my place, but yes, it’s real.” You reply, your nails sliding back up to his hair to give his scalp a soothing scratch.

He swallows as he stares at you, as he drinks in the tenderness in your eyes that he thought he wouldn’t get a chance to see again. It took him a moment before he recognized your apartment in the dim light, and another more before realizing the pillow he’s laying on is settled in your lap. 

Even knowing that this was real, that you truly let him back in, he was still too scared to speak, not wanting to scare you off. Not wanting the moment to end. 

When he finally gathered enough courage, he cleared his throat.

“I’m so, so fucking sorry, sweetheart. You’re right. I don’t listen. I hear what you say, and then just act like an ass who thinks he knows everything.” Changkyun swallows thickly. “The only thing I do know is that you’re my everything. You’re all I need. Please, don’t give up on me yet.”

His pleas make your eyes well, and you force yourself to take an even inhale before speaking. 

You want to tell him that you couldn’t give him up, that you had tried because you knew it would be easier in the long run, but your heart wouldn’t allow it. You want to say that you had regretted telling him to leave the moment the words left your lips, that you hadn’t meant them. You want to say that you were just so tired of not being heard, of people making decisions for you.

Instead, you roll your eyes playfully. “Now why would I do that, after all the trouble I went through to patch up your hand while you were black out?”

You will tell him those things, but later. When the sting of last night had faded a bit from both of your memories, and the impact intended can land. 

He gives you a small grin, meeting your gaze. His hand - the bandaged one - raises slowly, tentatively, until it’s cupping your cheek.

“I just wanted to give you the world,” Changkyun murmurs, almost reverently. “I will give you the world, the right way. It might take me longer, but I will.”

His words soften you more, and you reach for his other hand, pulling him up until he’s facing you. He’s slow to move, the onset of a hangover taking hold, but eventually he settles sitting upright, eyes still intense on your own. 

He  is always trying to take care of you, trying to lessen your burdens. You know you’re not the best at accepting the help, but dammit, you were trying. For him. And he was trying for you, too. 

You lean forward until your foreheads are touching, breaths mingling. 

“I already have it, stupid.”

He kisses you then, a gentle press of lips that quickly builds, as everything always does with him. A push and a pull. Changkyun leans away slightly,  grins against your mouth. “I’m an idiot, but you already knew that.”

“You’re my idiot. The rest is just noise.”

[choke-me-joey]

Eddie Munson x fem metalhead cheerleader

Summary: Based on this - how Eddie met his not so typical cheerleader girlfriend and a little exploration of their relationship.

Content warning: 18+ content minors DNI, smoking, underage drinking, drug use, swearing, flirting, smut.

Author's note: Happy Valentines Day! Every year I say I hate it and then get a little sad when I don't get a card or something little so….here is my gift to you because I love you all! This chapter also comes with a kiss on the forehead for you 😘

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

It had been 2 months since Eddie had ended things. 2 months since you had stopped speaking to him, even glancing his way. You'd stopped going to Hellfire, stopped going to The Hideout and you'd even gone as far as to request your seat be changed in Ms O'Donnell's class, meaning you now sat on the far side of the room, pretty much as far as you could get from him. No more whispered exchanges whilst Ms O'Donnell's back was turned, no more quick kisses at your locker between classes, no more smiles across the cafeteria, nothing. There was nothing now.

The guys in Hellfire knew something had to have happened, but weren't exactly sure what. Eddie had changed personalities overnight, now sullen and moody, quick to anger and snap as opposed to his usual clowning around, all lovesick and dopey and full of jokes. Now, honestly, he was kind of depressing to be around.

You were no better off. The cheer squad weren't exactly your friends before, and now you didn't really have anyone to turn to. You got along with everyone, sure, but since Eddie had broken your heart you had become so withdrawn and quiet, your coach had to step in and make sure everything was okay.

Of course it was the usual response that "boys come and go, honey, it's just a high school crush" which made you want to roll your eyes right out of your goddamn head. Your mood fluctuated from sad, to angry, to sad again, and you'd lost count of how many times you'd cried yourself to sleep over the last 2 months, clutching at Eddie's old Dio shirt he'd given you to sleep in a few weeks into your relationship, but never asked for it back. It very, very faintly smelled of him still and honestly it was the only thing keeping you from completely losing it.

Despite how much he had hurt you, and how angry you got at times, it didn't mean your feelings for Eddie had completely disappeared. Of course you still loved him. You had fallen hard and fast for him and that wasn't just going to go away. Ignoring him at school was one of the hardest things you've ever done, but you knew it would eventually ease your pain.

Rumours swirled around the school, as they do. First it was you had come to your senses and dumped the freak, then it was because Eddie had tried to sacrifice you to Satan and scared you off. But the newest one was that Eddie was screwing a girl in the next town over, and you had found out. Turns out somebody had caught a glimpse of the nude Polaroid falling out of Eddie's locker, not realising it was actually you, and the rumour swelled from there.

That damn Polaroid. It had ruined everything. You don't even know where it had come from, any nudes you'd taken of yourself were safely secured in your bedroom, and any nudes anyone else had ever taken of you were destroyed upon breaking up, you'd made sure of that.

But this particular photo...you'd been racking your brain for weeks trying to think how someone could have gotten a hold of it. It was one you'd kept in your room, you knew it was because of the little star you'd marked them all with; you were very conscious of keeping your nudes safe.

Besides, you'd only ever had 2 boyfriends that you'd taken these pictures for, and you'd not even given them to 1 of them. You'd never taken them for any fuck buddies or one time flings, despite being asked. And you rarely ever brought those dudes into your bedroom, except for-

Your heart pounds, and you start to shake.

That motherfucker.

**

Eddie sighed as he pulled up to Chrissy Cunningham's mansion the following Friday night. He could hear the music already thumping away; Chrissy's parents had gone out of town for the weekend so of course, Eddie had been called upon to deal. He fucking hated these things, especially now that he didn't have you by his side. He swallowed hard.

He fucking missed you.

He missed you so much it hurt. Now it had been nearly 3 months since he'd found that photo, since he'd ended things, and he still couldn't get your face out of his head. The way you'd looked at him, the way your voice wobbled and cracked with emotion, and the way you'd hissed at him with a venom he had never, ever imagined you spitting at him.

You hated him now. You didn't even look at him in school, stopped coming to Hellfire, stopped parking your car next to his van, stopped it all.

Was that because you were guilty? Pissed at him because he'd called you out? Or...maybe, just maybe, he'd made a mistake.

Eddie kicked himself mentally every time he thought about it. He let his emotions get the best of him, like always, only this time he'd let the rage take over. That had only ever happened once before and it ended in a broken hand, the other guy's broken jaw and Chief Hopper hauling him into a cell, letting him rot there overnight before Wayne came to bail him out the next morning. Eddie had never felt so ashamed as he did when his uncle had looked at him with that sad, disappointed expression. Wayne never said it, but Eddie knew exactly what he was thinking- he was following in his father's footsteps.

He'd sworn to himself after that that he would never let his rage take over again.

And then you came along, he fell head over heels like never before and when his brain had told him you were definitely cheating on him, that he wasn't worthy of you, that you couldn't possibly love him, and when he read that stupid fucking note that all but, in his mind, confirmed his fears he just lost control.

And now you were gone.

Except you weren't gone, because there you were, walking up Chrissy's front path with a couple of the other cheerleaders, looking as perfect as ever, in leather pants and a cropped Bon Jovi shirt, sticking out like a sore thumb amongst the other party goers dressed in...well, color. Eddie watched as a group of football players met their girlfriends, pulling them into sloppy drunken kisses and grabbing their asses, making the girls squeal and giggle. One football player - was it Johnson? - approaches you with a predatory look in his eye and Eddie doesn't realise he's holding in a breath until he releases it when you completely blank Johnson, shoving past him and into Chrissy's house.

This was going to be a long night.

**

You'd lost count of how many beers you'd drank and how many shots you'd thrown back. And honestly, you didn't fucking care.

You'd seen Eddie's van parked up down the street when you'd arrived; of course he'd be here. He was always expected to show at these parties - it's where he'd make most of his money. The minute you'd seen it, that's when you decided you were going to get absolutely shit wrecked.

That and when Johnson had had the balls to approach you, grinning like the fucking cat who stole one of your nude photos to sabotage your relationship.

You'd kept your cool, you had to. Your spot on the squad couldn't take another fight, or scandal. You had to swallow your anger towards Johnson, that regretful summer fling from last year, and just get on with it.

So of course, you chose to drink. And dance. And smoke. All on your own of course. You know everyone is looking at you, but you couldn't give two shits if you tried.

You stumble out into the backyard, and spot Eddie dealing at the far end of the yard. Fuck it, you think, you want to just let go, and you knew Eddie had the good shit. You inhale and walk over to Eddie as a group of girls leave him. He looks you up and down, concerned.

"Y/N?" He sounds almost afraid.

"Munson." You say curtly and he winces. "Got any pre-rolled?"

"Y/N, I don't think you should be smoking-"

"And I don't think you should be acting like my goddamn boyfriend, Munson, when you made it pretty clear 3 months ago that you thought I was cheating slut!" You snap. Eddie's jaw clenches.

"I'm not selling to you, Y/N. You're wasted."

"And so is everyone else here!" You gesture around, exaggerated by the alcohol. "Don't act all caring now, Munson. Just...don't."

"Fine." He grits out, giving you the pre-rolled joint from behind his ear. You hand him a $20, but he pushes your hand away. "Just take it."

You sigh. "Jesus, look, just take the damn money, okay? I don't expect girlfriend privileges anymore."

"I don't want your fucking money, okay? Just take the goddamn joint, Y/N, I'm just trying to be nice!"

"Well don't!" You yell, a few people glancing over as a silence falls over them. "You broke my heart, Eddie, you don't get to be fucking nice! You never even once gave me a chance to explain-"

"What was there to explain?!" Eddie yells back, taking you by surprise. "It was pretty fucking crystal clear to me, Y/N! And you weren't the only one who had their fucking heart broken, I loved you!"

You freeze, your breathing turning shaky and you blinked rapidly, tears threatening to spill over. You throw the joint at him and turn on your heel, storming back into the house.

"Getting tired of that right hand yet, freak?" A smug voice makes Eddie turn around. He comes face to face with Aaron Johnson, another one of Anderson's idiotic companions. Eddie rolls his eyes.

"You buying or not?" He replies, and Johnson smirks, leaning against a tree.

"You know, if it wasn't for Y/N's shitty taste in music, I probably would have carried on hitting that. She's so fucking hot but I can't be seen with someone who dresses like a satanist, wearing all that demonic shit. My mom would have disowned me. But, fuck, that pussy's second to none, right Munson?"

Eddie's jaw clenches.

"And that body, fuck, it's insane. Glad I found her secret stash of pics and took a little reminder for myself. Came in handy more than a few times." Johnson grins and Eddie's stomach drops. "Y'see, she fucked with our team, freak. Got Anderson kicked off when we were a sure win for the championship, I could've gotten a fucking scholarship. And thanks to her, that ain't happening. So, I just had to let you know what a stupid little slut she is, Munson. I did you a favour."

"You." Eddie grits out. "You did this."

"I did her, too. She really is a freak in the sack, isn't she? Think she's drunk enough to let me fu-"

Eddie's fist connects with Johnson's cheek before he can even finish his sentence. Johnson staggers back in suprise, before returning a blow to Eddie's stomach, and the two begin to brawl, much to the delight of the onlookers in the yard. The news travels fast throughout Chrissy's house.

"Holy shit! Johnson's fighting the freak!" A voice yells from the kitchen, and your head snaps up from the beer you were nursing on the couch in the living room.

You push through the crowd that are now chanting 'fight, fight, fight!' and eventually get outside to the chaotic scene of Eddie and Johnson rolling around on the floor beating the piss out of each other, blood splattering the patio.

"Eddie!" You scream out as he rolls on top of Johnson, driving his fist into his face. He doesn't hear you, blinded by rage. It scares you to see him like this, so, so angry and vicious. Even though he broke your heart, you still cared for him and hated the way his beautiful face was bruised and bloody and curled into a snarl. You run over and grab his arm before he can drive it down again and pull him off of Johnson, but he pulls away from you and dives towards him again. Johnson is a better fighter than Anderson for sure, and immediately pins Eddie back on the ground. "Get the fuck off of him, Aaron!"

"How'd you like the little gift I left your boyfriend, Y/N?!" Johnson bellows, laughing maniacally as you shove him off of Eddie, who coughs and spits out blood onto the patio. "Should have thought twice before you fucked with the team!"

"This is all because of your fucking high school football career?!" You shriek. "Oh my god, grow up! If Anderson wasn't such a pig maybe he'd still be on the goddamn team!"

Johnson gets off of a groaning Eddie, staggering slightly as he grins at you.

"He knows what an easy little slut you are, Y/N, can you really blame him for trying? If you'll let this freak stick his dick in you, you're gonna let anyone do it."

"At least I knew when his dick was in me, which is more than I can say about yours, Johnson." You bite back, making several of the onlookers gasp and giggle. Johnson looks visibly embarrassed and enraged. "I only give my nudes to guys with dicks bigger than 3 inches, you fucking Neanderthal."

Johnson takes a step towards you, but he's quickly restrained by two of his buddies. The wail of police sirens and flashing lights a few streets over is enough for the crowd to disperse; one of the neighbours must have called and reported the party. "Shit," you hiss, helping Eddie up off of the floor and pushing your way out of the panicked crowd. "Give me your keys."

"You...you can't fucking drive, you’re wasted." Eddie grumbles.

"Yeah? Well I bet I can drive better than you can with a busted eye, Munson, so unless you want another run in with Hopper, give me your damn keys."

Eddie sighs and places them into your hand. You wince at the sight of his raw, bloody knuckles.

You help him to the van and buckle yourself in to the driver's seat. "You're gonna need to direct me Mr Here's Another Excuse For You Not To Come To My Place."

Eddie sighs again.

"It's…Forest Hills Trailer Park, you know it?" You nod. Eddie looked almost ashamed. "Of course you do, Hawkins' best trailer trash, drug addicts and drunks all in one spot, I'm surprised they don't charge at the gate for parents to just bring their kids in and show them how they shouldn't end up like this. Like a damn museum exhibit." Eddie mumbles bitterly. You frown, doing your best to concentrate on driving straight.

"Eddie-"

"It's left here."

The 15 minute drive was silent, not even the radio playing, with intermittent grunts or hisses of pain from Eddie. When you arrive at his trailer, you help him out of the van and to the door, unlocking with his keys. You sit him on the small couch.

"Got any frozen peas?" You ask, looking around the trailer at the small kitchen.

"My uncle keeps ice packs just for this very reason. Second drawer."

You follow his instructions and retrieve one, wrapping it in a dish cloth and handing it to him.

"Keep that on your eye. Where's your first aid stuff?"

Eddie places the ice pack on his eye. "Bathroom cabinet, down the hall on your right, but, Y/N you don't-"

But you ignore him and find your way to the small bathroom. Your tummy flutters as you pass by what is obviously Eddie's bedroom, getting a waft of that delicious Eddie smell. You enter the small bathroom and dig in the cabinet and find an old bottle of peroxide, Neosporin, cotton pads and bandaids. You also find a washcloth, soaking it in cold water and squeezing out the excess water. You go back out into the living room and kneel in front of Eddie.

"Chin up." You instruct, and he does, wincing as you gently rub at the dried blood on his face, getting rid of the worst of it before you soak a cotton pad in peroxide. "This is gonna sting."

Eddie sucks in a breath as you dab at the cut on his cheek. "Ow, fuck."

"Told you." You clean it as gently as possible before popping some Neosporin on it and a band aid. You repeat the process on the cut his forehead, lip, chin and his knuckles. “Didnt think you were a fighter, Munson.”

“Oh, I’m Munson again now?” Eddie huffs and you roll your eyes, placing the last bandaid on his knuckle. “Thanks…”

“No problem, it was kind of my fault you got in a fight. I should have realised sooner that it was him.”

Eddie clears his throat.

“Yeah, listen, about that…I’m sorry, Y/N. I should have let you explain. I guess I was just pissed at the thought of you having fucked someone else, even if it was before me.”

“Yeah, you should have let me explain.” you say, your voice a little sharp. Eddie avoids your eyes. “It’s fine, what’s done is done, but…thanks for defending my honour.”

“Just returning the favour, sweetheart. Couldn't have you beating the shit out of another jock, your place on the squad would have been toast."

"Yeah well…" you shrug, stifling a yawn. You glance at the clock on the wall. "Jesus, when did it get to be 3am?!"

"Well you lost about 5 hours getting wasted. I'm suprised you got us back without landing us in a ditch." Eddie smirked and you shoved him.

"I guess the adrenaline sobered me up." You sigh. "I gotta stop going to these parties, especially when you're there. You're the problem here."

"Ain't nothing new there. Go, take my bed, you need to sleep."

"But what about you, Eddie? You're injured, I cant kick you out of your own bed. I can crash on the couch."

Eddie snorts. "Yeah, I'm sure my uncle would appreciate you stealing his spot when he gets in from his night shift in a couple hours. Take my bed, I'll sleep on the floor."

You roll your eyes. You forgot how stubborn he could be.

"Okay fine but um, can I borrow some clothes? Leather pants aren't exactly the comfiest thing to sleep in."

"Sure, come on princess." Eddie leads you to his bedroom, rifling through his messy drawers before handing you a shirt and some boxers. "You can, uh, change in the bathroom."

"Why? Not like you haven't seen it all before." You shrug, stripping off your shirt and pants, standing in Eddie's room in your bra and panties, modesty gone thanks to the alcohol still lingering in your system . Eddie swallows hard, looking away. He doesn't look back at you until you clear your throat. His heart hammers in his chest as he takes in the sight of you in his favourite Metallica shirt and some of his comfiest boxers, taking your hair down out of the band it had been tied up with. You smile at him softly. "You wore this shirt to my house the first time."

"You wore it too," he grins, wincing as his lip screams at him.

"Yeah for like an hour, you insisted on getting me naked again." You giggle, cheeks flushing.

"I am but a man, sweetheart." Eddie holds his hands up in admittance. He quickly straightens up his bedsheets before gesturing for you to climb in. You gingerly do so, part of you so sad that it's under these circumstances that you're in Eddie's bed for the first time, and part of you elated at being surrounded by everything Eddie. You watch Eddie take off his jeans and shirt, gathering a couple of spare blankets and pillows to lay out on the floor of his cramped but cozy room. Once he's readied his bed, he flicks off the light, and a silence falls over the two of you as you both settle into your respective beds.

Your stomach churns with nerves; you hadn't been near him for so long and now he was so close you could touch him, but you couldn't touch him. It was torture and your mouth spoke before your brain could catch up.

"Eddie?"

"Mm?"

"I miss you." You whisper into the darkness. You're not even sure he heard you until you felt his hand, his non busted hand, blindly reach up and feel around for yours. His fingers link with yours and his thumb brushes over your knuckles.

"I'm right here."

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Tag list continued in comments!

[controversial-blorbo-bracket]

Controversial Character Tournament Round 2: Gamzee Makara from Homestuck vs Maeglin Lómion from The Silmarillion/The Fall Of Gondolin

(remember that these characters are fictional and your fellow tumblr users are real. i will block you if you harass others in the notes, please consider sending your unhinged harassment to my inbox instead)

Propaganda under the cut, may contain spoilers:

Gamzee Makara:

LOVE: - "Okay, so Gamzee is such a divisive character that I even hesitated on choosing "love". Sad clown with an absentee father raised in a fascist dictatorship. Was mind controlled into killing his friends and then mind controlled during a toxic relationship (or two). Suffers from addiction so fandom likes to go "Oh, how scary his withdraws are. Clearly being drugged up was the only thing keeping this THIRTEEN YEAR OLD from murdering his friends (who largely ignored him, insulted him, demeaned him and acted like they wanted nothing to do with him). Having one such friend gently touch his face didn't cure him of his issues (or the mind control) so obviously he is an irredeemable monster and an abuser. This is genetic." I know you've gotten tons of Vriska, so basically insert any of Vriska's apologists' points here." - "Gamzee is a complex character who is used as a puppet both by the other villains of Homestuck and by the arthur. Once someone takes a deeper look at him they might find a tragic character who had lots of chances where he could have gotten onto a better path but those chances were not able to be given or taken. On the flip side Gamzee suffers from some poor writing that leaves aspects of the character to based off poor stereotypes, he also lacks chances to show his internal character as thr story goes on and is treated like a tool by the story. He also killed some fan favorite characters and has a version of himself (homestuck is a multi timeline story) that abused a different fan favorite character." - "I know Vriska is the obvious pick for controversial HS blorbo, but consider: He is the world's shittiest boy. No one knows why he does the things he does he might just be a murderclown but he might be mind controlled or something no one knows and people have really strong opinions on him based on what they believe. He makes me very sad because I did think he was a cool character before he snapped." - "He was written so poorly 💔" - "when i was 12 i had a crush on him i was like a gamzee apologist and i was probably right i dont remember homestuck. i used to listen to icp and think wowww this is just like my clwon boyfriend and giggle and blush and kick my legs and i still do that with my fake boyfriend but hes not gamzee and its not icp and im not 12 but he kind of sounds like gamzee but thats because hes a smoker and he wouldnt listen to icp he likes techno. anyway i used to get so sad when people said they didnt like him because of the killings and i brought him up to my old therapist a couple times thats kind of funny looking back but i would do it again (but not with gamzee. with my fake chain smoker boyfriend who likes techno). anyway anyway my mom listens icp because her old friend from highschool who died was a juggalo and whenever i hear her listen to it i think about gamzee so i havent forgot about him yet. hes wasnt my favorite character thouhg my favorite character was the gemini one (i also had a crush on him when i was 12 i tried to lucid dream to see him once) (it didnt work). ok love you bye." - "-Funny clown -Cares about his friends -Absent parental figure :( -Did some murder but it wasn't his fault really he didn't have all of his mental faculties (see next point) -Got brainwashed by a universe-destroying god that is everywhere and nowhere at the same time through the form of a rapping marionette -The author(s) fucking hates him for some reason and retconned his previous characterization to make him a one-dimensional shitty villain and used canon text to make fun of fans who like him and no I'm not exaggerating -If I don't make him my blorbo who will"

Maeglin Lómion:

LOVE: - "LISTEN okay so he DID betray the city of Gondolin to the guy who literally invented evil, and that DID result in it getting destroyed and a whole bunch of people dying or being taken prisoner (which is probably worse in this instance), and also he DID attempt to throw his cousin's seven-year-old son off the city walls to his death during the attack. BUT. I love him. Also, and more substantially, a) he didn't go out of his way to betray the city, he was taken prisoner and threatened into it, b) he had an incredibly painful history with Gondolin involving both his parents' violent deaths happening like ten minutes after he arrived there, and he was legally not allowed to leave, and c) he was SO YOUNG (only 180! that's hardly anything for an elf!) and he is SO ANGSTY and INTERESTINGLY GOTH and SELF-HATING and I LOVE him. So." - "First of all he was LITERALLY CURSED TWICE OVER so there was NO WAY he was coming to a good end okay. Sure he had a crush on his cousin but he canonically didn't say anything and she only knew because she read his mind and he wasn't able to hide it from her. He had a major éowyn moment (iconic) and was trapped in cage after cage all his life and tbh after what he saw in the Nirnaeth I'm NOT surprised he voted to stay instead of go. Or just told the king what he wanted to hear. Anyway the POINT is that breaking under mental torment to morgoth, whose force and victory he'd seen firsthand, is NOT a moral failing, and idril started conspiring against him before he'd actually done anything wrong. The attempted murder was, admittedly, not great though. But he didn't even SUCCEED like c'mon he just got homoerotically yeeted from a cliff about it. In conclusion: maeglin did nothing wrong except all the things he did wrong, and the version in which he's most openly evil is also the one where both the narrative and the other elves are racist to him so like they had it coming"

[heavenlyhoundoom]

Sun and Moon show incorrect quotes 4.

1.Moon: I just watched Bloodmoon jump off of a spinning chair. Luckily, he wasn't hurt that badly. But the whole time, Lunar was screaming for help, which caused Earth to run in to help Bloodmoon. Just note that all of this happened in the span of six minutes.

2.Eclipse: You know, people treat me like a god. Bloodmoon: How? Eclipse: They ignore my existence unless they need something.

3.Earth: How long do you reckon it’ll be until Sun finally snaps and commits murder? Bloodmoon: I’ve been going through life assuming it’s already happened at some point and it’s just that no one was ever able to trace it back to him.

4.Lunar: It smells like henway in here. Moon: Sun: Moon. Sun, forcefully: Doesn't it smell like henway in here? Moon: sigh Moon: What's a henway? Lunar: OH ABOUT TEN POUNDS!

5.Moon, as a child, reading their school assignment out loud: I love my library because… Moon, mouthing words while writing: I love reading, fuck you.

6.Earth: What's your greatest fear? Ruin: Being forgotten. Earth: … Earth: Damn, that's deep. Earth: Mine is the Kool Aid man, but I feel kinda stupid about it now…

7.Bloodmoon: I have a plan. Lunar: I have the hospital and Sun on speed dial.

8.Earth: What's worse than a heartbreak? Lunar: Waking up in the morning and your phone wasn't charging. Moon: Waking up in the morning. Ruin: Waking up. Bloodmoon: Waking up in the morning… Bloodmoon: And seeing Eclipse. Eclipse: Hey! Rude!!

9.Ruin: I hate how you're just born out of nowhere, and you're forced to go to school and get education so you can get a job. What if I wanted to be a duck? No one ever asked me if I want to be a duck!

10.Sun: Yesterday, I overheard Moon saying “Are you sure this is a good idea?” and Bloodmoon replying “Trust me,” and I have never moved from one room to another so quickly in my life.

11.Sun: So, what are we doing? Moon: Wasting our lives. Sun: I meant for lunch…

12.Lunar, learning how to drive: What happens if I press the gas and the brake at the same time? Bloodmoon: The car takes a screenshot. Eclipse: For the last time, get the fuck out!

13.Bloodmoon: It's not like I try to blow things up, exactly. It just sort of happens. You've got to admit though, fire is fascinating.

14.Ruin: PEASANT. I REQUIRE SUSTENANCE. Eclipse: You know there are other ways to say you want McDonalds. Ruin: FOUL PLEBEIAN. YOU DARE SPEAK AGAINST ME— Eclipse: sigh What do you want? Ruin: Chicken nuggets please.

15.Moon: Hello, my name is Failure, and you're watching my life crumble into pieces. Moon: waves their finger and sings like they're in a Disney Channel intro

16.Eclipse: Everything will be ok. You can not stop it. Eclipse: Everything will be fine. You have no choice. Moon: What the fuck kind of pep talk is that? Eclipse: Ominous positivity.

17.Ruin: gets a text Oh! It’s Bloodmoon. Eclipse, excitedly: Did they get me the stuff? Ruin: Yeah, they say they got you the clown costume, the power drill, and 12 gallons of blood. Eclipse: Wow! Where’d they find 12 gallons of fake blood? Ruin: You wanted fake blood? Eclipse: Ruin: I’ll go call Bloodmoon.

18.The squad is playing a team sport Sun: Are you upset you don’t get to be on the same team as Eclipse? Bloodmoon: Have you ever played a game with Eclipse? Sun: No… Bloodmoon: Have you ever been trapped in a cage with a wolverine? Meanwhile, on the other side of the field Eclipse, chasing Moon: I SAID FASTER! DO YOU KNOW WHAT THE WORD “FASTER” MEANS? IT MEANS MORE FAST!!!!

19.Sun: Hey, how did my phone break? Eclipse: You were drunk yesterday. Sun: And? Moon: You threw it. Sun: Why? Ruin: You turned on airplane mode and kept screaming “FLY DAMN YOU!” Sun: And why didn’t you stop me?! Bloodmoon: We were busy laughing our asses off.

20.Eclipse: Are you trying to give me a fucking aneurysm? Bloodmoon: Pretty sure we all are. Earth: I wasn't. Moon: I was. Sun: I was trying to stop them, for your consideration. Ruin: I just cause aneurysms naturally.