#so I will. be writing an entire essay tomorrow <3 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

astralis-ortus · 4 months

Text

it feels impossible (it's not impossible)

✱ bestfriend!bc × gn!reader

— 'cause you are the one i was meant to find.

w.count → 2k genre → romcom, fluff warnings → minor cussing (as per usual, heh), chan refered to as chris a.n → i'm usually not the type to write this long simply because i'm easily distracted and have the tendency to abandon projects, but hey! this one prevails :] hopefully next time i can write even longer fics<3 ⋆ see masterlist

honestly, you thought you were going crazy when the same melody restarted on chris’ speaker for the nth time today. it’s not that the song is bad—you do actually love ‘rewrite the stars’. you’re a fan of the movie, much like chris is, but putting the song on loop? for hours a day? for weeks? your sense of fanship isn’t that strong, especially when the song’s been out in circulation for years now.

“you wanna hear a theory?”

your question easily turns chris’ focus away from the endless papers he had to grade by the end of the day and towards you, raising an eyebrow to the sudden break of silence. his eyes visibly twinkled, contemplating if he should entertain the idea of putting on his regular-26-year-old suit over the professional-high-school-teacher ones he’d been in for the past couple hours or so.

well, to be fair, chris hasn't even been focusing on the pages of essays he needed to check. not when his mind has been preoccupied with something—someone—else.

“shoot,” he eventually replied with a lopsided smile etched on his lips—head cocked to the side when he finally decided to shut the screen of his decorated silver laptop, offering you his entire attention. “it better be funny or entertaining, considering i’m risking losing my hearing to my kids’ complaints for not returning their papers on time tomorrow.”

“oooh, pressure,” you mocked, a wide grin appearing on your face while you try to ignore the rush of tingles under your skin when you noticed the way chris referred to his students as ‘my kids’—something he’d always done and so do you, but somehow had a different effect on you as of recent. “believe me, it’s something fun,” you hummed with a shrug, mirroring chris as you set your laptop aside.

chris’ pair of charming dimples came into view upon your confident reply, fully immersed in the stage you’re setting up. fabric of his gray couch, one where you two had been slowly melting into for a few hours now, gently rustled when chris fixed his posture, less from lazing around and more into focusing on you and whatever nonsense he believed you were going to say. the glint in his eyes grew brighter by the second, both from anticipation and excitement.

“tell me.”

it felt like spring—when the flowers were in bloom, the breeze was blowing ever-so-gently against your warm cheeks, and the swarm of butterflies were surrounding you with its pairs of fluttering wings.

chris made you feel like spring.

“gee, tone down the excitement, mr. bahng,” you inadvertently shifted away, silently praying to whatever force ruling the universe that chris wasn’t aware of the way your heartbeat spiked to his playful grin. “don’t want to disappoint you there.”

”as if you could ever,” chris promptly refuted with a chuckle, chin resting on the palm of his hand. the way his playful gaze was directed right at you, framed by those loose curls of his, proved to cause your heart more problems than ease. “the ever-so-perfect you? a disappointment? really?”

”oh shut up,” you groaned, half wanting to wipe the cocky smirk off his face—or…?

”but then—if you say so, do tell me,” frown on your forehead instantly dissipates, replaced by a mirror of his lopsided grin when you figured you could turn the bullet right back at its owner,

“am i perfectly on point when i say you’re in love?”

despite the slight pang on your heart, you couldn’t help but giggle at the way his face fades into surprise, a shade of blush slowly creeping on the top of his cheekbones.

the topic of love was never really something you discussed with chris. sure, you two met each other in college where hormones were bursting through the roof, but neither you or chris was interested in dating anyone—you with your slowly budding crush on chris, and chris with… god-knows-what he’s interested in. you never pried, for the sake of not making things awkward. that's your norm, and how you’ve spent your last 7 years with chris.

you and chris remained friends, which at some point evolved into best friends (you now, by the hey-i’m-bored-at-2am-let’s-hang kind of standard), and somehow, you two happened to land a teaching job within the same district around the same time. chris went to teach a reputable high school in the area, while you pursue your dream of teaching kids. you hang out at each other’s place every other day, despite the time you spent together consists mostly of being nose-deep in your respective workload.

the topic of love still was something foreign—you wouldn’t deliberately bring it up other than around the occasions when wedding invites stopped by yours or chris’ doorstep.

maybe, it’s time to change that.

”…huh?”

chris is thoroughly perplexed.

”oh come on, don’t even try to lie,” with a smile decorated with victory, you finally teased the man across. “it’s all written on your face, you know,” you continued, fingers gesturing to your own, “but also, your choice of song. god, do you even listen to anything else when you're in love?”

“but i'm not!” he yelped, facepalming himself upon realizing the shift in his tone is a dead giveaway of his true voice. “god—no. i'm not,” he added meekly, shaking his head, “you know i love the song. that's all.”

”fair enough,” acknowledging his plea, you briefly nod, “but that doesn’t justify the way you’ve been keeping the song on repeat! and don’t you think i don’t remember the few other occurrences when you did the same, because i knew for a fact that something happened every time you became distant after going through this rewrite the stars cycle!”

if his face were flushed before, then you’d categorize this new shade apparent on the tip of his ear as a what-the-fuck-i’m-screwed kind of blush and frankly, seeing this new side of him kind of made you regret not bringing the topic up sooner.

”you remembered?” his voice sounded more of a squeak rather than a proper question, still hiding behind the safety of his palms. “no you don’t! that was ages ago!”

”so things did happen!” your grin turned into a laugh, drowning chris’ groan and series of disapproving no when he realized he just bit into your colorful, glimmering bait. “gosh—why didn’t you tell me you were dating someone? i was kinda hurt whenever that happened you know,” you purse your lips dramatically, “i lost a friend to talk to and never exactly know the reason why until today.”

“oh,” chris blinked, finally looking right at you with a puzzled gaze, “you… were? i mean—i’m sorry i hurt you. for the record, i wasn’t dating anyone. i just kinda assumed, you know, since you were dating someone else anyway i thought—“

”hold up—“ both statements rolling off of chris’ lips inadvertently made you hold up a hand, stopping the latter on his tracks. ”what?”

now both of you are puzzled.

you? dating someone?

”i just wanted to give you space,” chris reiterated, hand now awkwardly resting on his equally red nape, “figured you’d want that since me being around will likely bring trouble for you and the person you were dating.”

”but… i haven’t dated anyone since we became friends?”

you’re thoroughly confused.

”wait, what?” chris shook his head in disbelief, “what do you mean you haven’t dated anyone? what about the notes? and the flowers? and the chocolates too! what do you—what do you mean?”

nevermind, now you’re thoroughly confused.

”the ones from back in college?” your memories were not exactly as clear as you expected it to be, but you do remember receiving those gifts a few times due to its absurdity. “that was all from the rich ass kid i tutored! the one who i told you kept teasing me about never receiving any valentine's day gift? that kid? they sent me those gifts as a prank!”

“…what?”

the amount of ‘what’ you two have said in the past few exchanges is ridiculous.

”god—you thought i’ve been dating and never told you?” you finally pieced the puzzle together, incredulous. “and that’s why you distanced yourself? dude, are you serious?”

”well i just assumed!” chris raised his hands in defense, equally as incredulous as you are, “to be fair, those are usually gifts you get for someone you like! how am i supposed to know it’s from the kid you tutored? you never tried to told me!”

”you could’ve asked?” you stated, as-a-matter-of-factly. sometimes, despite that brilliant brain of his, chris could be quite the foolish one between the two of you. “besides, i thought you knew! you literally read the cards!”

”wha—how do you expect me to digest any of that when i was under the assumption someone i like is dating someone else!”

silence befalls chris’ usually cozy living room, leaving the soft resounding melody that hadn’t stopped as the only sound filling up the space. you’re not even sure if your ears were actually catching the right words falling from his lips; it felt too much like a fever dream. judging from the way his eyes turned wide, however,

you might have heard him correctly.

”you… like me?”

you never imagined you’d piece those words together, much less directing them towards chris. hell, even by remaining as friends was enough for you—having him to yourself was not something you thought would ever happen in this lifetime. you’re happy as you were; you’re content with being friends.

chris, on the other hand, is still visibly trying to digest the events that just unfolded around him. from the misunderstanding to unintentionally confessing his feelings, this was not how he expected his Sunday evening to be. all he wanted to do was be near the one person he’d been secretly nurturing his feelings for, praying that maybe one day he’d finally muster up the courage before everything was too late—but this was not how he expected things to turn out.

”i’m sorry,” he finally croaked, breaking the suffocating silence whilst also being too embarrassed to even look you in the eye, “i know it’s weird—from the misunderstanding to, you know, what i said. i never intended for you to find out about it this way. i understand that you don’t feel the same way, it’s okay, you—“

”oh shut up,” you capped his ramblings short, catching chris off guard. it’s not often you cut him off when he speak, so when you do, he knew you meant it.

“just, what?” you sighed, fingers begin massaging the throb on your temple. it’s hard to decipher what you’re currently feeling as a whole, but one thing you know for sure— you’re especially bothered by his last statement.

“chris, how would you even know what i feel if you’ve never even asked me?”

you watched through his pair of curious eyes as thoughts ran inside his mind, slowly deciphering what you meant with the sudden calmness in your voice.

“uh,” finally managing the train of assumptions in his head, chris then looked at you—only now, with a glimmer of hope reflected in his eyes, “do you... like me? like, more than just friends?”

and to that, you finally nodded.

“yeah, you dumbass. for the longest time.”

watching the way chris’ smile bloom easily turned you into another smiling mess—not missing the giggles nor the flush on your cheeks and all. It feels dumb, realizing that you’ve been into each other for forever but never realizing it because of some stupid misunderstanding.

“and i like you too,” chris reiterated, his goofy smile erasing any trace of worry that was present on his face just a second ago. honest to god—you thought you were falling in love all over again for chris.

“in that case...” he shrugged before outstretching a hand, trying his best to play things cool despite the growing excitement in his eyes,

“will you officially be my partner in crime?”

sound of your laugh only fuels the warmth spreading within chris’ heart—and it felt like the way he spent all those countless nights, wishing that one day the stars would eventually align for him finally paid off as you held his hand in yours, smiling brighter than any stars ever discovered.

“gladly.”

©️ astralisortus, 2024. | likes and reblogs are highly appreciated♡

444 notes · View notes

hippiegoth97 · 5 months

Text

Into the Fire: An Eddie Munson x Reader Story Pt. 3

Collage by me :)

Masterlist

Pt. 2

Tag List: @rafescurtainbangz @voyeurmunson @xxbimbobunnyxx @taintedcigs @mediocredreams

@slowandsteddie @angel-munson @eldermayfield @munsonsbtch @babygorewhore

@rattkween86 @violetpixiedust @bimbobaggins69 @purplehazed-h @morning-rituals

@eddie-van-munson @msgexymunson @munsoneightysixx @impmunson @mysticalstar30

@jenniquinn @oneforthemunny @succubusmunson @ddeadly-succubus @prettyboyeddiemunson

@sanctumdemunson @stalactitekilla @s6raphic @hellfirenacht @birdysaturne

@ohmeg @h-ness1944 @pretendthisnameisclever @ahoyyharrington @micheledawn1975

@costellation-hunter @josephquinnsfreckles @leelei1980 @yourdailymemedelivery @spacedoutdaydreamer

Content Warning 18+ Only, Minors DNI: Swearing, smoking, light smut, drug use, angst, anxiety, mentions of vomit

Word Count: 4.8k

Divider by @strangergraphics

Part 3: Get Nervous

Sunday, March 12th, 1989

Sunday. Fucking Sunday. You've been dreading this all weekend. It’s the final day of the Hellfire Club campaign, and you also have a paper due for biology. You didn't mean to put it off, but a certain sexy metalhead has distracted you this entire time. You don't blame him, you didn't tell him you had homework. You're sure if you just said so that he would've let you focus. Given the length required for your paper, you decide to tell Eddie you can't sit in today. You don't want to spend all night rushing your work. You could easily write a passable essay over the course of the day.

"What do you mean you can't watch the end?" Eddie asks, surprised you'd deny him your company.

"It's nothing personal, baby. I promise. I just have a big essay due tomorrow. I should've mentioned it earlier, but I didn't want to ruin our fun. Though I think I've done that now anyway." You look down at your hands, leaning against the entry to the livingroom. Eddie's standing close to you, playing about with the hem of your shirt to tease you. He lifts your chin up with his finger.

"It's no problem, angel. I understand." He smiles kindly at you, but his eyes still read as hurt. He knows you'd sit in if you could, but he can't say he won't be missing you the whole time. Even though you're just going to be down the hall, all he'll want to do is run to you and never let go. "Who knows, maybe you'll finish early, hm? And then you can come see me." He says lowly, leaning down for a kiss. Your lips meet, and you wrap your arms around him. You pull him close, moving your mouth against his gently. He's so addictive, the taste of tobacco on his tongue makes you want to never stop kissing him. But it’s already 11am, you'd all slept in late so you have to get moving.

You break away from him, and he whines. "Eddie, relax. I just need time to write a decent paper so I don't fail, okay?" He nods, pouting playfully. "Believe me, I'd rather spend the day with you. But I can't let my grades slip. If I do, Mom will have a cow. And then she might not be so keen on me seeing you." You poke a finger into his chest.

"Are you saying I'm a bad influence, baby?" Eddie asks slyly. He enjoys being a rebel just a little too much sometimes. You roll your eyes.

"You just might be, Munson. Now come on, go tend to your club. And I'll be in my room. You can come check in on me when you're done if I haven't finished yet." You give him another quick kiss, and turn away to go work on your paper. You hear him let out an annoyed sigh, rolling your eyes again at him being so childish. You walk into your room, already regretting sticking to your guns about your assignment. You close the door, but leave it unlocked in case Eddie comes to you later on. You put your record player on, music helps you concentrate. You keep it low so as not to disturb the campaign, and you begrudgingly open your notebook to begin writing your paper.

Hours go by, and it's almost 6pm. You haven't bothered to look at the clock much, you just want to get this damn assignment done. You have about two pages left, but your hand is starting to cramp up. You flex your fingers to relax your sore muscles, when you hear a knock on the door. "Y/N?" Eddie calls to you. "The game's over, Erica claimed a victory for everyone. I'm gonna take the kids home, but I'll be back, 'kay?" You jump off your bed, running to open the door. You're greeted by Eddie's smiling face. "Hey there, beautiful. How's the essay coming along?" He leans against the doorframe, looking you up and down. Your hair is a mess from running your hands through it constantly. It’s one of your nervous tics. His expression drops slightly, worried about how your assignment has been treating you. "You doin’ alright?" He asks, reaching for your hand.

"Yeah, it's just kinda stressing me out. But I only have two pages left. It's not very good, I'll probably only get a B on it. I'm having a hard time concentrating." You downplay the situation, ignoring the alarms going off in your head. For some reason, this paper is kicking your ass. You can't help your anxiety overtaking you, your body begins to tremble uncontrollably. Eddie squeezes your hand to comfort you.

"Sweetheart, you don't have to be so wound up. I'm sure it's a good paper, it'll be okay." He puts his other hand on your shoulder to steady your tremors.

"I guess. I keep reading it over, but it all feels jumbled now. And my eyes hurt." Your breath shudders, and you pinch the bridge of your nose as your eyes squeeze shut. You feel one of your infamous migraines coming on. Perfect. Those last two pages will really be a challenge now.

"Hey, hey. C’mere, babydoll." Eddie pulls you into him, holding you close. Your arms wrap around his middle, and he strokes your head. You try to focus on him so you can steady your heart pounding in your chest. But you can't calm down, you're having a full-blown panic attack. You feel silly having one over a stupid essay, but you can't do poorly on this. You won't allow it. You cannot fail. Ever. Your breath comes out rapidly, chest rising and falling as you wheeze. Eddie loosens his grip, looking at your face. You've gone pale, like you might faint. "Shit. Are you alright? What can I do?" The worry in his eyes only exacerbates your anxiety. You're hyperventilating, and your head feels light. Eddie picks you up in his arms, carrying you to the bed. "I-I don't know what to do, Y/N. I'll get your mom. Just try to breathe. Fuck." His own voice is shaky now, you've scared him. He runs out of the room to the kitchen, frantically telling your mother what's happening.

You hear multiple sets of footsteps rushing down the hall to you. Eddie, Mom, Dustin, and all the kids file into your room. Mom and Eddie help you sit up, you feel like you're going to pass out. You can't steady your breathing, it’s as if you're suffocating. Mom holds out a paper bag to you. "Honey, we gotta get your breathing steady, okay? So just try to breathe in the bag for me. And then I have a Valium you can take to settle your nerves. It'll be okay, sugarpuff. We're here for you." You take the bag, inhaling and exhaling as best you can into it. It seems to be working, your breath slowly returning to you. You hate having everyone staring at you like this, you must look like such a freak. You wish they'd all go away, and leave you alone. You put the bag down, and Mom hands you the pill and a glass of water. You down it quickly, chugging the entire glass.

"Take it easy, angel." Eddie advises, stroking your arm. Mom takes the glass from you and walks out, quickly shooing the others away. Eddie stays with you, holding you close again. You're still trembling, but your heart slowly regains its normal pace. "Do you want to lay down, sweetheart?" He quietly asks. You just nod. He lays you down, caressing your cheek as you position yourself on your side. "Is there anything I can do?" You shake your head, feeling a tear escape one of your eyes. He tuts, wiping it away. "It'll be alright, baby. Just try to relax. I'm gonna take the kids home, but I'm coming right back, ‘kay? And I'm not leaving your side for the rest of the night." He plants a kiss to your forehead before standing up to leave. He walks out of the room, giving you a caring glance before shutting the door.

As soon as he leaves, you can't hold back the tears anymore. You begin to sob, drawing your legs up to your chest. You feel so stupid, losing control in front of Eddie like that. And to have your mom, and everyone else staring at you? It’s so humiliating. And over what? A stupid essay? You really are just a scared little girl that can't handle anything. You imagine Eddie won't actually come back, because he's too freaked out by your little episode. He only says he will in order to spare your feelings. And all the kids will tell everyone and their dog about how you crumble so easily under pressure. Dustin’s bound to have a field day rubbing it all in your face. And you’ll have Mom doting on you every second of the day over this, maybe she'll even throw you in the looney bin.

You lay stewing in your thoughts for what feels like hours, and the sun had set outside your window. You never want to move from this spot again, never look at anyone or talk to anyone. It’s all too much, and you just want to hide, or maybe even die. You hear the front door open, probably Eddie stopping by to tell you he can't see you anymore. He can't possibly go out with a nutcase like you. The door to your room opens again, and Eddie walks over to you. "Hey, angel. How are you feeling?" He asks with a smile, which disappears when he sees how red your face is from crying.

"Terrible. But I don't expect you to care." You blubber, wiping your eyes with your sleeve. He scoffs at your statement, confused at your change in mood.

"What do you mean? Of course I care. Where's this coming from?" He asks, moving closer to you. You turn your back to him, you can't take that concerned look on his face. He sighs. "Y/N. Please, look at me. Did I do something wrong?" You groan, rolling back over to face him.

"You didn't do anything. I just figure you don't want to hang around me since I'm a basketcase." You reply bitterly. You know he's given you no indication of what you're saying, but you can't believe anyone would possibly want to be around you now.

"What the fuck are you talking about?" He asks, shocked and slightly annoyed. "You're not a basketcase. And even if you were, I wouldn't care. I really like you, Y/N." He furrows his brow at you, trying to figure out where your head's at.

"You can't mean that." You shake your head, refusing to make eye contact with him.

"Why not?" He crosses his arms, searching your expression.

"Because you can't see me like this, all shaky and pale over a stupid paper, and still want to be around me. It's so embarrassing." You start to tear up again, and you curse your eyes for working against you. "And everyone was staring at me, I'm sure they'll tell everyone they know about it. And Dustin will tease me. And my mom will worry about me all the time. She might even have me committed." Eddie's eyes widen at your words, realizing what's happening. He lays down next to you, but lets you have some space.

"Y/N, I can tell you right now that you're wrong. About all of it, 'kay?" He reassures you, and you glare at him.

"How do you know?" You cross your own arms now.

"Well, for one. I'm still here, aren't I? What did you think I was gonna do? Just leave and never come back?" He's slightly angry with you doubting his true intentions.

"I guess I did. I didn't want you to, but I didn't think you'd still like me after everything." You answer, realizing how silly you sound.

"Well, I do. I'm right here, ‘kay? Look, it scared me. But I was worried about you. I wanted you to be okay. To be honest, it felt like I caused it, since I kept you from doing your work all weekend." He explains, sounding guilty.

"No, Eddie. It isn't your fault, I didn't tell you about it, and that's my own problem." You reassure him, reaching for his hands. He lets you take them in yours.

"Well, that's good to know, princess. And another thing? You're wrong about everyone else too. Again, they're concerned for you. But the whole time I was driving them home, all the kids talked about was coming up with a way to help you feel better. They care about you, Y/N. We all do. I don't know what negative voices you have in your head telling you otherwise, but you shouldn't listen to them." You nod, and he continues on. "And Dustin? He swore everyone to secrecy about your anxiety. He said he'll smother anyone who spills your private business in their sleep. And your Mom? She told me you've been dealing with a lot for a long time. She said she felt something like this coming on, because you work yourself to the bone constantly. You never take a break, and you refuse to ask for help when you need it. Obviously, I knew some of this already, given how Friday went. But she said she hopes having me in your life will help you. She still thinks it could, which is flattering, I guess." He chuckles, and you let a small smile form on your lips. "There's that smile I've been missing today!" Eddie coos, pulling you into his arms.

You sniffle, wiping away all your tears. Your eyes feel irritated and red. "I'm sorry, Eddie. It's not fair of me to think the way I was about you. Or the others. I just...it's like I know those things aren't true, right? But, it also feels impossible that anyone would actually like and accept me as I am. You know? That probably makes no sense." You chuckle, slapping your forehead in embarrassment.

"No, it doesn't. But I understand what you mean. Listen, I'm here for you no matter what. I won't, however, let you wallow all day. You have a paper to finish young lady." He pokes your chest, making you giggle. "How about we go have a smoke outside, clear your head? Then you can finish your essay. And then, we can spend the rest of the night together. Sound good?"

"Sounds perfect, Eds." You both climb out of bed, making your way outside. You bypass Dustin and your Mom, they seem surprised to see you in a better mood. They look at each other in confusion, questioning one another if they know anything about what Eddie might've said to you. But they end up shrugging, chalking it up to Eddie being the right man for you.

It isn't until you light up that you feel the effects of the pill your mother gave you earlier. You begin to feel dizzy, almost falling over. "Shit, I've gotcha." He catches you, gently leading you to sit in the grass. He sits beside you, rubbing your back with his hand. "You feeling alright, Y/N?" He looks into your eyes with concern.

You try to get your head to stop spinning, but you can't. "I'm not feeling so hot, Eddie. I'm really dizzy, everything's spinning." You groan, clutching your stomach. You lean away from him, and vomit into the grass. He tries to help you, but you push him away. You manage to stand, bending over as you throw up again. You keep yourself steady, bracing your hands on your knees. The stomach acid stings your throat, making you cough. You stay in place, waiting for your stomach to calm down. You dry heave a few times before you're finally empty. You spit any remaining bile out, wiping your mouth. You stand upright, almost falling backwards. Eddie grabs your shoulders to steady you.

"I'm sorry, angel. Have you ever taken Valium before?" He asks, stroking the sweat-soaked hair out of your face. You feel slightly better now, but also very tired. You just shake your head, before burying it into his chest. "I'm guessing you had a bad reaction. You didn't eat much today, either. I know your mom was trying to help, but I wish I had known you hadn't had it before. That shit is not for the faint hearted."

"She takes it to help her sleep, she's always had bad insomnia." You state, muffled by Eddie's chest. You can barely keep your eyes open at this point, you just want to sleep. You know your paper needs doing, but a small nap could help. You could always get up early tomorrow to finish it. "I'm really tired, Eds. Can you take me to bed?" You ask, nuzzling your face against him.

"I will, but I don't think you should sleep right now. You might get sick again and choke. And you need water, and something to eat. I'll get you something, and I'll stay with you until the pill wears off some more." He sighs, lifting you into his arms. You groan, your stomach still hurts. "Sorry, baby. I'm trying to be careful with you." He brings you inside, and your mother immediately panics when she sees you in Eddie's arms.

"Oh, God! What happened? You look awful, sugarpuff!" She says, rushing over to you.

"She's fine, mostly. She had a bad reaction to the pill you gave her and painted the yard with her breakfast." Eddie snips. He continues walking, bringing you down the hall. He plops you on the bed, making sure you sit up against your pillow. "Stay put, baby. I'll be right back." You hear him say as your eyes have fallen shut. He leaves the room to get what you need. You overhear him talking to Mom, their words swirling around in your dizzy head. Eddie calmly explains to her that she shouldn't have given you the Valium. She doesn't sound offended, more so she's ashamed that she inadvertently made you sick. He reassures her, saying it was just a mistake and that he'll help you through it. But he makes a point to tell her to never do it again under any circumstances. You drift off near the end of their talk, hearing the fridge door open as Eddie finds you something to eat.

A while later, you feel Eddie shaking you awake. "Mooooooom, just five more minutes." You whine, your eyes fluttering open. You see him chuckling at you thinking he was your mother. "Oh, it's you. Sorry, silly me." You giggle, trying to keep your eyes open.

"Hey, sleepy head. I brought you some dinner, and a nice tall glass of water." He sets a tray down next to you.

"Not hungry." You shake your head, and Eddie frowns at you.

"You have to eat, Y/N. You'll feel better, I promise." He insists, getting in bed next to you. He sets the tray on his lap. You lazily scan your eyes over what he’s brought you. A PB&J sandwich cut in half, and some apple slices. "It's not too much, I don't want you to barf it all up later. But it's enough to help you."

"Ugh, don't say barf." You wince, feeling ill again.

"Shit, sorry." He hands you half of the sandwich, and you reluctantly take it in your hand. You bring it to your mouth, taking a small, apprehensive bite. You immediately want to spit it out, but you know you have to get something down. You gulp hard as you manage to swallow it. It hits your stomach, and you start to feel hunger overtake you. You take another bite, and another. "Take it slow, Y/N." He says to you quietly, gently stroking your leg as you chew. You swallow again, looking into Eddie's eyes.

"Thank you for taking care of me, Eddie. You're a good man, you know." You smile kindly at him, taking another bite of your sandwich. "Did you make this?" You ask him as you chew.

"How'd you know?" He quirks an eyebrow at you, impressed you can tell he made it.

"Easy, Mom uses grape jelly. But I think it's too sweet. And you...used raspberry jam. My favorite. I don't know how you guessed it, though." His eyes widen, a smirk spreading on his lips. "What?" You look at him suspiciously.

"Raspberry is my favorite, too." He replies, wiping a smudge of jam from the corner of your mouth with his thumb. He brings it to his lips, licking it clean. You stare at him in amazement, he really is something else. "What? Like you said, grape is too sweet. But raspberry? It makes the whole thing come together."

You don't know what to say, so you let slip the first thing that comes to mind. "I think I could be falling in love with you." You gasp at your own words, registering what you’ve just said to him.

"Over a sandwich?" He asks snarkily.

"Well, no. You're just so...." You search for the right words. "Good. To me." You gaze at him seriously, driving the point home that you care deeply for him. He gets the message, receiving it with enthusiasm.

"Well, I'm glad you feel so strongly for me, Y/N. And lucky for you, I just happen to feel the same." Eddie looks deep into your eyes, before glancing at your lips. He's breathing heavily, unsure if he should go further. He doesn't want to push you in your vulnerable state.

"Are you gonna kiss me already?" You say impatiently, his eyes snap to yours again. You can't help smiling like an idiot, closing the gap yourself. Your lips meet, both of you humming lowly into the kiss. You break away quickly, covering your mouth. "Oh, I'm sorry. I'm sure my breath is terrible right now." Your cheeks heat up, but he's unphased.

"It's fine, Y/N. You just taste like sandwich. I don't mind either way, not if it means I get to kiss the most beautiful girl in the world." He pokes your nose, making the both of you laugh. You finish the first half of the sandwich, drinking some of the water to wash it down. You reach over to take an apple slice from the tray in his lap. Eddie sits with you quietly while you chew, still stroking your leg. He watches as you manage to eat everything off your plate, kissing your forehead when you finish the last bite. "That's my girl." He says sweetly, taking the tray back to the kitchen. You sip on the water, feeling just full enough for your stomach to stop hurting. You can't stop smiling, seeing Eddie care for you makes your heart swell and gives you butterflies. He comes back shortly, plopping into bed beside you once more. "Better?" He asks, holding your hand.

"Better." You reply, planting a kiss on his plush lips. You cuddle up to him, laying your head on his shoulder. You still feel pretty tired, but you just might be able to finish your paper now. "I should probably finish my essay." You say reluctantly.

"You sure?" Eddie says, worried about you working yourself up again.

"Yeah, I have to get it done. But...stay here with me, okay?" You place a hand on his thigh, caressing it gently.

"Of course, Y/N. I'm not goin’ anywhere." He places his hand over yours. Your head leaves its resting place, and you reach over for your notebook and pencil. "C’mere, sit between my legs." Eddie says calmly, and you do as he asks. You put the notebook in your lap, reading the last page you were working on to remember where you’re going with it. You feel Eddie running his hands up and down your back, and your eyes can't help fluttering closed at his touch.

"Watcha doin' there, Eds?" You ask breathily.

"I'm keeping you relaxed, angel." He replies lowly. His hands go to your shoulders, massaging them firmly. You moan at his touch, your head falling to the side. "Does that feel good, baby?" He asks in your ear, his warm breath fanning over you.

"Mhm." Is all you can manage to say as his hands continue to work your flesh. His thumbs press into your back, working the knots of stress that have resided there for who knows how long. You wince as they hurt a little.

"I know, baby. Just let me help you, you'll feel better when I'm done." He presses a kiss to your neck, setting your skin aflame. You know he's not intentionally turning you on, but you can't help leaning further into his touch. He draws small moans from you as he loosens up your sore muscles.

"How are you so fucking good at this?" You ask lustfully, making Eddie's cock twitch. Under any other circumstances, he'd be going further than he is. But he doesn't want to push you when you're not feeling well, it wouldn't be right.

"Practice, sweetheart. I'll keep going, but you have to work on your essay." He kisses your neck again, before setting your head upright so you'll concentrate.

"Alright, alright. Just please keep going." You almost whine at him.

"I'll go as long as you want me too, babydoll." He chuckles quietly. You turn your attention back to the book in front of you. You reread the last paragraph to refresh your train of thought. Once you remember where you’re going, you begin scrawling more words on the page. The ideas come easy to you, and Eddie's hands travel up to your neck. He gently rubs out a large knot that you're sure has been there for months, but you remain focused on the task at hand.

About thirty minutes later, the infamous essay is finally finished. "Done!" You clap the book shut, tossing it away.

"I knew you could do it, baby." You blush at his praise as he kisses your cheek. Eddie had stopped massaging you ten minutes earlier, but he kept caressing you in a non-distracting way. He loves touching you, it seems he'll never get enough. You leave his grasp, turning to face him. He looks so tired, and you feel bad for stressing him out today. He peers at you, raising an eyebrow. "What's wrong?"

You straddle him, wrapping your arms around his neck. You look into his eyes, biting your lip. "Nothing's wrong, baby. I'm just sorry for making you so worried today. Let me make it up to you." You lean forward to kiss his neck, lightly biting down on his skin. He groans, his hands going to your waist instinctively. You look at him again, but his expression hasn't changed. "What?" You ask, scrunching your face.

He sighs, pressing into your hips with his fingers. He shakes his head. "It's nothing. It’s just...you don't owe me anything." You open your mouth to protest, but he stops you. "Don't get me wrong, you're sexy as all hell. But you should be taking it easy, sweetheart. It wouldn't be right for me to ask anything of you right now." Eddie cups your face, looking at you meaningfully. "But, what we can do is get cozy and cuddle in bed. I'm fuckin' exhausted, and you need rest before class tomorrow." He pulls you into him, pressing his lips to yours passionately. You return it, grabbing the sides of his face to deepen it further. Eddie quickly catches on to what you're doing, breaking away. "Easy, tiger. Man, even when you're sick, you're insatiable." He jokes, moving you off of his lap.

"What can I say? You really bring out my appetite." You smirk slyly at him, hopping off the bed to shut your bedroom door. You both quickly discard your clothes. Eddie's in his boxers, and you're in some panties and his Hellfire shirt. You flick off the light, and climb into bed with him. You scoot under the covers, and he snatches you into his arms to spoon you. You share a quiet laugh, the feeling of his arms around you gives you a warm sense of safety. You turn your head to look at him. "Goodnight, Eds. Thank you for being here with me." You whisper, giving him a peck on the lips. He smiles kindly at you, his eyes hooded from drowsiness.

"It's no trouble at all, ‘night, princess." He slowly shuts his eyes, holding you even closer to him. He nuzzles his face into you, sighing in contentment. You face forward again, closing your eyes too. You let your mind wander off to dreamland, feeling safe, warm, and secure in Eddie's arms.

To be continued...

#fanfiction #smut #stranger things #eddie munson #hawkins #1980s #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x henderson!reader #into the fire #hippiegoth97

62 notes · View notes

blooming-dahlia · 7 months

Text

My Dear Friend, I Love You - (Late) Valentine’s Day Special! [Riddle Rosehearts]

╰ Ace sighed heavily as the red and pink heart-shaped cards fell out of the box onto the floor. This year, he and Deuce were in charge of the special Valentine's Day mail at NRC because Riddle wanted them to do something more productive than the things they usually did. And Valentine's Day happened to be right around the corner, so as their beloved friend, you suggested they should volunteer as mailmen for that special occasion.

╰ “I had no idea the students here are so affectionate. How many are there?”

╰ “Come on, Ace. We have to sort them and deliver them to the right classes before our first lesson starts.” Deuce was already on his knees, picking up the cards from the floor and reading the classes written under the students' names. Then he started sorting them carefully, making sure nothing gets mixed up. “I could use some help, you know?”

╰ Dissatisfied and still a bit sleepy, Ace knelt down beside his friend and picked up a pink heart made of paper. This one was addressed to Idia Shroud, the housewarden of Ignihyde. A mocking laugh escaped the redhead's lips.

╰ “That’s an interesting one, let’s see what’s written here.”

╰ Suddenly, Deuce snatched the valentine out of Ace's hands and put it on the class 3-B pile. They weren't supposed to read personal things like love letters, but it was obvious that Ace didn't care. As fast as he could, he began to read the contents of another card he spotted.

╰ “Dear Vil Schoenheit, I'm free on Valentine's Day after 7 PM, so maybe we could meet and watch a movie or eat something delicious at a fancy restaurant. If you're interested, please wear your favorite high heels, I want you to step on me with them- what the hell is this?!” Ace burst out laughing like a maniac before placing the heart on the class 3-C pile.

╰ Another minute passed. Deuce still tried to concentrate on his work, while Ace continued to make ridiculous comments on almost every next letter. Some of them were indeed genuine, full of sweet words of affection, while others were more questionable and not entirely serious. Or at least Ace hoped so.

╰ Vil turned out to be the winner in terms of the amount of valentines received, which wasn't surprising. Somehow Malleus Draconia also managed to get the most cards, both from his class and dormitory. Finally, Deuce picked up the last one, which was visibly different from the others. First of all, it wasn't a heart-shaped piece of paper, but an elegantly wrapped letter. Someone definitely wanted to stand out and impress their crush, they thought. But that wasn't the only reason this valentine was intriguing. The mysterious letter was addressed to [Y/N] [L/N] of class 1-A, the non-magical student and best friend of Adeuce duo.

╰ “I don’t trust them.”

╰ Riddle read the draft of his letter once more before turning to Trey, who was standing in the doorway. The special mail was scheduled to start tomorrow and last until the early morning of Valentine's Day before Ace Trappola and Deuce Spade take the mailbox to sort the cards and finally deliver them to their addressees.

╰ The main problem was the fact that this year's mailmen weren't the most responsible people in Night Raven College, and Riddle was well aware of that. There was no way he was going to take the risk of writing an entire essay expressing his true feelings for you, not if it was going to end up in the hands of those two troublemakers.

╰ “Maybe it's time to finally give them a chance and let them do something that would prove their sense of responsibility?”

╰ “No, they will read it, I am absolutely sure.”

╰ “And that’s why you decided to write [Y/N] a love letter starting with ‘My Dear Friend’? Or maybe you’re not certain about your feelings towards them?” Trey noticed. In fact, Riddle had been struggling with his confession to you for some time, and the upcoming Valentine's Day seemed like the perfect opportunity to end that suffering. You were his first love, after all, and it was obvious that Riddle was nervous, even though he tried to act cool most of the time.

╰ He was also curious if you had made a Valentine's card for anyone. Maybe for Ace and Deuce, since they were your best friends? Or maybe a tuna-scented one for Grim? Unless... no, that couldn't be true. Riddle didn't even want to think about you being in love with someone else. He knew it was selfish of him, but he had fallen head over heels for you and there was nothing he could do about it. He had to confess before it's too late, before some other guy steals your heart.

╰ With a sigh, Riddle took a formal paper and concentrated on rewriting his letter on it. Most people cut colorful sheets of paper in the shape of a heart, but that wasn't his style. Trey went back to the kitchen some time later, allowing Riddle to bang his head against the desk in peace. Why was it so hard to confess to someone, even if it was just through a simple letter?

╰ “My Dear Friend- damn, [Y/N] just got friendzoned through a valentine.”

╰ Deuce tried hard to resist the temptation to read the card, but eventually ended up listening carefully to every word Ace read. This time there was no mocking or laughing. While reading it, they weren't quite sure if this was a love confession, since the person who wrote it seemed to think of you more as a friend than a crush. Either it was a friendzone declaration, or this person was just terrible when it comes to feelings.

╰ “I would be honored if you would accept my invitation for a cup of tea and a nice walk afterwards. Sincerely, the housewarden of Heartslabyul, Riddle Rosehearts.” Ace’s eyes widened immediately, his hands almost clenched on the letter. “No way. I mean, I know the housewarden and [Y/N] are on neutral terms, but him sending them a valentine card seems... oddly out of character.”

╰ “It looks like he's just grateful he can count on [Y/N] and nothing more, we don't need to make any serious assumptions based on what we just read. Anyway, let's just put this on the pile and wait for classes to start so we can finally deliver them and get it over with.”

╰ Meanwhile, you've entered the school building together with Grim, who's been annoying you with questions about when you're going to buy him tuna cans for Valentine's Day. He could at least try to pretend to like your gift for him, a cute sweater with "World's #1 Cutest Cat" written on it.

╰ Your first class started few minutes ago, but there was no sign of Ace and Deuce. As you pulled your textbook out of your bag, you stumbled across a nicely wrapped gift with a note attached, and immediately remembered why your friends weren't showing up. You didn't drop your valentine in the special mailbox set aside for the occasion. Instead, you put a lot of effort and love into your gift for Riddle. The worst thing that could happen now was for him to reject you. That thought was the only reason you hesitated to give it to him.

╰ The door opened and the Adeuce duo made their grand entrance. Professor Trein was about to make a comment about them being late, but Ace quickly made that impossible as he began his speech, or rather, shouting. “Class 1-A, here comes your special Valentine's Day mail! We have a lot of them because we're the best class at Night Raven College.”

╰ You watched as your friends handed out Valentine's cards to particular people. At first, you had no idea that the students at NRC celebrated Valentine's Day just like the ones at your old school. It was heartwarming to see the joy on your classmates' faces when they received their cards.

╰ And then Ace placed a card next to your textbook. You looked up at him, confusion in your eyes, but he just grinned and sat down next to Deuce, who was already reading the contents of his own valentine. What had just happened? Someone sent you a valentine? You studied it and noticed that it wasn't a regular card, but a fancy looking envelope with a letter inside. Feeling a bit uncertain, you decided to open it after classes.

╰ It wasn't surprising that Riddle didn't receive any valentine, but deep down he was hoping to see a card with your signature on his classroom desk. He should have known that this feeling was one-sided, and besides, there were no signs of your interest in him on a more romantic level. You often attended the Unbirthday Parties and even spent some time with Riddle privately. When you needed help with your studies, he was always willing to help. But Riddle was drawn to you more than he should, and it was killing him inside.

╰ You stumbled upon Riddle in the school library. At first you weren't sure if you really wanted to approach him, not after reading his letter. It was sincere and sweet, but something about it made you feel uneasy. Riddle thanked you for everything you'd done for him so far, wrote a simple compliment, emphasized the word ‘friend’ a few times, and invited you on... you didn't know if this was a date or not. You felt stupid for expecting more, knowing that Riddle was trying his best.

╰ Riddle looked at the nearby clock and realized it was time to finally leave the library and return to Heartslabyul. You had to act quickly or you would lose your only chance. Just as he got up from his seat, you threw the gift on the table, causing confusion on Riddle's face. Heartslabyul's housewarden blinked a few times and then turned around to see your cool gaze.

╰ “For you.”

╰ And that was it. Riddle didn't even manage to say a word as you ran out of the library, leaving him alone and confused. That wasn't your plan, of course, but it was now or never, right? The only thing you could do now was to hope that Riddle wouldn't think any worse of you, especially since the way you gave him the Valentine's Day gift wasn't the right one. It wouldn't be surprising if he started to ignore you after that.

╰ Opening the box, Riddle found handmade heart-shaped chocolates. He examined them to make sure everything was all right, then carefully took a bite of one. It tasted like heaven, the strawberry filling doing its job perfectly. Riddle ate another chocolate before he began to read the note attached to the box.

╰ There was no doubt that you were smarter than him. Riddle could always give you the letter in person, one in which he wasn't playing around with hiding his true feelings, instead of throwing the other one in the mailbox just because he didn't want Ace and Deuce to find out about his crush on you.

╰ “Dear Riddle. I'm sorry I didn't have the courage to send you a valentine card by special mail. Instead, I wanted to do something different. Trey gladly agreed to help me make these chocolates for you, especially with your favorite flavor filling. Today is Valentine's Day, when both friends and lovers spend time together, give each other gifts, and so on. Let this gift be a reminder that you have people who love and care for you, that you deserve everything that's good and sweet in this world. And if you don't have anyone to celebrate this day with, I would love to be your valentine. Sincerely, [Y/N], your Dear Friend.”

╰ Those last three words were written with a different ink color, which made Riddle quickly realize that you had just added them, probably after reading his letter. The boy sighed, a soft red blush spreading across his face. Then he grabbed the box with the note and made his way back to the Heartslabyul dormitory, where someone special, his dear friend and valentine, was waiting for him.

It's been a long time since I posted something here, I promise to be more active from now on :D

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland one-shots #twisted wonderland x reader #twst #twst one-shots #twst x reader #riddle rosehearts #riddle rosehearts x reader #twisted wonderland riddle x reader #twst riddle x reader

81 notes · View notes

thaliagracesgf · 2 months

Text

chapter one: the vanishing of will byers

a/n: the first chapter! I really got cooking on this one i was so so excited about it once i started writing! I hope it’s good, i have lots of ideas for the future and have started mapping out where this is going to go. i'm not sure what the overall title of this fic is going to be though... hope you enjoy, and let me know if you’d like to be added to a taglist for this story! reblog, comment, and interact if you enjoy it (or if you don’t)! I’d love to hear all your thoughts <3

wc: 3.9k

divider from @saradika-graphics, images from pinterest

general CWs, not necessarily all in this chapter: drinking, alcoholism, drug abuse, smoking, cancer, hopper being kind of a deadbeat, usual canon violence. not entirely proofread.

masterlist (incl. series)

The sprinklers are going as you turn the corner onto the Wheeler’s street. Your music is turned low, and the windows are rolled down, letting in the early November breeze. You see yellow lights from the basement windows as you pull into the driveway, and the shadows of four middle school boys jumping around. As you stop the car, you can hear complaining drift out through an open window. Mrs. Wheeler must have been telling them their time was up.

You trip over a rock on your way to the front door, ringing the doorbell and brushing dirt off your hands. “Hi Mr. Wheeler,” you smile as he opens the door.

“Oh, great another one,” he mutters. You’re pretty sure he thinks you can’t hear him. “Karen! There’s another child at our door.” He turns back to you, probably trying to figure out which one of his children you’re here for. You try not to be offended, as you’re sure you don’t look like a seventh grader, although you wouldn’t put it past Ted Wheeler to not know how old his son is. In his defense, though, you are here for the seventh graders.

“Hi, sweetheart,” Karen moves past her husband. “Thank you so much for picking them up, I don’t think I’d be able to get them out of that basement. I was down a second ago and three of them were crawling under the tables doing god knows what.”

“It’s no problem, Mrs. Wheeler. Do you mind if I…” You gesture vaguely towards the basement.

“Please, be my guest.”

“Or don’t,” her husband adds unhelpfully. You give him an awkward nod as you pass him by.

“Guys!” You shout from the top few steps of Mike Wheeler’s basement. “Let’s go, I don’t have all day!”

“What, like you have a date or something?” Mike rushes up past you.

“Oh, go to hell,” you sneer. You love Mike, you really do. You’ve been babysitting his friends since you were thirteen, and you appreciate the level to which he can match your level of sarcasm and insult that would appear genuine to anyone in the audience. He’d never admit it, but you know he likes that you’re around, too.

“Dustin! Lucas!” you shout again. “Hurry up!”

They come bounding up the stairs, Dustin with a pizza box tucked under his arm. “I’m gonna see if Nancy wants a slice,” he says with his mouth full. He’s had a crush on her forever, at this point, and you would find it endearing if you didn’t have a World History quiz to study for that night.

“Fine. Be fast,” you say, then following behind him. You watch the painful interaction before catching the door as she tries to shut it.

“Hey, Nance.”

“Oh, hey, one sec, Barb,” she says, putting the phone down.

“How’re you doing with that essay?” You have to rely on Nancy, because among the bizarre group of friends you’ve found yourself in, she’s the only other one that actually cares about her grades, other than Barb, but she doesn’t really show her face often. Or speak much, if she does. You know that your friends can be intimidating, but you don’t really know how to reach out. You don’t think you have anything in common.

“Okay, I guess. I can’t figure out how to order all my arguments.”

“Oh my god, yes, I am having the exact same problem! Study sesh tomorrow, figure it out?”

She smiles. “Yeah, definitely. One?”

“Yeah, that works. And you can tell me everything you’re telling Barb right now about Steve.” She blushes, looking down at the sleeves of her sweater.

“Yeah, okay. Sure. Hey, weren’t you just with him?” You were. You’d spent the day driving around with him, Tina, Tommy, and Carol.

“Yeah,” you smile devilishly. “He wouldn’t stop talking about you.” You turn and head back down the stairs, where you can see the boys getting impatient.

“Hey! You can’t just leave that there,” she calls after you, and you laugh.

“I’ll see you tomorrow! One o’clock!”

“Y/N!”

“Bye!”

You rush down the stairs, past Ted Wheeler in his La-Z-Boy, who makes a point to sigh loudly at the noise. You see Will talking to Mike in the garage. He looks upset, but you figure it’s some Dungeons & Dragons thing you won’t understand. “You guys ready?” you ask Lucas and Dustin, and they nod.

“We’ve been ready,” Lucas adds, impatiently.

“Okay! Well, we’re going now. Get the bikes in the trunk.” They do as they’re told, however begrudgingly. “Will, you want a ride halfway? You can have shotgun if you want.”

“Yeah!” He smiles, whatever had been bothering him vanishing. “Can I put my bike in, too?” You smile and nod, although it hurts a little how much you see your shy, people-pleasing self in him—his friends wouldn’t have hesitated to toss theirs in, banging up your car, but Will asks, and then fits it gently in the trunk so as to not crash it into the rear of your already beat-up, dysfunctional car. You know it’s probably because the Byers’ don’t have money, either.

“Yeah, just toss it in.” He wheels it over to his friends, as Mike watches from the garage door. You give him a wave goodnight, and he returns it, although his eyes are watching a rock he’s kicking around with his shoe.

“Hey! Out!” You snap your fingers at Dustin as he tries to sit in the passenger seat. “Will.”

Dustin groans, but there’s no point arguing. “This is bullshit,” he grumbles as he moves to the backseat, next to Lucas, who elbows him when he gets too close.

“Language.” You reach for your CDs, passing them to Will. “Pick out whatever, dude.” And you back out of the Wheeler’s drive.

You dropped Will off at the top of the hill, by Dustin’s house. He insisted he could make it the rest of the way, and seeing your unsure expression, he assured you that Jonathan was there waiting for him.

“Alright, sure. Be safe!” You call as he rides away.

Turning the car around in the Henderson’s driveway, you head back across town to the trailer park. You park your car, grabbing your bag from the back, and trudge up the three steps to your front door. To no one’s surprise, your dad is passed out on the couch, beer cans on the table and pill bottles knocked over. You roll your eyes, tossing the cans in the garbage and screwing the caps back on the bottles before putting him in his bathroom mirror.

A few years ago, Hopper had gotten bored with the lack of activity in Hawkins, and you came home from school to a wall chopped down. You slept with a tarp covering it for a few weeks, until he had built an extra half of your trailer, making the whole structure look like an “L,” and giving you your own room and, after deliberation on water and electricity bills on his part, bathroom, presumably to stop you coming across the obscene amount of pills in his. Obviously, it did not have the desired effect.

Unintentionally, you’ve fallen into responsibility for so many people in your life, whether you’re babysitting for Dustin and the Sinclairs, or your father. You think it’s why you’re still friends with the people you are. Tina’s been your best friend since kindergarten, since Sarah died and you moved to Indiana. The two of you plotted to end up friends with Steve and Tommy H, who seemed so cool on the basketball courts at recess. Tommy, and later Carol, were so sure of themselves, so confident in everything they did, and still are now, that though they can be assholes, and you know that they’re assholes, you can’t help but feel lighter around them—they’ve got each other in their perfect, asshole ways, to sort through all their shit, and they leave you out of it. Tina and Steve go along with it all too, sure, Steve especially, but you’re closer with both of them. You take care of each other the way friends are supposed to, none of this caretaker bullshit that you can’t help but take on more of with your family and your kids. Steve, and especially Tina, are there for you in a way your dad hasn’t been since you were little.

This lack of responsibility, of course, is what leads you to head to your room after microwaving a bowl of pasta, and call Steve about the party he wants to throw at his place when his parents are out of town.

“Hey,” he picks up. His voice is deep and a little groggy, like maybe he was just falling asleep.

“Sorry, sorry, did I wake you up?”

“Nah, no, you’re good,” he says, sitting himself up. If it were Tommy or Carol, he’d tell them to fuck off and let him sleep. But he’s never able to put down the phone when you’re calling. He doesn’t really know why, he’s never wanted to.

“Ok. Perfect. I was thinking for drinks we could send Carol in that old lady costume to Bunbury for beers?” Steve snorts on the other end of the line, and you know he’s laughing at the drinking problem he thinks you have. “Oh, shut up,” you scoff. If there’s one thing that you know the looks of, it’s a drinking problem, but Steve’s never been the most tactful.

“I’d do it, but you know she hates doing it and she was totally pissing me off today,” you excuse yourself from the task, knowing that if you go, you’ll be buying the drinks. They all say they can pay for things for you—read, they all know you and your dad are broke, but they don’t exactly think twice when you end up buying for them, which happens more than you’d care to admit. And you hate to ask them to pay you back. Sophomore year goal: stop being a people pleaser and call out your rich-ass friends who insist on you joining their rich-ass activities. Although, you suppose, there are bigger problems in the world than having friends who are willing to pay to be sure you can do shit with them. The more you try to rationalize it in your head, the more you really start to really hate yourself, so you keep talking.

“And you know she never listens to me, and then Tommy will be mad, so you’re gonna have to ask her. And probably Tommy, first, so he’ll agree for her, and—”

“You do realize you sound insane, right?” the phone crackles. You hold the phone away from your ear, taking a deep breath before you start snapping at him.

“I’m just trying to make sure we have drinks on Tuesday.”

“It’ll be fine, don’t worry about it.” You are worried about it, and now a little irritated at him, but you let it go.

“Alright. Goodnight, then,” you say. “Wait! No. Wait. Nancy was talking to Barb about you on the phone.” This might violate some sort of girl code, but if that’s all you’re telling him, and he’s been one of your best friends since the first grade, you hope Nancy can forgive you. It’s irresistibly more fun to listen to Steve beg for more information, and make fun of him later with Tina—and maybe Nancy.

“That’s all I can say. I’ll have to consult my higher-ups for more information.”

“Nancy Wheeler is your higher-ups, now?”

“Don’t be jealous, Harrington, it’s not my fault she’s cooler than you.” You can hear him roll his eyes over the phone.

“Goodnight, Steve.”

“'Night, Y/N.”

You put the phone down, and fall asleep to the frogs and crickets surrounding the trailer park, almost missing the methodic rotation of the Wheelers’ sprinklers.

A few streets over, the Harringtons’ are going, and Steve Harrington is thinking about Nancy Wheeler, and trying to not think about the fact that you keep floating through his mind instead of her.

When you wake up, your dad is still passed out on the couch. Birds are still chirping outside, and you can hear yelling from the next nearest trailer. You force yourself out of bed, crossing the living room and nudging his shoulder until he wakes up with a start, and his arms reach around, knocking a book off the side table and narrowly missing the lamp. “In the bathroom,” you answer, before he can ask where his meds have gone.

“What time is it?” he mutters groggily.

“Past eight. You’re going to be late again,” you say as you head to the kitchen.

“Why aren’t you at school yet?”

“I don’t have class first period today,” you say, a little frustrated that you have this conversation every Monday, but not letting it show. You pour coffee and butter toast for him before pouring yourself some cereal and slicing a banana. He grunts in response.

“I have to go, though. So do you,” you drop his food and pill bottles on the coffee table in front of him. He murmurs a “thanks” before turning to the coffee like it’s God.

“I’ll be home late tomorrow. Don’t wait up.” On the off chance that he’s not out cold by seven, you know he’d assume the worst. Not a kidnapping, or anything crazy. That shit doesn’t happen in Hawkins. But even though you’ve been cancer-free since ‘73, he’s always assuming you’ve spouted a new tumor and died on the side of the road, no matter how many times you, doctors, or the rest of the sane, normal world tells him otherwise.

“Okay,” he grunts. “Be careful. Make smart choices,” he adds, as if you haven’t been practically raising yourself since you were old enough to cook and ride a bike to school.

“Yeah, whatever.” You don’t mean to sound like an unbothered teenager, but it’s so difficult to make conversation with your father that you resort to being a shell of yourself until you make it to school and your friends. Hell, Erica Sinclair makes better conversation than Jim Hopper.

You finish your cereal in silence, rinsing the bowl in the sink before grabbing your backpack.

“Have a good day at work, Dad.” And you leave the house, letting the screen swing shut behind you, and leaving the front door open to hopefully air out a bit of the overwhelming cigarette smell that’s embedded permanently in all your furniture. Not that you don’t smoke, but never at home. Your Dad would flip his shit about cancer, as if there isn’t Agent Orange probably still running through your blood already.

You drive to school with a Leonard Cohen C.D. going. There are a million things running through your mind, but none at all at the same time. The party. Your Dad. Sarah, weirdly enough. You don’t think about her a whole lot, but of course she comes up when you have a million other things going on. World History test. Mrs. Click. The Byzantine Empire. Your dad. Drinking. Tina’s Halloween party, which was a week ago, where you had the time of your life dancing with your best friend after begging your father for weeks to ignore it on patrol. Nancy Wheeler. Shit, that study date. You’d almost forgotten. And— fuck, of course you’d forgotten to bring your lunch. You check your watch—you think you have enough time to grab something from the store on the way.

You speed into the parking lot, going a million miles per hour, but hey, if there’s one thing you’ve got going for you in this town, it’s that no one who works for your dad is going to arrest or ticket you after he cut his own salary to make up for theirs.

You fly through the store, grabbing an apple, a bag of lettuce and some shit for a basic salad you’ll shake up at lunch. It’s not much, but the deli isn’t open yet, and you aren’t going to buy an entire loaf of bread for one PB&J. As you’re checking out, don’t notice Jonathan Byers until his total comes up short.

“Oh, here,” you say without thinking, giving him the last dollar he needs. “You also have a late start this morning?”

“Thanks. Uh…” he hesitates. He’s not used to you speaking to him unless the boys are involved, although you would consider the two of you to be friends. “No, um…”

You don’t really take note of his pause, tossing your lettuce on the conveyor belt.

“You didn’t see Will last night, did you?” You freeze, fear shooting through your body.

“Um, yeah, I drove him to Mirkwood. He didn’t make it home? He told me you were waiting for him.” You look over at Jonathan, but avoid his eyes. What if something terrible has happened to Will, and it’s because you let him bike home alone?

“I had a last minute shift,” he mumbles. “Did you… did you see him go home?”

“Yeah, he took off in the right direction. Jonathan, what happened? Is he missing?”

“Um… we don’t know yet. I— forget I said anything, sorry,” he starts trudging away.

“Wait, Jonathan, is he okay?” you call after him, panicked. “Byers!” But he’s gone, out the door. And, you realize too late, you’re a dollar short for your fucking lunch.

You’ve haven’t been thinking straight since you ran into Jonathan, and you’re pretty sure you failed the Byzantine test, although Nancy is trying to convince you otherwise as you sit in your corner of the library, sharing the measly salad you’ve scraped together and the ten-bajillion course meal that Karen packed her. On a normal day, you’d have time to think about how jealous that makes you, but your mind hasn’t left the frenzied state it was in even before learning that Will might be missing.

“Your essay looks great, Y/N. I checked it for grammar and spelling, so you’re all good there. I think you just need to work on a thesis that makes a little more sense, and then you’re done.” You groan. You love Nancy and her feedback, but you had really been hoping she would say “Perfect!” or “No notes!” or “Great job, Y/N, you can go take a ten year nap, now!”

“Okay,” you pull the paper back across the table. “Yours is great, too, just switch those two paragraphs and then edit them to make them flow, if that makes sense,” you brush bread crumbs off her essay and slide it over to her.

She nods. “That’s perfect, that’s exactly what I was thinking.” A peaceful silence falls upon the pair of you as you eat your lunch, and for a second you feel the November sun filtering through the windows of the Hawkins High Library, and ignore your creeping anxiety that something is very, very, wrong.

“So. How are things?” you ask, smiling behind your hand at Nancy.

She feigns innocence. “Hm? I don’t know what you mean.” She closes her mouth around her sandwich.

“Ugh. Fine. We… made out this morning. He left a note in my locker.”

“Classic.”

“I don’t know… he’s really sweet, and, you know, he’s fun— funny. And fun.”

“All true.”

“I guess I’m a little worried… I mean, he kind of has a reputation. I don’t want to end up, like, totally humiliated.”

“I don’t think he’ll do that, Nance. Honestly. I think he doesn’t realize he’s doing anything half the time—he’s not that… aware… of other people. But he seems like he really likes you, and wants to get to know you.”

She smiles, looking down at her food. “Yeah, yeah he does.”

Suddenly there’s a commotion at the doors. A loud “shush” comes from the circulation desk.

“I’m sorry to bother you, ma’am—” Your head flies around. You know that voice. “I was told that Ms. Hopper might be in here? I just need to speak with her for a few minutes.”

“She usually sits over there,” the librarian gestures to where you’re already standing, deciding whether to collect your stuff. Nancy’s stood beside you, biting her lip.

”Callahan?” you pester as you follow him through the hallway. “What’s going on, is everything okay? Is my Dad okay?”

“Yeah, you’re Dad’s fine. He’s right in there.”

What the hell is going on? You push the glass door to the office open, slinging your bag off your shoulder and on to the ground as you give your father a confused look. One that turns to concern when you finally put two and two together.

“Will.” Your dad sees your expression. He knows how much you care about these kids, and he’s quick to try to reassure you.

“Just… just take a seat, okay? I just have a couple questions about the last time you saw him, I didn’t want to wait until tonight—”

“I drove him almost the whole way to his house last night.” You interrupt. “I dropped him off just past the Hendersons’ house, he told me Jonathan would be there,” your voice speeds up, evident anxiety growing, “but I guess he picked up an extra shift, and—” he cuts you off.

“Hey, hey, hey.” He pulls you into a hug, and you do start crying then. This is too much, this is your fucking fault, and if Will’s found dead in a ditch it’s going to be all your fault. “He’s going to be okay, okay? I already told Joyce, 99 out of a hundred times, a kid goes missing, kid is with a parent or relative. Lonnie probably—”

“His father’s psychotic!” You push yourself free from his hold on you “I saw him make them cry like a thousand times, Dad! I wouldn’t be surprised if he fucking hit them! If Will’s with him, he’s not safe!” Your voice is catching in your throat.

“And we’re going to go find him, okay? He’ll be okay, I just need— I just need you to stay calm, go home, and just— just stay there.”

“I can help look for him, I can—”

“Y/N. Go. Home.” He gives you a pointed stare, and you feel so small standing next to him, even though you got a bit of his height. “Look, we’re sending out search parties. We have people going to Lonnie. He’s going to be okay.” When you don’t respond, he repeats himself firmly. “He’s going to be okay.”

You take a deep breath and nod. “I’ll see you at home, kid.”

You push past Officer Callahan, who totally just watched your embarrassing breakdown, and back into the hallway. You assume your father meant for you to go home after your classes, but even if he didn’t, you aren’t skipping chem. There’s another fucking test tommorow, and you’re not missing this free study session.

Nancy takes note of your distraught look as you enter the classroom and sit down on the stool by hers, even though you had tried to rinse your eyes with cold water on the way over.

“What was that all about?” She asks.

“Nothing,” you make something up. “My dad realized I forgot my lunch at home, but it was a little late…”

“And he sent an armed guard to escort you to pick it up?” She laughs. For a second, you think she’s onto you, but you realize she’s joking as she turns away to focus on the board, where your teacher is balancing an equation. You fucking hate chemistry.

AHHHHHHHHHHH thank you for reading all this!!!! this is insane!!! i love her so much! writing this slow burn is going to KILL MEEE. pls like, reblog, interact to encourage more of my writing and let me know what you think!

xoxo, thaliagracesgf (real)

i'm tagging people who interacted with my idea post and who i thought might like to see this fic, but please please let me know if you'd like to be removed from this list, or if you'd like to be added!

taglist: @thisisourlovestory @ladygrey03

#sexy to someone by thaliagracesgf #thaliagracesgf #stranger things #steve harrington #steve harrington x hopper!reader #nancy wheeler #jonathan byers #jim hopper #stranger things fanfic #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #mike wheeler #dustin henderson #lucas sinclair #eleven stranger things #will byers

49 notes · View notes

cowgurrrl · 1 year

Note

OKAY WAIT

late night talks with college!joel - how reader and him came to date. they were studying they got distracted talking about something and stayed up all night taking. now joel can get her off his mind. 😉

thank you harry styles <3

I’ll kiss you on the mouth dude I love this idea

UPDATE: I DIDNT KNOW HOW TO END IT AND IF IT WASNT FOR MY MELATONIN KICKING IN I WOULDVE CONTINUED IT

She’s got a book for every situation

Pairing: college!joel x fem!reader

Summary: this ask

Author’s note: typed in tumblr and not proofread so god speed slayers 🫡

Warnings: mentions of alcohol, Joel being The Biggest Flirt, June your BA in English is showing, I think that’s it??

Working at the writing center on campus has its perks. You get unlimited printing, editing experience, and free coffee. Granted, it’s from a pot that had been simmering for several days but it’s free nevertheless. You’ve even managed to get in good with a few professors who would recommend their students come to you if they need help. Normally, they don’t take the advice until finals week and they all scramble into your office all at once. So, when a tall guy with curly dark hair walks into your desolate lobby, you’re a little surprised. He looks lost with a stack of papers piled in his hands and visibly relaxes when he sees you peek your head out.

“Hey there. Can I help you?” You ask, approaching him.

“Maybe. ‘M from Dr. Phillips class and she said to come to the writing center and ask for…” He trails off as he glances down at his paper before saying your name. “Said she might be able to help me with my paper.”

“Yeah, I think she can help you with your paper.” You say and hold out your hand to grab the red inked paper. It’s a paper on Kerouac who’s never been your favorite. In fact, you wrote an entire paper about how pretentious and privileged Jack Kerouac actually was but that’s neither here nor there. The bottom line is that you know how to write a paper professors are looking for. You feel his eyes scanning your face as you read his thesis and try to ignore the blush creeping over your cheeks.

“I take it you’re the brilliant writer Dr. Phillips likes so much.” He says. You smile but don’t take your eyes off his words so you don’t get distracted by his presence.

“Dr. Phillips doesn’t like anyone.”

“She seemed to like you. Told me all about how smart you are,” he says. “Never mentioned the pretty part, though.” Finally, you look up and meet his gaze.

“Technically Dr. Phillips isn’t allowed to recommend one student editor over another. It’s against our policy and makes things a little fairer for everyone. So, can we keep this little secret between us…” you let your sentence end, realizing you never asked his name, and he holds out his free hand.

“Joel.” He says and you shake his hand.

“Well, Joel, I’ll tell you what. I’ll agree to help you get your paper in order if you agree to not get me fired. Fair deal?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He says politely.

You spend the rest of the day walking Joel through essay structures, grammar mistakes, and thesis issues. His argument is strong but it needs to be more concise and punchier. When you try to explain it to him in those terms, he looks at you like you’re from Mars. Eventually, after a little too much flirty small talk, he tells you about his dad’s construction company and you learn to put flowery, over dramatic writing advice into clean, neat boxes that he understands completely. Unfortunately, you don’t end up finishing the actual essay before the center closes.

“You’re free to come back tomorrow morning so we can finish this.” You say as you gather your things and stuff them in your backpack. Joel stretches in his chair, his shirt riding up just enough to reveal a gorgeous sliver of tan skin and you have to force your eyes away from the sight.

“D’you live far from here?” He asks, standing and throwing his own backpack over one shoulder. You waffle for a moment, unsure if you want to tell this almost perfect stranger where you live.

“Maybe a ten minute walk. It’s not bad for Austin.”

“Can I walk you home? Since I kept you so late,” he asks. Once again, you hesitate. Joel doesn’t seem like the typical frat guy you’ve come to fear since your time at school. He actually seems gentle and genuine. You turn the thought over a few more times before he throws his hands up. “‘S just an offer to make sure you get home safe. I’ll even carry your backpack for you if you want.” He offers and you smile. You take another second before handing him your heavy backpack. He slings it over his free shoulder and walks to the door to open it for you, keys jingling in your hand as you lock up the writing center for the night. The humid Texas night suffocates you the second you step out into the fading daylight.

“You always carry girls’ backpacks home?” You ask as you start walking in the direction of your apartment. Campus is mostly empty this time of night, everyone crawling home after class to pregame or cry or both. Squirrels patrol the sidewalks for any students who may want to hand them a piece from their bagel or sandwich. Someone honks their horn in distant standstill Austin traffic, and the sun slowly slides behind the Capitol. It’s peaceful.

“Only when I make ‘em read my shitty writing.” He says and you laugh.

“Your writing’s not bad, Joel. It’s actually very good. Essays are just the worst to write.”

“You like ‘em enough to work at the writing center.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean it’s what I actually care about,” you shrug. “At this point, I’m a warm body with a clicky pen.”

“Woah there, Kafka. I think you’re a little more than that,” Joel laughs and you have to laugh too. Not only for the perfectly on brand joke but for the tone in his voice. The playful lilt makes your head feel fuzzy. “Alright then, if you don’t like essays and you don’t like Kerouac, what do you like? What do you wanna write?” He asks and you take a deep breath. It’s a question you’ve fielded more than enough times in your college career to know that not many people like your answer.

“I’m not sure yet. I like a little bit of everything.”

“Have you written anythin’ I would’ve read?”

“No,” you laugh. “Probably not.”

“Why’s that funny?” He asks and you shake your head.

“Because nobody wants to publish my work. It’s too… rough.”

“Rough?” He raises his eyebrows at you.

“Yeah. Publishers either want the next Great American Novel or nothing at all, and I am not next Great American Novel material.”

“How do you know?”

“Because nobody’s publishing me.”

“Maybe, you’re not lookin’ in the right places,” he says. “‘M just sayin’ someone as smart as you has to have somethin’ someone will wanna take.”

“Yeah, well, don’t go holdin’ your breath on me, cowboy.”

“Why do you do that?” He asks suddenly and you stop to look at him.

“Do what?” You ask.

“Try and play it off whenever someone compliments you.” He says with glaring honesty. It sets you back in your heels but you quickly recover.

“You’ve only known me for a few hours. How do you know I’m not just incredibly humble?”

“I guess I don’t,” he says. “Could I buy you a drink and figure it out?” It could be the way he, somehow, sees right through you already or the way his brown eyes look in the sunlight but you can’t stop the butterflies in your stomach. You purse your lips together and dare a step closer to him.

“Tell you what, if you get an A on this paper, I’ll let you buy me a drink.” You say.

“And if I fail?” He asks and you shake your head.

“You won’t fail.”

“But what if I do?”

“If you do, you have to…” you search your brain. “Carry my backpack home for me for a week.”

“You drive a hard bargain, ma’am.”

“But I take it Joel Miller’s a bettin’ man.”

“See, smarter than you think.” He quips and you roll your eyes.

“One thing at a time, lover boy.”

Joel ends up getting the highest grade on his essay out of anyone in his class. Dr. Phillips commends his dedication to bettering his first draft and tells him to keep up the good work. “Whatever you did to change this, keep it up.” She says when she places his graded essay on his desk. When he presents the A to you at the writing center, all you can do is applaud him and smile.

“I told you you’d pass.” You say, poking at his firm chest.

“Yeah, yeah,” he rolls his eyes. “Maybe I just needed a little motivation.”

“Oh, yeah? What was that?”

“I think I was promised a date.” He says cheekily and you nod.

“You were, and my mama raised me to be a woman of my word,” you smile. “Jenny, do you mind closing up for me tonight?” You ask the receptionist and she shakes her head.

“Not at all, darlin’. Have a good night.” She winks at you when Joel turns his back and you stick your tongue out at her.

Say what you will about the writing center but you think a date with a broad, tall, handsome cowboy is the best thing that could’ve come out of that hell hole.

#college!joel au #college!joel #Joel Miller au #the last of us au #the last of us fluff #joel miller fluff #tlou fluff #joel miller x reader #joel miller one shot #joel miller the last of us #joel miller fic #joel miller drabble

95 notes · View notes

woso-dreamzzz · 5 months

Note

hey again! thought about this during another one of my exams and honestly u can delete this… had a thought and then it spiralled

thinking about in some universe bambi’s cheering on jaume with a big smile on her face and thinking back to the one time alexia tried to get her to play football… at the end of the day, alexia just gave her a big grin and thanked bambi for trying. it’s a rather fond memory—bambi remembers telling her tia alba and abuela eli that she was sure she liked ballet more… but didn’t know how to tell her mami. either way, alexia never showed disappointment and instead makes time to watch each of her practices, big game coming up or not.

bambi has a ballet recital the following day and she knows her current smile will be nothing compared to jaume’s when he watches her tomorrow—he made sure they had front row seats and he even got alexia to buy him a nice button up shirt so he could look good for this show (she has recitals often but jaume always goes above and beyond to support his big sister.)

thinking about how bambi’s probably bundled up in a blanket next to olga—both of them are sharing some niche sort of chips (no one understands why olga tries all these sort of chips but these are good and they’ve been snacking the entire game) and olga’s suddenly reflecting on her little family with alexia. she thinks back to when she first met bambi and how she brought her a train, and how their relationship flourished from there. now she sits happily with her daughter watching her son (and alexia, who’s screaming on the sidelines for the kids to run up)

congrats on the 1k likes to injured V friend <3 you deserve all the love ever! 🌷 and good luck on the essay. had way too many interactions with bad groupmates and i wish nothing but the best for u and our other bestie too (get to the writing! it’s due on sunday omg 😭)

Thinking about a world where Bambi never got neglected and she had a good relationship with Olga from the start and how different she would have turned out.

Just super supportive mum Alexia who really tries to foster Bambi's interests outside of her own ambitions of football and being ecstatic when Bambi decides she wants to continue ballet.

Thinking about teen!Jaume in his little suit, playing with the buttons because his sister always looks so beautiful on stage in her outfits and he doesn't want her to be embarrassed to see him in the crowd in his own dirty football kit.

Olga spending her evenings with Bambi sorting out new pointe shoes and equipment and helping her try out new hairstyles as they snack together and gossip about how Alexia is trying to take over as coach for Jaume's team because she absolutely cannot keep her mouth shut when she watches.

(I managed to get a decent chunk of my work done/planned so it's mainly just my discussion to finish/research and properly finish off my analysis so it should be done soon so I can prep for exams! 🌷🌷🌷)

#asks #bambi

45 notes · View notes

halliescomut · 1 year

Text

To Bang Chan: Social Path M/V Breakdown

Ok, so I wasn't doing this in an effort to write a 3 page essay about the MV for Social Path as Bang Chan instructed, I was just genuinely engrossed with the messaging and visuals that I wanted to talk about it, & then we ended up here.

Alright, so this is going to be me talking through what I was feeling/gleaning from both the lyrics and the visuals for Social Path…

TW: Self Harm and/or suicide (spoken about very delicately, but it's there), anxiety, depression.

First for context: PBP mean Paper Bag Posse and refers to the people with paper bags on their heads throughout the video.

I am using Sweater -- , Post Apocalyptic --, and Red -- to refer to the different wardrobes worn by the Kids throughout the video.

Sweater Kids

Red Kids (Yes, I know not ALL of them are in red, but it’s most and it’s fine.

Post Apocalyptic Kids (abbreviated on PA Kids)

If we are going to create an overarching story…here’s what I see. Sweater Kids are trapped somewhere with the nameless/faceless PBP. The Red Kids come for them, and as the PA Kids they find LiSA and stand together at the end.

As far as the symbolism of the PBP, I think their faceless-ness is entirely intentional, they can be anything and anyone.

Watching Sweater Hyunjin’s story specifically through the video, it made me think of faceless accounts online, antis leaving hateful and hurtful messages, and we start with Sweater Hyunjin just sitting on the bed, the PBP is there, they’re watching him. Then when we return, they’ve come in closer, fully invading his space, even putting hands on him, and he’s afraid, he makes himself small in the face of all of these figures.

Later, when he’s pushing through them, he’s not afraid anymore, if anything I’d say he’s angry. It very much reminded me of the feeling I had when we got the choreo video for Play with Fire. How that was one of the first things we saw after his hiatus. And that performance to me has such a feeling of anger but also defiance and determination, and that’s the same emotion I’m seeing in the final scene for Sweater Hyunjin.

Sweater Changbin, it’s really interesting, because he only appears in the sweater for one scene, almost completely un-cut. He’s tossing and turning from a nightmare, is shocked awake by either the nightmare or the storm outside, it’s ambiguous, but the small flash of nightmare we see is these grabbing hands. He moves from the bed to the window, watching the storm, which combined with the lyrics of the sun rising tomorrow, kind of gives the feeling of him saying I can weather this storm.

Sweater Han also only appears in one portion of the video, during which he is in the mirrored room. He’s also chained, unlike IN who is the only other KID to appear in the mirrored room. We’ve seen the sort of glass case before, in Lonely Street, when Hyunjin is actually inside of it, and Felix outside. In that video it’s an image that gives this heartbreaking sense of isolation and being lost (astray), which is then multiplied when you realize Felix is actively seeking Hyunjin, but unable to find him. This idea of being so close yet so far.

But it’s different here with Han. His emotions here, there’s fear, there’s confusion, even sadness.

I do think it’s particularly interesting that Changbin and Han are the only ones we don’t see with the PBP, which I think is interesting. It almost to me indicates that their ‘enemy’ isn’t other people. For Changbin, this idea combined with interviews and things in the past, makes me think of how he’s talked about how he can get stuck in the dark thoughts of his own mind. That while he tends to be quite silly sometimes, his solitary thoughts do tend towards darkness, and that’s part of why he often finds himself with the other Kids, because that helps to pull his mind away from those things. With Han, it’s a similar vibe, less that his mind is a place of temporary fear (like Changbin’s nightmare) but more that it can be a prison.

One that keeps him stuck in multiple ways even, both being inside the mirrored space itself, and also being chained. In terms of him being in the mirrored room, a space where he sees himself no matter where he looks, it feels like being forced to perceive your true self, and it’s a contrast to IN inside the mirrored room, which we’ll circle back to.

Next, I’m going to talk a bit about Sweater Lee Know. We find him, again surrounded by the PBP, on the bed, and they’re all sort of holding him aloft. And as we watch we see them reaching their hands over the edges of the bed, reaching for him. It comes to a point where the last shot we see of Sweater Leeknow, he has made himself small as well, wrapping his arms around he’s knees, and sort of pulling away from all the edges of the bed.

Now since his scenes are intercut with Hyunjin’s and even Seungmin’s I get the vibe that the PBP here could be faceless internet people, but the holding him aloft thing….that makes me think of holding him on a pedestal, like putting him out of reach in a way. It’s sort of a new layer of isolation. But the other thought I had, especially with the context that much of the lyrics were reflections on their trainee days, was that what if these were trainees as well, not the other Kids, but just other trainees at JYPE. I’ve talked some before about how I think Lee Know’s age combined with his previous experience as a professional dancer set him apart as a trainee. Now this sounds positive, and is in many ways, but being set apart because of your talent or skill level is also quite isolating. I’ve also talked about how I think his skill and experience as a dancer also led to higher expectations in other areas (vocals/rap), leading to greater stress when those things didn’t come as easily as dance. I also don’t think those expectations were all external, I think Lee Know himself was often holding himself to a standard far higher than was reasonable based on the time he was given to learn these new aspects of being an idol. While I maintain that his elimination was essentially done for views, that doesn’t stand in opposition to the understanding that he had nowhere near the amount of practice time or past experience of the others in terms of his vocals/rap, but where he needed to be given grace, instead he was eliminated.

Next is Sweater Seungmin. Like Hyunjin I think he has one of the bigger arcs we see in the story of the MV. When we first see him he’s fleeing the PBP, it’s very frantic, they’re in a small hallway that feels almost claustrophobic.

When we come back to Seungmin, he’s calm. The PBP have caught up with him and surrounded him, but he’s not making attempts to break out, he’s simply standing. They’re also not reaching for him anymore, seemingly satisfied that he’s been ‘caught.’ Now I would almost think something along the lines of ‘music soothes the savage beast’ and Seungmin’s angelic voice is enough to stop the PBP in their tracks, but what I really kind of feel in the moment is more akin to him no longer caring. His casual stance, the hands in the pockets, it’s not just “I’m no longer afraid” it’s “You have no power here”.

It’s a similar idea to what we see with Hyunjin, but where Hyunjin fights back with this sort of passionate fire, Seungmin has instead employed this cold disinterest. In terms of how this relates to Seungmin’s own journey as a Stray Kid, one of the observations I’ve made and seen over the past year or so is Seungmin’s increased confidence. I think he’s always had a level of confidence in his singing abilities, though even in the SS we saw him actively working to improve the way he brought emotion into the lyrics of their songs, making his performance not just technically perfect, but also emotionally touching. This is a skill he’s been complimented on by many, including very notably Changbin. But his own, sort of individualized confidence as Seungmin the person, I think has been building over the last 5 years as he’s matured and he’s very much come to stand as his own man in the last year or so.

IN…Oh, IN is so fascinating in this MV. He’s always slightly different from the other Kids. Firstly, while everyone else shows this fear of the PBP, Sweater IN never does. When we first see him, they're in the corridor again, but IN is completely still. The PBP walk around him, practically not noticing him at all.

When we see him again, he’s crouched, then begins to stand, reaching up to a light. Around him are more PBP, sort of moving closer to him, but still there’s no fear, his movements are calm, fluid.

Where we've see Han in the mirrored space, IN is there as well, but it’s not Sweater IN, it’s PA IN. And again there’s no expressions of fear, and what makes this interesting, is that if the mirrored space is meant to sort of convey this idea of being stuck in your own mind, of having to truly perceive yourself, IN is able to do that without distress.

When you take his actions that are a direct opposite to every other Kid in the MV and combine it with the lyrics he repeats…it tells an interesting story. “They’re making me laugh, it’s so loud. Waking the demon that’s hiding inside.” Now in SKZ lore there’s always been some interesting things going on with IN, whether he’s a villain, or has ulterior motives of some sort. And even outside of the LORE, he’s frequently used as this unassuming but dangerous thing. The most direct example of this being the Freeze MV story, where we find out that IN is in fact the sort of villainous mob boss that they were tracking, and he had infiltrated them. But what makes me pause, especially with the lyrics, especially with IN’s behavior in the MV, is the sort of context we often hear the word demon in in regard to Stray Kids. So, my immediate thought was a clip from Chan’s room, where he says “be proud of that little demon inside you” but it also brings to mind the concepts for maniac about how we often keep our true selves hidden for fear of reprisal. So with IN, I feel like we’re almost meant to feel like he’s become one with himself, he’s sort of reached this level of self-actualization, he’s not afraid to be his true self, so why should he fear these faceless crowds, or looking himself in the mirror?

Channie, oh Channie, this one…it’s affecting, I’ll give you that. So, Sweater Chan’s story seems the most confusing to me. The first clips are of Chan floating in just this dark void, then we find him running from the PBP, who catch up to him eventually, pushing him against a wall and many of their hands coming to his throat. When we find him again, he’s in the red-shaded room, surrounded by the PBP and he’s like starting to float up.

So, the question is: him floating above the PBP, does it circle back to him floating in the black void, or are they separate things? I lean towards separate, since we also get a small glimpse of Chan sort of jerking awake form a nightmare. It sort of feels to me like these are almost a series of nightmare situations. We have total isolation, Chan alone in darkness. We also have Chan sort of floating up and away, and if we stick with his theory of the PBP can be anyone, I almost sort of feel like in that moment they’re trainees again, and this is debuting. But where it should be joyous, it’s reminiscent of death scenes in film, where a soul ascends to a new life, perhaps the death of youth as one moves towards the future? Moving back to the Chan that’s being chased, I’m certain there’s significance to the idea and the visual of all of these hands coming up to his neck, and we have a couple potential options.

In this moment, I almost feel like we’re back to the faceless strangers with the PBP, and that this is perhaps suffocation, but something that kept niggling at my brain was the lyrics “еverуоne keeps turnіng mе down.” It’s incredibly common for all of 3racha to create lyrics that can be perceived in a myriad of ways, and while interpreting this phrase through a lense of social interaction, you think ‘turning down’ as in not wanting to date, be friends, hang out, etc. Turning down the opportunity of your company. But looking at it from the perspective of a musician, it makes me think of turning down the volume, essentially silencing them. And that’s kind of the visual I get here as well, Chan being silenced, or feeling unable to speak, in the ‘face’ of the PBP.

Finally, we have Sweater Felix. We start off with Felix in the bed, just sitting in the center, and while he does, the PBP is surrounding him, but they’re not still, not like they were with Hyunjin.

Here we see something like a timelapse, and Felix is still, but the PBP has people moving in and out of frame around him, which I actually didn’t really notice my first several watches, it wasn’t until I started editing the video to sort of make individual stories that I saw it. And what it brings to my mind is the zoo, like Felix is an exhibit, sitting perfectly while people come and observe and leave. It gives the feeling again of that isolation, but also captivity. When it cuts back to Felix, he’s now standing on the bed (literally taking a stand) and, we hear the lyrics “Them voices in my heаd again, I gоtta shakе ’em off now”. What I particularly find concerning is that when we return to Felix the third time, he now has the angel wings, and the lyrics now are “No way back to the past”.

Now we know that none of 3racha, or really any of the Kids shy away from talking about deep topics, they work hard to put them into their mainstream songs, but even beyond that they tackle very complex and potentially dark topics in things like the SKZ-Records where they have a lot more creative freedom. So, I don’t find it outside of the realm of possibility that the Sweater Felix scenes could refer to instances of people going to extremes to escape negative voices, and it’s not the first instance we see of Felix being representative of such ideas, there’s a similar visual metaphor in Lonely Street, of Felix holding a finger gun to his head before turning it on his shadow.

And the reference to voices could mean negative voices like depression, when we say the PBP can be anyone/anything, it could be ‘Felix’ under all those bags, a concept Stray Kids has touched on before in their song Voices. But it also could mean negative voices coming from other people, things like bullying, and with the facelessness aspect of the PBP, things like cyberbullying. These are issues which everyday people deal with, but are also rampant in the KPop space, not just for Stray Kids, but for all Idol groups.

I will be back with a second portion, I'm out of images :) per Tumblr post rules.

#Social Path #Social Path Stray Kids #LiSA #Bang Chan #Lee Know #Changbin #Hyunjin #Han Jisung #Felix #Seungmin #Jeongin #Stray Kids Stay #Social Path MV Analysis #Music Video Analysis

41 notes · View notes

c4fin4t3d-f1sh · 5 months

Text

Day in the Life of Me... A Therian who has Given up on Caring. (But isn't a freak about it :])

Before school: I put on my tail on my back belt loop because fuck school bullies.

Period... TEST: We had state testing, womp womp. Had to write an essay about building a town monument. Nothing exciting.

Period 1 ELA: We literally had a test break the entire period. I ate salsa chips and kinda just scrolled on Pinterest.

Period 4 Science: Our school day was out of order because of testing lol. We got our rats which we have to dissect tomorrow. I was the only one super happy (I'm a taxidermy enthusiast) and named my rat Timothy. One kid barked at me, I don't really care.

Lunch: My friends started making fun of me and calling me a furry and screaming skibidi toilet shit at me.... I ate a PB&J, strawberries, lettuce, and a granola bar.

Period 2 ELA: We were reading for debate and just doing research.

Period 3 History: We learned about the temples in San Bartolo and about H. Hurst, who was the lady who started the San Bartolo excavation groups.

Period 6 Math: We played this weird game called Rollo, and also played a jeopardy about completely unrelated stuff. Pretty fun class today ngl.

Period 7 Studio Art: Just worked on my clay tic-tac-toe board. Made some of the custom pieces in the shapes of crescent moons.

Period 8 PE (This is where it gets funny): We didn't have to change today and had free choice (luckily) but two girls started barking at me and took pictures of me while I was turned around, which kinda ticked me off? I don't know, didn't matter for long. We had to at least run a lap, so everyone ran off to the track and some girls we're whispering about me behind my back then started barking and awoo-ing at me, which I quietly refrained myself from asking if they needed a treat. The rest of class was pretty chill except some kids tried throwing balls and frisbees at my head.

Well, that's my daily life as a therian. I don't do anything weird, I don't walk around on all fours, I don't shit in litter boxes (or the school bathrooms tbh). What a shocker.

#alterhuman #therianthropy #therian #nonhuman #rabbitkin #robotkin #foxkin #day in the life of a therian #daily routine #fuck school bullies

17 notes · View notes

spyderlady · 2 years

Text

Patch me up, my love

(gif by dailymarvelgifs)

note: i have had zero motivation as of late as uni has been destroying me so i wanted to write something cute that wouldn't take up my entire brain so enjoy <3

ꗃ pairing: kate bishop x fem!reader

ꗃ warnings: teeny tiny bit of gore but mostly fluffy kate <3

ꗃ word count: 1.8k

summary: a wounded kate shows up at your house and you patch her up

─────────── ୨ ♡ ୧ ────────────

It was an awfully warm October night. The sky was murky, the pale, silver moon hid behind a blanket of grey rain clouds. The smell of damp earth in the air hinted at a downpour arriving soon. A small yawn escaped your lips as your eyes shifted to the clock on your desktop. It was quarter to two in the morning. You sighed, looking down at the binder beneath your palm. You had finally finished drafting the layout of an essay that was due tomorrow. Now it was time to type it all out. Your fingers slowly moved towards the various keys on your keyboard as they started typing a variety of letters one by one.

The past week had been rather slow and quite boring to say the least. Your Avenger girlfriend was off to a mission and you weren't thrilled about it in the slightest. You weren't delusional like the rest of the world who romanticised superhero life. You knew the risks that came along with being one and the sole thought of Kate never returning home from a mission has always terrified you, even though you knew for a fact that Kate was capable of quite literally anything. However, you mostly kept your thoughts to yourself as you didn't want to come off as the selfish, clingy girlfriend. And before these thoughts could consume you further, you quickly shifted your focus back onto the essay, but that didn't last long either. Your attention was swept away by a tap, almost like a knock on your window. You turned your head towards the sound and flinched at what you saw but were quickly comforted when realisation settled upon you.

Kate's dark, raven hair, the same shade as the inky night sky behind her, glistened under the silver moon. The glow from the white orb reflected against her dazzling sapphire eyes. The corners of her pale lips were lifted upwards into a shy smile. Her brows were upturned, the inner corners puckering a little. Your gaze moved to the thin stream of blood that dripped from the massive gash wound on her forehead. She lifted her right hand a little to wave at you while her other hand held the windowsill tightly so she wouldn't tumble down. Kate seemed awfully unbothered for a cut that deep in the front of her face.

You quickly rushed to your window, pressing the latch down to slide it open, "Kate, oh my god!" you cried out, grabbing her arm in your hands. You felt the rigid muscles of her bicep tighten even more under your grip as you pulled her in.

"Hey," she whispered in an apologetic voice while carefully standing up on the narrow windowsill as you helped her in. She stepped into your room, leaning down a little so she wouldn't hit her head on the wooden frame. Once inside, she threw her bow on the floor and her body slumped onto the couch by the window. A groan left her lips, "Patch me up, will you, my love?" she said in a dramatic tone, scrunching her nose at you a little.

"Katherine Bishop, how are you so calm about this?" you questioned, authoritatively as you simultaneously shut the window behind you.

"Because you're here, my love," she murmured, a subtle grin appearing on her blood smeared lips.

You groaned, rolling your eyes at her. You made your way to the kitchen as you quickly filled a bowl with lukewarm water and a few spoonfuls of sea salt. You opened the cupboard above the sink and pulled out the small white first-aid box that you had solely prepared for a situation like this. Deep down you knew a day like this would've come, regardless of how much you despised the thought of a wounded Kate showing up at your doorstep...or your window. But as of this moment, patching up Kate was your priority so you quickly rushed back to your bedroom.

You couldn't help but smile a little as you saw Kate lie so comfortably on your couch, her legs crossed as her hands rested on the armrest. You walked over to her side with the supplies and crouched in front of her, placing the supplies on the table beside. Kate opened her eyes slightly to look at you. Her rough, blood stained hand reached out to grab your arm as she tugged onto it lightly, signalling you to sit on her lap. That's when you noticed a cluster of tiny cuts all across her arm.

"No, Kate. Not now, you're hurt," you said while you dipped a cloth into the bowl of water. After pulling it out, you squeezed the excess liquid and looked up at her.

"Please, trust me," she insisted, tapping your arm with her fingers.

God, Katherine. You're so stubborn. You thought to yourself as you slowly got up and gently sat on her lap. You didn't want to put all your weight on her, it didn't feel right to but it was Kate and nothing would stop her if she had made up her mind. She wrapped her arms around your waist and pulled you closer as she leaned towards you, nuzzling her nose into the crook of your neck.

"Careful. Let me see your face," you ordered, cupping her face lightly and turning it towards you. Her eyes were shut but a very faint smile was visible on her bruised lips. You patted the moist cloth on the cut as Kate moaned softly every now and then. You dipped the cloth in water frequently and repeated the process a few times to clean the wound.

"I've got a door, you know?" you finally broke the silence as you picked up the bottle of antiseptic solution and a few cotton pads from the table.

Kate's eyes slowly fluttered open, a subtle smirk now accompanying the mellow smile from earlier. "Yeah, I know," she whispered, her hand reaching up to tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear as she gently cupped your face, "I like the window better. Much more thrilling," she added, smugly. She leaned forward a little to tenderly press her lips to yours. You very gently reciprocated the action for you didn't want to hurt her but you realised how desperately you missed this. The way she held you ever so gently, the way her warm breath pecked your skin before her lips found yours, the way you felt her grinning as she parted from the kiss.

The corners of your lips had lifted up to form a gentle smile. You exhaled softly before pouring the antiseptic onto the pads. You dabbed the pad gently onto Kate's wound and felt her suppress a groan under her breath.

"This may sting a little," you whispered, examining the cut.

Kate nodded, squeezing her eyes shut but quickly threw her resolve away as you patted the wound with a little more solution. "Motherfu-" she paused but you noticed her fist on your waist that had tightly scrunched up the fabric of your shirt in it. You pulled the pad away but you couldn't help but smile at Kate's gesture. You leaned forward to blow some air at the wound to cool the stinging down a bit. After the wound was clean, you placed a piece of gauge on the cut and held it in place using surgical tape. Finally, you applied an antiseptic ointment on the minor cuts that were scattered all over her face and arms.

Once you had finished patching her up, Kate wrapped her arms around you, pulling you closer as she buried her face in the hollows of your neck.

"You've got to be more careful, Katherine," you whispered, caressing her cheek with the tips of your fingers.

"I know," she mumbled into your neck, tightening her grasp on your waist.

"As much as I love what you do, I really don't want you to do something reckless. I don't care what the stakes are," you added, wrapping the roll of gauge back into the casing. The words sounded extremely selfish once you repeated what you just said in your head but now you didn't care. Kate mattered to you and you were going to voice your concern before it was too late.

Kate sat up straight, her sapphire eyes meeting yours. The reminiscence of a deep sorrow was visible in them. Her hand reached up to touch your cheek as she caressed it. The rough surface of her palm gently stroking every inch of your skin.

"You know, people out there need me, love," she smiled a little, trying to hide the sadness in her voice. It had always pained Kate to choose between the two things she adored so dearly in her life. Her work and you.

You simply nodded, swallowing the lump that had formed in your throat. A sigh left your lips before you spoke up, "I know, but...I need you too," you whispered, shyly.

A bright smile spread across Kate's face. Her hand cupped the back of your head as she pulled your face closer to hers. Her lips lingered over yours for a while before she broke the silence, "And you have me, love. You always will, I promise," she whispered against your lips before finally pressing her lips to yours. The warmth of her breath felt enticing and pulled you right in. Your lips weaved together as though they were meant to be.

A delicate smile was now visible on your lips as they parted away from Kate's. She giggled before gently touching her forehead to yours. The two of you stayed silent for a while before you spoke up, "Now rest. I'll get you something to eat," you whispered, slowly trying to get up but Kate grabbed your hand and tightly intertwined her fingers with yours.

"No. Stay," she whispered back, squeezing you gently in her arms.

"I won't be long," you replied with a faint smile while cradling her face in your hands.

A sigh left Kate's lips as she loosened her grip on you. She pressed her back on the couch and nodded gently. You smiled before getting up and letting her hand go. You were about to walk out of your room but that's when Kate called out to you, "Y/N," her raspy voice echoed through the confined walls of the room.

You paused in your tracks and turned around. But before you could reply, she continued, "I love you," her eyes were gleaming, her mouth curved into a pleasant smile.

Your face lit up at her words. "Oh, sweetheart, I love you too," you whispered, your voice slightly breaking.

Kate smiled widely at you before dropping her head back on the headrest and closing her eyes. You glanced at her one last time before walking out of your room as you bit your lower lip, trying to hold the tears that had welled up in your eyes from spilling out.

#kate bishop #kate bishop oneshot #kate bishop x fem!reader #kate bishop x reader #kate bishop x female reader #kate bishop fanfiction #hailee steinfeld #hawkeye #kate bishop imagine

175 notes · View notes