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theminecraftbee · 30 days

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the summer before THE END...

(this fic contains @hotguycomiczine spoilers! go read it first! i'll wait!)

It’s midday. The sun is heavy and hot, bearing down against the asphalt and visibly making the air shimmer over the road. Summer in Hermitopia can be miserable, and frankly Cuteguy thinks it’s far more miserable than the bruises. The humidity makes his feathers stick together and itch in awkward ways, he’s sweaty twice over because he hadn’t had time to actually wash his costume between the last major villain attack, his recent part-time line cook job, and then this fight.

He’s in his early thirties and he’s becoming an old man, he thinks. His knees should not hurt this much, and yet here they are. Vigilantism is going to give him early arthritis.

They’ve driven off the villain. Didn’t manage to catch him, though. He wasn’t even from Hermitopia. That’s been happening more lately; people who see Hermitopia as some lawless wasteland where they can come visit, avoid drinking any water, and live out their dreams of being a comic book character, damn the consequences or collateral damage. It’s frustrating. Sometimes, deep in Cuteguy’s soul, he sort of thinks the Soup Group has a point in calling out all this bullshit.

Of course, they do all that murder about it. So. Not much better, really.

He leans against a building and tries to breathe. Normally he has a water bottle with his costume, but this guy had homemade napalm. Luckily, not real napalm! The water did work for putting out the fire! Unfortunately, it’s ninety-seven degrees and humid and Cuteguy has just done enough cardio that he’s honestly worried about the odds he passes out.

Out on the street, Hotguy is chatting with every civilian he comes across. He’s grandstanding. He’s giving blow-by-blows. He’s acting like his sweat doesn’t stink like a mere mortal’s. He has a water bottle, and he’s taking sips of it between chats with reporters and posing for cameras. There are enough cars and civilians that Cuteguy isn’t all that worried about the TCG yet. Hotguy’s still pretty damn wanted, what with the whole possession thing that they don’t exactly have the means to prove to the public, so Cuteguy’s got to keep an eye out for them, but with this many cameras on him? The TCG isn’t about to arrest him on camera. Despite everything, he's still too charismatic; he'd still make them look too bad.

Cuteguy wipes his forehead again. He does notice when someone starts approaching him; he might be exhausted, but he’s acting as Hotguy’s situational awareness while he’s busy playing up crowds. He can’t afford to be that exhausted, so he isn’t. That, and the woman approaching him is hardly as stealthy as the Bleeding Hart. Another thing he might have to give to the Soup Group were he willing to give them credit for anything: he’s never been able to fully stop noticing where everyone is around him. Hotguy had winced and called it “hypervigilance”. Cuteguy had said that he wasn’t any better, he just calls it a superpower. Hotguy had said it is hardly his fault his superpower promotes vigilance. Cuteguy had—

“Uh, good fight. Thanks,” says the woman.

“Oh, uh. You’re welcome,” Cuteguy says.

She’s tall and blonde. Also, she has four arms. Cuteguy should have probably noticed that first, but he didn’t, and that’s on him.

“Bit of a mess, especially in this weather. Hotter and they’d issue a heat advisory, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Cuteguy says.

He is not good at post-battle smalltalk. That’s why it’s Hotguy’s job. He’s good at causing chaos if needed, but chaos is the opening the TCG would need to get to Hotguy. Cuteguy glances in his direction. He’s posing and signing autographs still. He can’t help but sigh. They’re going to be here all day.

The four-armed lady follows his gaze.

“You know, I’d always wondered why you stick to him,” she says.

“Sorry?” Cuteguy says.

“I just mean—I watched the fight. Yeah, he’s good, but you’re decent at range too. You can get enough height to really not need perfect accuracy because you’ll be hard to hit. Wings are, uh, a pretty overpowered combat tool, really, especially when most of your enemies are on the ground. But you’re good at close range, so, uh, inside isn’t awful for you either, really.”

“I mean, you’re right, I am pretty good,” Cuteguy says, interrupting her. “I don’t really get—”

“Look at him,” the woman says. “You ran around more than him and he took the water bottle.”

Cuteguy wants to defend Hotguy for that one; it’s hardly his fault that Cuteguy dumped his water bottle on napalm like it would do anything. It did, which is convenient, but still. Not Hotguy’s call. He doesn’t quite get the chance.

“Even after everything last month, he’s still grandstanding too. Sure, he’s stopped shooting people for not being grateful enough, or holding rescues hostage for cash, but look at him. Hardly any better, is he. Sure, he says he was possessed—”

“He was,” Cuteguy snaps.

“—but like, is the guy he is now actually all that different? Just saying.”

Cuteguy stares at the man trying to get extra photo ops out of a group of passing runners. They’re topless to account for the heat, which is probably why Hotguy wants photos with them. Cuteguy can just barely hear the man asking to trade phone numbers. Is it worse or better, Cuteguy wonders, that the phone number Hotguy gives out just goes straight to Cub’s inbox? Is that catfishing or just good sense?

“He’s trying to help,” Cuteguy says.

“He’s desperate for attention,” the four-armed woman says. “You know, you’d probably be better without him. After everything that happened, your reputation would be better too. A little more in the shadows, a little less associated with his crimes.”

“He’s…”

“I just want the real reason, really,” the woman says.

“What do you…”

“Why would you stick with him when you’re so much better?”

Hotguy waves goodbye to the runners. He takes another sip of the water bottle. Really, there’s so much that Cuteguy can say here, watching that. He could say something about how, in the terrible days when the Soup Group had first come onto the scene, Hotguy had barely left Cuteguy’s side until Cuteguy started pushing him away. He could say that Hotguy is earnest, that he really does want to save people, despite the fact he also wants attention. He could say that he knows the man behind the mask now, and he’s seen his films, and frankly getting a little recognition as Hotguy kind of makes up for not getting recognition for his decent acting talent. He could say something about playing Mario Kart on the couch, or learning to aim a bow, or fights with Doc, or secrets shared that Cuteguy wants to make sure Hotguy never has an incentive to spread. He could say something about how dangerous fighting alone is. That’s probably the more sensible thing to say, actually; Cuteguy knows exactly how dangerous fighting alone is.

What Cuteguy says is this:

“He makes me happy.”

There is a long not-quite silence as sirens and cicadas fill the summer air.

“Huh,” the woman says.

Cuteguy doesn’t say anything else.

“Well. I mean. I don’t really know how to save you from that, so I guess I’ll just leave you to it,” the woman says. “Consider if he’s really worth it.”

She leaves. Cuteguy stares after her a moment before shaking his head and going back to scanning the crowd for any known TCG elements.

“Birdie!” Hotguy crows, running over from the reporters. “We’re on the 5 PM news!”

“Really? An out-of-towner with questionable pyrotechnics made it?”

“I got it worked out,” Hotguy says confidently. “But, uh, with that said, you look like you need some AC and a drink. I have so much Gatorade in my fridge that it isn’t even funny. All the labels are pulled off because it’s for that one football movie I did, right? And for some reason they didn’t want to give Gatorade the product placement, so they made all these sports drinks without—”

“Not in-costume, Hotguy,” Cuteguy says, but he doesn’t put any heat into it.

“—oh, you know no one’s listening, lighten up! Anyway, so the movie ended up somehow ordering far too many bottles, and you know what they say about underpaid actors and free food—or, I’m not sure it’s actually an expression, but let me tell you, I have never turned it down. And with the number of ele… electo-mites? I think? You know, all the sweat we’re sweaty about—come on Cuteguy, I don’t want you passing out on the pavement, I really didn’t mean to get caught out that long!” Hotguy says, grabbing Cuteguy’s hand to take him back to his apartment.

Miserable heat or not, Cuteguy can’t help but smile slightly.

“I don’t want to pass out either, that’s why I’m not running, Hotguy,” he says, and he lets himself be tugged along in that man’s wake once more.

#hgcz #hgcz spoilers #hotguy comic zine #hermitfic #hermitcraft #goodtimeswithscar #grian #a bee fic #man this one needs a lot of tags.#i have a MUCH LONGER side story that i'm still working about that's about My Favorite Characters but for now.#sometimes i think about Them.

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happy74827 · 8 months

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Let Me In

[Steve Rogers x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: Steve is persistent in a lot of things. But when he catches fear in your eyes, he wants nothing more than to help you heal.

WC: 2230

Category: Hurt/Comfort {TW — Implications of SA}

The “who did this to you” trope has my whole heart.

『••��••』

Seeing the pain in Steve’s eyes was more than enough to make your own heartache. The confusion on his face turned into a deep-set frown as his hands hovered over your body, too afraid to touch. Too afraid that if he touched you, the rest of you would crumble to the ground.

The silence between you was deafening, yet Steve said nothing. He just stared at you. You felt his gaze move from the top of your head and down the length of your body. His jaw clenched tightly when your expression faltered, and you tried your hardest not to show the pain you were feeling.

He wasn’t even reaching toward you in the first place; he was reaching for the water that was sitting by his punching bag, but the damage was done the second his hand came into your view.

Out of all the things that could’ve happened, flinching from Steve… of all people was the worst thing possible. The look of hurt on his face was enough to make your own heart drop to your stomach.

You knew he would never hurt you; he would never cause you pain. It was Steve, for goodness sake; he was a big teddy bear who wouldn't cause harm unless absolutely necessary. He had the biggest heart you'd ever seen. And yet, here you were, cowering away from him.

When his hand came into your peripheral, you jumped back, almost tripping over yourself as you stared up at him. You could feel your heartbeat in your throat.

It was so loud. So, so loud.

Steve, ever the hero, immediately pulled back. The water was forgotten and all of his focus was on you now. He even tried to reach out to you again, but seeing the flinch on your face was enough to stop him in his tracks.

He didn’t know what to do.

Steve was the guy who knew exactly what to do in every situation. He was Captain America.

Captain America.

But seeing you cower away from him made him feel helpless.

His hands were still hovering, his brow was still furrowed, and his lips were set in a firm line. He wanted to touch you, to hold you, but he was so scared that you would push him away and run.

It broke his heart.

The last time he saw you, you were happy and laughing and smiling. But now, it was like someone had taken all the happiness from your face. The smile was gone. Your laughter was gone. The light was gone. And Steve hated it.

He hated it with every fiber of his being.

He was the first to speak. A small whisper. A whisper that would've been missed if you weren't hanging onto every single one of his movements.

"What happened?"

He took a small step forward and watched as you tensed up, your fingers curling around the fabric of your shirt. You swallowed thickly and shook your head.

He deserved the truth, but you couldn't bring yourself to tell him.

You didn’t want to tell him. Not after you had flinched away from him.

"I’m fine, Steve."

He gave a low hum and looked you over, trying to gauge the situation and find the best way to approach this. He needed to get you talking, but he had to be careful. He couldn’t make the same mistake twice.

"You don't look fine."

The way his voice came out, it was like a breath. His words were soft and comforting. His eyes never once left yours, not even to see where he was stepping.

You wanted to scoff. You wanted to tell him that you were perfectly fine and that he had nothing to worry about. You wanted to lie and say that the flinch was an accident, a momentary lapse in judgment.

You wanted to lie.

But you couldn't. Not to Steve.

Never to Steve.

"Who did this to you?"

It was the way he said it. The tone he used. It wasn't accusatory; it wasn't harsh. It was gentle. It was caring. It was full of concern. Full of love.

But the question brought you up short.

You could feel his eyes on you. You could feel his gaze burning through you, his worry evident. You could feel him staring right into your soul.

You knew he didn't mean to ask it, but the question slipped past his lips before he could stop it. Before he could pull it back.

You swallowed thickly and looked down at the floor, not being able to bring yourself to meet his eye. You could see his boots; you could see his toes.

But not his face. You didn’t want to see his face. You couldn’t handle the concern.

You could hear him shuffling closer, his hand reaching out slowly and hesitantly. When his finger brushed against your arm, you jerked back, but he didn't let you get too far.

His grip was gentle. So gentle, but it was enough to hold you. Just enough.

It was just your name, just a whisper, but the way he said it made you weak. The way he breathed it out had your knees shaking. You could feel the tears burning the back of your throat; you could feel them gathering in your eyes. They were going to spill over soon, and Steve was the only one who was going to be there to see it. No one else.

"Tell me"

There was a moment where you wanted to fight it. To shove him off and run to your room. To lock yourself away and never come out. But when his thumb rubbed over your cheek, it was the moment that you broke.

Tears spilled over. They flowed freely down your cheeks, dripping from your chin.

Your breath came in harsh pants.

Steve's hands moved to your shoulders. He held you firmly yet gently. His thumbs rub slow circles on the top of your arms.

“Damn it.” You breathed out. “Damn it! Of all the people I slip in front of, why did it have to be you? Why couldn't it have been Tony? Or Nat? Or Sam? Or hell, even Bruce? It had to be you, didn't it, Rogers? It had to be the guy I was trying to avoid. The one person I didn't want to know.”

Your rant was cut off when you felt Steve's fingers under your chin. He tipped your head back and forced you to look at him. He looked down at you with those soft blue eyes, the ones you had been trying to avoid since the start.

They were the only thing that could ever get through to you. They were the only thing that could make your walls come down.

His hand was gentle. It was like he was trying to hold a piece of glass. If he pressed too hard, you would break. And god, did you want to break. You wanted to feel the release, the freedom.

You wanted to feel something, anything other than this pain.

"I'm sorry." You breathed out. "I didn't mean to."

"Don't apologize," He murmured. "Just talk to me."

"Steve-"

"Please." The word was a broken plea. It was the most vulnerable you had ever seen him.

You bit your bottom lip and looked down at the ground, unable to hold his gaze.

"Please." He repeated. "Let me help."

"It's not that easy." You whispered. You couldn't believe that you were even considering telling him.

"Yes, it is. I'm right here."

You were going to regret this. You didn't want to, but you were going to.

"I can't." You shook your head, a sob rising in your chest. "I can't, Steve. Please don't make me."

“Then tell me how I can help you."

You didn’t know how to respond. How could you possibly tell him how to help?

"I- I don't know."

He sighed and stepped back. For a second, you thought he was going to leave, that he was done with you, but with the way his gaze never left yours, you knew that wasn’t the case.

He reached down and wrapped his fingers around your wrist, tugging you behind him.

You let him. You were too tired to fight back.

Too tired.

Too weak.

He led you out of the gym and through the tower, his pace never once slowing. Not until the both of you were in front of your bedroom door. Then he released his hold on you and stood back, looking at you. His jaw was still clenched, and his hands were balled into fists. You didn't know if it was because of the fact that someone had hurt you or the fact that you were hiding the truth from him.

"Let me in." He said, his tone leaving no room for argument. "If not today, then some other time. Let me in."

"Why?" You questioned, crossing your arms over your chest.

"Because I care."

"Why?" You repeated, your eyes narrowing. "Why do you care so much?"

"I know what it’s like," He murmured. "To feel the need to hide from the world. To feel the need to bottle everything up inside. You don’t need to do this alone. I don’t know what happened to you, but whatever it is, you can talk to me. Let me in. Tell me the truth."

You shook your head and turned, reaching for the handle, but Steve was faster. His hand shot out and curled around your wrist. He kept you in place.

"Please." He murmured.

The desperation was evident in his voice. The sincerity was, too.

“You want the name that much?” You questioned, keeping your gaze trained on the door.

It was better than facing him.

It was better than seeing the disappointment in his eyes.

It was better than seeing the pity.

It was easier to hide the emotions behind the door, not having to see his reaction.

"I want you to be honest with me. I want you to talk to me. If you’re comfortable giving me the name, then that's your choice. It's always your choice. I won't force you to do anything, but I want to help."

"It's a little late for that," You scoffed, yanking your hand out of his grasp.

He stepped forward, crowding you against the door. You could feel his warmth against your back.

"I didn't know." He murmured, his hand reaching out to brush his fingers against the back of your neck. "Had I known, I would've put a stop to it."

"There's nothing you could've done."

"I could've killed him." He murmured. "That's what I could've done.”

“You don’t kill people, Rogers. It’s not who you are. You know that.”

“Still doesn’t change the fact that I would stop at nothing to keep you safe. Whoever this is, they aren’t going to lay another hand on you. I promise. They aren’t going to hurt you again, not if I can help it. You have my word."

You could feel the tears pricking the back of your eyes. God, did he have to say such sweet things?

You weren’t sure if it was because he was being a good friend or because he wanted something more, but whatever it was, it had you melting.

"I didn't mean to push you away." You whispered, resting your forehead against the cool metal of the door.

"I know."

"It was instinct. I couldn't-"

"I know."

"How do I fix this?"

"You don't. It takes time. Healing isn't an instant process. It took me a long time to get back to normal… somewhat normal.”

“But—” You began, but the look on Steve's face told you that arguing wasn't going to do you any good.

So you stopped.

"It takes time." He repeated. "But I'm not going anywhere. You can take all the time in the world, and I'll be here waiting. Whenever you're ready."

"I want it to go away."

"I know. Believe me, I know." He murmured.

You felt him shift behind you. His hand pressed flat against your back and rubbed slow circles, the heat seeping through the thin material of your shirt.

You had never felt so safe, not even when you were a child.

Steve's presence alone was enough to calm the anxiety running rampant through your body. You weren't sure what had caused this particular attack, but now that Steve was here, you were hoping it would pass soon.

"What do you need?" He asked softly, his hand running up and down the length of your back.

"You." You croaked out, the words almost getting lost in the fabric of his shirt.

"You have me."

"Promise?"

"Promise," He replied without missing a beat.

You took a deep breath and leaned further into his touch.

"It'll go away soon," He assured. "We can sit down and talk about it when you're ready."

"What if I never want to talk about it?"

"Then we won't. You set the pace, okay? Just… please, don't shut anyone out. Don't shut me out. We— I care about you."

You nodded your head, unable to form the words you wanted to say.

The feeling was mutual. You cared about him too. And maybe, just maybe, you would be willing to open up about this. Maybe even share the name.

Steve does throw a good punch, after all.

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st4rgzer · 5 months

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now playing…SO LONG, LONDON (spencer reid)

summary: spencer realizes how much damage he had been causing you.

genre: angst with fluffy ending

cw!: idk relationship problems?😭 also use of y/n and y/l/n (your last name)

a/n: so since y’all wanted a happy ending version! here it is, it isn’t quite like the song but yeah, you guys get the point. masterlist

tension protruded eagerly from the silent room. it was dim, you had left some candles lit but that was it. your cheeks were wet and hot. but somehow you still felt an adamant numbing sensation of coldness. your weary bones hugged your knees, sniffles breaking through the silence.

“how long did you think i could’ve held on” you muttered through your broken voice.

“what?” he lifted his head from in between his legs where he had his hands pressed to the back of his neck.

“how long did you think i could’ve held on to you? were you just going to let me destroy myself, give everything i had just for you to crack a smile?” you spoke loudly now, sharp words that stung as spencer heard every one of them.

he didn’t respond. instead, he just listened. he knew the last thing you wanted from him right now was for him tp talk back, so he let you talk.

“fuck, even my friends said it was not right to be scared! not of you, but of how quickly your temperament can change from one moment to another. every breath that i take feels like im stealing it from you, like- like when i do finally get to do so, its short and doesn’t last long until i have to hold my breath again.”

“do you resent me, spencer? is that what this is? you left the BAU after you got back from prison, and i thought it was to settle down, make me your wife. but you never wanted this, did you?” spencers head perked up. his demeaner changed. he went from attentive and remorseful to stern.

“do not say that. “ he pointed a finger at you “y/n y/l/n don’t you, for a second, think i regret any minute i’ve ever spent with you, i regret a lot of things in my life but meeting you, loving you? i’ve never thought twice about that. you are my number one priority in this life, and im sorry i couldn’t give you everything you wanted, at least not right now. but i promise, i swear on my life, if that even means anything, that i’m going to get better. and i know actions speak more than words, but please, please hold on. i’m not going to insist you stay here with me, but just promise you’ll come back when you’re ready? i love you, y/n, and i hate myself for even thinking that i hurt you.” his tone was indulgent, pleading almost. he had stood up and waved his hands frantically as he punctuated each word, meaning every one. his frazzled hair and big brown eyes kept you at bay.

for a few minutes there was silence as you quietly digested his words.

“do you mean that?” you whispered, fragile, as you looked up at him.

he nodded his head, looking away and blinking a few times. trying to hold in the tears that painfully pricked his waterline.

you sighed, attempting to weigh the pro’s and con’s of the situation, but you loved him. a mental list of the good and the bad wasn’t going to decide the fate of your life. in every relationship there’s hell in heaven, eventually, happiness comes back. all you knew was that this man encapsulated your whole being with nothing more than love and affection, so you knew that this was nothing but a small dent in the glass case that encased the rose that was your love.

you opened your arms, he hesitantly got down to your level. you held him tightly, as if the weight of the wind was to carry him away at any moment. he buried his head in qthe crook of your neck, sniffling as he let out soft sobs, and whispers of apologies.

eventually, the tears ceased. and you both laid there, enveloped. consumed by each other, hands caught in spencers hair from raking through it, as sleep caught onto you. spencer kissed the bridge of your nose gently.

“i love you”

“i love you too”

a/n: guys idk how to feel about this one, this might have been my least favorite so far😭

taglist: @ilovesadiesink @sp3ncelle @lvtilzs @bunnylov-3-r @bellasprettywords

*comment to be added*

#spencer reid fluff #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid angst #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fic #criminal minds

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buccini555 · 1 year

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— 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐝𝐫𝐮𝐧𝐤𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬

𓄹 ⊹ ᳝ ࣪ 𝟎.𝟏 — 𝐃𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐡

𓄹 ⊹ ᳝ ࣪ You ended up having an argument and after they said something harsh to you, you left and during the night they found you drinking in a bar with someone else, but they took you home afterwards and in the morning they were still by your side

𓄹 ⊹ ᳝ ࣪ H e a d c a n o n s!

𓄹 ⊹ ᳝ ࣪ 𝑭𝒕. Rindou Haitani, Kokonoi Hajime, Izana Kurokawa, Shinichiro Sano, Hanma Shuji and Kisaki Tetta

tw: morning after drinking, hangover, bad words

𝐑𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐮 𝐇𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐢

The next morning, you woke up with an unbearable headache, immediately noticing Rindou's presence, you could only remember the argument you had.

He would be extremely worried about you and your condition, so he would do his best to make all the hangover go away.

"Are you awake? Do you even remember what happened yesterday?" Rindou questioned you, giving you some cut fruits to feed you.

"We had a fight and then you got drunk on some guy you don't even know, fuck it, do you know how worried I was about you?" Rindou said in a serious tone, shaking his head in denial.

"I hate giving lectures, but, don't ever do shit like that again, if I hadn't found you and taken care of you, something bad could have happened and I honestly wouldn't forgive myself! And, I'm so sorry for our fights..." Rindou would hug you and sincerely regret every word he said, despite that, he wouldn't stop scolding you for your behavior.

𝐊𝐨𝐤𝐨𝐧𝐨𝐢 𝐇𝐚𝐣𝐢𝐦𝐞

"What the fuck were you doing in that bar yesterday?" As soon as you woke up, it didn't matter if you were hungover or not, he would question you.

"I hope you at least remember the guy who was drinking with you, I shouldn't even be looking at your face, but I'm here like an idiot taking care of you!" Kokonoi would definitely still be hurt and jealous about the whole situation, however, he would also take care of you the next morning, not forgetting to give you several lectures for drinking more than you could handle.

"Don't ever do that again and promise me you'll never step foot in that kind of local alone!" He would make you promise, Koko actually worried about you even after they argued, somewhat ignoring his jealousy for your well-being.

"... Forgive me for our argument, I know it was me who caused such damage, I'm sorry for my words, they weren't true." After he calmed down, he would apologize for such an argument earlier.

𝐈𝐳𝐚𝐧𝐚 𝐊𝐮𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐚𝐰𝐚

"Holy shit, I thought you would never wake up, what the fuck did you want to do? Go into an alcoholic coma because of me?" Izana would question you the next morning, completely ignoring your headache and hangover.

"Do you realize that I found you in a bar drinking with a guy? I wanted to leave you there or in the middle of the street, but no! I preferred to take care of you all night!" Still jealous, he would say without thinking too much or being careful with his words, for Izana, that situation really was stressful and worrying at the same time.

"Don't make such a fuss again, I should have kicked that guy's ass but I was busy worrying about my irresponsible darling." Izana would definitely not fail to give you the worst lecture you've ever heard, besides, he really wouldn't have any desire to apologize for the argument before all that mess, even though he belongs taking care of you, he would ignore you most of the day and he would throw in your face the fact that he had wasted his night trying to cure your drunkenness.

𝐒𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐨 𝐒𝐚𝐧𝐨

Shinichiro would stare at you in silence, making you eat light food and take medicine in the morning to cure your hangover, after a while he would find the courage to talk about what happened.

"Seeing you with that guy makes me feel so fuking sick, even more drunk, I didn't need to see that." He would say, still indignant and disappointed with his behavior.

"... Something bad could have happened to you if I hadn't looked for you, I don't want to come out as the hero of the story, I know I caused this, but, don't ever do that again." Despite being hurt, he would be understanding, leaving his jealousy aside, even if he still felt uncomfortable.

"I'm sorry if I hurt you with some of my words in our argument, I hope this all serves as a lesson for both of us, I want our relationship to be healthy, you understand?" Shinichiro would sincerely feel sorry and wouldn't hesitate to apologize to you, even so, he would still feel strange for a while thinking that you would easily leave him for another man without even thinking twice.

𝐇𝐚𝐧𝐦𝐚 𝐒𝐡𝐮𝐣𝐢

"What the hell were you looking for in that bar yesterday? I'm glad I found you, I've never been so angry in my entire life, I'm so hesitant." Hanma said as soon as you woke up, he was still angry and hurt by your attitude, even so, he gave you some medicine and made you eat.

"I spent the night awake taking care of you, I cursed you a little, the shit you did still hasn't entered my head." He would definitely take out some of his anger on you, still jealous, Hanma felt threatened to see you with another man.

"Who was that son of a bitch that was with you? Or do you not even remember that disgusting face?" He would question you about the person who was drinking with you, even if you claimed that you didn't know him, Hanma would still remain suspicious of that whole situation, at the same time, he would feel relieved that he took care of you even though he was angry.

"... Let's not fight anymore, please." Hanma wouldn't apologize, but he would definitely regret that argument.

𝐊𝐢𝐬𝐚𝐤𝐢 𝐓𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐚

"Good morning, are you feeling better? For a moment I thought you weren't going to wake up... You really drank too much, you know that, don't you?" Kisaki told you as he made you drink water and eat, despite being angry, he definitely didn't want to treat you rudely.

"... I know I hurt you in that argument, but don't ever do that again, understand? Something bad could have happened to you, you know you crossed the line, I don't want you to do or think about doing that again." Without elaborating too much on the subject, Kisaki would say, leaving his jealousy aside at that moment, he was sincerely sorry, even though he was a cold person, with you he always tried to be a sweetheart.

"Taking care of you will never be a problem for me, it's my obligation to keep you safe and well, but don't do shit like that to yourself again, damn! That was so ridiculous." He wouldn't stop scolding you like that, however, he was just doing it out of concern.

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torotauri · 10 months

Text

I Don't Deserve You | Kang Hyewon

1190 Words

***

University on a Saturday, it was supposed to be the fun day. Activities, football matches and going to the pub with mates for watch the games broadcasted on TV. However, not for you, not this week at least. You can't do anything because you injured your knee. All you can do today was just stay home and sit in bed for the whole day by yourself.

It all happened because of an injury, you sprained your knee last week in a football game, damaging your ACL and ultimately causing you to miss the game today. The final game of the calendar year. You wanted to end your year on a high, but it looks like you were going to end the year on the bed, doing nothing.

With all finals being over and one more week on classes left, everyone on campus was enjoying themselves. Going to the pub, celebrating with mates, doing fun stuff with people they know and fraternities are advertising their fun parties they have this weekend. However, you can't do any of these because the doctor told you to avoid any form of activities that will put stress on your knee for at least a month, meaning your life was pretty much meaningless.

Despite this, your girlfriend of two years was being pretty supportive to you. Of course she was, she was part of the university cheerleading team so naturally she was going to be cheerful. She was always your cheerleader, cheering you on when you were on the pitch, going through every highs and lows with you, by your side and making every lows of life better for you.

Kang Hyewon was really the perfect girl, not just for you but for the university as well. She was popular, pretty and also head of the cheerleading sorority. Every guy wanted to date her but there was only one lucky guy who can call himself her boyfriend and that guy was you.

Even now, when you were out injured, Kang Hyewon told you that everything was going to be alright, making sure you feel better. She knows that there was only two loves in your life. Football and Kang Hyewon. However, despite Kang Hyewon thinking she has made you feel better about not being able to play the last game of the calendar year, it was still you having to stay home alone today because she had to go to the game with other cheerleaders to cheer on the university football team.

It was not a good thing being alone at this state, you started to think. Thinking about a lot of stuff. Thinking about what would happen in the game before moving on to thinking about deeper stuff. Starting off with thinking about what would happen if your knee never recovers or if the situation with your knee gets even worse, before finally thinking about your relationship with Kang Hyewon.

Kang Hyewon, like you said, was one of the most popular and prettiest girl in the campus. The head cheerleader status she got a few months ago only made her more popular and more wanted around the campus.

With that you started thinking if you really deserved her?

You only started with her from a friends with benefits relationship when you both entered university, but slowly became in love with each other. However, the romance have been dying lately. The two of you have been feeling comfortable with each other, living together has seemed to kill the romance and you two have stopped going on romantic dates for a while now.

Plus watching her simps around her and people trying to hit on her didn't help with this situation.

You thought about it long and hard, you really didn't deserve her. She deserved someone better, someone more romantic and someone who actually can give her the love that she deserves. What she doesn't deserve was someone like you, a guy who is nothing without football, a guy who isn't romantic at all. She deserves love and you just can't give her the love that she deserves.

As much as you loved her and wanted to be with her, you just know that you can't give her what she deserved, there are a lot of other guys out there in the university who are willing to give her what she deserved. All the guys who you have saw hit on her was right, she deserve someone better, someone who isn't you.

As much as you hate to do this, you feel like something has to be done to rectify this situation. You needed to do something you didn't want to do.

Whilst you were deep in thought, deciding what you were going to do, the door open and your girlfriend Kang Hyewon walk through the door.

"Hey, I'm back. How's your day" Kang Hyewon asked as she walked through the door to see you sat on the sofa with the remote control in your hand and the TV on SkySports Main Event.

"So no change for you then" Kang Hyewon sat next to you as she took the remote control out of your hand.

You snapped back into life as Hyewon took the remote control out of your hand, you were so deep in thought that you didn't even saw her come sit next to you.

"How's your day been" Hyewon asked you again.

You just hugged her tightly which surprised Hyewon a little bit but she hugged you back not knowing what has gone through your mind.

"Hyewon, I don't deserve you" you said whilst hugging her tightly "I really don't"

Hyewon was surprised to hear what you just said. She didn't know what was going on, she has heard people tell her that she deserved better, but she never thought you would think that way as well.

"What are you saying" Hyewon said pulling out of the hug, surprised at what she just heard.

"You deserve better, not someone a weirdo like me who just sits around all day watching football" you responded.

"But I don't want better, I want you. I know people have been saying I can date better guys than you, but they don't give me what you give me. I feel safe around you. Sure, you do eye other girls up and prioritise football over me, but you're a good guy deep down" Hyewon responded.

"No I'm serious, you deserve to be in a relationship with someone who's more romantic than me" you stated, making your point very clear

At that moment, Hyewon kissed you on the lips.

"If I really think I deserved someone better, then I would have left you. We've been together two years already and even when we broke up a year ago, we got back together. Sometimes, love is not always about the romantic stuff, it's about being comfortable and feeling safe. You give me that sense of safety and comfort which is something that nobody else can give me" Hyewon said making you feel better.

The two of you shared another kiss, this time more passionate.

"You know, there is one romantic thing you are really good at, why don't we do that" Hyewon said as she broke the kiss looking deep into your eyes with lust.

#kpop fanfiction #kpop #kpop fanfic #kpopfanfic #kpop idols #kpop fluff #izone #izone hyewon #kang hyewon #hyewon

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misteria247 · 24 days

Text

Concept randomness because this is my blog I can be insane if I want too-

So there's plenty of fics about Timmy losing his memory due to turning 18 and forgetting about Danny, SpongeBob and Jimmy. But like what if he lost his memory due to a magical accident.

Like Timmy is the magic user of their group. The muscle of their team and the heart of his and Jimmy's relationship. He's one of the things helping keep their strange little family together and he doesn't even realize it. And because he's got such a big heart and he's glued to the other three so closely, it wouldn't even be out of character if Timmy perhaps.....took a hit for a team mate.

Like picture it.

It's in the middle of a fight, there's chaos everywhere. Everyone's on their last legs, desperately trying to get away so they can regroup to figure out a new plan to stop the bad guys. Jimmy's shouting instructions, trying to herd SpongeBob, Danny and Timmy to safety. Not really paying attention to his own surroundings, instead deeming his friends more important. It's because of this that he doesn't see the magical threat coming up on him. But guess who's always looking out for the teen genius at all times? Especially in moments like these?

None other than Timmy fucking Turner.

And Timmy being Timmy sees the threat, and sees the stolen wand being raised up to shoot magic at Jimmy's back. It's not even a moment's hesitation before Timmy's rushing towards him, knowing damn well that he's powerless due to Cosmo and Wanda being drained from fighting. But he doesn't care. All he cares about is protecting Jimmy Neutron, the boy genius. His best friend in the whole world.

The boy who he loves.

It's this very thing that makes Timmy take the hit, letting out a breathless gasp of pain. It's that noise that makes Jimmy head snap around only to see Timmy go down, the magic having caused actual injuries to the pink coded boy. And Jimmy just sees red. It's after taking down the threat and grabbing Timmy that the group finally retreat. And it's back at base when Timmy's all bandaged up and the others are taken care of that he wakes up and Jimmy, Danny, SpongeBob and his parents are so relieved to see him awake and Jimmy's about to tear him a new one just as Danny's gearing up to do the same. That Timmy just shatters their relief with two questions.

"Who are you...? Where am I?"

Everything's a blur afterwards. SpongeBob's a mess and Danny's mentally preparing to tear apart their enemies the next time he sees them. Jimmy's just.....shut down. He can't process it. The way Timmy looks at them with unease and nervousness. The way Timmy looks at him as if Jimmy would hurt him. And Timmy's parents they're a mess. Cosmo and Wanda they're trying to remain strong as to not scare their son anymore than he already is, but it's so hard when Timmy looks at them with suspicion and distrust. When he flinches a bit from them when they slowly pull out their wands to do a check up on him.

They reveal that the magical blast had completely erased Timmy's memories of not just magic but of them as well. And due to how powerful the magic was and the intent behind it, it's not an easy fix. It's something that'll take time to try and make it better. If it's not too strong that it could damage Timmy's mind permanently.

Que a long journey of the group and Timmy having to get to know one another again. It's agonizing because it's like he's there but he's not. So jokes and other things that Timmy shared with them goes over his head or earns a confused head tilt or an uncomfortable laugh. And Jimmy, the guilt eats at him because if he had just been more vigilant, had paid more attention Timmy wouldn't be in the current situation he's in. And it's during a late night in his lab, as he's slaving away at trying to figure out how to fix it that he sees the picture of him and Timmy on his desk and he sees Timmy's buck tooth smile and his mischievous shining eyes that Jimmy realizes that he misses Timmy Turner dearly and then he figures it out.

He figures out that he's in love with his best friend.

It's a literal you don't realize what you have till it's gone kinda thing.

Just-

You get what I'm throwing down fam?? Do you see my insane vision???

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whateveryouwant90 · 5 months

Text

The one that got away

Listen, i don't really know what this is, i just had the idea and wrote it so feels free to tell me if you like it or if you think it’s shit.

Art Donaldson x fem!reader but also kind of Patrick Zweig x fem!Reader

As Art's gaze fell upon Tashi for the first time, it was as if the universe had conspired to shift its entire focus onto her. At that moment, all else faded into insignificance, eclipsed by the radiance of her presence. Tashi became the sun around which his world orbited, and everyone else merely became distant planets, revolving in the outskirts of his newfound obsession.

His girlfriend, once the center of his affection, now found herself relegated to the shadows, cast aside in the wake of Art's infatuation with Tashi. Her voice became a mere whisper amidst the clamor of his thoughts, her touch a fleeting memory that paled in comparison to the allure of Tashi's magnetic pull. He found himself drawn to her like a moth to a flame, unable to resist the gravitational force that tugged at his heartstrings.

And as the days turned into weeks, and weeks into months, Art's obsession with Tashi only grew stronger, blinding him to the collateral damage left in its wake. His girlfriend, once his pillar of support, now stood on the sidelines, a silent witness to the unraveling of their relationship in the face of Art's unrelenting fixation.

Art remained oblivious to the pain he caused, his focus solely fixated on Tashi and the intoxicating allure she held over him. And as he spiraled deeper into the depths of his obsession, Y/n started seeing things as they were. She stayed in the relationship for months hoping that her sweet boyfriend would come back to her, but their conversation was starting to become shorter and duller and only about how amazing Tashi was.

Today, like every day, she was debating on when was going to put herself first and break up with him. She was sitting behind a tree at the Standford campus reading one of her favorite books but couldn't concentrate thinking about how and when was the right time to finish her tormentus relationship with Art. Caught up in her own thoughts she missed her friend calling out for her.

"Hey, y/n/n! What's going on in that beautiful head of yours?" Patricks says coming closer and giving her a kiss on the forehead before sitting down next to her on the grass.

Y/n blinked, momentarily pulled from the swirling vortex of her thoughts by Patrick's familiar voice. She forced a small smile, grateful for the distraction his presence provided.

"Hey, Patrick! Oh my gosh what are you doing here?" she greeted, the weight of her impending decision heavy in her chest but slightly lighter now that her friend is back from his tour.

"I came here to see you guys. Plus I'm not gonna lie I miss my girlfriend" He says with that signature smirk of his. "Now, are you gonna tell me what got you so zoned out?".

"Just... thinking about stuff, you know?" You answered not knowing if you wanted to talk to Patrick about the whole Art and Tashi situation again.

Patrick settled comfortably beside her, his warm presence a comforting anchor in the storm of her emotions. "Anything you want to talk about?" he asked, his eyes filled with genuine concern.

Y/n hesitated, unsure if she was ready to vocalize the turmoil brewing within her heart. But as she looked into Patrick's kind eyes, she found herself opening up, the words tumbling out in a rush.

"It's Art," she confessed, the name heavy on her tongue. "He's... he's so caught up in this obsession with Tashi, and I don't know what to do anymore. I've tried to be patient, to wait for him to come back to me, but it's like I'm invisible to him now."

Patrick listened attentively, his brow furrowing in sympathy as he absorbed her words. "Y/n, you deserve so much more than someone who can't see your worth," he said gently, reaching out to squeeze her hand. "You're strong, you're beautiful, and you deserve to be with someone who sees that."

Tears welled in Y/n's eyes, her heart aching with the truth of Patrick's words. For months, she had clung to the hope that Art would come back to her, but deep down, she knew that it was time to let go.

"Thank you, Pat." She says grabbing his cheek and giving him her classic sweet smile.

"Of course beautiful" He responds feeling sorry for his friend. "I'm gonna go find Tashi but I'll see you after the match?".

"Sure, but I think I'm going to talk to Art after it, so I'll text you when I'm done," she replied, gathering her belongings and heading to her next class, unaware of what lay ahead.

After a rather unproductive class, she checked her phone and saw missed calls from Patrick and seven text messages detailing his fallout with Tashi. Despite wanting to help her friend and let him unwind, she decided to find Art first and collect her thoughts.

She arrived at Tashi's match, expecting to see Art cheering as usual, only to find no one there. Concerned, she inquired about Tashi's absence, her empathy for the girl overcoming any envy. As she walked through the tunnels, she witnessed Patrick's desperate plea to Tashi, met with rejection. Then, her boyfriend's unexpected outburst towards Patrick echoed through the corridor, a stark reminder of his protective instincts.

Scared to intervene, she observed Art's worry for Tashi, feeling a pang of familiarity in his concern. Despite the situation not involving her directly, she felt drawn to him, his presence stirring conflicting emotions within her.

Summoning her courage, she approached him slowly, her heart pounding in her chest. "Hey, Art," she began tentatively, her voice barely above a whisper. "Can we talk?"

As Tashi and Art both turned to look her way, Art excused himself from Tashi's side and made his way over to Y/n, seamlessly intertwining their hands as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

"Hey babe, what's up?" Art greeted, his tone casual despite the weight of the impending conversation.

Y/n took a deep breath, steeling herself for what was to come. "Art, I know this might not be the best moment, but... it never really is, is it?" she started, her gaze drifting downwards to avoid the intensity of his piercing blue eyes. "I love you more than words can express, but... I can't ignore the obvious anymore."

Art's brows furrowed in confusion, but Y/n pressed on, her words tumbling out in a rush. "You're in love with Tashi, Art. And that's okay, but... I can't keep pretending like everything's okay when it's not. I can't watch you pine for another woman right in front of me, hoping for scraps of attention. It's not fair to either of us."

"Babe, wait, I-" Art attempted to interject, but Y/n held up a hand, silencing him.

"Please, let me finish," she pleaded softly, her voice tinged with sadness. "If you really love me, you'll let me go. I... I can't keep doing this to myself. I deserve better, and so do you. I'm sorry it didn't work out, Art. I truly am. But... I have to do what's best for me." With that, Y/n leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to Art's cheek before turning away, leaving him speechless and rooted to the spot.

She found her best friend waiting for her outside, mirroring her own state of heartache. Together, they offered each other solace and support as they walked away, leaving behind a chapter of their lives that had come to a bittersweet end. But in that ending, they found the strength to begin anew, embracing the promise of brighter tomorrows.

I can't keep watching you fall, for another woman right in front of my eyes. So if you really love me, you will let me go. I'm sorry this didn't work out, I wish you the best, and take care". Y/n left him speechless, so much so that he couldn't even move. She kissed him on the cheeks and walked off finding her best friend outside in the same state as her. Together they left and supported each other.

#art donaldson x reader #patrick zweig x reader #challengers imagine #challengers drabble #Art donaldson imagine

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cripplecharacters · 4 months

Note

Alright, Google was unhelpful so I'm asking here: what can you guys tell me about what happens to an eye after it's burned, as in, directly exposed to fire?

There's a character in a major fandom I'm in who wears an eyepatch following a fight with his (pyrokinetic) brother, and I'd like to depict him with the kind of facial difference that would actually cause: burn scars, and... whatever would happen to the eye.

It seems like a reasonably straightforward thing to look up, but everything I got was related to either chemical burns (and much more about emergency care than the aftermath) or a burning sensation in the eyes, which is... not what I was hoping to find, haha.

So anyway, my question is, what would happen to an eye that was severely burned? Blindness seems obvious, but it feels like the kind of situation where they might lose the eye completely, is that a possibility? If not, what would the eye end up looking like? Sorry if this is an annoying question, I just had a really hard time finding anything online.

Hi!

To put it simply, there's a lot of variation here - and to answer your question, losing the eye is very much a possibility if the damage is that extensive, or if there's a severe infection happening.

An important part of any eye burn injury is that there are eyelids in the way of the fire, so they're going to be damaged. Skin grafts are extremely common for that; without them, the eyelids will contract and not really serve their function. Having the eyelids removed and replaced with grafts will also help with preventing secondary infection and corneal complications. If the whole burn is on the milder side, and he keeps his eyelids he could have ptosis; i.e. an eyelid that doesn't fully open all the way.

When we get to the eye itself, you're essentially looking at a hundred different kinds of infections that could occur. Corneal damage will be the most obvious due to where it is, but it could go deeper if the burn is severe. E.g., keratitis and/or corneal ulcers can very much happen due to a burn injury, and if untreated they can cause corneal scarring (can look like white spots and/or lines on the eye), cataracts (can cause the pupils to appear lighter), glaucoma, and any further issues if that spreads - including the possibility of blindness in the other eye, as sympathetic ophthalmia exists.

After that, there's retinal detachment (which isn't visible) and actual globe injuries, which often tend to end up in the eye being removed (very much visible). We have a post about options following that!

Sometimes an injured eye can also be slightly discolored on the sclera part. Redness is the most common, but mine were mostly yellow-brownish on the sides after I had surgery (and still are, but not as much). So if he still has the eye, it could look like that as well, either due to the actual burn or the procedures that he could have.

I hope this helps!

mod Sasza

#mod sasza #face difference #anonymous

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mmyashas · 6 months

Text

COMUNICADO IMPORTANTE: quackitytoo

TRANSCRIPTION -> TRANSLATION BELOW THE READ MORE. i am not an experienced translator and some may be a bit off, but i've done my best to translate all of it!

hello, hello! hello everyone. good night– good night everyone, i hope you're all well. um, i did this stream since i'm making an announcement to talk to you all in relation to qsmp's structure. i know people have questions, about a lot of things. so, i hope this will help you understand a little bit more. i'll be saying all of this in spanish since i find it easier to find the words– in spanish, as it's my native language.

i want to give you and explain a bit of context about everything. these last three weeks have been incredibly turbulent in many, many aspects. the restructuring process that's in course for the project hasn't been very easy. before my involvement— and i've said it before— there were people that affected the project in damaging ways, financially and administratively. i had already commented about this.

and i haven't spoken about giving updates and nothing of that nature and i haven't spoken about it since all the updates i've had are internal and of the legal type. hence why, there's no visible changes but they're changes that have to happen. i reaffirm, malicious people have been removed from the server and i'm still in (legal) processes against people who've caused many of this damage since the start. and that has been one main focus of this restructuring that's been happening.

guys, i want to leave this very clear. during all this process, all the words and actions that have been taken have to be done very, very carefully. recently, i've wanted to give many updates, such as internal and external, but we're against a really critical problem– that being leaked information.

i don't know if the people that leaked announcements or information from the inside knew that this was happening, but when i gave out private information and this info got leaked to places it shouldn't have gone– that affected the required process to solve a lot of stuff. and the people that harmed me both administratively and financially, that i've talked about in a past stream, were finding out about things and situations they shouldn't have and used this information to misrepresent and affect the process. so that complicated things– it's why i haven't given any announcements or talked freely as much as i wanted to. it's not to ignore or evade but there's a really, really delicate process going on.

and from the start, i knew in my involvement, to achieve a total change– we had to start with the people that affected me and the project. and caused a lot of the mistakes that have been occuring this whole year.

and when this could be defined, what was done was starting to find a financial strategy for the project since the project's costs are very high– and the project was going to close. i've also mentioned this before. and when i could define with strategies and events in the qsmp if there was a way to support the project, the next step was to restore different elements of the qsmp that no longer existed. and i want to make something clear, given the circumstances of the server i didn't want to make any promises to anyone i didn't know i could keep.

this is the reason i was figuring out this part and the financial part, and i couldn't give any more internal updates because i was working in an important part of the server, the financing. so, i understand and comprehend the lack of communication has been notorious. and i reaffirm, i tell you, it's not on purpose. there's a lot of situations i've tried to solve behind the scenes but i've had to be very careful. i understand if there's people that don't agree with the methods or the process. and if you dont trust in the project or the process– don't worry. there's no problem if you stop consuming the project. i totally understand. i've said i have a personal conviction with the project and it'll stay like that.

i've been working very hard and i'll do everything that's possible so the project keeps running but with the best conditions possible. and something i have to make clear is that this process takes time. i have to leave it clear– this process takes time. guys, there's people that have left the project and will keep leaving the project on their own will and i understand it fully. and i have no problem with someone that takes or will take that decision, and i wish them the best. in fact, i gave an internal announcement where i said that a restructure would take time to finish. and there's people that for reasons don't want to be part of that process. and i understand completely! because it's not easy to be in transitional phases.

something i said at the start was that my main objective was that this project came back to normal but with the best conditions. this is able to happen following the dynamics and examining the exact scenario for each person contributing to the project— and this isn't achieveable in three weeks. and all of this process continues.

so, giving you all a bit of context, behind a lot of things about the project. i ask you all, that keep wanting to do it, ask you your full patience. i don't want to promise or talk pretty. i want to make concrete decisions, and that's what i've been doing. if it's seen or not, it's what i've been doing. it's what i've been doing step by step.

friends, the changes i've been doing is for the best of the project and i'll say it transparently, the changes are for the good of the project and the people that love it. to the people who the project's impacted and the ones who keep up and love everything that this project's for. those people are the motivation and inspiration who the project was created for and is created for and the reason i'll keep doing the qsmp.

i'm not doing this, and i want to leave it very clear, i'm not doing this for the people that for a long while have wanted to see the project destroyed by actions that have demonstrated the- total opposite of love for the server. like not constructive comments, bad actions, bad wishes for me, the team, and any community that consumes the qsmp and the project in general. to me, all those people with damaging intentions don't matter to me that they stop consuming the project. leave that very clear!

and let's not forget something important guys, it's very difficult to build and way easier to destroy. to all the people that wants to join this building process is welcome, and those that want to maliciously destroy, this project from the start wasn't and isn't for you.

and lastly, i want to say these days i've received a lot of calls, emails and messages from people from a lot of parts of the world expressing what qsmp means to them. it's why i tell you punctually, that this project isn't over and i'll do what's necessary so each day it gets better. it's a process, step by step, that takes a while but i'm doing it. so, beforehand, i want to thank you for your trust and reaffirm my personal compromise to strengthen this project.

i hope this cleared up some doubts and given the necessary context to some people. and i reaffirm, i have a personal conviction with this project and i'll keep working to better it. just wanted to say that. thank you all and goodnight! bye!

#augj never doing this AGAIN #qsmp #admingate #translation #long post #y aja #good practice but my god do i hate transcripting and translating at once #. Ive done worse. ive transcripted 30 mins it could b worse #<- convincing self

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cacoetheswriting · 2 years

Text

celebrity skin.

pairing: rockstar!eddie munson x popstar!fem!reader word count: 6.5k summary: as corroded coffin frontman, eddie munson regards himself as perhaps the most important person in hollywood. that's until he meets you — america’s favourite starlet.

content warnings: 18+, minors dni: adult language & mature themes, porn with a rather angsty plot, general heavy petting / kissing, teasing, fingering, quite rough yet protected p in v sex, borderline overstimulation, eddie is a little dom, light praise kink, dirty talk, use of pet names & very slight degradation, mentions of alcohol & drug consumption, mentions of blood (reader unintentionally hurts herself), emotional hurt / topics of guilt — if i missed anything, pls let me know! also, not proofread.

psa: images used in the header don’t depict readers physical attributes! these are also described vaguely in the story, only that she’s a little shorter than eddie.

“Absolutely not.”

Impossible to read between the lines with those two simple words, but if anyone dared to try regardless, the absolute disapproval and disdain in Eddie’s tone of voice stopped them from doing so. At least that’s what the Corroded Coffin frontman hoped.

It took a lot to catch Eddie Munson off guard. Given everything he’s endured in his life, nothing surprised him anymore ‘cause he made sure to be prepared for every single scenario. A little neurotic? Yes. Needed for his own piece of mind? Abso-fucking-lutely.

Obviously there had been exceptions over the years — especially being in the limelight with easy access to substances that weren’t too good for his health and nothing but extensive amounts of cash to burn. The other guys had invested their paychecks, Gareth even started a family. Eddie on the other hand, well, he bought a mansion in Beverly Hills and threw parties every night of the week.

The heavy drinking clouded his judgement and damaged his liver, but Eddie still kept tabs on his inner circle and made sure to be informed of any moves the label was trying to make before official announcements.

Which is why when he stumbled into the recording studio an hour later than scheduled, extremely hungover and with an unlit cigarette between his teeth, he really thought he misheard the news announced by their long-time manager, Marianne.

“A feature. The label wants it, she wants it. Honestly, Eddie, no point in fighting it. It’s a done deal.”

Marianne’s words were ringing in his ears. To make matters worse, the whole band apparently knew about this. For a long time, at that. They just collectively chose not to tell him out of fear of his “overreaction”, as Gareth put it.

“Well, I don’t want it.” Eddie grumbles. A reaction worthy of a little kid more so than a famous rockstar. “I refuse.”

Jeff clears his throat, glancing between the group before settling his eyes on Eddie.

“Man, it’s just one song. Not like she’s been asked to permanently join the band,” he tries to be the voice of reason.

Eddie just scoffs. He’s on the couch, eyes closed and hand pressed to his forehead with a third cigarette in between his fingers. He refused to believe this was happening.

“A feature and a music video,” Marianne chimes.

Jeff sighs. “You’re really not helping your case here.”

But their manager just shrugs. “There’s no case to help. Like I said, it’s a done deal. Y’all are doing this feature with America’s favourite starlet and y’all are gonna have smiles on your fucking faces in the process.” Marianne states and what she says, usually goes. “Are you hearing me, Eddie?”

Usually.

“I ain’t doing shit.”

“Eddie—” Gareth feels like it’s his turn to help the situation, but he just gets rudely interrupted.

“Shut up, Gareth! Everyone, just shut the fuck up!” Eddie’s outburst accompanies him jumping up onto his feet. He’s angry, clearly. Glaring at the group as if he’s endured the worst possible betrayal. “Last I fucking checked, this was my fucking band! I have a say in what’s a done deal and this is not one of those things!”

The boys don’t speak. They look to Marianne who seemed to always know how to calm Eddie down. She had this aura about her. Almost motherly, even though she couldn’t have been more than five years older than the Corroded Coffin frontman — an estimate as she’s never told them her actual age.

Marianne crosses the studio until she’s standing toe to toe with the curly-haired singer. He’s towering over her, but she’s got the upper hand — as always.

First, she takes the cigarette he was holding and takes a drag, crossing her arms while blowing the smoke away from his face. The silence extends from seconds to minutes, almost as if she’s daring Eddie to continue.

He doesn’t. So she clears her throat.

“Now that we’re done with the temper tantrum,” Marianne says calmly, “At risk of sounding like a complete and utter bitch, Eddie, my darlin’, you have lost your right to call this band yours after the last stunt you pulled cost the label thousands of dollars in damages. Not to mention the absolute nightmare it’s been to keep it out of the stupid tabloids.”

“I apologised—”

“Thousands of dollars, Eddie. Your apology ain’t worth shit.”

Marianne walks over to an ashtray and puts out the reminisce of the cigarette. She briefly glances between the rest of the band before settling her gaze on Eddie once again.

“The people actually in charge think this collaboration has the potential of being an absolute hit. A song played for generations to come and for once, I actually agree with them.”

Eddie doesn’t say anything. He knows deep down he has lost the argument, so he had nothing left to add.

“Guys, you gotta know y’all are my priority and I would never do anything to jeopardise your career. Ever.” Marianne reassures. The boys all say they know. All of them apart from Eddie.

He’s back on the couch. Sitting with his legs apart, elbows resting on his knees, head in his hands. Sulking and wishing he hadn’t forgotten his pouch of pre-rolled joints ‘cause he could really use one right about now.

When no one else speaks, Marianne heads for the door.

“She’ll be here tomorrow. Please be on time.”

That last part was aimed at Eddie, who in that moment lifts his head to address his manager one more time before she leaves.

“I have a question,” his tone of voice is cold, understandably so. When Marianne doesn’t protest, he continues. “How come America’s pride and joy wants to sing a song with a band often accused of devil worship?”

A smile Eddie can’t really decipher circles his manager’s lips.

“Guess you’ll just have to ask her in person.”

When a person is repeatedly told they are meant for incredible things, they may grow up with a skewed vision of life.

Thankfully, the only person that’s ever believed in you that much was your Nana and it was pretty hard to take her seriously considering her history — a lady who after an accidental pregnancy in her early-twenties, joined and later escaped a cult, then conned her way into marrying a Wall Street suit-man, before getting hooked on pills he was prescribed for some back injury he had.

The man died before he could divorce her, leaving Nana his small fortune and a property in Greenwich Village. You didn’t even know his real name since every time she’s told the story she used a different one, and also changed other minor details.

So you never thought twice about her constant, “You’re going to be a star one day, baby girl.”. In retrospect, you should have. Perhaps it would have prepared you for the world of fame and fortune you were so briskly thrown into.

“Mom, please don’t fill her head with jargon. She’s just going to end up disappointed.”

That’s not to say your parents weren’t also supportive of your dreams. They were, although they believed them to be much smaller at scale, a nurse perhaps, an astronaut at best. Definitely not a popstar sensation and America’s sweetheart.

Your parents met at a charity function your Nana was a co-chair at and instantly clicked. Love at first sight, is how it was described in the paper for their engagement announcement not even a month later. Married shortly after and their first baby was born exactly a year later. Billy Wilder couldn’t write that shit even if he tried.

You always wanted to experience that kind of love.

The longing you endured every time you saw your parents interact was the reason you started writing poetry. Words a little too deep for a ten-year old girl to have actually experienced, but they felt right. By the time you were old enough to actually pursue a romantic relationship, you filled countless notebooks with poems that had actually turned into lyrics after your Nana encouraged to sponsor your piano lessons at age twelve and later guitar.

Ironic, really. Not meant to believe in your own potential success, but destined to think your happiness depended on somebody else.

Shortly after your twenty-first birthday, your Nana asked you to perform at one of her functions. A simple wish you had gratified many times before.

“But you only sing the covers, okay? The material in your notepads is reserved for when you’re famous.” Nana would request, mainly ‘cause she liked when you sang Dusty Springfield.

This particular event started out like every other. What you didn’t know however, in the crowd, amongst the usual New York elite, were a few agents and talent scouts your Nana specifically invited to see you perform.

By the end of the night, you had a signed record deal.

A week later, you were in the studio.

Lucky doesn’t begin to describe how you felt at that time. Although knowing your Nana, luck had nothing to do with it.

After the release of your debut single, you rocketed into overnight stardom. Quickly charting in various top lists, only proving your Nana had always been right. As a result, the late 80s were in fact a blur. The years were spent shooting music videos and various magazine covers, doing TV and radio interviews, touring, all on top of releasing more music. Aside from the casual hookup every now and again, carefully concealed with an NDA to preserve your image, finding love took a backburner.

By the 1990s, you’d gone from being America’s sweetheart to a worldwide phenomenon.

It was at that point in time you remembered why you started writing poems in the first place. Completely by accident, as these things usually go.

While your life remained in New York, given your profession, you often travelled to Los Angeles. Late August of 1992, to be a bit more precise, there was this pool party you really had no business attending.

Holly — your makeup artist, close friend, and permanent plus one — used her perfectly manicured finger to stir the melting ice-cubes at the bottom of her glass. She said something about getting a refill, but you barely registered. Simply nodded at her words before pressing the glass you were holding to your lips. Your focus was somewhere else. Rather on someone else.

As Holly stood, you reach for her forearm and motion your head in the direction you wanted her to look in.

“Who’s that?” A simple question that ended up changing the remainder of your life.

Holly smirked. She turned back to you and you forced yourself to look away from the person in question, meeting your friends eyes instead.

“Seriously?”

You furrowed your brows at her reaction, as if to say you really had no idea, and her gaze widened slightly when she realised you weren’t kidding.

“That’s Eddie Munson. Corroded Coffin, remember I played you some of their songs? Anyway, this is his house, his party.”

With that, she took the half-empty drink from my grasp and walked away.

Eddie Munson, the name suited him, at least at face value. You had heard of Corroded Coffin before, but their music wasn’t really your style, hence why you never really bothered to learn anything more about them. Yet now, here you were, wishing you had cared a little more in the past ‘cause perhaps you’d have the courage to walk up to their frontman.

Eddie wore a black bandana, tied loosely only to shield him from the sun as his brown locks draped over his bare shoulders. A wide collection of ink art covered almost every inch of the skin on his arms and chest, legs too, at least the parts that weren’t covered by ripped denim shorts. There was a cigarette between his lips and it remained in position even while he was laughing. He was pretty. Judging by the crowd of girls around him, you weren’t the only one to notice.

Exhaling softly, you abandoned your spot on one of the lounge chairs and embarked on a mission to find Holly, or at least something else to drink. The back door to the house is open, so without really thinking, you slipped inside, straight into the kitchen.

Pristine. The entire space. Almost as if no one's ever cooked here, which now that you knew the owner, made sense. Not to completely judge a book by its cover, but Eddie didn’t look like the type of guy who enjoyed cooking all that much.

“The house is off limits.”

A deep voice startled you. Jumping in your spot, you hit a corner of the stone centre island as you turned to address the person who walked in. Oh shit.

Eddie Munson’s eyes locked onto your frame, now that you are facing him fully. He licked his lips rather shamelessly as his gaze travelled the length of your bare legs and continued upwards until it reached your own. A shiver ran down your spine in the process ‘cause even though you were practically fully dressed, you felt completely naked.

“Sorry,” you were quick to apologise, “I was just looking for my friend.”

“The house is off limits,” Eddie repeated as he took a few steps closer.

“Again, I’m sorry. I really was just looking for someone,” you said and it was the truth, whether he believed it or now. “What are— What are you doing?”

“You’re bleeding.”

You glanced down at where his ring-clad fingers now met your skin, a tissue paper you didn’t even realise he grabbed, wrapped between them. He wiped slowly. His touch was soft, gentle even, which was surprising to you given his demeanour.

“Wow, yeah. Fuck. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to break into your house and then bleed in your kitchen.”

Eddie chuckled at your words. “You apologise a lot. Is that part of this act they have you doin’ or is it genuine?”

“Act?”

He nodded then straightened his posture. He tossed the dirty tissue to the side before taking your hand and leading you out of the kitchen. The way your fingers aligned together quite perfectly should’ve come with a warning sign, but you didn’t really think about that in the moment, more concerned with the fact he was pulling you away from the party.

“Where are we going?”

“Bathroom. Can’t have you bleeding out in my kitchen, sweetheart.” Eddie joked lightheartedly. “Plus wouldn’t want anyone taking a sneaky picture of us. Could start a bunch of nasty rooms. Good for my career, not so much yours.”

“Because of my act?”

“You get it.”

The master bedroom, you assume, is a lot larger in comparison to yours. A lot darker too, though that’s a given considering your opposite styles. Eddie was careful to lock the door behind the two of you before pointing to the bathroom and following after you.

“Sit.”

You obliged without question, positioning yourself on the sink. Eddie failed to conceal a ‘cause he didn’t think you’d do as you were told without putting up at least a bit of a fight. After all, he was a stranger with a reputation for doing ungodly things when alone with girls, but with your legs dangling off the edge, you didn’t seem tense or scared. In fact, if Eddie didn’t know any better, he’d say you were quite comfortable and he liked it. So with a smile still circling his lips, he began his search for the first aid kit he knew he saw here last.

“Why do you think it’s an act?”

Eddie glanced at you briefly. There is a sense of urgency in your question, almost as if his answer, his opinion, actually mattered to you. Which it did. For whatever reason, his response had the potential to hurt you. If he thought you weren’t genuine, it would hurt you.

“Sweetheart, I don’t think you want my honesty.”

You half-scoffed. “Actually, I don’t remember the last time someone was actually honest with me about anything relating to my career.”

The answer shocked him a little. Then again it made sense. In the eyes of your management team and label, you were a money making machine. Nothing more than a pretty face with a pretty voice they used to make themselves rich.

“Even my own parents,” you continued, fidgeting with the bottom of your cotton shorts. “They were so adamant not to let my grandmother fill my head with hopes and dreams while I was growing up, but the second those hopes and dreams came true, it’s like they forgot they were still my parents and should sometimes be brutally honest.”

Pausing, you bit down on your bottom lip. From across the bathroom, Eddie's gaze immediately trailed down your face and settled on where your teeth sank into flesh. He licked his own, eyes darkening for a split second.

“Sorry, I’m oversharing,” you muttered, breaking him away from any sinful thoughts that wanted to break free. “Telling you my life story even though not even thirty minutes ago, I didn’t know your name.”

Eddie smirked, a cheshire-cat grin spreading across his features. “The only thing you should be apologising for, sweetheart, is the fact you came to my party and didn’t know who I was.”

“I get invited to a lot of parties,” you defended, involuntarily rolling your eyes at his not so subtle cockiness. “Suppose you think all the girls swoon at the chance to be near you, huh? Sorry to disappoint, I guess.”

“Well, shit. Talk about brutal honesty.” Eddie teased and ran a hand through his locks, taking off his bandana in the process. “Now I feel like a fucking creep ‘cause I seem to know quite a bit about you.”

“Whatever you know is clearly wrong since I’m not some character,” you interjected and he glanced at you once again. “I mean my whole thing wasn’t an act at first.”

“And now?”

You sighed. “It’s a little more complicated.”

That made him laugh. “See, that’s why I don’t let my label or management tell me shit. My band, my music, my style. If I wasn’t unapologetically myself, I’d go fucking insane.”

He eventually found the first aid kit and the plasters within. Back in front of you, he gently wiped the cut on your upper leg again, only this time with a wet towel, and carefully put a plaster over it.

“All done.”

“Thank you.”

His hand remained on your skin as he looked up to hold your gaze. In the sharp bathroom light, you realised just how perfectly brown his eyes are and you couldn’t help but wonder if anyone’s ever told him that. You secretly hoped they didn’t. A little lame, but you found yourself wanting to be at least his first something.

Eddie on the other hand, thought about how of all the people here tonight, he wound up alone with you. Pop royalty. American treasure. A girl that’s graced the cover of magazines and been on talk shows he would never feature on. A girl who sold millions of copies of songs he wouldn’t be caught dead listening to. A girl so vastly different from him, it only made him want you more.

Continuing to stare deep into his chocolate-button eyes, you lifted your arm and since Eddie didn’t flinch, you proceeded to loop a loose strand of his hair around your finger then let it go. Eddie’s heart jumped into his throat as you repeated the action — a sensation he’s never really experienced before.

How come you had this hold on him, seemingly out of nowhere? A simple smile and a modest tease had his mind racing. Not to mention the softness of your skin under his grasp you didn’t try to break away from. Perhaps that was it. You didn’t push him away. You also didn’t throw yourself at him. Those were the two extremes he usually experienced. Knowing you had just about learned who he was before the two of you landed in this situation was a refreshing change from the people usually breaking into his house.

“We can go back to the party, since you’re all patched up.” Eddie offered, though his actions betrayed his words as he effortlessly parted your legs with his knee, creating a gap he slid into perfectly.

“What’s the alternative?” You asked in a whisper.

“Whatever you want it to be,” he murmured, face now inches away from yours. A genuine smile graced your features as you wrapped your arms around the rockstars neck.

It may have moved a little too fast, though there were no complaints from either of you at the time. In fact, you both welcomed it. Losing yourself completely in the moment and this magnetic pull you felt towards one another was freeing. A spark ignited with a touch, then a kiss — and fuck was Eddie Munson a good kisser.

His lips were tender, although his actions were rather harsh. Desperate even, as he squeezed your jaw with one hand and pushed his mouth into yours further. You returned the same energy, aching to be even closer. Heads rotating in perfect rhythm, you tugged at his hair and he groaned against your mouth at the slight pressure then lightly bit your bottom lip to force his tongue down your throat.

He tasted of tobacco and whiskey. Normally that kind of shit puts you off, but with Eddie, it was honestly intoxicating. He quickly asserted dominance, tongue intertwining itself with yours as his ring-clad fingers dug into your flesh. You moaned into his mouth. The flame inside you burning brighter with every passing second.

Eddie’s head was spinning. He pulled apart briskly, only to catch his breath before he dipped his head to your neck. Licking then biting, sucking and kissing. Both his hands were back on your waist and they effortlessly pulled you closer towards him, the bulge concealed by his denim shorts now pressing against your bare thigh.

His name escaped you repeatedly in mere whispers and whimpers, and you felt Eddie’s mouth turn up into a smirk against your neck. “Fuck, sweetheart. Don’t stop makin’ them pretty noises for me.”

“Then don’t stop kissing me.”

A request he gladly obliged as his lips found yours once again. This kiss was slower than your first, but equally as passionate. His strong hands moved up, under the loose cover of your shirt until he reached your underboob.

“I was gonna complain about you wearing so much clothes to a fucking pool party, but…” Eddie draws out the last syllable as his thumbs grazes over your hard nipples. “... this way is so much better, sweetheart.”

“Then keep going,” you whisper, body screaming with desire, aching for more. Begging to be touched. Begging to be turned into a fire, tipped off with gasoline.

This was a dangerous game you were playing, getting hooked on a man you had only really met. A rockstar at that. Your lives, although borderline the same, were completely different. Your gut kept telling you there was no future here, but your heart didn’t care. You’ve gotten an accidental taste of Eddie Munson and you only wanted more.

Thankfully, it seemed like Eddie had the same idea.

He removes his hands from your breasts and drops them down to the waistband of your shorts. He kissed you again as his fingers desperately worked at the single button acting as a guard between him and what he wanted most this very moment.

“Can you lift yourself for a moment, sweetheart?”

You do as you’re told, allowing Eddie to slide the shorts past the curve off your ass, before letting them fall down your legs and to the tiled floor. His dark eyes meet yours as he grabs onto your thighs, squeezing at the flesh. And he holds your gaze while his fingers work their way upwards. You don’t realise you’re holding your breath until he’s pulling your panties to the side.

Oh. Oh.

Eddie’s running a finger up and down the length of your slit, proud to feel how soaked you already were. The light teasing continued as he added another finger and you flinched at the first contact to your clit. He was relentless. Taking his time as you tried to arch your pelvis into his fingers, only to be met with a hand around your jaw, “Stop that.”

Releasing your face, he stroked his fingers downward, then up again, finally letting a finger linger on the hood of your clit. He began to draw little circles so that the skin moved over the head, rhythmically exposing and covering it.

“Eddie…” you drawled and he groaned at the sound of his name in your desperate tone of voice. So he didn’t waste any more time, slipped two ring-clad fingers easily between your folds and you shuddered at the cold of the metal. He repeated the action over and over, faster and applying more pressure with each time.

His mouth found yours once again, only this time he didn’t kiss you. Not really. Instead, his teeth latched onto your bottom lip and as you whined desperately while his curled fingers repeatedly hit that sweet spot inside you, he bit down harder.

He fucked his fingers in and out of you. It was messy, rough, ecstatic. Then your back arched as he used his other hand to rub against your clit.

“Oh shit, fuck. Eddie, please don’t stop…”

You let your head fall backwards, eyes closing. Within seconds, a shuddering orgasm overcame you, but with steady control, Eddie kept going for what seemed like a minute. Only once you began to relax, he eased his fingers out of you and brought them to his mouth, licking them clean.

“How you doin’, sweetheart?”

A content hum was all you could offer. Satisfied, Eddie smiled to himself and placed a sloppy kiss to the slant of your jawline.

“Are you okay to keep going?”

You looked back at him then and bopped your head once, slowly. “Yeah… Yes.”

His devilish grin widened. “Good girl. Hold tight.”

Hands shifting to the curve of your ass as you wrapped your legs tight around him, Eddie lifted you up with little to no effort and carried you towards the bed. He didn’t take much care to drop you gently so you bounced against the mattress while he hastily removed his pants and crawled over you, grinding down into you — unsurprising, he’d gone commando.

He began to rotate his hips so that his cock was massaging back and forth across your semi-clothed cunt. He alternated his movements; sometimes slowed them down while other times increasing speed. His lips were glued to your neck in the moment, only adding to the pure exhilaration you were experiencing, while he worked to unbutton your shirt, spreading it to the side.

Forehead pressed yours, he glanced down briefly to admire your now naked chest. Your nipples were rapidly erect as Eddie proceeded to move his hands around them, massaging the tissue of your breasts. With splayed fingers, he squeezed and released, then lightly pulled the flesh, while his teeth attached themselves to your earlobe.

The teasing was relentless. “Eddie… Oh Eddie, please,” you whined quietly and another moan escaped your lips, louder this time.

The brunette on top of you groaned a mere second later. Unable to contain himself any longer, he tugged at your panties. Just as eager, you lifted your ass so he could slide the remaining garment off and toss it. Now you were naked in front of him, only the cotton shirt covering your arms.

“Shit, sweetheart. You’re so fucking beautiful.” Eddie whispered and lightly ran his fingers up and down your leg, while the other hand reached to cup your cheek. He leaned down to kiss you again. “My pretty girl.”

Heat rushed between your legs at the moniker. They parted a little more, desperate to increase the contact between the two of you.

“Let me grab a condom,” Eddie muttered against your bare skin and you nodded, releasing your hold on him momentarily ‘cause you didn’t want any accidental pregnancies with a potential to ruin your career, and even his.

Staring up at the ceiling, you heard him rummage through his bedside table. He’s back in your field of vision within seconds. There’s a look on his face that reads “are you sure you wanna do this”, and you tangle your fingers in his locks in response, pulling him closer.

Eddie lets his cock fall between your parted legs. He’s back to teasing you as he’s spreading your folds with the head of his dick, until it flicks over your clit. And you tug at his curls in the process, but he doesn’t care. A lustful look in his eyes. One that says, I can do this all night. Which he proves as the tip of his cock dragged across the entrance to your glistening cunt. Your legs would close slightly as if to trap it in that position. Eddie however, remained in full control.

“Please, please…” you begged against his hot mouth, “Please just fuck me. Fuck me, Eddie.”

He smirked. “Didn’t think America’s starlet was such a desperate fucking slut.”

With that, Eddie slammed the full length of his cock into you. No longer teasing. He was driving into your sodden cunt with a force that shook your entire body. His now glistening cock plunging in and out of you with ease. You were meeting his thrusts as best as you could while trapped under his massive frame.

To say you were experiencing a state of ecstasy you had never known before while fucking a man you’d only met an hour or so ago, would be a vast understatement. You felt dizzy and breathless as each stroke of his thick cock against your walls ignited the fire already burning bright. The sounds you were making were absolutely pornographic and in that moment, you were grateful Eddie locked the door ‘cause if anyone from the party were to come looking for him, or you, well let’s just say Page Six would have something interesting to write about, for once. This was a site to be seen.

Eddie leaned forward on his elbows, not like it was possible to be any closer but he sure as hell tried. One of his hands enveloped itself around your neck, while the other found your perfect tits. He alternated, kneading them and teasing your nipples, earning another sweet moan to escape through your parted lips. Then he lightly squeezed your neck and your eyes rolled to the back of your head.

“Such a pretty girl,” Eddie muffled into your ear. “Fuck, baby. I don’t know what you’ve done to me. Just wanna fuck you forever.” He meant it. Your pussy felt amazing wrapped around his cock. Better than he imagined. Better in fact than anyone he’d ever been with.

The room was filled with sick sounds, from the squeaking of the bed, Eddie’s grunts and gruffs, to the pounding your aching cunt was receiving. You had completely given yourself over to the rawness of the situation, although it’s not like you had any inhibitions in the first place.

As Eddie continued to whisper dirty things into your ear, the length of his shaft sliding in and out of you with unnatural force, you buried your head in the crook of his neck, muffling only slightly your increasing guttural groans with each of his thrusts. And as your fingers abandoned his locks, trailing instead down his back, fingernails digging into his tattooed skin, you knew another climax was fast approaching.

“Eddie,” you barely muttered.

“Come on, baby. That’s it. Shit—”

He’s panting as he squeezes your neck again, recreating the pressure your throbbing cunt was feeling. That pushed you over the edge. Everything falls to a standstill as you come undone around him, crying out his name as if he was some sort of god; which in this moment, he might as well have been.

He didn’t give you a second to recover, continuing to fuck into you with such heedlessness, his own orgasm follows shortly after. He dropped on top of you and you gasped at the next few sharp thrusts, although slower than before right up until he cums.

“Fuck— Pretty girl, takes me so well.” Eddie breathed, completely blissed out.

The two of you lay there for a few moments longer, trying to catch your breaths. Everything was quite peaceful as you brushed his hair away from his face, gently forcing him to look at you. You offer him a smile. One he returns quite gladly.

Usually at this point, Eddie’s doing everything he can to get rid of the other person, but with you it felt different. He wanted you here for as long as you’d stay.

So, even though he didn’t admit it out loud, he was more than a little happy when you openly asked if you could “stick around” a little longer, maybe even fall asleep with him that night.

The last time Eddie had seen you, you were picking up your scattered garments off his bedroom floor before getting dressed. It was early. Too early for him, but you had a shoot you needed to get to and he wanted to kiss you goodbye.

“Promise not to break into any more houses, sweetheart.” Eddie teased against your plush lips, hand cupping your cheek.

“Just yours,” you teased back and kissed him, then again, and again. “I’ll call you later, ‘kay?”

He almost didn’t let you go. He almost pulled you back under the covers for round three and four, and when you didn’t call his place later that day, he kinda wished he had. He hung around by the phone waiting for it to ring, then he felt pathetic for doing so.

The last time Eddie heard from you was a week later. He was back at the studio, working on a song he didn’t want to admit to his bandmates was actually about you. A girl he had no business being hung up on.

It was just one night, he would tell himself, but it was no use.

“Eddie,” Marianne hailed him and pointed to the phone, “Phone call for you.”

The curly-haired rocker exhaled a puff of smoke and picked up the receiver. “Hello. Who’s this?”

“Hey, sorry.”

His heart stopped ‘cause he recognised that voice anywhere. He shifted in his position, turning his back on the rest of the people gathered in the room just so they wouldn’t be able to read the expression on his face — longing.

“I know I said I’d call the second I finished at that shoot, but it went well into the night and honestly I just worried I'd wake you,” you explained. “Then I had a morning flight back to New York, a luncheon my grandmother had me attend plus some other family shit… Anyway, I just wanted to call and apologise, hope you’re not too upset with me.”

He was upset. Although the knowledge of that was a power he couldn't relinquish. Usually, he wasn't the one waiting around for the other person. He was upset he let you cloud his thoughts after only one night — as fucking fun as it may have been.

“It’s okay,” Eddie lied, 'cause it was easier than to say he missed you. “Honestly, sweetheart, I forgot you even said you’d call.”

There was a second of silence in which the rock star closed his eyes and tried to calm his breathing while you fought back tears he didn’t even know he caused.

“Right. I guess honesty is what I asked for…” you muttered coldly. “See you around, Eddie.”

The line went dead. Beep. Beep. Beep. Eddie pressed the receiver to his forehead, his grip around it tightening. “Motherfucker—”

“All good?” Jeff asked.

“Yeah man,” Eddie lied again before turning back to the group. “Just some one night stand who mixed up the signals a little. Thought we’d be going out a second time, but I don’t do that shit.”

Not even one year later, that same exact “one night stand” stood in front of Eddie once more and you looked even better than that night last August. Your skin was glowing, or perhaps that was just the dim studio light. Your makeup was definitely a lot sharper and it only highlighted your already near perfect facial structure. Then there was your outfit. Dressed in a short denim skirt, tight on your curves and held snug in place around your waist with a belt he knew was more expensive than anything he’s ever owned, the bottom was paired with a white cashmere turtleneck, short sleeved and cut right above your belly button.

Eddie swallowed thickly. He swore he’d gotten over whatever spell you put him under back then, but as you greeted his bandmates with the biggest smile on your face, looking as good as you did, his heart skipped a beat or two.

“And our frontman, Eddie Munson.” Marianne introduced, glancing at Eddie with an encouraging look on her face.

The curly-haired man wiped his sweaty palms on the sticky pleather of his pants and extended his right hand in your direction. You looked at it briefly, the smile on your face faltering.

“We’ve met before,” is all you said, without even looking at him once, before turning to Marianne. “Should we just get started? I listened to the song, I have no notes, otherwise I wouldn’t be here.”

Marianne glanced at Eddie then back at you. “Uhm, yeah, sure. Of course. Right this way.”

Eddie’s sad puppy-dog gaze followed you across the room. He observed silently as Marianne propped you in front of the microphone and handed you a set of headphones. He desperately wanted you to look at him. He wanted your eyes to lock with his ‘cause perhaps an unspoken apology offered only by a single exchange of glances would be enough to get you on the right track. But you didn’t.

“What the fuck did you do?” Gareth muttered next to him.

“I fucked up, man.” Eddie answered honestly this time. “Fucked up pretty bad.”

Gareth knew better than to press on the matter further, especially in front of everyone else, so he gently smacked Eddie’s back instead. It was a silent set of condolences, one Eddie definitely didn’t deserve since this was all his fault.

The band had all taken their places. Jesus Christ, he was really in for an unbearable day and he had no one to blame but himself. Sighing silently, Eddie crossed the studio and stood at the microphone, placed only a feet away from yours.

He stole another glance. You still refused to look at him, focusing instead on the carpet between your feet, hands on your hips.

“You know what I’m gonna say,” Marianne began, “But the day I don’t say it, is gonna be the day we make a shit piece of art so, here goes: good luck and have some fucking fun!” Then she disappeared into the other room, behind the glass.

An unsettling silence filled the air.

Usually Eddie would take the lead, but he found himself incapable. His attention was solely focused on you. Every inch of him wanted to shout, beg for any sort of acknowledgement. You continued to give him nothing and he thought you weren’t ever going to look at him again.

But then you did and frankly, that was much worse.

“Honesty, take one,” you said into the microphone while staring deadpan at the rockstar beside you. Confirming, without saying much else, that you knew this song he wrote was in fact about you.

part two

#eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson angst #rockstar!eddie #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson story #eddie munson drabble #celebrity skin.

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tsutsumi-kurose · 1 month

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Someone had this theory that Amane was the one hurting Tsukasa and that Amane was wounded cause Tsukasa fought back. Like throughout all the flashbacks we see, Tsukasa and Amane have a nice relationship and Tsukasa has never tried or wanted to hurt Amane at all but we don’t know that about Amane

hiiii sorry i took so long with this response!! things have been super busy for me this past week or so, so thank you for the ask and for your patience!!

that is an interesting theory!! I hadn’t thought of that possibility. I’ve been reading it as… amane is a pretty passive guy who, in killing tsukasa and himself, becomes hanako, our morally complicated hero who saves our heroine no matter the cost and finds a way to puppeteer all the situations he finds himself in. amane just feels so different from hanako in many ways, and I think there’s no way the murder wasn’t a huge turning point character-wise. but I do like the idea of glimmers of hanako shining through in amane—we certainly have seen many examples of how hanako is very much still amane!! so to see it go the other way would be really interesting!! could be interesting to see if hanako’s traits were actually in amane the whole time

personally though, I do think the murder was probably a drastic change in behavior for amane. the amane we’ve seen was pretty quiet and passive and clearly going through a lot internally that he wasn’t expressing outwardly (at least not directly). and i read this line from ch20 as an implication that amane was "holding back" for a long time before killing tsukasa:

so those lines make me think amane was probably not too aggressive with tsukasa during life, since he was supposedly "holding back," at least to tsukasa's perception.

regarding how healthy their relationship seems, it definitely seems like there was a gradual deterioration. 9-year-old amane and tsukasa at the festival seem to have a pretty normal sibling relationship, but things definitely seem off by middle school. that could potentially be amane’s doing! but I wouldn’t necessarily rule out tsukasa wanting to hurt amane… considering this is how he looks at a crying hanako:

and this is how he looks at a downtrodden, conflicted, tired amane:

and this is how he looks when he’s picturing blasting the clock amane is trying to fix to smithereens!!:

tsukasa is often a hard to read character, so I think it’s hard to say he definitely wasn’t thinking about hurting amane in these flashbacks. it''s still very up in the air to me!

it is true though that we don’t know what caused the shift to these thoughts he’s having in these middle school flashbacks, so it could have been pushed by amane’s hand! whatever it was that caused the rift between the twins during the time between tsukasa coming back from the red house and their deaths, i'm sure it was very complicated!!

amane clearly had a lot he was weighing and thinking about when it comes to tsukasa!

but personally, i think the damage amane/hanako does to tsukasa is more emotional than physical

i think ch91 is a good example of this:

i think hanako pointedly misses tsukasa physically here--i believe it's hanako's words and choices that have tears welling in tsukasa's eyes in this moment! and the blowing the clock to smithereens bit i referenced earlier in this post also seems like it was probably in response to whatever amane was doing with the clock--another potential instance of amane emotionally rather than physically wounding tsukasa, whether he means to or not.

also, while hanako is more active than amane, he's more tricky and controlling than physically aggressive. he doesn't seem to delight in violence and destruction or pain the way characters like tsukasa and teru do. all of his kills are relatively one-hit? he seems to like to keep things clean, so i don't really see an inclination toward violence in him, but hey, it could be a surprising twist!!

I still think the murder was amane’s breaking point, and probably his first big decisive action, one tsukasa pushed him to in one way or another for one reason or another—maybe he could sense amane’s suspicion and was hurt by it? maybe the god started taking over? who knows at this point! so many different possibilities. but this is definitely an interesting theory!! and i would be interested to see/hear what possibilities could lead to this

#thank you again for the ask!! and sorry for the delay!!#would love to think about this more too but i wanted to answer before the new chapter comes out #but it's definitely something i'll be thinking about further!!#ask #yugi twins

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tenkobitch · 6 months

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𝙼𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚈𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝙱𝚞𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜!

Yamaguchi Tadashi x GN Reader

Genre(s): Fluff, friends to lovers, high school crushes

A/N: This is the second quick fic I've written after a long time, so I hope you guys like it! There's not much to say other than... I love writing for the sweet guy characters :D (Also, I'm going back through and editing stuff, cuz I was WAY TOO TIRED to be writing this in one sitting.)

Yamaguchi was never one to hide anything from Tsukishima, mainly because the blonde male would figure it out eventually, but Yamaguchi has a secret.

To be more specific... A secret crush!

Tsukishima, not noticing anything wrong with Yamaguchi, wasn't bothering the poor boy about his crush or his new found shyness towards you. The green haired boy continued to keep this a secret from his best friend, knowing that Tsukki would either push him to confess to you, or he'd tease him about how shy he was around you!

As the boys were warming up on the court, preparing for a practice match, you happened to pass by the open doors of the gym. You were delivering papers from your club to a joint club, but you couldn't help but take a detour to see the boys on the court. Specifically, you were looking for a particular boy on the court...

Your secret crush!

You decided that your club didn't have to know every little detail about your personal life, no matter how good of friends you all were to each other. So... You decided to keep the fact that you have a crush on Yamaguchi a secret. Besides, your members had no right to know! They're always digging into your personal life and ask you when you're going to get a boyfriend.

Oh, how you wished that Yamaguchi would be your boyfriend.

As you continued to make your way to the joint club, you realized that you could stall for time by saying you got caught up in talking to the club's leader, or you could say you fell on your way back to your clubroom and you had to go to the nurse and get a bandage.

No, that'd be absolutely crazy! You couldn't make up a lie just so you could stand in front of the open gym doors to watch a bunch of sweaty, stinky guys practicing volleyball. Well, you weren't intending to watch all of them.

The point is, you are not gonna come up with an excuse on why you weren't back in the clubroom in a reasonable time. You just couldn't do that...

You finally dropped off the papers at the joint clubroom's classroom, making sure to give the leader a greeting before heading back the way you came. You were sad thinking about how you wouldn't be able to watch Yamaguchi for just a little bit, but you have standards! You weren't going to purposely make your club members wait for you to come back. They'd gripe for a whole week if they found out why you weren't back in the classroom.

As you walked by the (still) open gym doors, you decided that admiring the boys (Yamaguchi) volleyball skills for a minute or two wouldn't hurt. In fact, your members would probably be impressed that you could take the time to appreciate the volleyball team honing their skills, rather than actively playing a game.

You went closer to the doors and received a polite head nod from Kiyoko, the team's manager. You spoke a small "hello" and proceeded to watch the boys (Yamaguchi) passing, tossing, serving, and spiking volleyballs left and right. Once you had your fill (you had to force yourself to leave), you gave a small wave to Kiyoko before walking closer to the outer area.

You thought walking down a couple of stairs would be an easy task, and your members would be none the wiser, but it turned out to be quite difficult...

On account that a volleyball smacked the back of your head, causing you to lose balance and fall to your knees. You groaned as you rubbed the back of your head in little attempt to remedy the situation, but the damage was already done.

You heard the sounds of fast feet running to your aid, or to simply see what had happened. You couldn't bear to face the embarrassment waiting for you at the door, so you continued to rub the back of your head, and hopefully the boys (not just Yamaguchi) would go away. You heard two loud boys screaming about how much trouble someone would be in with the captain, you heard a quiet discussion between Kiyoko and another player, and you heard someone walking slowly up to you.

You heard a frantic apology from the person right behind you, saying "I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to hit you!" a couple of times over again. You rushed to stand up so you could run far away from this and never come back, but you were turned around gently by the same person that was apologizing like his life depended on it.

Yamaguchi.

You couldn't believe that you were standing this close to your secret crush, and it seemed like the shy boy quieted down because he stopped apologizing as soon as you turned around. You both stared at each other as Yamaguchi continued to hold onto your shoulders, as if you were gonna disappear if he didn't. It felt like an eternity before you heard someone loudly clearing their throat behind your crush.

You both looked at the captain of the team, wondering what else was going to happen next. Daichi, the captain, had already dismissed the others and went up to the both of you, shaking his head. He patted the 1st year boy on the shoulder, grabbing so he could pull him closer.

"Yamaguchi, you're not in trouble, but since you hurt her head, I'm tasking you with taking them to the nurse's office." The younger boy nodded as he shyly looked back at you, letting you lead the way.

"Your head is fine, but if it's still throbbing, make sure to put this ice pack on it for a couple of minutes." The nurse told you as you and Yamaguchi made your way out of the room. You both gave your goodbyes and slowly walk back to the gym. You both didn't say much until you were halfway to the outer area. Yamaguchi, trying to sound cool and confident, quickly initiated the conversation.

"I'm really sorry about your head! I really didn't know that you were out there. I hope your head feels better soon." With the little confidence you had left in you, you nodded your head and looked at Yamaguchi closely.

"So you were aiming to hit the volleyball out the door?" The boy's cheeks blushed widely as he tried to give you a better explanation of what he was doing, but you only laughed at how panicked he was. He stopped in his tracks as you laughed at his attempts to save face, and you couldn't help but hear what he said next.

"You have a really pretty laugh! Just like you... I mean, you're not a pretty laugh, I mean that you're pretty- Oh my god, what am I saying!" You stared at him as he rambled more and more and kept digging his grave, but you couldn't help but smile. He thought you were pretty? You!? We're you dreaming?

You touched his upper back gently and rubbed his shoulder in appreciation. He blushed some more and only calmed down when you told him that you wanted his phone number. You really didn't know what came over you, but you were finally taking charge! You were actually talking to your crush, and he wasn't running away like you thought he would!

You eventually headed back to your clubroom, only to be met with a smack in the back by your members, asking you where you had been for so long. You explained what happened, excluding the parts where you basically confessed to your crush, and they all stopped bothering you about it.

You packed up to go home after your activities were over, and you stepped out into the cool breeze, feeling as though you were a new person (you weren't, but that didn't stop your high). You walked towards the bike racks to find your bike and go home, but something in the distance caught your eye.

Yamaguchi walked quickly towards your area, handing you a slip of paper. You were confused but remembered that he promised to give you his number later. He bowed and said one last thing.

"Text me whenever you want to and I'll answer as soon as I can! I'll try not to keep you waiting," he turned to make sure no one was behind him before he ran back to the gym.

"Be safe! C-Call me when you get home." And he was gone.

As the weeks passed by, you and Yamaguchi became closer than ever, and you quickly confessed your feelings to him because you were confident that he'd still be your friend even if he wasn't interested. Surprisingly (only to you), he said he liked you too, and you both began to take your relationship at a slow pace. The both of you were happy with the outcome!

But as Yamaguchi kept getting on his phone to message you, Tuskishuma started to notice how happy his best friend was staring at his phone... The blonde found out almost immediately that the green haired boy was messaging a special someone...

A... SECRET CRUSH?!

Tsukishima would never let that kind of info pass by him, and Yamaguchi certainly wouldn't keep a secret like that from him! There's no way.

But there is a way.

Tsukishima just has to ask. Act cool about it. If he makes it a big thing, Yamaguchi's gonna make it a bigger thing.

So, he asks.

"Tadashi,"

"Yes, Tsukki?"

"Is there something you're hiding from me?"

"W-Why would I hide anything from you?"

"Well, you're looking way too happy to be playing a regular old phone game. You must be messaging someone."

"I... I don't know what you're talking about, Tsukki!"

"..."

"You're dating someone, aren't you?"

"M-mind your business!"

That confirmed everything to Tsukishima. And just like Yamaguchi knew he would, the tall blonde started teasing him every chance he got, and he hadn't even met you yet!

Seriously...

...

*Bonus*

"Yama?"

"Yes?"

"Did you tell Tsukishima about us?"

"No... Why do you ask..."

"He walked up to me before class started and said, 'I know about you and Yamaguchi' and then he just walked off! What a guy..."

"Yeah... He should just mind his own business!"

"Yeah!"

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭

A/N: Thanks for reading! I stayed up until 11 p.m. just to finish this. I probably would've never finished this if I didn't stay up. Hope you all have better motivation than I do. :D

#fanfic #hq #haikyuu #hq yamaguchi #yamaguchi tadashi #haikyuu yamaguchi #karasuno #tadashi yamaguchi #yamaguchi x reader #crush #friends to lovers

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olivialau · 20 days

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Shadow's Embrace Ch.24

Sukuna x Reader

Disclaimer:

This is a work of fanfiction based on the universe of "Jujutsu Kaisen," created by Gege Akutami. The original manga, anime, and characters belong to their respective owners and creators.

Notes:

This story unfolds in the Jujutsu Kaisen world, set in a slightly altered universe where Sukuna inhabits his own vessel distinct from Itadori Yuji's body, making him a separate entity.

Summary:

Ryomen Sukuna, the King of Curses, becomes fascinated with a female sorcerer rich in potential but lacking control. Initially seizing her for his destructive plans, Sukuna aims to bind her abilities through a contract. Yet, as he tries to dominate her, he finds himself intrigued by her strength and determination. Over time, his interest evolves from strategic advantage to a deeper, personal connection.

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CHAPTER 24- Heart of Conflict

After the broken glass fiasco, falling back asleep felt nearly impossible. The extra hour you so desperately needed to undo the damage from last night’s reckless decisions slipped further out of reach with every passing minute. Your eyes felt heavy enough, but the nervous thudding of your heart kept you wide awake.

As the sun rose, it cast a warm ray of light through the windows, enveloping your body in its glow. You wondered whether that was why you were feeling so incredibly hot.

Or maybe... it was due to the persistent memory of Sukuna’s big hands hovering dangerously close to the inside of your thigh.

A memory that just wouldn't leave your thoughts, no matter how hard you tried to banish it.

You’d convinced yourself it was just his impressive physique playing tricks on your mind—the guy was built like a damn sculpture, after all. And it didn’t help that he was nearly naked, with his skin still damp... Christ.

But that didn’t quite explain the desperate desire to gaze deep into his eyes, a longing that went beyond just physical attraction. It was more of a search—a quest for understanding.

You wondered what you were hoping to find: a trace of kindness? A spark of humanity? Or even just a tiny hint of decency to justify the pull you felt toward him. Perhaps if you could see something redeeming in those eyes, you could accept your feelings without feeling like a terrible person.

But though you’d caught fleeting glimpses of something beneath his cruel exterior, there had been just as many moments when his eyes revealed nothing at all.

Maybe that was why you still couldn’t admit the whole truth to yourself.

Your thoughts twisted and tangled like that, looping endlessly over themselves, for the entire hour you should have spent sleeping off your headache.

And it proved to be an awful mistake.

The whole day of classes felt like wading through a thick fog, your head throbbing, nausea coming and going in waves. You weren’t hiding it well, either.

Kugisaki and Itadori took turns teasing you, delighted by your obvious misery, both of them grinning as if they hadn’t been complicit in yesterday evening's misadventure. Megumi, on the other hand, simply shrugged at your discomfort and gave you that infuriating look that said, "You made your bed, now lie in it."

Things got so bad that even Gojo pulled you aside between classes. His voice was unusually serious when he informed if everything was alright. There was a look of genuine concern on his face, and you felt a pang of guilt for making him worry. You knew he was thinking about the whole Sukuna situation, wondering what kind of trouble the King of Curses had caused you this time.

And while the situation with Sukuna had certainly been... intense, that hadn't been the reason for the occasional rub at your temples or the way your face turned green every so often.

But admitting to your teacher that you'd spent the previous evening chugging down beers wasn’t exactly appealing. So you brushed it off, muttering that it was nothing.

The day dragged on, slow and merciless, until finally, the last class ended. By the time you made it back to the apartment, you felt like a walking corpse.

But of course, Sukuna had to drag you out for a training session immediately afterward—clearly his way of extending your hellish day in a bid to get back at you for the night before.

There was, however, a silver lining: the look on his face when you demonstrated your improved cursed energy control, which you had spent a fair amount of time practicing with Megumi and Gojo.

His eyes narrowed, and though he merely grunted a curt "hmph," it felt like a compliment given his usual barrage of insults.

That tiny victory was enough to dull some of the exhaustion, and get through the brutal training session.

Afterward, you took a long, hot shower, grabbed a cup of instant noodles, and slumped onto the couch. You stayed there for the rest of the evening, letting the minutes tick by as you mindlessly scrolled through your phone.

You told yourself you deserved this small reprieve, this brief escape from everything.

But in truth, it served as the perfect distraction from what awaited you tomorrow—Ayumi’s memorial ceremony.

You dreaded it.

All the memories you’d fought so hard to bury would claw their way back to the surface. The memory of finding Ayumi... like that... as vivid as a photograph burned into your mind. You could still see it so clearly: her wide, hollow eyes, her black hair splayed around her severed head in a pool of red. The thought alone made your stomach lurch.

But the memories weren’t the worst part. That would be facing Ayumi’s mom.

The guilt was unbearable whenever you saw her mother’s face, etched with a desperate, empty search for answers, for meaning in a loss that made no sense. It was a sharp, relentless ache in your gut, that made each breath feel like a knife twisting deeper and deeper into your flesh.

You felt such shame—for failing to protect Ayumi and for being so much of a coward.

When you discovered Ayumi on the porch, lifeless and broken, you couldn’t even bring yourself to tell her mother, couldn’t speak the words that would shatter her world.

Somehow, you believed that if you never said them aloud, it wouldn’t be real.

So, instead, you dialed for an ambulance with trembling fingers, masking your voice to keep it anonymous—as if an ambulance could somehow piece Ayumi back together.

Then, you retreated to your room like a child hiding from a nightmare, curling beneath the blankets, your whole body shaking. You buried your face in your knees, each panicked breath coming shorter than the last, until the distant wail of sirens finally pierced the air.

And now, the memorial would bring it all back—the things you’d tried to forget, the guilt and shame you couldn’t bury deep enough.

Yet, amid all that dread, there was an opportunity.

The monster that had taken Ayumi from you was still out there, and now, thanks to Sukuna's twisted manipulations, you finally knew where to find it.

You were stronger than you’d been back then. The hours of training—with Sukuna, with the others at Jujutsu High—had pushed you to your limits, helped you uncover your cursed technique, and sharpened your skills to the point where, maybe, just maybe, you could destroy that wretched curse.

And maybe that would ease the unbearable weight on your chest, if only a little.

You scoffed at yourself, disgusted. Even now, you were still a coward, desperate to escape the guilt you knew you deserved to carry. But you couldn’t keep living like this. You had made a promise—a vow—to Ayumi that you would have your revenge.

And tomorrow would be the day.

For now, though, just for a little longer, you allowed yourself to sink into the numbness of mindless scrolling on your phone—anything to keep your thoughts at bay.

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The next morning, a fleeting moment of bliss greeted you as you awoke, only to be abruptly snatched away when the reality of the day set in.

As you moved through the apartment, you realized with a twinge of anxiety that you hadn’t secured Sukuna’s explicit permission to leave. You had mentioned your plans to him, and though he hadn’t outright refused, his cruel lecture about the futility of commemorating the dead had been infuriatingly clear.

Regardless, you were determined. This was non-negotiable.

Making sure to move quietly, you prepared a quick breakfast and dressed in the only suitable outfit you had with you—a modest black dress that fit you like a glove.

You were hoping to avoid Sukuna entirely and slip out unnoticed. However, given his outburst at your previous disappearance, you thought it wise to at least leave a note.

You grabbed a pen and a scrap of paper from your backpack and quickly scrawled a brief message: “Off to the memorial. Gone until evening.” Just as you set the pen down and reached for your bag, the door to Sukuna’s room creaked open behind you.

Shit. Just your luck.

Sukuna emerged, looking slightly disheveled, his gaze lingering on the curves of your dress longer than necessary. You were tempted to lash out, but with a train to catch, you decided it was best to just greet him briefly and move on.

“Oh....hello. Good morning,” you said, wondering when you’d become so casual with him. Sukuna raised an eyebrow at your greeting but remained silent, his gaze narrowing slightly.

With Sukuna now directly in front of you, the note seemed a bit redundant. You crumpled it in your hand and added, “Uhm. I’m heading to my hometown for the memorial service. I’ll be back this evening.”

Sukuna’s expression darkened, his brows furrowing deeply. “Tch. You forfeited the privilege of going out on your own the moment you disappeared for an entire evening. And as far as I recall I never actually gave you permission to go there in the first place, did I?"

Struggling to maintain your composure due to your growing frustration, you tried to reason with him. 'I’m telling you now, alright? I’ll return as soon as possible, I promise. Just please don’t make a big deal out of this. I need to catch a train, and—"

He cut you off sharply, his voice leaving no room for argument. “No. I’ve told you before, I couldn’t care less about your pathetic wailing ceremony. You’re to stay within my sight unless you’re at Jujutsu High. That is a command.”

Fucking asshole. He had enough control over your life as is, and you'd made it clear how important this was to you.

Moments like these made you question your own sanity for believing there was more to him than a heartless monster. Or was this his fucked up way of reasserting dominance after his rare display of kindness the previous morning?

Whatever his reasons, you refused to accept this. "Well then we seem to have a big problem, don’t we? Because I’m going. Even if it means breaking the vow. So either you lift that command, or I’ll face whatever punishment comes from defying it. But that would mean you’d lose your pawn too, wouldn't it?”

You laughed dryly before adding, “Or are you planning to put on your best suit and join the wailing just to keep an eye on me?”

It was clearly a jest born of frustration, but midway through your sentence, Sukuna’s slitted eyes widened. A smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth, as if he’d just conceived an idea that struck him as particularly entertaining.

“Hah, now you’ve done it, you foolish woman,” Sukuna sneered.

“Maybe I should accompany you,” he continued, his eyes glinting with malicious amusement. “I’m sure you’d enjoy having someone like me there, blending into your little gathering of friends and family.” He leaned in closer, his grin growing wider. “Imagine the scene—watching their feeble tears over your dead friend, feeling the hairs on their neck stand up when I pass by...”

He paused, as if mulling it over, before continuing with a tone that betrayed his satisfaction at turning your words against you. “Hell, with me there, it might actually be entertaining. You’ve managed to pique my interest, brat”

He had to be joking. Could he really be serious about joining you?

What unsettled you even more was the genuine enthusiasm in his eyes—one you’d seen only once before, when he’d recounted his blood-soaked rampages.

And that worried you to no end.

But you knew you couldn’t physically stop him from going, so at the very least, you had to ensure he wouldn’t endanger the people you cared about.

“Sukuna, please—just don’t hurt anyone there. If you must keep an eye on me, fine. Follow me if you have to. But promise me you won’t cause any trouble.”

He grabbed your wrist and yanked it toward him, causing the crumpled paper still clutched in your hand to fall to the floor. “You think you’re in charge here, woman? If I wanted to tear through that crowd, I would. I’d relish it—watching their faces twist in terror, their fragile lives shattering in an instant.”

His grip eased slightly, and the dangerous edge to his aura softened into a begrudging sigh. “But I suppose I’ll humor you this once. I’ve invested too much effort in making you even marginally useful to let you break the vow and ruin everything.”

His voice dropped to a low, whisper as he leaned in, his breath grazing your ear and sending a wave of goosebumps over your skin. “So here’s my promise: I won’t harm anyone.… as long as they don’t give me a reason to.”

Really? Even now, during a heated exchange, his mere whisper was enough to elicit such a visceral reaction from you. You quickly turned away, grabbing your bag to hide the flush creeping up your cheeks.

Without looking back, you said, “We need to leave now. The train departs in twenty minutes.”

Sukuna's laughter echoed behind you. "A train? Public transport is for insects. I'll just meet you there."

You spun around, frustration boiling over. “What?! You were so adamant about keeping me in sight. And now you’re letting me go?”

He smirked, slicking back his hair with an almost lazy arrogance. "You wouldn’t dare run from me, little sorcerer. I know you’re not foolish enough to think you could escape the King of Curses. I just enjoy watching you squirm."

Before you could respond, he waved a dismissive hand, ushering you to go. "Go on. Leave. I’ll find you soon enough."

Was all of this just his way toying with you? It was maddening. But with no more time for arguments, you stormed out, slamming the door behind you to emphasize your frustration.

At least he’d promised not to harm anyone, and he had kept his word so far. But you still needed to figure out how to evade his watchful gaze to pursue your secondary plan—finding and killing the curse that took Ayumi’s life.

Because no one, not even Sukuna, would stand in the way of your revenge.

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ruinofchimera · 15 days

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It’s more convenient for me to analyze these arguments in depth in a separate post, so here we are. 1.

This is almost exactly what I’m suggesting, but you’ve managed to twist it. I wonder what exactly was so funny about Severus being attacked, humiliated, and threatened. In addition to this whole very “comical” situation, he was her friend. Let’s not forget this little detail. If this reaction seems absolutely reasonable to you, well, I wouldn’t envy your friends. I would never forgive such a reaction to my public humiliation, but maybe we have different standards for what should be called friendship.

In fact, she did join the mockery. Doesn't the use of a derogatory nickname, in addition to the mockery of his clothes, illustrate this enough? No, of course not, because she was just acting on emotion.

Yes, I’m implying that Lily should have handled this situation with complete grace. Why shouldn’t she have, if she is the saintly and morally pure person you make her out to be? Why wouldn’t anyone expect her to be completely calm and polite in this situation? You expect exactly the same from a guy who was bullied and threatened in front of everyone. What are these double standards? Let’s make up our minds whether people still have the right to let loose emotions when they are being mentally destroyed, or whether there is no such right.

You state that Severus' words are not just a random insult, but a full attack on her identity and a bold sign that Severus associates himself with blood purists. You believe that this outburst of anger defines Severus. It doesn’t matter that he’s mentally broken at the moment. No. He had to behave with grace. He had to remain calm and polite. However, how he acted instead is seen as nothing more than malicious intent and a calculated situation (lmao, him being a mudblood too—and yes, anyone except pure-bloods is considered a mudblood by blood purists—definitely only confirms that his insult was well-considered and all). But does Lily play by some other rules? Doesn’t the same logic apply to her? Interesting. And I ask you to stop underestimating the power of bullying and abuse. That’s hardly on the same level, huh? If you're going to go into the emotional damage that Snape caused Lily with his insult, I can do the same. Severus’s mental state, already fragile from years of bullying and struggles with identity, was crushed even further by the realization that his only friend used the same cruel nickname his bullies had used to degrade him for years. Oh, and somehow she even managed to come up with a brand-new mockery to double the pile of bullying. She witnessed his public humiliation but joined the abusers at the first opportunity. And, of course, Severus’s trauma doesn’t mean anything. Only Lily’s trauma counts, given your constant highlighting of her hurt. 3.

No, that’s where you’re wrong. I don’t think she’s a hypocrite for rejecting Severus’s apology after everything. I implied that she was a hypocrite because she forgave James, who never even apologized for his behavior. And this whole idea that she started dating him only after he changed and became valiant is not supported by anything at all. Sirius and Remus pointed out that James continued his bullying—just not on dates with her, but behind her back. Anyway, I don't really care about Lily's love choices. She has the freedom to believe in James' redemption, just as she has the freedom to reject Severus' apology. And she was not obliged to stick around. I've written this I don't know how many times, and I have little faith that this will be the last time because you people are still ignoring it. I wasn’t talking about their reunion; I was talking about a sense of remorse. Whether Lily forgave Snape or not, he felt guilty about his behavior and apologized. Lily never did. She didn’t think she had done anything wrong, and this is a significant difference between them. They both followed their emotions and hurt each other, but only one of them repented. Such things, whether you like it or not, say a lot. 4.

I hate to judge something by how it’s talked about. Show, don't tell, you know? The characterization of anything will vary greatly depending on the narrator and their biases. We explore the story through Harry’s eyes and hear the perspective of his father’s friends. If we were to study the story through Draco’s eyes and hear his father’s perspective on the events, I’m sure many things wouldn’t match. And this is the natural state of affairs. So forgive me if I don’t remember a single scene where Lily behaved like a good friend, and therefore I’m skeptical when someone proclaims her to be one. The fact that she justified her friendship with Severus to others can have a very double meaning. The fact that she defended him is also very questionable if she did so in the manner shown in the only scene of her "heroism." For me, this is all unconvincing, especially when, in contrast, we have the precedent of Sirius and James' friendship, which in some ways mirrors the situation of Lily and Severus, except for the differences that actually define the concept of friendship. Both Sirius and Severus grew up in abusive families, both had dark tendencies that were just expressed in different ways. But Potter stayed loyal to Black after the Prank, even though James was forced to sort out the situation by himself. Apparently, for James, the bond with Sirius was more important than punishing him for his recklessness, and this bond wasn’t broken. When Sirius finally decided to run away from home, he ended up with the Potters because he knew that James was fully aware of his family’s atrocities and, more importantly, ready to shield him from it. I could go into this for a very long time, but my main point is that I have no doubt James was a good friend. And I don’t even need to hear Sirius praise him for this. Show, don’t tell—this is exactly the case. Everything that has been shown of Severus and Lily’s friendship seems disturbing, and not just because of Severus' actions. That was the point of my previous post. 5.

Well, I started my original post with the phrase, "If you want to talk about her toxic friendship with Snape, don’t try to erase her contribution to the equation." Toxic friendship (mind that I didn’t say that only Lily was a toxic friend) and contribution to the equation (not her fault for ruining their friendship) are the key words. Lily Evans was the focus of my thoughts, but not the scapegoat. Don’t confuse these things. I didn’t delve deeply into Severus' contribution (though I haven’t ignored it in my post) because I’m not new to the fandom. In the more than 12 years I’ve been here, I’m well aware that the incident with the slur has been covered as much as possible.

Moreover, it is actively used as a way to shut down any discussion about Snape, conveniently omitting that Lily was, in fact, an active participant in this unhealthy dynamic, not a victim. And yeah, she wasn’t a good friend.

Although it depends on everyone’s understanding of friendship, I admit that some may consider her approach to friendship to be worthy. But again, you need to make up your mind: if Lily has the right not to be held accountable for her emotional outburst, then Severus does too. If the circumstances don’t mitigate words spoken in a state of distress, then Lily is responsible for her sudden bullying. Otherwise, it’s hypocrisy. I’m not going to be convinced that Lily was a suffering friend, if only because I’m fortunate enough to know what real friendship and support look like. Their friendship was toxic, but not solely at Severus' hands. He misstepped, and so did she. He apologized, she did not. That’s pretty much the whole story.

#lily evans #severus snape #james potter #sirius black

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