#god this makes so angry but so full of love for other living people and how could they do that to child

[secriden]

i'm really enjoying Monster Next Door's portray of introversion in diew.

diew is quiet and likes to minimise social interactions, but i like that he isn't portrayed as incapable of them. he's nice and helpful and responds reasonably when people approach/talk to him. if it's someone he recognises, even if he's not close to them, he's pleasant and if its someone new he's polite. it's just...refreshingly realistic.

when he runs into wan and beer at the noodle shop, that's probably the most visibly uncomfortable we see diew, and even then he's still nice and polite and answers wan reasonably. he gets away as soon as he can, but even as he leaves, he bows to his seniors and flashes a quick smile.

i like that the focus of his introversion is that he enjoys calm things - reading, listening to music on his headphones, jigsaws - and that he is comfortable just being alone in his space. but his introversion doesn't prevent him from understanding and empathising with others who want more social interaction or who enjoy leading more active/fast-pace lives.

when god apologises for wan 'bothering' him, diew explains that he doesn't have to apologise because he knows wan means no harm. he isn't angry or upset and he doesn't resent wan's extroversion just because he's introverted.

sometimes when filmmakers have an 'introverted' character we just see someone who seems to hate people and get annoyed when other people try to talk to them.

i just... appreciate that diew feels like a real, full person who is MORE than just his introversion. he has his hobbies, interests, and can get sucked into a conversation about his favourite book even with a stranger. he loves his turtle and his family and tries to please (or appease) his mom. he's kind (picks up the papers that flew out of gun's bag at the start), will stop to pet doggies (so relatable), gets frustrated at noisy neighbours but also forgives easily once god apologises.

at the same time, you get the sense that diew could use a bit more branching out. there's nothing wrong with his life, per se, but also meeting someone like god will open up new experiences for him in a way that will help him grow as a person.

and thankfully god seems like a really green-flag love interest thus far and shows a lot of promise for sweet sweet blossoming love down the line. not only does he accept the boundaries that diew places on their relationship, he also takes them 100% seriously. to the point that he puts on mask (at least partly) because he wants to honour the fact that diew doesn't want to see his face yet. and then runs away at the noodle shop once he realises that diew is there. like it's not just condescending indulgence - he respects what diew wants and is willing to make the effort to stick to his conditions! it makes me feel safe in rooting for this couple because already you can see how careful god is handling diew. <3

[gregrulzok]

What I find really really compelling about Laios' special interest is this:

As a person who's special interest is dogs, I'll tell you right now that I fucking love them. I live in a city full of strays, and I actively go out of my way to pet, play with, and interact with them. It brings me a lot of joy and comfort to be able to be surrounded by puppies.

I will also be the first to tell you that, like it or not, dogs are animals - and animals, ultimately, can be unpredictable. They can be scared, they can be territorial, and they can be impulsive. And while I genuinely believe that there's no such thing as a bad dog or an angry dog - only a scared one - I also don't believe it makes a functional difference once a dog has bitten you what intentions it may have had.

Dogs are dangerous. I've seen people get bitten, I've been bitten, I've had close calls, some of which were my own fault and others which were not.

And Laios reflects this so beautifully, especially in the Kelpie arc. He's not blinded by his love for these creatures, he's not overtaken by baseless empathy - he understands, understands better than anyone, that these are at the end of the day monsters, and they are dangerous, and when push comes to shove sometimes you've just got to kill them. In fact it's his love for them that lands him this knowledge and understanding in the first place - just as I know that there's no room for fear and weakness when it comes to interacting with dogs, he knows there's no room for hesitation and empathy when it comes to interacting with montsers.

It's so fucking realistic of someone who genuinely researches and cares about these creatures, rather than superficially "liking animals" and then trying to assign human qualities to inherently inhuman creatures.

God.

Laios is fantastic fucking representation.

[upsidedownwithsteve]

A soulmate AU: Steve Harrington x fem!reader [2.6K]

THE TIMELINE

“Love is born into every human being; it calls back the halves of our original nature together; it tries to make one out of two and heal the wound of human nature. Each of us, then, is a ‘matching half’ of a human whole…and each of us is always seeking the half that matches him.”

- Aristophanes, Plato’s Symposium.

I. ATHENS, GREECE: 8TH CENTURY BC

The gods were angry.

Or so you’d heard. It started with whispers. Murmurs from the town and its people. Rumours spread across Athens the same way the breeze did at the start of summer. They said the gods were angry, furious.

How could the mortals be so silly? How could they possibly rile their gods like this? Again?

Stupid humans, foolish humans.

You didn’t understand.

But then one morning before the sun rose, you awoke to a reddened sky and a heavy wind, a storm brewing over the horizon, a dark mass you could see above the sea from your bedroom window. Preachers took to the streets then, standing on the cobbles with bells ringing above their heads, warning every person listening about the end of times. It had happened before, they said, their faces masks of horror. It was happening again.

The gardens all died, grass turning black, crops to dust, life fleeing from the ocean as Poseidon uprooted the seafloor, waves crashing against the cliff's edge. Athens turned to decay, colour slipping from the world as the gods ruled over it from the skies and sea. A punishment fit for the crime, the elders said, telling stories at the marketplace, of how their own grandparents had once been born together, joined at the heart, four arms and four legs.

One soul.

They said Zeus came from Olympus, that he’d crashed down to earth riding a bolt of lightning and he ripped the mortals apart. They said it was a bloodshed, rivers of red running through the plazas, wells turning thick like tar.

Zeus cursed everyone, you heard. Your kind had been getting too prideful, too full of ego and greed and want for more. The gods feared an uprising, they sat on their thrones and they resented to power you all craved.

So they did something about it.

With their wounds left to heal on their own over months and years, each half of a mortal was thrown to different corners of the earth, destined to spend the rest of their lives searching for the other half of their soul.

It seemed nothing more than a fable, a horror story for children, something you would never have believed. Soulmates? Someone made just for you? An impossible notion, you were sure you would have once thought, if you hadn’t already met yours.

He was at the forge when the first bolt of lightning hit the ground.

The concrete split and temples on the cliff sides shook, the tiles on each home shattering as they fell. You heard people yelling from your garden as the ground shuddered and an eerie quiet followed. A hollow silence, a calm before a storm and then something else hit the ground too.

Bigger, heavier, more powerful.

You dropped your basket and ran.

Still barefoot, you left the sodden clothes on the grass and fled, passing the sanctuary of your home, the temples beyond the rivers, the forests that came before the sea. You ran to the plaza, through the marketplace that was buzzing with fear, shoulders burning with pain as you slammed your way past everyone who ran against you. You were battling a tidal wave of townsfolk, each one crying and yelling.

You heard shouts of Titans! Furies!

People yelled out names they once didn’t dare whisper, each word said like a curse. Cronus, Crius, Oceanus, Thea. Standing on the marble steps of the Parthenon, a preacher in guided robes had blood running down the side of his face, a cut on his head matting his greying hair. He was ashen, clutching at his scribes and shouting at the frenzied crowd below.

“Tartarus has risen!” He yelled, “the gates of Hades have opened and we, foolish mortals, shall pay for our sins! The father of gods shall come for us, he shall feast upon thy flesh and bone and—”

The preacher's harrowing words were cut off abruptly as another crack in the earth opened up. The shining marble split and the man fell through, the world itself swallowing him whole. You didn’t have time to react more than a strangled cry coming from somewhere deep in your chest. You clasped your hand to your mouth, fearing you’d lose your breakfast, that you’d become too dizzy to keep moving.

The ocean was growing closer, too tall waves and swirling, dark pools buried into its depths. Ships were being sucked under, their white sails the last thing you saw before they were swallowed by Poseidon’s fury. A golden chariot raced down from the sky, sparks flying in the air as it landed on the roof of the Acropolis. More marble shattered and Ares, the god of war, had landed on earth to do his duty.

By the time you reached the forge, the plaza was running red, just like the elders had said it would. The bronzed statue of Hephaestus that guarded the entrance to the blacksmiths had come to life, the god himself taking its form as he spewed fire across the village, molten heat and steel dripping from his large hands, coal crumbling at his feet. The air smelled like ash, like fire and death.

As you searched for him - your other half - eyes wide and frantic, your chest heaving, Hades stood in the shadows across the cobbled road. Inky black dripped from him, from his robes, his skin, his mouth. He looked ghoulish until he stepped into what was left of the daylight, a trick of the sun turning his gaunt face handsome. He grinned at you, each tooth pointed and sharp and he held out a hand. A pomegranate was placed in his palm, the fruit cracked open and the ruby seeds spilling out of it like tiny jewels. He beckoned you, a voice in your head whispering, silky, sultry, full of promises that couldn’t be real.

Surely eternal damnation was better than a fate like this?

You moved, your body not your own, one foot in front of the other, your hand outstretched. Images flashed through your head, dark swirls of three headed dogs, rivers made of souls and gates of bones. But when they opened, there was a garden, more beautiful than the ones in Athens, with their marble pillars and fountains that led into ponds. In this garden, temples stood gleaming and tall, with maidens dancing amongst rose bushes, naked and with hair to their waists. They waved to you, more scarlet coloured fruit held in their hands and they were laughing, singing, pulling you closer--

Another bolt of lightning - bigger and louder and brighter than before - hit the ground and the maidens disappeared. The god of the underworld grinned once more before he stepped back into the shadows and turned to smoke, melting into the bloodied ground.

Zeus had landed in Athens.

And you couldn’t find Steve.

Steve Harrington, son of the town’s head blacksmith, was tending to the forge when the first god came to earth. He’d left you in bed, the threadbare sheets around you still warm, your skin littered with his leftover kisses, marks from his greedy fingers the night before. The sky had been scarlet when he walked across the plaza and in the far distance, a plume of smoke rose from what seemed like the ocean. The Methana volcano was simmering, waiting, spewing fumes of gas and dust.

A warning.

The forge cracked when Zeus arrived, the bricks splitting along with the forge floor, cobbles and bricks turning to rubble under the men’s feet. Fire and coal tumbled from the cast iron cages, half made swords of burning steel falling at their feet. The sky above rumbled, the windows shattering as bolts of lightning hit the land and people screamed, torturous sounds that made Steve run blindly out into the plaza.

Some were kneeling, their heads bent and their palms open to the sky, to the gods. A sacrifice that was ignored. Others ran, diving into buildings that immediately fell on top of them and Steve watched in horror as people dropped before him, falling like sacks, crumpled to the ground as they clutched their chests in agony. They called out their lovers' names, their voices hoarse, pleading, desperate and all at once, a crowd surged behind Steve, carrying him with them, his shoulders burning at the momentum.

He had to find you.

The market was in ruins, once fresh vegetables and fruits now smashed into the concrete, the smell of baked bread hidden under burning embers. Panicked horses fled their owners and carts, almost knocking Steve to the ground as they tried to escape the carnage. The sea level was rising, the shadows of boat sails towering over marble buildings, the hulls of ships teetering closer to pillars that once held the statues of the gods now seeking revenge. Steve had been raised to honour them, to covet them, to fear them.

And he’d never felt as scared as he did when he spotted you across the square, eyes wide and not yet finding his, your gaze too trained on the statue of Aphrodite that was crashing down too close to you. The white marble hit the floor and shattered, sending clouds of dust and dirt into the already smoke filled air and you disappeared from Steve’s sight once more.

Panic flooded him, a fear like no other and suddenly the gods that reigned from the seas and skies didn’t seem as terrifying anymore.

He yelled your name, choking on the fumes from the fires that had started to rage all around, Hephaestus riding a cloud of black coals and burning embers as he let fire pour from his palms and open mouth, a gaping maw of molten lava that dripped from and melted everything and everyone it touched. Steve flung himself to the ground to avoid the flames, crawling desperately forward before he caught himself and began to run again, hissing as the gaps in his shoes filled with shards of broken stone. Red poured from the soles of his feet but he didn’t think anything could hurt as much as the thought of losing you.

Again, he screamed for you, the letters of your name hitching in his throat, scratching like glass and more people tore in front of his path, running from the destruction. Bodies fell before him, couples forever trapped in a lovers embrace, their faces hidden in each other's chests. They became one again, four arms, four legs, two faces.

Joined at a heart that was no longer beating.

Steve didn’t want to die without you.

He found you in the rubble as Zeus moved closer, a grey and white shadow of a man, a huge hulking figure that didn’t seem real. He didn’t look like his marble castings, the statues that were gilded with gold leaf. He wore no olive laurel on his head, he bore no kind smile nor gentle eyes. Instead he held bolts of lightning in his hands like swords, like spears, throwing them at his victims with cruel precision.

A storm followed him, bigger than anything Steve had ever seen before. It turned the red clouds above the god purple and black, an inky slurry of darkness and electricity crackled between spaces. The air buzzed and Steve’s skin prickled, the static making his ripped and bloodied shirt cling to his damp chest.

Poseidon had finally shown himself, emerging from the waves, his skin a sickly green, his eyes darker than the deepest depths of the sea he came from. He held a triton, seaweed hanging from its points, his body scarred and battered from the horrors he created in the oceans. He seemed too big, a giant, an almost titan and rain poured from Zeus’ purple clouds as he advanced onto Athens.

Steve saw your arm, a limp hand from beneath a pile of stone and he cried as he lifted each piece of what was once Aphrodite. The marble face of the goddess of love smiled warmly at him and it felt mocking, it felt like an arrow to the chest.

You were still alive, barely awake, nose dripping blood and a slice across your forehead that narrowly missed your eye. You cried when Steve pulled you free, his strong arms wrapped around your torso and you clung to him, barely daring to look at the horrors that surrounded you. He smelled like smoke and fire and the metal sting of blood, but under it all, there was something like home that still lay on his skin.

He seemed frantic, calling your name over and over until you nodded and said his back, like it was only upon hearing your voice that he believed you were alive. Steve sat amongst the debris of Aphrodite and held you, your weak frame pulled into his lap and he cradled you there, your head on his shoulder and your arms around his neck.

You weren’t sure what you coveted more fiercely, the young man or your last breath.

A shadow lingered nearby, listening to the soft murmurs you shared the pretty lies you both needed to hear as you told each other it would be okay. Hades stood close, statuesque and with black plumes at the bottom of his dark robes, a midnight blue cast over his skin. He looked like he’d never been close to looking human. He held a timepiece in one hand, a golden thing that ticked too loudly and he grinned at you and Steve, watching, waiting as two creatures by his feet held scrolls of names. They were made od nothing kind, created from bone and other people’s spines, their too long tails and forked tongues that flickered over the skin of the dead as they sent their souls below.

Steve knew he’d fight a god before he let them take you.

But he didn’t get such the luxury of battling for his lover. Zeus moved closer still, rain pouring harder, electricity making his hair stand on end. The father of gods himself stood tall before you both, his eyes as white as his long hair and beard. Nothing about him softened as he gazed down at you both intertwined, blood from each other staining your lover's skin.

Steve pulled you closer, his hand cupping the nape of your neck as he pushed your face to his throat, shielding you, protecting you. You clung to him tighter, hands fisting in the rags of his old shirt and you wondered if you’d ever get to see him again. If this life was it, if this was all you were allowed.

The two of you in the ruins of Athens, the goddess of love shattered at your feet. Four legs, four arms, two faces, one soul. Connected by a heart that seemed weaker than ever in the presence of something cruel.

Silence came before the crack, the world stilling, Athens at peace. You found solace in Steve, your nose pressed to his neck as you held onto him, praying for something painless. You pushed two kisses to his skin then, the side of his throat that seemed to make your lips fizz and Steve sucked in a breath, his lips at your temple, cherishing the last touch he got of you.

“I love you,” Steve whispered and his voice cracked on each word. Tears from his eyes stream the dirt on his face, running rivers down your cheek until they mixed with your own. “I’ll find you again. In the next life, and the next again. I prom—”

A bolt of lightning, so hot it felt frozen, struck the breath of space between your chests. Something inside of you cracked then, ribs splintering as the weapon found your heart and you couldn’t feel Steve’s arms around you anymore.

You couldn’t feel anything.

[on-my-vigilante-sht]

Favoritism

Levi Ackerman x Reader

Summary: Captain Levi wouldn't let his feelings for a scout under him get in the way of his professionalism, right?

Warnings: Minimal use of Y/N, Levi being a dick to others, implied smut, making out, nudity, titan deaths, drinking.

Word Count: 2.5K

Masterlist

Y/N sat in the conference room, tapping her foot nervously. It was time for assessment of the newest scouts and she was the last to go. Every single one of them had come out of Captain Levi’s office either looking dejected, shaken up, or outright crying. She had no clue what he could possibly be saying to everyone to elicit such reactions. Everyone had been nervous and she had no idea why. Captain Levi had been nothing but decent to her but her former classmates didn’t seem to share her view. In contrast, she wasn’t nervous for her meeting until she saw everyone else’s reactions.

As the door opened across the hall, she could hear quiet sobs followed by footsteps running down the hall. After a couple minutes, Captain Levi appeared in the door frame. “L/N?” he called before turning on his heel and walking back into his office. She followed after him quickly, stepping into his office as he held the door for her. Once she was inside, he shut the door behind her and gestured for her to sit. She complied as her captain took a seat across from her behind the desk. He took a moment to look through some papers before speaking. “So going over what your instructors had said when you were a cadet I’m not at all surprised you’re doing so well. You work well with the team and communicate. You’ve shown just how skilled you are in titan combat and you’re very professional in the workplace.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“My only suggestion is to stop taking such big risks. Your actions have never risked anyone else’s safety so I’ve never felt the need to say anything. But for your sake, make sure you’re not putting yourself in any unnecessary danger.”

“Understood, sir.”

“And with that in mind, I’d like to offer you a spot on the Special Operations Squad. We could use someone like you,” he said with the slightest ghost of a smile.

Her breath hitched and she was pretty sure her eyes widened. A spot on Captain Levi’s team? The Levi Squad, as it had been dubbed, was the best and most exclusive unit in all of the Scouts Regiment. “I’d love to, sir. Thank you.”

His shadow of a smile grew into a small one as he sat back in his seat. “Good. Seeing as I have nothing else to complain about, you’re dismissed.”

Not wanting to embarrass herself out of joy and excitement, she hurried out of the office. That was the meeting that had sent the rest of her teammates off crying? She didn’t dwell on it as she walked back towards her living quarters. As she walked through the hall, she could hear faint sobs and hushed, angry whispers coming through the doors. She ignored them until suddenly one of her classmates left her room with slightly red eyes. “Oh, Y/N,” Zelma greeted. “How was your meeting with the captain?” she asked, pity already creeping into her expression.

The newest member of the Special Operations Squad froze. Did she tell people? It would seem like she was rubbing it in everyone else’s faces. But they’d all find out eventually, right? Still, there was still time for her to tell them. It didn’t have to come on the heels of everyone else’s tears. “It was fine. He just chewed me out a bit for taking risky moves.”

“Yeah, well you got the best of it then. Mandel got chewed out for a full ten minutes about writing the date on his documents incorrectly.”

“Oh god.”

“Yeah, well, I’m going to see if Rose is okay,” Zelma said, brushing past her. As she continued onto her room, she thought about her interactions with Captain Levi. Nothing about him seemed like he’d do that to a person. When she first started, she screwed up about ten pages of reports but rather than scream at her, he had spent the whole night helping her fix them.

“What’s this?” a deep voice rang through the nearly empty office. Her head snapped up towards the door, finding easily the most feared man in all of the Survey Corps… scarier than Commander Erwin Smith.

“Uh… hello, sir,” she stuttered out as she tried to covertly cover up the paperwork she had messed up and was trying to redo.

He said nothing as he approached her desk. Before even looking at her piles of paper, he lit the candle on her desk, making her realize just how late it was and how dark it had gotten. He then observed her papers, easily identifying what she tried to cover up. Wordlessly, he pulled up a chair to sit on the side of her desk, grabbing half of her pile. She looked at him perplexed until he finally explained. “I’ll do this half so we finish quicker.”

“Oh… uh… thank you, sir. I appreciate it.”

“No problem,” he replied, the phrase seeming too casual for Humanity’s Strongest Soldier. “I’ve made these mistakes before.” No he hadn’t. But he wanted to make her feel better.

~

A week later, the Levi Squad was heading out on a mission to reclaim the Scout Regiment’s old headquarters outside Wall Rose. This would be her first time fighting since her cadet class had attempted to retake Shiganshina.

“You ready, brat?” a deep voice asked, coming up behind her. She glanced over her shoulder, finding Captain Levi approaching her.

“Yes, sir,” she agreed, standing up straight and turning to face him.

The Captain stopped in front of her, taking a moment to observe her. A slight frown adorned his face as he stepped closer. “May I?” he asked, gesturing to the straps wrapped around her thighs. Unable to find her voice, she just nodded. He knelt down, grabbing the strap wrapped around her left leg first. He tugged at it, finding that it was a bit too loose, as well as throwing the wearer off balance. She fell forward, catching herself on Levi’s shoulder. She immediately moved to steady herself but another tug seemed to bring her closer.

Levi kept his face straight as he moved on to her other leg. He enjoyed the closeness of her. Ever since that night they spent filling out her paperwork, just reveling in each other’s company, he couldn’t get her out of his mind. He had justified it in his mind as simply admiring her dedication, enabling him to invite her onto his team. And he couldn’t just let his newest member slip out of her ODM gear, right?

Moving on from the straps around her thighs, his hands wandered up to her waist. He was still kneeling before her but now that he was no longer pulling her leg forward, she stood on her own. He kind of missed her gentle yet firm grip on his shoulder. Nevertheless, he tugged at the straps around her waist, finding them perfectly snug. Satisfied, he finally stood, pulling her attention up with him. “You’re all set.”

“Th-thank you, sir,” she said, slight nervousness creeping into her voice. He just gave her a soft smile before heading over to his own horse.

~~

It had been a long two days. The Special Operations Squad had fought long and hard to clear and secure the Survey Corps’ headquarters but they did it without any casualties. Now, locked safely within the walls of the old castle, they celebrated.

“Oh my god, did you see Ral take down that five meter?” Bozado practically shouted in excitement. “Hell, she tripped the thing and still cut it’s nape.” Everyone cheered on Petra as she blushed.

“Did you see the rookie, here?” Jinn caught everyone’s attention as he nudged her shoulder. She blushed as well as everyone looked at her. “How was your first solo kill?”

She smiled, trying to hide her embarrassment. “Not enough,” she declared, eliciting a cheer from everyone. Across the table she caught Levi’s eye, giving her a smirk and nod of approval, the biggest reaction anyone had gotten out of him.

After a while of celebrating, everyone else was drunk with the exception of her and Levi. Needing a moment of quiet, she slipped out of the room, everyone else too drunk to notice. She made her way to the upper floors until she found a balcony in what was probably the commander’s room. Stepping outside, she just took a moment to breathe in the cool air. Fortunately all the titans had dissolved into nothingness, leaving the view almost beautiful. The only damper was the damage the titans had created.

“Mind if I join?” a low voice came from behind her.

Startled, she jumped, relieved when she saw that it was only Levi. “Oh, you scared me, Captain.”

“Did I?” he said, coming to stand next to her. “Didn’t take you as one to be scared easily. You did just stare down the jaws of a titan today.”

She shrugged, the blush returning to her cheeks. “Yeah well, I’d sooner face a titan than the infamous Captain Levi.”

He chuckled. “You did good,” he praised.

“Thank you, sir. Thanks for inviting me.”

“Your record speaks for itself,” he dismissed.

Turning to face the outside world again, a sudden breeze caught her, sending a chill down her spine. Noticing her movement, Levi unclasped the cloak from around his shoulders before placing it around his newest soldier. “Oh thank you sir but-” He waved his hand, dismissing her before going back to looking over the castle’s grounds, sipping on his tea. She opened and closed her mouth a few times, trying to find the words. Clenching her jaw, she pondered all of his actions. Taking a deep swig of the whiskey Jinn had brought, she worked up the courage to speak. “Why do you treat me so well?”

Levi’s blood went cold. It was the question he dreaded and the opening he craved but still never hoped would come. Choosing to deflect, he spoke casually. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I treat everyone the same.”

“Sir, with all due respect, no you don’t,” she countered sheepishly. “When others in my class screwed up they were punished, you helped me. You invited me to your squad even though I wasn’t first in my cadet class. You don’t even really interact socially with your squad but you’re out here with me.”

Levi sighed, considering his next words. She had him pinned on this. “You… I…” he took a breath. “You impress me,” was all he said. “More than anyone ever has.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she pressed further.

Levi groaned internally as she kept pushing. Unable to say the words, he decided to show her. Resting his cup on the thick railing of the balcony, he stepped right next to her, grasping her face softly. Her doe like eyes stared up at him innocently until they fluttered closed as Levi leant down, connecting their lips. She parted her lips, granting him access to her mouth, which he took eagerly. His hands fell to her hips, pulling her in eagerly which she took as an invitation to reach for his coat. He helped her shed the clothing before he worked to unbutton his own shirt, still kissing her. Once it was off, he returned his hands to her hips, pushing her into the room and onto the bed. In a flurry of lips and clothes, Levi had her naked underneath him. Pausing for a moment, he pulled away just to observe her. “God, you’re so beautiful,” he breathed before returning his lips to hers.

~~

Laying in the bed that had been prepared for him earlier that day, Levi stroked his newest squad-member’s hair. Her bare skin bathed in the moonlight as she slept peacefully on his chest. He couldn’t help but smile into the top of her head, feeling like a giddy teenager. He couldn’t believe he had finally found the girl of his dreams. In the Underground he had had no time for and therefore no consideration of love. He knew he’d have to keep her a well-guarded secret. Sometimes there were bigger threats than titans.

Continuing to enjoy the weight on his chest and the feeling of her soft hair running through his fingers, Levi stared out into the night. He could get used to this. One day they’d have to kill all the titans, right? Then they could get a nice little house out here in the country. Where it could just be the two of them.

Checking the clock that had been wound to the correct time, he could see that the sun would be rising soon. He hadn’t slept at all but that wasn’t out of the ordinary and he didn’t mind. He had more important things to think about than sleep. A small, irrational part of him worried that someone or something would come snatch her from him in the night right as he finally had her. But for the sake of keeping his reputation, he reluctantly slipped out of bed, gently replacing his chest with a pillow so as to disturb her as little as possible.

~

Given that the balcony doors had been left open, the object of Levi’s affection woke with the sun. With a gentle stretch, she soaked the sun in for a moment, inhaling the scent of her commander on the sheets. Despite wanting to lie in bed all day, she’d much rather avoid someone bursting in and asking her why she was in Levi’s bed so she got up reluctantly. Looking for her clothes, which had been shed on the balcony, she found them folded neatly at the foot of the bed. Smiling to herself, she put them on and fixed her hair before heading down to the kitchen.

Upon entering, she found all of her teammates grabbing food from the counter before sitting at the wooden table in the center. They all grumbled good mornings to her as they served themselves and sat. Still standing in the doorway, she saw her captain standing at the stove in an apron. “More pancakes are coming,” he announced.

There was a quiet cheer from the rest of the team as they were already digging through what had already been made. Sitting down, she helped herself to some of the fruit on the table before a plate full of pancakes appeared in front of her. She looked up, finding Levi sitting down beside her at the head of the table with another plate for himself. She just sent him a smile and said a quiet thanks as she dug in.

Meanwhile the rest of the team stared at the pair in shock. Seeing them first, Levi sent them a glare. “What? She hadn’t gotten a plate. Feed yourselves,” he barked before returning his attention to the woman sitting beside him.

Masterlist

[dceasesd]

why juni ba’s the boy wonder has my favorite jason characterization of any contemporary comic run: a needlessly in-depth analysis (pt.3)

go check out part 1 and part 2 if you'd like! this is a long one, sorry guys.

if you haven't already i'd recommend you check out pt. 1 & pt. 2 (linked above), but if you haven't checked them out i've been going over some of the main things people have been criticizing ba's characterization for: 1. the typical boiling down of jason's character to "the angry one" 2. his lack of strategy going into the fight with the demon is out-of-character 3. the neighbor's kid interaction

alright, so this last point is purely based off of one page of the entire comic: the one where the child of one of jason's neighbors is dragged inside his home when his mother see's jason coming.

first off, i love this page. it might be my favorite page in the entire issue. everything about it is great. just thought i needed to say that.

anyway, there's some people who are seeing this page and reading it as "jason protects kids! that's one of his big things! why are they scared of him?"

here's the thing, though: the kid isn't scared of jason, the mom is. the kid is literally playing dress up as the red hood-- he's not scared of jason, if anything he's trying to replicate him. little kids dress up as their heroes all the time; why is this kid any different? it doesn't really make sense for the kid to dress up of something he's scared of (not everyone is as weird bruce wayne), especially a real person that could be a real threat rather than a concept. i doubt you see many kids in gotham dressing up as the joker or something, because that's just asking for trouble.

the dress-up honestly seems like a ploy for attention to me. the kid clearly knows that red hood lives in his building (which is honestly so funny. take off the mask jason you're giving you're position away (actually this is a really good instance for analysis but i'm determined to not go on a tangent)). if the kid knows red hood lives in his building, what better way to get his attention that dressing up as him and playing pretend? if the kid was scared of him, he wouldn't want to draw that sort of attention to himself. if he had a sort of hero-worshippy thing going on like i suspect, then he would want to get jason's attention. to sum it up,

it's the mom who pulls him away when jason nears, because she either a) perceives him as a threat, b) doesn't want her kid to try and replicate him even more, or, the most likely option, both! the kid isn't scared of him, but the mother believes they should be.

once again, we come back to the whole perception vs. reality theme i talked about in part one! we've come full circle, everyone!

when looking at the neighborhood's perspective of the red hood, ba gives us a few contradictory examples. there's the kid and the mother, obviously, but there's also a slew of other citizens who interact with him at the beginning of the issue, both in fear and camaraderie.

the unhoused man and the people outside of his building clearly have a familiarity and are comfortable with him, while the shopkeeper is terrified and literally has a banned poster on his wall featuring jason (i am so curious what he did to deserve that, if he even did anything at all). from this, it appears that jason's reputation teeters between fearful and familiar-- a sentiment that also colors jason's relationship with his family.

furthermore, this concept underscores just how lonely jason is-- one of the only good relationships he had in his current life was his fucking landlord, for gods sake, and he's dead.

i think it's important to note that jason doesn't respond to the friendly greetings from the men-- he could attempt to build camaraderie, the roots are there, but he chooses not to. he could work to try and show the mother that her son is safe with him, but he chooses not to. why? jason is obviously lonely (as ba states in the panel below) and he caves pretty easily when damian asks him for help (both of them are so desperate for human interaction its tragic). so why does he distant himself from the community?

obviously it is in part due to the vigilante lifestyle, but it is also jason's perception of himself and how he believes others perceive him, especially in regards to his family (ba is literally hitting readers in the head with that theme baseball bat).

he doesn't see that the kid with the mask looks up to him, all he sees is the mother pulling him away. he sees the banned poster in the store. and, as ba narrates, "he was sure he'd been forgotten about" by his family. utrh is jason's twisted way of attempting to reach out and connect with bruce, and obviously that doesn't work-- so he chooses loneliness over rejection.

like in part one, though, damian refutes this idea by describing bruce's perspective, showing how what jason believes differs from actuality. bruce hasn't forgotten about him and doesn't hate him, as he suspected, but instead harbors guilt over the situation and desires to make it better, which jason must come to understand to be able to open the locked door and begin to move past his trauma.

so, that's what the little kid in the red hood outfit looks like to me. i actually have a lot more i'd like to say about the boy wonder, especially in regards to the whole "door to my past life" thing and what ba does with lighting and blocking in his artwork, so i may do a little post on that as well! i was gonna try and shove it into this one, but i've run out of room! i hope you guys liked my analysis, if you'd like to chat about the boy wonder or any other comics, my dms, asks, and reblogs are happily open! thanks for reading! :)) <3

pt. 1 / pt. 2

[brayneworms]

i'll fetch you anything you like.

featuring. aki hayakawa x gn!reader

content. MDNI, smut, riding, begging, crying, smoking, light masochism, burning (reader puts a cigarette out on aki), mild codependency, pet names (loverboy, darling), gender neutral reader, agab not mentioned, sub!aki + dom!reader, a little angst, pining, kissing, vague love confessions.

word count. 3.2k

synopsis. aki's smoking is a nasty habit, but you're certain you can get him to quit. also, aki pines.

notes. minors don’t interact. anyways how’s this for a first post ( totally normal abt aki hayakawa )

Aki Hayakawa is an orphan in every sense of the word.

Literally being the one most people associate him with, but—Aki comes to a realisation when he's maybe thirteen or fourteen that the word runs deeper than that. It's not as if your entire life is defined by your relationship with your parents, after all; even people who have ones that are alive become something other than offspring in their life. Husband, brother, uncle, father. But orphan sticks, no matter how many people you fill your life up with to replace the parents you lost. Aki thinks there is something in the word that rings of loneliness; he could father a hundred children, become grandfather to two hundred more, gain friends and a partner, and still he would be Aki Hayakawa, orphan.

Alone.

"That's a bad habit."

Aki's fingers don't pause in their ministrations, thumb pressing down on the jut of the lighter as it zips to life. The cherry of his menthol cigarette glows in the blue-dark of the office. The sky outside the thin window is pale with the gloaming, and he breathes a haze of gritty smoke over it, sullying the view.

You've made yourself at home on his desk, legs swinging leisurely. You must be cold in only his work-shirt and boxers that cling to your hips and thighs. You watch him passively, head cocked.

"One of my least dangerous ones," he intones, which is true enough for a man who has three years to live at most.

"Oh? What tops the list?"

Aki eyes you serenely. "I dunno if you've heard, but I work for this place called the Public Safety Division."

Your laughter breaks the delicate quiet like a flock of birds taking off from a tree. "Put it out. I hate the smell."

Aki's dark brows crinkle. "I'm not wasting a perfectly good cigarette. If it bothers you so much, eat it."

"Eat it? You freak."

"At least then someone's getting something out of it."

You hop from the desk, yawning. In the dim light that is starting to grow just a little brighter, Aki can see the beginnings of bruises on your throat and collarbone, vanishing in an ugly rainbow trail down to the hastily-down buttons of his work shirt. Your socked feet pad along the threadbare carpet on your way over to him, and Aki inhales deeply. Maybe if there's enough smoke in his lungs it will encourage him not to breathe; that way, he won't do that god-forsaken embarrassing thing he does when you get close. His heart stutters, and it makes his breath hitch audibly. The worst part is you seemed to be goddamn attuned to it—there seems to be little you like more than knowing you have an effect on him.

Aki doesn't stop you when your fingers come up to encircle his cigarette, brushing his as you pluck it gently from between his lips. He hates that even the smallest kiss of your skin against his still sends liquid lightning zipping through him, like he's that seventeen-year-old he was when he met you, the one full of spite and anger who hadn't been held since his mother died.

You pull the cigarette away, still lit; the butt glows red and angry between your delicate hold, gleams in the reflection of your eyes. When Aki meets them, he feels his mouth go dry; your pupils are large and black, engulfing iris, barely blinking as you look up at him.

"Bet I can make you quit," you say.

Aki snorts. "Better men than you have tried."

"Anything can be unlearned," you counter smoothly. "All bad habits go away with a little punishment."

Aki feels his heartbeat quicken, tries not to let the way that one word sets his blood alight show on his face. "Hm," he says noncommittally, but frustratingly, he doesn't think he's fooled you for a second.

Your serene smile curved into something sharp as easily as breathing. "Gimme your hand."

And Aki does, though he knows where this is going. You turn his hand over gently at the wrist, leaving it palm-up, fingers splayed in your grip. You hold him so gently it makes him shiver. Carefully, slowly—Aki thinks, giving him much time to pull away—you raise the burning end of the cigarette and plant it in the centre of his pale palm, a stinging kiss. Aki hisses, grits his teeth, but dutifully doesn't move even as his hand twitches involuntarily at the contact. Just as tears start to needle at his eyes, you twist the butt and pull away, leaving a shallow pool of grey ash, a black soot mark, and a stinging red welt like a patch of burning leaves.

His eyes are glued to the masterpiece you've made of his boring skin. The burn throbs unpleasantly, but something low and hot has come alive in his abdomen at the lingering kiss of pain. It satiates something inside him just smoking the thing could never hope to touch. He likes the futility of feeding himself his own death, sure—makes him feel like he has marginally more control over it, despite what the Curse Devil might have to say about it. This sort of pain is different; it goes straight for the gullet, and it makes it all the more sweet that it's you doing it.

A stupid, lonely part of Aki—orphan—wants to believe you're doing this because you care for him. Because you want him to live as long as possible. The grown, cynical man he supposes he's become thinks you must be just as fucked up as he is. It doesn't really matter either way; Aki's loved you for years, and he's astonished he's even gotten this far with you, and he'll take anything you deign to give him, pleasure or pain because it's all sort of the same to him anyway.

You unscrew a bottle of drinking water and hold it over your discarded blazer, soaking the lapel before pressing it to the burn. Aki grunts, eyebrows knitting up as a strange cocktail of relief and pain throbs slowly through his body. Your hands holds the wet fabric over his one, like a ribcage encasing a beating heart. Oh, Aki would let you hold his heart in your hands, and who cares what you decided to do with it? It's hardly his business; it belongs to you anyway.

He leans in to kiss you, gets close enough to brush his lips against yours and feel his pupils dilate before you turn your head, ducking. Aki feels his heart stutter anxiously as you turn your serene face up to him.

"Hate the taste," you say.

Aki frowns. "I barely smoked it for thirty seconds."

"It lingers."

Aki isn't stupid; this is part of the punishment. And the goddamn annoying part is that it's working. Even as you take his other hand to hold the soaking blazer against his burn and turn away, every fibre in his body wants to stop you. Turn you back around, pin you against the wall, swallow any complaints with his lips. He wants to make you melt against him, wants to melt himself under you in that way you always manage to do to him. He likes feeling like he doesn't have to think with you; just await whatever comes next, pain or pleasure, and he'll take it because it's you.

But Aki doesn't move. He's not a problem dog. He stands quietly and nurses his burn, tracking you with his eyes as you re-dress yourself, his shirt tucked into your slacks, tie wound through the collar, work boots laced up to the ankle.

"I gotta run home and shower," you say, tugging your blazer on. "I'll see you back here in, like, an hour."

Aki nods. "Okay."

The grin you flash him is little more than poisonous; it makes it heart skip a beat. "How's your burn?"

He swallows around a dry throat, holding your stare with a touch of timidity. "What burn?"

Delight shivers over your expression like wind ruffling a field of grass, and you stride the length of the cramped office and kiss him. Aki grunts, rendered thoughtless the moment your mouth touches his, your hands in his collar and his hair; his hands go slack, blazer fluttering to the ground, and the welt on his palm stings horribly when his hands come up to latch around your shoulders and neck. He pulls you closer, a little frantic, and he has barely a moment to reflect on how worrying it is that he's this desperate for your touch after being denied only once, but before he can think to dwell on it you're parting your lips and he's tugged your body flush against his own. He's so close he could drown in you. For a moment, he wants to.

Far too soon, you pull away. You're delighted. "Good," you murmur, and he hates how his heart leaps into his throat. "You're so good, Aki."

His face is on fire. "I'm not a dog," he manages.

"Sure you are," you say matter-of-factly. "And I'm Pavlov. I'll break that nasty habit of yours if it's the last thing I do. Give you something else to focus on. Okay?"

Aki licks his dry lips. "You can try," he says hoarsely, hoping it doesn't sound as much like an invitation as he thinks it does. The impish smile you give him implies he's shit out of luck.

Aki is in hell.

He knows this, because every time the two of you have hooked up since your little conversation in his office, he hasn't been allowed to kiss you if you detect even a whiff of smoke on his breath. It's killing him a little, to be honest. Fucking without kissing just feels wrong. It makes him forget it's you, sometimes, his vision of you sliding out of focus 'till you could be just anyone. And Aki doesn't fuck just anyone. He fucks people he loves.

He loves you. But he can't have you. And he can't even kiss you so he can pretend he has you, if only for a minute. It's just fucking, a tumble of sweating limbs and gasps and grunts, of a thrilling cocktail of pleasure and pain and almost-confessions bitten back at the last second, hidden in the crook of your neck.

Your shitty wooden headboard creaks into the shitty thin bedroom wall, and Aki spends a moment in lucidity to send a silent apology to your neighbours. One arm braces against the wood, flexing with every fast jerk of his hips, and you're under him, eyes clenched shut and meeting his thrusts in a way that has Aki wondering why anyone could think being on top had to mean being in control. He's oiled to your machine, matching the rhythm of your hips and trying not to drown as your back arches up from the sweat-damp sheets, stomach curving into his, one arm holding fast around his neck.

You feel so good he could cry. Not that that would be an irregular occurrence, or anything—he'd practically sobbed the first time you fucked, and back then you'd been all fluttering concern, stopping even though he tried to sputter please, Christ, don't stop, I'll die if you stop, please. He supposes you're kind, in your own way. You'd stroked away his tears and kissed his damp face.

"Aki," you groan, bringing him forcefully back to the present; his dark bangs dangle in his eyes as he looks down at you, mouth agape and head cloudy. "Wh-what's got you so wound up?"

As if you don't know. Aki grits his teeth.

Your hand makes patterns on the damp nape of his neck as his rolling hips slow, as he breathes deep to try and regain a semblance of his dignity. "Loverboooy," you croon up at him, your free hand gripping at the junction between his hip and thigh. Aki grimaces; he hates that nickname. "Talk to me."

Aki glares at you. "You know—I want—you know. St-stop it."

He whimpers somewhere high in his throat as your body tightens around him, free hand coming up to scrub down his face. "D-don't!"

"Sorry, sorry," you laugh. "I'm sorry. Why don't you tell me what you want? Maybe I'm feeling nice."

It feels like a trap, like luring his feelings into the light just to snap a bear trap over them. But Aki wants, he yearns so deeply and desperately that he's just about willing to risk it. "Want to kiss you."

Your eyes gleam. "Do you?" you ask, as if this is news to you.

His arms shake. "Please."

God, he's pathetic. He's so used to being in control, to tailoring every facet of his life meticulously, grooming and tidying and cleaning. He knows the exact amount of calories he should eat per day. He puts his shoes on a rack so he never tracks mud onto the tatami mats. His shower utensils are organised in the order he uses them—shampoo, conditioner, face-wash, scented gel. He likes being in control. He thinks, anyway. You make him reevaluate. You make him reevaluate an awful lot.

You toss your head back against the pillows; you have the audacity to laugh. "Saw you smoking earlier," you tell him, and Aki's stomach goes cold. "Mm... full pack, too. A new one? When'd you buy that."

"Th-that was hours ago." And it's true; when Aki learns you're coming over, he puts his cigarettes in a locked draw and puts the key somewhere difficult to reach. "It won't still taste. I've eaten. I brushed my teeth."

That's just good manners.

"It's the principle of the thing, loverboy," you say, and your hand comes up to his chest and rolls him over. Aki gapes, whining at the loss of contact only to choke on his own voice as you sling a leg over his hips and slide him back into you. Your nails scrape red railroads down the pale skin of his sternum at the stretch, and Aki watches, mesmerised as you start to move, the flex of the muscles in your thighs, the vein bulging in your throat as you toss your head back. He wants to be all over you, a hand on your neck feeling your pulse go berserk for him, his teeth in your skin as proof he was there, nose buried in your hair, dirty and rough and the exact opposite of the way he usually wants you. That is—soft and kind, romantic, slow and heady as syrup.

He wants kisses that taste like tears, whispered confessions into bedsheets. He wants, painfully, the constant assurance he can never ask for. I love you. I love you. Oh, Aki, I love you.

"Kiss me," he gasps instead, writhing against the bedsheets, head thrown back at the brutal pace you set him. He's so close, teeth gritting and muscles locking up but without a kiss it feels cold and incomplete. "Please, please, kiss me, please—"

"You're a brat, Aki," you hiss, and Aki's heart twitches in his chest; he can hear his pulse in his skull. "You ignore the one rule I gave you, and you still think you get to ask for what you want?"

"It's a bullshit rule," he snaps. "I—I can't just, hah, I can't j-just turn it, off, oh, fuck—"

"You okay?" you ask in a fleeting moment of mercy. Aki's eyebrows knit up. "Am I—is it too much?"

Aki shakes his head. "I'm okay," he mumbles pitifully. "I'm close."

"I know, darling," you murmur. "It's okay. I'm gonna give you what you want. And you're gonna give me what I want. Deal?"

"I—I..." Aki chews the inside of his cheek till copper floods his mouth. "I'll try? I'll try, I swear."

You still for a moment. "You mean that?"

Aki nods frantically. "Yes, I—if that's what you want, anything, anything you want, please..."

The beam that breaks out on your face is a million watts. "Aki," you breathe, and finally you lean forward 'till your chest brushes his. Aki can't breathe, transfixed by every swoop of your eyelash and chap in your lip as you lean close. When you speak, you're so close that your lips brush his, and he has to keep every muscle taut to stop himself leaning forward and closing the gap. "Aki, I want you to live a long, happy life. You get that, right? Why I'm doing this?"

He feels his stomach flip, can barely comprehend the words through his dazed mind. His glazed eyes follow you, thunderstruck. "What—what d'you mean?"

"I care about you," you murmur. "I want you to live as long as possible. Want you to stick around with me."

With you? It's a wonder his heart doesn't explode. For a fleeting moment, there exists a future beyond the Gun Fiend, beyond Denji and Power and Nyako, one where he can love you freely. Tears needle at his eyes. It all seems so impossible.

Aki forgets himself, surges up to capture your mouth, but you turn at the last second, planting a kiss to his cheek before focusing on his jaw, his ear, capturing the lobe between your teeth and sucking gently as your hips resume their rhythm. You're faster now, gasping for breath, Aki's hands sliding over the skin of your hips and torso for a lifeline. You tongue at the cords in his neck, the shell of his ear and the sensitive divot just underneath till he's squirming.

Your hands are everywhere—scraping nails across his twitching abdomen, running up the valley between his pecs, tweaking a nipple and pulling. And Aki groans and gasps, every hint of pain from your lovely hands sending him rocketing closer towards the edge. Tears bead at his lashline.

"'M close," he gasps again.

"That's okay, loverboy," you say sweetly, words buzzing against the skin of his throat, and Aki shudders, arching impossibly closer to you. He can feel every nerve in his body sawed open and set alight, impossibly sensitive, boiling with love, and as he comes he buries his face into the crook of your neck with a hoarse cry. Two lone tears streak down his flushed cheeks.

You're not far behind, and Aki wouldn't dream of pulling out, so he squirms and gasps and whines with the prickling of overstimulation as you chase your own high. "Sorry—fuck—you okay?"

"I'm, I'm good," Aki whines. He cracks one steely blue eye open. It stands out against his red skin; he's so flushed as to look sunburnt.

"'M almost, fuck, almost there. Hang on for me?"

Aki raises shaking hands to grip your hips in answer. You laugh between pants, baring down at him.

"That's my boy."

You don't kiss him when you finish, but it's alright. You flop down beside him, taking in deep lungfuls of air, nuzzling your lips to the salt-sweat cooling on his chest. Usually, round about now, Aki would roll to reach his bedside cabinet where his open pack of cigs lay in wait. The lighter is right beside him, open and tempting. He can almost hear the flick of it, the zip of the flame bursting to life, the sizzle of the cherry scorching beneath that controlled flame. The grit of smoke in his mouth and down his throat, emptying his lungs of fresh air.

The pack goes untouched. Aki winds an arm around your shoulders and holds you close, your cheek against his thudding heart.

You don’t kiss him, but it’s alright.

Aki’s not a problem dog.

He's going to earn it.

if you enjoyed this, request something.

[gamequoteshowdown]

WARNING THIS POLL CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR THE FOLLOWING GAMES: Inscryption, Ghost Trick

Quote 1: "But what did I expect? You're a stupid stupid idiot gamer like the rest. And I easily outwitted you! I outwitted them all!" - P03, Inscryption

Quote 2: "What’s it like to feel pain? Does it make you feel alive?" - Yomiel, Ghost Trick

Propaganda under cut

Quote 1: P03 has many good quotes but I consider this his best for many reasons. It displays his cockiness by having him gloat about his victory prematurely, it displays his ego by having him brag about "outwitting everyone" (he really didn't, he just got lucky in a lot of aspects; the only person he technically "outwitted" was the player), and most importantly he calls the main character a "stupid stupid idiot gamer".

Quote 2:

ITS SO COOL. OUR MAN IS TORMENTING A GUY HE WANTS REVENGE ON. THIS IS RIGHT AFTER HE FORCED THE GUY TO WALK UP THE STAIRS ON BROKEN LEGS. HES SO FULL OF HATRED. he gets shot, his body ragdolls back and then is dragged back up like a puppet. He slams his hand on a burning stovetop. He’s so mad. I’m saying things out of order I know but like chapter 15 is so so good I just play through it for fun sometimes. God. I had seen an out of context screenshot of this specific line and was looking forward to it the whole game. Imagine you’re a guy who hasn’t been able to feel anything for 10 years. You’re face to face with one of the people who’s actions led to your death, your fate of puppeting everything around you but never experiencing any of it in a tangible way. He’s collapsed in pain because of what you’ve done. You’re taunting him because you want him to suffer, but even in his suffering, he has something that he stole from you. You can’t help but let out a jeer. “What’s it like to feel pain? Does it make you feel alive~?” Sure, it probably makes him feel like he wishes he wasn’t alive. But that’s part of living too, isn’t it? And isn’t that ironic? That even as you’re clawing him apart as some desperate misplaced revenge, he gets what you’ll never have again? Mind you, Yomiel at this point is like. Really fucked up. I’m writing this assuming anyone reading this propaganda either doesn’t care about spoilers or already Knows, but the fandom has trained me well so I gotta give one last warning lol. This is Yomiel after his only friend, a cat who’s life he shared when he was a new ghost and hadn’t remembered himself yet, is dead. The one thing he cared about, and it was his fault. He missed the shot and killed his only friend. So like. He was always planning on taking revenge, but now he’s even more angry, and hurt, and he blames the people involved in the incident. I’m pretty sure he’s already figured out that Jowd had escaped but he had still killed Jowd’s wife and ruined his life. Cabanela is the other most responsible person for what happened in Yomiel’s mind, and oh is he going to make it slow, make it hurt. And that. That weight, behind the banger line, is what makes me feral.

Mod Note: I LOVE GT (thats it)

@sleepywabbit09 @stormcloudsandshadows @kirexa @ghost-trick-heritage-posts

[little-cereal-draws]

Hc that Polites has a massive squish (platonic crush) on Odysseus

a follow up to this post, this post, and this post. you don't need to read them to understand this post tho

It's difficult to explain because in a lot of ways it feels a lot like a romantic crush but it's not. He spent a few years when they were younger debating if what he was feeling was romantic or not but when he saw how Odysseus and Penelope acted, he knew that wasn't right. He had all the same intensity and the longing that they had but he just wanted to hang out, nothing more. It's a weird thing, to be laying in bed, kicking your feet, and giggling with joy like you've got a crush because you spent all day with your bestie but know that you never want it to go any further than that.

Admittedly, he was jealous when Odysseus was falling in love with Penelope. Who did this girl think she was?? Sure, she was smart, pretty, and talented but what about him? He had known Odysseus almost for their entire lives, did that mean nothing to him? Why would he not want to spend time with Polites in favor of this random girl he didn't even know existed until a few months ago??? It didn't make any sense. He was bitter and angry; he wanted to take it out on Odysseus by acting distant and closed off but he couldn't do it. He thought if he acted like he had other people he'd rather hang out with then Odysseus would realize what he was missing. But every time he came by, it felt so much better to let all the giddy affection that buzzed in his heart out. Polites found he didn't care one way or the other about Penelope when Odysseus was talking to him.

By the time Odysseus and Penelope got married, he had made peace with it. Penelope might be Odysseus' first choice now but that didn't mean that he would stop hanging out with Polites entirely. Seeing Odysseus' blinding smile as he celebrated with his new wife made everything worth it. If Penelope made him happy, Polites could be happy for him too. He finally stumbled home from the festivities feeling warm and content.

When Telemachus was born, it rekindled an aspect of his relationship with Odysseus that had been forgotten lately. His friend was stressed, sleep deprived, and bursting with love for his tiny son. Polites would let him lean on his shoulder while he rambled incoherently about how amazed he was that such a small person could fit so much poop in him. It melted Polites' heart that his friend felt so comfortable with him; that he would press into his side, half asleep, and finally let himself relax. Odysseus had always been very tactile in showing his affection for people, but it had been reserved more for Penelope lately. Polites' heart felt like it was going to beat out of his chest.

They sailed to Troy and the war slowly, very slowly, began. They stopped spending as much time together -Odysseus was needed by the kings- and as the years dragged on, Polites thought he had finally gotten over his feelings. The ones that Odysseus would unknowingly entertain but never understood the full depth of. When he laid in his tent at night and thought of his friend, no strong feelings came. Just two friends who enjoyed each other's company a normal amount. Honestly, he was fine with this. Odysseus wouldn't shut up about how much he missed Penelope even though Polites was right there with him and the unrequited yearning was starting to grow old. No matter how close they were or how much time they spent together, Odysseus would never return the level of feeling that Polites had for him.

After the ambush of Troy, the whole camp spent a night celebrating before they packed up to finally go back home. People were drinking, singing, making sacrifices to the gods, and admiring their new treasures. Everyone was having a good time- except Odysseus. He stumbled into Polites' tent and collapsed to his knees. Polites was by his side in an instant, pulling him into his arms so he wouldn't completely fall. His friend sobbed and sobbed as Polites gently rocked him back and forth. He didn't know where this had come from, not a single man under Odysseus' command had died, but he would spend as long as he needed to comforting his friend. Odysseus eventually cried himself to sleep, still in his armor and still in his arms. As Polites gently laid him down on his mat, his heart gave another kick of longing. It startled him -he thought he was over this- but when Odysseus refused to let go of his hand, even in sleep, he decided that he was more than happy to get pulled back in headfirst.

They start the trip back home. Time was running out until Odysseus is distracted by Penelope again. If Polites ever wanted Odysseus to feel the same way about him, he needed to do something now. But he wasn't sure what to do; he didn't want to do anything besides what they're already doing. Hanging out, talking, teasing each other, etc. He jumped at the chance to explore the island alone with him and to cheer him up. He was still not sure why Odysseus was upset but if he could help him... then maybe that'll be the thing that finally get Odysseus to return his feelings. It's a long shot but he had to try. And if not, then he still got to spend a day with his friend, making him feel better.

The club came from above and Polites didn't see the shadow until it was too late. There was a split second of wind in his hair. Then pain. So much pain. He was sure his ribs were piercing through his lungs. He doesn't remember calling out for Odysseus. He doesn't remember reaching out for him either. He only remembers the look of terror on his friend's face and the tears already pouring down his cheeks.

[askinkiskarma]

ok so what about like an enemies with benefits type of thing with neteyam and they’re so mean to eachother but in the height of it all he’s holding her close and praising her. idk this probably don’t make sense

ok this took me a while, but I enjoyed doing this. hope you enjoy, too, anonnie x

Thoroughly recommend you play this for the full effect (thank you @karma-is-a-cat-purringinmylap for the flawless music taste and ability to match music to text, ily)

wc: 760 words

“If I have to use my radio to tell you off one more time, neither of you are allowed on a mission for a month, do I make myself clear?”

The voice of the Olo’eyktan pierced through the silence in his family’s tent, his angry snd stiff demeanour not one to be trifled with, even on the best day. Today wasn’t one of those days. Your last mission almost went to shit, and if you were being honest with yourself, it was all because of you.

Well. Because of you and likely the world’s most frustrating, annoying, stupid, antagonistic man the world has ever had the misfortune of hosting in its midst. You hated Neteyam. There were certain privileges that came with being the son of the chieftain, the Omatikaya prince, and he made sure to take advantage of just about every one of them. He was cocky and arrogant, and he loved to push your buttons. So many buttons, it was like one of those little machines residing behind the Toruk Makto that the Sky People used to make symbols appear on the screen, and he was proficient at pushing the right combination to make you want to commit violent acts or reckless actions that he knew would get you into trouble.

You were a warrior. Not just any warrior, you were a great warrior. So great, in fact, people were saying you were for sure the next Neytiri, bound to achieve great things, bound to be a key player in the upcoming war with the Sky People.

Neteyam was also a warrior. Not just any warrior, he was a great warrior. So great, in fact, people were already excited for the prospect of him being Olo’eyktan one day, praising his calm, collected demeanour, his incredible hunting skills that were only second to his own father, his outstanding bow work and leadership instincts.

You two have competed your whole lives. For the title of best warrior. For supremacy. For finally settling who was the better one between the two. No one else cared, no one else thought it was important who was on top, as it wasn't a competition to begin with. The more, the merrier, right? Well, that's not how it worked with you two. His pride was wounded every time you were better than him at anything, and your pride was wounded every time he acted like it was somehow unexpected that you were.

He was a better hunter, but you were a better rider. He was better at making beaded necklaces, but you were a better alchemist. He was better with a machine gun, you were better with a sniper. But perhaps the toughest call to make when it came to your competition was when you were fucking each other. You both took great pleasure in making each other come undone, and you took even greater pleasure in rubbing the other's nose in it.

"I made you come in like 20 seconds, that has to be some sort of record."

"You have got to be kidding. You forget that you could barely contain yourself when I was riding you the other day. I didn't realise you can make such pretty, girly sounds, Neteyam."

That was your life, and today, it was no different. Loud moans were slipping past your plush, reddened lips in a saccadic burst of sound that you couldn't help exhale, no matter how much you were trying to. In truth, the man was a god at fucking you. He knew you so well, he knew your body like he's spent his whole life learning it, his whole life studying it. Still, you wanted to spite him, wanted to be quiet, wanted to not seem weak to him, give him another reason to be cocky, another reason to tease and antagonise you at a drop of a hat. But as he rutted into you at a pace that made you see stars, rubbing your clit in the way that made you dizzy, kissing your neck in the way that almost made you forget you hated him, he knew you were putty under his touch, and you couldn't find it in you to care.

"Neteyam, I -"

"I know, baby. You're doing so well for me. Such a good girl on my cock. Come, pretty girl. Come for me, I want to feel you milk me dry."

You came on command at his words, at his praise, that you never thought you'd ever want, but now were wondering how you're going to live without.

[gleefullypolin]

My top 10 ships

I haven't done this in forever, and I was bored and didn't feel like working so.....felt like an appropriate thing to do instead.

My top 10 ships!

#1 Polin - Bridgerton

Did you really anticipate anyone else being at my top spot? Friends to lovers....Swoon! They have my heart, soul, and life. I literally love a girl who knows what she wants and a man who loves the fuck out of her like no other so this is like porn and comfort. Give me everything tonight and more!

#2 Captain Swan - OUAT

If you aren't going to give me friends to lovers, I'll move over to Enemies and find my kind because holy hot out of hell, there is nothing better than Captain Hook and his smolder winning over Emma Swan. Fuck that man can burn! Years after that show ended and I can still sit in them and ruminate and catch myself on fire.

#3 Clois - Smallville

There have been a lot of different Lois and Clark's out there, but none have been Erica Durance and Tom Welling. I've never been so happy and angry with a show in all my life. I used to wish so much against Lana Lang that I am embarrassed my own behavior. But I truly loved the banter and way these two brought these characters to live. It was marvelous.

#4 Reylo - Star Wars

Being a Reylo shipper was like being sentenced to death and hell all at the same time for many years. We were bullied, tortured, shat on, and then given everything we wanted in 30 seconds only for them to fucking KILL HIM after a sacrifice. I have never both smiled, cried, and then curled into a ball in a theater so quickly that I wanted to die before. Even my family ridiculed me. It was torture but I still live there. I still ship it and you cannot make me stop!!

#5 Fitzsimmons - Agents of Shield

The brilliant science couple put through so much that even they thought they were cursed. Pushed to find each other across time and space, kidnapped into a matrix, forced to fight one another, half the couple killed, duplicate versions of themselves, but champions of the hug, star crossed and so full of love. Friends to lovers, he fell first, she fell harder and GOD I LOVE THEM YOUR HONOR!

#6 Starpollo - Battlestar Galactica

A couple who knew how to tear out my heart, throw it to the ground, and then trample it with their feet to ashes. While Lee and Kara were not destined to end up together, they damn sure made it hard not to want them to find a way. They truly loved each other more than anyone they were with in the show, but guilt always found a way to fuck that up for them. God it hurt to love you two.

#7 Romanogers - Marvel Universe

Let's talk crack ships because oh how they break your heart. But it is glorious. This one is mine. I will forever love Nat and Steve and I will live in the space and time that they were on the road together living their lives without a banner. Because you can't tell me what they got up to! I refuse to believe you! But let's not talk about how it all ended because my heart still hurts and I don't like to talk about it!

#8 Finchel - Glee

Since I'm already ripping my heart out, let's go all the way with it. Finchel has always been that ship that tears my heart to shreds. I was all in from the characters to the actors and I'll never honestly get over it. I'll probably always bleed Finn and Rachel, Cory and Lea. And I'll never be able to talk about it to normal people. It was something I lived, breathed, and honestly part of me died with. So I think that's enough of that.

#9 Caryl - The Walking Dead

You can call this whatever it is, some say crack ship, I say...otherwise. It's my ship of ships for TWD. It's my coming home ship. Because that's what they are to each other. They are love. No one tell me otherwise, I live there, I love there. So do they. Deal with it.

#10 Roschel - Friends

Look, say what you want, but I stayed home on Thursday nights just to watch whether they would or wouldn't. Nothing grabbed me like these two. They were lobsters, they were on a break, I didn't give a fuck what it was, only that they had me in a chokehold and that's what I realized what shipping was. Because dammit, I wanted whatever feeling it was. And thus the 9 people above because the passion I sought. So bless it, they needed to be here.

And there you have it, my top 10 ships! Hope you enjoyed! Feel free to add your own :)

[prose-among-the-trees]

I feel the need finally to bring up introjects in a way that’s going to be a hot take, because good god am I sick of having things that I have experienced physically be told to me by those who haven’t.

I respect whatever an introject remembers or identifies with from their source, and I’d like to say this straight off because this is important. I know of alters and parts for whom source is integral to their identity, specifically the way it relates to day to day trauma and how that intermingles.

That being said, please, as an introject who has had something happen or occur or has some sort of disability from source, do not try to tell me what it is like because I have already experienced it physically.

You got scars in whatever media you were sourced from? Lovely, but as someone who is forced to bear that burden of looking deformed when those scars can be visible every single day, do not try to tell me what that is like.

You have physical disabilities that were gained or you were born with in whatever media you introjected from? Perfect, but as someone who cannot function without my heart being assisted by pacemaker, do not tell me what it’s like to struggle as though I’ve not gone through it and as though I do not continue to bear that weight.

You as an introject are of a certain race in source and remember knowing about the food you consumed of that culture? Do not try to correct me, as someone of that culture, on what I identify with and hold.

You have memories of sexual assault from the media you were sourced from? Do not dare presume you can speak over those who have experienced that bodily.

Source memories, pseudo memories, exo memories, whatever you’d like to call them, are individual to your trauma and your struggle as someone with osdd or did. I understand that.

However, your source does not give you the right to talk over, to one up, or God forbid to “educate” those who have dealt with or experienced those issues on how to live with them.

I spoke to an introject today who had scars in their source and identifies with them as an alter. When I spoke up about my own, I was told that I needed to speak someplace where I would not upset others. Because my scars are not desirable or battle caused, I cannot discuss my own experiences.

This in essence is a lot of the issue I have with fictive heavy online systems on places like discord or even tumblr. These memories, these source associations, which I know are indicative of their own trauma in some way, somehow surpass the validity of someone who has actually experienced the struggle physically because it’s more presentable and more desirable.

It’s not all of them, but it’s enough of them that the fictive heavy/introject heavy syscord systems now have that reputation, and it makes interacting so frustrating.

I should not have to explain why claiming an experience you haven’t physically gone through as though you have because you’re an introject is bad. I shouldn’t have to explain that speaking over individuals who deal with these things physically is actively silencing minority groups.

Again let me note that I have full respect for introjects who identify with memories that did not happen to their body. The only thing I ask is that I’m not spoken over in favor of more desirable or digestible experiences that they claim are just as impactful as me living with the things I do.

I know systems who have these memories and respect others who have experienced them physically. For those of you who fall into this category, thank you. You know who you are.

For those of you who believe in things like alter race, separate disabilities being just as valid as experiencing them physically (to the point that you’re trying to educate bodily disabled people/systems)- please listen to those who are frustrated and angry. Please understand why trying to speak over and educate that group of people or any group of people as though you’ve gone through it physically is damaging.

I understand your memories reflect your trauma, likely indirectly for some of you, and I empathize with that.

Please take the time to be respectful to the voices of the groups that have been silenced and spoken over in favor of an introject’s take on something purely source related.

The people of color with osdd or did that have been speaking up about others claiming their races as alters have been laughed off or told that they’re overreacting. They are not. Keep fighting the good fight guys. You’re fantastic in every way. As someone who isn’t in that position, I want to uplift your voices and the things that need to be said. You’ve got my support all the way.

In the past I’ve let other systems try to explain why alter race exists and why their ‘alters of color’ are just as valid as actual people of color. I believed them.

An alter who has the memory or individual source created experience of being oppressed but has not been that way bodily cannot claim to struggle in the same way.

If you got this far reading, thanks. I’m glad I was able to share this with someone.

Be safe.

[xhoneygirlxx]

Still Adore You (With Your Hand Around My Neck)

Epilogue: Destroy Myself

Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

summary: this is the beginning of the end. the start of a chaotic relationship you just can't seem to leave.

warnings: Eddie and Reader are in their 20s. Modern Au! kind of mean Eddie. rated R for smut, 18+ only Minors DNI!! unprotected p in v. cream pie. swearing. shitty writing and grammar errors.

*if i miss anything let me know*

a/n: hello my loves! this is part one to my still adore you series! i hope you guys like it as much as i do. thank you all for the love and support you've given me, i love you all so much <3

Also if you are an ageless/faceless blog you will be blocked. please have something on your profile so I know you are not a minor and are not a bot.

series masterlist

I pray my salvation makes it to the pearly gates,

Bring the suffering that I face,

All the things that I face,

Destroy myself just to wait for you.

When God created the Earth, he picked two of his children to live amongst the paradise he built to be our parents - Adam and Eve. The Garden of Eden was beautiful, a place like no other. The only rule that God gave was for them to not eat from the one tree, the tree of knowledge of right and wrong, good and evil.

They had plenty of other trees to eat from, other fruits to feast on, but when the serpent came speaking words of temptation, Eve gave into him and took a bite from the forbidden fruit, Adam would soon follow after her.

Because of the rule was broken and they went against God, they were banished forever and were cursed with the pain of mortality. Their children and their children's children would face pain and sorrow, hurt and sickness, and ultimately death.

Like Eve, you gave into temptation as well, the warnings you received and how you ignored them all for the name of love. From the very first time you met Eddie Munson warning signs flashed, blinding you with the bright lights. Caution tape blocked you from crossing that line but you inevitably ignored it, ducting under it and continuing on your way.

You walked straight into the line of fire for the promise of nirvana, for just a taste of the sweetness of his love. For the longest time you thought Eve was stupid for falling for the devil's tricks but when he came to you with the prettiest brown eyes and lips that you wanted to kiss for hours, you finally understood.

Dying by the hands of the man that you love is probably the worst death. His strong grip squeezing the air out of you so slowly, smiling at you as he did it felt like torture, but what a way to go. You'd still adore Eddie with his hand wrapped around your neck, with his heavy palm crushing your windpipe, and you'd die so full of love.

The night breeze cools the heat of your skin, hitting your sweat soaked hairline and creating chills that ran up the skin of your arm. The night was still young as they say, the party inside still going in full force. Sweat bodies and clouds of smoke filled every room, creating a sort of heat that quickly became too unbearable.

Quickly finding refuge in crackling embers of the firepit. Unknown people and nameless faces fill the chairs around you, mingling with one another. Despite the happy nature and good vibe of the atmosphere around you, you sit with a permanent frown. Pissed isn't even the word you'd want to use for how you feel at the moment.

Furious, enrage, even spitting angry would be a better description for how you felt towards your friends right now. A random house party in a random place was not how you wanted to spend your Friday night, but then Annika and Nikki looked at you with their big pleading eyes and the end was history.

"We'll stick next to you the whole time," they said, "We promise we won't leave."

Only an hour in and their promise was nothing but a lie, leaving you the minute you stepped through the threshold shouting that they'd return shortly. You didn't expect any less honestly, Annika only wanted to come here for the possibility of hooking up and Nikki was more interested in the arrival of her possible new girlfriend Val.

You always found something to do whether it was people watching or drinking until your vision began to blur. Tonight was different however, being the designated driver you were banned from drinking any alcohol and people watching was only fun for the first forty five hours.

Now you sit playing on your phone, scrolling through every app on your phone until your friends finally arrived. You continue to look at the bright screen in your hands reading through old notes that you had yet to delete, too engrossed by the amount of grocery lists to realize that half of the group left the circle.

"You know this is a party, right?" A gruff voice asks.

Lifting your head slightly, you look up from under your eyelashes to the man across from you, scowl written on your lips. The orange glow highlights him in the best of ways, making him even more alluring.

Brown curls fall from the the bun that sits on top of his head, framing his face so beautifully. His lips pull into a smirk, making the deep crevice of his dimples pop out. Big doe eyes sparkle at you, glimmering in the heat of the flames.

His outfit is basic, a band tee with a faded logo, showing off how well loved it was. The holes in his black skinny jeans show off the tiniest hint of black ink that hides beneath the fabric. The fire and moon fight over the rings that sit on his hands, both going back and forth on which one glints in the silver. A loose cigarette sits tucked behind his ear and a sweating bottle of beer rests in his strong hands.

He's captivating, alluring you like the serpent did Eve. You don't engage, promptly scoffing and then rolling your eyes back down to your phone.

"You know my uncle always said if you roll them hard enough, they'll get stuck."

You hear it before you see it, the grin that sits on his face. It adds gasoline to the already burning inferno that rests inside of you adding turbulence, causing roaring flames.

"Good, hope they do." It's bitchy, ice cold like a winter's breeze. Instead of hurling an insult that you, he laughs. A true genuine laugh that you'd compliment if it weren't for the anger pumping through you.

Shutting your phone off, you drop it into your lap and cross your arms over your chest. Sighing loudly, you look at the curly haired man across from you unimpressed, eyebrow arching sharply.

He takes your challenge of a stare down, watching you over the glass of his beer bottle as he puts it to his lips taking a swig. His gaze in unfaltering but yours isn't. It's not your fault though, not when his neck looks so delicious as he swallows every last drop.

Removing the bottle from his mouth, he catches you eyeing the plump of his lips. Even though you've been caught, your stare doesn't waver, only moving the line of your sight back up to his eyes.

"Ya know, it's not really nice to be mean to your friend." His statement causes another eye roll from you, another loud scoff pulling from your throat.

"You're not my friend," Your words swim with annoyance and it only fuels the man in front of you even more.

Gasping loudly, a ringed hand clutches his chest as if he'd been insulted to the fullest. "I'm not you're friend? I thought the warmth of the fire cemented our relationship."

He curls his lips inwards, biting back a laugh that threatens to sneak it's way out. You're not any better, your bottom lip stinging with the pressure of your teeth that sink into it.

Silences covers the two of you, begging for one of you to break first. Although you put up the toughest of fights, you're the first to lose, a small giggle escaping the lock on your lips. The man isn't far behind you, snorting loudly into the quiet night air.

"First of all, I don't even know your name." You counter, mentally berating yourself for letting a laugh squeak out.

"Oh, you need my name?" He asks, eyebrows raising curiously.

Your eyes squint at the absurdness of his question, "Yeah, that's how making friends works, genius."

Batting his eyelashes, he waves a hand at you in flattery. "I love it when you call me sweet names."

His voice is flirty teasing you to the fullest and if you don't do something fast you're going to melt, and not because the heat of the flames.

"That's my cue to leave." Pushing yourself halfway up from the chair, you're immediately stopped by his arm waving you to stop.

"No, no I quit, I promise." It's said between breathless laughs, his eyes crinkling at the sides when he does.

Smirking ever so slightly, you bask in the sound of his voice. Sitting down slowly, you sigh as if you'd rather not be here regardless of the growing smile tugging at your lips.

Once sat back in your seat, you wait with a tapping foot and crossed arms, trying your hardest to look annoyed. He looks at you smugly, like he's enjoying the little performance you put on.

"If I tell you my name, you gotta tell me yours." He demands, you don't respond just pulling your hand out to inspect the acrylics that rest on your hand.

"I'm Eddie." He beams at you, rolling his tongue over his bottom lip.

You purse your lips, looking him up and down as if you're bored. When you give him your name, he nods slowly and repeats it like it's the prettiest thing he's heard.

"Well there you go, now we're friends." The depth of his voice makes the beat of your heart skip, cheeks burning the more you get flustered.

Shaking it off, you give him a look that the kind that reads "really?", and he only answers by returning a look that says "of course". Sucking your teeth, you look down at the blue fabric of your jeans.

"We can't be friends if we don't even hang out." It's shy, your confidence subsiding harshly under the heat of his eyes.

Now he scoffs, shaking his head back and forth causing the loose curls to move with him. "Don't do me like that, Pookie. Just gimme your number and I'll hang out any time your little heart desires."

"You did not just call me fucking Pookie." You laugh, throwing your head back and clutching your stomach.

You don't see him but Eddie just looks at you like you're the prettiest thing he's ever seen, adoration swimming in the dark color of his eyes.

When your laughter ceases and you fall back into your normal position, you open your eyes to see him looking at you. For the first time in your life you finally see what it's like to be looked at as if you hung the stars in their place. It feels good, heart racing and air catching in the back of your throat.

Blinking out of your trance, you nod shakily. "Umm, you said something about my ugh number?"

Eddie reaches into the pocket of his jeans, pulling out his phone and tapping in the code to unlock it. Handing it over to you wordlessly, it's already open to the new contact screen where you punch in the ten digit number. You ponder for a moment before typing in a name, flicking back and forth between the options you have, until you ultimately adding it under your given nickname with a black heart.

Handing it back to him, he looks at it smirking and then puts it back into its rightful home of his pocket. Opening his mouth to say something Eddie is interrupted with the sound of the backdoor opening and the rush of the music inside pouring from the doorway.

"Hey, we've been looking for you!" Annika shouts, stumbling towards you on unsteady feet.

Looking at the clearly tipsy girl, you turn back around to see give a sympathetic look to Eddie, quietly apologizing for your drunken friend.

"I guess that's my que to go." You shrug, moving from your spot on the chair.

Eddie only looks at you tenderly, dimples on full display for you. "Go ahead, Pookie. I'll see you later."

Sending you off with a wink, you walk away from the sanctuary you found. Walking over to your friend, you can't help but look back at the pretty boy you met finding him already smiling back at you.

Threading your arm in your friend's, you allow her to put her weight onto you so she doesn't fall. Unfocused eyes scan to where you keep looking, squinting to find the person.

"Who's that?" She keeps squinting, trying hard to see the man's features.

When her eyes seem to make out what she looks like, she perks up with a dopey smile. "Oh my fucking gawd, he's hot."

Saying it a little too loudly, you instantly clap your hand over her mouth and look back to make sure Eddie hasn't heard. You find him shaking his head, shoulders shaking with a clear laugh as he lights the cigarette that hangs between his teeth.

"Hope you got his number, would be a shot missed if you didn't." She chastises once you remove your palm from her lips. You sigh loudly and pull her along and make your way into the house.

Eddie kept his promise, using all his free time over the summer to see you. It started off innocently enough, late night drives down to the lake, midafternoon hangouts in the Dairy Queen parking lot where you’d sit in the bed of his beat up truck, and hanging out in his apartment watching him play video games.

Friends, that’s all it was in the beginning. Two people opening up to one another, bonding over their shitty childhoods and laughing at jokes that no one else ever understood.

As the heat of the roaring sun became more intense, so did the relationship between the two of you. Touches became lingering like the tickle of the tall overgrown grass by the lake. Kisses were light and airy, reminiscent of the lightning bugs that flew around in the dark summer sky. Eddie’s scent lingered with you even after you’d gone home, similar to sunscreen.

Tangled sheets and messy hair, flustered cheeks and dopey smiles. The two of you shined so bright even the stars that hung from the dark blue night were jealous.

But when the sunsets came sooner and sooner, so did the end of your fairytale. Calls became unanswered, hangouts were no more, and hand holding became totally off limits. What was once warm and sickly sweet smiles, was now cold shoulders and icy attitudes.

You felt stupid, falling for someone that wasn’t even yours. Giving Eddie your heart on a platter when he never even asked. When this all started you knew what it was, signing your soul over to the devil using your blood as ink.

The risks were in plain sight, the rules agreed on with the locking of pinkies, and yet you still broke them. Eddie told you over and over again this wasn’t anything other than some fun, a way to pass the boring summer days faster.

And although it hurt, you still plunged the sword deeper and deeper. What is love without some loss?

The mahogany teakwood candles that burns on the top of your dresser does nothing to get rid of the smell that you and Eddie have created. Notes of dark oat and frosted lavender are being drowned out by sweat and sex.

Cotton sheets soak up the perpetration, the outline of his body imprinted to remind you that he was once there, the only lingering memory of him when he inevitably leaves. Cheeks flushed with red, screaming claw marks on alabaster skin, and bruises in the shape of teeth.

"Fuck, squeezin' me s'good, baby." Eddie's all gritted teeth and panting breath as he wiggles around underneath you.

The ache in your knees is no match for the burn you feel in the pit of your stomach, your hole clenching around the thickness of his cock. Switching between bouncing and rocking your hips, you're hurdling closer and closer to the edge.

Sentences aren't even forming in your brain, only random blabbering falls from your lips in loud whines with the way he punches into your cervix.

"S'good, shit you feel so good." It comes out like a sob, ripped right out from the depths of your soul.

Big strong hands grip at the plush of your hips, finger prints threatening to leave a mark for the next day. A wicked grin forms on red kiss bitten lips, basking in the glory of you crumbling on top of him.

"Yeah? Is it good, princess?" Arrogant and cocky, two traits that only he can pull off without it being a turn off.

Your head wildly bobs, drool escaping from your parted lips. "Uh huh," the only real response you can give him in this very moment and it's all he needs to know he's fucked you dumb beyond repair.

Bending his knees, Eddie starts to fuck up into you with unwavering force. The thatch of course hair that sits at the base of his cock catches deliciously on your swollen and neglected clit, resulting in harsh mewl.

With your own eyes screwed shut you don't see that his have rolled into the back of his head, jaw unhinged with the pleasure of you clasping around him tightly. Regardless of his own peak nearing, Eddie continues to keep up with his facade, making sure you finish way before he does.

"I'm so deep huh? S'deep, shit- so deep in this tight f-uhh, fucking cunt." Teeth bite down on the fat of his bottom lip, holding the whimpers from escaping from his mouth.

The speed of his movements, the loud squelch of your juices, and the intensity of him hitting into your g-spot is enough to make your head dizzy. He's everywhere, his touch, his scent, his voice. He's everywhere, all around you and you don't think that anything else in the world could create the same euphoric feeling he does.

"M'gonna-, ah I'm gonna cum." The end is closing in on you, the wave of ecstasy crashing into the shore. Although it feels so good crossing the finish line, you know when it's over he'll be gone all too soon.

"Me too, sweetheart. Motherfuck-, cum for me." The act that he had put on has finally faltered, cracking right at the seams.

That does it, pushes you right off the edge into the blissful waters of your high. Your already weakening knees have now failed you, letting you drop onto the slick soaked skin of Eddie's tattooed chest.

The two of you continue to whimper and moan as your highs ripple through you. Both of you create lightning, a pair of super bolts roar in the middle of your quiet bedroom. In the heat of your bliss, you're completely ignorant to the consequences of such strong power being created. No matter what the outcome is, at least it was beautiful and for the smallest of moments, it was real.

After the glory has finally wore off you remove yourself from him, letting out a strong hiss when the feeling of him is completely out of you. Letting your body fall to the plushness of your mattress, you allow yourself to cycle through the memory of it all.

Naked chests heave, a silence pulling over both of you like a heavy quilt in the winter. It's comfortable like this, the heat radiating off of your skin mixes with Eddie's, the pumping of hearts syncing into the same rhythm pattern.

While your body settles into the softness of your bed, Eddie's is quick to jump up from his spot with a loud grunt. Fresh red marks flash at you, decorating the smooth skin of his back along with the pretty freckles you used to trace with the soft flesh of your finger tips.

As he sits on the side of your bed catching his breath, you wonder if he misses the feeling of your touch the way you miss his skin. You wonder if he misses the intensity of your body next to his, arms and legs tangled together buried underneath the shelter of his comforter. You wonder if his bed misses the shape of your body the way yours misses his.

The springs of your mattress groan when the weight of his body leaves and for a moment you feel the same way. Footsteps are muted by the fibers of your carpeting. You watch from your spot as Eddie grabs a tissue from your vanity, wiping himself free of any evidence of you and then disposing it into the garbage can with a careless toss.

Muscles flex as he begins to redress himself, hiding the masterpiece that you left on his skin. You hope that they sting when he's under the heated water of his shower, a pang that will go away within a few days while the pang of your hurt will last a lifetime.

His messy curls pull from the neck of his shirt, shaking with the motions of his head trying to get rid of the unruly hair that masks his vision. From the singular foot away that the two of you stand, you pray that he won't leave, that this isn't the end.

"Do you wanna stay? W-we could watch a movie or something." Behind the sincerity of your voice is a girl that mourns the loss of her once best friend, begging him to remember what the two of you had in the beginning.

The clang of his belt ricochets through the room, an uncomfortable hallow sound that you wish to forget. Spinning on the socked heel of his foot, he gives you a blank face. One so devoid of emotion, cold and vacant.

"Don't start doin' this, Pookie. You already know what this is." A clear warning given with a strict tone.

The nickname that used to cause butterflies only brings mountains of sadness. It used to have meaning, a funny inside joke between the two of you now dwindled down to the name of a place holder.

"I just thought-" Going unfinished by the sound of Eddie's deep sigh.

"Not tonight, kay?" He says as nicely enough to placate you and even though you know nothing will come from it, you're still full of hope.

Bending down, he begins to slide his feet into his shoes, the same one's you gifted to him only so many months ago. Watching him tie the browning shoelaces of his vans, you wonder if he remembers the way you smiled while handing him the box, or how he felt when you said you got them just because.

It tugs at your already bandaged heart, the sticky adhesive of band aids doing their absolute best to keep the muscle intact. The rattle of the remaining broken pieces rattle in your ears, muffling everything else around you.

The lanky man stands to full height, grabbing his beloved leather jacket from your floor where it was left in the tornado of excitement. Rounding the end of your bed he makes his way to you, standing over your still naked body.

Bending at the waist, Eddie places a wet kiss on your forehead and pulls away with charming smile.

"I'll text you, pook."

You nod at his words, gripping on tightly to the faith that this whole thing will work out the way you hope. Giving you a wink, Eddie quickly exists your room and just like that you crumble.

On the wet sheets of your bed you curl into yourself, naked and vulnerable in more ways than one. Tears leak from your eyes and sobs rip from the depths of your stomach. It hurts watching him walk out because you never know when it'll be the last time.

You try to think back to when everything changed, where it all went wrong. All of the flashbacks and memories flood your brain, a film wheel of all the happy moments. More tears flow, a nonstop river of all the heartache.

You miss him, what your friendship used to be. At this point you don't even care if he loves you the way you love him, you just want him to care for you like he did all those months ago.

You wish you could go back to that warm summer day where you handed over your heart and let him carve his name in it, so that no matter what you did you'd belong to him for the rest of your days.

thank you all for reading!! i hope you guys like part one :)

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[andvys]

Love will tear us apart // part three

Pairings: Eddie Munson x fem!reader 

Warnings: angst, mentions of nightmares, mentions of anxiety and ptsd, mentions of death, panic attacks, mentions of abuse

-

Eddie would never admit to himself that he enjoyed spending time with you, just the two of you, he could be more himself with no one else around. Even if there was still a part of him that just couldn't let his guard down.

You looked so pretty, you always do but something about how you looked under the dim light, got to him. He knows that the picture of you sitting on the counter right in front of him would imprint itself in his mind for the rest of his life.  Your eyes were so soft when you looked at him, the gentle smile on your face tugged at his heart strings, your skin looked so soft, even the part that was scarred. 

The scar. 

Eddie’s curiosity to look into your notebook grew more and more after seeing that scar on your thigh but he promised himself that he wouldn't look inside, that he would give it back tomorrow morning. 

Sighing, he shuts the door in his room and turns on the lights. He leans against his door for a moment, thinking about all the events that unfolded this day. He hasn't talked this much to you since, forever. 

He missed this, he missed you and he doesn't even know why. You have never been close, you have never been friends or anything close to it. You were nothing but enemies, for whatever reason. 

Eddie was the one who started it. You have tried to be his friend but he pushed you away and even humiliated you. He doesn't have a full explanation as to why  he treated you the way he did.

There was something that pulled him into you, no, everything pulled him into you. Your kindness, the sweet and soft side of you, the sound of your laugh, the soft look in your eyes, that beautiful smile on your lips, your voice.. but god, Eddie hates you and he doesn't even know why.

Perhaps the only reason why he hates you is because you’re everything he's not. 

You have functioning family. You live in a big house, in a nice neighborhood. Your grades are good, your future looks promising, people love you. 

You have everything. You are perfect. 

Eddie is not. 

At least that's what he thinks.

He knows it’s a stupid reason to hate someone.

His eyes fall on your notebook on his bed, something slipped out from between the pages. His brows draw together as he walks towards his bed, it’s a picture. Picking it up, he eyes it slowly. 

It’s a picture of you and Steve. You’re sitting on his lap, looking rather comfortable with his arms wrapped around you and his lips on your cheek, a lazy smile on your face as you look into the camera. 

Eddie’s expression hardens, his jaw tightens. A weird feeling settles in his chest the longer he stares at the picture. 

You look so happy.

Fuck. He doesn't know why it hurts to see you like that with someone. Steve Harrington of all people.

Throwing the picture down, he huffs in anger. He knows he has no right to feel so frustrated and angry. You aren’t dating, you aren’t even friends, hell, Eddie hates you but he can’t help it, he doesn't want to see you this way with someone else. He doesn't want to see you look at someone in that way. 

Running his hand through his hair, he looks at the notebook. He planned on giving it back, without looking inside again, without invading your privacy but now, now he doesn't care anymore. He grabs it, sits down on his bed and opens a random page. 

April, 26th 1985

The nightmares are getting worse again, every time I fall asleep, I keep seeing it, I keep hearing it, I can still feel it, as if it's all happening right. now. I can still feel it’s claws in my skin when it grabbed me and dragged me across my room and into the other side.. only this time I don’t make it. It kills me before I get the chance to fight it. 

Maybe I was supposed to die in there.. I know I would have died, if it wasn't for him.. 

I wish I could tell him that. I wish I could tell him that he is the reason why I’m still here, that he is the reason that I’m still alive. That he saved me. 

But I can’t. 

Eddie stares at it blankly. He doesn't know what he expected but he definitely didn't expect to feel even more confused. 

‘I can still feel it’s claws in my skin’ the scars on your thigh weren't caused by anything human, he knows that now, but what was it? Some wild animal? And what the hell did you mean by the other side? 

And who was he? Was it Steve? Did he save you?

“Jesus.” he mumbles, he stares at your handwriting before closing the book “what the fuck.”

-

When you walked into the classroom that morning, you didn't expect Eddie of all people to be the first in class, let alone see him sitting next to your usual seat. 

Was this going to be a regular thing now after yesterday? 

He’s looking out the window, playing with the rings on his fingers as he bounces his leg up and down. He turns his head as he hears footsteps approaching him. His eyes find yours, a teasing smirk tugs at his lips, the kind that let you know that he would hit you with some bullshit now. 

“Hi.” you mumble as you sit down next to him, trying to hide your face behind your hair. You don't need to see him how miserable and tired you look. 

“Good morning, sunshine.” he says cheerfully, leaning in to take a closer look at you, he chuckles “so, who kept you up all night, huh?” 

You roll your eyes, not even turning to look at him “please, just shut up, Munson.” you mutter, your night was bad enough, you didn't need him to ruin your morning too. 

"Ooh so was it the old guy from the bar?” he asks. 

A frown takes over your face as you turn to look at Eddie who only chuckles at the look on your face. 

“Well shit, I see stopping him last night didn't slow his roll.” 

You huff in anger as you turn away from him. You felt so disgusted by those old men last night and Eddie knew it, if you didn't say it, he could definitely see it and yet he was still making jokes about it. 

“Did you use protection at least? Wouldn’t want him having a baby at 50 to take car-“

“Just fuck off Eddie, not today. Please.” you mumble angrily, raising your hand to brush your hair away from your face.  

His eyes widen as he looks at your hand, his bandana, that he gave you last night, was tied around your wrist. His eyes soften, as he stares at it and then at you. There’s a frown on your face, you look tired and mad, certainly not anywhere near happy as you looked on the picture with Steve. 

He clenches his jaw, he doesn't know why he’s so pissed at the thought of the two of you together but he is fucking. angry.

“Damn old men and Harrington huh? Guess you’re open to all types.” he says in anger, not even caring about hurting you with his words.

You blink, your jaw almost dropped at his words, you feel disgusted and mad. Is that what he thinks of you? That you’re some slut that gets with every guy that even looks your way?

You turn towards him, there’s no trace of guilt or regret in his face, you shouldn't be surprised. Eddie always says what he thinks, he never sugarcoats anything, he never holds back either. He is serious about his words.

Shaking your head, an emotionless laugh leaves your lips. You feel like a fool for believing that there might be a chance for the two of you after last night. 

“Fuck this.” you mumble, grabbing your backpack, you get up and walk away from him and your usual seat. You walk to the other side of the classroom, away from him. 

Throwing your backpack down you sit down with an annoyed huff. You can feel the tears welling up in your eyes, you are frustrated and you are tired, your head hurts and you had the worst nightmare last night and yet somehow that’s not the reason that pushes you closer to a breakdown. It’s him. He’s hurting you, so much and he doesn't even know it. 

Every time he gives you the cold shoulder, every time he says the coldest and meanest things to you, he hurts you more and more. Shattering your heart a little more every time. 

You can feel his eyes on you but you don't even turn to look, not wanting to see the smug look on his face. You cross your arms over your chest and lean back in your seat. 

The day hasn't even fully started and yet you can’t wait for it to be over already. 

First period went by slowly, way too slowly. You couldn’t even concentrate on anything, you couldn't even remember what the teacher was talking about. You were too busy trying to ignore his eyes on you. Trying to ignore the annoying ticking of the clock that seemed way louder than usual. 

The ringing of the bell startles you, flinching at the sound. Something that doesn't go unnoticed by Eddie as he eyes you slowly. He feels bad for what he said to you, as much as you tried to hide it, the hurt look on your face was obvious even when you tried to hide it by putting on a brave expression, acting like his words didn't affect you in the slightest. 

He wants to apologize, he went too far this time but you rush out of the class room before he even gets the chance to walk up to you. 

“Fuck.” he mutters, grabbing his backpack, he jumps out of his chair and hurries out of the classroom, rushing through the hallways, he ignored the glares and whispers of the other students, “watch where you’re going freak!” someone yelled at him as he almost bumped into a group but he payed them no mind “y/n! wait!” he calls out as he spots you walking towards the bathrooms. He curses under his breath as you walk inside, not even glancing back at him. 

A defeated sigh leaves his lips, his shoulder slump as he looks at the door. He should just leave you alone but something keeps him from walking away and leaving this situation alone. 

Usually he’s good at burying the guilty feeling, acting like it doesn't hurt him to treat you the way he does but the hurt and shocked look on your face made him regret every dumb thing he ever said to you. 

You almost bump into him on your way out, stopping yourself just in time before you slam into his chest. You look up at him and roll your eyes as he speaks your name lowly. 

You try to walk past him but he steps in front of you “wait, please.” he says. 

“What the hell do you want, Eddie?” you sigh, crossing your arms over your chest as you look into his eyes. 

Only now as you are standing right in front of him does he notice the tired and exhausted look in your eyes. He thinks about the nightmares you have mentioned in your notebook. A pang of guilt hits him, he shouldn't even know about this. 

Your eyes look red and glassy, as if you had been crying all night. Fuck. He feels so horrible. 

“Listen, I-I’m sorry, I shouldn't have said that, that was mean.” he says.

You squint your eyes, chuckling darkly “what exactly are you talking about- cause you say mean shit all the time, Eddie.” 

Shit. He gulps as he watches your face contort in anger and frustration.

“I have never done anything to you, I have never said any of the mean and hurtful shit you throw at me all the time so what the hell is your problem, Munson?” you exclaim, breathing heavily, your stomach suddenly drops and you feel this overwhelming sensation out of nowhere. 

Eddie begins to stutter, face growing red as you stare at him, waiting for an answer. 

You blink, furrowing your brows, a weird feeling settles in your chest. Your heart begins to race and you feel like your throat is closing up. Eddie’s voice sounds further and further away, fading slowly. You look up at him in confusion, his lips are moving but you can’t hear him, all you’re able to hear is your own heartbeat and that annoying ticking sound again. You take a step back, stumbling slightly as you put your hand on the wall next to you, trying to steady yourself. 

“And I- whoa, you okay?” he asks, looking at you in concern. You put your hand on your chest, trying to take a deep breath “y/n?” Eddie takes a step towards you, putting his hand on your shoulder but you flinch away from his touch, pushing his hand off your shoulder, you throw your backpack down as you take another step back. 

“J-Just leave me alone, Eddie.” your voice sounds shaky and weak “f-fuck.” you mumble as you turn around and rush back into the bathroom not expecting him to follow you inside, you’re about to yell at him to leave you alone, when your knees wobble slightly, almost dropping to dirty floor, if it wasn't for Eddie catching you “hey- whoa, I got you.” he mumbles as he grips your waist tightly, he eyes your face in concern “what is it? Do you need to throw up?” he asks.

“N-No, I can't- I can't breathe.” you whimper, your vision blurs as tears fill your eyes, you try to push his hands off of you so you can sit down but he doesn't let go of you, instead he kneels down with you, not caring about sitting down on the disgusting bathroom floor “E-Eddie, I can’t-”

“I got you, y/n, just listen to me okay?” he grabs your face, tilting your head up so he can see your face. Your eyes are filled with tears, your bottom lip is trembling and you look so scared and terrified, his heart aches in his chest, seeing you this way hurts him for some reason “here.” he whispers, taking your hand in his, he gently pulls it up towards his chest, setting your palm against his warm chest “can you feel my heartbeat?” he asks, eyeing your face slowly. 

You nod as you look into his eyes, trying to blink your tears away. You would've felt embarrassed about this whole situation but your mind is too hazy to comprehend anything right now. 

“I want you to focus on it, focus on my heartbeat and on my breathing, try to match it okay?” he speaks, softly, caressing your cheek with his thumb while he keeps holding your hand against his chest. 

“O-Okay.” you whisper. 

Eddie moves closer to you, wiping a fallen tear off your cheek. He has never seen you cry before and he hopes to never see you cry again, he hates it.

You grip his shirt tightly, trying to feel his heartbeat but you can’t feel it and the fear inside you grows bigger and bigger, your throat closes up more and more.

“I-I can’t feel it.” you whimper, gripping his shirt tighter.

“Okay, okay- come here.” he whispers, letting go of your hand, he puts his arm around you and pulls you into his chest, holding you tight against him. Your body is shaking as you lean into him, sniffling loudly “hey, it's okay, just breathe with me.”

You try, you try to focus on his heartbeat as you lean your head against his chest. His chest feels comfortable, his touch feels warm as he rubs circles on your back. You breathe in and out, in, out, in, out and then, you breathe him in, his scent fills your senses. He smells good, you can’t make out what it is, your mind is in overdrive, you are overwhelmed with everything but he smells like home. 

Eddie smells like home.

“You’re doing good, sweetheart.” he whispers, he didn't mean for the pet name to slip out but you didn't notice it anyways. 

You close your eyes and focus on just this moment, just the feeling of his touch, his smell, his warmth, the feeling of his heart beating against your hand, the rising and falling of his chest. You push every other noise away, even your own heartbeat, your racing thoughts and the annoying sound of a clock in the distance. 

“You’re okay, y/n, I got you.” Eddie whispers as he moves his palm up your back until he’s cupping the back of your head. He notices how your breathing calms down slowly. 

Eddie’s heart flutters in his chest as you relax in his arms, your grip loosens on his shirt, letting go of it, you move your arms around his body, hugging him and god, it feels so good. It feels so good to hold you in his arms, to feel you moving closer to him and it feels so natural, you fit right into his arms. 

“You’re safe.” 

You are here, you are safe. Away from all the horrors you endured in the past.

His voice is soft, soothing, it calms you down, keeps you from falling into that dark pit, just like it did back then.

“I’m here.”

He holds you tighter, his touch feel more intense than before. He’s here, with you. This time there's no barrier between the two of you, his voice isn't faint, the room isn't cold, you can feel his touch, you can hear his voice, you can smell him.

You’re almost scared to open your eyes and realize that it was all just an imagination but he is really here and so are you and you can finally breathe.

You don’t want to let go of him, you don't want to pull away from him and go back to pretending that you don't care about him, pretend that you’re okay with the way things are between the two of you. 

“You with me y/n?” he asks, softly.

“Yes.” you whisper as you pull away from him, letting go.

Your eyes meet his warm brown ones, his eyes are filled with concern. 

You sniffle, raising your hand to wipe your tears away. You suddenly feel shy under his gaze, almost embarrassed and ashamed, you don’t want him to see you like this. 

“I-I’m sorry.” you whisper.

“What are you sorry for?” he asks.

You already miss his warmth.

“For this.” you mumble, gesturing to yourself, you are a mess right now and he had to see it “b-but thank you.” I wouldn't have made it without you.

“Don’t mention it.” he says, looking into your eyes deeply. I’m glad I could help you, I’m glad I could be there for you, I want to pull you into my arms and comfort you. “You okay now?” 

He looks like he wants to say something else but for some reason he holds back.

“Yeah, just tired.” you mumble, feeling your eyes grow heavy. You are tired and you need to get home before you pass out on this disgusting and dirty floor. 

“You should go home and get some sleep.”

“No, I’m good.” you say shaking your head.

“I can drive you.” he offers.

“No..I swear, I’m okay, I just- I’m good.”

“Are you sure?” he asks, leaning closer again.

You nod even though you weren't sure about it, you felt lightheaded and you could barely keep your eyes open. 

He sighs “okay but if you need someone to drive you home, j-just find me, okay?”

“Yeah.” you murmur as you push yourself away from him, you hold on to the sink behind you as you get up.

Eddie watches you slowly as he gets up as well. Your hand is still shaking, gripping the sink tightly, your knees wobble and just as he suspected you almost fall back down on the ground but Eddie catches you again. Gripping your waist tightly, he keeps you from falling.

“Okay.” he mumbles “you’re going home.” he says with a warning look on his face “come on, I’ll drive you.”

You wanted to protest, it was bad enough that he has seen all of this but you didn't have the strength to fight him right now and Eddie was stubborn, too stubborn. 

“Okay.” you whisper. 

“Can you walk or do I have to carry y-”

“No!” you interrupt him “I can walk.”

Eddie almost wants to laugh at your exclamation.

“Alright then, come here, put your arm over my shoulder.” 

You nod, not looking him in the eyes. This is so weird. Why is Eddie out of all people helping you? Why is he so nice and caring?

You put your arm over his shoulder as he pulls you closer, moving his arm around you, he lays his palm against your waist. Through the thin material of your shirt, he can feel something, another scar. A wave of sadness washes over him, it seems as though you have endured nothing but pain. Seeing you like this was the evidence of it, the scars on your body, the haunted look in your eyes. He knows something horrible happened to you. 

The drive was mostly quiet, you were on the verge of falling asleep as you gave him directions to your house. His music was playing softly in the background, not blasting through the whole car as usual. 

Eddie kept glancing at you to make sure that you didn't fall asleep- and to make sure that you are okay. You looked so different today. So small and fragile.  Your eyes look dull with sadness as you stare out the window. 

Eddie doesn't want to let his guard down around you, he doesn't want you to know that he cares but he can't help but speak your name softly before asking “are you okay?”

You turn to look at him, surprise written all over your face. For some reason that leaves you more surprised than the fact that he has helped you through a panic attack, that he held you to his chest and stroked your hair while you cried and tried to breathe- surely Eddie would have done this for anyone. But the soft tone in his voice, his warm brown eyes and the genuine look on his face as he asked you this question almost brought tears in your eyes, no one asked you how you are really feeling in a long time. You wanted to say no, you wanted to say that you are not okay, that you have these horrible thoughts, these terrifying nightmares and this fear that latched onto you, that seems to be taking over you, over your mind, over your body.

“Yeah, I’m okay.” you say.

Eddie doesn't believe you. The look in your eyes wasn't genuine but he nods anyways and looks away from you. 

He stops the car in your driveway, he hates this neighborhood, sure it looks good, big houses, expensive cars in the driveways, it looks clean and it’s pretty but Eddie hates it and he hates the people here.

“Oh fuck.” you mumble as you look at your front porch.

Eddie furrows his brows as he turns to look at you, for some reason you look even more afraid than before, following your gaze, he finds someone sitting on the steps of your front porch, smoking a cigarette as he looks directly at you with an angry expression on his face.

Eddie looks blankly at him, then recognition dawns on him. He was one of the assholes who bullied him before he graduated two years ago. He would never forget the things he said and did to him. 

What was he doing here?

“Y-You know him?” Eddie asks, looking back at you.

“Unfortunately.” you mumble “he’s my brother.” 

What? 

Eddie’s grip tightens on the steering wheel as his eyes flash with anger. He doesn't know why his mind goes there, you clearly look terrified as you look back at your brother but he can’t help but ask himself ‘was this the only reason why you tried to be his friend back then? So you could get close to him and humiliate him, the way your brother did in middle school when he acted like he wanted to be his friend?’

Eddie clenches his jaw in anger, he feels betrayed, even though he has no reason to. 

“I-I’m gonna go. Uh thank you for driving me home.” you stutter, you notice the angry look in his eyes as he looks at you, confused by the sudden change, you cower back slightly “a-and thank you for what you did for me.”

“I didn't do it for you.” he speaks coldly, his voice and his eyes were void of any emotions “I just wouldn't be able to live with myself if something worse happened after I left.”

You blink, a shiver runs down your spine at the way he looks at you. His eyes were no longer looking at you with concern or worry now, they were filled with anger and hatred as always, making your stomach drop. You hold his gaze for a moment and you can see it all in his eyes, all the hatred he holds in his heart for you and it hurts. 

You nod as you turn away from him, your eyes burn with tears. You grab your backpack and open the door, you jump out, holding onto the door for a moment before you turn around to look at him “still, thank you, I wouldn't have made it without you. You saved me.”

Eddie furrows his brows at your words, at the deep look in your eyes and the way you said it makes him think that you were talking about something else entirely. 

His eyes soften and he is about to speak up when you tear your gaze away from him and slam the door before walking away from his van. He sighs as he watches you walk to your house. 

“Fuck.” he sighs, he doesn't know why he feels so horrible. 

He watches as you walk up the steps, past your brother who gets up the moment you walk past him, ignoring him. Eddie leans forward as he witnesses your brother grabbing your arm roughly, yanking you towards him, you lean back as your brother speaks to you. 

Eddie’s eyes widen as he watches your interaction. Anger flashes in his eyes as he watches you try to rip your arm out of your brother’s grip, who only pulls you closer in response as he yells at you. Eddie is about to jump out of the car but you manage to pull your arm back, yelling something at your brother before you storm inside your house.

Your brother turns around, looking directly at Eddie with a glare on his face. Eddie matches the look on his face, giving him a death glare. He clenches his jaw, he would love nothing more than to walk up to him and get in a few good punches- both for what he did to him and for the way he treated you just now but instead he rips his gaze away from him and backs out of the driveway.

Eddie sighs, gripping the steering wheel tighter. You were right when you told him that he knows nothing about you. Eddie didn't know you had a brother, let alone such an asshole of a brother. 

His first reaction was to think that you might be just like him but after seeing that little interaction between the two of you, a bad feeling settled in his chest. 

Was he the reason for the scars on your body? 

Was he the reason for the panic attack earlier?

[admrlthundrbolt]

Radioactive (Furiosa x Chubby Reader)

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Being the daughter of Immortan Joe was never the paradise others thought. Though taking care of the wives made it a bit less lonely. Especially when a visit from Furiosa was never to far away.

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Hey guys, I'm back at it again. With the resent commercials for Furiosa, it reminded me of how much I love her character. So here's a bit of women loving and supporting women. Hope you enjoy.

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Immortan Joe was an evil man. He capitalized on others' torment. A wretch of a human being that believes himself to be a God. His kingdom was built on suffering and the bodies of the unfortunate.

To think that he could have sired you. The only female of his spawn. The singular child to be born in good health. Something to parade around as a symbol, that a healthy male heir could be achieved. You were a spark of hope for him. While you despised his very existence.

A solitary reprieve you did receive was being a care taker for his wives. Though you cringed at the thought of what they went through. You took solace in knowing that you did your best to make their lives a bit better. Even sharing the burden of a chastity belt. Another ‘gift’ of your father's. For you must stay pure and a true embodiment for the citizens. Just another way to keep you under his thumb.

Though you could not have been farther from him in mannerisms. You soft sweet nature was one that could rival a Saint. Soft skin and full figured, you were made to sire healthy offspring. You were to stay with the women. Keep away from the men, only to be brought out in watering ceremonies. You were a goddess of life. Even if you wish to stay to your duties and be left alone.

That was, until Furiosa came along.

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

Torn from her home and forced into servitude. It was an existence that she held the upmost animosity for. It may not have been Immortan Joe that stole her away from her people. But that didn't make him anymore innocent. He was a vile man, who kept around the useful. Seeking out the weak and preying on the niave.

It wasn't an honor to be an officer in his army. To work under him and bring glory, it made her sick. To know she was providing for a villain like him.

Her only solace came in being your guard. You were the only good thing to come from a beast such as him. The breaks she had between runs were spent in your company. Being assigned to you was one of the best days of her life.

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

You were helping Toast wrap her chest when Miss Giddy rushed over to you. “It is time for the water ceremony.”

Rolling your eyes, you finished the intricate knot on her top. Getting up, you apologized to the women. Though they answered with understanding smiles and shooing motions. If there was anyone else who knew just how angry your father got when he was kept waiting. It was the group of women that were expected to carry his brood.

Before leaving the room, you slipped into your chastity belt. Miss Giddy glared at the thing as she locked it. “Those things are inhumane. To think he even forces one on his own daughter.”

You placed a soothing hand on her arm. Knowing how heated she could get over such things. “It is what I must do. We all must make sacrifices for the greater good.” Feeling her tense up, you were quick to let the truth slip free. Turning to look her in the eye, you said. “Things will not always be this way. I feel that change will happen soon.”

Her gaze softened and muscles lost some of their tension. Leading you to the overlook, she passed you to your brother Rictus. Placing a hand on your back, he guided you to stand next to your father.

Nodding at you he began his speech. It was a way to inflate his ego. But the unfortunate people who had no choice at least got the reward of water by the end. He motioned you forward as he finished. Moving up, you released the dams. He always said it was a great honor for you to give them the life force.

As he slammed the levers back down you wanted to flinch. It made you feel helpless, sick to your stomach. As you give them hope, he was one step behind to stomp it out.

With the ceremony over, you stepped into the hall. You would rather wait in the shadows for your escort to return.

A hand brushed against your arm. Jumping a bit, your eyes darted towards the touch. It was a War Boy you had passed from time to time. “Sorry (Y/N), didn't mean to scare you.” He looked so regretful.

A reassuring smile slid onto your face. “It's fine.” Placing a hand on his shoulder, you gave him a soft pat. “What can I do for you?”

He face colored immediately, blushing from ear to ear. He stuttered for a few moments before gathering himself. “I've just never had the chance to speak to you.” Wringing his hands together, his eyes darted between you and the floor. “I wanted to introduce myself. I'm Slit.”

Suddenly the sound of harsh breathing appeared in the doorway. Your father stood, glaring at scene before him. How dare this mutt speak to his daughter. “(Y/N), why have you not returned to the vault.”

You forced a sweet smile at your father. You needed to get his attention away from the War Boy. You didn't need more blood on your hands. “I'm not sure father. I was waiting for Miss Giddy to return. Perhaps she is looking after one of the wives.”

At the mention of his brides, he forgot about the boy. For a bit at least. “I will take you back and check myself. I must keep what belongs to me safe.”

As he wrapped an arm around your shoulder. You couldn't help the foreboding cold sweat that settled over your. You had to keep a shudder in check as he lead you back.

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

It wasn't long before your father summons you again. Which was odd, they're shouldn't be another ceremony for a while. Miss Giddy brought you to his private chambers. Making your way in, you reluctantly bowed your head.

He barley spared you a glance. “I've noticed the War Boys have been paying you more attention. That is a troubling revelation. You will now be escorted by my most trusted officer. She will start her duties with you tomorrow. You are not to leave without her. You will be assigned a new guide if she is otherwise disposed. Am I understood.” It was a demand, not a suggestion.

Nodding dutifully, you shrank into yourself a bit more. “Yes sir. What time should I expect them?”

“Furiosa will be by in the afternoon. I need to explain her new task. But I expect you to be ready well before then.” He waved his hand at you dismissively.

Leaving quickly, you met up with Miss Giddy in the hall. You had been thankful that she had a valid reason to not have waited for you previously. Though having the Furiosa be your new bodyguard was enough to make your head spin. She was the only woman to make it to the level of officer in Immortan Joe's army. To think that someone so impressive would be standing by your side.

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

She wasn't sure how to feel at this time. Having another task forced upon her was enraging. Being the foot soldier of a mad man was an ordeal in itself. To be required to babysit his daughter in her small amount of free time. Well that was a new level of lap dog that she wasn't looking forward to.

Still, she couldn't help but remember how highly others spoke of you. You were the bringer of life and hope. A symbol of a fruitful future. She would have to wait until meeting you to see for herself just who you were.

Taking a deep breath she knocked on the vault door. It swung open slowly and she was thankful for filling her lungs. As you came into veiw she was rendered breathless. You were a vision of plush radiance. She had never seen a more perfect being.

Seeing the officer, you became as giddy as a War Boy with his first rig. She was taller than you imagined, rugged and beautiful all at once. Gesturing into the room, you greeted her warmly. “Please make yourself at home. It may well be where you spend much of your time now."

She wanted to feel bitter about the statement. But with how invitingly you put it, it was hard to not look forward to it. Taking a seat on a nearby stool, she nodded. “Thank you.”

Pulling a large cushion over, you plopped down next to her. “I do not deserve your thanks. I'm the reason you will have little to no free time. I'm sorry my father stuck you with me.”

“It's nothing to apologize for.” She waved away the idea with her mechanical hand. Your eyes widened as you took in the intricacies.

“Did you build it?” She looked away for a moment before nodding. Hovering your hand near it, you looked up at her. “May I?” Nodding again, she watched your soft fingers delicately trace over every bump and groove. You were entraced with the mechanisms. She had never felt prouder of her handy work.

“I could make you something. It wouldn't be an arm, but it could be mechanical.” Your eyes shown brightly as you nodded vigorous at the offer.

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Spending time with Furiosa was always a pleasure. You had grown close with each other. But there was one subject you both tip toed around, your father. You were wary of speaking poorly of him in front of anyone outside of the vault. It was something that was beaten into you at an early age. Still there was something about the way she held her tounge in certain moments. It made you believe that your thoughts could be more similar than many others.

You weren't going to breech the subject. Until the wives came to you in a bought of desperation. Angharad was growing rounder with his spawn. “I implore you to just speak with her. She may be our only hope.” Taking your hands in her own, she wept. “All of us, sister.”

Squeezing her hands you frowned. The truth was laid bare before you. But would she be willing to sacrifice for women she barely knew. You could feel your heart sting with the thought of her rejection. Nodding silently, you took her into your arms. Even if it destroyed you, you would save your sisters. You hoped that she would feel the same.

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

She was surprised when you didn't meet her at the door. Then she became frustrated with herself. Of course someone like you would have better things to do than greet her.

The Dag smiled knowingly at the officer. She had seen the way you gazed at one another. Immortan Joe had only handed you a partner on a silver platter. “She is gathering her things.”

Nodding, she stood near the door and tried not to fidget. As you emerged she gave you an unintentional look over. You were swathed in a gossamer robe and held a small basket at your side. She swept forward to take it from you. But you waved her away and smiled coyly. She was surprised when you didn't wait for Miss Giddy. She wanted to spit in the face of your father for making anyone wear those abominations. Especially forcing one on his own daughter. It was one of the few moments she was thankful for being barren.

Following close behind you, she was soon brought to an isolated cavern. It was empty, except for the sunken pool in the middle of the room. You set the basket near the pool and let the robe slip from your luscious body. If she was enamored with the sight of you a moment ago, then she was enraptured now. Stepping into the pool, you emerged yourself. She stepped forward when you didn't immediately resurface. As you breached the surface, she took another unconscious step.

You beckoned her closer. “Join me."

That snapped her from her trance. Shaking her head, she said. “I couldn't….”

Your eyes became half lidded as you folded your arms on the side of the pool. “You could, it would be a favor to me. Your ward."

Her eyes narrowed at that. “You are much more than that.”

Expression softening, you held a hand out to her. “If you are not comfortable bathing with me, I understand. Would you not sit by the water's edge and converse with me?”

She wanted to throttle herself. Here you were, like a literal wet dream in front of her. Still there was a part of her holding back and for good reason. It wouldn't do her any good trust the wrong person, not again. Nodding stiffly, she lowered herself near you.

Wadding over to the basket, pulling bottles and jars from it. Plucking a slim jar from the bunch, you returned to her. “Would you mind washing my hair?” A quick nod followed by you offering the container. Dipping your head under the water once more, you sighed. Facing away from her, you leaned back towards her. Heart hammering, she spread the liquid around her palms. The intimacy of bathing another was not lost on either of you. Still she massaged and threaded her fingers through your locks. Sinking a bit more into the water, you wanted to melt into the depths below. It was a lovely sensation, to have one you admire treat you so delicately. But there was a matter more dire than your fantasy.

“I need your help. The wives need to escape.” You yelped as her fingers jerked in your hair. You whirled to plead with her, thinking that she was against the idea. Her expression wasn't that of rage though, but bewildered curiosity. So you continued, hoping your hunch was right. “They are treated as nothing but prized breeders. I am disgusted with the way my father considers them possessions. Everyday Angharad grows closer to birthing his spawn. This is no place to raise a child.” Your eyes were wet with tears as you explain their plight.

Her stomach bubbled with hatred. For your father, who was responsible for so much suffering. For herself, to believe for even a moment that you would side with that monster. And for you, you begged for the wives. But he was doing the same to you. Even parading you around to prove he was capable of making something amazing. Really though, you were the one that had created that shine in yourself.

Lunging forward, she captured your lips with her own. Water splashed as she slid into the pool to press your bodies flush. Running your hands up her back, you pulled her closer. Trying to meld yourselves together. Pulling apart, panting desperately, you looked up at her blisteringly.

“We will travel to the Green Place.” Then she thrust her mouth at yours once more. You graciously followed her motions and enjoyed yourself thoroughly. If the Green Place was where she thought you should go, then you would trust her. You would follow anywhere she would take you.

[rrat-king]

And what if I tell you my Fight, Flight, Fawn theory for the Appleboys reuniting with Kristen. What then? Going by your age gaps of 2, 4, 8 because they're canon adjacent and the idea of the Applebees having a playpen when three out of four kids were 14, 12 and 10 is too funny. Assuming a reunion between Kris and the younger two happens post her birthday so it's 17, 13 and 9 respectively. Buckys is analysing his actual response we saw from 14 year old him. When I say leave in reference to Kristen, know that I know it wasn't her choice (Mac and Donna when I fucking get you)

Bucky got the Fawn response. I'll be real, when I began theorising that an Applebees brother would feature I thought "Oh god here comes the angst. There will be resentment, Mac and Donna have undoubtedly been talking shit for two years. But we see him and he's happy. He missed her. He hugs her. He wants to hang out. And yeah that probably stems from the fact you'll naturally miss your sibling and the fact he probably had to take the oldest sibling mantle. But he barely even commented on her life and friends (aside from the half baked comment about her living in sin and side eyeing Fig). I was expecting more problematic behaviours to be honest. The theory is he entered full people pleasing mode, desperately tampering down any complicated feelings because he NEEDS to make himself a good brother that Kristen will want to stay for this time (of course not realising Kristen will stay the best she can no matter if he kicks and screams)

Bricker got Fight. Was like 10 when Kris left, and I say this with love, in the absolute throes of puberty. I don't know what it is but this kid just gives me angry vibes, maybe it's the middle child. Very Nico DiAngelo "He looked too young to be so angry". When you're a kid, especially in that horrific period of 10-13 you go to the easy solution which is being mad, and you go to the easy target which is the one who "started" this huge upheaval (read Kristen). To a lesser extent, Bucky, for trying to play big brother (Bricker doesn't even realise this but the anger mostly came from a subconscious desire to preserve Kristen's place in the family for if she comes back).

(Bonus: Once they have a very good conversation and Bricker is reassured Kristen never did stop thinking about and loving him he will cry three years worth of pent up tears and beg her not to leave again)

Cork got Flight. He was only 6 when she left, its been 3 years of experiences (little man went from first grade to third in that time its a Lot). Kristen has physically changed a lot since they last saw each other. All this to say, he takes a minute to recognise this older person who's eyes are all wet at the sight of him. Some part of his brain blocked out memories of her because the way she was just gone one day was so scary to his little brain. When it does register who she is, Cork becomes completely unlike himself and gets shy. He makes Bucky stand close by because all he knows is that 1. This is a heathen who rebuked Helio's light 2. This is Krissy, back after what felt like forever and 3. She's so cool looking and why would someone this cool ever want to talk to him.

(Bonus: She played it off but Kristen's heart did break seeing Cork, the little boy she raised, take a minute to work out who she is, when she never forgot him. Not to quote Taylor but very "And I feel you forget me like I used to feel you breathe")

god yeah kristen having partially raised cork only for him not to know who she is anymore/barely recognize her haunts me so much. bucky as a people pleaser is such a good read especially as he is forced into kristen's role as head of the siblings I just. yeah. also angry bricker is so important to me. he got left behind! he's not ok with that and he's gonna be angry. god I just. applebees kids make me crazy this is such a good read.

[willowser]

i think that childhood best friends to lovers with kiri would actually be — an incredibly sad journey LOL

you're perfect in his eyes. quirkless, exactly as you're meant to be, with the potential to do anything. everything. the world is at your feet and he knows you'll go after it — it's him that falls flat, that can't follow in your footsteps. his quirk isn't anything special, nothing manly, and it won't make him a hero like his heroes. instead he's just in this odd, empty space in between. floating.

you accepting him that way — i think it would mean everything to him.

neither of you really know what to expect, when he goes off to ua. of course you're excited for him; even if his hair is new and he seems a little different, you can feel the build of confidence in him, the motivation he has to try, and that means more to you than the distance ever could. of all things, you want kiri to be happy, even if your friendship takes a backseat to bigger, better things.

days turn to weeks turn to months and the calls become less frequent. the first time he comes home in a while — maybe half a year — he brings his new friends and they're...incredible. strong and powerful and full of life, full of excitement, spontaneous and fun. the kind of people that become heroes. the kind of people kiri needs around him.

you don't think he means to be so distant; what little time the two of you get together is the same as it always is. cheesy movies and multi-player RPG's until the late, late hours of the night. pizza and energy drinks and jokes that are still as funny as they were when you were six. he sleeps on the couch instead of your bed now and doesn't sit as close as he used to, doesn't take his shirt off just because anymore — but you don't mind. you try not to. you try not to care about how much he sweats when you stare at him, or how red the back of his neck gets, or how it seems like he can't look you in the eye anymore.

you don't think he means it, and so you can't be angry at him. angry, no, hurt though...that's a little harder. because everything seems the same with him; it's not like he's upset with you or even wanting to leave you behind. he always apologizes for not keeping up, genuinely, looking like a sad little puppy even though you for forgive him, easily. you're not sure what has changed exactly, you're only sure that everything has.

kirishima's able to go pro very quickly, has a spot secured even before he's graduated. by the time he was sixteen, he'd already been in the news a handful of times, celebrated for the incredible hero he's always been capable of being, and the public loves him by the time he's eighteen. while he's out saving lives and making an impact on the entirety of japan, you're studying or trying to find a new date to the summer festival, because you know he won't be able to go. he doesn't make your graduation — and sounds really sorry about it, when he calls a few weeks after — and you get petty enough that you don't go to his either.

it's stupid, and you feel bad, but kirishima doesn't even notice.

a long time goes by, before you see each other again. all the attempts he makes to meet up with you are fruitless; either he can't make it or you don't want to try, too tired and embarrassed after being stood up time and time again. his apologies become redundant, and even if you know he means them, it doesn't make them any easier to hear.

naturally, you see him again at the worst moment: coming out of the gym, sweaty, without makeup and fighting off a painful zit on your chin. he's with his bestie — bakugou, who is even more terrifying at twenty-four than he was at fifteen — and kiri has his hair up in a cute half man-bun and it's longer than you remember and he's bigger than you remember and in a shirt that should hardly count as a shirt.

and he's overjoyed to see you.

"oh my god!" he laughs, smacking a hand to his forehead as you stand awkwardly in the doorway, trying to tuck your face down in the most nonchalant way.

it's the wrong move, because you don't see him step in to hug you.

"kirishima!" you squeal, trying to jerk away as you feel his cheek press against your damp hairline. you feel gross, even worse when you see the face bakugou makes. "quit it!"

"sorry! i just can't believe—" and when he sees the look on your face, the happiness on his drops, replaced by something like humiliation as he glances between you and his friend.

there's something terrible about the slow end of a friendship, and you can see it manifest in his expression. how much of a stranger the two of you have become over time, due to neglect, and it seems like all the ugly feelings are soaked up by him like a sponge.

you don't even know what to say. you don't even know if there's anything to say—no, no, that's not true; there are a million and one things to say, but you just don't know where to begin.